Darkness Within
in follow up to: A Gentleman's Dilemma
Chapter Two: Precipice
Notes: Full credit to heartsways for helping with the beta on this.
TRIGGER WARNING FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT.
So I couldn't leave it alone. Jane's journey as I outlined in 'A Gentleman's Dilemma' is far from over and I wanted to deal with what is probably the single most defining moment in her life before the series starts. That is, the misadventure she had with Charles Hoyt. Or Warren Hoyt if you go by the books.
Fair warning that this contains my interpretation of the events as put forward in the novel The Surgeon melded and fused with the flashbacks that we see in the show. I wanted to create my own canon as the two that we see are so vastly divergent, so here is my attempt. It will be in three parts.
Korsak comes to find her. Maura isn't that surprised. He comes down to the morgue often enough when it's slow upstairs. She appreciates his company, he's a quiet presence that she's finally coming to appreciate. She knows that once upon a time, back when things were done differently in the Boston Police Department, Korsak processed his own evidence. He still does, sometimes, on difficult cases when the lab is overworked.
Maura wonders if Korsak feels a continued connection to this place and the careful methodology of processing evidence.
Unlike Jane, Korsak doesn't fill Maura's head with confused thoughts. He's a father figure without being overtly fatherly and he's got a pleasant smile that Maura finds truly endearing. She understands why Jane likes him as a partner as much as she does.
She's up to her elbows in intestines, however, when he comes in; in the middle of a very delicate procedure to fully extract stomach contents.
He's standing there in the doorway, looking lost and terrified and Maura drops the man's stomach back into his open belly and stares at Korsak. Maura's been brought up properly, she knows that it is rude to stare, and yet she does so openly. She's never seen him look like that. It is out of her scope of how to react to things.
The pieces tumble into place and Maura has to still her hands from shaking. Deep breaths. In. Out.
Jane…
"What's happened?" Her tone is all business because that is what she's going to hide behind, hoping and desperately praying that she's going to be able to be strong. She's not religious and has not been since early childhood, but praying is what she's doing.
Jane is usually here. Jane acts as a protector and as transference. Jane understands how to handle a crisis.
Maura is not used to dealing with things like this.
"Jane's gone off and done something stupid," Korsak begins. Maura can see him holding back, fear still badly hidden all over his body. His fists clench and unclench and he keeps eyeing the door and checking his watch.
Her teeth connect with her lip and Maura bites down harder than she'd initially intended. There's blood in her mouth, to keep her from crying out, from allowing her mind to put two and two together and getting the inevitable conclusion.
"Is she alright?" She asks the question even though she knows the answer. She has to have verbal confirmation.
In. Out. Breathe.
There's the copper flavor of her own blood in her mouth and Maura relishes it, it makes her feel alive, less terrified. Blood is real, tangible.
It means that this isn't a bad dream.
The harrowing lack of Jane's presence hits her then and Maura gulps mouthfuls of air. This is real and she has no contingency plan. No way of knowing if Jane is alive or dead. No knowledge of how she is supposed to act.
The blood in her mouth does nothing now, and she is fidgety and still having trouble breathing.
In. Out.
For Jane.
Korsak shifts from foot to foot, checking his watch and not meeting Maura's eyes. "Look, I know that you two are close." He swallows; Maura can see his laryngeal prominence bob up and down underneath his day old beard.
He doesn't know how close they are; otherwise he'd be more direct, less fearful of actually making the announcement of the truth that Maura knows is already a foregone conclusion.
"We found where Hoyt lives. She went in without backup, without leaving any indication in that goddamn maze of a neighborhood of where she is."
Korsak's fists are clenched, his hands are shaking. Maura's shaking too, she realizes, her hands twisting her surgical apron in knots, blood from the autopsy smearing across its pale blue surface. "She's been missing close to an hour now, every cop in Boston is in that fucking neighborhood but we can't find her."
She's already taking off her apron. She can't even think straight. All she wants is for Jane to be alright, to see her smile and to feel her touch again.
This case is horrible.
"Take me to the scene," Maura says. She's not even changing out of her scrubs. There's no point, she's going to get dirty anyway. She grabs her field kit from the corner of her desk and debates at least putting on her jacket before deciding that she'll be warm enough in the mid-April morning with just the thermal shirt she has on under her scrub top.
She really is the Queen of the Dead. The force that has shoved her bodily into the world of the living is gone from this world.
Maura will do everything in her power to bring Jane back.
x
"I was expecting that it would be you who found me." Jane's head hurts. She tries to move and pain shoots through her hands and up her arms. Agonizing, shooting pain. Not like the dull throb in her head. No, this pain is acute and pulsating up and out from her palms.
Her nostrils flare and she rolls her head to the side, trying to ignore how it's pounding, how there's blood in her eye and she can't fucking see at all it's so dark.
Fuck, it hurts.
There's a scalpel through her palm and into the ground, buried deep and Jesus fuck Charles Hoyt is right fucking there. He's crouched next to her, another scalpel in his hand, tapping against his carhartt clad knee. Of course he'd be wearing carpenter's pants and steel toed boots to protect himself. He must blend in perfectly with the scene in this neighborhood, just another working guy. Jane hates him for looking so normal.
"Wha-?" Words are failing Jane, but her brain is working enough to know to keep him talking, to keep him distracted. They know where she is, she sent them the fucking license plate number in the goddamn driveway.
Where the fuck is Korsak and the cavalry?
