Chapter Two - Bitch Maneuver

Jane gazed into the private room where her lover sat, clasping Father Daniel Brophy's hand. The man was still insensate, but reassuringly regular beeps from various machinery advertised the stability of his vital signs, and fresh bandages indicated the recentness of his surgery. The room's pale colors were, unlike at most hospitals, actually soothing rather than dreary, and the stark white sheets and robe would show any bleeding on the actual patient. Against this backdrop, Maura Isles stood out in bold relief, her red dress, suntan, and formal afternoon makeup and hairstyle completely at odds with the quiet serenity of the room. She was speaking, Jane could see that in the movement of lips. She could hear the faintest sounds of sibilants and plosives, though she thought of them in less technical terms than the ones Maura had once expounded to her, but could not make out the vowel sounds that would give the consonants meaning. The meaning Jane saw was all in the body language, the way Maura's focus remained on the comatose priest no matter what footsteps passed by - orderlies, nurses, the occasional doctor or cleaning staff, visitors, and of course her own footsteps, which had halted just outside the door.

Maura loved Daniel. Jane knew that, and as much as the knowledge had disturbed and offended her when it was new, she had gotten used to it, and even respected it now. Neither one of them had entered their relationship fresh from the womb. They both had lived for three decades, plus change. Each woman had a past, and it was the past that had made them what they were, brought each to a point at which she was open to loving the other. Jane couldn't fault this woman for having the capacity to retain love and respect for those who had never done anything to make her stop feeling those things. It just demonstrated what a huge capacity Maura had for love. When Jane thought about it, it made her love the woman more.

Jane, too, liked and respected Brophy. Brophy was a good man, and like the two of them, he had a past. The fact that his past involved Maura - was Maura - had upset Jane once. Now she simply thought, well, good for him. If he was going to have the memory of one love, one lover, for his entire life, shouldn't that memory be the best one possible? And wasn't Maura Isles the best? Jane knew she was. No one chose love, no one chose whom to love. Like Jane herself, though, Brophy had chosen to accept the love that had simply happened. Like herself, Brophy had acted upon it, despite all the reasons that it could be considered wrong.

Unlike herself, Brophy had had something he loved even more. Marginally more, Jane was fairly certain, but more. He had made a choice of that other feminine entity - whether he called that entity the Holy Virgin or Holy Mother Church on any given day, he had chosen her over Maura, who would always be the other woman for him. Jane never would. Jane had chosen Maura, would always choose Maura.

And Maura, Jane was just as certain, would always choose her. That was why, despite the danger to the life of this good man, despite Maura's connection to him and the fact that she had run to him with few questions and was still there, stroking his hand and giving him such devoted attention, Jane smiled to see it. "Hey," she said softly, with a gentle rapping of knuckles to door frame.

Maura turned just her head, and even in her distress, returned the smile. "Come in," she beckoned, motioning with one hand towards the second chair near to the bedside. Jane acquiesced. "They've put Daniel in a coma for one or two days to let his body heal without him having to really feel the worst of the pain. Just like they did for you. He's stable, and his vital signs look good. I read the chart; the surgery was as successful as they could have reasonably hoped. Dr. Knudsen is one of the best."

"Yeah, I talked to her. She was a military trauma surgeon."

They spoke about that, about various forms of internship and residency training, about the military as a supporter of education for its forces and for its veterans. In a quiet moment that followed, Maura mentioned calling Daniel's siblings in their various homes throughout the country, and the one brother who'd gone into the military and was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland.

"No one can get here right now. Two are pregnant and can't fly. The military one can't leave his station." Her voice was deliberately controlled, schooled to neutrality; Maura was aware that many comatose patients did hear the things being said around them, or at least understood the emotional tone of the people saying those things. "The last brother simply hasn't got the money to travel, and he won't accept a plane ticket from a stranger. And I couldn't very well tell him that I have Daniel's power of attorney and could have his own brother send the funds, because he'd want to know why I'm his advance directive, and not the church."

Jane took that information in, noting Maura's competent handling of practicalities despite clear emotional distress at the inability to do a single concrete thing to help Daniel, her dear friend. "So you're saying that, in practical terms, you're the only family he's got right now."

"Yes."

"And the church?"

