"Detective Rizzoli, my office. NOW!"

Jane sighed as she pushed away from her desk. 'This is getting way too familiar for my taste' the raven haired woman thought as she made her way to the lieutenant's office. It reminded her of the times she was so brusquely summoned to Cavanaugh's office during a really hard to crack case and the upper brass was breathing down the man's neck.

Cavanaugh.

Man, wasn't that a name she hadn't thought about in a long time. One name among many after the catastrophic episode where she had shot Paddy Doyle and dealt with the fallout that lead to her cutting a lot of people out of her life and leaving Boston nearly five years ago.

"You asked to see me lieutenant" Jane said as she closed the door behind her. The Not-Cavanaugh replacement was a redheaded woman that bore too much of a resemblance to a medical examiner that she once associated with; a resemblance that made the dark haired detective all kinds of antsy when she had to speak to her. Aside from the difference in hair color, the woman could have been a spitting image of Maura Doretha Isles. Just the thought of made her hold in an internal flinch at the same time a fierce scowl took over her lips for a microsecond.

"The Mayor wants to honor you and your team for your exemplary work in catching The Hatchet Man killer. He's holding a banquet next week to present you all with medals for your service to the city and its residents."

If she hadn't been uncomfortable before, she most certainly was now. Jane had a distinct distaste for being in the limelight and having her face as the center of attention. She hated it as a kid. She hated it when she worked for BPD. She hated it now almost five years after being hired by NYPD and her departure from the Boston Police Department under such volatile conditions. "Lieutenant, all due respect to you and the Mayor-"

"We have had this same conversation the last four times. No, you are not getting out of it; this is not Boston. Yes, you will show up and you will smile and you will accept the damn medal. I don't care if you chuck it in a box and throw the box in a dumpster so long as you are seen accepting it and photographed wearing it. Any questions?" the woman asked with a level stare that dared the detective to argue with her.

"I actually threw the last four in a firepit and watched them turn to slag over a beer" Jane said sourly before turning to leave the office.

"Oh, there is just one more thing. A federal task force is being assembled that will be bringing some very experienced people to deal with our recent organized crime problem."

Jane stopped for a moment not seeing how that warranted being told to her. She was a homicide detective, not vice or organized crime. As far as she was concerned, it didn't matter to her if the feds got involved. "And what does that have to do with me?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Our Chief Medical Examiner has been deemed ill equipped and not nearly experienced enough by the task force. They will be bringing one of their own choosing. Someone that you would be familiar with given your years working for the Boston Police Department. Her name is.. Oh, where did I put that paper? Ah, it's Maura-"

"Dorethea Isles." The emptiness of Jane's words echoed in the room as the italian detective had to force herself to take a deep breath in through her nose. "As long as she doesn't get in my way, I don't care who they bring to do their dirty work for them. Anything else lieutenant?" she asked.

"Will there be any issues with you two working in close proximity?"

"I've just made my position clear, I don't care who they bring so long as she doesn't get in my way Especially her.." Jane left the office without another word and went back to the bullpen, face blank.

"Rough day partner?"

Jane briefly looked over to the desk of her partner, a relatively tall but thin and muscled man asian man, before plopping down in her chair with her arms crossed. "Rough would be giving me a barbeque sauce enema while I'm tied to a table, Jeremy. I just got the whole damn bottle shoved down my throat cap first" she said crossly while throwing her head back. "It's time like this I hate that you got me into the habit of drinking less."

Jeremy arched a brow as he brushed strands of reddish-brown hair from his face while interest colored cinnamon colored eyes. "That is pretty crude coming from you considering."

Jane's head slowly came back up with an icy glare. "Before the time comes, and you'll know it when you see it, you'll be staring at Queen Bitch" she said slowly.

"Rizzoli, Jackson has been reassigned to a high priority case by the commissioner. You have to go pick up the feds medical examiner from LaGuardia. She lands in two hours. Bring her back here, the agency representatives will be here in one."

"And the shit just keeps piling on!"

Jeremy watched Jane storm out of the bullpen, people jumping out of the way to avoid the detectives vitriolic stomping and cursing. "Jason, Lana, Riley- we're going to be burying a body for Jane by the end of the day" the asian man sighed.

"Could be worse Jeremy, at least it ain't one of us!" Lana, a chipper black haired woman with bright green eyes and nearly as tall as Jane, said looking up from the file in front of that she'd been in the middle of wrapping up a report for.

The slamming of a door and the shattering of glass could be heard before Jane came back in hauling a guy in handcuffs, the guy's face bloodied and tiny shards of glass stuck in his skin. He was screaming profanities about how women were the subservient race and should bow down to their male masters before they were killed for insolent notions like 'equality'. Jane let the guy 'trip' and crack his head on the edge of a desk, the sound of cracking bone as the guy wailed abuse.

No one moved to help the man as two other detectives saw how twitchy the former Boston Homicide Detective's hands were getting. Then she was gone once more.

"You just jinxed us Lana, thanks" Jeremy said with a sigh.

