Prometheus, Chapter 29
For her seventh birthday, her father took her fishing at Cape Cod.
He hired a boat, took them out on the waves, taught her about lures, and lines.
They caught bluefish, and scup.
They ate peanut butter and fluff sandwiches.
And when the sun was high, and she lay down in the boat, watching the sky and the clouds as it rocked, side to side on the waves.
Listening to them lap against the hull
Hearing the fish they had caught, flipping in their bucket.
She fell asleep to the sounds, to the rhythm, to the waves
And when she awoke, she was in his arms, walking toward the car, fish dangling from a bucket wrapped around his fingers.
'Riz.'
He placed her gently into the back seat, tucking her in with a down blanket.
Tucking the seatbelt around her to be safe.
'Riz..Hey.'
They drove all the way home, the sound of the wheels on the highway soft.
The movement of the car like the boat, up and down over tiny imperfections on the road.
'Fucking hell, Riz… wake up.'
He sang to himself, songs she had seen him and her ma dance to on Sunday evenings, in the living room
'Riz, Jesus Christ are you dead, or what?'
And she stared at the clouds as the tops of the trees sped past the window…
'I swear to God Rizzoli, if you die on me-'
The down blanket turned into harsh cotton. The belt, hands, insistent on her stomach. The songs a voice, crackling through speakers above. The motion… in her head…
"Rizzoli!"
Her body flew upright, eyes squinting against the light, head swimming, throbbing… arm burning, chest aching. Breath couldn't come quickly enough, cleanly enough… for a moment she thought she might have capsized.. be drowning.. swallowed by the waves…
"Riz, hey.. hey… it's alright." Hands flew across her face, her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. They reached for her, stabilising, holding still. A voice repeated by her ear – soft… warm. Brushing the skin by her ear. Reminding her of the sun… of the boat. "Hey…it's just me."
Lips pressed against hers. Gentle, familiar, comforting… like the blanket...
...Tasting of summer.
She tried words, but her throat was dry, her words breakers, dashed on the shore before they could reach their destination. A finger rested against her mouth, quieting her.
"Shh." Came the voice. "You're alright."
Into focus came the truth. Came the world of now, separate from the memory of yesterday. Still, blue eyes danced like the ocean at Cape Cod… pristine, shimmering. A hand against her cheek. A smile, as fierce as the sun.
"Thought I'd lost you for a second, there."
Swallowing again, testing her throat, testing the words, lips parted and a sound-
"Mace.."
It would do. It was enough. The smile brightened. Another hand combed through her hair.
"You look like shit."
The hand was warm. Like the blanket. It travelled back down her body. Came to rest at her hip, gentle, so as not to pressure layers of bruise upon bruise. So as not to call up the reasons why they were there…
"Fuck you."
She laughed.
"Call it as I see it, Riz." Her voice was like music. Like the songs her father sung. "You were pretty out of it when they brought you back." Hands lifted to shoulders, guiding her down to the bed, guiding her back to safety. "Relax. I got you." The words skittered across her forehead. A kiss pressed to her temple.
She closed her eyes.
"Could get used to this…" The words formed more easily this time… Sounded smoother coming out. Felt closer to the now. To the truth.
"Yeah, well-" A pillow slipped underneath her head. "You need it." Her body ached… just a fraction less than before. "-the way you were carrying on, you'd think you were going twelve rounds with the beast in 407."
She nodded, wincing at the pain shooting down her neck and across her skull. It felt like that. Exactly like that. Like concrete in a mixer. Like a nightmare tumbling over and over itself. Pulling… dragging her down. Panic rose again, clawing at her throat. She lifted her hand, realising it was attached to a shoulder that wouldn't cooperate. Realising her fingers wouldn't open the way she needed them to - and the warmth is gone. The body had left. The smile, faded.
"Mace?" She hated the way her voice sounded. It sounded seven.
She wanted the warmth back. Wanted the hands on her face and the lips against hers and the body at her side.
"Riz, who's Charlie?"
It was the sound of her phone ringing that woke the doctor the next morning.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, she fumbled beside her, fingers skating across her bedside table until they landed on it, disconnecting from the charger with so much force it recoiled into her lamp with a sharp ting.
