Notes: Author's note at the end on the title of this chapter.

CH 7: Quando me'n vo' *

Maura had to walk a couple of blocks, but it wasn't so bad on such a lovely day. There had been too many days spent indoors recently. Winter had been so bitter and Spring not that much more friendly, it would be a shame to let summer slip away. She eventually arrived at her destination and climbed the three flights of stairs where she paused and stood with some trepidation outside the door of Michelle's apartment. Michelle had come home with her and Jane for one night after the attack but then insisted on going back to her own place. Sarah Donahue from Vice took off for a couple of days and stayed with her, followed by Gretchen and Deena had offered to stay with Michelle at night for a few days. It was the first time Michelle would be alone during the day and Maura knew how difficult those first periods of aloneness could be. Yet, at the same time, she didn't really know Michelle, other than the very bad first impression of Michelle hitting on Jane at the Robber and the few gatherings of the Association of Women Officer's since.

She knocked on the door and smiled as Michelle opened it, "Hi…"

Michelle smiled back, a genuine smile laden with relief, "Hey, come in…I hope you're not wasting your lunch break to come all the way over here and check on me."

"I'm off actually," Maura walked into Michelle's apartment and glanced around. It was pretty bare, very little furniture, spartanly decorated. "Jane and I took some vacation time, we're going to move in together so I'm putting my place on the market this week and we're looking at some properties. I…heard it was your first day alone since…and well, I thought I'd bring you lunch." Maura held up the bag of Chinese takeout.

"That's nice…that you and Jane are moving in together…and that you brought me lunch, thank you." Michelle sat down at her small dining room table as Maura unpacked the contents of the bag.

"How are you feeling?" Maura asked, pulling the second chair around to sit closer to Michelle as she heaped the food onto paper plates.

"Umm, sore, hurts to move, I can't sleep at night because I'm used to sleeping on my side but I can't because of the lacerations. Never realized my thighs touched so much when I walk, but evidently they do…incentive to do better in the gym I suppose," Michelle laughed in an attempt to lighten the conversation.

"And…other than physically…I hope I'm not prying," Maura tilted her head, catching Michelle's eye. The emotional aspect, it's what few people dared broach. She knew from her own experience. It was also what hurt the most and lingered long after the physical wounds healed and faded away.

Michelle slurped the end of a lao mein noodle into her mouth, "Wow, this is really good lao mein…"

"It's Jane's favorite…" Maura reached out and placed her hand over Michelle's free hand which was resting on the table.

"Yeah…other than physically…mostly good, when I'm awake. I have nightmares when I sleep, that I'm back there tied down and I can see his face. His normal face. I wish he looked more like Charles Hoyt, you know, creepy and evil, maybe it would be easier then. I wake up swearing I can hear his voice just in front of me, hopefully those dreams will go away. I agreed to do the assignment, I knew it could be dangerous, being prepared for that in advance helped. But, I…I get mad at myself sometimes. Because he was watching me, all that time and I never noticed. I feel like I failed, at my job, and if I'm not good at my job…I…I don't have anything else." Michelle put down her fork and wiped at her eyes trying to fight back the tears, "gah, dammit."

Maura scooted her chair closer and took Michelle's hand between both of hers, "You didn't fail at your job, criminals like Kyle Walsh make it their job to be invisible, to blend in. You did everything you were supposed to do and thanks to you no other women in this city or the next have to go through what his other victims went through. I used to think my job was all I had too, I wasn't close with my parents, I didn't really have any friends, and then I came to BPD and I realized if I'd just let people in it didn't have to be that way. Sarah, Deena, Gretchen, Jane and myself, we're your friends. You can't do this alone, and you don't have to…and I promise, the nightmares do eventually go way."

Michelle quit wiping at her eyes and let the tears fall, "Thank you," she sniffled, "though I think you might be the last person I would have expected to call me a friend…after I so shamelessly hit on Jane at the Robber that time. I never apologized for that," she looked Maura in the eye, "I'm sorry."

