Olivia is in awe of Emily Prentiss.
Of her perfectly pressed uniform and her delicate silver necklaces. She wears penny loafers with shiny copper pennies peeking through the little hole in the tongue, and her French is so precise that sometimes she stumps their teacher with her vocabulary. They've been spending a lot of time together at school, the three of them. But when Jane is busy with soccer, or her schedule doesn't line up with the 8th graders, Olivia finds herself gravitating towards Emily. There is something mysterious and alluring about her. Olivia can't quite put her finger on it.
"Yesterday she was wearing a ring, did you see?" Olivia says, vaguely aware that she could be talking about their new friend too much. "It had a real diamond in it." She grabs one end of the fitted sheet and waits while Jane grabs the other.
"How do you know it was a real diamond?" Jane asks, sounding a little surly.
"I asked her."
Jane bites her lip. "She coulda lied," she says, stretching her section of sheet down over the mattress and reaching for another end.
"She wasn't lying," Olivia says, slightly irritated. "Why would she lie about something like that?"
Jane doesn't answer for a moment, just pulls the last corner of the sheet over the mattress and reaches for the next layer. "So what," she says finally, "she's like…married?"
Olivia snorts. "No, you punk, it wasn't a wedding ring. It was just like a ring for whenever. She wasn't wearing it on her wedding finger."
Jane is silent again, and they finish with the top sheet and the comforter before she speaks again.
"Well, who'd want to wear a ring just for no reason anyways?" she says grumpily.
Olivia doesn't answer. She moves around the corner of the bed to inspect Jane's hospital corners. She knows that the younger girl is just trying to make her feel better, but it was not out of jealousy that she'd brought up the diamond ring.
"She lived in France," Olivia hears herself say. She cannot help it. "And Tunisia, and-"
"That's a made up place," Jane says indignantly. "She's just boasting, hoping you'll like her." Jane's expression is a mixture of exasperation and worry. "She's just trying to impress you."
"Tunisia is too a real place, Jane," Olivia says, trying to keep her own frustration to herself. "And she showed me pictures."
Jane blinks, absorbing this, and Olivia realizes that she has said the exact wrong thing for the moment.
"Tuesday/Thursday lunch," she explains, even though Jane hasn't asked. "You're out at soccer the whole time."
Jane's face does not betray any emotion. Olivia sighs, knowing not to push it. She changes the subject instead. "These corners look really good, though, Jane."
Jane shrugs.
"You ready?"
Jane nods, but doesn't look at her. Together, they exit the bedroom and make their way down the little hallway to the living room.
Serena Benson is collapsed on the threadbare sofa in the front room of the apartment. Her mouth hangs open, slack. She is snoring slightly, the crease between her eyebrows barely there in her sleep. The empty gin bottle sits between her legs, tilted towards the floor.
Olivia doesn't like to look at her this way. Jane hangs back a little as Olivia walks up to the couch and tugs gently on her mother's arm.
"Mom?"
Serena doesn't move.
"Mom. We cleaned the bed. Put new sheets on and everything. You can get back in it now."
No response.
"Maybe we should leave her," Jane whispers tentatively. "I mean…she's sitting up, and she's not like-"
"No," Olivia says firmly. "If she throws up on the couch it won't come clean." She slips her mother's limp arm around her shoulders. "Help me."
Even though she is almost three years Olivia's junior, Jane is tall and strong for her age. Together, they manage to half walk, half drag Serena down the hall and into the bedroom.
As Olivia tucks her mother in, Jane bends and gathers the soiled sheets up into her arms. "We can do these at my place," she says, shoving them into the trash bag that's been lying ready by the door. "Pop fixed the washer, and if you don't put too much in at once it works pretty well. But they'll have to hang dry."
"I got enough quarters," Olivia says, "we can dry them at the Suds and Duds after."
Jane nods, and she seems to struggle with herself for a moment before saying, a little defiantly.
"I'm here, Liv…you know? I'm the one who's here."
Olivia nods.
Understood.
...
Olivia and Jane walk to school together every day. They have for the past four years. Since Olivia had discovered small, tousle haired, kindergarten Jane Rizzoli at a crosswalk on the way to the elementary school building. Olivia had watched as the walk sign had flashed safe to cross, then back to red, and then safe again three times. Jane hadn't moved.
When she'd approached the little girl and asked her why she didn't cross the street, Jane had explained that her mother had forbid her to cross without holding the hand of an adult.
"I don't us'ally care," she'd said, puffing her little chest out. "But I dn't want to even die." Her big brown eyes went wide. "I'm not astupid."
So Olivia had taken her hand and crossed the street with her. She'd done it the next day, and every day that week, and when she'd come out of her house on the following Monday, Jane had been waiting for her, oversized bookbag slung over her shoulder.
When they switched schools, moved up to the middle school, which was a much longer walk, with many more crossings, there was no discussion about whether or not they would ride the bus or take the metro. They knew each other well enough by then to understand that neither of their families had the money for that.
So they walked. It became as familiar a ritual to Olivia as brushing her teeth in the morning, or staggering the amount of wine bottles in the recycling. So later, when she looks back on the Monday morning in question, she will not be able to explain why she forgot about Jane's existence entirely.
