Note: No one ever reads the author's notes. Chicken pot pie. Anna Kendrick Super Bowl ad. Sunglasses. Yellow.


The blonde was young and eager to please and he was almost disappointed with how easy it would be to seduce her. He enjoyed a challenge and he was the first to admit that resistance was a turn-on, though he never resorted to unwelcomed force. Rather, he derived great pleasure in the psychological pursuit of physical satisfaction. He was a student of human nature and he identified partners based on an intuitive radar for the broken. Women who built careful walls around their hearts, hiding their emotions behind meticulously crafted armor. Women who the outside world perceived as "cold" or "bitches" were just protecting themselves – there was little chance of being hurt when everyone was kept at a distance. He found weaknesses in their armor and slowly chipped away, careful to never push too hard. It was a procedure as delicate as any surgery. Words were the scalpels he used for each incision, cutting into a woman's soul and convincing her that the trust given to him was not misplaced. During intercourse, no matter how they started, he would always insist on finishing in the missionary position. Looking into her eyes, knowing that he'd conquered her and would soon break her… The thought of that always brought him to a powerful climax.

He had only invited Parker to drinks because she would be easy to manipulate. He did not have much time and he needed a gullible alibi. She was dust in his universe. The Doctor, however, was a magnificent star. He wanted nothing more than to extinguish that light.

He leaned forward, noting Parker's slight shiver in response to his presence, and murmured softly, "Darling, I've heard this hotel has excellent room service. Let's try it out, shall we?"

R&I: The Good Doctor

Sam perched on the stool, her eyes following the condensation on her beer bottle as one drop after another plummeted from the glass curves, staining the bar top. Her fingers lightly grazed the label, nervously picking at the edge. She had yet to take a drink.

She made no effort to look around. She'd surveyed the room the moment she walked through the door, taking note of all the exits and cataloging the faces of the other patrons. A paranoid habit, one of many that Spencer had graciously imparted on her. Without looking away from her drink, she knew that the two men in the corner were watching her. Possibly working up the courage to approach her, most likely with some crass, over-compensating pick-up line. Though broad-shouldered, their slouching postures and protruding midsections suggested that they were most likely high school athletes, long out of a shape. Nothing she couldn't handle.

Sam also knew that a couple occupied a small table by the window. A half-eaten basket of fries sat on the table between them. They whispered with one another, lost in their own conversation and oblivious to everyone else. Sam suspected they'd been at that table for a while. The pint glasses lacked any condensation, the beer looked suspiciously flat, and the fries were failing miserably in any attempt to appear edible. Neither person posed a threat.

Her fingers continued to play with the label, slowly peeling back a corner.

The door to Powell's opened. Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw the bartender tense. It was a microexpression and an uncontrolled response, gone in the blink of an eye. Frost had arrived. Though DC was home to the first black President, racism was still alive.

She turned and slid from her seat, standing up as he walked closer. The movement pulled back her leather jacket and she watched his gaze drop to her hip, registering the badge and firearm. Subtly, he shifted and she saw a similar bulge under the side of his jacket. For this, they were on even footing.

Wordlessly, she headed toward an isolated booth in the back of the bar. He followed and slid into the bench opposite her. Sam stared at Frost. A moment passed. Then another. She finally cleared her throat.

"What do you know about Operation Whisper?"

R&I: The Good Doctor

A rumbling from Jane's stomach interrupted the moment and Maura laughed softly into the kiss. They pulled apart as another growl reminded the two that Jane hadn't eaten since breakfast. The impeccably timed interruption almost tempted the brunette to shoot herself in the side again. Her own body was out to sabotage her. She leaned her forehead against Maura's, inhaling deeply in frustration and disbelief. Years of suppressed feelings, denied attraction, hidden desires. And the moment was ruined by a bodily function. Smooth Rizzoli. Really sexy.

Maura gently bit her tongue, trying hard to keep her laughter hidden. As often as she'd thought about their first kiss and the various scenarios under which it might happen (and the toe-curling situations it might then lead to), she'd never imagined one quite like this. She shouldn't be surprised. Nothing about their relationship was conventional or predictable. It was only fitting that their first kiss reflected that—locked in a hotel room under a secret name, stalked by a killer that followed them hundreds of miles down the Eastern seaboard, and what should have been a tender memory disrupted because Jane was running on only caffeine.

"Ha, ha. So funny. Everyone's a comedian, my stomach included." Jane sighed and reluctantly dropped her hand from the hem of the oversized shirt, letting the material fall back against the honey blonde's body. Maura, in turn, let her fingers trail along Jane's arm. She was hesitant to break contact, but followed the detective's lead and withdrew her touch a heartbeat after Jane let go of her shirt.

"I can't wait to see what organic, farm-sourced raw vegetable you ordered," Jane teased, gently nudging Maura's shoulder as she reached over to peer under the room service lids.

