Realization:

Hours later, and after a few more laps through the hallway, followed by another dose of pain medication and a fitful nap, Jane still hadn't heard from her mother. Or Maura. The first was mildly worrisome, but the second was a bit more distressing. She was beginning to understand just how badly she had messed up. Jane kept thinking about what her mother had said: 'You don't tell her you love her back, and you don't show it, either...'

The words haunted her because they were absolutely true. Maura had been nothing but supportive during her recovery, even when her requests leaned towards the bizarre as she began to untangle the knot that was Rose's mysterious death. Maura had been at her bedside almost every night. She had even started to delegate some of the busywork to her assistants at the morgue, something that Jane knew was extremely difficult for her, and only expressed doubt when she was concerned for Jane's safety, without putting down her theories or her abilities.

She had not tried to pressure Jane into a more serious relationship until the 'I love you' slip-up, but at the same time, she had come forward honestly about her deepening feelings. Maura had done everything right, but what had Jane done in return? Nothing, unless she counted their frantic encounter in her hospital bed or phone sex... and wasn't that almost like taking advantage of her friend? She knew Maura was in love with her, and she had gotten physical with her anyway, even when she was unsure of her own feelings. Her mother had been right. Maura was too good for her.

Jane suddenly realized that she wasn't 'unsure of her feelings'. She was in love with Maura, too. It was surprisingly easy to admit in her head. Then what was holding her back? Maybe she was afraid of putting Maura in danger. She did tend to attract it like a magnet. The last thing she wanted was for Maura to get hurt because of her - physically or emotionally. She hadn't done a good job of that so far, if the abrupt way that the ME had left earlier was any indication. Now that she thought about it, making the blonde do the legwork on her unofficial murder investigation probably wasn't helping the 'keep Maura safe' goal, either.

A knock sounded at her door, and when she heard the door knob turn before she could answer, Jane knew it had to be her mother. Sure enough, Angela's head popped in, her eyes even bouncier than usual and her cheeks flushed.

"Hey sweetie."

"Ma, where the hell have you been? I've called you three times."

"Language, Jane."

The detective crossed her arms over her chest. "Ma."

Angela pulled up a chair and took a seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs before rising from it and opting instead to pace back and forth in front of the bed. "You won't guess where I've been."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Did you go to Maura's?" she asked with a groan. "Ma, I want to be the one to talk to her."

Angela waved her thoughts away. "Of course I didn't. I'm not fighting your love battles for you, Jane, I wouldn't have the first clue how to do that with a woman." She stopped at the foot of the bed, pressing her hands into the sheets. "I just came from Susie Thatcher's home."

"What?" Jane knew the name, had seen it on her checkup notes up until the nurse had disappeared. "Nurse Susie?"

"Yes. Do you know she's actually a doctor? Well, not a doctordoctor yet, but she's getting her PhD in nursing?" Angela cocked her head. "I imagine that will be quite confusing. "Dr. Nurse Susie Thatcher."

"Ma," Jane said, frustration edging her tone. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Language, Jane."

"Tell me you didn't go fishing around on this case."

Angela scoffed. "I'd hardly call it a case. It's merely a hunch, and you're lucky that Maura and I love you so much, otherwise we'd have called you crazy." She took a seat in the chair that she had abdicated a moment earlier and leaned into Jane. "Or, at least I thought it was a hunch. Up until I paid a visit to Susie Thatcher."

Jane rubbed her temples to try and alleviate her rapidly-developing headache. How was it that a hunch that she had nursed by herself had now taken off to involve two of the very people she loved most? "How in the hell did you even know where she lived? I don't believe hospital staff would just give you that information."

"Well, of course not, Jane, it's against HIPAA laws. At least, that's what the seasoned HR woman told me yesterday when I asked. Her new assistant in, though, hasn't quite had time to brush up on the particulars. All it took was a little Italian persuasion."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "You bribed her?"

"Can I just get to the exciting part?" Angela asked.

Jane shrugged. "By all means."

