He isn't angry. He doesn't take the book away from Kara, though she watches him like a hawk from the moment they get home.

"Mommy, I'm sorry," she whispers tearfully as Jane tucks her into bed. "Nona asked and I-"

"No," Jane says, kissing her forehead. "You didn't do anything wrong, honey. You hear me? You did nothing wrong."

Kara's eyes are wide and shiny in the glow of the night light. "Mommy?"

"Yeah, bug?"

"I know that you wouldn't want to leave us behind," she says it so quietly, that Jane almost doesn't hear it.

"I know that Daddy lied. I'm sorry that we went with him."

Jane takes her daughter's face in her hands. "Listen to me, Kara, okay?"

A nod.

"If Daddy tells you to do something, and it's not dangerous, I want you to do it. Even if it means going away from me. Okay?"

"I don't want-"

"I want you to do it," Jane cuts her off again, "Because there is no way, ever, in the whole wide world, that I won't find my way back to you."

Kara sits up so she can hug Jane properly. They don't say I love you.

It sounds too much like a good-bye.

…

…

Maura rounds the corner, stepping into the little infirmary, and she hears the click and hiss of the door locking behind her.

She sees a Medical bed against the wall, and the man who is supposed to be the serial rapist lying in the bed underneath a thin cotton blanket.

There is a woman standing over him, her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Maura glances at her and then does a double take, thinking at first that her mind is playing tricks on her.

But then the woman turns, and there can be no mistaking her, though her brain refuses to compute it.

Jane.

Here.

Jane, from the clinic. With her jeans and t-shirts, and her long hair always down.

Here.

In front of her.

The brunette, for her part, looks just as shocked to see Maura, although her eyes flick up to Corporal Casey Jones, and her expression fades even more quickly to fear.

"Casey," it's clear that Jane wants this to be a command, but what comes out is a question, maybe even a plea.

"Jane," Casey says, and his voice is still gentle and soothing. "Are you surprised to see me?"

Jane looks between the two of them, clearly trying to place them together in a scenario that fits. Maura watches her go through several emotions, though she always seems to land back on fear, no matter how she fights it.

"What are you doing here?" she asks him.

Casey steps level with Maura, putting a strong hand on her shoulder. The movement makes Jane flinch.

"I brought someone along with me so that you wouldn't have to face Hoyt alone," he says. "Do you want to introduce yourself to Dr. Isles? Formally I mean."

Jane doesn't answer. She looks frozen in place, as though the shock of the moment has detached her from time.

"Allow me," Casey says as the silence goes on. "Dr. Isles, Maura, this is Detective Jane Rizzoli of the 12th precinct, Boston, Massachusetts.

Maura can't help her shocked expression. Puzzle pieces that were living in her brain, previously homeless, are now falling into place.

Detective. She's a detective.

"She's also my wife," Casey says like he can hear her thoughts. "Though recently, not by choice. That's why I brought you here, Maura, to see if we could clear up that little dilemma. See if some extra...convincing wouldn't bring my love around."

Maura's name seems to shake Jane from her haze of terror. She turns to look at the Corporal. Her husband.

"Casey," she says hoarsely. "Don't do this. Don't do this, okay? Whatever you want from me, that's fine. But Maura didn't do anything wrong."

Casey turns to look at her. "You're right, Jane," he says. "She didn't do anything wrong. Just like all the people you've hurt with your selfish ways. Did Hoyt's last victim do anything wrong?"

Jane's mouth sets into a straight line.

"What about that girl you saved last week from that horrible pedophile who just...happened to know her route home? What did she do to earn such a horrible fate."

Jane shakes her head, but her determination seems to be wavering.

Maura swallows hard.

"See, Jane," Casey says, sounding thoughtful, "I was talking to my friend Hoyt here, and I was telling him how I felt so betrayed. How I felt that despite giving you several reasons not to neglect or deny me, you never seemed to get the message."

"Casey," Jane says again, sounding desperate.