Emily Prentiss is waiting for Olivia when she opens the door. She is dressed in a woolen gray pea coat and a cream colored hat with a little pompom on top. Her hands are encased in leather gloves.
"Hi," she says, trying for cheerful, but landing somewhere just south of nervous. "I wondered if you wanted to ride to school with me? It's starting to get cold." She gestures over her shoulder to where a sleek black car is idling at the curb. It looks like a car from a movie. It looks like a care that royalty would emerge from.
Olivia does not even consider saying no, but her mouth is also refusing to accept. She pictures herself getting out of the car in front of the school, her new friend by her side, and all the kids that used to whisper about her in the hallways would now be dying to come up to her and chat.
Emily bites her lip, "Olivia?"
Olivia snaps back to reality. "huh?"
"Do you want to ride to school with me?"
Yes. Yes! Yes yes! "Sure," Olivia says, as casually as she can. She hopes that the other girl doesn't notice her hands are shaking. "Let me just grab my stuff." Emily starts to follow Olivia into the hall, but Olivia puts her hand up.
"No!" she says, too forcefully. "Just wait here…k?"
Emily's eyebrows have pulled together, but she nods and takes a step back. Olivia runs back into her apartment to grab her sweater and her shoulder bag. She cracks the door to her mother's room and watches the lump on the bed until she is sure it is rising and falling.
Then she runs back to the front door and pulls it open.
Emily is still there.
"Ready?"
Olivia's fingers tingle with excitement.
"Ready."
…
Olivia does not realize what she has done until she and Emily are passing Jane's locker, and even then she looks at it for a while, trying to understand why she feels so uneasy.
Then it hits her. Hits her hard enough that she stops walking.
"Oh, shit," she says under her breath.
Emily stops a couple paces ahead and looks back at her, eyebrows raised.
"You don't usually swear," she says calmly. "What's up?"
"We left Jane," the sentence makes her stomach start to hurt. "Oh shit, we left Jane," she says again, but the pain doesn't ease. She looks up at Emily and a second realization hits her square in the chest.
"You didn't forget," she says lowly. "You didn't forget Jane."
Emily blinks, her face staying impassive. Finally she opens her mouth. "No," she says. "I didn't."
…
…
"Rizzoli."
"Remember how jealous you were of Emily and Me?"
There is a pause on the line. Olivia smiles, picturing her best friend's face, half asleep and fully grumpy. They will often call each other like this, one of them pulling up some piece of the past that is preventing sleep. Usually the call comes near midnight, or in the wee hours of the morning, and this time is no exception. Olivia glances at the clock on her nightstand. It glows 1:52am.
"Nice way to start a conversation," Jane says finally, yawning. "Let's see…Do I remember how jealous I was…" There is a smile in the detective's voice as she pretends to think. "I remember my best friend pretending I didn't exist for weeks at a time…I remember how she ditched me to do nerd things with her fancy new friend without so much as a 'see you later.' Could that be what you're referring to?"
Olivia laughs. "Hey, Jane."
"Hey, Liv. Can't sleep?"
"Guy's targeting kids under ten. Keeps them for three days then puts them in crowded places to be found. No one ever sees him drop them. No leads in over a week."
Jane waits a full beat before answering. "Say it," she says finally.
Olivia sighs, running her fingers through her hair. "Seeing these kids so torn up," she says, lowering her voice. "Sometimes I wish he'd just kill them."
"Why doesn't he?" Jane asks.
Olivia doesn't answer right away. Jane doesn't push her. "I had a dream about that time that Emily and I took her car to school without you. Right up to the part where I found outside at the crosswalk."
"Yeah," Jane says, more to encourage than to add anything.
"Like on repeat. Right up to the moment when you turned and looked at us. Just a replay of your face…you know?"
Jane is silent for a long time, and Olivia lies on her side and watches the seconds tick by on the bedside clock. Is she remembering their fight?
"Where's he leave them?" Jane asks finally.
"Mall," Olivia answers. "Public park…"
"Mmm."
There is a noise on the other end of the phone like the creaking of a door, and Olivia hears someone say Jane's name. She listens as Jane moves her mouth away from the receiver to talk.
Yeah…no I'm fine. It's just Liv…Stay. Olivia raises her eyebrows in surprise.
"You entertaining?" She asks, when Jane comes back on the line.
The younger woman snorts. "No…" A brief hesitation. "I'm at Maura's…we had a rough day. Retired cop turned out to be dirty…put a gun to her head."
Olivia knows of Maura only through the snapshots that Jane provides, but it has not been lost on her that they seem to be spending a lot of time together recently.
"You're staying at Maura's?" she asks now, hoping she doesn't sound too incredulous.
"She was…We were both pretty shaken by it," Jane says, a huge admission that Olivia would not have expected from her over the phone. "I'm just here for moral support."
"Mmm." Olivia's turn to make a non committal sound.
Jane sighs grumpily, which is the other woman's cue to drop it. "Why am I seeing your face?" She asks. "Your pissed off, ten year old face is haunting my dreams, Rizzoli. What am I missing?"
