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Jane had noticed it even if Maura hadn't. The precise doctor was always alert and aware, but hers was a theoretical and medical mind. Jane's mind however had been honed to a razors edge. The combination of street smarts, a detectives' intuition, the gut instinct of a hunter and the awareness of someone who was once a victim of a sociopath like Hoyt, alerted her to the predators at her tail.
It had all started innocently enough. Silent phone calls to Maura's house, which the Doctor logically put down to cold callers, crossed wires and a hundred other innocuous reasons. Then there were the glimpses of people watching her. At every crime scene someone, who wasn't rubber necking to get a glimpse of the corpse, but was rather watching Maura with cold eyes. Calculating expressions that never wavered from her friend's well dressed form. When Jane approached them, they would turn on their heels and disappear into the crowds. Maybe they were just innocent observers, faces in the crowd. To Maura that's all they were, but to the raised hairs on the back of Jane's neck they were something else.
Then as they drove to lunch one day Jane noticed the grey Ford saloon. A saloon which, with eerie regularity, began to show up in the rear-view mirror when she drove Maura, or was her passenger. Once Jane noticed a black SUV swerve and cut off the saloon as though attempting to cut off its pursuit.
All the while Maura remained oblivious to the things Jane had begun to notice. Quietly she ran the plates of the grey Ford saloon, only to find they were clones, apparently belonging to various owners of various vehicles.
Jane's disquiet grew, and so she spent even more time with Maura. Not in and of itself unusual, but when Jane began agreeing to let Maura drive her places, or to join Maura for a mud bath just so she could be her protective shadow; even Maura began to raise a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in confusion and suspicion.
The final straw came some two weeks later when Jane returned with Maura to her house and her front door was ajar. The lock was jimmied open none too subtlety and Jane was on immediate alert. Her gun came out in one fluid motion while her other arm pushed Maura protectively behind her. With the lethal precision and stalking grace of a lynx, Jane swept the house. Only to find an open back door, and no-one in the house.
Maura was decidedly shaken and rambled in all her cute little Google mouthed glory. Facts and figures about break ins. About who designed the first three pin tumbler lock for doors, reasons why a criminal might have broken into her house and not disturbed anything: He was disturbed by a neighbour, a case of mistaken identity, a fit of conscience.
All the while Jane agreed and tried to calm her LLBFF. Yet in her mind Jane was running possible scenarios. Frost, Korsak and a forensics team were just clearing out as Maura poured herself a glass of 1989 clar du fiel wine. The slight tremor in Maura's hands as she poured the wine and the pinprick of fear and uncertainty shadowing her eyes was discernible only to Jane. Only Jane could see how the break in had hurt and scared her best friend. Her heart if she was honest. And if there was one rule that should never be broken, it was this: "never mess with a Rizzoli's family."
Jane nodded calmly to the locksmith as he fixed the door and made his exit. Korsak had lingered in all his papa bear glory or perhaps it was his internal Casanova that kept him late, as he calmed a startled Angela who had returned only a few minutes ago.
Korsak walked calmly to the door, "It'll be fine Jane. I'll speak to you in the morning," he said. Jane's hand covertly caught his arm as he passed her, his movement stalled for an almost indiscernible second as the detective whispered into his ear between gritted teeth.
"Arrange for me to visit Doyle tomorrow. I don't care what it takes, I want to talk to him." Jane almost growled.
Korsak's eyes widened for a second and words got stuck in his throat. He remained locked in the dark black pools of Jane's eyes for a few moments. Seeing nothing but the determination and pride which had lead to the scars on her palms. He glanced back at the couch where Maura sat trying to maintain a careless attitude with Angela, then back to Jane. A stiff, resigned nod was all the answer he gave before making his way out the door.
It was therefore by the pulling of numerous strings by Korsak, the flashing of badges, medals of bravery and the shameless use of her reputation as a city hero since she shot herself, that Jane Rizzoli found herself being waved through a metal detector and towards a prison visiting booth to talk to a very unwilling Paddy Doyle.
