Jane hated cases at BCU for the parking alone. She'd seen two other homicides on campus during her time as a detective, and, maybe it was obscene to think so, but they were never close to where she had to park her car. She also hated them because the victims tended to be young students full of potential, but the parking really irked her.

She'd been walking a pathway that cut between the psychology and sociology buildings on her way to the sciences when she noticed Frost waving her down near a set of stairs by the Geology building. She must have looked especially dour because instead of waiting to meet her, he jogged up by her side. As soon as he got up close, he smiled brilliantly, his beautiful white teeth all on display. He said nothing.

Jane blushed. "Do not," she pointed at him, warned him.

He batted his eyes at her anyway. "I love it when she put them pretty lips on me," he sang to her, waving an arm to his side, launching into an exaggerated falsetto on the last word.

"The-Dream? Really?" Jane said, glaring at him.

His laughter was gut-busting. "You know I'm more surprised that you know who The-Dream is than you should be that I sang it to you."

"I've been on enough stake-outs with you to know your whole iPod. I said 'do not,' and then you just go ahead and do," griped Jane, adjusting the collar of her blazer so that the yellowing bruise near the crook of her neck would be just a little less noticeable. Part of her wanted to say fuck it, she was walking into an area crawling with cops anyway. They were trained to notice things and she'd never get away with it.

"Ah, buck up, Jane," said Frost, "we got a body."

"I'd feel better about that if I didn't have to walk two miles to get to it on my day off," she snarked.

"Who pissed in your cheerios?" Frost asked, handing her the iPad with Rachel Lawson's information on it.

"My Pop," Jane replied seriously. "Remembered he had a family yesterday, stopped by, then proceeded to tell us he's getting remarried."

"Well is she nice at least?" Frost shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

"Wouldn't know, never met her," Jane said too brightly to be serious, "but he wants my mother to grant him an annulment so they can get married in the church, so my guess is no."

Frost whistled in compassion. "That sucks," he said. "If it makes you feel better, my Dad's an asshole, too."

"No no. I'm busy feelin' sorry for myself. I gotta feel sorry for you too?" she asked, speech relaxing as they shared a private smile walking under the caution tape at the top of the concrete stairs.

"Well, our victim, 25, was a grad student in Earth and planetary sciences," Frost explained. They walked into a basement door that led to steam tunnels under the building, and already Jane could hear the hustle and bustle of a murder scene.

"Now I feel sorry for her, too," Jane joked, "where's the body?"

"Down here," he answered, pointing to a long tunnel just to their right.

"How long she been there?"

"Looked like a couple days when I saw her, but you could ask…" Frost trailed off, unsure where to take this conversation when he had just given away that he clearly knew something was up between Jane and Maura. Something more than yelling.

"Relax, Frost," Jane pushed her palms down, "I'll ask Dr. Isles."

He shrugged. "She rented a car. It's sitting in Lot C. There's nothing in it but here's the rental car agreement."

"VIP with BCU campus car," said Jane, all broad-voweled, just as she caught sight of Maura.

"Yeah, maybe she pahked it in Hahvahd Yahd," Frost mocked her for the second time in a few days that she had slipped around him. He punched her shoulder lightly.

"Weren't you born here?" Jane shot back with a warm, closed-lips grin. "Be useful and tell me where she's been goin'."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that hazing is part of being a detective?" he asked sarcastically, but then flipped through to some of her receipts. "She rented a car every week for the last twenty weeks, racked up a lotta mileage."

"Maybe she was goin' home," Jane posited, already working angles.

"She was from Boston," Frost shot her down as if to say already thought of that.

"Huh."

"She wasn't due to return the car til tomorrow."

"Well, where was she going and why'd she come back early?"

They reached the body then, Maura kneeling close to it, perched expertly on her feet as she leaned forward to inspect the neck wound right over the woman's thyroid cartilage. She didn't look at Jane as Jane approached, she didn't need to. The dark energy pushed assertively against her curved back. "Hello, Detective Rizzoli," she greeted, eyes never leaving Rachel Lawson's body.

"Dr. Isles," grunted Jane, standing directly over Maura and looking down. "Well I don't see any drag marks."

