Chapter 14
Jane sat on the edge of her bed, the room spinning slightly from the alcohol, her thoughts drifting back to something far darker than what had just happened with Casey. She closed her eyes, trying to push it away.
"Teen Witness in The Ripper Case: Police Fear Link to Serial Killer Investigation"
Rebecca had been missing for about a week when it all started to unravel. Jane never thought Rebecca would take matters into her own hands. Never thought she would venture out alone, determined to find answers about her friend's death, about the serial killer that had haunted Jane and her team for months.
But Rebecca had gone looking for him. And Jane blamed herself every single day for not seeing it sooner.
The flashback hit her like a punch, the conversation with Frost playing in her mind.
"She's just a kid, Jane," Frost had said, his voice strained as they mulled over a map of the city, red pins marking the last cell phone towers Rebecca's cell phone had connected to. "You couldn't have known she'd go after him on her own."
Jane had stared at the map, her jaw clenched, every muscle in her body tight with guilt. "I should've seen it, Frost. I should've known she'd do something like this." Her voice had been thick with self-recrimination. "I didn't protect her, and now she's out there, alone, looking for a killer."
They had been tracing Rebecca's movements through her cell phone records, tracking the calls, the texts, the locations she had traveled to. Rebecca was playing with fire, jumping into every cab she could find, crisscrossing the city like a ghost, always one step ahead of them, always out of their reach.
Jane had felt sick watching it unfold—how the girl had been so methodical, so determined. She hadn't told anyone where she was going or what she was doing. Rebecca had become consumed with the same obsession Jane had once had: finding the killer, ending the nightmare. But unlike Jane, Rebecca had no backup, no team to rely on.
"She's looking for him, Frost," Jane had said, her voice low, filled with dread.
Frost had nodded grimly, his eyes scanning the map. "We'll find her, Jane. We're getting closer."
But Jane hadn't believed that. She had felt it deep in her gut—that sinking feeling that they were running out of time, that every hour Rebecca stayed out there, chasing a ghost, brought her closer to danger. Jane had known—deep down—that if Rebecca found him, she wouldn't be walking away.
They had been chasing Rebecca's trail for the fourth day in a row, following her erratic movements across the city, but nothing was sticking. Every ping brought them closer but never close enough.
Then, the phone on her desk rang.
Jane instinctively grabbed it, but something about the silence on the other end immediately made her tense. She could hear someone breathing—shallow, shaky breaths, like the person was trying to keep quiet. Frost glanced over at her from his desk, sensing her shift in energy.
"Rebecca?" Jane asked, her voice tight with hope and fear, she locked eyes with Frost. She swallowed hard, her heart racing as she waited for a response. Frost instantly went to work tracking the call.
For a moment, all she heard was more breathing. Then, finally, a faint, exhausted voice whispered through the line. "I found him."
Jane's pulse skyrocketed. "Rebecca, where are you? What do you mean, you found him?"
Rebecca's voice sounded strained, almost like she had been running. "I've been following him. He picked up two girls, but they got spooked and ran. I've been tailing his taxi for almost a mile."
Jane felt her stomach churn. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she tried to keep her voice steady. "Okay, tell me where you are, and we'll handle this. Just... don't follow him anymore. It's too dangerous."
But Rebecca's tone was chillingly calm for a girl on the edge. "I have to see his face, Jane. I have to know."
Jane's grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles white. "Please, don't do this. What are you going to do when you see him? Just tell me where you are. We'll find him, I swear. You don't have to—"
Rebecca's voice cut through, hollow and resolute. "I'm going to kill him."
And then, the line went dead.
Jane stared at the phone in her hand, her breath catching in her throat. She looked up at Frost, her eyes wide with a desperate question—Did you get it? But Frost's face fell, his hands still typing furiously as he tried to catch up.
"I lost it," he muttered, frustration written all over his face. "I'm sorry, Jane. I lost it."
A lump formed in Jane's throat, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt hot tears welling in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, forcing them back, but the raw emotion hit her hard. She had been so close. Too close.
The tears turned to anger almost immediately. Her fist slammed the phone down on the desk with a loud bang, the entire bullpen jolting at the sound, all eyes turning toward her. But Jane didn't care. She couldn't just sit there. She wasn't going to lose Rebecca like this. Not after she promised her she'd keep her safe.
