Something Old, Something New (Chapter 5 of ?)
Something Old, Something New (Chapter 5 of ?)
Authors: roughian and foreverleyton
Rating: NC-17, overall. We promise it will be! For now, PG-13.
Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona
Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona’s favorite ex; Maura’s got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there’s a murder, too.
Chapter 5 Summary: Jane and Maura are caught up in suspects and sob stories, Baby Sofia gets a cameo (even if it is digital), and thanks to Arizona and Maura’s convincing, all four of our girls drink and be merry.
A/N: We want to say a quick thank you to all of our readers. We have had so much ridiculous fun writing this story but it’s great to hear you all are enjoying it, too!
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4
Maura sighed against Jane’s mouth, the detective’s badge and the hilt of her gun digging into her hip. It thrilled her to have Jane so close. Her fingers tangled in messy curls, keeping Jane anchored. The brunette whimpered softly, a sound so surprisingly delicate that Maura wasn’t sure who had made it.
As Jane started to pull away, opening her mouth with an apology perched precariously on her tongue, Maura tugged her back in, their lips colliding again. This time she was the one making fluttering sounds as she felt Jane’s hands encircle her hips, pulling her closer. The ME wanted nothing more than to leave the office now and continue this in her lavish townhouse where she could make Jane cry out her name.
It took three rings of the detective’s phone to finally pry the couple apart. Jane blushed and fumbled for the cell while Maura stood up straight, coquettishly dragging her thumb across the corner of her mouth where her lipstick had assuredly smeared.
“Uh-Jane…Rizzoli here, Detective,” the brunette sputtered. “Uh, oh. Yes. Who? Right. The Whitestone case. Oh, she is? Can you send me an address? What? I have it already? Oh. Ok. Great. I’ll head over now. Um, yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask? No, no. I’m not out of breath. I’m fine. Okay. Bye.”
Staring at Maura, Jane stabbed the button to end her phone call. “That was, uh, Ninzoti. Officer I had watching Grace Jackson’s place. She’s, ah, she’s home. I guess,” Jane shrugged uselessly.
“Want me to tag along?” Maura asked, unable to meet Jane’s eyes.
“Let’s, um, Frost. Let’s get him. And then sure, if you’re not busy.”
“Sundays are dismally slow for cadavers. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps everyone’s propensity to stay indoors,” Maura tipped her head up, brows furrowing. “Or maybe they don’t…”
Jane listened as Maura trailed off and then fell silent-no doubt continuing the narrative internally-while she called Frost to meet her in the hall where she and Maura were still standing.
“So…” Jane began.
“So,” Maura agreed.
“Um. That was…”
“Unexpected?” Maura asked.
Jane frowned and dropped her gaze to the floor. “Oh.”
Stepping forward Maura whispered, “Jane. Not bad unexpected. Just unexpected. And good. Very, very good.”
“Yeah?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Maura smiled and nodded.
“So, uh…what next?”
“Well,” Maura drawled, her own answer reflected obviously in her eyes. “I think that might be entirely up to you.”
Smiling slightly at Maura’s not-so-veiled invitation, Jane kept her eyes locked on the doctor, even after she heard the familiar clomp of Frost’s loafers marching down the hall.
“Yo,” Frost called when he saw his partner and the doc standing in the middle of the hallway. “Grace Jackson home?”
“Yeah,” Jane nodded, smiling one last time at Maura before turning to face Frost. “Let’s go talk to her. The doc’s going to come, too.”
“Cool,” Frost agreed amiably, grinning at Maura. The trio walked down the hall together, Frost holding the door open for both girls. Maura thanked him graciously but Jane punched him in the stomach as she passed. Which was how she usually paid him back for such chivalry. Jogging to catch up once he caught his breath, Frost hopped in the car’s back seat and asked, “So, what’s our strategy?”
“According to all reports, Grace Jackson is about 21 years old, lives with her mother. The background check you ran tells us she’s smart: 2 years of college, scholarship, at BU. But she dropped out and last filed W-2 has her employed as a waitress at some hole diner on East Third. Jason Whitestone must have felt like winning the lottery for a girl like that.”
“I know I suggested a man his age would appreciate the attentions of a younger woman but how can you be so certain she is a…a conquest?” Maura asked skeptically.
Frost and Jane both laughed at Maura’s question. “Pretty girl, rich man. ‘Conquest’ is almost always the right answer, Maur.”
“We go in hard?” Frost asked, leaning forward so his head peeked between the two seats. “Shake her up; scare her. We already know she can get sloppy.”
“Not too hard,” Jane disagreed. “A girl that age, any contact with the cops is probably enough to scare her. I don’t think we’ll need bad cop.”
“True,” Frost agreed. Then he frowned, “Except she grew up in Southie. People in that area, they don’t like cops, sure, but they aren’t generally intimidated. More like pissed.”
“Fine,” Jane sighed, recognizing Frost’s game. “Just…lose the baby face, will ya?”
“Can’t,” Frost beamed. “It’s a gift and a curse.”
Jane moaned but she relented. “Alright. We get attitude from the girl, you can be bad cop. Maybe the bad attitude and cheeky grin will be disarming.”
“Yes,” Frost exclaimed, pumping his fist in delight. “I love bad cop,” he added gleefully before leaning back in his seat to practice his monologue.
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The rest of the ride to Grace Jackson’s house was uncharacteristically quiet. Jane feigned excessive interest in the post-game on the radio, listening to the same disgruntled callers as usual, arguing with Gil Santos about the piss poor pass-rushing that ultimately led to the Patriots’ staggering loss. Frost muttered something about his fantasy team taking a hit and Maura gazed intently out the window, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to look at Jane without a flush blossoming from her chest all the way up to her face.
The drive from downtown to South Boston took less than fifteen minutes but the distance between the two was enormous. The house in question was a tiny thing; closely cramped onto a street lined with similarly narrow and shoddy architecture. Maura sighed, a sound that made Jane laugh as she parked the car and got out, letting Frost out from the back seat. The younger detective tucked his phone into his pocket as he crawled out, grumbling about his decision to bench Ray Rice today.
Taking initiative, Frost trotted in front of the two women, leading them the short distance to the front door. A meager vegetable garden (in buckets) sat beside a rusting grill and warped patio furniture on the porch. In the face of such obvious decay, Jane was sure nervous palpations had set in for Maura.
A few seconds after Frost’s knock, a young brunette appeared at the door wearing Christmas-themed pajama bottoms and a faded Boston University sweatshirt. “Yes?” She asked the trio.
Definitely fashion-police palpations at least.
“Grace Jackson?” Frost began. “We’re with the Boston PD, Homicide. We need to ask you a couple of questions.”
Grace looked thoroughly confused. “Yes. I’m Grace. What is this about?”
“We are investigating Jason Whitestone’s death,” Jane supplied. “We traced a search of his financials. The IP was registered under your name and address.”
“Oh. Come in,” Grace said quietly as she held open the door.
Jane was the first one to enter, noticing the cramped quarters of the kitchen area. The table was littered with envelopes marked “past due” in intimidating red ink. Jane was instantly brought back to her rookie year in uniform. Debt was no picnic.
“Sorry about the mess,” Grace mumbled as she cleared away as much of the junk from the table as she could. “You guys can sit here. Can I get you anything?”
“No, miss, thank you,” Frost smiled. “But have a seat.”
Reluctantly, the young girl filled the fourth chair and kept her eyes trained on her hands before looking up again.
“We need to know: why were you hacking into Jason Whitestone’s financial records?” Jane asked. “Looking at extremely personal and confidential information.”
“Did I…are you going to arrest me? I mean I know what I did was against the law but…”
Jane could feel the girl’s fear, coming off her in greasy waves. “Look. We’re here about a murder. If you’re honest with us, if you tell us everything…it’ll be a lot easier for you.”
Grace sighed and scrubbed a weary hand through her hair. She looked up at Jane with tired brown eyes. “I should probably just show you. Come this way,” she gestured.
Confused, the investigators got up from the table. Passing through the living room where a small TV played reruns of Friends, they climbed the stairs, Jane resting a hand on her gun while Frost brought up the rear of the group.
Grace opened the door at the top of the landing, inviting them inside a small room, its painted walls once probably a pale blue now faded to a depressing yellowish green. A quick peek inside revealed a very frail woman in a hospital bed, sound asleep. Pretty pale blue scarf tied around her head. Trays of medications, supplies scattered the room and machines blipped methodically. All three of the visitors got an eyeful before Grace closed the door gently.
“My mother is very sick,” Grace sniffled, steeling herself with a few quick, even breaths.
“So you thought stealing from Jason Whitestone would be the way to help with this?” Jane asked, trying to mask the begrudging sympathy in her voice with concern, mind flashing to her own mother.
“No!” Grace whisper-yelled.
“We have witnesses who overheard you and Jason arguing, and, on one occasion, you leaving his office in tears. Boyfriend?” Frost added, sternness showing up in his tone. “Sugar daddy?”
“Sugar, what?” Grace paled, and then grimaced. “Boyfriend? No.”
“Well then what is it?” Jane asked, ignoring the way Maura intently stared across the hall into the apartment’s only other bedroom. When the ME slinked away, Jane guessed she’d seen something to trigger her curiosity. Nearly anything could do it; she’d have Grace Jackson’s room dissected and committed to memory before they moved back downstairs.
“Jason Whitestone is my biological father. He got my mother pregnant, then left us both. When Mom got sick, I tracked him down, hacked into his computer to see the millions of dollars that scumbag had in all these accounts, and I asked him to help us. To help his child and the mother of his child.” Grace brought a shaky hand to her face to wipe away a tear.
“I take it that didn’t go the way you planned, then?” Jane asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“He told me no, flat out. Said he could give me a few hundred dollars. A few hundred dollars. I make that in two nights at Chester’s-where I waitress. It was like a slap in the face.”
When the girl began to cry quietly, heavy tears dripping down her face, Maura stepped over from where she had moved, slipping a careful hand under Grace’s arm. “Why don’t we go back downstairs, Miss Jackson? Detective Rizzoli is going to want you to start at the beginning and we shouldn’t disturb your mother’s rest.”
Grace glanced at her mother’s door automatically, wiping the tears from her cheeks furiously. “Yeah. Sure. Ok. I-I’m going to get some water. Is-Is that allowed?”
Moving to follow Maura and Grace back down the stairs, Jane said, “Yes, of course. We’ll be, ah, in the living room.” Halfway down, Jane caught herself appreciating the way Maura’s hips swayed in her pencil skirt. She stopped short so quickly, Frost crashed into her back. “Shit. Sorry,” Jane murmured, casting her eyes directly towards her shoes.
After less than a minute wait, Grace returned, a plastic cup trembling in her hand so that a splash of water sloshed over the edge, and she sat on the room’s only chair. Left with little choice, Jane, Frost and Maura piled together on the tiny couch. To her credit, Maura barely grimaced when a popped spring snagged her skirt.
Taking the lead, Jane leaned forward and told Grace, “Dr. Isles was right, Grace. We need you to start at the beginning.”
Grace shuddered out a deep breath and began. “I-I don’t know much about the beginning. When I was a kid my mom told me my father was dashing.” Grace laughed but the sound was bitter. “Like a fairy prince. She was a freshman in college, Officers. She wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. She…She’s so sweet,” the girl sniffled. “She would have been a wonderful teacher.
“But,” Grace continued, “she got pregnant. He was at Harvard; Mom was at Radcliffe. Their very own Love Story. Except Mom waited until she was 42 to catch cancer. And the boy never stayed.”
“So your mother got pregnant and your father got gone, huh?” Frost asked. Jane rolled her eyes at his poor grammar to sound tough.
Some bad cop.
