So, this is the next chapter! Woohoo!
Thank you for the reviews and likes. I hope that this gives even more answers. I thought that this would be mainly Jane's POV but in this chapter I thought that more Maura would be nice, and perhaps easier to understand. Maybe it'll be confusing.
Anyway, you're welcome to tell me what you think.
Enjoy,
T73.
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Nicole Medina was wishing she'd wear different shoes right now. Those she was wearing hurt, and the heels had been too high. As she walked along the path, pretending to ignore the road menders, she focused not to stumble. She hated this kind of attention and prepared herself for a upcoming whistle. The devotional silence in this district would have made such whistle even more filthy. The whole thing was ridiculous. Her silky blouse stuck to her and her hair was sweaty. She was was not stunning beauty. At best she has a passable body, for which she regularly tortured herself in the gym and suppressed the need for a cheeseburger. She was anything but a 'Palyboy-beauty'. So whydid she suddenly feel like she's naked, even though she wore a conservative trousers suit? This was not the fault of the workers. Not even her looks bothered her that much, but her own reflex, to present herself to them. She had adopted this annoying habit from her checkered past. It seemed to stick with her like the smoke of cigarettes and the smell of whiskey. The memory of Elvis playing in the jukebox, followed by cheap hotel rooms, was still very lively. But that was a long time ago, way too long, to hurt her now. After all, she now was a very successful security officer. Why did her past have such an influence on her current live? Why could a few indiscreet looks of men, whom she did not know at all, make her disconcerted that she feared for her heard-earned reputation? It was simple, because the looks gave her the feeling of being a fraudster, pretending to be someone she was not. When she reached the front door, she'd have liked to turn around and to run away. Instead she took a deep breath and knocked on the ajar door.
"Come in," a female voice shouted. Nicole found Jane standing in front of the blinking control panel of the newly installed alarm system. "Oh hi, Miss Medina. Is something wrong with the system?" Jane glanced only briefly at Nicole while coding the panel.
"Please just call me Nicole." She hesitantly waited whether Jane would made the same offer of confidential salutation or not, and wasn't surprised by the fact that it didn't happen. Jane Rizzoli was by no means impolite, but she appreciated a certain distance. Nicole understood and respected that. "No, the system works perfectly fine, I just wanted to make sure you're satisfied with your new alarm system."
"It's perfect, I'm almost done with programming. Take a look around."
Nicole strolled from the hallway to the living room. The sun came in, and all windows were open, so that the heated air was replaced by a cooling breeze. Nicole wiped her unpleasantly damp forehead and watched her costumer from the corner of her eye. Jane Rizzoli indeed was a woman who deserved admiring looks of men. Nicole knew that Jane was about her age, somewhere in her mid-thirties. But without the usual trousers suit you could think that she was in her mid-twenties. Dressed in a worn-out shirt of the BPD and a threadbare jeans shows her athletic body perfectly well. She had a natural beauty which couldn't be produced artificially. Her skin was smooth, and her long, curly black hair shine, though it was completely mussed. She had expressive dark brown eyes and high cheekbones of which Nicole was envied her. Nicole instinctively knew that the men outside wouldn't dare to look at Jane without the same embarrassment like they'd done with her. This woman really had something. Nicole already had noticed it at the first meeting, without being able to describe it. Perhaps it was because of the upright posture or her occasional ignoring of her surroundings. She seemed to be absolutely unaware of the effects she had on people. An attitude that asked for respect, no required respect. Despite designer clothes and expensive cars, Nicole would never have that superior attitude. Despite all the differences she immediately felt connected with Jane Rizzoli. They both seemed to hide something.
"I'm sorry," Jane said as she joined Nicole in the living room. 'I'm the ongoing chaos I wanted to be sure that the alarm system really works."
"Of course."
Jane was more than overcautiously when it came to the new system. At first Nicole had attributed this to her client's work. Police detectives of course would pay more attention to the security systems than normal clients. But then she had noticed Jane's familiar vulnerability, and she had involuntarily asked herself from what an independent self-confident police officer was trying to seal herself away.
Even as they were now standing side by side, Jane looked into the distance like she was trying to spot an unexpected intruder. Nicole's knowledge of Jane Rizzoli came from their common friend and Jane's colleague Kent. Kent had recommended her to Jane as a security, and because of him she knew about the troubled situation at their work. From Jane she only knew that a new alarm system was needed.