Without a word, Jane grabbed a notepad, scribbling down the last known address from Rebecca's phone. Her handwriting was nearly illegible in her rush, but she didn't stop. She ripped the page out and stood, practically sprinting from the office.
"Jane!" Frost shouted, chasing after her, his voice a mix of urgency and panic. "What are you going to do?!"
But Jane didn't answer. She couldn't. There was no time for explanations. All she could think about was Rebecca—alone, vulnerable, and determined to take down a monster that had eluded even Jane for too long. She had to find her before it was too late.
Jane's pulse raced as she and Frost combed through the dimly lit streets, the smell of the nearby harbor hanging in the air. The slosh of the water echoed between the tightly packed buildings, adding to the eerie quiet. The only sounds around them were the occasional passing car and Jane's increasingly frantic breaths. She dialed Rebecca's number again, praying to hear the ringtone, anything that could lead them closer.
"Jane, are you sure she's here, her phone clocked this area hours ago?" Frost asked, keeping his voice low but laced with worry. His eyes scanned the shadowy corners, always one step behind her as she pushed forward, flashlight in hand.
"She has to be," Jane shot back, her voice tight with tension. "The call wasn't that long ago. She can't have gone far."
Frost grabbed her arm, stopping her for a second. "Listen, I get it, but you need to slow down. We can't just tear through the city hoping to catch a break. We need a plan, Jane."
Jane yanked her arm free, her face flushed with a mix of frustration and fear. "I don't have time for a plan, Frost. We need to find her, now. If we just sit around and wait for another call, it might be too late. I can't let her get hurt because we weren't fast enough."
Frost looked at her, seeing the raw emotion on her face—the desperation and guilt weighing heavy in her voice. He paused for a moment, knowing there was no reasoning with her when she was like this. Finally, he nodded, his voice softening. "Alright. Let's find her."
They moved through the narrow streets, the flashlight beams cutting through the darkness. Jane could feel the anxiety tightening in her chest, making it hard to focus. She kept dialing Rebecca's number, waiting for a miracle, for the sound of a ringtone that would tell her she was close.
A few blocks down, they came to an alleyway. Frost had wandered slightly ahead when he suddenly called back. "Jane! I think I found something."
Her heart leaped as she rounded the corner to where Frost was standing. In the distance, she saw the blinking hazard lights of a taxi, its front end crumpled into a telephone pole. As Jane dialed Rebecca's number once more, the sound she had been waiting for pierced the silence—a faint ringing, coming from the inside of the car.
Jane rushed forward as Frost opened the door, the engine still smoking. "It's empty!" he called, glancing back at her, his expression grim.
Jane's heart dropped—it felt like they were running out of time. Then, they heard it. A scream, sharp and desperate, cutting through the night air.
Without hesitation, Jane and Frost took off, their footsteps pounding against the pavement as they sprinted toward the sound. Jane's hand instinctively went to her gun, pulling it from its holster as they veered toward the source of the scream.
When Jane saw Rebecca, her world narrowed to that moment. The girl lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath her head, her body trembling. Jane sprinted toward her, her knees burning as she slid to the ground, pulling Rebecca into her arms, cradling her as if her very presence could protect her from any more harm.
"Rebecca! Stay with me," Jane pleaded, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to stem the flow of blood from the gash on the girl's throat. Rebecca coughed weakly, blood bubbling from the wound as her wide eyes struggled to focus. Jane's heart shattered at the sight. She knew, deep down, that there was no saving her, but she couldn't stop herself from trying.
Rebecca coughed, her body trembling in Jane's arms, blood seeping from her wound. Her lips moved, trying to form words, but no sound came. Jane could feel the apology in the girl's fading strength, the regret in her eyes.
Jane shushed her. "It's okay," Jane said, even though it wasn't. "I know. I know."
Tears welled up in Jane's eyes as she held the girl tighter, her mind racing with guilt, the overwhelming sense of failure. She had promised to protect her, to keep her safe, and she had failed. And now Rebecca was paying the price for Jane's inability to stop this madness.
"I'm so sorry," Jane choked out, her voice barely audible. She brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from Rebecca's forehead, her hands trembling. "I'm so sorry I didn't keep you safe."
