- Chapter 7 -

Please don't be here, please don't be here, pretty please with cannoli on top…

Wishing served little purpose. As Jane walked off the elevator to head toward the rest of the team, the heavy silence that filled the bullpen alerted her to Capt. Day's presence more so than his appearance. Detectives looked awkwardly at her as she walked into the open space, demanding to know why the commander of the entire department was literally breathing down their necks. Given the stressful day-to-day existence of working in Homicide, the unit was known for a playful camaraderie between the detectives coming in and out from cases. Having the captain here put a stop to the fun, putting everyone on edge.

"Captain," Jane began, walking toward the round peg in a square hole that was Day standing in the middle of Homicide. "It's so…lovely to see you again. Care for a drink? We have plain, ol' fashioned bottled water in the ghetto that is the third floor."

Sitting at his desk trying, and failing to look busy, Frost stood up quickly beside the shorter man. "Thank god, he wouldn't leave."

"Get Frankie and Riley in BRIC so we can run down what we've got with the case. Maura's got us a name, something we can use to build the background with and figure out the other four Ws: what, when, where, why."

"What about the Captain?"

Jane turned back to Day with an artificial smile. "What do you need, sir?"

For a brief second, Jane saw a flash of genuine emotion from the man. The childish part of her psyche that still felt a confusing blend of teenage affection for the Captain cheered in excitement for finally managing to get a rise out of the man. Getting a reaction meant that he actually saw her as something other than a little girl struggling with self-esteem issues, her childish self rationalized. But the adult side, the woman, told her that she was jeopardizing her career by playing difficult with the man that could very easily demote her back to detective before sending her to some backwater. Capt. Day had that kind of power. He had used it once when he had restructured IAB to the scary, feared entity it had become after his work was complete. She had to come to terms with this teenage crush that still had a hold over her, regardless of how much it made her uncomfortable to deal with both her teenage years and feelings all in one go.

"Sergeant, your behavior was highly inappropriate with Mr. Doe."

"What can I say? I don't deal with being forced fed bullshit very well." Jane exhaled deeply before gazing down at the captain with petulant eyes. "Let me guess, you want me to apologize to him. Save face to the community, right?"

Day blinked once, twice, and finally three times before releasing a heavy sigh of his own. "No, not this time. You're right. I shouldn't expect you to change your leadership style just because you have risen to a higher paygrade." He began to walk out of the bullpen with his usual strolling gait that always reminded Jane of a Southern dandy. "Do what you, Sergeant. Just be prepared to live with the consequences. When your investigation stalls because of a lack of public assistance, don't expect people like John Doe to forget these moments of irrational irritability."

Jane rolled her eyes. Capt. Day wouldn't still affect her like she was still a kid. His words were nothing more than just words. She could forget them like she did with all of her boss's nonsensical ramblings about her attitude. Even back in the academy she had gotten the same critiques but most people just accepted her quirks as soon as they saw her results. She had one of the best case-solve percentages in the entire division, hell even the state. Breaking down to give the captain what he was looking for from her was not going to happen. Absolutely not.

"Wait, sir," Jane said, blushing slightly. "Can I ask you a question?"

Day just turned back silently, a single eyebrow raised in compliance.

"Do you, uh, remember going to a, um, career day like a long time ago. In the '80s. With kids there?"

If he says he does, then it'll help me get over this stupid crush, Jane reminded herself, ignoring the tell-tale signs from her body that asking the simple question was giving her far more angst than she cared to consciously admit.

"A career day? In the '80s?" Day chuckled, a rare sound from the captain. "You realize I was in my twenties, right? And we're both cops?"

"Don't give me that, Day. You had a lot of big cases back then."

"Keeping tabs on me, Rizzoli?"

"Just answer the question. Do you remember going to a career day at a Catholic school back in the '80s?"

Day furrowed his eyebrows in thought, clearly trying to figure out what Jane wanted from him. When he was in heavy thought about something his entire body would tense in expectation as if the truth was just around the corner, waiting for him to catch the clues left behind.

"Vaguely but, yeah, I guess I remember a career day back then. A bunch of kids and horny schoolteachers who wouldn't leave me alone. And a punk who thought he'd get me with a crack about my name. Why? One of them part of your extended family and needs a favor? I don't do that sort of thing anymore. Got burned last time."

"Is that it?" Jane asked, eagerly.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Sergeant. It was a long time ago. A lot of things have happened since I was a detective."

"You don't, maybe, remember a girl? A little girl?"

Please remember me like I remember you.

"Should I?" Day said, absentmindedly playing with a plain gold ring on his left hand. "Again, that was a long time ago. I remember a lot of little girls from that day, but they've all become a single mass of…prepubescent squealing and strawberry deodorant."

