A/N: Back much quicker this time with another chapter! I'm glad you enjoyed the last one... but you'd better buckle up tight for the last parts of this rollercoaster.

As always, thank you for reading, and a happy Thanksgiving to those of y'all who celebrate.

Being partners was rather nice, Jane thought, waking up in bed next to Maura a week later. Or rather, being woken up by Maura reminding her it was time to go into work. It was far too early, and ordinarily she'd have groaned, rolled over, and fallen right back to sleep. But because Maura was here, and because they were still in the early days of their relationship and Jane would rather not let Maura know just how much of a grouch she could be upon being woken up in the morning, she let herself be pulled out of bed with little more than a sigh of protest.

They headed into town together, diverging once they reached the station. There had been no more bodies discovered recently—which was a good thing, although it meant a frustrating lack of evidence for Jane—so Maura's work these days tended to involve more living people. Today, apparently, she was running some sort of first aid workshop for the children in town, down at the little schoolhouse. (Jane had been skeptical at first—what use can eight-year-olds have for first aid, Maur? I mean, how good are they gonna be at it?—but it didn't take much convincing once Maura set those big, pleading eyes on her.)

Besides, she needed Maura out of the way for what she had to do today.

Partners shouldn't keep secrets from one another. Jane knew that, but she also knew that what she had planned wasn't something Maura could help her with. In fact, the less Maura was aware of it, the better. Jane told herself it was so that she wasn't putting Maura at risk; what Maura didn't know was less likely to hurt her, wasn't it? But deep down she had to admit that it was much about keeping the mission safe from Maura as keeping Maura safe from the mission.

There were two parts of this plan that Maur wouldn't like. Paddy Doyle, for one. And Federal Marshal Dean.

Was Jane playing with fire? Maybe. But it wasn't like her not to take risks, and at least this was a calculated one. Dean had contacted her some days prior to let her know he'd gotten information from a contact in the Doyle gang on Paddy's whereabouts—a breakthrough that Jane couldn't afford to ignore. So it was time to play nice with Gabriel Dean, whom she hadn't seen since their disastrous date, which she kind of hoped he'd just ignore. If they never had to speak about it again, it would be too soon. She only hoped she hadn't wounded his ego; Jane knew all too well what defensiveness did to a man. They were like wild animals backed into a corner, which was to say, no laughing matter. But Dean hadn't seemed the sort, and Jane hoped her character assessment would prove correct.

He was already waiting in the office when she strolled in, engaged in conversation with Abby. They both looked up when Jane entered; Abby gave her a friendly wave, Marshal Dean a deep nod of acknowledgement. Well, so far, so good.

"Right," she said, clapping her hands together. "Abby, would you mind manning the front for a bit? Marshal Dean and I have a few things to discuss before I brief all the deputies."

"Of course."

"Great." Jane strode to the other side of the room, pulling open the heavy door that led to the cell wing and interrogation room. She held it open, gesturing Dean through and directing him to the interrogation room, which she shepherded him into with little fanfare.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Didn't realize I was a suspect, Sheriff."

Jane couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, Marshal, you better watch yourself or you'll end up down in one of the cells at the end of the hall, huh?"

Truth be told, she hadn't thought about the aesthetic of bringing Dean to the interrogation room to speak to her, but she wasn't upset about the power dynamic it established. Entering the room, she pulled out Dean's chair—on the side of the table where Jane usually had suspects sit—and took her own seat opposite him. As a Federal Marshal, Dean technically had higher jurisdiction than Jane did, but it didn't hurt to remind him that this was her town. She knew Echo Station in and out, and she wanted to be sure this operation was run on her terms.

"So you know the location of Doyle's encampment." It wasn't a question; Dean had told her as much in the letter he'd sent ahead.

"I do." Dean nodded. "I've been communicating with a few of my colleagues in the area. They agree that a direct attack on the camp would be unwise. We need a way to get Doyle away from the rest of his men."

"I can take care of that," Jane said, face like stone and ignoring the twist of guilt in her stomach. "There's an angle I can use."

"What is it?"