For a moment Jane's mind was lost in the question of what the hell she was doing. She had no idea if Paddy would know what was going on. She didn't really have any proof that all these tenuous little things were connected. Yet Jane's gut clenched when she thought of Maura. Anything that could even remotely be of risk to her was unacceptable.
Jane had hated the publicity surrounding Hoyt, the precinct shooting and her shooting of Doyle.
She hated being called a hero.
Hated being asked to be the poster girl for the division.
Hated the city officials using her name as some example of a selfless civic worker.
Hated the police politics of people wanting to do her favours, wanting her backing.
Jane just did her job and wanted to do it quietly. That's all she ever did. Today however, she had used her 'pull,' had pulled strings and played up her so called acts of heroism. Actions which ordinarily she would never do, would ordinarily sicken her, she committed with hardly a hesitation for thought.
And why?
For Maura.
Always for Maura. Beautiful, talented, kind, generous, innocent : Maura.
Her best friend. That's what Jane had to keep reminding herself. Maura is just her friend. But Jane loves Maura, even if she will never tell her. Even if it can never be. They are from different worlds. Maura is a lady, Jane Tomboy. Maura a professional of high class. Jane a blue collar cop. Maura well educated and refined. Jane gruff and crass. Maura seemingly on the straight end of the sexuality scale she Google mouths about. Jane, Hell Jane didn't know what she was. Maura innocent and open. Jane damaged goods and closed to the world. None of it mattered though, even if it will never be, Jane would do anything for her.
Including talking to Doyle in a semi civilized manner.
Jane takes her seat at the horrible orange plastic chair and waits for Doyle. Through the Perspex she sees the door open and his shackled, jumpsuit form is guided to his own chair. He resists a little more when he sees Jane but is eventually plonked down on the creaking plastic.
Jane lifts the phone to talk to Doyle on the other side. At first he hesitates with that cold hard stare, refusing to lift the phone, to hear what Jane wants.
Eventually, and with deliberate slowness, to show it is his decision, he has the power. Paddy lifts the phone.
Before Jane has a chance to speak the eloquent gangster is asking questions.
"How exactly did you get a visit at such short notice, and despite my refusal to talk to you?" Doyle asks with forced casualness. The topic could be as mundane as the weather for all his tone gave away. Yet just like Maura, her sperm donors real emotions flicker for a second at the back of his eyes. Jane internally flinches at the reminder of the likeness but with her ability to read Maura she can tell Paddy is pissed. He is angry at being dragged to talk to Jane, at his loss of power. At the humiliation of being forced to talk to the cop who shot him.
"You ain't the only one with connections Doyle. We need to talk!" Jane states brusquely and with a flash of the cocky Rizzoli grin.
Doyle's cold face doesn't change. No. No gangster as old and successful as him survived by rising to bait. By giving away his emotions with his face.
Instead his eyes survey Jane as though she is the filth of the earth. A disease to be destroyed.
"I don't talk to cops. Buried enough people who did to know that it ain't how the game is played," Doyle replies with derision and an eerie calm.
He lifts the phone as though to slam it down but his hand is stilled by Jane's interruption, "It's about Maura." Jane rushes.
Her professional mask slipping for a second and the desperation and fear trickle into the three words.
Paddy is frozen half way to hanging up his phone. His eyes zero in on Jane. Probing, measuring, evaluating. Years of Westie experience letting him dissect the motives of men from a single glance.
