A/N: So the one thing I hate about writing fanfic as I go is that what you publish becomes law and you can't really change things once you've posted. But I'm breaking that rule for a minute because I realized I made a tiny error in my last chapter so I just wanted to clear things up. I mentioned that Jane had been friends with Casey for years before dating him, and I realized that I didn't really want that tiny detail in there, so for all intents and purposes, all you need to know about Jane and Casey right now is that they started dating senior year in high school.

Her room is cozy and silent, just the way she has grown to love it. She sits on the edge of her bed, clad in her soft pink robe, curling her feet against the downy comforter. She braids her damp hair, in two even plaits, just the way Miss Vonnie has taught her.

She lifts her head as she hears a soft rap on the door. "Come in," she speaks, just loudly enough to be heard. She expects it to be Miss Vonnie with her tea, but instead, her mother peers in around the doorframe.

"I thought I'd bring this for you tonight." Her mother brings the tea to the nightstand, placing the saucer gently against the mahogany surface. Maura shrinks back slightly, hugging her knees to her chest. Her mother's presence is startling, and suddenly the room feels a little colder.

"Thank you, Mother," she mutters, her voice dutiful, her body a little tense. She tries to remember her mother telling her she was adopted, but she cannot pinpoint a moment. She's always known, always known she didn't quite belong.

"Your father and I have been been thinking, Maura," her mother begins, sitting down carefully on the edge of Maura's bed. She's done up in a pantsuit, her hair fixed tightly against her neck, her makeup painted on with finesse. She had an exhibition tonight, which Maura is still too little to attend, she always tells her. Sometimes, though, she wonders what it would be like to be a part of her mother's world. "You'll be ten next week, the age I was when I attended Devereux Academy," her mother continues, naming her French boarding school fondly. "With the school year coming to a close, I thought it would beneficial to discuss the option." Maura glances up from her knees, a knot of heaviness in her chest. How far must her mother push her away? She already feels as though she's nothing more than an afterthought. "I just want what is best for you."

But Maura doesn't need what is best. What she simply wants is for someone to hold her.

XXX

Friday nights make her anxious, because she always feels this unspoken pressure to do something exciting with her life. But more often than not, she ends up alone, with only a mug of tea and a book for company. It doesn't usually bother her. She has learned to thrive on solitude, to appreciate the stillness, to bask in the silence.

But sometimes, the loneliness wins.

Tonight, Maura purses her lips in frustration, adjusting the throw pillow for the umpteenth time behind her back. She rubs her socked foot against her calf, rereading the same sentence multiple times, until the words throb against the page. Her tea is cold, but still filled to the brim, and as she takes a sip, it sloshes unpleasantly down her throat.

She's thinking about Jane.

She slams her book down in irritation, running her fingers through the length of her hair. She hates it. She hates that Jane has the ability to consume her; every part of the notion is irrational. Her devotion to Jane is premature - after all, she hardly knows anything about her. But what she does know entices her. Maura buries her face in her hands, because just thinking of Jane is making her smile like a lovesick school girl. She pushes her palms against her mouth, forcing the smile away, because she is being utterly absurd. Besides, Jane is an engaged woman. Maura knows how this game ends.

She takes her tea to the kitchen, dumping it down the drain, watching the small droplets of liquid cling to the stainless steel of the sink. Be reasonable, she demands of herself. Jane is a friend and nothing more.

She wishes the words didn't sound so devastating.

The doorbell startles her out of her frustration, giving her mind another task to focus on. She leaves the tea mug in the sink, smoothing down her cotton shirt and flexing her socked feet against the tiled floor. She inhales a breath, as she steps curiously toward the door. She opens it, cautiously, her hand falling away from the knob as she registers the figure on her welcome mat.

"Ian?"

He smiles at her, charming as ever, rubbing his thumb against his gruff neck, letting her process his arrival for a moment before he steps through the doorway. He engulfs her in tight embrace, and she stiffens for a slight moment, before letting her weight collapse against him. She lets out a small breath, her breath hitching as she expels it.

"You okay?" He mutters, his mouth brushing against her hair.

She nods, inhaling deeply, clinging to him a moment longer. "You just give exceptionally good hugs."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. He gives her a final squeeze. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too." As she breathes the words, they ache with genuineness. She's lucky to have Ian in her life, even if sporadically. She never meant to be friends with him, meeting him unexpectedly in college. She never meant to stay in touch with him, but she appreciates his unannounced visits more than she consciously realizes.

He follows her in, easily making himself at home on the couch. "Nice place you've got here," he nods, glancing around the modestly decorated apartment.

"Thank you," Maura dutifully responds. She joins him on the couch, sitting on the edge, leaving a good foot between them. "I do have to ask how you came across my address, though. I know I haven't been so good as to send you my latest living arrangements." Her tone is light and chiding, as a side of her emerges that only a rare few people are lucky to see.

"I stopped by your mother's house," he admits, looking almost a bit sheepish. He crosses his legs, settling deeper into the couch. "I thought it would be fun to surprise you." He chuckles, and so does she. "Also, I might have misplaced your number, seeing as a baboon stole my phone."

"A baboon?" Maura laughs, inching a little closer to him on the couch. She leans her elbow up against the back cushion, raising an eyebrow.

"You think I'm lying through my teeth, do you?" Ian shifts, unintentionally scooting closer to her. "I tell you, the little bastard stole my phone straight from my bag and scampered off with it before I could even properly manage to string together the appropriate profanities."

Maura rearranges her legs. She's now close enough to Ian that she can feel the heat radiating off his body. "So can I assume your encounter with a baboon means you finally made it Africa?"

Ian lets out a tiny sigh. "No, I just had a particularly negative experience at the zoo."

Maura's forehead knots solemnly. "Oh, I apologize, then-"

"Maura, Maura," Ian's laughing once again. "You take everything I say much too seriously. Of course I made it to Africa. And the experience was fantastic, minus the thieving baboon." He pauses briefly. "But you...let's talk about you now, shall we?" Ian prods, snaking an arm around her waist. She gladly exhales the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, letting her body fit against his.

"My life is hardly as fascinating as yours," she protests gently, but she continues. "I recently got a job down at the Boston Police Department, as an assistant to the medical examiner."

Ian can't help but to smile yet again. "I shouldn't be surprised...Maura Isles, Queen of the Dead. No wonder you're practically throwing yourself at me - you must be starved for live human interaction."

"I am not throwing myself at you!" Maura huffs lightly, but she burrows herself deeper into his embrace. "You just give exceptionally good hugs, remember?"

"I just dish out what I get," he tells her gently, kissing the top of her head. They're silent now, basking in familiarity of the moment. He never stays for long; there is something surreal about these fleeting moments, though they are always laced with traces of disappointment. She loves him, but she could never be in love with him.

"Have you heard from her?" Ian finally speaks, his voice a bit cautious.

Maura stiffens. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, because as taken aback as she is, she would be lying if she hadn't expected the topic to come up. "No." The ache from the memories are much fresher than she'd like to admit. Some days, she still feels like she's licking her wounds. "Have you?"

He pushes out a breath through his teeth. She braces herself.

"No."

There's a somberness left in the room, a taste of emptiness. She pushes away the unexpected influx of memories. Suddenly, she's thinking of Jane once again.

A/N: Feedback is always much appreciated!