Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Emma's identification, the hunt for a killer, and our respective pairs of ladies hash out some uncomfortable truths.

Author's Note: Trigger warnings for death/suffocation (possible murder) of a child.

Jane holds on to Emma as best she can, but they've barely even hugged before and Emma's shaking so violently that it's as awkward as trying to detain someone who's resisting arrest.

"Emma." She whispers against her hair, "It's alright. It's going to be alright."

Even before the words are out, Jane hates herself. The platitudes are ridiculous in any situation, but in this situation they're absurd. Nothing about this is ever going to be alright. A child is dead and she's telling his grieving mother that things will be alright? Suddenly Jane hates her job with a burning passion.

"No." Emma gasps the word out, but it's choked by the sobs and the way she's still just shaking. "It's not, Jane."

Shit. "I know. I know." Jane tries to be comforting, tries to rub her back or be soothing in any way, but this just isn't in her element at all. Maybe Ma will know what to do, when they all get out of here.

"No." Emma says again, stronger this time as she pulls away to look Jane in the eye. "It's not him. It's not him, Jane." The words come out in a mixture of a laugh and a sob and Jane rears back, her eyes flying to the body.

She grabs Emma's shoulders and gives her a firm shake. "Emma, are you sure? Are you sure that it's not him and that you're not just-"

"I'm not in denial." Emma murmurs, her eyes trained on the body of the little boy that isn't Henry - but god, he looks like him from a distance - and her body still shaking so hard. "It's not him."

"You're sure?" Jane seizes on the information like Jo Friday attacking a pork chop. "Oh God, I'm so relieved."

"Yeah," Emma pulls away, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled tight to her chest. She wipes her eyes roughly with the heel of one hand. "But that's still… someone else is gonna go through what Regina and I just did. And they're not gonna have a get out of jail card."

"Right," Jane nods in understanding, because whatever else happens someone has still hurt this innocent kid, and that's never acceptable. She's worked every kind of horror story for years, but these are still the cases that tear her up inside; even if they get the guy and send him down for life, it won't feel like justice enough.

"Was there any ID on the vic?" She asks, too late, and is almost glad when Korsak and Frankie shake their heads.

"Since it's not - looks like it's a John Doe." Frankie gives Emma a soft smile.

"I'll get Maura to take the body back to the morgue and get working on ID and cause of death." Jane says, pushing herself off the floor before offering a hand down to Emma. "And maybe from now on we should stick to the rules. I'm not putting you through that shit again, Swan."

Emma nods once and takes the hand offered to her, swaying slightly on her feet for a moment before she looks up and takes in the aftermath that is Regina. "Oh, shit."

She takes the stairs two at a time and falls on her knees in front of Regina, pushing Maura out of the way. "Regina. Regina!" She grabs Regina's face and holds on tightly, forcing her way through the haze of grief that's taken over her son's mother. "Listen to me. Regina, listen to me."

Regina blinks and her eyes seem to focus the littlest bit on Emma, but that only causes more tears to spill down her cheeks and her to start gasping in breaths like she's hyperventilating. "Oh god. No. Emma. No."

"Regina, listen." Emma squeezes her cheeks hard enough to hurt and then continues when she's got Regina as lucid as she's going to get. "It wasn't him. It wasn't Henry. Do you hear me? It's not Henry."

Maura lets out a sound beside her, possibly of relief, but Emma can't be sure because her attention is solely on Regina. She sags forward in a near-mirror of Emma and Jane's earlier position and now it's Emma's turn to hold on tight.

"It's not him. It's not him." She keeps whispering against Regina, repeating the words over and over, along with the others, the ones that are harder to say, but that she can't stop from bubbling out now. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I should have gone," Regina manages to say when she catches her breath. "I don't know why… I should have been the one to see it."

"It's okay," Emma assures her. "I mean, it was horrible, but… it wasn't Henry. That's all I can think right now."

Jane and Maura are a few steps above them, talking in angry whispers until Maura raises her voice, seemingly in exasperation.

"This is what I could have spared them from! Don't you see that? Procedure is not simply the hiding place for bureaucrats and sticklers, Jane. It protects people."

"I'm sorry," Emma calls up to Maura. "What I did was rude, and uncalled for. I panicked, I guess. I just wanted to know if we were already too late."

"I understand," Maura says, her smile tight. She doesn't seem all that angry at Emma, reserving her wounded glare for Jane instead. "But we should really get to work here. Jane, is there someone-"

"Frankie will drive you two back to the apartment," Jane offers, nodding back towards the apartment. "I'll send him up in a minute. Just don't remind him how hard you kicked his ass when he tried to teach us self-defense, okay?"

Emma forces a weak grin at the memory of Frankie Rizzoli, barely out of high school, pinned on the Rizzoli's back lawn by her and Jane until he squealed for mercy. She stands, not all that surprised when Regina does too, still clinging to Emma's arm like it's a life preserver. The shock hasn't quite worn off, and every time Emma tries to focus on the relief, she feels like a crappy person.

"We'll get out of your way," she tells them, guiding Regina back up the stairs into the cool evening air. Emma gulps down deep breaths, partly to ward off the sick feeling that's rising in the back of her throat, and partly to get the damp smell of the apartment out of her nose. She recognises the smell of neglect only too well, a space where no one ever mops the floor or does anything to the dust but disturb it by moving around. The other smells Emma can't think about, can't allow herself to identify.

It wasn't Henry.

Regina lets go as Frankie approaches, pushing her hair out of her eyes and straightening her clothes with that briskness Emma still associates with her being Mayor. Even after an experience like this, Regina has to check her armor and make sure she's still the toughest person in the room.

"Sorry you got driving duty, Frankie," Emma says as he pats her on the back. "But we really appreciate you joining in the search."

"Nah, I just made Detective," Frankie explains. "Doing these things is what the new guy does, you know? And I'd do it anyway, you know that."

