[Thanks again for all of the reviews everyone!]

Disclaimer: I don't own Rizzoli & Isles.

Chapter 4

After Lieutenant Grant took a job in DC, things got a lot better for Maura. It didn't seem like Jane was interested in dating anyone—in fact, the two women were spending more time together than ever before. Maura convinced Jane to take up yoga, and they even trained for a marathon. Maura followed her rules as best she could, although sticking to them while working undercover as a waitress at a lesbian bar had been a particularly difficult challenge. The bar's uniform looked fantastic on her and as soon as she saw that Jane had noticed that fact, she broke down and played the part of hot lesbian waitress for all it was worth, grinning from ear to ear each time she caught Jane's eye lingering just a little too long on her chest.

At the end of the night Maura poured herself a drink and sat down across from Jane, who looked a little tired. Maura sipped her vodka while Jane rubbed her eyes and then blinked, seemingly unable to focus on anything but Maura's chest.

"Janey, why are you staring at my breasts?" Maura couldn't believe she'd said it, but oh, it felt good to flirt with Jane.

"Maura! I am not staring at your—" Jane realized that Maura had most definitely caught her in mid-ogle so she cut herself off and then backtracked.

"I'm staring at your, you know, molecular newberg . . ."

Both women burst out laughing at Jane's butchery of yet another medical term, and Maura was about to protest that she didn't have a mole on her breasts, unlike some other people she knew, when the bar's owner came over to their table and interrupted. The moment was broken, but for days afterward Maura wondered if she should seriously consider breaking rule number three and tell Jane how she felt.

The only thing stopping her was the ever-present memory of what had happened when she had broken that rule with her best friend Kate all those years ago. They had been sitting on the couch in Kate's dorm watching a movie when Kate announced that she was cold and went to get a blanket that they could both snuggle under. Maura had jumped at the chance for physical intimacy with the woman that she was falling in love with and when Kate seemed so content in her arms she had taken what she felt was the next logical step—she leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth.

When Maura opened her eyes after that kiss, instead of seeing her friend looking back at her with affection or arousal, she saw only disgust. Kate backed away and threw off the blanket, clearly wanting to put as much distance between her and Maura as she could. Then she said the words that Maura would never forget.

"Shit, Maura! What the fuck are you doing?" And she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

The only thing about that moment that Maura was proud of was that she didn't start crying right then and there. She simply stood up, picked up her shoes and her purse, and walked out of the room. The two women never spoke again.

Maura had heard Jane use those words many, many times, although thankfully they had never been directed at her. What cop didn't relieve a little tension with profanity once in awhile? But the thought of hearing Jane say them as a visceral reaction to being kissed by Maura—that shot such fear into her heart that she could hardly see straight. So she convinced herself to keep rule number three, no matter what signals Jane seemed to be throwing her way and things were okay.

But then they got a lot worse.

The first time the serial killer Charles Hoyt had attacked Jane, Maura had been horrified by what had happened to her colleague but since they barely knew each other she had only expressed her sincere sympathy for Jane's injuries and then left it at that.

The second time Hoyt began to terrorize Jane, Maura's heart melted as she watched her best friend try to deal with a level of fear and anger that she had never before known. This time, Maura offered what comfort and stability she could by inviting Jane into her home and by doing whatever was necessary to help catch the psychopath and his apprentice. She had even agreed to let Jane use a dead woman's corpse as bait to draw Hoyt out—a decision that still haunted her with frighteningly vivid dreams in which she could see her own naked body, left exposed to the elements in a remote forest, while Jane simply walked away. But in the end it had been worth it, because Jane had once again put Hoyt behind bars.

The third time Jane dealt with Hoyt, in the form of yet another apprentice, Maura saw something she never thought she would see. Jane sat on the couch in her living room with Maura beside her and gave into her fears. Jane had clearly lost all hope, terrified that Hoyt would continue to torture her until the day that he finally caught her and killed her. She was so tired and broken that she didn't even protest when Maura jumped into action and called in Jane's new partner, Frost, as well as Korsak and a team of patrol officers, to protect her. Maura knew that Jane guarded her independence fiercely, and to see her so frightened broke her heart. Jane even let Maura take her own loaded gun and aim it at the apartment door until the rest of the team arrived, just so she could feel secure enough to sleep.