Maura nodded and squeezed Michelle's hand, "It's in the past," she finished with a reassuring smile.

Michelle took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her head, "Can I ask you something, kind of personal?"

"Of course."

"I'm worried nothing will ever be normal again, I think about will I be able to go for a walk, take a run and not be terrified of some psycho lurking in the coffee shop window. Did you ever get over those fears after you were attacked?"

"Eventually, yes. The first few times back at the Robber was difficult, but I had to confront it. And I talked about it, with Jane, maybe not as much as I should have at first. If I could change anything about how I handled it I would have talked more, gone to see Dr. Stevens sooner. But slowly, I stopped seeing Kearns everywhere I went, not in the sense of his actual face but feeling his presence. You'll get there, and we'll help you get there. I love to run, Jane not so much, maybe if you had a running partner…that could be a start?"

Michelle's eyes softened, the dawning realization that she really wasn't as alone as she thought she was becoming apparent, "I'd like that, very much."


"Jane!" Maura called out several times as she wandered through the house, finding it empty she peeked outside to see Jane lounging on a blanket in the yard clad in only running shorts and a sports bra. Joe Friday was working out a case of the zoomies, tearing NASCAR-esque laps around the yard. A couple of feet from where Jane sat propped up on her elbows, Bass munched happily on a smorgasbord of delectable treats that Jane had sliced for him. Maura flipped off her heels and smiled as the warm grass tickled and scratched at the bottoms of her feet. The warmth from the mid-afternoon sun bore down on her, causing her to shed her suit jacket. It was a beautiful day, its beauty enhanced only by the statuesque form lounging, sunlight shining off a thin sheen of sweat on the lawn in front of her.

"Jane." Still no response. It was then Maura noticed the cord from Jane's headphones that trailed down to the iPod sitting next to her, her fingers tapping along to some mysterious beat.

Maura slowed her steps and hoped Joe, who was now thoroughly engrossed in the investigation of something under one of the shrubs at the back of yard didn't notice her. She eased down to kneel behind Jane.

"Maur, I may not can hear you, but I know you're there."

Her attempt at stealth having failed Maura wrapped her arms around the glistening tan body in front of her and took advantage of the breeze that had just blown Jane's hair free of her neck to place a soft kiss on the now exposed skin.

Jane pulled the ear buds out and craned her neck, begging for a kiss on the lips, for which Maura gladly obliged.

"How did you know I was here?" Maura let her hands roam up Jane's bare stomach.

"I'm all sweaty," she mumbled as their lips separated for another moment.

"Don't care," came Maura's reply as she leaned in for another kiss before taking a seat next to Jane on the blanket.

"I could smell your perfume, that's how I knew you were there," Jane gave her a wink.

"Bass! Jane! Did you give him a snack!" Maura had just noticed the little plate of strawberry slices and roughage the tortoise was happily munching away on.

Damn. I've been caught. "Oh come on Maur, I give him snacks all the time and he always eats his dinner…besides…you gonna tell me you don't give Joe treats when I'm not around?" Jane cocked her eyebrow as she looked at Maura who pursed her lips in defeat.

"Fair point," Maura giggled as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind Jane's ear.

"I didn't think the meeting with your real estate agent would take so long." Jane turned to lean back and rest her head in Maura's lap.

"It didn't, I took lunch over to Michelle…"

"Oh? That was nice."

"Did you know her parents kicked her out when she was 17, when they found out she was gay? She moved from friend's house to friend's house while she finished high school and then worked odd jobs to put herself through community college for an Associate's Degree in Criminal Justice before she joined the force?"

Jane looked up at Maura, "I didn't. Must've been hard. She's a good cop, passionate, knows her stuff, gets along with everyone, I can see her getting off patrol…probably sooner rather than later based on…well, you know. I could put in a word with the Brass, might not make a difference…but I think Vice has a few openings, I could get Sarah to put in a word too."

