A/N
Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles. Those are the property of Tess Gerritsen, TNT and all others that have that claim and rights. No profit is being made on this work. This work is purely intended for entertainment.
Rating: Has anybody noticed that the classification M is also the first letter of Maura's name and she always says "Language Jane". Therefore the rating is M for language (not much) to be on the safe side.
This is my first fan fiction. English is not my native language. Reading and listening in English is not a problem for me. Speaking depends on the jet lag. After six hours talking in English the brain stops translating. Writing in English is a skill that I use not often. Mostly e-mails and bullet points in a presentation. So expect errors, this story is not beta'ed.
Not much dialogue in this story, still learning to write a story. Italics are Jane's thoughts and voices in her complicated, beautiful brain (I have spent some time there). This story is for now a one shot (pun intended).
Reviews are welcome. If you like it let it be known. If not you are also welcome, but be polite. Constructive criticisms is welcomed, but I reserve the right to agree that we disagree.
Summary: Jane is faced with a difficult case and to break it open she is willing to do the last resort: take the shot!
Take the shot Jane!
Jane's head was resting on the steering wheel with her eyes closed, trying to compose her thoughts. To find an inner peace. Her mind was a mess. Neuron transmitters fired in her head to create a maelström of thoughts composed by impressions, colors, images, sounds and voices, with and without structure. Or something like that. Maura would know what it was, she always would know. But her friend was not here today.
The case — a cold case, although it was very active to Jane — had her exhausted, almost to the brink of total collapse. So many questions, conflicting evidence and statements. Sometimes she was sure. The evidence pointed to the answer. A little later she would be uncertain again. A new observation, a note in her case file, a statement, an interrogation, or a picture would negate the earlier collected evidence and point to an opposite conclusion. It was yes and no, open and closed, it was all combinations, and that made the answer inconclusive.
She did not discuss the case with anyone. Afraid that the persons in her life considered the case closed and the answer clear. But that could be an answer that Jane did not want to know. A 'known unknown' was better than a 'known known'. For Jane it was paramount to find the answer herself.
As a cop she was not used to that, she was an experienced detective after all. Normally she had good instincts and plain down to earth gritty police work would provide her with an answer. An answer to an investigation that stood up in court and would be judged by a jury, the verdict always clear.
But this not happened with this case. Sometimes she could close the file and get on with other matters. But it always beckoned, even taunted her. A new sliver of information would bring her back to the case and she would peruse everything again. Collecting, classifying, ordering, analyzing and trying to bring synergy to all the data and information for a conclusion.
After all this hard work and time spent on the case the answer still eluded her.
This morning she had looked at the file again after inserting her latest findings and intell. And still she was not any closer in solving the case. It resulted in a deluge of primary and secondary emotions such as anger, insecurity, anxiety, to name a few spiced with some expletives that made her totally fed up with the case. She had enough of it; the answer would not come by investigation. A different approach was needed and Jane made the decision to force the issue by confronting the culprit.
And now she was here, in her car, with her thoughts.
What am I going to do? Do I really want to do this? Are you sure you want to do this?
No, but I don't know what else to do. Everything I have done so far has failed. I am not any closer than when I started the investigation.
What are you going to do?
I am going to ki..
No, don't go there yet.
Breathe!
I am alone! Lonely. Solo. No backup, that's a relieve but also a scare. Nobody will see it if I miss, but nobody will take care of me afterwards if I fuck this up.
Alone? Yes, Jane would be alone. Except for one person, everybody else would find that stupid, although they would also conclude it would be typically Jane. No surprises there. The one that wouldn't be surprised about Jane's decision to be alone would be the target itself. It was now the target. Not a not a witness, not a person of interest, not a suspect, not the culprit, only the target.
Fuck it, let's get it over with.
Jane turned off the ignition, got out of the car and closed the door. Muscle memory made her do the automatic checks for badge, phone and gun on her belt.
She herself issued the BOLO about the target, but only to herself. By careful manipulating some 'news' and putting it out on the street she was confident that the target would show up at this location.
The circumstances and surroundings were perfect for her next step. Less chance of distractions. That was important to her. She would be alone with the target.
Breathe!
She walked across the street into the little park. A little enclave of green surrounded by buildings, with a few benches in place. It was too little to attract people who wanted to enjoy the quiet or the space of a larger park. There was no playground for children to play, less change for mothers, daddies, grandparents or nannies with children to be there. On top of that, no dogs were allowed.
It was used sometimes by casual strollers walking by or shopper's to rest for a few minutes. At this time of the day it was deserted. It was the perfect place for Jane's action plan.
A bench was nicely situated in an enclosure between two large bushes. A large tree behind the bench provided a large shadow across the path. Jane sat down and although it did not conceal her completely, the location also made her not directly noticeable. The color of her clothes - dark hues - blended into the surroundings. It was not a perfect camouflage, but it was sufficient. At this vantage point she could see every entrance to the park and this would buy her time. A distinct advantage for what was to follow.
She checked her watch. There was still time for the expected arrival of the target.
Okay, if I don't see the target in the next twenty – twenty-five minutes I am fucked. I will have missed my change. I should be Irish instead of Italian. I need the luck of the Irish. Come on!
Hey, Saint Michael help me today. I really need your protection!
Time seemed to slow to a crawl and at the same speed up. Slow, because every minute passed made Jane even more agitated and anxious. Fast, because every minute passed robbed her of the opportunity to face the target.
Only ten minutes left. It's not going to happen. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Seconds passed. Tick, tick, tick.
