Facts, Just the Facts
A Rizzoli & Isles (T/V) Story
Synopsis: Boston's finest finally gets a new Homicide Lieutenant. The replacement for the transferred Joe Grant is a no-nonsense, female detective from New York, who dresses in designer suits, drives an expensive car, and is a Yankees fan. Jane is convinced there is something amiss with the private woman . . . and not just because she happens to compliment the Medical Examiner all the time or question Jane's abilities - starting her very first day on the job.
Disclaimer: Rizzoli & Isles were created by Tess Gerritsen and adapted for TV by Janet Tamaro. This story involves mature themes involving the love and its physical expression between two women. This story is set around the end of season one.
Thanks to Trusty for proofing.
Author's Note: This was my first R&I story and is compete. I will upload to as time permits (RL and other writing…).
Chapter 1 – New Brass
"What's going on?" Jane asked her partner, seeing a few high-ranking police and city officials in the Captain's office as she came in to work.
"The computer system is down again!" Barry Frost complained as he once again tried to call up his email. "How am I supposed to check the prints without AFIS?"
"No, I mean why are the illustrious brass gracing us with their presence?" Jane said, catching a glimpse of the Mayor and the Chief of police.
"Seems our new Lieutenant finally arrived," Frost said with a shrug, trying to reboot. "You would think the IT department would let us know what they are doing and when it will be back!" he hissed with disgust. "You'd think they'd know a little communication goes a long way. But of course they don't."
"Why all the VIPs for a new Lieutenant?" Jane said absently with a face of disapproval as she sat at her desk and logged on to a frozen boot screen. "Crap."
Frost just shrugged again, expecting they would learn why at some point. The brass did what the brass did, he considered, wondering if their computers were on the fritz.
After Lieutenant Grant left for DC, the spot had been gapped several months as the painfully slow bureaucracy posted, screened, and interviewed applicants. Of course, there was high hope that someone within the department, specifically Vince Korsak, her former partner, would actually get the job. Jane even placed money on him in the office pool. Their Medical Examiner, Maura Isles, did not bet but publicly offered a vote of confidence, which Jane believed was because she hadn't reviewed all the applicants personally and didn't want to speculate on the selection. Maura hated to guess, Jane considered, frowning at how disappointed they were when they found out Vince didn't get the position.
After learning Korsak didn't get the job, Jane, Frost and, of course, Maura, took him out to their bar to try and cheer him up last night. Though Korsak tried to shrug it off as unnecessary, Jane knew that while not crushed the older man was very disappointed and convinced him to go. Well, with Maura's help.
"Those idiots don't know shit from Shinola about picking the right man for the job!" Jane loudly declared once again, after her fourth beer.
"Jane," Maura scolded her, again, with a displeased purse of her lips, glancing around the bar uncomfortably.
"What?! Korsak is the best!" Jane said, prompting a small, pleased smile from her former partner. "To Korsak! The best man who should have gotten the job!" Jane raised her beer, which was clinked by Maura's wine glass and Frost's beer. Frost enthusiastically chimed in "Here, here," earning a surprised look from the older man.
If he didn't have dark skin, Frost's slight blush of embarrassment might have been more noticeable. "What? I trust Jane's judgment," he explained awkwardly with a shrug.
"Do you know who got the job?" Maura asked, sipping her mediocre white wine.
"Not yet," Vince said, sipping his beer. "Seems there were two candidates that were neck-in-neck. Cavanaugh from Vice and . . . this should interest you Jane, a rich, out-of-towner . . . a woman from New York," he offered with a sparkle in his eyes.
"A rich woman . . . from New York." Jane repeated flatly. "Great! Just what we need, another political, ladder-climbing, snob," Jane bemoaned, getting a frown from Maura.
"Do you truly believe the woman is anything other than a hard-working, dedicated police officer just because she has more money and is higher ranking than you?" Maura challenged with clear annoyance.
Frost and Vince looked at each other with alarm.
"Well, I've got to go," Frost said awkwardly, looking at his watch and getting a quick nod of agreement from Korsak who chimed in, "Me too, gotta get my beauty sleep."
Jane frowned as she watched her new and old partners flee. Though, she was begrudgingly impressed with how quickly Korsak could disappear. Coward.
"Maura, you have to admit it is not normal for someone with money to want to do this," Jane explained reasonably.
"So you are saying I'm not normal," Maura looked at her pointedly.
"Maura, stop putting words in my mouth. I didn't mean that at all. Unless you consider being exceptional abnormal, then you are extremely abnormal," Jane said with a warm smile.
