AN: Happy update day! A few of you were concerned that the arrival of April would mean that Jane would stray, but I can guarantee that there will be no cheating or betrayal in 'Falling Awake' - we know they love each other too much to do that! That doesn't mean that we won't experience a jealous Maura, though ;) This chapter fills in some case background, and Jane finally reveals a little of her past to someone she trusts. Are we excited for Maura to return soon? Has she missed Jane just as much as Jane has missed her? Catch you in the next update!

It's been two days since Maura left for New York or more precisely fifty-two long, suffocatingly drawn-out hours since they were together.

Not that she's counting.

She's sitting at her desk again, staring absentmindedly at the digital clock on her computer screen, her thoughts roughly two hundred and twenty miles away from the woman whose distance is making her heart ache so dramatically.

Not that she's looked that up.

She tells herself that she's just used to Maura being around and it's only the lack of their usual routine that is causing her to mope around like a lovesick teenager, but no matter how much she tries to avoid it she can't escape from the fact that she misses Maura terribly.

Grabbing her phone, she pulls up their messages again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she types out several messages and then deletes them quickly, unable to decide what to say.

Hey. Thinking about you. Miss you. Can't wait to see you.

No. Too short.

I wish I could just sleep until you're home. I can't function without you. Please hurry back.

No. Too needy.

My entire body aches for you. I can't sleep. I can't eat. Every day passes in a blur. I've fallen for you.

Absolutely fucking not. Too soon, and way too much.

She's about to give up and call her, just to hear her voice, when her phone begins to ring.

"Rizzoli."

"Hey, it's me. We've got a body. Dr. Moore thinks there are some similarities to the guy that Rondo tipped us about."

"Similarities? Like what?"

"Also a counselor at Boston College. Same kind of jagged cut to the throat." He swallows loudly and Jane is sure she can hear him pale at the description.

"Okay. You bringing it in?"

"Yeah, they should already be there. I'm about twenty minutes out - wanted to give you a heads up so you can be the first down there when it comes in."

"Thanks, Frost, appreciate it. See you soon."

Jane is on her feet before she's hung up, taking the stairs two at a time as she tears down to the morgue. She's almost there, slightly out of breath and embarrassed by it when the elevator doors glide open and Dr. April Moore steps out, eyes down as she scribbles furious notes down into an open, black book balanced in one hand.

"You should look where you're going. Safety first." Jane chirps, pushing open the door to the morgue and holding it so a surprised April can step through.

"What are you doing down here?" She eyes Jane dubiously as she breezes past her, finishing off her notes and then dropping everything from her hands on the desk with a quiet thud. Without waiting for a response from Jane, she dips into the loading bay, reappearing seconds later followed by two technicians wheeling in the very body Frost had called her about.

"Well?"

"Frost let me know you were bringing someone in."

"You didn't come down just to see me? I'm crushed."

"He said you thought there were some similarities to the vic a few days ago."

"It's okay. I can handle the rejection. Don't worry about me."

"April..." Jane warns, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"You're no fun. You know that, right?"

"So I'm told. Are you gonna show me, or am I wasting my time here?"

April sighs theatrically and begins to unbutton her blouse, shrugging it off her shoulders and draping it over the back of the chair next to her deliberately. Her eyes meet Jane's in a silent dare for Jane to look, and when Jane doesn't react she chuckles to herself, tugging on a long-sleeved shirt followed by yet another wildly inappropriate scrub top.

"Nothing? Really?"

Jane looks down into her lap, then back up at April, jaw set in defiance.

"Not even a tingle. Sorry. Guess you're super not my type."

"Can't blame a girl for trying. Glove up, please."

Jane obliges, throwing on a protective, disposable apron for good measure. She hovers to the side as April prepares herself, moving to stand across from her once the body has been draped.

"We found a staff pass from Boston College in her pocket - Olivia Williams, twenty-nine. Guidance counselor, someone spotted her legs sticking out of some pretty dense bushes at the back of campus."

"When?"

"A little after ten this morning, core temperature places death somewhere between four and five. Same rough cut across carotids and jugular, and I'm relatively certain it's the same weapon used on the previous victim."

She turns to her laptop and pulls up a picture for comparison, Jane's coffee threatening to make a reappearance at the graphic, close-up photo.

"The only difference this time is that the cut is slightly cleaner. In my opinion, a more confident motion was used this time rather than the rushed, unsure sawing motion we saw previously."

