Title: Hamilton Gregg Wants to Kill Your Face (14/?)
Author: Maggiemerc
Rating: M
Status: In Progress
Fandoms: Rizzoli & Isles, Grey's Anatomy
Pairings: Callie/Arizona, Rizzoli/Isles, Rizzoli/Arizona (but purely past tense)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. It is a tragedy I suffer through daily.
Summary: Fresh on the heels of the season two finale Rizzoli is trying to manage her confusing feelings for Maura and the case of a criminal from her past. Her hunt to stop him before he kills again takes her to Seattle, and straight into the sights of her ex.
Chapter Fourteen
She woke up with her mother and Maura hovering over her and she knew it was a dream because she'd left them both in Boston. Arizona leaned on the door frame with her arms crossed casually and her hair up and messy and a set of dark blue scrubs hanging off her frame. Her expression was… inscrutable.
Maura touched her cheek and she refocused her attention on her. "Jane, do you know where you are?"
"Seattle." Right? She'd been in Seattle and then…and then he'd been in the apartment and she'd been so exhausted and stunned she'd barely managed a defense before he'd wrapped himself around her and pointed her at the door.
"Now we wait Jane," he'd crooned in her ear.
She looked back at Arizona. Looked for signs of that trauma. No. No, her wife had been there. She closed her eyes and tried to see the past she could barely grasp. Callie Torres had been there and then she couldn't breathe and the rain fell gently in the room and all of it was warm and red.
"That's right," Maura said. She looked at her again. "We're in Seattle. You were," she almost frowned even though Maura only frowned when puzzling out a problem or dealing with her mother, "You were attacked."
You're… "here?"
Maura smiled. "I am," she said softly.
"Janie?"
Her mother was there too and sounded like she was watching one of her kids play baseball or something.
"Ma?"
She couldn't really turn her head and she didn't want to either. But her eyes flickered over to her mother who looked like she might be crying and was standing so close but seemed so terrified to touch her.
"I'm here Janie. I'm here."
She closed her eyes and tried to swallow but her jaw and throat didn't work quite right. "What happened," she said. Only it was hard to even talk. Like her tongue didn't want to move.
"You were hurt." She'd expected Arizona to say it, but it was Maura. "But you're safe now Jane." Maura was holding her hand and squeezed it tight. "You're safe here okay?"
She wanted to ask more but her brain kept working slower than it should and she felt too sleepy to properly talk to all of them. "Okay," she found herself saying. Gregg was out there. He'd hurt her. She knew that. And he might have hurt Arizona's wife. Might have even killed her. Maybe that was why Arizona was standing in the door like a stranger.
But Maura's thumb was rubbing soothing circles over her wrist and the comfort spread out and up her arm. "You should get some rest."
"Okay," she said to that too.
Tears sprung up in Maura's eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
Maura shook her head and leaned over to press her lips to Jane's forehead. "Sleep," she whispered. Her breath was sweet.
She tried to raise her hand to run it through Maura's hair. Maura had wonderful hair. It was cruel fate that she only ever got to touch it when they were hugging each other and offering comfort. It'd be weird to just run her hand though it.
But her hand was moving too slow and Maura was moving too quickly away.
At the door Arizona ducked her head like she was about to give some parent bad news.
Jane knew it wasn't normal. Maura's tears and Arizona's distance and her mother just standing there watching her and too afraid to touch. But she was too tired to ask why.
And as her eyes drifted close she realized that maybe that was part of the problem.
####
Maura winked and leaned across the bed, "So are you going to go out with him?"
Sometimes talk to Maura was like talking to her mother—who was probably the only person more obsessed with her love life than Maura. Both of them got so hung up the moment she mentioned a guy. Her mom because it meant grandchildren and Maura because…well that was just Maura.
"Maybe." She tried to keep her face impassive so Maura wouldn't end up teasing her.
"He's very attractive."
"So are you, but you don't see us on a date."
Oh.
Oh wow.
Good job Jane. Make another comment that sounds like you're gay.
