Notes: Sorry for the delay on updating, but I've been enjoying a little vacation time! Thanks to everyone has been reviewing, I greatly appreciate all of your comments!

CH 9: Respite

Thursday morning was looking up. It was a good five degrees cooler than it had been the previous day. As they walked into Maura's favorite coffee shop she was still prattling on about air temperature and relative humidity and thus how a minor drop in actual air temperature accompanied with a minor rise in humidity would result in a felt or apparent air temperature today roughly comparable to that of the previous day in so much as the body would perceive it to be just as hot as yesterday even though by raw measure it was five degrees cooler.

Jane merely shook her head, halfway tuning out the Medical Examiner turned Meteorologist as she contemplated trying something different from the coffee shop rather than her usual house blend.

"Jane…Jane?"

She became aware that she had been tuning out her girlfriend perhaps a little too well, "Yeah, yeah…atmospheric barometrical whose a whats it and all that jazz…it's the little victories though, Maur." Jane waved her hand in the air dismissively.

Maura cocked her head, her eyebrow furrowed in contemplation, "Jane, I fail to see how an apparent air temperature equal to that of yesterday constitutes a victory in any sense of the word. At best it would be a draw."

Yes, Thursday morning was looking up. The iced mint chocolate frappuccino was outstanding, she was glad despite Maura's chastisement for the sugar and caffeine quotient that she'd ordered the largest size available otherwise she would have already demolished the beverage before even making it to work. There were no stacks of files on her desk and she was due in court later that morning, which presented a welcome break from the confines of the bullpen and Lt. Cavanaugh's crotchety mood of late. Best of all, there were no listings to check out that evening. No, after work Jane had a formal date with her sofa, a few beers and the Red Sox game on tv; Thursday was looking like a winner.


Jane got back to BPD in the late afternoon with a noticeable spring in her step despite her reluctant realization that Maura had indeed been right about the whole temperature thing. She peeled off her blazer and tossed it with a flick of her wrists to land perfectly across the back of her chair.

"Nice trick, Rizzoli. Been watching Gene Kelly movies or something," Frost chuckled taking a bite of a sandwich whose filling looked like a colossal orange globular nightmare.

"Karate Kid with Jaden Smith, jacket on…jacket off," Jane demonstrated with ease, "I've been practicing…and what the hell are you eating?"

Frost paused, cheek puffed out like a chipmunk as he chewed the sandwich. He glanced down at his lunch with a questioning look, "Wha?" he mumbled, mouth still full, "it's pimento cheese…obviously." He looked from Jane to Korsak, who both stared back, their faces an unsuccessful mask of mild disgust.

"Sharp cheddar, mayo, pimentos, salt and pepper, some jalapenos if I'm feeling spicy," he took another bite being sure to overdramatize how much he was enjoying the sandwich.

"That's just wrong, man." Korsak shook his head, "I don't think even I would eat that."

"Sounds nasty," Jane snorted, taking a seat on the edge of her desk.

"What's nasty?" The sound of Maura's voice drifted in from the doorway as she made her way to Jane's desk.

"Pimento Cheese," Jane and Korsak answered in unison to a roll of the eyes from Frost.

"Ah," Maura nodded with understanding garnering a look of disbelief from Jane.

"You know what pimento cheese is?" Jane asked, one eyebrow raised. Unbelievable.

"It's a common food in the southern U.S. My understanding is besides the basic ingredients many different additional items may grace sub-regional variations. It's sometimes served as a spread for crackers or crudités, but is most commonly eaten…" she motioned towards Frost, "as a sandwich."

"Frost likes his with jalapenos," Korsak stated, barely holding back his laughter.

"And you know this because…." Jane questioned.

"One of the girls I went to boarding school with in France was from Savannah, Georgia. Whenever she was feeling homesick, she would ask for a pimento cheese sandwich. Barry, do you have ties to the south?" Maura asked with a pleasant smile.

"My grandmother…" Frost emphasized with a mild glare towards Jane and Korsak, "…grew up in South Carolina. She made these for us all the time when we were kids."

"I'm sure your grandmother's recipe is delicious, I make it a point to never derogate new foods before trying them," Frost nodded his head in appreciation as Maura turned her attention to Jane, "I know you're just back from court and probably have work to do, but do you have a minute to join me in my office?"

"Yeah, of course," Jane popped up off the edge of her desk.


