Chapter Eight

Maura laughed softly as she pointed her crutches toward the back terrace, only eager to be home now that Jane was joining her. With Angela around, the house felt much homier than it had when she first moved in, but that was nothing compared to the warmth that suffused it when Jane was there with her. Maura watched as the detective navigated her narrow driveway, pulling out of sight along the curb. If their night went as planned, she hoped to bypass her silk pajamas completely, and simply skip to the feel of Jane's skin directly next to hers. As the thought wove its way pleasurably through her synapses, she made her way to the back door. The wind ruffled the leaves along the terrace wall, but it was only after a series of goose bumps percolated her skin that Maura realized the trees around her were unmoving. The rustling suddenly stopped, replaced by the swift beat of heavy footsteps, coming too heavy and too fast to be Jane's.

Maura had little time to panic as she turned, her flight response triggered, and was met with the hard, flat wall of a human chest. She managed a startled cry before a hand clamped over her mouth, her crutches catching in her hands as she tried to wield them as some sort of weapon. With a quick thrust, she railed one backward, eliciting a grunt of pain from her assailant. She tried again, and this time the hand around her shoulders fell away, freeing her. She used the moment to her advantage, scrambling quickly away, her leg on fire without the assistance of her crutches. "Jane!" she screamed, hoping that whoever was behind her hadn't gotten to her detective first.

Chancing a glance behind her at the figure that hunched over, clutching his side, she made it only several painful steps before she was met with another human hurdle. The muddy colored eyes staring down at her were narrowed, the thin line of the man's mouth curled into a sneer, and she was pushed backwards, falling into the hands from which she had just managed to escape. The first man, seemingly learning from his previous mistake, pressed a gun against her temple, while the second man pushed towards her. She could see the stubble that lined his chin, but her eyes moved quickly to the gun he held by his side, monitoring the twitch of his index finger.

"Maura!"

She registered the panicked yell of her name, but could only shake her head forcefully, as if willing Jane away from the burst of violence that had struck what promised to be a normal, even boring, afternoon. As Jane's footsteps hammered along the driveway, the second man swung his gun toward the street, as if waiting to greet her. He tossed a sinister grin back at Maura. "You try anything, I put a bullet in her, you got it?"

Maura nodded silently, her breath unable to make its way up her windpipe, and she closed her eyes, hoping that Jane wouldn't appear around the corner. If she didn't appear, then she would stay out of harm's way. Maura didn't believe in the physics of telepathy, but she tried to deliver some message of warning. In the end, she opted for the tried and true of verbal communication. "Jane, no! Run!"

Her words were too late, however, and Jane rounded the corner with her gun already drawn, aiming squarely at the three of them. Maura's eyes tried to find hers, but she couldn't focus, her vision blurring and her stomach heaving; now neither of them were safe.

Jane stopped cold, mid-stride, but kept her weapon raised. The man pointing his gun toward her was about an inch shorter than she was, but much bulkier, and his aim was directly over her heart. Her eyes flitted from the man to his partner, who towered over Maura, one hand wrapped around her torso. It was the other one, though, the one that held a Sig to her temple, that made Jane's breath stop. She caught Maura's terrified eyes, hoping to transmit some sort of reassurance, but she was sure she failed, instead only offering the fear that pulsed through her.

"I think you should drop that," the shorter man said, but Jane held her weapon steady, silently testing him. He wasn't exceptionally well-built, but his closely cropped hair and thick arms were enough to give her pause, and he looked too comfortable holding a gun for her to try anything rash. He may have been Moore's second-string, but he was clearly confident enough to get the job done.

"Cops are already on their way," she answered, her voice a pitch lower than usual, just to keep it from wavering. She needed to keep him talking, despite the fact that her throat was rapidly closing in on her words, an overpowering vice on her vocal cords. "You got less than five minutes before an entire BPD squad aims a row of Glocks at you."