One thousand. Two thousand. Three ... Stop it! Concentrate. Focus. Keep your situational awareness. Lose it and your fucked! Observe!
Breathe! Inhale, wait, and exhale.
More seconds passed. Tick, tick, tick and flowed into minutes.
Someone was entering the park.
Training and experience took over for Jane the moment she noticed a change in the surrounding. Without any thought Jane checked for her badge, phone and gun.
There! Time? Still in the window! Identify!
Green, yellow, black, gold, rose gold.
Yes! It's the target. Now orient!
The target was looked over thoroughly by Jane. She would have gladly had the use of a body scanner.
Armed?
Jane noticed possible hidden weapons. No, make that definitely. At least two that she noticed. Stilettos where in plain sight, thereby violating the law. But if asked to Jane she could not remember in her current state which articles or statutes where broken.
Gun? Anything from a .22 to a .50, maybe even higher.
Scope? Yes, probably heath sensitive. A laser pointer could also be there.
The target was literally dressed to kill. Armed and dangerous.
Talk about overkill. Shall I abort? There is still time and nothing will change.
But it will keep your fucking, god dammit, case open! And then what?
Breathe! Think! Decide!
Fuck it, go for it!
Okay, I see the target approaching what shall I do? One shot? Double tap? Mozambique drill?
Let's see. One shot? Nay, too risky. Let's go for the double tap and if necessary make it a Mozambique drill.
Lock and load.
The opportunity is there, the decision been made. Jane's brain goes into overdrive.
Come on Jane, for heaven's sake take the shot.
It's not your first time.
Do it. Take the shot!
Keep focus on the target.
Take the shot!
But what if I miss? What happens then?
If you don't take it, it will be a miss.
An opportunity wasted.
I doubt I will have the courage to try again.
Breathe!
Keep your calm. Control your heart rate. Ignore that contracting feeling in your gut.
The target is looking at me! Now!
No, it is not.
Act!
Jane stood up and turned onto the path in front of the target. Distance at most 5 yards away.
Surprise was on Jane's side. The target was startled by Jane's action, stopped walking and after a slight delay looked squarely at Jane. The target's hand went from the strap of the bag that it was carrying into the open bag. It looked like the target was trying to get something. A weapon? Jane was not sure.
Steady, steady. Read the intentions.
Focus on the eyes!
Those eyes are focused on me. Those weapons are aimed at me.
Time is running out.
Swallow!
I can't, my mouth is too dry.
Do I fear the situation? No, but I am definitely scared.
Keep your calm. Control your heart rate. Ignore that contracting feeling in your gut.
Breathe!
Don't wait before the target fires first.
Take the shot!
Fire!
"Maura!"
The first shot had some effect. It was a hit, but nothing lethal. At most it resulted in some bewilderment, probably not more than a highly amused look.
"Jane?"
The word fired back was nothing more than a .22. It was something than Jane expected and the shield in her mind stopped it.
Okay, first shot as expected did not have much effect. Go for the double tap. Heavier round.
Here goes nothing. Shoot!
"Would you like to go out on a date with me?"
This time the shot had an effect. Not lethal, but definitely a hit. It was probably the result of the buck shot used. The eleven pellets of Jane's sentence – the question mark being a blank ‑ hit Maura in the face and in the stomach. She lost her balance and stepped back on those 4" stiletto heels. Her face showed a multitude of expressions in a blink of an eye: surprise, happiness, joy, relief and love. In all likelihood the reason than Jane did not notice them.
All this time Jane stood there, completely frozen as she tried to make her brain function properly to determine the result of her latest round. It gave Maura the time to fire back.
"I would love to go out on a date with you Jane, always, anytime."
Jane's brain noticed the impact of the return fire. But somehow her synapses did not send the alerts right away to the important parts of her brain. When they did it was gut wrenching. She almost keeled over. She desperately tried not to throw up. The buildup anxiety of the day, the nausea as a result of adrenaline released, made here heave and gasping for air. It was definitely a hit.
I can't breathe! Is this how it ends? Not knowing the answer?
Breathe! Breathe!
The last few messages where send out and received in her brain and could now be analyzed.
She said yes, Yes, YES! Holy shit! I hit her. I hit her and it is yes!
Jane stood upright and looked up in those eyes; green, gold, a spot of black. Yes, she now knew the color: hazel.
The hair; a blend of yellow gold, rose gold and a platinum glow.
The mouth, that weapon that could entice, smirks, laughs and also emits facts, sweet words or sometimes the truth, but never a lie.
The face, which now showed concern, hope, longing, love, uncertainty.
That body, the curves, those covered – concealed – breasts, the toned legs on those impossible stiletto heels.
All the part made her feminine, sexy, a woman to yearn for, to love.
It was not a target anymore. It was Maura.
One more. Let's make it certain for her how I feel towards her.
Mozambique drill. Three times is a charm.
Jane stepped forward to Maura. Who looked at her with a confused face. Not knowing what to expect. Gently Jane placed both her hands on Maura's cheeks and every so subtle pulled her face towards her lips. When they made contact with Maura's lips it was clear. The response of Maura lips, hands and body dissolved the case, Jane had her answer. The warrant for the arrest of her love was finally issued. The court rendered its verdict; guilty for the crime of love. The sentence; life without parole.
She thanked Saint Michael – protector of police officers ‑ for his protection. The reply she got back was that he had referred her case to Saint Valentine that being her mission to offer protection for lovers. Better suited for this case.
For a few seconds she disconnected with those soft lips and whispered to Maura, "I love you."
Maura's eyes said it all.
Kill shot!