Maura just laughed obliviously. "We should go on a date!" What? Jane's heart beat fast. "Then we could find some men who are actually interesting—and not cops."
Jane's heart was still beating out a samba.
Maura scooted closer and reached for Jane's forehead. "Are you okay? You got all flushed all of a sudden."
She had to nearly fly off the bed to avoid Maura's fingers because the pathologist had really nice fingers that she sometimes fantasized trailing across her stomach while they gently kissed—"I'm fine."
She wasn't fine. She had all these feelings that weren't fine. Feelings she was good at compartmentalizing. Pushing them down and away so she could keep her friend.
Because what would happen if she told her? What would happen if it all went to shit? She had a friend. A good friend. The best friend she'd ever had. So she had to push a part of herself down. Omit a few truths. She could do that to keep her.
Some part of her demanded it.
####
Working in the Pit Callie was used to dealing with cops. Some were power hungry jerks and some were just trying to help people and all of them were weary when they stepped through the doors and into her domain. Because it was one of the few places where a cop's word wasn't law. Medicine superseded it.
She'd been interviewed before. Usually while rushing around working on other patients. She'd had consults. She'd even testified in court.
But she'd never beaten down a fugitive and been interviewed afterwards. Williams insisted on speaking to her without Arizona. Kicked her wife out of the room and then assured Callie multiple times she didn't need a lawyer and that it was all very informal.
And as it was all so very informal maybe she was a little more curt than necessary.
Though a more empathetic cop wouldn't have blamed her. Twice in two days she'd been face to face with her wife's stalker and an alleged serial murderer. Again she'd spoken with Williams. Again she'd put up with his suspicion and insinuations and again she'd told him to go sit on it and spin.
"You assaulted him."
"I defended myself."
Williams stared at her. "You need to understand that I've looked at the original case. I've spoken with people who know him."
"Detective Williams I really hope you're not suggesting that I somehow…lured him into the room and into attacking me."
"I'm suggesting that a little girl is in the hospital and a woman in Cle Elum is dead and he might not be as responsible as we think."
"You think…you think my wife is responsible?"
He said nothing. Just studied her face.
"Look, I have no idea what you want Detective, but I am cooperating and have been cooperating and I really don't like what you keep trying to insinuate. So let's go ahead and clear the air."
She was hoping that would be the end of it, but then Williams had to open his mouth, "I think Jane Rizzoli and your wife entrapped Gregg eight years ago. I think they're either involved in the original murders or they know who are. And I think you're one naive as hell woman if you think they're even remotely innocent."
"And I think we're done," she declared. Her whole body was on fire all over again. This time from an absolute wrath she didn't even know she was capable of. She shot out of her chair. The feet of it scraped across the floor. "You have any other questions you might want to direct them to our attorney."
She didn't wait for him to protest. He'd protest either way. But she wasn't going to sit in the room and let him create some vast conspiracy involving her wife just to satisfy his…his misogyny? Whatever it was that compelled him to side with a violent man over the women he'd hurt.
But she did pause at the door, "And you might want to call your union rep, because come tomorrow morning you can bet your ass I'm calling your boss."
The anger didn't abate when she was out of the room. Arizona wasn't waiting for her and it hurt far more than she wanted it to. But Mark was. He was leaning against the wall fiddling with his phone and didn't notice her.
"How's your foot?"
He shoved his phone in his pocket and shook his foot gently. "Not broken. Arizona asked for me to wait for you."
The anger dulled a little. She'd forgotten, in the fight for her life and the aftermath she'd heard something about Jane waking up. Arizona would have wanted to be there and Callie was trying to be secure enough to be okay with that choice.
"How is she?"
"Worried about you. Frazzled. A little sore I think too because she ran over here and that's more a long distance thing and Robbins' strictly a sprinter."
"I meant Jane."
His tone wasn't quite as flippant, "Can't really talk and I think there's some paralysis. We won't know more until the stroke docs do an assessment so it could be permanent or it couldn't be."
