She could have died. She could have died, and I helped that bastard Marino instead of helping her.
Maura sat alone in her living room, her tortoise busy moving around in the kitchen. It was quiet in her house, except for the rhythmic tic-tic-tic of the clock hanging up on the wall. Clutching a warm cup of coffee in her hands, she ran and re-ran scenarios of what happened that day in her mind; hearing Jane scream in rage and grief, hearing the gun go off and seeing both officers go down with one bullet…
Even though it had happened a week ago, even though if it hadn’t been for her Frankie would be dead…going into work since the shooting had been as close to Hell as she had experienced so far; on the receiving end of more frosty glares and thinly-veiled mutters behind her back then she’d ever previously received before, this was probably the first time ever since Jane came into her life as her best friend that she felt alone. Maura knew the tightly-knit community of Boston cops wouldn’t soon forgive her for saving Marino’s life. Korsak himself had stripped the disgraced cop of his badge.
Ironically enough, all three were still in the same hospital recovering from their injuries, with Jane apparently becoming the clear winner for first one out. Surprisingly enough, Marino WAS, in fact, still alive, even though getting his guard duty caused the unsurprising amount of mutters and curses. It had been rumored that some of his chosen guards had “accidentally” pressed down on his injured leg, just to hear him cry out in agony. Those were just rumors, however, and he wasn’t talking in any case to anyone.
Feeling suddenly tired, she decided to call it a day, not looking forward to another day of thinly veiled animosity. She couldn’t wait until Jane returned to work, but knew it would be awhile yet.
She shot me.
That fucking bitch SHOT me.
Honestly I should have just killed them all in the Autopsy room when I had the chance, before I shot my partner in crime. Better odds.
The look on Jane’s face was priceless. She couldn’t believe it; all that shit I had talked about Danny being a dirty cop when in fact all along it’d been me; classic!
And then, fighting with me - with ME – as I dragged her out of headquarters; she’s lucky I didn’t just blow her damn brains out. She took care of that herself though after I told her that Frankie was probably dead already; yeah, dick move, I’ll admit, but FUCK she was pissing me off, fighting me, telling CRT to shoot me. Fuck THAT.
I heard a lot about Rizzoli in the departments scuttlebutt; more of a tomboy lesbian than anything else, being stalked by some whacked out serial killer. He probably would have been happy that I offed her, had I had the opportunity. Oh well.
Fucking dick beat cops, acting all high and mighty and shit, practically torturing me while I lay in this bed. Like they wouldn’t have done the same, in my position. Hypocrites…drugs are easy money, and boy I made a lot of it…until I was found out.
One of them told me snidely that Jane and her brother Frankie were here as well. Well whoop-dee-doo for them. If it hadn’t been for Jane, I would be home free right now. No. The dumb bitch had to get involved, and because of her, here I was.
I smile, leaning my head back into the hospital pillow. She was going to pay for this. I would see to that.