Slowly he brings the phone back to his ear and his mask of the Westie enforcer slips a fraction to show the concern of a father. Doyle was not a good man by any stretch of the imagination. He was a product of his environment. A Westie born into a Westie family. Like any Irish family he valued his clan but love has a way of twisting you all up inside. Just as it seemed to be doing to Jane Rizzoli. Doyle had defied his family to be with Hope and then he had left her to ensure her safety. He had lied about Maura's death to her mother to ensure the child's safety. Told no-one of her existence. Erected a gravestone to hide her life. Doyle had been born a Westie and was expected to die a Westie, in his life there was no place for one as pure and beautiful as his daughter. He had watched from afar though, because even though he had to lived up to his family obligations, Maura was still his. His family too. It was a warped kind of love. A love bound up in old ideas of honour and family name. A love warped by the need to protect what was 'his,' his property, his family, his business. Of all these things, Maura was the number one on his property list. As close to pure and real love as he would ever know.
"What's happened?" He asked in a tone suddenly making the larger than life character seem old and tired.
Jane hesitated for a moment seeing this side of Doyle.
"I think you know more than me. Nuisance phone calls, odd people hanging around, cars following her and last night someone broke into Maura's house but didn't touch anything. Maura thinks it's all unrelated or hasn't noticed. She's naive to things like that, but my gut says otherwise." Jane rambled quickly.
Paddy sighed a sound of defeat.
"And you'd be right." He admitted in a whisper. The words costing him more than Jane could ever know.
Jane's fists curled, her knuckles going white on the phone. She took a deep breath to calm herself and then growled between clenched teeth,
"Which of your fucking enemies has come to collect your debt from Maura this time?"
Paddy seemed to flinch for a moment before his eyes turned to flame, his anger rising up to meet Jane's.
"You're the one who put me in here Detective. You're the one who made my black book public. You're the one who has effectively cut off my influence and made it public that Maura is my daughter. If anyone is to blame for this it's you!" Paddy spat.
Jane jumped back from the glass and the phone as though punched. The truth of his statements hitting home.
On the outside Doyle was a man to be feared. Physically he could kill like a ghost with an ice pick in the night. His black book gave him power and influence to get people to do his dirty work for him when he couldn't. Jane had taken that from him and in the process Maura publicly became his daughter but without any protection.
Jane couldn't admit to these thoughts, couldn't deal with the guilt if anything happened to Maura whether directly or indirectly because of her.
"It's still your enemies and all the shit that follows you that is causing this so explain!" Jane whispered harshly into the phone.
"It's the Cotrals. They're a small Latino outfit on the east side. They were always our rivals. They tried bringing their drugs racket into Westie territory, so we naturally sent a message a few years back. Left a few bodies about. I may be a thug, a murderer, a racketeer and a fraudster Detective but running drugs to kids and prostitution were never allowed in our neighbourhoods. Not on my watch. The Cotrals have been pissed ever since. Most of them would let it go but my people are telling me there is a young uppity named Carlos who wants to show what a man he is. He's the nephew of the boss and is using the past feud as an excuse to try and gain credit." He rambled furiously, his fists clenching and eyes burning.
Jane snorted, "Sure you're a real good guy. A misunderstood anti-hero. A gangster with principles." Jane mocked with a cold grin.
Doyle's face went briefly red, before settling into a cold expression that gave even the most cruel of men pause. Jane's mind too, pausing in a moment as old as time, where lesser creatures realize they have stepped into the trap of something with big sharp teeth.
"We all have our own principles Detective. After all it wasn't so long ago I got a little text message telling me Tommy O'Rourke was the man who killed my son and was after Maura. That message got him killed. Be careful the moral line you draw detective. We often run right past them without realizing." Doyle uttered coldly.
Jane flinched openly and violently this time. A dead give away to Doyle that his suspicion had been right all along. It was Jane who had texted him about O'Rourke. The one time Jane ever lied to Maura. Jane looked at the line of her morals and for Maura she had run straight past it. It had cost her sleep. It had eaten at her insides. It betrayed everything her life meant, her badge. It was a mark on her soul. Jane was an accessory to murder. A murderer as if she had held the ice pick herself. And as much as she hated herself, she couldn't regret it. She couldn't regret protecting Maura. Jane was resigned to the fact she would always do whatever was necessary to protect Maura. Without her quirky little friend Jane's life just wouldn't be worth it.
