Jane lifted the heavy icebreaker and slammed it down again and again. Her triceps were burning and the hair tucked under her wool cap was damp with sweat. Fuckin' Tommy and Frankie and their half-assed way of doing things. If her brothers had only cleared the driveway completely instead of making a path barely wide enough to walk she wouldn't be out here today trying to split apart an ice mountain. The new snow fell dense and wet on top of the older, blanketing the treacherous mounds in an innocent white down. Jane flung aside the icebreaker with disgust and stood surveying the hours of work ahead of her. She should be packing for her cruise, but how could she leave this mess for Maura. With another big storm forecast for the coming week, the doctor may want to pull her Prius into the garage and opt to drive the big Red Jeep that she kept for the very worst New England weather.

As if Jane's thought had summoned her, Maura, a vision in red, appeared at her side wearing a snug-fitting down parka and matching crimson snow boots.

"Jane, you don't have to do this. I can hire someone to clear the drive."

"It's the very least I can do. My mother lives here for free." She picked up the shovel and dug into the closest mound.

Maura was quiet and Jane knew that she shouldn't have said what she did; implying that her friend's kindness needed to be repaid only served to cheapen it.

"I'm sorry, Maur, it's just my frustration speaking. I'm doing this because I want to take care of… um…somehow make your life easier, not because I have to."

The doctor tilted her head and regarded her flustered friend, out in a roiling snowstorm in only a Bruins sweatshirt, knit cap and gloves.

"You're doing this because you're stubborn."

"That too."

Maura picked up the discarded icebreaker and lifting it to chest level, let the steel blade drop onto a hard frozen embankment. The glaze shattered with a satisfying snap.

"It's much easier if you let gravity work for you."

"Thank you Isaac Newton."

"You're welcome. I'll crack and you shovel."

"No. Go inside, Maura. I got this."

The M.E. could be just as stubborn; soon a regular thunk-crack accompanied the scrape-thump of Jane's shovel.

"I know your secret, Jane."

"What?" She froze, the sweat running between her shoulder blades turning icy. She clung to the plastic handle of her shovel to keep her hands from trembling.

"I know that every morning you stop here before work to clean the snow off of my car and bring my paper to the door."

Jane exhaled. "Yeah, that's me. I can't see you having to scrape ice off your windshield in your stiletto pumps and cashmere ball gown."

Maura laughed. "Chivalry is not dead."

"No. Jane Rizzoli is an officer and a gentleman."

They worked in silence for the better part of an hour. Jane had to admit that the job was less daunting with a partner and there was the added benefit of watching Maura exert herself. The doctor's face was flushed, sweaty tendrils of dark blonde hair clung to her cheeks, and her breasts strained against the quilted material of her parka each time she raised the icebreaker.

Jane licked her chapped lips and pulled her eyes back to the half-cleared drive.

"You know I bought my first car with money I earned shoveling snow."

"Really? What was it?"

"A 1979 Oldsmobile Omega, cost me $300. It was a real old rust bucket, but it was mine. I named her the Blue Bomb and drove her everywhere, even in weather like this. The rear-wheel drive sucked in snow and I fishtailed all over Boston, but as a teenager I thought I was invincible."

"What color was it?"

"Duh! Blue, Maura. Cobalt blue to be exact with baby blue bench seats."

"Ohhh bucket seats... very nice for making out." Maura waggled her eyebrows.

"Eww. Never happened." Jane blushed, but with her face already stung red from the driving snow, it was camouflaged. "What was your first car?"

"A Volvo, also blue."

"That's a terrible name for a car."

Maura stopped breaking ice and looked at Jane, confused. "Why? It's Latin for 'I roll,' although a car doesn't exactly roll. Perhaps a better choice may have been Curro or Promoveo or even Percio, but I wouldn't say Volvo was terrible, just not optimal."

Jane paused mid-shovel and grinned at her oblivious friend. "Not because of its meaning, Maura. It sounds like something else."

"What?"

"Think, Maur, you're a doctor; something gynecological."

"I'm not a gynecologist, I'm a forensic pathologist…Oh! Vulva!" She clapped her red-mittened hands, thrilled that she had parsed out the clue.