She closed her eyes and tried to think of the woman she'd met versus the woman she would see. She knew strokes. Not like a brain guy. More like her grandmother whose strokes hadn't been severe at first. They'd limited her mobility a little. Then they'd slurred her speech. Then one day she was seeing a sister she'd lost in the thirties and didn't understand who her living family were.
It wasn't that. Jane was young and healthy and she could make a recovery.
"Do you think—" What? That she could have done more?
He leaned in so he could look her in the eyes, "This isn't on you Torres. She's lucky to be alive."
"But I froze," her voice cracked, "when I saw him holding her I froze and I tasted her blood and what if I'd moved Mark?"
He sucked in a breath and narrowed his eyes. "In surgery? What would happen if you spent all your time retracing every step?"
"You become a better surgeon?"
"I mean it Torres," he took her by the shoulders, "you can't second guess yourself in the OR and you can't second guess yourself on this."
"I know," she said firmly, "I know. I'm not. I'm just tired Mark and I want to go home. I want all this to be over and—"
Damn it. She'd been so good. She'd managed not to cry yet.
"Hey," he pulled her into a hug, "it's okay Callie. It's over. It's all over."
"But it isn't," she protested, "Jane is still here and Arizona—"
"Isn't leaving you."
"I'm terrified," she whispered into his chest.
"I know."
####
Mark texted her that Callie was out of her interview with Williams and she surreptitiously made her exit. Not that anyone noticed. Jane was sleeping again and her mother and best friend seemed reluctant to leave her side.
Heading towards the daycare Arizona spied Williams stalking towards her. They stopped just short of one another other.
"Your wife's very loyal."
She blinked. It was such an odd thing for him to say.
He looked around them. Sniffed. Twitched his shoulder. "What I'm trying to understand is how you found that phone in your house and then knew exactly where he was." His eyes were so focused on her.
She stepped back warily. "I would think the real question is how you missed that phone in the first place."
Williams laughed a little and shoved his hands into his blazer pockets. "Wow. Really?" He took a step towards her. "Maybe you kept it back." He leaned in. "See there's a lot about all this I don't like. I keep getting this feeling I'm a puppet—that Gregg's a puppet and I look around," he was so close she could see the brush of gray at his temples, "And all I see are you and Rizzoli. The two women who played him like a fiddle eight years ago."
There were few things Arizona hated more than presumption. She lowered her voice. "You don't know what happened then."
"I know enough."
But he couldn't. No one knew what really happened except her and Jane. Even Gregg had only his ideas and accusations.
"You should be careful Detective. You're looking for a bogeyman when the only one I know of had his hand crushed by my wife tonight."
"I think," he studied her and she stared back and tried not to blink, "that I'm gonna look for more little girls in holes. Here in Seattle and there in Boston. From before three weeks ago."
He was accusing her. Accusing Jane. It wasn't enough to be stalked by a killer? She had to have this cop coming after her too?
Someone could have chilled beer on her breath. "Good luck."
He shrugged, hands still in his pocket, and walked past her. "Tell your wife thanks," he called over his shoulder.
Arizona shivered.
####
They rode up the elevator in silence and Mark wordlessly disappeared into his own apartment with their daughter. She and her wife were wordless too. The gloves lay in a pile next to a half cleaned stain and every light was still on. Callie stepped over the stain and pulled the other pair of latex gloves out from beneath the sink. She emptied the bucket of dirty browned water and refilled it and knelt before the stain.
Arizona stood frozen in the doorway watching her.
She dipped the sponge in gave it a single squeeze and then scrubbed.
"Callie."
It was a soft sponge. No bristle on it to help work up debris so she really had to dig. Force her knuckles into the sponge to work at the stubborn edges of the stain.
"Callie, please."
She let up just a little. If she pressed to hard the sponge would shred.
Arizona dropped her purse and keys. "I need you to look at me."
"I just want to get this cleaned up," she said.
"Callie."
"What?" She looked up, "What am I supposed to say? Do?"
Arizona looked so plaintive, "Talk to me."
