CH 10: Home Sweet Home

Warning: offensive language reflective of the time and culture.

- o -

Night has fallen. It was pre-dawn. The moon has shied away from the clouds, while the sun has yet to partake in the day.

Jane was forced into a literal corner. There was no plausible route of escape. None, whatsoever. There were six of them, and only one of her. They were of all shapes and sizes. Jane couldn't tell which was the leader.

It was a dice roll. But she had no choice. This was it.

Jane pointed at the porkiest one of the lot. It was the exact same bloke that had earliest staked his claim, to ride her first.

"Go on, Johnny. She's ripe between the loins."

Jane wasn't afraid to die. The only regret she bore was the fact it had to be at the hands of these savages. She was as good as dead. And much to Jane's dismay, she couldn't keep her promise to Maura.

"Come here, girl!"

Jane held up her revolver.

A single shot rang out.

And that was it.

- o -

The moment Jane was out of sight, and her mindset recomposed, Maura ran as fast as she could back to the barn. She didn't care about the deep seeded burn in her chest, or the heavy ache of cramps, all she cared about was Jane, and whether she lived or not — hopefully the first, and not the latter.

Barry was the only person that could save Jane at this point. But even then, by the time she ran to and from home base, Jane was already long gone; in which direction was anyone's guess. Barry and Maura stayed closed to one another, and they combed the streets. Their previous need for secrecy was out the window. Time was of the essence.

But no matter where they went, or which way they turned, they found no trace of life, much less Jane Rizzoli. Maura was frantic, while Barry did his best to remain levelheaded. Not only was Jane one of Barry's best, and closest friends, the reality of the situation was dire; he needed her as much as she did him, if they had any chance of making it back to Boston.

There were times when Maura, honestly, doubted they would ever find Jane alive and unharmed. That this was a lost cause. But she refused to give up. For she knew, without a doubt, that if the situation was reversed, and it was her in the hands of the outlaws, Jane would move heaven and Earth, to see her safe return. Maura could not, and would not, abandon Jane.

Night has retreated, and dawn was fast approaching. Maura last laid eyes on Jane more than half an hour ago, if not more. Time was flying by much too quickly for her to reckon. She had a small handgun by her chest. It was Barry that strongly suggested she be armed, and for good reason. If and when they found Jane, the outlaws weren't about to give her up without a fight. And a fight they'll have, that's for sure. But Barry needed Maura to watch his back, more than anything.

It was the dead of night. And then, from afar, a single shot rang out. It sounded no more than a block away, two at most. And that was all it took for Barry and Maura to dash towards the commotion. They ran as fast as they could with the wind to their backs.

There were shadows, and that was it. They couldn't make out the figures, but they weren't Jane. And that was good enough for Bary. He got down on his knees, and locked his rifle. He aimed, and fired. One guy went down. And then another. More than five bullets were exhausted, and there were three bodies to show for it.

Maura has never shot a gun before. She understood the finer mechanics of a firearm, and that was about it. But for Jane, she did what needed to be done, and neglected her humanity. She ran up to an outlaw, got as close as she could, and pulled down on the trigger. She shot him in the stomach.

Jane was on the ground, clinched in a brutal brawl. The man was big. Almost twice her size. But Jane was ruthless. To her, her mentality was kill or be killed. There was no third option.

Barry and Maura had the element of surprise. Gunfire was exchanged. And shots were made. Unfortunately for them, the outlaws dropped faster than flies. When Barry finally ran out of ammo, he improvised and stole whatever he needed from the bodies he had dropped only moments prior. The bastards had no need for guns where they were going: Hell.

There was no upset. From the very get-go, Jane has always had the upper hand. And now, she had the fat man pinned with a sharpened blade.

Not far from where they were was Johnny, her would-be rapist. This all started with him. Jane used the last of her bullet, and shot him in the neck. When the rest of the outlaws came at her, she had already lifted Johnny's revolver. Not to mention the fact she used his corpse as a human shield. After that, it was only a matter of stealth, and sheer will to live.

"Jane!" Maura ran her hands all throughout Jane's body. She didn't ease up till she was certain Jane was well. "Are you hurt?!"

