DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

AN: This chapter is dedicated to all those who serve and protect, especially those who have given their lives in that capacity, whether military, police, firefighter, or EMTs.

Chapter 15

The days seemed to tie everyone up with busy work, and those at police headquarters were not immune. Within the last week the police force carried out viewings and funerals for two officers with Frankie now being the third. It almost seemed like the force went from on-duty, to a funeral, and back to the office again. The men and women all looked ragged from the physical and emotional weariness of helping to fill the needed spots with those out because of injury, death, and, in Marino's case, because of turning rouge. Add onto that the mental and emotional weariness from losing your friends to death or greed and it was taking a toll on even the heartiest of cops.

After Maura had woken up from her brief nap, she went home in order to prepare for the funeral the next day to honor the memories of Detective Clark and Officer Jones. There she did what she always did when she was unsure about a situation...research. But the black and white information did nothing to prepare her for the mass of black and blues of the many police officers from the New England area, the bright and pastels of the numerous flower arrangements, or for the red, white, and blue of the flags covering the two caskets. And, while that funeral helped cement in her mind what happened in the church service for a line of duty death of a police officer, it did not help prepare her for the additional emotional stress of Frankie's funeral just two days later.

Jane was sitting alone in her room after having annoyed the nurses and doctors yet again. She had all but pushed her parents out the door the night before pleading with them to go to the funeral for the other two officers killed in this whole mess as she could not. Jane thought the medical personnel should have been happy with her for not pushing herself to get out of the hospital in order to go to the funeral, but no, they were still annoyed as she refused to take any pain medication this morning. She might have tried to leave the hospital if it wasn't for the fact that she needed to regain as much strength, physically and emotionally, as she could in order to get through Frankie's funeral without dishonoring his memory. But she at least owed it to Detective Clark and Officer Jones to be awake and alert as she remembered their tireless service to the city rather than be fuzzy from the medication.

She wasn't sure how long she watched the local breaking news delivering the information of the lives of the two slain officers and the funeral services that day. But all too soon twelve pallbearers came out of the church carrying the two flag covered caskets between them. The onlooking officers saluted as they were loaded into the two waiting hearses, and then two processions of police vehicles and personal vehicles started their journey to the officers' final resting place. Jane struggled to push herself out of the bed and to stand at attention and salute. At least she hoped it was at attention and not slightly tilted as the world seemed to look. She didn't realize that in the process of moving she pulled off her EKG leads causing the nurse at the monitor station to sprint toward her room. Jane's gaze was too riveted on the small television hanging on the wall to notice either the nurse at the door or the annoying alarms of the machine.

The nurse sitting at the monitor station seemed to take her eyes off the patient readings for just a moment but in time for all hell to break lose. She heard the alarms and gazed over to see that they were coming from the patient in room 307. She looked at the name and knew they couldn't lose that patient as the parents and the community had already lost much from her brother's death. She pushed out of her chair so quickly that the seat spun around twice before coming to a stop, but she was too busy sprinting down the hall to notice. She grabbed the edge of the open doorway of room 307 in order to help her swing into the room and then quickly came to a halt as she saw the situation in front of her. It didn't matter that the patient in front of her was in a hospital gown, that her hair was tangled into quiet a few knots, or that her IV line was straining to pull out from the placement of the right hand. The nurse saw the truth, a dedicated police officer honoring those fallen. She wasn't sure how long she stood there taking in the scene, but she did hurry forward as the patient lowered her arm, and the body tried to mimic by lowering itself to the ground.

After she finished the salute, Jane felt herself start to fall, but there wasn't much she could do about it currently. At least this once she was glad to see a nurse rushing forward in order to help prevent her downward motion. She was also glad that no one else was around to watch the painful and, at least to her, embarrassing situation as she half pulled herself and was pushed back into the bed. Jane watched as the nurse then untangled her IV, reattached the annoying wires connecting her to the numerous machines, and sent some pain medication dripping into her IV line whether she would have said no or not...but she couldn't even if she wanted to as she was too busy trying to bite back a moan of pain and grief.

For the rest of that day, and the following one, Jane was asleep more then awake. She didn't mind too much as she knew the rest would help her body heal, and she needed to be as strong as possible for her parents and to honor her baby brother. In those few lucid moments, Jane was updated on how the plans for the funeral were progressing.