"I do," Emma hesitates at the squad car. Regina slips into the backseat without question, but instead of taking the passenger seat Emma follows right behind. She can talk to Frankie just fine wherever she sits, after all. But some little part of her feels comforted by being near Regina, by the way they clung to each other when things looked hopeless. They're better together, as these situations just keep proving. "Can we stop somewhere to get some snacks, maybe some bottled water? A gas station will do."

"Whatever you need," Frankie tells her, and only when the car finally leaves this horrible place does Emma sink back against the seat. It's not that she can relax, exactly, but sometimes not losing is enough to feel like a win. "Although you do know that Ma's probably got your whole apartment stocked to the gills by now, don't you?"

Emma manages a little laugh at that, before she suddenly feels guilty. A child is dead and even if it isn't Henry, it isn't the time for laughter. "Of course she does. But you know it'll all be healthy food."

"And you'd rather live on Cheetos and Mountain Dew?" Regina pipes up, and she almost looks revived at the prospect of taking a cheap shot at Emma. "Or is this more of a Dr Pepper situation?"

"Please, this is a fifth of gin situation. But, actually, I'm craving some Vanilla Coke," Emma huffs, turning away to look out at the traffic as they pass through South Boston. "And just for that, you don't get any."

"How sad for me," Regina drawls, but Emma can tell that she is just the slightest bit affronted at being told what she can and cannot have; once a Queen, and all that jazz. It feels normal, this bantering over petty crap, and Emma feels herself relax just a little bit more. They've broken a curse together, and saved an entire town from oblivion, so why shouldn't they also find their kid and beat the everloving crap out of the people who dared to touch him?

This is real hope, Emma realizes. It's as strange to her as waking up and suddenly being able to speak French, but it's real. She doesn't dare mention it to Regina, who no doubt feels about hope the way she does about happy endings, but Emma can have enough for both of them right now.

The lights of the city speed past, and Emma clasps her hands on her lap, almost like praying. Henry is out there somewhere, and they're going to get him back.

The CSRU techs are doing their usual slow routine when Jane gets done giving Frankie his orders and Emma's temporary address. He'll be waylaid by Ma at some point, if she hasn't already broken into Emma's apartment to start cooking for them, but Jane can't worry about that right now. As much as she's relieved to see Emma again, and to still have a chance in the search for that kid, someone else's child deserves their attention and expertise right now.

Maura is crouched down by the body, and Jane recognizes the extra care and slight hesitation in her touch as she performs the preliminary examination. For all the times Maura has worried that she doesn't feel things as deeply or as fully as she's supposed to, Jane's never known her to be anything other than compassionate.

"No signs of trauma," Maura reports, not looking up. "No ligature marks, no cuts or bruising visible. The body is full clothed and there are no signs of disturbance." She lifted the eyelids with her gloved thumb. "Petechial hemorrhaging."

"But no ligature? So suffocation rather than strangling?"

"I'm not prepared to speculate. My investigation has already been disrupted."

"Maura, c'mon. You know it's different when kids are involved. The press is gonna be all over us like a rash, and we can't wait, you know, indefinitely."

"Well, it can wait for the full autopsy, at least," Maura said, relenting just a little. "Although if Emma Swan asks you to just skip that, I'm sure you will."

"Wait a minute...you're pissed at me?"

"I know we have our differences, Jane, and I frequently enjoy your unorthodox way of looking at things. But for all our arguments, you have always respected me professionally. That wasn't the case here."

"Oh, like we didn't cut a few corners when we were investigating your mob boss daddy?"

"You mean like when you shot him?"

"Okay, I thought we dealt with all this? What's your problem?"

"My problem," Maura snaps then, looking down at the body instead of at Jane, "is your blatant disregard not only for the proper procedure, but for me as a professional, as a colleague, and as a friend."

"What do you want me to say, Maura? She thought her kid was lying dead in this basement. You think I was gonna stop her from finding out?"

"And if it had been anyone else? Any other mother, you would have done the same? Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that if anyone but Emma Swan had asked that of you that you would have bypassed procedure and given in the way you did?"

"I - jeez, Maura, I don't know, okay?"

"Yes you do, Jane. You just don't want to admit it to yourself."

One of the techs puts a bag in front of Maura for approval, and she nods quickly, professional mask in place and it's as obvious as the wooden ones that hang on her office wall. Jane's seen this shutdown fifty times, but it's so rarely directed at her.

"Are you… jealous? Is that it?" Jane demands. They've lost too much time recently to arguing and outside threats. She doesn't have the energy for that right now, so they are damn well going to get to the bottom of this. "Maura, come on. It's late and we didn't expect to be up all night like this. I'm sorry if I was rude or I got all up in your examining business. You know how I get over these cases."

"Fine," Maura says, though it's clearly not. "Apology accepted. Gentlemen, we're ready for the bag now. I know I don't have to remind you, but please, everyone, take the utmost care during transport."

The techs nod in acknowledgment, and while there's always a baseline of respect at a crime scene that minimizes the cracking of jokes or chatter about the latest Sox score, tonight it's especially somber. Jane wants nothing more than to get out of the basement herself, and she's glad to have an excuse to go check on Frost and see what the canvass has turned up. Jane isn't optimistic, because a neighborhood like this is filled with people brought up to never see anything, not even when it happens right under their nose.

Mostly, she wants some fresh air to clear her head and work out exactly what bug got up Maura's ass tonight. Okay, so maybe Jane never introduced her to Emma while they all lived in the same city, but it's not exactly weird to have more than one friend. Emma goes back way longer than Maura, anyway, even if it was some kind of competition.

"Tell me you've got something." She says when she finds Frost, but it's just as she figured.

"We've got guys canvassing, but so far, nothing." Frost says, his eyes moving back to the abandoned building. "How's your friend holding up?"

For a moment, Jane wonders if he means Emma or Maura. "Emma's with Frankie. She's okay, I think. We'll need to keep working on her kid's case but… this takes precedence. And she knows that."

"You think they're connected?" Frost watches as the techs carefully bring the stretcher with the body bag up the stairs.

"A ten or eleven year old kid that fits Henry's description turns up dead in the basement apartment of the one lead we've got? Yeah, I think they're connected. Now we just gotta find out how."