Maura's head tilted as she looked at Jane. "You just called me abnormal," she said with a frown.
"In a good way!" Jane quickly backpedaled as Maura sighed and stood up. "Maura…." Jane said, trying to make things better, not understanding why Maura was so upset.
"I'll see you in the morning, Jane," Maura interjected firmly as she gripped her bag and left the table.
"Maura," Jane whined to her best friend who kept walking. Jane dropped her head to the table with a thunk. Why did she always seem to say the wrong thing to Maura lately? They had hit it off swimmingly at first and now, it seemed that Maura was not satisfied with anything she said. Why was Maura so sensitive around her these days?
Jane frowned. "Frost, I gotta go find Maura," she said, quickly standing up and left on a mission to make things right. However the hell she could . . . .
"But Jane…." Frost said with concern as the Captain emerged from his office with the brass and the new lieutenant in tow.
"So? How can I get you to forgive me?" Jane asked, having finally caught up to Maura at a park, after they had both been notified of a dead body. It was like Maura was avoiding her, which made her more worried. She watched as Maura hunched over a male corpse, who was entangled in his bicycle just off the bicycle trail. "I'm not sure what I did, but I know didn't mean it," Jane added with honest frustration.
Maura slowly stood and looked at Jane. "Then how could you possibly know you didn't mean it if you don't know what you did?" She was genuinely curious, having almost forgotten why she was so irritated with Jane last night.
Jane's mouth dropped as she searched for a response, looking at an expectant Maura. "Because?" she tried with a wince, causing Maura to roll her eyes.
A car rolled up very close to the crime scene – a very nice and expensive, green metallic Aston Martin, Jane noted with a frown.
"Frankie!" She called out to her brother, who stood by the yellow crime scene tape to keep onlookers away. Getting his attention, she pointed to the car. "Tell them to keep the hell away from the…." the words died on her lips as the brunette emerged from the car and she caught the gold badge at her belt.
"Fuck," Jane whispered under her breath.
"Yeeesss?" Frankie said melodically with a smirk as he tended to other curious civilians.
Jane shook her head and looked up, squinting at the crowd forming on the bridge overhead. She hated gawkers.
Maura glanced over the new arrival with appreciation. The woman was in her mid-forties, in a perfectly tailored brown Armani suit with a lighter brown, silk shirt that was unbuttoned at the top two buttons. The gold badge on her Ralph Lauren belt appeared a perfect accent, not just a symbol of her position. Her brown hair was about her shoulders in an attractive cut that flowed nicely as she turned her head to survey the scene. Her eyes were hidden by black designer sunglasses, that gave her an air of mystery, or perhaps … danger? She didn't need the gun on the other side of the badge to promote that image. Her gait was purposeful, her carriage, confident. The whole package was strong yet refined – a perfect fit for the job, Maura concluded with a smile. She could see Jane in something like that – if she would ever try to dress more sophisticatedly. Of course, she would have wanted to accentuate the suit with a scarf and higher heeled shoes, and maybe a gold brooch to balance the badge, but she knew that would be impractical and too fancy for a homicide detective – especially Jane.
Jane unhappily noted Maura's close and appreciative inspection of the Lieutenant before turning her gaze to the formidable woman. She observed what Maura had observed, without the medical examiner's specific appreciation of the designers or cost. The Lieutenant dressed to impress and radiated confidence. The competitive part of Jane noted with some satisfaction that she was a few inches taller than her new boss, who pulled off her sunglasses and tucked them in her blazer breast pocket.
"Lieutenant, I'm . . . ," Jane said, trying to be polite, knowing she had not been around for the formal introductions with her division.
"Rizzoli," she said flatly, her green eyes looking into Jane's for a long moment, making Jane uncomfortable. "When the Captain or I call together a division meeting, I expect you to understand that means you too," she said pointedly, her gaze penetrating.
Maura tensed, wondering what Jane was thinking to miss an important meeting.
Jane struggled with the urge to defend her absence. She almost blamed the IT department for the missed message, but couldn't do it; she already knew the new lieutenant was there and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she'd be meeting her troops. Jane was not having a good day. Or good week, she amended, briefly glancing uncomfortably at Maura.
"Yes Ma'am," Jane offered begrudgingly, making Maura sigh with relief that Jane wasn't making things worse with her new boss. Jane had a special ability of saying something thoughtless or stupid without even realizing it. Maura pondered why that unfortunate trait which had been rare when they first met, seemed to be getting worse lately.
The Lieutenant sighed. "Too bad you weren't there, Rizzoli. I brought in some really good donuts," she said, making Maura smile happily. Jane's new boss had a sense of humor and was obviously past Jane's initial misstep.
