Its been awhile since I've written fanfiction - so long that I can't get into my old account (Sammy41). But I was inspired to start over with a new R&I story. I think of it as a blend between This is Us and True Detective if that makes any sense. It jumps around quite a bit, way into the future and back to Jane and Maura's beginnings as a couple. While new characters will be introduced, this is a Rizzles fic at heart. Also I know this is a long start for a first chapter but there was a lot to establish. All reviews are appreciated! ~ Sam
She was back in Boston. Boston in the middle of winter. So cold the newscasters called it a polar vortex, nearly begging people to stay inside as temperatures plummeted to 25 below zero. But it didn't deter her. In fact, she thought it a fitting homecoming.
Despite the arctic chill, sideways snow and icy streets that looked like glass, the Boston Police Department was abuzz with activity. Uniformed officers whisked about, bundled but still authoritative. Everyone knew their place. Everyone had somewhere to go. It was one of the many things she loved about the force.
She stomped the snow off her boots and pulled off her thick parka as she crossed the threshold. She expertly weaved her way through the busy men and women of BPD, only stopping once she reached the front desk.
"I'm here to see Captain Rizzoli," she announced.
The woman who was fixated on her computer suddenly flickered with recognition. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and then finally opened it again.
"Alexandra?" she said.
"AJ," she replied, though she regretted the correction. She should have been more grateful that the front desk cop didn't say something more regrettable. Something related to the clear nostalgia she was experiencing.
"Sixth floor," the woman clipped. She was older. Perhaps a street cop at one time, now riding out the last years to retirement. "He's expecting you."
"Thanks," AJ nodded.
The cops at the security barrier allowed her to pass through. Allowed her to pass the BPD café on her way to the elevator. AJ refused to look at the spot. She'd managed to make it this far without collapsing into painful memories. She wouldn't allow herself to break now.
On the lone elevator ride, she attempted to compose herself. She pulled in slow, deep breaths. She kept having to remind herself that this was what she wanted.
She wanted to come home.
The nameplate on the door was the second flutter to hit AJ's chest. She lingered longer than necessary to read the neat black ink against the silver plaque: Captain Francesco Rizzoli Jr. She knocked on the door before a lump had a chance to form in her throat. She would do this. She had to do it.
"Come in," he said.
AJ's appearance overtook him all at once. His mouth spread into a wide, nearly overjoyed grin. But his brown eyes, always soft and soulful, filled with a pain she was all too familiar with. Whatever sadness was there, however, was overshadowed by his quick movement from behind the desk. In an instant, Captain Rizzoli, held her in a tight bear hug.
"I didn't think you'd make it," he confessed.
"Of course, I did," AJ replied.
She found herself stiff and uneasy in his hold. It was the type of thing she wanted to avoid. One of the many, many good reasons to not come back to Boston. He seemed to sense that he was doing most of the hugging and gave a nervous laugh as they released.
"Take a seat, take a seat," he instructed.
AJ carefully settled into the chair across from his, watching as he anxiously fidgeted behind his large oak desk. He suddenly didn't seem like the man with a silver plaque on his door and one of the biggest offices at BPD. As much as she tried not to allow it, AJ no longer saw Captain Rizzoli but Frankie. The man who gave her piggy back rides and snuck her sweets when she was a young girl. She could see him at family gatherings, yelling and shouting with the rest of their massive clan. But it came with another glaring memory. It flashed across her mind just as quickly as the sweet recollections. His forlorn face in the rain, streaked with tears. They were all in black and he couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at them.
"You get here okay? This weather is brutal," he said.
"I still have my roots. I think my bones were made to stand the Boston cold," AJ joked.
His grin was back and a twinkle lit up his gaze.
"You're a Rizzoli, that's for sure," Frankie replied.
There it was. AJ Rizzoli. She tucked a loose piece of brown hair behind her ear where it'd come loose from her ponytail. She wanted to smile, to give some reaction to Frankie's family pride, but couldn't manage. She could see he was pondering the next question. The sour note that filled the air.
"How's your mother?" he asked.
"She's good," AJ replied quickly. She knew he'd ask. She knew someone at the station would ask. And she'd practiced her response over and over in the car. She'd say it quick. So quick that it might convince someone.
Frankie frowned but decided to move on. "And your brothers?"
"Which one?" she asked.
"Both."