"But then Hoyt told me about how he operates. He told me about torturing couples, and about how, if you really want to expose someone's weakness, really exploit it. Then you have to hit them where it hurts.

Casey's hand suddenly moves from Maura's shoulder to her neck.

Maura hears Jane yell, "no!" and sees her lunge across the room at this man, who must be her husband. There is no other reason for this set up.

But Casey was anticipating Jane's move. Before she can even reach a hand towards him, he has pressed the taser into her chest.

Two short buzzes, and Jane slumps to the floor. Casey pulls two zip ties from the same pocket that held the taser.

"Please hold out your hands, Doctor," he says, and once he has her secured, he kneels them both down so that they can look over Jane's prone and heaving body.

"Well, Detective Rizzoli," Casey says softly. "I think we finally found the woman you would leave me for."

….

…

It is Saturday night, about four in the morning, and Maura is pushing the medical cart down the hall from room 227. The clinic's latest intake is a woman and her teenage daughter, both battered and scared to death.

Maura spent almost an hour with the pair, explaining the clinic's services, and what they could expect. Now she wheels the car back into the waiting area, expecting it to be completely deserted.

She is wrong. Jane is sitting on one of the little couches, cross legged, facing away from the reception desk.

"Jane," Maura says the words quietly, but the other woman still jumps, spinning at her name.

"Maura," she says, a little breathless. "Jeeze, you scared me. I didn't think anyone else was up."

Maura leaves the cart to come and sit next to Jane. "Late arrival," she explains. "What are you doing out here?"

"Riley snores," Jane answers with a chuckle. "If I don't get to sleep before him, it's a long night."

Maura smiles, but doesn't comment, and for a while they just sit there, in silence.
"Doctor?" Jane asks at length.

"Mmm?"

"Do you," she takes a deep breath. "Do you think my kids are okay?"

Maura turns to look at Jane, who is sitting forward, picking nervously at her nails. The scar on her cheek is faded, not nearly as noticeable at first glance as it had been during previous visits.

"They both seem to be bright," Maura begins, "well adjusted. Happy."

"No," Jane shakes her head. "I mean-"

"I know what you mean," Maura says gently. "And...I can't tell you that watching their mother get abused doesn't have a negative emotional effect."

"He doesn't do it in front of them," she protests.

Maura chances reaching out to take the other woman's hand. "Jane. You know that's not what I mean."

Jane takes a shaky breath. "I don't know what to do," she says, almost as though she's talking to herself. "What do I do?"

"Walk away," Maura says.

Jane makes a sound that is like laughing while choking. "I can't."

"Yes. You can," Maura says fiercely. "The clinic will help you. I will help you. You-"

"No!" Jane pulls her hands away, and puts them into her hair, like she's trying to hold her head together. "You don't get it."

Maura inches a little closer. "Help me understand," she says.

For a long time, Jane doesn't speak. Maura has just begun to think she has pushed to hard when Jane pulls in a breath.

"He does things," she says. "Bad things. To other people."

Maura blinks, digesting this information. "He-"

"It's my job to stop bad things from happening to other people," Jane says, cutting her off. "I'm supposed to protect others."

Maura has heard this line of reasoning before. She shakes her head. "You have to take care of you before you can help others, sweetheart," she says softly.

She doesn't realize she's used the endearment until she looks up to see Jane staring at her.

"Oh," she says. "I'm sorry. I-"

"No." Jane wipes angrily at her eyes. "No, I...no one has called me that in a long time."

Maura smiles, holding out her hands, waiting until Jane reciprocates.

"Maura?"

Her name, hesitation, and 10,000 questions.

Maura just nods, and brings each hand to her lips.

…

…

"Show her your hands," The order is accentuated with a little tap of his taser against her temple.

Jane blinks several times in quick succession.

She makes a sound that is almost a whimper.

Casey has already bound the doctor. She can't do anything but watch as Charles Hoyt lifts himself from the bed like a spectre from a horror movie. He shuffles over to them, his smile growing as he gets closer and closer.

