Author's Note: This is a bit of an experiment for me, and you're welcome to join the ride. If you've heard of the "Trolley Problem" in Ethics/Philosophy, you'll understand the summary above. But don't worry if you haven't — it'll be explained. If you want to learn more, go to YouTube and search for Harvard's "Justice with Michael Sandel" — it'll make you think and/or come up with crime stories like this one. But please, kids, don't do any of this at home. It's just fiction… ;-)
In case you're wondering:
Yes, there will be Rizzles all the way. But it's the first time I'm writing them like this (it was originally going to be a Castle fanfic), so don't rush them.
Also, there'll be minor references to my previous story about Frost's death. If you haven't read that one: Frost died in an explosion and it strengthened the bond between Jane & Maura, which serves as the foundation for this story here.
Provided I won't get hit by an asteroid or find a hidden stash of cookies, the chapters will last at least until February 25 to shorten the time until the rest of Season 4. Speaking of which:
Dear writers of the show: (if you happen to read this) If the rumors are true and there'll be a pregnancy scare for Jane, then please, get rid of that baby! This show needs more drama, not more drooling! Thank you! (And it goes without saying that Casey isn't suitable relationship material. Who the hell wants to be blackmailed into marriage?! O_o)
Copyright: As usual, all language errors are mine and so is the story. The characters belong to Tess Gerritsen & TNT. I hope they'll forgive me this unusual foray into Rizzles territory.
Thanks for reading. Feedback will be much appreciated.
...
Chapter 1
April 5, 2014
"You're not going to like this…," Maura says, her voice hoarse from a cold but surprisingly calm given the circumstances.
"What the hell is this?" Jane frowns as she stands at the other side of the bars and looks around in the windowless room, trying to understand the scenario presented to her.
"He wants you to kill me," Maura replies and tries to keep her posture on the chair to which her hands are cuffed behind her back.
"Well, too bad, I'm not his genie in the bottle," Jane snorts and worriedly notices the two wires connected to Maura's hands and to a spot beneath her pullover, close to her heart.
"You will have to do it," the blonde insists. She has already spent the last few hours playing through all options in her head, and she knows there is no other way out.
"Not funny, Maura!" the detective resolutely brushes aside the suggestion.
"There is a bomb in Fenway Park," Maura warns. "If you don't do it, dozens of innocents will die."
"Maura, I won't kill you," Jane declares firmly and scrutinizes the bars separating her from the blonde. "Now, help me get us outta here…"
"Listen to me, Jane! There is a bomb. It will explode in…" The medical examiner glances at the timer in a corner of the room. "…in 18 minutes."
"Well, then help me stop it, for God's sake!" The detective's patience has long run out.
"You can't," Maura objects. "There is not enough time. And you'd only cause a mass panic if you tried to evacuate people…"
Jane angrily rattles at the bars in an attempt to determine their robustness. "Just tell me exactly what's going on, and we'll figure it out."
"You already know what's going on," the blonde sighs but fails to get the detective's attention. "Jane, look at me."
Still scanning the bars and the walls for a potential way out, Jane keeps ignoring the other woman. "We don't have time for discussions, Maura. Tell me exactly what he said and what he did and—"
"Jane! Will you listen to me?!" Desperation flashes over Maura's face.
"I am listening to you! And you're talking nonsense," Jane protests. "I won't kill you, Maura."
"You'll have to. There is no other way."
Silence fills the room as the two women finally lock eyes. They both know what this is about, what the consequences will be. They both know that this is it. This is the end.
…
…
March 31 — Five Days Earlier
It was the first truly pleasant day after weeks and months of arctic blizzards, muddy thawing weather, and early spring rains. It was also the first day warm enough for wearing shorts during a late morning run, for eating ice-cream in the park, or for sipping coffee outside of Faneuil Hall while watching the world go by. And it was the first day of the Red Sox 2014 season, which was scheduled to begin with an away game against the Baltimore Orioles in the early afternoon on this sunny Monday.