"Then I guess we better get out of here fast," he said with a sneer, nodding back at his partner, who moved the muzzle of his gun underneath Maura's chin, coaxing it upwards. "I was going to start with introductions," he said, his voice a thin veneer of propriety, as if in a former life he was an accountant rather than a criminal. "But if time is running out, maybe we just go for the gold, how about that?" He paused, letting his words penetrate the panic that froze Jane's arms in place. "Drop the gun, Detective."

Jane's hand quivered, and she hoped he couldn't see the gun shaking. Her logic was failing her, and the only thing that mattered was the woman in front of her. She glanced quickly at Maura, swallowing, and shifted her feet beneath her. That brief contact was enough to let both of their captors know that whatever happened, Maura was her top priority; and that gave them both a power she didn't want them to have.

The man in front of her smiled, gesturing toward his taller, broader partner, whose thin wisp of dark brown bangs made him look more like a graduate student than a lackey. Whatever the gesture meant, Jane wasn't about to find out. "Wait," she said, her voice thin. Lowering her gun slowly to the ground, she glanced back at the taller man, unable to meet Maura's eyes as she did so.

The younger guy slipped a pair of plastic handcuffs out of his pocket and made quick work of tying Maura's hands together. Jane lurched forward, but was halted by the gun in her face, and she seethed silently as the same treatment was given to her own hands, which were bound securely in front of her. The shorter man dangled Maura's keys in his fingers, unlocking the Prius that sat a few feet away from them. "Get in," he directed, swaying his gun at Jane. "We've already changed the license plates. Don't want our excursion being interrupted, do we?"

"We're not getting into that car," Jane responded defiantly. She had no intention of making their work any easier, and the longer they had their feet on solid ground, the more time she had to think of a way out. She glanced quickly at Maura, whose gaze was directed toward the ground in front of her, half closed, as if physically willing their nightmare to dissipate.

"Jesus, you're a stubborn one," he observed, and tossed a glance back at Maura. "She always this pigheaded?" he asked, grinning as his partner gave a quick yank on Maura's hair. Jane clenched her teeth, biting hard down on the inside of her cheek, tasting blood, but that did nothing to calm what was boiling inside her. Her hands curled into fists, and her chest swelled with a useless protectiveness.

Despite the harsh grip at the back of her head, Maura managed a small nod. "Yes," she replied earnestly, her eyes searching for Jane's, as if trying to establish a direct bond that wouldn't be uprooted by a gun at her head or a maniac behind her. And for a brief moment, Jane felt the connection, and gave her a small flicker of a comforting nod.

The first man rolled his eyes, unamused by Maura's response, and he turned back to Jane, fixing her with an impatient stare. "We were told to bring both of you, but if I have to, I'll blow Blondie's head off and leave her here for your uniforms to find. Now get in the car."

Maura's eyes closed briefly, then opened wide, staring hard at Jane as if expecting some secret plan to pass between them. But the man held a .45 next to her temple, and they were both more than familiar with the path it would take if the trigger were pulled.

"Okay," Jane said, for the second time raising her hands placatingly in front of her. "Okay. But let her go. You've got me, you don't need her." Her voice was steady, the sound of a negotiator, but her pulse pounded in her temples, threatening to overshadow the man's low response.

"Nice try," he said. "But that's not what was decided. And it looks like it'll be nice to have this little one along, just to keep you well behaved." He clearly saw right through the thin polish of Jane's training; Maura was her one and only priority at that moment, and she couldn't pretend otherwise. That was his best weapon and he knew it. He stepped forward, shoving Jane into the front seat of the car and slamming the door. She turned immediately, watching as Maura was pushed into the back seat with little consideration given to her injury. "Watch her leg," she snapped as the taller man climbed in beside Maura, pushing her roughly toward the middle of the seat.

"What are you, her physician?" he asked, waving the gun in front of him. "Turn the fuck around."

"Actually, that would be me," Maura piped, her voice shaky, but adamant. "I'm the doctor."

