A/N: I saw a few minor grammar and punctuation errors on Chap 3 when I read through online. My OCD won't let me leave it alone-so I've re-loaded it (if anyone can tell me if I can edit after publishing, that'd be great). And adding the following chapter for your perusal. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 4

There were many aspects of Jane Rizzoli that Maura loved: the gruff detective bound to get justice, the dutiful daughter and sister so loyal to her family, the constant friend, the paramount jokester, and a list too long to, well, list. But she had to admit to herself, that flustered Jane was one of her favorite "Janes." The doctor couldn't help the grin on her face as she watched Jane's expression flit from confused, to suspicious, to perplexed, and settling on what could only be described as ruffled.

"I—what—" the detective stuttered, before clamping her mouth shut. She stared at Maura with undisguised exasperation. With an unsteady hand, she also placed her drink on the table, so she wouldn't embarrass herself further by spilling it in her lap, and to give herself a few cherished seconds to collect her wits. She should have known that the doctor was setting her up for something more than one simple question. Actually, she did feel that there was going to be more to their conversation than the doctor had broached up to that point. Maura hadn't reached the real subject, yet. The subject that Jane could tell the ME was still tip-toeing her confidence up to. But, she was caught completely off-guard that Maura had observed a second (or rather, previous) "rounds." She thought that she had deflected the subject well, and that the doctor was moving on, when Maura suddenly shot that down with such a simple question. Jane knew she could give a similar answer about it being on the way home from a lead, but she really didn't like outright lying to Maura—especially after she'd basically been caught doing it. Therefore, there was only one thing to do, come clean to her friend. But question remained, how clean? Even though she knew Maura was starting a conversation, Jane didn't know the true topic of discussion. She recalled the surprise in the blonde's eyes at dinner when the lieutenant was saying grace. Jane had been thinking that Maura was her saving grace, her constant, and how much she loved the quirky, beautiful doctor. And how those feelings were changing, becoming more than just a friendship love. And she had squeezed Maura's hands and grinned at her when Maura looked up, and all of a sudden Maura had looked—well, shocked—before she recovered to smile back. And the detective was almost afraid of what Maura had seen in that moment.

Maura had asked her question and waited passively, the smile on her face the only indication that she knew she had put the detective on high alert and put the ball firmly over the goal, or in the basket… no, put the ball in Jane's court! She silently congratulated herself on the correct idiom, if Jane hadn't been in such a distracted state, Maura would have bragged to her about it. However, the ME remained quiet, waiting for Jane to decide where their conversation would go—either forward, or back.

Taking a deep breath, and reaching once again for her beer bottle, Jane took a deep breath. "I—" her voice graveled out. She paused and took a swig of the amber liquid, cleared her throat, and tried again, "You know I worked with my dad doing plumbing work when I was a kid?" At Maura's nod, she continued, "I worked really young, twelve-thirteen years old. We always had enough money for basics, but if I wanted anything extra, I had to earn it. So, I worked with Pop until I was old enough to drive, and then I got a car—a $200 beater that I found on the side of the road with a sign in the window—and I got a job at Barney's, this hole-in-the-wall diner in Southie." She paused, looking up to meet Maura's eyes. "You want to hear this?"

"If it explains why you were driving past my house in the dead of night, yes," the doctor answered immediately. "You know you can tell me anything, Jane," she encouraged further.

" 'Kay, then I need another beer," the brunette replied, finishing her beer in a gulp, and standing, motioning to the screen, "and why don't you turn the bugs off?" She started toward the kitchen as Maura chuckled about the "bugs," and reached once again for the remote. "Do you need anything while I'm up?" Jane called over her shoulder.

While the show hadn't been on very loud, the silence was suddenly deafening. "A bottle of water would be great, thanks," she answered, then queried, "Do you want me to turn on some music?" She was afraid the detective would be forced to speak in the quiet. In fact, she remembered one of Jane's interrogation tactic was to simply wait until the suspect had to talk, to fill the void. She didn't want this conversation to feel coerced in any way.

"That sounds good—don't get up," Jane ordered as she returned to the living room. She handed Maura a cold bottle of water, then went to fiddle with the stereo. Within a few seconds, soft music was filling the background. Maura smiled at the volume, Jane intended to continue talking; this break was a chance for her to gather her bearings and decide what to say, not to shut down and change the subject.

Back at the sofa, the detective sat leaning forward, elbows on her knees. She took a long pull off the fresh beer, then set it, once again, on the coffee table. "Anyway, I worked at Barney's through most of high school. I worked a lot, three or four nights after school, and all day Saturdays, Sundays." She glanced sideways at Maura who had barely breathed waiting for Jane to continue, and chortled. "You got me talking, Maur. I will keep talking. You can move, ya know."

The doctor laughed back, and shifted her legs some. "I just didn't want to distract you."