And for some reason still beyond her grasp, Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts without any prior interest in baseball, had been looking forward to this day with the tingling excitement of a seven-year-old before a visit to Disneyland.
It may have had something or everything to do with the fact that her best friend, Detective Jane Rizzoli, had been meticulously planning every detail for her favorite sports team's opening game and that she had decided to celebrate the occasion with the medical examiner. Granted, with Jane's brothers being busy — Frankie was running an undercover operation for Lieutenant Martinez, and Tommy was on a potty training mission with his son T.J. — and with Frank Rizzoli Sr. being mostly irrelevant these days, Maura might have only been Jane's second choice, but the detective could have easily found some more baseball-literate officers at BPD to keep her company during the game. However, Jane had insisted on Maura joining her, and Maura had gladly agreed — even after the detective had made her promise to wear a not-so-fashionable Red Sox jersey. For superstitious reasons, Jane had said.
Maura still didn't care much about America's favorite pastime nor about the associated traditions and superstitions, but she did care about Jane. Especially after everything they had been through together — several exhausting cases at work, Casey's final departure, and then Detective Frost's tragic death in a restaurant bombing about five months ago. Life had thrown them a curveball, but it had also strengthened their bond. And after all the stress and hardships of the long winter, the first weeks of spring had finally brought joy and laughter back into their lives. A relaxed day at Jane's with baseball and Cracker Jacks and beer — and a glass of red wine after prolonged nagging from Maura — was exactly what they both needed and what they both had been looking forward to all week.
The only problem was that, once again, things didn't seem to go according to plan.
They had both taken the day off, except for emergencies, and originally, they had intended to squeeze in a quick morning run before proceeding with the detective's Red Sox opening day ritual, but judging from the text message that Maura had received half an hour ago, it seemed rather unlikely that Jane would be able to enjoy the game later that day.
At precisely 9:00 a.m., right when they had been supposed to start their run, Maura parked her dark Prius in front of Jane's apartment building, grabbed a bag of clothes she had planned to change into after their run, and gathered a plastic bag with a pharmacy logo, a net of oranges, and two packs of Kleenex from her passenger seat.
With a few quick steps, she reached the building's front door, snuck inside, and hurried up the stairs to Jane's apartment. She might have had to skip her morning run, but she would at least get some exercise on the way to her patient.
Barely out of breath and still wearing her designated running outfit, Maura knocked on the detective's apartment door.
When the only response she got was silence, the blonde wondered if she should just let herself in with her spare key. Maybe Jane had already gone back to sleep or maybe her condition had gotten worse by now…
Deciding to give it another try, Maura softly knocked again. And this time, she heard someone move around inside and shuffle towards the door. However, the apartment quickly fell silent again, at least for a second or two — until an ear-shattering sneeze from inside woke the rest of the neighborhood, followed by an assortment of swearwords from the sneezer that were clearly audible despite the still closed door.
"Jane, it's me…," Maura called out in response to the cursing.
After another loud sneeze, the door finally opened and revealed a miserably looking Jane in her pajamas and wrapped in her couch blanket, with tired, teary eyes and a red nose.
"What are you doing here? Didn't you get my text?" the germ-plagued detective rasped, her voice even huskier than usual.
"Yes, I did. That's why I'm here," Maura declared sympathetically.
"But…," Jane protested as Maura stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "I told you I can't run today and you should—"
"Actually," Maura cut her off and led her to the couch. "I believe your exact words were 'There are snottysnot balls shooting out of my nose and my head is about to explode and leave a Jackson Pollock of brain particles on my wall.'" The medical examiner gently pushed Jane onto the couch and sat down next to her. "And after several years of experience, I'm pretty sure this is Detective Rizzoli speak for 'I want you to come over and help me even though I am too proud to ask.'"
The brunette's cheeks took on an even darker shade of red and she sheepishly leaned back. "No, it's not…"
Maura knowingly tilted her head and placed the plastic bag from the pharmacy, the net of oranges, and the Kleenex on the messy couch table. "But I don't think you've really thought this through…"
Jane suspiciously raised her eyebrow. "Uh, why?"
