Title: Hamilton Gregg Wants to Kill Your Face

Author: Maggiemerc

Rating: T

Status: In Progress

Fandoms: Rizzoli & Isles, Grey's Anatomy

Pairings: Callie/Arizona, Rizzoli/Isles, and a special MYSTERY pairing…which is revealed in the first chapter so whatever.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. It is a tragedy I suffer through daily.

Summary: Fresh on the heels of the season two finale Rizzoli is trying to manage her confusing feelings for Maura and the case of a criminal from her past. Her hunt to stop him before he kills again takes her to Seattle, and straight into the sights of her ex.

Author's Note: Felt like kicking this out in between chapters of Another Statement of Causality. If there's interest maybe I'll tackle more of it.

Chapter One

Maura still wasn't talking to her despite every effort on Jane's part. At the hospital, while they waited to learn to outcomes of both shootings she'd made overtures. Maura had shifted away.

"Give her time," Ma had said in a soothing voice, her hand rubbing circles on Jane's back. "You shot her father. That's bound to make anyone cranky."

"And he lived. And the guy—my boyfriend—lived. He shot him. Shouldn't I be mad?"

Her mother agreed that she should, and though Jane tried to get angry or upset over the shooting of Gabriel Dean she could not. Not when Maura's pained cries still rung in her ears. Not when she still felt the gun in her hand firing despite every part of her screaming at what a bad idea it was.

It was something Dean noticed when she finally came to his bedside. Though he'd been shot he'd remained conscious through much of the ordeal and wasn't too pleased that she ran to Maura rather then seeing to him first.

"Maybe I ought to recuperate at home…in DC."

She found herself nodding in agreement. "Not the far to John Hopkins from there." Never mind that they were currently in a very expensive government paid for room at Mass Gen. Thankfully Dean wasn't up on hospital rankings like Jane was and he smiled weakly.

"I always thought that was here in Boston," he said.

She shook her head. "Baltimore. It's a nice place."

"You been there?"

And his conversational tone belied the real question, "You and Maura go there?" And had he asked that question she would have said no. But he asked the more round about one so she said, "Yeah. Went with a friend for their five year reunion."

They both let that one sink in. He was thinking Maura and she made no effort to change his mind. "I'm uh…pretty tired right now Jane. Mind if I get some sleep?"

She smiled and kissed his cheek and turned the lights out as she left and when she came by two days later he was gone. Off to convalesce somewhere where a woman would swoon at his bedside instead of stalk the halls waiting on a best friend in another ward.

Two wards actually. And two hospitals. Maura's mother, a ridiculously wealthy woman with more social connections than a Hilton, was naturally at Mass Gen. Maura's father—her birth father—was at the far less illustrious Suffolk County Jail.

Jane hadn't spoken to Maura but from her mother she'd learned that she was spending much of her days driving between the two institutions, one the finest teaching hospital on the East Coast and the other a place that regularly reeked of vomit and beer soaked urine.

Otherwise she was busy at work sending lackeys to cases that Jane had or sitting at home ignoring Jane out in her guesthouse.

"Seriously," Ma said one day over a simmering pot of tomato sauce, "give her time. She'll come around."

"Yeah? And how do you know?"

"Well I'm still living in her guest house aren't I?"

So Jane tried to be patient. But eventually the dull monotony of guilt, grief, work and her mother's place wore on Jane. She needed to do something. She tried running and bicycling to talk off the building edge she'd developed but neither sport did anything to help it. Then she tried pick up games of basketball or sparring with fellow police officers but that ended when she got kicked out of a game for excessive elbowing and knocked Frankie out during a friendly sparring match.

Finally too keyed up and lacking in options she made the decision to call the racetrack and schedule a high speed drive. It was a little pricey but as she wasn't going to very expensive restaurants for no reason with Maura any more she could afford it.

The day of "Jane's Attempt To Drive Off Emotions" as she privately called it was one of those crystal clear winter days where the wind had bite but the sun shined brightly.

