Chapter Five: Poor Robin Crusoe, How Came You Here?

"I have never seen so many feathers in so many hats…" Jane stage-whispered conspicuously near Maura, where it just so happened that two rather tawdry and flamboyantly dressed older ladies could hear her.

Maura laughed just as she caught their insulted sneers and in the blink of an eye she swatted at Jane's arm, who in turn hissed back at her surreptitiously.

"It's tacky, Maura." Jane continued, "We're at a funeral for cryin' out loud. Look, look—" She spun Maura around by her shoulders and pointed.

"It's also rude to point—" Maura said, missing another swat of Jane's outstretched hand.

Jane grumbled a bit beneath her breath and tucked in behind Maura, speaking a bit more quietly. "See that woman right there? Enough costume rings to make a drag queen blush."

Maura had to pivot and turn into Jane's space to conceal a laugh this time. She pulled in a breath through her nose after a moment and dropped her hand from her mouth, doing her best to appear serious once more. "Jane, you really must stop."

"What are these…?" The pleased raven-haired woman asked as she reached for a biscuit shaped snack on the table beside them. She bit into it with a -crunch- and then pulled a face.

"Gluten free almond cookies."

"Mmm," Jane feigned a happy hum and tried on her best grin, "So it's supposed to taste like cardboard?"

Someone waving just over Jane's shoulder caught Maura's attention then. Her hand darted out to take hold of Jane's forearm then, as if reaching for a lifeline.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked.

Maura shook her head. "I would just very much like to be anywhere else right now."

The detective, sporting her black dress and matching clutch, twisted a bit where she stood to take a look behind them. When Maura locked eyes with her again, Jane's expression turned hard.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?"

"No…" Maura gave another quick shake of her head. "I've already dodged him twice. It's my father's estate lawyer. We've spoken over the phone, I'm just…"

"Not ready?" Jane finished. Her eyes were a bit softer now. She could be so empathetic sometimes that it physically hurt. Maura's stomach lurched into knots again.

"Exactly."

"I can come with you…"

"No, that's alright. Thank you, Jane."

Jane's eyes widened at something further down the table then. "Just as well, I think I see my mother stuffing all your delicious cardboard cookies into her purse. Excuse me- Mom!"

While Jane had successfully sought to make her laugh for nearly ten minutes straight, it was just as soon as she was gone that the dark and heavy clouds that poured over Maura's mind rolled back, bringing with them an anxiety so thick that she could almost choke on it. The man who so eagerly attempted to catch her gaze stood patiently by the low hanging wisteria just at the edge of the garden courtyard. The arch there afforded a small enough space to shade two. His leather briefcase was clutched close to his chest with both arms, as if he were guarding something very precious, and he eyed her expectantly.

Jane was right. She wasn't ready… Not for any of this.

"It is indeed quite a bit to take in, I am aware… but time, my dear, really is of the—"

"I can't."

"Miss Isles—"

"Doctor." She corrected.

"Doctor Isles," The gentleman with the folded leather briefcase pleaded, "My apologies, but if I could just leave these here with you then?"

Maura's neck and underarms began to sweat profusely. She took a swipe at her forehead which was also drenched and she gave an impatient huff. "Are you sure there isn't anyone else? I've done all that I can…"

"We have attempted to contact your mother, several times in fact, but it seems she is impossible to reach currently. I can understand your hesitance. This is a business with people and families depending on it—"

"I don't want it." Maura huffed again, a bit more firmly this time.

"There is no one else." The man replied, emphasizing each word slowly so as to make himself understood. He pushed his large oval spectacles up along the bridge of his nose and was sweating excessively from his brow as well, having several more layers in the way of a formal three-piece tweed suit than Maura did in her own half-sleeve sheath dress. He pulled at his collar and bent down to place the briefcase on the nearby desk.

It was her father's. Maura could spot Arthur's mad way of record keeping anywhere, which was essentially just papers and folders lying about in no real order. Her mouth ran dry and something the size of a boulder dropped its way toward the bottom of her stomach.

No…

No, I refuse.

Without a word, Maura gave a tight turn on her shiny black pumps and walked quickly out of her father's office back toward the courtyard outside. The only thing in her head at that point was the screaming desire to get all of this over with as quickly as possible.

