"I can't believe I'm letting you drag me to this."

They were waiting in line outside Symphony Hall in Boston, Maura in an elegant evening gown and heels, Jane in an equally elegant, if inexpensive, black dress.

"Rachmaninov's 2nd Symphony is considered by some critics to be the most romantic piece of music ever written."

"They can't have heard 'I Wanna Know What Love Is'," Jane teased.

Maura poked her in the ribs with her elbow. "I already said I'd come to a rock concert with you in return."

The line moved towards the door. Maura produced the tickets from her clutch. Jane peeked over her shoulder.

"Maura! These tickets cost over a hundred bucks!"

"I didn't pay for them," Maura admitted. "They were given to my mother, but she had other plans tonight."

Jane bit her tongue. She was tempted to ask more about Maura's family, but they hadn't really gone there yet. She knew they were loaded, and Maura had never mentioned any siblings. And to be fair, Jane was holding off on details about her family too. She loved them, obviously, but they were mortifying at the best of times.

They took their seats. Jane had to admit that the view was excellent. She'd only ever seen her high school orchestra before, and she could tell this was going to be something else entirely. She was about to ask a question about the layout of the chairs when the lights went down and the musicians filed onto the stage. A hush fell over the room, broken only by the slight rustle of instruments being picked up, then one clear note from an oboe which was gradually joined by everyone else. The note stopped, the conductor raised her arms, and the piece began.

The music swelled throughout the room, and the sarcastic comments Jane had been holding on the tip of her tongue were entirely forgotten. Watching the orchestra was mesmerising, and it was several minutes before she stole a glance at Maura. When she did, her breath caught in her throat. Maura had closed her eyes, and tears poured gently down her cheeks. Without thinking, Jane reached out and took her hand, then closed her eyes as well.

She didn't open them again until the end of the piece. The audience stood, the room roared with applause, and Jane reluctantly released Maura to show her own appreciation.

The crowd began to file out of the room. Jane waited until they were outside before speaking. She had only one thing to say.

"Thank you," she whispered, on the dark Boston street.

Droplets of rain were just beginning to fall. Maura looked into Jane's eyes, thought about all the ways her friend might have reacted, thought about the hand wrapped around hers, felt the salt of tears still stinging on her face. She reached up, ran a hand through Jane's hair, brought her face closer, and kissed her for all she was worth.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jane knew people might be looking, but for once she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around Maura's waist and pulled their bodies even closer.

Maura blinked, and took out her earphones. She checked the station the train was passing, and realised she had missed her stop. She let out a long breath, and turned off the Rachmaninov she had been playing on her phone.

Leaving the station, a 20 minute walk ahead of her due to her distraction, she decided she might as well finish the memory.

"I've never done that before," Jane admitted.

"Will you ever want to do it again?"

"Every single day for the rest of my life," Jane said, grinning from ear to ear.

Maura wondered if you could meet the love of your life at twenty-one. She didn't even know if she believed in the concept of having a love of your life.

The rain was falling heavier now and they hurried to the bus stop. Jane rode with Maura back to her dorm, just as she always did. At the door, Maura reached for her hand again.

"Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?"

Maura had her own room, sharing a bathroom and common area with three other students. Jane had been there plenty of times in the past few months since they'd met, to watch movies, beat Maura at cards, even help her study. For the first time, she was nervous.

"I have work tomorrow," she found herself saying. "But I'll call you afterwards, and maybe we can grab dinner?"

"Don't you have family dinners on Friday?" Maura asked.

"Shit, tomorrow's Friday. Yes." Friday night dinners were practically sacred to Jane's mother. "You could, uh, come, if you like," she found herself offering.

"Are you sure? I mean, I'd love to meet your family. But you've never even let me come to your house before."

"Gotta bite that bullet sometime," Jane said, to herself as well as Maura. "Don't worry, my Ma will LOVE you. She always wanted me to be more girly."

"I'm not that girly," Maura protested.

