Rizzoli & Isles 1. The Broken Heart

Author's Note: Based heavily on The Script's _Six Degrees of Separation_, with my own little twists and turns and interpretations. Italic sections are past events and are not necessarily presented in order because I liked it that way. Everything else is on a chronological timeline. I tried to keep things as canon as possible, but somethings I took liberty with because I thought it worked better. There are six chapters to this story. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

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><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.<p>

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><p><em>"First, you think the worst is a broken heart.<em>  
><em>What's gonna kill you is the second part.<em>  
><em>And the third, is when your world splits down the middle.<em>  
><em>Fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself.<em>  
><em>Fifth, you see them out with someone else.<em>  
><em>And the sixth, is when you admit that you may have messed up a little."<em>

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><p>Irreconcilable differences.<p>

That's what they were going with. That's why Maura stood cross-armed in the doorway watching Jane stuff articles of clothing in a holed bag that sat on their bed: a shirt, a pair of pants, socks that didn't match, a jacket-the bare necessities.

As she threw another tank top in the bag, Jane knew she was stalling. She was holding out hope that Maura would say something – at this point anything—and give her an excuse to stay, give her something else to hold on to other than all that had already slipped through her fingers. But they were long past civilly discussing this. Each word turned into an accusation with blame spreading like a drought driven fire. So, she kept pacing back and forth, gathering useless artifacts of a life that was dwindling to nothing before her.

Moving back into the closet, she rummaged through the maze of shoes they kept. She saw Maura's work heels, her errand-running heels, her date heels-the woman had heels for every possible occasion. Jane had been there for the purchase of several of them. Tearing her eyes away, her eyes locked on a yellow blouse; she loved that shirt. The last time she had seen it worn was on their anniversary not quite a week prior and her throat contracted, making it hard to breathe. It was the memory of this moment in the making, the conversation that sent them into a spiral which questioned the foundation of what they thought to be a solid relationship. And it was just fabric stitch by human hands.

"They're in the bathroom." Maura's voice came from the silence and brought her back to why she went to the closet in the first place- her favorite pair of work boots. But the fact that those were the first words spoken between them in nearly an hour was unsettling. How what they had turned into what they were now was a heartbreaking mystery. Jane had to inhale deeply to regain her composure before allowing herself to follow the instructions.

When Jane disappeared behind the bathroom door a small part of Maura wanted to pick up the half-packed bag and walk it out to speed the process, mainly for the sake of mending her broken pride, but she knew the finality of the action would send her to her knees. If she was going to make it through goodbye, she needed to keep her hands where they were- wrapped tightly around her midsection, pressing firmly on her chest. Even simply helping Jane find a pair of shoes was weighing on her. But, considering the past few days, she knew this was what needed to happen. They needed to separate because being together, for the first time in their relationship, was going to cause them both pain. So she leaned on the door frame, watching all of their plans become distant dreams of fantasy.

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><p>Zipping it shut, Jane grabbed the bag and looked around. The plan was to stay at a hotel for a few days until they could separate their belongings and she could find a more permanent place to stay, so she didn't need much but it already felt like this wasn't her house anymore. This wasn't her life anymore. The only thing left to do was leave with the remaining sliver of her pride.<p>

"I guess that's it then," she said. Then she made the mistake of looking toward the door for the first time and found Maura fiddling with her necklace, her face emotionless. Even then, she was the most stunning woman Jane had ever seen. She would always believe that but she managed to keep her lips tight and stern as she pulled her shoulders back and walked through the door, careful to not make any contact with the woman who made that an easy task as she stepped aside, almost ushering her out.

Maura followed behind as Jane effortlessly walked to the front door, no hesitation in her steps and, as it opened, Maura took offense at how bright the sun was; it mocked her. Nothing in the world deserved to be that happy, not when her world was collapsing around her, her heart being snapped into more pieces than she cared to count. There was a darkness draping over her and the reminder that life would go on despite her pain caused her to stumble forward. Catching herself with the door frame, she was grateful Jane had yet to glance back toward her as she struggled to keep her face from betraying her. But then, mid-stride, Jane spun around and Maura snapped up, looking at ease.

Perhaps she stopped out of hope that Maura would falter, show a glimmer of regret. Or perhaps—and this was the likely culprit of her actions—Jane needed to see her again. The image she had from only moments before of Maura watching her pack was no good. And in a few moments, when the wheels of her car began to turn, this one would be null and void as well but, until she didn't have the option, she would continue to refresh the last memory of the woman she'd tried so hard to keep.

When no words were exchanged, not that either expected there to be, Jane continued to her car, threw her bag in the back seat, and climbed in behind the wheel. Her car choked to life, sputtering for several moments before slowly calming to a hum. Shifting the car into drive she pushed on the gas and left Maura standing on the sidewalk watching the car's silhouette grow into nothing. When it turned and was out of sight, Maura walked back into the foyer of her now empty town home and closed the door as the first of many tears stained her cheeks.


	2. The Second Part

ONE YEAR LATER

_Where one ended the other began—a tangled mess of limbs and skin—but neither minded._

_There was a look in Maura's eyes that Jane had never seen before. It was lingering, thoughtful, and several shades of passion that sent her normally stable heart into disarray. She tried for several moments to formulate them but found that words betrayed her. It was the first betrayal she had ever been thankful for: noise, other than the sound of breath on skin, would have tainted the moment._

_She could feel Maura's smile beneath her lips as she rested them gently on her check, her jaw, her collarbone, her neck. She peppered kisses everywhere that didn't require her to release the hold she had on the woman._

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><p>Her eyes struggled to open, complying only when she noticed where she was: curled around Maura's side of an empty, foreign bed, the woman's familiar warmth replaced by a cold that burned.<p>

It had only been a dream.

Taking in the stillness around her, she tried to shake the fabricated memory but the calm air taunted her. It was the worst kind of silence, not like the one she longed for—that was the silence that spoke louder than any voice. This was simply quiet.

Generally, Jane was not one to regret her actions, largely due to her stubborn pride but there was something about waking up alone, lying next to borrowed pillows, that allowed her a moment of regret. She shouldn't have left, Maura shouldn't have let her go and none of this should have happened.

Her grip on the pillow tightened instinctively and she could almost smell the familiar scent of the absent woman through the lingering musk of the unknown. Even the large bed she was in seemed indescribably small and constricting without the presence of the person who still was a huge part of her being. She felt anchored to a moving target, subject to memories and thoughts that seemed to always hit their mark.

Moments passed—ten minutes, forty, an hour? She wasn't counting—before Jane forced herself into the bathroom. Turning the facet as far as it would go, she avoided the mirror, not needing proof of how drained she felt. Her pajama pants landed unceremoniously on the floor and she dropped her shirt haphazardly beside them.

Stepping into the tub, the scolding water slapped her skin. It was too hot, but she was too tired to change it. Instead she stood there, allowing the water to merge with the stream of emotion staining her face. Jane had been attempting for the past year, no matter how poorly, to control her thoughts, but as she stood in the tub on the other side of a furnished yet empty bedroom housed in a worn down complex in the middle of the bustling city of Boston, her mental wall cracked, memories seeping through until eventually it collapsed.