A couple days after the interview with Dr. Isles, Internal Affairs had closed out their investigation into Detective Rizzoli's character. So Jane's career wouldn't be buried the same time as her brother. At least there was that plus.

Then all too soon, that Sunday came along. The sun shown brightly in the windows to announce the dawn of a beautiful day, but to the Rizzoli family it was as dark and bleak as the blackest night. When the family would normally start arriving for their dysfunctional family dinner gathering, they were to be at the church preparing to honor one family member. One week ago they never thought that their weekly family dinner was going to come in the form of a reception after burying a member.

Every girl needs a little black dress, Angela remembered telling her daughter a few months ago. But this wasn't what she had in mind when she told her daughter that. She wanted Frank and herself to get dressed up and go out on the town sometime to shake things up as the house was lonely without all the kids...not get dressed up to say good-bye to one of her children. The black dress was a simple pull on that fell mid calf; the black sheer long sleeves ended with a thick cuff at her wrists. She asked Frank to zip up the back before she slipped into a black pair of practical flats. She then turned around to see how her husband was faring.

Frank hated dressing sharply, and he hated it even more today for the reason behind it. He already had on his black slacks, crisp white button up shirt, and the black jacket that he needed to literally brush a couple of cobwebs off of as it had sat in the back of his closet for quite awhile. He heard his wife ask for help with her zipper, and then he went back to playing with the cuff links. He remembered the kids giving them to him one Father's Day even though he would probably never wear them...he wished that was still the case. He dropped his hands and then reached for the black tie that was laying on their bed. For a brief moment he wondered if that might have also been an odd gift, but he ruled that out as they preferred getting him really garish ties if they went that route. He mused that he wasn't likely to get anymore joint gifts from his children anymore. He knew Jane wouldn't get to team up with Frankie on gifts, and she damn sure wasn't going to bail out Tommy.

Angela walked over to her husband and worked on fixing his tie as he never seemed to get it right. She grabbed her black bag and then followed Frank down the stairs and out the front door in an odd foreshadowing of later processions. She glanced back in the living room as he shut and locked the door. She knew their house would never be as alive as it once was, but at least they would have one of their kids safe in the house after the day was over.

Maura looked at herself in the bathroom mirror to make sure everything looked okay. She noted that the make-up helped hide the dark circles under her eyes and the paler than normal complexion. She saw how the hand-stitched dress fell well on her figure, and the skirt flared out to just below her knees. A simple, comfortable, and expensive dress, but she would have much preferred to still be in her pajamas this morning with Frankie. For a moment the oddest thought played in her mind...she'd give up all the nice clothes and just shop in thrift stores like Frankie if she could just have him back. Knowing how final death was, and how she liked seeing art in clothing, she wasn't sure which part shocked her more for wishing. She walked out to her bedroom and grabbed the long sleeved black shrug that she had to cover her arms and slipped in to the plain black heels that she had picked out. She wore her hair down; Frankie always liked how it flowed over her shoulders. She grabbed the black bag from her dresser that she had packed the night before, grabbed her car keys, and then started toward the front door. She looked back at her sparse living room and knew that she was never going to add color and dysfunction to it like she was starting to hope for.

The doctors would have loved to keep Jane in the hospital longer as her body still had a lot of mending to do. But not today though, and not later because her family needed her. Her mother was already given copious notes for after hospital care and had already stocked the house up with more bandages, tape, antibacterial gels, and medications than Jane would have preferred to ever know what to do with. Her clothes were laying neat and pressed on the uncomfortable hospital mattress. The nurses had helped her earlier that morning with washing her hair and a sponge bath before reapplying the many bandages on her front and back. She didn't fight them then or when they brought the wheelchair around that would take her to the main entrance as she needed her strength more later in order to stand and honor a fellow cop. She didn't fight the nurses either when they came back in to help her dress as she still couldn't move well or fast. Bending at the waist to pull on her pants would have been too painful, as was getting her arms through bra straps and arm holes. She was too numb to feel her usual embarrassment of needing so much help and being dressed like a tiny child, but she needed to look her best. And she did in the dark blue police uniform with each long sleeve sporting a Boston PD patch near her shoulder; gold initials "BPD" on both collars of her shirt and a gold tie clip now that she was a detective while her brother would never get promoted to get past the silver embellishments; hair twisted up and off her neck; her police duty belt with all her gear including the radio that would remain silent until later; and her shiny gold badge near her heart with the black band horizontally across it letting anyone who looked at her know that she and all of the Boston PD were mourning. She didn't complain as her mother came in to help her put on her polished black shoes. She stood up and tucked her hat under her left arm, and at least this once graciously sat in the wheelchair letting her father lead her to the door as her mother grabbed her bag and any stray items from the room. A few of the doctors and nurses who knew this patient, and the previous one she was going to see, stood proudly watching the grieving family go by. It made Jane think of the similar line of officers at attention she would walk and drive by later.

