A/N: I'd like to mention the passing of Lauren Bacall yesterday. It wasn't until then that I realized how much I had subconsciously based Constance's attitude/behavior in this story on Bacall's persona. That hard edge and sympathetic soul, and eyes that could level you in a second. If you haven't seen any of her films, please, do yourself a favor and get on it. She was a true icon.


"Well, well, well! Look who we have here! If it ain't Jane Rizzoli, deigning to bless us here simple black folk with her glorious presence."

"Aw, geez, Frost. Come on."

"Nah, nah, Mizz Jane, I's mighty glad to see ya!" Frost said, standing resolutely in the doorway and making a wide bowing gesture . "Now don't you go and say nothin', you just let me guess. You need my help with something." When Jane's only response to this was to bite her lip and avert her gaze, Frost didn't know whether to laugh or yell. "That's real nice, Jane! Yes ma'am, I thought we maybe had a friendship going on here, but if you just wanna nice Uncle Tom to hang all your issues on—"

"Do you know what a lesbian is, Frost?" That got him to shut up fast, and if she hadn't been so nervous, Jane might have laughed at the expression on his face. Shock, not confusion, was evident, making a verbal answer to that question unnecessary. "You're looking at one. A real big one."

He folded his arms, and even through the layer of a thick sweater, Jane was reminded of how muscular he was. Strong enough to send me off the porch with one good punch. She steeled herself for any such action, even though all he continued to do was look her over with a thoughtful if intimidating expression on his face.

"A big one, huh?" he asked.

Jane answered a little too quickly: "Yep."

"Ha. That's rich." Frost turned on his heel, walking back into the house. Seeing as he hadn't shut the door, Jane tentatively followed him inside to hear him add, "You're one sorry, skinny-ass lesbian and that ain't gonna change any time soon."

He threw himself into a chair by the kitchen table, looking aggravated but not intending to send Jane away. Even though she'd come here with the intention of talking to him about this, Jane hadn't been able to guess how he would respond to the news. All she'd felt confident in was that he wouldn't be another Constance: Maura's mother must have been an outlier. But as she'd left the Isles to talk, she had found herself thinking of Camille, the first person besides Maura who Jane had been able to speak to about all this. She thought of Camille opening her home to them, offering it as a safe haven any time they wanted. She remembered Camille saying that she and Robin had been kept out of places preserved for women who liked other women, based on their race. It was high time Jane had tried to do something for her, and this was it: the litmus test. She could describe to Camille how her son had reacted to hearing one of his friends was "that way," and then she might have a better idea of how or when to proceed with telling him about her and Robin.

If his response wasn't positive, it at least didn't seem as negative as it could be. Jane sat down and noticed that Frost had no interest in making eye contact.

"What, you think I'm surprised?" he asked, still sounding pissed.

"Well…"

"Hell, Jane, a guy doesn't like to make assumptions like that about his friends, but you started making yourself pretty damn obvious after a while," he muttered. "I mean, you and Maura always sneaking around the house? My house? About as subtle as mom and Robin." When he said this, he glanced up to catch Jane's unguarded reaction, and she struggled to stifle her surprise. "Not that hard to figure out."

"Um…do you… do you want to talk about it?"

The words had barely left Jane's mouth before Frost hissed in annoyance. "I don't need to talk about it. About them, or about you. You ask me, it ain't right, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm graduating this year, and I can move out and move on and do my own thing. Mom can do hers, and that's that."

"That's that? Does she even know you know?"

"My parents don't tell me anything. They think they're protecting me or something, like how I didn't even hear about the divorce until it was practically final. I'm not dumb, y'know." He tapped his head. "I've had to snoop my whole life. I should've seen this coming sooner."

"You shouldn't write her off, Frost. She's struggled real hard with figuring out how to tell you about this."

"Yeah? She should. She oughtta be ashamed of this." He looked up when Jane abruptly got to her feet and headed for the door. "Hey! Where the hell are you going?"

"I'm not gonna sit here and be lectured by you about how this is some shameful, horrible thing!" Jane spat, turning back around to face him. "You know what's shameful and horrible? How your dad treated your mom—neglectful and mean! Now she's finally found someone who makes her happy, and you wanna dismiss her for it? What kind of son hates his mother for being happy?"