Nicole wondered if Jane's detachment was because of her profession that had impact on private life. However, the distance didn't bother her. Usually she experienced the exact opposite with clients. They confined to her like she was an confessor. The work of a security officer also had a little bit of a barmaid. Perhaps her checkered past hadn't been a bad preparation. She didn't take it personally that Jane Rizzoli didn't pour her heart. She could understand it very well. She didn't do it differently with the secrets of her life. "For how long are you living in Beacon Hill?"
"For a little eternity." Jane glanced at the fireplace and sighed. "It starts to feel unreal."
"What do you mean," Nicole asked but Jane didn't answer the question. Suddenly she wondered how Jane Rizzoli, a detective in the neighborhood o doctors, congressmen, and scholars was coping with their non-professional but very status-conscious wives. She remembered a jogger with her pure white Labrador, dressed in a designer jogging suit, expensive running shoes, perfectly styled and with no sweat on her forehead. And then there stood Detective Rizzoli dressed in a worn-out shirt, a worn-out jeans and gray Nikes which belonged in a trashcan. Nicole knew that asking the brunette was in vain but she couldn't help herself, she wanted to know what was bothering the taller woman. She was about to open her mouth but was interrupted by the buzzing sound of the phone that was laying on the coffee table. She took it and glanced at the display.
Nicole never has seen such a change of atmosphere. One moment Jane was distant but not impolite, and now she was authoritative and her eyes were hard.
"Sorry, work's calling," she said before she took the call.
"Of course," Nicole said and turned to leave. "Have a good day." She wasn't surprised didn't respond at all. She only heard a harsh 'Rizzoli' before she left the house again.
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"Thank you for meeting me," I sigh before I sit down at the table of a coffeehouse.
"You're welcome, Jane." Nina replies and is shoving a steaming cup to me. A huge stack of files is piling up in front of her and I immediately know that this can't mean anything good. Even though I'm on leave, Nina and Korsak are the one who keep me in the loop. I know I shouldn't do this, for Maura's sake. But for my own, I need to know with whom we've been dealing with. Who this sick son of a bitch really is and what he have done before he turned everyone's life upside-down. I also know that Cavanaugh won't be pleased if he finds out that I secretively still work on the O'Keefe case, neither will the Feds be but I don't give a damn.
For the record, I do respect the Bureau, but I also hate it when people like us do the donkey work and then they come and take a case away from us without a 'Thank you, good job', pretending that they did all of the hard work. Thank God I wasn't there when they stomped into the bullpen.
Nina's placing an hand on top of the stack and frowns deeply. "That's only the top of the iceberg, Jane. Interpol got in touch with the FBI."
My eyes grow big and my heart skips a beat. "You have to be kidding me." I hiss and am thankful for getting rid of this bastard. Jesus, who is this guy? The remake of Jack the Ripper? I mean, yes Taylor O'Keefe is a monster, but I haven't been aware that he was that kind of monster. I can see that Nina means it and I close my eyes, running an hand over my forehead. I really don't want to imagine what O'Keefe would have done to Maura if we wouldn't have got to her in time. I mean, if we'd needed another day or two. No, I won't go there. Otherwise, I won't be able to give Maura the space she needs so desperately. And that would make her hating me even more.
"That's what my contact told me." Nina continues and I can tell that she had the same train of thoughts when she got the news. "Taylor O'Keefe is wanted in Great Britain, Sweden, France, Germany, Netherlands and Denmark. For murderer."
"And how the hell did he get back into U.S?"
"Aliases."
"My God," I whisper and I know that the color drained from my face. "How many victims are we talking about?"
She looks down at the files and is silent for a moment. "Forty-three by now. But we think there are more."
I have to swallow hard or I'll throw up right here and right now, in front of Nina, and that won't happen. I won't show her again how weak I can be, even though she wouldn't mind it, she didn't mind it when Maura was missing, that's why she's such a good friend. After Frost died, I thought that I wouldn't feel that way for someone ever again, and that he and his kind person isn't replaceable. He isn't, he was one of my best friends, and when Nina joined our team I was skeptical about her. I thought that she'd try to play Frost's part by all means. It turned out that I was wrong. She took his job, but never tried to take his place at all. I take the file on top and open it after a waitress walked by. It's bad enough that Nina and I meet at a coffeehouse instead of the Dirty Robber, but neither of us want Ma to get involved. She doesn't need to see what this man did to his victims. And I don't see a use of being thrown out after traumatizing a poor waitress by seeing the gruesome photos of a crime scene. I furrow my brows and take in all the bloody details I can see on the picture. After night after night filled with nightmares, I figured out that Maura must have seen something she can't put in words. Or won't when we ask her. And after seeing the crime scenes myself, and on photos, I start to realize what Taylor O'Keefe made her watch, but I don't dare to ask Maura directly what happened. I did it once and she nearly killed me. Well, not literally but she didn't talk to me for three weeks after that. I don't need that again. And after last night I have the foolish idea that everything is okay again, even though my common sense knows better. It knows that last night's events only had been an distraction that either of us desperately needed.