The car with the Rizzoli family pulled up to the front of a large stone building on Washington Street. Cathedral of the Holy Cross wasn't the family church in Revere, but the family thought it would be ideal as it was close to the hospital Jane was staying in, and also close to police headquarters so Frankie's colleagues could switch off a bit so all could say a brief yet heartfelt goodbye. The fact that it could hold slightly over 1700 people didn't hurt either as police funerals were always well attended, and even then there would probably be a few stuck standing in the back. Frank helped his daughter out of the car and then up the few steps to the multiple double doors. As they walked in, Jane noticed that it seemed like many Catholic Churches she had been in before: high ceilings, arches, beautiful stained glass windows, and lots of gilded crosses, cups, and candelabras. But there was one major difference. The flag covered coffin and smiling picture of her brother near the alter were sights she would have preferred to never see in a church.

The family started walking toward the front where they would sit. Angela walked in front of her husband and daughter. Jane had to hold onto her father's arm as they made their way up the aisle. This was not how she pictured walking up a church aisle with her father, that should have been a joyous time rather than this mournful one. She mused now that even if she would get the chance to walk down the aisle with her father as she once thought, her brother would never be able to stand up as a groomsmen as she had pictured. Maybe it was a good thing she didn't consider herself to be marriage material and so would never have to face that pain too.

As they approached the front, Jane saw Maura standing near the flag covered casket and the few bouquets of flowers that the funeral home sent over to be set up with the body, along with a blown up smiling picture of her brother in uniform. She cracked a miniscule smile thinking that some things at least would always stay the same. Even now her anti-social friend was more comfortable around the dead.

But Jane didn't realize that Maura's focus was not on where the body lay but trying to find one small bouquet of flowers. She knew that the family requested donations instead of flowers, but she needed to do this too. She knew a lot about flowers, like she knew a lot about many topics. She knew not only scientific names, but also meaning placed on them in the Victorian age. She might not have felt comfortable telling the world her thoughts and feelings about Frankie, but she could let the flowers tell. Luckily she knew a florist who grew obscure plants and flowers as some were hard to come by in the cold New England area. She finally found her tiny bouquet almost hidden behind the heart shaped carnation arrangement that Angela had requested for her son's funeral. Maura's all white arrangement other than the one red tulip in the middle cost more then a dozen red roses would have, but in it she said so much more.

Jane left her father's arm when they reached the entrance to the first pew and stepped up beside Maura. She was quiet for a few moments not knowing what to say until she finally asked "Did you know that flowers can tell a lot?" Of course she knows, she's Maura. She wondered if her brain was also injured last week because that was such an odd place to start a conversation, but she didn't know what else to say. She saw a slight smile light up Maura's pale face as she nodded. Rather than waiting for her to say something back, Jane continued her nervous ramblings. "Ma started looking them up after Pop bought her some black rose seeds to plant once. He thought they would be an interesting addition in the backyard. Ma just thought he was trying to tell her something." She tried to smile but she knew it didn't reach her eyes. "Ma picked the carnations for their meaning..."

Maura turned slightly to look at her friend's face, "Remembrance."

"Yeah. Do you know about many flowers?" Another dumb question to ask the smart doctor. But she wanted some more information on the small bouquet she was told about Friday night when her mother returned to the hospital. Her parents stopped at the funeral home to see Frankie on the way back to the hospital, and noticed a small, mainly white, flower arrangement that had a card attached 'Love, Your Girl.' Jane was less then pleased.

"A few. A lot of plants are medicinal, so botany was an interest of mine."

Shocker. "What can you tell me about those?" Jane asked pointing to the arrangement in question.

