Maura waited to pull herself out of Jane's grip until she, Jane, and Frost had gotten outside. "Jane, what're you doing? Why'd you make me leave, I was just getting to—"
"What the hell were you thinking?" Jane almost shouted, grabbing Maura's shoulders as if to shake her. Frost took a few steps back, glancing around the corner of the building to make sure no one was around as Jane continued: "First you come down into the tavern after I told you not to, and then only nine of the ten girls in the troupe come on stage—that means you were alone with one of them! I told you never to be alone with someone! It could've been dangerous, she could've hurted you!"
Lola's implications scared Maura enough to keep her from being touched by Jane's distress on her behalf and also kept her from pointing out that "hurted" was not a word. "But Jane, she said—"
She was cut off when Jane pulled her so close she could hardly breathe. It was too tight to properly be called an embrace; Jane was just desperate to touch her, to hold her, to know she was safe and alive.
"Maura, listen to me," Jane whispered into her ear. "I shouldn't have ever let ya come. I already lost my parents and it killed a part of my soul. If I lost you, too, it'd destroy any chance I ever had of bein' happy again. Nothing is worth the chance of putting you in harm's way, Maura, nothing. I lost sight of that because I wanted to let ya help me, and that was selfish." She pulled back enough to look Maura in the eye, and Maura was startled to see tears threatening to fall out of Jane's eyes. "You are—keepin' you safe shoulda been my priority over anything else, because if catching him means losing you, it—it's too much of a price. Do you understand? Maura? Do you? Nod, say yes, give me something."
Maura nodded weakly, but then shook her head in confusion. Jane had to be exaggerating her sentiments; there was no way anything could keep her from getting the man she'd spent so much of her life hunting down. "But—why did you send me that note, then?"
"God damn it to hell, Maura, I told you I didn't send a second note!" Jane growled. She released Maura and rounded on Frost, no longer bothering to keep her voice down. "What the hell's wrong with you, boy?" She gave him a hard shove and continued to talk over his weak protests. "Couldn't you see it wasn't in my hand? Was it signed? I thought you were smart!"
Shock was the only thing that had kept Maura from intervening before now; she had never seen Jane act this way towards Frost before. "Jane, stop!" she cried, stepping in front of Frost when she realized he wasn't going to fight back. "He didn't think it was legitimate, but I went down anyway, of my own choice! Frost even gave me his vest to cover myself, but I accidentally dropped it before I reached you!"
"Why the hell would you do that, Maura? Why would you risk it?"
"I told you, you already know! To get in the girls' good graces!"
"And I told you it wouldn't be worth it if you had to leave that room! I didn't want to have to make you…"
As she struggled to come up with the right phrase, Maura cut in: "That's just it, though, Jane, I found something out! If I hadn't gotten back in with you, I wouldn't have! Teresa's not the one who's involved with the killer, it's Lola, the girl you just pulled me away from—"
"The one you were alone with? God, Maura, are you all right?" Jane asked, her anger evaporating into concern. "Did she hurt you?"
"No, no, I'm fine, but you took me away before I could really find anything out—but he's here, Jane, he's here—or he was…"
Jane's expression turned blank. She looked over at Frost, all animosity between them forgotten. "Maura, are you sure?"
"She said he keeps changing his name from town to town, that he hides his face so nobody will recognize him. And she made it sound like he wanted to meet you, meet Jake."
Something clicked, and Jane turned on her heel to head back for the tavern. "Frost, you protect her with your life and nothing less, you understand? I'll be right back. I'm just gonna go see if he's still inside."
Maura tried to follow her, but Frost blocked her path, giving her a pleading look. "Jane, please, be careful!"
The best Jane could do was raise her hand to acknowledge that she'd heard the comment. She didn't feel like promising caution at this point. Righteous anger was flooding through her veins, coursing along next to numb disbelief. If Maura's tip really referred to the killer, this would be the closest Jane had ever been to him since the night he'd almost killed her. It wasn't just a vague lead, it was solid hope.
Please, God, don't let him have slipped through my fingers.