"No," Maura agreed, "lividity confirms she was killed here. She's passed through rigor so she's been here at least thirty-six hours."

Jane nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. She lowered herself to be nearly Maura's height on the other side of the body. Rachel's skin looked like crepe paper in the low light of the tunnel, and Jane raised a nostril to accommodate the assaulting smell of it. Her eyes scanned over Rachel's entirety, and she was silent for several seconds before speaking again. "She's in workout clothes. What was she doin' down here?"

Maura bristled at Jane's quiet, intentional breezy Bostonian. "I couldn't possibly guess. There are nearly infinite reasons a person could be here at the time she was. I can tell you she was strangled."

"Thank you, Doctor, I can see that," Jane snorted. She rolled her eyes. "Looks like the weapon was a garrote."

"Garrote," Maura corrected in the proper French accent.

"Gee, I would love a history lesson on the garr-blegh," Jane mocked, "wouldn't you, Frost?"

Frost glared at her for bringing him in between them.

"Well," Maura continued, feigning obliviousness at Jane's sarcasm, "it was most popular in the 17th century when it was used as a means of silent assassination by the thuggee cult in India."

Jane smirked and looked up at her partner. "Let's be on the lookout for the thuggees."

"What are those red patches?" Frost ignored her. He pointed to the spot where Maura had lifted Rachel's shirt above her abdomen.

"Urticaria," Maura said. She continued to palpate the area gently, refusing eye contact with either detective.

"Urticaria?" Jane asked, and then Maura did turn to her.

Severely, Maura said, "Oh, maybe you'll understand what this means: the yucky red stuff is a rash." She grinned meanly at Jane, holding her gaze until Jane burned with anger.

Before Jane could open her mouth to unfurl all her fury at being made to look stupid, Korsak jumped in: "Uh, thank you for clearing that up," he said.

"Yes, that was a good explanation," Frost agreed, moving in front Jane.

"Let's go," Jane growled as she grabbed him by the arm to take him away.

"You stay," Maura ordered Korsak. He looked at his team in fear as they walked away, and Jane put her hands out as if to say you're on your own.

The walk to Rachel's campus apartment was beautiful, with orange and yellow falling leaves occasionally drifting about them, but it was also tense. Frost sized Jane up as she stomped next to him, all scowling features and tick-tocking hips. She was pissed. Frost had to admit she had good reason to be. Maura could be downright cruel when she fought with somebody, and to prod at Jane's education, a sore spot on a good day, was… well, maybe all was fair in love and war.

He was pretty sure that Jane and Maura were loving and warring. "So what was that about down there?" He asked Jane, keeping his eye on her fists in case she decided to come out swinging.

She didn't, but her voice said she was close. "Maura bein' an asshole," she replied.

He trotted to catch up to her, already a few steps ahead. "Just Maura was bein' an asshole, huh?"

Jane scoffed. "No, I was bein' an asshole, too."

"But why? Clearly you, uh, you have a thing," he said, flitting his eyes toward her quickly and then looking back to the ground. "So what's the problem?"

"Let me ask you something," Jane barked, "how do you know we got a thing? Dean was here not three days ago."

Frost laughed. "You kicked his ass to the curb. Besides me and your family, the only person you've even looked at is Maura. And I know you didn't get that from me," he raised his eyebrows at her while he opened the door for her to enter the small lobby of the apartment building.

She snatched up her collar again and stormed past him. "You don't know who I am or am not seeing."

"Sure I do," he snarked. "You two have been withering lesser men for years with your chemistry. Notice how you didn't outright deny it."

She reddened and didn't wait for him to catch up when she got to the front desk. Once they had the information for Rachel's unit, they climbed the stairs in silence until Jane pounded on the door. A woman with long, straight brown hair and a red sweater opened it. "Hi," she said meekly when she saw two badged people standing upright in her doorway.

Jane flashed a kind, warm smile. "Hi. I'm Detective Rizzoli with Boston Police, and this is my partner, Detective Frost. Are you Rachel Lawson's roommate?"

The woman nodded hesitantly. "Debra McAlhaney," she said, stepping aside to let them in. "Did you find her?"

Jane and Frost followed her to the living area; she sat on the couch and they stayed near where pictures and objects of Rachel's hung on the wall. "We did," Frost said somberly. "She was found dead this morning."

