Confession: For a minute I thought there was something wrong with my spell check. Then I realised R&I had just gotten to me, and I keep trying to spell it 'homocide'. That's how much GHEY is in this story…
Also, there's been some queries as to where exactly the plot is going from here. Lemme just reassure you that I'm not going to go through every single episode with quite the same fine-toothed subtext comb as it might appear from here. But think of this story as proof of my hypothesis: There are plot holes in the TV show that can only be filled by the fact that these two have mad crazy history way before we got to see them. Seriously…two single, adult women who are clearly in love and lust with each other, but just won't get it on -in the year 2011?Janet Tamaro might not want to show us all the missing moments, but you know they're there. Stick around and I'll show em to you, you'll see.
Anyway, we'll discuss this theory in depth, amongst many other critical world issues at the commune.
At first the crime scene looked pretty typical - Crowe posturing for the cameras and then trying to measure his dick against Jane's and then Frost's, Frost throwing up neatly in the background, trying to pass off his queasy stomach as food poisoning, the usual - but then it started to get weird fast. There was a tone she didn't like at all in Crowe's voice as he smirked at her, telling her the crime scene might bring back old memories, but since he'd say just about anything to fuck with her head, she ignored him. Alarm definitely started to set in however, when she walked in to see her old partner, standing just inside the victim's living room, his face strangely sober.
"Korsak! I thought you were on vacation."
"Cut it short."
"That bad?" she asked, wanting a clue. He just looked at her, flatly.
"Worse." Her curiosity piqued, she walked over to the couch where the M.E was already leaning over, probing the slashed throat of a middle aged man, tied up on his own couch.
"Ten centimetres" the doctor said by way of greeting, frowning into the dead man's wound. Frost quickly made his excuses, fleeing the scene, with a mild groan. Maura continued her commentary as if the interruption hadn't even occurred. She was in the zone.
"Carotid artery and the jugular have been transected," she explained. "What's odd, is how precise it is." She glanced up at Jane for a second, and did a double take. "Hairline fracture," she diagnosed. "The nasal bone, above the lateral nasal cartilage. It's not disfiguring." Jane knew this was her friend, Maura, being comforting but it was a little disconcerting having her own wounds neatly classified in the tone of Dr. Isles' all-my-patients-are-dead bedside manner.
"Looks pretty disfiguring to me," quipped Korsak, misunderstanding, as he eyed the corpse. Jane in turn eyed Maura, who'd already returned her attention to the dead. Fine. Let's play doctor then.
"Can you pop this out for me?" she asked. The look that came over Maura was startling. Her body straightened and swayed a little at the same time. Her breath rushed out of her and she smiled, then tried to rein in her smile, her eyes darting sideways, pleased and embarrassed all at once.
"Can't you do something safe? Like Yoga?" she teased wryly, as she pulled off her latex gloves. Jane smirked sheepishly. "Might hurt a little," Maura warned her.
"Okay," she accepted with a small smile, to remind Maura she was dealing with a hardened homicide detective who was after all, tough, and perfectly used to pain.
As Dr. Isles smiled back and moved towards her, Jane suddenly realised the reason for Maura's oddly giddy reaction to her request. She stepped in close and as her fingers gripped Jane's chin, her light brown eyes remained carefully clinical in their assessment, but Jane felt quite clear that the doctor was as equally aware as she was, this is the first time we've touched in over a year. It was true in fact; they'd held themselves so carefully separate, that the two of them hadn't shared so much as a handshake, with barely even an accidental brush of an arm since their first day at work together. The last time you touched me, Jane's thoughts raced, you were wearing nothing but a bedsheet and I was kissing you goodbye. They'd both been extremely, overly cautious, and as Maura's other hand reached towards her, Jane realised why. The touch only lasted for a couple of seconds, but her insides were quaking at the closeness of Maura's body and the sensation of her cool fingers gently gripping her chin. Maura's eyes were on her and she worked hard to hold her own gaze level. She could feel the other woman's breath ghosting on her skin and - "Ow! A little?" she yelped, batting Maura's hands away, reaching up for her own nose, feeling momentarily blinded. It was somewhat fitting, Jane would reflect later, that after all this time Maura's first touch would cause her such pain.