Nodding, Jane once again leaned back and turned her shoulders to face Maura better. "When I got off work most nights," she continued, "it was 10-11 o'clock and of course I had school the next morning, and usually had homework to finish, too—but I was too hyped from being at work to go straight home. So, I drove." She stopped, remembering those late nights, being tired and wired, usually smelling of old grease, uniform stained with ketchup, spaghetti sauce, or God knew what. Smiling wistfully, "And I found myself driving "rounds"—going by friends' homes, the school, the church, maybe Pop's latest jobsite—just, checking things out, making sure that everything was okay. I already knew I wanted to be a cop, I'd known that since I could practically walk, so I felt like I was on a beat, ya know? Doing my patrol." She looked up sharply at Maura to see if the doctor would make fun of her, and only found acceptance and understanding in the green eyes. Jane realized that Maura wouldn't ridicule her; it wasn't in her nature, for one, but also, the ME could never hurt Jane that way. Her thoughts drifted a bit over the past and in every dispute recalled, minor or major, Maura's anger was always directed at the problem, never Jane.

Seeing Jane's self-conscious blush, and the quick look toward her, Maura made her expression as open as she could, so that Jane would only see the validation she felt. She could picture a teenage Rizzoli, going to school all day, then going to work half the night, and still maintaining grades high enough to be accepted to Boston College. She imagined the younger Jane, seriously taking the responsibility for her world and not being able to rest until she was assured that all was secure. A soft smile played around her lips as she realized that Jane had not changed one bit since then—and Maura didn't want her to. The detective's protectiveness toward her family, friends, and Maura, particularly, was one of the most comforting feelings in Maura's life, and she had never sensed it until she received it from Jane Rizzoli.

Both women continued to look deeply in the other's eyes as they both reflected over the friendship they shared. The silence lingered on, but not uneasily, gently broken by the muted music. Breaking the contact, Jane took another swallow and breathed deeply. "So, yeah. My rounds. When I got in the Academy, and even after I was in patrol and patrolled all day, any time I just had to settle my brain, I would do rounds. My friends changed. I moved out of Ma and Pop's, Frankie moved out. The places important to me changed. It was like I had to, ya know? Especially when I felt the most out of control—the most lost—" Jane's voice caught in the emotional admission, "—after Hoyt…. I would drive. Sometimes drive all night, just circles and circles… " she let the sentence drift off, and bravely redirected her gaze to Maura. "I think they saved my sanity," she admitted in a whisper, "my rounds. If I wasn't able to see that the rest of my world was okay, I—I really think…. " she trailed off, not willing to admit out loud how often she considered suicide in the aftermath of Hoyt, even before she would have been able to hold her gun properly.

Maura leaned forward to rub Jane's knee. Rizzoli's first encounter with Hoyt had happened just before the doctor took over as Chief Medical Examiner. In fact, Jane was still on medical leave when Maura was hired. But, that didn't stop the police grapevine from giving Maura all the gruesome details; and the blonde, herself, knew that that one of the reasons the prior Chief left was because of the Hoyt victims. In her line of work, she had witnessed horrible, horrible things: human bodies mangled beyond recognition, dead children and babies, the stench of burnt flesh and decay. Yet, she was insulated from the evil that created her clients; Jane wasn't so lucky. The detective's job purposefully sought the evil, and sometimes, the evil won. Charles Hoyt prided himself in his evilness; and he had nearly beaten Jane, not just once, but three times before he was finally defeated. However, even in death, Hoyt frequently reached out to Jane, bringing terror in her sleep, nightmares from which there was no escape. Yes, Maura could understand Jane's need to see order and peace after escaping from the chaos and cacophony of horrific dreams. The doctor tried to convey all this empathy to Jane in the soft touch of a hand on a knee, rubbing soothingly, softly. She waited patiently in the quiet for the detective to continue.

Several minutes passed before Jane seemed to shake herself, and then focused on the light touch on her leg. She wasn't ready to look up into Maura's eyes yet, but she knew that the doctor's gaze would hold only understanding and love. The brunette, once again, was surprised at her previous candor with the doctor about Hoyt. She used to think since the doctor hadn't been present for the original case, Jane felt less victimized by talking to Maura about her fears, and the night terrors. She also justified entrusting in Maura as a valid method of seeking help, but on her terms—not her mother's, the department's, or anyone else's. But that wasn't it, and Jane knew it. The detective rarely confided in anyone, and certainly not her greatest demons after just a few months of friendship. The word "intimate" returned to her consciousness, but instead of rejecting it, Jane considered it honestly. And grudgingly admitted to herself that her relationship with Maura was intimate. In fact, her relationship with Maura was the most intimate relationship she had ever had with anyone.

The detective finally looked up into green eyes, finding what she had known she'd find. "And, well… anyway," she stumbled back into her narrative. "I haven't felt the need to do rounds that much in the past few years. But I have done them, and I have driven by your house," she smiled ruefully, "you just didn't catch me until now." Pausing, Jane took a large swallow of beer and took a deep breath, "I don't think I've needed them as much…" she focused her gaze directly on Maura, "… since I met you."

~~~~~ Rizzoli & Isles ~~~~~