"I'm not at liberty to say." At the very least, she wouldn't betray Maura's connection to Paddy to Marshal Dean. Even if she had to use it to make sure things went the way she wanted. "Can your operative plant a letter?"

"Operative is a strong word," Dean said with a half-grin. "It was easy to bribe one of the men once he saw what I had to offer. But yes, I'm confident that he can get correspondence through. With discretion, if necessary."

"How do you know he won't tip Doyle off?"

Dean shrugged. "Mercenaries will always work for the highest bidder, Jane. Doyle may have resources, but I can guarantee he doesn't have as many as the federal government."

"Sheriff Rizzoli."

"What?"

"We're at work," Jane said.

Dean looked confused, but he didn't protest. "Alright, then, Sheriff. I say we get Doyle to meet at a location of our choice with whatever information you have. We'll scope out the site today and set the meeting for later this week. It should be relatively easy to surround him if we have men on foot rather than horseback."

Jane nodded. "Seems reasonable to me."

"You know the town best. What's the best location?"

She considered for a moment, running over a list of possibilities in her mind. The question was whether they would want somewhere with good cover, the kind of place you could hide men in plain sight without much trouble. It should be easily accessible to horseback, though, because cover was a double-edged sword. Paddy would be likely to send in his own scouts, too. So potentially it would be better to have a sight with high visibility and places for deputies on horseback over a bluff somewhere.

"There's a canyon northeast of town," she said, "a ways up the river. I know of a cave system there; we could easily plant men along the walls. It's not accessible by horseback, so we wouldn't need to worry about a chase."

Dean nodded. "We can scope it out this afternoon."

"I have one condition."

"What?"

"It's an operation to capture. We don't shoot to kill." Jane bit the inside of her cheek, chewing it until she tasted blood. She could do this much for Maura, at least.

"You know I can't promise you that, Ja—Sheriff Rizzoli." Dean's expression seemed sincerely apologetic. "If it's a matter of self-defense, I won't blame my men for opening fire."

She took a deep breath. "I know that. I'm asking for you to minimize the chance that Doyle gets gunned down, that's all. I have too questions to lose him now."

"About the murders?"

"And the stagecoach robbery. We know he was behind that for sure."

"Of course," Dean said, and she could tell he'd bought her explanation. It wasn't completely false, to be fair. Though she may have had ulterior motives in asking for Paddy's life to be spared, logic dictated that he was wanted for possible murder and that she did indeed have several questions for him. Not least of which was what he thought he was doing in manipulating Maura's life the way he had, like she was simply a pawn in his chess game.

"So it's settled, then?"

Dean nodded, then held out a hand for Jane to shake. "I'm glad to have you as my partner in this, Jane."

As Jane reached out and shook the marshal's hand, stomach churning uneasily, she couldn't help but think that partners didn't do this to the people they loved. Not unless they had no other choice.

It was hard to be around Maura with such a secret to keep, and for the first time, Jane was beginning to understand how hard it must've been for Maura to keep her secret about Doyle from her for so long. She felt awful, but there was nothing to be done now. She and Dean had scouted the location, arranged an ambush configuration with Jane's deputies and Dean's marshals, forged a note in Maura's hand requesting a meeting. Marshal Dean had confirmed that his contact had passed it along to Paddy, and that the outlaw leader had agreed. The plans had been laid; the trap was set. There was nothing left except to carry it out. Tonight.

Jane was helping Maura to pack a suitcase; the doctor was traveling into Aurora to restock on medical supplies, which Jane had conveniently encouraged her to do this weekend. She had arranged everything: Frankie was to ride along with her as an escort (which, also conveniently, kept him out of the line of fire), and Clara had promised to have them over for dinner that evening. They would stay the night and travel back the next day with a saddlebag of medical supplies, which Jane had provided funds for. It was all settled; she'd done the best she could. So why did she feel such a roiling sense of unease deep in her chest?

"Pass me that chemise, would you, Jane?" Maura asked, and Jane handed it to her almost blankly, not quite registering what she was doing. "I think that's about all."

