AU. Just my take on how R&I could potentially handle the suicide of the actor that played Det. Barry Frost (Lee Thompson Young.) Anything in italics are song lyrics; anything in bold are thoughts. Enjoy. The first song belongs to Anybody Killa (Stayin' Alive), and the second belongs to Peter Steele and Type O Negative (RIP Pete, you are missed.)
It was raining when she got the call.
Her hand moved of its own accord, slapping down randomly on her dresser beside her bed until it recognized something vaguely phone-like in shape, and with a practiced flick, answered her phone.
"Rizzoli," She mumbled sleepily, not even bothering to open her eyes yet – she could tell from the lack of light coming through her eyelids it was still dark outside. Seconds passed, than her eyes flared open in shock.
"I'll be right there."
…As I look into the future
All I see
Life and death chasing after me
And I couldn't hide
Even if I wanted…
The song faded from her consciousness as she flew to Roxbury, sirens and lights clearing a wide path for her in pre-dawn Boston as she drove on auto-pilot to where her partner lived.
-No. No, no, no. NO. Not Frost. Not my fucking partner. NO. I refuse to fucking believe it. He's strong, he wouldn't do this shit. I KNOW him, this isn't real. This isn't happening, it's someone else, dear FUCK it's someone else and he'll show up wondering what the fuck is happening and we'll all feel like fucking idiots because we should have KNOWN it wasn't him-
She saw the reflection of the flashing lights before she saw the other cruisers, and she noted that the ME was present; not particularly caring, at the moment, who it happened to be.
She stepped out of her sedan and made a beeline for the crime scene, other officers giving her a wide berth as she approached the body-
-just to be waylaid by Maura and Korsak, who had been keeping a close eye for the lanky Detective.
She glared at them both, Maura taking a step back from the searing intensity that was in her friend's gaze; Korsak planted himself in front of Jane, blocking her view of the blood-spattered white sheet behind him, and absently noting that the three were beginning to get an audience as yet even more police showed up, as well as media vans which had just parked across the street. News of this nature traveled like wildfire, and whether their fellow officers were there to show their respect or gawk at the scene-and at his ex-partner- Korsak didn't want to hazard a guess; only knowing that if Rizzoli heard a wise crack out of any of them, they would be on the receiving end of a fist.
She stared at her former partner, silently telling him to move. He shook his head silently.
"It's him, Jane. I…I made the identification myself." Fury rolled in her eyes as she turned her attention to him.
"Then you made it wrong," she growled, clenching her fists. "Get outta my way, Korsak."
"Jane…don't do this to yourself. Don't put yourself through this. Is it not enough that I made the ID?"
"No, it's fucking NOT," Jane hissed in return, and Korsak knew that he was dangerously close to being on the receiving end of a fist in the face himself if he didn't move. "Get. Out of. My way."
"Jane…" She shoved by him and under the police tape, not caring that Cavanaugh had come onto the scene, or that he was yelling at her to stop, afraid that she would compromise the crime scene. Everything faded into a blur – the looks of pity – the glances of the crime scene techs, going about their business on the outer fringes of the scene itself –Nothing mattered other than that white sheet-covered body, and time seemed to slow as she approached it.
My tables been set for but seven
Just last year I dined with eleven
Goddamn ye, merry gentlemen…
"Jane. You don't have to do this." She heard Maura's voice as if she was underwater from somewhere behind her.
"Yes. Yes I do." Her voice sounded like it was packed in cotton to her own ears, and she dimly wondered what the Hell was wrong with her. She had to. She was at the scene now, and she'd be Goddamned if she was going to turn back now and let others handle it. She wouldn't do it.
"It's…It's not pretty, Jane," Korsak added quietly.
"Since when has death ever been pretty, Korsak?" She tried to keep her voice under control, but she heard it shake, and she knew her friends heard it too.
Standing above the body, she tried to study it objectively…but found that she couldn't. Not if it was Frost. ESPECIALLY if it was Frost.
She knelt by the body; the lights from the streetlamps catching her scars in sharp relief against her skin as she clenched her jaw, and took a deep breath, grabbing the sheet gently in one hand and drawing it back.
Her mouth trembled slightly, and tears came flooding to the surface as she shook her head, trying to deny it, even to herself. Maura glanced at Korsak worriedly, before they both followed their friend under the tape.
"No. No GODDAMN IT NO…" She heard herself moan, before a flash of light temporarily blinded her.
"Hey! Asshole! Hand over that fucking camera!" Korsak yelled furiously, as a member of the media flipped off the older Detective and vanished into the crowd of onlookers facing the scene from the opposite direction.
Jane heard someone roaring in agony, and dimly recognized it as being herself – She felt strong arms encircle her that she dimly recognized as Korsak's trying to gently tear her away, but she still fought him; because after all...how often does a partner identify their lover's body?