For a moment she forgot where they were, or why, until Korsak brusquely returned both women to the matter at hand, talking them through the facts. The dead man was a doctor and his wife was missing, presumably abducted. Jane was halfway through a lame joke about the wife's innocence when her mind suddenly snagged on the familiarity of the scene, her eyes flickering from the bound and gagged corpse, to the photograph of the missing wife and a jolt of pure fear ripped through her. Knowing exactly what she'd find before she looked, she bent down beside the couch to see the overturned teacup and saucer on the floor. It took her out in an instant - her first flashback in months. The bound and tied woman on the floor of the abandoned basement, her eyes widening in fear as she looked behind Jane, right before the crack to the back of her skull had knocked her out. She took in a deep breath, I will not lose my shit in the middle of a crime scene. Her voice came out hard.
"Is he out? Is the surgeon out?" Beside her Maura recoiled from the dead victim in front of her.
"Oh my god, Korsak…!" Maura was the type for whom fear and anger were closely linked. Hoyt was not a subject they'd discussed between the two of them, but Jane knew that Maura had of course read through the case notes and was perfectly familiar with the story of the man who'd tormented her best friend. Jane could already sense the emotions beginning to whirl through Maura's mind, even before she could quite get a grip on what her own were going to be.
"He's not out!" Korsak sounded defensive. "It's his M.O that's all." Maura wasn't going to let it go.
"Why didn't you warn us?" she was genuinely upset. "Warn Jane, at least?"
Through her agitation, Jane's mind clamped firmly on the word us.The idea that Maura would unconsciously take on a serial killer as some kind of best-friend problem that she could share in made her ache. She didn't know whether she wanted to throw up, punch someone or weep. As Maura gazed across at her with concern on every feature, Jane swiped roughly at her aching nose. Fuck you Hoyt. Why can't you stay in your cell where you belong?
"Hoyt's the reason you don't want to be partners isn't it?" Korsak wanted to talk about his feelings. Great. Box open, Hoyt everywhere.Jane knew her decision still nagged at her old partner. He'd been understanding, not pushing her too hard, but it seemed he'd never actually accepted that her decision was permanent. Her edges felt rubbed raw. So she side-stepped.
"You know why," she told him. "I'm allergic to all those sad and furry little creatures you keep rescuing, Detective Doolittle."
"You never sneezed," Korsak levelled back at her. She was about to launch back when another voice interrupted.
"Hello," she glanced up to see a slightly tired looking fed in a suit, walking in. "Special Agent Gabriel Dean," he introduced himself, flashing his badge. Maura turned to Jane and flashed her a coy he's sexy look. Jane frowned. Maura wasn't usually so in Jane's face about the men she found attractive. It wasn't so much another of their unspoken rules, as a small act of mercy on Maura's part, or so Jane had always thought. Agent Dean had barely finished his introduction before Jane interrupted.
"What's the FBI doing here?" she kept her expression flat and unwelcoming. Maura turned to her again, this time her expression teasing and chiding in equal measures. Oh no…she doesn't mean…oh, shit, does she? Agent Dean neatly side-stepped her demand, refusing to explain just why the hell the FBI were even interested in her case. Jane felt herself becoming increasingly irritated and all things considered, she wasn't inclined to hide it.
"Hey. You know we're on the same side, right?" the agent asked, looking mildly put out. He was actually fairly attractive, in a rumpled, kind of way, she guessed, and he didn't lose his temper or cave in when Jane all but snarled at him, which she had to admit took her by surprise. "Just here to observe," he shook his head diplomatically, with an amused glint in his eyes at her overly zealous defence.
"Right." Jane was just about to decide he was moderately likeable after all, when Maura turned to her, breaking the silence.
"Jane, I'll be doing the autopsy in the morning," she said levelly, strictly business. Then she turned to Agent Dean, her voice turning warmly seductive, "Come if you like." She turned and left them alone, shooting Jane an oh yes, my friend, quirk of her eyebrows and a satisfied smirk, completely ignoring Jane's disbelieving head shake as she mouthed the word no.
