A/N: Whilst I attempt to put the finishing touches on my almost completed story Where's Jane? And try to straighten out where I want another story to go (Chasing Shadows, if you're interested) I decided to launch into something I've been planning for quite a while. What might happen if the members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI had to work alongside Detective Jane Rizzoli and Doctor Maura Isles in catching perhaps the most intelligent and dangerous criminal of their careers?
In terms of a general time frame, this is probably set around Season Seven of Criminal Minds, due to the fact I felt greater confidence in writing the character of Emily Prentiss as opposed to Alex Blake, who we've spent less time with. For Rizzoli and Isles, it's set somewhere around after Season Three, and it's also slightly AU as they are indeed a couple in this story. The rating is going to be M from the outset, due to the potentially disturbing themes and adult content which will most likely be commonplace throughout.
Within each chapter there will be bookend quotes used, often to reflect that particular chapter's content and/or meaning, just as they are utilized so brilliantly in every Criminal Minds episode. There will be no other pairings aside from that of Rizzoli and Isles. There might be small mentions of previous relationships or indeed, current partnerships, but there will be no romantic links between the team members, just to be clear from the start.
That's about all I have to say right now, I hope this extended note made the general plot a little clearer without giving too much away. This note is ridiculously long, so I'll warp it up here, I hope you enjoy the first chapter, and leave a review if you feel so inclined. Constructive criticism and suggestions are, as always, entirely welcome!
Youth is happy because it has the ability to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.
Franz Kafka
Despite the general hum of activity in the bullpen, one particular voice could be heard above all others. It was a habit of Detective Crowe to insist upon unsettling the delicate balance at work between the members of the Boston Police Homicide Department. The man seemed to gain a certain sense of perverse pleasure at inflicting irritation and pain on his fellow colleagues. One jeering remark was not enough and never did he give pause to reflect on how his comments and insinuations could have a potentially negative effect on the morale of his team members.
Common courtesy was apparently a term that hadn't been programmed into the young Detective's brain. It was often regarded as a mystery to many Officers as to how he ever managed to get into Homicide. There were rumours that he had gleaned credit from his partners in the past in order to secure an excellent record which in no way reflected his true talents, or indeed, lack thereof. Since this was yet to be substantiated by any significant amount of evidence, he was simply an annoyance that had to be tolerated in the daily grind, another constant in a rapidly changing field. In any occupation, men like Crowe were expected to make an appearance, but in law enforcement, it was a man like Crowe who could lead to mistakes being made and lives lost.
"Wow Rizzoli, you're gettin' old! How you gonna chase perps with your zimmer?" Detective Crowe jeered as the only female Detective in the Homicide Department stood by her desk, gazing down in wide eyed shock at the array of presents littering its normally ordered and relatively clean surface. Their shiny paper caught the lights at every turn and shimmered, delightfully cheery in an otherwise rather dreary room that was decorated only with such daring dashes of color once a year at Christmas.
Sergeant Vincent Korsak walked up behind Crowe and slapped him around the back of the head, eliciting an indignant growl from the man which was consequently ignored. With one final warning glare over his shoulder, Korsak made a beeline for his own desk and hopped onto the edge with a smug, knowing smile at Detective Jane Rizzoli.
The Sergeant loved birthdays. He always had done, ever since he was a young boy. Granted, as one grew older some of the charm faded from those special days, but whenever a birthday rolled around in his squad room, there were gifts and celebrations. Even Crowe received a cake a few months ago. There was something about marking another year gone by with an element of respect, and, despite the looming awareness that every year brought him closer to retirement, Vincent Korsak could never escape the childish glee he so cherished at the sight of the uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment, joy and confusion etched on the faces of his team each year.
Detective Jane Rizzoli thumbed the tag on one of the gifts and laughed gruffly when she recognized Frost's handwriting, a messy scrawl that was barely legible. It had clearly been scribbled down in a rush, probably when she left to use the bathroom not ten minutes ago. The younger man may be obsessed with every excruciating detail when it came to cases, but he was laughably disorganized with these kinds of events. Not that she could fault him for that, or even pass comment on it, for she was just as bad. Indeed, on some occasions, even worse.
Jane raked a hand back through her tawny scrawl of dark hair and blew out a strained breath through gritted teeth as she recognized the scent floating into the bullpen even before the tell-tale clicking of high heels could be heard echoing down the hallway. Mentally preparing herself for the sight that was momentarily about to greet her appreciative eyes was a daily task that needed extensive amounts of concentration. Often, it took every ounce of self-control the Detective possessed from the tips of her toes to the top of her head not to pounce on the woman that was about to announce her arrival with a trademark, hundred watt smile.
