This is my first Rizzoli & Isles fanfic, though I've written a few more on here and elsewhere for different shows. I've been in love with this show for ages, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to write these two gorgeous ladies genuinely or do them the justice they deserve. Anyway, I've decided to give it a shot. I hope you enjoy. Rated T for now but if I write more chapters will probably be moved to an M rating.
Chapter One
"Hurry up!" Maura Isles called from her living room, a mixture of impatience and excitement in her tone. "We need to leave in … fifty-four minutes and I need to see if there are any last-minute changes to be made." The reply she received contained of nothing but a harassed grunt, and she bit back a smile as she headed into the kitchen to feed Bass.
"If I could just get into this stupid thing," Jane muttered to herself, actual beads of sweat forming on her forehead as she tried to navigate her way through what seemed to be a maze of fine straps and loops. Ten minutes in and she was as clueless as to how to get into the teal dress as she had been when she started. "'Oh wear this, Jane, it'll look gorgeous,'" she mimicked Maura's earlier words. "Forgot to mention I might get decapitated in the process, didn't she?" It took only another three minutes before she admitted defeat, throwing the infuriating item on the perfectly made bed within the guest room and glowering at it, as if it would suddenly behave like a perp and wilt beneath her icy glare. Jane Rizzoli prided herself on being one of the best detectives in Boston, good judgement and sheer gut instinct giving her the unique ability to solve most cases with ease. Put her in a room with a dress, however, and she was as lost as the Easter Bunny at Christmas. "Maura!" she called, her voice filled with accusation.
Knelt down beside her beloved tortoise, Bass, half-eaten strawberry in her hand, Maura pressed her lips together to suppress the grin she felt. "Yes, Jane?"
"This is not a dress! This is some kind of cruel assault course!" Stomping across the room in just her black briefs and matching bra, she stuck her head around the door and peered down the landing, brown eyes narrowed into slits. "Either that, or they've made the dress wrong." She paused to see if a response would be forthcoming and, after a second of being met with silence, she scowled darkly. "You'd better not be laughing in there." More silence. Jane sighed and looked over her shoulder at the offending item and adopted a more pitiful tone. "Come on, Maur. You don't want to be late, do you?" It was her time to smirk now, well aware that even the notion of tardiness would cause her friend to have a near-coronary, the effectiveness of her tactic evident as she heard hurried footsteps heading in her direction. She stepped back just in time to avoid being flattened by the door as Maura charged through, though the detective's smile soon dropped as soon as she was confronted with her friend. "You're not even dressed yet!" she stated, her brow furrowing as she took in the doctor wearing a gold satin robe. "Unless you're planning to wear that, of course, in which case … you have read the brief, haven't you?"
Maura rolled her eyes, a trait of Jane's that had rubbed off on her in the time in they had been friends. "Look," she said, pointing to her beautifully made-up face and perfectly styled hair. "All I need to do is slip into my dress, which will only take five minutes." She glanced down at her expensive watch before regarding Jane with a small shrug. "Well, probably two, but I'll give myself five to be safe." She ignored Jane's disbelieving snort and stared at the lithe woman in front of her, only now properly realising that her friend was wearing only underwear. It wasn't as if she had never seen the brunette in a similar state of undress before, but for some unknown reason she felt her cheeks flush slightly. Shaking her head, she stared at Jane's face, instead. "But with you … well, I don't know if we're going to have enough time."
Mock outrage flitted across the taller woman's face as she put a hand on her hip. "Thanks for that," she retorted, though there was a faint trace of humour underlying her words. "If we could just get me out of your house alive, I'd be grateful," she continued, her expression darkening once more as she turned to grimace at the garment apparently intent on torturing her. "It's a death trap."
The corners of Maura's lips quirked up into the smallest of smiles. "It's Donna Karan," she replied reverently, as though speaking the name of a precious deity.
"Well, that Donna is one sadistic son of a bitch," Jane murmured venomously.
"Actually, her mother-" About to launch into another of her seemingly endless supply of facts, just one sharp look from her friend quelled such thoughts. "Fine, fine," she acquiesced, hands held up in surrender. "But say the words."
"What words? Maur, come on. Clock's ticking."
The golden-haired woman held firm, her head tilted as she regarded her friend. "Say the words."
Jane glared at Maura for a long moment and then released an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. I need your help. Whatever. Now will you please get me into this thing without killing me?"
Maura smiled sweetly, her hazel eyes sparkling. "Of course, Jane. Any time."
Four sharp raps to the back of a large white van caused Vince Korsak to lean forward and swing open the door, releasing a wolf whistle that caused Barry Frost to turn from his laptop, even his eyes widening slightly as he peered around his sergeant. "Wow, Rizzoli, is that you?!"
"Yeah, yeah, shut up," Jane snapped, hitching the floor-length dress up around her knees and taking Korsak's hand before being practically hoisted into the van. Maura, following suit, looked even more glamorous than usual, her red with black trim corset dress that skimmed the top of her knees and appeared skin-tight ensuring that she garnered appreciative double (and triple) takes from both men and women alike as she and Jane walked from where they'd parked her car down to the dark alley where the van rested. It was Jane that left their colleagues speechless, however. The teal silky dress clung to her upper body before flaring out slightly, her black tumbling hair and smoky eyes contrasting beautifully with the colour.
