Sorry for the delay! Reviews appreciated, kinda slightly unsure of where I want to take this now so any ideas are welcome... Enjoy!
Now that she was face to face with her foe, this phantom that had eluded her sharp mind for days, the man who snatched away the most precious thing in her life, Doctor Maura Isles supposed she should feel something… More. Something more than just disgust. Of course there was fear; she would regard herself as a fool if she did not feel fear when staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. But the fear Maura felt wasn't for herself; it was for Jane. Only for Jane. Always for Jane. The contempt and hatred roiling in her veins was a potent, potentially dangerous mixture, for she was all too aware of the fact the gun in her pocket was virtually inaccessible, at least by her hand. Jane could, in theory, extract the weapon and shoot Jefferson before he had the chance to react. That was theory. This was reality. And in reality, Jane's responses, both visual and physical, would be greatly impaired by the state of her body and her mind. In fact, the Doctor was close enough to hear the ragged nature of the Detective's every breath, the elevated heart rate, the slippery blood seeping between their bodies, the weight of her lithe frame pressing against her own back as her friend fought to retain a steady foothold on the uneven ground beneath her bare feet. Perhaps, for once in the good Doctor's life, she would have to rely on something that could not be hypothesized, tested or proven. Maura Isles would have to hope.
"I remember you from the conference." Maura blurted out, causing Jane to tense against her, preparing for the moment Jefferson lost whatever remaining control he had and used the weapon he was clutching so casually, pointing it at them almost lazily. Like he genuinely couldn't give less of a fuck that there was only a small chance that he would walk out of the trees on his own two feet. He certainly wouldn't be able to do that if Frost, Frankie or Korsak got to him first. Jefferson's upper lip pulled back from his slightly yellowing teeth in what was presumably meant to pass as a smile. Detective Rizzoli warned herself not to vomit at the sight of it.
"Very good Doctor, I was wondering when you would bring that up." He said smoothly, never taking his eyes away from the two women marooned helplessly in front of him. Whilst Maura's mind raced valiantly in an effort to uphold the flow of conversation and gain them precious seconds, she could feel Jane's larger, stronger hand inching slowly towards its goal. Maura thought for a moment Jane had spoken, but then she realised that she had simply picked up on the thought that was most likely in the forefront of the Detective's brain; Keep him talking.
"Why Jane? Why not me?" That was a question Doctor Isles truly craved an answer for. Although she was stalling for time, granting Jane, at the very least an opportunity, to get her hand to the gun, she desperately wanted to know. In fact, she needed to know. Did this bastard choose Jane because of her? She thought she might already have an answer, but still… Hearing the words from his own twisted mouth would provide her with knowledge of his motives. And knowledge was something Maura could use.
"Oh Maura…" Jefferson sighed quietly, wondering to himself how such a bright woman could be so horrendously stupid and dull. "You are decidedly…" He licked his lips and glanced at Jane, "Not my type." He finished with what resembled a conspirational wink. The Detective, though concentrating almost exclusively on the excruciatingly slow movements of her left hand, caught the marked change in Jefferson's tone. Never before had he sounded so superior. Maura however, mentally congratulated herself. The former Doctor had addressed her using her forename, a widely recognized method of instating one's own sense of power and superiority, whilst diminishing that of the other person. Okay Maura, focus, he is reacting according to your suspicions. Now, just draw him out a little further and hope to god Jane gets to that gun…
Maura straightened her spine and cocked her head to one side, careful to maintain eye contact with her opponent. She didn't even want to consider the potential consequences if he happened to look down and notice the peculiar bulge in her jacket and Jane's hand moving towards it. Her next words were critical. If she had been correct in her assumption of his motive, then she was about to, as Jane would say, 'open one helluva can of worms.'
"No?" The good Doctor enquired innocently enough, blinking in mock confusion. "Perhaps I am not, 'your type,' Harold," His name escaped her in a snap, contorting her mouth back into a snarl, "But I think I know exactly why you chose Jane." She paused, considering her next move carefully. "To punish me, because you knew inflicting harm on her would hurt me. And I also know why, whilst you were acting so contrite, Doctor," Maura issued his former title with lashings of scorn heaped upon it, "It became clear that you hate me, and people like me. People who are perfectly content to use their medical skills and knowledge to help the dead, the deceased, those with no breath in their bodies! You couldn't stand the thought of a life without performing surgery on live human beings, the very idea that your talents could be wasted upon the dead was just sickening to you, wasn't it! And the worst part was, it was your own doing! You inflicted a life long punishment upon yourself because you decided to kill your wife!" Maura's voice was becoming a shriek, yet she did not seem to notice. All her attention was focused on the pathetic excuse of a man and a Doctor before her. She relished the plethora of emotions raging across his haggard face; pure hatred, slight fear, confusion and best of all… Awareness. The dawning realization that he had been repressing. But Maura wasn't done, not by a long shot. Her best friend willed her not to go too far, for there were no second chances. If Maura pushed him over the edge, then she wouldn't even get the chance to shoot the son of a bitch, 'cause she would be too busy catching Maura's dead body in her arms.
"And at that conference, you looked at me, and you were jealous. You knew that even in a professional field governed by men and women who consult with dead bodies, who never run the risk of inflicting harm on their patients, you would never reach our standard nor our level of prestige." Maura leaned forward, close enough to pick out the foul stench of Jefferson's body odour hanging thick in the air between them, far enough to allow Jane to move the last inch or so undetected.
"You're not even fit to speak for the dead." She spat out, eyes glazing over with unadulterated loathing.
"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Jefferson howled, spittle flying, raising the gun, his hand trembling uncontrollably. Maura let out a peal of brash laughter with only one intent in mind.
"OR WHAT HAROLD?!" Any lingering fear dissipated as Maura's gaze locked onto his eyes and then languidly moved towards his shaking hand. He followed her gaze, and a solitary tear made its way down his cheek.
"Fuck you." Jefferson murmured. And then he pulled the trigger. The sound of gunshots ripped the silence around them apart, sending birds flying, leaves rustling madly and then... All that could be heard was screaming.