A/N: Hey everyone! back at it with another installment to the Ripper Series. I've decided to stray from the central show plot line, but will pepper in events as they come. I wanted this to be a more grey area between cannon and my own world building. If you have read it, there's a hint of backstory in there as it pertains to Jane and Maura and mentions of somethings that occurred there plot wise. This is a whole new case though so you should be on pretty good feet to read this standalone. I am trying a new style of writing so let me know wheat you like and don't like! I am going to be working on this and an AU fic at the same time so updates will likely be every other week for those respectively and pending any major work or school issues. As always I hope you enjoy and much love! - E.

As always the characters and trademarks for Rizzoli and Isles do not belong to me and are solely the property of reserved by Tess Gerritsen, TNT, and Warner Brothers.


Chapter 1:

Paperwork was a slow way to die.

There was not a singular worse activity in Jane Rizzoli's mind. Befitting punishment only for the direst of crimes. If the sheer boredom didn't kill you, the clerical frustrations would.

As much as the paperwork willed, the veteran Detective BPD's homicide unit couldn't let that happen. She resigned to sighing loudly and sat back in her aging office chair and glanced around the nearly empty bullpen.

It was getting dark and most of the day shift had left hours ago, the only real movement coming from the occasional flip of documents that her superior Vince Korsak was handling. Between them they had managed to rack up seven unfinished case reports, and neither one was racing to finish.

She looked back to the report on her screen, the blinking line mocking her. She began to type again, slowly considering her words.

Though she had typed the words a hundred times, her hands tensed before typing out the blaring words.

Case Status: Open, Cold.

It always left her mind and heart heavy as a stone to let a case go cold. As good of a detective as she was, she couldn't get them all. Between not having any clues or leads, to mishandled evidence, she knew that this man was fated to live in a box on a dusty evidence shelf for years to come.

She hit the save button and attached it to the database management system. She knew the remaining cases on her desk were the same outcome, but she didn't have the energy to face them now.

Dr. Grace Callaway was leaving quite the tail for her to follow, but the FBI had quickly swooped in to take over once her connection to other states was uncovered. The cases that sat here now, she knew were connected but it had been months since a single clue or body had turned up.

She would catch her one day, she could feel it. For now, the cold faces of men and women stared back at her unseeing.

She shoved away from her desk and ran her hands over her angular face, and up through the tumultuous waves of thick brown hair that surrounded her. Death by Case Report was not on her agenda tonight, she would finish another day.

Korsak lifted his gaze and moved to object her leaving. Seeing the snarl beginning to form, he held his hands up and tossed her an innocent look. She would feel guilty later, but the headache forming at the base of her skull had her rolling her eyes.

Collecting her keys from the desk drawer, she locked the computer hub and moved to the elevator bank at the far wall. Looking down at her phone she could see it was past eleven, she would need to be back in a little less than eight hours.

The elevator brought her slowly down to the garage level where her trusty unmarked Crown Vic sat alone and waiting. If she could get home quickly, she could probably salvage a few hours of solid rest.

Unlocking it, she slid in and waited for the old car to warm up. As she moved to slip it into gear, her phone began to blare out the familiar theme song to Cops signaling Dispatch was needing her.

Laying her head defeated against the headrest she slid the answer button to accept.

"Rizzoli."

"Dispatch needed to 139 Tremont Street, Boston Common for possible homicide. Lieutenant Cavanaugh requested and in route."

"Copy on route, tell the officers on scene I'm about 20 minutes out."

She hung up without a response knowing Dispatch wouldn't mind. The headache began to pound harder as she pulled smoothly out of the garage and into the mostly empty streets. It was starting to cool off in the city, the early fall breeze settling happily in between the concrete and glass towers that surrounded her.

She glided easily through the remnants of Tuesday night traffic to the entrance of Boston Common. Media vans swamped the parking lot to her left, creating a line of impenetrable vultures. She could make out Kitty Vansen thrusting a microphone towards one of the officers at the yellow crime scene tape line, who grimaced at her and ignored the slew of questions.

"Detective Rizzoli, is it true James Brumfield was found dead?"

Kitty was making her way quickly towards her, her long legs making large strides across the pavement. Her skin tight maxi dress made it hindered, but she was determined. Before she knew it the woman was inches away, microphone present but angled down.

"Not in the mood, nor am I dressed for an interview Kitty."

She gestured to the wrinkled black BPD collared shirt and dull tan chinos, at least her black sneakers were clean.

"Come on Jane, you know better than anyone here that all I want is to report the facts. Give me ten minutes, that's all."

The girl next door's pout normally would have worked on her, but tonight she was tired and snarky. She brushed past the man holding a cumbersome broadcasting recorder who flipped it around following her movement. Knowing Kitty would continue to follow, she stopped and turned ready to address them both.

