During the next two hours, Jane busied herself with paperwork, figuring that, even though she hated doing it, it was a way to pass the time, and if she waited too long with doing it, Cavanaugh would call her into his office again and yell at her, as it had happened not too long ago, when he had found out that she hadn't done her paperwork for the past few weeks.
Even though she tried hard to focus on the task at hand, eager to get it done and off her cluttered desk, the detective again and again let her mind wander, thinking about the new case for a while – and then about Maura, again and again replaying various moments in her mind's eye, calm and peaceful times she had shared with the medical examiner, when they simply had been enjoying each other's company, having drinks at the Dirty Robber or just hanging out at the blonde's home.
And just as regularly as she let her mind drift off, she snapped herself out of it again, mentally scolding herself for being so distracted; she asked herself what was wrong with her as she focused on her paperwork yet again – after all, she had known Maura for years now, but in all that time, she never had found herself thinking of her as often as she was doing now.
Well, except for that one time when you thought someone kidnapped her, she pondered to herself, not even noticing that she had stopped working again and was thinking about her best friend once more, you couldn't stop thinking about her back then. But that was different, you didn't know what was going on…
Realizing that yet again, she was thinking about Maura instead of doing her work, Jane let out an audible groan and buried her face in her hands; at his desk, Frost looked up and raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment, to her relief probably figuring that she was getting frustrated about the paperwork and not having a clue about the real reason for her behaviour.
"You okay over there?" Korsak didn't do her that favour, giving her a curious look; she let out a vaguely agreeing grunt in reply, then glared at the stack of paperwork, asking herself why she always let it pile up that way before tackling it at last, and then spending hours getting it done.
"I need a coffee", she decided after taking another look at the paperwork waiting for her, "you guys want some, too?"
"No thanks", Frost gave back while Korsak lifted his cup and claimed he already got some; glad that none of them had called her out on the fact that she'd ignore the paperwork yet again to get her coffee, Jane got up from her seat and stretched before heading out of the bullpen and to the elevator, sending a quick text to Maura on the way there.
Getting coffee, she wrote, u want some?
Not even half a minute after she had hit the "Send" button, the phone vibrated on her hip, informing her that the medical examiner's answer had arrived; Jane wasn't surprised to see that Maura had sent a simple "Yes", smirking to herself as she let the elevator carry her down to the groundfloor, heading straight for the cafeteria, nodding greetings to those who called out to her or waved to her.
To her relief, there, for once, was no line in front of the cafeteria counter; thus, her mother immediately spotted her the moment she entered and waved rather enthusiastically, calling to her all the way through the room if she wanted something to eat or just coffee.
"Keep it down, Ma", Jane hissed, slightly embarrassed, once she had hurried close enough to be heard without hollering, as well, "or do you want the whole precinct to know if I'm hungry or not? Just coffee. Two, Maura wants one, as well."
"Of course", Angela gave back, already moving to the coffee machine, "when did you get one just for you the last time? That must have been months ago."
The remark was innocent enough, but still it caused Jane to pause and give her mother a hard look as she asked herself if the elder woman had noticed anything; then, she pushed those thoughts aside, telling herself that there wasn't anything to notice, and just shrugged, a gesture her mother didn't see since she stood with her back to the detective.
While she waited for the coffee to get done, Jane let her thoughts wander once more, this time, for once, not thinking about her best friend, but about the case they were working on; again, she pondered the unusually high cruelty and aggression of the crime, thinking of how the man had be killed and forced to admit to herself that this hadn't been a simple heat of the moment murder, the kind she often had dealt with in her career, but a planned and well-executed act.
"There you go", Angela tore her out of her thoughts, handing her the two paper cups filled with coffee, prepared with sugar and milk just the way Maura and she liked it, "say Hi to Maura from me, I haven't seen her all day."
"She's busy with the new case", Jane told her, something she instantly regretted though as her mother gasped, then looked at her with wide eyes, trying and failing miserably to keep her voice down as she replied. "You mean the poor man who got castrated? That's so gruesome!"
"Yell a bit louder, Ma", the detective replied, raising an eyebrow at her, "I don't think the whole precinct heard you. Yes, that man, but please keep quiet about it, we're not sure yet what it is about and we don't want the media vultures on our heels."
"Of course, of course, sorry", Angela hurriedly gave back, "well, say Hi to Maura from me and enjoy the coffee!"
"Will do", Jane promised, taking careful hold of the coffee cups, "see you later, Ma."
Nodding, the elder woman smiled brightly at her, then told her to take care; she nodded again in response, then hurried off, eager to get to the morgue and to her best friend, not even admitting to herself how eager she was to see Maura again, even though they just hadn't seen each other for a few hours.
It was a slow night, to his great dismay; so far, only one person had approached him to buy, and he grumbled to himself as he leaned against the wall of the building behind him in the small, not much frequented side alley, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweater after checking his watch impatiently. He had to get at least another five sales before he could go, or Harold would be pissed again, and the last thing he needed was the man angry at him yet once more.
"Come on", he grumbled at no one in particular, looking around impatiently, willing a customer to appear, "normally you guys swarm me the moment I get outta my ride, where are ya today?"
As if his grumbling had been some sort of cue, one of those just walking past him in his little side alley stepped out of the constant flow of people and approached him; he immediately straightened up and took his hands out of his pockets, eying the advancing figure, studying the baggy pants and sweater the potential customer was wearing, hiding their built, the sweater's hood pulled deep into the person's face, hiding his features from him.
"Yo", he greeted in a carefully neutral tone, raising one hand in greeting, "can I help you?"
"I think you can", the person replied, the voice, although rather deep and hoarse, identifying them as female, "you're Weir, aren't you. I heard you… might have what I need."
"Depends on who told you", Weir told her; this wasn't the first time a new customer approached him, and it wouldn't be the last time, but he still was wary, knowing that each time might be the last, with an undercover cop coming up to him instead of someone in need for some weed or pills.
"A friend", the woman gave back, stepping closer to him; something about her set off his inner alarms, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable, glancing around before his gaze focused on her again, his voice betraying nothing of his unease when he told her that this wouldn't do and that he needed a name.
"Surely you understand the need for caution", he went on when she didn't reply at once, his unease making it impossible for him to stop talking, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly was making him uneasy, "with the cops everywhere these days."
"You don't even remember her name anymore", the woman replied, and while he still asked himself what this meant, she reached up and moved the hood back, and he got the first real look at her face; his eyes went wide, but before he could scream or try to run or do anything else, the syringe was in her hand and the needle was rammed into his flesh, a choked noise coming from him as the drug entered his bloodstream and took effect, no one on the nearby busy street noticing how he went down.