Maura ran her fingers through Jane's hair, "You are sweaty; how long have you been out here?"

"Ha! I don't know 45 minutes or an hour, it's such a nice day…"

"Well, I hope you put on sunscreen, it's a common misconception that people with naturally darker pigmentation aren't as susceptible to skin cancer…"

"Yes, Maura, I put on sunscreen. I looked at those listings you left out for me," Jane sat up and turned to face Maura.

"And?" Maura's smile was infectious, causing Jane to grin in return.

"They all look really nice, I mean, you probably know more about what to look for in a place than I do…but…" Jane paused, wondering if there was any way to broach the topic and salvage her pride. Probably not, she concluded opening her mouth to continue before Maura cut her off.

"You're worried about the cost…of the properties." It wasn't a question because Maura knew exactly what Jane's concern was; she had anticipated it would eventually come up.

"Yeah, it's just I…I can't…you know, what I'm trying to say is…"

"Jane, it won't be any less our place just because we don't split the costs fifty-fifty. Financially you'll contribute what's reasonable. And to make up the difference my only additional expectation is to come home to a hot meal every night and you in a skimpy apron and heels," Maura tried to contain the smirk that was curling her lips into a jesting smile.

"Oh, is that so?" Jane slinked forward, a predatory look in her eye.

"Mmhmm," Maura nodded her head in the affirmative, giggling as Jane forced her down to the ground.


The delightful aroma of homemade pasta sauce hung tantalizingly in the air of Angela and Frank's house. The sweet tang of freshly crushed tomatoes infused with the savory essence of basil and oregano gave Maura pause. She imagined the loaves of fresh garlic bread that were likely toasting in the oven and then a new odor tickled her senses. Her culinary senses picked up the crisp notes of lightly battered chicken and the complimentary notes of cracked pepper, lemon and butter, real butter. It was perfect. Angela's cooking was always perfect.

Maura blinked as Jane's fingers snapped in front of her face, "Maur," Jane laughed, "you in some kind of trance or something."

Maura slid her arm around Jane's waist, "Your mother's cooking very nearly has that effect on me. The tomato sauce we always have over here doesn't smell or taste like the recipe she gave us when we cooked for my parents. Did I mess it up?"

"That's because this is the sauce recipe," Jane replied as if it was totally normal that there would be more than one tomato sauce recipe.

"Well then, I would love this tomato sauce recipe…"

"Ha!" Jane guffawed, nearly snorting as she covered her mouth. They made their way into the den, "Hey, Frankie, Maura wants Ma's sauce recipe, the sauce recipe."

"Ha!" Frankie laughed and slapped his knee, "That's a good one, last I checked, 10 minutes ago, Ma was still alive."

Tommy took a swig of his beer, "I wanted to cook dinner for a girl once, asked Ma for the sauce recipe…"

"How hard did she smack you?" Frankie chuckled as he popped a potato chip into his mouth, nearly choking.

"Pretty damn hard," Tommy laughed, "Told me I could have it when I pried it out of her cold dead hands." Tommy cleared his throat and straightened his back, placing one finger in the air as he prepared his Angela impersonation, "Thomas Luciano Rizzoli! You should know better! Thirty years it took me to perfect this sauce, thirty years! Of blood, sweat and experimentation, mixed with tears! Honest to God tears! And you expect me just to hand it over! You have to earn the right to this recipe!"

Everyone laughed; Tommy did a pretty bang up Angela impersonation after all.

"Jesus, you'd think I asked for the patented formula for the cure for cancer or something. Like her life depended on the development of this pasta sauce. I wouldn't be surprised if she bottled the blood, sweat and tears and actually added it to the sauce."

"Gross," Frankie shuddered.

"I can hear you!" Angela's voice carried in from the kitchen.

She soon appeared in the doorway, hand on her hip, "Thomas…Luciano…Rizzoli, I may be getting older, but I'm not deaf. Keep imitating me and you won't get the recipe even from my cold dead hands…Now, the rest of you ruffians amuse yourselves, Maura dear, come taste this chicken piccata and give me your opinion." With that Angela disappeared back into the kitchen.

