AN: standard disclaimer applies, these characters aren't my own unless written by myself.
When the letters had come through the door Angela had sobbed for hours. It wasn't fair, her two baby boys were being taken away from her. Jane had tried her best to console her mother, but nothing had worked. Even the stoic gaze of her father betrayed his turmoil. His only sons, the last of his name, had been called up in the draft.
"It's not fair! Why are they doing this? Why can't someone else's sons go? They're just babies!"
It had been an ongoing mantra since the postman with a solemn gaze had handed the papers over to the usually chirpy Rizzoli family. Angela would calm down, and all would be quiet for a little while before the slow whimpers became bawling cries once more. Jane had done her best, but she had already taken her fill.
"For God's sake Ma! You're screaming the place down as if they're already gone! Your sons, both of them are still here! I'm not happy about it, but please stop acting like they're already six feet under."
The harsh tone even shook her father from his thoughts.
"Janie's right Angie, they're still our boys. When do they have to report?"
Sniffing loudly whilst wiping her red eyes she looked up, "Not till Monday, but,"
"But nothing. We still have a week with them. Let's make it count."
Frank rose from his chair stepping over to his wife. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, "They don't belong to Uncle Sam yet."
That afternoon when Tommy and Frankie arrived home they were immediately suspicious of their mother's over bearing behaviour. Made only worse when their father asked them out to the deck where there were three glasses next to the good had taken the news with practiced stoicism on the outside, but their family new better.
Jane however wasn't upset, she wasn't mourning her brothers, she was furious. There had to be something she could do, she was the eldest. It wasn't fair that the boys were being called up. Tommy was still the baby of the family and now, well now they were being sent into God know's where to face all seven Hells.
The only idea she had come up with so far was so outlandish that she had almost completely dismissed it. But seeing that look on her mother's face, the one when she thought no one was looking, cemented it for her. But if it was going to work she would need some help.
The next day she headed down to the Rizzoli and Sons shop right around noon. Her mother had insisted she take Frank Sr and Jr some left overs for their lunch. Mentally she was preparing for both possible outcomes of the conversation she needed to have with her brother. But one thing she knew for sure, her little brother could keep a secret. So at least if he wouldn't help, no one else needed to know.
"Hi Pop, Frankie! Ma sent me down here with some grub for you both."
Her father had merely smiled, but Frankie was definitely more excited about the gesture. With a big grin and his hands left out he took the proffered dish before digging in.
"Janie you're the best!"
"Don't let your mother hear you say that, she cooked it after all."
Jane had mocked offence while Frank simply winked at his daughter.
"Hey Pop, do you think I could borrow Frankie here for ten minutes?"
A smile and a small wave was her answer, Frankie had looked up suspiciously, But Jane ignored the look and took his arm.
"Frankie I need to talk to you ok, just you."
He swallowed his food with a brief nod following his sister out of ear shot of the shop.
"Jane, if you think you need to make some grand gesture about me and Tommy leaving and all you don't have to. I know it makes you feel awkward."
She pinched the bridge of her nose, unsure how to begin.
"Hey, Jane, I was just kidding around. What's got you so serious? You're worrying me."
She threw her arms down by her sides before taking a deep breath.
"This," pointing at her brother, "This is bullshit. Why do both of you have to go?"
"It's the draft Jane, we can't avoid it. We're not cowards!"
"Frankie, no one would call you a coward for not wanting to go. Jesus, anyone looking forward to this would have to be insane. And if you're trying to tell me you're not scared, then you brother are a liar."
"Of course I'm scared Jane! You think I don't see those looks on Ma's face? She thinks we're already dead! What can I do about that? If it was just me it wouldn't be so bad, but Tommy too?"
"Don't you say that Frankie, one of you, both of you, you know this family would never be the same. But I can't sit around doing nothing, I have to do something, anything to make this better somehow."
He took her hands in his and lowered his head, "Jane, you're my sister, you're a pain in the ass, but I know you want to protect us. Thing is, there isn't anything you can do this time. There isn't a punk kid to drag off me, there isn't some dog chasing Tommy up a tree. You have to face it, we have to do this on our own."
She squeezed his hand, "You know I would swap places with you in a heartbeat."
