A/N: Hello my dear readers, here is another chapter as promised. This time I kept it third person and I hope it gives you some answers from the last chapter. I wrote most of this while I was on a much needed vacation last month and because of COVID, I couldn't really do much except sit on my aunt's porch and write. As a frontline, health care worker these times have been really tough and this gives me an escape of the horror I see everyday. Enjoy and happy reading!

The pounding in her head pulled her out of her surprisingly peaceful slumber. One side of her face felt warm to the touch. Jane attempted to move but found she was bound on her right side. She slowly brought her left hand up and felt the warm liquid that was pooling on her face. She gently ran her fingers together; blood. Here she was again, bested by the medical school drop- out, piece of shit, serial killer. It didn't make sense to her. She'd always been one step ahead of every suspect in her cases, but Hoyt bested her, always being five or six steps ahead. She rolled onto her side and tried to take in her surroundings. Pitch black, of course, cement flooring, and there was a… delectable smell. It smelled like fresh bread. They were near a bakery, there weren't that many bakeries in Boston, but she wasn't sure about the entirety of Massachusetts. Hell, she could be out of the goddamn country.

Okay Jane, focus. Start from the beginning. Jane took a deep breath before continuing on in her head. Charles Alastor Hoyt, born in 1956 to Martin and Agatha Hoyt in Fenwick, Connecticut. He had a seemingly normal childhood, occasionally got into fights at school, but who doesn't? He went to medical school at John's Hopkins. His professors called him a genius; he had a natural talent when it came to the art of medicine. His professors admired his ability in all aspects of medicine. They wanted him to pursue surgery because they knew he would go on to do great things, but he would also fill their pockets. Their most prized student became one of the most notorious serial killers in Boston and they couldn't even figure that part out for themselves, why.

This part always got Jane, the most promising medical student who was revolutionizing modern medicine, turned into one of the most notorious serial killers in New England, why. Why, why, why. It didn't make sense to her, to any of them. They couldn't find a trigger. Both of his parents were alive, he was a model student. Quiet but polite to his peers, the antibully as most of his teachers would call him.

Jane closed her eyes for a moment and thought back to a phone call she had a few months back with one Hoyt's professors, Dr. Rickman. There was nothing that struck her as odd. The professor said he was insanely gifted with a scalpel, that he'd even come up with a few new tricks for the old school doctors employed at the university and around the country. Dr. Rickman thought it was odd that someone of his nature would be so considerate of the older generation of doctors. Dr. Rickman said that's what he like about him the most, he respected his peers no matter their age because he loved listening to both the older doctors and the younger, it gave him an insight to postulate some of his new techniques that he brought up whilst in medical school. Hoyt had recently shifted into research medicine, more specifically how chemotherapy effects cancer patients that have been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, more research for HIV/AIDS, and Asherson's Syndrome. Dr. Rickman was hesitant about the Asherson's. It's a rather rare disease that nobody tests for or really looked into. The professor even mentioned getting Hoyt published in some of the medical journals that Maura spends an ungodly amount of time reading.

Think, Jane, think. Look into that detective brain of yours, what did you miss? What's different between the two.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the heavy, metal door opened. She'd ask him. "Good evening Jane. Here we are again." Jane was taken aback, his voice sounded soft, caring, not the cold-hearted bastard, serial killer that she'd come to know.

"Good evening, Charlie. It's good to see you again." Jane knew that he despised being called Charlie. He always said that he would be addressed in a professional manner. Jane decided rather than be spiteful, she'd try to trick him. Gain his trust, praying it would work in her favor.

"Why the sudden change? The great Jane Rizzoli playing nice, what a turn of events." There he was, it was subtle, but it was there, she knew he couldn't hide forever, but there was definitely something different about him.

"I'm tired of fighting this battle. I'm just tired. I can't do this anymore." She saw the shift in his eyes, and it appeared that her little game was working. "I don't mean to be rude, but could I have some water, and maybe something to eat? Nothing special, soup and bread would be okay. If it's too much, I understand." Jane spoke softly. When she finished, she noticed another change in his demeanor. The cold hearted man went away and then the caring side came out. Was this what Stockholm Syndrome felt like? Sympathizing with a serial killer because there is a tiny part of you that thinks there is a logical explanation that doesn't fit the normal serial killer standard? Then there's the other part of you that knows there's nothing wrong with him and he's been able to hide his sadistic side since childhood?

Hoyt was beyond confused. He didn't know what was happening to him. He felt so in control of his body yet so out of control. One minute he's fine, then he's not. He couldn't do this. Jane Rizzoli, surrendering; he swore that he'd died and gone to heaven. She'd make the perfect housewife, he thought suddenly. Maybe he could use this to his advantage.

They both seemed to be playing games with each other. But who would rise to the top?