"Because now you'll have to do as I say," the doctor grinned triumphantly.
"Oh…," was all that Jane managed to utter as she realized this tiny flaw in her otherwise brilliant plan.
"Have you already had breakfast?" the medical examiner asked while rearranging the pillows in Jane's back and making sure the detective was seated comfortably.
"Depends. How long did my Cocoa Puffs have to stay in my stomach for them to count as breakfast?" Jane wondered before another loud sneeze shook her whole body and sent a fresh fusillade of snot balls into the tissue in her hand.
Noticing the detective's slight trembling when her blanket slid away, Maura placed her hand on the brunette's forehead to feel her temperature. "You're hot," she concluded.
"Woah, Doctor Isles, hitting on your patient? Really?!" Jane tried to sound as teasingly cheerful as usual, though the subsequent round of coughing clearly confounded her intentions.
"You're running a fever," the doctor stated factually and rummaged through the plastic bag on the table. She fished out a phial of nose drops and a pack of pills and handed them to Jane. "Take one of these and then fight your snottysnot balls with these nose drops. I'll make you some tea, and then we'll see about food."
Maura let her eyes wander over the apartment and the strategically placed tissue boxes — with trails of used tissues marking the different paths that Jane had taken through her apartment this morning. The thought of all the germs having a party on the detective's floor and furniture caused a distinctive frown on Maura's forehead. "But I suppose I should get rid of those Orthomyxoviridae playgrounds in your apartment first."
Jane peeked at the medical examiner from the side and couldn't help but feel a little guilty at the sight of Maura's resolve despite the disgust written all over her face. "Thank you…"
The blonde gave her a sympathetic smile in return and contemplated the detective's condition. Obviously, it had to be more than a mild cold, given that Jane didn't even add a sarcastic joke regarding Maura's intention to clean her place. For a moment, the medical examiner wondered if she should just ignore the army of germs silently conquering every nook and cranny of the apartment and instead remain on the couch and keep Jane warm in her blanket. Physical contact did strengthen the human immune system after all. Besides, it would present her with an inconspicuous opportunity to further explore those odd, tingly feelings that she had been sensing in Jane's presence ever since they—
"Maura…?"
"Huh?" The questioning look in Jane's face ripped Maura from her thoughts, and she realized that she must have been staring at the brunette all the while.
"I promise I'll take one of these even without you watching me like Nurse Ratched," Jane murmured huskily and popped one of the antipyretic pills from the pack Maura had given her.
"Sorry…," the blonde regained her composure. "I was just thinking about the… the most effective cure for your influenza."
Before Maura could apologize further, Jane let out another loud sneeze that was probably heard at the other end of the city. "Just shoot me," she whimpered into her tissue. "That'll do."
The doctor wrapped the blanket around Jane and pulled her into a comforting hug. "Why is it that you show up at work with broken bones, dislocated shoulders, and self-inflicted gunshot wounds but a simple cold will render you incapacitated?"
Jane pointedly blew her nose again. "And why is it that you carry disinfectants wherever you go but you have no problem sharing a room with all my germs?"
"Priorities, I suppose…," Maura admitted quietly, earning her a half-thankful, half-teasing glance from Jane.
"You'll regret it in a few days when you'll get this flu from hell," the brunette warned warmly.
"Well, in that case, we'd better make sure your apartment is clean and you'll be able to reciprocate when I get sick," Maura declared and got up to start her cleaning regimen, while Jane curled up on her couch and halted another sneeze in the crook of her arm.
Thirty minutes and one large trash bag filled with used tissues later, Maura returned to the couch and sank into the cushions next to Jane, who had heaved herself up again and was letting a freshly brewed cup of tea warm her body and soothe her sore throat.
"Feeling better?" the medical examiner asked caringly.
"Getting there," Jane nodded and sipped from her tea.
