Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I don't intend on gaining any profit from them or using this story for any other purpose than to post it here so we can all revel in the wonder that is Rizzles. Blah blah, blah… blah blah.

. . . . .

You save me every day. When I'm in the field standing between a sniper's bullet and a bank robber who has been suspected of killing a man in cold blood, when I have somehow apprehended a person who has pulled a weapon on me, when I have not slept over a menacing case in days, whenever I withdraw my gun from my belt—you're with me in every step of the way. I find myself cooking and wondering the origins of the dish I am preparing and know you would have no reservations in giving me the full the background, even if I didn't ask. You read me when I choose to remain closed and you look me in the eye with promises neither of us even know we are making. A lot of our conversations are through the looks in our eyes and I never realized until you that sometimes more can be said and understood through a comfortable silence than words.

"Jane!" A familiar voice sounded before a brief pause in the yelling across the café. "Janie!" Well there goes my thought my process, damn.

Just trying to collect myself at the end of a rough case and my helicopter mother starts shouting at me about animal shaped food or how many sugars I take in my coffee. I honestly wasn't even listening as I was too hung up on the shrillness of her voice. She means well, of course, she's a mother. But I need some space and silence sometimes too. Fortunately, she can usually pick up on my cues after a few consecutive attempts and short, staggered answers. And with that I am back into my daze with my chin just barely hovering over the lid to my coffee now.

She enters, flawlessly. She could trip over a power cord or the corner of a carpet and still find a way to make it look lithe and meaningful.

"I have the DNA results back from murder weapon," she paused closing the file down in front of me. This one simple gesture tells me I was correct with my suspicions and the dodgy woman being held in the interrogation room was the one who did it. Again, my gut was right. "I guess you were right. Once again your theories and tactful reading of body language outweighs my science one more time." The medical examiner joked lightly, but was somewhat serious in her witticism. "I already told Korsak and they're taking her to lock up right now."

"Maur, I never would have raised that suspicion that the dry cleaner was the killer if you hadn't found the eco, organic, all natural 'compounds' on the body. You put me on the right path." I placed my palm over her small, gentle, yet surprisingly strong hands. "You're the best at what you do and you make it a whole hell of a lot easier for us to do our jobs because you're so meticulous and precise in yours."

And with that she was back to a warm smile. I watch her eyes dart around for a few moments before they land on our hands still interlocked. She doesn't seem like she cares and gives my fingers a tender squeeze before sitting down across from me. "Margarita?"

"Yes, pumpkin?" I play with her.

"No, would you like to have margaritas tonight?"

"You did order that blender!" I wave a crooked finger at her, recalling when I walked into her office and accused her of shoe shopping when she told me she wasn't. Knowing she can't lie, I decided to wrestle the computer out of her clutches and see for myself what she was buying.

"Well, I, I…" she stammered. "It is a perfectly capable blender, and its power and performance has been highly rated amongst its competitors."

"Only one though, okay? Me and tequila… not a good match," I shook my head with warning, hoping she didn't inquire why.

"Does tequila make your clothes fall off?" She laughed at her own joke.

"Dr. Isles! Did you just make a joke?" I watched her nod, very amused with herself. "How did you even know that expression?"

"I overheard Frankie and Barry discussing it one evening. I found it very humorous." Maura wiggled with a few more trails of laughter in her chair, "but does it?"

"No!" Yes. It gives me too much confidence, too much courage, too many words.

She can read right through me when she squints and veers her gaze to the side. "Wear layers then, Jane. We are not on call tomorrow and it's a lovely Friday evening…"

"And you want to get shit-faced with your brand new blender and a bottle of tequila."

"I don't like that term. It sounds too messy." I shook my head at her, she's so adorable and so direct that it is incredibly charming. "I'm going to come over tonight. Your mother asked me earlier if she could host a book club meeting in the living room this evening."

I hated feeling like my mother was taking advantage of my best friend. Maura had reassured me almost every day that she wasn't and she was truly like a mother to her anyway, but I still had my regrets about the whole situation. "My mother is a very hard woman to say no to."

"She's sweet, Jane. And she wants to meet new people so I suggested the book club idea to her."

My heart swelled a little. I don't think she will ever know how generous and caring she is without even trying. "Maur…" I whispered with an ear-to-ear grin on my face. Sometimes this woman made my dimples hurt.

She didn't ignore the sudden sweetness to my tone. "My blender and I will be over later. What kind of tequila do you like?"