"Oh my god," Debra said. Her face went white with shock. "What happened?"

"We're not sure," Jane answered, "but we're lookin' into it."

"She was found on campus under the geology building here. You have any idea what Rachel was doing in the steam tunnels?" Frost asked.

"Steam tunnels?" Debra asked in return, "what steam tunnels?"

Jane switched gears when she saw a tile with a strange symbol amongst Rachel's things. "You know what this is?"

"No, it was Rachel's. We weren't very close, but I know she was super into yoga."

Jane nodded. "Bedroom back here?" When Debra said yes, they walked back to Rachel's room. It was nondescript, full of clothes and other personal items. "And here I thought I missed out on the whole roommate bonding thing," Jane rambled to no-one in particular. "We got cruelty-free cotton, vegan shoes… can you say 'vugly'?"

Frost snickered. "Says the woman who's been wearing the same boots for the past two years."

Jane had to hand him that one. "Oh, snap!"

"Ok," he said, turning to the closet. "Rachel had a skinny section and a fat section."

"How do you know about skinny-fat clothes?"

"I've tried on all sizes," Frost winked at her.

Jane counted herself impressed. "Oh snap again!"

"So… you've tried on more sizes than I originally thought," he called out to her as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Even when he couldn't see her he could hear the embarrassment in her voice. "Remember this morning when I said 'do not'? Don't," she said loudly.

He shrugged his shoulders even though she couldn't see him. "All I'm saying is you guys make sense. You should work it out."

She smiled sadly at him as she brought Rachel's shower caddy out to the room. "Loofah, aloe vera toothpaste, crystal…" she named the items as she picked at them in order to avoid responding to Frost's comment.

"That's a deodorant," he said and pointed to the square in her hand. She immediately dropped it back into the box.

"How do you know?" She asked with a look of disgust and curiosity.

"Told you… all sizes."

"Oh hello!" Jane interrupted, "here's a sure way to keep the weight off - cocaine." She held up a small plastic bag of white powder to his partner and he shook his head.

Back at the station, Frankie dropped off some crime scene photos at his sister's desk. "Oh hey, you just pulled a midnight. Did you take another shift?" she asked as soon as she saw him.

He sighed as he fell into the chair next to her. "All this stuff with Pop, I figured I'd at least make some overtime," he said. "You talk to Maura yet?" he leaned in the way he always had in his life when he wanted to gloat. His sister glared directly at his shit-eating grin.

"I don't think we're ever gonna be friends again," she sidestepped his question, "we just keep makin' it worse. So Dad hasn't reached out to Ma again, huh?"

Frankie allowed the u-turn in subject. "No. I ran a check on her, on Lydia," he whispered. His face narrowed with disdain.

Jane punched his arm. "Frankie, you can't be doin' that, they watch stuff like that!" she scolded, but then she also leaned in. "What'd you find out?"

He shook his head vigorously. "You don't wanna hear it."

"No I don't," Jane lied. Then she couldn't take it anymore. "Tell me everything."

Frankie, though he looked put out, loved to gossip with his sister. And this was just too juicy to keep to himself. "She's 28 years old."

Jane gasped. "She's younger than us!" At that moment, Lieutenant Cavanaugh approached them both. He acknowledged Frankie and then turned to Jane.

"Hey Rizzoli, you got a minute?" he asked.

"Sure, sir," she said, waving to her brother as he took his cue to leave.

"How we doin' with that murdered BCU girl? I'm dealin' with a lotta heat from the brass; parents are goin' nuts over there." Cavanaugh explained through his sip of coffee.

Jane gulped and started to sweat. "Uh, well… yeah. I haven't actually spoken to Maura, Dr. Isles, in a while."

His head cocked in confusion. "Well make that number one on your priority list, will ya?"

When she assured him she would, he thanked her and walked away. Jane looked at her watch - she still had about forty-five minutes allotted charting time before she would go down to the chilly morgue.

"Tommy?" Maura said as she walked in on the youngest Rizzoli in her office, looking quite dashing in a classic black suit. His hair was styled and he smiled crookedly at her.