"Well…thanks anyway." Jane quickly returned back to being a detective, keeping the frustration off her face. "When I get something definitive with the case, I'll pass it up the chain."

That was absolutely unhelpful. Why she had thought asking him about that day now, Jane had no idea. Her ma' had always told her that telling someone what you're thinking is better than keeping it bottled up was better for everyone. But, like all of her ma's advice, it proved to not be applicable in the real world. Maybe the maxim had a shelf-life in which it could have maximum benefit, like the "best before" label on packaged food. Regardless, Jane was just as conflicted concerning her feelings for Day as she was before she had asked him whether he remembered that day.

"All right, everyone. We can take Homicide off pause now that the Scary Captain has left."

All of the detectives that hadn't decided to make a quick exit with the captain's arrival released a cheer of approval. The ban on all fun broke and with it came the familiar sounds of playful banter that characterized the unit. With a shake of her tangled mass of loose curls, Jane made her way to BRIC. Inside the darkened room, her team of detectives sat at the computers. Frost was busy showing Frankie something of interest on the computer while Riley stood stoically near the glass doors, quickly stepping back as Jane made her way to them.

Jane opened the doors. "Sorry about that, guys. Administrative stuff. Let's get back to work." She leaned on one of the empty computer desks near the front of the room so as to keep a close eye on the large screens projecting information to the team. "Maura – sorry, Dr. Isles – told me she's got a name for our Burning Man downstairs."

"Danny Jacobs," Frost interrupted. "Maura sent the info to me via email after she met with you."

"Did the interview with the burglars lead to anything conclusive?"

"Other than the universal fact that being poor makes people do really sick shit like organ harvesting dead bodies? Not really."

"Frankie and I pieced together what she had in her autopsy files on the guy to paint a decent background," Frost said.

Information flashed on the screen in quick bursts allowing Jane to quickly scan through the data to get a summary of Danny Jacobs. It was always interesting to investigate a person after their death. The only closest synonym to the feeling was looking through someone's trash on a regular basis, except without the legality issues. Danny Jacobs was a man, complete with a network of friends, family, significant others, acquaintances and, inevitably, enemies. Finding out who the man was behind the corpse was what made her job difficult and satisfying.

Danny Jacobs. Born in 1965, died at age twenty-five. Child of Rebecca and John Jacobs, a dancer and career military man. The family had jumped around the country before settling in Boston around Danny's fifteenth birthday. A couple of years after John retired, the family had a falling out, leading to Danny disappearing off the radar for a couple of years around his eighteenth birthday. He didn't pop up again until…

"Danny Jacobs was a CI?" Jane asked, bewilderedly. "Which detective was working him?"

"Capt. Ashley Day. Back then he was a detective, though. Second grade." Riley looked up at Jane with a carefully guarded expression. "Sergeant. This looks real bad for the Captain. The payroll shows that Jacobs was paid on the department's payroll for a couple of months as an informant for Narcotics, working as a drug runner. He got the unit some good leads for a while but then things go silent for about a year. He was found dead soon after."

"Riley, you're jumping to conclusions."

Frankie shrugged. "We'll never find evidence to prove he did or didn't have anything to do with Danny's murder, Jane. It's too late after the fact. Whether he did or didn't, we have to question him."

"No," Jane interrupted, acting out a cease motion with her hands, "absolutely not. He's a fellow brother in blue, captain of the division, and…a good guy. We have to give him the utmost professional courtesy. I - we owe him that much."

"Professional courtesy? Really?"

"Yes, Frankie."

"But…"

Jane placed her head in her hands. "I know it sounds like the company line, guys. I don't like it any more than you do. But, let's just, sit on this for a minute. I'll come back tomorrow and make a decision then."

"Sounds like a plan," Frost said. "Bart's probably waiting on you guys at home, anyway. Family before work, right?"

With a curse, Jane glanced at her watch. "Why do you know my schedule better than I do, Frost? It makes me look inept. We'll meet back here at the normal time. Have a good night, guys. You did great today."

Jane released an unexpected sigh while walking to her Korsak's – no, that's not right – her new desk. Somehow she had made it through her first day as Homicide's new acting sergeant without any real hiccups. Nothing had burned down, all of the detectives were still breathing, and the captain didn't seem to be ready to demote her anytime soon. Everything had gone relatively well. She grabbed her keys before turning around the emptying bullpen with a proud smile. Slowly but surely, things would return to a level of normalcy as everyone, including herself, came to terms with her new role in Homicide. Tomorrow would probably be absolute chaos, but, at least for now, she could revel in her small achievement.