Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: This is my first post with FF. Thanks for reading!
"Oh, come ON."
Detective Jane Rizzoli's leg pulsed violently under her desk. She could feel the pain sear her temples as she stared at the computer screen, waiting for the lunch menu to load in her browser. Her eyes darkened as another 15 seconds went by and all she could see was the top of the restaurant's logo.
"Mother flying f —"
Detective Vince Korsak, who had been watching Jane carefully all morning, cleared his throat deliberately. He meant it as a polite warning, because in her frustration, Jane didn't hear the steady click of designer heels as Dr. Maura Isles glided through the bullpen and stopped inches behind her chair.
Jane censored herself just in time to turn and look up at the expression of mild amusement on the medical examiner's face.
"Should I come back later?"
Jane softened at the sight of her best friend. She was stunning: her eyes were deep but playful, her silky hair waved perfectly around her face, and the faint, familiar aroma of Dolce & Gabbana hit Jane's olfactory senses like a bullet. She was completely, and unknowingly, under Maura's spell.
Called out of the ring, the female detective sighed and slumped into her chair. She turned back to fling a half-hearted accusation at her screen.
"No, not later. Later this computer won't be here because I've thrown it out the window."
"And the department will just love taking that out of your paycheck, Rizzoli," Korsak snuck in. It was much easier — and safer — to take a jab at his former partner when Maura was around.
"Yeah, well I'd like to see what the other Lieutenants do when I tell them the reason our internet is so slow is because you're streaming videos of kittens all day long," Jane snorted. She was back in the fight as quick as she left it.
"I saw an amusing video of a kitten riding on a tortoise the other day — have you seen it, Vince?" Maura interjected, perhaps in an attempt to temper the heat radiating from the brunette's head.
Korsak nodded emphatically, happy for the diversion. "Oh, that's my favorite! Makes me wish I had a tortoise like Bass and some fuzzy little kittens to put on his shell!"
The look on Jane's face was enough to bring the conversation to a screeching halt, and Maura turned their attention instead to the pressing matter of lunch.
Before they could choose between Maura's suggestion of clams and calamari or Jane's more practical option of subs and salads, Detective Barry Frost burst into the bullpen with a lead. The body of a middle-aged man had been found at a self storage facility in Dorchester and they needed Rizzoli and Isles at the scene.
"Perfect. There goes lunch," Jane grumbled. Her tongue was considerably more acerbic on an empty stomach.
Maura, who didn't mind forgoing lunch for the sake of a good case, tried to rally Jane's spirits. "If we finish by 6, dinner's on me. I owe you for our last outing."
"Pffft! You owe me nothing, Dr. Isles. And, if I recall, you only let me get the tip. That's not paying for dinner, so, I'll tell you what — if we're done before this menu loads, dinner's on me!" Jane stood from her chair, reaching for her badge and keys before turning back to the M.E..
"Deal," replied Maura, locking eyes with the tall detective. She flashed a warm smile, and Jane's stomach fell to her feet.
With a pact in place, the duo made their way out of police headquarters and into the sticky Boston afternoon.
...
"I don't understand why you won't try calamari, Jane. It's a perfectly acceptable seafood. You can even eat most varieties with your fingers."
Maura continued her petition as they made their way down Washington Street in the detective's SUV. She was determined to show her best friend the joys of a varied diet, even if it meant eating an evening meal without utensils.
"I still think it's just — I don't know, funky."
Jane shuddered involuntarily, both from the thought of slurping on squid and the quick change in temperature as the AC blasted her neckline. It was a hot day by east coast standards, and the humidity paired with a screaming stomach made her more irritable than usual.
She paused at an intersection, trying to concentrate on where they were. After living here all her life, Jane thought she'd know her way around a few side streets in the most populated neighborhood of Boston by now. Her eyes darted left to right, an impatience mounting.
"Where the hell is this damn storage facility? Hey, Maur, you're supposed to be my navigator here — give me some direction, would ya'?"
"Oh! I'm sorry, Jane. All this talk of food distracted me. I was looking up appropriate restaurants for dinner tonight." The detective's stomach made an extra groan at the thought of dinner.
Maura clicked a few buttons on her phone and found her way back to Google Maps. She normally refrained from discussing social activities while on the clock, but she couldn't help it today. The doctor hadn't spent time with Jane since the Rizzoli's invited her to a Red Sox game three weeks ago. But even then she didn't have Jane all to herself, and she missed their quality time together.
"Okay. Turn left on Ashmont Street," Maura directed. She was all business now, eager to keep her friend's frustration at bay.
Just as Jane nodded and made the sharp turn, a muffled voice buzzed through the police radio.