"About Gregg attacking me? About you disappearing to be with your ex-fiancee? About our lives just being," she ripped the sponge in frustration.
She knelt next to Callie, but didn't touch her. "Just talk to me." Arizona had such a problem with begging. She couldn't do it really. She could try but it always turned into a passionate speech. Less begging and more an argument—a bargain for forgiveness.
Yet every once in a while old habits failed her and something raw eked out from behind that wall she'd kept around herself as long as Callie'd known her. The woman Callie married would genuinely beg because there was nothing else and no purer expression of her desperation. Or her love.
Callie had to close her eyes because looking at her…
"Please."
She chanced it. Dared herself to be brave and look at her wife even though she was terrified of what she might see.
Understanding. An infinite capacity to understand. An empathy that no one should have.
"He wanted to kill me," she whispered raggedly.
Arizona's eyes were rimmed with red. "I know," was her weak reply.
Callie shrugged and her voice cracked, "I've never been so scared in my life."
And still Arizona could only nod. Her eyes were glassy. She knew. She knew what it was like to have someone want to kill you. She knew a feeling no one should ever have to feel and one Callie had been fortunate enough to be sheltered from nearly her entire life.
Even the shooter—her heart beat so fast that day. The rage and malcontent in his eyes shook her to her core. But Gregg. Gregg knew her name. Stalked her. Came. For her.
Despair gnawed at her and she pulled her gloves off and scooted away from the stain—nearly cleaned. "How do you survive it?"
Arizona said nothing.
"How do you get past it? Because I can feel him. It doesn't even hurt. I just feel the—the violence."
"I wish I knew," her wife said. There was longing in her voice. Genuine longing. She stared at Callie but she was somewhere else. Reliving her own misfortunes. Her own attack.
"Arizona?"
Her wife's eyes were sunken. The exhaustion of the day present on her face.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She'd told Callie some of it. Said there'd been an altercation and it had been violent and he'd gone to jail and she'd spent a month unable to do surgery. But there'd been no emotion in what she'd said. No hint that it still effected her. Callie had taken the information in and just been so relieved that Arizona was actually saying anything.
Arizona stepped around the stain—nearly clean and sat against the kitchen wall. She was still there—wherever there was—processing it all.
"When I was with Jane I don't think it mattered." She squinted at nothing. "She's just—she could handle all this and I kept telling myself I could too because I wanted to be with her." Her eyes flickered to Callie. They were naked with fear. "But I couldn't. I can't." She rubbed at her eyes in a physical attempt the push it all away.
Callie pushed herself closer on her knees.
Arizona looked back up at her. Her pupils dilated as Callie blocked some of the light behind them. "He came after you twice and I know I'm supposed to just accept it and be happy you're alive—that we're alive, but I can't."
She was shivering all over again.
"I put you in this Callie—"
"Arizona—"
"No," her retort was sharp. There was more strength in it then she'd seen in her wife in a day. "No I did this to us. I did this to you. I—"
She surged across the gap between them, grasping the sides of Arizona's head and forcing her into a kiss Callie needed her to feel with ever fiber of her being. Arizona seemed to bolt at first. She jerked in Callie's hands and tried to gasp a protestation but Callie kept kissing her—as if the contact of her lips on Arizona's would take all the confusing and horrifying feelings away.
####
When Hamilton Gregg cut Jane's carotid artery the oxygenated blood that should have fueled her brain instead spilled out on the floor. Jane had a strong heart. It beat fast and sure, and she had a clever mind. It could dissect a crime scene as cleanly as Maura could dissect a body. But the path between the two was cut by a kitchen knife.
Her brain was starved. The stroke was inevitable.
At least because of where she'd been. If it has happened in an OR they could have stopped it. As it were a famous surgeon stemmed the flow of blood and to keep her in a less sever degree of hypovolemic shock. Then he transported her to the OR where he crafted a crude method of reestablishing blood flow. That helped temper the severity of the stroke.
Jane slept.
He went back in and created something long lasting.