"Whoa, I never said I hated her!"

"It was between the lines, Frost. And if you hate her for this, it means you'll hate me. You don't live under my roof, you're not dependent on me, so we can end this friendship right now if you want."

Frost looked taken aback at the stance Jane was taking, and she couldn't really understand why. Had he expected her to crumble and cry and say she'd change? Did he think she'd be repentant, and promise to help him make his mother see the sinful error in her ways?

"I'm not gonna tell you how hard this is," Jane said, her voice tight. "I mean, I'm not gonna tell you that you have no idea. Because I know you do have an idea. You know how it feels to be misjudged, hated, for something you have no control over."

"You talking about the color of my skin? Don't you go making that comparison, whitey. My blackness is something I literally have no control over! You and my mom, you don't have to feel this way, you can be—you can be normal if you wanted to be."

"So you think this is something we asked for?! You think we just thought, 'huh, what is something universally despised by everyone in the world and aim for that'? You think we haven't spent sleepless nights praying to feel something else, or to stop being attracted to these amazing women in our lives? You think we're delighted at the prospect of lying to everyone else we love, or risk alienating ourselves from them forever?"

"I didn't say I wanted to alienate myself from you," Frost said. "I just—I just can't… I can't be fine with it and have my conscience feel clear, too."

Jane counted silently to ten, trying to regain her calmness. "How'd we become friends?"

He looked confused at the change of topic, almost suspicious. "Some guy stole your purse, I brought it back. You wanted me to teach you some basic fighting and self-defense moves so you wouldn't be some helpless chick."

"That's how we got acquainted, yeah. But remember how we became friends? We'd talk about all the crappy ways we've been screwed over by society. You were the only person I felt like I could talk to, Frost, without getting judged. I knew nothing I said would ever upset you, because you understood what I felt, in some ways. The reason I've been distant lately is because I found friends who accept every part of me, and don't make me feel ashamed for being who I am. I was worried you wouldn't understand, and I guess I was right."

"Jane—look, I…I don't wish you any harm, okay? I don't, I swear. I've just been mad, that's all."

Jane's defensiveness kicked into high gear again. "You're mad about this? Fine. I can't change that."

"No—Jane, wait," Frost pleaded when she put her hand on the knob. "I mean I'm mad you haven't been talking to me. You just dropped me outta nowhere, and I mean I know we were never the best of friends or anything, but we were close and you were just ignoring me all of a sudden. Still coming to my house, but somehow still ignoring me. I know you've been going through some stuff, but can you see my point here? You never shut me out like this before, and I dunno, from my point of view it felt like it was on purpose. A lot's been going on with me too, and ever since Anna's family moved, it's been hard for me to find someone I really felt like I could talk to. I mean…" He tried laughing a little, folding his arms and standing up straight for a more macho stance. "You know all the guys in the neighborhood think I'm one hep cat, but it's not always so hip to talk about—about stuff, y'know?"

Jane shrugged. "Hey, I'm…I'm hep, and I talk about feelings and all that."

"Yeah," Frost chuckled. "I know. That's what I always liked about us. You know, I almost thought about coming to your house to demand a conversation, but I thought it might spook your parents." He glanced at Jane, and from her expression, could tell she was sorry it was probably true. "I guess I've just been harboring a lot of resentment that you felt like you couldn't talk to me, when I've always been so open with you."

"Yeah, well, this is different," Jane murmured.

With a heavy sigh, he said, "I can see that. Look, man, I can't pretend that I get this or that I feel totally fine about it. I'm not gonna lie to you. But you're still my friend, and I want us to be friends."

He held out his hand for a reconciliatory shake, and Jane gave it a good, long look. Perhaps she was spoiled by Camille, by Roxie and Betty and Kate and the others, by Constance's full and unquestioned acceptance: Frost's semi-tolerance was not something she wanted to just go ahead and take right away. And that suddenly felt like such a privilege. Just a few short weeks ago, she would have tearfully embraced him for having figured out her secret and not threatening her, but she wanted more from him now. She needed more from him. But at the same time, she tried reminding herself that even if Frost had suspected it a while ago, her openness about it was new to him, and he needed time to adjust. Did he deserve it?

