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When she wants something, she struts... A confidence like no other. Her shoulders square, her back straight, her legs seem to elongate with each step. Her hips give a gentle sway and control her walk. I've seen it so many times that it surprises me how much I lust for it. Her strut does something to me that not even her voice can do; it makes me smile. I hear it long before I see her and the anticipation of her wild hair bouncing around her shoulders, her finely arched eyebrows queued up and mouth ready with a silly statement to make me smile.

But today something is wrong.

I sit at my desk browsing the pages of my favorite shoe shopping site. I'm clicking between the red sling backs and the matte black open toe stilettos. Chewing on my lip, distracted by my choices, I didn't hear her approach until my eye catches the color of her t-shirt. Pale yellow. Her Thursday shirt.

Problem 1, its Tuesday.

Her gait is short and not as strong as it usually is. She slides through the door without much greetings like she normally does. Her shoulders are drawn up to her ears, hands in her pockets, sneaking out occasionally to rub her arms.

"Are you cold, Jane?" I ask as soon as she settles herself against the desk.
"I think I caught a chill as soon as I stepped off the elevator. What is the temp down here anyway?"
"A comfortable 68 degrees," I answer.
"Comfortable to you maybe," she snapped.

Problem 2. She's irritable.

I checked the time. It's well after eleven. She's had her two cups of coffee by now. Maybe she's hungry.

"Ready for lunch?" I asked.
"No, not really hungry," she bemoaned wrapping her arm around her stomach.

She's shielding it; protecting it. I watch her more closely as she looks over the papers on my desk.
Her face grimaces and then relaxes.

"Are you in pain?"
"A little. Cramps. But it's not my period."
"You had it two weeks ago."
"Yea, I don't know what it is."
"Something you ate maybe."

We're well into our conversation when Jane realizes that I have her talking.

"What the hell, Maura!" She yelled standing. "How do you do that?"

I shrugged my shoulders. My Jane doesn't like to talk about personal problems if at all and certainly not at work. After her outburst, she sat back down, wrapping both arms around her midsection.

"You're really not feeling well, are you?" I asked rolling my chair closer to her.
"No."

I put my hand on her knee and she leans forward, resting her head on my shoulder.

Problem 3. She never displays an open need for me.

My other hand goes to her neck.

"Want to get out of here?" I asked.
"I can't. We're working a case."
"You are allowed sick time, Jane."

I pet her hair.

"But..."
"I'll take you home."
"You'll stay with me?"
"Yes, I'll stay with you.
After a beat, "Ok."

I pat her knee signaling that she should get up. My once slow Jane has now turned sluggish.

"I'll meet you by my car."
"Ok."

I watched her walk out my morgue to the elevator banks. I stand guard until an car arrives and she disappears inside. I ran back to my desk, shutting off my laptop, sliding it inside my briefcase. I turn off the desk top and leave a note for my assistant detailing what is left to do on the Ramirez body and that I'm leaving early. I also instructed to not to call me unless it is utterly important. I glanced around the open space again slowly making sure nothing is left out. I slide into my lightweight spring trench coat and make my way to the parking lot.

She stands next to my car, leaning on it actually, with her head down. I can see a small grimace on her face. She is unaware when a few patrolmen pass by looking at her. And then Crowe.

"You okay there, Rizzoli?"

"Huh?" she looks up.

"You okay?" he repeats.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

She stands straighter not wanting Crowe to see her in a weak state.

"I'm good," she expresses again.

"Oh, I thought I caught you sleeping on the job… again," Crowe laughs.

"Bite me, Crowe."

"Good Afternoon, Detective Crowe," I say coming up behind him.

"Hel…hello, Dr. Isles."

I smile at him, laughing inwardly at him stuttering. I make my way over to Jane.

"It seems our resident asshole has a crush on you, Maura," Jane whispers in my ear as I lean over to open the door.

"To bad he isn't my type," I reply taking Jane's hand and helping her into the passenger's seat.