You don't sleep through the night. Not entirely. So you rise at about 4, make decent hotel coffee, and buckle down with Maura's file. You go over it cover to cover this time, no skipping what you thought you knew. You don't make the same mistake twice. You'll be prepared for Maura in a way you weren't prepared for Tommy. And when it's time to go back to Tommy and really get into it, you'll come out on top. No matter what he throws at you.

It's intrusive, you know that. But it's also your job and if anyone understands about doing your job, it's Maura. You hope one day she can forgive you. It's also reductive, paring down a person's life to a sheaf of paper in a file folder that'll be filed away alongside other lives in a soon-to-be dusty filing cabinet in the FBI dungeon.

Not that the FBI actually has a dungeon. It's just basement storage, but the stories of what's down there, well, maybe they had a dungeon once upon a time.

A couple hours later, Dean wanders out from his awkward side-room and makes more coffee. You swear his eyes are closed the entire time. After he gulps down a cup he joins you at the table.

"Still getting her early. Pack up, get ready to move out." He says it sleepily and you know it's not really an order, more of slight reprimand for wasting precious sleeping time. He's noticed you're friendlier with lots of sleep and caffeine. Genius, he is.

But you do as he instructs anyway, putting the file away in your briefcase – a new appendage you'd acquired when you joined the Bureau, but which you still haven't come to terms with carrying. It feels too professional, almost, for you. It's difficult to describe.

You take extra time in the shower. It works at relaxing you for all of three minutes after you exit the steam before all the tension and the stress doubles back up in the knots along your back. There was a time when, at the end of a case, you and Maura would go to the spa and get a couples massage despite being only friends. One time, she suggested that the two of you should try an at-home massage, just the two of you.

But you couldn't do it. The thought of her hands roaming all over your naked body, the tornado of want to run your own hands over hers – it was too much. So you begged off, playing into the prudish persona she associates with you. You're not actually a prude, but around her, safe was always better than the temptation. So you took it in stride and did your best to keep your fantasies to the darkest recesses of your mind.

He lets you drive again, and you can't help but feel a little spoiled. It's a mar on the dread you feel as you navigate a two-car FBI convoy to the innocent doctor's house. You know Maura, you know she's not involved. Whatever Tommy may have been into, you know she was left out of the loop. You know. You have to. Because the alternative is too painful to bear.

Dean lets you lead. Any other time, any other city, you would have been floating on air. But it's today and it's Boston, and all you have is a lump of lead, rolling around in your gut.

You stalk up to the door, knock, and wait, steeling yourself from your heels to your forehead. When she opens the door, she has the beginnings of a smile on her face. Her eyes register shock as she meets your eyes, and then the smile drops instantly when her eyes flick to Dean and the SUVs behind you.

"Maura," you breathe out. "We have some questions about Thomas Rizzoli's connection to Paddy Doyle. We'll ask you to come with us." Normally, that's where you leave it. But Maura's face looks ready to shatter and her eyes seem to beseech you, and you can't ignore the flickers of affection in your soul for this woman you love more than anyone else has ever loved anybody.

"Please." You're such an idiot. How could you possibly think that you could get over her?

She stares intently at you and then she nods. "I need a couple of minutes. My sitter isn't here yet."

You ignore Dean's searching look. "Yeah, of course. I'll um, I'll just wait out here for you. When you've gotten things settled, come on out."

Dean's eyes are wide and concerned, skeptical and disapproving all at once. You continue to ignore him.

Maura looks at you. "That's not appropriate protocol."

You blush a little and you know it touches the tips of your cheeks. "It's not."

She searches your gaze. "Appropriate protocol would be to monitor me inside my house, not leave me alone."

You nod.

"Please come inside and do your job then, Agent Rizzoli."

You deserve the coldness, you know that. But you follow her in and watch Dean leave to lean against the car. You follow her inside.

"Dr. Isles-"

"Dr. Isles now is it? But when you're pseudo-arresting me it's Maura? That's twisted, Jane." She whirls on you as soon as the door shuts behind you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't taken-aback.

"I'm sorry-"

"Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" Maura's eyes flash with a deep-seated anger and you know that it was a mistake to come inside this house. You haven't left the entrance mat, but the two steps are more than you ever should have taken. Dean should've done it, not you. You're so stupid, so blind when it comes to her.

"That one was for presuming an intimacy I know we no longer share." Two of you can play the stern, aloof, and slighted woman game if you must. "And I know you deserve more than that. If you want it. But groveling and apologizing are not what I'm here for today, Dr. Isles. That's another day, if you'll let me. Today is only about clearing your name from involvement in whatever Tommy's done with your dad."

Honestly, you're surprised she let you speak at all.

She seems a little dazed and a thin sheen of red blossoms across her chest. It's the onset of the stress, her inability to lie, and though it hurts you to think that she wants to lie to you, you know it's deserved. Old habits die hard, though.

