A/N - Hello, readers. Here's the regularly scheduled update. Read, review, enjoy.

A month of mutual ignorance developed as the two conflicted women, mainly Jane, tried to focus on their own problems in their lives. From the constant sympathy that the injured detective received from her colleagues to the simple effort of returning to the rigors of never-ending law enforcement, Jane Rizzoli was already busy without involving Maura back into the mix. Each hoop she jumped in order to prove her readiness to return back to work, forced her to ignore the very thing that was still causing the brunette overwhelming anxiety, Maura Isles.

The last burning remnants of the summer sun worked through the slanted blinds in her apartment before slamming against her closed eyes. Jane ached to get back to the uncomfortable plastic chair facing the cheap wooden façade of her desk in the department. The familiar smells of overworked detectives struggling to establish connections with evidence to create some kind of a lead in a case was an acquired taste that Jane missed almost as much as Maura's presence. Being a homicide detective wasn't just a job done for a paycheck, it was her identity; not having her gold shield and gun was similar to being a ghost.

If I can't return to active duty soon…I think I might just keel over and die. There was a level of familiarity that developed each time Jane donned the comforting weight of the gold badge upon her belt and the holstered gun that had saved her life too many times to count. It gave her an all-access pass to the best social network that Jane could ever want; Frost, Korsak, Maura, hell, practically her entire family was wrapped up in the world of law enforcement. I need to be there…

Enough, Jane thought decisively. Shaking her head aggressively, the bored woman stood up from her all-to-familiar spot on her unmade bed before grabbing the sheets in an effort to start the motions of making her bed. Since being released from the hospital Jane had spent most of her time, when she wasn't enduring another mandatory session with Sluckey, staring at the television from the couch or tossing and turning in her cold, empty bed in an effort to ignore the phantom pains travelling through her stitched up wound. If I keep my mind busy, my recovery will be faster and I'll get reinstated for duty. That's two problems solved with one stone. I've got to get back to work.

As she tossed the dirty sheets off the bed after rustling in her tornado-strewn closet for a new pair of sheets, the annoying tinkling of her mother's ringtone echoed through the room. A loud groan of exasperation ran from the woman's throat. Damn it, Jane yelled inwardly, after finding herself trapped between the coagulated piles of disorganized clutter that had amassed in her closet. Maybe I should clean once in a while…this must be how it feels to be a "professional cleaner" on one of those compulsive hoarding TV shows.

Seconds of struggling against the monster of clutter that had firmly taken hold of her leg, the beginnings of unbearable pain shooting bullets into her mind. The pulsating pain increased in intensity with the ringing from her phone still echoing in the cluttered bedroom and, expectantly but not ungratefully, Jane was released from the clutter in an ungraceful trip out of her closet. With the ringing in her head and the pain subsiding in her body, she hardly noticed Joe Friday's tapping paws trotting up to Jane's tangled frame, dropping the vibrating cell phone in front of the homicide detective.

"Mom," brimming sarcasm evident as Jane muttered, pulling Joe away from her face, "please, stop calling me every hour, on the hour. Sometimes I find myself wishing I was deaf."

Angela's electronic sharp intake of breath made Jane's eyes roll upward. "Honey, I'm worried about you. Am I not allowed to be worried about the only daughter I have who persists on throwing herself in dangerous situations to prove her self-worth? Mothers aren't like bullets, Jane; you can't just remove them and live with the scar like nothing happened."

"Mom…the last thing I want to hear right now is anything concerning bullets since, last time I checked, I was shot. You're hovering again, by the way."

"If hovering over you means that I'm helping you realize how idiotic you can be, then, yes, I'm guilty. It's just that I'm been so worried about you since, well, you know, the shooting and I can't help feeling what I feel, Jane, you understand that-"

Sighing, Jane held the cell phone from her ear as she began to multi-task on making her bed with the fresh sheets she had managed to find while ignoring the endless concerns of her mother. It wasn't that she didn't care about her mother but it just wasn't important to her at the moment. She didn't want to talk about her feelings concerning what happened, Jane had mandatory therapy sessions to talk about all of that emotional nonsense. All she wanted was normalcy, her identity, and Maura back in her life. Is it that too much to ask?

"So, how's Maura doing?" Angela said innocently.

"Why do you ask? Did she say something to you?' Jane said interrogatively as a sudden wave of anxiety threatened to wash up her parched throat. "Not that I care or anything, I just thought maybe she had talked to you since you don't usually bring her up."

"She hasn't said anything to me recently." Jane's mother said quizzically before stopping suddenly in realization. "Oh, Janey, what have you done to her this time?"

In shock, Jane nearly dropped the phone from the crook of her neck after her shoulder dropped slightly. How does she always know what's going on in my life? Is it some kind of mothering instinct or is it just because she's so damn nosey all the time?

"Mom, nothing is going on, okay? I just…thought she had said something to you since you were the one to bring her up in the first place." Jane sighed, her mind wandering back to the same woman she had tried so hard to ignore. "Are you going to tell me why you called or are you expecting me to guess?"

Right on cue, a loud banging came from her door. Hanging her head, Jane stopped the process of making her bed and began shaking her head. "I'm not surprised."

Jane opened her apartment door with reluctance and immediately greeted the overwhelming presence of her mother's embrace. The forgotten cell phone hit the slightly scuffed hardwood floor as Jane half-heartedly squirmed against her mother's tight grip.

"I'm so glad to see you outside of a hospital bed. The last time I saw you...you were in a coma and when I heard you left the hospital, I just figured you would call but, of course you didn't. Why do you always want to do things by yourself?" Angela tearfully exclaimed against Jane's ear as the breeze from the hallway of the apartment building mingled happily with the slightly stale air of the apartment. "I've neglected you, honey, but now I'm going to take care of you like I should have been doing all along. What have I done to deserve a reckless homicide detective as a daughter? Jane, you make me so crazy with worry but, I'm just…so glad you and Frankie are alright."

Everything was too much for Jane to deal with, overwhelming her hardened demeanor. Moving of their own volition, Jane's arms moved toward her mother's back, returning the passionate embrace. Exhaustion, fear, pain, frustration, annoyance, and sadness radiated from the slim brunette, meeting the welcoming acceptance of her mother's love.

"Mommy," Jane whispered weakly, nearly collapsing into the comforting shielding embrace of her mother. "I feel so lost."