"I'm fine."

Barry soon joined them once he made sure the last of the bastards were rotting in Hell. He made sure to double tap. He nicked enough guns and ammunition to last them a good while. There was no need to be stingy.

"Good to see that you're well." Barry said. "I told Maura you were too stubborn to die."

Jane merely smirked.

"You stupid, fucking —"

Jane knocked his front teeth in with the butt of her blade. "I don't give two nickels about you, bando. I want to know who ordered the ambush. You tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you live."

"I don't trust no fucking cunt."

"I don't have a reason to spew falsehood. I can kill you right where you stand. But I haven't."

The fat man swallowed the lump in his throat. The grounds were splayed with his brothers. There was no one left but him. He was all that was left of the brotherhood. But there was one thing, perhaps, more important than his own life. "How much is this information worth to you?"

"You ballsy, son of a bitch." Jane pulled out a stack of fivers, and threw it at him. "Now, talk!"

"I ain't ever met nobody. But they told us where you'll be before you even got here."

"Who?"

"The telegraph came from Boston. Something about money. And that's all I know. I swear."

Jane smashed his nose in. "Who?!"

"I don't —"

Jane knocked out another tooth. "WHO?!"

"The name was —"

A shot rang out. And a single bullet pierced the man between the eyes.

Barry flung around, his rifle locked and loaded.

The shooter was a familiar face they all recognized.

"Tommy?"

Tommy stood there panting heavily, and drenched in cold sweat.

- o -

There were five sheriff's department within the city limits of Boston. And Korsak was the lawkeep that ran station house number three. Lucky number three, they say. Well, there was nothing lucky about this house. If anything, since Korsak told up the job as the lawkeep that oversaw the peace between the Rizzoli, Jones, and Pierce, his hair had grayed twice as fast, and God damn, his heartburn and indigestion was bad. There was one upside, though, if you could call it that. At this job, there was never a dull moment.

The sun had broke, and the day has officially began. And with it, the endless bullshit. While his patrolmen combined the streets, Korsak was on his fat ass, his nose buried deep in today's newspaper. The Boston Times was his jam. Korsak could not begin the day properly if he didn't read the newspaper cover to cover. He just couldn't. Color him superstitious, but every single time he was interrupted mid-read, the day had always, without fail, turned up rotten.

And today was one of those days.

"Korsak!"

Two more pages. And that was it. He was so close.

"Korsak!"

"What has your cheeks clenched in a pinch, huh?" Korsak shouted. "Mind your manners, and bring down that God awful voice."

"I'm just the messenger." The young man handed Korsak the warrant. "That came from City Hall this morning. Signed and stamped by Judge Novak."

Korsak grabbed the paper, and shooed the boy away. It was an arrest warrant issued for the State of Massachusetts. For it to land in his district meant the arrestee was one of his residences. Korsak quickly scanned through the mumbo-jumbo before he got to the very end, where the arrestee's full name and address was written.

"God damn it!"

The day has only just begun, and it was already spoiled. It wasn't superstition if it was true.

- o -

Lydia didn't want to leave the safety of her room. But she had little choice. She barely had a bite to eat the night before. That last thing she needed was to be weak and feeble. She needed her strength, should anything happen.

It was just before noon when Lydia finally emerged from her room. When she got to the foot of the stairs, though, did she realize her efforts were in vain. Even from a distance, his unforgettable voice carried down the hallway.

"Ah, Lydia. It's so kind of you to finally join us."

The sarcasm in Teresa's voice wasn't missed, though Lydia didn't care. They each bore a smile, of varying degree, on their faces; even Angela, too. Something wasn't right.

"And why is everybody in such a celebratory mood today?"

"It appears Brandon isn't in town solely to visit Teresa."

"Indeed. The reason for my tardiness can now be revealed. I sold my ore mine. The paperwork has been finalized, and the sale complete. I've decided to settle in Boston."

The color drained from Lydia's already pale complexion.

"Angela has been gracious enough to offer Brandon boarding, until he can find long term accommodations."

"Of course. It would be our pleasure to house you, Brandon."

