A/N: Something I found out during my research: formaldehyde was discovered in 1859. Something I did not have to research: the inside of a cow's eye is a beautiful iridescent blue color. (Because yes, that is relevant to this chapter.) Perks of being a biology student.

…anyway, this is a rambling way to say I'm really going to miss doing all the research for this story and living in this world with Maura and Jane. This is one of my favorite things I've ever written, so it's bittersweet that it has come to an end. I hope it has been as much fun to read as it has been to write, and I am so grateful for all your support along the way.

There were two pieces of paper inside the small envelope labeled with her name in Paddy's distinctive handwriting. Maura had run her fingertips along the folds for what had felt like a thousand times until the paper had become soft and almost fuzzy from the repetitive motion. She wasn't sure what she felt, holding those sheets in her hands with the knowledge that she might never cross paths with their author again.

She wasn't sad, exactly. He may have fathered her, but Paddy would never be her father. Much as he fascinated her, she did not crave that familial closeness with him. Still, that it should end like this—with him saving her life only to waltz off without so much as a look back—felt wrong, somehow, though unsurprising.

She hadn't felt much of anything when Jane had handed her the letter. But then, maybe she'd felt more than she'd thought; Jane's curious eyes had pleaded with her to open the note, but Maura had been unable to overcome the sudden paralysis of her phalanges. There was no solid medical explanation for that fact.

In the twenty-four hours since, Maura had (relatively successfully) given it as little thought as possible. There had been much to fill her time—the packing of the few things she'd had with her, the ride back to Echo Station, the comforting of Jane after she had interviewed Lola and, finally, Charles Hoyt.

Maura, standing outside the cell, had had to hold herself back from lunging at him through the bars. The trembling rage she had felt in that instant was unlike anything she'd experienced before—wild, unpredictable, like a flame just catching at the corner of a piece of kindling. She sensed that once the inferno flared to life, there would be no containing it. Seeing Jane emerge, brave-faced as always but with a telling tremor in her frame and an unnatural tautness to her smile, Maura understood for the first time the passion that would cause a person to take a life. She felt she could've killed Hoyt then and there, with her bare hands if necessary, if it meant erasing the pain and fear she'd seen in Jane's eyes.

And then she had returned home. The first thing she had done was bathe (Paddy's camp had been much more well supplied than she had anticipated, but it did lack the finer hygienic facilities of her little house in Echo Station), and then she had wrapped herself up in a robe and her hair in a towel to prevent it dripping down her back. And now here she sat, in her favorite armchair by the small fireplace in the front room, uneasily sliding those two sheets of paper in and out of their envelope as though she could absorb their contents passively through her fingertips.

At last, she unfolded them. The first was a letter, written in blocky penmanship; the second appeared to be a map, sketchy and ill-defined, of the neighboring hills and dells. She laid the map aside for the time being and picked up the note.

Dearest Maura—

I won't waste words telling you why I am leaving; you are smart enough to draw your own conclusions. What I will leave you with is this:

My offer to you still stands. Should you ever change your mind, Hope owns a boardinghouse near Telegraph Hill in San Francisco. She will know how to reach me.

Enclosed, you will find a map. If you choose to remain in Echo Station with your sheriff, I hope you will use it to claim your family inheritance. It has been a privilege to call you my daughter, even for a short while.

Fondly,

Paddy

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maura knew that the phrase "family inheritance" should be the part drawing her attention. The component of the letter that did, in fact, draw her attention was much more innocuous: the signoff. Fondly, he had written, as though it were that simple. Maybe it was.

Maura had to admit a certain fondness for him, too, despite everything. As a child, she'd lived by storybook morals. There was a right way of doing things and a wrong one, people you should associate with and those you should stay away from. Good triumphed over evil. Those were the rules she had abided by when they had first met. But that felt like a lifetime ago now. Paddy was certainly not the hero of the story, but neither did that make him the villain. Maura was wise enough now to find peace in that.

She set down the letter and pulled out the map, confirming what she had noted in her cursory observation: it depicted the area around Echo Station, the hills that sprawled out with the tributaries of the Yuba River spiraling languidly through them. A trail had been marked, leading past what Maura recognized as the former location of Paddy's camp to a remote area of the mountains that must be two days away by horseback.

Jane would want to go immediately, and Maura had to admit that it sparked a curiosity in her as well. But not now. Right now, what Maura and Jane needed more than anything was to rest.