"Come now, Detective Rizzoli," he says when he has reached her. "Don't be shy. Show the good doctor my work."

Jaw tight, eyes cast down to the floor, Jane holds up her own bound hands for Maura to look. And though she would give anything to be able to resist, Maura stares at Jane's palms. She stares at the scars, at the raised bumps on both the front and backs of her hands.

"She thinks you're so amazing," Casey sneers. "But you never told her about the time a serial killer had you pinned to the basement floor for three hours."

Jane makes the half whimper noise again. Her eyes have closed.

"You didn't even tell her that you were a detective. Why is that, Jane? Is it because you didn't want her looking up your name? Seeing what a shit cop you are?"

Maura feels tears in her eyes. She looks towards the door, locked and sealed, and Casey catches her looking.

"No one's coming, Dr. Isles," he says, sneering at her.

She realizes at once what is so familiar about him. His features are Riley's features, his mannerisms the same as those she's seen on Jane's son.

"You bit her," Maura says. It's the first thing she's said since coming face to face with Jane, and both Casey and Hoyt look at her, surprised.

"You bit her," She growls again. "Sometimes hard enough to draw blood."

Casey blinks at her, thoroughly caught off guard.

Maura finds that she cannot stop speaking. "You raped her. You took away her agency and her support system. You made her doubt herself. You tried to control her so completely that she would stop fighting you. You tried to make her give up. You tried to break her."

Casey has turned his full attention on her now. She can see in his face that her knowledge has thrown him.

"What do you know, you fucking bitch?" It is a lame retort, by any standards. Maura would laugh, if there were anything funny about this situation.

"She beat you anyway," Maura says. "What are you going to do tonight, Casey? Kill her? Have Hoyt kill her? Then she's free from you. Then she's completely out of your control." Maura makes sure that she's looking directly into his eyes.

"Then she wins for good."

This gives Casey pause, but for the first time, Hoyt makes a noise.

He laughs, a soft, wheezy chuckle that makes the hairs on the back of Maura's neck stand up.

"Oh, Dr. Isles," he says gently, like he is talking to a little girl. "We're not going to kill Jane."

He smiles at her, and somehow, she knows what's coming before it arrives.

"It's you we're going to murder today, doctor." Charles says. "Don't you see? It has to be you."

…

…

When did this happen?

Why didn't she do anything to stop it?

Is it unprofessional?

Does it put her in danger?

She should tell Susie, right? When a doctor begins to develop feelings for a patient, that means that any hope of an unbiased opinion goes directly out the window. So she should tell Susie in case there should ever come a time… When what?

It's not like the feelings are mutual, right? It's not like this woman, napping in her arms while her children are playing next door, is anything more than a frightened, battered woman who needs shelter.

She can be shelter while also having feelings, can't she? She should be able to walk that line, right?

No.

Oh God, no. It's so unprofessional it's laughable. It's so wrong, and horrible, and extremely exploitative. She will tell Jane when she wakes that she's crossed a line. That although the feeling of being trusted is better than any legal or illegal drug Maura could name, it isn't right.

It's not right.

It doesn't matter that it feels so right.

.

.

But then Jane will roll over in her arms, and her brow will crease, or her nose will twitch.

She will wake up and let Maura help her sit. Let her help fit the loose sweatshirt back over her t-shirt.

And nothing she thought before this will matter in the slightest.

…

…

"Hoyt! Don't you touch her!"

Maura cannot move. The stinging sensation on the side of her neck tells her that the scalpel she glimpsed has been put to use, and what little she can see of the room is not promising. Hoyt's face, so close to her own.

No sign of Jane.

"Okay, Casey," Jane, her voice high and thick. Full of tears. "Okay. You win. You win. Whatever you want. Just stop this now. Please. Don't hurt her. Don't let him hurt her. Casey. Please."

Charles is smiling at Maura, his teeth are straight, but off color. He brings the scalpel right up near her face so that she can see it.

"I win," he whispers.

And then, as though he cannot stop himself from gloating just a little bit more, he turns away from her.