"You both look … wow," Korsak said, purposefully ignoring Jane's glare as he slammed the van door behind them and submerged them in near-darkness.
"Why, thank you, Vince," Maura replied, her voice warm. "I bought this dress years ago, and I've never had a chance to wear it before. Donatella Versace," she explained enthusiastically.
"Who cares?!" Jane interrupted, irritatedly flicking a particularly unruly lock of hair over her shoulder. "Donna this, Donna that. I bet they've never tried walking in these damn shoes." She didn't even have to see Maura's face to know another nugget of information was about to come her way and held her hand up pre-emptively. "Don't. Even. Go there," she warned. Reaching around Frost, she retrieved the wires both she and Maura would be wearing that night and tried to stand, only to swear loudly when her head collided loudly with the roof. As she pulled Maura towards her, Korsak repeated the brief.
Six days earlier, two women, Sharon Humphries and Iona Lachlan, had been found dead in their apartment. Jane, a hardened cop, had felt nausea rise in the pit of her stomach when she'd entered the crime scene to find parts of the dismembered bodies contorted into grim centrepieces throughout the apartment, and poor Frost had spent the best part of an hour with his head in a gutter after being confronted with such gore. Now they found themselves here, parked a few buildings away from The Seltzer Club, an upscale, discreet lesbian club aimed especially for swingers. It was this very same club where Sharon and Iona had last been seen alive, and so Jane – and subsequently Maura – had ended up being roped into some undercover work after usual routes of inquiry had been fruitless. Chrissy Stone, the owner of the club, had made it clear that she would not compromise the identities of her clients, and it had only been when she was faced with the charge of obstruction did she reluctantly agree to an undercover operation. Jane's task of the evening was to gather as much information as possible, and it was this, the fact she was doing her detective duties, that she repeated to herself like a mantra as she practically toppled out of the van, with Maura exiting a damn sight more gracefully.
"Can you hear me?" Jane asked quietly as they slowly – she really was wearing killer heels – made their way out of the alley and turned out into the road.
"What? Of course I ca … oh," Maura replied, comprehension replacing her confused expression as she realised Jane was talking to Korsak and Frost. A nod from Jane indicated that all was well, and she linked her arm through the brunette's as they approached the club. "You know, we really should get a photo before the end of the night," she said conversationally, unexpectedly coming to a halt as Jane stopped dead in her tracks and stared at her with a raised eyebrow. "For Angela," Maura explained eagerly. "You look gorgeous."
Jane rolled her eyes before continuing to walk. "Ma would probably die."
"But she'd be happy."
"Maura … we are here for work. Christ, even I don't want to see me looking like … like this, let alone giving Ma an opportunity to put it pride of place on the living room wall. God, how do you wear this stuff? Why would anyone in their right mind choose to wear this stuff?" she moaned, already feeling the start of a blister on her heel.
"It's fashion," Maura replied. "Feel the fabric, look at the embroidery, the intricacy of it all. All of the work that goes into designing and-"
The brunette moaned and cast her gaze heavenward for a quick second. "I still don't see why I couldn't have worn a suit. Lesbians wear suits!"
"And lesbians wear dresses," Maura pointed out. "Sharon and Iona were …" She seemed to take a second to recall the word. "They were femmes. And, you know, it's so stereotypical sometimes, even for lesbians. I was reading an article the other day, and most of society believes that lesbian couples consists of a femme, say … me," she gestured at herself, "and a butch. Like you. And, really, it's not always that way at-"
"Hey! We had this conversation long ago. I am so not necessarily butch."
"You are."
"I'm not!"
"You kind of are, Rizzoli," Korsak interjected from the van. "Just saying."
"Well, quit it!" she hissed, not having to turn to Maura to know there would be a smug smirk on those full red lips. Deciding she wasn't going to win this argument, she instead forced a big smile on her face as they walked up to the door and pressed the intercom buzzer. "Chrissy said there's food. There'd better be. I'm starving," she said as they waited for someone to come.
"I wonder what that's going to be like," Maura replied, her voice thoughtful. "Is it like a full three course meal, so eat then swing. Or a buffet, so swing then eat. Or swing and eat, you know, at the same time." She heard a loud snicker down her ear and a second later flushed a brilliant scarlet, thankful that the dark night hid her face. "Maybe there will be actual swings. I've never been to a sex shop, but once-"
"Maura," Jane interrupted quickly. "I beg you, please don't finish that sentence." At that second, the door opened to reveal a young black woman in her twenties clad head-to-toe in pink PVC leather. "Good evening ladies," she all but purred. "How can I help you?"
Out of the two, it was Jane who recovered first and she handed over her newly printed membership card for inspection. The greeter studied it for a long moment before stepping aside and ushering them in. "Please, follow me."