"I'd expected you back from court sooner," Maura stated as she and Jane stepped into her office, "I've been dying to show you this!"

"I ran into Jeffrey Schilling after my testimony and he offered to take me to lunch, and since I didn't pack anything today I figured what the hell." Jane took a seat in the spare chair in the office as Maura tinkered on the computer.

She smiled looking up from the screen, "That was nice, how is Jeff?"

"Oh, you know what they say in the Prosecutor's office, business is good," Jane chuckled.

Jane began to tap her leg, growing impatient with waiting to see whatever it was that had Maura so excited.

"Peter called this morning, a new listing posted late yesterday evening…."

Jane slumped in her chair as she let loose a disappointed grunt. Thursday had looked so promising, and now hours worth of anticipation of a quiet evening at home with Joe Friday in her lap, a beer in her hand, baseball on the tv and Maura curled up beside her was being dashed, replaced instead with yet another evening of for sale signs, crown molding, hardwood floor analysis and paint sample visions.

Maura turned the laptop towards Jane, "Look! It's a brownstone, corner property, small yard with a patio, the lower level has a living room, formal dining, kitchen, three bedrooms and two baths…and the upper level," Maura clicked to the next set of pictures, her excitement growing, "…the previous owner was an artist and collector and had the whole upper level renovated into a studio, it's an absolutely gorgeous space! And it's in your neighborhood!"

Jane glanced at Maura, shaking her head with amusement at the beaming smile that was looking back at her. Maura's eyes flickered with a hint of green as she waited intently for Jane to effuse as much over the property as she had when Peter had first emailed her the listing. She watched with nervous anticipation as Jane flipped through the copious number of pictures; Peter had evidently gone to view the property himself that morning and taken more pictures than were posted with the listing.

"Wow," Jane mumbled under breath, "I really like this, it looks like tons of space especially with the studio or whatever you call it upstairs. The yard is probably the best we're going to find in the city, it's not huge but it's plenty big enough for Joe. Is it, 'contemporary' enough for you?"

Maura smiled, "Peter says the inside has been completely renovated, all new fixtures and appliances…based on the pictures it looks to have a beautiful blend of classic charm and contemporary updates."

Jane slid the laptop back to Maura, "I suppose we'll be going to look at it after work then?" She tried not to sound lackluster but the derailment of her perfect Thursday evening peppered her face with disappointment.

"Oh, no, I told Peter we had plans this evening but that perhaps we could stop by very early in the morning before work. Peter doesn't think a find like this will last long, so if we look at it first thing in the morning and like it he can be working on the offer during the day." Maura smiled and folded her hands in her lap with satisfaction.

"Plans? Maur, if you've made 'plans' for us we might as well just go look at the house…" Jane's usual husky voice was tinged with a hint of whininess, her lower lip nearly jutting out in a plaintive pout as she slouched in the chair, all but giving up entirely her hopes for an evening a la classic Americana.

Maura sat back in her chair, arms crossed, she watched with amusement the display in front of her, "Jane, I can certainly call Peter back and arrange to view the house but I had thought you were really looking forward to watching the game tonight and I was really looking forward to cooking you dinner…I thought I'd try your mother's sauce recipe with some breaded veal cutlets…"

"You really enjoy it when I show my ass don't you?" Jane interrupted.

Maura tilted her head, her eyes darting quickly from Jane's face to her seat, "Well, yes in fact I do quite enjoy your…"

"Maur! I don't mean literally!"

"Oh, well then I'm not sure I follow the expression."

Jane laughed, "What I meant was I think you enjoy it when I make assumptions about things and turn out to be wrong."

"Assumption is an extremely inefficient…"

Jane waved her hands erratically, "Yeah, yeah, you win." She stood and placed a light kiss on Maura's lips, "I better get back upstairs. And yes, you can make me veal cutlets for dinner and we'll watch the game and during the commercials I'll even let you tell me all the obscure baseball trivia you know. Then, in the morning, we'll look at the house."

Jane exited the office and made it a few strides but stopped and returned, poking her head back in the doorway, "Hey Maur, will you let me watch you make Ma's sauce?"

Maura had already begun work on an autopsy report, her fingers clicking deftly away at the keys, "Absolutely not Jane," she answered, not even bothering to look up from the screen.


