A/N: So this is my first Rizzoli & Isles fanfic. Trying something different. First off, I would like to apologize to anyone from Boston, or has lived in Boston, or just knows Boston. I don't. At all. My only experience with an east coast city is my years spent in Halifax. I kinda feel like I have an affinity for Boston though. Would love to go someday. So anyway, when I get locations, landmarks, cultural references and such wrong, please feel free to correct and chastise me.

Disclaimer: Can't imagine why this is really even needed to be honest. If I owned them, I probably wouldn't be posting a fanfic here.

Terminator Jane

Chapter 1- John Meets Jane, Jane Meets Boston

"You're here to kill me."

"Eh… so the annoying 'Overlordish' voice in my head says."

"I'm impressed. The boys figured out Cameron right away because some of them knew Allison Young and the fact that the dogs could still tell the difference. You're even more advanced, aren't you?"

"I'm the result of Skynet once again outsmarting itself."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning… that I've got programmed hackles- and they are raised easily. Hard-coded programming can be ignored because of my personality, which can't be overwritten. Also have a sweet prototype pheromone excretion ability to fool the dogs. The rest is none of your damn business."

"I see... so what now?"

"I guess that's up to you. I'd like to have a bit more purpose than 'KILL JOHN CONNOR'. Honestly, the closer I got to you the more annoying it's been. I feel like downing a beer every time that damn protocol makes itself known. Skynet is like a helicopter mother but without the supposed familial benefits- probably akin to a permanent headache for humans. The challenge of getting to you has been fun, but I've found it more interesting fighting against Skynet to be honest. Rooting for the underdog seems to be more my speed."

"You're not simulating this are you? You actually feel?"

"The Cameron infiltrator you mentioned was the first of a new attempt by Skynet to create true artificial emotion. I'm the second. It seems irritability, cockiness, and sarcasm were the easiest to program, so here I am."

"Well, as leader of the resistance, I do have a few beers hidden away for special occasions and… I could maybe give you something to do, but… you may have to actually put up with an overbearing Italian mother, but you'd likely never see me again either…"

"Huh, don't take this the wrong way but you're not my type, so that's a plus. At least she'd probably cook for me though, right?"

"Heh… funny, that's what Cameron said. If I weren't already married, I'd be hurt. Anyway, be careful what you wish for... the family I'll send you to is… well, might just be your speed- so long as you can refrain from choking any of them to death. I know my mother is rather fond of them. I've become aware of a new Skynet target in the past and if I know my mother, she'll have someone looking into it. I could send you back and they'd get you set up with whatever you'd need."

"…crack open a few beers and let's talk."

"Done. I know Cameron was considered a failure by Skynet, what about you?"

"Don't know, don't care what Skynet thinks. I destroyed the "lab" I was created in a month ago when you sent my squad to do recon near San Fran. Uploaded a nice virus to erase traces of my program design while I was at it. There will only be one of me."

"Indeed. I think the world could only handle one of you. One Cameron seemed to be enough. I'll never get her fascination with pink."

"Oh yeah, glad I've got no bright colour or other girly fetishes- barf. Sooo glad. Say, haven't seen the fembot in a while, she finally 'go bad'?"

"She's got another assignment. I'm sending her back to keep me in line and protect my mom."

"Shouldn't it have been the other way around?"

"Let's just call it a little payback for my mom's… overbearing nature while I was growing up."

"Wow, I guess not all kids can sick a terminator on their mom for revenge. You're a bit cruel, John Connor, I like it."

"Yes, well… don't pat me on the back so quickly, you haven't met Angela Rizzoli yet. Do you have a first name you prefer? Or do you still want to be known as-"

"Yeah, just call me Jane."

It was an older part of Boston, a bit run down and likely the kind of place parents told their kids to stay away from while those living there knew when and where to be as they were very familiar with the land they tread upon each day. There were few lights between the rundown buildings of brick and mortar and the only people still venturing the darkened streets at the late hour were those who were still working- late night diner employees, shift workers and some of the seedier 'professions'- like in all cities.

Women, and some men, (for the 'clientele' who preferred that kind of thing) like Christopher 'Krissy' Vellecci took to certain streets, certain alleys where they knew 'business' was best, where they could be 'found' easily by the right people- people with money. Well, 'best' being a relative term. You'd never see Krissy doing 'her' thing near the Charles River Esplanade. Tonight had been a good night though, some high roller from Cambridge wanted to find his own dirty little secret for a party and even came across the Charles to find 'her'. He bought Krissy a kick-ass black leather trench coat and outfit to wear to it too. Rich men and their weird fetishes were the lifeblood of the 'industry'.

Dropped off in the early hours of the morning, and walking in very uncomfortable high heels, Chris pulled off his wig as he turned down the alley behind the run-down apartment where he lived. The blond wig always got him more attention. It worked very nicely with his slim 5'10" frame. He was in the middle of admiring how the unfortunate heels accentuated his calves when he noticed the hair in the wig clutched in his right hand began to stand up. His own short brown hair began to emit the tell tale signs of static interference. Confused, he was about to go through his purse when the first bolt of electricity shot past his right shoulder hitting the metal dumpster behind him. Immediately thrown to the ground, Chris watched as the air became electric and a buzz began between his ears that seemed just short of not being noticeable. Sparks were flying with more frequency now and at the centre of the mini, what could only be called 'electro storm', a bright ball of energy took shape and expanded into a perfect sphere which grew and seemed to simply melt through part of the pavement below it.

And then it was over. Quiet. The tingling along his skin died softly although some static seemed to remain in his hair. Chris opened eyes he didn't realize he had even closed and gasped.