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><p><em>Jane held Maura's graceful hands in her own as they stood in an empty living room, lit by the sinking sun through the window which only added to the non air-conditioned heat surrounding them. It was far from the plainness Jane had come accustomed to, but not near the class Maura deserved.<em>

_"Live with me," she said after the silence reminded her that she controlled the situation; this was her plan._

"_Can we get some furniture first," Maura asked as she took in the barren nature of her surroundings._

"_No. I mean, yes," Jane stumbled. "That's not what I meant."_

_She could feel her stomach churning. She should have known having Maura in the room with her would make this more difficult than the countless times she rehearsed. Her mirror always had the same answer, Maura's options would boundless._

"_Is that a no or a yes? Because I don't think I can handle too many nights on a blowup mattress."_

"_You're not helping," the nervous woman sighed._

"_I'm offering to sleep on an inflated piece of rubber. What more do you want?"_

"_I want to live with you." It wasn't informative in the least, but it was all Jane had._

"_Yes, you've said that…"_

"_No, that's…not what I meant." Churning had turned into hurricane turbulence, and Jane's heart was challenging her skin for dominance. She tried to swallow, attempting to create a clean slate, to start over, but her throat defined course. It wasn't until that moment that she realized how truly intimidating Maura was, how much control she held over her: with one word she was capable of destroying her._

_She stood frozen, everything in her saying she should be running but the brown eyes that searched hers for any sign of normalcy, any sign of an explanation, anchored her and Jane finally understood that asking Maura to devote completely to her was different than simply loving her. And that made the moment the most terrifying of Jane's life._

"_Alright. Then, what did you mean," Maura asked softly. Although she was more than confused, she could tell that Jane was struggling with this more than she was and it bothered her to see Jane fight herself._

_"I mean for the rest of my life. Live with me," Jane repeated, trying to make sense to herself and seeing a glimmer of hope which she clung to. "Wake up to me every morning. Be the cause of the smile that starts from somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach when someone half way down the street says your name and I didn't even realize I was thinking about you. Spend the rest of your life insulting my cooking and harping on me for throwing my feet on the bed when my shoes are still on because there might be outside water or grass pellets or god-forbid dirt and mud on them that gets all over the comforter which, while completely fair only causes a problem because you had to buy the expensive one where stuff like that matters instead of the..." Jane paused realizing she had gone far off track. Maura simply stared, lost for words; forgetting how to breathe, to move."And now I'm rambling 'cause you're making this much harder than I anticipated."_

_"I'm not trying to."_

_"No!" Jane corrected quickly. "Don't apologize."_

_Dropping to her knee, partly on ceremony, but mainly because she simply could not stand anymore, Jane watched as Maura's eyes fell from hers onto the tiny black box in her hand. Opening it, she felt her mouth turn to sandpaper, her hands shaking uncontrollably, her courage reaching its peak._

_"Live with me. Marry me."_

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><p>She turned the faucet off and the water trickled to a halt. Sighing heavily, Maura pushed back the shower curtain revealing the quiet. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the silence before she knew it would become deafening; it seemed to be perpetually so. Maura had always liked to be alone, but what she was feeling now, this all consuming loneliness was unfamiliar territory and with no data to form a conclusion, she was left floundering at how to best handle it.<p>

Stepping out of the tub, she caught her reflection n the mirror; she looked dreadful, defeated. Shaking her thoughts away, she grabbed her towel and turned around, the light glistening from her chest, though it was not water, she knew.

Though most days she chose to remain ignorant of it, content to not be reminded of its meaning, the memory of the woman who had given it to her, she had not parted from the ring around her neck in the two years she had had it. It felt natural to wear it, an ever stay in her mildly chaotic life. It was just there, always.

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><p><em>THREE YEARS LATER<em>

Tassels fell on the ground as new graduates threw hats into the air, vigorously celebrating the latest milestone in their lives. They were doctors now. Some of her peers would continue on to be surgeons, others had spoken of becoming pediatricians, others would work as family doctors or in emergency rooms. Maura, however, would train under one of the most well known Forensic Pathologists in the world. Graduating top of her class had helped her in getting that position and she hoped her determination and intelligence would allow her to keep it.

Today, though, she was not throwing her hat. She was not greeted by smiling faces of family and friends. Inside, she celebrated her accomplishments as she sat watching her peers file out of the auditorium until only she and a scattered few professors remained. She had nowhere in particular to go. Her father had called a few weeks before apologizing for not being able to be there, though he sent his congratulations. Her mother followed suite three days later. She wasn't surprised. In some ways she was amazed they waited so long to tell her, but now that she was there, alone, she wished one of them would have made the trip if only to have someone to be with.

It was times like these, during the monumental moments of her life, that she missed Jane the most. Sometimes she thought she merely wanted anyone who knew her past the student, the elite socialite. But what she found when the nights were long and her mind wondered was just how false her conclusion had been.

She had been told once that time heals all wounds. It was the sole piece of advice her mother had given her, though Maura was certain she had searched for 'helpful phrases' because, growing up, they did not have emotional conversations about their feelings and Maura had never heard her mother give advice of that kind to anyone. At first it helped because she had tried to ease her pain, but Maura quickly learned that Jane wasn't a wound. She was an open gash that refused to close and Maura did not possess the skill to stitch it closed.

Rising from her seat, she unzipped her gown and folded it neatly over her forearm before she picked up her handbag, heading for the door. On any other day, she would not do this; it wasn't her usual scene. She had never felt like she belonged in such places, but at that moment she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Directing her car to the side of the road after the short drive, she parked and walked cautiously across the street. She had only been there once, many years ago, but this bar was hard to forget. It had a heavy, wooden door, an ornate masterpiece in an otherwise modern town. Pulling it open, she step inside, it was exactly the same. The bar-keep caught her eye and she politely waved him off; she wasn't there to drink. She was there to remember.

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><p><em>It was six o'clock on Tuesday and Jane was halfway through her fourth beer. While it wasn't a record, it also wasn't a habit she was overly excited about starting. Still, she continued to peel the label off slowly, listening to the indistinctive chatter of the men sitting beside her, talking about how difficult work was and the sound of pool balls bouncing off each other was accompanied by a guy trying to blame his dreadful shooting on some hot announcer reporting on the ballgame. The jukebox was on but barely audible, not that it mattered; Jane was not in the mood for music.<em>

_A flash of white cloth shot before her eyes. She looked up to see the bar-keep drying a glass._

_"Bad day," he asked as he stacked the glass with several others and moved them to the sink hidden beneath the bar._

_"Just a long one," she answered with a small smile, not wanting to engage in a full blown therapy session but not trying to be rude. He was a good guy._

_"Well I might have something to cheer you up." Jane cocked her head a little, curious as to what he had up his sleeve. Reaching under the counter, he found a glass, flipped it upright, filled it, and placed it on a napkin in front of Jane who looked at it like it was road kill before raising her eyes to meet his. Her eyebrows furrowed: clearly this man had lost his mind._