Jane darted a confused glance at her, unsure as to whether she was truly being polite to their captors or whether she was attempting to create some distraction. It being Maura, however, she soon realized that the corrective words simply slipped out of her, despite the raised vein of worry pulsing at her temples. Jane used the minute distraction to her advantage, glancing quickly around the car and searching for anything she might be able to get her bound hands on. The tiny moments of transition were her best option, and she thought for a split second about lunging her feet over the center console and knocking the gun from the driver's hand. But the taller man already had his own gun back against Maura's temple, clearly unimpressed with her credentials.

The driver caught Jane's eye as he hit the power button, the car purring to life underneath them. "Can't believe I'm in a fucking Prius," he muttered. He turned fully toward Jane, noticing her roving eyes. "You're a resourceful one," he said with an almost admiring smile. "Probably how you managed to get away before, huh?"

"The same way I'm going to get away this time, too," she replied through clenched teeth.

He scratched his temple with the muzzle of his gun, nodding thoughtfully at her. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" he asked before lifting his gun and bringing it down hard against the side of her skull. Jane felt the sharp crack of pain, and somewhere inside the roar in her head she heard Maura call her name, but everything quickly faded into overwhelming blackness.

Maura cried out, lunging forward, her hands flailing towards the driver in an anger propelled only by panic, but she was pulled back by a rough hand in her hair. This time it was coupled with a swift kick to her leg, causing her to let out a strangled cry as she wrenched forward at the waist, pain rippling through her limb. Her phone slipped out of her blazer pocket and onto the floorboard, sliding toward her feet.

As the car back its way into the street, the large man bent down, picking it up the gadget. "This is the iPhone 4S?" he asked casually, as if he didn't have a gun pointed directly at the back of Maura's head. She chanced a look back at him, her leg still smarting from his ungracious kick, but nodded silently. His voice was loud and flat, which matched the broad features of his face. He shrugged, playing around with the phone, the screen lighting up under his fingers. "I'm a Droid."

"I'm sorry?" she asked, not understanding him, but with a gun being held toward her, not wanting to fully ignore him, either.

"I've got an Android phone," he clarified impatiently. "You mind if I play around with yours for a little while?"

The driver met his eye in the mirror, shaking his head with an almost paternal disappointment. "Jesus, Brad, what is she going to say, you've got a gun to her head. Think before you speak."

Brad shook his head, sneering back at him. "Don't mock me, Ted, I'm not in the mood."

Maura glanced at each of them in turn, finding it difficult to navigate between her own terror and their mundane bickering, but she nodded at Brad. "Yes, by all means. Enjoy." She leaned inconspicuously forward, searching Jane's belt buckle for her phone, but the holster was empty. Wherever she left it, Maura hoped someone would find it and be familiar enough with a certain iPhone tracking device to at least figure out where they were headed.

As they drove through the back streets of Beacon Hill, the lanes mostly deserted in the mid afternoon lull, the gun moved cautiously from Maura's temple down to her waist, out of sight. She searched for some way to offer a distress signal, knowing that the further they got from Boston, the more danger they faced. Statistics ran through her mind, most of them drilled into her after six years of working in forensics, but none of them helpful in her current state. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping to turn off the side of her brain that simply relayed the statistical chance of their survival. If she was going to get them out of this, she needed to hone in on her instincts.

If Jane were awake, she would ask questions, if only to pester the two men into slipping up or making some fatal mistake. The more she chiseled away at their control and the more she got them talking, the better. The silence was intimidating. She opened her eyes, leaning forward and attempting to gleam a look at Jane's temple, but her head was angled away from the center of the car, instead resting along the window. "Excuse me," she said, raising her eyes to meet Ted's in the rearview mirror.

He ignored her, taking a sharp turn onto a back two-lane road, away from even the most minimal traffic.

"Excuse me, sir," she repeated, inching further up on her seat. He finally glanced back at her, either amused by her politeness or perturbed by it. "Can I help you?" he asked, irritation buzzing through his voice.

"Do you mind telling me if there is a raised contusion on Detective Rizzoli's temple? There should be a slight pallor along the sphenoid bone."

His mouth dropped open slightly. "Are you kidding me?" His eyes moved toward his partner's. "Brad, you hearing this?"