A hiker chasing after his dog had stumbled across Gail Jaeger's body in the woods. Jane had not expected to find her alive, but it felt like a punch in the guts all the same. She was still trying to reassemble herself from her visit with Hoyt as they pulled into the entrance to the woods. Agent Dean was here, along with his cronies. Great. Jane let Frost go on ahead, as she came to a rapid decision. As she saw it, she had two options. Go with Maura's suggestion, which meant a date with a not-unattractive federal officer, with a side-serving of getting to spend some real time with her best friend, or she'd just have to watch him smarm all over Maura instead. She'd seen the spark of attraction in her friend's eyes. If it wasn't for Jane, Maura would have definitely flashed those mesmerising eyes of hers at the agent and he'd have been a goner. But Maura had promised to find Jane a man, and find her a man she had. So. A date plus Maura, or lose Maura to another date. Fine. I'll play. She checked her reflection, put on some old lipstick she'd found stashed in the glove compartment three years ago, and smoothed back her hair. Game face Rizzoli.
She got out of the car and started to walk with him. She knew how Maura picked up, employing the full weight of her girly side…eyes, lips, curves… …Jane blinked, but she herself employed a different technique.
"How'd you get here so fast?" she growled at him. He bit.
"I was in the area."
"Ooh, everyone's so lucky today!" she tossed sarcastically over her shoulder. He followed her. Of course he did. It was less playing hard to get and more treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen, but it was every bit as effective in its own way. But then they rounded the corner, and there she was. Amongst the grey suits every one else on the scene was wearing, and against the dimness of the forest, Maura Isles shone in her bright red coat, like a light in the dark. Despite everything, Jane almost smiled, as the doctor made everyone else fade into the background, yet again. Fucking little red riding hood. She looked stunning. Even if she was apparently in the midst of removing a dead woman's eye fluid through a syringe.
"Vitreous potassium," she announced. "Helps us determine a post-mortem interval." Maura really needed to work on her social greetings Jane decided. That aside, she'd never been so glad to see her best friend. If Hoyt was darkness, well then Maura was light. Just being around her made the world seem a little bit less dire. On top of that Jane was just happy to have the backup. Gabriel Dean might be moderately cute, but as a federal agent he sucked. Glancing down at the carefully laid out corpse, with her brushed out hair and garlands of leaves, he proclaimed the killer had simply run out of time to bury her. Maura and Jane exchanged glances. Sure, the two of them still argued over crime scenes almost as frequently as they ever had, but they'd also developed their own language somewhere along the line, so that Jane knew instantly from the look the doctor gave her, that they at least, were very much on the same page. There was something very wrong about this scene and it wasn't the killer's time management skills.
The autopsy had confirmed the presence of necrophilia, and despite his earlier blase attitude, Agent Dean seemed to be already aware of what they would find. Jane knew Maura wanted her to like this guy, but as he continued to deny sharing any of his information with them, she was starting to get seriously pissed off. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, Really? Maura, this guy is insufferable. But she kept it to herself. Sometimes attraction just rubbed her up the wrong way. The feeling always made her uncomfortable and more often than not it came out as irritation instead, which she would then use to hide her vulnerability behind. Even Maura infuriated her at times. Especially Maura, in actual fact. But then again, sometimes, a guy was just a jerk. It was hard to tell. She swallowed her words, settling for shooting Maura a blazing glare. The things I do for you…
She couldn't sit still. Hoyt was behind bars; she didn't have to be afraid, she wasn't afraid, really. It's just…she didn't quite want to be alone right now. She was meant to be upstairs helping Korsak and Frost as they trawled the databases, trying to find a match for a suspect that could have had contact with Hoyt somewhere along the line, but instead, she wandered back down to see Maura, tuna salad in hand as an excuse. Maura was always focussed, but Jane knew that with her own safety at risk, the doctor was working double. She probably wouldn't have eaten all day. Maura's grateful smile as she accepted Jane's usual offering only proved her theory correct.
"You guys eating cat food?" came Dean's interruption. Jane's irritation amped up a notch.