"Where can I find this guy?" Jane asked.
Doyle laughed heartily. "What are you going to do detective? Arrest him? Flash your badge. These people make me look civilised. I've had the few people I have influence left with running interference and trying to get them to back off. Leave this to me. I'll think of something to protect her." Doyle's tirade which began so mockingly and strong ended hesitant and unsure. Not a tone Jane had ever heard before. It made her fear for Maura rocket.
"Where can I find them?" Jane repeated. The growl in her voice from earlier gone, replaced by a tone of steel. Calm but unyielding. For a moment Jane barely recognised her own voice.
Paddy heard it too and his laughter ended. He sat forward in his chair studying the detective. The hard planes of her beautiful face static. Her eyes dark and burning. Her Jaw tense and serious. For a moment Paddy wanted to shiver. He had seen that look before, determined and without mercy. He had seen it in the mirror all too often.
"What are you planning detective? There's no turning back from the path you're staring down. If I tell you where they are, you would be alone. My influence is reduced to only a few people and they can't make a blatant display 'cause it could start a gang war. What can you do? What would you do for her?" Paddy questioned intently.
"To protect Maura, I'll do whatever I have to. Now where do I find them?" Jane calmly intoned.
Paddy studied the detective closely and finally, like a blind man staring at the sun, he saw it. The detective was willing to do anything for Maura. Just like him. She loved her. Paddy, like any good gangster,r had only one thought to this, "I could use this." And so without further mind games, for the first time in his life Paddy Doyle told the police detective exactly what she wanted to hear.
The drive back to the station was a long one, but Jane felt oddly calm. She knew what had to be done. For a moment it horrified her. There was no turning back from this. She was being reckless again, she knew it. She was likely going to break all her promises.
Her promise to serve and protect.
Her promise to maintain the law.
Likely even her promise to Ma, not to get killed.
But overriding all of that was her promise to herself and to her best friend.
Jane would protect Maura.
Jane stormed through the station, her wild mane of hair like dark fire, trailed the path to her desk. The officers cleared a course, unwilling to get in the way of her powerful strides or meet her midnight eyes, which blazed with some terrible purpose.
Jane snatched up a piece of paper and scribbled down a few words. An explanation, an apology. Just in case. She violently jerked opened her desk draw and thrust the letter into it. Jane then grabbed her gun and her badge from the same drawer and weighed them carefully in each hand. Frost and Korsak were casting weary glances between each other and hesitantly called out to ask Jane what was wrong. Jane seemed deaf to their concern and ignored her friends. Jane's brows drew together as her face twisted in deep thought or perhaps awful pain, before clearing to resolute determination. She clenched her jaw and with a barely perceptible grunt she cast the badge back into the depths of her draw and withdrew an extra clip for her gun. She loaded her glock and holstered it with lethal precision before spinning on her heal and marching out of the office. Leaving stunned and worried silence in her wake.
It only took her about forty minutes to reach the little east side cantina that Doyle had told her to go to.
Here was the point of no return. The outside door was being watched by a young Latino man. Perhaps 22 or 23. Without breaking stride Jane came upon him from her right side and looped arms with the suddenly shocked man.
In her left blazer pocket her backup snub nose revolver, earlier retrieved from her car was pushed up against the man's ribs as Jane leaned into his body. The clinical click of the hammer being pulled echoed ominously causing the young man's face to take on a comically horrified expression. He seemed to chock on air for a moment before Jane began to speak in a low whisper.
"Don't do anything stupid and I won't have to splatter your guts across the wall or onto my new boots, okay?" Jane whispered in his ear. The cruel mockery of what to anyone watching was a lovers embrace was further perverted by the menacing shove of the gun into his gut.
Mutely like a fish out of water the man nodded. The colour having long since drained from his face.
"Now then, I'm going to guess that bulge in your pants ain't cause you're happy to see me." Jane keeping up the act of a lusting couple, purred in his ear as her hand slipped from his arm to rub suggestively down the front of his shirt before dipping into his pants to retrieve a shiny nickel plated 9mm. Jane slid the gun into the back of her slacks.