Maura glanced back at the man beside her, but his eyes were still glued to her phone, enraptured by the tiny boxed applications on its screen. Ted rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the road. Maura swallowed, but continued, taking her chances in pressing him further. "Do you know what will happen if a bruise does not form on her temple?" she asked. When she was met with silence, she spoke again, her own worry fueling her. "Bruising of the temporal tissue indicates outwards swelling, which doesn't impact the neurons in the brain. If swelling continues inward, increasing pressure on the brain tissue, she could suffer an aneurysm that could cause a life-threatening clot. And you would arrive at your destination only fulfilling half your bargain." She exhaled shakily, her breathy explanation causing her own pulse to quicken with fear. She just needed Jane to wake up.

The man eyed her in the mirror, raising one thin, brown eyebrow. "I guess if I'm going to end up killing you for talking too damn much, I should make sure she's okay, huh?"

Maura's lips parted, a sheen of sweat breaking out across her forehead, but she nodded. "Yes, I would imagine so."

Ted shrugged, leaning over and pulling Jane's limp form up by the collar of her button-down and examining the side of her head. "Yup, a nasty bruise," he summarized, before letting her head drop back against the window with a low thud.

Maura heaved a sigh of relief, her bound hands clenching in gratitude. At this point, she was thankful for even the smallest of victories. She sat quietly for a few moments, preferring not to press her luck too far, and instead tried to make some semblance of their route. They had already branched off the small highway, and were now on a narrow two-lane, its edges surrounded by a cover of tall trees.

The driver fumbled with her radio, turning his nose up at the stations she had programmed. "What the hell is this liberal shit?" he mumbled, switching quickly to another frequency and turning up the sound, flooding the car with the nasal voice of a perturbed news radio host.

"Really, Ted, do we have to listen to this shit?" Brad lifted his head from the screen of Maura's phone, turning his nose up. "Just put it on KISS FM."

"When you drive, you can pick the radio station," came the snapped response. "And put that fucking phone away and monitor the radar. That's your job, remember?"

"I did offer to drive, remember?" Brad said in response. "And the app is open, it's right here," he offered, pointing to his own phone, which lay on his knee. Maura detected the glimmering screen of a police radar. She could only hope her own device kept him distracted.

Using the lull to her advantage, she piped up with another question. "Where are you taking us? Pittsfield?"

"What do you care?" Ted answered, not bothering to glance at her. "It's not like you're going to have much time to sightsee."

"Oh, I've already been to Pittsfield," she replied, giving him a small smile, meant only to ingratiate him. "Many times, back in college." She was undeterred by the roll of his eyes, and continued. "Do you work for Robert Moore?"

Ted raised an amused eyebrow at her. "How many other people you got trying to kill you, sweetheart?" He chuckled. "I work with Moore, not for him. We're a non-hierarchical organization."

"Non-hierarchical, my ass," murmured Brad from the backseat. He angled Maura's phone towards her. "Hey, you don't have any friends on Words with Friends," he declared.

"It's a new application," she explained, cringing as he shifted in his seat, the gun digging into her ribs.

"Jesus, Brad, put that shit away, we're on a fucking job here." This time Ted turned toward the two of them, his gaze burning into his younger partner's. "Check the radar." He nodded toward Maura. "And get this one to shut up for a minute"

Brad simply shrugged, his face a blank mask as he looked over at Maura, pressing the gun harshly against her side. "Talk again, and I put a bullet into your gut."

Maura swallowed, nodding, but words gushed up her throat despite her fear. "You mean my intestines. Or my spleen."

"All of the above, Doctor," he replied contemptuously, before glancing up at his partner with a satisfied expression. "See. Taken care of."

Maura pursed her lips, keeping her mouth closed as she kept her eyes on Jane, whose head was still lolled almost peacefully against the window, as if she were simply taking a nap on a long car ride. She attempted to keep her own shallow breathing at a nice, even pace, but she felt her nerves begin to unravel. She bit her lip, hard, hoping to keep her tears at bay. Jane would never cry.