Doctor Maura Isles appeared in the doorway like a breath of fresh air, beaming at everyone as if it were Christmas and not just Jane Rizzoli's thirty fifth birthday. The grin that stretched Jane's features couldn't have been postponed or prevented even for all the tea in China. Whenever the ME was present, her entire demeanor changed. It couldn't be helped. There was something about the blonde sashaying around in one of her figure hugging outfits (a dark blue blouse matched with a rather daring leather skirt was today's ensemble) that set her heart racing and turned her sharp mind into little fluffs of marshmallow. The Doctor's reddish blonde hair was perfectly styled as usual, the boisterous curls bouncing on shoulders waiting impatiently for the frequent brush of sunshine to grace them from above.
Except when Jane's eyes finally managed to tear themselves away from the beautiful smile adorning Maura's face and the way it made her eyes twinkle merrily, she noticed that the late arrival was holding something in those talented hands that caused her smile to falter. "Maurahh!" She was whining, in jest of course, she couldn't be angry with Maura, not for long anyway. Not these days. There was a tiny foot stomp, visible only to Korsak and Maura, both of whom rolled their eyes, "I said no cake!" Jane pointed one long finger accusingly at the offering Maura was clutching far in front of her lest a spot of chocolate frosting land on her impeccable clothes.
Maura tipped her head to one side with a smirk as she prowled forward, sending a smile around the room that had grown men growing weak at the knees. She sent the Detective a sweet pout, "Well you don't have to eat any of it then Jane, if it makes you feel better. I'm sure the rest of us..." Maura glanced around the busy bullpen for support and was met by eager grins and nodding heads, "Will enjoy it on your behalf."
Jane was bloody well sure they were ready to do just about anything to make Maura happy, bunch of idiots. Six years and her presence, the intoxicating charm and that wonderful body still had the same effect on every one of them. Then again, Jane supposed something similar could be said for her. Just then, Detective Barry Frost bounded into the room clutching paper plates, napkins and something in a plastic shroud that looked ominous. He held it above his head and then passed it to Maura with a sidelong squint at Jane that said 'Sorry partner.' It was a knife to cut the cake. Obviously this had been planned beforehand.
"Well, are you going to open your gifts Jane?" Maura enquired sweetly, batting her eyelashes all the while knowing that mere hours earlier Jane had been unwrapping a very different kind of present in the form of Maura Isles in all her scantily clad glory. Blushing furiously at the memory of it, Jane blindly reached for one of the smaller objects and unceremoniously ripped the paper from it, much to Maura's horror. She was the type of woman who could spend half an hour on one item at Christmas while Jane peered at her over the top of a mountain of ever growing shredded wrapping paper with horror in her eyes.
In fact, last Christmas Maura had done just that. The Doctor had insisted that the Rizzoli clan spend Christmas Eve at her home, due to the fact it was the most spacious and therefore ideal for a gathering of family and friends. Jane was convinced that her best friend had endeavored to ensure that every single last one of them stayed until Christmas morning, and she found Maura's giddy excitement at being surrounded by the people she loved infectious as well as utterly disarming. The following morning an abundance of gifts were torn open with feverish glee by the Rizzoli's, who had no patience for being delicate with the wrapping paper, regardless of how pretty it may be. Maura, on the other hand, almost disappeared beneath a tidal wave of paper as she fought valiantly to keep up with her friends. She failed of course, and was the final person to finish unwrapping her presents, but the smile on her face that did not dissipate the entire day was enough to still whatever jokes might have been budding on the tip of Jane's tongue.
A mere three minutes later and Jane was surrounded by a collection of torn paper and gag gifts including an absolutely hideous pen holder. The thing was shaped like an ass. Two butt cheeks, side by side. The full ensemble right there on display. One of the younger Officers had purchased it under instruction from Crowe that the Detective found such things 'hilarious.' The withering glare Jane sent his way told him that for future reference, she didn't find such things at all amusing. However, he failed to notice the tiny smirk she flashed at the obscene gift as she pushed it to the opposite side of her desk and popped a pen into the designated hole.
There was also something wittily entitled a 'Douchebag Alert Button,' an alarm that could be pushed down to produce an ear bending siren call Frost had picked out for her. At her questioning look, he merely said, "Y'know, just for him," and nodded at Detective Crowe which gave everyone a laugh. Despite their penchant for stupid gifts that she warned them time and again not to waste money on, this year they had also chipped in and purchased her tickets to see the Sox, declaring that she 'was five years from forty now and needed to mark the occasion properly.' Jane tried not to let them see how touched she was by the gesture, but not one of them could mistake the misty eyed smile on her face.
At least, the smile that remained until she opened the second to last present left on her desk for the traditional unveiling. There, in all its inanimate, pink, pulsating veined glory was the biggest dildo Jane had ever seen. Not that she'd ever been confronted with many, but Maura possessed a couple, and this one blew all of her scary toys right out of the water.