She accompanies her words with a series of hand gestures against the victim's neck to demonstrate her point and Jane takes a step backward, bringing a hand to cover her mouth in a moment of queasiness.

"Jesus. Confident? Who are we dealing with here? If these are linked, and so close together...this could be bigger than we think." Jane paces nervously, then picks up the evidence bag containing the staff ID. She studies it closely and then snaps a picture, sending it across to Frost with a request to find out more.

"I'd prefer to keep this quiet, for now. The last thing we need is rumors of a serial murderer on our hands. Can you do that? Just until we can find a link between them, at least." Jane asks and April considers it for a moment, then nods.

"I can delay my report for a day or so. For you."

Jane ignores her suggestive tone, discarding her apron and gloves and then walking out without a goodbye, itching to make a break. It's not unusual for cases to be linked but the lack of information they have is beginning to bug her, and she needs to do something - anything - to catch a lead.

Less than thirty minutes later and with very little convincing from Jane, she and Frost arrive at Boston College, a quick flash of their badges securing them an immediate meeting with the dean.

"What can you tell us about Grayson and Olivia?"

"There isn't much to tell. Grayson had been a student counselor here for the past three years, Olivia for two."

"And what did they do, exactly?"

"They worked with students to provide academic guidance and support, as well as confidential personal counseling to those who required it."

"Personal counseling? For what?" Frost presses and the dean folds his arms across his chest, leaning forward in his chair.

"I'm not sure I can go into much detail - student confidentiality."

"I appreciate that, but we have two murders on our hands, both victims working the same job in the same college...it doesn't look great for you."

Frost turns to Jane, then pulls out his phone which he taps against his knee a couple of times before unlocking it and scrolling through his list of contacts - a signal for Jane that he's about to turn on the pressure.

"Well, if you don't have any information for us, then I'd better get a couple of officers down here, set up a conference. I don't like it, but needs must, right?"

Jane nods in agreement and stands, crossing over to the small window and staring out at the campus.

"You have a soccer game scheduled today?"

"Yes, it's an important game for us." He pulls at his tie and then wipes the sweat forming on his brow with the back of his sleeve, his face slowly turning red.

"Oh, you'll have to cancel that. The place will be swarming with the press in a few hours, trying to help identify the friends and family of these poor vics."

"The press? On campus?" His voice raises an octave, a telling sign that they've got him right where they want him.

They're used to this - an authority figure unwilling to do anything to help in hopes it'll make them go away, so confident and self-assured until they break at the threat of unwanted attention throwing them into the spotlight.

"Oh yes. You'll have to cancel any events, maybe some classes...we might need to take command of a couple of rooms, set up a central desk for anyone who wants to come talk to us. It's disruptive, but if there isn't anything that you or anyone else here can tell us about Grayson and Olivia, then we must get started right away. Frost, call it?"

He nods solemnly and then begins to dial, fingering hovering over the call button when the dean stands suddenly, holding a hand out towards Frost.

"Please don't. Just...let me get their files."

Jane shoots a smirk at Frost as he clips his phone back into his belt, returning to sit next to him. They bump fists discreetly before the dean turns, nervously pacing back and forth behind his desk as he reads from a sheet of paper.

"They've had numerous crossovers with students through term rotations. I can see at least twenty students who've interacted with both Olivia and Grayson this semester, and that's only students who are currently with us. If we go back through the last few years the numbers will no doubt reach the hundreds."

He pauses, taking a breath to sit back down in his chair and rifle through the mass of papers in his arms as he spreads them across the desk for Jane and Frost to see. Jane leans forward and shuffles a random selection towards herself, mumbling quietly as she flicks through them, desperately hoping something will jump out and grab her attention.

"I'd like to avoid any sort of bad press for BC. We're hoping to top the rankings for next year, I can't imagine how this would reflect on us."

"They were popular people, huh?" Frost speaks over him and the dean nods, producing a photo and nudging it across the desk. It's a picture of Olivia and Grayson posing amid a handful of students, all of them grinning at the camera as they stand together, arms around each other.

"They were very compassionate about students. Not only did they provide counsel during office hours, but they also organized campouts for groups of students from different, difficult backgrounds to encourage them to socialize and make friends. So far it's been a success, with grades raising consistently with kids they'd helped."

"What kind of backgrounds?" Frost questions and the dean pulls out another manilla folder, sliding it towards them.

"I've just finished putting this together - it contains a list of all the group trips they set up, plus lists of students and costs. We'd planned to set up some sort of funding for them, to allow them to expand...I guess that's defunct now."