"Much appreciated, Mrs. Rizzoli."

Angela smiled behind her cup. It wasn't because she was truly generous. No. Far from it. Brandon Strongoli was a wealthy businessman, and extraordinarily well connected in the West. There's no telling when such a time comes, and a favor is needed. It's always good to collect favors than debt.

But the good news didn't stop there. There was another reason for Angela's spectacular mood. Tommy has sent word of his imminent arrival. Frankie was alive, and well, but a long road lay ahead for his recovery. But regardless, he was alive, and that was all that mattered. It would appear that that dirty Jew, Christopher Baumann, had heeded her previous warning.

"Come and sit with us, Lyida." Brandon said sweetly. "If we're to share a roof, it would be my pleasure to get to know you better since we are family, after all."

"Excuse me."

Lydia rushed to the lavatory, and she hurled violently. There was nothing but stomach acid. It burned at every twist and turn.

This was her worst nightmare come true.

- o -

In less than a fortnight, Katherine was going to be Mrs. Charles William Jones. But little did Casey know, that wasn't going to happen.

Katherine has made up her mind, regardless of her father's threats, and the exuberant amount of pressure Casey has cast, she wasn't going to concede. Not this time. She already had a bag packed, and money ready to go. All that was missing was her raven lover.

But be that as it may, Katherine was still livid at Casey for forcing her hand. She was royally pissed. And rightfully so. She would not be able to rest peacefully if she didn't give him a proper tongue lashing.

After several attempts, Katherine was eventually directed to the Queen Victoria Hotel. It was owned by the Jones. And it was where their reception was to be held. But little did she know, Casey wasn't there, though she did manage to find herself another Jones.

"Good Lord. The lot of you are slower than time itself. Pick it up, and move."

Katherine didn't recognize the woman, though from appearance alone, the facial construct was eerily familiar. She was tall for a woman. She had a head of long blonde hair, and her eyebrows were unshaped and thick, though it befitted her strong features. She was stunning. And even more breathtaking than her brother. Casey Jones wasn't a sight for sore eyes. But her sister. She was the true looker of the family.

"And who might you be?"

Clarke Theodora Jones had spent her early days here in Boston, before her dear father saw it fit to ship her off to Waterford, Ireland. She had only ever seen Katherine once, though she wasn't one you forget easily, not with that face and attitude.

"I'm Teddy. And you must be Katherine."

Katherine accepted the hand for a brisk shake.

"I didn't realize you were back."

"As you shouldn't. I was going to surprise Casey for his wedding, but that wouldn't be possible now would it, given the expedited nature of your nuptials."

"So you've heard?"

"Charles has yet to shut his mouth about it ever since your father gave the go-ahead." Teddy then stepped back, and gave Katherine an obvious sizing up. "My brother has a lot of faults, but the one thing he does have is good taste."

Katherine scoffed. She was repulsed her arrogance; it was obviously a family trait. "You are a woman yourself, and yet you objectify women much like a man would. Do you have no pride? Or is it shame you lack?"

"Charles did mention you were into Jane Eyre, what with her proto-feminism philosophy and all."

"Do not insult my intelligence with your belittlement."

"Katherine, darling, if I may offer you one piece of sound advice, it's this: if you think I'm bad, than you're in for a treat for my brother, dear Charles, is ten times the sadistic and arrogant bastard that I am."

Katherine already knew that, but she was truly shocked such words would part from his sister's lips.

"We may share the same blood, but Charles has never seen me as anything more than a nuisance. He was the one that suggested to father that I be shipped off, to further my education, if you could believe that."

"I didn't know."

"Nor should you. You may want to reconsider before you sell your body and soul. For if you go through with this union, I know for certain, he'll ruin you."

Teddy didn't specify the aspect, but Katherine could venture a guess.

"I've said everything I've wanted. No less. And no more." Teddy walked past Katherine, only to stop, and inhale the fragrance that is her. "The walls have ears. There have been whispers about you. If the eldest Jones isn't to your liking, you are welcome to sample another. That is what family is for, to share, isn't it?"

The words left Katherine more confused than stunned, if not both.