Behind her, Frost wrestled someone to the ground, his voice muffled as he shouted into the radio for backup. But all Jane could hear was Rebecca's ragged breathing, until that, too, faded away. Rebecca's body gave a final shudder, and then she was still. Jane sat frozen, the weight of her lifeless body heavy in her arms. A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. She blinked them away, but more followed. She hadn't cried in years—not like this—but this... this was unbearable.
The weight of Rebecca's stillness crushed Jane. She stayed there for a moment longer, holding the girl close, feeling the life slip away. Then, white-hot anger coursed through her. Slowly, Jane laid Rebecca's body back onto the grass. The sorrow in her eyes quickly giving way to rage.
With her gun still in hand, Jane stood and marched toward the man Frost had pinned to the ground. Without a word, she grabbed him by the collar, yanking him to his knees. Frost tried to intervene, calling her name, but it was useless. Jane was consumed by a fury she hadn't felt in years.
He looked up at her, his eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. "She screamed for you," he said, his voice low, taunting. "Right before she—"
Jane didn't let him finish. Her gun slammed into the side of his face with a sickening crack. He fell to the side, blood pooling from a fresh cut on his cheek.
"Jane!" Frost tried again. Jane was deafened by her rage, picking him up again to face him.
Jane's heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the world around her. The man, bruised and bloodied, smiled through split lips, a twisted grin that made Jane's blood boil. She had waited months for this moment—months of hunting, sleepless nights, and the constant guilt of the lives lost because she hadn't stopped him sooner.
"She screamed for you," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice.
Without thinking, Jane slammed the butt of her gun into his face again. He groaned, his head snapping back, but the sick smile never left his lips. She saw the tear in his shirt, the bloodstain from the knife wound Rebecca had inflicted in her last moments. Jane's grip tightened on her gun, every muscle in her body screaming for vengeance.
Jane's vision tunneled. She yanked him back up again. Her gun pressed hard against his temple, the cold metal digging into his skin. Her finger hovered over the trigger, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. This was it. This was the moment she had waited for. She could end it all right here.
Frost's voice broke through the fog. "Jane, stop. Don't do this. It's over."
But it wasn't over. Not for Jane. It wouldn't be over until this man was gone, until he paid for everything he had done. Not with Rebecca lying lifeless on the grass behind them.
"Go on," the man sneered, blood dripping down his face. "Do it. Save everyone else. Save the city from me. I am a monster. But you'll always remember you couldn't save Rebecca."
Jane pushed the barrel harder into his head, her voice breaking with anger and grief. "You don't get to say her name," she spat. "You don't get to say her name!"
Her finger hovered on the trigger, trembling, and she could feel the weight of it all pressing down on her—months of chasing this monster, the lives he'd taken, Rebecca's blood on her hands. She could end it. Right now. With just a little more pressure, it would all be over. The case. Her pain. Everything.
But it wouldn't bring Rebecca back. It wouldn't undo the damage.
She could feel Frost's hand on her arm, gentle but firm, his voice steady and calm amidst the chaos swirling inside her. "Jane," he said softly, "It's over. It's over now. Don't let him take anything more from you."
Jane's breath hitched, her eyes still locked on the man's smug face, his bruises beginning to swell. The sirens were getting closer, the flashing lights visible in the distance. Everything in her wanted to pull the trigger. To erase him from existence. To make him pay.
But Frost's words cut through the red haze in her mind, grounding her, pulling her back from the edge. Her hand shook, her finger twitching on the trigger, but slowly, painfully, she let go. The gun lowered from his head, her arm dropping to her side like a dead weight.
The man laughed, coughing blood as he fell back against the ground. But Jane didn't hear him anymore. She didn't care about his twisted satisfaction. All she could think about was Rebecca—her small, lifeless body cradled in her arms just moments ago.
She had failed her.
Jane took a step back, her chest heaving with the effort to keep herself together. The sirens grew louder as backup finally arrived, officers flooding the scene.
But Jane barely noticed them as she ascended back up the hill to the street, passed the smoking taxi, into the road where police cars and ambulances rolled in. She could feel her hands shaking, the gun still heavy in her grip. The adrenaline began to fade, leaving only the crushing weight of guilt and grief behind.
Rebecca was gone. And nothing Jane did now—no matter how much justice she sought—could change that.