"I'll be keeping that. Now we are gonna walk into the Cantina nice and slow. You move in any direction other than where I lead or try to signal your friends and I'll paint the walls with reddish brown stains." Jane mocked as she re-looped her arm into his like a lover.
"You stupid chica, you know where t'you at? You dead gringa!" The young man having regained some of his ego whispered harshly.
Jane chuckled coldly with a slightly savage grin. "I expect nothing less, but if you play along you might live."
The young man's eyes widened and he began walking into the cantina as Jane pulled him forward.
Every eye in the cantina suddenly swung to the opened door.
Jane only needed the moment she had entered the room to take its measure.
The cantina was inhabited by ten or fifteen people. A young girl with bright red hair, carrying plates of food from behind the long bar like counter. Perhaps two dozen cheap laminate and steel tables and booths in linear patterns occupied the main body of the room. Directly ahead were two doors, one with a soiled sign for toilets and another with a private sign. At the rooms bottom left hand corner sat a burly man in his late forties. Dark black hair in a ponytail, a well trimmed moustache, a white vest and arms like tree trunks covered in gang and prison tattoos. This was the leader. This was Alvaro.
He sat inconspicuously in the booth with a man disguised as a mountain of muscle to his side. At the end of his booth table another young man leaned against a chair that had been turned backwards. A whip thin young man, in black jeans and an ostentatious red shirt. This was Carlos.
Jane directed her unwilling escort forward as though he was leading her to the restrooms.
Within a few seconds suspicion began leaking into the eyes of the men who watched the couple.
"Hey Cesar! What you doing leaving the door. Who the bruga?" A random voice hollered from her right.
Their inattention and hesitation was enough though. The few seconds had brought Jane parallel to the booth she required and in a move she never thought she would be capable of she tripped her companion. Cesar fell with spectacular flare and the distraction gave Jane the time she needed to neatly slide into the empty seat of Alvaro's booth, while simultaneously drawing her revolver and her glock. She levelled her glock at Carlos and the revolver at Alvaro.
The hunk of muscle bodyguard wasn't as slow as she had thought and pulled a .45 out of somewhere to say hello.
The cantina fell silent for a second before swearing stormed loudly, and the clink of metal issued to inform the patrons that yet more guns were being drawn.
Jane didn't react. She didn't flinch. Her concentration clinically on the muted dirty brown eyes of Alvaro. Alvaro played his part of Gang leader and resident sociopath well. His face betraying nothing. His nephew Carlos however was swearing up a storm and looking ill.
"Quiet!" Alvaro intoned, and the room went silent.
"It seems we have a Mexican standoff with this pretty lady. And seen as I like my good looks everyone's gonna remain calm. Yes?" He stated more than asked. A slight grin at the edge of his mouth making cold shards race up Jane's back.
The meaty hand on the .45 relaxed slightly although the man muscle looked extremely displeased. Jane had a sudden absurd image of him reaching across the tiny table and snapping her in two.
"Now my little dessert flower. You want to tell me who you are and what the hell kind of death wish you got, coming into my favourite cantina and putting a gun to my face. Ballsy I'll admit, but fucking stupid." Alvaro drawled.
Jane didn't hesitate. She knew the rules from Doyle. Show weakness: Die. Hesitate: Die.
Jane jerked her head towards Carlos. "Einstein over here, been fucking with Paddy Doyle's daughter. You take this warning and leave her alone or I kill you both here and now." Jane replied, infecting her speech with as much Rizzoli cockiness as she could.
Carlos at her right stilled and from the corner of her eye it seemed he went paler than milk. An astonishing feat for someone of his ethnicity. Alvaro for his part clenched his jaw. Anger rose up his face like a volcano, first perhaps at Jane's threat to kill him and then at his dumb nephew for bringing the problem to his door.
