A/N: Yes, I've taken on another multi-chaptered fic, but I don't expect it to be a very long one. This fic is basically a 'what if Jane and Maura both worked for the BPD but didn't become friends' kind of thing, and I think the summary basically covers the rest. I hope you guys enjoy. Feedback would be lovely :]
Jane Rizzoli was late.
In line with the most cliché excuse, her alarm had failed to go off. After waking up half an hour later than usual, she had forgone a shower, digging wildly in the mess of her room for a clean shirt and slacks. Upon finding none, she had ventured toward the massive pile of laundry in the corner of her room, finding a wrinkled button up and a pair of pants. With no time to iron them, she was lucky to spot a nearly empty bottle of wrinkle release spray peering out from beneath her bed. The laundry fresh scent helped with the smell more than wrinkles, but Jane didn't have time to worry about her appearance as her alarm clock flashed the time.
She hurried into the kitchen, opening the cabinet in search for an edible item she could scarf down on the drive to work, but she was only greeted by a shelf of clutter.
"Fuck!" she cursed as a coffee mug came tumbling down from the shelf, just missing her head as it shattered against the floor. "Damn it, I don't have time for this," she hissed, kicking the largest piece of the ruined ceramic vessel across the floor in her frustration. It catapulted across the kitchen, hitting the far wall, breaking into a handful of tinier pieces. "Are you serious?" she groaned, just as the dreaded sound of nails clipping against the tiled floor assaulted her ears.
"No, no, no! Jo!" she screeched, capturing her wriggling terrier just before she padded into the the jagged mess. Jane promptly delivered Jo to her bedroom, slamming the door shut.
She hurried back to the kitchen, wildly trying to find a suitable method to clean up the mess. She let out a long stream of breath as she stared at the broken cup, running a hand through her unruly hair. "Fuck," she muttered again, just because swearing helped her feel a little bit better.
She couldn't find her broom – couldn't remember if she owned a broom. She found last week's paper and pulled it apart, using one leaf of paper as the broom and the other as the dustpan. It was a shoddy clean up job, but as long as Jo didn't impale her paw, Jane wasn't too concerned.
She registered the time, letting a string of curse words erupt from her lips. She searched for her keys – as if her luck could get any worse – and in a panicked rush she bulldozed an entire countertop onto the floor, hoping she'd hear the familiar clang. With no avail, she threw open the door to her bedroom, only to have Jo Friday barrel into her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She caught herself on the door frame, her wrist twisting painfully as she supported her weight.
"Jo," she whined, regaining her footing as she scowled down at her dog. Jo only whimpered, eagerly scampering over to the front door. Jane sighed as the dog stared pitifully up at her. It wasn't Jo's fault that Jane was hardly ever home anymore, keeping the dog cooped up for long hours while she stayed late at the station. "We'll go for a walk tonight," she promised, leaning over to pat Jo reassuringly on the head.
She noticed her keys on her on the arm of the couch, letting out a sigh of relief, glad she had not placed them anywhere too absurd. She blocked Jo's path as she slipped out the door, jogging down hall to the elevator. She pressed the glowing button five times, as if the impatient action would make it arrive faster.
Jane was the first to admit that her life was a wreck. It came with devoting herself to the job – slowly she had watched her life deteriorate at the expense of excelling in career. Not that it really mattered when it came down to it. Her personal life had been lacking, regardless, so she was glad she had a passion to throw herself into elsewhere. She had accepted that she'd married her career so she didn't spend her time pining over what her life could have become. Even her mother had regrettably backed away, no longer (attempting to) set Jane up or hinting about grandchildren.
After weaving her way through moderate traffic and swearing more than a sailor, she arrived at the station, panting a little as she jogged over to her desk.
"You're late," Korsak spoke, not bothering to lift his eyes from the file he was reading.
"Ah, damn, my watch must be wrong," Jane's voice dripped with sarcasm as she held up her bare wrist. She huffed a little irritably, leaning up against the edge of her desk.
"Jane Rizzoli late for work, now that's something I never thought I'd see." Frost crossed the expanse of the room, raising an eyebrow in Jane's direction, which earned him a prompt glare and groan. But Frost was hardly ever off put by her demeanor, so he plowed on. "How can you be late when you sleep here?"
Jane shoved him playfully, letting out a harrumph. "Let me take a look," she diverted her attention back to Korsak, craning her neck to steal a glance at the file. "What do we got?"
"Missing woman, mid-thirties, abusive relationship," he rattled off, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Suspected murder," he added, and here, he lifted his eyes to gage Jane's reaction.
Jane waved him off, letting him know that she was unaffected, though her skin did grow a little chilly at the thought. Jane had worked in homicide only briefly, an incident she hardly wished to delve into quickly halting her career track. She had settled back into missing persons investigation, though occasionally the two categories would overlap.
"Been gone for a week now?" Jane muttered, gently prying the file away from Korsak's grasp. "Want Frost and I to head over to her place?"