"Korsak and I'll do the coffee run since Frankie's out of commission. Meet you back at the station."

"Thanks, Frost." Jane nods, moving over to where Maura is standing by the car, looking altogether unsure of what to do next. It's her car, but Jane had been the one to drive to the scene because it's easier for a cop to break all the speed limits than it is for an ME. Jane's still got the keys shoved in her pocket and she tugs them out, holding them up as a kind of peace offering to Maura. "Canvass hasn't turned anything up yet. Frost said he and Korsak would do the coffee run."

Maura accepts the keys and moves to the driver side door. "Fine."

Jane knows that it's anything but. She just doesn't know how to fix it. And right now, with everything else going on, she doesn't think she has the energy to even try. So she just drops down into the passenger seat, buckling her seat belt and allowing the silence to settle over them.

"You want some of my Coke?" Emma asks, putting her minimart haul in the fridge. It's still empty, which means that Angela hadn't made it there yet. "Or there's water, if you prefer." She waits for a response, but gets none. Regina is staring out of the window again, seemingly captivated by the view. "Earth to Regina?" Emma tries again, approaching with some caution.

"It's so… I've see your cities on television and read about them. But it's something else to really see it. I've seen riots and cantered on horseback, but it just doesn't compare to so much all compressed into one place. I don't think I could live like this."

"You get used to it," Emma offers. "A city's a great place to get lost in."

"That's why you chose this place? It's right in the thick of the action, it seems," Regina turns around, genuinely curious now. "I think Henry must have been impressed when he came here."

"I got a deal from a landlord who wanted me to chase down tenants who skipped. Started happening a lot when the economy hit the skids, I guess," Emma explains. "But yeah, I like being where it's busy. It's easier to get lost in a crowd than in the big open spaces."

"Mm." Regina nods, looking back out the window at the view. "But you didn't really get lost here, did you? You found-" She hesitates, not sure exactly what to call the group of people that she had just met, "a family of sorts here."

"Well, I don't know about family."

"You referred to the brash woman at the station as Ma. Does that not imply a familial relationship?"

"It's complicated." Is all Emma will say on the subject.

"And your relationship with the detective - is that complicated too?"

Emma blows air out her nose in a noise that isn't quite a snort, but could be. "You like to ask the hard hitting questions, huh?" If she's going to do this - talk about her past in this way - then she definitely needs that Vanilla Coke.

"Perhaps." Regina moves to the couch, staring at it warily before finally allowing herself to sit down. "Or maybe I just need a distraction right now." Somehow, after the day they've had - has it really only been one day? Not even a full twenty four hours yet? How is that possible? - she doesn't act like it's a weakness to admit this need to Emma.

Now that, Emma understands. She grabs two cans of soda and the bags of Cool Ranch Doritos and Cheetos before heading to the couch. Regina doesn't say anything about the choice of cuisine, just opens the soda and takes a long drink, straight from the can. That, more than anything else, is a testament to her state of mind right now, Emma thinks.

"I'm sorry." Emma whispers, looking out the window because she can't bare to look at Regina when she says this. She knows Regina wants a distraction and she'll give it to her - no matter how much it'll cost to talk about her past - but she needs to say this first. "I shouldn't have just dropped him at the curb and gone. I should have come up to the house. I should have made sure you were there."

"Why didn't you?"

"Would you have been pleased to see me?"

"I suppose you have a point. We haven't really talked much, since the mines."

"I thought it was over. I wanted it to be over. I wanted - I wanted to live in a place where I could watch Henry walk into your house and not have to worry about him being attacked. Isn't that what the fucking fairytale is supposed to be about?"

"You haven't read many fairytales, have you? They're never about security."

"Yeah, now you mention it," Emma considers. "There's actually a lot of death and despair. Considering in this world they're just stories to tell a kid at bedtime."

"You're…" Regina hesitates, sipping more delicately at her drink this time. "You're coping very well. Is that the Savior in action again? Or are you just used to lurching from one crisis to the next?"

"You kidding? I'm scared halfway out of my mind," Emma counters, reaching for a handful of Doritos, and crunching them loudly as she considers. "But I suppose I have a strange sort of faith."

"Faith?"

"I felt it, in the car. It's like, here's another crappy situation, all of that. But if I have to face the crappiness, I guess I can't think of a better person to have in my corner."

Regina snorts at that. "So far, it seems your Detective has about as much skill and experience as you do as Sheriff. And if you recall my last performance appraisal…"

"First of all, Jane is a great cop," Emma feels her usual flush of exasperation, because even in crisis Regina is still so… Regina. "And second of all, I meant you."

"What?" Regina looks up, startled.

Emma crunches another Dorito. "Don't look so surprised. We make a pretty good team when we work together. And - you're the only one who gets it, you know? How it feels. How fucking scary it is. But - I don't know - I guess with you on my side, it seems… less. God, this is why I don't talk out loud a whole lot."

"You're not quite as bad as you think you are."

"Wow, thanks."

"I mean," Regina continues, her expression not that far from someone who's about to have a tooth pulled. "That most challenges I've faced in life have been faced alone. Or with someone I couldn't trust any more than the enemy in front of us. For all your flaws, I suppose I could do worse when trying to get my son back."

"Speaking of which-"

"Should we be out there? Doing something? It feels wrong to just sit here, eating junk."

"You're not eating any junk." Emma points out, waving another Dorito around. "And you know what Jane said. We can't help. We'll only get in the way or fuck things up. Like I did tonight."

"I don't know why I couldn't," Regina scrunches her face at the memory. "I suppose you know by now I'm no stranger to corpses, to… well, violence of all kinds. But no matter how I tried to tell my legs to take me in there because Henry might need me… nothing happened."

"It's okay."

"Your reaction at the scene suggested otherwise."

"For a second, I really thought it was-"

"Sometimes when we expect something, we see it anyway. It takes a moment for the truth to take control again."

"Sounds like the voice of experience," Emma says sadly. "The worst part? I was relieved. I mean, there's a dead kid in front of me and I could have turned a cartwheel just because it wasn't Henry. How sick is that? It's - that's why I - I couldn't - I was so relieved and I hated myself so much. Next thing I knew, I was sobbing on the floor and - god, Regina, if either of us can be called evil..."