Alvardo's glance shifted for but a second to his nephew. A look of such disappointment, disgust and promises of pain, it made Jane want to be sick.
With an almost physical effort that scared Jane Alvardo seemed to swallow his rage and he again returned to being the gangster of calm.
"Explain." He demanded of Jane. A word infused with the power of a man used to being obeyed.
Jane waited moment. Letting Alvardo know that Jane was not one of his lackeys. Then with a careless shrug that belied the situation and did not shift the gun barrels a centimeter from her targets heads , she began to explain.
"Paddy Doyle, The Westie. He was all over the paper of late and it became known he has a daughter. It came to 's attention recently that young Mr. Carlos has been trying to gain some credit by settling a score from over two decades ago. Mr. Doyle planted some of your gang and now Carlos, to up his credit, has taken to stalking his daughter and broke into her house last night. Mr. Doyle reckons if it weren't for his men playing interference something nasty might have happened to his daughter." Jane explained.
Alvardo tugged his beard. "That feud ended long ago when we divided up the protection money of the city. The Westies wouldn't go after us for anything happening to Doyle's daughter. He too weak besides, now he inside. He would have sent his boys not a woman if he was going to kill me but no Westie wants a war, no matter the favour her owes Doyle. Carlos' Uncle, My sisters brother in law was one of the men that Doyle killed. So Detective what you really doing here?"
Jane's heart froze at the word detective and something must have shown on her face because Alvardo chuckled. "Yes I recognise you from the papers. You the crazy cop who shot through herself to kill some guy, right?" Alvardo laughed huskily.
At the mention of Jane being a cop, the tension in the room escalated.
"I'm not here on Doyle's order, you're right, and I ain't got a badge with me because this isn't official business. I'm here off my own bat. I'm Telling you. Leave Dr. Isles alone, or I'll..." Jane was cut off by Alvardo cutting in.
"What detective? Arrest me? Kill me? I can have you killed. No-one will ever know you were here." Alvarado asked with a huge smile, as he laughed.
The cantina broke out into laughter, the hyena's chuckles following the leader.
"No. I'll kill you and your nephew. Then your hunk of muscle there turns my head to spaghetti with the .45. But you'll both still be dead." Jane pronounced in a cold voice.
Alvardo and the room's laughter cut out like the plug had been pulled on a juke box.
Alvardo's eyes narrowed much as Paddy Doyle's had in the prison earlier that day. He was measuring her. Re-evaluating Jane, who he had taken as a cock sure cop, a woman in over her head.
"You'll die too. You're a cop. You can't. You won't," Carlos squeaked from Jane's left, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.
Jane smiled, but it wasn't her usual smile. It was the thing she hid from everyone else.
The smile was part of the person she kept buried inside.
The Jane who had fought off Hoyt against all odds, while bound and terrified.
The Jane who had coldly texted Doyle the name of a man to kill to protect Maura.
The Jane who had shot through herself to save her brother and Maura.
The Jane who had accepted death to protect Maura from Hoyt the second time.
This was the Jane she pretended wasn't there, the Jane she had promised her family didn't exist.
This was the face of Jane's recklessness, her pride, the passion that drove her to do her job and that secretly loved Maura at the cost of everything else.
It must have been intimidating, because Alvado's calm shook for a moment. The craziness in Jane's eyes openly displayed for all to see. Even the man of muscle, with the .45 not 6 inches from her head and with no gun pointed at him, flinched.
"I accepted I'll likely die before I came in here. But as I said, I will take you both with me. I'm not here as a cop. I can and I will kill you both. You threatened my friend, my family in fact. What would you not do for family Mr. Alvardo." Jane said with a childlike innocence. The almost giggling voice infused with adrenaline and anticipation for action to come.
