"This is fascinating!" Maura, freshly clothed and groomed, stated as her eyes raked over her computer's screen. Bo stood close to her at the island of her kitchen, and the sight greeted Jane as she sauntered down the stairs.

"What's fascinating?" the detective asked, still buttoning the black oxford on her shoulders. It was her day off, but she figured if she was going to check out a scene, she might as well dress for work. Something about looking the part.

"These screenings! Bo's blood is magnificent. It shouldn't exist," the medical examiner answered, not bothering to look up.

"It's marvelous, isn't it? And if we were to scrutinize, say, a sample from Tamsin, it would be totally different, but just as impressive. They hardly age after reaching adulthood. While that may make sense considering Bo's nature as a succubus, Valkyries nearly defy logic," an elegant, smooth-as-silk voice emanated from the skype application that Maura had open, and Jane raised a brow in question towards Bo.

"I put her in touch with my… with Dr. Lauren Lewis, someone I figured would be more on her level. She's basically the expert in all things fae physiology. She's human," Bo explained softly, with a smile that radiated in competition with the sun filtering in from the kitchen window.

"So, a sciency way to explain all this?" Jane asked.

"Exactly. It's, uh," The private investigator faltered when the other woman took the seat closest to where she stood, mere inches away. She gulped and watched the cop pull a banana from the bunch on the counter, spindly fingers peeling with ease. "It's nothing I could ever understand, but Maura seems to really be taking it all in stride," she offered.

"It was a good plan. I'm glad she's getting some answers But you were supposed to call me first, Bo," it sounded like an admonition, but Jane smiled into the piece of fruit that she bit.

Bo took the moment to really drink her in. She sat, slumped, but her height still came through. These clothes juxtaposed the relaxed wear that she wore not twelve hours ago. She was showered, her hair minimally styled, and she was so dark. Gunmetal slacks, black shirt, black boots – all of it served to wrap her in a contrast to the sunny morning. Praise be. "Well, I was talking to Lauren this morning, and when she heard about Maura, she offered to skype since she had a few extra minutes. I drove over as soon as I could," as if Jane needed proof, the two doctors continued to prattle on about proteins and hemoglobin and other things she would never really understand.

"And I take it it's going well," she stated, rather than inquired. When she finished the last few bites of her banana, she stood, tossing the peel into the compost bin. Lingering soreness, not from her trauma, but from holding a distraught Maura throughout the night, colored her walk until she reached the coffeemaker.

"I'll say," Bo reiterated, unsure if she were agreeing about Maura and Lauren's talk, or talking about Jane's rugged way of doing, well, everything. She decided to let it lie, and crossed over to the detective, her skintight black jeans and fully closed burgundy leather jacket swishing and squishing the whole way. She knew full well the hushed obscenity in the sounds – and the way Jane colored when her eyes left the buttons of the Keurig said that she knew it, too. They stood just a foot or so apart, and Bo waited. Waited for Jane to do something other than react. A few supercharged heartbeats later, when the silence was enough for Maura to look up and study them behind the screen of her computer, she was rewarded.

"You want coffee?" Jane asked. Even her hospitality was brusque, but warmth still pervaded. Her voice could have filled the mug all by itself. Her eyes dragged from succubus toe to head, as though they struggled under a colossal weight: they begged to stay put at a midsection; she resisted.

Their eyes met.

"Yes, Detective, I would," Bo answered. Her eyes flickered blue again for an instant; she made herself clear, and Jane was the first to break away.

"Hmm. How do you take it?" the taller woman inquired after clearing her throat. She began to pull down another mug and reloaded the coffeemaker, after dumping a hefty amount of sugar in her own.

The private investigator studied the scarred hands that worked on her own cup. There was something in the ruggedness of the gesture, of the other woman caring for her, that put sex in her brain. "You like it sweet, huh?" she asked, unable to help herself. Her fingers drummed against the light granite, and Jane laughed softly, a liquid little tune that slithered up against Bo's better judgment.

A cleared throat from the farthest edge of the island startled the both of them.

"You two seem to have hit it off," Maura smiled brightly as she spoke, but Jane heard the irritation. How long had she been off the call?

"Yeah well, don't expect us to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon, Maura," she gruffed in attempt to recover the distance between herself and Bo.

Bo smirked. Oh no, we definitely won't be doing that. "I could say that you and Lauren seemed to hit it off, too, Dr. Isles," she offered cordially. "Did she help you any?"

This pacified the pathologist. Her eyes were alight with all that she had learned, but she looked exhausted, too. How could she even begin to explain it all? "It's amazing, all of this out there that we have no idea about… it's mind-numbing, and makes me want to go back into research. But from what Dr. Lewis explained, that is most definitely not an option," she took a few seconds to recall their rather sobering discussion of the fae and their reach. Of course not every detail could be shared or elaborated upon, but it was clearly a very dangerous territory. They agreed to meet in person when all of this had blown over. "As a hard scientist, I am… accepting of the fact there are things I do not yet understand or know. But this, this is… scary in its scale. And it's scary that there is a whole network of people out there who have been keeping this secret for a very long time."