"They're good too," she managed. "How's aunt Nina? And Chris and Lucy?"
"Also good," Frankie said, giving her a slight dip of his brow, clearly disapproving of her brief answers. "Your aunt Nina keeps bothering me about retiring. But I've told her I'm finally at the good part. Plus, with the kids gone, I think I'd drive her crazy at the house."
"That's not true," AJ told him.
"No, I suppose not," he chuckled. "But I keep telling her I'm young. Sixty is the new forty."
Despite all his charm and youthful buoyancy, AJ could see the marks of age on her uncle. His dark, Italian hair was somehow thinning near the front and gray set in at the temples. It made him look distinguished but certainly older. He also wasn't nearly as fit as his days as a detective or even as a sergeant and later lieutenant. He filled out his suit now with a small beer gut and less toned arms. And when he picked up her personnel file on his desk, he put on a pair of thick rimmed reading glasses.
"So, you're finally done with those Yankee bastards?" Frankie asked.
"You could say that," AJ replied.
"Well, NYPD is all well and good but it's time you come play for the real good guys," Frankie said.
"It's time I come home," she agreed.
The words nearly stopped in her constricted throat and her amber eyes met her uncle's for the first real time that January afternoon. She let him see the emotion. The simultaneous fear and gladness, sorrow and fulfillment, that came with her arrival in Boston. That came with walking the halls of BPD once more. The place that had somehow been a second home. Frankie tilted his head to the side in quiet understanding.
"You look just like Janie, you know? A spitting image," he muttered. AJ looked away. "I'm sorry, you must get that all the time. I know you want to be your own person. But seeing you here, in this station, all grown up...it's something."
AJ sat up straighter in her seat, wringing her hands together. She sniffled back any emotion, her olive skin going taut against her firm jaw.
"I don't want to be treated any differently here. Not because my uncle is the Captain or because she's my mother," AJ said seriously.
Frankie nodded, taking on a more professional countenance.
"You won't AJ. You're an exceptional detective in your own right. Your record out of New York is outstanding," he said. "In fact, I know you always had eyes on the FBI. You could jump straight there if you wanted."
"I want to be here," she told him. "I need to be here."
"This is about her, isn't it?" Frankie asked.
AJ swallowed hard. "Of course, it's about her."
..30 years earlier..
Jane Rizzoli was coming back home. Back to Boston. Back to Boston in the middle of summer.
It's not how she pictured her homecoming. In fact, each time she thought of what was driving her away from Quantico, she stepped on the gas a little harder. The anxiety swelled in her gut, causing her to clench the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip. So hard, that the scars on her palms started to ache. Jane let it hurt. The throb kept her on edge. Something she was certain she needed to be now.
She'd been in Quantico for just over a year. And in all that time, she'd never returned to Boston. Not for Christmas. Not for Thanksgiving. Not even for TJ's fourth birthday. Angela took the decision deeply personal, and of the many things Jane wasn't looking forward to, seeing her mother was near the top of the list.
But the main reason Jane didn't want to return to Boston, was the same reason she was rushing back in the first place.
Dr. Maura Isles was in trouble. And like so many other times, it meant Jane was in trouble. It meant Jane would come running back. Not just to protect the woman she once called her best friend, but because that woman was home.
It took Jane several years and one trip around the world to come to the realization. And even then, it wasn't enough to keep them together. Not enough to bridge the gap that always seemed to exist between them. The poor timing, the fear of intimacy and concern that perhaps they'd lose something sweet in the gamble to find something real.
And Paris had been a gamble.
Jane knew that the second she bought the ticket. It was on her mind the entire flight next to her best friend. She wanted to blurt it out every second of every day since the realization hit her; she couldn't live without Maura by her side. And the thought of not telling her was more unbearable than losing her.
They spent the first few days of Paris in bliss. Jane had never been so far from home and Maura's passion for travel, history and art made her a perfect – and adorable – tour guide. She indulged Jane in all the must-see first-time Parisian stops. The Eiffel Tower, a tour of the Louvre, and the Arc de Triomphe. But it was the moments away from the crowds and all the lights, that Jane truly found peace.
Moments like when Maura shook her awake to watch the sunrise. That same morning when she took her by the hand and held it all the way until they reached a small hole in the wall café for coffee and pastries. They rode bikes in never ending fields. They swam late at night in the hotel pool. They passed hours talking over bottles of wine and laid on the couch with books and feet in each other's lap.