Frankie sat at Jane's desk, twiddling his thumbs. In actuality, he could have been at his own apartment, twiddling his thumbs over his Wii control or at least catching up on a good dose of Game of Thrones. Instead, he had come into the precinct on his off day, hoping to tag along with Frost and Korsak. He had been met with a big, fat denial, which left him sitting alone in the precinct. His stomach grumbled, and he looked down at it, sighing. He could at least do something about that.

He made his way down to the cafe, where his mother was clearing a table by the door. "Frankie," she gushed, looking up at him with a wide smile. "I thought you were off today. What are you doing here? And why aren't you moving the rest of my things into the guest house?"

"Because I'd rather be here, wasting my time," he replied.

"You and Jane are such go-getters," she said proudly. "That comes from my side of the family, you know. My great-grandfather was a garbage collector. He came home smelling like trash for fifteen years before - "

"I know, I know, Ma," Frankie said with a wave of his hand. "Before he finally bought out the owner of the company and smelled like wealthy trash for the rest of his life. I've heard you tell that tale to Tommy a hundred times. It's not the best story, you know."

"You've heard me tell it a hundred times because it's a great story," she miffed, but her expression didn't harden for long as she took in his slumped shoulders. "You want me to make you a tuna melt?"

Frankie glanced up at her, the corners of his mouth turning downward in a silent plea.

"You want me to make you some macaroni and cheese?" she asked, with a quick pat on his back.

He nodded, darting his eyes quickly around the cafe and hoping he didn't recognize anyone from the third floor. Jane might have gotten away with bunny pancakes, but he doubted the same would be true for him. "Thanks, Ma." His radio buzzed at his shoulder, static crackling through the cafe air.

"Officer down at 3340 Beacon Place, send backup immediately."

Both he and Angela looked at his shoulder, frozen, as if waiting for confirmation that the panicked voice wafting through its speakers was actually Jane. When the radio flickered back to full static, their eyes met, sharing the first glimmers of pure, unadulterated alarm.

"Frankie," Angela squeaked, unsteadily, her hand going out to the table.

He lunged out of his chair, letting it topple with an echo to the tiled floor. "Stay here, Ma." Whatever had just happened at Maura's he wasn't sure he was equipped to handle it, but his body moved toward the door of its own accord, his heart feeling as if were beating in his throat.

"I'm coming with you," he heard his mother say from behind him.

He whirled back to her, shaking his head and raising a firm hand. "No, Ma, let us handle this, okay. Stay here, and I'll call you as soon as I know something."

Angela threw her apron over her head, her eyes steeling with a sudden hardness, despite the quiver in her voice. "That is my daughter, and I am coming with you."

Frankie knew that look in her eyes. He had seen it the night of the car crash, and knew enough not to argue with her. Instead he responded directly into his radio as he bounded toward the door, Angela's worried footsteps keeping up with him at every stride. "Badge number 6782, en route to ten double-zero at 3340 Beacon Place." He blared the siren of his squad car, the jarring noise and the rushing static of his radio echoing the onslaught of worry that clouded his brain. He barely glanced at his mother as he sped through the downtown streets, but he saw her rocking with panic out of the corner of his eye, her lips moving in silent prayer. He opened his mouth to offer her some comforting words, but instead he just pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal.

As he pulled up to the curb along Maura's house, one other squad car and an ambulance ahead of him, he put a halting hand on his mother's shoulder. "Stay here, Ma, for now." He was surprised by the strength of his voice, but unsurprised by the shakiness of his knees as he stepped out of the car. A plainclothes cop sat along the curb, an oxygen mask over his nose, and the other was splayed on a stretcher, a paramedic hovering over him.

"That's Jane's car," Angela remarked from her seat, her voice trailing off in the silence. Unsure of whether to find relief in the observation or not, she wrenched open the door to the squad car and put her feet along the pavement, hoping that it would help steady her. As she watched Frankie and made his way toward the officers, she put her head between her knees, hoping that the next voice she heard would be her daughter's.