_He grinned at her screwed face and quickly added, "From the lady in the corner,"—nodding his head toward the back. Following his gaze, she glanced beyond her shoulder where she saw a woman, legs crossed, one hand on her knee, the other resting on the table as her fingers moved a bottle back and forth._

_"Who is she?"_

_"Never seen her. Sweet though—tips me every time I bring her a drink."_

_"She's not your usual type for this place. What the hell's she doing here?"_

_"Buyin' you a drink." Jane shot the man a look that forced him to retract. Sarcasm was okay when she did it, not when she actually wanted answers. This woman was certainly bold, most people knew better than to buy her a drink, and she had to admit, albeit internally, that it was intriguing. "Anyone else?"_

_"No. Just you."_

_"So it would be rude to send it back, huh."_

_"Let's put it this way: if that woman bought me piss water I'd drink it."_

_"Well an argument can be made," Jane retorted eyeing the still full glass. Inhaling sharply, she took the glass in her hand and rolled her eyes; she was not in the mood for this. Stepping down from the stool, she fought through the crowd, squeezing through chairs and tables and between a pair of couples who redefined the limits of personal space._

_"Excuse me," she said a step before she reached the table. The woman looked up as Jane stopped at the edge of the table, thankful it appeared to be planned. Eyes weren't supposed to be that deep and they sure as hell shouldn't sparkle like that and they had Jane stammering to continue. "I, uh, I don't drink wine."_

_"It's champagne." The woman spoke with clarity and purpose yet not condescendingly as her appearance would have suggested._

_"Well I don't drink that either. Least not here."_

_"I know—it's mine. Thank you," she responded coolly, taking the glass from Jane's hand, revealing a set of dimples that demanded attention. Jane was trying desperately to ignore her eyes, and her hair, and the elegant scent she carried despite being in a smoky bar._

_"That is for you, though," she added, gesturing to the long neck in front of her. Jane studied it and the woman who had moved her attention to a group of men who had just walked in the front door greeting the bartender warmly. She wasn't sure how to play this. This woman thought she controlled the situation—and she did—which was a problem._

_"Is this the part where I feel obligated to stay because you guessed the right beer?"_

_The woman raised a finger and swallowed her sip. "Mm. I don't guess and you are free to leave."_

_"Then the point of me coming over was…"_

_"See that man at the end of the bar?" Jane hesitated slightly, still trying to gain traction in the conversation, before following the woman's sight to the fumbling mess of a man knocking back a double. If her father was ten years younger, the man could have been his twin. She shuddered at the thought. "He's been eyeing you for 14 minutes and 27 seconds. Well, now I suppose it's 29 seconds. 30 seconds…."_

_"So, what," Jane interrupted seeing quickly that this woman would keep counting until someone gave her something better to do. "Are you here to save me?"_

_"I didn't take you as the type who needed to be saved." Maura instantly knew her words had been well received given the shocked, yet impressed and captivated, expression Jane tried to not let show._

_"And you, of course, know what type of person I am."_

_"Well," Maura began, dropping her head shyly, "that all depends on whether you sit down or not."_

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><p>Jane plopped ungracefully on the bar stool, sighing heavily.<p>

"A double when you get to it," she called out to Murray who nodded understandingly. It had been years since she thought of that night and the fact that it had happened in her favorite bar only added to her frustration. She couldn't have one moment of peace and it was driving her mad.

Six years later and she still felt chained to a woman who, for all intents and purposes, let her go. It was pathetic. It was low. It was close to desperate and Jane loathed herself for feeling even a fraction of the regret she felt. What did she have to apologize for? She had been patient when she could be and supportive when she needed to be. She had tried, hadn't she? Hadn't she given all of her time, her affections, her dreams? Wasn't that what you were supposed to do in a relationship?

But, despite her best attempts at moving on, this was what she had become: a fumbling mess content to follow a strict routine of sleeping, working, drinking, and, no matter how much of the latter she did, remembering. Maura Isles had been the most utterly perplexing, breathtakingly beautiful, arrogantly humble example of perfection Jane had ever seen. She was not a woman that was loved and left. She was the kind of woman who cut you open and grabbed a hold of your heart just to learn what made it beat. And Jane was finding out, as days grew slowly into years, once Maura Isles had touched your heart, you never truly lived the same way again.

"A double? Didn't think the week'd been that bad," came a critical voice, breaking her train of thought. Jane didn't have to turn to know who was behind her.

"Bite me, Korsak."

"That's not my job anymore." Vince Korsak was still slightly bitter at being replaced, though the fact that his promotion to Sergeant gave him power over Jane's new partner somewhat eased the changed.

"That's not my job, either," Frost defended quickly, taking the seat on the other side of Jane, away from his older counterpart. He still felt sometimes like he was playing catch up on Jane's life as Korsak had roughly five more years in it. Though he did have to admit when he and Korsak combined forces to tease their friend, he enjoyed having him around.

"You know whose job that could be, though, "Frost began, catching Korsak's eye, both smirking in understanding as Jane put her hand on her eyes, rubbing her temple to ease the on-coming headache.

"Frost, stop."

"He's got a point, Jane," Korsak intervened as he motioned to Murray for a couple of beers. "She's been eyeing you for months."

"And I've been ignoring her for months. What a coincidence," she fired back, moving her hand to stir the ice in her now half empty glass, completely uninterested in the conversation.

"Come on, Jane," Frost encouraged. "You'd make an attractive couple."

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so, that's makes all the difference."

"You need to get out there. Date. Make some woman unnaturally happy," Korsak tried to reason through large gulps of his ale.

"Ok, we are so not having this conversation right now," Jane said as she took a long sip of whiskey. Both Frost and Korsak were great men and better detectives, but somehow they couldn't quite figure out when to leave well enough alone.

They didn't know much of her life before she was transferred to homicide, but they knew everything that happened after. They were arguably her closest friends, but she could not find it in herself to allow them access to her memories. She hardly wanted them herself. So, she contented to deflect their attempts to set her up with every woman in the greater Boston area. They wanted her happy, and she loved them for it, but, after the dreadful attempt a few years back with an officer from narcotics, she didn't want to try dating again. She wasn't ready. She also wasn't ready to explain that to either of them. There wasn't an easy way to explain that the reason her relationships failed was because Jane was still trying desperately to leave the woman who made her feel complete, yet so unsettled without being in the same room, or even the same city. It had been six years and no matter how hard she tried not to, she was still holding out hope for Maura Isles.


	3. Then Your World Splits Down the Middle

"Your father and I were certainly very excited to hear of your new position, Maura. After you've moved and you are all settled in, you must call so we can plan a visit." Constance Isles spoke with elegance and pose, each word acting like a barrier between whomever she was conversing with and her emotions, a trait Maura had learned to both respect and imitate. And, though it had served her well on several occasions, despise.

For the past decade, she had only truly connected with the people she kept at the comfortable distance of a phone line, mostly her mother but on occasion her father and the select few classmates who had found themselves in need of a consult. It had been that way since before she graduated medical school. Arguably it had always been that way, but even once she was back stateside after her times of travel and work with renowned pathologist, the distance seemed to only grow. She hadn't actually seen her parents in nearly a year. She had dated here and there, of course, but less because she liked them and more because she needed a plus-one for when her parent's events happened to be where she currently was. Maura had become so accustomed to moving around that when relationships slowly faded, or abruptly ended, she was not surprised. Though, admitting that even her mother didn't know she had arrived a few days before played too realistically into how distant she was from the world. So, she didn't.