The next weeks were stunningly uneventful. Autumn began to truly set in, and Maura woke to her first California frost one morning. She'd been enchanted by the spirals of ice on her windowpane and the quiet hush of the world outside; Jane, lying next to her in bed, had simply grumbled and told her to stop hogging the blankets or she'd kick her out. They slept over most nights now, and though in the beginning they had been careful never to emerge from the house together in the mornings, eventually it became part of the routine. Nobody bothered them about it—so-called "Boston marriages" were in these days, or so it seemed. Well, nobody bothered them apart from Angela, who enthusiastically invited Maura around every Sunday for dinner (and had notably stopped inviting a certain blacksmith's son).

Normal doctoring work felt almost, well… boring in light of everything that had happened. It was nearing the beginning of November, and Maura had been to check up on two pregnant women who were nearing their due dates (Mrs. Holtz and Mrs. Wells, respectively, who had both been in good shape if chatty to the point of exhaustion for the rather introverted doctor) before making her way to the sheriff's station, where she hoped to find Jane.

A familiar face greeted her at the door, and Maura blinked in surprise. "Susie? What are you doing here?"

The young woman fidgeted slightly, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she could get the words out. "Dr. Isles! I was just… I was hoping to find you here. Could I come inside, by any chance?"

"Of course." Maura held the door for her, nodding to Frost as they stepped into the front office. Jane's desk was, as yet, empty; Maura hoped for the sheriff's sake that that meant she was still resting up in bed where Maura had left her that morning, as per the doctor's orders. Not that advice or common sense had ever stopped Jane Rizzoli from doing anything she pleased.

They made their way to the back room, which was now less a morgue and more a… studio. She and Jane had decided that they would convert it into a sort of physician's office, a place for Maura to treat her patients, to keep her supplies, and perhaps to pursue research inquiries of her choosing. The benches were littered with the medical supplies she had been in the process of putting away, and Jane had been midway through knocking a hole in the wall to build a window that would let a little more light into the room. There were even a few jars of preserved organs on the shelves that Maura had kept for study, which she half-wished she'd hidden away. It was simply that she hadn't been expecting visitors—apart from Jane, of course, most everybody steered clear of this room—and anyway, Jane was more likely to tease her for her unconventional interests than to be truly disgusted. (Not that Jane loved looking at preserved stomachs. But she loved a woman who did, and thankfully that was close enough.)

"I apologize for the mess—" Maura began, but Susie's eyes had lit up at the sight of a sheep's brain in a jar, instantly setting the doctor at ease.

"Oh, it's alright. I find it fascinating."

She couldn't help but smile. "As do I. Some would call it barbaric, but I have always found anatomy to be a very elegant discipline." Susie's gaze shifted to Maura now, and she felt suddenly self-conscious. "Madame Lola's is officially closed down now?" she asked, trying to fill the silence.

Susie nodded. "It's very strange."

"I don't suppose you're in need of a new job?" The statement came out a little jumbled, almost before Maura could think it through. But it felt right; Susie had the curiosity and the stomach for the job, and it would be good to have someone to help her in the more complicated cases.

"Really?"

Maura nodded, feeling almost bashful. "I could… train you here. If you want."

Susie grinned. "Of course. When can we start?"

"Well…" Maura could see Susie eyeing the jar of preserved cow eyes she'd persuaded Jane to let her keep. "Now, I suppose."

Maura had never really considered herself a teacher. She'd been forced by her mother to volunteer as a mentor at their church's annual summer school as a teen, which had consisted of teaching very fidgety and unwilling children to recite Bible verses. It had been a mostly miserable experience and had served to convince her that teaching was indeed not her passion. But watching Susie's eyes widen as she took the jar down from the shelf and carefully placed one of the eyes in the tray made her feel that there was some value to the exercise after all.

She made careful incisions around the edges of the cornea, let Susie examine the iris and the lens. The young woman let out a small gasp when Maura revealed the retina and choroid coat, in their shimmering shades of blue almost like a butterfly's wings, and Maura couldn't help but smile.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Most people probably wouldn't find it to be so; at one time, that would have made Maura self-conscious. Now, though, she felt proud to share something that meant so much to her with another person. Maybe she could get used to this.