"Of course, any soup in particular? I have chicken noodle or tomato and are you sure you just want water? I have juice. Cranberry, orange or grapefruit." Hoyt smiled lightly towards Jane. "Come upstairs with me. I can't have you sleeping on the cold floor now."

"Chicken Noodle would be perfect, and cranberry would be fine. I can't promise I'll eat all of it. Not feeling all that great." Jane replied. She knew he was playing a game as well and decided to go with it. "Could I maybe get a shower as well?"

"Of course. Don't worry about eating it all. We don't want to overload your system." Hoyt walked over and helped her up. "That's a nasty cut, I didn't do that, did I?"

Jane hesitated for a moment before nodding her head 'yes'. Suddenly his whole demeanor changed again. What was Hoyt playing at? He would normally take pride in his catch, but there was that switch again; sympathetic. "What's your name?"

"You know my name Jane, it's Charlie." There was definitely something off, the Hoyt she knew was ready to rip her to shreds and hates the nickname Charlie, but this Hoyt, this was something else. Someone else. Great another body double. "Come on dear, let's get that wound taken care of and then after that we'll get you in the shower. I'm going to get your dinner ready, while you're getting cleaned up. Would you like any crackers with your soup, along with the bread?"

"Bread is just fine, thank you." Together they walked over to the bathroom and Charlie guided Jane to the edge of the tub, while he gathered his supplies. Jane took a second to look at him from a different angle. He wore a white tank top that appeared to be new, a necklace of St. Augustine around his neck and he sported a very worn out watch. The Charles Hoyt she knew, never wore a necklace or a watch for that matter.

She looked at his skin, this was definitely the original Hoyt, or the plastic surgeon is excellent at mimicking scars. The first time they interacted, he'd accidentally bumped into her on the BCU campus after the first body was found, causing him to catch his shoulder on a rusted nail sticking out of one the benches. Next the wound on his neck she didn't recognize it. "What happened to your neck? Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"When I was in medical school, we were dissecting portions of the cadavers and if they were intact our professor said we could put them in the display cases in the lab. I had stayed after class to help Dr. Rickman put the specimens away when a piece of glass broke off and narrowly missed my jugular. The glass became brittle over repeated slamming and vibrations, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. All finished with the dressing change, it shouldn't scar."

Something switched inside Jane as well, she wanted to play into this full fantasy to find out what the hell was going on. Jane swallowed her pride and calmly asked, "Hey Charlie, can you forget the cranberry juice and maybe make some coffee? I want us to sit down and talk about somethings, okay?"

"Of course, I can, how do you like your coffee?" Charlie gave her a charming smile. Jane, he is a serial killer, stop this before you dig yourself a whole that you can't get out of.

"Black with a tablespoon of sugar."

"Coming right up. See you soon." Another smile. Jane flashed a shy one back at him.

Thirty minutes went by, Jane was getting dressed in the other room when Hoyt called out for her, "Jane are you okay in there?" Again, he was concerned but why, it didn't make sense.

The bathroom door opened, and Jane came out in just a towel, "I don't have any other clothes. I didn't have time to grab any before you snatched me." Her voice was filled with bitterness and sarcasm.

"My apologies." He chuckled lightly, he walked over to her and handed her a white t-shirt and dark navy sweatpants. "It's the only thing I have."

Jane reappeared a few minutes later, fully dressed and sat down. "How do I know you didn't poison or drug anything?"

Instead of speaking, Hoyt took a bite of her soup and drank out of her cup of coffee. "Fair enough?" Jane cautiously took a bite and it was actually pretty good. He spoke up again. "I know you have questions. Where do you want to start?"

He was right, Jane had so many questions. "How long have I been here?"

"A little over six hours."

No, messing around now. She should start at the beginning, the end? A few moments of silence passed, and she finally asked. "Tell me everything from the beginning, and I'll stop you when I have questions."

"As you know, I was born in Connecticut. I had a wonderful childhood, model student. Went to medical school at Johns Hopkin's and went on a murderous rampage." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, you didn't." Jane stated bravely. Charles Hoyt didn't go to Johns Hopkin's, he went to Emery. I gotcha you bastard. "There is something about you that just isn't sitting right, I can't put my finger on it. How about the fact that you attended Emery School of Medicine in Georgia, not Maryland." She didn't catch an immediate reaction which set her off. "You would have probably raped and killed me by now!"

"If Johnathon was here, he would have."

"Johnathon? Who's Johnathon?" Jane quirked an eyebrow.

Charles went into the next room and pulled a photo from the shelf and held it out to Jane. Jane was staring at the face of his brother, his twin brother.

"We looked extensively into your background; we would have found some mentions of him."

"Not if someone with his training would know how to get rid of all traces of himself."