“Ah, yes. Exactly. Told her he wasn’t interested in a kid. Offered to pay for an abortion and when she refused, he never offered money again. But Mom’s tough. She…she was a good mom. Great mom. W-we didn’t have much but she…she tried so hard to make sure I didn’t notice. She worked so hard. When she got sick…” Grace trailed off.
“When she got sick?” Maura probed gently.
Grace’s voice cracked on a barely restrained sob. “She-she didn’t go to the doctor. Told herself she was fine because she couldn’t afford the time off of work. I was in college. God, I was so happy. I was out of Southie, you know? Out of the neighborhood and in college. It was wonderful but it was distracting. Time consuming, I guess,” Grace admitted, staring down at her spread hands. “She was sick and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it, until she passed out at the bank where she’s worked since I was a baby. Colon cancer.”
“Colon cancer is highly treatable,” Maura offered.
Grace rubbed the back of her hand under her nose and nodded wearily. “It is, when it’s caught early.” Her eyes teared again as Maura nodded. “Either way, it’s expensive. I-I dropped out of school, moved back home, found work. But the bills…and I just…I couldn’t do it anymore. So when I was going through my mother’s papers for the insurance company and I found my birth certificate, I figured it was a sign. She listed that bastard as my father, even though he wanted no part of me. Of us.”
The mere mention of her father dried Grace’s cries and Jane and Frost both noticed the way her eyes hardened beneath the sheen tears. Add Grace Jackson to the list of people not sad to see Jason Whitestone dead.
“Do you know that he’s stealing from people?” Grace demanded angrily. “I was a computer science major with a minor in business. Figured it was the best way to make sure I never had to move back to this neighborhood.” Grace scoffed at that and glanced around the tiny room. “So much for that plan. Anyway, I know what a Ponzi scheme looks like when it flashes across my computer screen. I figured if I couldn’t appeal to his common decency, I could at least use that. You know, bribe him into giving me some money? Between the financials and the…scandal-abandoned daughter and all that-surely he’d give me a couple grand so my mom could get into a study at Mass Gen.”
“But he refused?” Jane guessed.
“Oh yeah,” Grace muttered. “Didn’t flinch. Told me I was in way over my head. He was probably right,” she shrugged. “I was…trying to figure out what to do next when I heard on the news he was killed.”
The last line was said without emotion-neither the glee of an ex-wife nor the grief of a daughter. It was emotionless.
“Ms. Jackson, where were you the evening your fath-the evening Jason Whitestone was killed?” Frost asked.
Grace’s eyes widened and she flinched as though she had been slapped. As if the idea that she could be a suspect had only just occurred to her. “Oh, God. You don’t think that I…seriously?”
“We’re simply covering our bases,” Jane offered gently, hating her role of good cop but playing it well.
“I-I…it was Saturday right? At night?”
“Yes,” Maura nodded. “Early evening.”
Squinting her eyes in consideration, Grace shrugged. “I worked until around 3:00 or so. My neighbor, she sits with Mom, when she can. You can ask her-I was home about 3:15. After that I was here, with Mom. She, um, she shouldn’t be left alone for long periods of time.”
“Can your Mom corroborate this?” Frost asked, throwing in a frown for good measure.
“I…um, sure.” Grace glanced up to the ceiling as though she could see her mother through the plaster. “She’s sleeping and…it’s really hard for her to sleep these days. Do you have to wake her up?”
Frost started to reply but Jane stopped him with a hand in the air. “It’s best for you if we do,” Jane said. “Dr. Isles can come with you and take your mother’s statement. If we wait to talk to her,” she continued, “your alibi will never be solid. You’re going to want to wake her up.”
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Stepping into her car and stretching rigid muscles, Jane had just about enough of questioning witnesses today. The rich broad, the Colonel, and now this poor girl with her sick mother. Today’s interrogations were turning into some twisted game of Clue. The detective wished she could peek inside the tiny envelope and find out who killed Jason Whitestone at the Onyx with the knife.
“So Doc,” Frost interrupted the car’s silence, “did the mom say Grace was with her?” Frost squirmed in his seat when the car jumped over a bump, anxious to get out of the cramped back seat.
“She did. In fact, she raved about how diligent Grace has been; how she sleeps at her bedside every night. It was very altruistic and moving,” Maura said softly with glanced at Jane. “Debra Jackson indicated Grace was home by at least 4:00 pm and did not leave until her shift the next morning.”
“Ok. She’s got motive, I guess, but an alibi. Little weak, but we’ll check with her job and the neighbor. Confirm her story. The Christmas pajamas didn’t exactly scream murderer. Frost, keep an eye on her comp activity for a while. I really don’t want to arrest that poor girl for something stupid. Like trying to steal e-funds from a dead man.”
“Got it,” Frost agreed. “Wish there was some way to get her some cash, though. Seems a shame she won’t get anything when the guy had millions.”
Maura’s audible sigh from the passenger’s seat shook Jane from her reverie, her head physically hurting from so much processing and tying together loose ends.
“Yes, Maura?” Jane smirked to the obviously brooding ME.
“I’m having trouble figuring something out, that’s all,” Maura said.
“Well,” Jane drawled, “why don’t you share with the class? Maybe the detectives can help.”
“It’s just odd,” Maura mused. “I don’t understand how a woman of Grace’s socioeconomic standing has a Vivienne Westwood shawl lying around.”
“English, Maura,” Jane grumbled as she hunched forward on the steering wheel, happy for the red light so she could close her eyes for a moment.
“Vivienne Westwood only puts out a limited number of her hand-stitched evening scarves for public purchase. Her fall line that year was incredible. Ah, 2008,” Maura smiled fondly. “The scarf is dated but it’s rare and quite expensive.”
“Okay, Maura. It’s a scarf. It could be a knock off, maybe something she got as a gift.”
“I believe it was authentic. And if it was a gift, she should try to sell it, use the money to help her mother. I wish I had mentioned it; maybe she doesn’t realize its value.” Maura sighed again and Jane caught the pity beneath the sound.
“I know,” Jane nodded, understanding. “It was extremely sad in there. This whole day’s been sad,” she grumbled. “I need a beer. Frost, you need a beer?”
“No way, I have a date,” he boasted, grinning so wide Jane caught the glint of his white smile in the rearview mirror. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Good for you, Barry,” Maura encouraged, smiling despite herself. “I’d like a drink, though, Jane. Perhaps we could invite Callie and Arizona? They’ve had a difficult day-weekend, really-and I’m sure they’re anxious now that you’ve ordered them to stay in the city.”
“Wait, your hot lesbian friends? Maybe I can reschedule-”
“Frost!” Jane chided. “You’re not rescheduling. And Maura, I really shouldn’t be fraternizing with witnesses…Material witnesses.”
“Oh, it will only be for a few drinks. Strict rule: we won’t talk about the case, which would be a relief, honestly. It’s been a stressful day. I could benefit from some decompressing. And I know you could too,” Maura smiled toward Jane. “Besides, you know as well as I do that Arizona’s father did not kill that man.”
Quickly, Jane felt her resolve slip away as she sighed, pulling up to the station and getting out to release Frost from the back seat. “Fine. Invite all the suspects you want. But we’re going to my place and taking shots first. I need a buzz for this.”
“Pre-gaming the girls only party. Please take pictures,” Frost pled, a woeful expression darkening his features before he crawled out of the back seat, waving at both women.
Jane slammed his door closed and got back into the driver’s side, meeting Maura’s grin coupled with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye.
“What?” Jane asked as she shifted the car into drive.
“Nothing. I sent a text message to Arizona. She and Callie are going to meet us at 10:00, so that gives us plenty of time for your shots. But I’m telling you, Jane Rizzoli, under no circumstances are you convincing me to sing karaoke again.”
The detective guffawed as she broke out into a warbled version of “It’s all coming back, it’s all coming back to me now.”
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Callie walked through the suite, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail while she looked for her wife. “Hey, babe,” she called out, peeking into the bathroom and frowning when she found it empty. “Do you want to go to your parents’ place? I know Jane told us all to, ah, lay low or whatever but-Arizona Robbins!”
Arizona jumped from her perch on the corner of the bed, the iPad bouncing on her lap. Pressing a flustered hand over her chest, she glared at Callie standing in the doorway. “You scared me to death, Calliope!”
Callie pointed at the iPad and stalked towards her wife. “I told you to leave that damn nanny cam alone. Mark’s not going to-“
“Mami!”
Callie jerked to a stop as the unmistakable squeal of her daughter interrupted her tirade. “S-Sofia?” Callie asked doubtfully, sliding down to sit next to her wife who was now beaming. Whispering as though they were doing something secret, Callie asked, “Can she…see me?” When Sofia reached forward and tried to grab Callie’s face through the screen, Callie laughed and smacked Arizona’s knee. “She can see me!”
Stepping into view of the camera, Mark smirked, “Of course she can see you. That’s how Skype works, Cal.”
Before Callie could respond, Arizona slapped a hand over one eye. “Why? Why must you refuse to wear a shirt, Mark?”
The classic Mark Sloan grin he flashed did little to charm Arizona. Flexing his muscles dramatically, Mark asked, “Seriously, Blondie? Would you cover this up?”
“Oh, God,” Arizona rolled her eyes, still trapped behind her blocking palm. “Calliope, make him put on a shirt!”
Callie, who was distracted watching Sofia run in circles around the room, for no apparent reason, grunted. “Huh. Sure, you look good Mark.”
“Calliope!”
“What?” She turned to stare at her wife, finally realizing what she had said. This is what happens when you’re not paying attention, Torres. “Oh.” Left with nothing to do but laugh, she tackled Arizona playfully and pushed her back on the bed. Hovering over her wife, Callie toyed with the bottom of Arizona’s threadbare t-shirt. “You could take off your shirt,” she suggested, lifting the hem an inch. “Show him that your chest is better than his. That would teach him.”
“Callie,” Arizona giggled, instantly sidetracked by her wife (as usual). “Sofia can see you!”
“So,” Callie shrugged, caressing the skin she exposed with her fingertips. “It’s nothing more than she’s seen before.”
“True,” Arizona agreed.
“Hey, Torres, can you turn the screen a little to the left? I can’t quite see where you’ve got your hand.” And with that, Arizona shoved Callie aside and sat up again.
“Thanks, Mark,” Callie muttered.
“Anytime,” he winked.
“Oh, hush. Mark, hold Sofia still for a second, will you?” Arizona asked.
Mark snagged his hyper toddler and held her, giggling and upside down, in front of the screen. Arizona rolled her eyes but she guessed it would have to do.
“Hey, sweetie,” Arizona smiled. Her fingers itched to tickle the belly exposed when Sofia’s shirt bunched under her arms. “Mama misses you so much.”
“Yep,” the little girl squealed as Mark flipped her back around. “Miss me,” she parroted.
“Are you being a good girl?”
“Mmhmm,” Sofia nodded earnestly, her eyes wide. “Home?” She asked hopefully.
“Oh,” Arizona sighed and traced a finger over the image of Sofia’s cheek. Callie moved behind her to wrap the blonde in her embrace.
“Soon, mi carina,” Callie assured the girl. “Very soon.” Tucking her chin against Arizona’s shoulder, she continued, “Can you blow Mama a kiss, big girl? She needs some Sofia kisses right now.”
Everyone laughed when Sofia scrunched her face up into a frown of intense concentration before her expression suddenly cleared in a delighted grin. She smacked an open palm over her pursed lips and drew out an exaggerated smooch before swinging her palm back wildly, hitting Mark in her enthusiasm.
“Wow!” Arizona exclaimed, blowing an equally giddy kiss back at her daughter. “That was a big kiss! You’re such a big girl, Sofia.”
“Uh huh,” Sofia agreed and she wiggled desperately out of Mark’s grasp to resume her wild circles.
Glancing at his daughter, Mark grinned into the screen. “I think she’s done. You get enough Sofia-time Robbins, or you want some more?”