"Of course I will, mother. It has been too long since I have seen you bo—."

"I'm so sorry, darling," her mother said, before Maura had finished her sentence. "Your father has just found himself in another conversation he can't talk his way out of – I'll have to let you go."

"I understand. We'll talk soon."

"Take care." And with a click the line went dead. Placing her phone on the kitchen island, she sighed heavily as she heard the shuffle of work boots on her front porch.

"Ma'am" came the labored voice of a mover. "Where do you want this?"

"Upstairs. First room on the left."

More boxes. It was not as if her living room walls weren't lined with them already, she knew there was at least half of a truck load more outside. Over the years, she had acquired a mountain of rare pieces. Somewhere in the moving truck and boxes before her were ornate side tables her father had sent from a wood carver in a South America, a cuckoo clock from The Black Forest of Germany and tribal masks she had been given during her time working in Ethiopia. There were shoes from the runways of Paris and art from the heart of Florence. She lived in a museum of the world and its history.

Yet nowhere in those boxes were pictures of her world, her history. She didn't have pictures of her family, her friends. Nor were there dents or scratches on anything she owned that told a story of her life. Everything she owned was pristine, as perfect as when she had gotten it.

The realization of it hit her in a blow that knocked her off her feet, landing her on the worn fabric of her sofa. It was the only remaining piece of the life before she decided that—perhaps—alone was what she was best suited for. At one time, she had hated it because it didn't match anything she owned or wanted to own. She had agreed to it solely because Jane wanted it.

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><p><em>"We should get that one."<em>

_"Um, no, we shouldn't," Jane spat, attempting to understand why anyone would find such a repulsive thing attractive. "We aren't the Cleavers."_

_"It's sleek and modern."_

_"It's hideous. We should get that one." Jane reached across Maura and pointed at black sofa on the side of the page. It had huge arm rests and all three of the oversized seats reclined._

_"We live in an apartment, not a zoo," Maura countered, swatting Jane's hand away and eyeing the picture with undisguised disgust._

_"It's multi-functional."_

_"It's a couch. It only has one function."_

_"We got your completely useless dining set, let me get this couch."_

_"Have it your way. We'll discuss this again in a moment."_

_"How is that my way?" It wasn't a question, so much an acquisition, but Jane had been too frustrated by the statement to differentiate. There was no such thing as Jane getting her way, at least not when it came to furniture. It had been their mutual decision to replace their existing furniture and start again, mainly because their differing styles contrasted heavily and, instead of trying to force them together, they decided to begin again. Clearly, compromise was going to be more difficult than they thought._

_"Look," Maura deflected, moving her attention swiftly to the bedroom section. "Comforters; surely we can make progress there."_

_Maura made quick work of filtering through the choices, focusing on options that made Jane feel like they were furnishing a failed attempt to modernize the 1950s._

_"This is hopeless," Jane sighed, rubbing her temple, the headache she tried to fight pounding heavier with each moment. She loved Maura, some times more than she did herself, and she was more than willing to compromise on many attributes of their relationship, but sometimes, on principle alone, she stood her ground because sometimes Maura was wrong. Furniture shopping appeared to be one of those times._

_"Oh, Jane, look at this one."_

_"You're kidding, right?" Jane looked between the selection and Maura, wanting to give her the benefit of a doubt: perhaps she could tell a joke. But from the sincerely confused look across the woman's face, she knew that was not that case._

_"What's wrong with it? It matches everything else."_

_"That's what's wrong with it."_

_"I will make you a deal," Maura began. She shuddered to think of what Jane would have selected, given her idea of living room furniture, but she really liked the comforter and it's matching drapes. It would go wonderfully with the paintings her mother had sent her for her birthday so, she was willing to discuss options. "We will get your couch if it's in another color and you let me decorate the entire bedroom by myself."_

_"Really?" She waited impatiently until Maura nodded and a smile broke out onto her face. It wasn't the best compromise, but Jane wasn't being picky. Taking Maura's face into her hands, she placed a sound kiss on her lips._

* * *

><p>"No?" There hadn't been a hint of hesitation in her daughter's voice, but Angela still didn't understand. She wasn't asking for coffee to be banned at the Division One Café. All she wanted was dinner. "What do you mean no?"<p>

"I mean the opposite of yes," Jane answered quickly as she moved to sit on the other side of the kitchen counter. Her mother had stopped slicing peppers and started staring at her, giving her patented not-so-silent guilt trip.

"Jane, you have to come."

"No, I don't. You invited them. You have dinner with them." She took a large swig of the beer in front of her, holding gazes with her mother. For reasons Jane had yet to figure out, her mother had always been intentionally naive. While other parents had selective hearing, Jane's mother had selective understanding. She heard everything. More so, she made sure her children knew she did, but if she didn't like what she heard she pretended to not understand it. Like when Jane had repeatedly told her that she in no way wanted bunny pancakes at work only to have her mother respond: But, Jane, I don't understand. You love bunny pancakes and she handed her an entire litter on a plate. It didn't matter if Jane said it, it only mattered that the mother in Angela approved of it.

"At least think about it."

"Absolutely not. The last time you invited me to dinner with 'the neighbors'—who by the way stopped being your neighbors ten years ago—you tried to set me up on a date."

Huffing at the accusation, largely because it was true, Angela looked away slightly offended that her children, especially Jane, did not appreciate all that she did for them. She wasn't asking for much, just happy children who were loved and cared for. The possibility of grandchildren may have also been a contributing factor.

"She was a nice girl, Jane."

"That's not the point, Ma!"

"I don't see why you have to always push aside my—" The buzzing of a phone cut her off, and Jane reached across the counter to answer it as her mother threw her hands in the air, rolling her eyes.

"Rizzoli...yeah, I'm on my way." She placed her phone in its holder on her waist and went to the drawer by the door to grab her badge and gun, hooking both to her belt loop. "Sorry but I gotta go."

"But Jane it's your day off," Angela whined, motioning to the feast she had been preparing for dinner.

"You're right, Ma, I'll just call the victim and let them know they should reschedule their murder for tomorrow."

"Don't sass your mother, Jane," Angela demanded, placing her full attention back on slicing peppers. Jane was halfway to the door when she turned to see an annoyed, yet slightly hurt, look on her mother's face. She simply couldn't leave her like that. Rushing back to the kitchen, she planted a gentle kiss on the woman's cheek. "I'll think about it, okay."

"That is all I ask." Jane knew the answer was still no, and likely so did her mother, but if it made her mother happy, Jane would entertain her attempts.

* * *

><p>Under any other circumstance, the night air Jane and her partners found themselves in would have been blissful. It comfortably warm, the sky as clear as Jane had ever seen it. There was a calm breeze that rustled through Jane's hair and flapped her jacket softy. It also brought an unearthly smell from the west where her crime scene was currently being set up.<p>

"Where the hell is Pike?" Jane's voice mixed with ambulance sirens the crackle of the radios attached to police officers as they tried to contain the crime scene, but it more than carried its own against the chaos.