Maura gave herself a silent pep talk that she could do this. She adopted her normal tone and stance when explaining something, and started a brief lecture. "This is gladiolus undulatas, part of the iris family, also known as a waved flower gladiolus," she lightly brushed the white petals with a dark pink stripe down them. She didn't add the meanings as they seemed too personal. She had three flowers for who Frankie was, and life in general: the gladiolus for strength of character, the larkspur for beautiful spirit, and anemones for fragile as life was. She pointed next to the white larkspur, "delphinium consolida, part of the buttercup family," and then the poppy anemone, "anemone coronaria, also part of the buttercup family."

Jane knew the white carnation from the family's floral arrangement so she skipped over that one. "What's that one?" Jane asked pointed to a forget-me-not that looked very close to the anemone in her opinion.

"Myosotis laxa," at Jane's glazed expression, whether from the scientific names or from pain Maura wasn't sure, but she could at least help if from terminology, "tufted forget-me-not." That flower and the carnation she picked to say she wouldn't forget, and the last two flowers she picked for her feelings. She pointed first to the last white flower meaning loving thoughts, "pansy." Before she could say more she was interrupted.

"Why not a white tulip?... Why red?"

"No clue." Jane might have pressed for meaning if she was thinking clearer; however she just assumed that it was Maura being Maura, not wanting to make assumptions on what someone might have been thinking. But Maura knew precisely what that someone was thinking picking the red tulip for declaration of love. She might never have spoken the words out loud, even now, but her flowers did.

Before the silence could become too overbearing, Maura saw Frank and Angela Rizzoli coming over to see how their daughter was doing. When Frank was in range, Maura held out her hand for a quick cross between a handshake and just holding on for dear life. She said to the grieving family "I'm truly sorry for your loss." It so didn't feel like enough as she knew what the loss felt like as it was ripping her apart too. It wasn't just the book-understanding of that emotion as it often was when she was telling grieving families in her office that she was sorry...this was gut-wrenching She started to reach out to shake Angela's hand as she saw others doing, but she was shocked stiff when Angela came forward and gave her a tight hug. Jane might have laughed at the panicked deer-in-the-headlights look on her friend's face if her sorrow wasn't too deep.

After a few seconds, Maura relaxed and brought her arms around the older women. She wasn't sure right then who was helping the other more, but she relished in the brief bit of comfort. Soon she pulled away and then gave all of them a half-smile before walking away. Maura knew she should have been stronger for her friend, but she needed some solitude in order to get her warring emotions under control before they finally got the better of her. She wasn't quick enough to get out of range before Jane and her mother started talking.

Jane was staring so intently at the flowers that she didn't even note the odd behavior in her friend, either the longer than normal hug, or walking away. Her thoughts were at least partly brought back to the present as her mother lightly touched her arm. "Why didn't she visit in the hospital, Ma? Maybe he would have had a better reason to fight his way back to us?" She didn't expect answers, but the questions had been burning in her mind for too long, and she needed to voice them. She was surprised at the anger she heard in them other then just hurt.

Maura couldn't help raising her hand to cover her mouth, first in order to keep any sounds from escaping as she heard someone else voice that thought that she had also wondered about. Would telling him 'I love you,' even when he was asleep have reached him? There had been studies on it, but she had been selfish wanting to wait to see his eyes. The hand also helped in case her quick walking to the restroom was not in time. She so hoped that wasn't going to be the case.

Maura entered the restroom and all but collapsed on the floor in front of the first toilet in time to empty the little bit that was in her stomach. Granted as she hadn't been eating like she should have this last week, so all too soon she was just left retching. She mused how working with dead bodies never made her ill, but mourning one was. Her stomach was tied in knots with so many emotions bombarding her. She leaned her head against the cool metal stall wall while she caught her breath and determined that her stomach wasn't going to revolt again.

She was glad that she packed a good assortment of make-up in the side pocket of her black bag as she knew she would need more than just a touch up from the torrent of tears cascading down her cheeks. She didn't try to stop them as she knew they would be cathartic. With so many who were sorrowful in this occasion she didn't stand out...at least not to people who didn't know her. She finally stood up from the hard tile floor, and straightened her solemn black dress back down and pushed a long strand of her caramel hair out of her face. She walked out of the stall, rinsed the taste out of her mouth with the cool tap water, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her outfit looked okay, but her face would have frightened anyone. She let her mind wonder about the false advertising for her water-proof mascara as it was streaked down her wet cheeks. She started washing her face and redoing the make-up as she pondered if the change in the chemical composition due to added protein-based hormones in emotional tears was what caused the make-up to not stay on as promised.