"Well," Angela leaned further into the detective, as if sharing a particularly juicy piece of gossip. "Susie Thatcher was that poor woman Mrs. Heissman's night nurse the week prior to her death." She shook her head sadly. "She was real shaken up about it. You'd be surprised how attached these nurses get to patients. The doctors, on the other hand -"

"Ma. Get back on track."

"Right. So anyway, one night Mrs. Heissman's son came in rather late, and he started asking a bunch of questions about his mother's drug regimen. Keep in my mind the boy had hardly visited the poor woman up until then." Her eyes flashed up to the detective. "Jane Rizzoli, if I'm ever in the hospital and you don't come visit me -"

"Ma!"

"Right. He was asking a bunch of questions about dosage, which drugs the hospital had available, how they decided which one was right for his mother, all kinds of things. Susie didn't know what to make of it, but she answered them as best she could."

"Where was Mr. Heissman?"

"I'm getting there. Turns out, Susie had never seen Weaver and his stepfather visit at the same time, but two nights before she died, she saw them leave the floor together. They were talking about some kind of wrongful death lawsuit, but when they noticed her nearby, they got really quiet..."

"Wait, why was she telling you all of this?" Jane asked, frowning at her mother. "In fact, why didn't she tell the police?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "She didn't think anyone would believe her. You of all people should be able to understand that. You're a detective and you couldn't get your own partner to believe you."

That hurt, and Jane's scowl deepened. "So, what made her decide to trust you? If we're right and Heissman and Weaver had something to do with Rose's death, she could be in danger."

"I told her my daughter was a detective, and that you thought Rose's death wasn't an accident, too."

The brunette groaned in frustration and let her head fall backwards, hitting the pillow behind her. "Ma, do you know what the word 'subtle' means? You can't just go around telling everyone that I am going to magically fix all of their problems with the police. How am I supposed to help? You just said my own partner didn't believe me..."

"Then go find some evidence instead of making hunches and force them believe you."

Jane sighed. "All right. Tell me exactly what Susie overheard. It could be important.

. . .

Maura couldn't help glancing around nervously as she walked back down the suburban street that she had driven up ten minutes before. Although she wasn't experienced with covert operations, she knew enough not to park her fancy car right outside the house she was about to break into. As she approached her target, she double-checked the address to make sure she was in the right place. It was bad enough breaking into a suspected murderer's house without involving the neighbors.

'Oh well,' she thought. 'If I don't come out of this alive, at least whoever takes my computer will find some interesting phrases in my Google history.'The medical examiner doubted that an address search followed by 'how to break in to a house' and 'Massachusetts burglary laws' were common search queries. According to Section 18 of Massachusetts burglary code, she could be imprisoned for up to ten years. Of course, she doubted that her penalty would be that severe, but it wasn't pleasant to think about, either. She also didn't want to think about how the sentencing judge would laugh at her when she explained exactly what she was breaking and entering to find...

'That doesn't matter,' she told herself as she paused at the sidewalk outside of the house, 'because you're not going to get caught.'She didn't notice any security signs in the front yard, and knowing the neighborhood, didn't suspect Weaver had any hefty alarms in his home. Trying not to look suspicious, Maura decided that her first step would be to find out if anyone was home. The garage door was closed, so she couldn't see if any cars were parked inside, but that wasn't a foolproof method anyway. The easiest thing would be to simply ring the doorbell. If Weaver or somebody else answered, she would make up a story about being lost or needing to use a phone because her car broke down.

She stood on the stoop after ringing the bell, hoping she looked casual enough to any nosy neighbors that might be spying out of their windows. She looked both houses on either side of Weavers before circling, attempting to gauge the status of the homes on the opposite side of the street. Although there were a couple of lights on in the windows, there didn't seem to be much going on around her. 'It is a Saturday night. Most people are out with their significant others on actual dates, not breaking into houses for them.'She listened intently, craning her ear towards the door, but she heard nothing. No tell tale scuttle of paws, no barking, no sign of anything that could throw a wrench into her plans.