Arizona smiled because Sofia-time was exactly what she needed and Mark never begrudged her that. “No, let her play. I got enough. Thanks, Mark.”
“Anything you need,” he shrugged. His gaze softened and his voice quieted when he added, “Seriously, you guys, anything.”
“Thanks, Mark,” Callie responded, reaching around Arizona to flick the iPad off. She nuzzled into Arizona’s shoulder and murmured, “Do you want to call your parents? Stop by for a visit?”
“Mmm, no,” Arizona sighed, arching her neck so Callie had more room to explore. “It’s late. Dad’s going to have to tell Mom about the investigation and I can’t-I don’t want to relive it again, tonight. Maura texted a few minutes ago. She wants us to meet her and Jane for drinks. No talking about murder allowed.”
“Oh, really? Do you wanna go?” Callie asked as she pressed errant kisses against Arizona’s neck, a little unnerved at the idea of hanging out with the cop that interrogated her father-in-law just a few hours earlier.
“It might be fun. Maura’s pretty hilarious when she’s drunk. And maybe you can give Jane a pep talk,” Arizona smiled as she rolled over to face Callie.
“Then later we’ll have a suite all to ourselves when you get drunk and handsy.”
Callie pulled Arizona closer. Something about seeing their baby paired with her beautiful wife in her arms had the happy-go-luckies replacing her earlier feelings of dread. “First, why is it my job to talk to Jane? Second, you’re the one with the drunk-whispering! And the ‘please baby I want to go home,’ Miss Two-Can Sam.”
Gasping, Arizona playfully tried to wiggle out of Callie’s embrace, but the Latina locked her arms around her. “You get Jane,” Arizona giggled. “In that brooding, badass kinda way. It’s sexy.”
Callie nipped at the hollow of Arizona’s throat, mumbling, “Sexy, huh?” against her skin.
“So sexy,” Arizona whispered, arching her back when Callie’s fingers slipped under her t-shirt, grazing across her skin. “So so sexy,” she murmured.
“You’re sexy,” Callie grinned, rolling Arizona’s shirt up and off of her.
“God, Calliope,” Arizona moaned as she felt Callie’s knee slip between her thighs. “No teasing.”
“Mm, fine. But text your friend,” Callie smirked and popped open the button on Arizona’s jeans. “Tell her we’re gonna be a little late.”
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Jane swigged from her third MGD, amused by the way Maura played with the detective’s Droid, sliding her finger rapidly across the screen. The brunette leaned closer, peering at the blinking screen and watching as Maura’s look of determination turned into disappointment. Frustrated, the sandy-blonde handed the phone back to the detective.
“How do they expect you to win a game like that after imbibing so much alcohol? Certainly they had that in mind with their haphazard disbursement of grenades,” Maura seethed and sipped from her wine glass.
Jane bit back a laugh as she watched Maura rant, gulping more beer down. “Maura, it’s Fruit Ninja. You got a score of like 650. That’s incredible.”
“I don’t understand what kind of ninja would waste fruit like that. Ninjas were historically honorable; why would they waste fruit?” The ME lamented, looking away in tipsy disgust.
“Maura, it’s a game. No fruit has been harmed in the making of it!” Jane smirked, secretly enjoying the flustered face of her colleague.
“Well it’s quite a silly game,” Maura huffed before draining the last few drops of Moscato from her glass. “So silly.”
“You’re strangely competitive,” Jane observed. “You beat me and Tommy and Frankie’s score. Happy now?”
The ME smiled widely. “Yes.”
“Knew that’d help ya,” Jane grinned as she signaled for another glass of wine from Kirk, the bartender.
Maura graciously accepted her fresh glass of overly sweet wine, knowing the sulphates were going to attribute to a hangover in the morning (not to mention the shots Jane had talked her into at the brunette’s apartment), but she didn’t mind. It had been a rough few days something as ordinary as a hangover would be a welcome relief. Turning her head, Maura glanced sidelong at Jane, studying her form in the simple white button down she was wearing. Her hand, almost of its own accord, took Jane’s left hand into her lap.
“What are you doing?” Jane wondered idly.
“Rolling up your sleeves properly. They’re all bunched. You should do this evenly,” Maura said softly as she straightened out the cotton and began delicately cuffing them as perfectly as she had promised.
“T-thanks,” Jane croaked, feeling the tickling presence of Maura’s fingertips against her skin. Each brush felt like little explosions; miniature dynamite. Fierce.
Maura lifted her gaze to meet Jane’s once more and the pair shared a bashful smile. The ME was reminded of high school boyfriends with Jane. All grins and goofiness, but hearts of gold deep down. She loved that about Jane, how genuine she was beneath all the bravado.
“Well, hello,” Callie chirped as she sidled beside Jane’s barstool. “Are we interrupting something?”
Cutting Maura off before she could answer incriminatingly, Jane smirked. “Maura’s showing me the proper way to cuff my sleeves.”
“Cuff your sleeves, huh?” Arizona smirked as she wrapped her arms around Callie from behind, brushing her nose into her wife’s leather jacket. Pretending to whisper but purposely projecting her voice, Arizona grinned, “Maura always was a good teacher of…sleeve cuffing.”
Callie didn’t take offense at Arizona’s comment. After all, the brunette’s sleeves had just been exceptionally cuffed. Instead she laughed when Jane’s eyes went wide and lightly elbowed her wife’s stomach. “Moron,” she sighed. Then to Jane, “Ignore her.”
“Already am,” Jane replied, toying with the peeling edge of her beer bottle’s label.
“I’m kidding,” Arizona giggled. “Can I buy you another beer, Detective?”
“Sure.” Before Arizona could turn to offer Maura an unnecessary refill, Jane held up her hand. “No, you know what? Shot of Herradura instead, please.”
“Ooohh,” Callie exclaimed, excited. “Tequila. Yes, please,” she smiled at her wife, hopping on the stool closest to Jane.
“Tequila? Awesome!” Arizona pumped her fist. “I love tequila night!”
Arizona headed off to the bar and returned before Jane expected; apparently the dimples were some sort of magic line-mover. Deftly passing out drinks, Arizona dropped two shots of tequila and two MGD chasers in front of Callie and Arizona. Jane’s brows rose when Arizona put a gin and tonic in front of both Maura and her own seat. Pointing at the clear drink, Jane asked, “I thought you loved tequila night?”
Ignoring Callie’s snort, Arizona nodded, “Oh. I do,” she agreed.
“Then…?” Jane drawled questioningly.
“She is implying that she enjoys nights her spouse drinks tequila, Jane. It, ah, makes for interesting interactions in the bedroom.”
“Interesting interaction-Oh, God!” Waving her hands in the air, Jane demanded, “No. No, no, no. No talking about…interesting interactions tonight.”
“You know, Jane, a healthy sexual relationship is beneficial on both physiological and psychological levels.”
“Then these two should be as healthy as a couple of thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby. I don’t care, Maura. The subject is off the table. As of this minute.”
“Personally I prefer on the ta-,” Callie cut herself off when Arizona kicked her under the table. Callie clinked her shot glass against Jane’s. “We’ll stop. Promise.” Kicking back her own shot with a delighted shiver, Callie added, “Drink up, Detective.”
“I’m so glad you two decided to join us,” Maura added as she drank from her gin and tonic.
“Honestly, I didn’t want to come,” Callie admitted. “Drinking with the woman that was trying to convict my family of murder earlier in the day just doesn’t seem-”
“Normal. Good, glad I’m not the only one,” Jane winked, smirking some.
“Always the blunt one,” Arizona giggled.
“You married me knowing that full well,” Callie teased as she shrugged out of her leather jacket.
Jane caught herself smiling at the couple, so obviously into each other and in love. She unconsciously glanced at Maura who was giving her one of those looks that instantly brought about chills.
“So, um, you ladies play pool by chance?” Jane coughed, glancing back at Callie and then Arizona.
Callie tipped back another shot of tequila. “Oh, you are so on, Detective.”
________________________________
Arizona angled her body over the corner of the pool table, squaring her shoulders and straightening out her pool stick so that she could sink the pesky blue 5 ball that waited at an irregular angle. She bit her lip, focusing intently on the ball in question.
“Aw, come on,” Jane whined. “You are the most particular pool partner I’ve ever had. Do you think you’re gonna move it with your mind?”
“Shush,” Arizona countered. “You said it was unfair for me to be on Callie’s team after we whooped your ass three times.”
“Oh, she’s drunk,” Callie grinned to Maura. “The ‘A’ word is coming out. Only when she’s super drunk or super angry…”
Maura laughed as she playfully bumped shoulders with Callie. “I recall Arizona’s mannerisms being similar to that while ‘super drunk’ as you call it.”
“She’s pretty damn adorable,” Callie laughed.
Arizona did indeed sink her shot and lifted her arms in triumph. “Woo!”
“That a girl, baby!” Callie grinned. “Oh, I mean. Boo! We’re not on the same team.”
Arizona grimaced playfully and put her hands on her hips. “Come on, Maura. Come take a shot with me.”
“Oh, I sense my having to use a PTO day tomorrow,” the ME giggled.
“Look at you, Maura Isles. Being negligent!” Jane smirked, realizing she was going to have a long morning, having used up all of her PTO time due to long nights in front of the TV cheering on her Patriots. And that reminded her.
Turning to Callie while Maura and Arizona staggered to the bar, Jane smacked her on the arm. “You!” She shouted. Ok, maybe a little drunk.
“Yes, me,” Callie agreed. She had no doubt the detective could drink her under the table but no one handled tequila better than Callie Torres. “What about me?”
“You own the Miami freaking Dolphins!”
“My father owns the football team.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. You own the Miami Dolphins.”
“Ok,” Callie agreed with a nod. “I do.”
“Do you get to, I don’t know, hang out with the players? Have you actually met Jason Taylor?”
“I have,” Callie said. “Once. Wait, maybe twice.”
“Maybe twice. Holy crap.”
“He’s good, huh?” Leaning close to the detective, Callie grinned, “And so hot.”
“Yeah?” Jane asked. “I mean on TV he’s-“
“Hotter in real life,” Callie interrupted.
“Damn. Wait. Are you allowed to say that?”
“Why?” Callie smiled, tongue in cheek. “Because I’m married?”
“No! Well, yes. But I mean because you’re…you’re…”
“Gay? Lesbian? Lover of ladies?”
Suddenly, and sincerely, interested, Jane sipped from her bottle to give herself time to answer Callie’s teasing question. “No. Not exactly. But yes.” Taking a deep breath, Jane rushed on, “Look, I’m not stupid. You’re bisexual. I get it. But you’re in a relationship-you’re married to a woman. Shouldn’t you be…all about girls or something?”
Callie smiled and set down her pool stick. Apparently Arizona was right; she got Jane. “First time I had feelings, real feelings, for a woman, she was a friend. I went from enjoying her company, to always wanting to be around her to-holy shit-I want to kiss her. It was…surprising,” Callie admitted on a laugh, thinking back. “And it sent me running into the arms of a man. Another best friend,” she shrugged.
“I get that,” Jane admitted. “Maura and I, we, uh-Shit. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about this.”
“We’re drunk, you wanted to arrest us this morning, and now we are drinking shots at a bar when I am supposed to be on a flight to Seattle. Plus there’s the fact that I am married, to a woman. Seems to me, I’m the perfect person to talk to about this.”
Jane laughed and rolled her eyes. “I guess you’re right. This morning, I kis-she kiss-we kissed today and it was…”
“Nice?” Callie ventured. “Nicer than nice?”
“Shit, what is this? Show and fucking tell, the sex version?”
“I don’t need a picture, Jane. I’m saying, you liked it, the kiss. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” Jane breathed a sigh at Callie’s insistent understanding. “I-I did. But after, for a second, I wanted to grab the nearest guy and kiss him. Just to prove that I wasn’t…you know?”
