I don't own a thing.

Love Ain't For Keeping - The Who

"I made a wrong mistake"

Yogi Berra

Jane Rizzoli watched as the large mesh gates opened up in front of her, a loud rattling echoing through the yard. The sun ate away at her unprepared eyes and beat down against her skin. She knew that, all for the chain gates, everything was silent, but she could still hear the sound of children crying out for the mothers in that waiting room. Of husbands whispering to their wives. Of old friends reassuring the nervous women in front of them. And those mothers, wives, and women… They were the lucky ones.

Jane didn't look back.

Three years had been long enough.

She chuckled to herself when she saw Frost waiting on the hood of his black Ford, a six pack of beer beside him, the condensation dripping down the car's grill.

"Hey partner," he said.

"I'm still your partner? I thought you got assigned a new one."

"Eh. Just a small technicality. You're still my partner. I don't think Frankie'll mind if I call you that anyway."

"He's your partner now?"

"You didn't know?"

"I knew he got tapped for detective last month. Didn't know he got homicide. Or you. Said something about wanting the details to be a surprise."

"Cavanaugh insisted we have another Rizzoli on the team. That was his excuse."

"Sounds like a good one to me."

"How have you been?"

Jane snatched a glance back at the mesh gates that had now closed behind her. She sized it up.

"How do you think? It's damn peachy in there."

"Glad you enjoyed your stay, then." Frost handed Jane a beer and hopped off the hood. He went over the driver's side and motioned Jane to take shotgun. "C'mon. Let's get back to the city."

They were silent as the two stepped into the car. It had been a long time. Too long. And the events that had led to this… It had been too much. Too hectic. Too much to really understand or comprehend or every really truly process. For everyone. For Frost, for Korsak, for Frankie… For Maura. Jane let her mind slip to the medical examiner, letting a small smile touch her face.

"How has Maura been?"

"Maura?"

"Yeah. How has she been?"

"She hasn't gone to visit you?"

"No. I don't blame her either. Not after what I did."

The two were silent again, contemplating just what Jane had done. Neither let themselves delve in to much into the details. They only grazed over the basics. The details were too much to handle. For now.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Jane. You did what you had to do."

"Right, okay. I should still be in there, you know. The small things don't matter. I did it. I should be locked away."

"Thought you didn't like it in there."

"Doesn't matter if I liked it or not. That's not the point of the system. Now stop deflecting and answer my question. How has she been?"

"Fine," sighed Frost. "I think. She acts like she's fine. Talks like she's fine. Walks like she's fine…"

"But that's what worries you."

"She acts like she's okay too much. Too often. All the time. And it's too much. I can tell."

"Of course, you can."

"I think she still doesn't understand."

"She probably hates me."

Jane Rizzoli thought about the day, in the courtroom. She hadn't brought herself to look at Maura, or to speak to her. And the pit in her stomach had only grown and grown and grown. Steadily.

There were spectators. Other detectives. Family. People were just genuinely interested and were court hopping. Jane didn't look forward to the cameras and microphones that would await her outside of the courtroom. She didn't look forward to having it all in her face. She didn't look forward to the fanfare. She hated it.

"Defendant, rise," said the judge, looking down from his podium.

Jane complied

"How does the defendant plead?"

Jane thought about all the times she had testified before this very judge, as a police officer. A detective. And here she was now. In front of the other desk. The defendant. The handcuffs scraping against her wrists.

"Guilty, your honor," she stated. She didn't waver. Her voice left her strong. "First degree murder."

The judge raised her eyebrows. He knew the Jane Rizzoli. Most in the criminal justice world did. This was Detective Jane Rizzoli. The cop who had shot herself in order to stop her one time colleague. The hero. Boston's hero. He had been surprised enough when he had heard the news, and even more surprised when he had heard that Detective Jane Rizzoli would be in his courtroom. This, though, didn't surprise him. It had Rizzoli written all over it.