"You'd prefer vegetables? I thought you might enjoy a burger. The chef makes each one to order from locally raised grass-fed beef, which has fewer calories and more Omega-3s than more commonly found grain-fed beef…" Maura began to list off additional health benefits before Jane cut her off with an excited kiss to the top of her head, an action that caught them both off guard.

"So you're saying I should incorporate more burgers into my daily diet?" Jane, in typical fashion, chose to crack a joke rather than acknowledge the sign of affection. Her stomach, in protest of too much talking and not enough eating, rumbled again. The doctor didn't think twice about reaching out and resting her hand on the brunette's waist, softly pushing her towards the food.

"Seriously? Are you serious right now?" Jane stared down at her treacherous belly and muttered, letting loose a bit of her infamous temper. The sound of Maura's laughter, finally spilling from her lips – Damn, her lips look really good – was enough to dissipate Jane's frustration and embarrassment. Her dignity was a small price for the honey blonde's laugh.

It was only after Jane started wolfing down her burger, after Maura demanded she sit down and eat like a civilized person, after the detective allowed the doctor to lead her toward the bed where they sat side-by-side… it was only after all this that Jane realized Maura was still touching her.

R&I: The Good Doctor

"DCPD is the only law enforcement agency in the country that has local, county, state, and Federal responsibilities. In addition to acting as a police department, certain teams within DCPD are tasked with protecting the President, members of Congress, and visiting dignitaries. We coordinate protection efforts with organizations ranging from the World Bank to embassies."

Frost's eyes widened slightly, though he said nothing. Sam quickly looked towards the door, scanning the room again.

"Five years ago, DCPD's Office of Homeland Security and Counterterrorism partnered with a number of Federal agencies that, to the best of your knowledge, do not exist. Operation Whisper was a multi-year initiative to build an entire new cyber security infrastructure. The new system would allow the transfer of confidential documents, including travel details and logistics for world leaders visiting DC. Operation Whisper would also provide a way for agencies to communicate and respond swiftly during a terrorist attack in the district."

"Jesus Christ." Frost didn't realize he had spoken out loud until the phrase slipped from his mouth, tied to his deep exhale. Sam's eyes met his and he started to realize the gravity of the situation and the incredible risk she was taking by sharing this information. The pit in his stomach started to grow and he felt sweat gathering at the back of his neck, despite the chilly temperature outdoors. What the hell did this have to do with Maura?

"I was brought on as part of a top secret task force to evaluate weaknesses in the new system. 99.99% of DCPD has no idea how complex the infrastructure is and how long it's taken to implement each part of the system. Operation Whisper spared no expense and the technology is beyond even what Markley Technologies is experimenting with in its R&D pipeline." Sam kept nervously looking at the door and the fear she displayed was a stark contrast to the confident woman Frost met a few days ago. Holy hell, what did we get ourselves into?

"A few months ago, someone tried to hack into the drug unit's records. They didn't get very far, but further investigation revealed that this wasn't the first time. There was evidence that some files had previously been tampered with, each one leading to the release of a suspect. We couldn't find a connection between any of the cases."

"Wait, if Operation Whisper was in effect five years ago, why did it take so long to notice the drug unit hack?"

"Operation Whisper was rolled out incrementally. The initiative prioritized units and teams based on threat level. Drug crimes, at least those that DCPD handles as opposed to the Feds, are offenders that don't really present a threat to national security." Sam's knee restlessly bounced beneath the table, her agitation increasing. "I tracked the digital trail. It took some time, but I was able to semi-trace it back to the source. Frost, it's someone in BPD."

And just like that, the pit in Frost's stomach dropped and he felt the perspiration around his collar freeze. He closed his brown eyes, hand twitching against his thigh and slowly inching towards his holster. He wasn't the least bit surprised to hear the safety click off of Sam's gun.

"Sam, what are you doing?" He opened his eyes, meeting her stare. He saw fear and resolve, a dangerous combination. She knew she was quickly running out of viable options and whatever decisions she made from this point forward, she needed to be all in.

"I'm sorry, Barry, but I need you to answer a few questions."

R&I: The Good Doctor

Jane lay sprawled on the bed, groaning. Her dark curls spread wildly over the white sheets.

"Oh my God, Maura…"

"I told you not to eat so quickly. You really should chew your food." Maura tilted her head to the side, green eyes twinkling with amusement. It's not as if she enjoyed Jane's suffering, but there was something endearing about how dramatic the detective could be about the smallest things. Here was a woman who saw horrific crime scenes on a daily basis, who had been shot and stabbed, kidnapped and tortured. She didn't often complain or vent. Yet one burger eaten too fast, and the sky was now falling.

"But it was so good…"

"How would you know? You ate so fast, I doubt you tasted anything. You really should chew. It's an important part of the digestion process. Chewing induces the production of saliva, which contains enzymes that help break down starches and fats."

