Chapter Text
Detective Jane Rizzoli did not look pleased.
“Why me?” she demanded. “And why Maura?”
Lieutenant Cavanaugh didn’t even glance up from the file. “Because you caught the initial complaint and pushed it when no one else would.”
Frost looked up from his desk. “You did kind of kick that hornet’s nest, Jane.”
Jane folded her arms. “Fine. Why her?”
“Would you rather go with Frankie?”
“What? No!”
“Come on Jane, you know why. They serve herbal sedatives as part of the programming. Breathing sessions. Somatic work. You think I’m sending you in there without someone who can identify what they’re putting in people’s systems?”
Jane didn’t answer.
Cavanaugh continued, “You know the complainants. Isles knows pharmacology, toxicology - behavioral response. If there’s manipulation happening, she’ll see it.”
Jane shifted her weight. “You’re assuming there is.”
“I’m assuming if there is, she’s the only one who’ll catch it.”
That left no room to argue.
Across the bullpen, Maura Isles smiled — serene, composed, entirely too pleased with herself.
Jane narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know why you look so happy about this. It’s not helping.”
Korsak leaned back in his chair. “She probably fancies a change, Jane. Might be fun.”
“Fun?” Jane echoed, horrified.
Cavanaugh continued, unfazed. “It’s a couples’ retreat. You’ll need to present as married.”
“So we’re on display the whole time?” Jane asked.
“Yes.” Cavanaugh closed the file. “It’s marketed for high-performing couples. Not crisis intervention. Optimization. Reconnection. ‘Intentional futures.’”
Jane made a face. “So we’re… what. Emotionally efficient?”
“You’re successful. Busy. Stable. But not prioritizing the relationship,” Cavanaugh said. “That’s your angle.”
“Do we at least get separate rooms?”
There was a pause.
“You’ll be sharing a room,” Cavanaugh said.
Jane exhaled sharply. “Okay. Fine. I can survive that.”
Cavanaugh turned a page in the file.
“And a bed.”
Her head snapped up. “What? Oh, come on!”
Maura tilted her head slightly. “We have shared a bed before.”
Korsak choked on his tea, coughing violently as he tried not to laugh.
Jane threw her head back. “Dear God.”
Korsak wiped his mouth, grinning. “What’s the matter, Rizzoli?”
Maura stepped closer, folding her hands loosely in front of her.
“We function exceptionally well,” she said mildly. “I imagine we can simulate prioritizing each other for a few days.”
A small pause.
“I don’t have a problem pretending you’re my wife.”
Jane looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Then she turned abruptly and grabbed her jacket. “I need caffeine.”
The door shut behind her.
Korsak watched it swing closed.
“Runs about five days,” he muttered.
He glanced at Maura. “You sure about this?”
Maura didn’t answer immediately.
“Yes,” she said at last.
Korsak studied her for a moment longer, searching for something.
Maura’s expression didn’t change.
She had read the file twice.
Herbal sedatives. Breathwork. Somatic recalibration.
Yes. She was sure.
Then he nodded once. “Okay then.”