AN- Okay, I know. I understand what you may be thinking; Persona4 and Rizzoli and Isles? What the HELL? Trust me, I know. But I had this really, really whacked out dream, as is usual for me- ask around, and this kind of just ... happened. You know how it goes. Anyway, I'm working on a cover for this one, but I have to make it look like Maura drew it, so it'll take me a little bit to get that much detail. I'm also going to try and be consistent (which is a word I do not know the meaning of) with my updates (no idea what those are either, lol). This is also kind of another distraction before I get back to my PR fanfic (which I really do need to update) I might actually update this one...
Right, I'm rambling. However, I'm trying to make this as book- like as possible, so this will probably be the only author not from me until the very end. Pssht, I know what you're thinking again. "Yea right, everyone says that, and there is always an AN on every chapter". But I'll try my best to be different :).
Now here is my apology segment- I only just began watching R&I (like seriously, two weeks ago) but am seriously OBSESSED. And P4 is the only Persona I have gotten my hands on, though I played a small portion of both two and three. So I suppose I would *sigh* be considered a "noob" in gaming world. It disgusts me to even say that.
However, I plan to take you all on the ride of your life, and considering I'll be going to Dorney in a few days for my B-day with my girlfriend, I will most definitely be hitting up some serious coasters. This will, hopefully, make that look like a children's ride. So buckle up, and hope your dreams don't end up like mine...
Disclaimer- If I owned P4, Atlus, or R&I, I would be in writers and gamers heaven.
Why was she awake? The room was dark, nothing that made it extremely strange, nothing that positively screamed out of the ordinary. Especially not for one in the morning. And she was comfortable. So why, at such an ungodly hour of the morning, had her body chosen to wake? And more importantly, why did she feel as if something was watching her from the deepest shadow of her consciousness?
Lights flashed on, all around her. She sat up with a jolt, nearly falling sideways from the rapid movement. She knew, beyond even the slightest shadow of a doubt, that not many hours prior, she had fallen asleep in her well- endowed room, in her own soft bed, in a house she titled as her own. She was sure as Hell not home. And the place she was at... It was nearly indescribable. The walls were white, at first glance, yet when analyzed further they seemed to glisten. Mirrors. Mirrors surrounded her. They flashed with an ethereal glow, as something seemed to separate from every direction, branching outwards at the same time that it seemed to shrink inwards in a creeping motion. It was a sort of mist that was, at the same time not a mist, and had no describable color. The... Thing rose, growing, shrinking, everything was the same, yet nothing had meaning. And it reflected, ten... a hundred... a million times over, from every direction, no matter where one turned, always there, always watching. She tried to move her hands, to cover her face and hide from the sight, yet when she tried to move, she couldn't.
She was bound, arms folded against her chest in a cross, as if she had been put into some asylum. She turned, trying to find a way out, and ran. Mirrors bracketed her inwards, forming where there seemed to be open space only moments before. She turned, sprinting in another direction, the thousandth one, only to smack face- first into unyielding material. She cried out, and the sound echoed- not one person crying for help, but hundreds, thousands, an unimaginable number. She tried to cover her ears, but couldn't, shrinking down as her shoulders shook. The misty, fluid form advanced.
No, she sure as hell was not home.
The incessant buzzing of the phone was driving her absolutely batty. Which may not have been a real, solid English term, yet it did have a figurative meaning, if the doctor was learning correctly from her partner in just as figurative crime. The buzzing stopped, and the small, rectangular, candy bar- shaped device lied still. Maura let her sigh brush into the air as she leaned her chin on one hand, elbow resting on her island counter. Jane was insistent about making her pancakes, regardless of the time of day, one in the afternoon, or the fact that she really couldn't cook to save both her figurative and literal ass. The doctor usually did the cooking for both of them, after the pasta incident. Maura had made the mistake of thinking that her best friend and brilliant detective could not possibly do something to ruin pasta- all you do is boil water and put noodles in it. Yet, like all the mistake Maura made on those rare occasions, she had not made it a second time. Especially not after paying for a new kitchen because a very mysterious fire seemed to have destroyed the cabinets of her old one.
The stove top clicked off, and Jane actually placed the dirty dishes inside the dishwasher, making the doctor smirk appreciatively. As she learned her figurative speech, the detective showed promise of learning to be relatively tidy. As far as a relative concept could be stretched, at least.
Jane placed a heaping plate in front of Maura, coy smile playing across her lips as she slid into a stool across from the doctor. There had to be precisely fourteen pancakes on each plate, topped in just the right amount of both syrup and butter, with something unexpected on top. Maura raised an eyebrow.
"You put sprinkles on your pancakes." Her tone was analytical, as she tilted her head to the side slightly. There was no way these things were good. Jane just could not cook. It broke the laws of physics as human beings knew them.
"Don't judge. Just eat." The detective mumbled, swallowing a huge bite of fluffy, golden brown pancakes and the strange choice of toppings.
"I do not trust you. You can't cook." Maura hissed, attempting to push the plate away.
"This is not cooking, its baking, and-" The door opened, and Angela stepped through, carrying a bag of farm- fresh eggs and vegetables from the vendor down the road.
"Did Janie make pancakes? Oh God, hers are the best, even better than mine!" The elder woman stated, swiping one off of Jane's plate as she sashayed past, placing the bag on the counter. "Eat up, Maura dear. You don't even understand what you're missing."
"Ma, go away! I am capable of getting Maura to eat my baking without your help, thank you!" Yet the tone that she spoke with was light, airy even. While Jane was distracted by her mother, Maura cut a piece, inspecting it only momentarily before chewing slowly and swallowing. She blushed. It was delicious, like nothing she had ever tasted as far as breakfast foods went anyway. Ten minutes later, she leaned forward on her elbows again, glaring at Jane, who was only half done with her own plate, and still bickering with her mother. That was when the phone rang, only this time, it was Maura's rather than Jane's. She lurched out of her seat, pulling the offending item from her pocket and tossing it behind her. They were off today. No calls, no cases, they could ignore everything. Except, well, one another. They were supposed to go shopping, and then try out the new Italian restaurant down the road that Angela had stated was "simply amazing." Jane's phone buzzed, and Maura slammed her hands down on the table.
"Jane, just pick the damn thing up already, and tell whoever it is to go the Hell away." Maura sighed, dropping her forehead to the cool counter. Angela silenced, as Jane reached for the device, raising it to her ear.
"Detective Rizzo- Don't you dare take that tone with me. I'm off today, thank you. I am not obligated to pick up the phone." She supposed it must have been Korzak calling. There was a pause, where Jane's hand came down on Maura's, something that caused the woman to look up to her friend. The sharp features slowly turned more confused as Korzak relayed whatever message he had to er, before she finally just hung up on him. "Why didn't you tell me he called you to tell you we had a case?"
"No one called me until I threw my phone Jane, what are you talking about?" She couldn't lie, and Jane knew that, so the woman only nodded, reaching for her keys. Maura rose as well; if they had a case, then both of them were needed. She waved goodbye to Angela, who looked at Maura with a questioning expression, to which the doctor's only answer was a shrug. She couldn't lie- she had absolutely no idea what the Hell was going on.