A satisfied smile playing on her lips, Maura reached for her own cup of tea from the couch table and leaned back close to the brunette.
Just when they had both gotten comfortable, their cell phones on the table rang out simultaneously.
The medical examiner reached for hers and checked its display, then frowned at Jane's phone and at the detective herself. "You're still on call?"
"Oops…," Jane grimaced sheepishly. "Guess I forgot to call in sick while I was busy puking my guts out…"
Trying to ignore Maura's admonishing glare, Jane reached for her device, and they both answered their phones. "Rizzoli…" — "Doctor Isles…"
A minute later, after they had both promised their respective dispatch caller to be at the crime scene as soon as possible, they hung up again.
"You don't really intend to drive to a crime scene right now, do you?" Maura wondered incredulously.
"Uh, no," Jane smirked. "I was hoping you'd drive…"
"I will drive, but you will stay here and get some rest," the doctor decided resolutely.
"But that pill you gave me is working, and I can't call in sick now," the detective argued.
"That is not my problem," Maura objected insistently and grabbed her phone as well as her bag with extra clothes.
"Yes, it is, Doctor Isles," Jane declared.
"And why is that?" the blonde wondered, eyebrows raised inquisitively.
"Because you don't want your most important patient to drive by herself and get in an accident when she's sneezing all over the place and doesn't pay attention to oncoming traffic." Jane grinned, knowing quite well that she had maneuvered the doctor into a dead-end.
And Maura knew it, too. Any further resistance on her part would only prolong the inevitable. She rolled her eyes and pointed at Jane's raggedy look. "And you want to go like this?"
"No, give me ten minutes in the shower," the detective proposed and got up. After another sudden sneeze into her arm, she smiled sheepishly at the blonde. "Don't worry. Just do your time of death thing, let them bag the body, and we'll be back in an hour."
"You're impossible…," Maura sighed as she got up herself and stepped aside to let Jane stumble to the bathroom.
…
…
A little less than an hour later, Maura was wearing a more formal outfit and pulled her Prius into the parking lot of Braff's Motel in Newton, close to the Massachusetts Turnpike just outside of Boston. She parked her car next to several police sedans and worriedly studied Jane on the passenger seat. Even though the brunette looked more civilized now — in her work clothes and with a subtle amount of make-up and hair spray —, she was still sneezing repeatedly and collecting used tissues in a plastic bag beneath her seat, which was equally discomforting to Maura as the sight of her sick friend.
"Could you at least try not to contaminate the crime scene when we go out there?" Maura asked as the detective blew her nose again and dropped another tissue between her legs.
"Want me to wear a hazmat suit?" Jane teased and stuffed a handful of Kleenex into her blazer's pocket.
The medical examiner pondered the suggestion for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I think that would work."
"Well, too bad, forgot mine at home," the brunette grinned as they both got out of the car.
While already putting on their nitrile gloves, the two women quickly scanned the property — a run-down two-story motel with approximately twenty rooms and an empty check-in booth on the ground floor guarded by two cops. Only half a dozen cars were scattered across the lot, and a gathering of officers and CSRU techs at the far end of the building clearly indicated the location of their crime scene.
Jane waited for Maura to get her M.E. bag and then sneezingly led the way towards the spot behind the motel that seemed to be the center of everybody's attention.
Flashing her badge, the detective introduced herself and the medical examiner, and the officers guarding the yellow tape around the scene let them pass without argument.
They were instantly greeted by Sergeant Vince Korsak, who was dressed in one of his outdated brown suits and a non-matching yellowish tie. After Detective Frost's death in the Brookline bombing less than five months ago, the gray-haired sergeant had resumed his partnership with Jane, at least temporarily. They were already familiar with each other's routines and there hadn't been any immediate need to formally assign a new partner to Jane — which wasn't unusual at all, since police departments often refrained from assigning fixed partners, regardless of what numerous cop shows on television tried to make viewers believe.
Thus, Korsak welcomed Jane with his signature nod and had every intention to let her study the crime scene without interruption to allow her to come up with her own unbiased analysis. But when the sergeant noticed Jane's red nose, he instinctively shrunk back.