Jane woke up to the smell of coffee drifting through the apartment. She squinted against the sunlight streaming through the window, her head throbbing but not nearly as bad as she'd expected. As she rubbed her eyes, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, blinking at the screen. A couple of new messages from Casey. She hesitated but chose to ignore them for now, dropping the phone back onto the bed as she sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair.
Following the coffee scent, she shuffled into the kitchen, where Frankie was already at the table, munching on toast. He glanced up, a grin spreading across his face.
"And the dead arise," he said, his voice teasing. "Thought you'd be moving a little slower after last night."
"Yeah, honestly me too." She sat down, Frankie slid a mug of coffee her way.
"Us Rizzoli's are known for holding our alcohol well." Frankie smirked at her.
Jane rolled her eyes. "Did Dad teach you that?" She reached for the cream and sugar.
Frankie raised his eyebrows. "Was he wrong?"
Jane snorted. "No, I guess not." She sighed as the first sip of the warm liquid rolled down her throat.
He watched her over his cup, then spoke up. "I gotta get going, but don't forget about Tommy's party tonight."
Jane's eyes widened. She'd completely forgotten. Between the case and everything else, the family gathering had slipped her mind. "Right," she muttered, racking her brain for details her mom had mentioned a few weeks ago when she first brought it up.
Frankie smirked. "You're off work now, so you don't have any excuse not to be there."
Jane shot him a glare.
He held up his hands. "Sorry, too soon."
When Frankie left, Jane took her coffee back to her room, changing into her workout clothes and lacing up her shoes. She needed to clear her head, to shake off the lingering thoughts that had haunted her all week. Once she was out the door, she set a steady pace, feeling her mind begin to quiet with each step of her run.
She ran through the familiar streets, her mind drifting between the case, the mess with Casey, and the mess with Maura. She'd let herself get distracted, pulled in too many directions. She hadn't been fair to Maura, and the thought gnawed at her. Maura had been there for her through everything, always picking up the pieces. But now, Jane felt she was the one tearing things apart. And Maura didn't deserve that.
As Jane looped around the block, her pace faltered when she spotted a familiar figure walking up ahead. She couldn't help but feel a pang in her chest as she recognized Anna. The resemblance to Ava was still jarring, as though she was seeing a ghost, each encounter stirring up memories of that day at the park when they'd found Ava's body.
Jane thought about jogging past, keeping her head down, but it was too late; Anna had already seen her. Their eyes met, and Jane offered a polite nod, breathing heavily.
"Hi, Detective Rizzoli," Anna said, her voice soft but carrying an edge of something. It was hard to tell.
Jane swallowed, forcing a smile as she caught her breath. "Hey, Anna." She hadn't quite decided how comfortable she was with Anna living so close. A situation that could easily go south if this investigation didn't pan out the way Anna or Jane wanted.
There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, each of them just standing there on the sidewalk, neither knowing quite what to say. Jane glanced down, her fingers fidgeting with the seam of her shirt, and she could feel Anna's gaze boring into her.
"So… you're not on the case anymore?" Anna asked, her voice cautious yet tinged with accusation. She shifted her weight, the heavy backpack on her shoulders tugging at her posture.
Jane felt her jaw tighten slightly. She looked up, meeting Anna's gaze head-on. "No. I'm not. But I'm still helping. Frost and Korsak are working around the clock to get answers." She could hear the defensiveness in her own voice, the need to reassure her—or maybe herself—that the case wouldn't go cold.
"Going back to school?" Jane quickly changed the subject, her words coming out more brisk than she intended. She caught herself and added, more gently, "It's important to get back to something normal, right?"
Anna's eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to gauge Jane's sincerity. "Yeah, I guess," she muttered. "It's just weird being back. I feel like everyone's looking at me… hoping to see Ava instead of me."
Her words hung between them, heavy with unspoken accusations. Jane cleared her throat, looking away for a moment before she spoke again. "Listen, Anna, I know this is all… confusing. But we're doing everything we can. I promise, this isn't the end of it. I've done this job for along time, and in time, things will feel like a new normal. The rawness subsides."
Anna gave her a small nod, though she didn't seem convinced. She glanced away, as if debating whether to say more, but finally just muttered, "Well, I should get going. I'm heading to the coffee shop to study."
Jane nodded. "Yeah, sure. Take care of yourself, Anna."