She stormed into the tavern, Jake Wyatt's presence barely acknowledged because everyone was distracted by the show going on. But Jane had eyes only for the table she had vacated. All the men she'd been playing cards with were accounted for, except the one who'd been sitting next to her, the one they called Hoyt—the one who'd dared talk back to Jake, the one who'd made a crude comment about Maura. After scanning the large room for him in vain, Jane turned and ran back out of the tavern, looking up and down the dark road for any sign of where he might have gone.
I can't look for him until Maura's out of here.
She'd have Frost drive Maura back to the Creek while she stayed behind and searched.
That had at least been her plan until she heard a wordless scream followed by a gunshot. Jane was off like a bullet and around the corner of the tavern two seconds later, in time to see Frost crouching near the ground with one arm pulled in to his chest and the other flung out, the palm near Maura's hip, still trying to give her cover. Hoyt was standing less than two yards away, chuckling, pistol in hand. Without giving it a second thought, Jane ran at Hoyt like a charging bull, grabbing him around the waist, her head ramming into his chest. They fell to the ground and became engaged in a quick scuffle, Jane banging his hand against the dirt until the gun fell out of it. At some point her hat had fallen to the wayside along with the pins that had held up her hair as she straddled Hoyt's stomach.
"Frost, get her out of here!" Jane said, keeping her eyes on Hoyt. When she didn't hear or see any movement, she twisted around to look over her shoulder. "NOW!"
"I ain't leavin' you alone," Frost retorted, struggling over to Jane, grabbing his bleeding arm. "And I ain't leavin' him."
Hoyt wasn't even putting up a fight; he continued to just smirk up at Jane, who didn't notice. She was looking at Maura, who was crying and looked terrified. "Get out of here," she said in a soft but commanding voice.
"Ja—what're you going to do?"
"Get out of here," Jane repeated. "Go back to Stanley, ask where the Sheriff is. Get him to come out here, but don't get nobody else."
Maura nodded and hurried off. She could stand leaving only if she would be doing something useful, and getting the Sheriff seemed much more helpful than just standing by in horror.
Once Maura was out of sight, Jane returned her full attention to Hoyt. "Who are you?" she snarled. He continued to just laugh, as if this were the most amusing incident he'd ever been a part of. Jane cuffed his face with the back of her hand, and only realized it was bare when he caught it at the wrist. Wearing a sickening grin, he moved his thumb up to caress the scar on her palm, and she yanked back violently.
"Ohh, little Jane Rizzoli," he whispered. "You have no idea how I've dreamed of this day, how I've looked forward to it. Say, you know, the beard's a good look for you. I might shave the mustache, though. It doesn't quite suit you in its present state." With one brush of her hand, Jane swept the fake hair off her face, her expression conveying her surprise that Hoyt had recognized her. His tone and overall demeanor made it seem as though it wasn't her hands that had tipped him off, maybe just solidified his guess. "You look confused, Janie. Don't worry. It's a pretty good disguise. I heard about you, you know."
"Heard what?"
"Heard about Jake Wyatt, I mean. Pretty bad character, eh? Only he never touched women. Didn't hurt them, didn't try to take them. And I thought… that there's a man who doesn't have the conviction to take what he wants. Tonight, I finally met you. You think I wouldn't recognize those eyes of yours? Those cheekbones, those lips? Janie, did you know that you've got just about the loveliest face I've ever seen?" He cackled. "I see it in my dreams all the time, and ooh, it looks a sight nicer there than it does now."
"Shut up, you bastard," Jane whispered, moving her hands to Hoyt's throat.
Still he looked unfazed. "Ooh, I like this side of you. Your friend gonna watch? Then what happens? Do we kill him, do I kill you both…?"
"You can't touch either of us," Frost said, waving Hoyt's gun with his good hand.
"So you gonna kill me, then?" Hoyt asked, sniggering at Frost and returning his gaze up to Jane. "Or you, Janie? You gonna end me, is that it? Tell me, sweetheart, tell me. You must've been pretty desperate to catch me for a long time. Remember your mother at all? God, she was beautiful. Like an angel. Like you. And your father, such an upstanding man."
