"Miss?"

Jane's looked for the source of the voice from her spot on a park bench. She saw a very high society looking woman with honey blonde hair walking toward her. She was carrying a pair of heels in one hand and car keys in the other.

"yeah?" Jane asked, suddenly self-conscious of her fish net tights and short skirt.

"Do you mind if I sit here for a moment?" she asked politely, as if nothing was wrong with the whole scenario.

Jane tried not to look taken aback, but here she was in downtown Boston at 3 in the morning dressed as a hooker, and someone classy wanted to…sit next to her. it was odd, but she gestured to the space next to her. The woman sat, not far away, but right next to her, their arms brushing.

"I'm Maura," the woman said simply, craning her neck and rubbing her shoulders.

"Hi, Maura. Do you usually give personal info to strangers?"

Maura turned her head to look at the detective. She gave her a once over, then looked her straight in the eye.

"If you could ever track me down with just a first name, I give you full permission to axe murder me. If you're into that sort of thing."

Jane smirked and Maura smirked back.

"Tiffany," Jane lied easily.

Maura laughed.

"Relax, will you. I'm not here to buy. You feel like sharing your real name?"

Jane paused, searching Maura's face for some semblance of a lie, but none could be found.

"It's Jane."

Maura smiled and extended her hand. It took Jane a moment to understand, but finally took the hand and shook it.

"So, Maura, why're you sitting with a hooker in the middle of the night if you don't want any?"

"My blood alcohol level is above the legal driving limit but low enough that I still know my way home."

"You don't seem drunk,"

"That, Jane, is because you don't know me,"

Jane smiled again.

"You didn't answer all of my question."

"Because you interrupted. Why I am sitting her with you is because this new drink, vodka and cranberries, seems to have hindered my cerebellum from functioning properly."

Jane's brow furrowed from lack of comprehension.

"I'm dizzy," Maura simplified, not sounding the least bit annoyed for having to rephrase.

"Where's your car? You did…drive to the bar, did you not?"

"Mhm," Maura slurred lazily, "I left it at the Dirty Robber. I can pick it up later."

Dirty Robber? Why's she at a cop bar?

"Rizzoli!" Grant barked into his radio, "get her out of there, now. She's scaring everyone away!"

Jane looked around; there was no one around to be scared off.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm intruding, aren't I?" Maura realized, but she quickly back-tracked. "Although…Ideal night shift hours are between 11 and 2," she clarified matter-of-factly.

Jane grinned at her, waiting for the woman to continue, but Maura simply grinned back, waiting for Jane. The detective laughed.

"Fine, I'll bite. Why's that?"

"Men who need a prostitute usually have a low self-esteem and would need a couple of drinks before their courage appeared. That's about two hours at a bar, and assuming it's the average person, who goes to a bar at 9, that takes you to 11. And if a person stays at a bar for more than 6 hours, they're probably not leaving without help," she finished.

"You talk a lot," Jane mused, "It's strange. Refreshing."

"I find you strange and refreshing, too."

"C'mon," Jane laughed, helping Maura to her feet. "I got a car. Lemme drive you home."

Maura looked at her hesitantly. Then Jane remembered who Maura thought she was.

"If I wanted to axe murder you, I'm pretty sure I'd have done it already."

"Still…" Maura faltered, torn, but not mortified by the idea.

"Still, giving your address to a hooker might be considered stupid in some circles," Jane finished knowingly.

"I'm sorry—"

"No. It's totally fair. But I can't just leave you here."

"My house's just a couple…maybe many, blocks that way," Maura mumbled, staggering in no particular direction.

"Nope," Jane told the woman firmly, "C'mon. You're coming home with me. I'll drive you to your abandoned car tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Maura conceded, her knees buckling. Jane easily supported the small woman's weight, one arm securely on Maura's waist, the other gripping her arm.