Clearing her throat and testing her voice with a short 'hello' into the darkness to rid it of any evidence she had been asleep, Maura swiped across the screen and lifted her phone to her ear as she blinked blearily at the clock beside her.
"Dr Isles."
Her eyes widened when she realised the time. Seven thirty…
She had slept in.
"YOU. DID. NOT!"
Maura instinctively pulled the phone away from her ear at the volume of the voice on the other end, staring at the screen in surprise.
"I don't believe it!" The voice came again, crackling from the handset. Slowly, a small smile tugged at her lips and she pressed the phone back against her cheek.
"Hello, Barry." She said, slipping out of bed and pressing the balls of her feet into the carpet. "Is everything alright?"
"Ha! She plays coy… " The exuberance in Frost's voice was palpable. "-I am just about the husband of the century thanks to you!"
There was a rustle on the other end of the phone and Anna Frost's voice interjected, just close enough to the receiver to be clear. "So he thinks!"
Maura chuckled. Raking a hand through her tousled hair, she padded over to the window of her bedroom and squinted at the low light spilling through the venetians as Barry seemingly wrested the phone from his wife's grasp.
"They phoned last night to confirm…" He said. "I was going to wait until later but I knew you'd be in your damn car or at work by now so-"
The doctor pursed her lips and glanced quickly around herself. "-Well, actually-"
"How the hell did you do it?" He asked, not waiting for her to finish, or clarify. "Anna's been talking about the Rainbow Room for years…"
Turning away from the window, Maura allowed herself a moment of reflection. Of feeling she had done well at something. It was… comforting.
"The manager is an old family friend." She said. "He seems gruff on the outside, but he is a real romantic at heart. He was very happy to welcome you and Anna."
"Well, however it happened you are a certified angel, Doctor Maura Isles. An Angel." A faraway 'thank you Maura!' from Anna sounded over the top of Frost's, eliciting another smile from the doctor. She had asked Hamish to leave out the location of the table, and the limousine rides arranged for the two of them to and from the restaurant.
"I hope you enjoy it." She said, instead.
"Oh we will!" Frost answered, "Now, where the hell are you so we can invite you to ours for dinner? In the office?"
Glancing at the clock again, Maura winced and walked over to her closet to select a fresh pair of clothes. At this rate, she would be there by nine thirty, which was at least two hours later than she had intended.
"Actually I'm still at home." She said, "I'm in a little later today. But you don't need-"
"Come to our house for dinner tomorrow night!"
Her fingers lingered on a patterned silk blouse. "Barry; typically thank-yous are offered after the fact." She said. "Your booking is not until this weekend. What if it is terrible?"
The phone burst to life with a friendly snort. Strangely enough, Maura could picture his expression clearly.
"Then we'll have to have you back for a 'dinner sucked, thanks for nothing' meal of charcoal and grits."
She laughed at that. An open, carefree, unimpeded laugh. Immediately, it loosened her shoulders and warmed her body, and not for the first time, Maura found there was something about Frost – and about talking with him - that made her feel at ease.
"So, come on, what are you doing tomorrow tonight?" He asked again. "Barring zombie apocalypse Anna's going to be home by seven. I'm on cooking duty."
"Barry, I'm not sure-"
She heard Anna shout 'come on!' from beyond the phone, 'Everyone has to be subjected to my husband's cooking once in their life. I have to live with it!'
Barry's voice was overly-incredulous. "See? See what I live with?" He said. "Come for dinner tomorrow."
Lingering with her hand on her hip before pressing the sleep from her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, Maura finally nodded. "Alright." She said. "But I am the guest, I am bringing the wine."
"You got yourself a deal, doc."
oOo
In the end, it was close to eight thirty by the time Maura left her apartment.
Even after the conversation with Barry Frost, re-entering her kitchen had evoked all of the conflicting feelings from the day before; as she evaluated the scene she had left strewn across her kitchen island from the early hours of that morning.
The contents of the box had been emptied; split into small piles representing different areas of interest, a now-empty bottle of Sangiovese branding her half-filled notepad with a perfect burgundy circle. Her wineglass glass sat off to the left, sediment curving up one side to the lip.
