Jane Rizzoli hated change. Back at BPD, she felt the lack of Frost heavily as she sat down at her computer to do some research. It was something she had been putting off in the hopes that her partner would show up and slip into his usual role.

Probably never again.

She vaguely wondered if she would be getting a replacement partner. Would he be someone she knew? Would they bring in new blood? Would it be Frankie?

She hit her desk hard with the palm of her hand. Frost could not be gone. He was a good detective, a good friend. He wouldn't leave her…right? She kicked the inside of her desk as hard as her seated position allowed her. The hard toe of her boot absorbed most of the impact, and she found herself wanting to feel a whole lot more. She wanted to punch something and feel her knuckles split; she wanted to kick something and feel the hard jolt of impact shake its way through her bones. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that Maura would probably say she was moving her way through the stages of grief. She'd babble on about Kubla-khan and the different stages and symptoms.

What she needed right now was a few hours in front of the punching bag at the BPD gym. Instead, she guiltily closed the Tumblr tab and typed "Salvador Dali" into Google. Results on Wikipedia, Google images and different art sites popped up. None particularly sparked her interest. She added the word "news" to her search, her eyes widening as they landed on the new results. On the top of the page was a link to a news article titled, "Canada Circus shows off long-lost Dali painting."

She clicked on the link and scanned the article.

"A massive painting by Salvador Dali created in 1944 as a backdrop for a ballet put on by New York's Metropolitan Opera was recently found and displayed last week in Montreal. The eight by 15 meter piece was offered to circus master Daniele Finzi Pasca, who used it in his latest theatrical and acrobatic production, La Verita, which plays in the Canadian metropolis.

The artwork depicts the Spanish surrealist painter's vision of the 12th century legend of the adulterous love affair between the Cornish night Tristan and the Irish princess Isolde.

Dali painted it while collaborating with choreographer Leonide Massine for the ballet "Mad Tristan," inspired by Wagner's opera "Tristan and Isolde." He also designed the sets and costumes.

After being discovered in the Met's prop storage, it was sold and restored in 2009 to a European art collection, which has asked to remain anonymous."

She chewed her lip in concentration as she clicked on the next article, which was titled, "Long-lost Dali painting stolen from Circus." It was dated for six days ago.

"A recently discovered Salvador Dali painting was stolen from its temporary home with a Canadian circus late last night.

The painting, originally commissioned as the backdrop for a ballet, is an eight by 15-meter piece depicting a monumental stage curtain that shows a head in the form of a dandelion, a crutch standing on its own, cypresses sprouting from the nape of a neck, an egg in a deserted world and his famous ants.

The police say that there are currently three suspects, all performers in the circus troupe. The three disappeared with the painting late last night and have yet to be located."

Her veins alighted with that familiar feeling of adrenaline and triumph that came with a good lead. Her lips turned up in a smug grin as Frankie came strolling into the bullpen.

"Hey, Frankie. Get me the Montreal police department on the line, will ya?"

Her younger brother curiously squinted his eyes at her, looking for some clue as to what his sister was up to, but knew better than to voice his questions. Instead he sat down at Frost's desk without much thought and began making some calls.

As much as Jane hated to think ill of her favorite younger brother, she couldn't help but feel the younger Rizzoli just didn't belong there. In vice, definitely. Robbery? Maybe. But here? No. He was too eager to please. He followed all the rules, always kept his head down. To do what she and Frost and Korsak did, you had to go with your gut. And the only thing Frankie ever did well with his gut was win those hot dog-eating contests during those summers on the coast.

Every year he would shovel in thirty hotdogs at a time and stumble home sick as a dog. Angela would bemoan the fact that he had spoiled his appetite for dinner and Jane would make fun of the bloated stomach he would sport for a couple of days. But he'd add the trophy to the shelf of his bedroom at home and gloat about it until the next year rolled around.

"Hey, Janie. Got the chief on the line."