"Kitty leave Jane alone. You know she won't have anything for you until I'm done anyway."

Jane could have cried at the sound of Maura's angelic voice echoing from behind her. She watched happily as Maura walked closer, a small smile gracing her lips. Crossing her arms, she gave her girlfriend a long up and down glance followed by a not so hidden wink. She chuckled at the sudden stiffness in the reporter's back. Maura had mentioned they shared a history a few months ago, and she was certain that the bleach blonde hadn't let it go.

Maura came to stop beside her and gave the reporter a non-negotiable look. Feeling Maura tug slightly on her hand, she decided to leave it at that. She shrugged as she turned to keep moving towards her crime scene, Maura gracefully in step next to her. Feeling a heated gaze on her back, Jane looked over her shoulder to find Kitty glaring at her. She gave a cunning smirk and allowed her hand to fall unprofessionally low on Maura's back.

"Jane, you know better."

Maura's voice was stern, in reference to both her teasing Kitty and their rules for PDA at work. She gave Jane a flash of smile before increasing her pace, leaving her hand to fall back to her side.

Her headache was still pounding, but knowing Maura was here and not Dr. Pike her spirits began to lift. At least there wouldn't be a mess of evidence and missed autopsy findings.

Flashing her badge, she made her way towards the swarm of officers and Cavanaugh who was talking adamantly on the phone with someone. She could see his forehead vein trying to push its way out of his head as a deep red flush settled around his neck.

The death glare settled on her and she knew whomever was lying on the ground next to Maura was not your average Joe. Taking a deep breath and slipping on her protective gear she made her way to stand next to her Lieutenant hands slipping easily into a parade rest position.

"I don't care if the Queen of England has to get involved! Keep this under wraps or it's your ass on the line, not mine."

He slammed hid thumb down on the end call button and cut into Jane with a sharp gaze.

"Where the hell have you been Rizzoli?"

"I just got the call twenty minutes ago Sir. Dispatch caught me on the way out from HQ."

"Twenty minutes?"

He looked down at his watched and took a deep breath.

"Sorry Rizzoli, it seems like it's been hours. The reporters even got here before we did. Patrol had to hound them off, luckily it looks like no one was able to get a photo."

"What exactly are we dealing with here?"

She relaxed her stance and looked past the group of officers shielding the body from public view. Expensive running shoes, Nike brand shorts and shirt, and headphones laying haphazardly.

"Christ tell me that is not who I think it is."

Jane could see the chiseled face of James Brumfield staring back at her. The CEO and Co-founder of W-B Industries, the fastest growing Tech firm in America. Mr. GQ was laying dead in one of the most popular places in Boston.

"It sure is. Press is going to have a field day if we don't handle this right. It's the reason I had them call you and Dr. Isles in. The mayor is barking down the Brass' necks and mine too, which means you need to be on your A game. Frost and Korsak will have hands on as well, but I want you on lead for this one."

"Of course. What do we know?"

Her face fell into a mask of pure professionalism as Cavanaugh listed of the particles of the 9-11 call and subsequent scene arrival. She scribbled notes to herself before being dismissed, the stocky man leaving her to make another call. She knew better than to press any further while he was riled up like this, so she started for the basics.

She made her way over to Maura who was taking notes next to the body. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail which complimented the more relaxed outfit. A white dress shirt tailored and pressed to accentuate her curves, tucked neatly into dark maroon slacks that tapered off at the ankle. Her normal high heels had been replaced by a pair of tan flats, which she knew was a product of a very long day.

She knelt next to Maura, watching the woman in her element. She knew better than to try and flirt too much here. It had only been a few months since they had decided to take their relationship further, and they still weren't out to everyone. They certainly didn't want it to be headline news, with them kissing at a crime scene.

"What do we have Maura?"

"Well, initial examination shows an entry and exit wound consistent with a close-range weapon discharge. Not sure of the caliber yet, but Frankie is working on evidence collection."

Jane looked up to see her younger brother pause to write on an evidence bag several yards away. He looked slightly out of placed with the too large suit and scuffed dress shoes. He was slowly working his way to Homicide, but still had a way to go before looking the part.

"Internal temperature is 95.1 which would put his time of death around twenty and twenty-one hundred hours. He has some bruising forming on the wrists and palms, but other than that there isn't much."

"Is his wallet here? Guy's got money, could be a targeted mugging gone wrong."

Maura unzipped the small grey waist pack that had ridden up the man's abdomen. Reaching in, she managed to produce a small billfold. She handed it over to Jane and continued her examination.

Jane flipped the billfold open and was greeting to the bright white smile of James Brumfield. His license, credit card, and several large bills remained intact with no sign of disruption.