Angela had insisted Jane and Maura bring Michelle to Sunday dinner that weekend and it took little additional convincing that such an invite might make Michelle feel like it was a pity offer thus Sunday dinner that week became a Rizzoli Italian food fest. Jane invited Deena and her girlfriend, Sarah Donahue from Vice, Gretchen and Frankie brought along one of his buddies from patrol.

Angela flitted around the house like a hummingbird on uppers. She was in her element, a kitchen full of savory smells, fresh produce and sizzling meats and a living room full of hungry mouths to feed. New people to cook for meant new compliments to bask in the glory of, her own children's praises having long since dwindled to the occasional, "it's delicious Ma," after a particularly special holiday meal. All of her closely guarded specialties had become such common fare to her own family they all took it as a given that any meal would be just as good as the last. Frank, Jane, Frankie and Tommy had long since failed to consider that perhaps Angela still needed those praises. She would never admit it aloud but sincere compliment and appreciation were the primary reasons she'd pestered Jane to invite Maura for dinner so often well before the shooting. Maura had always seemed genuinely impressed by Angela's cooking performance, the effortless way she moved through the kitchen, how she cooked the most complicated recipes practically from memory – her rolodex open on the counter, but never consulted, and the way the smells permeated the house. Maura remarked once, "this is what a home smells like," following that with, "my mother rarely cooked when I was growing up, and certainly nothing to infuse the entire house with such a delicious aroma." Angela recalled feeling profoundly sad at that statement. She'd often thought there were only two things she was really good at, cooking and raising a family. Given Tommy's shenanigans and Jane and Frankie's career choices, especially Jane's own unique brand of recklessness she concluded that if nothing else, at least she had the cooking.

"Good Lord, Rizzo, how do you not weigh 300lbs?" Gretchen closed her eyes and inhaled a deep lung full of the savory vapors that were floating through the house, "I want to eat the air."

"Well, they didn't call her Roly Poly Rizzoli growing up for nothing," Frankie joked ducking just in time to avoid the throw pillow Jane chucked at his head.

"Someone remind me to kill my brother when all the cops have gone so there are no witnesses to what I'm going to do to him later," Jane shot Frankie a death glare as everyone chuckled both at the nickname and the faux threat.

"Does anyone need another beer?" Maura stood and glanced around at the hands holding empty bottles and counted the number of affirmative nods.

Drink refills were merely an excuse to offer Angela a hand in the kitchen. Maura deposited the empty bottles in the recycling bin and picked up the chopping knife by the onion that Angela had left unfinished on the cutting board.

"They're very strong this year!" Angela said, looking over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove, seasoning her sauce. "The onions, they almost never make my eyes water anymore, but those are particularly potent. I had to take a break from cutting them. I bet you know exactly why onions make you cry."

Maura laughed and shook her head, "I do." She placed the onion in a colander and then placed the colander inside a large mixing bowl and began filling it with water.

"Well? Enlighten me, unlike my daughter I like learning these things," Angela concluded the sentence with a wink.

"Jane learns more from my googletalk as she calls it than she would like to admit," Maura replied with a small laugh.

Angela smiled, "I know she does, she does it now too, you know…the 'googletalk,' when you're not around she's always telling me some factoid about something and I know she's gotten it from you though I don't always trust she's recalling exactly what you said."

"She teaches me colloquial phraseology, it's really helped me interact with other people on a more personal level, I still get the sayings wrong though at times so I guess it's a fair trade between the two of us." Maura looked over at Angela as they shared a moment of warm understanding.

Angela walked to the sink and eyed the now water submerged onion, "Ok, so….onions and crying, lay it on me."

"Well, when you cut the onion you release enzymes that mix with sulfenic acid to produce propanethiol S-oxide a sulfur compound that reacts with the aqueous or moist membrane of your eye to form sulfuric acid which burns prompting the eye to release tears in an attempt to wash the irritant away. Refrigeration slows the reaction thus cutting the onion right after removing it from cold storage can lessen the effect. Barring that, cutting the onion under water," Maura gestured at the colander contraption, "prevents the gaseous vapors from rising to the eye."


"Oh my God, Mrs. Rizzoli, I've died and gone to heaven," Gretchen cooed from the sofa as she lay sprawled trying to catch her breath.

Michelle laughed, poking Gretchen in the arm in jest eliciting barely audible grunts, "I guess in the interest of public safety I'll have to drive Gretchen home…I think she's food drunk."

