A/N: The reviews on this story have been so unexpectedly spectacular! I cannot express enough how much I appreciate the support. On this site I've received some of the highest quality feedback a writer can hope for, and the feedback demonstrates that I have readers who are invested in the story, which is the strongest motivator for me. So please, don't stop! Keep reading, keep loving our ladies for who they are and letting them do their thing. And please keep writing in to let me know what you think! I love to hear from you. I truly do.

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter to you, but life has been a hectic mess - and not all bad - lately, and finding time to sit down and hash things out on my computer keys has been a challenge. But I finally made some time and ended up cranking out a bunch more work than I anticipated, so I've got a couple of chapters headed your way very soon! Yay for back-to-back updates! Anyway, your patience with my sporadic updating is saintly and much appreciated by yours truly. Enjoy!

"Any hits on that BOLO?" Jane strode into the bullpen with a file folder hanging loosely from her hand, and coffee clutched in the other. The air conditioning system groaned through the vents as it kicked on for the first time that morning. Fans buzzed on desks, and as she passed Korsak's work space, air from the two fans he had standing guard against the unyielding humidity lifted raven waves from her shoulders. For a moment, she looked almost like her old, fiery self.

She reached her own desk, daring only a cursory glance at the neighboring desk where her partner used to be. She perched herself on the edge of her chair and leveled her dark gaze at the sergeant.

Korsak returned her stare with an even gaze of his own. "Jane, you've been asking every day for three whole weeks whether we've gotten hits and the answer is always –"

"– no." She sighed. "I know." She rubbed her forehead.

"I talked to Martinez and Frankie earlier," he offered. "They said that, from what they've gathered about this group, the guy we're looking for –,"

"– who killed three of our best and promptly slipped through our fingers?" Jane interjected hotly.

Korsak nodded. "One and the same. Get this – they're telling me he was a CI."

Jane slumped back in her desk chair. Crestfallen. "But they've said before that with known ties to local gangs and the cartels trying to make an in here, he's in our system, right? He shouldn't be that hard to find."

"To find, not really, no. But to make a move? Jane, Martinez said these cartels have been working the entire eastern seaboard for months now, apparently in efforts to traffic more drugs across more state borders all up and down the east coast." Korsak shrugged, clearly feeling defeated himself. "He's likely found away north or south of here, and in either case –,"

"He's out of our jurisdiction. Damn it." She resisted the urge to try heaving her desk on its end. "But you can't blame a girl for hoping," she added gruffly, yanking open the top left drawer of her desk and pulling out a hair tie. She deftly swept her hair into a ponytail and shrugged out of her blazer. Summer in Boston left her feeling sticky and restless, but it was the one time of the year that she suffered minimal pain in her hands. The only time she felt any serious discomfort was whenever a storm cell moved in. She loved listening to thunder and rain when it came some evenings, but Maura had once explained that "significant changes in barometric pressures – such as precede the approach of a summer storm – often exacerbate the symptoms of arthritis patients," and were likely the cause of the twinges she'd feel in her hands on those rainy days in summer. The rest of the time her hands felt practically normal. The warmth agreed with them, whereas the cold did not. And for that small respite in the midst of her emotional ordeal, she was grateful.

Wonder how she's doing, Jane thought as she rubbed her palms together and logged in to her email. She hadn't really spoken to Maura in weeks. Not about anything that mattered. She kept their conversations succinct and limited to case-related topics. She told herself couldn't handle the probing stares and gentle touches that asked what Maura was afraid to ask with words.

But if Jane was honest with herself, she would concede that it was her own fear that kept her away. Maura's mere presence made her feel things that permeated even through her grief…

"Good morning, Jane."

Jane looked up from her email inbox to find Maura looking stunning but a little tired in a sky blue silk blouse, khaki pencil skirt and nude pumps. Her tone was forced, professional. It hurt, Jane had to admit, but it was easier to cope with than the softness and warmth in her voice that made Jane deeply conscious of how much pain she was in. Maura's ability to see past her façade made it impossible to deny how vulnerable she felt. Bare, exposed, weak. Jane was able to keep the true depths of her grief hidden from most, but not Maura. Never Maura. Maura knew the extent of her hurt.