"Wanted you there about half an hour ago," he raised an eyebrow, and Jane's face creased with sudden guilt as she registered Korsak's stern glance, before realizing that he was mocking her. "Asshole," she growled, snapping the file closed. He only laughed.
"Come on, Frost," she prodded, picking her keys up from her desk. "Apparently we don't have all day."
XXX
"Three glazed donuts," Jane requested, looking ravenously at the shelf of goodies in the station's cafe. She felt a bit gluttonous as Stanley boxed the three treats for her. But Jane hadn't gotten around to eating yet today, and her stomach growled longingly, so she was finding it difficult to care.
She stepped away from the counter, scarfing down one of the donuts in seconds, taking a moment to breathe before she attacked the second one. As she chewed on the sugary snack, she headed down the hall to Korsak's new office, a recent acquirement after receiving the title of sergeant.
She knocked gently on his door, balancing the donut box on her other hand as Korsak waved her in. He rose from his desk, mistaking the third donut for himself. "Thanks, Janie," he smiled, taking a bite of the treat, and it took all Jane had not to snatch her precious pastry from his grasp. "Find anything?"
She and Frost had not discovered any significant leads after their visit, but Jane knew that detective work wasn't always instantaneous. "Nothing yet. I'll look at her file again later," she added. "So how's the move in process going?" The office wasn't as messy as it had been a few days prior as Korsak moved his various files and accumulated junk into his new space.
"Pretty good," he replied, flicking through a stack of papers, getting hints of glaze on the corners. "Just trying to get everything somewhat organized." He let out a hearty chuckle.
"Anything I can do?" Jane offered, taking a glance around the office. "What's this?" she asked, noticing a box in the far corner. She picked up Buddha statue, surprised by the weight of the item. She dug a little deeper, noticing a few lipstick tubes, a couple files labeled with a feminine scrawl, and few more odds and ends she'd never once seen Korsak in the possession of. She noticed a bit of black lace, and she tugged at the material, producing a black thong. "Whoa, care to explain?" She held up the panties in Korsak's direction.
"Not mine," he quickly denied with a blush. "The previous owner didn't completely clear out the desk," he further added.
"Wonder what she was doing at work..." Jane muttered suggestively as she replaced the thong back into the box. "Who's office was this anyway?" she questioned, unable to picture the prior inhabitant.
"Dr. Isles." Here Jane's face went a little white. "She was the chief medical examiner, don't know if you remember her or not."
Jane coughed, composing herself. "Yeah, I met her once or twice," she muttered, looking down at her hands. "So she doesn't work here anymore?" she asked casually.
"Nope, resigned about a month ago – and I don't know the reason," he further clarified. "I've been trying to contact her to see if she wants any of this stuff back, but I haven't gotten a response. I may have just have to toss it."
Jane glanced at the box again, chewing on her bottom lip. "I could take it over to her place for you if you'd like," Jane offered suddenly.
Korsak lifted his gaze, looking at Jane a bit curiously, though he shrugged. "Sure, if you want to. It would be nice to have it out of the way."
Jane snatched up the box, giving Korsak a nod before she left.
XXX
Jane wondered exactly what had possessed her to take on the task of delivering Maura Isles' odds and ends as she drove through town, glancing down at her address once again. Not that she needed to. Jane had visited Maura's place once, under quite unusual circumstances, and she found she remembered the location quite easily. After all, she didn't know many people who lived up in Beacon Hill.
She eased into the driveway of the familiar home, taking a breath before securing the box in her grasp. She wasn't quite sure what she was hoping to gain as she crossed the distance from her car to the front door, the shrill ring of the bell slicing through the quiet afternoon. For a moment, she hoped that Maura wouldn't answer, for she was at a lose of what she would say.
It didn't seem that she would have to worry about it after all, as she was greeted by only the silence of the afternoon. She waited a moment longer, tapping her foot against the welcome mat. After it became obvious that she was not home, Jane dared to peek through the window panes on the front door. Though Maura could have easily been out for the afternoon, Jane felt an uneasy feeling settle into her stomach as she glanced down the dark entryway. There was an eeriness about it, and Jane got the feeling that no one had been here for a long time.
She placed the box down on the mat, stepping onto the lawn, knowing that her behavior was risky, but she was engulfed by her curiosity. She peeked through the front window, watching the sunlight slice through the empty living room, illuminating Maura's expensive taste in decor. In the faint beams of light, Jane could tell that the furniture needed a good dusting. Though she could hardly claim to know Maura at all, she didn't seem at all the type to let her house work go unfinished.
Jane strode across the lawn, her eye catching a scattering of newspapers she had neglected to notice on her way in. As she suspected, her mailbox was stuffed full of uncollected mail. Jane reached into the cluttered box, hesitating for a moment, before reaching for a bill tucked near the bottom. She read the date – June 17th. Nearly a month ago.
Jane's stomach twisted slightly, and she felt chilly despite the summer afternoon. Though Maura's abandoned home could have been a result of a plethora of situations, the signs were all too familiar. Coupled with Maura's sudden departure from her job, Jane feared the worst.