Anna walked away without another word, her shoulders slightly hunched, a tension in her step that matched the tension in the air between them. Jane watched her go, the encounter leaving her unsettled and feeling as though, despite all her efforts, she still couldn't offer Anna the closure she deserved.
Back at the apartment, she stepped into a hot shower, letting the water wash away the tension that clung to her. She stayed under the spray longer than usual, as if it could somehow cleanse her of the choices she regretted. After drying off, she wrapped herself in a towel and went to check her phone.
There were a few spam emails, but her eye caught on Casey's unread messages again. With a sigh, she clicked on them, her heart sinking as she read the words.
Casey: "I'm really sorry for crossing a line last night, Jane. I know you're engaged, and I never meant to get between that. I got carried away, and I hope you can forgive me.
Jane's thumb hovered over the screen, her mind swirling with conflicting feelings. She knew she had let things with Casey get out of hand, but it was more than that. The distraction had pulled her away from what mattered most.
She took a breath and scrolled through her contacts, clicking the screen. The phone rang, and her pulse quickened as she waited.
The phone felt heavy in Jane's hand, her heart pounding as the line connected and she heard Maura's quiet, cautious "Jane?" on the other end. For a moment, Jane couldn't find her voice; she was too caught up in the flood of emotions that just hearing Maura's voice stirred up. Hearing her say her name was almost too much.
"Hey, Maura," she said finally, her voice soft, almost hesitant. "I know we shouldn't be talking, but…"
"Is everything okay?" Maura asked with some concern.
A small smile edged Jane's lips. "Yeah, yeah. I just needed to hear your voice."
There was a pause, and Jane could feel the weight of Maura's silence, could almost picture her, sitting alone, probably looking down at her hands or away into the distance. "It's… nice to hear yours too," Maura replied, though her tone was laced with caution.
Jane's heart ached at the distance in Maura's voice, the careful restraint that hadn't been there before all of this. "How are you doing?" Jane asked, even though part of her didn't want to hear the answer, knowing it would only add to the guilt that was already gnawing at her.
Maura took a deep breath, and her voice came back quiet, and Jane could tell she wanted to avoid talking about how she really felt. "I've spent my time mostly organizing the house. Re-organizing it, I guess. I think I've organized my closet three times. I found some of your things that you left behind."
A twinge of pain sparked in Jane's chest, guilt tightening her throat. She could picture Maura there, going through her closet, finding all the little things she hadn't even realized she'd left behind, reminders of the life they were building together.
"I…" Jane started, but her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, willing herself to continue. "I didn't mean to… I don't want to make this harder on you. This is just temporary."
There was another pause, a longer one this time, and when Maura finally spoke, her words were edged with a quiet determination. "I know. I'm not going anywhere, Jane."
A lump formed in Jane's throat, the weight of Maura's words hitting her with a painful clarity. She wanted so badly to fix this, to be there with Maura, to reach across the miles of emotional distance that now separated them. But she felt trapped, uncertain of how to do any of it. "I don't know how long I can do this, Maura," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Being away from you… it's killing me."
Maura's voice softened, though Jane could still hear the strain underneath. "We can do this as long as we have to," she said quietly. "Even if it hurts."
Jane closed her eyes, feeling the tears start to prick at the corners. She hated the thought of Maura having to hold back, to keep herself together in a situation neither of them could control.
They lingered in silence, the words they wanted to say hanging between them but unspoken. And in that silence, Jane felt both the comfort and the agony of knowing that Maura was still there, still waiting for her, even as they were forced to keep their lives apart.
After a long pause, Maura spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I miss you."
Jane's voice broke as she replied, "I miss you too."
As Jane approached her mother's house, she could already hear the familiar clamor of voices seeping through the front door. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the wave of noise and energy she knew awaited her on the other side. Since she was a kid, family gatherings always seemed to end in some kind of argument, someone leaving in a huff, or at the very least, plenty of bickering.
Today was different, though. She hadn't seen Tommy outside of a computer screen in nearly four years. She'd visited him when she could, filling him in on her life, but it was never quite the same. The thought of finally being able to hug her little brother in person again made her heart squeeze.
As soon as she walked through the door, her mother's voice boomed from the kitchen. "Jane! Put your things down and help set up the table!"
Jane rolled her eyes, setting her bag by the door. "Hello to you too, Ma," she muttered as she made her way to the kitchen. "Where's Tommy?"
