Fair warning, a little bit of suspension of belief is necessary again, but we all love to ignore the rules of reality anyway. Reviews are like rainbows and sunshine and clouds made entirely out of marshmallow fluff, so feel free to write one, even if it's to tell me that you hate something and want me to move this along a little faster… I'm just one for tangents and waffling, I can't seem to help myself.
Jane bent at the waist and selected the largest, most threatening looking branch she could source from the limited selection at her feet, and stared resolutely at the section of closely clustered trees she was sure that rat bastard would appear from any second now. The pathetic weapon would be no match for a gun or a knife, or even his brute strength, but it made her feel a tiny bit less vulnerable. He was close now, only a few steps away at most, and all Jane could think of was how absurd she must look right now, like some kind of Amazonian woman, standing there brandishing a goddamn stick like it was a sword in battle. She didn't stand a chance. Jane tensed as the final barrier between herself and her tormentor was pushed aside and a figured stumbled into her line of sight. She was in the process of raising her make shift weapon high into the air when she realised that the person who had just tripped over a thick, gnarled root hidden beneath a pile of leaves and landed heavily on the soft earth was not the man who had held her captive for days, tortured her to the brink of sanity, kept her chained inside a cage like a fucking animal… This person was much too small, much too female and happened to be wearing a Boston Police Department windbreaker that was at least two sizes too big, had blonde hair that was a mussed and tangled mess, and was most definitely uncharacteristically swearing under her breath.
"I swear she was right behind me! I stopped to talk to Officer Wilson and then when I turned back she was gone! What if he got to her Sergeant?! What if he just crept up behind her and…?" Frankie Rizzoli reached out with one large hand and clasped Frost's arm.
"Cut it out Barry." He said gruffly, eyes flashing dangerously. Frost had only ever seen the younger Rizzoli really angry less than half a dozen times, and it usually only happened when his sister was in danger. That time with Bianchi… Shit the kid was mad then; Frost had to practically surgically remove Frankie's hands from that creepy son of a bitch's throat when they finally found them. But that was nothing compared to this calm, detached fury.
"She probably just got separated from the group Frost, we've radioed through, and everyone knows to keep an eye out for her." Korsak said reassuringly, despite the fact all he could think about was that both their girls were now somewhere in this godforsaken forest. Frost lashed out at a nearby tree in frustration, cursing harshly. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let them both slip through his fingers?
"Get it together Frost! We need to stay calm, we need to keep focussed! Let's just hope Maura found her way back to the cabin. Let's keep looking for Janie. C'mon, or we'll fall behind the dogs." Korsak grabbed Frost by the scruff of the neck like a little kid and urging him forwards.
Jane was prepared to stake her life on the fact her heart most definitely stopped beating for a moment. Just for a couple of seconds, everything faded, everything disappeared, and all she could see was the woman in front of her. The branch fell from her now limp grasp and her arms swung loosely at her sides, rendered useless by shock. "Maura…" She breathed, her voice a mere whisper masked by the natural sounds of the woods surrounding them. The blonde scrambled to her feet, facing the opposite direction from which Jane stood, struck dumb by the sight before her, simply staring at the achingly familiar form of her friend. She would have wept if she had the strength. The Doctor cupped her elbow with one hand, leaning slightly to her right, favoring that leg. It happened to be the leg Jane herself had to operate on the last time they found themselves trapped in the woods. That day, that event, it brought them back from all the arguments and sniping and bickering after the whole 'Oh shit I shot your sperm-donor-mob-boss-Dad' fiasco. It forced them into friendship again. She got her best friend back that day, and now here she was. For a moment, Jane considered the fact she might be hallucinating, that the heaven sent gift from the gods before her was a figment of her deranged mind, unhinged after days and nights spent in the darkness, being tortured and beaten and left to rot. But… There was that expensive perfume Maura always wears lingering in the air, the slightly sweet, yet musky scent that followed the Doctor around everywhere she went, that scent that haunted the Detective's dreams and waking hours, the scent that caused her to slip into an almost catatonic state whenever Maura leaned over her shoulder to draw her attention to something. She wasn't imagining that, surely she wasn't imagining it? Jane was still standing frozen to that same spot when the Doctor eventually turned around and took a step forward, her eyes downcast. Something appeared to startle her. Something gave her pause. Maura jumped, her head snapping up. Hazel eyes bulged inside their sockets, her pretty mouth hung agape, giving her a look that might be deemed comical in another situation, another time. Detective Jane Rizzoli cocked a tentative half grin, "Tell me I'm not fucking dreaming," She rasped, pressing her hand to her chest as though checking her heart was still pumping, that she was still breathing. And then she stumbled backwards as Maura Isles flung herself into the strong, familiar arms of her best friend, sobbing and crying, kissing and caressing every accessible inch of skin on offer. Rizzoli eased her stiff arms around her friend and buried her face into the soft, creamy neck of Doctor Maura Isles, who was so busy repeating her name over and over that she did not even notice the gentle kiss the Detective placed there before her knees buckled and she broke down in tears, murmuring the name of the woman she loved. Maura was the one to catch her, just like she had done so many times before. The Doctor slipped her toned arms around the now terrifyingly thin frame of her best friend and helped her regain her footing, whispering reassurances into a thankful, greedy ear.
Both women instinctively tried to shove the other behind them when a voice said, "Oh how sweet," in what could only be regarded as a purr; the silkiness of that voice brought the acrid taste of bile to the Detective's throat. She had listened to it so many times, heard it say such vile, disgusting things that she was sure, if she made it out of here alive, it would forever haunt her nightmares. But it was Maura who ended up between the former Doctor and the brave Detective, her arm protectively strewn across Jane's midriff, her small body pressed tightly against the lithe frame behind her. A snarl formed on her face, one that came unbidden.
"Don't you take one step closer!" Maura growled, holding Jane impossibly tighter with her arm, eliciting nothing but a light chuckle from Harold Jefferson, who was standing before them in dark jeans and a thin jumper, a sheen of sweat on his face, cheeks slightly pink from exertion.
"Oh Doctor Isles," he said sweetly, "I have clearly misjudged you. So very brave…" Jefferson slowly used the tip of one finger to sweep gently along the side of the gun in his hand. The one that trembled. The one that gave him away. The one that now had the power to end this game right here and now. Jane subconsciously moved her left hand, which was situated on Maura's hip, to draw Maura closer, and her fingers brushed against something hard, something solid, in the deep pocket of Maura's oversized, clearly borrowed windbreaker. She inhaled sharply and felt Maura's fingernails dig into her side as though assuring her that yes that is what you think it is Detective, and no I'm not just happy to see you. 'Maura Isles, you truly are the dumbest genius I know.'