Maura rose and looked at Tommy, since the incident when he had come on to her at dinner after the shooting and Jane had punched him things had greatly improved. It was obvious he had sought help with his drinking and Maura discovered that a sober Tommy was just as affable and pleasant to be around as the rest of his family. In fact, Tommy was quite the entertainer, a natural comedian.

"Thomas…Luciano?" Maura asked with a smirk, one eyebrow raised. On thing was certain, to get along in the Rizzoli family, you had to learn to give as well as you got.

Tommy rolled his eyes, "Ma went through an opera phase; I guess I came along during the Pavarotti period."

"Oh, well, certainly one of the finest voices in modern opera," she looked over at Frankie, "I don't suppose your middle name is Placido?"

Jane and Tommy could barely contain their laughter.

"Rico…Suuuaaaveee," Tommy drawled out before nearly doubling over.

"Enrico," Frankie mumbled, his face reddening with embarrassment.

"Enrico Caruso?" Maura asked.

"You really do know like everything don't you?" Frankie asked.

"Not hardly, but Enrico Caruso is truly magnificent, it's such a shame the quality of many of his recordings is so poor. He died rather young at the age of 48…"

"Maur…I think Ma wanted you to taste something? Perhaps you can opera googlemouth us later, or you know, burn Frankie and Tommy CDs of their namesakes," Jane fought hard not to laugh, if Maura thought she was serious she really would make Tommy and Frankie opera mix CDs.

"Oh! Of course, I have an extensive opera collection, I'd be happy to share it," with that Maura trotted off to join Angela in the kitchen.

"You're evil, you know that right?" Frankie questioned rhetorically, looking at his sister as she flopped down on the sofa next to him.

"She really will burn us CDs won't she?" Tommy asked, a look of dismay on his face.

"She will, and you will listen to it, and you will thank her. Now, get me a beer, I'm starving," Jane waved her hand at Tommy.

Groans of uncomfortable pleasure emanated from the Rizzoli clan as they lay in various stretched out positions amongst the den furniture.

"Ma, you outdid yourself, that was…amazing," Jane shifted on the sofa and exhaled as she placed her hands over her stomach, "Ugh, ate too much, so full…maybe if I just unbutton my pants…"

"Jane!" Maura exclaimed in horror, swatting at Jane's hands, "You absolutely will not!"

"Fine! Then we need to go because I need to be in pants with a spandex waistband stat! You know, and we have to go back to work tomorrow," Jane laboriously hoisted herself up from the sofa.

"Janie! Don't leave yet…" Angela called, the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen nearly muffling her voice.

Jane wrapped her arms around Maura as they waited, placing a kiss on Maura's temple. Angela finally emerged from the kitchen bearing several Tupperware containers of leftovers.

"There's enough here for two meals and an extra to take to your friend Michelle, God bless her. And next Sunday, you bring Michelle to dinner, ok, there you go," Angela thrust the bag of food into Jane's arms.

Jane laughed, "Thanks, Ma."

"And Maura…" Angela reached out and grasped Maura lightly by the forearm as she handed her a sealed envelope, which held an old, worn notecard, "The sauce recipe," her voice was sincere, but stern, "not to be shared with anyone," she glanced at Jane, "and I mean, anyone."

Maura smiled as she took the envelope, leaning in to give Angela a hug she whispered, "Understood, Ma."

Jane, Frankie and Tommy all stood, jaws hanging open in disbelief.

"Well," Frankie started as Jane and Maura left, "I guess we know who the favorite is."


* "When I walk," from Act 2 of Puccini's La Boheme

When I walk all alone in the street

People stop and stare at me

And look for my whole beauty

From head to feet

And then I taste the slight yearning

Which transpires from their eyes

And which is able to perceive from manifest charms

To most hidden beauties

So the scent of desire is all around me