"Maybe if you yell a little bit louder, our vic will wake up," Korsak teased.

"That'd be nice. Try again, Jane. Maybe we can all just go home." Frost opened up the trunk of the squad car and pulled out gloves, giving each of them a pair before he closed it and they walked under the caution tape and started making their way to the body. They weren't ten feet inside the scene when Jane heard a voice that made her heart stop and her face flush white.

"Actually, that's not possible." Jane closed her eyes for a moment praying to whoever would listen she was merely hearing things. She hadn't eaten yet, nor had she had her evening coffee, and sometimes that put her on edge. That had to be what was happening. "If the victim was unconscious, that would be another matter entirely; but then, I would not need to be here."

_No_, Jane thought. _That can only be one person_. Turning on her heels she found the woman standing on the other side of the yellow tape. She was staring, almost to the point of open mouth gawking, but Frost was the only one who noticed. Korsak had already made his way further in towards the body and hadn't heard the interaction.

"Korsak," the young detective called, trying not to bring attention to himself although he somehow knew neither woman would hear him.

"Would you look at the size of that gash?"

"Korsak," he tried again, louder this time.

"Must been a big boy to cause that kind of indention," Korsak continued, squatting down to get a better look.

"Korsak." Frost yelled the name and tossed his pen toward the sergeant, grazing his jacket sleeve.

"What? I'm trying to solve a murder here." Korsak turned his head, directing his stern gaze toward Frost whose wide eyes were locked on the squad cars and the two women separated caution tape.

"Who is that," he asked.

"Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner," the woman said as she produced her badge from her purse, showing it to the officer policing the scene who, upon not recognizing her, had required she show identification.

"Of...of Boston," Jane stumbled as Maura moved past her toward Frost and Korsak who looked as dumbfounded as Jane did, though both men confidently assumed was for entirely different reasons.

"Actually, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts."

"You cannot be serious."

"I don't know why you think everything I say is a joke. I'm perfectly serious."

"Oh boy," Korsak breathed, his mind racing with possibility. Jane was one wrong word away from losing her mind and Dr. Maura Isles was liable to say it just by opening her mouth.

"That's because the majority of what you say should be a joke."

"Jokes involve the use of irony, sarcasm, and word play to convey a humorous statement or situation. In what way are my statements humorous?"

"I was going more for the cruel and twisted version of the term."

"Do you know her," Frost asked, trying to make sense of the situation. At first he assumed that this woman happened before his time at the unit, but from the look Korsak was giving him, the only conclusion that made sense was that she predated them both which Korsak confirmed with a court shake of his head.

Jane and Maura were standing mere feet away locked in a battle of wills and stubbornness. He had questions, hundreds of them, and more than one decent assumption, but he didn't have time to dissect the situation as he would have liked because the two woman had started in their direction so he settled for harshly whispering: "Act natural."

"Sergeant Detective Korsak, I presume?" Maura held out her hand as she reached them, giving a stern handshake and a smile.

"Guilty as charged," he smiled back, eyeing Jane in an attempt to see how to play this, but she was of no assistance, focused solely on Maura. "And this is Detective Frost. He's..."

"Jane's partner, yes. Lt Cavanaugh has informed me."

"Detective," Jane cut in through gritted teeth. "And I wasn't informed of any personnel changes."

"I assure you I have every right to be here. I'm the Chief..."

"I know who you are." Her annoyance was evident and her raised voice gained a small audience, though when the other officers saw how rattled she was, they quickly turned they attention elsewhere. "Why are you here, Maura?"

"I was offered the position and I had no reason not to accept it," Maura said calmly.

The look they shared was more telling than Korsak had ever known silence to be. Jane appeared on the verge of tears, from irritation or fear, he could not tell and he doubt Jane knew. Perhaps it was a strange mixture of both. Either way, there was an entire conversation happening that the rest of the world would never understand, nor were they invited to hear.

"The dead body is over there," Frost blurted nervously, wanting nothing more than to release the moment of its tension. It took a moment but Maura was the first to break eye contact. Reaching in her purse for a pair of gloves, she turned to Frost with a smile.

"Thank you, Detective. Would you care to get me up to speed on what we know?" He nodded and motioned his arm in the direction of the body, he voice gentle and low as they walked away.

"What the hell was that," Korsak demanded as soon as the pair was out of earshot.

"Nothing."

"Oh, that was a whole lotta something." Jane fidgeted with her hands, burning holes in the ground beneath her feet, but Korsak could hear in her voice how fast her heart was beating and how close she was to unhinging her self-control. "Who is she?"

"Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts," Jane deflected.

"I meant to you, Jane. Who is she to you?" She did not answer because she couldn't, not in front of the other detectives, not with the media itching for a comment. The last thing Jane needed was to have a reel of her emotions broadcasted to the greater Boston area on the eleven o'clock news.

"Come on, Korsak. We have a case."

* * *

><p>"I should have been notified." It was at lest the fifth time Jane had said, rather yelled, that exact sentence since they had arrived back at the precinct. "You should have been notified. Were you notified?"<p>

But Korsak wasn't given time to respond as Jane ran her fingers through her hair and waved off the question, clearly not interested in a two way conversation.

"She just came waltzing up to my crime scene like she owned the place. That's my crime scene. Well yours, too," she corrected quickly, though Korsak didn't mind. Jane's emotional rant was not the time to lay claim to anything. "And I guess a little bit of Frost's. The point is someone should have told me."

"From what Cavanaugh said we're lucky to have her," he tried when Jane took a breath, hoping to show her the professional side of her personal battle. "Apparently she's one of the best in her field. Worked for some hot shot guy named.—"

He went back to files on his desk to refresh his memory, but Jane beat him to it. "William Bass, yes I know. And he's not some hot shot, he's _the_ hot shot. Specializes in bones and human decomposition. Somewhere called The Body Farm, right?"

"How did you know that," he asked softly as he left the pages fall on his desk, knowing full well Jane hadn't read the doctor's credentials. She had been a little preoccupied.

"He's her favorite Forensic Pathologist. Imagine having a favorite pathologist," Jane half-laughed, knowing Korsak was now piecing together everything she couldn't tell him. "I'm not surprised she managed to land a position with him."

Jane's head fell into her hands and Korsak didn't push further. Besides, he know had answers for nearly all of his questions so he pretended to sort his desk out, stealing glances at his motionless friend as she lost herself in her thoughts. Until, suddenly she lifted her head.

"Where's Frost?" Jane sounded suspicious and slightly alarmed which gained the full attention of her old friend.

In all of her inner hysteria she hadn't noticed him leave, but she had just become acutely aware of his lack of comments and snarky opinions and his, though sometimes ill-timed, endearing sense of humor.

"Went down to the morgue, I think," Korsak guessed. "He left not long after we got back."

Jane could only think of one reason why a man who hurled at the mere thought of a dead body would want to be anywhere near the gruesome autopsy that was about the happen. If she was right, Frost stood an excellent chance at being the next body on the examiner's table.

