The sound of voices in the hall made them jump apart. Jane cleared her throat, tried to tone down a loopy smile. Maura busied herself with putting on a new pair of gloves, hands trembling slightly.

The doors to the morgue opened and Korsack walked in.

"Rizzoli - we might have a witness on the body dump. Got him upstairs."

With a longing glance at Maura, Jane sighed.

"Ok, sure. Maura - I'll... talk to you later, alright?" Maura just nodded, not trusting her own voice.

By the time she'd finished questioning the "witness" and getting nowhere (he'd been very drunk at the time and was exceptionally fuzzy on the details) it was after 11. Exhausted, Jane sent Maura a text on her way to her car.

-Maur - finally done. going home to crash. so tired. will talk tomorrow, ok?-

She had to park 2 blocks away from her house and kept her hand on her gun as she walked, eyes darting at every shadow...


Jane hung up the phone, finished off her coffee. After speaking with the warden where Charles Hoyt had been held, she had the promise of interviews with senior staff members. Hopefully, she'd shake out a lead - a passing reflection, some glimmer of a puzzle piece would shine through years later and point the way to who might be conjuring Hoyt's memory. Copies of the files on inmates with whom Hoyt had been housed or been known to consort were on their way as well.

Jane was still on edge but satisfied that she'd had as productive a morning as she might have hoped, given the emotional peaks and valleys of the last 24 hours. Jane leaned back for a moment and closed her eyes, knuckles dug deep into her temples.

"Glad to see you're working as hard as the rest of us, Rizzoli, tracking down you're new secret admirer." Startled and irritated, Jane snapped forward in her chair, narrowly avoided flying out of it.

"Shut the fuck up, Crowe." she snapped back. "You're not even assigned to this case." His smirk faltered and Jane allowed a small one of her own, noting what she thought was the hint of jealousy in Crowe's eyes. Jane grabbed her coat, wondering as she sauntered past the detective, if that twinge of envy stemmed from not being on the investigation or not being the target. Neither would have surprised her, given Crowe's ego.


"He's just such a... smarmy little jackass." Jane bit aggressively into a french fry. Maura almost felt sorry for it, taking the brunt of Jane's frustration. Then the image of being bitten by Jane flashed across her mind and she quickly busied herself stirring her iced tea, tried to stop blushing. Jane stabbed another fry into the ketchup and chewed angrily. Maura cleared her throat.

"Did u know that smarmy originated from the old English 'smalm' meaning to smear with pomade? However, it's noun and adjective forms, as well as it's use to describe someone unpleasant did not appear until the early 1900s."

Jane swallowed, stared blankly at her for a moment.

"Yes... I took all of that into consideration when I used it.."

"Really?!" Maura nearly squeaked.

"No, not even a little bit."

"Oh." Maura always felt a little awkward when she failed to notice sarcasm - but Jane's lopsided smile was so genuinely warm, any hint of embarrassment dissipated as quickly as it came.

Neither woman had mentioned their earlier kiss yet and, despite an easy conversation over lunch focused on work related things, both were beginning to wonder when and if to acknowledge the elephant at the table.

"Jane I-"

"So, Maur -" They both began at the once, smiled, blushed lightly and began again.

"So, Jane-"

"Maura, I-"

Jane held up her hand, took the reigns. There was a gleam in her eyes, but determination etched across her face. She slid her hands over the table until they covered Maura's.

"Maura, I... I want to have this conversation - not at the Dirty Robber - but I do very much want - " she squeezed Maura's hands. "-to have this...conversation...with you."

While Jane might not always have been good with words and Maura not always good with clues, there was no mistaking exactly what Jane meant.


It was 7:30 by the time Maura arrived home, carrying Italian take-out she knew Jane loved and a six pack of local beer she knew Jane loved even more. She left the food in the oven to warm and placed the beer and white wine she's bought for herself in the freezer to chill. Working quickly, she managed to set the table, toss a simple salad, feed Bass, set food out for Jo, and tell Angela how exhausted she and Jane were while gracefully wishing her good night - all before Jane let herself in the front door at 7:58.

Jo jangled gleefully across the kitchen, rolling on her back and licking Maura's ankles. Maura lit the last of a few cinnamon and vanilla candles, turned on the Red Sox game.

"Damn..." Jane hung her coat by the door, feeling close to tongue-tied at Maura's incredibly thoughtful gestures. They were almost enough to take her mind off the still very cryptic evidence that threatened her and complicated the case.

Finishing a thorough scratching of Jo's belly, Maura stage whispered "Ms. Friday, did you notice your dinner? I got the organic salmon and sweet potato kibble I know your mother refuses to buy you." On hearing the word 'dinner,' Jo had - decidedly without pretense or grace - launched herself upright, skittered across the tile and slid frantically into her food dish.

"Oh, thanks. Why you gotta make me the bad cop?" Jane tossed up her hands, but her eyes glinted.

"Umm...Because you're the only cop?" Maura offered, handing the detective an icy bottle of lager.

"Touché" Jane took a long swig after tapping the neck of her beer against Maura's wine glass.

"Touché!? - Très Bon, Jane! Je ne savais pas que vous étiez apprenez le français. Peut-être que bientôt, nous pouvons regarder un film ensemble sans avoir besoin de sous-titres!"

Jane nearly choked as she lowered her drink from her lips.

"Umm... ¿Que?" Her knowledge of the French language already heavily taxed by "Touché," she resorted to poor and broken Spanish.