"I guess so. Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt either of them?"

"No! No. They were incredibly well-liked. I can't imagine any of our students wanting to cause harm."

"Cause harm? They're dead." Frost snaps, his impatience growing by the second, "and I think you know more than you're telling us." He slams his fist onto the desk and Jane pushes herself to her feet, reaching out to momentarily place a warning hand on his shoulder.

"It's been a long day, as I'm sure you can tell. Can we take this?" She gestures to the mass of paperwork and the dean nods, face glowing hotly. She begins to gather everything within reach, stuffing it into a folder as neat as she can manage and then turning, pushing it into Frost's hands encouragingly. When he doesn't take it, she presses it harder, meeting his annoyed stare with a subtle shake of her head.

"I'll need those back."

"And we will happily return them to you when we're done, Mr...?"

"Clark. James Clark." He holds out a hand but Jane ignores it, nudging Frost's knee with her own sharply and breathing a sigh of relief when he stands. He raises an eyebrow and then turns on his heel, stalking out of the office wordlessly.

"We'll be back, Mr. Clark. You can count on it."

Frost doesn't breath a word until they're back at the office, camped out in their favorite hiding place - a vacant office on the fourth floor where they've spent countless hours splayed across two battered couches, working silently in tandem to tirelessly chase down leads and put together cases away from the bluster of their assigned desks.

She hands him a wrapped cheeseburger from the takeout bag they've just picked up and then slumps down onto the couch she usually favors, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth with a groan of pleasure. Cheap, greasy fries from McDonald's are her Achilles heel, especially when they're the first thing she's eaten in over twenty-four hours.

"You're an animal."

"What?" She speaks around the half-chewed potato in her mouth, dipping into the bag to pull out another handful and wiggle them in Frost's direction.

She tosses a fry at him, then another until he drops his stern exterior and bursts into a laugh, brushing the offending items from his lap and onto the floor.

"Alright, cut it out."

"You in a better mood now?" Jane questions through her food and he nods, screwing up his nose in distaste.

"It's rude to chew with your mouth open, you know."

"Well, I think it's rude to ignore me when you feel like it and to let me pay for food. I'm a lady, y'know?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Hey! Jerk." His grin matches hers and she allows herself to relax, taking a long sip of her soda. Frost rarely loses it, but when he does it's not pretty and Jane isn't sure she's mentally up to carrying him through this case, not when she's got other things on her mind.

Like Maura. Like their relationship. Like the fact that history could repeat itself and...well, she doesn't want to to go there. Not now.

"Sorry. About before. It just riles me up when fat cats like that won't co-operate."

"I get ya, I do, but you've gotta calm down. We got what we went there for. I'd rather trawl through this for hours than try and work with anyone like the dean...I'm on your side."

"I know."

They finish their food without speaking, the silence only broken when Frost tosses his wrapper in the trashcan across the other side of the room. He removes his tie, sighing audibly as he shrugs out of his jacket and undoes the collar of his white shirt.

"We need a lead. We need something."

"Tell me about it. We really didn't find any family?"

Frost shakes his head, flipping open the folder they'd brought back with them from the college and handing Jane a stack of documents.

"Neither had siblings, and they'd both come from broken homes. Olivia left home at thirteen, and Grayson bounced around foster homes from the age of four until he hit eighteen, then he took care of himself. He was picked up once for vandalism but he's had a clean record since, seems like he really managed to turn his life around."

"Olivia's parents?" Jane asks and Frost purses his lips, pausing as he looks over a copy of a student timetable in front of him.

"They didn't wanna know. Hung up as soon as they heard her name. It's not them before you ask - they moved to Colorado around eight years ago and as far as we know, Olivia never contacted them, nor did they ever try to find her."

Jane grunts in frustration, rubbing her tired eyes with balled fists and then stretching her arms up over her head before flopping back down onto the couch, crumpled papers and photos spilling across her lap and onto the couch next to her. She picks out a photo similar to the one they'd seen earlier - Olivia and Grayson right in the center, one arm around each other's shoulders and the other hugging students to them, eight of them in total grinning right into the camera.

"Didn't Clark say they helped students from difficult backgrounds? What kind of background? Similar to their own?"

Frost makes a noise of acknowledgment and then turns to Jane, fingertips frozen on a paragraph he's reading so that he doesn't lose his place.

"Disadvantaged kids, mainly. There isn't much here but they helped with all kinds of issues - drugs, alcohol, sex - you know the score. From most of the campout reports, they focused on helping LGBTQ kids coming to terms with themselves by creating a support network where they all looked out for each other."