"You," he said, staring at the attorney beside Jane. "I think you should advise your client."

"I tried, your honor! She wouldn't listen. She was adamant. She wants this."

"Son of a… right." The judge turned to Jane. "And you! You don't get to decide what you're charged with. But you do know that even with a guilty plea, going away for first degree murder is life without parole?"

"I know that, your honor."

"Hell. Fine. You may want to go away for life, detective. But that's not your decision."

The judge motioned for the prosecutors to proceed.

"Your honor, the count is voluntary manslaughter. We're suggesting three years."

"Ten," said Jane.

The prosecutor looked at her partner, and then at the judge, clearly unsure as to what to do. This had never happened before. The defendant had never bargained for a higher charge. The judge rolled his eyes. This was a first. History. They should write about it in textbooks. They should teach it in law school.

"You aren't discussing that in here. Not my job. That's for you lawyers to decide." He slammed his hammer down onto the bed on his desk. He motioned his hands forward. "Court is adjourned. Go along now, my little ones. Settle."

"She didn't say anything about me, did she?" asked Jane.

"She tries not to. Hell, we don't even mention your name whenever she walks into the damn bullpen. She gets this sad look on her face and everything gets real awkward. It's awkward. I don't do awkward."

Jane's heart clenched as she imagined Maura's face. She had done that. She had caused that. She leaned her head against the window of Frost's car. And again, the two were silent, the car filled only with the sound of tires against highway asphalt.

"You know," Frost said, speaking up. "Cavanaugh's talking to the chief of police about getting you your badge back."

"That's a load of bullshit. I don't deserve it."

Frost furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled over the side of the road and brought the car to a sudden halt.

"What the hell, Frost?" sputtered Jane.

"Stop it. All of it. No one blames you, Jane. The judge tried to talk you out of it… The DA tried to talk you out of it… They gave you three years as a concession to you. They wanted to give you two years. Hell, maybe even a year and a half. With a chance to get out on parole! The warden tried to get you out after a year. You didn't do anything wrong, Jane. You know that."

"None of that changes a damn thing, Frost. I killed someone."

"I killed someone too, Rizzoli. A lot of us have. Someone pointed a gun at me and I shot back. You weren't like this when you got Bobby."

"That was different."

"No it wasn't. You can say that it was, but it wasn't. You want my opinion? You want the opinion of the whole department? Well, you have it."

"It isn't Maura's opinion."

"You don't know what Maura thinks about this. No one does. So stop pretending like you do. Have you ever thought that maybe she's thankful? That maybe the only reason she's mad at you was that you were determined to keep yourself locked away? Remember how devastated she was after you were shot and the two of you didn't talk for a month? Well now it's been three years. And you wanted to make it your whole damn life."

Jane's voice was slow; she had been taken aback by Frost's outburst. "I… I have an idea. About how she feels. Remember Tommy O'Rourke?"

"Sure I do. Can't forget."

"Well I was gonna call Doyle. Tell him we knew the killer…"

"…So that he could send a message."

"I told her, too. Told her I just wanted to keep her safe. That I would do it in a heartbeat. It's just a phone call. You… You should've seen her face when I said that. She just… looked at me."

"Did you call?"

"No. After seeing that look, I couldn't."

"But this time was different. Even you're saying it. You believe it deep down, you just don't want to admit it to the world."

"Shut up, Frost. You know it. I know it. I don't deserve her. Hell, I never deserved her. Not her friendship. Not anything. And I sure as hell don't deserve it now."

"Just don't understand why you're trying to punish yourself so hard. I'm telling you… You did nothing wrong. Chief said you'll probably get it back. Your badge. Maybe do a little stint with the academy first. Work hours back on the beat for a little bit and then go back working homicide."

"Frost…"

"And you're going to take the badge back. We need you back in homicide, Jane. You were the best. And we need you. You think the city's better off without your badge? Hell, no. You took an oath, Rizzoli. Now follow up on it."