"What happened?" Frankie asked, lunging toward the driveway. "Where's Detective Rizzoli?" One of the uniforms turned to him, squinting into the sun, but his jaw hardened with empathy as he recognized Frankie. "Not sure. Two middle-aged men approached the unmarked car this afternoon, said they were insurance salesman needing help with directions. That's the last thing McCafferty and Dawson remember. Tranquilizers must have kept them out for over an hour. There's no sign of a break-in, but there is sign of a struggle outside the back door. We got officers working it now."

Frankie shook his head, fumbling for the phone at his side. Flicking on the screen, he saw his sister's name flash across his screen: a missed call. His stomach plummeted toward the black, rubber-soled shoes he wore, and frustrated anger prickled the backs of his ears. He had missed the call. Taking a chance, he dialed the number back, his shoulders tensing with each passing ring. He flicked it off at the sound of Jane's voicemail, his fingers somehow finding Korsak's name instead.

"Frankie, we just heard," the older detective answered, his voice sending a flood of relief through Frankie despite the fact that he was nowhere near Boston at the moment. "What do you got?"

He willed his voice not to sound so thin as he told Korsak and Frost what he knew, which was embarrassingly little at the moment. He was met with a brief second of silence before Korsak spoke again. "If they're en route to Moore, we'll find them. We'll get every police car in Western Massachusetts on a road block." Frankie nodded, hanging up and slipping his phone into his belt as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it disappeared with a sudden angry rush of adrenaline. He was in charge. He just hoped he had the courage to act like it.

"Let's keep this scene clear!" he yelled, walking briskly up the driveway. "We're preserving every print. Get uniforms up and down this entire block right now. We're talking to everyone on this street!" Jane's car was still parked along the curb, but Maura's Prius wasn't in the driveway. For a moment, he hoped the two of them had simply rushed off recklessly after the perps, but as he caught sight of Maura's discarded crutches and scattered purse, he felt another quick rush of panic sluice down his spine. As he made his way up the cobblestone path to the terrace, something glinted in the sunlight along the flowered pathway, and he leaned over, examining it. He pulled a glove out of his pocket, slipping it on before picking up the object, which he recognized immediately as his sister's phone.

He thought for a moment as he stared down at the security prompt that popped up on the screen, but quickly bypassed it, punching in his mother's birthdate. For a cop, Jane didn't exactly utilize the most stealthy of pass codes. He stared down at the screen as a number of bannered alerts flashed across it, each with its own map coordinate. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it, a deep crease lining the space between his eyes, but a spark ignited through him as he realized that he was staring at a real-time path of Maura's phone. Wherever they were headed, he was able to see it.

From the look of the maps, they were only forty minutes out of Boston, but they weren't heading toward Korsak and Frost, and were instead veering just slightly south. "Hey!" he yelled, prompting a stray officer to peer up at him. "I got a location on Rizzoli and Isles. I need roadblocks set up along Deloitte Highway, now!" He ran toward his own squad car, his heart pumping fast.

"What did you find?" Angela asked, her eyes the size of saucers. "Are they okay?"

"Ma, I need you to wait here until an officer can take you back to the precinct," he said, taking her hand.

She shook her head, pulling it away and leaning back in the passenger's seat.

"Ma, come on, let me do my job here," he pleaded, his authority wavering only slightly. "Every second is crucial."

Angela swallowed, her face morphing into a solidified stubbornness that Frankie had only seen once or twice before; but enough to know that she wasn't budging. "Then you'd better shut up and get in the car," she said lowly. "Because I'm coming with you."

He cringed, but rounded the car, his mother already turning the key in the ignition and hitting the siren. "Stubbornness run in your side of the family, too?" he muttered as he pulled away from the curb. He didn't expect an answer, and didn't get one. He kept his eyes on Jane's phone, following the tiny alerts that flashed on the screen. It was the only lead he had, and he hoped like hell it lead them in the right direction.


I hope you all aren't too frustrated and that I haven't made fanfiction enemies. I really am working as fast as I can!