"He's jealous of them," Jane says with a drawn out sigh that means she's stretching.
"Again," Olivia says, shorthand for an explanation.
"He's not old. And he hasn't healed or matured from whatever happened to him. He's seeing the world through this…grey tinted glass, and he's pissed off…and jealous."
And it clicks.
"He's putting them back damaged," Olivia says. "Shit…Jay."
But it is clear that the brunette does not want to explore her insight tonight. "Can you sleep?" she asks briskly. "Do you want to go over leads?"
Olivia shakes her head. "No. Shit. I can't believe I didn't put that together, Jane. Thank you."
She hears covers rustle, and is visited by the sudden certainty that Maura is there withJane in bed.
"New York is making you soft, Liv," Jane mumbles, already heading back to sleep.
"See you soon," Olivia whispers.
Jane murmurs something unintelligible, and Olivia's earlier suspicion is vindicated just before the phone goes dead.
Hang up, sweetheart.
Olivia lies back against her headboard, suddenly wide awake.
"Sweetheart," she says to herself.
…
…
"She's my friend," Olivia says, keeping her voice level. She hates it when people underestimate Jane. "I want to be friends with you, but if you can't get along with her, then…it's not going to work."
Emily's eyes widen the tiniest bit, but that is the only sign that Olivia's words have any effect on her.
"I'm sorry," she says, at least sounding sincere, if she doesn't look it. "It wasn't kind of me."
"No, it wasn't," Olivia agrees. "Jane is like my sister. And she's good."
"You're," Emily pauses, clearly trying to find inoffensive words. Olivia waits patiently, wanting to see what she comes up with.
"I'm…" Olivia prompts slowly.
Emily goes a little pink, but she does not back down. "You two are so different."
Olivia raises her eyebrows. "Jane and I?"
Emily presses her lips into a thin line. "Yes," she says hesitantly. "I don't think she likes me. I think she thinks I'm stealing you."
"Can you blame her?" Olivia crosses her arms, and Emily stares at the gesture like it is its own sentence. "I know you two…are so close…but you don't seem to have very much in common." Emily looks like she doesn't have full control of her own words.
Olivia is glad that Jane has stormed off before this part of the conversation. She would be fighting already. "We're more alike the more you get to know us," Olivia says softly, and she is pleased that her implication is not lost on the girl in front of her.
Olivia takes a step closer. "Hey," she says, softer, "You know, Jane'll come around, if you stop excluding her. Stop talking to her like she's a baby."
"She's immature," Emily's face is instantly regretful.
Olivia feels a sharp stab of anger at this girl. She can see her through Jane's eyes for the briefest of moments.
"She's not," she says, hearing her voice drop low and go cold. "You don't know anything about her." A flash of her mother, passed out on her couch surrounded by empty bottles. "Or me," she adds. "You don't know anything about us. We look out for each other. End of story."
And Emily looks sorry, and hurt and…maybe a little bit admiring as she nods her head vigorously.
"You're right," she says. "You're right. I'm sorry."
They stand there in silence for a while, until Emily gathers her nerves enough to speak again.
"But I want to," she says quietly, "know you…both. I really do."
Olivia scrutinizes the girl in front of her. She wants to get to know Emily too. Not just because of her fancy clothes and jewelry, but because she can see something else, something that connects them, deep down, under the surface. Because of the way she calls her mother "the ambassador" and because Olivia has never seen her. Not once in the month that they've been hanging out.
"You can't talk about Jane," she says, wanting to push the point. "You can't talk about her around me, and if you talk about me around her, she'll mess you up."
Emily nods somberly. "Understood," she says quietly. And then, like an afterthought. "I wouldn't talk about you, though."
Olivia ignores this. She has already decided that she's going to trust the girl in front of her. That the next time Jane calls her, the next time it happens, she will take Emily along so that she can see. She has already decided to let her in, the next time she shows up at the door.
But she is not about to let Emily know that. Not yet.
She has to prove something of herself first. She has to redeem herself.
"Will you remember her tomorrow?" Olivia asks.
Emily looks surprised, and then she looks cautiously optimistic. "Will she accept?" She asks, and there is a kind of tense bravado in her voice. She is not used to backing down. Olivia realizes it has taken a lot from her to admit that she is in the wrong.
Well. No matter. Olivia may look kind and gentle, but she can fight along with the best of them.
"Will. You. Remember. Her?"
Emily's jaw sets. Cowed.
"Yes."
"Okay," Okay says, turning back in the direction of school. "Let's go before lunch break's over."
And Emily falls into step without saying anything.
Olivia doesn't smile at her, it's too soon. But when they get back to the school, and Emily heads in the direction of her locker, tossing a furtive glance over her shoulder, Olivia lifts her chin a bit, saying good-bye.
"Bye Olivia," Emily says.
"Yeah. See ya, Prentiss."
...
...
Wow guys. Thank you so much for the response. I hope you all continue to enjoy. I've outlined this at about 20 chapters. Really just a big character study with some of my favorite characters. Continue to shoot me questions and comments. PM or otherwise. You can also reach me through my tumblr. Same name.
You are all great, and I couldn't be happier that you're on board.
happy reading!
tc