In all those moments, Jane thought of telling the truth. Every time she found Maura's jade eyes her heart screamed with the confession. And each time, Jane swallowed it down like burning liquor. Each day it hurt worse to not speak the truth. By the end of their first week in paradise, she knew she had to let it go.
The task demanded the shield of night and courage of wine. Looking back, she wondered if Maura sensed it was coming. Perhaps she needed the same excuse for freedom and honesty that Jane did.
They both overindulged that evening. They ate dinner underneath the stars, on the side of a small Paris street, surrounded by cigarette smoke, and small tables crammed close together. They laughed too loud and found reasons to touch hands across the table. When a small band started playing, Jane used it as an excuse to scoot in close and whisper hoarse jokes in Maura's ear. Anything to make the woman smile.
The doctor leaned into the detective when they left the restaurant. Jane was drunk but alert enough to get them back to their suite. Alert enough to reconcile the heavy feeling in her chest. It hurt so bad that night, she swore she couldn't breathe.
"I think I drank too much," Maura said in a whisper when they entered their room. "In fact, I may be inebriated."
Jane flipped on the lights with a smile, watching as the doctor kicked off her heels in the sitting room. Only the former medical examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts could manage to make her slurred words and drunken explanation sound scientific. Jane left briefly to get her friend a glass of much needed water, but by the time she returned, Maura was gone.
"Maur?"
"I'm in here," she called gently.
That night Jane hesitated. She'd never hesitated to enter her friend's bedroom before. Not in Boston. And not before that night in Paris. Suddenly she was cautious and shy, maybe even a touch embarrassed. Her cheeks warmed like a nervous teenager's as she approached.
"How are you feeling?" Jane asked. Her voice was extra hoarse from drinking. She carefully set the glass of water on the nightstand where a small lamp glowed. It was the only source of light in the room.
Maura lingered in front of her dresser, barely illuminated. She was staring in the mirror, holding her wavy, strawberry blonde locks above her neck with one hand. Jane would remember the silky, cream dress she wore that night. The way it hugged around every curve and dipped low on her back, revealing smooth, tempting skin.
"Can you help me with my necklace?" she asked.
"That wine really got to you, Dr. Isles," Jane chuckled.
Laughter was the only thing that could keep the detective distracted from her racing heart. She refused to look at Maura in the mirror as she came up behind her friend, worried that the woman would see she was blushing. Jane's fingers trembled as she reached for the clasp of the necklace.
"You haven't taken to sulking, have you?" Maura asked suddenly.
Jane's nose wrinkled in confusion. "What?"
"They don't have your cheap beer here," she smiled. "I mean, I suppose they do for the tourists but I do appreciate you indulging me."
Jane shook her head, put at ease by Maura's voice. She was about to remove the necklace, her fingers still wrapped on the clasp, grazing the nape of the doctor's neck. But she waited. Something in her froze and she couldn't get herself to move again. Not without letting go of what tormented her.
"Jane? Are you all right?" Maura asked. "I-I didn't mean anything by…"
The doctor spun around before Jane finished removing her necklace, finding herself just a few inches away from the taller woman. She stumbled slightly, still uneasy on her feet from the wine and Jane gently steadied her. Maura noticed her brown eyes were darker than normal. They looked almost black in the dim light. They didn't blink. They just stayed stuck on Maura's face.
"Jane? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," Jane said. She kept her scarred hand around Maura's bicep. The woman was unbearably stunning and the detective decided right then that she would never let go. "I have to tell you something."
Maura's heart sank and a frown pulled down on her plump lips. The sound of Jane's voice, her intensity and withdrawn nature filled her with apprehension. Perhaps that's why she'd over done it on the wine. She'd noticed Jane acting differently for days. She worried she'd done something wrong, or even worse; her friend had picked up on how she truly felt and was no longer comfortable staying in Paris.
"Jane…" Maura repeated. It was all she could say. Nothing else would suffice. She was afraid to ask, afraid to say anything more.
"I don't want to mess this up," Jane said. She didn't intend to blurt it out or jump into the middle of her confession but at least she'd started.
"You're not messing anything up," Maura replied.