"Stop it." Regina commands, in a voice that could make whole kingdoms fall to their knees. "You will stop right now." Her voice softens then, and Emma imagines that it's how she would talk to Henry when he was small and needed soothing. "There is nothing evil about the way you reacted. People throw around that word so easily, but your reaction was simply human nature. You're - and don't think this is easy for me to say - you're a mother. Your first priority is your child."

"And what about that child's mother?" Emma asks, tears suddenly in her eyes and clogging her throat. "What about when she walks into that room and doesn't get a miracle like I did; like we did?"

"The world is cruel, Emma," Regina reminds her. "I think you know that as well as I do. Her pain is regrettable; of course it is. But it's certainly not your fault. You're just paying the price of trying to be a 'good' person. You think you should carry the pain of others, too."

"And you don't?"

Regina shrugs. "We carry enough pain ourselves, don't you think? Why add to it? Now, this might be a good time for that distraction, don't you think? Why don't you tell me how Emma Swan, friendless orphan and social misfit, found and left behind an entire mob of Italians who seem quite taken with her?"

"I wouldn't put it like that," Emma squirms under the questioning. She worries, for a moment, how this conversation will play out if she ever has to have it with her parents. Until she remembers she can't ever introduce them to the Rizzolis, or anyone else, at least not as the long-lost Emma abandoners she spent so many years hating and searching for. "But I guess this isn't the first time they've had my back."

"Go on," Regina insists, inspecting the Cheetos like they might be radioactive. She pops one in her mouth as though it's a cyanide pill, and Emma can't help grinning at the surprised 'oh' of not-quite-hating that Regina allows to escape.

"Jane could have busted me, while I was still on parole. I hadn't eaten in a couple of days and I got sloppy stealing, believe it or not, a couple of bags of Cheetos. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"It's a miracle you've lived this long." Regina sniffs, but she places another Cheeto into her mouth.

"Anyway, the guy in the store made me for a thief, but I outran him easily enough. I ran into what I thought was a bunch of uh, working girls, and I thought I was safe. Only one of the girls was actually Jane Rizzoli, undercover."

"Did she arrest you?"

"No," Emma replies. "But she gave me the talking to of my life. Took me home to her Ma, got me some real food - sometimes I still dream about that ziti - and said I could sleep in her old room for two nights, nothing more. And if I stole anything from the Rizzolis, there wouldn't be a place in Boston I could hide."

"But you haven't been in touch since you came to Storybrooke? Despite knowing her for years?" Regina is searching again with her dark eyes, her old habit of ferreting out Emma's weak spots not having stopped with their truce.

"What was I supposed to say, exactly? Hey Jane, come meet my kid. Don't worry about the giants in the diner or the talking donkeys in the park?"

"You knew nothing about those things when you first came to Storybrooke." Regina points out. "You thought it was all Henry's imagination, right up until you slammed me into a locker."

"Yeah, well, just be glad that I didn't stay in touch or tell them about Henry, huh? Or else you'd have had Angela Rizzoli marching into town and trying to take over Granny's so she could be near her 'grandchild'."

"Granny and her crossbow would have had more to say about that than I would," Regina points out. "But you must have had some contact. The Detective didn't seem surprised when you called her about Henry, which means that she must have known about him."

"I told you, I met her when I first got out of prison. I got a Greyhound ticket to anywhere I wanted, so I said Boston off the top of my head. So that kid she busted for stealing Cheetos was the kid who'd only just given up her baby. I guess I needed someone to talk to, back then. Before I learned my lesson, fully."

"You trust her with your life. And Henry's. But besides not busting you and taking you off the streets for a short time, what is it, exactly, that this woman did to engender such trust?"

"That might not seem like much to you but for me? Well, that's a lot when you've never had it before. But you know all the fairytale crap about Saviors and Big Damn Heroes?" Emma asks. "Jane's like that, but for real. We met for coffee after that, when I was getting on my feet. She didn't give up on me, even when I skipped a couple of times. Not even when I disappeared off to Florida for two years. And the few times I had trouble? She saved my ass without even asking for a 'thanks'."

"And the rest of the family?"

Emma grins at that. "You get one Rizzoli, you get 'em all."

"Sounds just like you Charmings. How horrible," Regina mocks, but her heart isn't in it. "Actually…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What, Regina?"

"I was going to say nobody ever took a chance on me like that. Everyone accepted what they were told, or they saw when I was in pain and left me to it. Assumed I could cope, whatever their reasons. I was going to say nobody ever gave me a chance, but I'd be lying."

"How would you be lying?"

"Because you did," Regina says, in the smallest voice Emma's ever heard her use. "Not just over the trigger, but when you thought the Cricket had been murdered. Before that, even, when it would have been easier to let the mob take my head. I just hadn't seen it that way until now."

"Regina," Emma says, and she wonders if this is where a normal person would get up and offer a hug. The sun is coming up through the huge window behind Regina, and even that weak sunlight makes her glow like they haven't been up all night and their clothes aren't crumpled and nobody has synthetic cheese dust all over their hands. "I just-"

There's a thunderous knocking on the front door. Both of them freeze for a second before scrambling to answer it, just like a few hours earlier.

"Morning!" Angela greets them, laden down with grocery bags and carrying something in a casserole dish. "I know it's early, but I couldn't wait another minute. Tommy, get in here!"

Emma tries to tell her heart to return to a regular beat, and even manages a smile for Angela as she brushes past them into the kitchen. Regina just looks dumbstruck, before smacking Emma on the arm for good measure. Tommy ambles in with another couple of bags and a baby in a carrier on his chest.

"Uh, Tommy…" Emma points at the baby and raises an eyebrow.

"I'll tell you over breakfast," he promises.

"Have we got anything new from the canvass?" Jane asks, her head on her desk. She's got one hell of a headache, not only from staring at the board for so long trying to make connections, but also from the silent treatment Maura's been giving her since they got back. Jane gave up her chance of a half-hour nap for a cool shower instead, but it's not doing much for the dullness behind her eyes.