Before leaving Maura had slipped one of the papers into her handbag; unsure of precisely why. Seemingly innocuous, it occupied the doctor's mind all the way to Bedford Hills - A series of shakily written 'Jane Rizzoli's collected on lines, repeated until they had established some consistent form. Practiced. As if calling for a person she no longer was. A person who no longer existed.
Jane Rizzoli.
Jane Rizzoli.
Jane.
He was waiting for her outside the infirmary, an unlit cigarette resting at the edge of his lips.
A tall man with short, spiked dark hair, dressed in a modest black suit, hands pushed deep into his trouser pockets, Maura watched as he rocked backward on his heels, breaths puffing steam into the sky.
As she approached, Maura could see the years etched into his face, the weapons belt slipped around his waist, gun holstered at his hip… the unmistakeable FBI badge nestled beside it. Aware she was under scrutiny from the moment she had left her car, Anna Frost's warning immediately sounded in her mind, and something about the paper tucked into the front pocket of her handbag left Maura clutching it closer to her body.
She knew who he was.
She hadn't even reached the entry when he lifted his shoulders, flaring his jacket out to reveal his badge more clearly.
"You must be Doctor Isles." He said. His voice was perfectly measured, much like his suit.
"I am." She answered.
"Gabriel Dean." He reached out his hand. Maura took it, surprised by how warm it was given the time he had spent outside. It made her wonder how long he actually had. "FBI. I was hoping for some time to talk with you, but-", Releasing her hand, he gestured to the cigarette in his mouth. "-habits."
The doctor had seen this before. Appeal to the non-suspect by making it a choice. Appeal to the truth by making their environment uncomfortable. In this case, mid-winter cold.
"It's alright." She said. She hadn't spent seven years in Chicago to be averse to the chill. "We can talk here."
Shooting a look of thanks Maura couldn't be sure wasn't entirely genuine, Dean retrieved an old-style zippo lighter from his jacket pocket, flicking it open and cupping his other hand around the flame as he brought it to his mouth.
"I have an interest in one of your patients." He said. "Jane Rizzoli."
Maura nodded, her fingers instinctively resting on the outer edge of her handbag pocket.
"She is my patient, yes."
She watched the small puffs of smoke rising up as Dean worked to keep his cigarette lit.
"You two seem… close, I am told."
The latter part of his sentence lingered uncomfortably in the air. Maura glanced across the courtyard toward one of the larger cell blocks.
"My dealings with all my patients are professional." She said. "Prisoners or not they are in my care."
Dean raised an eyebrow and exhaled towards the ground, blue-grey smoke mixing with the white steam of his breath in an intriguing combination of warring thermal reactions.
"You visit the families of all your patients?" He asked. "That seems… unusual to me."
'Stay away from my family…'
Maura blinked. It was only slightly better hearing it the second time around. A tingle irritated the space between the doctor's shoulder blades. Folding her arms across her chest, she tilted her head.
"I wasn't aware my personal movements were so closely scrutinised." She said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
The side of Dean's mouth tipped up in a knowing smile that only served to unnerve Maura even more. He rocked back on his heels, the polish of his shoes showing barely a blemish.
"Everyone who works in close proximity to this case is scrutinised, Doctor Isles." He responded, taking another puff of his cigarette as his weight shifted forward again. "You are aware of Rizzoli's history?"
Maura nodded, resisting the urge to screw up her nose at the second hand smoke. "To a degree, yes." She answered, aware of the cold stinging her nostrils. "To the extent a doctor can be."
This time Dean paused, crossing his left arm over his body and narrowing his eyes in her direction. With a flick of his thumb, the ash of his cigarette fell to the ground.
"You are aware that there has just been another murder."
'His only interest is in this case….'
Maura nodded again. "I am."
Lifting the cigarette to his mouth, Dean inhaled deeply this time, the end glowing brightly from the oxygen passing through it. He then pulled it away between his thumb and forefinger, tipping his head upward to release the smoke.
"The Surgeon could very well become the most prolific serial killer in history." He said. "Nobody wants to be on the receiving end of a case like that."
