A few people have commented asking if I'll be continuing 'Coming Home' and the answer, for now, is I don't know. I don't feel super motivated with that story, but I hate to leave anything unfinished, so never say never…
Anyway, on we go.
Jane gazed after Maura desperately, confused and a little bit stunned, before coming to her senses and taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. By the time she made it to the top of the steps, Maura was making her way to the bedroom.
Spotting Korsak, Jane shot daggers his way. She stalked across the living room and grabbed him by the sleeve, dragging him out into the corridor.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at," she hissed as he whipped his sleeve out of her grasp.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, and you'd do well to remember who it was that got you this gig in the first place," Korsak said.
"Did you know?" Her voice broke slightly, a barely-there quiver on the last word.
She raked her fingers through her hair, the bandages on her hands slipping slightly. She repositioned them, covering the wounds that had begun to peek out.
Korsak's face softened slightly.
"Did I know what, Jane? Are you alright?"
Jane bowed her head, hands on her hips as she took in a deep breath.
"About Maura and me."
"What about Maura and you?" Korsak's voice was a little too loud for Jane's liking, so she ushered him further down the corridor, more gently this time.
Jane felt heat creep into her cheeks as she took in Korsak's baffled expression. She pressed a palm to her forehead.
"I guess I just thought, since you knew me back then, you would've known her."
"Jane, I met Doctor Isles six months ago when she moved her from Europe to start her role as ME."
"Did I really never mention her to you?"
"Do you need me to take you home? You're worrying me."
Jane felt her eyes sting. It had been a very long time since anyone had cared about her enough to be worried.
"Shit, I'm sorry Korsak. It's just been a long time since we saw each other and I… I didn't exactly leave things on good terms."
"I know how hard things were for you, back then, when you lived here, before. I'm guessing that's what you're talking about."
"Yeah." Jane sniffed.
"We don't have to talk about it anymore. I just need to know whether this is going to affect your work."
"No, no way. I'll be fine."
Korsak rested a hand on Jane's shoulder, looking deep into her eyes.
"I understand how hard it must be for you to have come back here, and I just want you to know that I'm happy you've come back." He turned and made his way back to Della Quinton's apartment, giving Jane time to swallow the lump in her throat and compose herself.
Wiping her eyes as discretely as she could, she cracked her neck and followed Korsak, bracing herself at the thought of seeing Maura again.
Maura herself was leaning over Della Quinton's body, examining the wounds on her face and head with a magnifying glass as crime scene techs busied themselves measuring temperature readings and taking samples.
"Do we have another one, Doctor Isles?"
"You know I don't like to make a judgement until I've performed the autopsy and done a thorough examination, Detective Korsak." Maura's mouth quirked into a small smile, and Jane couldn't quite work out what she was feeling at how quickly she and Korsak had slipped into such familiarity.
"But if you had to speculate, just this once," Korsak smiled back.
"The wounds seem to be almost identical in shape, size and depth as those found on Martha Procter. I can at least estimate that a similar weapon, if not the same one, was used here."
From her position against the wall, Jane had to try very hard to hold in a snort. Maura hadn't changed one bit.
"No shit Sherlock," she muttered, realising too late she'd spoken out loud.
"Do you have something to say to me, Detective Rizzoli?" Maura snapped a glove off her hand in a way that was surprisingly threatening.
Jane gulped.
"I just mean, I've seen the crime scene photos of our last vic. Lotta similarities, both were bashed in the head with a blunt object, both posed the exact same in their beds."
"Detective, I have to rely on science, on what the evidence tells me. If I make one mistake with my assessment of our victims's body, this entire case will be thrown out. I don't get to saunter in and out of crime scenes and I certainly don't have the luxury of throwing around assumptions, or submitting sloppy work."
"Do you think I don't understand how this works? I get it, Doctor Isles. I know one slip up means a perp goes free," she jabbed a finger at Maura before gripping her hands into fists slowly, gritting her teeth at the sharp stab of pain.
"I know what it means to be one hundred percent certain that someone is guilty, and to see them walk. You don't have to tell me how much it sucks."
Maura glared at her but said nothing.
"Okay, so I have one latte, one cappuccino and a large drip, that was the order wasn't it?" Frost boomed as he stumbled into the apartment, being careful not to look too hard at any of the blood splatter.
"Come on Jane, let's take ours to go. I'll drive you to headquarters so you can pick up your own car. We're done here."
"Yeah, I guess we are," Jane shot one last look at Maura, who stood up next to Della Quinton's body, defiant.
"Oh, shoot, Doctor Isles, I didn't know you were here or I'd have gotten you a coffee. Do you want mine?"
Jane snorted as Frost fumbled with the tray of drinks, grabbing her black coffee and Korsak's cappuccino and stalking out of the apartment and down the stairs.
Korsak chuckled as he unlocked his car, taking his coffee from Jane.
"I have no idea what's gone on between the two of you, but I sure as hell can't wait to find out."
"Yeah yeah, I'll give you all the gossip, just get the AC on will ya?" Jane slunk into the passenger seat and took a long sip of her coffee, mind racing.
Back in Della Quinton's apartment, Maura politely refused Frost's offer to take his coffee. They stood in uncomfortable silence as she packed away her equipment, signing a form for a waiting crime scene tech.
"So, Detective Rizzoli seems like a handful, doesn't she?" Frost let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a choke.
Maura hummed in response.