She made coffee, took a shower and ate some powdered donuts she found in the back of her pantry. Just as she was leaving she remembered the shoes Maura had given for her birthday earlier that year.

They were tucked away in her hall closet and when she pulled them down a box of old keepsakes came tumbling after.

It wasn't a box she frequented often. The items in it were all mementos of a time she'd spent more than three years trying to forget, but as she cleaned up the mess she made and put the box back in order she found a photo taken at another birthday party years before. It was a good picture of her, and Frankie and Tommy both had smiles bigger than she'd even seen on them since they were in elementary school.

She tucked the photo into her pocket, and the shoes into her bag and headed for work.

#

Jane arrived to an unusually quiet office. Korsak and Frost were missing, the phones weren't ringing and Maura was—well she was never there any more.

Jane took the opportunity to shove her driving shoes into the bottom drawer of her desk and look for some tape so she could put the photo up on her monitor.

Frost came in soon after and immediately noticed the photo. "Woah. Who's the hottie with you and your brothers," he asked.

"An old family friend." It was a statement so close to the truth it actually sounded believable when she said it.

"How come I've never met her?"

"Because she doesn't live here. Where's Korsak?"

Frost shrugged, "No idea. He got a call as soon as he came in and left. Where does she live?"

"In a place far out of your league."

Suitably put down Frost made himself busy with work and Jane tried to do the same, but her eyes kept straying to the photo. It was taken before Tommy hit a man and before Frankie joined the force. The woman was smiling brightly as she often did. Just seeing that smile made Jane ache with a homesickness she thought evaporated years before.

It must have been this whole fight with Maura. Some of the emotions of it were too similar. The situations too familiar. Or maybe it was because Jane desperately needed a friend who would listen to her process the events of the last few weeks. Someone who would smile and nod and put a comforting hand on her knee and offer no judgement and ask for nothing in return.

Jane got no work done the rest of the day. She made attempts at writing up reports and handling desk work for recent cases but more often than not she found herself reliving past events and regretting the spur of the moment idea to bring the photo to work and put it up on her monitor.

What would Korsak say if he saw it? Or her mother? Those were lectures she'd sooner avoid. It was a sudden snap decision to take it down. She'd already wasted a day staring. If she kept it up she'd probably lose a week to thinking about a life already lived. But before Jane could take the photo down Korsak came in and made a beeline for her.

"Where you been all day," she asked. She leaned back in her chair and away from her monitor in the hopes that he wouldn't spy the photo.

But whatever had kept him out of the office also had him worked up. "We need to talk Jane."

"About what?"

"Hamilton Gregg was released three weeks ago and he's missed his last two meetings with his parole officer."

Suddenly white noise raging and loud enough to be the beating of her own heart and the blood coursing through her head snuck up on Jane. "How," was all she could say.

He shook his head, "No idea."

Action.

She pushed herself up and shrugged on her coat—snapping up the photo on her monitor in the process. "I have to go," she muttered.

"What? Where?'

Frost was now realizing something was wrong. "What's going on?"

"Does she know?"

Korsak shook his head again, every ounce the ineffectual police officer, "Department of Corrections doesn't have a number for her."

"So Gregg is out there and she's unaware. And until this moment no one could even tell me?" She glared at him, "The arresting officer."

Then Korsak tried to approach her, "You need to calm down Jane."

"No. I need to go."

She fled the office and completely forgot her racing shoes. But if Gregg was out she'd have adrenaline rushes soon enough.

#

Jane would be there again. Sitting back there in the guesthouse with her mother. Patiently waiting for Maura to make the first move. To come out and open a line of communication. Since her father's incarceration and Agent Dean's transfer Jane came over every day. When her mother was there the detective stayed on her couch sipping a beer and staring at the television. When she wasn't there Jane was polite enough to wait in her car. Her actions were not dependent on Maura. She'd find Jane sitting in her car or asleep on her mother's couch no matter the time or day. It was Jane's routine. Work. Home. Maura's.