The color started to drain from Jane's face as Maura continued sharing fun facts about the human digestive system. The brunette mimed vomiting motions and spoke, "Maura, if you don't stop…"

The doctor gave an exasperated sigh and slid over, her hip pressed against the detective's. Jane swallowed, pain and complaints momentarily forgotten by Maura's proximity. She lay still, waiting, eyes on the waves that fell down the honey blonde's back. Maura sat straight and stretched her legs out before her, crossing them at the ankle. Quickly, before courage deserted her, she slid a hand under Jane's shirt and rested it on her bare stomach. She was thankful that Jane, lying down, could only see her back. She would have caved under the intensity of dark eyes. She would have recklessly ignored reason and given in to what her heart and body wanted, or she would have held it all back to protect their friendship. Maura was only able to walk this fine line, this physical touch under the excuse of providing comfort, because she couldn't see Jane's face.

Her thumb, softly and slowly, began stroking smooth skin.

Jane forgot how to breathe.

Maura reveled in the lean muscles beneath her fingers, the warmth radiating from defined abs that showed no hint of a hastily consumed burger. She absently traced patterns, lost in her thoughts. Jane, so distracted by Maura's hand and the less-than-friendly feelings it triggered, missed the first few times the doctor said her name.

"Jane?" The fingers stopped moving.

"Yeah?" The word came out like a croak, syllables caught in her throat as she struggled to remember how to speak and breathe.

"Are you scared?" It was almost a whisper. Three simple words. No scientific explanation, no tangential exposition on the root of fear, no hypothesis, no Googlemouth. Jane immediately sat up, stomachache forgotten. Maura finished, "Because I'm terrified."

Maura's admission incited conflicted feelings.

Jane was furious. She knew what it felt like to be hunted. God knows Hoyt was still doing it from the grave. She understood what Maura was feeling and white hot fury burned inside her. For this sick fucker to take away Maura's sense of safety and to cast a dark shadow on her hopeful spirit… Jane was going to kill him. It was not a figure of speech. The detective knew all she needed was one shot. She would not hesitate to take it.

Jane was scared. She was scared of losing Maura, in every sense of the word. She was scared she'd fail to safeguard the doctor. That Maura would end up dead. Or broken.

Jane was protective and aggressive when anything threatened Maura's wellbeing. Maura's not a goddamn damsel in distress. She's the mother fucking Chief Medical Examiner. She knew she sometimes overreacted, but she also suspected Maura let her do so. There was something reassuring for both of them in Jane's reaction. Jane, a woman of action, could let her protective instincts out. Maura, a woman of reason, could restrain Jane with a word or a touch.

In this moment, Jane could only wrap her arms around Maura's body, resting her chin atop the smaller woman's head. The doctor sunk into Jane's embrace, pressing her cheek against the detective's shoulder. Her hand stayed under Jane's shirt.

"We'll get him. I swear I'll keep you safe until my dying breath."

That's exactly what Maura was afraid of.

R&I: The Good Doctor

Tick tock, tick tock. Icy blue eyes narrowed as they took in the red numbers illuminated on the bedside clock. The blonde – What was her name? Patty? Pearl? Not like it mattered much. – was finally asleep. Once behind closed doors, she had attacked sex with a desperation and determination of a girl in need of approval. Because that's what she was, a girl who paled in comparison to a real woman. The doctor, to be specific. The thought of the honey blonde, of her poise and grace, and how it would feel to peel back those layers and watch her break and fall apart beneath him… it brought a wicked smile. Shattering the Queen of the Dead's carefully constructed façade would be his greatest conquest.

It took longer than expected for exhaustion to consume her and even longer for the sleeping pills to hit her bloodstream. She would awaken in his arms and he would take her again. She would never know he had left the room and, like any other wounded girl with obvious daddy issues, she would do anything for validation from a male authority figure. Perfect alibi.

Dark leather gloves slipped over the long fingers of a practiced surgeon. It was time to pay Dr. Roger Hamstech a visit.

R&I: The Good Doctor

A gruff voice answered on the first ring, "Vince."

"Hatch."

"What've you got for me?"

"Nothing until you explain what's going on. We have dead bodies that have followed us from Boston and a fucking smart killer who is playing cat-and-mouse games with Dr. Isles. We go back, Hatch, and I owe you for all the times you've saved my ass. But I'm not going to help you chase a ghost for glory at the expense of Jane and Dr. Isles!" Korsak barely kept the control in his voice as anger and frustration seeped into the last few words. Hatch Deacon was a determined sonofabitch. The thought of the guilty walking free because of missing evidence made him froth at the mouth. It was that focused conviction that had led to the highest closure rate in BPD history, until Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles came along.

"Vince, there's a mole at DCPD. Some corrupt motherfucker is deleting our evidence and I want to know who. Look, I have nothing to back this up besides a gut feeling, but how the hell do you think the killer knew where to send those flowers? Only the people present during the undercover briefing knew the details. Everyone is supposed to think Dr. Isles is staying at the conference hotel. That's why we based our surveillance team there. Do you trust that crew?"

"Yes."

"Then you explain it to me. Either you've got a leak on your team or my mole is working with your killer. Tell me how either of those situations ends well for Dr. Isles."

Korsak couldn't say a damn thing.