"I called Frost yesterday to check about the flowers you mentioned. She paid cash and had the florist sign the card so there is no reason to try and analyze handwriting, and the only usable prints were the florist's."

"How do you know the florist isn't the one?"

Jane tried not to sound annoyed by her mother's question as she hoped it might have been that easy too when she was talking to Frost, "because HE is a 53 year old, white, male."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Oh...She has to be in law enforcement, Ma, to know how to keep it untraceable." Jane turned her angry gaze to her mother, "How could she at least not come and honor the life of a slain officer? How?"

Angela also wished to learn who caused her son's eyes to light up in his last few month. She would have loved to have heard more stories about who her son was: she knew from a parent's standpoint, and knew from a professional one, but she would have liked to hear if she and Frank raised him to be a gentleman in a relationship. But she also gave the girl the benefit of the doubt. "Janie, look..." she pointed at the crowd behind her daughter, and then tugged on her right arm to get her to turn around while making sure not to jostle the left shoulder at all. "Look."

Finally Jane turned around and saw what her mother wanted her to see...a bit of color here and there surrounded by a sea of blues and black.

"How do we know she isn't out there? She lost someone important, too, don't forget that." Angela wondered if the words were just for her daughter or if she needed to hear them out loud too. She looked over and saw the anger start to leave her baby girl's eyes, but the sorrow that took it's place was worse.

Frank just shook his head at the conversation, and in the direction that Dr. Isles had nearly run. He was fairly sure that this was hitting her more then anyone knew, but if that was the case, it was her story to tell. Then he and his wife half-held, half-pulled their daughter over to the front pew.

Jane could tell who the Catholics were as they automatically genuflected before entering a pew. She watched her parents also do so before they slid in. Any other time she probably would too from a combination by rote and so that her Ma didn't nitpick. But even if she did care today, she knew that she would end up face first on the floor if she tried. So, instead, she just slid into the pew beside her father. She was grateful for his strong presence on her right, and the hard wood from the edge of the pew on her left as they helped keep her upright.

She let her mind wander before the actual funeral started. She noticed people coming over to offer her family condolences and shake her hand, but she was too busy trying to breathe through the pain in her body and reminding herself not to curse right then. Jane thought it was odd that it felt like her brain emotionally was shut down, or at least stuck in slow motion, but it seemed to be working in overdrive to remind her that her entire chest hurt, breathing hurt, sitting hurt. She knew all the big wigs had come over and now were parked in the pew across the aisle from her: Massachusetts' senator, governor, the mayor of Boston, the police commissioner, superintendent in chief, and all of the district captains. She didn't catch the names: they were tagged on at the back of the titles as if that wasn't the important part. She didn't really care... plus she was sure she didn't vote for most of them. She knew Maura would know, and probably personally from some of the social circles she frequented. Jane, however, wished she never would have met them because cops usually only did in the worst setting.

Many police officers from around much of the New England area came up to the family to also offer condolences. Jane knew these were a bit more meaningful as anyone in law enforcement knew the hard truth of losing a friend or colleague. She noticed the black band horizontally over the municipal shield badges, and angled from 1100 to 1700 hours on county star badges. Eventually the unknown faces became ones from closer to home: either their childhood home, or now their home in Boston. Jane was pleased to see cops from Revere as they knew the family, granted, mainly through Tommy's exploits. She thought it was probably a good thing Tommy didn't show up so he didn't make a scene seeing most of his old arresting officers. She saw the weary and sorrowful faces of men she and Frankie had seen on a regular basis at work. She needed a break from the grief lined faces, so she started to just watch her hand as she felt like it was going to fall off soon from all the shaking. She looked up again as the hand she was shaking was encased in a white glove. She looked up into a friendly face finally.