When she stepped back outside, the heat hit her hard enough to pull nearly all of the breath from her lungs. She gasped as the light from the sun —high in the sky now in its one o'clock position— blinded her, and one of her hands went up to shield her eyes. Maura looked around frantically for a friendly face. Jane, Angela, Frankie… Someone. Please. She felt silly for how panicked she was, wanting to call out for help of all things like a lost child.

Standing just beneath a long terrace opposite the courtyard was another gentleman whom she had greeted earlier that day. She recognized him and put her feet in his direction now, stepping quickly.

"Mr. Drake—"

He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled. "Kent, please." His hand came out to grasp one of her own with a firm politeness. "Might as well git wi' ye on a first name basis, you being the new boss and all."

"I haven't made any decisions on the matter yet, Mr. Drake. Will you please begin?" Maura asked hurriedly, gesturing outwardly at the crowd beyond with a floating hand.

"Och- now?" His clear-as-day Scottish accent carried a continued flourish along with his surprise.

"Yes. Now."

"Aye. Right away, then." He obliged and then stepped forward to pluck a brass bell off a brick ledge, ringing it gently to cast an announcement over the attendants.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please escort yourselves inside now, we are to begin the service momentarily. Thank you."

The organ music from inside the main parlor of her father's funeral home rang loudly in Maura's ears.

The desperate yearning for the day to be over with grew more intense even as she squeezed her way through a set of doors and into the foyer at the front of the house. Her chest heaved. There were so many people, and only a select few of them she happened to recognize. Jane and Angela had arrived first, and then Frankie and Frost, being the best of friends who chose to travel most everywhere together, then Korsak, and finally Rizzoli the youngest (Tommy), whom Angela had scolded heartily for being "almost" late. They had all made the five-hour trip that day to be there for her.

Maura just had the reception to get through now. That, and she also had to find a way to leave her father's business in capable hands until she was more comfortable with arriving at a decision. It was one which she knew she couldn't make lightly, and that made her feel like dry heaving. Maura's eyes flitted toward the French doors of the kitchen then. She knew the chances of her father's favorite Kentucky whiskey being found secreted behind a stack of plates in a cupboard somewhere was high. Such was his way. And such was hers, it would seem. Maura began to pace again just as the cacophony of organ notes and conversation rose momentarily in volume as a door opened behind her. She jumped and spun around.

"Ah, Doctor Isles- could I have a word? Just for a moment…" A shorter woman with a pair of thick, red rimmed glasses peered at her from the door. Her skin was dark, and her eyes bore a fierce sort of kindness. Along with her infectious smile, Maura was able to feel a tiny bit less apprehensive of her surroundings.

Maura nodded, swallowing thickly past the taste of bile. "Of course. Susie, right?"

"Yes ma'am." She stepped closer, clasping her hands together in front of herself. "I just wanted to share my condolences again for your loss. Your father was a good man and a wonderful employer, as well. I'm hoping that I can at least continue my studies here? I mean to say—" Susie spoke animatedly with her hands then, coming off as slightly nervous, "I hope to perhaps continue working here until I get my degree? I don't mean to bombard you, but I do really need this place. Arthur—"

"Doctor Isles…" Another voice interrupted as someone exited the main parlor to join them.

Just a moment of peace and quiet, is that too much to ask?

It was the sweaty brow and tweed suit of her father's lawyer again. Maura's heart leapt back into her throat, and her panic set in again with a vengeance.

"If you would please excuse me for a moment—" Maura said with a tremble in her voice as she turned to run away, but a third person stepped in her way and she bumped into them with a startled "oh".

Jane Rizzoli stuck her arms out to catch herself against the door and Maura's momentum. "Holy- are you alright?" She asked, her dark eyes wild with concern.

Maura fought to speak, flapping her mouth open and closed in search of words. She shook her head "no" instead, feeling her eyes beginning to well with the threat of burning tears. Jane's expression hardened again then, and those dagger-like eyes went in search of something to point at. She straightened her back and pulled Maura inside of her arms protectively.

"Doctor Isles, I really must insist that you at least look at the—"

Jane's arms stiffened suddenly. Maura had an ear pressed to her breast and she was quickly rocked with the slight boom of Jane's voice.

"Hold on, now."

Maura knew then that the detective must have recognized the man from earlier and was no doubt a few steps away from displaying her territorial side. Jane Rizzoli was a wildcat; A force of nature that could bend and claw anything and anyone to her will.

"Listen, friend, why don't you give it a rest? She's been runnin' circles around you all day, just leave her alone."