"Don't say another word about my parents," Jane said through her teeth, her voice forced to a higher pitch than usual as her throat felt constricted. "Don't you dare speak to me about them."
"Who's the girl, Mr. Wyatt?" Hoyt asked. Jane didn't answer, she didn't look away. "I heard good old Stanley say you'd asked him to put a girl in his show. She's mighty pretty. Tell me, how far do you go when you're in this… disguise?" He leered at her, and his expression remained the same even as Jane punched him again. "Not married, I take it? Enjoy women too much? Can't say I blame you."
Jane pulled a knife from her pocket and held it up to Hoyt's throat, finally seeing for the first time a spasm of intimidation cross his smug features. "Are you gonna shut up on your own, or do I have to make you?"
"You gonna slit my throat, little lady? You gonna do what I did to your old man? Oh wait, no. I shot him, didn't I? Got lazy, I'm afraid. Go ahead, Jane. Do it. Cut it. Whether or not you do, you're still just like me." His smile returned. He could see this statement had caught Jane's attention, and even though she still had him at knifepoint, he knew she wasn't going to do anything until he had a chance to explain his last comment. "It's all about the thrill of the hunt, isn't it? You like feeling power. You like the knowledge of being stronger than someone, of having the upper hand. You like striking fear in the hearts of others, because it makes you feel big, important, powerful. So. Finish it, Janie." When Jane still did nothing, Hoyt allowed himself another chuckle. "Have I haunted you in your nightmares? Haven't you been dreaming of this day for years?"
That was just it. Jane still couldn't believe this was real, that this was happening less than twenty miles away from her hometown. It felt too much like her dreams, like it had been too easy to catch him, to get him immobilized. Why was he still smirking at her like he had planned it all to happen this way? Why didn't he act more scared? That was the only way this scenario differed at all from the countless times she had envisioned it happening.
As if reading her thoughts, Hoyt said, "Go on, Janie. Tell me. Tell me about your dreams, how you pictured capturing me, killing me. You probably didn't think it was going to be so easy, did you?"
"Why ain't you fightin' back?" Jane snarled.
"So I can see your reaction when the fine Sheriff of this town does nothing but ask you to get off me. After all, what'd I do? Those scars on your hands ain't fresh enough for him to think little old me was the one to hurt you. And if you think he'll care that I shot a darkie… you ain't so smart as I gave you credit for." As Jane cast Frost a nervous look and he grimaced back, Hoyt said, "If I fight back, there's a good chance you could get hurt. And the Sheriff might not stand for that."
Jane couldn't hold it in anymore. "You goddam son of a bitch!"
She was about to do something incredibly violent, but Frost grabbed her arm to stop her when he saw the Sheriff ambling towards them with one of his deputies.
"What the Sam Hill's going on here?" the Sheriff gasped, trying to take in the image of a masculine-dressed woman straddling an old man while a bleeding black man looked on.
"Darkie here was gettin' out of line," Hoyt said, looking up at the Sheriff.
"That ain't true!" Jane shouted.
The deputy stepped in and grabbed Jane's arm when it looked as though Jane was about to knife Hoyt. Action halted when they all heard a female voice call out for the Sheriff, coming from the direction of the tavern's porch none of them could see. When the woman didn't reveal herself, the Sheriff told his deputy to remain on guard and walked around the corner of the tavern. He was a little surprised to see Maura there, who had been the person to come get him in the first place. She had run upstairs to retrieve her cloak and pull off the itching wig before she ran to the Sheriff, so he wouldn't be subjected to her immodesty and question her trustworthiness.
"What's the trouble, Miss?" he asked. "Aren't you the one who told me to come down here?"
"Yes," she whispered. "The man is lying."
"He is?"
"Yes, sir. He was—he threatened my friend Jane, he was on the verge of killing her if she wouldn't submit herself to him." The Sheriff's eyes widened, and Maura took a deep breath to steady herself. Although this story was technically a lie, it also wasn't; Hoyt had threatened to do this very thing, only fifteen years in the past. "The… black man was trying to save her, to save us. That's how he got shot. Please sir, lock that devil up."
Looking uneasy, the Sheriff rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Maura's eye. "I dunno, Miss. Are you sure…?"