Maura's own routine was more involved. She wasn't simply a police officer. She was the Chief Medical Examiner for the state of Massachusetts. She had hundreds of employees to manage. Countless more cases to oversee. And she had not one, but two parents recovering from major surgery. Admittedly one was just a biological parent and her interactions with him were limited due to his residency in the Suffolk County Jail. As the Chief Medical Examiner she had more access to her biological father then another woman might, but it was hardly the same as her visitations with her mother. Who was healing well and would be released within the next two weeks.

But the travel from the jail to the hospital to work was exhausting. So each evening she returned home, made certain Jane was sleeping on her mother's couch or in her car, and went to bed. She did not speak with Jane. She tried, and often failed, to even acknowledge her.

Had she other friends they would have asked why she continued to let her father's attacker's mother live in her guest house. They would have wondered why she didn't file a restraining order, or at least tell Jane to leave. She had no reasonable answer for them.

And some part of her hoped that the sense of betrayal, the dark ache that consumed her, would fade. That she would look at Jane and not feel a righteous hatred warring with the old familiar feelings she'd carried for so long.

That evening she returned home to find her guesthouse well lit but sans Jane. Her car was missing from the driveway as well. Earlier she'd heard Frost and Korsak referring to some other man Jane had put in jail once upon a time. Perhaps she'd be so busy wrestling emotionally with that news that she'd fail to continue her watch outside Maura's house.

Maura was in the midst of preparing a delicious pumpkin risotto that would pair nicely with the wine she'd just uncorked when Jane's car squealed to a stop in her driveway. She involuntarily ducked as Jane stalked through her backyard towards the guesthouse.

By the loud banging on the guesthouse door Maura knew something was amiss.

"Ma! Would you please open up!"

Jane's voice had always had a remarkable ability to carry. Even over the sound of the radio and the boiling starches Maura could hear her.

Her mother's voice was equally apt to carry, but was muffled by the walls of the guesthouse.

"Would ya—I don't want to yell through the door Ma. Just open up!"

More muffled yelling. Maura turned her stove off, took a large sip of wine for fortifying purposes and stepped outside.

"Jane?"

She had not anticipated the effect her voice would have on her one time friend. Though her back was to her Maura could watch Jane's body visibly tighten. She could see the rise and fall of the other woman's shoulders indicating deep breaths. Her hands fidgeted briefly—Jane quickly grasped one in the other to still them both. Then she turned and Maura was surprised at her face. There were a quantity and quality of emotions on Jane's face that Maura had never seen. Heartache, happiness, frustration, reservation. The entirety of the human experience was acting out in the sharp features of the Boston detective's face.

Her name came from Jane's lips like a choked explicative. "Maura."

"I appreciate you wanting to have a conversation with your mother but can you please keep it down?"

Intellectually speaking Maura knew her words were insufferably rude but she was incapable of stopping herself from being so brusque.

Jane reacted much like she did every time they communicated now. Her head snapped back as though she'd been slapped.

"I'll go." Her shoulders had slumped and her hands were now thrust firmly into the front pockets of her coat.

Maura again, could not help herself, "What…what were you doing here?"

Jane took a moment to look back at the guesthouse, "I've gotta go on a trip and Ma's not too happy about it."

"Where—"

"Hamilton Gregg is out."

Maura tried to recall the name, but despite a nearly perfect memory that fell just short of photographic she could not place it.

"He was this sleaze," she continued, "I put away back before I met you. And there's somebody who needs to know he's out—someone he might be after."

"A warning is too good for her," Mrs. Rizzoli cried—still hiding in the guesthouse.

Jane ignored her mother. Apparently this woman and Mrs. Rizzoli's feelings for her were nothing new.

"So we've been having this particular conversation for over an hour." To the guesthouse, "I'm going Ma!"

