CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Korsak turns away from the bar with his drink held aloft. "Here's to an amazing team," he toasts with a big smile on his face, tips his head in their direction. "Well done, everyone!"

Among the celebratory clinking of glasses and bottles, several voices clamor, "Hear! Hear!" and she can clearly make out one of them as her mother in the next booth.

"Fastest case closure of the week!" Frost declares, claps her firmly on the shoulder. "And the month, probably. In fact I think it's a record."

Her instinct is to shuck off the praise. To shrug and say all in a day's work. They rescued the girl unhurt and put the bad guy behind bars. It went smoothly, quietly and without the benefit of a whole SWAT team. But she has to admit this feels especially good.

As she smiles down at the tabletop, she realizes she doesn't need to weigh pros and cons anymore. This alternate reality thing provides her – them - some undeniably unique professional advantages. Personal benefits notwithstanding - which are hard to ignore when she can smell Maura's alluring scent from across the table - it's pretty damn clear now that using the doorway was the best fucking idea she's ever had.

She clinks her bottle first against Frost's beer, then against Maura's almost-empty wine glass with a very satisfied smile. "Cheers!"

"Yes, um… cheers," the doctor replies absently, seems to realize she needs a refill and gestures to the bar. "Oh, I'll just… Would anyone else like another?"

Frost lifts his almost-full bottle. "Not for me."

"Or me," she says, frowns as Maura flashes an unconvincing smile. Wonders what is troubling the doctor so much that she's gulped the white wine they bought not five minutes ago.

"What's the matter with Dr. Isles?" Frost asks, because of course he's noticed it, too.

The sides of her mouth turn down. "No idea," she breathes as she watches the woman walk away.

She could take a guess, given the rarity of seeing Maura so glum. Has some idea that it might signal trouble for the blonde's relationship with -

"Jack," Frost mutters and it makes her head snap round.

"Huh?"

He jerks his chin to the doorway and her eyes follow.

Jack.

"Aw, shit," she mutters.

They watch as the professor spots Maura and joins her at the bar.

"I guess we'll find out," Frost notes with a hint of humor.

It would probably be polite to look away, but she can't tear her eyes from what is clearly a lovers' quarrel.

Animated gestures convey Maura's displeasure, and for several minutes they sit slumped in their booth transfixed but unable to distinguish more than a handful of hushed words. For that, at least, Jane is grateful. Morbid fascination is human nature, but she really doesn't need to know.

Then before long, the couple seem to reach a truce of sorts and Jack follows dutifully as Maura makes her way back to their booth.

The doctor doesn't sit, just scoops up her purse and says primly before turning away, "Please excuse me. I'm just going to powder my nose."

Dropping into the empty seat opposite, Jack's eyes trail Maura all the way to the ladies room and he lets out a huge sigh.

"If I didn't know any better," Frost pipes up in between throwing peanuts into his mouth, "I'd say you're in the doghouse."

"I made a mistake and she's upset with me," Jack says, as if the last part isn't obvious to everyone in the room.

Her face falls as an arsenal of protective instincts kick in. Scowling darkly from beneath heavy brows, she imagines Frost's face must have clouded over, too, because in a flash Jack's hands are flailing defensively and his eyes are flickering back and forth between them. "Oh no - nothing horrible. I would never – no, I just… unintentionally stood her up a couple of times. There was this work thing… and then my ex... and I tried to apologize, but somehow I made it worse."

"What do you want us to do about it?" asks Frost. So unapologetically blunt that she feels a twinge of sympathy for Jack, right before she's bowled over by a tidal wave of affection for her equally protective partner.

"That's why I'm here," Jack replies and his eyes leave Frost to land on her. "I was hoping for some help."

"Me?!" she squeaks. He has to be joking.

He leans forward, all puppy dog eyes and she's sure that look has probably worked on some women. Maybe even worked on Maura in the beginning. But… ugh. This can't be happening.

"I need a gift – something… big. Extravagant. But it's hard to know what to get. It has to be something that shows her how sorry I am, how much she means to me. But is that a diamond necklace? A week in the Caribbean? I can't -"

She shakes her head as she cuts in. "Maura wouldn't want extravagant. Just ask her, she'll tell you. Why don't you… I dunno… make her dinner, watch a documentary, talk -"

"It has to be special," he insists.

"Okay, listen," she sighs impatiently, already kicking herself for what she's about to do.

