So this is a new tale for you guys. I haven't given up on my other Fics, I just needed something a little new to keep the writing ball going! This is a Rizzles Fic, several months after season three ends. So everything that happened in the season finale will be addressed, but it's in the past. This is also well past Jane killing Hoyt. But everything leaves a mark on people. so don't worry, here I go.
I opened and closed my hands, first making tight fists, then splaying them out on my desk. I did this again and again, watching the way the muscles in my arms interacted to open and close my hands, examining the way my fingers motions flowed smoothly any way I wanted them to. Hands are something I kind of obsess over.
People don't think about their hands. They don't realize that everything they do comes from them. How important it is that we have hands. We use computers. We make our food. We hold our children, the people we love. We drive with our hands. We write with them. We read books with them. Virtually everything we do comes from our hands. Some of us have perfect hands. I mean, after all, there are hand models, aren't they? Most of us have imperfect hands. We get paper cuts, cut our hands cooking, burn them, bruise them, hurt them in some way, scar them in another. I looked at my scars. A million times a day people everywhere hurt their hands. But my scars didn't come from me. My scars came from a maniac. The scars on both my hands told a story that I could care to forget.
You can't rewrite your history. You can put a pen in your hands, a keyboard under your fingers, a typewriter on your desk. No matter how you do it, no matter how hard you try, you can't rewrite that.
"Jane…How lovely to see you." I could still hear his disgusting voice, see his smirking face. "I like that scent, the smell of lavender and fear." His voice echoed in my mind, his every sentence forever etched into my memory. His grey hair, his wrinkled face, his piercing blue eyes haunt me every night. That first time I encountered him I had been in pursuit of him, attempting to save a woman when he had snuck up behind me. He hit me over the head with a two by four, and when I came to I was pinned to the ground, with scalpels through my hands. I ran a finger over one of the scars. It was a small puckered line of skin. The marks on my palms were identical, matched by another pair of scars on the opposite side of each hand.
"Jane." I jumped, putting my hands under my desk.
"What?" Korsak was staring at me like I had two heads.
"Jane." He sat down on the edge of my desk, and dragged my hands out, holding them in his own. "Hoyt's dead. He isn't coming back for you. I know we had too many close calls, but it's ok. It won't happen again."
"I know, Korsak. I know he's dead. I know he won't be back for me." I pulled my hands from his, hiding my scars. "But these aren't the only scars he left me."
"I know. He scarred us all, remember?" He pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing a thin scar on his neck where Hoyt had tried to slit his throat with a scalpel. "And I know what we went through was nothing compared to what you did. But that's all over."
"I know. I'm fine." I was anything but fine, but I couldn't take the pity in his eyes. The worry. And no matter what Korsak was saying to me now, almost a year after I'd killed Hoyt with my own two, scarred hands, I could still feel Hoyt over me. I could still see him cutting Maura's neck before I killed him. And always, on a day to day basis, I could hear what he'd said to me, the second time he'd tried to kill me: "You know, your problem is that your heart rules your head." Of all the things Hoyt had ever said to me, it was this that was the most sinister, and it was this that stuck with me most often.
"Ok…" Korsak said, but he sounded unsure. "Come on. We got a case."
"Where's Frost?"
"He's downstairs."
I grabbed my coat off the back of my chair, throwing it around my shoulders and following him to the elevator. He pressed the button, and we only had to wait a moment before the doors opened. Eager to avoid another emotional moment, I asked, "What do we know?"
"Not much. We received a call about a blonde twenty something in an alley. Dispatched EMS, she was DOA. So we're on our way." We met Frost at the front door and Korsak drove the cruiser to the scene. It was already surrounded by cop cars and taped off.
We walked by one of the paramedics on the scene. "Did you attempt to administer any kind of assistance?" Frost asked the question as we passed.
"No. It was obviously unnecessary." The minute we were under the tape we knew why. Lying in the alley, just out of view of the street was a young woman, probably mid-twenties, lying in a pool of her own blood. As we got closer I put on a pair of gloves and crouched down next to her body.
"What do we know?"
Frankie answered me from the other side of the alley. "The victim is Amber Hadley, age twenty six. Her driver's license says she's from Austin Texas. We're trying to find out where she's been staying and why."
I leaned over the body, looking closely at her. Her hands had no defensive wounds, and she was very well dressed. I looked at her throat, which was cut. Even I could see that the cut looked precise, almost surgical in nature. "I dropped out of medical school, Agent Rizzoli, you know that." Hoyt's voice played through my mind again, and I almost fell over with the power of it.
"You ok?" Korsak asked, eyeing me again.
"I'm fine. Where's Maura?"
"I'm right here, Jane." I turned around to see Maura ducking under the police tap with her bag at her side. She smiled, and it felt like my whole day was better, like one day, I might actually be ok. And still, I heard his voice, my constant reminder. "You know, your problem is that your heart rules your head."
What do you think?