Maura heard an audible scoff come from the man at her back. "Well then, why don't you get her to—"

"Lemme tell you somethin'," Jane growled, tightening her grip around Maura's shoulders. Maura felt herself begin to cry as more people poured into the foyer. "I don't get my best friend to do anything, do you understand me? She'll do whatever she thinks is best in her own time, and that's somethin' you're gonna have to get right with… and fast too, if you don't want me to end up feedin' you your—"

"Jane." Angela Rizzoli's harping voice broke through. What, was everyone inside the house now in the very small space of the front foyer? Was there a crowd? Maura couldn't bear to look up. Suddenly, Maura was whisked out of Jane's arms and then pulled through a small group and into the kitchen. The sound of the doors latching and then locking behind them came next, and Maura still couldn't pull her face from her hands.

"Maura, honey…"

Maura eventually looked up and saw that they were alone.

Rizzoli the eldest was at the sink, wetting a corner of a dishtowel with cold water. She walked over and began dabbing Maura's reddened cheeks with it in an effort to cool her down.

"Janie gets so protective over you, just like she does with her brothers." She sighed then and gave a click of her tongue, satisfied with her tender calming of Maura's upset state. "Would you like to be alone for a while?"

Maura nodded.

"Alright, sweetheart. You keep that door there locked—" Angela said, gesturing toward the French doors with a toss of her brow. "I'll go out the back and keep anyone else from getting in. If you need me after that, I won't be far."

"Thank you." Maura replied, finding her voice again.

Angela took her by the cheeks in both hands and dotted a quick kiss upon her forehead. "We love you. You're just as much my daughter as Jane is."

Oh, if you only knew…

Maura did her best to smile and to keep any more tears from leaping from her eyes as Angela walked briskly out of the kitchen. It had been a long day so far, and it was far from over. She needed to bid farewell to her father's guests and the thought of finding someone to speak with about the handing over of keys throttled forward in her mind once again. God, she wanted to vomit… but the burn of something going down instead of coming up was instantly a much friendlier desire. Maura opened and shut each of the glass-paned cupboard doors from one end of the kitchen to another until the unmistakable corked end of a bottle peeked out at her from behind a stack of old ceramic plates. She heaved a breath of relief.

There you are…

Right where I knew you would be.

Arthur Isles was a genius.

The envy of collegiate professionals and academic climbers alike. He was a peculiar man with peculiar tastes, and his affinity for third world cultures and their associated mythos bled into that of his daughter, Maura. From a young age they had been close, but now as she stood in his office with all of his antiquarian oddities and crooked towers of dusty tomes, she pondered on how exactly they came to be so distant.

His career had taken him in one direction and Maura's had taken her in another. While they both worked in the same industry —the industry of death, that is— they were indeed, and had been for many years, worlds apart.

Maura had not wanted to stay within the confines of her rural upbringing. She wanted to see the world around her, to devour it. She wanted to travel and to consume the peculiarities that her father had so generously passed down to her, rather than to live by his example and to admire them from afar. It was a sad thing that Arthur Isles had not managed to travel outside of Texas even once in his life. The desperate, nagging urge to flee her constraints had taken Maura far from home as soon as she turned eighteen… to places like New York and then on to Paris, Uganda, Kenya, Ethiopia, Brussels, and Serbia…

She touched the frayed edges of the well-worn arms of his chair as she walked by it, lingering on the thought of how her father must have sat there for hours reading about the world around him. Maura only wished she could understand what it was that had kept him there. Fear? What burden did the man possess so heavy that it prevented him from exploring the world much like herself and her mother had? A sweeping sort of guilt quickly took over as Maura's hand landed on a slightly tattered copy of Robinson Crusoe.

We just… left him here.

Alone.

"What stopped you from adventuring, Daddy?" Maura asked aloud, feeling slightly silly for speaking to her father as if he could still hear her. "Were you afraid to end up trapped someplace where you could never come back from?"

Maura tossed the book down flat onto her father's desk with a hollow sounding -thump- and took another large sip from her whiskey glass. The bottle she'd discovered in the kitchen across the Victorian-styled home was close to empty now. At least the racing thought traffic in her head had more or less slowed to a meandering pace now. Her father's funeral home business was a beloved one in the smallish community of Odessa, Texas. Or rather, the outskirts of Odessa. They were at least a thirty-minute drive from civilization through rocky hillock land, but Maura supposed this was the appeal of such a funeral home and its accompanying cemetery. The surrounding landscape was vast, beautiful, and serene. A world unto itself.