Her mother was bustling around, fussing over every dish, every detail. "Your father went to pick him up," she replied, not even looking up. "They should be here any minute."
Jane set the bottle of wine Maura had suggested she bring on the counter, and her mother's sharp gaze immediately fell on it. Without missing a beat, Jane began pulling silverware from a drawer, but her mother was at her side in seconds, swatting her hand away.
"No, no, we're using the good stuff today!" her mother scolded.
Jane raised an eyebrow. "After four years in prison, this is the good stuff," she argued, waving the everyday silverware in her mother's direction.
Her mother shot her a pointed look, and Jane sighed, trudging over to the china cabinet in the dining room. She pulled out the "good stuff," the same set they only used when they had distant family over, the kind of people her mother needed to impress.
Just then, Frankie came down from upstairs, his hair still damp from a recent shower. He looked put together for once—better than usual, anyway. Not that she'd ever tell him that. Instead, she smirked and scrunched her nose. "You smell like a girl," she teased. "Dad's definitely gonna say something about it."
Frankie scoffed, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Ma changed all the soaps in the bathroom upstairs. I didn't have a choice."
They set the last few pieces of china and silverware in place on the table, and Jane popped open a can of beer from the fridge, handing one to Frankie. Just as they took their first sips, her mother breezed back into the room, throwing them both a glare.
"Neither of you should be drinking that before dinner," she declared, her hands on her hips.
Jane raised an eyebrow, grinning as she lifted the can. "I got it out of your fridge."
Her mother huffed, rolling her eyes. "Your father bought it, and I should've thrown it out as soon as I saw it."
Frankie held up his hands, trying to calm her. "Relax, Ma. It's just beer."
Before their mother could respond to the beer debate, the front door swung open, and two familiar voices drifted through the house. Jane and Frankie exchanged a look, one that spoke volumes: Here we go. Their mother, as if on cue, shot off toward the living room to meet Tommy, fussing over him before he even got a word in.
Jane and Frankie followed, emerging from the kitchen, and Jane took a good, long look at her youngest brother. He was thinner than she remembered, his face leaner, freshly shaven, and his hair neatly trimmed. The kid who'd gone in at twenty-four now looked like a man. There was a maturity in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
Frankie crossed the room first, pulling Tommy into a tight hug, clapping him on the back. Jane approached more slowly, taking in the way her "little" brother towered over her. She looked up at him, a proud smile breaking out on her face.
"You look good, Tommy," she said, her voice a little rough with emotion as she pulled him in for a hug. She felt his arms wrap around her, and she closed her eyes, feeling the relief of having him home.
"Thanks, Janie," he murmured, letting go and glancing around, taking in the familiar but somehow distant surroundings. His eyes lit up with a question, and he looked back at her. "Where's Maura? I've been hearing about her forever. Thought I would meet her officially today."
Jane felt her chest tighten at the mention of Maura. She'd told Tommy everything about her, about her intelligence and kindness, about her beauty and the way she seemed to make everything better just by being around. Tommy had been over the moon when she'd told him they were engaged. Meeting Maura was one of the things he was most looking forward to.
"She… she got called into the office last minute," Jane said, forcing a smile that felt just a little brittle. "She's probably not gonna make it tonight. But she was really looking forward to meeting you."
Tommy's face fell for a moment, but he quickly nodded. "I get it. Important stuff." He gave her a reassuring smile, but Jane couldn't shake the pang in her chest. She'd wanted him to meet Maura, to finally have this family together and complete. But things weren't as simple as that right now.
Then, their father's voice cut through the moment, grumbling from behind them. "Why do we have the good china out? What's wrong with the usual?"
Their mother, without missing a beat, shot back, "This is a special occasion! My baby boy's home; we're using the good stuff."
Their dad grumbled again, folding his arms over his chest. "Well, I'm not cleaning the good stuff."
She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "You never clean up anyway, so what does it matter?"
As they continued bickering, Jane and her brothers shared a look, a silent agreement that some things never changed. It was chaos as usual, the comforting, loud, and slightly dysfunctional mess that was the Rizzoli family. Jane knew it wasn't perfect, but with Tommy here, the familiar voices filling the house, it was exactly what she needed.