LaGuardia Airport was not one of Maura's preferred airports to travel to for any sort of reason. Being one of the major travel hubs inside the United States, it was often packed to the brim with people every moment of the day and that meant it was a breeding ground for disease and bacteria. If she was particularly honest, she wasn't a fan of being in New York. Ever since the night Jane shot her father and the subsequent mess that she herself made leading up to Jane abandoning Boston and her family, abandoning her, she had found little enjoyment in much of work was no longer fulfilling and depressed her. She still did it but now she was saddled with a weekly therapist appointment going on five years now.

Angela and the other Rizzoli's who had sided with her feelings over Janes in the aftermath of Jane shooting Paddy Doyle, they were subdued. They had all jumped down Jane's throat for being insensitive about her mental and emotional state, Constance was still recovering from being hit which did her no favors, only to realize that they were wrong. Just as she did when her faculties came back to her when she worked through those dark feelings after she had gotten her father to confirm that Jane had been right, he would have shot the detective; he'd already shot Agent Dean, what was shooting a state cop versus a federal agent?

The sad part was that they were too late. They had left Jane to stew in her own negative emotions for too long that when they all bucked up the nerve to apologize and make amends to the detective, she was just gone. Her rented condo had been cleaned and re-rented to someone else. Her phone had been deactivated and the number reassigned to a rather rude man who called Maura a 'crazy broad' before threatening to track her down if she called him again. She had even resigned for the Boston Police Department!

Angela had been in hysterics as she tried to reason with Cavanaugh to tell them anything about where Jane had gone but the lieutenant said that laws only permitted him to say that Jane turned in her shield, her service weapon and letter of resignation to the department.

Shaking her head from the sad memories, how she still wanted to this day to apologize to Jane and beg her forgiveness for her foolishness, she collected her luggage from baggage collection and made her way outside. She was only here to do a favor for the governor who had vested interest in an organized crime network branching multiple states and spiking gun related deaths. If it wasn't the governor who asked her, she would have blown it off as unimportant. Interstate related crimes and deaths were a matter of the State Police, not the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth. Pulling a piece of paper from her pocket she checked the scrawl, it made her grimace to realize suddenly just how much she had let slide when she could barely read her own handwriting, to confirm that there was supposed to be a NYPD detective picking her up to deliver her to the task force. "Detective.. Jackson, black Ford pickup, NYPD plates" she muttered deciphering the hastily scratched words.

Outside in the pickup area, hazel eyes searched the various people waiting and saw only one Ford pickup with a NYPD seal on the passenger side door. Also present was a rather annoyed looking detective wearing a cap and sunglasses holding a sign that said 'federal corpse defiler' under a crossed out version of her name. Resisting the urge to scowl and give the detective a piece of her mind, she went over to the truck though mindful to take in every detail about her escort.

The detective was tall with long hair and seemed athletically toned. Long legs and muscled arms suggested the detective did not skip arm or leg day. She mentally washed the joke away, Barry would have been proud of the mental funny but she chose not to go down that path. Closer inspection revealed the detective was a woman and something was making the detective tense.

"I don't find your attempt at humor very funny, detective."

The detective made a motion with one hand rapidly after shifting it to the other.

It took Maura a moment to realize the detective was signing and that she was telling her where to 'shove it' since this wasn't supposed to be her detail to begin with. "Regardless of whether or not you like it and whether or not this was your detail to begin with-"

The detective made a harsh motion of Maura to put her stuff in the truck before jumping in the drivers side, the door slamming shut behind them.

Maura huffed before she put her stuff in the backseat. She was well aware of the stereotype about how terribly rude New York people were, perhaps she was more than a dash stained with Boston bias, and she couldn't help believing it more strongly thanks to this detective. "There were other means of conveying displeasure, the most often used being the silent treatment and the cold shoulder. The is no need for vulgarity and crass language" she said with an annoyed expression.

The detective didn't spare Maura a glance as she revved the engine as the passenger door slammed shut.

Jason, Lana, Riley and Jeremy were huddled going over evidence and witness statements when the first signs of dooms echoed within the precinct. It started not with a boom or a bang but with silence. The kind of silence you only got at a Baptist Revival while the preacher was giving a sermon level of silence. It was followed by the click-clack of heels, the heavy thuds of familiar boots and the sounds of rolling wheels that were on all pieces of luggage these days.

"Furthermore, your conduct has-"

"Should we run or should we hide on the Vice Squads floor? They're scared of Rizzoli's unholy she-temper" Riley offered while brushing strands of red-blonde curls from her face and behind her ear.

"Her legs are too long, she'll be here in a minute. Just pretend we're too engulfed in the case file to notice she's back." Jason didn't look anywhere near as confident in the idea as he sounded. Rizzoli was the bloodhound with the sharpest senses in Homicide and he suspected that she could smell fear and anxiety rolling off people in a fifty foot radius around her.

Jeremy watched Jane sign like a madman at the blonde woman, he assumed that since Jackson couldn't speak too well after a chase with a perp ended with permanent damage to the guys vocal cords and she had taken over his job to pick up the blonde she used the signing as a cover to not speak, with very crude language telling the blonde just what she thought about the woman's complaints. "If only we had a swear jar going right now Jane would be buying us Starbucks for a month" he said, shaking his head.