Jane laughed out loud. "How many pairs of shoes do you own?"

"There many female gender stereotypes I do not conform to in the least," Maura replied, a little huffily.

"Yeah, yeah, Miss 'I need a perfect outfit and four inch heels even to go to the library'!"

Maura was about to argue her case, when it occurred to her that perhaps a different tactic would work better.

"If you don't like my outfits, you're always welcome to ask me to take them off."

With that, she walked inside and closed the door, leaving a gaping Jane on the doorstep.

Maura let herself into her house, stepped out of her heels, and padded through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Fast, electric kettles were a definite advantage of life in England. She chose a soothing herbal tea, then went to change into pyjamas while it steeped.

When she returned to the kitchen, her phone, which she had left on the counter, lit up with a message.

You get home safe?

Maura couldn't help smiling. She and Jane had exchanged their UK numbers in the wine bar.

Yes, thank you. Presumably you did as well, unless someone has already assumed your identity.

Maura's phone rang almost immediately.

"Thought I should prove it was really me. But I'm far too unique to be easily impersonated."

Maura smiled again at the sound of Jane's voice, although there was some strange background noise.

"What's that? Are you actually home or did you go out clubbing?"

"Oh, I'm home. That's just my roommate."

"Have you thought about asking them to turn it down?"

"Believe it or not, I have. I've also considered booking them for a noise complaint, but that might be an abuse of power."

"You could go with the well-respected method of playing your own music selections even louder."

"Dr Isles! I'm shocked. But also, great idea. What music would you recommend?"

"I was listening to Rachmaninov earlier," Maura said, not really thinking.

There was a long pause before Jane spoke, and when she did, her tone was much softer.

"I want to keep Rachmaninov for us."

"I wasn't sure if you'd remember."

"I bought the CD. I even brought it to London," Jane admitted.

"Do you even have a CD player here?"

Jane chuckled. "No. But I couldn't bring myself to put it in storage."

Maura went to her bookshelf, flicking through her classical records until she found the well-worn cardboard cover she was looking for.

"Where'd you go?" Jane asked.

"Just looking for something," Maura said, holding the record in her hands.

"Don't keep me in suspense, Maur. Looking for what? Your vibrator?"

Maura blushed. "You're impossible. And now I don't want to tell you."

"Aw, come on, you know I was joking."

"Agent Provocateur."

"Damn. Really? You still have that?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe you kept it," Jane said.

Maura thought about all the things she could say, all the things she'd been thinking about all evening, but she wasn't ready. Honestly, she didn't know if she ever would be, if she could be, any more.

"Call me tomorrow?" she suggested. "I need to go to bed."

Jane agreed, and ended the call.

Maura flipped over the record, reading the note scribbled on the yellow section of the cover.

MI,

To continue your romantic education.

Love,

JR

Jane banged on her roommate's door, and they seemed to get the message, because the volume of the music decreased to an acceptable level. Jane sighed, looking at her phone. She'd never completely figured out how Maura's brain worked, and she was very out of practice. But surely it meant something, that Maura had kept the record?

Jane had always thought Maura wanted to move on from everything in Boston, including her. It had been Maura who'd asked Jane not to contact her, not to look her up. At the time, Jane had been hurt enough to acquiesce. And later, she'd convinced herself that Maura was completely over her, and there was no point holding on to feelings which weren't reciprocated.

But seeing Maura, listening to her mention Rachmaninov, the record, changed everything. At least, Jane found herself hoping that it did.

She liked Rachmaninov before she met you, Jane reminded herself. And maybe she just liked the record.

Jane flopped on the bed. That record, which had been hers for years before it was Maura's.

"So the trick with my Ma is, don't tell her ANYTHING."

They were standing outside Jane's house, Maura holding a cake she had spent the afternoon baking, Jane still in her uniform, hat under her arm.

"How am I supposed to have dinner with her without telling her anything?" Maura asked, incredulous.