"Guys have been at it since we left, but no one's found anything. Everyone's pretty exhausted, Jane," Korsak tells her, and it isn't new information, but she needs to hear it again.

"I know. I know." She rubs her hand roughly over her face. "Alright, tell 'em to go home. Frost, any luck on IDing our vic?"

"I've been running his fingerprints through the database and checking any missing person's reports, but so far nothing."

"Great. So we've got a whole lot of nothing. What else could go wrong today?"

"Vanilla!" Comes the voice from across the bullpen and Jane groans as she buries her head in her arms.

"You asked." Korsak teases softly.

"Rondo, I cannot deal with you right now. I've got a missing kid and a murdered kid, so unless you've got any information that'll help me with that case, then I suggest you just turn right around and go back to whatever it is you do all day."

"You wound me, Vanilla. Here I am, helping the police - and a fine specimen of police at that - with their enquiries, and you reject me."

"If I give you the twenty now, will you skip the pretending to have info part?" Frost asks, pulling his wallet out of his pants pocket.

"I am insulted." Rondo frowns, even as he pockets the money. "I do not pretend to have information."

"Jane?" Maura comes in with a file, stopping to survey the scene in front of her. "Good morning, Rondo. New bag?"

"Bag?" Jane rolls her eyes at the fashion talk. Trust Maura to spot new accessories, even on a CI. "Had you down as more of a briefcase kind of guy, Rondo. Backpacks are just so casual for the man about town."

"Well, I don't have to stay here and be insulted," Rondo says, turning away in a huff. Jane is ready to wave him off when she sees the bag fully: black backpack, mesh pockets on the side and an Incredible Hulk keychain attached to the zipper. She almost falls over her desk, rushing after Rondo.

"Let me try that again," she says, putting a little sugar in her voice. "I haven't had my coffee yet, and you know how us ladies can be this early in the morning. Frost, weren't you just saying that you couldn't face your breakfast donut this morning?"

"Was I?" Frost asks, looking down at the sugary goodness that he'd been looking so forward to. "I don't think I-"

"I'm sure Rondo could help you out with that. Maybe we'll give him your chair for a while, let him take a load off while we have a chat about this bag of his." She motions her head toward the bag and Frost seems to clue in then.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I mean, that's a real nice bag."

"It really is, isn't it?" Jane smiles.

"This old thing?" Rondo shrugs, dropping the bag to the floor next to the chair as he settles in, donut already halfway to his mouth. "I've had it for ages."

"Ages, huh? Hey, Korsak, is that a mochalatte sitting there untouched on your desk?" Jane does the glare of death at him before he can even think about denying it. "I'm sure talking makes Rondo pretty thirsty. And I just know he's got a good story to tell."

"Next one's on you, Rizzoli," Korsak mutters as he hands over the still-steaming cup.

"You're too good to me, Vanilla." Rondo preens as he takes the cup from her, slurping loudly as he drinks.

"Only the best for my best CI." Jane continues to lay it on. "So tell me, where did you get this fine bag, Rondo?"

"Who remembers these things?" Rondo shrugs and Jane knows that he's playing with her now. "It was ages ago, you know."

Jane grits her teeth and clenches her fist. You might catch more flies with honey, but you'd be surprised how quickly people talk when they're in pain. "And what might it take to jog your memory?"

"Well, now that you mention it… my brain does always work better when I've had breakfast."

"You just ate a whole donut!" Frost complains. "My donut!"

"I like to think of that as a snack. A treat. But breakfast - real breakfast - we're talking eggs and bacon and waffles. Some syrup. You know how I love sweet things, don't you, Vanilla?"

"I sure do." She hisses, already digging out a twenty. "Frost, why don't you see about getting Rondo some real breakfast?"

"I'm keeping the change." He tells her as he takes the money and heads off.

"Now, while Frost is getting your breakfast, why don't you think about where you got that bag for me, huh?"

"Well, when I said ages ago…"

"Uh huh?"

"I might have meant a few hours ago. Like, last night."

"You don't say. And where, exactly, might you have gotten it?"

"You know, it's funny what people will throw out of a car window," Rondo answers, leaning back on Frost's chair and taking another gulp of his coffee. "I mean, they don't even think that there might be people on the sidewalk, and that says to me you're not dealing with a considerate person. This is a selfish person, understand?"

"Can I have a look inside?" Maura asks, without looking directly at Jane. "Just to check what kind of storage it really has."

"Sure thing, Dr. Vanilla," Rondo says, handing it over. "You don't, uh, have a list you're comparing the contents to, or anything?"

"What did you take?" Jane pounces right away.

"An Apollo bar. Okay, two of them. Finder's fee, okay? Oh, and I read the comic but I didn't crease it, not even one page. Put it right back in there."

"Contents fit the description we have," Maura confirms, holding up each item in turn. The comic, the notebook, the wooden sword, just like Emma said. "Rondo, we're going to need to borrow your bag for further testing."

"Well, that seems like kind of an inconvenience," he replies.

"Enough, already!" Jane hollers. "You'll get your breakfast, but we've got a missing kid to find. Now, wanna tell me about the car this bag got thrown out of?"

"I don't care much for cars," Rondo says, voice filled with wounded pride. "They're all pretty much the same, really."

"Oh, I think some of them are different colors," Jane tells him. "And a smart guy like you, he probably reads the make or model on the back. I don't know if you're the kind of, well, genius, who'd think to look at the license plate, but I know better than to hope-"

"It was blue, okay? Real dark blue so it's almost black. One of those gas-guzzlers that's killing the planet, looks like it could carry a soccer team. And it had that peace sign on the back."

"You mean the Mercedes logo?" Marura asks. "Actually, it's a three-pointed star, first registered by Daimler-Benz back in 1937, but I can see the similarity."

Jane catches on, looking to Korsak who is already typing on the computer. "Good, Rondo. That's real good. Anything else?"