She couldn't help but feel pulses of want for Jane at the sight of him. "Hey Maura, how you doin'?" he asked, so easygoing and carefree. He took on all the Rizzoli hallmarks of happiness: bright eyes, straight spine, swaggering walk, right when Maura had begun to tire of Rizzoli agony. She saw it on Jane's face every time she entered the room, every time they had sex, every time she closed her eyes and pictured Jane in front of her. Something about it broke Maura's spirit, and Tommy's joviality helped somewhat. So, she chose not to answer him, because she couldn't lie to him, but she also couldn't explain why she wasn't all right.

"How'd you get down here?" She asked instead, warmly, kindly. It felt sinful and a little bit arousing to be so nice to a Rizzoli that resembled Jane so much.

"Oh, I got my ways," He countered with an attempt at a handsome smirk.

Maura had to chuckle. There was the difference: the potency that Jane possessed, her brothers lacked. "Tommy," she admonished, "this area is secure."

"Yeah," he laughed. "I'm on the job. Murphy's Funeral Home needed more pick-up guys. Guess your people are too busy with murders, so they hired me to pick up the ones that just croak."

She scrutinized him from head to toe again, clearly impressed with his drive. "Well, great. Congratulations," she said sincerely.

"So listen, I," he paused, leaned in close with the serious face he so rarely put on, "I um, I kind of need some advice."

This, no Rizzoli except for Jane had done - asked for her counsel. They loved her, but honestly, they didn't seek advice from anyone, usually, not until it was too late. "From me?" she asked, "sure. Shoot." She put a reassuring hand on his arm, motioned him to the chairs in front of her desk.

"Well, you know my Dad's back," he started.

"I heard about what happened at Jane's," she said.

"Jane told you?"

"Uh, no. No," Maura glanced at the immaculate rug on her office floor, "Jane and I are… not so, um… close as we used to be. Frankie told me."

"Oh. You know my Dad's getting remarried, right?" Tommy asked, and Maura shook her head, "yeah. He told us yesterday."

Suddenly, Jane's irritation this morning at the crime scene made more sense. Suddenly, their epic fight seemed further away and less important in comparison to the meteor crashing into the Rizzoli family. Suddenly, she ached for Jane, to see her, to ask how she was doing. "No wonder Jane was off," was all Maura said.

Tommy smiled and got closer to her. "Well, I mean, it's kind of a good thing that you and Jane aren't talking."

Maura stayed stuck in her own thoughts. "Oh, no, it's not. It's awful," she said.

As unaware of she was of his intentions, he was of hers. "It's just, you know, now that you're not talkin'... maybe we could…" he cocked his head and raised his right eyebrow, smiling.

And then she understood. He wanted her, still. She had thought of him as a potentially compatible bed partner at one time, too, but now Jane set her body on fire and she hadn't fantasized about him that way in months. "Tommy," she warned, returning his smile, placing a boundary in the meantime.

"What? A guy's gotta dream, right?" Tommy replied. He accepted rejection with grace and a self-deprecating chuckle, so much more than she could say for most of the men she shot down.

"Advice," she rerouted, "you said you needed advice."

"Right," he turned somber again, "I'm gonna tell you somethin', but you can't tell anyone." They both knew he referred to Jane.

"I'm a vault," she said, their cold treatment of each other facilitating the keeping of secrets.

"I uh, I kind of… know… my Dad's fiancee."

"'Know.' As in the biblical sense?"

"Yeah. That sense. I, I mean, I only knew her one time, but that's just still wrong, right? I mean, do you think I should tell my Pop?"

Maura could only stare at him with her mouth and her eyes wide open.

When Jane breezed into the autopsy suite, she watched Maura work, speaking notes into her voice recorder. "Hey," Jane said tiredly.

"Lower extremities are well-muscularized, no evidence of trauma," Maura recounted as Jane came up next to her, "results are in on the white powder." She ignored Jane's barely dormant sorrow in favor of distant professionality.

The dangled carrot, however, was enough. "What, from the victim's apartment? Was it cocaine?"

"Negative for cocaine."

"Well, what was it? Heroin? Crystal meth? Ketamine?" Jane tapped her foot.

"Sodium. Bicarbonate." Maura supplied.

"Tricky," Jane said as she deflated, "baking soda."