"I realize how much trust you must have in me to have been so open about this," Frost said quietly when Jane still had yet to take his hand. "I appreciate that, Jane, I do. I hope you know I'd never betray it."

She grasped his hand. "I know, Frost." When he felt ready to slip out of the handshake, she gripped it a little tighter. "I need to ask you a favor."

"Man-to-man?"

"Girl to guy."

"Uh…what's the favor?"

"Are you still working at Brahman Brothers?"

Frost couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Yes."

"I need you to put your snooping skills to good use then and get some insider knowledge."

"Uh…what?"

"That company is headed by William Fairfield, right?"

"So?"

"So William's business partner is his brother, who is the father of a boy I just beat the tar out of for getting four of my friends arrested."

Though doing his best to keep up, Frost looked a bit confused. "I'm sorry, could you start this over?"

With a short sigh, Jane said, "Maura and I go to school with this jerk named Garrett Fairfield. His daddy and his uncle own the fabric manufacturing company where you work. Now Garrett, little slimeball that he is, has been trying to snag Maura for months, and he finally got pissed about the fact that she'd rather spend her time with me than with him. So he followed us… he followed us going to this club we like to visit, where we can—y'know, mingle without being disturbed?"

Frost shifted uncomfortably at the thought of such a place, but tried to suppress it. "And? What happened?"

"He called the cops. They came busting in, and beat the hell out of four girls trying to hold them at bay so the rest of us could escape. And tonight, I saw him outside Maura's house and I just totally lost my cool, man. I mean I really let him have it." (She didn't know if it was admiration or confusion in Frost's expression as he took in Jane's outfit: a nice dress and not her usual Chuck Jones sneakers. An impressive ensemble to be wearing while taking someone on.) "So I think I made myself pretty damn obvious."

"What d'you think he's gonna do?"

"I don't know. I mean, he's important enough he could get people to believe anything, probably, even if it wasn't true. So I need something, Frost. I need your help, please. Help me find one crooked thing in the family business, so I can have a fair shot at being level with the guy."

"You want something to hold over him."

"Yeah."

He nodded to himself, then walked the few steps it took to get the front door. He opened it, still not meeting Jane's eyes. As she passed him to leave, he made sure she heard him say, "I'll try and see what I can do."

She turned around to look his way. "And Frost?"

"Hm?"

"You'll let me know how to return the favor, right?"

He just nodded again and shut the door.

Jane got home to an empty house: her parents and Frankie were all at work, and Tommy was out with his friends. Usually Jane welcomed the chance to have the house to herself, but as racked with nerves as she currently was, she was desperate for at least some background noise. Frost was her usual go-to, but she couldn't go back there at the moment. The Gilberti's auto shop was another option, but Giovanni didn't work on Saturdays and without cars to talk about or work on, he wasn't a fun option.

Maura was the only other person she enjoyed really spending time with, and of course, at the moment, that wasn't possible. Jane knew she couldn't initiate contact. She had to wait until the dust had settled—at least for the time being—and Maura had a moment to call her. Hope was a quality that had been dancing in and out of Jane's life for months now: every time she thought she had a firm grasp on it, something would come along to cut the tenuous connection and it would seem as likely that she'd get a hold of hope again as man might walk on the moon. But she had to hope that Desmond Isles was going to be calmed. She had to hope that he could be persuaded to see reason, that he wouldn't reject his daughter and that he would continue to be a stellar husband who respected his wife's viewpoints and didn't talk down to her or try to override her.

Please. Please, please, please, God, please. Let him be on our side.

In an attempt to get out of her own head, Jane flipped on the television and tried to play along with some game shows. She might've gone out into the cold to take Jo for a walk, but didn't want to risk missing a phone call from Maura. When she let the dog out to do her business, Jane stood in the doorway to make sure she could hear the phone.

When the phone at last rang, Jane's heart felt ready to explode as she jumped up to answer.

"Maura?" she blurted out.

"What? Jane, honey, it's me." (She tried hard not to sigh in frustration at the sound of her mother's voice.) "You done at the library, then? Get some good studying in?"