She didn't waste too much time on the front stoop, and walked back down the walkway, as if heading back to the street, feigning normality before she suddenly veered left, edging her way down a small path that ran along the edge of the house. She crept onto a small patio, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a sliding door. She pulled out the tiny screwdriver that she had found in her trunk, which seemed too small to do anything useful, at least up until now. She slid it into the lock on the door, using her her cell phone for light, and jimmied it slightly, listening for any sign that her methods were having an effect on its internal movements. After watching a couple of videos on Youtube, she figured that dismantling a lock should be no harder than disassembling human organs. Sure enough, she heard a slight click, and she bit back a yelp of satisfaction.

She slid the door open quietly before slipping inside, pausing in the threshold to make sure the house was silent around her. She didn't hear the beeping of an alarm, which calmed her immensely, and the faint light above the stove illuminated the space enough for her to be sure that she was alone. Despite her luck so far, she felt a slight sweat break out on her brow, which was odd considering that hands, feet, and armpits were the parts of the body with the most sweat glands. 'Focus.'

But focus on what? She had absolutely no plan other than sifting around Weaver's apartment and hoping that she came across something incriminating. Which shouldn't be hard, if he truly was a murderer. She shook that notion from her mind. It didn't help her nervous sweats to remember that she very well could be breaking and entering into a very dangerous man's personal space. She remembered his temper from their first meeting in the hallway.

She moved along a hallway, foregoing the kitchen for another more promising room. Soon, she happened upon a small office, complete with a mahogany desk that seemed to swallow the small Mac computer that sat atop it. She moved behind the mammoth piece of furniture, her hand reaching to open the device when a loud ringing permeated the air.

Her her heart dropped into her stomach as she jumped away from the desk, beginning to crouch, but the ringing kept coming, uninterrupted, from her own pocket. She fumbled for her phone, berating herself for forgetting to turn it on silent, and winced when she saw the name on the screen.

"Jane, this is kind of a bad time," she said, steadying herself on the desk.

"I don't care, Maur, I have something to tell you."

"Jane, this reallyisn't a good time," Maura responded.

"Why are you whispering?"

Truth be told, Maura wasn't sure why she was whispering. She was clearly alone in the house, at least for now. "I'm at Weaver's home looking for evidence, so if you don't mind -"

"You're what?" Jane barked in surprise, nearly dropping the phone. Maura flinched at the loud noise. "Listen to me, you have to get out of there, fast... Ma did some digging, and apparently Nurse Susie has been missing from work because she overheard Heissman and Weaver talking about staging a wrongful death lawsuit."

This time, it was Maura's turn to be shocked. "What? Why didn't she go to the police?"

"That's what I wanted to know," Jane muttered, but dismissed that thought from her mind to focus on Maura. "It doesn't matter now. Just get out of there before someone catches you. Do you even realize what kind of trouble you could get in?"

"A maximum of ten years in prison and a minimum fine of five hundred dollars," the medical examiner shot back without thinking.

Jane groaned with frustration. "I was wrong, okay, Maur? It was a mistake for me to ask for your help in this. I want to find out what happened, but not by breaking in to a potential murderer's house! At least tell me where the hell you are."

"4004 Crestwood Drive." Weaver's address slipped quickly from her lips, confident that no matter how opposed Jane was to her plan, there was no way the detective could rush out of her hospital bed to stop her.

"Maura, please just listen to me for once in your goddamn life and leave before you get hurt..."

She opened her mouth to protest Jane's continued ramblings, but the sound of the garage door opening and silenced her. "Jane, be quiet! I think someone's coming." The detective had plenty more to say, but she closed her mouth tight and clenched her jaw to keep from speaking as she listened to Maura's uneven, heavy breathing through the phone. Meanwhile, the doctor glanced around wildly for a hiding place. Not certain how much time she had to pick one, she lowered herself to the floor crouched beneath the large computer desk, tucking her legs in and making herself as small as possible. "Stay on the line with me. Just don't... say... anything..." Maura whispered urgently.