Jane doesn't ever want to be rescued, but at this point, she doesn't really care about the indignity and insult to her personhood. She's gunna die here if she doesn't get rescued.
Hoyt kills the men quickly. He takes his time with the women.
She wants to fucking die; he's going to fucking rape her before he kills her.
Hoyt's lips push together into a thin line, like he's thinking hard about something. Jane tries to look around, to see if Catherine Cordell is even still alive. She doesn't see anything, just darkness all around her. Darkness and the smell of mildew.
If Jane gets out of this one alive she's never going to be able to go into a basement again.
"You were different from the others," Hoyt says. He taps the scalpel against his knee. Tap, tap, tap. Jane wants to scream. "All swagger and confidence. Bet you don't even know you're like that."
Oh, Jane does. She's not sharing the reasons why with a psychopath, however. She turns her head away from him, body screaming in pain as she tries to keep herself still. Any movement will compound the injury to her hands more. Jane doesn't want to think about how damaged they already are.
"So?" She asks.
Her voice sounds harsh and alien to her. It's full of false bravado that she certainly doesn't feel. She swallows, wondering how long she's been out. Feels like days, and she can't even move to shake the cobwebs out of her head.
"You're more of a man than half the fools on your police force." Hoyt's smile is almost kind at that moment and Jane feels compelled to vomit. "And yet they treat you as you are," He leans forward, hand trailing along Jane's jacket and pushing under it to touch her through the thin cotton of her collared work shirt.
Jane bites her tongue to keep from crying out. She's breathing heavily, trying to not hyperventilate as his fingers close around her breast and squeeze it tentatively, appraisingly.
Jane fucking hates him.
"A woman."
Jane spits in his face and he pulls his hand away from her.
Thank Christ.
He wipes it away and smiles cruelly at Jane, eyes looking almost haunted in the half-light. "You're not backing down, not like Catherine." He shifts his weight, scalpel still in hand, and settles down on top of Jane. "You're stronger than her."
He's laughing now.
"I'm going to enjoy this."
Jane shuts her eyes and begins to pray.
Divine intervention is probably going to be the only thing that's going to get her out of this.
Jesus… Mary… fuck, anyone, please protect me, please let this all be nothing but a bad dream.
She can feel him against her stomach, hard already. He's getting off on her pain, the fucking creep. Jane swallows, watching with wide eyes as he leans down close. Hoyt's breath is horrible, full of the scent of death and decay, teeth stained and yellowed, eyes darkly intense.
"Why me?" Jane asks, even though she knows the answer already. She was there, that's all the reason a man like Hoyt would need to attack.
Why the fuck was she stupid enough to go in without backup?
Hoyt considers this for a moment, their noses are barely touching, Jane's fucking terrified that he's going to try and kiss her.
"You are a worthy opponent. You came looking for me, Jane Rizzoli." His fingers touch her forehead. They're hot on her skin and Jane tries not to gag. "And you are beautiful."
It's all a fucking game to him and Jane wants to scream. She can feel the blade in his deft fingers dragging down along her front and all Jane can think of is Maura and how she doesn't want to end up on Maura's fucking autopsy table. She could never do that, not to the woman who has loved her no matter how fucked up she is.
Hoyt leans back, dark eyes flashing as Jane struggles to catch her breath. She's so fucking scared. He's taking his sweet ass time, dragging out every minute of what is sure to be her death. "I watched you, you know. I watched all the detectives on this case. You are all fools, chasing shadows and the ghost of a man that Catherine killed five years ago."
Jane struggles to keep her voice even. "Moore figured out you were there, you're not as clever as you think, Hoyt."
"Andrew was a fool. He let Catherine live," Hoyt says pensively. Jane has to bite her tongue, trying not to point out that the only reason that Catherine Cordell is still alive is because she killed Hoyt's former partner. "I prefer to tie up loose ends."
This is hard to bear. Jane can't fucking stand this, can't stand being objectified, being treated like a woman, a vessel for all the rage that this goddamn serial killer has built over years and years of resentment. She's not a woman, not fully and not truly.
If he rapes me, he'll break me forever. Jane can't help the thought as it rises unbidden from her. She can't even have fully penetrative sex with Maura yet. She's tried, tried so goddamn hard but it's so difficult and just fucking wrong. It feels alright, but in her head it makes no goddamn sense.
Hoyt's lowering the blade to her neck now and Jane can see, even though she doesn't want to, the bulge of him against the thick material of his pants. He's panting, she's breathing hard, trying to not freak out.
He cuts away her shirt, through to her bra. Jane's chest rises and falls as he nicks her skin. The pain drives home the sensation that she has no control over this at all. His fingers close over her breast and Jane wants to die.
Jane closes her eyes, mind focusing on the only thing that makes any goddamn sense in her life. She thinks of Maura. She can't even feel it when Hoyt slices into her breast – dark eyes glittering. She will survive this, somehow. For Maura.
His thumb is rough on her nipple and Jane knows she's crying like a little fucking girl. She can't fucking help it, this is so fucking wrong and horrible and oh god she wants to fucking die.
A gunshot rings out, rattling around the basement and Hoyt is suddenly off of her and Jane is unable to stop herself. Dry, wracking sobs pour out of her and fill the silent basement as Korsak hurries down the stairs and is crouching by her side.
He's got his jacket balled up and pressed against her chest, pressure on the wound. He's telling her that Maura's here.
Maura can't see her like this. No one can see her like this.
Hoyt should have killed her.