"We've been through so much together. And you mean everything to me," Jane told her. Her voice cracked. She was still holding onto Maura's arm. They were still inches apart. And suddenly the heat between them became noticeable. It made breathing hard but intoxicating all at the same time. Jane could smell the doctor's sweet comfort as she stared down at her.
"You mean everything to me too, Jane."
"No," she cut her off, shaking her head. She didn't need reassurances. She needed her confession. "Maura, when you said you were leaving for Paris, I could hardly stand it. And I know I decided to go to Quantico, but I can't imagine life without you. And when I realized that, I followed you here – how crazy is that? Isn't that strange? Isn't that-that…"
"You love me," Maura cut off her rambling. In an instant she was sober and commanding. The same genius of a woman who instilled fear in the most brilliant scientists and brutal detectives. Jane nearly faltered but Maura grabbed her free hand with her own. "You love me, Jane. And I love you. And it's always been this way."
Jane carefully took her other hand from Maura's arm and wrapped it around the soft hand that was clenching on her own. A lump built in her throat.
"It's more than I love you, Maura," she whispered.
The doctor didn't say it, but Jane could hear it in her head. That sultry, soft voice that sent her over the edge, whispering I know, Jane. But there were no more words. Just feeling or the lack thereof. Jane's toes were numb, her stomach was light and warmth spread from her groin to her fingertips.
But in all the weakness she still had control. Enough wherewithal to nearly lunge into Maura. The detective didn't need to reach far. She must have moved her face hardly an inch forward when Maura's warm lips pressed against her own.
The simple touch sent Jane to near ecstasy. It was better than any first kiss, better than anything else she'd ever felt. And in an instant, she wanted more. She wanted everything. Her lips stayed hooked to Maura's as though it were a final life line. They parted only briefly for air and then they were linked back together again. Maura was just as enthralled. Her hands reached first, clinging to Jane's strong back. The detective brought a hand to the side of the woman's face and Maura gave a gentle moan.
When they released again they were panting for breath. They stared at each other in awe, desire, and terror. But the feeling was more intense. It was too strong to be ignored now that they'd officially crossed the line. Now that they had a small taste of how good it could possible feel. Despite her weak knees and desperation for another touch of Maura, Jane restrained herself.
"Are you all right?" she asked
Maura's response was neither poised, thought-out, or scientific as almost all other actions and reactions in her life were. She simply moved forward, her eyes only on Jane's lips, her hands rushing forward to take the detective's firm jaw into her grasp. This time she slipped her tongue into the woman's mouth, desperate for a taste of what she'd spent years imagining. Jane mirrored the movement, exploring Maura's mouth and lips with the same repressed vigor.
It was hard to know who led them to the bed but suddenly they were there. The next time Jane came up for another breath she was hovering above Maura on the thick comforter, their abdomens pressed together, her thigh pressed between her legs as she straddled the doctor. The detective's senses overwhelmed, her body coursing with heat and anticipation.
She kissed Maura everywhere she could. Her cheeks, her neck, her forehead, and lips. She filled her hands with the woman, her scarred palms wrapping around the doctor's breast, then her stomach, and suddenly without thinking, Jane grabbed the top of her thigh. All the while Maura panted and sucked on Jane's lips, pulled at her shirt and ran nails across her shoulders. She was just as blind and absorbed as the detective. But before the woman's hand could reach the spot of most erotic tension, Maura swiftly grabbed it away.
"Wait," the doctor said. She could barely breathe. Her face was hot and it took everything in her to stop her body from writhing underneath Jane. "Wait, just wait."
"I'm sorry," Jane stammered. Whatever passion fueled her quickly drained. Maura could see the fear flash across the detective's eyes. "I didn't mean to…"
Before the Jane could pull away, Maura grabbed her cheeks into her hands, keeping her in place.
"Everything's okay," she soothed. It was amazing that the simple phrase from Maura's lips could set Jane's world back on track. The doctor tucked a hanging piece of Jane's dark hair behind her ear. She traced her finger down her sharp jaw. "I just don't think we should do this right now. Not like this. Not yet."
"You don't want to."
"Of course, I want to," Maura laughed softly. "In fact, it's rather excruciating to stop. But I don't want you to wake up regretting something."