"What are you talking about?" Jane watched as he left the room again and started reeling in her head. How the fuck could we have missed something so crucial as this? I really need to get out of here. She heard rustling in the next room, and she got up to look. "What are you doing?"

"Here." He handed her a computer. Excellent, she could contact her team and they'd come rescue her! "Don't get too excited, it's military grade firewalls. Untraceable." Damn "We're not far from the police station. It's just down the block. Take the computer to them and they'll find everything that you'll need." He shrugged; exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Why should I believe that you won't kill me when I try to walk out that door?"

"Do you know how exhausting it is to be on the run constantly because your twin brother is a serial rapist, necrophiliac and murderer?" He walked her to the door. "This is the end of our journey, Ms. Rizzoli." He held his arm out. Jane slowly made her way out the door. She looked out and could see the sun starting to peak through darkness, she hadn't realized what time it was.

When she got the end of the driveway, he called back to her. "Wait!" He jogged up to her, gun, badge, and phone in hand. "Jane be careful, we both know what he's capable of. If you have any questions, you know where to find me."

Jane wanted to immediately run to the station and tell everyone that she was okay, but something told her to wait. She looked at the computer in her hand and wondered if Hoyt wasn't feeding her a crock of shit. Instead of walking straight to the station, she sat down on the curb in front of her capture's house and opened it.

The computer wasn't password protected which was odd. Jane noticed two files on the desktop. "Charles" and "Jane" Her first instinct was to click on hers, but she clicked on the other one. When she opened the file, she was amazed at what she saw. Thousands of photos of Charles and Johnathon growing up, photos of them sitting in highchairs, faces and bodies covered in spaghetti noodles and sauce. She kept scrolling until she saw a photo of whom she presumed was Johnathon and saw the look of shock on his face when his brother surprised him with a computer. The next photo she saw was them at their high school graduation. They were all smiles except for Johnathon. In the photo it was their father on the left, Johnathon, Charles and their mother on the right. Charles was a model student like he'd mentioned before and the tassels and cords he wore in his graduation photos showed. Academic honors, Nation Honor Society, etc. His brother wore just a single cord for honors. He had a stoic look on his face. This was probably one of the triggers. He was tired of constantly living in his brother's shadow.

She exited out of the photos and looked at another file in the Charles folder. There was an article published in the paper. She clicked on it and it opened a very lengthy article.

The Twins Are Off: Hoyt Brothers Off to Medical School!

When you hear that your child gets into medical school, you can't help but feel proud but when your twin boys from a very small town both get accepted you can't help but feel entirely overwhelmed and proud. Charles and Johnathon Hoyt, though twins, were very different growing up in the small town in Connecticut. Charles Hoyt was exceptionally gifted in school and his parents knew that he'd move on to great things in the world. When Charles told his parent that he wanted to become a doctor, they were absolutely thrilled! Johnathon was your typical kid, very intelligent, athletic and outgoing. The boys were model students, according to their teachers and other students, they were the anti-bullies, they stayed out of trouble, maintained a very healthy grade point average, excelled at sports and battled for top of their class.

Charles and Johnathon were often seen staying late after practices and classes to help those who needed it most. They made sure students got home to their parents on time, offered students rides home or a walking buddy, or needed a shoulder to cry on. We sat down with both boys after they received their acceptance letters.

We asked what schools they were attending and why did they want to go to medical school.

Charles: I will be attending Johns Hopkin's Medical School in Baltimore in the fall. I originally planned on becoming a nurse or health care administrator, but I realized that I wanted to do more. I just finished my last year of undergraduate studies and felt that I wasn't being challenged enough. I knew I wanted more. So, I applied for medical school. I already had the qualifications for medical school, and it was getting over that final hurdle of being accepted.

What about you Johnathon?

Johnathon: I will be attending the Emory School of Medicine in Georgia. I did it for the babes. No, in all honesty, I didn't know what I wanted to do even in high school, but my brother convinced me to attend college with him at Dartmouth. Once I started my undergrad, I felt the same way. I felt like I wasn't being challenged enough and I knew I had more to offer. Once I finish medical school, I intend to enlist in the Army and become an Army Doctor.

Jane had stopped reading for a moment. They were both doctors, it made sense! She looked at the time and realized it was almost nine in the morning. She attempted to stretch and felt her bones crackle from sitting in the same position for so long. Jane opened another document in the folder and put the news article on the side for a moment. There was a PDF file of birth certificates and other legal documents. Johnathon's name was changed before he graduated medical school. That was odd, why would he change his name?

Charles quietly sat down next to Jane and handed her a cup of coffee. "I'm surprised you're still here."

Jane accepted the cup of coffee. She was shocked that she'd been sitting there for three hours and hadn't moved. She had so many questions.

