A Party to Boston
Magrat 70
Rating; T
Author's note; I know I tend to do angsty storylines, this apart from them tracking down the unsub will be the most angst ridden chapter and I promise our girls will get back to the right place with one another. I know this AU because if I used their proper ages it would be all sorts of wrong. Emily and Maura are the same age and went through school at the same time, if you don't like this chapter that's fair but they all need to get stuff out before they can move on.
AN2; A reminder this is an AU story, no Will and Henry and no Casey, Emily's death was faked but once she came back she never left, JJ still worked for the State Dept for a while.
Thank you to my bets EmBonesAddict:-)
Loss and Gain
Jane fumed as she sped away from BPD headquarters and found herself unconsciously driving to Maura's house, before remembering she wouldn't be welcome. The doctor already has company tonight and she sure as hell wasn't invited unlike the old, dear friend who appears from nowhere. Well from the dead, apparently. Maybe Maura really is the queen of the dead after all.
A sardonic laugh escaped the detective's lips, followed by a sob as she imagines the F.B.I agent in Maura's bed. After all, Maura said she had never had a friend before and Maura can't lie. It leaves only one more possibility; a lover. Jane can't understand why tears are pouring from her eyes as she pointed her car towards the apartment that she rarely used anymore.
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"A Doyle! Pen, after everything she went through, she goes home to Doyle's cousin!" JJ exclaimed to her friend as she began pacing up and down the twin hotel room that she would normally share with Emily.
"JJ, to be fair I don't think Dr Isles is going to spear Emily with a table leg..."
"Not funny Pen, really not funny. It was hell knowing she was alive and not being able to talk about it, having Spencer around my house every night crying his eyes out, knowing that I was breaking his heart!" said JJ, tears prickling her own eyes that she refused to let fall.
Garcia gave sigh and decided this was time for THE talk. "This isn't about Doyle or Spencer. You and Emily have been dancing around each other for almost eight years. She was desperate when you were kidnapped by Hastings, she was there first to save you, she knew you well enough so that I was able to track down the Blackbird message you left, then saved your life on the roof and held you all night when we went out! This has got to do with the way the little strawberry muscled in on your territory with hardly a click of her designer shoes."
"It's not like that... we are just good friends," said JJ, shielding Garcia from the times through almost desperation that Emily and her had, in her own mind she didn't like to think fucked, but she didn't want to say made love. The both shied away from using that word, apart from in one glorious week in Paris when they had held hands, strolling through all the beauty that Paris had to offer. Meals shared in lovely little cafés and making love leisurely all night, rather than hard and fast to try to feel something after a terrible case.
Her mind flashed back to the first time, after they all had to listen to the mad preacher beating the crap out of Emily while the dark haired agent kept repeating that she could take it. JJ couldn't. She remembered throwing up after listening and Spencer not being able to look anyone in the eye, ashamed that he had allowed Emily to take the consequences of a small minded local, playing politics at the expense of the agents being held captive in the building. When they arrived home Emily had asked her to stay because she didn't want to be on her own. It was the first time she really got to see the real Emily, not the woman who lived in compartments walled in by the Prentiss name. The next morning, they got up and acted like nothing had ever happened; whether they liked it or not it kept happening. She thought things would change once Emily came back to the States, but it didn't. They were stuck in the same holding pattern until JJ was kidnapped and Emily had wanted to make it real. She was ashamed of the fact that she ran, the BAU's favourite commitmentphobe.
Garcia watched JJ go off into a world of her own. The all seeing oracle wondered if she had missed something in her two best friend's relationship, but she decided that this wasn't the best time to press JJ considering the blonde was in such a volatile mood, swinging from tears to pure unadulterated aggression. This, Garcia decided, was love. Nothing else could explain JJ's mood. "Sweetie, there is nothing we can do about it tonight. We have a long day ahead of us. Please get some sleep."
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Frankie stood at the door of his sister's apartment, his hands shaking. He needed to make sure his sister was okay. He hadn't missed the altercation at the end of the meeting, and added with the fact it was the first time his sister's car was parked out front of her own place in months, he doubted she'd be in a good place. What the hell, he thought. She might feel better after she knocked him out.
It more than shocked him when Jane opened the door and walked back into the living room without saying a word, her eyes red and swollen. The first thing he noticed was the bottle of J.D. open along with a high ball half full of bourbon and 3 beer bottles. "Partying alone, Jane?"
"I've only drunk two the beers..."
"The bourbon?"
"Contemplating"
"Contemplating what, Janie?"
"What would happen if I drank it and went to Maura's. How long do you think I'd have to wait 'til they were in bed... together?"
"Or before Maura would kill you…. You want to go back to the way it was after Paddy Doyle got shot? Not being able to even talk to her?"
"You're not even saying that she wouldn't be in bed with her… her friend. The friend no one has heard about. Let's be honest, it would be a bigger shock if they weren't fucking right now," the anger burning bright in the oldest Rizzoli.
"What if they are, Jane? You've had over four years to make your move. I never thought I'd see the day when my big sister was a chicken shit." Frankie knew taunting his sister was like baiting a rattlesnake, a good way to end up dead, but he had to get her out of this mood.
"What did you call me?"