Jane bit on her lower lip and gave a slow nod. She slowly rolled off her friend, doing her best to ignore the sinking feelings that suddenly hit her. The harshness of reality that came with pulling out of their near lovemaking. Moments before Jane knew she couldn't live without Maura. Now she was afraid she wouldn't possibly be able to stand a life without another kiss, now that she knew how sweet it was.
"I can go to my room…"
"No," Maura said quickly. She grabbed Jane's hand, keeping her on the bed. "Stay with me. Don't leave me."
The words nearly broke Jane's heart. While Maura had played it cool, she could suddenly see the fear in her eyes. Jane scooted closer, resting her head on the mattress just a few inches away from Maura. Tears were forming in the doctor's gaze.
"What's wrong?" Jane asked.
"I just-I just," Maura's stammers caused a sharp pain in the detective's stomach. She suddenly felt like an awful person for creating such a precarious situation. But she avoided apologies. She didn't deserve Maura's forgiveness for ruining their friendship. "I just. I think I'm a little overwhelmed."
"I know, I shouldn't have -"
"I'm just overwhelmed by what I feel for you, Jane. And by how badly I've always wanted this. By how it feels to be with you. To really be with you; it scares me," Maura explained. A tear fell and Jane wiped it away, doing her best to ignore the lump in her own throat. "I love you so much that it terrifies me. Terrifies me to the point that I've been paralyzed for the last five years and I don't think I realized it until this moment."
"I understand," Jane whispered. It was all she could say. Fortunately her dark eyes conveyed more than her words could. Maura brought a hand forward and traced her fingers down Jane's lips.
"I want this," she told her. "I've always wanted this."
And suddenly the right words found her. Suddenly Jane understood. While she'd kept her head in the sand about her true feelings for Maura, the doctor had been wrestling with hers for years. And while not completely socially inept, Maura had been abandoned more than once. Surely coming so close to what she truly wanted was bittersweet.
"There's plenty of time," Jane said gently.
She kissed Maura with the slow, tenderness that their first embraces lacked. She could feel every inch of her lips and the warmth of her mouth in sweet purity. A softness that Maura deserved. When they pulled away, all was right again. The tears had dried and the doctor beamed lovingly at the detective as she had so many other times.
"Will you hold me tonight?" Maura sked.
"Every night you'll let me," she whispered.
Jane slammed on the brakes outside of the precinct. The sun was going down on Boston but it was still unbearably hot. She could see steam rise from the streets and kids riding bikes with bare feet. It was one of those miserable, humid summer days that left you drenched in sweat. Jane's shirt was already sticking to her back despite her car's air conditioning and she could feel the frizz build in her thick hair.
She slammed the door shut with a huff, carrying only the large plastic evidence bag with her. Her dark eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and she wore a pair of cropped navy chinos with her white button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled past her elbows and the buttons loosened as low as they could go without being inappropriate. She'd neglected socks with her clean white sneakers. While no longer a detective with BPD, Jane wasn't about to show up in gym shorts and a t-shirt.
The air conditioning hit her full blast as she came through the front doors of the station. A pair of officers in short sleeved uniforms walked by but clearly recognized Jane, both tipping their hat in her direction. She nodded back, not remembering the faces but well-aware of her own reputation.
"Shelly?" Jane said when she reached the front desk. "They have you working as a reception?"
Before the young woman could answer, her bright eyes lit up at Jane. "Detective Rizzoli," she stammered. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm uh…consulting on a case," Jane replied. "What are you doing?"
"Desk duty mostly these days. It's not the most thrilling but it's safer than being out on patrol, now that Tom and I are expecting," Shelly explained. "I don't know if I ever want to be back out there now that I'm about to have kids. But I know I don't want to leave the force either."
Jane gave a sympathetic nod. "Of course."
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to go on about me. How long are you in town? Have you seen your mother, she just left the café."
"Thank God," Jane murmured. "I'm not sure how long I'll be here. But I need to see Sergeant Korsak…"
"Janie!"
She stiffened at the voice. For a moment she stayed still, staring at Shelly as though none of it were happening. But in a quick second her brother was at her side, nearly lifting her off the ground with a massive bear hug.
"Frankie, cool it," Jane chuckled. She gave him a squeeze back and rolled her eyes. "It's been a few months, gees."
"It's been fourteen months," Frankie replied.
"Well, I wasn't lost at war," she rolled her eyes.