Jane slept more. Maura and Angela sat by her bedside. Maura met the woman that could pull Jane across the country with a phone call. Maura watched another woman violently halt Hamilton Gregg's brief reign of terror.
And it shocked her how satisfied she was by his screams.
Maura considered herself a kind woman. She knew she had some difficulty with interpersonal relationships and she knew she wasn't overly fond of heightened emotions. She didn't like watching people cry and she didn't like seeing people in pain. But she liked protecting people. She liked helping people. It was why she chose her avenue of medicine.
But Gregg's scream as a heel crunched his broken hand into the ungiving tile floor brought with it perverse pleasure.
He'd nearly killed Jane and while the court's justice might not be swift and she had no desire to see him die she did, desperately, want to hurt him. It terrified her. Because it wasn't the first time she felt her emotions race out of control because of Jane.
She was upset Jane had flown across the country for Dr. Robbins? But what had she done? She flew across the country to provide comfort and counsel for her best friend and her family. Jane made the trip for an ex-fiancee.
A woman. Who was her ex.
Why did it bother Maura so much that Jane was bisexual?
Maura herself never especially considered sexuality. It wasn't something she agonized over. While she preferred feel of a stubbled cheek pressed against her own she could understand the allure of a woman. She'd never felt compelled to sleep with a woman but she would never limit herself by outright rejecting a woman.
So why was it so shocking? Why did she find herself staring at the sharp lines of Jane's face while she slept and…feeling immeasurably disappointed?
Jane hadn't lied to her. She could recall no moment where she directly asked Jane about her sexuality. Yet the fiancee, the long term relationship with a woman—it was evidence of omission.
Which felt much worse than a lie should have.
"Why didn't she tell me," she asked Angela while the other woman stared at Jane.
Angela's voice was rough. She'd been crying again. "Ask you what?"
"I'm her best friend and yet, there's this whole span of her life I knew nothing about."
Angela continued to study her daughter's still form, "I don't think it was on purpose. She and Arizona broke up and she was hurt."
"Yes, but you talk about it when you're hurt. You have to process your emotions to fully overcome past hardships."
"You know Jane. She processes it all internally."
"But she doesn't."
Angela looked up at her curiously.
"She tells me things—told me things she never would have told someone else. We talked—talk about—" about Jane's fears, her love, her concerns for her family. "She was always confiding in me. But never about this."
"Maybe she wanted to protect you."
Maura tried to protest that but Angela continued.
"I mean it. Maura you idolize her. You idolize each other. And I think, with Gregg and then with how it ended with Arizona, she's ashamed you know?"
"No, I don't."
####
"Jane stop pacing."
She couldn't stop. Her girlfriend's face looked a step above hamburger and the guy that'd done it to her was sitting in jail with nothing more than an assault charge between him and freedom.
"They didn't find anything," she exclaimed.
Arizona shifted uncomfortably on their bed, "I know. You said that already."
"There should have been something. Something we missed. Drugs or a shovel or rope."
"But there wasn't."
She involuntarily picked her keys up off the dresser, "Because they didn't look hard enough." She shoved them in her pocket and made to leave. "I'll go over there. Look around."
"Jane—"
"No. This is bullshit Arizona. After all we did this guy goes away for nothing more than assault?"
The bruising around Arizona's eyes made them all the bluer and her stare was cold. Almost a glare. "I know more than you do how awful this is."
"Then why aren't you mad?"
"Because I'm tired. Between work and recovery and this case I'm exhausted. I don't have it in me to be angry. Because whatever else happens we put him in jail."
"But—"
She held up her bandaged hand for silence, "Please. Can we not talk about this tonight? Can you just…let it go. For me?"
Jane didn't want to let it go. She was a pitbull of a cop. She was tenacious as hell and it was going to have her working as a detective sooner rather than later. It felt unnatural to back down. Like she was fighting back against some primal urge.
But she still put her keys back on the dresser. Her shoulders dropped and it felt like defeat.
"Thank you," Arizona whispered.
No. Not defeat. A Pyrrhic victory.