"Don't be an idiot!" Her mother's plea would have held more weight if she wasn't sitting in her home in the dark ostensibly to avoid her daughter.

Jane started to say something to Maura, perhaps to ask for help with her mother, or to tell her how nice her shoes looked, or maybe she was just going to say goodnight, but she stopped herself and instead curtly nodded and left.

Now alone Maura approached the guesthouse, "Angela."

The other woman swung the door open, "She's an idiot Maura. A damned idiot."

Maura could only smile at the comment, because when frustrated with Jane she'd often ventured, at least in her mind, to say the same thing, but she knew that when a parent was insulting their child it wasn't wise to agree.

"All that woman did was break her heart over and over again and leave her alone so a creep like Hoyt could hurt her and now she's going to fly across the flipping country to talk to her? I raised my daughter to be smarter then that."

There was…a great deal of information for Maura to suddenly absorb. And when given the opportunity to ask a question Maura, garishly, asked the most immediate one to present itself.

"She broke her heart?"

"That ex-girlfriend of hers! Who flies all the way to Seattle to talk to an ex?"

That was new information. The kind of information that demanded processing. Angela released it so flippantly. As though she thought Maura already knew about the apparently fluid nature of Jane's sexuality. Maura did not. But suddenly a great deal was beginning to make sense.

#

It was the same doctor that had admitted the last two girls. Which made sense. Jane found the girls alone and dying in the park and she would rush them to the closest hospital, which happened to be the Children's Hospital Boston. It was always late at night and the staff she found while carrying the frail children into the ER were always the same. So yeah, it made sense that it would be the same doctor treating all three girls.

She gave Jane a firm nod and took this, the third girl, out of her arms.

Like both times before Jane stepped out of the trauma room and leaned against the wall to wait.

If everything played out exactly as it had before the doctor would come out, sigh and then look at Jane with sad eyes. She'd tell her it was too late and the girl was too far gone. Jane would write a report and send it off to the detectives and go to sleep trying to get another gaunt girl's face out of her head.

Only tonight was different. The doctor came out and smiled. It was a brilliant smile—like the sun in the morning. Bright and warm and impossible to avoid. She knelt down next to Jane and took her big gangly hand in her smaller one. It was a nice hand. Slim and dexterous with short nails and dark nail polish.

"She's alive."

Jane laughed, because anything else would have been unseemly coming from an officer in uniform, and let her head fall back against the wall.

"She's dehydrated and malnourished and what was done to her ankles is—but we've got her stabilized and we're going to get her a little healthier and go in and fix it."

"That's great news doc."

The doctor shifted and took a seat on the ground next to Jane. Her smaller hand still clasped Jane's. "I thought so. Don't know about you but I couldn't have handled another one."

Jane nodded mutely. The doctor's hand was warm and dry in her own, and she smelled nice. Like some unfrilly shampoo and cologne just delicate enough to keep from being masculine.

"Will that detective be joining us?"

"Korsak? No ma'am. He's still at the park."

The doctor nodded and let Jane's hand go. "I've got to go admit our young Jane Doe and schedule her surgery, but afterwards I want to have a drink and celebrate and I want you to join me."

In another world the doctor's invitation would have meant a date. In a world where the doctor was a man. In Jane's world though, she just wished it was a date and that this pediatrician wasn't just one of those unnaturally sunny people that frequently set Jane's teeth on edge.

"It's a date," she said. Because even though it wasn't it'd be nice to think it was.

The doctor gave her another warm smile and then looked her over. From the feet straight up to the top of the head. Jane's experience with women was limited but she knew she was being checked out—by the sunny pediatrician she found extremely attractive.

"It is Officer Rizzoli." A date with a doctor. If it wasn't for the whole vagina thing her mother would be proud.

"Seeing as we're getting drinks and have communed over the survival of a child you really should call me Jane."

"Then you'll have to call me Arizona."

Like the ship.