Maura sees him look over his shoulder, his smile little kid wide.

"I win, Jane," he says. He holds the scalpel up in salute.

And that is the last thing that happens in any type of normal, regular speed fashion.

Jane makes a noise that is somewhere between a word and a primal, gut wrenching scream. The sound makes Maura close her eyes, because she is sure that it means Hoyt has raised his scalpel and is preparing to kill her.

She takes comfort in the thought that someone might make that sound for her; that Jane - seeing that Maura was about to be killed - could produce a cry that was at once heartbroken, and extremely full.

But she does not die.

She doesn't even come all that close.

Jane is stronger, it turns out, than anyone in the room gave her credit for.

Maura can hear the taser, though she can't lift her head to see who is wielding it, and who is on the receiving end. But she hears Jane's voice again, the hard, grunting force of effort as she talks and wounds at the same time.

"I. Fucking. Hate. You." Each word punctuated with a full stop.

It can only be Casey she is shocking. Her husband.

"This. Is. For. Mandy."

"This. Is. For. Emily."

Maura blinks heavily. She wants to cry, but it seems that her tear ducts have been frozen as well.

"NO!"

God that voice, that strength. Did she know it was there all along, and has only just decided to use it?

"I Win! And you're going to Hell alone."

In Psychology, Maura learned that a person addicted to gambling will sometimes see a losing streak as a sign that their luck is about to turn. The addict's brain compensates for the depression that often accompanies loss by saying 'hey! It's okay! This just means when you win, it will be huge.'

The burst of dopamine and serotonin that flood the senses when this random win finally occurs is often directly related to the length of the dry spell.

Maura thinks this disjointedly, wondering vaguely, just before she loses consciousness, what Jane's brain must look like, after a win this big.

…

…

"Get up! Get up! You're just going to stay down? You're that pathetic? Get up you stupid, fucking cunt."

Jane had stayed down, and stayed down, and stayed down. Willing herself into submission for the safety of her children, and her parents and her friends.

She thought of the people who died for her without even knowing her name, and the soft concern that she sees on her therapist's face every two weeks when he asks her, "And how about the anger? Are you still feeling volatile?"

Volatile? She's a fucking powder keg.

He puts his knee in the middle of her spine, and he leans right down to put his mouth against her ear and he says. "Get up. I dare you."

And she stays down.

…

But here is Casey, with his hand around her wrists, smiling at her like it's his birthday, and on the other bed is the doctor.

Maura

With Hoyt.

And he presses the scalpel to her neck enough to make her bleed. And Casey breathes against her ear.

"What does she taste like?"

And Maura's eyes blink up at the ceiling very fast, like she's trying not to cry. Jane remembers when they sat together on the big sofa in the Rec Room, watching Tangled with her children. The evil step mother was singing a song about domination. She was keeping her daughter under lock and key. When she got angry, her face contorted into one almost unrecognizable.

And when Jane had looked away from the screen, unable to bear it, Maura had fit her hand into the space between her shoulder and her ear, thumb running slowly just once, against her cheek.

"It's alright, darling," said absently, the doctor's eyes not coming off the screen.

What throw away affection, from a woman who barely knew her.

What amazing, overwhelming kindness, for a mother who couldn't find anymore to give.

"I'm gonna fuck her too." Casey's breath is hot on her face for a moment, and then he turns his head again to watch the show.

His weight shifts on top of her, holding her in place.

Stay down.

And what about those hands on her back, or the way she announced her every move when Jane couldn't see her. What about the way she'd been so fierce and so sad when she'd looked Jane in the eye and told her Casey was a liar.

"He's a liar!"

And what about her clinic, and her smile, and her safety.

What about the unfaltering belief she placed in Jane's ability when she said, quite simply,

'Walk away.'

Casey pulls her up, so that she can see Hoyt, almost on top of Maura on the other bed. Hoyt turns to look at her, leering and ecstatic.

He raises the scalpel in a half salute. "I win, Jane."

Jane gets up.