"No, no, don't lie to me, Maura, please. Don't faint or whatever. Just tell me," you take a step closer, hand outstretched to comfort, but she slaps it lightly away.

"I'm not as innocent as you might think." The words stop you in your tracks.

"What happened?"

But there's a knock at the door, and Maura steps around you. She briefly introduces you to the babysitter, a seemingly nice girl named Lydia, and then she runs upstairs with her for a moment. When she returns, she's alone and she seems resigned as she puts on her shoes and her jacket. The two of you exit the house and she willingly gets into the back of the SUV Dean's behind the wheel of.

Agents trickle out from where they've been lurking in bushes and the shadows in case she pulled a runner – even though you'd told all of them that Maura wouldn't run. She'd come quietly and cooperate. Protocol is a finicky creature, you just hope she's not insulted by the nonverbal insinuation about her character.

Dean's stare is hard and he purposefully leans across the center console to lock the passenger door. You shrug just enough for him to catch and climb into the back with your old friend.

"I'm not a flight risk, Agent Rizzoli," Maura admonishes as you get into the back with her. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Dean steps in before you can answer. "She's back there with you for ignoring protocol."

Maura raises an eyebrow that Dean catches in the rear-view. "What did she do?"

It's his turn to raise his brow. "Are you wearing handcuffs? Did she tail you all over your house?"

She concedes this with a shrug. "Why?" Finally, they've decided to stop talking about you like you aren't there.

"You're not a flight risk," you answer simply, eyeing her hand resting gently by her side on the backseat hump. Once upon a time, you might've tried to nonchalantly bump into it, maybe even hold it as it rested there, but that time has come and gone. You know the purposeful detachment in her eyes and maybe that's for the best. You're not back, not really. D.C. is home now, and getting reattached to her will only make it difficult to return. More so than it will be already at any rate.

"No offense, Agent Rizzoli, but a lot can change in over a year. It would be more prudent of you to adhere to protocol."

The barb lands perfectly off-centre of your heart, as she must have known it would. But you shrug it off and try not to let the wound fester. "Dr. Maura Isles, my apologies for not introducing you to my partner, Agent Gabriel Dean."

"Nice to meet you, Agent Dean." She nods politely at your partner.

"Likewise, Dr. Isles. I only wish it had been under better circumstances."

The rest of the drive passes in silence, and you wonder if all of you are prepping for the interview next or if it's just you. Maura seems the picture of ease, despite the body blush she exhibited earlier.

Despite your attempts to the contrary, you get more anxious and agitated as you near BPD. When the two of you escort Maura upstairs to the interview rooms, you catch Frost and Korsak jumping up to rush over.

"Could you please just wait in here for a few moments, Dr. Isles? I just need a couple of minutes and then we'll get started." You frame it like a question, but you both know it's not. She nods and gets comfortable as you close the door.

When you turn around your old partners are already opening their mouths to protest, but you stop them short by raising your finger into the air and motioning them towards the observation room where Maura won't be able to hear you.

"What's this about, Jane? You can't just bring in the ME!" Yet it is neither Frost nor Korsak who says it. Frankie has appeared out of nowhere, eyes blazing with anger.

"Frankie, please. I will talk to you later if you want to hear it, but now is not the time."

"Well when the hell is the time, Jane? Because it sure as hell wasn't before you fucking left in the middle of the night like a coward!"

"Easy!" Korsak calls loudly, which is good because you can't find any words to respond to Frankie's outrage.

Frankie looks almost livid with Korsak's interruption, his siding with you, but Frankie must see something in the old man's eyes because he storms off without another word.

"Seriously though, Jane, what's happening here?" Frost asks. You know he's disgruntled with you. After all, it was only last night that you guys had shot the shit together again at the Robber. Like old times. And then you pull this…

"You guys know it had to happen right? Tommy's under investigation, and so are the people he knows to ascertain their involvement."

Korsak replies, "Yeah, okay, but the doc, really?"

You shrug apologetically. "Trust me. I didn't want to do this. I don't think she's involved. But we're bringing in Tommy and we want to get Paddy and so we need to dot all the i's and cross all the t's. No stone left unturned. You guys understand that, right?"

Their issue, of course, is that they do understand. And they don't like it.

"At least let us help you interview her," Korsak demands. You fix him with your FBI glare.

"Or, Jane, we can do the interview, you don't-" It's Frost's turn to be on the receiving end of your federal agent stare.

You sigh and speak gently so that they know you're not trying to bite them. "No offense, but this is a federal investigation. You're lucky to be observing."

It's backhanded, but you're bending the rules by letting them observe. You don't think it registers for them, but you're sure that it will eventually. Until then, you're supposed to be interviewing your best friend. Your ex-best friend. Your ex-possibility. Your ex-maybe. Whatever she is now.

So you step inside the interview room with her file against your chest, close the door gently, and begin.