"Get your damn hands off me!" Jane shouted, struggling against the officer behind her.

Her voice was quickly silenced as the cuffs clinked onto her wrists. She had a warrant out for her arrest, treason against the force. Jane had killed two officers under the order of Patty Doyle, the most notorious Irish mob leader in Boston. She was trained to be a detective by the man to help make sure that the mob would be off the radar. Unfortunately, the task force had been tracking Doyle down for two months and made way to ambush him. Jane and two men were ordered to break into the warehouse and kill him. When the order to fire rang out, the tall brunette turned and shot the two officers.

Detective Crow stood in front of the woman after she was dragged out from the broken down building. A smirk was permanently drawn on her face. He shook his head. The sad truth was, Jane Rizzoli made a fine detective; she was perhaps the best on the force. In the three years of her career, she never failed to make an arrest. Jane broke out into a laugh. Nothing was funny to her except for the fact that she would be going to jail. Every one of the criminals she had ever arrested would be in there, and they were all not happy. But, she was awaiting to see her family, it would make for one fine family reunion.

"It's a shame, Rizzoli," Crow put his hand on Jane's broad shoulder, "you were one of the best."

Her olive skin boiled with anger under his touch. With a swift turn of her head, she spat on him. The chuckle that came from his throat was almost inhuman, but non the less he wiped off the spit and stepped back with dignity. Jane kept her dark brown eyes on him while being dragged to the car. The officer behind her put a hand on her head and pushed her inside. She was silent in the back but would continuously kick the driver seat.

"Knock it off back there! " He barked.

"Shut up, pig." Rizzoli kicked the seat once more before glaring out the window.

She was back at the station, and this time it wasn't for work. She was under arrest for two counts of murder. A whole line of reporters waited outside of the BPD, many Jane was familiar with. She had spoken with them during her cases. Frost and Korsak opened the doors for her with their heads down, simply in shame. They had trusted Jane, they risked their lives for her. They were partners, a team, and friendship had developed between all of them. Now, it was nothing. She was a traitor, she was a felon. This didn't stop Jane from looking at them with a smile on her face. She stopped momentarily and was about to speak but the officer behind her ushered her inside. The brunette shrugged off his hand. The two men by the door followed them.

The familiar interrogation room did not strike fear in the hard faced woman. She sat in the chair, emotionless. The gray room appeared to be colder than normal. Jane sat a while, fiddling with her thumbs in silence. Her head turned towards the door when the sound of soft taps filled the walls. Korsak was the first to enter, and the only one. He sat on the corner of the table with his tie in hand. Eye contact quickly found its way. With a heavy sigh, he began.

"Jane." A smile lit across her face. She enjoyed this man, he was considered a friend. Jane could never hurt him, he was much like a father figure to her.

"Korsak." She spoke softly, trying her best not to frighten him. Her eyes flickered over to the one tear that was sliding down his face. "Korsak, please don't cry. You know I can't handle it when you cry like that."

"Why, Jane? If that is even your name, who are you?" Jane stood up and held out her hands, signaling him to remove the cuffs. "Don't you dare try anything."

With that he set her free. She rubbed her wrists and looked at him. Feeling intimidated, he rose to her level.

"My name is Jane Rizzoli, I work for Patty Doyle."

Her face had no expression. Korsak looked down at his old leather shoes unsure of what to think. He thought that he knew all the mob members, but it appeared that Patty Doyle was smarter than he thought.

"Tell me more." He demanded.

"I was nine years old when my parents were murdered." A rough hand found her back. It was comforting in a strange way. She hadn't expected him to react at all. But out of respect, she stood still and continued to speak. "My youngest brother, Tommy, lives in New York. My other brother, my younger brother, Frankie y'know; he works here. But hey, don't tell 'em. He doesn't know anything."

Korsak nodded, "I won't."

Unexpectedly, he pulled Jane into a tight hug. His emotions always got the best to him. He loved Jane. She was the daughter he never had. Being middle aged and divorced four times had taken its toll. Jane hugged him briefly before pulling away.

"There's more," she added. "The three of us were split up in the incident. Tommy ran away, I don't know where to. Frankie was taken. I was left alone in the house. I stayed there for four days, I ate whatever I could find. I didn't even have the bodies of my parents to grieve over, they were taken too. Once I was sleeping and I felt someones hand on me. I woke up to find this man staring at me. I, of course being only nine, kinda just screamed at him and started to hit 'em. Y'know. He pulled me into a hug and I will never forget what he said." She looked down at her hands. There was a small branded "PD" on her left palm. She held it up so Korsak could see it. "He took his special lighter and did this. Doyle sliced his palm as well and gripped my hand in a shake like matter. He told me 'You are part of my family now, Jane. I will protect you, I will guide you, and I will love you as my own child. Your parents will be avenged. From now on, you will not cry.' With that, he was all I had." She put her hands down and looked at Korsak.

He fell silent, simply speechless. He could no longer control the river that flowed out his eyes. The buzzer rang and it was time for them to part their ways. Korsak quickly embraced Jane and whispered, "You are a good woman, Rizzoli." The guard ripped her way and led her to a transportation van. She was headed for prison. Frost ran out to catch her quickly, he too was crying. Jane gave him a half smile. The young man had a bright future ahead of him, anyone would be a fool not to see it.

Jane turned to face him. "Aye, Frost, stop cryin' pal."

"I'm gonna miss you, partner." He wiped his face with a black sleeve.

"I'll miss you too buddy."

"Jane?"

"Yeah?" The man behind her pulled her along.

"I uhm..." He stopped the guard for a moment so he could look at her. Frost took a step forward. Jane looked at him with blank eyes. She was trained to show no emotion, especially sadness or grief. Strong hands found her face, and bright brown eyes caught her gaze. He leaned forward and softly pressed his lips on her forehead. Speaking softly he whispered, "I love you, Jane. You were like my sister. I will never forget you." He stepped back and went to give her his card.

"Call me if you need me, or you know... If you want to."

Jane turned around wiggling her hands to show that she wasn't capable of taking the card. He laughed and reached over to put it in her pocket. Jane took the opportunity to kiss his cheek.

"I love you too, Frost. I'll call you later, bro." She smiled at him before the guard led her to the van.

She was thrown inside with full force. "Thanks, asshole, that's r'nice of ya'." Maybe prison wouldn't be as bad as she thought. Anything had to be better than all the things she had to go through. Red blood oozed down her face. She smashed it on the corner of the seat when she was tossed in. It bothered her none. She welcomed the blood. It let her know that she was still alive, it let her know that Patty Doyle was always with her. She rubbed the small "PD". In a whisper she mumbled "You will not cry." Jane was alone in the back of the van, but she was not afraid. Her sense of fear was gone. It was silent, and dark, she loved it. She was to enjoy this ride.

"Get out." The guard opened her door.

Jane followed orders and carefully stepped out of the car. The cuffs on her hands were tighter than they needed to be. Four other guards came out to haul Jane inside the prison. She first had to have a mug shot, which of course, she smiled for. After that her clothes were exchanged for an orange jumpsuit.

"Orange is not my color." She complained, looking down at the bright shade.

"Shut up, you dirty butch." He led her down the aisle of woman.

They all whistled for her and tried to reach out of their cells to touch her. She was taken to a small single cell, empty, with a little cot and toilet accompanied by a crappy sink. The man unlocked the door and led her inside. He shut and locked her in. "Hands out, Rizzoli." She did as told, sticking her hands out the small slot. The guard unlocked her cuffs and walked away.

"Thanks pig." She nodded and walked backwards to plop down on the cot.

This was her new home.