Jane had already forgotten that was where she'd told her parents she'd be going. Instead of studying, in the meantinme, she had beaten up Garrett Fairfield, learned her father was having an affair, listened as Maura's mother told Mr. Isles about their daughter's relationship, and found out that one of her closest friends had just been waiting for confirmation about his suspicions of her.

"Yeah, Ma. It was real fruitful."

"Glad to hear it! Well I was just calling in case you or Tommy was home—now we don't have to stop by and leave a note. Your father is taking me out to dinner on a sort of spur-of-the-moment date, so we won't be home until later, okay?"

"Peachy. Got it."

There was a noticeable pause. "Jane, are you all right? You sound…"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired, Ma, don't worry about it. Have fun."

"Thanks honey, I'll talk to you later!"

And there went something else fun to stew over. As further indicated by the girlishly excited tone in Angela's voice, Jane knew her father almost never went for "spur-of-the-moment" dates. Was he trying to balance the guilt he felt for cheating? Trying to curb any of Angela's suspicion by being extra demonstrative of his affection towards her?

Jane tried to drown herself back in the game show but it was no good, particularly when the phone rang again not ten minutes later. This time she answered with a plain "hello," and her heart plummeted like a stone when she recognized Garrett's voice.

"Rizzoli, I don't think I need to get specific here. I own your ass now. It's mine." He reveled in pausing there, wishing he could see Jane's face, positive that he had finally been the one to knock that cocky smirk away. "Calling you a pervert doesn't feel strong enough, but I guess they haven't invented a word yet that describes how sick you are, have they? You can't go back now. You can't lie to me anymore. No. The question now is, how much is it worth to you to keep this information between the two of us?"

She knew he was baiting her, she knew that he wanted her to beg him for mercy or to at least ask what it was he wanted. "You try hurting Maura or me, Garrett, and I swear to God I will kill you."

"Jane! I can't believe you think I'd want to hurt Maura. I like her, remember? She's an innocent victim in all of this, anyway."

For the first time, it registered with Jane that Garrett still assumed that Maura had no "deviant" feelings whatsoever. He was somehow still able to picture her as some doe-eyed, naïve young thing who was awed by Jane and had an oddly close friendship with her. In all likelihood he thought Jane had tricked Maura into going with her to that club last night, a last-ditch effort to seduce her… and Maura was too sweet for her own good, still considering Jane a friend rather than telling the girl to leave her the hell alone like she should have. He was so off, that Jane might've felt inclined to laugh if not for the dire sense of foreboding that hung over their conversation.

"For whatever goddam reason, Maura listens to you and she respects you. It's not healthy, you know, you two spending so much time together. I think it might do her well to spend more time with, uh, me. Don't you agree?" He chuckled at Jane's continued silence, and she wished she could reach through the phone to choke that laughter out of him. "You must be so jealous of me, aren't you? You wanna be a man, Rizzoli? Pathetic. Stay out of my way. And stop hanging around Maura so much, it gives people the creeps."

"If I stay away from her, that doesn't mean she's gonna go swoon right in your arms, you slimeball," Jane growled.

"The power of suggestion is a mighty thing. If you can convince Maura Isles to go with you to some depraved club, you can convince her to give me another shot. Do that, and keep away from her, and we won't have any problems. Understood? If I don't like your attitude or your behavior at any point, well, my tongue just might slip. Am I making myself perfectly clear to—"

Jane hung up on him, feeling it was the only way she could even slightly have her way in the conversation.

Of course Garrett would do this. She didn't know what excuse he'd given his family for going back home with the injuries Jane had left him with, but that didn't matter. An actual chill went down her spine at the realization that this was some form of blackmail. If Garrett had truly felt a duty to a moral center, he would be taking different—possibly justice-system-related—measures here. Instead, he was using the information for his own personal gain, another means of getting what he wanted. Fairfields were used to that, and Jane had been a stubborn obstacle. Holding this information over her head was his best weapon yet to attempt obliterating her.

The urge to call Maura was stronger than ever, but Jane knew she had to resist. Interrupting the conversation with Desmond wouldn't do them any good; she had to wait. For a second she thought she might call Betty, but the temporary relief at the possibility of doing so was crushed a moment later when she remembered—how could I be so stupid and forget?—that Betty was behind bars. She called up the boarding house where Betty and Kate were staying to see if Kate was there, but no dice.