Jane sighed, money left in the wallet and not a single sign of defense on the body. This was going to be homicide; she could feel it in her gut.

"This is going to be a nightmare."

She moved to stand, slipping the wallet into an evidence bag as she did.

"I am going to check in with Frankie, and see what we are working with evidence wise."

Maura nodded and looked up to give her an encouraging, if not tired smile. She knew the doctor was exhausted after a day of lecturing for the national forensic symposium that was happening this week. She knew that even though it meant not sleeping more than a few hours, Maura would manage to get both done with a smile on her face.

As she made her way to Frankie, she noted the yellow number markers indicating footprints and other important items. The techs thankfully had already started their process and she knew the photos would be waiting for her by the time she arrived back at headquarters.

The younger Rizzoli stood with his back towards her and didn't seem to hear her approach. She leaned into his shoulder whispering.

"Whatcha doin?"

While not loud enough to draw too much attention, the scream that emitted from her brother was several octaves higher than his normal bellow.

Turning he straighten his back to stand taller and lowered his voice into a false baritone, his voice wavering with the effort.

"Just uh, collecting evidence."

"Uh huh, that why your pocket is suddenly talking like Malibu Barbie?"

He looked down shyly as he fished his cell phone from his front pocket, the voice on the other end sounding more frantic the longer they stood there. She watched with an amused eyebrow up as he quietly explained he had to go and hung up with a small goodbye.

"So…"

She drew out the long o sound and poked him in the shoulder.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, no one that you would know."

His eyes darted down to his feet and back up, anywhere but Jane's face.

She stared him down, giving her best interrogation face. Her arms folded neatly with one hand tapping a short rhythm on her arm. He squirmed under her intense gaze, but held out for a few moments longer. Though she knew her style and knew how to get people to talk.

Her silence for people was almost as bad as the paperwork was for her.

Frankie folded, giving her his best mopey frown as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Heather Green."

Jane was shocked and sputtered for a moment before finding her voice.

"Heather Green the journalist. The same Heather Green that pinned me as Boston's beacon for serial killers? The same that when Callaway escape made me out to be the accomplice? That Heather Green?"

Frankie shyly nodded at the anger driven words.

"She's not all that bad…"

Jane cut him off before he could have a chance to mutter any excuse he could think of.

This was Jane's practical rain cloud in form of a hot-headed journalist. Their feud had never strayed into direct harm of other another, but this was taking things too far. She didn't trust that the woman wasn't out to just use Frankie to get to her.

"Why is Heather Green calling you at nearly midnight on a Tuesday?"

"She left her laptop at my place and wanted to know if I could drop it off for her after I was done here."

"Oh, come on Frankie!"

She pushed past him, clipping his shoulder slightly with his. Between the headache, the high-profile dead guy, and now her brother sleeping with her professional bully she was close to a meltdown.

"Jane, it's nothing serious! We were just hooking up is all, not like we are planning a wedding or anything."

He hadn't followed her, for which she was thankful. She didn't need to start a full-on fight with her brother at a scene. She walked down the path away from the bright flood lights to recollect herself. It was a small dip down to the next section of the park, and it became quiet now that the other officers and crowds weren't here.

The path was well maintained and paved on this section which made her strides quick and easy. Her mind was running scenario after scenario of what that woman wanted from her. It wasn't like she had hurt her in any way other than giving Kitty the exclusive to her interview on the Hoyt cases. It should have fizzled out after all these years, but the woman was relentless.

Jane was lost in thought when her shoe caught on something and sent her flying to pavement. The harsh scrap of loose asphalt embedded itself into her palms as she tried to catch herself as her knees landed hard on the ground.

She turned and sat on the ground, sucking in air to try and calm her tears and pain. The object that had managed to take her out lay several inches away. The shiny metal caught the low light of the overhead lights that dotted the path.

A gun stared back at her. It's silver barrel ensconced with a small black silencer. She rolled her eyes as she un-clipped her radio from her belt.

"Frankie, come here I think I got our murder weapon."

Their fight would have to wait, right now she needed her second set of eyes.

"On my way. Going to grab a scene tech."

The radio went silent and the sound of clipped footsteps crested over the hill she had come down. She turned to push herself up, the fall had her knees aching, but there didn't seem to be too much damage. She brushed her pant legs off as Frankie approached.

Before she could mutter a word, she felt the wind being knocked out of her and knees hitting the hard pavement again. She looked up to see a man that wasn't Frankie, grab the gun and run at a dead sprint to the other side of the path. She couldn't catch her breath, but she couldn't let him get away.

She managed to scramble to her feet and make it to the edge of the tree line, her own weapon drawn and pointed forward. She called out with a weak voice. Any large breath was still hard to take in.

"Boston Police, put your weapon down and hands up!"