"Am I sure? Sheriff, doesn't protecting feminine virtue mean anything to you?"
"Of course it does, Miss, I just—"
"Then please accept the truth and keep this man from harming anyone else! He is a known, exploitative liar who doesn't care who he hurts. It's his word against mine and my friends', Sheriff. Don't make the wrong decision." When the Sheriff still looked hesitant, Maura pulled her cloak more tightly to herself and felt compelled to add, "I trust you've heard of Garrett Fairfield?" His expression made it clear he had. "It so happens that Mr. Fairfield is my fiancé, and as you know, he holds quite a bit of influence in this county. I'm sure he wouldn't be too pleased if I were to go home and tell him what an abominable job the Sheriff of Green Forge did of keeping his town safe from molesting creatures like this man!"
That was enough to convince the Sheriff of what he needed to do. Maura stayed on the porch as he went back around to the side of the tavern, and she heard him telling his deputy to handcuff the old man. Maura's heart was racing, and not just because of the white lies she had told. The reason she had stayed back after getting the Sheriff was because she had recognized Hoyt. It took her a while to place him, but then she realized he'd been the doctor who had helped the little girl at the train station in Topeka. Charles Hoyt. The comprehension of it was making her head swim; she felt dizzy, she felt sick. How could it be the same man? How? As they had only met once, she didn't think there was a good chance that he'd have recognized her in her disguise, but now, even with her body covered and wig gone, she didn't feel like taking chances.
She turned to face the wall of the tavern, and it was surreal: out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Sheriff pulling Hoyt away, but she could still hear the raunchy noises coming from inside Stanley's place. Then she noticed the deputy was leading Frost along by his good arm, and she turned around, worried.
"It's all right." Jane had walked up to the porch to stand next to Maura. "Deputy says he's taking Frost to a doctor who'll treat a black man."
"Oh yes, Dr. Callahan, I've met him. Frost will be in good hands." When Jane didn't acknowledge this statement and just stared at the porch floor, Maura gently touched her face. No reaction. "Jane, how're you…?" There was no way to finish that question. Jane had just seen the murderer of her parents get taken away in handcuffs, no blood shed or pride hurt. What could she say?
Apparently, not much. Jane reached up and took Maura's hand between both her own, still fixing her gaze on the porch. She pulled Maura's fingers up to her lips and held them there for several long moments before releasing Maura's hand and taking a step away.
"C'mon, I'm gonna take you home. Then I'm gonna come right back and watch Hoyt's cell every day and every night until he gets his trial. And then I'm not gonna leave until I see him hang." Maura knew better than to fight Jane on this at the moment, although she did find her monotone a bit unsettling. "C'mon. Show me where Frost left the coach, and you can change."
Maura silently led Jane over to the coach, and Jane waited outside of it while Maura clambered in to get back into her old dress. Wiping the makeup off was a welcome relief as well, and as it was too dark to see her reflection in the hand mirror, she spent a good minute or two scrubbing to ensure she got it all off. When she re-emerged, Jane helped her up to the front of the coach before joining her there and setting the horse off at a slow pace.
It was several long minutes before either of them said anything. Maura couldn't believe Jane wasn't even crying, and wondered whether she was still too in shock to do so. Personally she thought they should be happy right now, relieved. But Jane looked like a ghost. They weren't driving fast, because Jane was too distracted to do anything but hold the reins.
Finally, she whispered in a hoarse voice, "I'm a real idiot. I was sitting next to him all night, playing cards. And I had no idea."
"How could you have recognized him?" Maura asked. "His was covered when he… hurt you. And besides that, it's been years." She supposed the reason she hadn't noticed Hoyt at the table was because she hadn't bothered to look at him. Her terror at being so exposed in such a public place had led to her forcing her gaze to remain on Jane the whole time she was there, lest she lose her nerve. Would she have recognized him right away if she'd seen him? Probably not; she hadn't expected to ever see Charles Hoyt again.
"He recognized me," Jane whispered. "He saw through me, my disguise." Chuckling mirthlessly, she waved one of her hands. "Only had to see the scars to confirm it." She shook her head and let out a shaky sigh. "I can't …I can't believe it."