The night was mostly calm, and while Jane hadn't expected it, she was glad. Her father had parked himself in front of the TV, keeping one eye on a baseball game and the other on his beer. As long as his team was winning, he kept to himself, though every now and then, a booming cheer or groan echoed from the living room, making them all jump.
Jane, Frankie, and Tommy were at the dining room table, catching up in a way that felt surprisingly comfortable. Their mother clattered around in the kitchen, washing dishes and humming to herself. Frankie, always the pragmatist, took the opportunity to ask Tommy about his plans.
"So, you got anything lined up? A job? Somewhere to live?" Frankie asked, leaning back in his chair, his casual tone underpinned by genuine concern.
Tommy shrugged, looking down at his hands. "Not really. I couldn't sort much out before getting out. I mean, a few ideas, but nothing solid. My buddy said he had a position open at his renovation company. Might give him a call as soon as I get a cell phone."
Frankie nodded, "Well, if you need a place to crash while you get on your feet, the apartment's open. Jane's staying in the other room, but you could take the pull-out couch for now. Until you can get things figured out."
Jane shot Frankie a look, her stomach tightening. She hadn't told Tommy about her situation yet, she didn't want to make tonight about her, and now she could see the confusion flicker across his face. Tommy leaned forward, his brows drawing together. "Wait. Why're you staying at the apartment? I thought you and Maura…" Tommy's face softened, his eyes searching hers. "She wasn't really busy tonight, was she?"
Frankie gave Jane an apologetic glance, clearly regretting the slip. But Jane knew she couldn't dodge the question now. She took a steadying breath, forcing herself to find the right words.
"It's… just temporary," she said carefully, her voice steady but strained. "There's some stuff going on at work, and it's better for us to be apart for a bit."
Jane's throat tightened, the truth of it sinking heavily into her chest. She didn't want to go into the messy details, didn't want to rehash the hurt that had been building between her and Maura, but she knew Tommy deserved honesty. She forced a smile that she didn't feel, nodding to reassure him. "It's complicated, but we'll figure it out."
The weight of her words settled between them, but before the moment could grow too heavy, their father shuffled in from the living room, eyes slightly glazed, the hint of a wobble in his step giving away that he'd had a few too many beers.
And that was when it started.
He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on Jane. "Where is high and mighty fiancee anyway?" he slurred, a mocking edge in his tone that Jane immediately recognized. It was the same biting opinion he'd voiced only once before, the kind that made her blood boil.
"Pops, don't," Jane warned, her voice tight.
But he went on, like he hadn't heard her. "Funny how you're making all these sacrifices for someone like her. A Rizzoli isn't exactly the kind of stock she'll be proud of in the long run. You know it. We're not people someone like her spends time with."
Jane felt a rush of anger, her fists clenching under the table. She could hear the venom in his words, the bitterness he kept buried most of the time but that spilled out whenever he'd had too much to drink.
"Enough," Frankie said, his voice calm but firm, trying to defuse the situation.
But their father wasn't finished. "She'll see it sooner or later, Janie. She'll realize she's too good for you, for this whole family. And she'll leave."
Jane's jaw tightened, and she shot to her feet, her pulse pounding in her ears. "That's enough." Her voice cut through the air, hard and sharp, and for a moment, the room fell silent.
Her father stared at her, taken aback by her anger, but she didn't waver. She looked him straight in the eye, fury simmering just beneath the surface. "Maura's the best person I've ever known. She's not the problem here. You are."
For a moment, he looked as though he might respond, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. But then he scoffed, turning away and mumbling under his breath as he stumbled back toward the living room.
Jane left the dining room, her hand lingering on the doorknob of the front door just long enough to slam it closed behind her with a little too much force. She stepped out onto the porch, where the cool, damp night air hit her skin, sharp and grounding. She took a seat on the steps, burying her face in her hands, her dark curls falling forward, concealing her face as she let out a shaky breath.
Inside, she heard her mother's voice, laced with irritation as she demanded to know what had just happened. "Pops had a little too much to drink, Ma." she heard Frankie say.
Their mother scoffed, muttering something under her breath before heading to the living room, her voice rising as she berated their father for his careless words. Frankie moved to mediate, hoping to keep things from escalating, while Tommy slipped outside, quietly shutting the door behind him.
He sat down next to Jane without a word, his presence warm and steady. For a moment, neither of them spoke, both just breathing in the calm night air, letting the sounds of their parents' muffled argument drift into the background. The smell of rain in the air.