“I do,” Callie agreed, letting Jane off the hook. “I do know. But here’s the thing: you find the guy, you kiss him. Maybe you take him home with you. And still when you close your eyes, what is the last thing you think about?”
“She is,” Jane whispered, almost to herself. “Even before. Maura is.”
“There’s no label for that, Jane.”
“Maybe,” Jane shrugged, downing a swig of beer. “What happened? With your friend? The girl?”
Callie winced. She had hoped to gloss over that part. “It didn’t work out,” Callie admitted. “I screwed up, she screwed up. It ended and I won’t lie, it ended badly. It ruined our friendship.” She saw Jane’s frown and understood that possibility weighed heaviest on the detective. She was considering what to say next when she saw Arizona watching her from across the room. Smiling at her. And suddenly the answer was clear. “That’s the risk, Detective. And it’s a big one. Even with Arizona, it hasn’t been easy or-or safe. But,” she added, laying a hand over Jane’s to ensure her attention. “When I fall asleep at night? The last thing I think about is the person sleeping in the bed next to me.”
________________________________
Maura held the shot glass, sniffing it as she watched Arizona do the same. “This smells like no Washington apple that I’ve ever eaten,” she lamented as Arizona clinked her glass against the ME’s.
“Let’s just hurry up and take them. Jane and Callie have been having a heart to heart for far too long.”
Maura let her gaze shift over to where Jane and Callie were huddled close, Callie speaking and Jane nodding her head. The detective’s jaw was clenched, her arms folded across her chest in a way that suggested she was absorbing every detail of whatever the Latina was telling her.
“Good idea,” Maura nodded as the pair raised their glasses then dumped back the liquor.
Simultaneously, they came back up for air, coughing and drinking from their gin and tonics to eradicate the taste from their mouths.
“Oh, God,” Arizona groaned. “I still can’t do shots, not after-”
“Elizabeth Veltri’s party? With the shots of-what was that?” Maura shivered, setting her empty glass back on the bar.
“Jagermeister,” Arizona gagged.
Maura grimaced again. “I’ve never been much for hard liquor after that,” she blushed. “Interesting evening, however.”
Arizona’s mind, although still foggy on the goings-on of said party, clearly remembered making very good use of Elizabeth’s laundry room. At that thought, both Maura and Arizona looked away from each other with matching expressions of amusement, both recognizing a small hint of pride.
“We should head back to them,” Maura grinned. “I would love to know what your wife’s been saying to Jane to hold her attention for so long.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s interesting. I think some of the Robbins’ rhetoric has been rubbing off on Callie.”
Maura smirked at the thought, recalling many a-Arizona Robbins speech in the past.
When Arizona and Maura walked back to the pool table, Callie stopped speaking and immediately she noticed the flushed features of her wife followed by the equally glassy expression of Dr. Isles behind her. Jane, confused why her wealth of Sapphic knowledge had gone suddenly quiet, turned around and grinned at the sight.
“Maura Isles, are you drunk?” Jane teased, watching the doc’s face wrinkle into what she assumed was a pout.
“No, I’m not. Well, okay, maybe I am. Arizona and I just took a shot of some sort of apple.”
“Washington Apples?” Callie smirked in disbelief. “I can’t believe you took Washington Apples.”
“Believe it.” Arizona winked and she slid forward, wrapping her arms around Callie, holding her by her hips before none-too-discretely walking her back behind the pool table. The brunette did not protest, welcoming tipsy Arizona kisses any night of the week.
“So,” Jane began as she sipped from her beer, “enjoying yourself?”
Maura eyed the couple smiling into their kisses, whispering in between them, and then looked back to Jane woefully. She wanted to be doing that. Maybe not here, but she definitely wanted to be doing that.
Realizing it was her turn to take a chance, Maura curled a hand around Jane’s waist and leaned close to her ear. She felt Jane tense beneath her hand but she still whispered, “Do you see Arizona’s rapid eye movement and erratic breathing pattern?”
“Ah,” Jane glanced towards the couple that was unabashedly making out against the far pool table. “Honestly, I noticed Callie’s hands on her ass first.”
Maura nodded and smiled in response before pulling Jane closer. “Arizona is exhibiting signs of increased amounts of d-dopamine,” she informed Jane, her numb tongue stuttering her words slightly.
“Uh huh,” Jane sighed, swigging from her beer and doing her best to avoid staring. “So?”
“It’s the brain’s pleasure chemical,” Maura said, her voice deepening. “Research indicates it is released when the orbito-the or-bit-to-front-al cortex-whew!-is stimulated.”
“Maura, please tell me this is not your way of hitting on me.”
“I…” Maura sighed and stole a small sip of Jane’s beer. She grimaced through the sip but took a second one anyway. “I just thought you should know…that-that standing by you…” she trailed off.
“Standing by me?” Jane urged her.
“I am exhibiting the same signs,” Maura finally admitted, her words rushing together.
“Huh,” Jane laughed, watching the doctor’s chest rise and fall rapidly. When her eyes stayed locked on Maura’s breasts for more time than necessary, Jane blinked and looked up in time to catch Maura’s smug smile.
Twining her fingers with the ones Maura dug into her hip, Jane whispered, “Maura, do you, uh, want to get out of-” But before the detective could finish her invitation, her phone rang, the station’s telltale Miami Vice ringtone blaring through the speakers.
Recognizing the tone, Callie finally pulled away from her wife on a burst of laughter. “You’re kidding, right?” She shouted at Jane. “Miami Vice?”
“Shut up,” Jane retorted, snapping her phone open. Neither Callie nor Arizona missed the fact that Jane’s free hand was deliberately linked with Maura’s.
“Rizzoli,” Jane barked into the phone. After several minutes of ‘uh huhs,’ ‘oks’ and ‘shits’, Jane closed the phone and tugged Maura’s hand. Pulling her closer to Callie and Arizona, Jane announced, “Matthew Nevins just bought a plane ticket to Costa Rica.”
“And?” Arizona asked, confused but instinctively shading closer to Callie, comforted when Callie wrapped a hand around her waist.
“And he is a suspect in the death of Jason Whitestone, one we have been trying to get in touch with. A suspect,” she added, “who was seen fighting with the victim the night of his death.”
“And one whose alibi is Jason’s ex-wife,” Maura added, trying to remain composed even though her own orbitofrontal cortex continued to register extreme pleasure at the simple feeling of Jane’s hand against her own.
“You mean a suspect who takes your investigation away from Arizona’s father?” Callie concluded.
“Far away,” Jane nodded. Then glancing at Maura, and smiling slightly, Jane added, “But the doc and I, uh, this doc and I,” she laughed, “should get home. Since he’s at an airport, Feds get to do the cease and detain on Nevins. Feds mean paperwork in the morning.”
“Plus you’ll probably have some real police work to do,” Callie added.
“That too,” Jane nodded. “You two can get back ok?”
“We can,” Callie nodded, adding a meaningful smile towards Maura and Jane’s hand holding. “Have a nice night, Detective,” she smirked.
Jane blushed and her fingers went slightly lax against Maura’s. But when Maura instantly squeezed them, demanding contact, Jane shrugged and replied, “Nicer than nice, I hope.”
________________________________
Maura handed Jane a bottle of water from the refrigerator before taking her own, opening it at the same time the frazzled detective twisted off her own cap. Jane gulped down half of the bottle quickly while Maura took two shorter swigs for the same effect.
“Damnit, this case is gonna kill me,” Jane started, opening up one of Maura’s cupboards. “Do you have any Advil? I need to take some and pray I don’t wake up hung over tomorrow.”
“You mean Advil to take now? Jane, that’s dangerous after drinking,” Maura said before taking another sip of water.
Jane scrubbed her hands through her messy curls, sighing.
“Just drink another bottle of water. Most of the effects of a hangover are due to dehy-” but Maura stopped herself, watching Jane chug the rest of her bottle and wrench on the tap to refill it.
Jane was working on chugging her second bottle while Maura capped her own and set it on the counter. Tentatively, the ME placed her hands on Jane’s hips, emboldened by the alcohol. Jane quirked a brow, glancing down around the bottle of water. Taking a deep breath and turning in the ME’s arms, she set her empty water bottle on the counter next to Maura’s.
Smiling, the detective placed her hands on top of Maura’s before sliding up those smooth arms and soft elbows, pulling the sandy blonde into her in one move. Maura smiled; a slow, stretching grin that let Jane know exactly what was going on inside her occipital whatever the hell it was.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Maura announced, not giving Jane time to react as she leaned in and sealed the small space between their lips.
Jane groaned softly into the kiss, tightening her grip on Maura, pulling her closer. As crazy as this case was making her, Maura was proving herself a good grounding point. Jane sighed, listening to Maura’s muffled moan when her hand strayed to the ME’s perfect ass and palmed it.
Maura broke away from the kiss, only to put a chilly hand on Jane’s throat, coaxing her to tip her head back. Jane deftly followed the gentle urgency of her colleague’s hands and nearly growled when she felt those lips on her neck, pressing warm open-mouthed kisses against the flesh there.
“God, Maura,” Jane gasped.
The ME just laughed, sultry and smooth against Jane’s neck, her lips kissing down across the juts of her collarbone, to the hollow of her throat. Her fingers found purchase against Jane’s back, underneath her t-shirt.
Maura had always loved Jane’s voice: husky and deep, with a sexy growl buried under the edges. But to feel that voice rumble beneath her lips when the detective moaned her name was a thrill greater than any Maura had experienced.
Hoping to cause that sensation again, Maura scraped her teeth up Jane’s neck and allowed her hands to push up the detective’s back, pulling Jane’s shirt up in the process.
Jane shivered when cold air rushed across her skin, sending goose bumps up her torso. The shock was enough to clear Jane’s head and she pulled back with more of a jerk than she intended.
Maura recognized the detective’s retreat and immediately withdrew, holding her hands in the air as though surrendering. “Oh!” She mumbled, “I…I’m…I’m sorry?” She ventured, aware that an apology was a lie and unsure the effort was warranted here.
“No,” Jane shook her head and grabbed Maura’s hands, pulling the doctor close once more. “Don’t apologize.”
“Ok?”
“I want to kiss you again, Maur.”
Maura’s eyes instantly gleamed with delight and she leaned in again. “Good,” she breathed across Jane’s lips.
“But-“ Jane muttered before their mouths could meet.
“Damn,” Maura sighed, her brain clearly still muddled.
Jane laughed at the obvious disappointment in Maura’s single curse. “But I don’t know if I’m ready…I don’t think we are ready for more. Yet.”
“Yet?” Maura ventured tentatively. “There will be more, then?”
“I think-yes,” Jane nodded firmly, convincing herself and Maura at the same time. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Maura breathed, her smile blooming.
“I don’t want to be drunk. Or tired. I don’t want you to be worried about your friends. Or drunk. I-“
“You want it to be special,” Maura guessed softly.
“God, no. I’m not a cliché, Maura. I want it to be important. Because it is.”
“Oh, Jane. Me too.”
“Ok,” Jane nodded. “Good. Now, can we make out on your couch for a while? Or is that just a girl/guy thing?”
Maura laughed and tugged Jane toward the sofa. “Tonight, it’s going to be a girl/girl thing.”
Jane tensed slightly at the words before relaxing into the image. Scooting close to Maura on the couch, Jane pressed soft kisses down Maura’s neck, reveling in the sigh that trembled from the ME’s lips. Whispering against her collarbone, Jane asked, “Can I sleep over?”
“I-I,” Maura shivered. “I need to prepare the guest room,” she finally said.
“Oh,” Jane murmured, her tongue still tracing patterns over Maura’s skin. “I think we’ve moved past that, Dr. Isles. I may not be ready to have sex with you, yet-“
“Yet,” Maura repeated firmly.