* * *

><p>His awkward smiles and the way he clicked his pen on his notepad repetitively gave him away. He was never any good at fishing for information, especially when he wasn't sure what he was fishing for—that had always been Korsak's specialty. He had gone to the morgue to ask for the official time of death and other miscellaneous information he easily could have simply emailed a request for and Maura could see no other need he could have of her.<p>

"Detective Frost, is there something else you would like to ask me?"

"No, he's done here." Frost knew the voice immediately and didn't have to see Jane to know she was in no mood for his explanation. Her temper was downright lethal and he had no intention of unleashing it, so he immediately hung his head to avoid eye contact. Jane held the door open for them as he briskly walked out of the lab, not looking back as he made his way back to the squad room.

"What can I do for you, Jane," Maura asked, wasting no time for pleasantries. They would have easily stood there all night waiting for one or the other to break and whether Jane approved of it or not, Maura did have a job to do.

"Detective," Jane reminded harshly. The doctor sighed loudly, nearly slamming her pen on the clipboard in her hands.

"If we're going to work together we should at least attempt to be friends."

"Fri...Friends?" Appalled was a kind description of how Jane felt, her face laced with utter confusion and a frustration that was all-consuming. "Does 'if' mean it's conditional 'cause I have a few—and friends? Really?"

"It's been nearly a decade, Jane."

"Detective," she reiterated firmly, "and that's easy for you to say. You weren't abandoned on the side of the road like a rusty car."

"I did not abandon you and the only person on the road that day was you." While said matter-of-factly, Maura knew that there was more to Jane's words than the literal meaning; it had nothing to do with an accurate description of the event and everything to do with how it had made Jane feel. Even so, the image did not sit well in her mind.

"It's a metaphor," came the frustrated, labored response. "You don't have to take everything so literally."

"It's actually a simile."

"Again, because the difference is so relevant to our conversation."

"It's easier to communicate when you don't botch the English language."

"It's easier to communicate when you don't use language at all."

"That would inherently make it more difficult, unless you were used telepathic communication, though even in the silence of non-verbal discussion language is used."

"Since things are generally better when you aren't talking how about you give it a shot."

"Telepathy," Maura questioned.

"Silence."

Maura took a deep breath, considering a statement, but swallowing hard and giving Jane her request. Now that Frost was doing his job and not meddling where he shouldn't, it was clear that Jane needed space. Not only was this conversation not happening there, she was still processing the fact that Maura Isles was standing in front of her. She looked the same; she sounded the same; she communicated in the same painstakingly factual way and Jane wasn't sure how to approach something that, in all facets, hadn't changed even if circumstance and time had. But, as soon as her hand reached for the door, she heard the soft response that caused her knees to buckle.

"You were thinking about dancing."

Frozen in place, her stomach knotted, her mouth became cotton dry and her entire being thumped and tingled uncomfortably.

"Lucky guess," she choked out, unconvincingly in a tone so low and fragile she hated herself for speaking at all and Maura was almost regretful upon hearing it. Still, she responded with determinacy that far outweighed her inner courage.

"A lot has changed, Jane. But I still don't guess."


	4. You Think You're Fixed

Frost was beginning to think this was a bad idea.

After coming up largely empty on leads, Cavanaugh had asked Maura for a more in depth analysis of the scene but, apparently, that required further samples from the surrounding area and, since Jane had made quite the skeptical about how it was _her_ crime scene, the lieutenant had ordered her to accompany the new medical examiner. So, naturally, she had ordered Frost away from his work to accompany her. For as independent as she was, there were certain things Jane Rizzoli apparently did not do alone.

Then, of course, Frost made the mistake of being a gentleman and insisting that Maura take the front seat. It hadn't dawned on him until it as too late what he had done.

So, there they sat at a red light in the middle of Boston traffic in suffocating silence. Jane had one hand on the steering wheel, the other rubbing her eyes as her body nearly hugged the door frame. In the back, Frost tapped his foot and twiddled his thumbs, vowing to force Korsak to deal with the next episode of the quarrel Jane found herself in. Maura simply sat as still as she could, her eyes focused straight ahead.

There was an odd sense of familiarity that covered the front the car and it pulled at Maura's mind. As much as she wanted to have a civil discussion about it with Jane, she would be more than happy if Jane stopped actively avoiding her. She should have expected nothing less, though; her presence had nearly knocked Jane off her feet and it was, in no way, a positive reaction. Still, right or wrong, she held to a feeling she had had since arriving in Boston.

There were moments when Jane would steal glances at her when she thought no one was watching and even more so when she didn't care that they were and Maura dared herself a moment of entirely illogical and wholly irrational hope. It never lasted long, though, only a fraction of a second. Not knowing what Jane was thinking nearly drove her mad, but she could not afford the possible consequences of the truth. Not publically at least and, thankfully, Jane seemed to agree.

Frost cleared his throat and Maura was brought back to the blaring horns and yelling that could be heard even from within the confines of the car. Jane peered into her rear view mirror and saw Frost searching her eyes for some reprieve from the situation. Feeling slightly guilty, since he was forced along for the ride, she turned her radio on, immediately emitting the same station it was always playing. Normally, Frost didn't much care for heavy rock, but it was heaven to his ears at that moment.

Maura, though, was a different story. She despised this style of music and she had never been one to remain silent on the matter. Without thought and merely out of habit, she pressed each of the buttons that corresponded to preset stations. It did not surprise her, though it did mildly irritate her, that all of the options were the same ghastly racket she was trying avoid.

As she began seeking through the airwaves, Frost watched back and forth between Maura's hand and Jane's face waiting for Jane to become unhinged. Not even he was allowed to mess with her dashboard and it was partly his car. He didn't have to wait long. Maura reached once more for the dashboard and Jane quickly swatter he hand away.

* * *

><p><em>"Stop changing my stations." <em>

_Jane tried to ignore the flash of Maura's hand pushing every button on her dashboard. In truth, she shouldn't be complaining—she was with a gorgeous woman—but after four blocks, she could no longer handle the blurts of random instruments and voices and the occasional burst of static._

_"Have you never heard of passenger comfort?"_

_"It's a short trip," Jane assured her as she put her radio back in order. "Suffer until we get there."_

_Scoffing, Maura placed her hands back on her lap and settled for staring out her window. If she couldn't be comfortable in the situation, she would simply refuse to contribute to it. As the buildings turned to trees, the road curved and her eyes caught hold of a green sign that, now being behind her, did not sit well. "That was the city limit."_

_"I hadn't noticed." Jane didn't bother looking over. She was well aware that Maura was staring at her with wide eyes laced in confusion. She was also painfully aware that, even so, she was more beautiful than a person had the right to be._

_"Where are we going," Maura finally asked, her curiosity boiling over._

_"Dinner."_

_"There are restaurants in town. Plenty of them. I could have recommended a few."_

