A/N: Okay, this crazy little story here is pretty much a fleshed-out version of a spec script of mine for the show, so hopefully, you'll be able to recognize the characters and their dynamics and quirks, and all that. It'll be about 50K words in the end and play out like a complete episode.. assuming you're actually interested to read the whole thing. So, let me know.. and no need for sugarcoating. I'm a big girl. :-)
Oh and also, if you find glaring language errors, feel free to whack me over the head with them — English isn't my native language, so that's the only way I'll learn. Thanks! :-D
Copyright: Obviously, the characters have been created and further developed by Tess Gerritsen and Janet Tamaro/TNT. No infringement intended. Only this story is mine, and I guess, now it's yours, too.
It was a sunny October afternoon in the city of Boston. From the high-rises in the Financial District to the postcard brownstones of the Back Bay, the streets lay dipped in a warm and golden glow. Tourists meandered from the grassy greens of the Boston Common to the bustling Downtown shopping district and on to the winding paths of the Waterfront. The afternoon rush hour was just reaching its peak, and thousands of Bostonians poured in and out of MBTA busses and the trains of the 'T'.
Oblivious to the sights and sounds of the city, a bearded man in his late thirties sat in a silver sedan parked at the curb in a suburban neighborhood of Boston's southwest, his eyes fixated on the PICTURE PERFECT photo studio across the street and his fingers nervously tapping on the steering wheel.
When a young blonde woman in photogenic business attire left the studio, the man's pulse shot up in anticipation and his muscles stiffened. He watched her cross the street, get into a white compact car, and merge into traffic. Ignoring the nervous trembling of his hand, he started his own car and inconspicuously followed her, always remaining two or three cars behind but close enough to never let her out of his sight.
As he stoically tailed the white car, he once more went over the plan that had seized hold of his mind on the day he had accidentally bumped into the woman in the studio. She had painfully reminded him of Darlene, and he had been unable to shake off that feeling ever since. Even now, the grief from his loss was still as strong as it had been on the day Darlene had died. Too strong to allow him to return to business-as-usual. Too strong for him to sit idle and do nothing.
My beloved Darlene…, he thought to himself. Why did you leave me? Why? I just wanted to save you! He clenched his fist and grimaced. But I will make things right. I promise, my dear Darlene…
He was torn from his thoughts when the white compact car pulled into the small parking lot of a convenience store in a quiet Chestnut Hill neighborhood. Darkness had begun to fall and the lot was almost empty.
The man stopped his sedan across the street and examined his surroundings, while the blonde woman got out of her car and disappeared into the store.
No security cameras, he noted. And no nosy neighbors in sight. If I could get behind her right when she returns to her car…
Slowly, he pulled into the lot, parked his silver sedan to the left of the smaller white car, and took a deep breath. His hands were still trembling and a hint of doubt crept into his mind. What if she senses something? What if she gets away?
He slapped his own face and anxiously breathed in an out. No, I gotta do this! This is the only way to fix everything.
The man zipped up his jacket, slid his hands into dark leather gloves, and put on a worn-out Red Sox baseball cap. He hid his dark eyes behind a pair of cheap sunglasses, reassuringly nodded to himself in the rear-view mirror, and got out of his car.
He walked over to the passenger side, opened the door, and bent down pretending to search for his wallet underneath the seat. From the corner of his eye, he kept peeking towards the entrance of the store, waiting for the woman to emerge.
When the blonde finally reappeared, brown paper bag with groceries in one hand and car keys in the other, the man stiffened and got into position. This is it, he thought. A rush of adrenaline shot through his body.
As the woman approached her car, her thoughts were already revolving around her nightly routine after a stressful day at work. She would first calm herself down with half an hour of Yoga. Then she would take a long bath, maybe open a bottle of her favorite Chardonnay, and eventually fall asleep to the comforting purr of her furry cat on her lap.
But not today.
