They arrived at the scene shortly after seven in the morning. Jane was quiet in the passenger seat as Frost drove, slowly nursing a cup of coffee, her eyes back behind sunglasses to relieve her pounding head. She was shaky and her blood sugar was low, but food still didn't hold appeal and the craving for venom was back. Jane did her best to ignore it, instead pressing her forehead to the cool window, watching the sleepy, dirty Boston streets pass them.

"I'm surprised you came back," Frost spoke up.

He seemed to catch on that silence was best but came at her gently with conversation. Whether Jane wanted it or not, Barry Frost was slowly becoming her ally. In fact, he even held the possibility of friendship.

"Me too," Jane replied. Her voice was rough against her throat. Her mother often complained it was because Jane was a colicky, inconsolable baby.

Frost looked back at the road, allowing his white teeth to flash behind his lips briefly. "You must really care about the case," he said.

"Something like that…" Jane murmured.

Her thoughts were occupied with Maura Isles. She wondered if the doctor was awake or still drifting in her perfect sleep. Jane spent the better part of the morning straining to try to remember anything from her days of detox. Doing her best understand why Maura would help her. Jane decided she was truly pathetic or Maura was a saint. Or a third option; there was a trace of understanding and caring between them that neither understood.

The body was in Somerville, another prominent mob territory. Jane could already see the yellow tape marking off the Old Powder Mill. As Frost put the car into park, Jane was hit by a sense of familiarity. While she'd never spent time with homicide, the investigations during narcotics usually led them to South Boston where the bodies were frequent and mob related.

"You coming?" Frost asked.

He straightened the light blue tie around his neck and pulled on his blazer. Jane cleared her throat. "Yeah," she managed.

Jane followed Frost closely through the officers and scene, not wanting to be questioned for not having a badge or gun. Granted, by the looks she was receiving, everyone knew who she was. Word spread quickly of Jane Rizzoli and Barry Frost after the hospital hostage crisis. When she approached the blocked off area, the patrol officer simply nodded and lifted the tape.

"Detective Frost," a near jolly voice greeted.

As Jane pulled on a blue rubber glove – her casted hand was excluded from the process - she watched a round man with gray hair and a small beard exchange handshakes with Frost. The two smiled and chuckled, clearly friends from before. Jane thought she recognized the detective, but wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"Jane," Frost said happily. He was approaching with the other detective, both of them grinning like idiots. "I'd like you to meet Detective Vince Korsak."

Jane gave a slow nod and took the glove off her hand before shaking his. "Nice to meet you," she managed. Her voice was low and scrappy, perhaps ruder than she intended.

If Korsak was offended, he didn't show it. He simply nodded back. "The pleasure is all mine. I've heard lots of good things about you," Korsak said.

Jane did her best not to scoff. "I find that hard to believe."

"I remember when you started with Narcotics. First female on the squad. Youngest promoted to detective," Korsak told her. "Truth is I was always hoping the homicide department would somehow steal you for our team."

"I never thought of it," Jane replied. The glint in the man's eyes made her feel guilty and she cleared her throat. "No offense."

"None taken," Korsak smiled. "Having you consulting is good enough for now. Who knows? Maybe you'll find you like it more than you thought."

Jane gave a shrug and slowly pulled her glove back on, gesturing over toward the body. "What do we have?" she asked.

"Caucasian male, 27-years-old. A couple of joggers found him this morning," Korsak said.

Frost and Jane slowly approached the body. The evidence collection team was already snapping photographs. Numbers were put in place near the scene, marking a few pieces of loose change that had fallen from the man's pocket, a cigarette but nearby and other random fibers and blood stains that signaled activity. The medical examiner slid out of the way for the detectives.

Jane glanced at Frost. "You going to go?" she asked.

The young detective bashfully shook his head. "You go ahead," he said.

"It's your case," Jane replied in confusion.

"He's afraid he's going to lose his breakfast," Korsak whispered.

Jane's eyes widened in near outrage as she glared over at a blushing Frost. "Are you kidding?"