"Knock knock…" A voice said from the doorway.

Maura went to tuck her whiskey behind her back but saw that it was Frankie. It certainly didn't help that she'd left the bottle in plain view on the desk. She'd just needed a longer moment to command her nerves again, but the drink had carried her away, it seemed.

"Doin' alright?"

God, she wished people would stop asking that.

"Fine." Maura said with a bow of her head.

Frankie frowned a bit and went to join her, halting his hand where it shot out to swipe at a large floor globe on the way by.

"Me and Jane can yell at everyone to leave, if you want…"

"That's not necessary. The day is almost done. I'll be fine—"

"Are you sure?"

Maura felt her jaw clench. "I did just say that I'm fine."

Why does no one ever listen to me?

The expression on Frankie's face dropped quickly. He went to open his mouth to say something else but refrained. Maura felt badly about it, but she was just so damned tired. She had been awake since the early morning hours and had driven a long way, and too many people had demanded her attention for nearly the entire time that she had been there. There was no way on earth that she could run an entire funeral home… the mere thought of it was absurd. Maura felt as though she'd been pulled in so many different directions that day. Any more of it would tear her apart at the seams. She didn't want any of it. The people. The place. The memories. What she wanted was for everyone to stop treating her like an insipid child and to go back to her own life.

"Do kindly tell Jane that she doesn't need to keep sending her brother to look after me just because she knows I'll be nicer to you."

"…But you are nicer to me." Frankie shrugged with a hopeful smirk.

Maura clicked her tongue and went to turn away from him, but found the corner of her father's desk promptly in her way. She bumped into it and her whiskey sloshed out of its glass, wetting the scattered pages and invoices below.

"Dammit—"

"Hang on," Frankie reached out to catch her elbow, her equilibrium being well thrown off by now. "Let me do that."

"I can clean up after myself."

"Well, let me take this then…" His hand carefully wrapped around her glass and went to pull.

Maura pulled back instinctively, but then lost her grip upon it. The thick glass fell to the rug at their feet and split into three pieces simultaneously with a loud -crack-. She gave a yelp and jumped, and then everything she felt inside of her came rising to the surface in the form of tears again. There was no fighting it. Maura was finally about to cry.

Really cry.

"Maura… I'm sorry…" Frankie apologized with his hands held up and away from her. He knew to tread carefully once he saw the pain in her eyes.

It hurt too much to stand there and to watch him flap about and apologize for things that weren't at all his fault. Maura couldn't take it anymore. Her hand shot to her mouth to stifle a hard sob, and then she ran past him and out the door.

He called out after her, the worry in his voice clear like a blue sky, "Maura!"

If ever there were a day that she was more glad to have come to a close, Maura had not yet seen it.

Now that all of the guests had shuffled out of the front door, Maura felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. Especially now that she had some reassurance that the business would be able to run for a short time without her. She'd managed to speak briefly with Mr. Drake again, the man who likened himself the face of her father's business. Maura was unsurprised in this for the most part. Kent Drake possessed a warm and friendly demeanor and while her father did as well, Arthur Isles certainly did not have the outgoing nature required to solicit business. He more or less stayed behind the scenes, apparently. He was dependable in that way. After all, Maura knew him to wear the same neck ties, to drink the same whiskey, and to travel the same roads for the whole of his life. Maura didn't suppose that her father had any true friends because of this either. Once she had allowed herself to cry laboriously into the palms of her hands after locking herself away into a bathroom, that familiar and crushing sense of guilt had since settled deep into her bones.

A bit more sobered up and no longer dizzy, Maura sought the comfort of her best friend. She knew Jane was still around somewhere. Thankfully, the appearance of dusk had brought with it some cooler temperatures, though even with a friendly gust of wind it was just mildly hot air being pushed around. Maura fanned herself where she turned back and forth in the empty courtyard in search of Jane, the cobblestones echoing gracefully with each tap of her heels. Not a single Rizzoli in sight. Odd… She thought. Normally one didn't need to be too far off in order to at least hear them. Such was a tight-knit and remarkably southern family dynamic; lots of yelling.

"Jane…?" Maura called out. The cicadas that clung to the large oak trees nearby sang their reverberating song, nearly drowning her out.

"How about an old friend?"