Maura watched him carefully. "It sounds extremely challenging." She said.
"There are people who have been working on this case for years. Some close to a decade." He tilted his upper body forward, towards her, as he added. "I do not intend to be one of those people."
Despite their height difference, and the slight imposition caused by the move, Maura stood her ground.
'Anything else… anyone else… is nothing more than collateral damage'
"Is there a specific way in which I can help you, Agent Dean?" She asked.
Without missing a beat, Dean leaned back. "Have you and Rizzoli ever discussed the Surgeon?"
Maura took a deep breath, "Only once. I-" She paused, looking for the correct phrasing. "-I suggested she speak with the police about her attack."
Dean's eyebrows rose, forming deep creases in his forehead. "And what was her response?" He asked
Maura shook her head. "It… was not particularly cooperative." She answered, truthfully.
"Hmm." Dean tapped his forefinger against his lips, the ash from the idle cigarette in his other hand falling to the pavement. "It bothered you?"
Maura watched as the remnants blew away, off the path. Against the backdrop of the winter morning, there was something… film noir about the detective's presence on the doorstep of her infirmary. The way he held himself; the way his voice sounded… the questions he asked… All pointing to an investigation beyond the scope of which Maura could possibly be aware, yet found herself inexorably involved.
"I am a doctor, Detective." She answered. "I am not accustomed to fighting people for their own wellbeing."
Dean mouthed an 'Ah', spun away from her to face the path, then back again.
"She's a murderer, Doctor Isles." He said.
Maura lips twitched of their own volition. The words echoing Jane's own voice evoked a memory that was sharp. Close. This time she drew a longer breath; the icy air pulling deep into her lungs.
"I am aware of that, Agent Dean." She said, tugging on her coat, and pulling it closer across her body. "And she is serving a life sentence for that crime."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "So why go to Boston? Why visit her mother?"
Maura paused, considering the different ways in which she could answer the question. In the end, she settled with only the most basic of truths.
"There were… anomalies in Rizzoli's medical history that I wished to understand." She answered, "I wanted to ensure I did my due diligence by investigating."
Dean paused several moments, as if evaluating the comments and the context.
"And what anomalies were those?"
Again, Maura's attention inadvertently turned to the paper in her handbag. Her mind to the patches of history sprawled on her kitchen island.
'She is safe with you…'
"Unanswered questions." She said. "Why she was behaving in certain ways. Trauma triggers. Also-" The doctor shifted her weight onto her other foot, feeling the numbness seeping into her toes. "There appeared to be… specifically tailored disciplinary procedures for Rizzoli that did not exist for other inmates."
"Did you get your answers?"
Maura considered his question carefully. "No." She said. "I didn't. My visit was… cut short."
Drawing one more breath through his cigarette, Dean flicked the remnant to the concrete, extinguishing it with the heel of his shoe. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a slightly-crumpled business card before holding it out to her. Maura stared at the textured reflection of the embossed against the albedo of the low lying clouds.
"Well," He said. "If you do find any…" He trailed off. "Keep me in mind."
With that, he was gone, leaving Maura alone in the entryway to the infirmary, arms drawn tightly around her body to ward off the cold. And even as she gathered herself, pressing her fingertips against the doors to push them open, eyes meeting those of Suzie Chang as she strode down the corridor to meet her, Maura knew it would not be the last she would see of him.
"Doctor!" Maura was barely three feet inside when Chang met her. Closer now, Maura could see the anxiety flashing across her expression, and immediately lay a hand on the younger woman's shoulder.
"Suzie, is everything alright?" She asked.
The orderly stared directly at her. "I... yesterday. I left a file for you, in the top drawer of your desk. Did you get it?"
Unease began to drift across Maura' shoulders. She shook her head. "I didn't, no." She answered. "I didn't go into my office yesterday..." She trailed off as all remaining colour begun draining from Chang's face. "Suzie.." She pressed again. "What is it?"
"It was... I had preliminary findings from the investigation.."
Maura froze.
Chang stared at her, wide-eyed.
"...the file is gone."
AN: Shorter chapter this time. Trouble is a'comin...