Alvardo studied Jane almost hesitantly before responding. "Say I believe you're that crazy. You did shoot through yourself, so I'm inclined to believe you. There is no guarantee you'll kill me though. I nod and Goyo here shoots you in the head while I duck to the side. You miss or only wound me, but you are dead. Your arms are bound to be getting tired holding those guns, detective. You die and no one knows you were ever here. Besides there no guarantee I keep my word and pull Carlos back even if I let you go." He said with great thought. Openly calculating his odds of survival.
Jane's smile did not falter, reaching almost painful cruelty.
Oh but I assure you Alverdo, I would kill you both. I wasn't the number one recruit in my year because of my good looks and sparkling personality. I hold a perfect A rating in the range and as you yourself said, I once shot through myself, missed most major organs and still hit the heart of the guy holding me hostage. My aim is true, I assure you." Jane stated calmly with her Rizzoli cockiness. A point she reinforced by cocking the hammers on both guns with ease, the barrel unwavering and her arms steady, even as stiffness and pain raced through them.
The tension in the cantina rose, sweat began to bead on Alvardo's forehead, the first signs of distress.
Before Alverdo could comment, Jane ploughed on.
"I also ain't stupid. Before I came here I left a note in my desk stating that I came here in civilian skivvies to follow up a lead that I didn't think was legit and didn't want uniforms to waste time on. I disappear and you'll have armies of cops here with microscopes crawling up your ass. There ain't a judge in the state that won't hand out interview extensions and search warrants like free candy in the name of finding the 'Hero cop.'" Jane said sarcastically and snidely.
"As for your last point," she continued, "if anything happens to Maura, I'll make it my business to use all the contacts and pull I have to make your lives hell. You won't be able to walk outside your front door without getting a 'random' stop and search done. You won't be able to set up a lemonade stand without it being raided. I will make it my life's work to destroy you and your little gang. Furthermore, considering Paddy Doyle won't care what he has to do if anything happens to Maura, he would find a way, one day to wipe out your whole family. And if that didn't work then I would come for you. Not out in the open like this Mr. Alverdo, no I would wait in every shadow and one day I would take my vengeance. Afterall, who better to commit a murder and get away with it than a homicide detective? So it's your choice, death now, death in the future or will we agree that Carlos here should let sleeping dogs lie. Pride goes before a fall Mr. Alvardo. Are you willing to have the cost of your nephews pride be your life, your business." Jane finished with deadly precision.
Alvardo was silent, his eyes flicking quickly as he thought.
"You must be a hell of a chess player." He finally said in a tired voice.
"You have no idea." Jane replied coldly.
Alvardo raised his hand slowly and pulled the .45 down to the table.
Carlos squeaky voice was high as he scoffed, "But Uncle you can't..." he attempted.
Alvardo's cold eyes whipped to him and Carlos almost bit his tongue as he went silent with the look.
"Careful boy. You are familia but don't ever tell me what I 'can't' do. You brought this trouble to my door. Trouble that was pointless to start. Going after a woman, the daughter of a Westie who is locked up. Bees have bigger balls. The shame is yours." Alvardo whispered venomously.
He then raised his voice so the whole cantina could hear him.
"The detective is going to leave now and no one is going to stop her. Anyone who has been helping Carlos with his little project of late will come speak to me once she is gone." His eyes then left the cantina and swung back to Jane. "And the detective will never again come into our turf. We ever see you again and you disappear, damn the consequences. Comprende?" His voice whipped, broaching no argument.
"Oh I have no problem there amigo. You just keep your yippety dog on a leash and we will never again have to see each other." Jane snidely remarked even as she slowly rose from her seat, edging steadily towards the door, her guns still aimed squarely at Alvardo and Carlos.
Jane edged uneasily to the door and with a parting Rizzoli smirk was through the door. Out on the street Jane whipped her guns into her hip holster and her blazer pocket before striding down the street to her car.
With cold calmness Jane tuned on her car and drove out of Cotral territory. Once she was about a mile out of their territory Jane pulled into an alleyway behind a 7/11.
For a few moments Jane remained calm, staring blindly out of the windshield at a wall and an overflowing dumpster. Then like an avalanche from the silence it all hit her. The adrenaline rush, the calmness snapped.