Charles seemed to pick up on her confusion and decided to offer some insight to his brother. "It's silly, really. He changed his name because he didn't want to be referred to the other Doctor Hoyt. Johnathon Hoyt turned into Johnathon Voight before he graduated medical school."

"You said that a man of his intelligence could wipe away any and all trace of himself with his training. He went to medical school and not to discredit your intelligence, but no medical doctor would be able to wipe away their existence."

"Ah, my dear, you haven't dug very far then. Do you remember reading the part of our interview where Johnathon mentioned Army Doctor?"

"Yes, but how would an Army Doctor get that training?"

Charles took a deep breath before continuing, "When Johnathon graduated medical school, he immediately listed in the Army and he moved up very quickly in ranks considering he was a doctor. While in the Army, he was approached by a special ops division and they wanted to train him as well as he train them. Johnathon proved that he was an excellent asset to them. He was the first medical doctor to be a Brigadier General. He started to slip up while he was in the military."

"Your brother was a first star general?!" She exclaimed, accidently attracting the attention of the woman walking her dog. "Sorry. I'm assuming by slipping you mean killing for sport and not serving the country."

"Precisely. He called me in a panic one day while he was overseas and said he killed someone. I wasn't shocked when he told me that bit of information considering he liked to kill the neighbor animals in high school. He liked to dissect them and tell our parents that he was doing research. My parents didn't think anything of it at the time."

Jane pondered at this information for a moment before speaking again. "What did your parents think when you were charged for murder?"

Charles chuckled for a moment, "Like every parent, they don't think their child is capable of murder." He took another swig of his coffee, "They were shocked when they saw my face plastered all over the news. They knew that Johnathon was capable of this not me." He scratched the back of his head nervously. "He also has a medical condition that sort of caused him to snap."

"What condition did he have?"

"It's called Asherson's. It's a very rare form of antiphospholipid syndrome, that causes his body to rapidly produce clots in all of his major organs. He needed extensive treatment, IV therapy, lengthy hospital stays, and he didn't want that for himself. I decided to conduct research on this condition while I was in medical school and I haven't come up with anything so far. When I told Johnathon that I couldn't help him anymore with getting medications and supplies needed, he snapped. He told me that all of this was my fault."

Jane sympathized with him. He's been charged and convicted of multiple counts of rape and murder and he didn't even do it. She still struggled to deal with all of this. A part of her still thinks that he's making all of this up. It's easy to photoshop somebody's entire life and write news articles. She knew what she had to do. "Do you have a car?"

"Yes, why?"

"I'm taking a little road trip." Jane got up and brushed herself off. "You want to come with me?"

"That depends. Where are we going and how do I know you're not going to leave me for dead or kill me along the way."

"I've had my firearm since six this morning. I could have marched back into your house, shot and killed you."

"I guess that's fair. Give me a moment, I'll grab the keys and we'll head out." Charles walked away for a few moments and Jane clean up her little area of the curb that she sat in. She was really doing this. I'm about to take a fucking road trip with the Charles Hoyt, Jane are you INSANE?! We already knew that, but I need answers. And what better way to find out than going to his hometown?

Charles came out, keys in hand and two travel coffee mugs. Jane eyed him suspiciously. He shrugged smugly, "We're gonna need it, neither of us have slept." They walked over to the car and Charles threw the keys to Jane. "Where are we going anyways?"

"How did Johnathon find out he had this condition?" Jane held the car door open and stood outside.

"My parents knew that something wasn't right when he came home from his first tour overseas. He was lethargic and he was short of breath. They'd called me and asked what to do. I advised them to go to the ER so they could run some tests. He ended up having a heart attack at the age of twenty four. His blood work showed the presence of blood clots that were fast forming. No matter how many blood thinners they gave him, the clots would keep coming back. So, I suggested that he have more testing done specifically for clotting conditions and I wanted a full lipid panel done as well. The lipid panel triggered what's called a reflex, so it was sent off to a specialty lab and that's when the doctor put it together."

Jane thought about this for a minute. "You said it could be detected through blood right?"

"Correct but what does that have to do with us getting on the road."

"I need you to send some blood samples to our lab and I'll have them run it." She dialed Rondo; she knew she could trust him.

"I have a blood collection kit in the house."

A few minutes later, Jane and Charles met Rondo across from the precinct. "Hey Vanilla, what are you doing with creepy serial killer man?"

"I need you to give this to Maura in one hour. There are vials of blood in here and you'll need to shake the box a few times, so the blood doesn't clot." Charles handed him the box and Jane gave him $200 dollars. "Vanilla I don't need this anymore."

"Please Rondo, just take it. One hour and don't follow us." Jane and Charles took off and left Rondo shocked.

When they got back to the car, Charles asked again. "Where are we going?"

"To the place where it all began, Connecticut."