Maura hesitated. "I've called his office, and the secretary is sending over a fellow priest, a Father Imahara, to administer the Anointing of the Sick." She didn't feel the need to explain to Jane, who had been through catechism and surely knew it, that the rite was the same one often known, by those who preferred more high-sounding terms, as the Rite of Extreme Unction. The ritual was available and recommended to anyone with a serious illness or injury. It was also, more popularly but only slightly less accurately, called Last Rites, a fact that both she and Jane also knew; the Church preferred not to call it that, because the terminology seemed to sap hope from many of those who were offered the rite. "I've never met him, and I don't think he's ever seen me. I'm hoping he'll assume I'm a distant relative. He'll be here in about an hour, at which time I'll go home for a shower, clothing, and food."

The "And then come back." went unsaid.

Jane's brow raised. This was exactly the situation she wanted to avoid. "Don't you think that, since he's not going to be brought out of the coma for at least a day, maybe two, you should get some rest? You won't be much good to Brophy if you're stiff and sore and grumpy from sitting in a chair all night."

Again, Maura seemed reluctant. "I know, but he doesn't have anyone else who can get here to be with him. I feel some sense of obligation. He's my friend, and I..." She trailed off, eyes caught by motion over Jane's shoulder.

A masculine throat clearing alerted the women to the presence of an observer before Jane could respond, and Frankie Rizzoli walked in. "Sorry to bother you," he said in a hushed voice, "but I've got some news. For both of you. Should I give it to you here or outside?"

Jane had stood up immediately as her brother entered, and so she had to look back over her shoulder towards Maura to see that she had remained seated. "Um. Let's go outside." Once they were in the hallway, Jane said in more normal tones, "What've you got?" Maura would hear her, she knew, but at least they were observing the general form of leaving the presence of the sick when discussing practical issues.

"I was at your crime scene, me and a bunch of other unis, with metal detectors, looking for the bullet," Frankie related, still quiet. Hospitals made him itch, ever since his stint in one. "We couldn't find it. Korsak's pretty sure it's in the casket with, uh," he glanced at the pad of paper in his hand, "Montague. Casket's still out of the ground. It's got blood and bits on it." Again he cleared his throat, this time managing to sound apologetic about it, as Maura bit her lip and glanced tensely towards the comatose man in the hospital bed. "Uh, anyway, it's part of the crime scene. But they need a court order to open it, so Frost went to get one. I figured I'd come tell you in person, and Korsak said you were here."

"Thanks, man," Jane said, one hand resting on her brother's arm for a moment. She'd gotten more comfortable with casual physical contact, at least in her family, over the past several months with Maura. Once she'd even held her mother's hand, as if it didn't bother her (much). "Get one of those metal detectors, or get someone else to do it, and go over the coffin from the outside. If you find anything in there, call Frost so he can add that to the reasons the judge'll want to get us that court order, if he didn't already agree."

"Did it," Frankie said with a little justifiable smugness. "There's something metal in there, for sure. It might be the bullet, or it might be the guy's wedding ring and tooth fillings, or just the coffin itself, but there's a crack, so we think something's definitely in there. They hadn't put it in the tomb thing yet."

"Good job," replied Jane, sparing her brother a smile. She was about to say more, when someone else walked right up to her. She scowled. "What are you doing here, Kate?" she wanted to know, shifting her weight unsubtly to stand in front of the door. Responding to that motion had Frankie unexpectedly behind her, with little choice but to back into Father Brophy's room.

The woman was nearly as tall as Jane, even skinnier, and just as dark of hair; but her skin was of the pale Irish variety, not the Mediterranean olive tone of an Italian. She had walked up the hallway with just as much swagger as Jane customarily called her own. Her reply was not audible to Frankie - nor to Maura, who had remained in her seat, still holding the sleeping priest's hand, but had turned to see the proceedings. "Who is she?" Maura asked Frankie as he stepped backwards into the room.

Frankie was even quieter this time than he'd been before. "Kate Talucci," he answered, his tone delivering the wary Oh shit that he did not voice directly. "She went to school with us. Her ma is our ma's best friend, Carla."