As soon as she reached the driver's door of her car, the man spun around, took two quick steps towards the blonde, and sent his right fist flying into her temple. The woman let out a groan, dropped her bag, and slumped down. Before her limp body could hit the ground, the man caught her in his arms and swiftly dragged her onto the passenger seat of his sedan.
Feeling a wave of exhilaration surge in his veins, the man slammed the passenger door shut, rushed to the driver's side, and slid back behind the wheel.
The engine of the sedan roared and its tires screeched as it sped off into the night.
The only clues remaining behind were the woman's deserted white car and her groceries scattered on the ground with a puddle of ruby juice beginning to spread around a leaking bottle.
At about the same time, slightly different but equally juicy liquids were being spilled in the great room of the upscale Beacon Hill home of Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. A steady purple stream of Burgundy wine was leaking from an overthrown glass on Maura's stylish couch table and slowly making its way towards the table's edge, threatening to leave indelible stains on the immaculate carpet beneath.
Before disaster could strike, Maura soaked up the spilled wine with a napkin and swiftly removed any signs of the little accident. She picked up the glass and placed it next to her own in front of her, then scrutinized the assortment of half a dozen bottles of wine on the table. She arched her eyebrows and turned towards Detective Jane Rizzoli, who was sitting next to her on the couch and sheepishly watched as Maura cleaned up the mess.
"I'm so sorry… That glass really can't hold its liquor, I guess," Jane chuckled. Judging by the warm red blush on her cheeks, the brunette detective was enjoying quite a buzz.
"Gosh, how much have you had, Jane?" Maura asked incredulously.
The two women contemplated the arrangement of bottles, cheese, and chocolates on the table.
"How would I know? You're the one who keeps pouring me more!" Jane defended herself.
"Well, you're supposed to just try it, not to gulp it down like your beer!" Maura pointed out.
"Speaking of which…," Jane said and reached for a half-empty bottle of beer that stood slightly out of place next to the delicate wines.
"You really shouldn't be drinking this in between. You're confusing your gustatory calyculi," the medical examiner explained.
The detective gave her a blank look. "Now, you're confusing me." She took another swig of her beer.
"I'm just saying you need to neutralize your palate or you won't be able to taste the fine nuances that distinguish these wines." Maura handed Jane a glass of water. "Besides, your head will thank you tomorrow."
Jane rolled her eyes but eventually obliged and traded her beer for the water. "Can't we just drink that wine like everybody else, Maura?"
"Well, of course, but I have to tell Chef Renaud which ones to order." She encouragingly smiled at Jane. "And given all the labor that goes into making these wines, we should show our appreciation and enjoy them the way they are meant to be enjoyed."
Jane reached for another bottle, filled her glass, and leaned back. "Fine, let me enjoy this one then."
"Wait, which one is that?" Maura took the bottle to check its label. "A 2006 Château Montrose… Its expressive bouquet and vigorous structure go very well with fine dark chocolate." She offered Jane the plate with the chocolate. "Here, try it."
"Am I actually allowed to eat it or should I just sniff at it?" Jane teased. When she noticed the medical examiner's impatient look, she picked a piece of chocolate and washed it down with a heavy drought of her wine.
Maura expectantly studied the brunette's face hoping for any sight of delight. "So?"
"So what?"
"How do you like it?"
"Well, Dr. Isles…," Jane tried to keep a straight face and snitched another piece of chocolate from Maura's plate. "I think this chocolate is really yummy!"
Maura sighed and poured herself some of the same wine. "You're not really helping."
Jane emptied her glass and tiredly sank into the cushions. "Just order whatever you like. I'll drink what you're drinking."
Maura took in the bouquet of the wine, examined its purple color with a practiced eye, and sipped from her glass. "Hmm… a fruity nose, and a firm and rounded texture," she noted, then took another sip and let it linger in her mouth. "Certainly an interesting balance between sweetness, acidity and tannins…"
Expecting another wisecrack from Jane, Maura turned to her right only to realize that the brunette had curled up into the couch and fallen asleep, her cheeks still flushed with wine.
Maura smiled and shook her head in amusement. "I guess we're done."