"Jane…"

"I'll do it then," she said gruffly. Pulling down on the cuff of the glove one more time, she squatted down at the body. A white sheet had already been pulled over the corpse. He was starting to smell. By the stench alone she knew he'd been there since at least dawn. She assumed he'd been killed in the night or very early morning, with few witness and the shield of darkness.

The victim twisted in an unnatural way, as if he'd fallen forward instead of backward. In fact, Jane was sure of it as she saw his forehead touching the pavement and his legs flopped over to the side. A clean, single, bullet hole marked the space between his eyes. It was a perfect shot through his forehead and out the back of his skull. Jane did her best to ignore the memories it provoked and examined the rest of him quickly and without disturbing the body.

She got up to her feet after a few moments, doing her best to focus on the case and cause of death, rather than the sudden, heavy beating of her heart. She swallowed past a thick lump in her throat.

"It was execution style," she announced.

Korsak smirked as Frost grew more serious. "What makes you say so?"

"Markings on his knees and jeans. They made him kneel and shot him through the head. That's Doyle's style. Only comes from him or one of the higher captains within the ranks," Jane explained. She fidgeted with her hands in anxiety.

"What makes you so sure?" Korsak asked.

"Because I've seen it before," Jane answered.

The words put a sour taste in the back of her mouth and suddenly she felt sorry for giving Frost a hard time. It was Rafael she saw. Rafael with the single, clean bullet through the center of his head. Jane carefully backed away from the scene, swallowing past the nausea and ignoring the shake of her hands.

She did her best to sneak away without dramatics, slipping past the patrol officers as Frost and Korsak took more time to examine the body. She stopped near one of the familiar officers, dressed in blues and keeping a close eye on the boundaries of the scene.

"Do you have a cigarette?" she asked.

The man, who clearly recognized her, responded with a surprised look. "You smoke Detective?"

"This isn't a conversation," Jane sighed. "I know you smoke like a chimney, O'Keefe. Let me bum one."

The officer blushed slightly before looking over his shoulder and around at the other officers. He reached into his pocket and offered Jane his lighter and a cigarette. She gave him a brief nod before wandering further from the scene, leaning up against a tree to hide from the rest of the group in the distance.

The first take of tobacco brought an unexpected reprieve. Jane usually hated the thought of cigarettes. In the past she only smoked them when drunk or high but now she depended on the sticks of tobacco as the only legal form of calming she could afford. She blew slow clouds of smoke, doing her best to focus her energy on forgetting about the images that so unrelentingly haunted her. The images that would have usually drove her to the bottle.

"You alright?"

Jane nearly groaned at the sound of the man's voice. Ten minutes into knowing Vince Korsak and Jane was already falling under the man's radar. She didn't want attention nor friends, and he seemed to be making such simple requests impossible to come by.

"Fine," she told him.

Korsak leaned against the tree next to her. "I think you're right about Doyle. I think we should bring him in for questioning…" he revealed.

Jane did her best to remain unaffected. It was a compliment to know he trusted her early on. He may have been a nuisance but it was a relief he valued her opinion. Many detectives, especially the older ones with some pull, hated the thought of a young detective weighing in on their case. Jane, especially as a young woman, was frequently known for brushing her colleagues the wrong way with her strong opinions and tendency to overstep during work. Korsak however showed no such annoyance.

"He's not the most cooperative in an interrogation room," Jane replied. "But I think maybe we could get a read on him. Or some sort of information. Do you think it's connected to the other murders?"

Korsak sighed. "I have my theories," he replied. "But I'm more interested in yours."

She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and put it between lithe fingers. She watched the smoke float from the end, up toward the sunny skies that were making it a warm morning. Jane gave a slow nod.

"I think so. If someone really is after Doyle's daughter, perhaps he's out to get a little revenge of his own. He's taken plenty of steps to protect her, I don't know why he'd stop now."

"We'll know more once we identify the vic," Korsak nodded. "But I think it could give us a lead on our killers."