The sound of someone clearing their throat shook Maura out of her anatomy-induced reverie, and she turned to find Jane standing at the door, a broad grin on her face. She stood strong and upright now, no hint of pain written across her features, which brought a swell of contentment to Maura's chest. The sheriff was healing nicely from her injuries, despite overextending herself at nearly every possible opportunity.

"Jane?" Maura blinked. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, well, you were pretty engrossed in… whatever that is." Jane wrinkled her nose, flapping her hands at the half-dissected cow eye in front of Maura. Her eyes flicked over to Susie. "Who's this?"

"You remember Susie, don't you? From Madame Lola's?"

"Uh, yeah, but what's she doing here?"

Susie smiled, sticking out a hand for Jane to shake. "Susie Chang, physician assistant."

Jane gently refused the proffered hand, which was gloved and covered in fluids from the cow eye. "Is that a title we're giving people now?"

Maura nodded, stripping off her gloves and crossing the room to toss them gently into a bucket for future cleaning. "I thought it would be a good idea to have someone else well-versed in medicine."

Jane raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on her lips. "And why's that, Dr. Isles? Planning on going somewhere?"

"It's only practical, Jane."

"Of course." The sheriff's eyes were locked on Maura's now. "Susie, would you mind giving us a moment?"

"What?" Susie's gaze flicked back and forth between them until, seeming to catch Jane's meaning, she flushed. Copying the doctor, she stripped off her gloves and hurried out the door, calling out that she'd see Maura later. The door banged shut behind her, the sound itself seeming to carry almost the same tone of embarrassment as the woman who had just passed through it.

"Well, she left in a hurry," Jane chuckled, crossing the room to where Maura stood. She still walked with a slight limp, although she'd improved considerably in the past weeks. With an uncharacteristically soft sigh, Jane let herself sink into Maura's embrace, burying her head in Maura's neck.

"Gee, I wonder why."

Jane let out a surprised snort, stepping back and holding the doctor by the shoulders. "Why, Maura, was that sarcasm I just heard?"

"I suppose it was," Maura said matter-of-factly, and then pressed her lips to Jane's for a quick kiss. It was over far too soon; she could feel Jane's mouth follow hers, seeking more, but she brought a hand up to her partner's cheek instead. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Instantly, Jane's expression clouded. "That is never something you want your partner to say to you."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Maura clarified hastily. "Nothing's wrong. I simply… well, I thought I should tell you about the contents of the note Paddy left me."

"Oh."

Stepping back, Maura produced the note and the map from her pocket, handing them to Jane, who skimmed them quickly.

"Inheritance?" Jane looked back up at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with the stagecoach robbery."

"You mean the one with Tommy?"

Maura shook her head. "No. I'm referring to the stagecoach that Hoyt stole from the Doyle gang years ago. It was government-chartered, wasn't it? Paddy never mentioned it explicitly, but…"

She could see a flicker of fear cross Jane's face at the mere mention of Hoyt. He was long gone now, taken by Marshall Dean to a jail in Truckee, California—supposedly the most secure jail in the west, although Maura did not have evidence to confirm that—but his shadow still hung over the town, and over Jane most of all.

"What are you saying?"

"Well, with Hoyt and Alice out of the way… I think Paddy left me a map to locate the contents of the stagecoach."

Slowly, the corners of Jane's mouth turned up into a smile. "So… are you suggesting we go on a treasure hunt?"

Jane's enthusiasm was, as always, contagious, and Maura couldn't help but smile back at her. "I suppose that is what I'm suggesting."

The sheriff was already poring over the map, and Maura could practically see the gears whirring in her head as she calculated how long they'd be gone, what they'd need in the way of rations, and probably a whole manner of other variables that Maura, scientific as she was, wouldn't even think to consider. She simply watched for a moment, admiring the spark of excitement in Jane's eyes, until the brunette glanced back up at her with furrowed brows.

"I think we should wait until spring. I'd rather not face the same fate as the Donner-Reed Party, if it's all the same to you." Jane paused, a look of comprehension dawning over her face, and Maura had to bite her lip in order to stifle her laughter. "Wait… that's why you waited this long to tell me, isn't it?"

Guilty as charged. "I knew you'd want to leave immediately, but you were in no shape to—"

She was cut off by the warm press of Jane's lips against hers, muffling the last of her words into a contented hum. Jane pulled back far too quickly, a look of something like adoration in her eyes.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Maur." She paused. "I woulda been fine, though."