"Right. Would you drive something called a Vagino or a Penio?"

Maura giggled, she loved word games. "How about a Labio convertible?"

"Exactly."

"A Scroto sedan? A Clitero coupe? A Frenulum Labiorum Pudendo wagon? A Glans Bartholino SUV? This is so much fun, Jane, I could go on forever."

"I'm sure you could. If I'm ever called upon to play a perverted word game, I want you on my team."

"Really? No one has ever wanted me on their team."

"I always do, Maur. You're always my first pick."

"Even in softball?"

Jane winced then laughed and wrapped a long arm around her friend's shoulder. "Even in softball, but only if you wear that skin-tight catsuit."

"Oh really?" Maura leered up at her and Jane's breath caught.

"Yeah, it's a real distraction to the other team." And to me.

Maura stood on tiptoes and planted a kiss on Jane's cold nose. "I'm going to miss you this week, Jane."

"Yeah, me too." She impulsively pulled the small red figure against her chest and smiled as she felt a pair of mittened hands circle her waist and hold tight.

Angela watched them from her kitchen window, the tall lean form of her daughter draped around the shorter woman. The pair clung to one another, seemingly oblivious to the snow swirling around them. She sighed once and straightened her spine, turning away from the window.

When the pair entered the guesthouse Angela was on the couch, shivering under two blankets.

"I think I'm coming down with the flu."

"No!" Jane rushed into the living room and knelt on the floor next to the couch. "You were fine this morning and even when I came in to pee, you were packing and singing. Maura, come here. Tell my mother she's fine."

Maura bent over the elder Rizzoli and pulling off one heavily lined mitten, lay a cool hand across her forehead. She frowned and removed the other mitten, running her fingers down the sides of Angela's neck, feeling for swollen glands. Angela moaned and chattered her teeth. "I feel like I'm dying."

"You're not presenting any of the classic symptoms of influenza. I think it's probably nerves. Are you uncomfortable on ships, Angela? I can prescribe some alprazolam which should take the edge off of your anxiety and both Bonine and Dramamine make patches that you can wear to alleviate motion sickness."

"No. I'm going to vomit. Maura, help me to the bathroom."

Jane stood and took her mother's arm. "I got her, Maur. Make yourself some tea and take off that wet jacket."

"No!" Angela howled again. "I need Maura; she's a doctor. Maura, help me to my bedroom."

Maura obliged, wrapping an arm around Angela's waist and guiding her toward the back of the house. Jane followed, carrying the blankets from the sofa. When the trio reached the bedroom door, Angela spun around. "Jane, you stay. I don't want you sick for the cruise." She snatched the blankets from Jane's hands and following Maura into the bedroom, closed the door and locked it behind her.

When Maura emerged half an hour later, Jane was pacing the small living room. She froze at the sound of the door opening. The doctor's eyes were red and swollen and her face blotchy.

"Oh God, is my Ma dying?"

Maura shook her head. "No. She will be fine. I promise."

"Then why are you crying?"

"We had a little talk and she showed me her essay. It was… beautiful, Jane."

"Yeah."

"She loves you."

"I know. So she'll be better tomorrow? We can still go?"

Maura opened her mouth and closed it again. She searched for the right combination of words that would walk the delicate line between truth and concealment. "She will be better, but she won't be going on the cruise. She asked me to go in her place."

"What? No. This is Ma's prize and I'm not going without her."

"I told her you would say that."

Angela's voice carried from the back of the house. "Jane Clementine, if you don't go on that vacation, I'm going to die just to spite you."

"Ma!" Jane stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door.

With her friend safely out of the room, Maura sank onto the sofa, drawing a throw pillow up against her chest. The raised voices from the back bedroom were muffled and she couldn't understand what was being said, not that she was listening. Her mind was reeling from her conversation with Angela, from the older woman's blunt and heartfelt statement. "My daughter is in love with you, Maura. If you feel the same, you'd better go away with her and work this out. If not, go with her anyway and be a friend; help her find her way to accept herself."

