Through Our Children's Eyes
By: SpecialAgentZivaDiNozzo & MauraRizzoli
A/N: Hola! We're excited to announce that this is our first collab based on the show, so enjoy!
~SpecialAgentZivaDiNozzo & MauraRizzoli
Disclaimer: We don't own Rizzoli & Isles, the characters, the books or the show.
Chapter 1: Elisabeth
The smell of dead bodies hit my nose before my mom's overbearing perfume did. "Are you alright, honey?" she asked me, looking up from the corpse she was dissecting that day.
"Yeah, Mom." I answered for the fifteenth time. I hated going to work with my mom. It wasn't that I didn't like being with her…it was her job. She was Dr. Maura Isles, medical examiner for the Boston PD and it was not only gross, but it stunk, literally. "Why couldn't I go to work with Dad?" I whined.
"Your father had a very important and dangerous case today, you know that." she told me. I sighed and tried to focus on my Algebra, despite the horrible smell assaulting my nostrils. My dad was Agent Gabriel Dean of the FBI, and what I would've given to be sitting in his office instead of with my mother in the morgue, which reeked of dead people and cheese.
Just then, my mother's best friend, Detective Jane Rizzoli walked in. "What do we got, Maur?" she asked, crossing her arms and walking over to my mom.
"Signs of strangulation indicated by bruising on the neck." my mom answered, pointing it out.
After they were done, Jane came over to where I was sitting at my mother's desk.
"Hey, kiddo. Gabriella's upstairs if you want to go hang out." she told me.
Of course, my mother jumped in. "She has Algebra to finish." my mom responded for me. Great. Just great. My one-way ticket out of the "Dead Zone" taken by my mother.
"Ok, well, whenever you're finished…" Jane said, walking out, smiling at me.
My mom acted like I was the biggest slacker, and that, couldn't be farther from the truth. I had straight A's. "Mom, can I just-" I started, but got cut off.
"No. Finish, and then you can go. I told you about the time that I didn't do my homework, and it-" she began, but I cut her off.
"Dropped your grade down to a "B-" making you end up with second highest GPA that year." I finished, deadpan. She gave me a look. "Fine, I'll finish." I conceded
. "Thank you," my mom said, once again returning to her corpse.
"Hey, sweetheart." a voice said, a few minutes later.
"Dad!" I yelled jumping off the chair and running into his arms.
"Hey, Lizzie. I hope your mom's not boring you to death." he joked with a laugh.
"Excuse me." Mom joked back with a smile, peeling off her gloves and taking off her goggles.
"Hey, honey." he said, kissing her.
"Oh, gross." I said.
"Can it, Lizzie." Dad joked.
I finished up the last problem and raced to the elevator, thankful to be rid of the dead people and cheese aroma. "See you, Mom!" I called.
"Be careful!" she called back.
…...
I saw Gabriella, Jane's daughter and my best friend, lounging in her mom's desk chair. I waved. "Hey, Gabby." I teased, knowing that irked her.
"Don't. Call. Me. That." she responded tightly.
"Why? Will you kick my ass?" I joked, smiling.
She glared. "Lizzie, I'm warning you. Don't think I can't. Did you forget who my mom is?" she asked.
I smiled. "My mom stabbed someone with a scalpel once." I said proudly.
Gabriella snorted. "Come here, nerd." she said, hugging me. We were so different, but we were best friends, not unlike our own mothers.
"Elisabeth, come on, we still have to try on that dress before dinner at Jane's." my mother said. I rolled my eyes.
"Mom, do I have to wear a dress?" I complained.
She placed her hands on her hips. "Yes, now let's go." she told me, and I sighed, following her.
Gabriella shot me a "Better you than me." look, and I glared at her.
…...
"Mom, I look stupid!" I complained, as I got out of our car, pulling at the itchy dress my mother had forced me to wear.
"No, you don't you look beautiful, now stop it." she insisted.
I sighed. "Easy for you to say, Mom. You look like a Parisian runway model." I told her.
"She's right, you know." Dad agreed, smiling.
I rolled my eyes. "Not helping!" I told him.
"Sorry honey, can I help it if your mother's hot?" he asked. God, I had to born to a fashion crazed mother?
"Well, thank you, sweetheart. You're not too bad yourself." she answered, laughing as we walked up to the door to Aunt Jane's apartment. Oh, God! Oh, God! Mom, Dad, flirting. Save me!
Jane was my godmother so it was just easier to call her aunt. Mom held Dad's arm and smiled. Uncle Joe opened the door a few seconds later, in a nice shirt and pants. Thank God, I wasn't underdressed. "Come on in, guys. Janie's just about got dinner ready." Uncle Joe said.
"Call me Janie one more time, Joe…" Aunt Jane warned him.
"Sure, Janie." he said, laughing.
"You're just looking to get your ass kicked aren't ya?" she asked, waving a wooden spoon at him.
"Baby, you can kick my ass any day of the week." Uncle Joe said, smiling.
"Yeah, I'll bet." Aunt Jane teased, stirring the sauce in her evening dress. "Gabriella! Lizzie's here!" Aunt Jane yelled.
"Hey, Gabe, what's up, man?" Uncle Joe asked, shaking my dad's hand.
"Nothing much, and you, sir?" Dad asked.
"I'm pretty fine. The game's just gone into half-time and the Sox are down by one. Grab a beer and come watch." Uncle Joe said, as my Dad grabbed a beer from the fridge and joined him on the couch.
"Ok, you both got five minutes, then dinner." Aunt Jane said.
"Hey, Lizzie. Hey, Auntie Maura." Gabriella said, coming out of her room in a nice dress. I smirked.
"So much for that now, huh? You thought your mom wouldn't make you dress up." I said.
"Oh, shut up." she replied, smiling.
"Girls…" Mom interjected.
"Hey, Maura, you mind settin' the table for me?" Aunt Jane asked.
"Sure." My mom started setting it as Gabriella and stood talking.
After it was set, Aunt Jane called the boys to dinner. "Aw, Janie, it's the bottom of the ninth, five minutes to go!" Uncle Joe protested.
"I don't care. Dinner. Now." she replied, shutting it off as the men groaned and shuffled over, sitting down.
I sat down, pulling at my dress. "You're beautiful, sweetheart. Stop fidgeting." Mom chided.
"But Mom…" I started.
"Elisabeth Anabelle Dean, don't start." Mom warned.
Crap, I hate this dress. Note to self: Get mom to take you shopping to buy a less itchy dress. "So, ladies, how was work?" Uncle Joe asked, dishing out the pasta.
"We caught a triple homicide." Aunt Jane offered.
"How'd they die?" Dad asked, and that was when Mom went off on one of her medical speeches. This was going to be a very long night.