"Well," Rondo sits up, straightening his shoulders out. "I don't know if I'd call myself a genius, but I did get a look at the license plate. Couldn't see much - it was really flying and I remember thinking that they were going way too fast and that I should have a talk with you about the safety of Boston streets-"

"Rondo, focus." Jane snaps her fingers to get him back on track.

"Right. Okay. Well, like I said, I didn't see much, but I remember 2, no… the last 3 digits."

"And they are?" Jane snaps, her last strands of patience fraying.

"Alright, alright! It was uh…" Rondo closes his eyes. "YR...4. Yeah, YR4."

Korsak is typing and searching already, and Jane leans back in relief. "Thank you, Rondo. Now, I just need one more thing from you."

"Anything for you, Vanilla."

"Can you tell me where you were when the car went by? Street name, landmarks, anything?"

"Sure. I was on my way home from the Dirty Robber - thought maybe I'd find you there, Vanilla, but I was out of luck. I just got to the corner when the bag came flying at me."

"Are you kidding me?" Jane frowns. "The Robber? It was that close and-"

"You got a time?" Korsak calls out, to help stop Jane's rant. There's nothing they can do but get the information and go with it now.

"Well, I'm not one for watches," Rondo replies. "Don't need that pressure, watching every minute, working to the man's schedule and all that. But I'd say it couldn't have been much past 8, maybe 8:30."

"You think of anything else, you'll let us know?" Jane reminds him.

"Of course I will."

"Korsak, will you have Frost start looking for any traffic or security cameras that might have been in the area around where Rondo found the bag when he gets back? And let me know if you guys come up with anything. I gotta call Emma, let her know something finally broke."

"You can't call her from here?" Maura chimes in, frowning again. She's changed into another designer outfit, even though she went straight to do the autopsy on their child John Doe. Actually Jane can't blame her for wanting to shower and change after that, no matter how used to death Maura is.

"I need to get coffee, anyway. You coming?"

Maura shakes her head, before changing her mind and dropping the file on Jane's desk.

"Although I normally avoid too much caffeine, a night without sleep is definitely cause to break my own rules."

"If you promise to get off my ass about my cholesterol, I'll even buy," Jane offers, glad to see some thawing from Maura's side. "Let me just make this call and they can head down here."

"You don't want the autopsy findings?"

"God, yeah. Sorry, Maur. What did you find."

"My initial findings held up to further examination. We're looking at suffocation as cause of death," Maura explains as they walk down the hallway. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

"If he was intentionally suffocated - perhaps trapped in an airless space, or more likely something was held over his nose and mouth - we would expect to see some evidence of him resisting. Smothering is frequently used when victims are asleep or incapacitated. But the tox screen was clean and the child has no obvious injuries."

"You're saying, in Maura speak, that although you're saying he suffocated, you can't say exactly how?"

"Yes. And that's troubling to me. There are no signs of struggle, but also no bruising around the mouth or nose and no trace material on the skin either."

"The killer wiped his face clear of any fibers? From the pillow, or whatever? I don't really know what that means," Jane admits.

"No," Maura agrees. "I'm not sure I do, either."

"Riz!" Emma comes into the cafe like she's being chased, and even in heels Regina is only a couple of steps behind. "You found his bag, really?"

"We don't know for certain that the bag belongs to Henry. The contents matched the description you gave us, however speculating-"

"What Maura's trying to say is that we're pretty sure it's his." Jane interrupts, placing a warning hand on Maura's forearm, not entirely surprised when she shrugs it off. "In fact, it's down in the lab now for analysis. We'll confirm it's Henry's, then see what else the bag can tell us about where he's been and who he's with."

"Can I see it?" Regina asks, voice nearly breaking, but she recovers enough not to break down in front of strangers. "I just… if it helps with confirmation, maybe? I'd like to do anything I can to speed it up."

"Why don't you come down to the basement with me?" Maura suggests. "We'll have to sign you both in as visitors, but there's a small waiting area outside the Materials Lab. I can't promise you'll be comfortable, but it's there."

"Thank you," Emma says, looking at Regina for agreement. "You find anything else? Did anyone see Henry with the bag?"

"Not exactly," Jane says. "You want some coffee before we head down?"

"We're fine. Your mother came to make breakfast," Regina supplies, her tone so tense that everyone smiles in recognition of Angela Rizzoli in full-on fussing mode. "There was a lot of coffee with the bruschetta and the eggs."

"And Tommy has a kid," Emma adds, eyes still widening in surprise at the thought. "Damn, you could have warned me."

"Wasn't a lot of time," Jane says, leading them through to the turnstiles where Maura signs the register and offers up the Visitor passes. "But you know Tommy, he didn't exactly go about it in a sensible way."

"His son is beautiful," Regina says, the cords in her neck straining. Finally, Jane thinks, someone even worse at small talk than Emma herself. "You must be pleased to be an aunt."

"You wouldn't think so," Jane replies as she calls the elevator. "But man, I love it. And TJ, he's the best. His mom isn't exactly a MENSA member, and you know Tommy, so we were kinda worried. But I swear, he's the smartest baby I ever saw."

"He does seem to be in the highest percentile for developmental progress," Maura confirms, but her smile is just as goofy as the one Jane knows she herself is sporting. "And he has a very sweet nature, too. Not that children so young really have a personality, as such. We're projecting our own views, really."

"Henry was a sweet baby," Regina says, staring straight ahead at the closing elevator doors, hands clasped over her stomach like she might be sick. "He only kept me up nights when he had colic. Otherwise, he was a dream."

Emma bursts into tears, and for a moment it isn't clear who's the most horrified of the four of them. Maura reacts first, pulling a neatly-folded handkerchief from her pocket.

"It's clean," she says, leaning past Jane to hand it to Emma. "And don't feel embarrassed. You're having a hormonal reaction to the mention of your son as a baby, prompting a release from your lachrimal glands."

Emma takes the handkerchief with shaking hands and uses it to hide her face as she tries to force the tears back down. "Thanks," she mutters through the far-too-expensive-to-have-snot-blown-on-it cloth.

"Are you okay?" Regina asks after a moment, stepping back towards Emma as the doors open onto the basement floor.

