Old Acquaintances

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Thanks to all my reviewers!

Maura Isles was a genius. She knew she was; from childhood onwards, her remarkable intelligence had been noted and praised.

So why could she think of absolutely no fucking solution to this problem?

"It's not a problem," Nancy Donovan said irritably, from across the table, taking an overgenerous swig from a whiskey.

Nancy Donovan, ever one to delight in dramatics, had decided Maura had needed a stiff drink, and so had steered her in the direction of The Dirty Robber, and then instantly regretted it as Maura had sank into misery. Had they even packed that body away properly? Maura honestly couldn't remember, draining her glass of wine.

"So she knows you're bisexual," Nancy said, gesturing with her glass. "Who fucking cares?"

"I do!" Maura snapped back. "It was a terribly shocking –"

"Blah blah blah," Nancy rolled her eyes. "God, for a woman who's so socially awkward, you sure do love to talk about your feelings."

"This is so typical," Maura was distantly aware of her inebriation. Nancy had delightedly plied her with drink, until she realised that it only made Maura's mood more dour. Then she had sullenly nursed one whiskey for half an hour. "You always bring a trail of destruction –"

"Oh for the love of God," Nancy leaned across the table. "Look, Isles, let's be brutal about the thing – are we going to fuck tonight, or what? Because really, I've bought you at least four glasses of wine, and I want to know if this investment is going to mature anytime soon."

"Investment?" Maura was sober enough to be offended. "I am worth far more than four glasses of cheap sauvignon blanc."

"Yeah, yeah, but we're both alone in a big city and I've just outed you to the girl you'd like to fuck, so come on – really I've done you a favour,"

"You do not know Jane Rizzoli," Maura replied, jabbing with her finger. "She will make this awkward and weird and…other synonyms…but the point is, Nancy, no we're not - "She glanced around and lowered her voice. "Fucking this evening."

"Why?"

"For one thing, Jane's mother lives with me -"

Nancy snorted into her brandy. "Are you serious?"

"Perfectly," Maura made a move to gather her coat and bag. "And for another, you have caused too much of a fucking mess – " A few of the cops in the bar (it was their haunt, after all) looked around and wolf-whistled at their mild mannered ME swearing with such vivacity. She didn't care, just tugged her coat more firmly about her. "For me to even contemplate being intimate with you this evening." She turned on her heel and left.

"You owe me for the wine!" Nancy called after her.

Maura Isles had never felt more like a stereotypical WASP than when she tried to unlock her door, but was too woozy from alcohol to get the key in the lock. She took a few deep, fortifying breaths.

Angela Rizzoli could absolutely not see her like this. It was, as ever, Nancy Donovan's fault.

Sober thoughts, she thought brightly, as the key finally slid in the lock, sober, straight thoughts.

She pushed it open gingerly, and then poked her head inside. Angela Rizzoli was probably safely tucked up in bed in the guest house –

"Maura, honey, is that you?"

Light was emitting from the kitchen, the sound of tv and voices from the connecting lounge.

Oh Good God. And then: Fuck fuck fuck.

"Yes, Angela, it's me," She croaked, mouth suddenly dry. Was the whole Rizzoli clan here? God, she really should rethink that open-house policy she had offered Angela when Maura was desperately trying to impress Jane…

"Just finishing off some baking – Janie's here, and Frankie too! Come and join us, there's cookies!"

Maura contemplated going upstairs and never coming down again. It would be so easy to claim she had fallen asleep, or…

She squared her shoulders and sighed. No. This was not her family – Constance Isles would easily have forgotten about her, letting her escape upstairs without being noticed. But Angela Rizzoli was a different breed of mother, and would follow her up in half an hour with a glass of warm milk and some still-warm cookies. She moved towards the kitchen door and pushed it open, instantly confronted with the smell of baking.

It made Maura feel ill. She was suddenly aware she hadn't eaten since lunch.

Jane and Frankie were watching some late-night sports programme. Frankie waved at her when she came in, whilst Jane graced her with a tight smile. It instantly annoyed Maura – how dare she be cool towards her, when Maura was practically housing both her and her mother?

It was the wine, she was sure of it. Normally she didn't get angry over such things.

Angela beamed at her. "Maura, honey – surely you weren't working until this hour?"

"No," She sat her bag on the counter, aware that Jane was watching her. "I went out with a friend after work,"

"That Nancy Donovan?" Jane asked abruptly.

"Dr Donovan, yes," Maura looked at her.

Jane stared back. "Huh,"

"Yes, huh," Maura agreed.

"Huh," Jane repeated, turning and facing the tv. Maura knew, from the way her shoulders had tensed, she wasn't paying attention.

"Korsak said she was a piece of work," Frankie said, breaking a tense silence that he and Angela didn't seem to be aware of.

"She's brilliant," Maura replied. Frankie raised one eyebrow. "She's widely respected in the field, and has published numerous academic articles. But yes, she's a piece of work too."

"You seem to like her," Jane didn't look around.

Maura wetted dry lips. The wine really was having an effect, she was desperately thirsty and really needed to lie down soon. Work tomorrow would be hideous.

"Well." Maura paused, and both Frankie and Angela looked to her, sensing the hostility in Jane's voice. "She always was a great fuck."

TBC…