Jane began shaking uncontrollably and her breathing came in giant gasps. Her body catching up to the reality of what she had just done. The reality that she was alive against all the odds.
Jane curled up in an awkward fetal position in her driver's seat and allowed herself to be engulfed by the chaos of her mind.
After what felt like years had passed but was perhaps only an hour, Jane came back to reality.
She needed to calm down before someone spotted her and called the cops for the crazy woman.
A sharp jutting pain in her lower back helped to distract her mind and drag her back to reality.
After blindly patting at her back, Jane retrieved the nickel 9mm from the back of her waistband where she had hastily stuffed it. For a brief moment she felt guilty for the inevitable trouble she had caused the young man guarding the door. Shaking her head and her mane of wild locks roughly Jane cast the silly thought aside.
How odd she must look, sitting in a car alone in an alley, a look of shock on her face and a shiny gun in her hand.
Jane's senses returned slowly and on autopilot she stepped out of the car and glancing around for security cameras or witnesses she made her way to the dumpster. Jane methodically wiped down the gun, removing all her fingerprints and ditched it in the depths of the dumpster.
Evidence disposed of, she slumped against the dumpster.
Jane's mind flicked through images of her actions. She had been willing to kill in cold blood. She had been willing to die for Maura. Paddy Doyle was right. Jane had run straight past her moral lines. She was a disgrace to her badge.
A shudder ran through her body and the image of a carefree Maura teasing her about eating too much Pizza flashed in her mind. Jane had destroyed part of herself to protect a larger part. The sacrifice was necessary. It had to have been worthwhile and no one could ever know. They could never know how selfish Jane was. Jane was no hero, she protected Maura because she needed her.
A glance at her watch told Jane she was late for her movie night with Maura. Again on autopilot Jane moved to her trunk and hid her spare snub nose revolver inside.
Driving at exactly the speed limit she arrived at Maura's almost an hour later.
Jane barely felt able to move but Maura's home had been broken into last night. Maura needed Jane's support. Her own inner conflict would have to wait. Jane would play the supportive friend, offer reassurance and listen quietly about Maura's most recent disastrous date with some man who had no idea how wonderful she was.
Jane knocked briskly on Maura's door and was surprised when it opened almost immediately.
Maura's face was scrunched in annoyance as she opened the door. The fact she had been waiting for Jane and was upset by her lack of punctuality were thinly concealed.
Jane pre-empted Maura cutting her off. "I know I'm late Maura. I'm sorry, I've had a hell of a day. I got stuck across the city following up on a bogus lead," Jane said in a tired and pleading whisper.
Maura still standing at the door took breath to speak but stalled in mid inhale as she noticed the expression on her best friends face.
Maura noticed Jane looked strained, as though a great weight rested on her shoulders. The dark rings under her eyes were etched into her face and her eyes betrayed exhaustion and something else. Something haunted floated in their depths.
Maura hesitated and then said, "It's okay. I made lasagne so we can just reheat it. It's your turn to pick the film anyway." Jane sighed in relief, her body sagging even as she walked into Maura's home.
Jane knew exactly what Maura was doing and was once again thankful for her. For her quirkiness that let her read the desperation for peace and sanctuary in Jane's facial expression.
Maura looped her arm around Jane and tucked her head on her shoulder as they walked into the house. The warmth of her embrace bringing calm to Jane. Unconsciously Jane's body relaxed. She was safe, Maura was safe. That was all that mattered.
"You look tired, after dinner you should change into sweats and have a cup of camomile tea. You can stay here tonight." Maura said gently.
Jane looked down upon her best friend with awe. Maura always knows what Jane needs. Her best friend is always there for her. It may not be what Jane wants but it's enough. Maura brings her peace. A peace thought lost to the hands of Hoyt and the hate her job forces her to face. No matter what it cost Jane she would always be there to protect her.
At any cost.
Across any line.
Always.