Maura had met the two Talucci boys, but never had the mention of a third child, a daughter Jane's age, come up. Craning her neck, she could just see around Frankie, and caught a glimpse of Jane angrily grabbing Kate's arm and hauling her away. Their voices outside the room were hushed, but they sounded urgent, or maybe just tense, as they walked down the hall a bit. Maura didn't miss that, nor did she fail to notice Frankie's change in demeanor. "What's going on?" Since both she and Frankie were aware that they couldn't hear the actual happenings, her question indicated a desire to know why it was happening, whatever it was. Frankie obliged.

"Kate was in Jane's class at school," he said, still standing to keep an eye on the doorway and whatever could be seen there. "They went to academy together, too. Never did get along as kids, and it got a little bit worse at the academy, and worse since they were on the force. I don't know what Kate did when she was out on her first major assignment, but she got put on permanent suspension for it. Korsak might know, but if he does, he ain't said."

"That looks like more than just not getting along." Maura knew of which she spoke. Not only did she know Jane personally well - better than Frankie realized, she hoped - but she had made in-depth study into facial expression, body language, and other forms of nonverbal and subverbal conversation.

Frankie cleared his throat. He was really quite masterful at conveying all sorts of information with that one thing. At this moment, what his cough conveyed was discretion: he was going to say something indelicate, hoped Maura wasn't offended, apologized if she was, and would deeply regret doing so if Jane found out about it and had to punch him for it. "Kate stole one of her boyfriends in junior high, two in high school, and one in academy. The one in junior high wasn't really Janie's boyfriend, but she liked him a lot. The other ones were, and Kate got kind of... friendly with all of them."

Maura processed the words of the blue-collar man with a gentleman's instincts and desire to protect a lady's innocent ears. "She hooked into them," she translated.

"Hooked up. Yeah, the whole school pretty much knew Kate kissed Tony in seventh grade, made out pretty heavy with Marco in tenth, slept with Steve in eleventh. And the whole academy knew Kate gave Doug a blo..." Frankie cut himself off with another cough, "she was with him in academy."

Maura's lips pursed. "I don't know how to interpret those actions," she confessed after a moment, as the discussion grew quieter while the women's body language grew more confrontational outside - to the point that Maura stood up, left Daniel's bedside, and walked to the door to step in front of Frankie for a better view. "That is, I understand what she did, but not what it meant. Do you think she simply liked those men and didn't mind Jane's feelings, or that she specifically wanted what Jane had?"

Behind her, Frankie shook his head and shrugged. Realizing she couldn't see that at the moment, he then responded aloud, "I don't know, but whatever it was, they've been pretty much against one another for years. It only got worse when Kate started dipping in the other side of the pool." When he noticed Maura's blank look, Frankie took pity and elaborated, "She's bi. Or was bi. Now she's gay."

Maura tried to understand why Kate being gay, when Jane's sexuality was still unknown to her own siblings, would be a problem.

Outside the door, Kate made a motion that could have been construed as threatening. Even before Jane made a similar, exceptionally impolite, Italian greeting, getting right back in her face, Maura was moving - but not as quickly as Frankie, who clamped a restraining hand to her shoulder and didn't let go. "No," he warned, "you don't want to do that. And Jane wouldn't thank you for it, anyway. Stay out of it."

"But she's -"

"Nuh-uh."

The hand stayed where it was until Maura's shoulder relaxed enough to let Frankie know that his words had had the desired effect, which didn't happen until almost a minute later. That was, not coincidentally, the moment at which Kate walked off, looking pissed, and Jane unclenched her fist and turned back towards the room, face exhibiting surprise and irritation that they were watching her. "What are you two looking at?" she demanded quietly but gruffly. Maura didn't quite know how to respond.

"Nothing," Frankie said as he got out of the way for Jane. "Just wondering when we'd see the back of her." The words put him firmly in his sister's camp. "Told her to beat feet and she actually did it, huh?"

Jane gave an upward chin-jerk of approval. "Yeah. Forget about it, it's nothing. Don't you have some paperwork to do?"

Knowing a get lost when he heard one, Frankie beat feet even before Jane had refocused on Maura, her voice softening marginally, but not enough, her irritation with Kate Talucci having not fully receded apparently. "Come on, let's go home. You need to shower and get some food and a good night's sleep. You can come back in the morning."

Already picking up her things, Maura corrected Jane, "You mean I'll come back after I shower and have dinner. I mentioned that before."