She tossed aside the pillow and stood, making her way into the kitchen where she knew Angela kept a bottle of Absolut for making vodka sauce. Maura was not a vodka drinker, but she needed something a little bit stronger than wine right now. She poured herself a generous tumbler and swallowed it down, shuddering from the unaccustomed harshness as it burned down the back of her throat. She poured another smaller portion, added some orange juice from the fridge and took the glass back into the living room.

Jane trudged from the bedroom and dropped heavily onto the sofa beside her. "Goodbye tropical paradise, hello worst winter in Boston history." She groused.

"This is not the worst winter in Boston history. I told you yesterday, that was the winter of 1933–34, if your point of reference is lowest average temperature. If however, you base worst winter on greatest snowfall, 1995–96 tops the list with 107 inches; we've had fewer than 60 inches so far this season."

"Thank you Al Roker."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence, Maura sipping her screwdriver and Jane flexing her hands and scowling.

"Do your hands hurt?"

"They always hurt, Maura. You don't need to ask, but four hours in the cold shoveling snow…ah, never mind."

Maura reached across the distance and took the nearest hand in her own, prepared to massage the stiff tendons, but Jane pulled back. She stood and stomped into the kitchen. Maura heard her rooting around in the refrigerator for a beer and then in the drawer for a bottle opener. She returned a moment later with a half empty Labatt Blue. "I hate this shitty beer. It's Tommy's new favorite, so of course that trumps anything I like."

Maura tried again. She reached for Jane's free hand and took in into her lap, rubbing gently around the knuckles and slowly working inward toward the knotty scar tissue at the center of the palm.

After a while Jane pulled her hand back and silently offered the other.

"Thank you."

"Jane?

"Mmm?"

"Jane, look at me."

The detective put down her empty beer bottle on the coffee table and turned to face her friend. Maura looked very serious and her eyes were still red and glassy.

"Jane, do you…do you want me?"

"To go with me? Of course I do, but how can you possibly take a week off with like twelve hours notice?"

"What? Oh…the cruise. Yes. If you want me to go on the cruise, I'd love to accompany you. I am the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth. I answer to only the Governor, and I don't need to clear my vacation with him."

"Right. So…you'll come?"

"Yes." She jumped up, a little too quickly and the vodka rushed to her head. She stumbled and fell headfirst into Jane's lap.

"Whoa. Better stick to wine on the ship, Maur. You don't want to fall overboard."

Jane helped her to her feet and walked her to the door. "I'm going to sit with Ma for a while and then shoot home and pack. I'll pick you up in the morning."


Jane looked down at a large pile of luggage pooled around her feet, her own battered duffle and Maura's six-piece set of matching Louis Vuitton bags. She had spent the night worrying over her mother, making her a pot of Lipton ring-o-noodle soup and keeping her hydrated with water and juice. Only this morning when Angela made it clear that she was not going to recover in time to make their ship did Jane carefully unpack her mother's suitcase, refolding brightly colored cotton blouses and capri pants before laying them neatly into a plastic storage bin marked "Summer" in Angela's cheerful cursive. When Tommy arrived to relieve her, she rushed across town to her own condo to haphazardly throw assorted clothing and toiletries into a bag. Whatever she forgot, she was sure Maura would have at least two of.

"Let's go, Maura. The ship sails in half an hour and we still have to check all this shit. What could you possibly need for a week that takes up six bags?"

"Seven." The doctor gestured to the carry-on that she was pulling behind her.

"Maura, could you possibly move any slower? I'm carrying all the luggage and you can't keep up."

"It's icy."

"Of course it's icy. This is Boston in winter. You were born and raised here, why would you go out in January wearing those hooker boots?"

"These are Miu Miu, Jane, and they match perfectly with two different outfits that I packed; it won't be icy in the Caribbean."

"Well move your moo-moos."

The automatic doors to the Boston Cruise Terminal slid open, spilling overly heated air out into the afternoon chill. Growling with the exertion, Jane wrestled the bags across the threshold and deposited them with a waiting attendant. She stretched her sore back and cracked her neck, looking out the wall of glass at the anchored ship, a horizontal skyscraper, dwarfing every other vessel in port. She was impressed and looking forward, despite herself, to a week of relaxation. Hauling Maura's luggage a quarter of a mile from the parking garage would be the last bit of work she'd do for the next week.