Detective Frost held Jane's gaze, trying to determine if she was hanging in there...well, as well as could be expected. He was also dressed in his pressed uniform, and it looked good on his dark, skinny form. Detective Korsak finally nudged him out of the way so that he could look in the eyes of his old partner. His uniform was not as neat as Frost's, partly because he had gained weight since he last needed to pull it out of the closet. Two buttons were straining against his bigger gut. For some reason that brought a smile to her face. She smiled up at him and clasped his white gloved hands. She was grateful to both Korsak and Frost for volunteering for their duty. Four more police officer came to offer their sympathies also wearing the white gloves of the pallbearers. She knew that one had been Frankie's training officer, and the other three were members of Frankie's class, but the only way she even knew part of their names was from their attached name tag. The six then moved as one to sit in the pew behind the family.

About ten minutes before the service was to begin, Maura came and nudged her way to sit behind Jane. She gave Jane's shoulder a quick squeeze before she sat down next to Vince. Korsak just sent Frost a shrug when he made the whole group slide down, the seating 'chart' was already shot to hell with Maura not sitting in the front row with the family. He wasn't about to say anything about her sitting in this row...plus if Frost asked, Rizzoli could use the support. It was always fun to blame Jane.

Maura wasn't paying attention to the words the priest was saying. Instead she glanced around at the many stained glass window and saw Jane's father move closer to her friend and clasp her hand as he feared hugging her would be too painful. She smiled at the parent and child as she remembered her own. Her parents weren't very connected to her on a personal level, but there were some times where her father especially would come out of his socially constructed shell in order to just be her dad. In church he would often pull her onto his lap and hug her. Protecting her from the gruesome images of death all over their church. It was ironic that the stained glass windows of Joan of Arc burning on a pyre, or the crucifix with Christ's mangled body scared her as a child, but now she sees and works on people who were killed horrendously. Maybe she should thank her early upbringing for desensitizing her to death and the evils of man...at least until this one.

Her thoughts came crashing back to the service just in time to hear, "Officer Frank Rizzoli Jr. is survived by his parents, Angela and Frank Sr., two sibling, Thomas, and fellow officer Detective Jane Rizzoli." Maura recollected the funeral two days ago. How it was mentioned that Officer Jones was survived by his father and a fiance, but she wasn't even that to be remembered. She saw all the families of the deceased sitting in the pew in front of her: the Rizzolis, Detective Clark's wife although she had her sister watch her two children so they didn't live through another sad funeral, and Officer Jones' father and fiance. Maura knew she could have sat with the families, if only she would let them know her closely guarded secret.

Jane didn't hear much that the priest said. She never was good at keeping her mind focused on the liturgy and the often long and boring sermon that followed. She would usually turn her brain to other matters whenever the priest started talking, just paying attention enough to know when to sit, stand, kneel, pray and whatever else they dictated. Her thoughts where brought back when she heard, "His family would like to say a few words about him," the priest said as he stepped away from the pulpit. That was her cue. She had asked to go first.

The pain of walking toward the pulpit was actually helpful as it kept her focused on something other than what she was about to do. But all too soon she was standing in front of a packed church, her mouth seemed drier then a desert at high noon, her palms were sweaty, and all the things she thought to say about her brother, and the police officer, went out her head. So she did what she was good at in interviews...winging it with whatever popped into her head.

"When Frankie and I were kids, I hated that he kept tagging along. He was 2 years younger and then it seemed like an enormous gap. Granted, as we got older it was humbling to know that he looked up to me so much. But even then he wanted to tag along it seemed as he joined the Boston PD. I was secretly pleased, and I never regretted that...until last week." She didn't want a desk job because she thought she would disappear, but Frankie's following her into their dangerous job caused him to disappear, and that was tearing her up inside more than any bullet could.

"Frankie was a great cop and an even better brother. Even then I didn't show either like I should have. Many of you who know me know that I can be a bitch about details..." There were a few coughs in the audience that she knew covered up a slight laugh. Jane glanced over at the coffin, and then at her two partners. Most days she could have expected one or all three to say sarcastically 'who, you, never,' but today wasn't most days as one couldn't speak and the other two just gave her sad smiles. She looked briefly to her parents before sweeping her gaze back over the crowd and saw a frown on her Ma's face. At least some things didn't change, and she could just hear the berating she would get later for cursing in church. Well, her Ma had finally got her wish about getting Jane back into a church, but this was not the way either would have preferred. Jane always thought it would be her mother literally dragging her in kicking and screaming to try and save her soul...not this.