"And I," Jane reminded her, "mentioned that you won't be any good to Brophy if you're tired, sore, and cranky. You tell me that all the time when I'm trying to work all night, and I'm telling it to you now. Get some rest or you'll just interfere with yourself when you try to do things."

"I'm not going to leave him alone overnight."

Jane was losing patience. She liked Brophy, respected him, felt friendship for him, but she liked Maura more. She wanted to spend the night with her arms wrapped around her lover, soothing away Maura's stress in seeing her friend and former lover hurt. She wanted Maura to want that with her, too. "He always sleeps alone. He's a priest."

"And you think that's okay? Jane, he's hurt and there's no one else who loves him and is able to get here to be with him." The smaller woman's voice pleaded for understanding. "You had your parents and your brother. You had your work partners. The only people coming to see Daniel will be a priest who's coming out of a sense of duty and correctness, doing the right thing, not because he cares about Daniel personally. You get me every day. Can't you let him have me just for one night?"

The phrasing was unfortunate. Jane knew very well that Maura meant to indicate that Daniel needed someone to watch over him in the hospital, but just at that moment, with Kate the Boyfriend Stealer Talucci having just left, and watching the person she loved more than she'd ever loved anyone say that she wanted to spend the night with her own former lover... it was too much. "Fine," she exhaled in a gust. "Stay with him tonight. I'm going to my apartment."

She stalked down the long, tiled corridor to the elevator, already feeling guilty for leaving when she knew she was Maura's ride, but not willing to back down from her heated emotions long enough to say so.

Brushing her teeth in the morning in a lonely, empty apartment, Jane reflected on how much of her life was tied into Maura's now. Everything she loved best was already over there, including most of her 'art' objects, her classic baseball collections, and even her worn map of Massachusetts, where she pinned her recent cases (and, admittedly, still kept track of Hoyt's killings, just in case there was another Apprentice out there). Even Joe and the stupid turtle (tortoise!) lived at Maura's now.

Staring at her closet, Jane found last year's style and was horrified to realize she even knew what this year's style was! "Oh, god," she muttered and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. First Brophy, then Kate, and now she was being stupid with Maura. "I wonder where she is," sighed Jane, used to talking aloud to 'someone' in the morning. "Because I have her car... Oh, man, Rizzoli, that was a bitch maneuver!"

Not that Maura wasn't perfectly capable of taking a cab, but that was not, in any way, shape, or form, something you should do to your friend. And sure as hell not to your girlfriend. Guilt sped Jane through her morning routine, scrounging something to wear that wouldn't make Maura comment about how she was wearing that, and then dug out one of Maura's more casual outfits, left from some sleep over or another. It wasn't haute couture, but it was better than being stuck in last night's slinky dress.

I had so many better ideas for that dress, thought Jane as a quick inventory of her fridge came up completely devoid of food or coffee. She decided to hit up the coffee shop on the corner, but made a discreet call to the hospital to see who was there, in order to get the right amount and type of fluffy coffee drinks. Apology lattes and more purchased, Jane made it back to MassGen in record time, even without the gumball, and peeked inside.

Daniel Brophy lay still, as before, the machines quietly humming, beeping regularly to announce that they were still working and that so, for the moment, was he. He looked even paler than usual, and smaller by far than his six-foot-plus frame normally appeared while standing. The paleness could perhaps be ascribed to the fluorescent lighting, but lighting could not account for how much older he looked, drawn and pinched, and tired despite his coma-enforced rest.

Maura wasn't much better off, Jane noticed, even from the back. Her customary erect posture had wilted somewhat, and her sexy red dress now looked wrinkled and sad. Cinderella had not yet come home from the ball, but her magical gown was still just barely holding onto the enchantment that kept it together. Too, her caramel brown hair had fallen or been taken down from its dignified up-do and was now hanging around her shoulders, its carefully coiffed curls now limp, separated into sections by multiple combings from nervous fingers.

Jane rapped her knuckles on the door to Brophy's room. "Hey," she announced, sheepishly, and Maura barely moved her head to acknowledge the greeting, let alone look into the face of the woman who'd left - whom she'd chased away, perhaps - the night before.

"Come in," she sighed, too tired to snap out a waspish, sarcastic apology for her appearance and remind Jane that she hadn't had a way to get home for a shower and a change.