Jane looked up with a venomous snarl on her face, eyes instantly tracking and landing directly on a sniggering Detective Crowe who was trying his best to keep his enjoyment of the situation quiet. He met her gaze with a faux innocent expression of surprise, raising his eyebrows guiltlessly. As Jane stepped forward, determined to end this once and for all, she felt a small, instantly recognizable, steady hand on her arm that held her back just long enough for Maura to say with an indulgent smile, "Wishful thinking Detective?"
The Doctor stepped in front of Jane under the pretence of gathering some of the shredded and discarded paper into her arms. Upon her descent to the trash can at their feet, she somehow managed to run her leather clad behind lightly down the length of Jane's long legs. This was a deliciously agonizing journey where Rizzoli simultaneously thanked and cursed whoever might be responsible for her long bones. Maura had succeeded in prompting everyone into a stunned silence, but when she finally straightened, allowing Jane to breathe again, and said, "When buying gifts for others we often subconsciously purchase what we ourselves desire," with a smirk and a head tilt, the men gathered around them burst into raucous laughter. Crowe's face went an interesting shade of red as his buddies started on him.
Jane turned to face the Medical Examiner, who met her gaze with a knowing smile and rocked forwards on her tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. Blushing again for entirely different reasons, Jane ducked her head and picked up the last gift.
It felt light, not as light as the box that had contained the tickets sitting on a bed of blue tissue stuff that Maura had helpfully sourced for the guys from goodness knows where, but light nevertheless. The wrapping paper was metallic silver, with tiny golden swirls traced along the edges as though painted with the smallest of brushes. It was pretty, if you appreciated that sort of thing. The tag read simply, 'Jane.' There was also a ribbon tied at the top. It was a deep red that contrasted slightly with the more subdued paper beneath. Raising her eyebrows, Jane looked around the room in order to ascertain who this final offering belonged to. Their attention had wandered for the most part, their eyes locked on the delectable cake waiting to be demolished as soon as this last present was opened.
Jane shrugged as she untied the ribbon, shooting Maura a distracted half smile as the Doctor began cutting the cake into generous slices and placing them delicately onto paper plates, slapping eager hands away as she went. 'Hmm, maybe I will just have a slice of that...' Jane thought vaguely to herself as she lifted the lid, staring down into the box with fading interest as her mouth watered with the expectation of chocolate cake waiting for her.
When her eyes focused on the contents of said box, she almost started to smile, wholeheartedly believing that this was one final joke most likely chosen by one of Crowe's little minions. Then, as the details of the objects resting within began to emerge, the smile quickly slipped from Jane's face. She set down the lid onto her desk and placed her palms flat against the hard surface, the coolness of the wood against her scarred hands almost seemed to be preventing her from floating off the floor and into oblivion. She stood there, utterly still, staring into the gift box as if the answer to all of life's many questions waited within.
"Jane?" Maura said softly, edging slightly around the desk, concern making her tone richer and higher, "Jane...?" She repeated, but her voice was distant, like she might have been at the other end of a telephone line as opposed to standing just a foot away. The Detective eventually managed to look up at the three very confused faces of her Sergeant, partner and girlfriend of two months. With a sigh of resignation, Jane motioned them towards her and allowed them a look inside.
Frost leapt back almost as soon as he peered in with a strangled exclamation of, "Jesus Christ!" He swooned his way into his chair and sat there, staring up at Jane with barely disguised shock. Korsak and Maura stared down for at least thirty seconds, both with equally curious and slightly disgusted expressions, for there, resting on a bed of downy cotton wool, sat two bloody ears, their edges ragged and torn, the congealed blood having settled there and turned an unappealing black. What made the sight even more sickening were the piercings. Each ear had a normal piercing at the lobes, but then there was an array of more daring, adventurous earrings dangling from the appendages, which told Jane;
"These probably belonged to a young woman," Korsak commented in a matter of fact tone, voicing her thoughts as he had honed the ability to do so. Jane glanced into the box again; arms folded over her crisp white shirt, mouth set in a firm line as she raked her practiced gaze over the contents. To a bystander, this image might have been one of professionalism. However, to those who knew her best, it would be abundantly clear that this was Detective Jane Rizzoli's battle stance. Never had she taken well to someone directly contacting her with the intention of installing fear. In fact, never before had she been confronted with something as bold as this.
It was Maura who read the note scrawled on a thin slip of paper which had been draped gently, almost lovingly, in front of the torn flesh. Her voice was cold, flat, missing its usual chirpiness. The words rolled from her tongue as the remaining officers gathered round for a glance. The Doctor took a breath before reading aloud;
"ALL THE BETTER TO HEAR YOU WITH,"
I understand that fear is my friend, but not always. Never turn your back on fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed.
Hunter S. Thompson