Grabbing Frost's suit jacket off the seat beside her, she nabs a pen from the inside pocket. Ignores his tutted objection as she scribbles on a napkin.

Newbury. Chez Katia. DeLuca's.

"This never happened," she growls, watches Jack nod as she leans forward, slides the napkin to where he can see it and points the pen at the first suggestion.

"The Newbury - She went there once, but she didn't get to try anything because she was too busy saving an old guy from a heart attack. She was disappointed for like… an entire week." Frost snorts beside her and she turns to him with a chuckle. Recalls how adorable the sulking medical examiner had been with her bottom lip sticking out. "I'm serious! I never heard the end of it." She hadn't wanted to, if she's brutally honest. Because Maura had whined and stomped her foot - actually stomped like a toddler - and Jane had wanted to scoop the woman up in her arms, take that bottom lip between her own and –

She clears her throat and turns back to Jack with a forced frown. "Take her there for lunch and make it good. No calls, no student emergencies." She wants to say no ex-wife or daughter drama but bites her tongue. Ignores the undercurrent of bitterness and jealousy that vibrates beneath her skin. Tries to lighten her own mood with some humor. "And if she makes you eat snails, or something equally disgusting, you're on your own."

"Ignore her," Frost laughs. "She's got the palate of a Neanderthal."

When she turns to him, it's with her whole body, not just her head and she sees him shrink back a tiny bit. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Adventurous. Are we forgetting the live clam dish she convinced you to try at Fugakyu last year?"

Frost turns instantly green. "But it came in a steel bowl, and looked…" He gulps, closes his eyes with a shudder. "…like a tongue."

"Mm-hm," she nods, pleased with herself. "That's what I thought." Turning back to Jack, she shucks a thumb over her shoulder. "We had to get someone to take it away while he yakked in the bathroom."

"Oh," Jack murmurs, a shade paler now than when he walked in.

Stabbing the pen at the napkin again, she moves onto the next suggestion. "This is the boutique she likes - Chez Katia. A new pair of shoes always cheers her up. Anything except blue suede. She already has a pair of those. Size seven and a half. The half is important. She'll say seven if you ask her, but it's a lie. I've no idea why she does that. And no heel higher than four inches. The knobby balls and silly yoga class didn't work out."

"Knobby balls?"

Draining the last of her beer, she waves a dismissive hand before shaking her head. "Long story. Never mind."

She plonks the empty bottle down in front of Frost because it's his round. Glares at him for long seconds and, when he doesn't move, she flicks her eyebrows in the direction of the bar. But he just stares back at her with a grin, like he's enjoying her misery a little too much and she hates him.

With a huge sigh, she moves onto the final name on the list. "DeLuca's on Charles Street – Ask for a Château La Pointe Bordeaux. It's one of her favorites and will go with anything."

Frost interjects again. "By anything… do you mean pizza?"

"Yes, pizza!" she exclaims indignantly. Turns to him with a wide-eyed look that says fucking knock it off! She can take his teasing, but implying she's uncultured and unsophisticated in front of the stupid handsome professor does something to her guts. "You got a problem with that, Gordon Ramsey?"

"No, no," he chuckles.

"It's even good with grilled cheese," she snarks. Turns and points at Jack. "But you don't make grilled cheese," and he shakes his head like it's obvious. As if it wouldn't be classy enough for a woman like Maura and Jane doesn't tell him it's her specialty and Maura has enjoyed it many times.

"No, I'll - I'll make something…"

"Italian?" Frost blurts and Jane thumps her fist into his thigh.

"Look," she sighs again, pushes the napkin across the table. Decides to wrap things up before it gets any more uncomfortable. "She likes museums and art galleries and chocolate fudge clusters and panda poop tea… and actually -" She squints, because sometimes the truth hurts. "She really liked that strange plant you bought her when you first met, so maybe a - a Venus fly trap or something. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Th-thank you," he stutters, seems a little overwhelmed by the information. And if Frost's face is anything to go by, her rambling catalog of Isles favorites might have left her a little too transparent.

"Don't thank me," she sniffs, tries to claw back some dignity. "Just don't fu – Oof!" She takes a sharp elbow to the ribs as Frost clears his throat. Looks up to see Maura making her way back to the table.