I push the thought to the side and take a look at my watch. Damn it, already a quarter to eight. I'm sure Ma's already freaking out because I told her that I'll take a short walk not that I'll be gone for the entire afternoon.
"How's Maura holding up," Nina suddenly ask and stuffs the files into her bag. Seems like she has sensed that I'm about to leave.
I try to smile and furrow my eyebrows. "She's holding up as best as she can. I know that she'll be fine again, she just need more time."
"Tell her that I miss her, that all of us miss her."
"If I do that, you'll be very welcome on my funeral. Because if I tell that Maura she'll get to know that we're still working on the case and that would made her killing me."
Nina's scoffing and leads the way towards the entry. "Jane, Maura's traumatized, not stupid. Don't you think she already knows that all of us are still trying to figure out who Taylor O'Keefe really is?"
She has a point. Probably Maura's doing the exact same than we do. Trying to figure out who exactly Taylor O'Keefe is and what made him become a sadistic serial killer. The only difference is, Maura's doing it on her own. I smile at Nina and raise my hand. "Drive safely." I know that I dodged the question, but I don't have to answer it anyway.
"You too, Jane."
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It doesn't surprise Maura that Jane still hasn't returned from her walk. If she's honest Frankie had confessed one evening that he and his sister were still investigating without permission. At first she was furious, but her anger quickly disappeared again. I'm doing the same, she thought back then.
Two hours ago, Maura was called by a good friend who had invited herself, and before the doctor had the chance to protest, her friend had hung up again.
Before Claire Salinas or the ordered pizza arrive, Maura's pouring herself a glass of red wine. She hadn't had any glass of it for a long time. Then her eyes fall on a brown box that is standing on the small desk. On the box is written #85666. The file number had been assigned to Taylor O'Keefe. Perhaps it was no coincidence that his file number ends with 666. She knows Cavanaugh would be upset if he'd know that she'd copied O'Keefe's official file. But these are her documents. They had chased O'Keefe for so long. She had looked at every crime scene where he had tortured and dismembered his victims, and had searched for fibres, hair, and missing organs, and for something that would help the detectives to catch O'Keefe. She has a right to have those files and considers them as a strange documentation of a part of her life. The door bell rings. Maura looks again at the clock. As usual, Claire shows up ten minutes late. She rolls her eyes and went to the door to open it.
"I know I'm late," Claire says, even though the door isn't fully open yet. "Traffic was hell. Closing time, and everyone's running out of town at weekend."
"It's nice to see you, too."
Claire puts an arm around her shoulders. For a moment Maura is amazed how soft and fragile the older woman feels. Although she feels so soft, she saw in Claire her tower of strength, and had followed her advices.
Clair moves back a little and looks at Maura, a hand on her cheek. "You look terrible," she says sympathetically.
"Thank you very much."
Claire smiles and hands Maura s six pack of beer and a bottle of wine.
Maura takes the drive ks and is using the opportunity to avoid the older woman's gaze. They haven't seen each other for months, although they talk to each other on the phone extensively. However, on the phone Claire can't see how she's worried by her fears for the last few months. "The pizza should be here any minute," she says, turning the alarm back on.
"Salami on my side."
"On mine more mushrooms."
"Thank you." Without waiting for an invitation, Claire looks around. "Where's your favorite detective?"
"Jane probably meets with Frankie and Sergeant Korsak." Maura's laughing when Claire quirks an eyebrow. She's asking herself how this woman is able to give everyone the feeling of energy, warmth and joy, no matter where she's going. She had met Claire during her residency in the forensic department in California. She had been a young, naive newbie, who had known blood only from test tubes and never had entered a crime scene.
Claire is a psychologist, who had been requested by Cavanaugh to help them with Taylor O'Keefe's profile. Back then, she lived in Washington, she still does. She owns an established pratice. Many of her patients belong to the elite of the city -bored wives of congressmen, suicidal generals and even a bipolar cabinet member of the White House. Especially Claire's researches, her many publications, and her remarkable insight into the psych of a perp, had inducted Cavanaugh to ask Claire to work as an independent consultant for the BPD. However, Maura quickly realized that Cavanaugh was also attracted by Dr. Claire Salinas in other aspects. One ought to been blind not to notice the chemistry between the two. However, Maura also knows that none of them would yield their feeling, or will do in the future. "We respect each other as colleagues", Claire once told her, making it clear that she didn't want to talk about the topic. At that time, her service as a consultant was finished already.