"Possible .19 in a silver Toyota Celica reported heading south on Norfolk. Passenger is armed and firing at civilians. Requesting officer assistance."
As a Lieutenant Detective, Jane knew she didn't have to respond to the call if she was on assignment. But she also knew Norfolk was just a few blocks away. A surge of energy jolted her, traveling like lightening down her right leg and hitting the gas pedal to the floor. Suddenly, she was a rookie cop again.
She chanced a sideways glance at Maura, who's eyes were wide and white as the detective made a swift U-turn and switched on the police sirens in one fluid motion.
"Hold on, Maur. I have to take care of this."
Jane grabbed the radio from the holder and pressed her mouth to the intercom. Her left hand gripped the steering wheel as she skillfully maneuvered the busy side streets.
"Yeah, this is Detective Rizzoli. I'm on it."
The loud whir of the siren made oncoming traffic swerve into sidewalks and unsuspecting pedestrians throw groceries in the air. Houses, trees and stop signs blurred together as they went faster and faster.
It was like an action film, Maura thought. She had seen her friend's best Boston driving, but never had she seen Jane in the thick of a chase.
"Jane. JANE. You do realize this is — that this is a one-way street?"
The color had gone out of the M.E.'s face. She clenched the handle above the passenger window and swallowed hard as her friend made another sharp turn. The tires squealed with delight.
"I noticed that, thanks. Listen, Maur: if I tell you to get down, you get down, understand?" She turned to look at the honey-haired woman, who was already slouched far down in her seat. All Maura could do was squeak and nod her head in compliance.
Jane's intensity seemed to vibrate through the car as she skidded through the alleys and avenues of Dorchester. She only hoped her short cut was short enough to cut the perpetrator off at the chase.
"Evans Street. Norfolk should be just up here," The detective breathed to herself. After an instinctive right-turn, she spotted a silver Celica dodging in and out of traffic. Just as dispatch reported, the passenger was firing a handgun into the streets.
"Those better be blanks,"she snarled through gritted teeth. With the pedal to the floor, Jane was about to play a game of chicken.
'MAURA, GET DOWN NOW!"
The terrified M.E. released her death grip on the handle and tucked her head as low as she could manage. There was a deafening screech as the SUV slid sideways and came to a deliberate halt.
Jane didn't have time to think about how reckless she was being in that moment. All she knew was that her blood was pumping, and she wasn't about to let a perp get away. Within seconds her door was open, gun drawn.
"FREEZE! Boston police! Put down your weapon and step out of the vehicle with your hands on your head."
Jane's arms were tensed, pointed at the silver car which had also come to a dramatic stop. The windows were tinted, but she could make out the distinctive silhouettes of two young males. There was no motion.
"This isn't an option. Come out with your hands on your head now or I will fire!"
The day's heat punctuated the tension of the scene as a bead of perspiration dripped from the tip of Jane's nose, landing unnoticed with a sizzle on the pavement. She tilted her head and approached the offending vehicle cautiously.
Slowly, the doors opened: first the driver's side, then the passenger's. Young, haggard figures emerged with their arms raised. The driver-side male calmly placed his hands on his head while the other kept his arms high and outstretched; there was a look of defiance on his face. In his right hand was a semi-automatic.
"I SAID DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
The next few seconds passed like minutes.
Just as the driver-side male turned to flee, Jane saw a small, familiar object cut through the thick summer air and clock the perpetrator square in the head. He fell to the ground hard, scalded by the temperature of the street as his body scraped along the rubble.
Simultaneously, the passenger-side male brought his hand down to a firing position just as the detective aimed her barrel at his right shoulder and pulled the heavy trigger. His body blasted back into the silver car, which braced him as he slid down the frame. A trail of blood smudged the windows and paint as he staggered.
Another beat, and Jane found her way around the car to the driver-side perp. She began cuffing his hands, lifting him from the road and throwing him forcefully into the Celica's spoiler.
"I'll never understand why men think these things make them hot shit," the detective quipped, making sure the assailant felt the edge of the fin in his chest as she finished clasping the remaining cuff. With the other perp secured by her shot, Jane lead the restrained man to her SUV. Her adrenaline quickly dissolved.
She then noticed a ruffled-looking Maura standing outside the open passenger door; she was breathing heavily and missing her right heel.
"What the hell, Maur?"
Still gripping the perp, Jane whipped around to investigate the spot where the man had fallen. Just as she suspected, about five feet away lay a battered Jimmy Choo stiletto. She turned back to find a sheepish grin on the M.E.'s face.
"I saw that in a movie once," Maura replied, still breathless. "Although, I like to think I have better taste in shoes."
Jane only had time to chuckle in disbelief at her fashionable friend before the squad cars arrived.