- o -

Tommy came with a stronghold of ten men, and enough firepower to bury the sheriff's department twice over, if need be.

Perhaps there was a God after all, for they were mere miles from home. Home. Home is where the heart is. And Jane has not longed for anything so much as she has her home.

Barry, Maura, and Frankie shared one carriage, while Jane rode with Tommy in the smaller one. She has never been so happy to see her youngest brother. They were close. Jane was closer to Tommy than she was to Frankie; their personalities were too similar, so they often clashed. Tommy, on the other hand, was mindful, quiet, and soft. It's been too long since they've spoken. And they have much to talk about.

"Is that Father?"

"It is." Jane handed Tommy the urn. "Angela won't approve, but we didn't exactly have a choice."

Tommy held the urn, and his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. "This wasn't an accident, was it?"

"No. Adell, that backstabbing traitor, admitted to shooting Father. But for what reasons, I do not yet know."

"Did he name names?"

"The man's lips could not be pried. He held his tongue until the very end. Adell was either fiercely loyal to whomever, or foolishly stupid. I cannot say."

"And what of that dunkaroo back in Hilliard. Did the fat man say anything of interest?"

"Only that the puppeteer hails from Boston."

"I see."

"Why did you shoot him, Tommy?" Jane finally asked. "He was about to wag his chin, and tell us everything we wanted to know."

"I...I panicked. I saw you in duress, and I thought nothing of it when I fired."

Tommy was the baby of the family, and he certainly played the part, which made everything all the more out of character.

"You were a good hundred yards away. That shot was nothing short of impressive. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"I...didn't."

"You shot the fat bloke right between the eyes, Tommy."

"I...I was actually aiming for the body." Tommy said sheepishly. "My intent was to harm and disarm, not kill. I've never, you know, really taken a life before."

Jane never, truly, realized just how close she was to her demise, at the hands of Tommy, no less. She made a mental note never to give Tommy a gun, ever again.

Tommy was almost afraid to ask, though he did. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"How can I?! Father is dead; Frankie is critically injured; Barry, Maura and I spent the past week being hunted like wild game!"

Tommy couldn't argue with that, nor did he want to.

"Whoever ordered this ambush had sensitive information others weren't privy to. You and I both share the same thought and sentiment." Jane gave fair warning. "This does not involve you, Thomas, so you best clear yourself of my path."

"Jane..."

"But remember, no matter what happens, you're my brother, and I love you."

"And I, you, Jane."

"Good. Brace yourself, Tommy, for this won't be pretty."

Hell hath no fury like Jane Clementine Rizzoli.

- o -

By late afternoon, five carriages rolled into town. News of the Rizzoli's return traveled quick.

Jane flung open the carriage door.

No less than five helpers, along with Maura, carried Frankie into the house.

And there, on the doorstep, was Angela, alongside the rest of the family.

Angela and Jane were locked in a stare down.

Tommy eclipsed Jane, and attempted to quell the tension. "Mother, please, whatever it is, it can wait. Jane is in dire need of rest."

Angela broke away first, and said, "But of course. Please."

The gesture was kind, and the tone was overtly sweet; it was uncharacteristic of Angela. This placed Jane on edge.

"Come, Jane. We'll have the kitchen make you an early supper."

Jane walked right past Angela. She made it up those five steps, when her shrill voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Lawkeep!"

Korsak waited in the back drop until he was cued. This wasn't his idea, nor did he want to. But his hands were tied.

"Have you gone mad, Korsak?!"

Korsak turned Jane around, and placed a pair of iron cuffs on her delicate wrists. "I don't have a choice, Jane. I have a warrant issued by the State for your arrest."

"On what grounds?!"

"The charge is for criminal trespassing. This house belongs to Angela Rizzoli. She's the complainant. "

If Jane's hands weren't restrained, she would squeeze the life out of that vile woman. But she couldn't. "This is entrapment, Korsak!"

"I know. But it's also the law."

"I own everything, including your soul." Angela said sweetly, "Enjoy county prison, Janie."

- o -

A/N: If you use ketchup on your poutine, I will punch you, in the mouth, with a curling iron.