To say that I was pleasantly surprised by your comments and reactions to Constance's words would be an understatement. I didn't think you all would take such a positive stance towards her given the fact that it took her years before she reunited them again. But hey ho.

Thank you all for your comments and support thus far. And I hope you continue to enjoy the ride.

ps. noblegraces: perhaps that will be for another story. But thank you for the idea(s) nonetheless. It's a consideration that has been taken into account.

:)

Chapter 10

She's sixteen again and ever since that chance encounter with the lanky brunette, she's been on the lookout ever since. But three days down and on the way to the end of her first week at school, she's starting to lose hope. She's even started to wonder if she weren't just a figment of her imagination, desperate for someone she could call a friend.

Now it's last period on Friday, and it's that dreaded gym class she has never liked. She was sporty enough. In things like fencing and horseback riding and ice-skating. But anything with a ball and she's an absolute klutz. And over the years, given her lack of 'talent' in that arena and the fact that she's always being called a teacher's pet, and knows so much about everything that the rest of her peers ended up calling her Maura-the-bora, she's resigned herself that today will be just like every other gym class, and that ultimately, she will be picked last and be the butt of everyone else's jokes as she gets hit out first. Nobody wants her on their team anyway.

She stands at the back of the class, head down as the gym teacher, Mr Peterson, drones on about how they will be playing dodge ball today and how he wants a good, friendly, clean game. The class snigger, and in the lead up to the game, two captains are picked. Maura wants desperately to disappear. She wants to bury herself in a book, deep within the confines of the library or an empty classroom, she wants to suffer from a fake illness so that she never has to attend this class again, she wants her mother to write her a letter saying that she is unable to participate in gym and will not do so for the rest of the year, and she wonders if she were to give the teacher the letter, whether she would hyperventilate and go vasovagal or get hives as a result because even though it's not her who's lying, the mere fact that she knows of the untruth and will be unable to look the teacher in the eye as a result of the guilt she feels will be enough for her to either start scratching or end up lying on the floor. But she never gets to find out. Because her name's been called and her head snaps up to find herself looking straight into those brown orbs she's been dreaming all week about.

She's here. She's in her class. She called my name. She's one of the captains. She's my captain.

And the brunette's looking at her with an encouraging smile on her face and the blonde looks round to make sure she's not in a dream within a dream, and she's not. She's been picked. And she's nowhere close to last. Ok, so she's second last. But that doesn't matter, because she knows from now on, she never will be. But most importantly, what's left her reeling is the fact that someone knows her name. She knows her name.

It's been a chaotic few weeks for the ME. After the impromptu visit to see her mother, she went home to process. Because she couldn't quite believe it herself. Everything she's been told, that is. But what affects her most is her mother's last words for her to go get 'her girl'. Because it leaves a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach, a slow rising coil and she's standing there grinning like a fool at the thought of Jane being 'her girl'. Because that's the way it should always have been. And she's got all these ideas flitting around in her head about how she's going to go about getting her back and how she's determined to go slow and at the brunette's own pace when she's interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing incessantly. It's the FBI. They need her at Quantico. For an apparently difficult case. And she doesn't understand how difficult it could be considering they've the best in the business working for them, and surely their ME can't be that bad. But it's not that their ME is bad but rather that he's recovering from a bout of dengue having spent the last week overseas, and suddenly, her good mood sours because there's no way she's going to be able to put into effect any of her plans of action. She agrees. There's no one else after all. But she knows she can't just up and disappear. There is one thing she must do first.

Deep within the recesses of the brunette's home, she's nervous. After having rather hurriedly packed a bag for her journey, she took a cab immediately to see Jane, crossing both fingers and toes that she would be in. She had knocked, only to have the woman open the door, a curious and inquisitive expression taking over her features as she held the door open inviting her inside. Standing there, she told her about the job, how it was only temporary and that she'd be back within a week. The brunette had remained silent on the issue leaving Maura standing there nervously wringing her hands.

"I just wanted you to know I'm not just up and leaving," she said, hoping to get a response. For the second time in as many days as they've gotten reacquainted, Jane gives her a look which she can't quite place before she shrugs and says okay. And she's slightly disbelieving at the way in which the woman before her is handling the whole situation. "I will be back."

"I know." The response does nothing to quell her nerves. And then it strikes her. This week will be her first week back. Sure, she'll be on desk duty but still, she wanted to be there for her. Even though they've never talked about what happened. And she's frustrated and disappointed at the inconvenience this job has caused but there's nothing she can do about it.

The honk of the taxi outside reminds her of her current priorities causing her to look in the direction of the window. But it's the stilling of her hands that grab her attention and the words after that that created slight relief and hope that she would still be here once she returned.

"I'll see you when you get back."

Only problem was, she didn't. Not because she ran. But because she got called away again. This time to the ME's office in Springfield, where she's spent a harrowing two weeks helping them process evidence to a serial killer they had on their hands. And she's also had to reorganize the place. It was appalling to see the utter chaos in which they worked and she made a mental note to check on the other offices at another point in time just to ensure things were being run smoothly and being done by the book. Pike certainly wasn't getting the job done over here.

In the three weeks she's been away, Jane's gotten by in leaps and bounds. After over two weeks on desk duty, in which poor old Frost got re-acquainted with a grumpy Jane Rizzoli who absolutely hated not being in the field, she re-sat her shooting practical and also got cleared by her therapist, which means she's back to hunting down killers and bad guys and putting herself on the line. And whilst she may not have been there for her first week back, Maura's thankful that she will be there for her first day back 'on the job.' The 'real' job as Jane put it to her last night once she'd arrived only to be greeted by the comforts of her home.

They've kept in contact. Mostly text messages and emails, both of which were especially useful whilst the brunette detective went stir crazy sitting at her desk doing that god-awful thing called paperwork.

Sitting at her counter, coffee and paper in hand, she's grateful for the momentary lapse in people killing other people. It's the first time she's had time to relax and breathe and go through her morning ablutions without interruption. She even managed to fit in some yoga. Her phone sounds. She smiles, thinking it's Jane calling, but she's surprised to find it's actually Barry Frost.

"Good morning, Detective Frost."

"Mornin' Doc."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" There's a brief pause as the man on the other end of the line thinks how best to answer. "Detective?" she prompts.

"Listen, Doc. We've got a murder. And it isn't pretty."

"They never usually are, Barry" she murmurs.

"It's just...I know you're not back till tomorrow but I'd...we'd really appreciate it if you attended to this one yourself." It's what he doesn't say that makes her worry. Because she hears it. The apprehension in his voice, the sound of Korsak barking orders in the background as officers scurry about aiding his requests, the quiet terror that seems to envelope them both. Whatever has gone down down there isn't good.

"What is it, Barry? What's wrong?"

What aren't you telling me?

The hesitance is there. "It-it's-this one...it's personal, Maura. It concerns, Jane. Or at least, we believe it does." He had her at the mention of the brunette's name.

"I'm on my way."