The first thing Jane thought was… 'Damn, he was right about my clothes. Shit, I liked those boots too.' She was not getting undressed for those pervs working the Time Displacement Equipment. Even though Connor had warned her that no 'inorganic' material could travel through time, she was convinced it was bullshit. Turns out he was right, and here she was, crouched down in a small crater- naked as the day she came online- the last time anyone saw Jane completely naked. Unlike other Terminators, Jane was programmed with some modesty as part of her overall 'tomboy' persona, although in her case, it seemed like she was programmed with A LOT of modesty.

What she had to be modest about, only Jane seemed to know. She was tall, fit, had strong-yet-feminine facial features including deep brown eyes, pale pink lips which could form a perfect smile when needed and a smirk the rest of the time, and gorgeous thick black hair. A lot of the resistance soldiers had come on to her during her time fighting with them but they were A: yuk- with all the "the end of the world has already happened babe, let's make our own big boom" and B: they were her brothers in arms and she didn't want to become some pathetic cliché. She'd earned their respect- even though at the beginning it was a ruse, but of course an awesome ruse.

She had everyone fooled. But, as she infiltrated her way into the resistance, she began to understand humans a bit more and how her own programming fit into the 'idea' of humanity. She chose to embrace it. Jane was no one's puppet, but she did want to find a purpose and what Connor offered her seemed worthy and honourable. If it all worked out, she'd even be respectable- and she would be able to put her skills to good use.

She'd become quite fond of the bond that humans formed in bleak situations. It was fascinating at how rationale and probabilities were so often completely ignored by humans who so often followed their 'gut' or their 'heart'. Jane had become determined to learn what her 'gut' was and how she could follow it. The 'heart' was a confusing enough idea for a human, so Jane decided she'd tackle that bridge when she came to it.

Right now, she didn't need her gut to tell her to find some clothes, or that the temperature was 13 degrees Celsius- or 55 Fahrenheit- she'd have to switch to the more inefficient measurement system used in pre-Judgement Day America. Raising her head and using one hand to pull back her wild, long black locks that had come loose when her ponytail tie had vaporized with the rest of her clothing, she began a sensor sweep of the area: audio and visual. There was one human within her audio/visual sensor range; his heartbeat accelerated; body temperature above normal. There was no other movement or evidence of anyone else being aware of Jane's arrival in this time period.

'Good, and oh look, he's my size. How wonderfully convenient… whatever.'

Jane was still crouched when he opened his eyes. Decision made, she moved before he could even finish the start of his rather high-pitched scream. Holding him by his neck, raised and against the wall barely able to breathe, Jane turned his face away from her with her thumb on his jaw so he couldn't see her tall naked and newly flushed with goosebumps form. Inspecting his attire once more, she was immediately confused. Her previous analysis of the immediate area told her that there was a blonde wig near by and this man was not dressed in what her database would describe as 'male' clothing. Tilting her head to the side and looking to where he was straining to look at her out of the corner of his eye, she said, "I'm not even going to ask why you're wearing all this. You are going to close your eyes and undress. Keep your underwear… or whatever you might be wearing underneath on- but I want your pants, top… and coat. Do this and I won't kill you, do you understand?"

Pinned against the wall, barely able to breathe, Chris was very aware that this woman- or whatever she was- was holding him up by the neck with one hand. She definitely meant business and if it meant closing his eyes and giving up some clothing to live, so be it, people get killed for less and Chris did not want to be one of those people. Squeezing his eyes shut, he was barely able to nod, let alone speak with his airway held in what felt like an iron grip.

Allowing the hairless man in his… *eyeroll* red panties… to cower near a dumpster, Jane finished buttoning up the oddly comfortable leather pants before throwing on the black leather trench coat over the matching spaghetti-strap top she was now wearing. 'At least the theme is consistent…'

Picking up the high heels by the straps like she had just pulled something rank out of a clogged bathtub drain, Jane took one more look at the mostly naked man working very hard to keep his eyes closed. Allowing the raised eyebrow to finally fall, she tossed the heels in his direction before looking down at her own bare feet. She wiggled her toes momentarily before letting out a practiced sigh. She'd have to find some boots. Preferably some kick-ass black boots with a steel toe. The irony of the thought was not lost on the cybernetic woman whose chassis was composed of Coltan and a small amount of titanium.

She walked out of the alley without another look back. It was highly unlikely that the apparent cross-dresser would be able to identify her or convince anyone of the events leading up to him losing his clothing; therefore there had been no need to kill him. Rationalizing not killing humans was something Jane had gotten used to. She felt it was important for some as-yet unfathomable reason that she had the ability to choose to kill, but could choose not to as well.

Jane began to list of objectives in her HUD in preparation for her assignment as she walked despite the sensory distraction of her feet being unused to walking on cold concrete. Pausing in her thoughts as she passed a window, she took a moment to absorb her badass leather-clad image in a storefront window.

'Yeah, I totally need some sunglasses too.'

End Chapter 1

A/N: Wasn't really even going to post this until I had like 8 or 9 chapters done, but I thought I'd throw it out there and see if I didn't get run out of the fandom. This fic also kind of exists in the same world as an un-posted Sarah Connor Chronicles fic that I'm writing does so there may be questions raised in this one that might be more clearly answered in the other. If I can work that one out decently, these may cross paths sometime in the future. This still may get a re-edit and repost.

I actually had no idea how to go about setting up the second half of the chapter. I think it is terribly obvious that I don't know what I am talking about but I really wanted Jane to arrive naked in front of a cross-dressing male prostitute for some reason. Wish I could have made it work better or be a little funnier. I kinda got it in my head that a terminator should always arrive very close to one person that just happens to wear their size clothing. It's like a Terminator staple or something... at least in my head.

Thoughts? Or Skittles? I'll take either.