"Evade! Talk about, I dunno, school, the library, hell, talk about shoes, she loves shoes! Just don't tell her anything about-"

The door opened.

"-us," Jane muttered in Maura's ear.

Jane realised, too late, that Maura might think she was ashamed of her.

"Janie! This must be Maura, come in honey, Jane's told me all about you."

Maura looked at Jane, who shook her head violently.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Rizzoli. I brought a coffee cake."

"Well, aren't you a doll. Thank you, sweetie. I'm gonna put it right here on the counter, we can have it after dinner. I hope you like lasagne! And call me Angela, please."

"Yes, thank you," Maura said, slightly taken aback as two teenage boys charged into the kitchen.

"Hey, Frankie, Tommy, slow down! We have company!" Angela yelled.

"Janie, who's your friend?" the younger boy asked. He looked about 16.

"I'm Maura, it's lovely to meet you," said Maura, holding out her hand, which Tommy shook, stifling laughter.

"Thomas, at your service," he replied in a pompous voice.

Angela swatted the back of his head. "Ignore him. It's nice to have some manners in this house for once. He's Tommy, the other one's Frankie."

"It must be nice to have a big family," Maura said, mostly to Jane.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Sure, it's a blast. Come on, let me show you my room. Ma, call us when dinner's ready, yeah?"

Before her mother could protest, Jane pulled Maura upstairs.

"I'm sorry, I know they're crazy, but they're all good people underneath."

"I thought they seemed wonderful," Maura said.

"You have a weird definition of wonderful," Jane said, flopping down on her bed.

Maura took in the turntable, sports equipment, and the baseball posters which covered almost every inch of the lilac wallpaper.

"I like your room," she said.

"I need to move out," Jane replied. "But I want to save, and Ma kinda needs me, and it's not so bad here."

Maura noticed there was a record on the turntable, Agent Provocateur.

"Can I play it?"

Jane stood up to show her how to use the machine. "Sure, if you want. It's no Rachmaninov, though."

The record played, Jane lay back on the bed, and patted the comforter beside her, indicating Maura should join her. Maura did so, but didn't lie back.

Jane unfastened the buttons of her uniform jacket, wriggled out of it, and threw it on the floor. She watched as Maura gradually relaxed. By the second song, which was slower, Maura was leaning back on her elbows, and by the third, her head was resting in the crook of Jane's shoulder.

"You know that thing I said I could do every day," Jane murmured. "Mind if I do it now?"

Maura turned to face her. "I thought… It sounded like you didn't want your family to know."

Jane squeezed her shoulders.

"I'm not ashamed of you, Maur. I just meant I don't want my Ma asking a thousand questions about everything we do together."

"Oh." Relief flooded Maura's face. "In that case, I don't mind at all."

Their second kiss was slow, but it didn't take long for Maura's shoes and jacket to find the floor. Jane adjusted her position so she was straddling Maura, leaning down to explore every inch of Maura's mouth with her tongue. It wasn't long before Jane felt Maura's breathing accelerate, felt her hands moving up from the bed to tug at Jane's tank top.

There was a bang on the door.

"Dinner!" yelled Frankie.

Jane groaned, then got off the bed. Maura sat up, tucking her blouse back into her skirt. Jane reached over and smoothed out tangled blonde hair.

When they were satisfied with their appearance, Jane turned off the record and put it away, and they went downstairs. Dinner was loud and affectionate, and Maura loved it. Angela practically insisted that Jane take her car to drive Maura home.

"Okay, just let me grab something from upstairs," Jane said.

She spent most of the drive resisting the temptation to pull the car over and finish what they'd started in her bedroom right there on the back seat. But, she told herself, Maura was a sophisticated lady. She deserved better.

Jane parked in the lot at the dorm, getting out to walk Maura to the door, and this time, immediately accepted the offer to come in.

"What do you have there?" Maura asked. Jane was hiding something behind her back.

Jane held out the record they'd started listening to in her room.

"You need it more than I do," she said.