He sips his drink like nothing happened and she snarls in his ear. "Asshole." Slaps on a fake smile and watches as Jack pockets the napkin. "Don't forget anything," she tells him with finality, makes her threat subtle but unmistakable.

"I won't," he murmurs quietly as Maura appears by the table.

"Ready to go?" The blonde smiles, more like her usual self than she was ten minutes ago and Jane wonders how much of it is genuine.

"You mind if I steal her?" Jack asks and his focus is on her again.

Mind. Why would she mind? "Go! Go. Have fun," she lies. Wishes she'd rolled that napkin and shoved it up one of his nostrils. Stupid handsome professor.

Frost waves. "See you tomorrow, Dr. Isles."

"Goodnight, everyone," the doctor says, dips her head at each of them but lingers a moment when their eyes meet. "Jane."

"Goodnight, Maura," she croaks and Frost seems to take pity on her at last as the two sit in awkward silence.

"I'll get us some drinks," he says and heads for the bar. Returns with two beers and two shots of what she hopes is the strongest whiskey they sell. Finds her relief short-lived when Angela slides into the booth opposite.

"You did a real nice thing there, Janie."

"Ugh." She curses under her breath and shakes her head. She had forgotten her mother's proximity and figures the eavesdropping was inevitable.

Taking a drink, she shrugs it off. Latches her eyes onto the tabletop as her words get swallowed up by the glass bottle pressed to her lips. "No big deal."

"But, it is a big deal, honey" Angela coos, and she's determined not to get annoyed and spoil the evening. "You know, it takes a lot of love to put somebody else first like that. Wouldn't you agree, Barry?"

"I most certainly would, Mrs. Rizzoli."

"What -?" She shakes herself, knocks her beer bottle down on the table and turns to glare at Frost. So much for a quiet night. "What's going on here? Did you say something to her, is that why she -" Turning her head to glare at Angela, she holds out her beer and uses the bottleneck to point between the two. "You, don't listen to anything he says. And you -" She turns back to Frost, puts her beer down and jabs him in the bicep. "You gossipy son-of-a-bitch, you're as bad as her!"

"Ow," he chuckles, rubs at his arm as he leans away. "I know you kiss your mother with that mouth!" Earns himself a sharp swat from Angela, too, before her mother sits back with her arms folded in a way that doesn't bode well and they both quiet like scolded children.

"Shall I tell you what I know?" Angela says, surprises her and Barry both with her soft voice and sympathetic gaze. "I know that… when you helped Jack just now… it must have hurt like hell."

And there it is. The truth laid so glaringly bare that she can't force any words up past the lump in her throat. Just gulps painfully and tries to block out thoughts of someone else dating her best friend.

"Yeah," she groans, covers it with a cough. Figures they might be encouraged to move onto something else if she just owns up and admits it for once. "Well, we're here to celebrate our collective investigative genius, not to discuss what an idiot I am. So… cheers!" She picks up the shot of whiskey, downs it in one with an audible gulp. Hisses through her teeth and winces as it burns. Sighs as the liquid warmth smothers the emptiness within.

Frost laughs as she slams the empty shot glass down in front of her mother. "I think that makes it your round, Mrs. Rizzoli."

"Okay, okay. But you should know…" Angela hesitates after she rises. Pins Jane with that motherly look, the one that makes her feel unfairly young and clueless and fiercely loved. "It hurts us, too."

"Ma -" she croaks, wishes her mother would hurry up and disappear along with the damn tears she can feel welling up.

"We won't tell her what is staring her in the face, but she'll figure it out one day, and when she does you can -"

She shakes her head. "I can't -" Tries not to think about having her Maura – the real, original Maura, the one she fell in love with – love her back without any magic or mysterious interference. Without the feelings of guilt or deception that still simmer around the edges of her heart, despite having convinced herself she's doing nothing wrong. Still thinks a carbon copy is enough.

Angela just shrugs and bluntly says, "You can think about it. Or you can pine 'til you're eighty. Your choice."

They don't know she already found a way to avoid making that choice. And as Angela leaves to refill their shot glasses, Frost says, "She has a point."

She waits until he's picked up his beer, lifted it to his lips and taken a big mouthful before she flicks the bottom of the bottle. Tips cold lager down his front and watches with glee as he sputters. "Hey!"

She picks up her own bottle and chuckles. "Shut up. Jackass."

These kinds of evenings don't exist in her other life, but she does truly have the best of both worlds.