"Killers?" Jane asked.

"Whoever it is can't be working alone. They had the resources take the ICU hostage. And our guy in custody may not be talking but it's clear he's not working for himself."

The two waited in the silence, allowing their minds to work through the many possibilities that were now laid out in their investigation. Jane went back to smoking, though she could feel Korsak's eyes on her, ready to say something but hesitating. She hoped it wasn't some scolding about how cigarettes were bad for her health.

"I've heard a little bit about what you're going through…" he started.

Jane gave a low groan and rolled her eyes.

"Sean Cavanaugh and I go way back," Korsak replied. "He was my partner about three decades ago."

"Well he better not have assigned you to babysit me. I don't need that…"

"Not at all. I just want you to know, if you need to talk I'm around," Korsak said. "Believe it or not, I might understand. Sean's seen me through three divorces. The first time because of the job, the second because I drank too much."

Korsak's humility and honest, eased some of Jane's uncertainty. She cleared her already scrappy throat. "What about the third one?"

"She was just crazy," Korsak replied with a smirk.

Jane managed a small laugh and Korsak gave a hearty chuckle of his own. Before more could be exchanged, Jane's phone gave an abrupt ring at her belt. She recognized it as Frankie's number and while ignoring him seemed easier, she answered the call.

"Rizzoli," she said.

"You're alive," her brother replied on the other line.

Jane nervously bit on her lip, nearly squeezing the cigarette between her fingers. "I'm out at a case," she told him.

"Yeah, I get it. We can talk later. This is different," Frankie told her. She could sense the hurt in his voice and it put a pit in her throat. She'd never wanted to hurt Frankie. Especially not like this. "It's about Dr. Isles…."

Her heart instantly dropped into her stomach. Even Korsak could see her panic and his brow lowered in worry. With no control over her emotions or impulse, Jane nearly spat into the phone.

"Is she okay? What's wrong? Where is she?" she asked at rapid speed.

"She's fine," Frankie assured quickly. His voice softened in sympathy. "She just left the house and is at work."

"At the hospital?" Jane asked. "She's supposed to be under police protection. She can't be out like that…"

"We tried to explain that to her but she was insistent that she had work to do at the hospital," Frankie said. She could hear him breathe uncomfortably on the other end. "You two seem to know each other. I thought maybe you could talk some sense into her."

"I'll be there in five minutes," Jane said. "Don't let her out of your sight."

She hung up the phone quickly, stashing it in the slip at her belt. She was ready to sprint to her car and scold the doctor. More than that, she was ready to see her for any reason possible. Just hours apart and Jane was hungry for another glance of her face and missing the sound of her voice. She was so focused on the thought of Maura that she hardly noticed Korsak.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Jane put her cigarette out in the grass and nodded. "Dr. Isles isn't listening to her protection detail. I'm going to see if I can help."

Korsak's eyebrows narrowed in confusion but he gave a slow nod.

"I'll meet up with you at the station."

Since Jane wasn't authorized to drive a BPD issued car, she hitched a ride with the patrolman who so generously allowed her to smoke another one of his cigarettes on the way. She bounced her legs with anxiety, heart racing not from the terror of Maura being in danger – because truthfully there was no imminent danger – but from the thought of seeing her face again. She longed for the smell. She longed for her touch. Jane wasn't sure what was making her so needy for the woman, so desperate to see her. But the feeling only seemed to exemplify each mile closer they came to the hospital.

"You really didn't have to come all the way over here," Frankie told her.

He met her in the lobby, hands on his belt, face softened but still suspicious.

"She shouldn't be here," Jane replied.

They went for the elevator together, Frankie clearly weighing the options of speaking. Finally as they stepped in and the doors closed, he cleared his throat.

"I'm not stupid. And I'm not just your kid brother," Frankie told her.

Jane could feel his puppy-dog brown eyes warming her face. She looked over in slight shame, chewing on her lower lip.

"You know what happened?" she asked.