Jane pressed the flashing red button on the desk phone in front of her. She sent a small prayer out into the universe begging the chief to be amenable to her requests. After doing paperwork, her second most hated thing on this earth was dealing with other law enforcement officials. In her experience, they were all pompous asses who sat around in their offices all day just waiting for an opportunity to shove their credentials and authority in someone's face.

"Hi, this is Detective Jane Rizzoli from Boston Police Department Homicide. I was wondering if I could speak to you regarding a case Chief-," Jane paused, waiting for him to tell her his name.

"Reitz. Allen Reitz. Pleasure to be talking with you. What can I help you with?" the man on the other end of the phone said pleasantly.

Jane found herself slightly taken aback at his polite and helpful manner. Maybe Canadians did authority a bit differently? She paused, wondering how to word her query in a way to least involve the Montreal police. She hated collaborating on any case, and wanted to keep this as low-key as possible.

"We have had some recent developments in a homicide case that might link to the stolen painting from a circus in Montreal. I was wondering if you would mind giving me descriptions of the three men who are believed to have stolen it?" She paused, feigning demureness, "As a professional courtesy?" She almost gagged on the words as they left her lips, which felt sticky with the syrupy sweetness of her words. She hoped he bought it.

"Well, of course. I can send them right over as a professional courtesy. I am sure the case is very safe in your capable hands, Detective. Would an e-mail be okay with you?"

Jane was floored by the ease of the whole thing. She had expected a turf war. To have to wait to move on anything so that they could be properly caught up to speed. To have to collaborate with some bimbo who knew nothing about her city or her way of doing things. "Yes. Yes, that would be wonderful, Allen." Jane's nose twitched a little as she said his name. Boy, did she hate sucking up to people.

"Great, I'll switch you over to my secretary. He'll send over the appropriate files. Do you need anything else from us?"

"No, just that would just be great, thank you." She started standing up, getting ready to go find her favorite ME to watch the autopsy.

"You're welcome. I'd really appreciate it if you kept my office updated with what you're doing on the case. It's pretty high-profile here, so I'll notify a few of the interested parties and have my secretary, John, send you a few forms to fill out. Is that okay?"

Jane clenched her fists together and slammed them down on the desk. She immediately flinched, hoping Chief Allen hadn't heard it.

Fuck damn. More paperwork.

"Of course, Allen. I'll make sure you know what's going on," Jane said through gritted teeth. They said their goodbyes and she was transferred over to John the secretary. They exchanged information and the man assured her that the e-mail would be on its way shortly.

She couldn't help the broad smile that crinkled up her eyes or the happy way her heart clicked its heels together when she saw her ME. She was in her black scrubs and crocs, hair pulled back, face mask on. The blonde looked a little ridiculous, but that's what Jane liked about it. It was one of the only times she got to see her friend look less than perfect.

And it was, well, perfect.

"Have anything so far?" Jane asked, not even bothering to mask the look of admiration she knew was shining on her features. The ME deserved to know how perfect she was.

The smile that met her own conveyed that she had seen it and understood it on some level. It was shy, warm and grateful all at once. It took Jane a minute to realize she was making eyes at her best friend over a dead body. It should have been weird. Instead, it left Jane a bit giddy.

She pulled her eyes away from the little ME and observed the body. Maura had already made the Y-incision and was busy extracting the stomach. She smiled again, thinking about how cute it was that this was the blonde's favorite part of any autopsy.

When did I start calling my best friend "cute"? Jane wondered. She cleared her throat, realizing that her friend had never answered her initial question. "Anything?" Jane asked again hopefully.

Maura wordlessly handed Jane a blue mask for her mouth and nose. Jane slid it on with a practiced hand and watched as the ME slit open the red mass that was the man's stomach.

"So far, I have narrowed the cause of death down to the wound on the back of our victim's head. It seems he was hit with a blunt, curved object," she motioned to the x-ray that was displayed. It showed a curved indent in the skull. This and the contusions on his body, which were made by an elongated, rounded object with a diameter of .92 inches, seem to have been made with a sort of walking stick…" Maura trailed off, waiting for Jane to pick up the pieces of her almost-guess.