The other three looked at the senior detective with a raised eyebrow.

"Just because you schmucks learned not to sign doesn't mean everyone else didn't. To put it lightly, she'd be making my career Navy officer of a dad beam with pride at how foul her mouth is right now" Jeremy said, illuminating it for the three chuckle heads.

Maura huffed as she practically stomped over to the elevator where she was told would take her to the morgue where the task force agency representatives would meet her to debrief the details of the deaths. She would be having some very strong words with the precinct lieutenant by the end of business day about the detectives conduct come hell or high water! She would not be treated like this by some ungrateful brat masquerading as a law enforcement officer! It was only as the elevators began to close in front of her that her heart stopped as she heard a call across the detective bullpen and the response in return in a voice she hadn't heard in five years.

"Rizzoli! You're buying lunch for that storm you were just signing up!"

"Bite me Jeremy."

Through the closing slit she saw the silent detective remove their department hat and sunglasses revealing a face she was all too familiar with. Jane's face had gained a glacial quality and it was like her eyes were empty of any life as she plopped down in a chair shooting the man she called Jeremy an annoyed look. She thought that she saw a hint of some greys starting in the wild mane just as the doors closed completely. Unaware of the beading tears gathering at the edges of her eyes she quickly dug through her purse scrambling for her phone before rapidly dialing the one number she knew needed to hear this.

"Hello, Maura? Are you ok sweetheart? You said that you would call me tonight to che-"

"Angela, I found her… I found Jane." There was silence, a pregnant pause settling on Maura's shoulders. She knew that Angela, Frankie and Tommy kept constant vigilance trying to find hide or hair of Jane but after five years she suspected they were losing hope of ever finding a clue to the only female Rizzoli childs whereabouts. Losing hope of ever having the chance to apologize and tell her that they realized how wrong they had been.

"Sh-she's ok? My baby is ok?" Angela asked, a noticeable hiccup in her words.

"I'm not sure ok is the right word Angela." Maura's words were used with the gentlest and kindest of tones but she was not going to lie, not to the woman who was a second mother to her. "She's a detective for NYPD Homicide and… she's rather cold. I didn't recognize her under a NYPD hat and sunglasses but I just… I just saw her Angela, I swear to you it's Jane."

By six o'clock the lieutenant had kicked Jane out of the precinct and told her to go sleep at home, that her desk was a work space and not a bed. The brunette honestly didn't understand the woman's problem. She only slept overnight in the precinct four nights this week! It was thanks to her that their precinct has such a high rate of arrest for violent offenders and solved cold cases. So what if she spent more time in the precinct than her apartment!?

The sterile apartment was tiny and devoid of any real character no matter what way the eye turned. Every wall was barren save for the space between the windows in the living room-dining room area. In between the windows was a canvas with words drawn on it in block letters reading:

Trust no one.
They'll all turn on you eventually.
Remember what happened in Boston.

The one neighbor she allowed in after getting the apartment, it was a sweet older lady who wanted to welcome Jane to the building with a tray of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies she made herself, had taken a look around the apartment and cast a concerned look at her. While she was polite and cordial to the older woman while they briefly chatted, the detective didn't need to hear the lady to say the canvas was a depressing piece of 'art' since it was in a sense. It was also a strong reminder to make sure that she remembered just how much people sucked and were willing to turn on you at any provocation, even your own flesh and blood.

A tumbler and a bottle were pulled from their respective shelves before Jane plopped down on her couch. A quick flick of her wrist placed the two objects down on a second hand store coffee table before turning on the tv. A fire in Queens, a break-in at a jewelry store in the Bronx, stand-off with a violent ex-con resulting in sharpshooters doming the bastard in downtown Manhattan- it was a regular Friday night in the city that never sleeps. Jane poured the amber liquid into the glass before she gave it a swirl before downing it one go. The burn made her grunt as she refilled the glass repeating the action four more times before turning off the tv and returning the bottle plus the glass back to the kitchen.

For a moment Jane's eyes looked out into the darkness as Barry came to mind. She'd been heartbroken to hear of his death, he'd been the most neutral of everyone after the Doyle shooting and the shit show that came afterwards. He tried to be a buffer between their friends but it was too much in the end. She had seen it on his face and in his eyes when the group was intermixed, the silent anxiety building up like a damn. Her hands clenched into fists as she squeezed her eyes shut. Part of her wondered if the stress was partly what did him in. Barry was the only one she maintained some level of contact with after she left even though it was sporadic at best. Even though she didn't ask, he kept her abreast of the major cases that came up in her absence.

All for what? To be killed in a car crash coming back from vacation? Torn from the lives of the people who loved him?

Jane did her best to ignore the hypocrisy since she did the same thing to the people she once considered friends and her own blood relatives. Without looking, one arm reached up to a cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle, unscrewed the cap and pulled out two tablets. She hated taking them but they helped her anxiety and got her to sleep when she was forced to come home. Her eyes opened as she took a paper cup kept by the faucet and filled it before downing both the water and the pills.

The only thing she could hope for were that her dreams were empty that night as she lay in bed.