Jane steps out with Maura, to give them a moment's privacy. It feels strange, like stepping out when a married couple starts to argue, the way she would slip away at church or family parties when Ma and Pop got into it after a few glasses of wine.

"I'm fine." Emma assures as she swipes the handkerchief over her face one more time. "Just gotta get my, uh, lactose glands under control, I guess." She offers a weak and watery smile that Jane can see right through. Regina doesn't look any more convinced than Jane feels, which is kind of a relief. Emma won't be up to her old tricks of hiding and suffering in silence with both of them on her case.

"Actually, it's lachrimal, which refers to the bones and glands in your eyes that collect and secrete tears. Lactose refers to the disaccharide sugar that is derived from galactose and glucose, most commonly found in milk." Maura corrects as Emma and Regina join them in the corridor.

"Wow," Emma remarks. "You're like a walking Wikipedia, aren't you?"

"Well, Wikipedia is actually a very fallible resource, riddled with factual errors and frequently articles are vandalized to suit political agendas or online trolling."

"Trolling?" Regina looks startled, her eyes snapping to Emma for some reason.

"It means someone who acts like a jerk on the Internet." Emma assures, and Regina calms at the information.

"Actually-" Maura begins, before she notices the looks on the others' faces and swallows the rest of her response. "In layman's terms, I suppose that is an adequate assessment. Anyway, the lab is just down here," Maura says, pointing like a flight attendant down the corridor. The three of them fall in step behind her, and right in that moment, Jane's pretty glad that the so-called 'Queen of the Dead' is in their corner.

"A word, Swan?" Emma groans as Jane pulls her out of the lab.

"Thanks for letting us come see the bag. I think Regina needed something to go on. It's been a long night."

"Let's have a chat in Dr. Isles' office, hmm?" Jane has her bossy-hooker-cop voice on, and Emma knows the lecture she's avoided so far has probably just caught up with her. The moment the door closes behind them, Jane launches into it.

"Okay, I want the whole story on Mendell and Tamara. Kidnapping with no ransom note is bullshit. I know Regina's the Mayor, but it's a small town and you can't tell me she has Bloomberg money and you just forgot to mention it. We've got clues, sure, but your kid isn't coming back unless I get the whole story."

"Hey, I asked for your help, not a trip to the naughty corner, okay?" Emma feels her hackles rise, but on no sleep and a buttload of stress, she can't quite rein the temper in. It's not like Jane hasn't seen it all before. "I can tell you that Greg and Tamara attacked Regina a couple of weeks ago and then they skipped town. I don't have a motive, and the little I did know about either of them turned out to be cover story bullshit."

"You're gonna tell me they're spies now?"

"I don't know is what I'm telling you. Tamara was engaged to my ex, but that was apparently a total fake out. And Greg, I don't know, man. He seemed like this slightly geeky guy who wandered in out of nowhere, but then he beat up Regina, so maybe there's more to him?"

"We get a print off any of that stuff of Henry's, is it gonna tell me anything you know but haven't given up?"

"No," Emma sighs, relieved that she can answer truthfully. "You'll know more than I do if you get a hit."

"She was engaged to your ex? Wait, not that ex, surely?"

"Yeah, Neal. I bumped into him in New York, he found out about Henry… it's been kind of a stressy few months, Riz."

"Henry's biological father is back on the scene and you don't tell me? What the hell?" Jane looks ready to put Emma through the door without opening it first, and she holds up her hands in half-hearted defense.

"He's not back on the scene. Not anymore."

"You mean to tell me he bailed on you again?" Now Jane sounds like she'd like to put Neal six feet under and it would almost be funny if he wasn't already there, in another fucking universe.

"Not exactly. He - uh - he's-" She hasn't said it aloud yet. Not the word 'dead'. 'Shot' and 'fell through a portal' and 'gone' and every other variation but never actually… "he's dead."

"Shit. I didn't know. And you're sure that Henry's not just reacting-"

"Come on. You think I'd call you over a runaway? I'm sorry I can't tell you every detail about our lives, but I am sure that someone has taken my kid, and it's most likely those two."

Jane's phone rings, and she grabs it right away. "Maybe Frost is about to confirm that for you. Rizzoli," she answers. "Definitely Mendell, huh? Okay, let me know how far you track it."

"Showed up on traffic cams," Jane explains as she hangs up. "My CI's info turned up good, and the Mercedes is registered to Greg Mendell. Car had him at the wheel, African-American woman in the passenger seat, and what appears to be a kid in the backseat. No visuals clear enough for positive ID."

"You're gonna track the car on the cameras?" Emma asks. "Oh, thank God. It's pretty hard to go off the grid in this city."

"Assuming they're still in the city," Jane cautions. "One of their first stops was a gas station, so that probably means filling up for a bit of a drive."

"Well, fuck," Emma groans, her brain already spinning a hundred worse scenarios. "They could be anywhere, right?"

"The cameras will help track them. Korsak will have put out an APB now we have the full plate. It's not as bad as it seems."

"And yet you still look worried," Emma accuses.

"I don't work a lot of kidnappings," Jane confesses, her brows scrunching in annoyance at herself. "But there's almost always a demand, unless it's a custody thing. Not having one makes me edgy."

"You and me both."

"Listen, not for nothing, but are you sure there's nothing between you and Regina? If you're protecting her, I get that. And I know what a little bitch you can be about your privacy. But a change like that, a relationship like that: it could be relevant."

"You think I'm banging my kid's adoptive mother?"

"I'm saying, a lot of people don't think they can be open about that stuff."

"You're unbelievable! I try to kiss you - once, drunk off my ass - and you think I'm making major lifestyle changes?"

"I'm not judging. And you were trying to do a lot more than kiss me, Swan. We both know what you had in mind," Jane accuses, pacing the room now with her hands clenched into fists.

"Like I said at the time," Emma fires back. "I was just trying to repay the kindness. You'll have to forgive me for assuming you wanted the same as everyone else did, in return."

"I'm sorry you thought that," Jane says, deflating as the anger leaves her.