"A cane?" Jane asked, smiling wryly. She wanted to lean over and poke the ME in the side to rib her for her almost-guess. She refrained however, after eying the sharp scalpel currently being wielded by the blonde.

She thought back to the interview with the annoying woman after the second murder. She had seen a man wearing gloves and carrying a cane.

So we're looking for a man with a ridiculous mustache and a cane. Can't be too hard to find. The only thing now is: where's the painting?

"Keep it up, Maur! I have an email I gotta go read. But hey, wanna do dinner tonight?"

"What about Casey—isn't he here?" Bitterness sunk its teeth into the name "Casey" and left a sourness on the ME's tongue. The sentence hung limply in the cold air of the morgue, but Jane was determined to ignore it.

"He'll understand. Meet you at my car at 6?" That was only two hours from now, but there was a longing within her that didn't want to wait. She just wanted to relax in the soft warmth of her friend's presence. Maybe have a beer. A nice, juicy hamburger. And kale. Always the damned kale.

The ME nodded her head without looking up, picking through the stomach contents and dictating to the machine in her pocket in a clear, loud voice. Jane was dismissed.

Back at her desk, Jane clicked open her email. She groaned at the state of her inbox, quickly clicking the check box next to all of the dumb emails sent by her department.

Caffeine awareness week.

Delete.

New Cruiser Protocols.

Delete.

Table Tennis League Newsletter.

Delete.

Second notice: Sensitivity Training.

Oh shit.

She clicked open the email and read through its contents.

Dear Jane,

It seems that you did not receive my last email regarding your yearly sensitivity training appointment. I would really appreciate it if you could email me with some tentative times for us to meet. Thank you for your cooperation.

Sincerely,

Kesha Saunders

Jane was sure she had sent the annoying woman a reply to her first email two days ago. Groaning, she ran a hand through her thick hair and clicked on her outbox. No email to Kesha.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She clicked on her drafts and, sure enough, the email was waiting there for her. She copied the text and was about to open a new email when she saw an email she had never written.

The subject of the email was Action Figure, and her constricted a little bit. Could it be…?

She opened the email, eager but finding it hard to breathe.

Dear Jane,

If you haven't already figured it out, I'm in WITSEC. I'm so sorry I had to leave you and Korsak and Frankie and the rest of the gang, but sometimes these things are beyond our control. I know you'll want to come find me, to find out who did this to me and my mom and Robin. But I just want to assure you that I'm safe, and there are many, many people working to make sure I stay that way. Don't go digging. They've given me a new identity, a new home. And though I don't think I'll ever be able to work in law enforcement again, I'm actually really happy.

Anna is here with me. And I think we're going to get married for real this time. My mom and Robin are still in the hospital, but it looks like they'll both make it. WITSEC thought that it would be easier to relocate them if they filed false death reports.

Maybe one day when this all blows over and these assholes are behind bars, I can come see you again. But for now, rest in peace knowing that I am safe and happy. I enjoyed every day I was able to work with you, Jane. I am so proud to have been able to call myself your partner. Give my love to Frankie, Korsak, Maura and your mom for me. I'll think of you guys every day.

And hey, Jane? Will you do me a favor? Choose Maura.

All my love,

Barry

Jane couldn't stop the tears that pushed their way down her cheeks. She wasn't sure what emotion was fueling her crying, but it sunk very deep within her and tore at the seams that were holding her together.

They were all okay. The relief should have made her body relax, but the knowledge that she might never see the man again hit her afresh. Deeper than that, though, hit his last statement.

Choose Maura.

That was what was tearing through her, turning her inside out. How did he know? She scanned the room with her blurry eyes, making sure he wasn't standing right there and smiling with laughter in his eyes.

Haha. Gotcha.

No. Coupled with the rest of his heartfelt letter, Jane could only take the request as a serious one. And the gravity of it had her pinned underneath the weight of her own heavy, heavy heart.

A/N: It's not long until our favorite duo finally get together! I hope you guys are okay with the way I've envisioned Frost's departure. I'm so glad for all your follows and views. So many warm fuzzies! As always, any sort of feedback is very welcome.