“But tonight, I’d really like to sleep with you.”
Authors: roughian and foreverleyton
Rating: NC-17, overall. We promise it will be! For now, PG-13.
Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona
Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona’s favorite ex; Maura’s got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there’s a murder, too.
Chapter 5 Summary: Jane and Maura are caught up in suspects and sob stories, Baby Sofia gets a cameo (even if it is digital), and thanks to Arizona and Maura’s convincing, all four of our girls drink and be merry.
A/N: We want to say a quick thank you to all of our readers. We have had so much ridiculous fun writing this story but it’s great to hear you all are enjoying it, too!
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4
Maura sighed against Jane’s mouth, the detective’s badge and the hilt of her gun digging into her hip. It thrilled her to have Jane so close. Her fingers tangled in messy curls, keeping Jane anchored. The brunette whimpered softly, a sound so surprisingly delicate that Maura wasn’t sure who had made it.
As Jane started to pull away, opening her mouth with an apology perched precariously on her tongue, Maura tugged her back in, their lips colliding again. This time she was the one making fluttering sounds as she felt Jane’s hands encircle her hips, pulling her closer. The ME wanted nothing more than to leave the office now and continue this in her lavish townhouse where she could make Jane cry out her name.
It took three rings of the detective’s phone to finally pry the couple apart. Jane blushed and fumbled for the cell while Maura stood up straight, coquettishly dragging her thumb across the corner of her mouth where her lipstick had assuredly smeared.
“Uh-Jane…Rizzoli here, Detective,” the brunette sputtered. “Uh, oh. Yes. Who? Right. The Whitestone case. Oh, she is? Can you send me an address? What? I have it already? Oh. Ok. Great. I’ll head over now. Um, yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask? No, no. I’m not out of breath. I’m fine. Okay. Bye.”
Staring at Maura, Jane stabbed the button to end her phone call. “That was, uh, Ninzoti. Officer I had watching Grace Jackson’s place. She’s, ah, she’s home. I guess,” Jane shrugged uselessly.
“Want me to tag along?” Maura asked, unable to meet Jane’s eyes.
“Let’s, um, Frost. Let’s get him. And then sure, if you’re not busy.”
“Sundays are dismally slow for cadavers. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps everyone’s propensity to stay indoors,” Maura tipped her head up, brows furrowing. “Or maybe they don’t…”
Jane listened as Maura trailed off and then fell silent-no doubt continuing the narrative internally-while she called Frost to meet her in the hall where she and Maura were still standing.
“So…” Jane began.
“So,” Maura agreed.
“Um. That was…”
“Unexpected?” Maura asked.
Jane frowned and dropped her gaze to the floor. “Oh.”
Stepping forward Maura whispered, “Jane. Not bad unexpected. Just unexpected. And good. Very, very good.”
“Yeah?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Maura smiled and nodded.
“So, uh…what next?”
“Well,” Maura drawled, her own answer reflected obviously in her eyes. “I think that might be entirely up to you.”
Smiling slightly at Maura’s not-so-veiled invitation, Jane kept her eyes locked on the doctor, even after she heard the familiar clomp of Frost’s loafers marching down the hall.
“Yo,” Frost called when he saw his partner and the doc standing in the middle of the hallway. “Grace Jackson home?”
“Yeah,” Jane nodded, smiling one last time at Maura before turning to face Frost. “Let’s go talk to her. The doc’s going to come, too.”
“Cool,” Frost agreed amiably, grinning at Maura. The trio walked down the hall together, Frost holding the door open for both girls. Maura thanked him graciously but Jane punched him in the stomach as she passed. Which was how she usually paid him back for such chivalry. Jogging to catch up once he caught his breath, Frost hopped in the car’s back seat and asked, “So, what’s our strategy?”
“According to all reports, Grace Jackson is about 21 years old, lives with her mother. The background check you ran tells us she’s smart: 2 years of college, scholarship, at BU. But she dropped out and last filed W-2 has her employed as a waitress at some hole diner on East Third. Jason Whitestone must have felt like winning the lottery for a girl like that.”
“I know I suggested a man his age would appreciate the attentions of a younger woman but how can you be so certain she is a…a conquest?” Maura asked skeptically.
Frost and Jane both laughed at Maura’s question. “Pretty girl, rich man. ‘Conquest’ is almost always the right answer, Maur.”
“We go in hard?” Frost asked, leaning forward so his head peeked between the two seats. “Shake her up; scare her. We already know she can get sloppy.”
“Not too hard,” Jane disagreed. “A girl that age, any contact with the cops is probably enough to scare her. I don’t think we’ll need bad cop.”
“True,” Frost agreed. Then he frowned, “Except she grew up in Southie. People in that area, they don’t like cops, sure, but they aren’t generally intimidated. More like pissed.”
“Fine,” Jane sighed, recognizing Frost’s game. “Just…lose the baby face, will ya?”
“Can’t,” Frost beamed. “It’s a gift and a curse.”
Jane moaned but she relented. “Alright. We get attitude from the girl, you can be bad cop. Maybe the bad attitude and cheeky grin will be disarming.”
“Yes,” Frost exclaimed, pumping his fist in delight. “I love bad cop,” he added gleefully before leaning back in his seat to practice his monologue.
__________________________________
The rest of the ride to Grace Jackson’s house was uncharacteristically quiet. Jane feigned excessive interest in the post-game on the radio, listening to the same disgruntled callers as usual, arguing with Gil Santos about the piss poor pass-rushing that ultimately led to the Patriots’ staggering loss. Frost muttered something about his fantasy team taking a hit and Maura gazed intently out the window, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to look at Jane without a flush blossoming from her chest all the way up to her face.
The drive from downtown to South Boston took less than fifteen minutes but the distance between the two was enormous. The house in question was a tiny thing; closely cramped onto a street lined with similarly narrow and shoddy architecture. Maura sighed, a sound that made Jane laugh as she parked the car and got out, letting Frost out from the back seat. The younger detective tucked his phone into his pocket as he crawled out, grumbling about his decision to bench Ray Rice today.
Taking initiative, Frost trotted in front of the two women, leading them the short distance to the front door. A meager vegetable garden (in buckets) sat beside a rusting grill and warped patio furniture on the porch. In the face of such obvious decay, Jane was sure nervous palpations had set in for Maura.
A few seconds after Frost’s knock, a young brunette appeared at the door wearing Christmas-themed pajama bottoms and a faded Boston University sweatshirt. “Yes?” She asked the trio.
Definitely fashion-police palpations at least.
“Grace Jackson?” Frost began. “We’re with the Boston PD, Homicide. We need to ask you a couple of questions.”
Grace looked thoroughly confused. “Yes. I’m Grace. What is this about?”
“We are investigating Jason Whitestone’s death,” Jane supplied. “We traced a search of his financials. The IP was registered under your name and address.”
“Oh. Come in,” Grace said quietly as she held open the door.
Jane was the first one to enter, noticing the cramped quarters of the kitchen area. The table was littered with envelopes marked “past due” in intimidating red ink. Jane was instantly brought back to her rookie year in uniform. Debt was no picnic.
“Sorry about the mess,” Grace mumbled as she cleared away as much of the junk from the table as she could. “You guys can sit here. Can I get you anything?”
“No, miss, thank you,” Frost smiled. “But have a seat.”
Reluctantly, the young girl filled the fourth chair and kept her eyes trained on her hands before looking up again.
“We need to know: why were you hacking into Jason Whitestone’s financial records?” Jane asked. “Looking at extremely personal and confidential information.”
“Did I…are you going to arrest me? I mean I know what I did was against the law but…”
Jane could feel the girl’s fear, coming off her in greasy waves. “Look. We’re here about a murder. If you’re honest with us, if you tell us everything…it’ll be a lot easier for you.”
Grace sighed and scrubbed a weary hand through her hair. She looked up at Jane with tired brown eyes. “I should probably just show you. Come this way,” she gestured.
Confused, the investigators got up from the table. Passing through the living room where a small TV played reruns of Friends, they climbed the stairs, Jane resting a hand on her gun while Frost brought up the rear of the group.
Grace opened the door at the top of the landing, inviting them inside a small room, its painted walls once probably a pale blue now faded to a depressing yellowish green. A quick peek inside revealed a very frail woman in a hospital bed, sound asleep. Pretty pale blue scarf tied around her head. Trays of medications, supplies scattered the room and machines blipped methodically. All three of the visitors got an eyeful before Grace closed the door gently.
“My mother is very sick,” Grace sniffled, steeling herself with a few quick, even breaths.
“So you thought stealing from Jason Whitestone would be the way to help with this?” Jane asked, trying to mask the begrudging sympathy in her voice with concern, mind flashing to her own mother.
“No!” Grace whisper-yelled.
“We have witnesses who overheard you and Jason arguing, and, on one occasion, you leaving his office in tears. Boyfriend?” Frost added, sternness showing up in his tone. “Sugar daddy?”
“Sugar, what?” Grace paled, and then grimaced. “Boyfriend? No.”
“Well then what is it?” Jane asked, ignoring the way Maura intently stared across the hall into the apartment’s only other bedroom. When the ME slinked away, Jane guessed she’d seen something to trigger her curiosity. Nearly anything could do it; she’d have Grace Jackson’s room dissected and committed to memory before they moved back downstairs.
“Jason Whitestone is my biological father. He got my mother pregnant, then left us both. When Mom got sick, I tracked him down, hacked into his computer to see the millions of dollars that scumbag had in all these accounts, and I asked him to help us. To help his child and the mother of his child.” Grace brought a shaky hand to her face to wipe away a tear.
“I take it that didn’t go the way you planned, then?” Jane asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“He told me no, flat out. Said he could give me a few hundred dollars. A few hundred dollars. I make that in two nights at Chester’s-where I waitress. It was like a slap in the face.”
When the girl began to cry quietly, heavy tears dripping down her face, Maura stepped over from where she had moved, slipping a careful hand under Grace’s arm. “Why don’t we go back downstairs, Miss Jackson? Detective Rizzoli is going to want you to start at the beginning and we shouldn’t disturb your mother’s rest.”
Grace glanced at her mother’s door automatically, wiping the tears from her cheeks furiously. “Yeah. Sure. Ok. I-I’m going to get some water. Is-Is that allowed?”
Moving to follow Maura and Grace back down the stairs, Jane said, “Yes, of course. We’ll be, ah, in the living room.” Halfway down, Jane caught herself appreciating the way Maura’s hips swayed in her pencil skirt. She stopped short so quickly, Frost crashed into her back. “Shit. Sorry,” Jane murmured, casting her eyes directly towards her shoes.
After less than a minute wait, Grace returned, a plastic cup trembling in her hand so that a splash of water sloshed over the edge, and she sat on the room’s only chair. Left with little choice, Jane, Frost and Maura piled together on the tiny couch. To her credit, Maura barely grimaced when a popped spring snagged her skirt.
Taking the lead, Jane leaned forward and told Grace, “Dr. Isles was right, Grace. We need you to start at the beginning.”
Grace shuddered out a deep breath and began. “I-I don’t know much about the beginning. When I was a kid my mom told me my father was dashing.” Grace laughed but the sound was bitter. “Like a fairy prince. She was a freshman in college, Officers. She wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. She…She’s so sweet,” the girl sniffled. “She would have been a wonderful teacher.
“But,” Grace continued, “she got pregnant. He was at Harvard; Mom was at Radcliffe. Their very own Love Story. Except Mom waited until she was 42 to catch cancer. And the boy never stayed.”
“So your mother got pregnant and your father got gone, huh?” Frost asked. Jane rolled her eyes at his poor grammar to sound tough.
Some bad cop.
“Ah, yes. Exactly. Told her he wasn’t interested in a kid. Offered to pay for an abortion and when she refused, he never offered money again. But Mom’s tough. She…she was a good mom. Great mom. W-we didn’t have much but she…she tried so hard to make sure I didn’t notice. She worked so hard. When she got sick…” Grace trailed off.