"Seriously, Mrs. Rizzoli, that's quite possibly the best meal I've ever had in my life!" Deena added accompanied by an agreeing headshake from her girlfriend.

"Angela, all of you call me Angela, and you're all welcome anytime! Janie and Frankie can tell you I love to cook and there's nothing better than cooking for a big group!" Angela smiled satisfactorily as she finally took a seat, her cooking duties over she was already hard at work on a plot to get Frank, Jane and Frankie to clean up the kitchen once everyone had left.

Jane leaned into Maura's ear to whisper, "So…should we tell everyone?"

Maura smiled and nodded.

"Ok, everyone, before you all either pass out, or roll yourselves to your cars, Maura and I have a little announcement…" Jane put her arm around Maura and rolled her eyes as she glimpsed Angela nearly bolt upright in her seat in anticipation of what the news could be, "Ma, neither of us is pregnant, I can see what you're thinking…don't ruin the moment," Jane joked.

"Well I should hope not Janie," Angela said with a dramatic tone, "Give me a little credit, you're not even married yet."

Jane plastered her face in her hand, "Thanks Ma…"

Everyone seemed thoroughly amused at the banter, including Angela herself, who smiled proudly at getting the comedic upper hand on her usually champion sarcastic daughter.

Jane continued, "Most of you know, Maura and I have been looking for a place together…with very little success…"

"No, really? We hadn't gathered from your constant bitching and moaning," Deena jabbed.

"Hardy har," Jane mocked back, "Anyway, we looked at a place Friday morning and made an offer and the seller accepted our offer last night so it's not a totally done deal, we have to wait on the inspection and all that but if all goes well we should be closing on it in a few weeks."

"Woohoo! Party at the new place!" Gretchen cheered, rousing herself from her near comatose state.

Everyone stood to offer their congratulations allowing Angela a cloaked moment to sneak back to the kitchen for the bottle of champagne she kept well hidden behind items in the fridge. The loud pop of the cork sent a startled jolt through the unsuspecting guests.

"Jesus Ma! Could you not do things that sound like gunfire in a room full of cops, if we were armed we might have shot you," Jane exasperated.

"Janie, don't be overdramatic, here…" Angela handed her the bottle and motioned at Michelle, "would you help me bring the champagne glasses in here?"

"Of course," Michelle rose and followed Angela into the kitchen.

"The glasses are in that cabinet," Angela pointed as she loaded some packaged leftovers into a grocery sack, "and you make sure you're the last to leave and you take these leftovers home with you ok?"

"Oh, Mrs…Angela, that's not really necessary, you don't have to…" Michelle protested weakly.

"Don't be silly, Jane says you haven't been with BPD long, consider it my welcome to the force family gift," Angela added with a wink.

"I would imagine Jane told you about the case we were working a few weeks ago…" Michelle glanced down and then back at Angela suspecting her kindness to have something to do with her near rape and death at the hands of Kyle Walsh.

"Mmhmm," Angela acknowledged, "she said it was an extremely difficult case but that you did an excellent job and that she was proud to have worked it with you."

Michelle smiled though she was sure Angela knew more than she was letting on. Angela stepped up next to her and placed a comforting hand on her arm, beneath the lightweight three-quarter sleeve top that Michelle wore despite the sweltering heat Angela could feel the bandage wrapped around her bicep.

"I have two kids that are police officers, and over the years I've given them plenty of grief over it, about turning me grey before my time because of worry. At the end of the day though, I couldn't be prouder of them, of all of you for putting your lives on the line for all of us. I asked Jane once wasn't she scared and didn't she worry each day, going out on a call. She told me that a good cop can't let that fear and worry get into their head. She said that what she needed was a support system at home to do all the worrying for her and to be there when she needed to let loose about the job or to take her mind off of it. And I figured, what's an Italian mother good for if not to worry? So if that's what she needs then that's probably what all of you need, and I've got plenty of worry, support and gnocchi to go around if you need it."

Michelle laughed in an attempt to quell the tears that were welling up, "We'd all be lucky to have a mom like you."

"Jane and Frankie might disagree, I'm sure they tell horror stories about me at the precinct," Angela chuckled.

Michelle shook her head, "If only they knew what they'd be missing if they'd had a mother like mine…can I…can I give you a hug?"

Angela pulled her into an embrace, "I'm good at hugs too."

"Thank you," Michelle whispered.

"You're welcome, sweetheart, you're welcome," Angela soothed.