Everything in her bag was neatly packed to maximize space, but Jane couldn't help but smile a little bit when she noticed that Maura had managed to sneak a book in there.

"Planning on doing some light reading while on horseback?" she teased, trying to sound more lighthearted than she felt.

"I've considered it," Maura replied, completely seriously. "It's a long ride, and I believe my equestrian skills are sufficient."

Knowing Maura, she'd no doubt be finished with the novel before her return. "There's a bookseller in Aurora. Clara can give you directions. You should check it out."

Maura nodded, but there was something preoccupied behind her eyes that made Jane suspect she hadn't quite been listening fully. Her gaze was raking up and down Jane now, across her face, and Jane had the sudden, terrifying feeling that Maura could see into her thoughts in that moment. Even though that was ridiculous, she reminded herself, trying to channel her inner Maura. Mind readers simply do not exist, Jane, she told herself, imagining it in Maura's voice. It's a scientific impossibility.

"What's wrong, Jane?" Maura asked softly.

"Wrong? Nothing," Jane said quickly, the little knot of guilt tying itself tighter in her stomach.

Maura gave her a look. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay."

"Seriously, Maur, it's all good." Jane hated how snappy she sounded to her own ears, but she didn't know what else to say. She already felt bad enough about hiding the truth from Maura, but there was no going back. Telling her now would only hurt Maura more; at least this way she'd be safe in Aurora, away from the danger here.

"All right."

Turning away, Jane grabbed Maura's packed bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Come on, I'll help you load up Herschel."

They walked in silence to the back of the house, where Herschel had been tethered alongside Frankie's horse. Things felt almost as tense as they had that very first morning, when Maura had asked about Jane's scars while they'd been readying the horses for Maura's inaugural journey to Echo Station. Jane still hadn't told her the truth about those scars, not yet. She was sure Maura knew the broad strokes—Ma sure knew how to run her mouth—but she herself hadn't volunteered the details.

Frankie cleared his throat at Jane pointedly as she slung the saddlebag across Herschel's back, tightening straps in silence. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, did ya, Janie? What's with the frown?"

"Nothing," she snapped, "I'm fine." She hadn't told Frankie about tonight's plans, either. More guilt. She'd fill him in after it was all over, when it was safe.

"Whoa." Frankie put his hands up in surrender, making a face at Maura that Jane was sure she hadn't been supposed to see. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Mmm." Jane just grunted in response, finishing double-checking the horses' tack and the security of the luggage. "You should be good to go."

Frankie just shook his head, swinging up and onto his horse, but Maura came over to take Jane's hand, her voice low as she murmured, "Are you sure everything's alright?"

"I'm sure." Jane could feel herself softening under Maura's gaze. "I promise, everything is okay, I just have a lot on my mind."

Maura nodded, then leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to her cheek. "Promise me you won't do anything rash while I'm away?"

"Yeah," Jane said, giving her a half-hearted smile. "I promise."

She didn't feel much better with Maura out of the way. Jane went about the rest of her preparations with a rote kind of hollowness. It was all she could do not to snap at Marshal Dean whenever he so much as made eye contact; she couldn't help feeling that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be in this position at all. Although that wasn't strictly true. Jane had to take responsibility for at least part of this plan.

Their men were in place well before dusk, situated in the cave system that Jane had discovered years ago as a curious kid, her and her brothers exploring the long passages with candles until their mother had found out and scolded them. You could get lost in those tunnels, she said, or you'll wake up a bear from his hibernation and get eaten right up! Bears like little children as snacks, you know. So that had been the end of that.

They had men in the caves, a couple deputies on horseback hidden over a bluff within signaling distance. Still, Jane couldn't help but feel they were underprepared, that there was something they were missing. Or maybe it was just that she'd been feeling unsettled all day and there was nothing wrong with the plan after all.

"Ready?" Dean said from beside her. The two of them stood at the mouth to the canyon, a flickering kerosene light to guide their way. Jane's hand hovered over her holster at her left hip, ready to draw her gun at a moment's notice.

She nodded tersely. "Let's go."