"Eww, are you sick?" he asked rather redundantly.
"No, my nose is having a clearance sale," Jane retorted with a weak smile, then walked towards a broken row of shrubbery to take a look at the scene.
In the bushes lay a middle-aged man, who was dressed a little too lightly even for the rising spring temperatures. His ankles and wrists were bound with gray duct tape, and another patch of tape kept his mouth shut, whereas his eyes were wide open and lifelessly staring into infinity. There was neither a weapon in sight nor any sign of a fight, but a trail of foot prints and a set of tire tracks on the ground, which was still moist from the previous night's rain, provided irrefutable evidence that someone had been at this crime scene and then driven away.
"The man's name is Orlando Diaz," Korsak announced after having given Jane another minute to analyze the scene. "An ex-con who got out a few weeks ago after serving ten years for rape, assault, and other pleasantries. The motel manager found him after having received an anonymous call."
Maura squatted down and began to examine the dead man's body. "There are ligature marks on his neck," she declared, then shone a small flashlight into the man's eyes. "Petechiae in his eyes… It appears that he was asphyxiated."
"And then dumped here…?" Jane asked before discreetly blowing her nose.
Maura carefully rolled the body on its side and lifted the man's shirt to examine his back. "Lividity indicates that the body was moved… No blood pooling in his back." She reached for the thermometer in her bag, made a small incision just below Orlando Diaz' rib margin on the right side of his body, and inserted the thermometer deep enough to reach the man's liver.
Meanwhile, Jane turned to Korsak. "Any surveillance videos?"
"Nope," the sergeant shook his head but then reached into his pocket and revealed a plastic evidence bag with a note inside. He handed it to Jane. "But we found this in his pocket."
The brunette studied the computer-printed note in her hand.
93% WOULD RATHER LET ONE CON MAN DIE THAN A DOZEN INNOCENT PEOPLE. HOW ABOUT YOU?
P.S.: YOU MIGHT WANT TO REMOVE THE BOMB BELOW THE CHECKOUT IN THE 24-HOUR MARKET ON ADAMS STREET.
"What the hell?" Jane gasped and handed the note to Maura.
"Bomb squad is already at that supermarket," Korsak said. "There really is a bomb below one of the checkout counters. I'm waiting for them to call me back with an update."
"You think this has something to do with the explosion in Charlestown last week?" the brunette wondered.
Korsak shrugged. "I don't know. The bomb in Charlestown went off in a deserted factory and didn't kill anybody. And there was no dead guy with a cryptic note in his pocket either."
"Well, even if the circumstances are different, we got two bombs within one week. Doesn't sound like a coincidence to me," Jane frowned.
"The guy still has his wallet and watch… It clearly wasn't a robbery," Korsak added. "And there was nothing else except for this note."
Maura handed him back said note before pulling out the thermometer from the dead man's liver. "Body temperature is 91.3 degrees. He died approximately four hours ago."
When Korsak's phone rang and thereby prevented any further discussion, the sergeant answered it, then silently mouthed 'bomb squad' to Jane and stepped away from the noise caused by all the officers and CSRU techs at the scene. While waiting for him to return, Jane seized the chance to blow her nose again and crouched down next to the body to watch Maura finish her preliminary examination.
"There's a small puncture wound on his left arm," the medical examiner declared and scrutinized the man's bare skin, then worriedly looked at Jane. "I don't think we'll be back home in an hour…"
A few seconds and a tired sigh from the detective later, Korsak returned and let his phone slide into his jacket's pocket. "Bomb squad has safely retrieved a hand-made bomb with a cell phone trigger. They're bringing it in for further analysis…"
"Please, tell me that at least the supermarket has a surveillance camera," Jane groaned.
"They do, and we have already requested the videos and have officers talk to potential witnesses," the sergeant nodded. "But I got a bad feeling about this…"
"Yeah, me too," the detective murmured.
…
…