Somehow, even with everything that had happened to her over the last few months, this was the most helpless she had ever felt. It wasn't too a comforting thought, but she did at least feel confident that Garrett would stick to his word to keeping it a secret …so long as I don't act out. He needs something to keep me in line. Well, this is it.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door, and Jane, desperate for anything to distract her, leapt up to answer it. Officer Korsak was standing on the porch, and before he could say so much as a hello, Jane found herself stumbling back.

Oh no, oh no, oh no. I shouldn't have hung up on Garrett like that. I made him mad. That upset him and he called the police again and told them where I'd been and Korsak is here to arrest me, oh God, oh God, oh God!

"Jane, you all right?" Korsak asked with concern, stepping into the house.

Her heart was beating wildly in her ears, and almost kept her from being able to hear the gentleness in his tone. That has to be a good sign. "F-fine. I'm—fine."

"You sure?"

Pressed against the wall like a small animal trying to find escape from a vicious predator, Jane didn't look fine. Korsak had always pegged her as a tough kid, but she was flinching just at the sight of him. She had to empty her reserves of strength to stand straight, to look him in the eye.

"Sorry, sir, I'm all right. Wh-what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if your mother, or either of your folks was home."

Because I'm still a minor. He can't just haul me away. Oh, God help me! "N-no, sir. Date night."

"Ah, makes sense," Korsak mumbled, fishing in his pocket for something. "Y'know they came by the precinct last night, and it seemed like they'd had to cut their Valentines date short because your mother was very distraught. She'd misplaced this." He held out a pearl bracelet, and Jane couldn't breathe for a moment due to her relief that it wasn't a pair of handcuffs. "She didn't have time to look for it today, but I found it a little while after she left and thought I'd drop it off."

"Thank you, sir," Jane mumbled, taking the bracelet from him. "She'll be relieved."

They stood there in silence for a few moments, Korsak twirling his hat in his hands as he tried to think of something to say. Jane was distraught, and it wasn't too hard to imagine why.

"Why'd you treat 'em so nice, Korsak?"

"What're you talking about, O'Leary?"

"Those dykes who tried beating us up when we came down on their hedonistic little club."

Korsak glanced up from his desk at O'Leary's split lip, and couldn't help laughing. "Looks like they did better than 'try,' kid! Couldn't take on a bunch of girls, huh?"

"They scattered. And you know something?" O'Leary asked, leaning over the desk as if trying to intimidate Korsak. "You know how Angela is always showing pictures of her kids to anyone who goes to the café? Well I'd bet my overtime that I saw her girl there."

That got Korsak's serious attention. "Jane?"

"Yeah. Sure, there was a ruckus, but I am pretty damn sure I saw her there."

"Impossible," Korsak balked, looking back down at the file on his desk.

"Really? What makes you so sure?"

From years of dealing with criminals, those who were adept and those who were stupid, Korsak had learned the smoothest way to lie. That, combined with his seniority, allowed him to easily fool O'Leary into believing his word when he said, "I hand-picked Jane Rizzoli to be the office stenographer this summer when Eve steps down. She takes typing and shorthand lessons every week in preparation, and I happen to know that the shorthand ones are on Friday evenings." They were on Tuesdays, he knew fine well. "No way she was anywhere else. I can even call up her teacher sometime to confirm it if that'll make you sleep better at night."

"What kinda girl gives up her Friday nights—and Valentines, no less—to take shorthand?" O'Leary sneered, straightening up again.

"An ambitious one, that's what kind. One who's got goals and is set on seeing them through. Now get the hell out of my face, O'Leary, and learn the difference between doing your job and imagining things."

Jane's nerves confirmed what Korsak had thought, which was that O'Leary had in fact been correct about placing her at the club that night. He tried to think of what he could do to allay the fear in her eyes, and after an excruciatingly long silence, finally spoke:

"Big night, that Valentines. I don't suppose your folks told you about the girls who got brought in?" He could see her just barely nod, eyes glued to the floor. "Did I ever tell you why I became a police officer, Jane?"