The pair walked in silence, the only sound their careful steps on the gravelly floor of the canyon. On either side, tall, reddish walls stretched up toward the night sky; scrubby weeds grew in crevices in the walls, and a few sagebrush plants populated the canyon floor. It was dark, but the lantern's illumination was enough to guide their steps until they reached the clearing Jane had chosen for their meeting place with Paddy.

The canyon walls widened here, becoming slightly less steep as the gorge expanded in size. A dry creek bed ran through the middle; it sometimes rushed with water in the springtime, but those days had passed, and it was long since desiccated after the months of summer heat. The faint light of the half-moon shone down from above, and although she couldn't see anyone, Jane knew their people surrounded them in the caves on either side and further down the gorge.

It wasn't more than a few minutes later that there was movement in the shadows at the other end of the clearing, where the canyon closed back in on itself. As Jane watched, three men materialized from the darkness. On the left was a man matching the description Dean had given her of his informant, Jim Matthews, and on the right was a stocky, burly man with a green bandana tied around his head. In the middle stood Paddy Doyle, the tallest of the three and by far the most intimidating. He walked like someone in command, filling the space with his presence.

His voice was low, but not threatening. "Where is she?"

"Safe." Jane kept it brief, not wanting to betray too much to Dean. "We want to talk to you."

"You didn't come here to talk," Doyle said, and that was where everything went sideways.

In a fluid motion that reminded Jane of a serpent, Doyle drew his gun. The shot rang out before Jane even had time to react, though her gun was drawn by the time the body of one Jim Matthews—former Doyle gang member, one-time informant to the federal government—slumped and hit the ground. Beside her, Dean also had his gun trained on Paddy, who was laughing now. It wasn't sadistic the way Hoyt's laughter had been; rather, it was smug and satisfied, like he had the upper hand and knew it. Jane's deputies faded in from the shadows behind her, Frost standing by her side as backup alongside two of Dean's men. But despite being outnumbered, still Paddy chuckled.

"You thought money could turn my men against me?" he said, and then he turned his gun toward them. For a second, Jane thought he would aim it at her; she tensed, waiting for the impact of the bullet, but instead he pointed it at Frost. "One of mine for one of yours seems like a fair enough trade for trotting me out on this fool's errand."

She could see his finger move, muscles tensing in a way that she knew meant he was serious. He would pull the trigger, and…

Jane acted without a second thought, hollering "Get down!" to Frost as Paddy's shot rang out loudly in the echo chamber around them. She pulled her own trigger without thinking, without aiming, really, hoping the confusion of it all would be enough for them to get out safely. She saw the bullet embed itself into Paddy's side, saw his right arm go slack, saw the gun clatter to the ground in front of him.

Hauling Frost up from the dirt beside her, where he'd thrown himself (out of harm's way, thankfully), she shoved her deputy in the direction of the canyon mouth, trusting Dean to shepherd his own men to safety. Meanwhile, Jane turned back to Paddy, training her gun on the outlaw, who had been helped to his feet by the burly henchman on his right.

"I swear to god I will make you pay for your crimes," she snarled, stalking toward him, but Paddy's men appeared from above, dropping like spiders from ropes unfurling down the canyon walls. Jane found herself surrounded almost before she was aware of it.

"Drop your weapon."

For a moment, she considered disobeying, eyes scanning around for any possible escape, anything she could use to her advantage. Jane was many things—rash, impulsive, stubborn—but even she knew she had no chance of taking out all five men before one of their bullets tore a fatal hole in her flesh. With a slight growl of frustration, she dropped her weapon, hands in the air.

Her heart began to beat faster, the reality of the situation sinking in. How could this have possibly gone so wrong? It was like Hoyt all over again, like she'd made the very same mistake. She'd thought she could handle him on her own, keep the others out of harm's way. And once again, she found herself helpless to the whims of a cold-blooded killer.

Paddy's men circled her like a pack of wolves. His grey shark eyes watched from outside the circle, glittering, until finally—

"Let her go," he commanded, and his men stood down.