"Yeah. Want some?" she shoved the fish under his nose. "Guess it's a chick thing," she drawled, enjoying his obvious recoil. She felt Maura's eyes on her and caught her friend's indulgent smile. She couldn't tell if Maura was amused because she thought Jane was just so bad at this, or if she could tell that Jane's belligerence was just a cover. Jane smirked back. Her friend was a smarty-pants, but she clearly hadn't worked out that Jane's version of flirting was essentially that of a small boy in a playground. Next she'd pull Agent Dean's hair and call him names. Maura was only lucky Jane had aimed for friendship with her, or she'd have found herself pushed into puddles left right and centre, or had worms shoved down her shirt instead. Jane's enjoyment of the idea of Maura squealing like a enraged girl evaporated as Dean glumly intoned that she should sit down. Even with his grimly portentous tone, Jane wasn't quite prepared for what came next.
"A few hours ago, Charles Hoyt escaped custody." A sharp stab of pain hit her in the chest and she dropped down onto the desk, gazing at Maura in shock.
"Oh my god…" the words slipped out. Agent Dean started talking, his voice carefully controlled as he explained the nature of the escape and what they'd do to keep her safe, but Jane wasn't listening. The roaring in her ears was back and she'd forgotten how to breathe all of a sudden. He's out and he's coming for me. This is it. End game. Her stomach churned and the beginnings of another flashback started to crowd in, the edges of her vision going dark when suddenly she jumped, jerked back to the present. There was a hand on her arm, cool and gentle against her burning skin. She opened her eyes to see Maura's face, not calm and professional like Dean's, but scared and worried like her own. Strangely, it soothed Jane. She wasn't going crazy and she wasn't alone. Maura's fingers slipped down her arm and gripped hold of her hand. She couldn't possibly know the way the scars there were aching, but she held Jane's hand tightly in her own, her other hand sliding across to cover the scar from sight.
"Jane," she said quietly, her thumb stroking her palm. "It's going to be alright." Her conviction didn't reach her eyes, but as Maura took over, explaining all the reasons Jane was quite safe, she found herself listening. She didn't really believe a word of it, but she was comforted all the same. By the time they were standing upstairs, watching the security footage of Hoyt's violent escape, she felt strong again. Strong and really fucking angry.Hoyt stabbed his own hand and showed it to the camera. So he was coming for her, then. Goddamn sick scumbag piece of shit. Come near me this time and I swear to god I will kill you myself.
Despite Dean's rational appeals, Korsak's tantrum and Maura's large, worried eyes, Jane went home. Frankie and Frost trailed her, following her upstairs and barging into her house, refusing to leave.
"If I was a guy you wouldn't be worried like this," she groused. The whole experience was giving her a completely different kind of flashback, the way her friends and colleagues crowded around her after Hoyt's first attack, treating her like a fragile child. It drove her nuts to feel them swarming back again, so eager to babysit.
"You're not a guy!" her brother's frustrated voice went up an octave. She loved Frankie, but she hated it when he tried to turn the tables on her. He was her baby brother, if anyone was protecting anyone, it'd be the other way around.
"No," she snapped. "I am a homicide detective, and he is not going to kill me." When Frankie grabbed for her hand, yelling about her scars as if she needed reminding of what Hoyt was capable of, that was it, she threw them out. It didn't help her feeling of claustrophobia however. Her partner and brother parked outside her building, her neighbour interrupting her stress-vacuuming, then just when she thought it couldn't get worse, her mother arrived. Fucking Hoyt! Doing this to her all over again, causing everyone around her to swarm around like concerned mother hens, forcing themselves into the centre of her life, giving them license to vent their worries and doubts about her, over and over again. On any other day, she was a perfectly capable, independent professional adult. Add in the minor detail of a deranged serial killer and apparently she had no rights to her own life anymore. Hoyt had stripped back the years and turned her into a victim all over again. But one thing was different, she realised. She had one thing that was new. Something completely disconnected from who she'd been back then and the thought made her strong.
"Where are you going?" her mother's voice bordered on hysterical as Jane grabbed her jacket and keys, swallowing her trepidation at her plan.
"Someplace where you're not."