Holding up the lattes in a tray and the bag of food, Jane coughed a little. The tray was offered in mute supplication for forgiveness of the raw fact of her own bitchiness the night before. Maura's lips, involuntarily, quirked up into a tired smile. "Buying forgiveness with coffee?"

"And a change of clothes. The nurse said you could use their shower if you want." Putting the food down, Jane dumped the gym bag on a chair, pulled out her laptop, and settled in. Clearly she was prepared to hold vigil while Maura restored herself to her normal, put-together, persona.

Maura frowned at Jane for a moment, trying to piece together if this simply meant their argument was over or not. The aroma of fresh, good, coffee won her over quickly, and Maura downed half her fluffy drink before taking her clothes to find this shower. The nurses, who had a cardboard carafe of coffee themselves, directed her to to the shower, and Maura returned perhaps fifteen minutes later, dressed in a (for her) nondescript outfit and coiffed with the damp curls of one who lacked styling wand and mousse, but feeling much better.

Jane had not left the room, but was studiously hammering away on her keyboard, reading and writing in a manner that told Maura she was IMing someone. "Frost?" she asked, sliding back into her chair.

"We got a tip last night. Someone heard a loud gunshot from the other end of the cemetery. We used the gunshot locator thing to triangulate, and Frost spec'd it out at just under 1000 meters, which is a pro shot." Jane hesitated and then turned her laptop towards Maura, showing her the initial trajectory drawings.

They both sipped their coffee, cream cheesed their bagels, and stared at the drawing. At Maura's behest, Jane ran the video twice, from different angles. "They weren't aiming at Mrs. Montague," Maura finally said, confused but decisive.

"Doesn't look that way, does it?" agreed Jane, disgruntled. "Frankie's checking the hill for casings, but the sniper probably swept up."

"Mmghm," agreed Maura around her bite of bagel and cream cheese, or rather, her bite of cream cheese with a nominal bagel coating.

Now Jane smirked, "Wanna try English?"

Maura swallowed, dabbed her lips with the paper napkin, and repeated herself. "Sorry. I agree, a professional who can make a shot like that is unlikely to be so sloppy as to fail to police his shells. Or, rather, his shell. There was only one shot, correct? Still, keep looking. He might have left it there on purpose as a message, rather than out of sloppiness." One might consider that progress; two or three years ago, Maura Isles never would have concerned herself with motives, reasons, or any other psychological aspect of the crime. Her speciality was the evidence left in bodies, not speculations. Jane was rubbing off on her. After that realization came another, and this one made her frown. "Someone was trying to kill Daniel." The hand holding her napkin dropped it, uncaring of whether it fluttered to her lap or the linoleum floor, and darted back to rest atop the sleeping clergyman's forearm, an unnecessarily protective gesture.

Reaching down to pick up the napkin, Jane pointed out, "That's a theory right now. He might not have been shooting to kill anyone, just scare 'em." Jane tabbed through her windows and read a statement for Maura. "The Father was giving this sermon, and suddenly mom started crying like a banshee. We all stopped, and then, like at the same time, he moved to her and she stood up. Mom's... Mom just exploded on him, he went down, and then we heard this loud noise. Everyone hit the floor and I guess someone called 911, 'cause the EMTs were there real fast. Not enough for Mom, but... there wasn't much to do." Jane tapped in a note to herself. "1000 meters... That'd take less than eighteen hundred milliseconds, and you'd hear it after you'd see it. No wonder no one had time to react till it was all over." She glanced at the comatose priest curiously.

It was premature to assume Daniel was the target, though Jane wouldn't rule that out yet. She added the tipster's notes, about where the shot probably was from, and mapped out avenues of escape. You couldn't, for example, easily bring a sniper on the MTA to Jamaica Plain. He would have had to use a car, unless he stashed the rifle somewhere nearby, or had a case that could pass for anything else. Quickly Jane pinged Frost, asking him to send unis out to check any tombs and mausoleums. While he did that, she logged in to the traffic database and checked for any red-light violations in the area around the cemetery, but came up blank. Muttering to herself, Jane said, "Sure, if I'd taken a pot shot like that, I wouldn't speed either."