"Yes. And I wasn't surprised," Frankie said. "I know you haven't been the same for the last year. I knew you were struggling. I wish you wouldn't have been too proud to come to me."

Her voice came out scrappy and bashful. "I'm sorry, Frankie."

The elevator doors dinged open on the surgical floor. The Rizzolis ambled down the narrow hall, decorated with children's drawings and peaceful landscapes. Overstuffed armchairs filled a lobby with coffee tables covered in old magazines. The two waved past the nurse's station and to the main doors.

Jane pulled on the heavy double barrier and Frankie nearly laughed at her expense. "You need a key card to get in. Otherwise the nurse's buzz you through."

"That's ridiculous," Jane scoffed.

The doors finally swung open via automation after Frankie waved his badge at the front desk. Jane momentarily shivered at the sight of the familiar setting. It wasn't the same as where the hostage crisis took place; that wing was still under lockdown. But the roaming nurses and doctors, patients and white halls were all reminiscent of the shooting.

When she saw Maura's golden head of hair leaned over paperwork at the nurse's station, those memories ceased. She would remember the moment in the most trying of times. Maura's hair pulled sloppily behind her head, small mint green scrubs over her shoulders, and a lab coat draped across her in authority. Her mouth stayed in a tight line, hazel eyes narrowed in focus. Jane felt her entire core warm with an arousal that nearly embarrassed her.

"Dr. Isles," Jane started.

The woman hadn't even noticed she was there and looked up in surprise. Her golden eyes glowed as they latched onto Jane's face. "Detective Rizzoli," she greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to ask you the same question," Jane replied. She leaned against the nurse's station as Maura set down her pen. The doctor did her best to hide the heat that warmed up from her chest. The purr of the detective's voice, her sexy strut through the hospital and her casual lean next to her made Maura lose her breath. She defaulted to business to hide her nerves.

"I have work to do here. I'm the Chief Surgical Resident. I have patients and interns and…"

"You're also the target of a murderer who is still on the loose," Jane said seriously.

Maura pursed her small lips in a face of defiance that made Jane's heart melt. She folded her arms across her full chest. "I recall you leaving rather quickly this morning," Maura told her. "And as your doctor I wouldn't say you're cleared for duty."

"It's different, Maura," Jane cut her off.

"How?"

"Because I'm not going to stop until I know you're safe. It's one thing for me to go consult on this case. But if anything happens to you…" Jane stopped. Just the thought made her lose her breath. She narrowed her brow against the words. "If anything happens to you, I wouldn't forgive myself. I can't do my job, I can't be good if I don't know you're being protected."

Maura frowned. "You can't be certain I'm in any danger here."

Jane's brief laugh startled the doctor. "This is only the place where gunmen took you hostage and tried to kill us all," she reminded her. Jane glanced around. "I don't even know how you can stand being here…"

The doctor sensed Jane's sudden post-trauma and cleared her throat. It was difficult for her to come back. Jane Rizzoli wasn't the only one with nightmares. In fact, one would argue Maura, who'd never seen the blood and felt the adrenaline of battle, was far more shaken than the detective.

"That's why I had to come back," Maura confessed. Her soft voice forced Jane to look back at her face, diving straight into it with her piecing brown stare. "This is…this is my home, detective. This is the one place where I feel normal. People respect me here. This is where I save lives; where I serve my purpose. I don't want what happened here or Paddy Doyle or whoever is after me to take that away."

Suddenly it seemed the entire commotion of the hospital faded around them. There were no more doctors or patients. No more horrid memories. Just Jane and Maura; vulnerable. Jane hated feelings, hated talking things through, but Maura Isles baring her soul so purely made her shiver. She wanted to pull the woman into her arms and take her mouth hostage with her own. Jane swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. The passion Maura spoke with was something she understood. Something she hadn't felt in a while for the job, but something she remembered. Something she longed for again. It was a chilling inspiration. A chilling reminder of who she was so desperately trying to be again. And like so many other times in the last few days, it seemed Maura Isles was the person destined to help her get there.