"Jane," Maura whispered. "Would it be completely idiotic of me to ask how you're feeling?"
Jane shook her head and shrugged. "No, I suppose not. I don't really know, Maura. I don't know how I feel. Uh… paralyzed, maybe." She glanced over to make sure she'd gotten the word right, but Maura showed no emotion except utmost sympathy. After another long, awkward silence, Jane said, "I ain't any better than him."
Maura's voice was barely a breath. "What?"
"I ain't. It's true, what he said. We're the same. I can't… I can't believe that I never thought about it before. But this man's the reason I've killed men before. Sure they weren't innocent, but I still did it, I still pulled the trigger. If it weren't for Hoyt, I wouldn't have Jake. I wouldn't enjoy the power I have when I am Jake, because he was right again, I do like that power! He ruined my life, my family, and then I only have him to thank for any of the pleasure I've ever had, because I get pleasure out of it, Maura, I get pleasure out of being Jake Wyatt. I like intimidating people, I liked how it felt when I got close to catching someone, and that—that's just like him, that's what he does! He made me just like him!"
Maura reached for Jane's hands and gave the reins a tug, bringing the coach to a halt. "Stop, stop!" she whispered plaintively, and Jane made no moves to get the horse going again, letting Maura take hold of her hands. "Jane—come here." Her breath caught when Jane turned watery eyes to look at her, chin quivering and brow furrowed in what would be a futile attempt to stifle the flow of tears. She forced her voice to be steady. It was her turn to be brave. "No matter what happened to you, you are nothing like that monster. Okay? Sure you've felt like you had to prove yourself, you've maybe shed blood in an attempt only to save yourself or Frost… but Jane, that's—that's not the same thing."
"I-it's not?" Jane stammered, tears starting to fall. Maybe there was hope for her if Maura really believed this. After all, she couldn't lie.
"No, Jane, it's not," she insisted, moving one hand to wipe the tears from Jane's face. "You are just… Jane. You're not him. You never have been and you never will be."
What followed this pronouncement was the longest, ugliest session of sobbing Jane had indulged in since the night of her father's murder. Her head ached and her chest felt ready to burst with the pressure and the pain of the tears that were clawing at her from the inside-out, burning her with too many emotions to name.
She was sure the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss was Maura—the warmth of her embrace, the closeness of her lips to Jane's neck, the steadiness of her breathing. No attempts were made to shush her or tell her everything would be all right. She simply held Jane as close as she could, waiting to ride out the storm with her. Several minutes dragged by as lamentation gave way to stunned relief, which finally became gratitude.
Jane forced herself to pull away, and saw that Maura had been crying as well. Taking the woman's face in her hands, Jane finally managed to speak: "I could not have done this without you, Maura Isles. I couldn't have. You got me through this, and you—you subjected yourself to so much when you didn't have to."
"I did have to," Maura said in a thick voice. "That's what friends do."
"What is, catching people responsible for killing your friends' parents?" Jane asked with a weak laugh, a few tears still leaking out of her eyes.
Maura returned the feeble smile. "They protect each other."
A few deep breaths later, Jane was able to take the reins again and restart the journey back home. Silence reigned between her and Maura again, but it wasn't as uncomfortable now.
Jane was still in shock over what had happened, she had to keep reminding herself that it really had happened. Her parents' murderer was caught. He was sitting in jail, where the Sheriff had promised Jane to keep a steady watch on him until she returned. Somehow she'd prove what he'd done. She'd make sure he paid for his crimes. Of that, she felt certain. This new, quiet confidence bolstered her so greatly that her sobbing fit felt as if it had been days, not minutes, ago. She sat a little straighter and smiled over at Maura, who returned the grin in full force.
Seeing her like this, Jane was overcome with Maura's delicate beauty. The moon shone brightly down on them, providing the perfect type of soft light for Maura's features: the gentle slope of her nose, the deep-set quality of her dimples, the shining orbs that were her magnificent hazel eyes. Her hair was a little mussed from the wig, yet it still looked beautiful in its own way, as if it had been spun out of gold.