She was greeted with silence before a single bullet slung past her and into the tree to her left. She crouched low and fumbled for her flashlight not daring to poke her head out as a target.

She found purchase on the small light and swung around the tree trunk to shine it at her attacker. The sound of a dirt bike starting had her back on her feet and moving into the woods. She could see him kicking the gear shift forward and take off into an area, she wasn't familiar with.

She slammed her back against the tree and activated her radio again.

"Shots fired, suspect fled west on multi-colored dirt bike, he is armed and dangerous."

Within a minute the trees around her were swarmed with officers. Frankie came barreling towards her trying to catch up to Maura who was on the warpath. She met the woman half way and put her arms out to grab Maura's hands, already knowing the string of questions about to be asked.

"I'm alright, just very winded. I'll let you look me over as soon as we get this settled."

She squeezed Maura's hand softly and ran a soothing thumb over her knuckles. Maura stared at her hard for a moment, blinking back tears that were forming at the edges of her eyesight. The fear she saw settled on Maura's face had her heart clenching.

"What the hell happened Janie?"

Frankie's strained voice broke through their bubble and Maura broke away from her. She looked up to see her brother and Cavanaugh both waiting for an answer. She shot a look to Maura who had taken up residence next to her. She nodded and fiddled with the necklace that was draped at her collarbone.

She held her side in attempt to quell the aching bruise that was forming, and drew a shuttering breath.

She gave her report in full detail as Cavanaugh took notes and Frankie listened with a deep frown settled on his face. Once she was finished, she could see the officers had taken control of the scene and pushed their tape back to extend out to further than she could see. Maura had shuffled closer as she went on, and now rested her hand on her back. She felt the comfort it gave both of them and leaned slightly into it.

Cavanaugh mumbled under his breath before shutting his notebook.

"Alright, that's enough excitement for one night. I need to get on the phone with the captain and see what he wants us to do. For now, Doc I want you to take Rizzoli home and Frankie, I want you on lead here until Frost arrives. I'll have Korsak head to yours Jane, he and two other patrol officers on sight as a precaution. I doubt this guy was going after you directly, but you know the rules."

She nodded as he took over the scene ensuring all officers had a role. They could hear the shouts of a few reporters hounding questions and she knew she was ready to leave.

Frankie drew her into a loose hug careful of her ribs. She was still mad at him, but the warmth she felt from him helped her relax a bit. She pulled back and gave him a firm tap on the cheek before moving to walk with Maura back to the parking lot.

They easily dodged the reporters that were engrossed in Cavanagh's speech, and found themselves in the darkened Mercedes that Maura had driven that day. Normally the Prius would be their go to ride, but she was thankful for the heavy tint keeping them from view.

Jane could feel her heart slow finally, the scent of Maura's perfume and the rich leather seats had her mind settling as well. She allowed her head to fall back and looked over at the woman who was carefully examining her and her actions.

Maura was her everything, and nights like this had her seriously questioning her line of work. The look of fear had been replaced with apprehension as Maura leaned over to gently run her fingers over the angry red marks on her hands. Soft lips pressed against them each in turn soothing the rough burn as Maura kissed her hands and cheek.

"You're really giving my heart a run for it's money this year Detective."

Maura's voice was quiet, but held a lilt of laughter to it, the adrenaline high settling in.

"Trust me when I say it is so not intentional."

Leaning forward she pressed her lips briefly to Maura's, anchoring them together with a scarred hand on Maura's pale cheek. She rested her forehead against Maura's and gave it a more lingering kiss that brought them both comfort.

"We should go. Vince is going to get worried."

Maura's voice was gentle as she withdrew.

Jane simply nodded and slid the belt buckle into place as Maura started the car and drove smartly to her apartment. She had started to nod off as she felt a strong hand slip onto her thigh and rub soothing circles. A small gesture of trust that meant Jane was still alive, and still with her. She allowed the woman to continue as they wound their way through car lined streets.

Pulling up to her apartment, she could see Korsak nod his head at her as the doctor led her up the stairs and into the familiar space. She knew she should probably let Maura look her over, but the adrenaline was crashing her systems. Her eyes had started to close on their own before they had even made it past the front door.

She let her autopilot take over as she dragged heavy feet down to her bedroom, stripping as she went. If Maura had been behind her, she wouldn't have even noticed. The soft pillow blankets were calling her name, lecturing could wait.

She landed face down on the pillows not bothering to pull the blankets around her. She could feel the pulse of heat that settled around the scar from the knife wound she had gotten and realized the kick she had received had landed right on top.

She rolled to get more comfortable as the small sounds of Maura locking up her apartment lulling her to sleep. She didn't feel the bed dip under Maura's weight, but she did feel the strong arm pull her in close. The soft press of lip settled at the crown of her head reminding her that she was alright.