"I understand," Jane managed. Her eyes twinkled as she softened with each word. "You're brave, Maura. That's why this bastard will never take this away from you. But right now, you have to trust me."

Maura looked away, back down at the chart in front of her. Jane could relate to the dedication. The stubbornness. Perhaps they had more in common than she thought.

"I know I may not be the first person you'd be apt to trust. I'm working on redeeming my track record," Jane smirked.

Just before Maura managed a response, another doctor suddenly made an appearance behind her. Jane instantly felt the hair on the back of her neck stiffen as he cleared his throat. "Is everything alright Dr. Isles?" he asked.

Maura gave him a brief nod. "Yes, thank you Dr. Hoyt," she replied. "I'm just speaking with Detective Rizzoli."

Jane scaled him up and down. The man's beady eyes tore into her with hidden malice. Jane's senses were immediately on fire upon seeing him.

"Will you be joining me for surgery?" Dr. Hoyt asked Maura.

Jane felt like interjecting but stayed quiet, continuing her observation of the scrawny surgeon. His face was slender, nose pointed, and hair a blonde so light that it looked white. His voice hissed out like a snake's.

"I'm afraid not," Maura replied. She seemed easy around the surgeon, which Jane took as a good sign; or perhaps she was simply naiive. "I have to be returning home. But thank you for asking me to assist."

"Of course," Dr. Hoyt nodded.

In an instant he turned to leave; but not before leveling Jane's eyes one last time. She kept her jaw hitched, knuckles turning white against her clenched fist.

"Are you coming?" Maura asked.

"What?" Jane stammered. She hesitantly pulled her gaze away from Hoyt's backside to look down at Maura.

"You're not here to escort me home?"

"Of course," Jane said.

Perhaps if she wasn't so captivated by Hoyt she would have noticed the slightest hint of flirtation in Dr. Isles' voice. Or the smile that brushed her lips as Jane started on a departure with her. Instead the detective glanced over her shoulder as they walked, just in time to find Dr. Hoyt staring right back at her. His eyes dead.

Jane knew in her very gut, that something about him was the key to her case.

"Who is he?" Jane asked when they were in her car. The patrol car followed close behind them.

Maura frowned. "Who?"

"That surgeon…" Jane mumbled.

"Dr. Charles Hoyt. He's a cardiothoracic surgeon," Maura explained. She was disappointed this was where the conversation took them but then felt equally embarrassed for caring so much. Maura cleared her throat. "He's a very good mentor. I hope to specialize in cardiothoracic surgery as well."

Maura glanced away from the road and at Jane who seemed to be tangled deep in thought.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Jane answered quickly. She looked over at Maura for the first time since leaving the hospital, allowing herself to indulge one more time. "How are you?"

"I was better at the hospital. I can't take being in my house much longer."

Jane swallowed past her guilt. "Hopefully this will all be over soon," she told her.

The doctor did her best to refrain from snipping back. Maura hated being told what to do and denied her rightful place in the hospital. The one place that brought her any reprieve. Instead she turned her attention to the only other thing – well person – that seemed to instill a similar feeling.

"How was your first day back?" Maura asked.

Jane smiled a cheesy smile that made Maura grin back. The detective lounged lazily in the passenger seat, aviator sunglasses pulled over her eyes. She was sexy and cool and casual in a way that Maura remembered admiring in high school.

"I started the day with a breathalyzer test and a dead body," Jane smirked. "They gave me a nametag in place of my badge and gun; and I could use a drink."

Maura shivered slightly at the last part. "You know, you may consider going to an AA meeting. It's good to have a safe, therapeutic space to help through cravings or …."

"No, no AA," Jane snapped. "I'm not going to be one of those people who has to go share their sob story in a room of strangers. I can do this on my own."

"Alright then," Maura said simply. She turned her attention back to the road, keeping her hands clenched around the steering wheel in silence.

Jane looked down at her hands, suddenly desperate to get her attention back. To make her happy with her.

"Thank you," Jane said suddenly. Maura was surprised but stayed still. "For caring."