_"I didn't like those."_

_Maura rolled her eyes; of course she doesn't. "What was wrong with them?"_

_"Too many people." As anticipated, that silenced her. _

_Jane kept her eyes on the road, trying desperately to appear more in control of the situation than she was. Whatever it was about Maura that had captivated her that night at the bar was something Jane did not want to overlook. She had tried for a couple of days to simply forget the woman's boldness. When she hadn't been able to, the logical next step was to repay her for her actions._

_Beside her, Maura fidgeted slightly hoping her nerves did not overpower her stoic expression. A week ago she had been the forward one, a stance she rather enjoyed taking. Not many things scared her; she had hoped one day to be a medical examiner, to work with the dead. She knew that she would see gruesome wounds and disturbing evidence. Death would essential be her life. None of that bothered her. This woman though, this Jane Rizzoli brought stampedes of butterflies to her stomach, whirlwinds to her head and an unsteadiness to her breath. And that was damn near terrifying._

_So, they drove in silence. both trying to control a situation that was commanded by fate. Suddenly, Jane pulled into a clearing on the side of the road and parked the car. Without a word, she stepped out and shut the door. She didn't wait to see if Maura followed. Either she would or would not: the choice was hers. She could stay inside and retake control, or she could take a chance and be uncertain of the outcome for what Jane assumed was the first time. _

_But, there stood a woman who was beautiful and a mystery that Maura's desire to solve was too powerful for her to resist. Pulling her shoulders back, she effortlessly stepped out of the vehicle and gently shut the door._

* * *

><p><em>"What possessed you to think sitting on the ground would be a acceptable location for a meal?" Maura took in her surrounds- the moss covered logs, the aging trees, the smell of moist dirt and animal. Even for the sake of answers, she was unwilling to pretend that it was an option. Jane smiled; she had expected such a reaction. Taking her jacket off, she pointed quickly before moving to pull her hair up. "There's a spot over here-just for you."<em>

_Maura's eyes dropped to a stern annoyance. Still, Jane's insistence on being difficult was an oddly attractive quality. So, she simply sighed, lacing her voice in mockery: "You are so thoughtful."_

* * *

><p><em>Dinner had been interesting. More than once, Maura had asked if the live bug in her food was a garnish or merely seasonal décor. Each time Jane simply smiled and continued eating; she could tell that Maura's endless list of grievances was more of a deflection technique than an actual annoyance. Maura was just as nervous as Jane was and Jane was determined to rid her of that discomfort. <em>

_Suddenly, she stood up, having a decent idea of what she was doing, but not a solid reasoning behind how she thought it would help. Wiping the seat of her pants, she turned to Maura and extended her hand._

_"What?"_

_"Dance with me." The answer was automatic and much more of a demand than the question Jane had meant it to be. Maura took a moment to consider if perhaps the woman who kidding. Surely she was._

_"There is no music."_

_Jane smiled. If that was the only fault found in her proposition, she had been doing better than she thought. "And this is why you didn't plan the date."_

_"Is that what this is," Maura questioned, seeing a scapegoat she was more than happy to use, but Jane saw through her instantly. _

_"Come on. Get up."_

_Maura obeyed after a moment and waited impatiently for Jane to make the first move which she had no problem doing. Though her mind ran rapid with uncertainty, Jane stepped closer and effortlessly wrapped her arms around Maura's waist and pulled the woman to her until she felt the delicate touch of skin on her shoulder. _

_"This is absurd," Maura said as Jane began moving them slowly in place._

_"Hush. You're ruining the moment," she teased, although she had to admit she agreed. Jane hated dancing. She believed the concept of being so close to someone utterly repulsive and the thought of swaying back and forth to repetitive words and pitchy voices was not her idea of a good time. Regardless, she was finding that this was one of her better ideas. _

_Jane inched her hand further around Maura's waist until she was pressed firmly against her chest. Maura, reacting instinctively instead of her usual standoff way, buried her face in the soft curls of the woman holding her._

_"Are you okay?"_

_"I'm fine," she mumbled into Jane's shoulder, thankful her smile was hidden. She had been held before, but never like that, never with such surety, never like it was the only thing that mattered._

_Without warning, Maura stopped moving and the trance Jane was in broke. She pulled back, questioning the wide green eyes that were staring at her like she was the answer to a question she never asked._

_"Don't do this unless you mean it."_

_Jane's words nearly gave Maura whiplash. The entire evening Jane had been adamant that she be in control: she chose when and where and what and how. Now she was nearly throwing power at Maura hoping she could catch. She wasn't retreating necessarily, her desire was evident in her touch and in the vulnerability of her eyes, but Maura knew the choice was her to make. _

_Closing the distance between them, she pressed her lips gently against Jane's, acting on impulse more than rational thought and pulses of radiating calmness ran through her. It felt like some form of possibility Maura had never thought to entertain. There was something in the woman's smile—the one that was pressed firmly against her lips—that was foreign yet understood. There was something in the way Maura was content to follow, reacting to Jane's movements, that gave Jane the courage to lead. There was something about the situation that neither of them could fully understand but they were certain they wanted the learning process to take as long as possible._

* * *

><p>"Later that same day," Jane moaned, her fatigue as evident in her voice as in her posture.<p>

Frost chuckled under his breath, but was mindful to stay as far away from whatever was going on between them as he could. They had ridden in relative peace after Jane turned off the radio and more so after Maura consented that perhaps Jane did know the streets of Boston better than she did. But it was quickly becoming a conditional peace based purely on how much longer Maura kept them out of the office.

"You asked for my opinion and now you want to determine how I arrive at it?"

"I didn't ask for it," Jane defended. "Cavanaugh did and I'm not questioning your process, I'm questioning its length. I would like to eat at some point today."

"You could have done so before we left." Maura turned to face Jane as she spoke, noting in her gaze how the incessant complaining was only extending their outing. Jane seemed to understand because she huffed and rolled her eyes, focusing on Frost and whispering what was no doubt a crass comment in his direction.

He laughed softly, but Jane wouldn't have minded if he didn't. Her sarcastic nature came out more when she was uncomfortable and right then she defined the term. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she needed to know, but they had yet to find themselves in a situation where it was both appropriate and they were both stable enough to discuss much of anything. So until then, and she knew likely after then, she would be content to act indifferent; she would sit atop the wall she built around herself and merely watch her life happen around her.

"How much longer are you gonna be?"

"As long as it takes," Maura said in a passing tone. "You cannot rush science. You must be patient."

"You know, Jane," Frost began, turning his back to Maura and lowering his voice to speak directly to his partner. "We don't both need to be here. Go get some food, I'll stay here and call you when we find something."

Jane immediately scoffed. "Leave you here. Alone. With her. Absolutely not."

"Would you rather I leave you here? Alone. With her. While I go get some food?" Frost spat the words back at her, having run his course of caring about their problems when he had a very real, very loud problem of his own as his stomach growled for the third time in ten minutes. "It's one or the other, Jane. I'm hungry, too."

"Your excess irritability could be caused by not having a regular eating schedule or by drinking you meals, such as coffee for breakfast or a smoothie for lunch." Maura hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but Frost wasn't exactly the most skilled whisperer she had encountered and they were the only people there. There wasn't much else to hear other than his deep voice. "Especially when working long hours as you do, eating regularly will help with your…problems."

