This is about how Rizzles react when a MAJOR TRAGEDY strikes. So yes, there is a lot of sadness, pain, grief, guilt, anguish, and major triggers, as they deal with a major loss. But there is also love, pure and unaltered love.
ALERT: if you have not watched the show yet, there might be spoilers – I use references to things that happened across all seasons.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles nor any of the characters from the show. I am writing this purely for entertainment, not profit. Rizzoli and Isles are property of Tess Gerritsen and TNT.
I am not a native English speaker, and I don't have a beta. So all mistakes are 100% mine.
Enough of disclaimers and warnings – read at your own risk. Remember this is ALL fiction. Reviews are always welcome.
Chapter 1
"Detective Rizzoli?"
It took Frankie to hear it the fourth time to remind himself the rookie was talking to him.
Even after more than three years of being the only Rizzoli in the precinct, every time he heard Detective Rizzoli his mind automatically assumed someone was looking for Jane.
He sighed thinking about his sister.
"Yes?"
"There is a beautiful woman downstairs that asked if she could speak to you… She specifically mentioned your name." The rookie blushed.
It was a Saturday morning, and Frankie had been on-call, catching up on some paperwork. He had planned to be home for lunch, where Nina would be waiting for him with Stella, their nine years old daughter.
He knotted his eyebrows.
"Does the beautiful woman have a name? Did she say what this is about?"
"She just asked me to make sure I told you her name is Maura."
Frankie immediately stood up, almost toppling the office chair he was seated on.
"Maura, you said?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Thank you, I will go downstairs to speak to her."
Could this possibly be?
It had been more than three whole years. Without a single word or piece of news. Not that he would blame her. Or his sister. But it didn't make it any easier.
He didn't even notice the elevator had dinged on the floor level, so when the doors opened, he was taken aback.
There, in the corner, pacing discreetly, was Maura Isles. She looked thinner than he ever remembered seeing her, and there were streaks of silver on her amber golden hair, that was shorter. Feeling observed, she turned to him, and he immediately drowned in the pool of hazel green eyes. It was easy to see how Jane had fallen for her. God, who was he fooling? Even him had fallen for her for a short while, but quickly realized he was not the Rizzoli the doctor was interested into.
The difference was that those eyes, bright and shiny as they were, carried now a deep sadness. That he knew had also been present in the eyes of the entire family for the past three years.
"Maura…" he said, realizing he had reached her in long steps, extending his hands to hold hers.
"Frankie…" she sighed. "Thank you for meeting me down here. I hope I am not interrupting anything important. I can come back another time if now is not convenient…"
Her voice was low and delicate as usual, but he could hear the hint of pain in it.
"No, this is as good time as any, Maura. Please, let's find a place for us to sit."
He walked her outside, opting for a café that had opened down the street since she had left, instead of the Division One Café where they were more likely to be interrupted by people who knew her from before.
He ordered coffee, and had to hold back a smile to her order. He could practically hear Jane's voice in his head, teasing Maura: 'is there even any caffeine in that? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know.'
"It is good to see you, Maura… How have you been?" Frankie began, tentatively.
"It has been a long time…" she tried to smile, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and she looked down at her hands.
Frankie had noticed Maura was unusually tanned, although the dark circles under her eyes, barely concealed by make-up, hinted the tan was not the result of a pleasure trip. She was well dressed in dark tones, but a far cry from the glamorous outfits he got used to seeing her wearing whenever she was outside of the house in the past.
"Yes… A very, very long time…" he admitted, gently.
"I know I likely have no rights after all that happened, and after all this time, Frankie… But I really need to speak to Jane." Maura blurted, the way it was so characteristic of her when she was nervous.
He looked at her, shocked, and it didn't escape her observant eyes.
"You don't know, do you?" he asked, baffled.
"Know what?" Maura retorted, feeling the buzz in her ears that signaled the rush of blood to her extremities and the threat of a vasovagal episode. She was still in recovery, and her body was far from functioning 100% well.
"Jane is gone." He said, compassion in his sad tone of voice.
"What do you mean, gone?" Maura asked, her chin and lower lip trembling, her throat constricting.
"No… No… Not in that way…" he hurried to correct himself, taking her hand, suddenly cold, in his. "I am sorry. She left, Maura. The day after you did."
"Oh." Maura exhaled, and closed her eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control. She took her cup in her trembling hands, and sipped some, trying to calm her nerves.
"Would you consider letting me know where she is?" Maura tried in a very small voice. She would not blame him if he wouldn't. Three years was a very long time. And after what Maura had done – or better speaking, failed to do – she wouldn't blame him if he would keep her from getting to Jane.
"I would if I knew, Maura. But I don't know where she is." He sighed, trying to explain to very confused hazel green eyes. "She… sent a letter explaining she joined a volunteer taskforce in Afghanistan. Secret Operations. She explained they would contact us if anything… bad… happened to her while there. We were never contacted, so I can only assume she is alive. Somewhere."
Maura waited, knowing there was more he would tell her. Anyway, she had nothing to say to that, just fight the pinprick of hot tears threatening to invade the back of her eyes.
"There is a PO Box to which we can write, and in theory the mail gets directed to her wherever she is. I never got an answer back to any of my letters in three years, though…" He finished, in a small, wounded voice.
Maura covered her face with her tiny delicate hands, and inhaled deeply, trying to control the sobs that she could feel bubbling up her throat.
"I am sorry, Maura." Frankie repeated, sincerely.
She lowered her hands, and delicately dried the tears that had managed to fall with the back of her index fingers. It was such a Maura signature gesture, that he felt right back at home again.
"I don't think she could live with her guilt, and with the knowledge that even you blamed her…"