"Maybe I'm not the only one," Emma says, and it's more spiteful than she wants it to be. "Because Maura sure seems close for 'just a friend'. And you can't tell me her nose isn't out of joint over me showing up. She's acting like she's jealous over an ex."

"No, she isn't."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. And if you say there's nothing between you and Regina, then I believe you. Even though I've never seen you act with anyone else that way you do with her."

"I'm not sleeping with my son's mother!"

"And I'm not sleeping with Maura! God!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Emma's just reaching for another maybe-not-that-mature comment when there's an almighty crash from next door, and a weird whooping alarm begins to sound. Without thinking she jumps on the sofa and snatches a ceremonial sword that hangs between two masks. She swings it left-to-right and hears the tell-tale sound of a sharp blade cutting the air, just like Mulan taught her.

It's only when she turns back to a shell-shocked Jane that Emma realizes her mistake.

"I, uh, left my gun in the car?" She offers weakly.

"Oh, we're having a conversation about this, Swan," Jane says, grabbing the door handle. "But right now we're gonna go check your girlfriend didn't blow up my Medical Examiner."

"She's not my-"

"Move!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Emma hangs back and lets Jane push into the lab, which has opened its huge back doors out into some kind of corridor, and all the staff are streaming out that way. Only Maura and Regina remain, standing on opposite sides of an immaculate workbench, the only items on it being Henry's wooden sword and a microscope that's fitted to the surface.

Maura's eyes are wide and focused on Regina and - oh shit - there's definitely smoke coming out of her fingertips. Smoke that's purple and Emma knows what that means but Jane and Maura don't. She moves quickly to pull Regina aside, grabbing her wrist and hoping that she doesn't make things worse by amping up Regina's magic like she did with the hat.

Pulling her friend aside, Jane has to take Maura by the shoulders and force her to look at Jane. Maura's babbling, which can't be good. Something about 'advanced technology' and 'chemical weapons synthesized with skin'. Regina, meanwhile, is staring at her own hands like she's never seen them before.

"Uh…" Emma says, looking around the room in panic. Jane is trying to shake some sense out of Maura, and although she seems to have short-circuited, Emma's pretty sure it won't take long for someone that smart and collected to get her shit together. "What did she see?" Emma asks in a pointed whisper, and that's enough to get Regina back in focus.

"I didn't mean it," she hisses back.

"I don't care if you meant it or not. What did she see?"

"I was frustrated, I just kept thinking there's a tracing spell that would be perfect for this, but here we are in a world without… you know. And then ithappened. It was weak, but it happened."

"And she didn't say 'oh that must have been your jacket reacting with the chemicals' or some explanation we can grab on to?"

"No," Regina sighs. "She just started doing that. Like a computer searching out loud for some missing information. It doesn't look good. Nor does you holding a sword, I might add."

Emma looks down in surprise then, realizing that she is still clutching the sword. Perfect. "I didn't think."

"Once a Charming…" Regina mutters under her breath.

"Well, I can always say I got really into samurai movies over the summer. Do you have a plausible excuse?" Emma demands, noticing that Jane and Maura have gone quieter, and the gun Jane laid on the bench when they first arrived is now back in her hand, even if it's resting by her hip.

"No," Regina says, shaking her head.

"Then, your Majesty, I think it's time we blow this popsicle stand. Can you keep up in those shoes?"

"It's not like I have a choice," Regina grumbles, but when Emma bolts, Regina is right there by her side, and not just because Emma hasn't let go of her wrist. They push past the disgruntled scientists for the freedom of the parking lot beyond. Jane shouts after them, but Emma ignores every word.

Emma has never been more grateful about her tendency to park illegally and work it out later, because Regina's Benz is right there across two disabled bays, which, okay, Emma should definitely feel a bit crappier about but there's running for their lives to be done right now.

"I'm driving!" She barks, tossing the sword into the back seat, and Regina pulls open the passenger door without complaint. They're peeling out of the spaces before either of them has fully settled into their seat, taking the corner of the exit ramp almost on two wheels. Regina pointedly pulls her seatbelt on immediately after.

"Complain all you want about my driving," Emma yells at her. "But what do you think they'll do to you, magic fingers? There's no way they don't hand you over to the government. Or whoever the hell Tamara and Greg work for, if that's not the same thing."

"Just get us out of here," Regina snaps. "Miss "I Trust Jane With My Life"."

"I didn't say anything about trusting her with magic," Emma grunts, running a red before realizing how dumb that was. All they need now is a traffic detail up their ass. She drops her speed to something near the limit, constantly checking the rearview.

"Magic is your life now. At least part of it." Regina reminds her, but Emma ignores the words as she's been doing since she broke the curse.

"We need to ditch the car. And we can't go back to the apartment for a while."

"Well, both of those sound convenient," Regina grouses, but Emma's relieved she doesn't shoot down either option.

"Might not be convenient, but they'll keep us from getting caught. How much money do you have on you?" Emma asks, her eyes darting back and forth, looking for a place to ditch the car.

"About $500 in cash. I didn't know if bribes would be necessary. I can take more out. My bank cards are actually valid."

"For every other curse there's Mastercard, huh? Too risky, they'll put traces on everything connected to your ID."

"Is it worth pointing out we haven't actually committed a crime? Or at least we hadn't, until you decided to run that red light." Regina sighs. "You could be completely overreacting."

"You want to find out how seriously they took your biohazard smoke? It set off an alarm. They can hold us on wasting police time, I'm sure. Wait, this'll do."

"What?" Regina looks around in confusion.

"Multi-storey parking lot. Cash only. Exactly what we need. And there's a T stop three blocks from here. We can leave our jackets in the car, grab some hats if we see some on the way."

"My god, you really are a criminal," Regina deadpans, but Emma could swear there's a hint of admiration in there.

"It's not that different to being a Girl Scout," Emma insists as she pulls into a spot and shrugs out of her jacket, tossing it into the backseat so that the sword is at least partially covered. "At least I'm always prepared."

"Well, dear," Regina says, throwing her jacket in too and hooking her purse over the shoulder of her white blouse. "I suggest you lead the way."