Maura had liked Claire from the beginning. Her energetic appearance, her shrap mind and her dry wit. Claire don't think in stereotypes and doesn't hesitate to break the rules, even though she respects authority. Maura already has witnessed how Claire lured diplomats and criminals into a trap with her cultivated and charming personality, and made them confess. Although Claire is fifteen years older, she immediately became the blonde's friend and mentor. And somehow the older woman reminds her of her girlfriend.
"I see you're thinking of a special someone," Claire suddenly says and Maura's blushing a little. The older woman chuckles. "It's okay, Maura. Are you finally talking to Jane again, or are you still punishing her with silence?"
Maura takes a swig from her wine and licks her lips. "We had sex last night," she blurt out and doesn't know why she said that.
Claire chokes on her beer and raises her brows. "Congratulations, but that doesn't answer my question. Are you talking to Jane. I mean, really talk."
Maura is silent for a moment and starts to shake her head, sitting down on a chair at the kitchen counter. "It's not that easy, Claire. I mean, Jane tries to give me all the space I need, she respects my wish to be for myself. She is very patient with me. I do appreciate it, and in the same time her current behavior makes me so angry."
Claire sits down on the chair next to the ME and nods. "Why does it make you angry?"
Maura laughs sadly and glances down at the wine glass. She's aware of the fact that right now she's talking to Dr. Salinas, the psychologist, and not to Claire, her friend, but somehow she doesn't mind it. She needs to talk about it to someone and she knows that the other woman won't say a word to Jane. "Because normally Jane isn't that way. She isn't patient and silent. She's pushy and always demand answers, explanations. Normally she wants to know why I, why people withdraw from her, what she did wrong to make me feel the way. She picks up fights until I tell her why I do things I'm doing. Normally, she doesn't dodge an argument. But ever since O'Keefe kidnapped me, it's like she's walking on eggshells. And I hate her for that. I hate her for needing over a week to get to me. I hate her for making me watch what O'Keefe did to his victims."
"Maura, Jane didn't make you watch, O'Keefe made you watching. He is the one you should hate, not Jane. Both of us know that he is a very savvy man. I know that Jane and her team did everything to get to you in time. I was there, Maura, we had to kick her out of the station so she'd get some rest. No, the guys had to drag her out."
"When Harris kidnapped me, they found me in hours." Maura whispers more to herself and wipes the single tears off her cheek, looking away.
"Harris wasn't as smart as O'Keefe."
"He was a psychologist, too."
"Are you trying to offend me," Claire asks playfully.
Maura has to chuckle and looks at her friend again.
The older woman smiles softly at the ME and shrugs. "It's okay to be mad, Maura. It's okay to be hurt, and it's okay to be broken. But you have to tell yourself that it's not Jane's fault, she tries to help and support you. Taylor O'Keefe is the bastard who did this to you, and it'll take time until you heal again." She takes Maura's hand and squeezes it lightly. "It'll feel like a eternity, but you're not alone in this. There are people who care about you, no matter what had happen to you. They love you, Jane loves you, I love you. Do you want to hear what I think why Jane's giving you space?"
"Please."
"Because Jane knows best how it feels like to be haunted by a monster."
Maura's eyes find Claire's, her face softens before it turns hard again. "Did you know that Jane and I were about to start a family? Did you know that we've picked a donor and had start the procedure? Did she told you that I've been the one who should carry the baby because my job is 'less' dangerous than hers? Did Jane told you that I was in the first trimester when O'Keefe kidnapped me? Did she told you that -"
"Maura -"
"I was pregnant and I lost my baby." Maura says harshly. "And it's because they hung me out to dry, because I am not a Jane Rizzoli!"
Claire opens her mouth and frowns as soon as she spots Jane standing in the hallway holding the pizza box in her hand.
Maura turns her head and gets up to her feet. She didn't want Jane to hear her hard words, and she feels bad immediately. "Excuse me, I'm not hungry anymore."
"Maura -" Jane tries but the blonde hurries up the stairs. She closes her eyes and is clenching her jaw. She has found the delivery girl with a pizza box in front of the door and wondered why she was nervous. Jane found out that there was a delivery but no one opened the door. She gave the girl the money and a proper tip only to hear how Maura blame her for everything.
"She needs time." Claire states softly.
"How much?"
"You should know?"
Jane opens the fridge and gets herself a beer. "I'll wait forever if I have to."
Claire smiles and lifts her own bottle.
Jane nods to herself and then she closes her eyes to hide the tears in them.