“When she got sick?” Maura probed gently.
Grace’s voice cracked on a barely restrained sob. “She-she didn’t go to the doctor. Told herself she was fine because she couldn’t afford the time off of work. I was in college. God, I was so happy. I was out of Southie, you know? Out of the neighborhood and in college. It was wonderful but it was distracting. Time consuming, I guess,” Grace admitted, staring down at her spread hands. “She was sick and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it, until she passed out at the bank where she’s worked since I was a baby. Colon cancer.”
“Colon cancer is highly treatable,” Maura offered.
Grace rubbed the back of her hand under her nose and nodded wearily. “It is, when it’s caught early.” Her eyes teared again as Maura nodded. “Either way, it’s expensive. I-I dropped out of school, moved back home, found work. But the bills…and I just…I couldn’t do it anymore. So when I was going through my mother’s papers for the insurance company and I found my birth certificate, I figured it was a sign. She listed that bastard as my father, even though he wanted no part of me. Of us.”
The mere mention of her father dried Grace’s cries and Jane and Frost both noticed the way her eyes hardened beneath the sheen tears. Add Grace Jackson to the list of people not sad to see Jason Whitestone dead.
“Do you know that he’s stealing from people?” Grace demanded angrily. “I was a computer science major with a minor in business. Figured it was the best way to make sure I never had to move back to this neighborhood.” Grace scoffed at that and glanced around the tiny room. “So much for that plan. Anyway, I know what a Ponzi scheme looks like when it flashes across my computer screen. I figured if I couldn’t appeal to his common decency, I could at least use that. You know, bribe him into giving me some money? Between the financials and the…scandal-abandoned daughter and all that-surely he’d give me a couple grand so my mom could get into a study at Mass Gen.”
“But he refused?” Jane guessed.
“Oh yeah,” Grace muttered. “Didn’t flinch. Told me I was in way over my head. He was probably right,” she shrugged. “I was…trying to figure out what to do next when I heard on the news he was killed.”
The last line was said without emotion-neither the glee of an ex-wife nor the grief of a daughter. It was emotionless.
“Ms. Jackson, where were you the evening your fath-the evening Jason Whitestone was killed?” Frost asked.
Grace’s eyes widened and she flinched as though she had been slapped. As if the idea that she could be a suspect had only just occurred to her. “Oh, God. You don’t think that I…seriously?”
“We’re simply covering our bases,” Jane offered gently, hating her role of good cop but playing it well.
“I-I…it was Saturday right? At night?”
“Yes,” Maura nodded. “Early evening.”
Squinting her eyes in consideration, Grace shrugged. “I worked until around 3:00 or so. My neighbor, she sits with Mom, when she can. You can ask her-I was home about 3:15. After that I was here, with Mom. She, um, she shouldn’t be left alone for long periods of time.”
“Can your Mom corroborate this?” Frost asked, throwing in a frown for good measure.
“I…um, sure.” Grace glanced up to the ceiling as though she could see her mother through the plaster. “She’s sleeping and…it’s really hard for her to sleep these days. Do you have to wake her up?”
Frost started to reply but Jane stopped him with a hand in the air. “It’s best for you if we do,” Jane said. “Dr. Isles can come with you and take your mother’s statement. If we wait to talk to her,” she continued, “your alibi will never be solid. You’re going to want to wake her up.”
________________________________
Stepping into her car and stretching rigid muscles, Jane had just about enough of questioning witnesses today. The rich broad, the Colonel, and now this poor girl with her sick mother. Today’s interrogations were turning into some twisted game of Clue. The detective wished she could peek inside the tiny envelope and find out who killed Jason Whitestone at the Onyx with the knife.
“So Doc,” Frost interrupted the car’s silence, “did the mom say Grace was with her?” Frost squirmed in his seat when the car jumped over a bump, anxious to get out of the cramped back seat.
“She did. In fact, she raved about how diligent Grace has been; how she sleeps at her bedside every night. It was very altruistic and moving,” Maura said softly with glanced at Jane. “Debra Jackson indicated Grace was home by at least 4:00 pm and did not leave until her shift the next morning.”
“Ok. She’s got motive, I guess, but an alibi. Little weak, but we’ll check with her job and the neighbor. Confirm her story. The Christmas pajamas didn’t exactly scream murderer. Frost, keep an eye on her comp activity for a while. I really don’t want to arrest that poor girl for something stupid. Like trying to steal e-funds from a dead man.”
“Got it,” Frost agreed. “Wish there was some way to get her some cash, though. Seems a shame she won’t get anything when the guy had millions.”
Maura’s audible sigh from the passenger’s seat shook Jane from her reverie, her head physically hurting from so much processing and tying together loose ends.
“Yes, Maura?” Jane smirked to the obviously brooding ME.
“I’m having trouble figuring something out, that’s all,” Maura said.
“Well,” Jane drawled, “why don’t you share with the class? Maybe the detectives can help.”
“It’s just odd,” Maura mused. “I don’t understand how a woman of Grace’s socioeconomic standing has a Vivienne Westwood shawl lying around.”
“English, Maura,” Jane grumbled as she hunched forward on the steering wheel, happy for the red light so she could close her eyes for a moment.
“Vivienne Westwood only puts out a limited number of her hand-stitched evening scarves for public purchase. Her fall line that year was incredible. Ah, 2008,” Maura smiled fondly. “The scarf is dated but it’s rare and quite expensive.”
“Okay, Maura. It’s a scarf. It could be a knock off, maybe something she got as a gift.”
“I believe it was authentic. And if it was a gift, she should try to sell it, use the money to help her mother. I wish I had mentioned it; maybe she doesn’t realize its value.” Maura sighed again and Jane caught the pity beneath the sound.
“I know,” Jane nodded, understanding. “It was extremely sad in there. This whole day’s been sad,” she grumbled. “I need a beer. Frost, you need a beer?”
“No way, I have a date,” he boasted, grinning so wide Jane caught the glint of his white smile in the rearview mirror. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Good for you, Barry,” Maura encouraged, smiling despite herself. “I’d like a drink, though, Jane. Perhaps we could invite Callie and Arizona? They’ve had a difficult day-weekend, really-and I’m sure they’re anxious now that you’ve ordered them to stay in the city.”
“Wait, your hot lesbian friends? Maybe I can reschedule-”
“Frost!” Jane chided. “You’re not rescheduling. And Maura, I really shouldn’t be fraternizing with witnesses…Material witnesses.”
“Oh, it will only be for a few drinks. Strict rule: we won’t talk about the case, which would be a relief, honestly. It’s been a stressful day. I could benefit from some decompressing. And I know you could too,” Maura smiled toward Jane. “Besides, you know as well as I do that Arizona’s father did not kill that man.”
Quickly, Jane felt her resolve slip away as she sighed, pulling up to the station and getting out to release Frost from the back seat. “Fine. Invite all the suspects you want. But we’re going to my place and taking shots first. I need a buzz for this.”
“Pre-gaming the girls only party. Please take pictures,” Frost pled, a woeful expression darkening his features before he crawled out of the back seat, waving at both women.
Jane slammed his door closed and got back into the driver’s side, meeting Maura’s grin coupled with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye.
“What?” Jane asked as she shifted the car into drive.
“Nothing. I sent a text message to Arizona. She and Callie are going to meet us at 10:00, so that gives us plenty of time for your shots. But I’m telling you, Jane Rizzoli, under no circumstances are you convincing me to sing karaoke again.”
The detective guffawed as she broke out into a warbled version of “It’s all coming back, it’s all coming back to me now.”
________________________________
Callie walked through the suite, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail while she looked for her wife. “Hey, babe,” she called out, peeking into the bathroom and frowning when she found it empty. “Do you want to go to your parents’ place? I know Jane told us all to, ah, lay low or whatever but-Arizona Robbins!”
Arizona jumped from her perch on the corner of the bed, the iPad bouncing on her lap. Pressing a flustered hand over her chest, she glared at Callie standing in the doorway. “You scared me to death, Calliope!”
Callie pointed at the iPad and stalked towards her wife. “I told you to leave that damn nanny cam alone. Mark’s not going to-“
“Mami!”
Callie jerked to a stop as the unmistakable squeal of her daughter interrupted her tirade. “S-Sofia?” Callie asked doubtfully, sliding down to sit next to her wife who was now beaming. Whispering as though they were doing something secret, Callie asked, “Can she…see me?” When Sofia reached forward and tried to grab Callie’s face through the screen, Callie laughed and smacked Arizona’s knee. “She can see me!”
Stepping into view of the camera, Mark smirked, “Of course she can see you. That’s how Skype works, Cal.”
Before Callie could respond, Arizona slapped a hand over one eye. “Why? Why must you refuse to wear a shirt, Mark?”
The classic Mark Sloan grin he flashed did little to charm Arizona. Flexing his muscles dramatically, Mark asked, “Seriously, Blondie? Would you cover this up?”
“Oh, God,” Arizona rolled her eyes, still trapped behind her blocking palm. “Calliope, make him put on a shirt!”
Callie, who was distracted watching Sofia run in circles around the room, for no apparent reason, grunted. “Huh. Sure, you look good Mark.”
“Calliope!”
“What?” She turned to stare at her wife, finally realizing what she had said. This is what happens when you’re not paying attention, Torres. “Oh.” Left with nothing to do but laugh, she tackled Arizona playfully and pushed her back on the bed. Hovering over her wife, Callie toyed with the bottom of Arizona’s threadbare t-shirt. “You could take off your shirt,” she suggested, lifting the hem an inch. “Show him that your chest is better than his. That would teach him.”
“Callie,” Arizona giggled, instantly sidetracked by her wife (as usual). “Sofia can see you!”
“So,” Callie shrugged, caressing the skin she exposed with her fingertips. “It’s nothing more than she’s seen before.”
“True,” Arizona agreed.
“Hey, Torres, can you turn the screen a little to the left? I can’t quite see where you’ve got your hand.” And with that, Arizona shoved Callie aside and sat up again.
“Thanks, Mark,” Callie muttered.
“Anytime,” he winked.
“Oh, hush. Mark, hold Sofia still for a second, will you?” Arizona asked.
Mark snagged his hyper toddler and held her, giggling and upside down, in front of the screen. Arizona rolled her eyes but she guessed it would have to do.
“Hey, sweetie,” Arizona smiled. Her fingers itched to tickle the belly exposed when Sofia’s shirt bunched under her arms. “Mama misses you so much.”
“Yep,” the little girl squealed as Mark flipped her back around. “Miss me,” she parroted.
“Are you being a good girl?”
“Mmhmm,” Sofia nodded earnestly, her eyes wide. “Home?” She asked hopefully.
“Oh,” Arizona sighed and traced a finger over the image of Sofia’s cheek. Callie moved behind her to wrap the blonde in her embrace.
“Soon, mi carina,” Callie assured the girl. “Very soon.” Tucking her chin against Arizona’s shoulder, she continued, “Can you blow Mama a kiss, big girl? She needs some Sofia kisses right now.”
Everyone laughed when Sofia scrunched her face up into a frown of intense concentration before her expression suddenly cleared in a delighted grin. She smacked an open palm over her pursed lips and drew out an exaggerated smooch before swinging her palm back wildly, hitting Mark in her enthusiasm.
“Wow!” Arizona exclaimed, blowing an equally giddy kiss back at her daughter. “That was a big kiss! You’re such a big girl, Sofia.”
“Uh huh,” Sofia agreed and she wiggled desperately out of Mark’s grasp to resume her wild circles.
Glancing at his daughter, Mark grinned into the screen. “I think she’s done. You get enough Sofia-time Robbins, or you want some more?”