Maura finally caught up, and they joined the long line waiting to go through customs.

"Are you sure you packed everything you'll need?"

"No."

The doctor frowned. "Do you at least have your passport so we can get off the ship in port?"

"Yes. That I have."

"Let me see it."

"I have it, Maura, relax…and if I don't it's too late to do anything about it."

Jane was cranky and she knew she should let it go, but she just couldn't. "Did you pack your new swimsuit?"

Jane grunted.

"Is that one grunt for yes, two for no?"

She grunted once more.

Maura sighed and fidgeted in her purse for her own travel documents; her passport and Angela's winner's release form and boarding pass that she had signed over to Maura the night before. A call to the cruise company had assured her that there would be no problem with the transfer; it seemed they were much more interested in Jane than her mother. She felt a firm hand at the small of her back as Jane wordlessly steered her along through the stanchions. The detective's touch told her she wasn't angry, probably just worried about her mother, and so Maura relaxed just a bit.

"Angela is fine, Jane. I promise." The fact that what she said was the literal truth did nothing to avert the itchy bumps she felt popping up at her neckline and the top of her chest. She was a colluder, an accomplice to Angela's deceit and it didn't sit well with her.

As promised, there was no problem with the transfer of tickets, and at the customs gate Jane surprised her by brandishing her passport from an inner pocket of her jacket with a flourish and a stuck out tongue.

"Detective Rizzoli, there's no need for you to wait on the boarding line. You can go immediately to the gate on your right with our gold and platinum guests." The ticket agent smiled and held Jane's hand a beat too long as she returned her ID and issued her a room card.

"C'mon Maura, we don't have to wait on that line." She gestured at the slow crawl of passengers, heavily bundled against the cold and loaded down with baggage as they snaked snail-like through a maze of ropes towards the gate. "Good thing. If I had to wait again, I'd probably shoot someone."

Maura looked alarmed. "Did you bring your gun?"

"Of course not, Jesus, Maur, I'm on vacation."

Vacation. Jane tested out the word. It sounded strange to her ears. She hadn't been on a real vacation since she and her brothers had taken her parents to Epcot for her mom's 50th birthday. Could it be 10 years since I've had a vacation? Damn. The ship's first stop was Cape Canaveral, Florida on Tuesday and she made a mental note to check how far that was from Orlando. If possible, she would love to take Maura to Disney. A goofy smile spread across her face as she pictured her friend in a pair of Mouseketeer ears, holding a bratwurst and beer stein in Epcot's Germany pavilion. Yeah, this vacation might just be what the doctor ordered.

Maura's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Look Jane!"

She followed the M.E.'s gaze to a pair of life-size cardboard cut outs of herself, one in her Boston Homicide softball uniform and the other in her dress blues. A banner above declared, "Olivia welcomes a local hero, Out and Proud Homicide Detective Jane Rizzoli, our guest Cruise Director for the week." Dozens of women swarmed around the display, taking pictures with the twin Janes, most throwing a friendly arm around her cardboard shoulders, others lasciviously posing with a hand on her breast or over her crotch.

"What the fuck!" Jane's voice jumped up into the high soprano range.

She stood in stunned silence, her jaw slack and eyes wide. Her carry-on bag had slid off of her shoulder and dropped to the floor, spilling chapstick and keys and a Dove deodorant stick. Her passport and room card slipped from her hand and landed next to the overturned carry-on. Slowly she raised her hands to her face and covered her eyes. "This is not happening." She mumbled to herself.

"Jane, are you all right?" Maura's gentle hand on her biceps brought her back and she opened her eyes.

"No, Maura, I am not all right and I think that woman just licked my face."

Maura chuckled. "Imagine what she'll do when she meets the real thing."

"You find this amusing. It's not funny, Maura, not funny at all. I am going to kill my mother." She stormed across the cruise terminal toward the display, the doctor tottering along behind her in her 4-inch Miu Miu boots.

When she arrived at the spectacle, a beefy woman with a dyed orange crew-cut was grinding against softball Jane, while her friends laughed and recorded the dirty dancing on their phones. "Go Patsy, Go Patsy, Go Patsy!" They chanted.