Jane frowned slightly at the unexpected quip and with Maura's reaction to it. Her accent was definitely not of the New York elite, she noted. But it was from New York; a slight Bronx accent came through which did not fit with her expensive clothes and car - unless she was in the mafia, had won the lottery, or married wealthy, she considered and glanced down to the Lieutenant's left hand. Jane saw no jewelry save one gold Rolex that must have cost more than her own car. Jesus!
"Doctor Isles, what have we got?" The Lieutenant crouched down by the body and looked up at Maura expectantly.
Maura smiled, glad the new Lieutenant was not like Frost. But then she suspected the woman would not have gotten to the rank of Lieutenant had she been squeamish. She gracefully knelt back down. Rather closely to the Lieutenant, Jane noted.
"The bicyclist is male, approximately 30 years old, with blunt trauma to his head and several abrasions on his arms and legs," she said, pointing to the areas of trauma.
"Cause of death?"
"I won't know that until I conduct my autopsy."
"A guess?" the Lieutenant asked curiously.
Jane had to smirk, knowing the new lieutenant would likely be frustrated with Maura's aversion to speculation.
"I . . . don't guess," Maura said uncomfortably, wondering why every homicide detective seemed determined to work with unsubstantiated and incomplete information.
Jane's smirk turned to a frown when the Lieutenant nodded in acceptance and stood, holding out a hand to assist Maura, who automatically took it with a pleased smile.
Maura didn't need help, Jane considered with a furrowed brow.
"I look forward to reading your report, Doctor. I've been told you are quite thorough," the Lieutenant said with a small smile, which relieved the medical examiner and confused Jane who would have certainly badgered Maura longer for a guess.
"I try to be," Maura said.
"Nice dress," the Lieutenant said. "Chanel?"
"Yes," Maura said with surprise, beaming with pleasure.
"Careful with the mud," the new lieutenant said with a wince, glancing around the crime scene.
"Hazards of the job, I'm afraid. But I won't let them dictate my wardrobe," Maura said firmly.
"Good for you…and us," the Lieutenant said with a small smile, receiving a bright one from Maura in return.
There was something about this Lieutenant that really did not sit right with Jane. Things just didn't add up. Although, the normally perceptive Maura didn't seem to care, Jane noted. Why would a Bronx homicide detective have wealth and know about fashion? Where the hell would a New York City detective get that kind of cash anyway?
The Lieutenant called out a second time. "Rizzoli!"
"Uh, yeah?" Jane said uncertainly, finally focused on her boss' words instead of her suspect pedigree.
"What about the evidence collected, like a bloody rock or something?" The Lieutenant asked tersely, glancing up at the overhead bridge meaningfully.
"Uh, I just got here," she said uncomfortably, glancing at Maura, feeling her face redden.
"We've collected a few objects but they only appear to have collateral blood splatter, Lieutenant," Maura offered helpfully. "The indentation in the dirt matches the size of the trauma to the head."
The Lieutenant looked at her and nodded. "Rizzoli? A moment?" she said politely, walking towards her car without waiting for a response.
Jane took a fortifying breath and followed, knowing the woman was not pleased with her.
When she was certain no one else would hear them, the Lieutenant turned to Rizzoli.
"I was told you were one of the best homicide detectives in the division, Rizzoli. And your record seems to support that, but frankly, I'm not seeing it. I'm seeing someone with their head up their ass. Should I be worried?" she asked bluntly, shocking Jane who never had her abilities questioned. Well, her training officer did, but that was before she knew anything. And, well, the all-boys club of vice, then homicide, had harassed her mercilessly, assuming "the girl" was a department token, until she proved herself to them. And her mother's opinion didn't count…
"No. Not at all," Jane blurted. She was amazed by how bad her day was going – and it wasn't even LUNCH yet! Instinctively, Jane glanced to Maura, who was trying not to look like she was watching them, and failing. The look was not lost on the new Lieutenant.
"I'm not one to meddle in the personal lives of my officers, but make no mistake, I will take action if it is affecting performance. Do I make myself clear, Rizzoli?"
Not really understanding what she meant, Jane blinked, wondering what her family had to do with anything. Knowing a response was required, she weakly answered: "Yes, ma'am."
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you Rizzoli?"
Jane's mouth opened in surprise. "No, ma'am," she said with a wince.
The Lieutenant sighed and shook her head, before heading to her car.
As the Lieutenant drove away, Jane just stood there, staring as the Aston Martin pulled away. This was worse than with Lieutenant Grant, who was just a chauvinistic jerk looking out for his career. Jane never had a woman boss before and for some reason, she had expected a better experience.