"Leave Maura alone," she said before she even realized what she was saying. "If you hurt her, you'll have hell to pay."

He was laughing again, not a hint of tightness or pain in his features even though Jane could see the red stain of blood through his white shirt where her bullet had lodged itself in his torso. "Run along home, little sheriff. And be sure to say hello to my daughter for me."

Jane was fuming by the time she got home, pacing restlessly back and forth across the kitchen floor. She paced so vehemently that she stubbed her toe on a loose board, kicked it in frustration, and then immediately winced again. "Shit."

Had she been wrong to try to apprehend Paddy? How had it all gone so sideways? She'd thought they'd planned for every contingency, but Paddy had been tipped off. He'd known all along that Maura wouldn't be there, that the whole thing was a set-up. Damn Gabriel Dean and his mercenary sources. Although Jane couldn't help but think this was partially her fault, too. It had been her location, her plan, her deep desire to catch Doyle so he couldn't fuck around with Maura's head anymore. With Doyle out of the way, everything would be so much simpler. Either the murders would stop, or they wouldn't. One culprit, or the other.

For a moment, Jane wished Maura were there. Her presence would be a comfort, she thought, until she remembered that Maura didn't know about this whole debacle. Jane had expected that she'd find out eventually, but she had expected she'd find out once they had Paddy in custody. Not after Jane had shot him, been cornered by his men, and still let him get away.

"Shit," she hissed again, loud in the quietness of her empty kitchen.

We thought you were a goner, Frost had said on their walk back to the station, and she knew that was his way of telling her he loved her. And ever since, half of her hadn't been able to shake the thought that she'd just let Maura and Frankie ride away that morning without telling them how much she cared about them. It was haunting, almost, to think her last words to the people she loved might have been trivial, spoken in a moment of irritation.

There was nothing to be done now. Jane wanted to stay up all night, to punish herself for any number of sins. But she'd agreed to meet Dean early the next morning to debrief, and a grouchy Sheriff Rizzoli wouldn't do anyone any good. The best thing would be to sleep.

She stalked over to her cabinet, poured herself some whiskey, and slammed it down in one gulp. Maybe it would take the edge off.

Jane's nighttime routine was simple and efficient: change clothes, braid hair, check all the locks on her doors and windows, tuck her pistol in under her pillow. When Maura stayed over, it always took a year and a day for them to get into bed. The doctor had to get out of all her layers and brush her hair and sometimes even put in curlers (which Jane thought looked funny, something she had mentioned to Maura on many an occasion) before she was ready to lay down and sleep.

The doors and windows were all closed and locked. Jane's hair hung in a neat braid down her back, the dark color contrasting with her white nightshirt. She grabbed for her pistol, then cursed when she realized her holster was empty. Of course. She'd left it lying there on the canyon floor where Doyle had forced her hand. Jane held a quick mental moment of silence for the pistol. It had been a worthy weapon while she'd had it, always so comforting beneath her pillow on nights like these. She'd have to use her spare until she could get a more suitable replacement from Aurora.

She kept the spare gun in the trunk in the kitchen; it didn't take long for Jane to fetch it and return to her room, feeling slightly less unsettled with the weight of it in her hand. Pulling back the covers, she swept a hand under her pillow. Her fingertips brushed over metal, and she recoiled instantly, dragging out the foreign object and letting it dangle from her hand, still clenched around the gun.

It was a pocket watch—a fancy one, far nicer than anything Jane would own. Perhaps Maura had left it behind for her, Jane thought, pressing the switch until the lid clicked open. A piece of paper fluttered out onto the bed.

Don't be late, Jane.

Not Maura, then. Her blood ran cold, and part of her wished she could run to Ma's house next door and curl up under her blankets and cry like she was a little kid again. Everything had been so simple back then, in a time when she hadn't known there was anything in the world to be truly afraid of. Now that Jane knew the real meaning of fear, the way it could paralyze your limbs and toy with your mind, the way it could linger in nightmares and flashbacks even after the moment was dead and gone and buried six feet deep, she longed even more acutely for that innocence.

There would be no sleep for Jane Rizzoli tonight.