A/N: The usual disclaimer applies; I own nothing.

Chapter 1

Barging into the café with her usual abruptness, Jane strode up to the register where her mother awaited her. Angela's eyes widened when she saw the sharp look on Jane's face.

"Really, ma? Thanks a lot for butting into my business—again." Jane crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared accusingly.

"What did I do now?" Angela looked at her daughter indignantly from her position behind the counter.

Jane flopped into a chair and pointed her finger at Angela. "You snooped around at Maura's house and now I know that Ian is wanted for questioning by Interpol and Maura's mad at me for checking up on him!"

Angela huffed, "I thought you wanted to find out Ian's story! Are you sure Maura's mad at you? Wouldn't she want to know that her boyfriend is a criminal?"

Jane's voice rose in pitch. "Of course I know she's mad at me! She's my best friend—I know her better than anyone else and of all people I—"

Jane paused for a split second as she realized what she was saying. She finished her sentence lamely, letting her words trail off into a near-whisper. "I would know when she's mad. Especially at me."

Jane had tipped her hand too early. She knew that her anger wasn't really directed toward her mother, or even Ian. This was about her, and Maura, and what they were to each other—whatever that was. And, as she ran her fingers through her hair and took a sideways glance across the counter, she could tell that her mother knew what this was about too.

But neither woman had any intention of actually admitting it.

Her voice much calmer, almost resigned, Jane spoke again. "He's not her boyfriend, ma, and besides I'm sure she already knows what he is. That's why she's been so secretive about him," finished Jane, shifting her body position once again and drumming her fingers on the counter, avoiding her mother's eyes.

Angela began to wipe down the counter with a towel; she was also avoiding eye contact with Jane. "Why don't you think he's her boyfriend? I mean, I know he spends the night," she said in a low voice while looking around to see if anyone was listening.

"He just . . . isn't. Sometimes people—you know, have relationships that don't really, mean anything. Anything permanent." Jane leaned one elbow on the counter again. "Besides, this is so not what we are discussing. We are discussing your invasion of Maura's privacy. I could arrest you for that, you know."

Angela narrowed her eyes at her daughter and ignored the obviously insincere threat. She let out a long breath and moved so that she was directly in front of Jane. "You just seemed so upset when you were in her earlier—I wanted to do something to make you feel better. What are mothers for? I would think you would appreciate it."

"I was not upset," mumbled Jane in a flat tone.

"Janey, you looked at me with those sad, puppy-dog eyes and admitted you were jealous and felt left out. I felt bad for you!"

"Great, now my mother is taking pity on me." Slumping forward yet again, she mumbled, "And I admitted nothing except that I was a little hurt."

Angela ignored her and kept right on talking. "Sweetheart, I know it hurts but even if he is a criminal I think Maura really likes this one. I think it's more than just," Angela's voice lowered to a whisper," casual sex."

"Ma!"

"What? I said I wasn't born yesterday!" Angela smirked while Jane rolled her eyes.

When a few uniformed officers walked up to the counter and Angela's attention was finally occupied elsewhere, Jane sat for a few moments by herself, sipping the coffee that she hadn't even noticed her mother pouring for her.

She hated to admit it, but Jane was jealous of Ian, and she did feel left out. She'd hardly seen Maura in the week since he'd arrived in town and when they were together it was only because of the case they were working. And he kept sending her texts and gifts and . . . . toilet paper. Jane snorted at the memory.

"You okay?"

Jane looked up to find Angela standing across from her. The café was once again empty; in a few minutes Angela would hang up the "closed" sign and start emptying out the till.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Angela busied herself with closing tasks, watching Jane out of the corner of her eye while she tidied up. She had a feeling Jane wasn't done moping yet.

"I really don't know what she sees in him, you know," Jane suddenly spat out, throwing her arms in the air. "Just because he's some kind of famous doctor and sends her a toilet paper gift basket. Who sends someone toilet paper, anyway? If a guy sent me toilet paper I'd tell him what he should do with it."

Neither Jane nor Angela gave so much as a chuckle at the joke.

"And do you know what he fixed my toe with the other night when I went over there? Pruning shears and a toothpick! What kind of doctor does that? Not very professional if you ask me." Jane snorted again and took another sip of coffee. "And Maura acted so impressed with him, fawning all over him and praising his technique. It's not like it's brain surgery or anything."

"How is your toe today?" Angela interjected.

"Fine, I guess," responded Jane, reluctantly. She was hardly limping at all anymore, but she didn't want to admit that. "And they're all cutesy together—always grinning at each other, flirting. It's so gross. I mean, they're adults. Do they have to act like horny teenagers?"

Finally, Angela had had enough of Jane's self-pity. She walked around the counter and sat down next to her daughter.

"Jane, before I married your father my best friend was Carla Telucci. We did everything together—went to movies, flirted with the boys, stayed up late at night talking about boys—everything. Then she met Mikey and suddenly we weren't best friends anymore. After she married him we hardly spoke for years!"

"Why are you telling me this, ma? Maura and I aren't kids or anything; we don't stay up late talking about boys. And she's definitely not going to marry Ian."

Angela shook her head. "I'm not saying she will. What I'm saying is that Carla and I are friends now! We both got married and eventually we became friends again. So even if you lose her as a best friend right now, it could be just . . . temporary."

"No, ma—" Jane stopped when she saw Frost poke his head in through the glass door.

"Jane—we've got a tip and Cavanaugh wants us to check it out. Are you—"

Jane quickly stood up, wiping every emotion but determination from her face. "I'll be right there," she called out, unconsciously checking the gun on her hip. Frost headed down the hall while she reached into her pocket for a hair tie. Placing it in her mouth, she used both hands to pull her hair back into a ponytail. "You'll see, ma," she mumbled before securing the tie, "You'll see, nothing is going to change. Maura is not Carla Telucci and I'm not losing my best friend to Dr. Ian."

She took two steps toward the door and then turned around. "Does my hair look okay?"

Angela smiled and almost chuckled at Jane's rapid change of mood. "It looks fine, Janey. Go catch the bad guys."

Jane strode away, pausing only slightly when she heard Angela call out after her, "And then go apologize to Maura!"