Maura jolted stiffly, startled for probably the tenth time that day. Damn her weak nerves and jitteriness. She whipped her head around at the voice and witnessed a stranger leaning against the brick half-wall. His smile stretched grotesquely from one side of his face to the other, and his teeth were yellowed and appeared much too small for his mouth.

"Have we met?" Maura asked. What a bold thing to assume, this man. Maura didn't know him from Adam.

The man turned his spine-chilling smile into that of an equally frightening frown. "I suppose it's only fair you don't remember me. You were very small, after all."

Something about his eyes weren't quite right. There didn't seem to be anything behind them. Maura felt the urge to call out for Jane again but didn't want to appear frightened. She went with some hospitality instead, "Well. I must apologize, I am very tired. Should I call a cab for you?"

He pushed with his elbow from where he leaned against the brick partition and took two slow steps toward her. Maura matched him for each, taking her own two steps back. His smile gradually returned. She suddenly felt very small, and a bit like prey.

"Your father and I, we had an arrangement of sorts. I'd like to continue that arrangement."

"You seem to forget that I still don't know who you are." Maura shot back without hesitation.

"Consider me a business partner, then." He said with a shrug. Then he took another step forward and Maura took another step back.

"There's no mention of a business partner in any of—"

"You should find that I am a patient man, dear Maura, in our future dealings. What I am not, however, is a man well-equipped for change. I'll expect the same arrangement I had with your father to extend to you now."

The sound of hastening heels from around the corner instilled her with a sense of newfound courage. That, and she was really tired of either being coddled or harassed. The severe swing between the two was beginning to give her whiplash.

"And you should find that I am not one to be intimidated. I am turning in for the night. If you have any business needs to bolster with the new change in management, then you may make an appointment with the funeral home's director Mr. Drake, but at a more appropriate time. Skulking about in the shadows is hardly a good first impression." Maura chose to make her exit quickly then. "Goodnight."

The familiar gait she had heard just a moment earlier turned out to belong to Jane and was more than likely why she had chosen to round the corner of the house instead of heading towards the back door where she had just come from. One course of action obviously felt safer than the other. Jane met her with outstretched hands once they met at the edge of the courtyard, and her brow immediately furrowed with concern. This time, the look was a welcome one.

"What're you doin' out here in the dark? I was looking for you everywhere. Are you feeling better?" Jane asked as she ran her hands back and forth over Maura's shoulders.

"Almost. Could you do something for me?" Maura sniffled, squeezing one of her hands inside of the other to keep them from shaking. She hadn't realized how scared she truly was until now.

"Yeah, sure. What is it?"

Maura's chin quivered when she spoke, "Could you hold me? Just for a minute?"

Jane nodded. "Of course."

Hardly waiting for an answer, Maura threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Jane's tall and slender frame. It was almost immediately that the stress which knotted deep at the base of her neck and lower back began to dissipate. Jane was a fantastic hugger, especially with the benefit of her height and the way that she nearly picked Maura up with how tightly she squeezed her sometimes.

"Who's that…?" Jane's voice was soft, floating somewhere over her head.

Maura twisted to look over her shoulder. The man she'd had the ominous and rather foreboding exchange with was exiting the far end of the courtyard, and that flighty feeling inside her chest returned for a split-second. "I'm not sure. He—" She swallowed, choosing her words wisely, "I didn't catch his name."

"…Alright." Jane gave her one last squeeze and then took a step back. Maura could tell that it was a slightly inefficient answer due the lingering look she was given, but sometimes the unending suspicion just came with the territory, especially if your best friend is a decorated police detective. Jane looked her in the eyes again, "Listen, everything's gonna be fine. I'll help you with whatever you need."

"I should find Frankie…" Maura said.

"Everyone's already gone." One of Jane's dark eyebrows shot up then, "Why, what'd he do?"

Maura laughed quietly. It was just like Jane to see the beginning and end of each of her days with a laugh, or at the very least, a smile. "Nothing. I actually might have snapped at him a little bit. I don't feel very good about it."

"You shouldn't." Jane said, straightening her back to tower over Maura. As if she weren't already tall enough. "That's my job."

Another laugh made its way out and Maura sighed with what felt like an immense relief. Not just for the fact that she knew she'd have a chance to apologize to Frankie soon enough, but at the realization that no matter what happened, or where they were, or what they were doing… Jane Rizzoli could always make her feel better about it. Whatever it was.