"Baking soda. It explains why it was in her shower caddy," Maura shrugged.

"Caddy?" Jane asked sarcastically, using the opportunity to malign Maura's very specific vocabulary.

Maura turned fully away from her and turned her voice recorder on again. "Livor mortis is indiscernable…"

"Ok, I'm sorry. Alright? I'm sorry, baby. That was fucked up. Please explain to me why she had baking soda in her caddy," Jane replied seriously. Her hands stayed folded just under her belt buckle and she stepped into Maura's space.

Maura put down her recorder and placed her hands over Jane's slumping shoulders. She smoothed down the bumps under her blazer, ran her fingers along the sleeves of it, and then came down to straighten some of the wrinkles of the tight blue t-shirt on Jane's belly. "See?"

"See what?" Jane groaned at the feeling of Maura touching her again, so soft and comforting. She closed her eyes to relish in it because she wasn't sure she'd ever get the privilege again.

"You look so handsome when you're apologizing to me," Maura whispered, "even though you're just being nice because you want information."

"I'm being nice because it takes a hell of a lot of effort to be mean to you," Jane clarified.

Maura smiled sadly and removed herself. "She used that to wash her hair. It's less toxic to the environment than shampoo."

"Well that's commitment," said Jane. She crossed her arms and bent her spine to examine Rachel's musculature. "She's really fit, yeah?"

Maura marveled at Jane's perception. "She's had anterior dislocations to both her left and right humerus bones."

"Couldn't you just say shoulder injuries? Why's that relevant?" Jane grunted.

Maura hated how quickly her moods shifted these days, but they shifted nonetheless. Jane's impatience, her rudeness, annoyed her. "She has these injuries because of repeated chaturanga dandasana to urdvha mukkha svanasana," she said, knowing that Jane would struggle.

But, Jane saw the jab coming and came in with a left hook. "I know what that is… yoga. Nice try. Why you gotta do that when you just told me I was handsome, huh? You're so hot and cold, Maura."

"Why do you have to rush the science? Jump to conclusions? Speculate? All in my lab, where you know that's not what we do here."

"No, it's what I do here. I take what you give me and I make a story out of it. That's what I do."

"You bastardize what I do, then."

"You know what? Nevermind. Nevermind all this bullshit. It's very rapidly becomin' not worth it. Can you just tell me what's going on with her stomach, please?" Jane turned red with anger, and the both of them breathed in each other's exhalations because they were so close.

Maura froze at Jane's words. Not worth it? She was becoming not worth it? She raged. "Her rash is a result of 'defatting,' the chemical dissolution of dermal lipids. In 'yucky rash' lingo that means she was submerged in icky stuff," she said, speaking slowly and using copious air quotes.

"So the vegan girl is bathing in chemicals. Great. You know, you coulda started with that and my stupid, knuckle-draggin' ass woulda been out of ya hair long ago," Jane shouted. "In fact, why have you ever been nice to me period? Since you gotta deign to even speak to us mouth breathers in the first place!"

"How dare you," Maura responded, seething. She threw her voice recorder into a nearby empty bowl and the metallic clang provided a cacophonous soundtrack for their fighting. "How dare you - I am always worth it to you. I will always be worth it to you."

"Yeah," Jane said, "you will, until I stop bein' worth it to you. Since you're so appalled by my lack of class and money, why are you still slummin', huh? Clearly I'm not worth it. Clearly you need someone who knows how to use a fish knife and can name all the types of cashmere."

Maura frowned and bit the inside of her cheek to keep tears from coming. She had gone too far. The hurt on Jane's face, the way her eyes narrowed and her left nostril retreated in a snarl, said it all. Jane only looked feral when she felt real sorrow. "Jane, I… that was-"

"Jane," Frost burst into the autopsy suite holding a printed logo in his hand and showing it to her. "I found the symbol on Rachel's tile. It's trademarked - 'Sensei Matta Yoga.'" He gulped when he realized that Jane and Maura were in the throes of yet another smackdown. It could have gone very badly, depending on Jane's reaction.

"Well show me what you got," Jane replied, leading him out of the lab without telling Maura goodbye.

Frost wondered if Jane chewing him out would have been a better outcome.