"Jane? Are you ok?" Maura said, now at her side with a gentle hand on her forearm, startling the detective.
"I'm . . . not sure," Jane honestly responded with a bewildered look, leaving Maura more concerned.
"What's wrong, Jane?" Angela Rizzoli asked her daughter at the Rizzoli dinner table.
Jane stopped poking her food with her fork and looked up curiously. "What makes you think anything is wrong?"
"You're not touching your ravioli and it's Grandma Rizzoli's special recipe," Angela said as if it was obvious; at least, to her it was.
"She had a tough day with her new boss," Frankie snickered, taking a bite of salad.
"What the hell do you know about it?!" Jane snapped.
"Jane, language!" Angela scolded as Jane's father, Frank senior, continued to silently eat the ravioli.
"Did you notice how nicely she dresses?" Jane snapped.
"What does Maura's dressing nicely have anything to do with your bad day with your boss?" Frankie countered.
"What the hell?" Jane looked at him in confusion. "I'm talking about the Lieu…"
"Jane, I'm not going to tell you again," Angela snapped. "And how does the way someone dresses have anything to do with your bad day?"
"Jane's bad day started when didn't show up to the division's meeting introducing the new Lieutenant," Frankie volunteered gleefully, earning a death glare from Jane.
"You blew off your new boss? What were you thinking?!" Angela screeched in amazement.
Jane slowly turned red. Her decision seemed obvious at the time. In hindsight, not so much. She still didn't know if she was back in Maura's good graces and now she was on the Lieutenant's shit list. And she still didn't understand why Maura got upset with her.
"Uh, it was personal," she muttered, stabbing a ravioli.
"Did you have bad cramps?" Angela said sympathetically.
"Ma!" Jane looked at her incredulously. "That woman is so… she accused me of not being a good cop!" Jane said.
"For missing a stupid meeting?" Angela said with surprise, suddenly feeling protective of her sometimes-stupid daughter. She hated the fact that Jane and Frankie chose such dangerous professions and constantly told them they should find other work. But to have someone else accuse her daughter of being anything but the best…well, that was just unacceptable!
"Noooo. . . ." Jane said in frustration.
"Did she actually say, 'Jane you are not a good cop' ?" Frankie challenged.
"NO! But… it's like when I first became a detective! She doesn't even know me and she's been riding me!" Jane vented.
"Kinky," Frankie joked, clearly amused by his comment.
"Frankie!" Angela said with exasperation.
"It's just a JOKE, Ma," Frankie said defensively.
Jane couldn't take anymore teasing, especially about that. "I'll be going now, Ma. Pop."
"Aw Jane, Frankie will be good. Won't you Frankie!" Angela hissed, slapping his arm.
"Ma!" he winced.
"I don't have much of an appetite. Thanks for dinner," Jane said and left the table.
"Jane! Janie . . . ," Angela called out as Jane left. "What's going on with her?" she asked to anyone who would answer as the front door shut behind Jane.
"Too much estrogen in the division now?" Frankie suggested, shoving a forkful of ravioli.
"Frankie, that's sexist!" she scolded.
"On second thought, that's not it – more like unexpected testosterone," Frankie snorted.
"Frank, do you have any idea what he's talking about?" Angela turned to her husband for help.
"Angela, this is really good ravioli. Can you pass another piece of garlic bread, sweetheart?" Frank said with a smile.
She looked at the empty breadbasket with a sigh. "There's more in the kitchen. I'll be right back," she said, shaking her head and disappearing into the kitchen.
"So . . . the lieutenant is good looking?" Frank Sr. asked curiously.
"Nicer looking than the last Lieutenant," he joked, then noted his father's frown of displeasure and gave him a real answer. "She's a little too Bronx for me but yeah, good looks and dresses nice," Frankie said with a shrug. "Doesn't take any shit – she seems ok."
"Hmmm," Frank Sr. said, chewing his ravioli.
Left, right, left, right.
Each foot hit the pavement in purposeful rhythm. Sweat dripped off her brow as she breathed in, out, in, out.
It was a peaceful time, a time when she was in control. It wasn't the first time Jane jogged at night.
Left, right, left, right.
It wasn't likely to be her last.
The burn in her muscles started to become painful. But she didn't want to stop. Besides being several miles away from her home, stopping meant her ability to zone out and just focus on the mechanics of jogging was gone.
If she stopped, she'd start to think. And every time she started to think, she thought about Maura. And now, after the arrival of the new Lieutenant . . . .
Jane frowned and pressed on.
Left, right, left, right.
To be continued...