She let it linger in the air, that seed of suggestion.
"I know you would. Damn Germans wouldn't know what hit them. But it's not that simple."
"What if, what if it was?"
"What are you trying to say Jane? You're always straight forward, out with it,"
She sighed loudly looking anywhere but his eyes.
"Just hear me out ok, but you have to promise me this stays between us," he had nodded, "I mean it Frankie, it doesn't matter what you say or think when I'm through. But this conversation stays between us to the grave."
This time she looked at him, pleading to keep his word.
"Always Jane, you can trust me."
"I want, I need to steal Tommy's papers. I can't let you both go, and at least there will be a Rizzoli left and-" she exhaled, trying to gain back her previous confidence. "I am going to take Tommy's papers, and I am going to go in his place."
She closed her eyes tight, awaiting the onslaught of questions or worse abuse. Seconds felt like hours before she heard a response.
"Not with that hair you're not,"
Carefully opening her eyes she saw a genuine smile on her brother's face.
"And those shoes? No, no, all wrong."
"I'm being serious Frankie."
Her eyes were stern and set, he never faltered.
"So am I Sis. I take it you came to ask for my help, otherwise you wouldn't be telling me."
She was dumbfounded, mouth agape trying to find the words to just thank him.
"So you want to get your hair cut before or after you disappear off to the Eastern Front? I take it you have no plans to tell Ma and Pop about this?"
"No, I was going to get everything ready and leave during the night. It's selfish I know. But this way they can't stop me, and Tommy will be safe." "
I don't know if he'll thank you, but I'm sure he would understand someday. Right, we need to work on a game plan, when I get home from the shop later we'll talk ok?"
She didn't answer, instead wrapped him up into a bear hug.
"Yeah, I know Janie, I love you too."
Maura Isles had been a part of her Father's practice since she could hold a stethoscope. She had poured through his texts, devouring the knowledge there determined to follow his footsteps. Although to the professional world she never would, she was certainly more experienced than your average ward nurse.
She had observed plenty of minor surgeries and often begged her father to take her to see the more in depth aspect of his work. He had declined every time until she reached eighteen. His reasoning that by then she could better understand why not every medical marvel of the age was a rousing success.
She had seen patients pass from frustratingly common ailments, yet she had seen many long feared as in curable go on to walk from the hospital.
It was all she had ever wanted, and the day her father made her his senior nurse was what she thought would be the most memorable day of her life.
News of the war in Europe was devastating to hear. Maura had been lamenting to her parents that there must be something they could do to help with the effort. To sit back in the ignorance their family's wealth could have afforded her was an idea that brought bile to the back of her throat.
She was already no stranger to the infuriating attitudes of other families her parents associated with. Nor the remarks about her chosen profession, to some being a nurse was no better than a maid, it was demeaning. God forbid they fell ill enough to take a visit to her family's father however, being the proprietor, doctor, surgeon and confidant, well that was different.
It was around the dinner table one evening that Dr Isles made an announcement. Their meal had been finished and cleared, and now seemed the perfect time. He fished an envelope from his pocket and cleared his throat.
"These papers came for me in the mail this morning." He handed them to Maura. "It would seem that my talents are needed in the war effort,"
Before she could read them her face awash with worry looked to her father,
"Are they calling on you to fight?"
He covered her hand with his own,
"No dear, they fear that there aren't enough doctors and surgeons to help treat the wounded. The British are having a hard enough time of it as it is. What with our boys joining in, I fear they aren't wrong in their estimation. But what I really need is someone who knows how I work, someone to assist in surgery and post op. Maura, sweet heart, I need your help."
She was looking for signs of doubt from both her parents. But they had clearly already discussed his proposal.
"Father, are you asking me to go to England with you?"
"I rather suppose I am. Portsmouth to be more precise. Military and Naval bases there are where we are needed most."
"Even I will be helping out in my own way." Constance Isles was smiling beside the thought of her daughter being exposed to such things. "I'll be holding many fundraisers to make sure your Father is constantly supplied with everything you'll both need to really make a difference."
Maura grasped each of their hands in her own, her smile was small but her resolve was growing. "To England then,"
"Then to England my Dear."