The morgue was always colder than the rest of the precinct, which Maura had explained to her a while back. It had something to do with body temperature and preserving their evidence in the right climate. Translation: yada, yada, yada.

Spotting one of the new interns leaning over a corpse, Jane silently walked over to stand beside them while her eyes fell on the scalpel. Her dark brown eyes narrowed for a moment as her own screams echoed in her head, before her flashback faded into gunshots and Hoyt holding up his pair of 'matching' hands. She didn't realize that she was grinding her teeth or the bead of sweat on her brow, not until the intern finally turned towards her and started waving their hands in her face.

"Uh, detective? You still in there?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry… is Dr. Isles down here?" Jane asked as her hand moved up to rub the bridge of her nose, trying to recover from her small lapse as quickly as possible.

"No, she stepped out. I'm pretty sure she had a date, although it's hard to tell with that one, y'know? Always dressed to the nines. But she asked me to give these to you and to let you know that the tox screens were negative," the intern replied as they carefully handed her the results that were so meticulously filed by none other than the M.E.

"Thank you," Jane replied with a curt nod of her head, before turning on her heel and mentally scratching her head.

Hmm, that's odd. Normally, Maura would tell her if she had a date. Then again, Maura could have had a complete conversation and passed right by her during her lapse downstairs for all she knew.

Sighing in defeat, she gathered her things and headed en route to her apartment.

Pulling her hands away from the steering wheel, Jane rubbed her scared palms as the rain pounded down on her windowsill. Great, it was pouring. She was sure that her mother would have a field day with medical terms if she saw what she was about to do.

Pulling over to the side of the road and flicking her hair from her face, the detective glanced around the location where Jo was last seen. She knew that Marisa was sorry for losing the little rascal, so she didn't blame her too much for the mishap. After all, she was a detective… so she could just do some detective work and find the pooch.

Cupping her hands over her mouth, she called out, "Josephine Friday Rizzoli!"

Using the dog's full name seemed more effective somehow, although it only reminded her of her parents when they were angry about something and did the same thing. Jane wasn't angry, per say. She was, however, exhausted and a little more worried than she thought she would be.

After all, it wasn't like Jane had wanted the damn thing. It smelled and licked everything in sight… but it also made her apartment feel more like home.

She was out there in the rain for hours, until she was soaked to the bone and even the skies seemed to take pity on her.

Shaking the clumped locks of hair that were matted to her forehead and slicking it back with her fingertips, she tried to look somewhat graceful on the way back to the Batmobile. I mean, it wasn't like she was doing the walk of shame or anything, but Maura had brushed off on her enough to try to look a little good in bad situations; something about optimism and karma. Sliding back into the driver's seat, she slumped back until her head hit the headrest and she closed her eyes.

"Your heart rules your head."

Hoyt's words echoed through her mind, making her dark eyes flash open as she gripped the steering wheel tightly until her knuckles turned a pale white. He was right. And right now, her heart was telling her head that she needed to go where she always retreated for shelter.

Shifting the car into park, Jane looked out to see another car parked out front. Reaching for her gun, she slid out of the cruiser and walked up to the door. Pressing her ear against the door, she didn't hear anything out of the ordinary; at least as far as a struggle went.

Knocking gently in a secret repetitive pattern that they had established over time, the detective pulled back a few steps with her weapon ready.

When a tall, half-clothed male answered the door, Jane was just about ready to tackle him to the glossy floor and read him his rights… that is, until Maura peered around his broad shoulder with wide eyes and stepped in front of the stranger, quickly anticipating Jane's stealth.

"Jane? Are you alright?"

Jane blinked when she was addressed by her name, but barely registered what was going on before her. She was always so used to arriving at Maura's place unexpectedly that she didn't think to call ahead. Then again, this was the first time that there was someone besides her standing there beyond the threshold of the doorway and she wasn't so sure how she felt about it.

"Oh. I didn't know you had company," Jane quickly rebutted as she lowered her gun, trying not to notice how Maura's usually perfect hair was now a little mussed or the wrinkles in her clothing. She tried not to notice the dominant characteristics of the man that had chosen to answer the door, obviously thinking that he could handle whatever or whoever came through them. She even tried not to notice the concern stretching across Maura's features, while silently having hoped for some shred of embarrassment instead.

Explaining herself was not an option right now.

"I'm sorry," Jane excused herself with a quick glance towards the stranger and her best friend, now suddenly feeling like a stranger herself. She heard the rustle of clothing by the front door as Maura grabbed her coat, followed shortly by the click-clacks of expensive heels striking against the pavement. But Jane was already halfway seated in the vehicle by the time the blonde reached her.

"Jane, wait! Jane, these are not boots that were made for walking at this pace!" the coroner called after her in sheer exasperation, before letting out a small exhale as Jane rolled down her window. "What's going on?"

Jane wanted to smile at Maura's attempt at integrating pop culture into the conversation, she really did. But her lips remained neutral, just like when she was standing outside of an interrogation room ready to interview her suspect. The person that Maura was looking at wasn't Jane anymore…

It was Detective Rizzoli, Homicide Victor 825.

"I'll handle it," the detective shook her head adamantly, before peering over her shoulder as she backed up and shifted the car into drive. "Good night, Maura."

And that should have been it.

Jane should have put her pedal to the metal and high tailed out of there, still holding on to whatever shred of her dignity she had left. But Maura had moved in front of the vehicle and placed her hands down on the hood, holding her ground with an intense gaze. One so intense that Jane couldn't remember seeing anything like it since they watched back the interrogation tape with Hoyt.

Sitting there and letting the car run for a long moment, neither woman moved.