"So," Tommy said after a beat, breaking the silence. "I guess not much has changed in four years, huh?"
Jane let out a dry laugh, lifting her head slightly. "Nah. Not much. Except… Pops drinks more now."
They both chuckled, though there was a bittersweet edge to it. Jane hadn't realized how much she'd missed Tommy's laugh, the easy, infectious way it used to cut through the tension in their family. Sitting here with him felt like a piece of the past slipping back into place.
She took a deep breath, the air clearing her head a little. "You are welcome at the apartment. It'll be like old times I guess, without our parents arguing in the background."
Tommy looked at her, the gratitude clear in his eyes. "Thanks, Janie. I don't have much stuff—just what the prison sent me home with—so I won't take up much space."
She gave him a small smile, nudging his shoulder with hers. "It'd be good to have you around."
He nodded, looking away for a moment before asking, "So… you and Maura. You guys really okay?"
Jane hesitated, feeling a pang of vulnerability at the question. She and Maura had always kept their relationship private, something intimate that they hadn't shared with most of the world. But Tommy remembered the way her voice changed whenever she'd talked about Maura during his visits, the happiness in her eyes even through the screen between them. He knew what Maura meant to her.
"It's… complicated right now," she admitted, running a hand through her curls. "We kept things private, you know? And somehow it all got leaked to the press. Now there are lawyers saying all our cases might be compromised." She let out a bitter laugh. "It's a mess."
Tommy let out a low whistle, his brow furrowing. "Damn. That's rough."
"Yeah," she said quietly, the weight of it settling over her again. She didn't have to explain how much Maura meant to her. Tommy could see it in her eyes, in the heaviness of her voice. And despite the chaos of the night, despite their father's cruel words, the exhaustion and frustration, Jane felt a sense of relief having Tommy there next to her, grounding her.
They sat in silence again, the kind that didn't need filling, both of them just looking out into the dark, trying to find something solid to hold on to in a world that was always a little too chaotic. A few rumbles of thunder rose around them. Tommy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Damn, I missed the smell of rain."
Jane looked at him, color coming back into his cheeks. The cut of his jaw and cheek bones showed his manly features. She wished with all her heart that he would be able to start over in this life. Make better choices. Not get caught up with the wrong people. He was too good of a soul to keep getting in trouble. Better than all of them if she had to guess.
A little while later, when the voices inside had died down a bit, Jane and Tommy slipped back inside, the warmth of the house clashing with the tension that hung in the air. Their parents' voices had moved into the kitchen, and Frankie sat alone at the dining room table, his expression weary and resigned. He looked up when they entered, his face a mixture of frustration and defeat.
"It's no use reasoning with them," he said, shaking his head. "They're in one of their moods."
Jane sighed, feeling the weight of the evening settling heavily on her shoulders. She looked around, spotting her coat and bag by the door. "I think I'm gonna head out," she said, glancing over at Tommy. She crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug, holding him tight for a moment. "I'm really glad you're home, Tommy," she murmured. "I'm sorry the night turned out like this."
He shrugged, his grip firm as he returned the hug. "Hey, it's family, right? I'll stick around here for a bit, help Frankie with the aftermath." He managed a smirk. "Then maybe I'll take you up on the offer of your couch. I'm sure Ma would want me to stay here, but after all this, might be best for me to give them some space."
Jane smiled at both of them, grateful for their silent understanding. Frankie offered her a half-smile, raising an eyebrow. "We'll cover for your sudden disappearance."
She nodded, a warm but bittersweet feeling in her chest. "Thanks." She turned, giving them a last look before slipping out the door.
The rain had started to fall, the drops pattering softly on the car as she climbed in and started the engine. For a moment, she just sat there, listening to the rain tap against the windshield, her fingers gripping the steering wheel. The night hadn't gone the way she'd hoped, and the familiar ache of family weighed on her, mingling with the confusion and turmoil that had been building for weeks.
Without another thought, she turned the wheel and pulled out of the driveway, the headlights cutting through the wet darkness. She didn't let herself think about where she was going—she just followed the instinctive pull in her chest, letting it guide her through the empty streets. The route felt both wrong and right, twisting her stomach in knots, but with each passing mile, she felt a sense of certainty settle over her.