"A chicken shit! You want her? Prove it, tell her. Don't go around acting like this. If Prentiss fucks her tonight, it means nothing..."
"What the fuck do you mean, Frankie? It means everything! I'd lose her forever," said Jane wanting to beat the crap out of her brother, but as quick as it came it was gone. In a small voice she finally admitted it to herself, as well as to someone else. "I love her, Frankie."
"I know, sis. Everyone knows apart from you and Maura. Let me tell you why it means nothing, even if they are..."
Jane put her hand up to him, not wanting to hear the words, not wanting to imagine blonde tresses moving down a well toned abdomen, the wrong one.
"Jane, you were so blind in your jealousy that you didn't get the full picture. You weren't the only one ready for a slap down. Blondie... uhm Jareau, the one you're working with."
"JJ, everyone calls her JJ," her attention finally focused on a piece of evidence.
"Okay JJ then, she was in tears when she stormed off to the hotel. Maybe the two of you could talk tomorrow and figure out a way to get your women back." He took the glass of bourbon and poured it down the sink." I am going to sleep on your couch tonight. Get some rest, sis. It is going to be a long day tomorrow."
"Since when did you get so wise, little brother?" Jane asked softly.
"Not wise, just fed up with seeing my sister fail to notice one of the most gorgeous women on the planet is in love with you, and you love her. It's fucked up and I want you both to be happy."
"I love you, Frankie, but if you repeat that to anyone I will kill you." Jane walked into her bedroom, hearing her brother shout out 'I love you, too, sis'. She had barely taken her clothes off when she collapsed into a dreamless sleep.
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Maura watched Emily hoist her go bag over her shoulder. She was still simmering with anger at the way Jane had pulled her away and demanded her, without saying so, to not to take someone home with her. The only problem was that watching the agent's cocky saunter was like watching Rizzoli walk onto a crime scene. They both had a confident persona that could intimidate most criminals.
The doctor knew that thing with Emily Prentiss was dangerous, that the whole situation was opening up a real can of worms. She had told Jane that she had never had a friend before; it wasn't a lie, after all it was a well known fact the doctor couldn't lie, but it wasn't the full truth either.
Emily had arrived at her school in France an angry rebel who had been forced to have an abortion so that she didn't sully her parent's good name. Maura was the nerd that everyone bullied. That was until a pissed Prentiss had broken the worst bully's nose. Most of the girls would have been expelled for doing that, but the daughter of an US Ambassador does not get expelled, especially when Constance Isles had turned up demanding to know why it took another pupil to stop her daughter from being bullied and what the hell the teachers were doing in a school they had spent so much fees in.
Of course at the heart of the matter both women in their detached way had loved their daughters, but they both always looked for the social advantages in any transaction and the connecting of the Isles and Prentiss names was too much for the women to ignore.
At the age of 16, the wild rebel who had drank, used drugs and had partied hard found that that in the bookish nerd , she had so much in common. They both were two lonely little rich girls, desperate for their emotionally distant parent's love and approval.
Emily Prentiss was dangerous; Emily Prentiss had lovingly, romantically and gently taken Maura Isles' virginity. They had been lovers for four years until Maura Isles had broken both their hearts to please her parents by getting engaged to Garret Fairfield and both had learned to put feelings in little compartments and lock emotions behind thick walls. Maura Isles was dangerous; she had broken her first love's heart and never heard from her again. That was until a report in the news had announced that a F.B.I agent and daughter of an US Ambassador had been murdered by an international terrorist and gun runner. Maura had cried her heart out, but could never share it with anyone. After all, she would have been judged by Jane and judged harshly.
The drive to Maura's house was quiet. After the initial excitement of seeing Emily had passed, she had realized that Agent Prentiss was different. She was lithe, muscled and moved through the world with the danger and grace of a puma. She was a person who had killed, was brave and had sacrificed herself for the people she cared about. Emily Prentiss was Jane Rizzoli and Jane Rizzoli was Emily Prentiss and right now, Emily Prentiss had Maura Isles pinned against the wall of her hallway, her mouth assaulting the blonde's lips.
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Emily was ready long before Maura had chosen her killer heels for the day. Instead, Emily went downstairs to prepare coffee and toast some bagels. Her mind now firmly in profiling mode, she was wondering if, with that many bodies there could be a team killing together. Maura had arranged for a forensic anthropologist to come in from the Body Farm to go through the bones with her. It would be interesting to know if the M.O was the same for all the bodies. She never heard the front door being opened.
Angela Rizzoli was panicking, the café would be packed today and Stanley had phoned her to get her 'ass in early'. That, of course, meant that her car wouldn't start. That's why when she had seen a tall, slim, dark haired brunette in a pant suit, her mind hadn't taken in the shorter, non curly hair, the difference in height by less than an inch, and the slight broadness through the shoulders. "Janie, can you and Maura give me a lift into work. Stanley is going spare..."
Emily turned to see an older woman staring at her. They both said at the same time, "Who the hell are you?" Without thinking, Emily had reached for her side arm, remembering too late it was locked in Maura's gun safe upstairs. Angela, however, already had her hand in her handbag. It closed around the pepper spray and she sprayed the brunette straight in the eyes.
TBC