Maura had power over her.

"Hi," Jane replied hoarsely.

Maura hesitated a moment, appearing to struggle with keeping up the pretense of businesslike cordiality. Then she stepped forward, dropping the Dr. Isles mask back over the flicker of concern and extending the clipboard she'd carried in on her arm. "The results came in for the tox screen you asked me to run. For the Felton case." Setting the clipboard on the edge of Jane's desk, Maura pointed to a figure on the chart. "You were right about the traces of oxycodone in the second victim's system."

Jane's eyes skimmed over the chart then darted back to Maura's face. Her expression was impassive, but the hazel eyes couldn't quite resist begging Jane to speak, to open up.

For a moment, the detective was tempted. Exhaustion made her want so badly to give in.

You give in now, you lose your momentum, she thought. You lose momentum, and you'll never get going again. Forward movement is the only thing keeping you alive. You have to keep moving for Frost.

"'Kay, thanks. I'll take a closer look."

Maura looked confused for a moment. Jane despised her own ability to catch all those in-between moments where Maura let the mask slip. It made it that much harder to keep her own mask in place. But just as quickly as it fell, the pretense was restored. She gave a stiff nod and turned on her heel.

As soon as Maura was out of the bullpen, Jane caught Korsak staring at her. "What did I do?"

Korsak scrambled for a quick answer. "It's just…have you two really spoken since the funeral?"

"Yes," Jane said, indignation sharpening her voice in spite of herself.

Korsak cocked a skeptical grey brow. "About anything other than cases."

"Ye –," Jane realized there was no pulling one over on Korsak. She sighed and passed her hand roughly over her face. "No."

"I hate to pry but, did something happen between you and Maura?"

"No, not really. Not exactly. It's…complicated." She huffed out another sigh. "It's not just her. I haven't really talked much…to anyone."

"Your mother?"

Jane shook her head, slowly sliding her face down into her palms. Hiding.

"Frankie?"

"Nope." She slumped a little further in her desk chair.

Korsak hesitated, probably unsure whether he wanted to hear her response to the next name. "Casey?" He winced.

Her voice was muffled. "God…no. I kept telling him I needed space and he finally took me literally. He's been," she grimaced as she looked up at Korsak, ashamed of her inability to maintain healthy relationships, "He's staying at a hotel. We haven't really spoken."

"Jesus, Jane. How long?"

"Couple weeks?" she offered weakly. "Wasn't long after the funeral." She propped her chin wearily on a fist. "I'm just…we're all dealing with a lot of shit. And…I don't even know anymore." She buried her face in her hands.

"Jane."

"Mmph."

"Jane, look at me."

She begrudgingly lifted her head.

"I know it's hard. I know you'd rather not talk about it because it hurts." He shrugged. "I get it. I do. But you can't keep shutting people out. It's not healthy."

"Do you know how many times I've heard that already?" she growled. "You sound like Maura." Exasperated with his look of concern, she rolled her eyes. "I can't talk about it, Korsak, because I wasn't there. I wasn't there, Vince! I wasn't there for Frost, for any of you. And then to show up in the aftermath and try to help pick up the pieces…I sometimes feel like I've got no business here." She flung her arm out in an emphatic gesture. "I was off enjoying myself, being a newlywed while the shit was hitting the fan here."

"You had no way of knowing."

"But that's just it! I should have known!" She shook her head, swallowing hard, but remaining dry-eyed. "I just feel like I should've known. And I should have been here. "

Korsak's phone rang. "Sergeant Korsak," he answered reluctantly, eyes still on Jane. He nodded at whatever the person on the other end was saying. "Understood. We'll head out now." Hanging up, he gave Jane a grim look. "Sorry, but we've got a body. Beacon Hill."

Jane shoved to her feet and froze. Maura's neighborhood. She grabbed her blazer off the back of her chair and shrugged it on, long strides carrying her out the door just ahead of Korsak.