The Rizzoli siblings gave Shelly a brief goodbye and slowly made their way towards the elevators. Frankie was the only person Jane had told about Paris. He was the only one she really kept in contact with aside from the weekly, painful calls she shared with her mother. She hadn't meant to cut him out in the process of her own pain but was glad that he'd welcomed her back with open arms. He always did.
"You drive straight here?" Frankie asked.
"Yes," Jane replied as the elevator doors opened. She shook her head as they stepped on together. "It's so damn hot, I don't know how you can stand that suit."
She playfully pulled at his tie and Frankie grinned. "Well, I'm no longer a floating detective but an official member of the homicide unit. I have to look the part."
"Nah, I just don't see it. The tie isn't convincing enough."
"You watch; one day you'll be calling me Captain Rizzoli," Frankie winked.
"Right," she chuckled. As the banter settled, they both stared ahead on the ride up, faces turning somber. "So, you have any leads?"
"None yet," he answered.
"How is she?"
Frankie frowned. "Hard to tell these days."
The doors slid open and in an instant, despite her lack of badge or a gun, Jane suddenly felt like the detective she once was. She clenched the evidence bag at her side a little tighter, ignoring the sharp sting that hit her hands. The detectives in the bullpen smiled and said their brief hellos but Jane hardly stopped for chit chat. They could tell she wasn't there for small talk. In fact, word had probably circulated to those that weren't even on the case.
"Welcome home," Vince Korsak greeted when she reached his desk. He kept the hug short and set a pair of knowing eyes on her face. "I'm glad you're back. Though I wish it wasn't under these circumstances."
"Me too," Jane muttered. "Frankie says you don't have any leads."
"No. But we do have one of Boston's finest detectives back with us," Korsak said.
"I'm not here to work the case," she replied. "Just to deliver this."
Jane held up the clear evidence bag and set it down on Korsak's desk. Through the plastic, the three of them looked at the large photo. It was a shot of Maura, taken with a large lens camera from a distance away. She was walking out of the police precinct. Blood was streaked across the front. Despite analyzing for the last 24 hours, it still made the hair on Jane's neck stand on end.
"They sent this to you in Quantico?"
"To my apartment," Jane nodded.
"We'll run prints and try to analyze the blood sample," Frankie said.
"Did they send her something similar?" Jane asked.
Korsak and Frankie exchanged looks. "It was much worse."
"What do you mean?" she asked. Her stomach was in knots. She discreetly leaned onto the desk to steady her trembling knees. It was one thing to threaten her, another to threaten the woman she still loved, but a completely other thing to terrorize Maura directly.
"Jane…"
"What is it?" she barked.
"They sent her a lock of hair," Korsak sighed.
Jane's face wrinkled in confusion. "What?"
"It was a lock of her hair," Korsak finished. "No prints, no blood…"
"Where is she?"
"Jane, do you think that's the best idea right now?" Frankie asked.
"Frankie, where the hell is she?"
"The morgue," Korsak replied.
Frankie gave a disgruntled sigh as his sister took off down the hall. Once out of sight from the bullpen, Jane nearly sprinted back toward the elevators. She smashed the button over and over until the light finally flashed above the door. The former detective bit on her nail as she hit the floor for the morgue.
She hadn't seen Maura for fourteen months. Fourteen aching months in which she'd stewed in her own depression and teetered on the edge of sanity. Fourteen months of staring at her cellphone, contemplating the call. Wishing to see that Maura had reached out first. Thinking on so many nights of just jumping in the car and driving straight to Boston. Instead, she willed herself to move on. She willed herself to believe that she didn't need the doctor. That they weren't meant to be and healing from the past was the only thing left to do. Now as the elevator doors opened to the morgue, Jane was more convinced than ever that she would never be able to let go of Maura Isles.
Jane hurried her way through the double doors of the sterile autopsy room, huffing for air as she searched the empty space. Her heart sank. The doctor was nowhere to be seen.
"Jane?"
Maura suddenly appeared out of her office. She was wearing a pair of black scrubs and her honey blonde hair was tied into a pony tail. She looked exhausted and her eyes were forlorn. To Jane, she was still beautiful, but clearly haunted.
The two women stayed motionless in their places, watching each other from across the vast, silent morgue. The space where they'd once shared so many cases. The morbid space where they'd fallen in love. And now, it was just empty.
"You came back home," Maura said.
Jane gave a careful nod. "I'm back home."