It seemed strange to think, but Maura was much more beautiful now than she had been an hour ago. The heavy makeup and exposed skin had been inviting in their own ways, but Jane felt something entirely different looking at her in this moment. It didn't frighten her as much; it didn't excite her in the same way. This train of thought got her thinking more about what she had done, ogling Maura's breasts and then feeling them..
I had to do that. It was the best way to make the other girls think she was one of them—and it clearly worked! If I hadn't done it, then maybe Lola wouldn't have confided in Maura. Maybe we'd have gotten nowhere. Maybe Hoyt would have gotten away. Still...
"Uh…Maura? I feel like I should say somethin'."
"What is it, Jane?"
"Um…I wanted to apologize."
"What for?"
"For—for what I did to ya. When I was Jake, I mean." She took Maura's silence to mean that she understood what Jane was talking about, but that didn't stop Jane from wanting to make excuses—or explain, rather. "When I'm Jake, I don't really think like myself anymore. I don't even feel like a woman anymore. I have to make everyone really believe I'm that man, you know? They have to think I'm one of them, that I ain't polite. So that's how come I was, uh—starin' at you that way in the tavern. That's what any of those men woulda done, so I figured I oughtta do it. It woulda been funny if I hadn't."
Maura couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. "Oh."
"But then that's also how come I told ya I didn't want you to be afraid when I came up to the room with ya and, er… handled you," Jane said. "I thought maybe you'd be uncomfortable with Jake Wyatt putting his hands all over ya, but if you remembered I was just your friend and just doin' it to get you in with the showgirls, that you'd be all right. Women touch each other, don't they?"
"Not like that," Maura said, feeling flushed at the memory of Jane's hands on her breasts.
"Er—well, right, but this was a special circumstance. I'm sorry if it made ya feel funny. I felt funny doin' it, but it seemed like a good way to…" Her voice trailed off at the sight before her. She had just pulled up to the boarding house, where Melody, Garrett, and Korsak were standing. "Maura, do you happen to know what time it is?"
"Quite late, I'd guess," Maura whispered back. Jane swore under her breath.
Garrett stalked over and roughly pulled Maura out of the coach. "Do you have any idea how late it is? Where have you been? Where's Frost, and why is she with you?"
"Simmer down, Fairfield," Jane said, jumping out of the coach.
"You stay out of this," he hissed. "Maura, where have you been?"
"I told you, Green Forge—"
"You left hours ago!"
"We—we—"
Jane walked over and wrenched Maura out of Garrett's grip. He looked shocked by her audacity, allowing her the time to say, "For God's sake, Fairfield, keep your damn hands to yourself! Maura didn't do nothin' wrong. I happened to be in Green Forge already and spent time with Frost while Maura was havin' dinner. Then there was a medical emergency, and if Maura hadn't been nearby to help out, Frost coulda lost his life."
Garrett bit the inside of his cheek and glared Maura down. "Is that true?" he asked.
Maura glanced at Jane, whose arms were folded and whose expression betrayed nothing. "Yes," she finally said. "Frost could have bled out."
"What happened?"
"He was—he got shot at," Maura had to answer. "By the type of man our fathers hated." When Garrett narrowed his eyes in confusion, Maura explained, "The only reason he took a shot was because of Frost's skin color. The injury was so bad he has to stay overnight in Green Forge."
"And I'll be going back to see him," Jane said. "So you don't have to worry, Fairfield. Goodnight, Maura. Korsak? Can I have a word?"
She figured Maura would be able to handle herself from here on out, and beckoned for Korsak to follow her back to the coach. Once they were out of earshot of the boarding house, Korsak whispered, "What the hell happened, Jane? Where's Frost? Why was Maura with you?"
He looked baffled as Jane shook her head and smiled wearily. "Korsak," she said, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "We got him."
A/N: Thank you again for the encouragement, guys. This chapter was a bit all over the place, and I hope it came off all right. I'm excited to move forward.
Also I was just introduced to Tangled, and Flynn's line "you were my new dream" is one of the most cheesily, adorably romantic things I think I've ever heard in a Disney movie, to the point that it's probably going to end up in this story. Heads-up.