"Of course," Maura replied. "You were my patient. I'll always want you to be healthy."

Jane could have buried herself in shame and embarrassment. It was worse than being hated by Maura Isles. To simply be her patient was an unexpected low.

"Right, your patient," Jane repeated. She glanced back out the window.

Maura was off put by the staid sound of Jane's voice and cleared her throat. Perhaps she'd missed an important social cue. She did her best to fumble past the mistake. "You said you found another body? Is it related to me?"

"In a way," Jane said hesitantly. "We believe it was the work of Doyle's men. We'll be bringing Paddy in for questioning."

"Oh," Maura murmured.

Jane watched as the doctor's face twitched with a combination of perplexity and hurt. She felt bad for revealing the fact.

"I'm sorry, I know he's your father."

"He's not my father," Maura snapped.

The detective jumped at the sudden fierceness. Maura blinked in rapid succession, nervously squeezing the wheel and keeping her eyes on the road. She chewed on her lower lip as a blush warmed her cheeks. She was too embarrassed to look at Jane. Too emotional for her own good.

Rather than pull away or apologize, Jane watched the doctor through shaded eyes. "Have you even met him?" she asked.

The question only irked Maura further, sending heat up her chest and tightening it beneath anger. She shook her head. "No," Maura breathed.

"You could see him, you know. When we bring him in, through the interrogation room and …."

"Why do you think I would want to see him?" the doctor nearly hissed.

Jane shrugged. "I don't know. He's still your father. I understand, my dad left my mom. But he's still my dad."

"It's not the same thing," Maura nearly shouted again but held it in. Her cheeks were red with rage. "You know, nothing about this, detective. You know nothing about me. I helped you, but it doesn't give you any right to get involved with my life."

Rather than show her surprise or hurt, Jane scowled back. "Like you've so conveniently thrown yourself into mine?" she growled. "I was just trying to be helpful."

"Helpful?" Maura repeated.

The car jerked as the doctor roughly slammed on her breaks in front of the mansion at Beacon Hill. Jane didn't realize they were at Maura's home until that moment.

"How about you take care of yourself? Go to an AA meeting? Because I can't keep going on like this," Maura stammered. She was pink all over, huffing uncontrollably as she sat in the driver seat, staring desperately at Jane's astonished face. She was no longer the composed and cold doctor known at the hospital. She was no longer the timid, uncertain girl in her kitchen, avoiding any possible social miscue she could. She was raw and honest and Jane felt like she was meeting Maura Isles all over again.

All she could manage was a slow breath. "Keep going on like what?"

"What?" Maura repeated. She immediately shook her head, one hand still gripping the steering wheel. "What? Worrying about you. You can't just run off in the early hours of the morning after two days of detox. You were all I could think about all day, even at the hospital. Even when I have patients that I have to care for…"

"I thought I was a patient," Jane replied hoarsely. Somewhere in the tension she'd lost her voice. Her heart was racing. A tingle started in on her inner thigh.

Maura nodded. "You are! You are," she repeated in rapid succession. The doctor's gaze settled out the windshield, hand still nervously wrapped on the wheel. Her chest heaved under her scrubs still on from the hospital. "But you're more too, Jane. You should know that."

"Dr. Isles…I mean, Maura…"

The doctor was already out the driver side door, only pausing momentarily for a last comment. "You shouldn't smoke cigarettes. They're unattractive. And bad for you," she clipped.

Jane sat in awe as the woman disappeared, slamming the door before the detective could spout a word. She leaned back on the passenger seat and pulled in a long, soothing breath. Her heart was still racing, hands trembling, and as she watched the front door close behind Maura Isles, she came to an earth shattering realization. She already wanted the doctor back after just a moment apart.

It was her new cocaine. An addiction Jane had no intention of shaking.

This is a slower burn than I anticipated or wanted but I'm trying to build the attraction/make this realistic. I hope you're still enjoying! The romance will pick up soon, I promise. Thanks for reading and reviews are appreciated. ~ Sam