"I rode him farther and harder then many instructors would have at crime scenes, but that was because I knew he would make one hell of a detective someday. At least he would have if his life wasn't taken much too early." She tried to paste on a smile, but she bet she wasn't doing so well. "But enough of this sad stuff, Frankie wouldn't want anyone mourning unless there was a real reason..like the Boston Red Sox losing the World Series." But at least if they lost there was always hope that the next year would be better, she had no hopes of that for Frankie. "He would want his family and friends to party for the life he had, break out a good beer, and know that he'd keep watch over us from heaven just as he did on his beat. Rest in peace, Frankie. I know you've got my back." I wish I could have said the same.

Knowing that their daughter was finished, Angela and Frank Rizzoli stood up as one and started walking toward the pulpit. Angela traded places with her daughter after a quick kiss to the cheek, and she started talking knowing that Jane would want the attention on anything other than her painful shuffle back to the front pew.

Frank tightly held onto his daughter's arm. He could tell that she was in pain from the pinched expression on her face and that she was leaning on him more than she would have liked. He wished she didn't feel the need to be so strong for all those around her, but he knew who she got it from. Before she could slide into the pew and sit down, he kissed her on the forehead and gave her a small smile. With both the help and the kiss, Jane would usually have whined 'not in front of the guys' and there were a lot of police officers around to watch, but today she was grateful for his strength and support.

"Jane already mentioned how Frankie followed her around. For awhile Frank and I worried that he wouldn't step out of her shadow, but we finally knew he was growing up and would find his way on his own during a softball game when he was 10. He and Jane both played on the same team that year, which was very helpful so we didn't have to worry about having games on the same day... Anyway, during one game the pitcher from the other team saw Janie's long hair and I guess wanted to scare her or something, and so ended up hitting her pretty hard with the softball when she was up to bat. Jane was struggling to get up, and I just knew she was going to get in the pitcher's face. But before she could get to him, Frankie was already there. He clocked the kid good." Angela chuckled as she remembered the shocked look on the boy's face as he ate dirt. "Granted, as the parents, Frank and I had to sit him down and tell him that there were better ways to deal with bullies, but secretly we were so proud of him for standing up for his sister. She was too... you could see it in the way she would tell anyone who brought up her black eye that they should have 'seen the other guy after Frankie got done with em.' I should have known then that he'd want to get into a profession where he could help people deal with other bullies.

"No parent of a police officer wants to hear the news that their child is hurt in the line of duty," Angela glanced at Jane remembering both this time and when she was injured by a deranged serial killer. She started to tear up and struggled with words that didn't seem to want to come anymore.

Maura reached an arm out and squeezed Jane's right shoulder for comfort. Before she could pull her hand back, Jane looked back, gave Maura a sad smile, and reached up a hand to grasp the one on her shoulder before turning back to listen.

Korsak thought it was ironic and sad that Jane had no clue of the comfort she also gave back to her friend with that gesture. He always thought that Jane was the most stubborn and pigheaded woman that he had ever met, but he was starting to rethink that.

Frank stepped up to his wife, wrapped an arm around her waist, and took over speaking for the both of them, "Frankie will be missed. Not only by his mother, myself, and his siblings, but also those whose lives he has touched, and the many more whose lives won't be enriched by his presence now." He looked toward Dr. Isles and then back over the crowd, "We want to thank the police and medical professionals who worked so hard to try and save our boy. We will miss you Frankie." He wanted to say more...he wanted more time with his family... he wanted this harrowing day to be over.

Jane again squeezed Maura's hand to let her know there was no hard feelings. She glanced back to see tears in her friend's eyes and assumed that they were solely because her help wasn't enough. Jane wished that Maura could see that, without her, Frankie wouldn't have even made it to the hospital.

When she looked back toward the front, she saw her father all but dragging her sobbing mother back to where she sat. A lone bagpiper started to play 'Amazing Grace,' and Jane tried not to cringe. She used to love the sound of bagpipes, at least until she became a cop so it started to just represent loss and death. She heard the sound of many already filing out the back doors, so they could give him a proper send off. She watched as the six pallbearers came forward to get her brother's casket, and they started one of the many processions of the day. She painfully stood up and joined her parents in following Frankie. It was always supposed to be him following her...this was just wrong.

AN: Ok so just the church part, cemetery and honors in the next one—came down to rushing OR being happy with the chapter...so you have to wait :) (or making you wait for this one too but that is just cruel)