Realizing any further extra-Anglican attempts would amount to teasing bordering on torment, Maura said simply, "I was just complimenting you on your linguistics, Jane."

"Ohh, then by all means, 'donka shayne"

"Danke Schön." Maura couldn't help herself but correct Jane's pronunciation.

"You're welcome." Jane was in on the joke this time.

"No-" Maura was grinning now. Watching the playful look dance across Jane's eyes in the candle light was making her knees a little weak. "Danke schön is the correct German pronunciation."

"Not if you're Wayne Newton."

"I'm not familiar with his work."

Jane laughed out loud, had to set her beer on the counter.

"He's one of the Vegas Germans. Very rare." At Maura's tilted eyebrow, Jane shook her head, still laughing. "Never mind."

The doctor made a soft 'mmm' sound that was somewhere between confusion and amusement. She brought the crisp pinot to her lips and took a slow swallow.

Jane's mouth went dry. Maura's tongue flickered almost imperceptibly along the edge of her mouth as she set her glass down next to Jane's forgotten beer.

The very last reds and pink of sunset angled their way in above the doorway, joined ricocheting candle light. Maura took a step closer to the dark haired detective, her tall heels tapping against the tile in two distinct clicks - like gears falling into place. A machine beginning to move.

The two women stood less than a foot apart in the glimmering kitchen. Behind them, the baseball game erupted - the crack of a bat, the cheers of a grateful home crowd and the fevered pitch of the announcers' voices calling in a Boston grand slam.

Jane didn't even notice. She was still staring at Maura's mouth.

"Jane..." Maura's voice was low and thick. Jane quickly darted her gaze from soft lips to deep, searching green eyes - flecked with gold and flashing.

Both knew they needed to talk.

Years of friendship, all dictates of logic and maturity and proper decision making - everything in them that beat methodically - cautioned in the name of slowing down and regaining control.

And none of that mattered. Not even a little bit.

Not when Jane stepped closer and could smell Maura's perfume. Not when Maura watched Jane's eyes, pupils dilated and something like lightening racing through. Not as Jane reached out and gently cupped Maura's jaw, ran the pad of her thumb with aching slowness over a bottom lip. And definitely not when Maura's eyes fluttered closed and she let out a soft, small sound that cut right through Jane - sharp and sweet and Ohh Fuckkk...

There was no going back.

In an instant, Jane's mouth covered Maura's and the world exploded. Frantic and forceful, Maura clung to Jane, pulled her hard, closer. Impossibly closer. Had Maura not such an understanding of classical physics, she would have said she was trying for them to occupy the same space. Her understanding of quantum mechanics aimed for simply being everywhere at once. Her hands roamed and stroked and clawed until she'd managed to extricate Jane's shift from her pants. At the sensation of Jane's stomach below her fingertips - smooth, soft and hard all at the same time - Maura moaned into Jane's mouth, unapologetic and almost feral.

Jane's heart bounced and her blood pounded like a thunderstorm. Touching Maura felt so good - so incredibly, unmistakably, so heartachingly good that Jane...

...Jane's mind was no longer functioning much beyond pure sensation and desperate, pent up want. Maura's mouth was warm, wet - a tropical cove she wanted to swim into, never out. When Maura found her bare skin with deft fingers and let out a keening moan, she knew she was happily drowning, lost at sea and to a new intoxication.

Tongues moved in tangles, velvet on velveteen. Jane's hands wound in soft blonde waves, anchoring Maura to her mouth. A desperate part of her was terrified this was all some beautiful, transient dream, that all the warmth and magic of kissing Maura might suddenly evaporate. But the sticky-sweet pain of Maura's elegant fingernails digging into her flesh, the powerful, feverish way Maura returned her kisses was better than any dream she'd ever had. She thought she might liquify.

Maura had been waiting for this since five minutes after she first met Jane. She'd been waiting for Jane to figure it all out for herself and she'd been waiting a long, long time. And now she was going to make up for all those lost years.

"Jane-" The name came out part gasp, part moan as their lips parted, each breathing raggedly, ecstatic and slightly disoriented. "Jane" Maura tried again, willing coherence from her swollen lips. "Jane...More Jane...Please..."

Close enough.

The way Maura said her name sent shivers through every nerve in Jane's body. Hearing "more" and "please" turned those shivers into live current that threatened to rip her apart from the inside out.

"God damn..." Jane growled, her mouth at Maura's throat, grazing the delicate skin against her teeth.

The flicker of Jane's tongue at her jugular... the way Jane's hands laced in her hair and tilted her head back, revealed her neck... Maura felt raw, open. Wonderfully, deliciously exposed. She saw a lioness bringing down a gazelle and her pulse rocketed. Silk pooled between her legs. Jane's mouth - smooth and gentle, dangerous and reverent - was the only thing that existed for Maura, the only feeling and thought her brain could focus on - or wanted to...

...Which is why it took her several moments and a series of muttered curses against her throat for her to realize that both their cell phones were ringing.

"Rizzoli!" A frustrated bark greeted the unfortunate dispatcher on Jane's line.

"Dr..." Maura squeaked and then coughed. "This is Dr. Isles."

"Yeah, on my way."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, thank you."

It could have been awkward. There could have been instant fear and regret, the averting of gazes. But Jane looked deep and hard into Maura's eyes, once again traced her thumb over Maura's lower lip.

"This conversation isn't over."

"Damn right." Maura's flushed response elicited a grin and a wink from Jane.

"Language, Dr. Isles."