"You'll be even better in the spring."

"I definitely could have done it two weeks ago!"

Maura arched a brow. "I think I'm a better judge of that than you are."

"Oh, really?" Jane snorted. "Pretty sure I made it a solid thirty years without you in my life."

"And it is truly a miracle you survived that long," Maura said, and then leaned in to kiss her again. One hand found its way to the back of Jane's neck, winding into her tangled hair; the other curled gently around her jaw, thumb stroking Jane's cheek. The sheriff's arms tightened around her, pulling her in closer, and she thought she could feel Jane smile.

"Wouldn't want to spend the next thirty without you," Jane mumbled against her lips. "You're stuck with me for life now."

"We are going to be late," Maura protested for what felt like the thousandth time, although her protest was really quite weak. She was tempted to lean into Jane's touch rather than away from it.

The sheriff was standing behind her with her arms looped over Maura's shoulders. Supposedly she had been helping Maura with buttoning her bodice, but by now they both knew that was nothing more than a pretense for Jane to run her hands all over Maura's body, which she did with alacrity. This position unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how much one personally cared about being late to family dinner) put Jane's mouth at a perfect height to kiss Maura's neck… which she also did, until Maura heaved a sigh and spun herself out of Jane's arms.

"You know how your mother feels about you being late to dinner."

Jane pouted. "Yeah, well, my money's on Tommy being even later."

"Jane."

"What?"

"Just because Tommy is habitually late does not give you free license to be late as well."

"Counterpoint: Ma won't care about me being late as long as I'm not the latest." Jane gave her one of those signature roguish grins before leaning in and giving her a quick peck on the lips. With a melodramatic sigh, she stomped over to the bed and sat down to lace up her boots. "But I guess you're right. We should head over soon."

Maura finished the process of dressing herself, tucking stray hairs behind her ears and straightening her bodice, which was in slight disarray as the result of Jane's actions. She watched for a moment as Jane tied her shoes before looking back up at her with a soft smile.

"M'lady," Jane murmured, bouncing up off the bed to proffer her arm to the doctor. "Shall we go to the ball?"

"You're ridiculous," Maura chided, but there was affection lacing her tone as she took Jane's outstretched arm.

The walk to Angela's home was short and well-trodden; they both could have done it in their sleep. It was a grey, damp day typical of late autumn. The clouds above threatened thunder; if it didn't rain before the sun set, it certainly would overnight. A brisk wind displaced the tendrils of Maura's hair (she was grateful she'd remembered to don a bonnet) and flushed both their cheeks as they walked hand in hand.

Maura couldn't help but admire Jane, striding along beside her in those sturdy boots of hers. She wore her usual jacket (with the sheriff's star badge pinned to the lapel, as always) over a black button-down shirt, which Maura had picked out for her from a catalogue. It had been atrociously expensive to have it sent to Aurora all the way from the east coast, but she couldn't help but think it had been worth every cent to see Jane in it. Of course, she would have admired Jane's form if she'd been wearing a potato sack (and to be honest, Maura would not have been sad if she had chosen to wear nothing at all, though it might make dinner an awkward affair). But seeing Jane in dress clothes that matched her energy was a rare treat.

Angela didn't force her into the uncomfortable dresses anymore; she'd made a comment the first time Jane had shown up to Sunday dinner in trousers, but one steely look from her daughter had made her swallow down any additional comments she may have wanted to make. There was something more forceful about Jane these days, something that even her mother couldn't ignore. It was a self-assuredness she hadn't had when Maura had first met her, although she knew the sheriff had always tried to project bravado.

It seemed to Maura that Jane walked taller now than she had before, even with the fading limp. She had always reminded the doctor of a wild horse—proud and spirited and unable to be tamed—but now she seemed to see that in herself, to be aware of her own power. And Maura would be the first to admit that it was wildly attractive.

Moments like these, in the quiet of their own little world, were the ones that Maura treasured most. Lifting their intertwined hands to her lips, she tenderly kissed Jane's knuckles. Jane gave her a quizzical look that softened into a smile when Maura turned to face her. Before Maura knew it, the sheriff had dropped her hand, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her in for a soft kiss right there in the middle of the road.