20 YEARS AGO.
Jane Rizzoli really did not want to knock on the huge door in front of her but, she reasoned, you couldn't get anywhere in life without overcoming your fears, so she tapped her knuckles against the thick wood a few times, holding her breath.
She could tell that the man who answered it was rich, even without taking in the gaudy splendour of his home. He was wearing a tie, something her Pop never wore, unless he was going to church or a funeral. His beard was trimmed neatly, his greying hair was slicked to one side, and his wire-rimmed glasses sat just so on the end of his thin nose.
"Can I help you?"
He took in the lanky girl before him, who was perspiring in the afternoon sun, and stood back slightly.
"Hello sir, my name's Jane Rizzoli, I go to school with your daughter."
Maura, who had been hiding at the top of the staircase, froze. Jane Rizzoli was at her house. Jane, the loud, slightly cocky girl from school who she somehow couldn't stop thinking about. Oh, God. Was she here to see her? Had she come to inform her of some embarrassing thing she'd done at school? She sunk down and sat on the top step.
"Is this about Maura?"
"Oh, no sir, sorry, I just didn't want you to think I was a total stranger. No, I'm here to offer lawn mowing and gardening services."
Arthur Isles' expression was blank, as if this was the last thing he'd expected her to say. Maura found herself feeling a little disappointed that Jane wasn't here to see her, even if it was to tell her how strange she was.
"Well, I'm sorry to say Miss Rizzoli, but we already employ a wonderful team of professional gardeners."
"Ah but I bet they make a whole song and dance about it, don't they? See, I get that they might be professional, but I'll be quicker, better and cheaper than whatever fancy pants team you've already got on your books."
"Is that so?"
"It sure is, and you know what? I can also offer plumbing services, in case you were in need. How many fancy gardening dude can say they do that?"
"So you're a plumber now, in addition to being a lawn mower?"
"Pop's a plumber," Jane shrugged, as if this was explanation enough. She winked at Maura who, almost without realising it, had made her way down the stairs and was now standing beside her father.
Arthur looked from Jane to his daughter, and gave a small smile.
"Well, Jane, I'd be happy to give you a trial shift. I can show you where all the equipment is, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"
"Really? Wow, yes, of course. I can do that. Lead the way."
As the sun beat down on her, Jane fought against the urge to jump into the Isles' huge pond. Though she was almost done with the lawn, she could feel her energy depleting rapidly. It was just so damn hot.
Looking up, she saw what she thought was an angel approaching her through the haze of the afternoon.
"I noticed how hard you were working, and thought you might need something to keep you hydrated. Hydration is very important, particularly on a day like today." Maura held out a cup of ice cold lemonade, condensation dripping down the glass.
Jane couldn't decide which was more beautiful, Maura or the cold refreshment. She took the glass and sunk half the drink in one go, letting out a satisfied ahhhh.
"Thanks, needed that," she smiled.
Maura didn't say anything, and instead chose to look down at the lawn, which did look rather good after the work Jane had put into it.
"Hey, you're real smart, aren't ya?" Jane finished her drink and shoved it back into Maura's hand.
"I have a very high IQ, yes."
"Wow, smart and modest," Jane grinned.
Maura's face fell.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't wanna make you feel bad. I just, I wanted to ask you something."
Maura said nothing, slightly overwhelmed that Jane Rizzoli was speaking to her, but nodded at her to go on.
"I'm good at a lotta things, y'know? But sometimes, there are things I just don't really get, or that are pretty boring, and I guess I just find it a bit of a struggle. Sometimes. And I wanna get to college someday, hence the gardening business and sweating one out for a few dollars," Jane barked out a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck and wiping her hand on her overalls. "Anyway, I'll never get to BCU with grades like mine, so I wondered if you'd be willing to help me out."
For a moment, Maura could only blink up at the girl with the wild hair and the deep brown eyes.
"You'd like me to be your… study buddy?"
"Yeah, I guess we can call it that if you like. It would only be for an hour or two, after I finish with your garden every week."
"You're right, then no one would see us at school together."
"Why would that matter?" One of Jane's astonishingly dark eyebrows quirked.
"Well, I… I doubt you'd remain as popular as you are if people began to associate you with me."
"Ah who gives a shit what other people think, Maur'? I couldn't care less." Another grin from Jane, even bigger this time. The shortening of her name had not escaped Maura, and she felt a blush spread across her face and down her neck.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really really. And I'm not so popular, y'know. I think people at school are just scared of me." Jane laughed at herself freely, and it made Maura smile.
"Well yes, that does make sense when you put it like that."
"Don't tell me you're scared of me too, Maura! Not my study buddy, scared of me," Jane shook her head, smile smaller now but still reaching her eyes.
"Not scared, exactly. Just… intrigued, more than anything," Maura took a step closer to Jane and took the opportunity to really study her face. Her cheekbones really were exquisite, her strong chin made Maura feel a little like she might swoon, and her lips…
But it was her eyes that had drawn Maura to Jane initially, and she found herself getting lost in them now.
Maura sighed as she pushed her key in the lock on her front door, memories sweeping across her mind distractingly. Her head throbbed with the effort of holding them back, and with the added hardship of Della Quinton's autopsy that day, Maura thought she probably deserved a large glass of wine.
Wine in hand, she made her way upstairs and to her office, flicking on the stereo so Claude Debussy could fill the room and soothe her aching mind.
As she sat at her desk and booted up her laptop to do some research on another case she'd been working on for a colleague in Atlanta, she placed her wine down next to the framed photograph of her and Jane, aged sixteen, smiling at the camera foolishly and completely unaware of what was to come.