"No, sir."

"Because I want to help people, and because I want to protect them. I believe in the good in humanity, I really do, and I've seen things—I've seen things that are atrocious. Here, and abroad. I was proud to serve my country, but it's a chilling thing, you know. Man's inhumanity to man." He'd read that phrase someplace, but couldn't remember where, and decided he didn't mind letting Jane he'd come up with something that sounded so intelligent. "I had a good buddy when I was in high school who was a Jew. Aaron Leibowitz, real good kid. I saw him go to prison for a crime he didn't commit, 'cause a couple of cops in our precinct weren't fond of his religion. And I thought to myself, hey now, that ain't right."

Jane glanced at him for just a second. "You know he was innocent?"

"I believed in him when he told me he was, yes. That's what friends do. I dedicated myself to finding the real culprit and proving Aaron's innocence."

"Did you?"

"Nope. He got killed in a scuffle with some brutish inmates, and I gave up. I was too mad and too upset to ever finish looking into it. Y'know, I feel bad about it," he muttered. "I wish I'd kept going, trying to clear his name, at least for his family's sake. But anyhow, a few years later, I committed myself to being a cop."

"Even after what they'd done to Aaron?" Jane asked in shock.

"Especially after what they'd done to Aaron," Korsak said back. "I don't believe all cops are crooked, see. And I certainly don't believe it's something to aim for. If a man's committed an awful crime, yeah, I can get gruff. But sometimes these fellas who're supposed to be on the right side of the law, they get a little carried away. It goes to their heads. I wanted to get in there and set an example, and maybe take the job away from some sucker who'd abuse his authority. You know what we fought that war for, Jane? You know why we went over there?"

"Europe or the Pacific?"

"Either, but I went to Europe."

"You w—you wanted to stop Hitler. Stop the Nazis."

"Exactly. And I fought because I believe in the freedoms our fine country has to offer. Democracy. The power of the individual. Now a commie will tell you that it's all about the collective, and that one life doesn't matter so much. I refuse to accept that. America refuses to accept that. Every. Life. Counts. Every human being deserves the right to be treated like a human being. That means they get tried when they hurt other people. But just living life the way God made you? Black, white, Jewish, Gentile…" He suppressed the lump rising in his throat at the look on Jane's face, as if she too was barely keeping her tears at bay. "However you are. I consider it my job to keep anyone free from the types of prejudice I saw old Adolf brainwashing his country with."

"Sir, I…"

Would it be kinder at this point to tell her how he'd reached his conclusion?

"Officer O'Leary told me he thought he saw you at the club that got raided on Valentines Day," he said, and the fear in Jane's face was palpable. "Now I told him that was impossible, because you take shorthand lessons on Friday nights." Jane knew that Korsak knew this was a lie. "And you know, a while back you asked me how I'd been able to set Adamo del Rossi and Roxie Merriwhether up, and that got me to thinking recently. You are a brave kid, Jane. You're strong, and I admire that. I can assure you that as soon as the bail for those girls is posted, Adamo is going to see that they're released, and I am going to keep watch on them until then. Keep 'em safe. I just needed to run home for some things, and thought I'd stop here with the bracelet on my way back to the precinct."

Jane tried to speak, but couldn't, fearing that the only sound she'd make if she could was a sob.

"You hear that, kid? My job is keeping people safe. Don't give up your dream of joining our ranks because you think it's all a crooked racket. You can help make it straight."

"Whocalledit?"

"What?"

"Who—who called it in? Was it an anonymous tip?" Of course Korsak wasn't at liberty to discuss specifics, but he did confirm that it had not been an anonymous call. Jane took a shuddering breath and wiped at her eyes. "It was Garrett Fairfield, I know, Officer. He followed me there—"

Korsak cut her off with a tutting sound, not wanting to have to hear what could technically be taken as a confession. Jane got the message and tried to think how she could get to her point another way.

"He called me here today. Officer, what—what happens to a blackmailer?"

"You're being blackmailed?"

"Am I obligated to tell you what for?"

Korsak gave her a long, appraising look before extending his hand for her to take. "Let's get to talking, Miss Rizzoli."