Maura pointed to her stomach to indicate that Frost's voice was not the only thing she could hear.

"I can guarantee you, right now the lack of food is the problem." Jane spoke loud and fast and sounded much harsher than she intended to, though Maura brushed the comment aside and directed her attention back on her samples.

The two detectives shared a moment of head shakes and stern expressions and when Jane finally broke eye contact, Frost's smile displayed his victory—at least momentarily. She could not deny that he was right. He normally was when it came to Jane's ability to redefine rude. It was a trait he had slowly picked up from Korsak. Frost was just about to head back to the car when Maura spoke.

"Oh, what do we have here?"

"Is she talking to a plant," Frost asked under his breath and Jane brushed the comment aside because Maura seemed far too excited about a leaf for it to not mean they were almost done.

"It's Toxicodendron Vemix, otherwise known as Poison Sumac."

"That means nothing to me," Jane said courtly.

"It's a shrub that has smooth leafs which produce grayish-white fruit."

"Again, that means nothing to me."

Maura rolled her eyes, exasperated. "It only grows in wetland areas that have high pH levels and causes a rash that is similar to what you see from poison ivy."

"So we're looking for someone who was near a wetland and has a rash." Jane tapped Frost's shoulder proudly as he moved to jot the information down in his notebook. "See, now _that_ means something to me."

Without waiting for Maura to place her find in an evidence bag, or even for Frost to react, Jane headed quickly to the car, sitting the driver seat, buckling her seat belt and putting her hands on the steering wheel, impatiently tapping at it. Frost sighed heavily at her before reaching down to help the doctor with her bags and allowing her to lead the way back to the car.

* * *

><p>Surely Jane had heard wrong. The sun must have been too hot and the drive too long and the morgue she found herself in too cold and empty because she had to have heard wrong. Maura's description may be less condescending than Pike's had been, but they were vastly more confusing and Jane was struggling to decode them.<p>

"So our victim was killed by a right hook from a leaf?"

"Toxicodendron Vemix shrub," Maura corrected. "And conclusively, I am prepared to say that the indentation was from a cylindrical object roughly two to three inches in diameter with many sharp points extending from it. That object had been in contact with the plant."

"You mean a stick," Jane deadpanned, amazed that such a simple object had such a mangled description.

"I meant what I said."

"Maura, I can't give that description to anyone. They'll think I'm—"

"Ridiculous," Maura interjected and Jane's face instantly fell. She wasn't sure exactly what her expression had been presenting, but Maura's tone all but assured it was cold with a hint of ridicule.

Jane dropped her head into her hands. "Maura—"

"I understand," she interjected, focusing back on her microscope, trying to let it go because she truly hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Right now, that's all I can give you. When I find more, I will let you know."

Maura expected Jane to leave at the first opportunity, which she had just been given. But she didn't. The air around them filled with a heavy uneasiness. There were limitless ways the situation could unfold, but when Jane looked up and saw Maura playing with her necklace, a old habit of hers that betrayed her nerves, Jane scoffed. She smirked, lost in thought, and said the first words that formed in on her tongue.

"We aren't doing this Maura."

"Aren't doing what?" Maura spun around quickly, locking eyes with Jane. "Being honest? Because that is all I have ever been with you."

"I know that, Maura, but that's not what I meant." A beat passed and Maura saw the change in Jane's appearance. She looked smaller and worn and Maura sighed heavily.

"What do you want from me, Jane?"

"Detective," Jane reminded, though her voice was less than authoritative. She had no authority here in this room with Maura and she knew it. And, if she was being honest with herself, she wasn't sure what she wanted from the woman. She only knew that they could not, and would not, live everyday like they had lived that day.

"I want an end to this carousel we're on," she began. "I want to live my life without looking around for you at every turn, wishing you were there to experience it with me."

Moment by moment, Maura was becoming more convinced that coming to Boston was a mistake. Jane had acted as though she wanted nothing to do with her, which on some level she understood, far more than Maura could handle. She chose Boston for the sole purpose of seeing Jane. She had to. Her half-assed attempt all those years ago no longer satisfied her criteria for another chance. Now, at least, she knew and if Jane wanted to be professional colleagues, then that is what she would do. After all, when they went their separate ways, she fully understood that she may not get a second chance. Jane owed her nothing. So, she would not demand anything.

"You may get off whenever you would like," Maura stated matter-of-factly which forced Jane to use all of her will power to remain calm. It had always been difficult to have these types of conversations with Maura because the doctor all but refused to discuss her feelings openly, having spent her entire life being refined by social graces of the elite. But Jane knew that she was not the only one still spinning in circles; it was not possible. So she tried again.

"I need to know that we can do this, that we can be professional about this because I kind of like this job and I don't want you being here to jeopardize my career."

It wasn't a question up for discussion, Maura knew. It was a statement, a demand. It was likely the only statement regarding their relationship that the two women could agree on. Pretending to not care was the only situation they both thought was truly attainable.

"I'm here to help catch the bad guys, Jane," was all she said in response.

The sigh that left Jane's lungs seem to take the weight of the world off of her shoulders. Her deep steady breathing was calming for them both as Jane internalized Maura's response. Maybe they could do this. Maybe enough time had passed and repeat expose to Maura would wash away her initial reaction to seeing her. Maybe seeing her again would finally bring closure to the wide open gash that was their relationship. Maybe this was just what they both needed and Maura had just been smart enough to think of it.

Whatever the case, Jane knew that they needed a different way to deal with each other and that such a relationship would begin with her not being an sarcastic pain the ass all of the time, especially when she knew Maura was merely trying to help.

"The good news is: you can't be any worse than Pike," she reasoned, not meaning to verbalize the thought, but not entirely upset that she had. It wasn't as if anyone would disagree with her.

"Not to be crass," Maura began, taking the statement as an olive branch and attempting to meet Jane halfway, "but that man makes a terrible first impression."

Jane scoffed and met Maura's eyes, smiling. "He makes an awful second, third, fourth, and fifth impression, too."

The hum of the machines filled the room and they stayed motionless in the strained comfort of each other's presence—no anger, no snide remarks, no attempt to outplay the other in a game of words. Maura relished in Jane's smile, a genuine show of contentment in whatever it was that they now were. _We can do this_, Maura thought. _I can do this_.

Wanting to end their conversation in peace, Jane pushed herself off of the table and was about to excuse herself when a thought flashed in her mind.

"Wait, you're his boss now, right?"

"Yes, why?" Maura's face scrunched slightly, trying to see the connection Jane had clearly just made, but failing.

"Next time he's being an ass, think you can threaten to, I don't know, relocate him to Alaska or something?"

Maura could tell that Jane was completely serious which was both highly entertaining and a bit silly. But that was Jane, the woman she had known all those years ago resurfacing for a moment, and if that was what she wanted who was Maura to deny her?

"I only have jurisdiction in Massachusetts, but I'm sure I can come up with something," she supplied. The smile that lit up Jane's face sent Maura into a flurry. As she watched the detective push open the door and walk into the hallway, she made a mental note to find the Massachusetts version of Alaska as soon as this case was over.


End file.