Arizona smiled because Sofia-time was exactly what she needed and Mark never begrudged her that. “No, let her play. I got enough. Thanks, Mark.”
“Anything you need,” he shrugged. His gaze softened and his voice quieted when he added, “Seriously, you guys, anything.”
“Thanks, Mark,” Callie responded, reaching around Arizona to flick the iPad off. She nuzzled into Arizona’s shoulder and murmured, “Do you want to call your parents? Stop by for a visit?”
“Mmm, no,” Arizona sighed, arching her neck so Callie had more room to explore. “It’s late. Dad’s going to have to tell Mom about the investigation and I can’t-I don’t want to relive it again, tonight. Maura texted a few minutes ago. She wants us to meet her and Jane for drinks. No talking about murder allowed.”
“Oh, really? Do you wanna go?” Callie asked as she pressed errant kisses against Arizona’s neck, a little unnerved at the idea of hanging out with the cop that interrogated her father-in-law just a few hours earlier.
“It might be fun. Maura’s pretty hilarious when she’s drunk. And maybe you can give Jane a pep talk,” Arizona smiled as she rolled over to face Callie.
“Then later we’ll have a suite all to ourselves when you get drunk and handsy.”
Callie pulled Arizona closer. Something about seeing their baby paired with her beautiful wife in her arms had the happy-go-luckies replacing her earlier feelings of dread. “First, why is it my job to talk to Jane? Second, you’re the one with the drunk-whispering! And the ‘please baby I want to go home,’ Miss Two-Can Sam.”
Gasping, Arizona playfully tried to wiggle out of Callie’s embrace, but the Latina locked her arms around her. “You get Jane,” Arizona giggled. “In that brooding, badass kinda way. It’s sexy.”
Callie nipped at the hollow of Arizona’s throat, mumbling, “Sexy, huh?” against her skin.
“So sexy,” Arizona whispered, arching her back when Callie’s fingers slipped under her t-shirt, grazing across her skin. “So so sexy,” she murmured.
“You’re sexy,” Callie grinned, rolling Arizona’s shirt up and off of her.
“God, Calliope,” Arizona moaned as she felt Callie’s knee slip between her thighs. “No teasing.”
“Mm, fine. But text your friend,” Callie smirked and popped open the button on Arizona’s jeans. “Tell her we’re gonna be a little late.”
________________________________
Jane swigged from her third MGD, amused by the way Maura played with the detective’s Droid, sliding her finger rapidly across the screen. The brunette leaned closer, peering at the blinking screen and watching as Maura’s look of determination turned into disappointment. Frustrated, the sandy-blonde handed the phone back to the detective.
“How do they expect you to win a game like that after imbibing so much alcohol? Certainly they had that in mind with their haphazard disbursement of grenades,” Maura seethed and sipped from her wine glass.
Jane bit back a laugh as she watched Maura rant, gulping more beer down. “Maura, it’s Fruit Ninja. You got a score of like 650. That’s incredible.”
“I don’t understand what kind of ninja would waste fruit like that. Ninjas were historically honorable; why would they waste fruit?” The ME lamented, looking away in tipsy disgust.
“Maura, it’s a game. No fruit has been harmed in the making of it!” Jane smirked, secretly enjoying the flustered face of her colleague.
“Well it’s quite a silly game,” Maura huffed before draining the last few drops of Moscato from her glass. “So silly.”
“You’re strangely competitive,” Jane observed. “You beat me and Tommy and Frankie’s score. Happy now?”
The ME smiled widely. “Yes.”
“Knew that’d help ya,” Jane grinned as she signaled for another glass of wine from Kirk, the bartender.
Maura graciously accepted her fresh glass of overly sweet wine, knowing the sulphates were going to attribute to a hangover in the morning (not to mention the shots Jane had talked her into at the brunette’s apartment), but she didn’t mind. It had been a rough few days something as ordinary as a hangover would be a welcome relief. Turning her head, Maura glanced sidelong at Jane, studying her form in the simple white button down she was wearing. Her hand, almost of its own accord, took Jane’s left hand into her lap.
“What are you doing?” Jane wondered idly.
“Rolling up your sleeves properly. They’re all bunched. You should do this evenly,” Maura said softly as she straightened out the cotton and began delicately cuffing them as perfectly as she had promised.
“T-thanks,” Jane croaked, feeling the tickling presence of Maura’s fingertips against her skin. Each brush felt like little explosions; miniature dynamite. Fierce.
Maura lifted her gaze to meet Jane’s once more and the pair shared a bashful smile. The ME was reminded of high school boyfriends with Jane. All grins and goofiness, but hearts of gold deep down. She loved that about Jane, how genuine she was beneath all the bravado.
“Well, hello,” Callie chirped as she sidled beside Jane’s barstool. “Are we interrupting something?”
Cutting Maura off before she could answer incriminatingly, Jane smirked. “Maura’s showing me the proper way to cuff my sleeves.”
“Cuff your sleeves, huh?” Arizona smirked as she wrapped her arms around Callie from behind, brushing her nose into her wife’s leather jacket. Pretending to whisper but purposely projecting her voice, Arizona grinned, “Maura always was a good teacher of…sleeve cuffing.”
Callie didn’t take offense at Arizona’s comment. After all, the brunette’s sleeves had just been exceptionally cuffed. Instead she laughed when Jane’s eyes went wide and lightly elbowed her wife’s stomach. “Moron,” she sighed. Then to Jane, “Ignore her.”
“Already am,” Jane replied, toying with the peeling edge of her beer bottle’s label.
“I’m kidding,” Arizona giggled. “Can I buy you another beer, Detective?”
“Sure.” Before Arizona could turn to offer Maura an unnecessary refill, Jane held up her hand. “No, you know what? Shot of Herradura instead, please.”
“Ooohh,” Callie exclaimed, excited. “Tequila. Yes, please,” she smiled at her wife, hopping on the stool closest to Jane.
“Tequila? Awesome!” Arizona pumped her fist. “I love tequila night!”
Arizona headed off to the bar and returned before Jane expected; apparently the dimples were some sort of magic line-mover. Deftly passing out drinks, Arizona dropped two shots of tequila and two MGD chasers in front of Callie and Arizona. Jane’s brows rose when Arizona put a gin and tonic in front of both Maura and her own seat. Pointing at the clear drink, Jane asked, “I thought you loved tequila night?”
Ignoring Callie’s snort, Arizona nodded, “Oh. I do,” she agreed.
“Then…?” Jane drawled questioningly.
“She is implying that she enjoys nights her spouse drinks tequila, Jane. It, ah, makes for interesting interactions in the bedroom.”
“Interesting interaction-Oh, God!” Waving her hands in the air, Jane demanded, “No. No, no, no. No talking about…interesting interactions tonight.”
“You know, Jane, a healthy sexual relationship is beneficial on both physiological and psychological levels.”
“Then these two should be as healthy as a couple of thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby. I don’t care, Maura. The subject is off the table. As of this minute.”
“Personally I prefer on the ta-,” Callie cut herself off when Arizona kicked her under the table. Callie clinked her shot glass against Jane’s. “We’ll stop. Promise.” Kicking back her own shot with a delighted shiver, Callie added, “Drink up, Detective.”
“I’m so glad you two decided to join us,” Maura added as she drank from her gin and tonic.
“Honestly, I didn’t want to come,” Callie admitted. “Drinking with the woman that was trying to convict my family of murder earlier in the day just doesn’t seem-”
“Normal. Good, glad I’m not the only one,” Jane winked, smirking some.
“Always the blunt one,” Arizona giggled.
“You married me knowing that full well,” Callie teased as she shrugged out of her leather jacket.
Jane caught herself smiling at the couple, so obviously into each other and in love. She unconsciously glanced at Maura who was giving her one of those looks that instantly brought about chills.
“So, um, you ladies play pool by chance?” Jane coughed, glancing back at Callie and then Arizona.
Callie tipped back another shot of tequila. “Oh, you are so on, Detective.”
________________________________
Arizona angled her body over the corner of the pool table, squaring her shoulders and straightening out her pool stick so that she could sink the pesky blue 5 ball that waited at an irregular angle. She bit her lip, focusing intently on the ball in question.
“Aw, come on,” Jane whined. “You are the most particular pool partner I’ve ever had. Do you think you’re gonna move it with your mind?”
“Shush,” Arizona countered. “You said it was unfair for me to be on Callie’s team after we whooped your ass three times.”
“Oh, she’s drunk,” Callie grinned to Maura. “The ‘A’ word is coming out. Only when she’s super drunk or super angry…”
Maura laughed as she playfully bumped shoulders with Callie. “I recall Arizona’s mannerisms being similar to that while ‘super drunk’ as you call it.”
“She’s pretty damn adorable,” Callie laughed.
Arizona did indeed sink her shot and lifted her arms in triumph. “Woo!”
“That a girl, baby!” Callie grinned. “Oh, I mean. Boo! We’re not on the same team.”
Arizona grimaced playfully and put her hands on her hips. “Come on, Maura. Come take a shot with me.”
“Oh, I sense my having to use a PTO day tomorrow,” the ME giggled.
“Look at you, Maura Isles. Being negligent!” Jane smirked, realizing she was going to have a long morning, having used up all of her PTO time due to long nights in front of the TV cheering on her Patriots. And that reminded her.
Turning to Callie while Maura and Arizona staggered to the bar, Jane smacked her on the arm. “You!” She shouted. Ok, maybe a little drunk.
“Yes, me,” Callie agreed. She had no doubt the detective could drink her under the table but no one handled tequila better than Callie Torres. “What about me?”
“You own the Miami freaking Dolphins!”
“My father owns the football team.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. You own the Miami Dolphins.”
“Ok,” Callie agreed with a nod. “I do.”
“Do you get to, I don’t know, hang out with the players? Have you actually met Jason Taylor?”
“I have,” Callie said. “Once. Wait, maybe twice.”
“Maybe twice. Holy crap.”
“He’s good, huh?” Leaning close to the detective, Callie grinned, “And so hot.”
“Yeah?” Jane asked. “I mean on TV he’s-“
“Hotter in real life,” Callie interrupted.
“Damn. Wait. Are you allowed to say that?”
“Why?” Callie smiled, tongue in cheek. “Because I’m married?”
“No! Well, yes. But I mean because you’re…you’re…”
“Gay? Lesbian? Lover of ladies?”
Suddenly, and sincerely, interested, Jane sipped from her bottle to give herself time to answer Callie’s teasing question. “No. Not exactly. But yes.” Taking a deep breath, Jane rushed on, “Look, I’m not stupid. You’re bisexual. I get it. But you’re in a relationship-you’re married to a woman. Shouldn’t you be…all about girls or something?”
Callie smiled and set down her pool stick. Apparently Arizona was right; she got Jane. “First time I had feelings, real feelings, for a woman, she was a friend. I went from enjoying her company, to always wanting to be around her to-holy shit-I want to kiss her. It was…surprising,” Callie admitted on a laugh, thinking back. “And it sent me running into the arms of a man. Another best friend,” she shrugged.
“I get that,” Jane admitted. “Maura and I, we, uh-Shit. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about this.”
“We’re drunk, you wanted to arrest us this morning, and now we are drinking shots at a bar when I am supposed to be on a flight to Seattle. Plus there’s the fact that I am married, to a woman. Seems to me, I’m the perfect person to talk to about this.”
Jane laughed and rolled her eyes. “I guess you’re right. This morning, I kis-she kiss-we kissed today and it was…”
“Nice?” Callie ventured. “Nicer than nice?”
“Shit, what is this? Show and fucking tell, the sex version?”
“I don’t need a picture, Jane. I’m saying, you liked it, the kiss. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” Jane breathed a sigh at Callie’s insistent understanding. “I-I did. But after, for a second, I wanted to grab the nearest guy and kiss him. Just to prove that I wasn’t…you know?”