There was nobody around to see but the oak and aspen trees, mostly bare now in preparation for the oncoming winter, and the few birds that drifted lazily against the grey sky above. Jane kissed Maura breathless—a slow, languid affair, as though they had all the time in the world. When at last she pulled back, Jane rested her forehead against Maura's, close enough that Maura could feel the gentle breaths leave her mouth and see the blurry brown of her eyes.

"I love you," Jane said, looking as beautiful as Maura had ever seen her, with her wind-whipped hair and her flushed cheeks and the hint of a smile on her pink, just-kissed lips.

"I love you, too," Maura replied, because some things really were as simple as that.

Angela greeted them at the door with warm hugs and a kiss to each of their cheeks, ushering them both inside before the cold and damp could blow in through the door with them. She bustled them down the hallway and into the dining area, where several guests were already seated.

"I see you've managed to make it to dinner on time for once," Angela commented to Jane, one eyebrow raised. "The good doctor here must be an influence in the right direction." (Maura shot Jane a pointed look, but the sheriff either didn't notice or didn't care to acknowledge that she had, in fact, noticed.)

"Uh huh," Jane muttered absentmindedly, and Maura could see her eyes scanning the room. Frankie, Frost, and Korsak were already seated at the table, sipping beers and chatting amongst themselves. Jane turned to Maura. "Tommy's not here yet. I don't wanna say I told you so but… I told you so."

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Maura said primly, and Jane rolled her eyes. She was many things, but a gracious winner was not one of them. "Shall we sit?"

Jane nodded, and they took two adjacent seats to the right of Frankie, who appeared to be deep in conversation with Frost about the rules of baseball, which he was convinced would be the next big thing in sports. (Jane was inclined to agree, Maura knew, after sitting through many a Rizzoli family dinner during which she and her brother had chattered about it nonstop.)

"Jane, Maura." Korsak nodded to them both as they settled into their seats.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Jane commented.

"Yeah, well, your mother extended the invitation. Besides, what else has an old geezer like me got to do on a drizzly Sunday night?"

Jane snorted. "You're no geezer."

"Ah, you're too nice. Truth is, I'm getting old." He gave a wry laugh. "Between you and Frost here, the town's in good hands. Retirement isn't sitting so bad with me after all."

"Must give you plenty of time with the dogs. Say, how's Barney Miller?"

"Doing quite well," Korsak began, "although I was thinking Maura might come and take a look at his leg—"

The bang of the front door opening stopped the former sheriff in his tracks. Moments later, the youngest Rizzoli sibling made his entrance with a loud, "Sorry, Ma" and one of his trademark grins. He was carrying a large loaf of bread, which he practically threw down onto the table before taking the chair to Maura's right.

"Hiya, Maura."

"Hello, Tommy." She couldn't help but smile; though Tommy more than occasionally got on Jane's nerves, he had endeared himself to Maura in the weeks she'd spent tending to his injuries from the stagecoach robbery. He was fit as a fiddle these days, and despite claiming nearly every Sunday that this was his last week in the "godforsaken wasteland" that was Echo Station, showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

"Sure Janie's not driving you too crazy?" He winked. "'Cause there's always room for one more in my bed if you change your mind."

"Shut it, Tommy," Jane grumbled, backhanding his shoulder so that he winced in exaggerated pain. "Go find your own woman to bother."

"Yeah, well, not like there're many options in this backwater shitho—"

Angela cleared her throat loudly, interrupting her youngest son mid-insult. "Thomas Edward Rizzoli, you are already on very thin ice."

He held up his hands in surrender, casting a sheepish sidelong glance at Maura and his sister as he did so. "Okay, okay."

"Okay is right, young man." Angela cast a sweet smile in Maura's direction as she slid the last of the supper dishes onto the table, taking the seat across from her. "He's not bothering you, is he, Maura?"

She stifled a laugh. "No, Angela, I'm quite alright."

Angela harrumphed. "Well, that's a relief. No thanks to either of my children in that department."

"Ma," Jane whined, but Maura took her hand under the table and squeezed lightly until she felt Jane's fingers intertwine with her own, more out of instinct than conscious thought. The sheriff let out a soft huff of air under her breath. "Alright, I'm ignoring that for the sake of civility. Now, can you please pass me the potatoes?"

A/N: So… I guess this means I'm in the market for starting some new stories! So feel free to hit me with those prompts in the comments/private messages, and let me know if you'd like me to revisit this universe at any point. :) Again, thank you so much for reading!