He passes a couple of photographs to Jane, continuing to speak as she looks through them, her stomach twisting uneasily.

"Clark was right - it was a success. Not only had reports of bullying dropped massively, almost all of the kids in their care had improved grades and attendance to the point that they wanted to fund it and make it a permanent program."

"Oh my god, is she staring at us? She's totally staring at us."

Jane feels her cheeks burn as she quickly buttons her school shirt to the neck, barely daring to breathe.

If there is one thing she hates more than the mandatory school gym classes, it's the changing rooms. Ever since a stupid rumor that she'd kissed her best friend had spread around the school like wildfire, she'd faced nothing but torment from that very same 'friend' and some of the other girls in her class.

And it wasn't just a rumor - she'd kissed Jane first and then decided to make up some shitty story to cover herself.

"You're so gross, Gayzzoli."

Laughter ripples around her and she focuses on ignoring them, pulling on her black sneakers and lacing them up quickly.

"Do you go home and imagine us all in the shower together when you're in bed?"

"Eww. I bet she does."

"She totally does, she told me. She's sick in the head."

Jane grits her teeth to stop herself from talking back at them. It's bad enough that she has to listen, but if she interacts then she'll never live it down.

She shoves her gym clothes into her backpack, and she's about to pull her sweater on and leave when a shove from behind unbalances her, sending her staggering face-first into the cold, tiled wall. Her top lip is wet and warm and she wipes a metallic taste from her mouth, tears gathering in her eyes.

"What's going on in here?" The teacher's voice booms through the locker room and she pinches the bridge of her bust nose, desperately trying to avoid bloodying another new shirt - her mom would kill her.

"Oh my god miss, Jane is so clumsy. She totally tripped getting changed. Right, Jane?"

"Jane?"

"Jane?"

A hand touches hers and she recoils sharply, drawing in a frayed breath.

"Whoa, hey. You okay?"

Frost's expression is one of concern and she shakes her head, then nods frantically, squeezing her eyes closed.

"Shit yeah. I'm fine. Tired."

"Sure?"

"I'm sure. Let's get through these, note what we can, and get outta here." She reaches for her notepad and pen, uncapping it with her teeth and then staring down at the blank paper, hoping that if she ignores Frost he'll ignore her.

"Jane?"

She exhales noisily and flicks her gaze to his, tapping her pen against the pad rapidly.

"I was one of those kids Frost. I came from a loving family, don't get me wrong, but I was one of them through and through."

"You were..."

"Bullied. Pushed around. Harassed. Whatever you wanna call it."

"For?"

"Liking girls."

It's out before she has time to think about what she's saying and she waits, eyes narrowed at Frost as she gauges his reaction. The ever-cautious part of her brain that refuses to believe she'll be anything but mocked and tormented even after all these years churns hysterically and she takes a deep breath, ready to backtrack her way out of it.

"Oh. Kids are cruel, man. My cousin barely made it outta school alive, finally found himself and his boyfriend - now fiancé - in college. They're getting married next Summer."

She can't sense any malice or hatred in his voice and she falters at the unexpected statement, opening her mouth to say something and then closing it again hopelessly.

"You still...like women?"

"Yeah." Her voice is barely a whisper and Frost cracks into a grin, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"If I'd have known, you coulda been my wingman long before now. Damn. Maybe you should give me some pickup advice, cause it's a desert out there and I am parched, know what I mean?"

She snorts a laugh and rolls her eyes, daring to indulge him without the overwhelming fear of reprisal weighing her down.

"I'd drop the cheesy lines for a start."

"Cheesy? Are you kidding me? Women love them."

"We really don't. And quit the whole hard-to-get game I've seen you playing. It's not a good look."

"Ouch." He slaps a hand to his heart in mock hurt and Jane laughs, gathering up the mess around her and drawing it back into her lap.

"Help me get at least an idea of what we're looking for within the next two hours, and I'll show you the error of your womanizing ways over a beer at the Robber."

"Say no more. And Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"I've seen that look before. The past is in the past - what you experienced then won't be what you experience now. I'd put money on it. People love you no matter what you are, no matter who you are. Don't let fear destroy you."

Her heart hammers in her chest - in happiness rather than pain and she throws him a thankful smile and a nod of acceptance before focusing her mind back onto the task at hand.

Maybe he's right. Or maybe he's wrong.

There's only one way to find out.