A few moments later, the side door leading in from the garage opened and shut, and Maura could hear footsteps inside the house. As the sound drew closer, Maura could hear a male voice speaking to what sounded like a second person. 'Weaver. It's got to be Weaver.'

"You took care of the problem?" She listened for a response, but didn't hear one. "Okay, good. That nurse knew too much." It took everything Maura had to stifle her exclamation of surprise. Hoping her cell phone wouldn't beep, she turned the phone on speaker and held it up as high as she dared. If she was lucky, Jane might be able to hear some of this.

"Wait, she said what? Who was asking questions?"

When there was no response for a second time, Maura had a brainwave. Weaver was talking to someone on the phone just like she had been. It had to be Heissman. Everything was starting to come together, and

"That detective? She's still in the hospital, isn't she? That's another loose end to clear up."

Maura felt her blood turn to ice. 'Another loose end? Jane... they're going to hurt Jane...'

Even as that terrifying thought nearly stopped her heart, she heard the unmistakable sound of Weaver coming closer to the study. His footsteps grew louder, and so did his voice. "You're already there? That's convenient. Go ahead and take care of it."

Frantically, Maura started trying to come up with a plan. The first thing she needed to do was get out of the house before Weaver saw her, and then she had to warn Jane and the police to the coming danger. But how was she supposed to do that? She would gladly put her safety at risk if it meant protecting Jane, but no one would ever know what was going to happen unless she escaped unharmed. She looked down at the phone in her hand, and was horrified to see that the connection had ended. Either Jane had hung up on her, or something had already happened...

She held her breath as she heard Weaver's footsteps head towards the kitchen, the sound of a glass clinking and the refrigerator opening signaling that he would hopefully be occupied for a few minutes, at least long enough for her to creep towards the front door. She stuck her phone back in her pocket, and slid out from underneath the desk, focusing all of her attention on the sounds coming from the kitchen. She just had to make it to the front door.

One last clink of a dish, and the sounds from the other room silenced momentarily as she crept out into the dimly lit hallway, her escape just a few yards in front of her. She stepped lightly, thankful for the rug underneath her feet, which effectively muffled the sound of her heels. She had to call Jane back, or call Angela, Korsak, someone.

Just as she reached the open foyer, the door a mere few feet ahead of her, she saw a figure round the corner to her left, and the scene around her began to blur. She launched herself forward, fingers scraping the handle of the door, but Weaver matched her speed, and his fingers wrapped around her upper arm like a vice, spinning her back to face him.

"Dr. Isles," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Do you want to tell me what you're doing in my house?"

She tried to shrug her arm out of his grasp, but cringed as he simply held on tighter. "I most certainly do," she said, trying to make her voice level. "I wanted to warn you," she continued, unsure of her own trajectory, but allowing her adrenaline to take over. "Your stepfather - he's putting together a case against you - he's accusing you of your mother's murder."

Her lie bought her a little time as Weaver tossed back his head, laughter emanating from deep in his belly. "Nice try, Dr. Isles." He placed another hand on her arm, and forced her back down the hallway, her own struggles against him proving ineffective at stopping him. "Next time, I suggest you and Detective Rizzoli stay out of extracurricular police work."

She found herself back in the kitchen, her eyes leaving his and fluttering around for a weapon, anything that she could use to get some leverage. Every minute wasted in Weaver's home was another minute that put Jane closer to danger. Both of their struggles suddenly ceased at the sound of the doorbell, which rang throughout the house.

"Boston Police Department, open up!" came a voice from the front stoop, followed by a pounding knock on the door. "We've had reports of a disturbance."

Maura's mind reeled. Had a neighbor seen her enter the house? She would happily hand herself over to the police if it meant she could get Jane some help. She wrenched her arm away from Weaver, but he dragged her towards the front door. "If only your Detective could have been so lucky," he whispered, the words making her blood run cold.

He let his grip on her arm relax as he opened the door, a graceful smile on his lips as he faced the two policemen on his stoop. "Officers, I'm glad you're here. I would like to press full charges against this woman for breaking and entering into my home."

. . .