“I do,” Callie agreed, letting Jane off the hook. “I do know. But here’s the thing: you find the guy, you kiss him. Maybe you take him home with you. And still when you close your eyes, what is the last thing you think about?”
“She is,” Jane whispered, almost to herself. “Even before. Maura is.”
“There’s no label for that, Jane.”
“Maybe,” Jane shrugged, downing a swig of beer. “What happened? With your friend? The girl?”
Callie winced. She had hoped to gloss over that part. “It didn’t work out,” Callie admitted. “I screwed up, she screwed up. It ended and I won’t lie, it ended badly. It ruined our friendship.” She saw Jane’s frown and understood that possibility weighed heaviest on the detective. She was considering what to say next when she saw Arizona watching her from across the room. Smiling at her. And suddenly the answer was clear. “That’s the risk, Detective. And it’s a big one. Even with Arizona, it hasn’t been easy or-or safe. But,” she added, laying a hand over Jane’s to ensure her attention. “When I fall asleep at night? The last thing I think about is the person sleeping in the bed next to me.”
________________________________
Maura held the shot glass, sniffing it as she watched Arizona do the same. “This smells like no Washington apple that I’ve ever eaten,” she lamented as Arizona clinked her glass against the ME’s.
“Let’s just hurry up and take them. Jane and Callie have been having a heart to heart for far too long.”
Maura let her gaze shift over to where Jane and Callie were huddled close, Callie speaking and Jane nodding her head. The detective’s jaw was clenched, her arms folded across her chest in a way that suggested she was absorbing every detail of whatever the Latina was telling her.
“Good idea,” Maura nodded as the pair raised their glasses then dumped back the liquor.
Simultaneously, they came back up for air, coughing and drinking from their gin and tonics to eradicate the taste from their mouths.
“Oh, God,” Arizona groaned. “I still can’t do shots, not after-”
“Elizabeth Veltri’s party? With the shots of-what was that?” Maura shivered, setting her empty glass back on the bar.
“Jagermeister,” Arizona gagged.
Maura grimaced again. “I’ve never been much for hard liquor after that,” she blushed. “Interesting evening, however.”
Arizona’s mind, although still foggy on the goings-on of said party, clearly remembered making very good use of Elizabeth’s laundry room. At that thought, both Maura and Arizona looked away from each other with matching expressions of amusement, both recognizing a small hint of pride.
“We should head back to them,” Maura grinned. “I would love to know what your wife’s been saying to Jane to hold her attention for so long.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s interesting. I think some of the Robbins’ rhetoric has been rubbing off on Callie.”
Maura smirked at the thought, recalling many a-Arizona Robbins speech in the past.
When Arizona and Maura walked back to the pool table, Callie stopped speaking and immediately she noticed the flushed features of her wife followed by the equally glassy expression of Dr. Isles behind her. Jane, confused why her wealth of Sapphic knowledge had gone suddenly quiet, turned around and grinned at the sight.
“Maura Isles, are you drunk?” Jane teased, watching the doc’s face wrinkle into what she assumed was a pout.
“No, I’m not. Well, okay, maybe I am. Arizona and I just took a shot of some sort of apple.”
“Washington Apples?” Callie smirked in disbelief. “I can’t believe you took Washington Apples.”
“Believe it.” Arizona winked and she slid forward, wrapping her arms around Callie, holding her by her hips before none-too-discretely walking her back behind the pool table. The brunette did not protest, welcoming tipsy Arizona kisses any night of the week.
“So,” Jane began as she sipped from her beer, “enjoying yourself?”
Maura eyed the couple smiling into their kisses, whispering in between them, and then looked back to Jane woefully. She wanted to be doing that. Maybe not here, but she definitely wanted to be doing that.
Realizing it was her turn to take a chance, Maura curled a hand around Jane’s waist and leaned close to her ear. She felt Jane tense beneath her hand but she still whispered, “Do you see Arizona’s rapid eye movement and erratic breathing pattern?”
“Ah,” Jane glanced towards the couple that was unabashedly making out against the far pool table. “Honestly, I noticed Callie’s hands on her ass first.”
Maura nodded and smiled in response before pulling Jane closer. “Arizona is exhibiting signs of increased amounts of d-dopamine,” she informed Jane, her numb tongue stuttering her words slightly.
“Uh huh,” Jane sighed, swigging from her beer and doing her best to avoid staring. “So?”
“It’s the brain’s pleasure chemical,” Maura said, her voice deepening. “Research indicates it is released when the orbito-the or-bit-to-front-al cortex-whew!-is stimulated.”
“Maura, please tell me this is not your way of hitting on me.”
“I…” Maura sighed and stole a small sip of Jane’s beer. She grimaced through the sip but took a second one anyway. “I just thought you should know…that-that standing by you…” she trailed off.
“Standing by me?” Jane urged her.
“I am exhibiting the same signs,” Maura finally admitted, her words rushing together.
“Huh,” Jane laughed, watching the doctor’s chest rise and fall rapidly. When her eyes stayed locked on Maura’s breasts for more time than necessary, Jane blinked and looked up in time to catch Maura’s smug smile.
Twining her fingers with the ones Maura dug into her hip, Jane whispered, “Maura, do you, uh, want to get out of-” But before the detective could finish her invitation, her phone rang, the station’s telltale Miami Vice ringtone blaring through the speakers.
Recognizing the tone, Callie finally pulled away from her wife on a burst of laughter. “You’re kidding, right?” She shouted at Jane. “Miami Vice?”
“Shut up,” Jane retorted, snapping her phone open. Neither Callie nor Arizona missed the fact that Jane’s free hand was deliberately linked with Maura’s.
“Rizzoli,” Jane barked into the phone. After several minutes of ‘uh huhs,’ ‘oks’ and ‘shits’, Jane closed the phone and tugged Maura’s hand. Pulling her closer to Callie and Arizona, Jane announced, “Matthew Nevins just bought a plane ticket to Costa Rica.”
“And?” Arizona asked, confused but instinctively shading closer to Callie, comforted when Callie wrapped a hand around her waist.
“And he is a suspect in the death of Jason Whitestone, one we have been trying to get in touch with. A suspect,” she added, “who was seen fighting with the victim the night of his death.”
“And one whose alibi is Jason’s ex-wife,” Maura added, trying to remain composed even though her own orbitofrontal cortex continued to register extreme pleasure at the simple feeling of Jane’s hand against her own.
“You mean a suspect who takes your investigation away from Arizona’s father?” Callie concluded.
“Far away,” Jane nodded. Then glancing at Maura, and smiling slightly, Jane added, “But the doc and I, uh, this doc and I,” she laughed, “should get home. Since he’s at an airport, Feds get to do the cease and detain on Nevins. Feds mean paperwork in the morning.”
“Plus you’ll probably have some real police work to do,” Callie added.
“That too,” Jane nodded. “You two can get back ok?”
“We can,” Callie nodded, adding a meaningful smile towards Maura and Jane’s hand holding. “Have a nice night, Detective,” she smirked.
Jane blushed and her fingers went slightly lax against Maura’s. But when Maura instantly squeezed them, demanding contact, Jane shrugged and replied, “Nicer than nice, I hope.”
________________________________
Maura handed Jane a bottle of water from the refrigerator before taking her own, opening it at the same time the frazzled detective twisted off her own cap. Jane gulped down half of the bottle quickly while Maura took two shorter swigs for the same effect.
“Damnit, this case is gonna kill me,” Jane started, opening up one of Maura’s cupboards. “Do you have any Advil? I need to take some and pray I don’t wake up hung over tomorrow.”
“You mean Advil to take now? Jane, that’s dangerous after drinking,” Maura said before taking another sip of water.
Jane scrubbed her hands through her messy curls, sighing.
“Just drink another bottle of water. Most of the effects of a hangover are due to dehy-” but Maura stopped herself, watching Jane chug the rest of her bottle and wrench on the tap to refill it.
Jane was working on chugging her second bottle while Maura capped her own and set it on the counter. Tentatively, the ME placed her hands on Jane’s hips, emboldened by the alcohol. Jane quirked a brow, glancing down around the bottle of water. Taking a deep breath and turning in the ME’s arms, she set her empty water bottle on the counter next to Maura’s.
Smiling, the detective placed her hands on top of Maura’s before sliding up those smooth arms and soft elbows, pulling the sandy blonde into her in one move. Maura smiled; a slow, stretching grin that let Jane know exactly what was going on inside her occipital whatever the hell it was.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Maura announced, not giving Jane time to react as she leaned in and sealed the small space between their lips.
Jane groaned softly into the kiss, tightening her grip on Maura, pulling her closer. As crazy as this case was making her, Maura was proving herself a good grounding point. Jane sighed, listening to Maura’s muffled moan when her hand strayed to the ME’s perfect ass and palmed it.
Maura broke away from the kiss, only to put a chilly hand on Jane’s throat, coaxing her to tip her head back. Jane deftly followed the gentle urgency of her colleague’s hands and nearly growled when she felt those lips on her neck, pressing warm open-mouthed kisses against the flesh there.
“God, Maura,” Jane gasped.
The ME just laughed, sultry and smooth against Jane’s neck, her lips kissing down across the juts of her collarbone, to the hollow of her throat. Her fingers found purchase against Jane’s back, underneath her t-shirt.
Maura had always loved Jane’s voice: husky and deep, with a sexy growl buried under the edges. But to feel that voice rumble beneath her lips when the detective moaned her name was a thrill greater than any Maura had experienced.
Hoping to cause that sensation again, Maura scraped her teeth up Jane’s neck and allowed her hands to push up the detective’s back, pulling Jane’s shirt up in the process.
Jane shivered when cold air rushed across her skin, sending goose bumps up her torso. The shock was enough to clear Jane’s head and she pulled back with more of a jerk than she intended.
Maura recognized the detective’s retreat and immediately withdrew, holding her hands in the air as though surrendering. “Oh!” She mumbled, “I…I’m…I’m sorry?” She ventured, aware that an apology was a lie and unsure the effort was warranted here.
“No,” Jane shook her head and grabbed Maura’s hands, pulling the doctor close once more. “Don’t apologize.”
“Ok?”
“I want to kiss you again, Maur.”
Maura’s eyes instantly gleamed with delight and she leaned in again. “Good,” she breathed across Jane’s lips.
“But-“ Jane muttered before their mouths could meet.
“Damn,” Maura sighed, her brain clearly still muddled.
Jane laughed at the obvious disappointment in Maura’s single curse. “But I don’t know if I’m ready…I don’t think we are ready for more. Yet.”
“Yet?” Maura ventured tentatively. “There will be more, then?”
“I think-yes,” Jane nodded firmly, convincing herself and Maura at the same time. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Maura breathed, her smile blooming.
“I don’t want to be drunk. Or tired. I don’t want you to be worried about your friends. Or drunk. I-“
“You want it to be special,” Maura guessed softly.
“God, no. I’m not a cliché, Maura. I want it to be important. Because it is.”
“Oh, Jane. Me too.”
“Ok,” Jane nodded. “Good. Now, can we make out on your couch for a while? Or is that just a girl/guy thing?”
Maura laughed and tugged Jane toward the sofa. “Tonight, it’s going to be a girl/girl thing.”
Jane tensed slightly at the words before relaxing into the image. Scooting close to Maura on the couch, Jane pressed soft kisses down Maura’s neck, reveling in the sigh that trembled from the ME’s lips. Whispering against her collarbone, Jane asked, “Can I sleep over?”
“I-I,” Maura shivered. “I need to prepare the guest room,” she finally said.
“Oh,” Jane murmured, her tongue still tracing patterns over Maura’s skin. “I think we’ve moved past that, Dr. Isles. I may not be ready to have sex with you, yet-“
“Yet,” Maura repeated firmly.
“But tonight, I’d really like to sleep with you.”