"I already broke the oath."

"No, you didn't." Frost brought the car back onto the road. "Now let's go home. Your mother's got a whole damn party planned for you.

"Jesus. I should've known. She's got a banner, doesn't she?"

"Yup."

"And special little plates."

"Yup."

"And matching cups."

"Yup."

"Damn it."

"You should be glad," Frost added quickly, "that your brother has been staying at your place. He hasn't let your mother touch a thing."

Maura Isles didn't know how to receive the information that Jane would be coming home. She knew it would happen. And she knew when it would happen. There was no way the prison would keep Jane for longer than her allotted three years. But it caught her by surprise anyway.

Angela had called her and told her of the news.

"She's coming home, honey. We're throwing a party at that bar you all go to all the time. You're coming, right?"

Maura found herself unable to refuse Angela's pleading voice. Much like how she found herself so often unable to refuse Jane's pleads, as much as she had tried to resist. She sensed – no, she was sure – that Jane felt that same way about her. It oftentimes led to quite the debacle, when the two of them were constantly giving in to each other.

So, she had said yes. To the welcome home party. It surprised her and didn't surprise her at the same time, that she felt apprehension simmering beneath her skin.

She had missed Jane.

She had missed going over to the detective's apartment, sometimes inadvertently spending the night.

She had missed the detective coming over to her apartment, teasing her for keeping a 'turtle' in the place.

She had missed correcting Jane: no, it's a tortoise.

This surprised her, though she realized that this, above all the things that had recently surprised her, should be the one thing that shouldn't have surprised her. A feeling began to bubble up in her stomach. Guilt. She recognized it as guilt.

She wondered what would have happened if she had decided to take Detective Frost's place, to pick Jane up when she left the prison. She wondered what would have happened if she had chosen to visit Jane at least once throughout the long three year period.

She wondered what would have happened if the whole thing never occurred. If Jane never did what she did. No, if the thing that caused Jane to do what she did never happened in the first. She wondered where she and the other detective would be.

"Doc?" It was Korsak's voice on the other end of the phone line. Fear began to take over Maura's mind. Korsak's voice was serious… Never a good sign. Was Jane…? Did something happen…? To her? "You're gonna hear some shit, doc. No, you're gonna hear a lot of shit. Thought it'd be better if you heard it from me first. Before it all hits the fan."

"What happened? Is Jane okay?"

"Jane's fine," he said. And Maura breathed a brief sigh of relief. Jane was okay. She wasn't hurt. "Sort of."

"What do you mean sort of? Has she been shot again? What happened? What's going on?"

"Doc, Jane's okay. Physically."

"You're going to have to be clearer, detective. What's going on?"

"Doc… Maura… Jane… She killed someone. She killed Sam Byrne, Maura. They're taking her downtown right now. For booking."

"What?"

"You heard me, doc. They're taking you off the case. Because… well, you know. But Jane… She cares about you, you hear? She's got your back. Always. Don't forget that, understand me? She isn't doing too good right now. But… Anyway. I thought it'd be better if you heard the whole damn spiel from me. Instead of IA or the goddamn media. Shit, they'll be all over this one."

"I… I…" sputtered Maura.

She sputtered out a couple more syllables before shutting her mouth. She couldn't find the words. She was in disbelief. Jane had killed. Her Jane had killed. It didn't matter that it was Sam Byrne who was the one dead after all this. No, it did matter. Of course, it mattered.

But they were booking Jane. Arresting her.

So she wasn't at gunpoint. She wasn't on duty.

So why?

Maura repeated herself, asking the empty air around her.

"Why?" she asked. "Why, Jane?"

Confused, she desperately hoped that in that moment, something, someone, anything, would answer her question. She didn't care that it was the most irrational thought she could think.

But she needed her answers.

And with all her heart, Maura Isles missed Jane Rizzoli.