With Jane in such a fragile state, Maura felt her own fears and emotions quickly growing out of control. Providing for Jane's needs kept her busy though, and on the outside she remained as calm and composed as she could for Jane's sake. But when Gabriel Dean walked into the police department in the middle of the investigation and quickly beat a path to Jane's desk, Maura felt something snap inside of her.

FBI Agent Dean had worked with Boston Homicide just a few weeks earlier in search of information about Hoyt's apprentice. Initially Jane had reacted poorly to his intrusion into her case but Maura realized quickly that her friend's brusque behavior was simply her usual way of trying to cover up her attraction to the agent. When she was rational, Maura had to agree that Dean was perfect for Jane—he was good looking, smart, and he had respect for Jane and her job. But after spending the night in a wrinkled dress aiming a gun at Jane's front door until her arms shook with fatigue, Maura was definitely not feeling very rational.

So when Maura saw Dean arrive at Jane's desk and heard him announce that he was there just to make sure that Jane was okay, and when she saw Jane's tired and tense face relax in his presence, she felt as though she might break into pieces. She put on a happy face, not wanting Jane or Dean to catch even a glimpse of the anguish she felt inside, but when she got home that night she knew it was time to formulate a new plan.

This had to end. She had known it all along—Jane wouldn't stay single and available to play the role of Maura Isles' best friend forever. Once this case was over, she swore to herself, she was going to have to move on. If it came down to a choice between watching Jane slowly slip away from her into a relationship with Agent Dean, or leaving Boston all together and making a clean break of things, she would have to choose the latter.

The case ended badly—although no one was physically injured, both Frankie and Jane were kidnapped by Hoyt's female apprentice and Frankie ended up having to shoot her in Jane's apartment. Jane felt horribly guilty for involving her brother in Hoyt's nasty work and Frankie was understandably upset by the events even though he had managed to save himself and his sister.

When Korsak found Maura to tell her that Jane was safe and the apprentice dead, she collapsed into the detective's arms, sobbing with relief. Korsak patted her gently and told her she should go home and get some sleep—she was clearly exhausted by the events of the week. But Maura told him she would wait until Jane returned to the office. She had to see Jane and make sure she was okay.

But Jane never came back to the office. Frost came in after an hour or so and said that the detective had left the scene with Dean. His words felt like a slap in the face to Maura, as she was once again hit with the cold, hard, reality of the situation.

Maura went home, planning to sleep for as many hours as she possibly could just to escape the feelings of loss and emptiness inside her heart, but she awoke as soon as the sunlight began streaming in her bedroom window. With a flutter in her heart she checked her phone to see if Jane had left her a message, but there was nothing. Jane didn't come in to work, and there were no calls, no texts, no emails. Maura was sure that Jane was spending the day with Dean, and the thought of the two of them together made her feel sick. So she left the morgue early and went home, allowing herself a night of self pity before beginning to look for another job, in another city.

Sitting alone on her couch that night with her uneaten dinner congealing on the coffee table, Maura had many emotions flooding through her. She hated herself for being so weak, she was jealous of Dean, and the acute loneliness felt like acid burning a hole in the lining of her stomach.

But most of all, she was angry. Angry at Jane for not seeing what was right in front of her.

Finally, after two hours of letting herself feel angry and hurt, she pulled herself together, had a long, hot shower to wash away the tears, and returned to her couch with her laptop and a martini to draft her letter of resignation. Breathing deeply to steel herself for the task, she typed quickly and efficiently, feeling better as the familiar distraction of work began to settle her mind.

Then the phone rang. It was Jane.

For a brief second, she considered not answering it. But only the briefest of seconds.

"Hello?"

"Maura." Jane was whispering, but she sounded relieved.

Maura's anger at her friend suddenly sprang to life again, and she spoke the next words rather sharply. "Where are you? Why haven't you called me? I've been so worried about you."

Jane heard the catch in Maura's voice and cringed inwardly. "I know, Maura, I'm sorry. Ma and pop have practically tied me up in my pink canopy bed and they took away my phone so I would sleep. Finally I guess ma decided that me and Frankie are okay because she fell asleep and I got daddy to give me my phone back. I feel like a teenager again, sneaking around trying to call my boyfriend in the middle of the night." Jane giggled, and Maura felt infinitely better.