Jane cleared her throat. "Excuse me, uh, Patsy…" She was at a loss for words. Really, what could she say? Stop humping my image?

"Oh snap. This is you. Damn, you're taller in real life."

"Um, yeah."

Patsy immediately released her licentious grip on softball Jane and transferred her hands and hips to the real woman. "C'mon Laverne, take our picture." She mugged with her cheek pressed close to Jane's neck. With her shoulder pinned at an awkward angle, Jane had no choice but to free one arm and sling it over the other woman's shoulder.

Once the camera shutter clicked, Patsy was gone and replaced by another woman, small and thin who wrapped her reedy arms about Jane's waist and laid her curly head on her chest. "I'm Judy." She nervously whispered.

"Uh, hello." Jane squeaked.

Judy was replaced by Mo and Mo by Katie and so on until Jane lost track of the names and faces, arms and warm bodies that briefly snugged themselves against her to snap a quick picture with the looming cruise ship as their backdrop. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Maura with her own iphone out, placidly snapping photos.

She felt a firm prod against her back and suddenly she was aloft, staring down at a crowd of cheering women in matching purple down jackets from the shoulders of a pair of sturdily built female jocks. She smiled sickly at her admirers while her bewildered eyes scanned the throng for Maura. She finally found her, rushing the horde with a security guard in tow. She closed her eyes. This was a nightmare, one of many she had on a fairly regular basis involving Maura and her own unresolved feelings. She would wake up in her own bed with Jo Friday snoring against her hip and she would dress and go on vacation with her mother. She took in a deep breathe and opened her eyes. No familiar bedroom, no sleeping Yorkie.

She was ultimately saved from what she imagined would be a thorough group groping by a small, friendly woman with an overbite, wearing a collared pink shirt emblazoned with the Olivia logo.

"Detective Rizzoli? Jane?"

"That's Detective Rizzoli…" Maura pointed at the cardboard Jane in her police uniform. "…and that's Jane." She gestured to softball Jane.

"You're a real comedian today, Maur."

The little woman addressed Maura, a puzzled look on her face. "You aren't Jane's mother. We were expecting Angela Rizzoli."

"Angela is suffering with an idiopathic malady that mimics the symptoms of the influenza virus." The doctor explained, pleased that she had avoided a direct lie.

Jane stepped forward. "But she signed over her ticket to Maura, not that it matters because we're not going to…"

Maura cut her off. "We're not going to inconvenience Olivia in any way. Whatever Angela agreed to, I'd be glad to do in her stead. I've signed all of the releases and I must say that I would love one of those life-size paper dolls. It would be a dream to have a doppelganger to try on my dresses." She pointed at the twin Jane cutouts.

Jane growled a warning. "Maura…"

The doctor felt Jane's hot breath in her ear. "Did you know this was a…a gay cruise?"

"Of course. Olivia specializes in distinctive vacations for discerning lesbians. I'm on their mailing list." She grinned brightly at the flummoxed detective.

"Wh…Why?" Jane wasn't sure she was ready for the answer.

"I'm a large contributor to the Human Rights Campaign Fund, The Astraea Lesbian Foundation for Justice, The Point Foundation. I was on the board of Marriage Now Massachusetts…." She counted out the various nonprofits on her fingers.

Jane stilled her counting with a firm grip on her wrist. "Maura, I can't do this."

"But you signed a release. You agreed to…"

"To take a few pictures."

"And to be a leader in various group activities onboard and in off-ship excursions. Didn't you read it before you signed?"

"Um, yeah. I skimmed it."

"It's a legal contract, Jane. We're going on this cruise, so let's make the best of it, shall we?"

She closed her eyes again, swallowing back hot tears of frustration and embarrassment. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped Maura's wrist. Snatches of Angela's essay came to her mind, and in light of the new information, they took on a very different meaning.

She opened her eyes and stared searchingly into Maura's calm hazel gaze. The doctor took her hand and squeezed once before lacing their fingers together. "You'll be fine, Jane. I won't leave your side."

Jane drew in a ragged breath and nodded. "I'd be the world's worst cruise director even under the best of circumstances." She muttered. "This is going to be a whale of a vacation."