Jane had moved closer to her, her eyes soft, her posture flexible, welcoming. Understanding. The moment curbed Bo's fires and replaced them with docile warmth. Her desire to help these people returned to the fore. Clearly her presence had caused more upheaval than she would have liked. "I definitely understand the feeling. I knew about as much as you awhile back, and I am fae!" She laughed, attempting to dispel the tension. She reached a hand out when Maura smiled at her in thanks.

"Well, you two should go, do what you came to do," the doctor stood, and straightened her skirt. She licked her lips and skirted her gaze, unsure of how exactly to proceed.

Again, Jane noted disappointment in her voice. "You don't wanna come? I'm sure you could help us out," she said. "I mean, I really don't think we'll be there for long. I'm pissed Ma is sticking her nose in this stuff in the first place."

"No, I think I'll spend my Saturday morning grading exams. Then I can be free for later," Maura answered. The statement seemed innocent enough, but Bo registered the lasciviousness the ambiguity implied. There was a conspiratorial glint in green eyes that Jane completely missed. To cement the intimacy, she squeezed her best friend's bicep as she moved through the kitchen, then grabbed a travel mug from the cabinet above the toaster oven. She pried the ceramic from Jane's hands and poured slowly. There was no second mug for her own coffee. I must have awakened something, Bo thought, because that was more than a little territorial.

"Thanks so much for the coffee, you two. Now, should we be off? We can grab your Ma and then I'll have you lead the way, Jane," she smirked, eyeing Maura only. Hades' daughter did love a little competition.


"Ya know, nothing's really changed," Jane remarked as she drove into her old neighborhood. The bright morning and springtime air filled her with nostalgia: early evenings riding her bike home, tee ball, street hoops with her brothers and the other kids around. The homes that had loomed over them then, encasing them in a superficial security, were the only things that looked smaller, different now.

"It's a little different than when your father and I first moved in, but you're right. Maria's still got that awful wallpaper in the family room, too," Angela chuckled from the passenger seat. She had a few memories on the street that were more than just a little unsettling. Still she kept her sense of humor.

"Oh God, the floral pattern?" Jane asked, mortified. It really was terrible.

"Yes, that's the one! Still there," her mother said, laughing harder.

"I'm pretty sure Frankie and I drew an entire fenway still-life on that wallpaper – in marker. How she got it off, I guess we'll never know," the detective mused, beginning to laugh a little, too.

Bo scrutinized their interaction. For all the love and acceptance in her life, she still never had a proper mother figure. It created an inward longing for no one in particular. She turned her eyes out the back window in silence, and when they approached the Talucci driveway, the sway of the trees flanking the manicured lawn made her shiver with anticipation. Something was a little too perfect. Something was brewing on the inside. Call it a gut feeling.

She swallowed it down, and as they emerged from the car, she became all business. "Do either of you have keys?"

"I do!" chimed Angela. Her cheer was disconcerting. The house carried the stench of death. Bo had to remember that the humans next to her had infantile senses compared to hers.

"You think if one of us didn't have a key I'd be letting you break in?" Jane asked; her tone was accusatory but light danced in her eyes, almost caramel in the light of day.

This banter served as a balm to the succubus. "You think you could stop me?" she returned while Angela turned the key and walked in, oblivious to the two of them. "Remember, Detective," she purred, patting a shoulder at her chin level, "I'm good friends with the only person who's seen you beyond the grave."

Jane scoffed, and followed her inside. The house was a mess. The broken picture frames Angela had described at the hospital were sure enough there, lying on the carpet, ripped up. But there was an overturned chair at the dining table, a large rip in the couch fabric, and a broken glass coffee table where the coroner had said that Maria collapsed. They moved into the narrow hall that led to the master bedroom, which also had pictures disturbed and bedding strewn about. A photo album with some obvious vacation pictures lay open on the sheets. Angela let out a low whistle.

"It wasn't this bad when I was first here, Janie," she said, a quiver in her voice.

Immediately, Detective Rizzoli inhabited her daughter's body. "You know if anyone's been here since you?" she asked, gravel in her voice.

"I don't think so…" Angela noted, sweeping her eyes over the scene. "I mean, you'd notice if there was forced entry, right? I have the only key while Carla's out of town."

"I saw nothing weird," Jane replied. She knelt to pick up a picture of Maria and her son, which had been torn in half.

"I didn't either, but something is very wrong here, guys," Bo said as she also began to survey the surroundings. Jane would have rolled her eyes, but her gut sang the same song. "Can you show me where you saw those marks on the door, Angela? I'd like to see them."

Mrs. Rizzoli nodded and motioned for Bo to follow, while her daughter continued her survey of the bedroom. They shuffled back down the hall, the off-white walls feeling closer than they were only a few minutes before. The worn-brown carpet did little to stifle the groan when they hit a well-walked floorboard, and the open design of the family room gave a little relief to them both when they finally stepped into it.

It was short lived, however. When they both looked to the front doorposts, ugly, blood-tinged drag marks marred the splintered wood. Angela yelped, and Jane came barreling out of the back of the house.

"What in the fuck," she exhaled, stopping in between the two petrified women.