Maura didn't ask for a repetition of the mumbled words; she wasn't even listening, but rather, mumbling on her own. "...feed Bass, Jo, and Aristotle," might be heard if one were nearby and paying attention. Aristotle was what she'd begun to call Jane's tortoise, who had not been formally named; it referred to Aristotle 'Tot' Rodor, sidekick to The Question, the best detective in the world according to the comics written in the DC universe. The current Question was also, on her better days, dating Batwoman. "...water the plants, get some more clothes, makeup..."

While mumbling herself was normal for Jane, it was not for Maura. It spoke strongly of her distraction and fatigue that Maura was making her mental list aloud. Once the other woman's words registered Jane looked up, startled. "Okay, that's it. You're coming home this afternoon, and you are going to nap. Then you can check email and catch up on your work, pawn off cases, whatever. We are going to have a nice dinner and go to bed early before you come back here tomorrow." Jane kept her voice firm and decisive. "No more spending the night here."

Distracted, Maura quickly turned her head, but it was a moment before her eyes achieved the look of someone who was truly present behind them. "But Daniel shouldn't be alone, Jane! He's hurt, he needs company, and if someone's trying to kill him -"

"Fine," agreed Jane, cutting Maura off. "I bet Ma'd be happy to sit in. And Korsak and Frost. I already asked Cavanaugh for a detail to watch the Montague kids, in case they were the targets, and he suggested one for Brophy, so a uniform'll be outside. I'll tell the head nurse and Dr. Knudsen, so they can watch for any fake doctors and nurses too." Jane looked a little smug as she gleefully covered her bases. "Plus, I bet that the church'll want to send over someone. He can sit overnight at least a couple times. That way, Daniel won't be alone if he wakes up."

At Jane's mention of a uniform being posted outside, Maura's eyes drifted to the door, where no one was currently stationed, and then to Jane's jacket, which bulged ever so slightly, indicating that Jane wore a gun on her hip. And then she noticed Jane's clothes, which derailed Maura's realization that Jane was here to both apologize to Maura and protect Daniel, and that Jane was calling him Daniel and not Brophy. "You're wearing heat under that - that jacket? Jane! What are you wearing?"

With a sigh, Jane shook her head. "Packing. Packing heat, Maur, and thank God you're paying attention again. I wondered how long... It's what I had in the closet. All my good stuff is at your place."

"No, it's..." Maura paused just long enough to mentally flip through Jane's section of her closet, then through what she remembered seeing the last time she'd gone to Jane's apartment. "Oh. I guess it is, isn't it? It would be easier for you..." But again, she drifted off. There was no sense in reiterating her opinion that both their lives would be easier if Jane lived with her, no sense in starting another argument about how if she moved in, the whole world would know they were a couple. Jane was right, after all. People could be roommates at eighteen, twenty, even thirty in these days of rising housing costs and rent-sharing. But at thirty-five? Thirty-five and living together meant something other than a smart way to halve one's rent, particularly when one was well-heeled, as Maura was.

Maura wouldn't have minded being linked to Jane in people's minds. She'd have been proud to be able to call Jane hers. But Jane wasn't ready for the reciprocal label, and Maura had promised herself she wouldn't push anymore. "Well. Maybe we should both go to my place for a nap and a change of clothing, once someone else can come here to keep watch and make sure no one gets in to harm Daniel."

The smugness returned to Jane's face. Game, set, match to Rizzoli, thank you very much. "Korsak'll be here at lunchtime," she informed Maura. "And Frost said he'd take the night shift tonight." Before Maura could question this information, Jane turned the laptop towards her again, where the IM conversations confirmed this.

Mollified, Maura settled back in her seat and watched the machines Daniel was hooked up to. The beeps were familiar and while not comforting, their continuance reassured her that he was, indeed, alive. It was the first time in many years she had nothing else to busy her thoughts. Even so, time sped by and Vince arrived so soon, Maura was sure he'd arrived early. The clock in the room corrected her misperception. After leaving Vince and the newly posted uniformed officer with a string of lengthy instructions on what to do, when to call the nurses, and when to call her, Maura permitted Jane to escort her, one hand on her elbow, to the car and home.

Jane allowed Maura to eat a light lunch, but when the smaller woman began to droop at the table, she found herself bundled into bed and in dreamland before she could even ask Jane to stay with her until she fell asleep.

Reviews and Jane will stop being such a bitch. Most of the time. (Well, no, she won't, but she'll try harder.)