"But what about Dean?"

"What about him?"

"Frost said that you left with him after Frankie . . ." She trailed off, not wanting to say anything that would make Jane remember why her parents had forced her back to the infamous pink canopy bed.

"Yeah, we went to dinner but I got rid of him pretty quickly. It would never work with him, Maura. All we had to talk about was Hoyt, and who wants to talk about him? I'm afraid whenever I see him I'll always remember Hoyt, and that's no way to start a relationship."

Maura paused for a second, afraid of the answer to the question she felt compelled to ask next. "What about me then, Jane? I've been with you through this whole mess too. When you look at me do you think about Hoyt?"

"Of course not, Maura! When I look at you I think of everything but Hoyt. C'mon, Maura, you're my best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you." Now it was Maura's turn to hear the catch in Jane's voice.

This admission of affection seemed so unlike Jane—well, Jane when she was fully sober—that Maura didn't respond and Jane quickly took up the thread of the conversation to cover the awkward silence.

"I've got to ask you for another favor though, Maura. I've got to get out of my parents' house and I . . . I really don't want to go back to my apartment yet. Can I—"

Maura interrupted before Jane could finish. "Stay over here? Of course, Janey, of course. You don't even have to ask."

As soon as she got off the phone Maura quickly set about cleaning up and getting ready for Jane's arrival, throwing away tissues and putting the cold curry down the garbage disposal. When she had finished tidying up she returned to her laptop and looked at the letter of resignation she had typed up. Without a second thought, she clicked the X in the upper right-hand corner of the document, and when the computer program asked if she wanted to save the document before closing it, she clicked no.

Jane and Maura both slept soundly that night, side by side in Maura's king-sized bed. Jane woke first the next morning and stared for several minutes at her sleeping friend, relishing the sense of peace and calm that she felt in Maura's presence. She wished that she could somehow let Maura know how much her friendship meant to her, and how sorry she was that she had made Maura worry.

An idea came to her, and she snuck out of the bedroom and slipped into Maura's office, heading for her desk. Jane found that she could often express her feelings better in writing than she could in person, so she looked for some notepaper or stationery in Maura's desk drawers. The bottom drawer was locked, but the key was in plain sight in a cubbyhole and Jane didn't hesitate to open it.

The first thing she saw in the drawer was a picture of herself. She pulled it out, and found another underneath it, and another underneath that. She had seen Maura take pictures of her at different times, but she hadn't known that her friend had printed the snapshots. There were a few of the two of them together, and Jane smiled as she remembered the occasions on which they had been taken. She kept digging through the drawer and found more mementos—dozens more, in fact. Programs from the Red Sox games, ticket stubs from movies they had seen together, a napkin from the lesbian bar they had worked in undercover. Even the card that Jane had given her with a Christmas gift well over a year ago. It was as though Maura had been documenting every event of their relationship together.

Relationship? Jane wondered why that word had suddenly come to mind. She kept digging through the drawer, with her heart pounding so loud she thought it might wake Maura up in the next room. She furtively looked up at the door, afraid of being caught going through Maura's things, but she didn't stop.

The next layer of mementos she didn't recognize. There were pictures of a younger Maura with another girl, a redhead with blue eyes. Some of them were labeled on the back, and it seemed the girl's name was Kate. There were more ticket stubs, a pair of tiny earrings taped to a card, and a symphony program covered with notes that Maura and, presumably, this Kate, had written to each other during the performance. Mementos of another relationship.

Then, as Jane bent down to see what other treasures might be hidden at the bottom of the drawer, her eye caught sight of a sheet of notepaper taped to the side of the drawer. She pried it loose and saw that it was labeled simply, "Rules."

As she read the list of rules Jane's head was swimming and her stomach was doing flip flops. She stared at the paper for nearly an entire minute before she quickly stuck it back onto the side of the drawer and replaced all of the other papers and objects as carefully as she could. Her plan to write a note having been completely forgotten, she tip-toed back to the bedroom and lay back down beside her still-sleeping friend, staring at the ceiling and listening to Maura's steady breathing.

Jane Rizzoli was going to have to think about this.