A/N - In this chapter, ballet terms are going to start to be used. I have little ballet experience so if any of the terms are misused, please, forgive me in advance. They are marked off by italics if in a normally formatted section or unitalicized if in an italic formatted section. This rule applies to all other chapters in the future as well. Also, because of some confusion, bolded words are messages from the killer or from other characters.

Tuesday, 2:30 A.M.

With a small whoosh of released elevator air, Jane walked toward the autopsy room where Maura worked, the adjacent rooms normally full of busy techies now silent with the late hour. Each of the echoing steps made by her heeled shoes reminded the brunette of the near death experience that had taken place in this building. Both of those harrowing moments had brought Jane closer to Maura but had also brought numerous problems to her relatively uncomplicated existence. Upon seeing Maura's barely restrained excitement reflected in her hazel eyes, Jane knew without a doubt that she wouldn't have taken those experiences back for anything.

"Even with blood and guts dripping from your hair, you still manage to look marvelous." Jane smiled at Maura's laughable attempts to see if she really had blood in her hair. "What have you got?"

"Don't even joke about that. I go through a lot of effort to make sure my hair doesn't get in the way of my autopsies, Jane. Did you know that I could lose my license for that sort of thing? It's considered 'indirect contamination' by the state. When I was doing my residency, can you believe one of doctors suggested that I should cut my hair? He said that it got in the way of caring for patients. I think he was just jealous of me because of his balding situation."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Honey, if anyone tells you to cut your hair because it gets in the way, I'll arrest them myself."

"And that's why I put up with you. Because you treat me like I'm only thing that matters, most of the time." Maura muttered, hardly noticing the slight tensing of Jane's hands against her side."I know what killed our Jane Doe. Do you care to guess?"

"No," the detective frowned, "I don't. Her name is Alina Bobrova, by the way."

"What a beautiful name. Her features are characteristic of Eastern European racial groups."

Turning behind her to the computer screen used to display x-rays or close up details of the bodies on the autopsy table, Maura touched the screen before entering in her password to display a visual of Alina's neck. "The killer used a pure extract from Atropa belladonna, a flower better known as Deadly Nightshade, because of its connection to the nightshade family of plants which includes such innocuous items such as potatoes, but, belladonna differs in its high level of toxicity."

Puzzled, Jane looked from the body and back to the image being displayed across the touchscreen monitor. "So why are we looking at her neck? Last time I checked, the mouth is attached to the face."

"If you just let me finish, I would have gotten to that." Maura touched a small injection mark on Alina's neck, zooming in on the site, revealing slight bruising near the area. "Specifically, I determined that the extract used was atropine, a beneficial drug if used in the right doses as a way to increase low heart rate for resuscitation but if the proper dosage is ignored, watch out. Because of the hallucinogenic properties, victims can literally go mad. Ms. Bobrova had nearly 35 mg of atropine in her system, enough to make a horse think it was a human."

"Damn…how long did it take for her to die?" Jane asked as her eyes looked pitifully over the victim's naked bruised form.

"Not long upon injection of the final dosage, but the killer could have kept her alive for longer if the doses were spread out over a period." Maura swiped the screen a second time, revealing a close up the victim's chest. "I suspect that soon after she was injected with the fatal overdose of atropine, the killer moved toward removing Ms. Bobrova's heart. In medical school, I hated cardiology with a passion. It's so hard to realize that a human is nothing more than an endless array of electric impulses and the surgery technique was brutal. You make a mistake on a dead body, it's not a problem. You make a mistake while performing a heart transplant, people will die, someone is going to have to make a horrible phone call…I don't even want to think about it."

Jane growled in warning, focusing Maura's rambling before it even began. "I can't tell you why the murderer took the girl's heart, Jane. I have several theories, but at this point, they are just theories. I can tell you that she wasn't sexually assaulted because of the lack of vaginal bruising and tearing that is common with non-consensual sex. Our victim also had a high blood-alcohol content that would have left her unable to stand or defend herself from her attacker. All of this adds up to that this murder was personal. I've sent several samples of unusual specimens found on the body to CSU for further testing. I should hear back soon."

"Well, when's soon?"

"I'd be guessing."

Jane's sigh filled the autopsy room, her mind racing with frustration. The waiting game begins again. Exhaustion sneaked up on the tired brunette and, despite Jane's best efforts to appear unaffected by the late hour, her head lowered heavily into her hands. Everything involving Maura and the case had taken more energy out of her than she had thought possible. Jane's body leaned against the metal autopsy table, eyes soon closing with little mental input on her part.

"You can stay at my place for a couple of hours?" Maura asked in a voice softened with a level of sensitivity that always managed to marvel Jane.

The brunette shook her head with miniscule effort. "No…I need to stay close. Korsak, Frost, and I are planning to hit the pavement bright and early to get some questioning done."

" I don't understand…why do you want to hit the pavement? Violence against inanimate objects is a reflection of an unhealthy inclination toward passive aggressive personality traits, according to a detailed study by the University of Padua in the early 80s. If you're frustrated, you could try jogging…" The blonde medical examiner suggested before realizing that Jane was using one of her many idioms. "Sorry. You could sleep in my office, if you want?"

"No," Jane replied, making her way toward one of the autopsy tables before taking her shoes off and jumping up on it like it was a bed. "I'll just sleep with her. Give Alina some company. Maybe she'll speak to me, tell me who her killer is."

Maura stared at her girlfriend in utter disbelief. Walking toward the lights, Maura turned back to face Jane's now prone body. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

"Love you, Maubie," she mumbled sleepily in response.

"Wait," Maura exclaimed as she flicked the lights off. "Did you just call me, Maubie? Like Moby Dick?"

But Jane was already fast asleep, the snores steadily increasing in volume. She was unable to respond to the blonde's amazed expression. Tell me something. Tell me who did this to you, Alina.

!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!

Colors from every spectrum of the rainbow reflected against the white walls of the sparsely furnished loft apartment as a plasma television blared musical notes through the large space. Chopin's "Minute Waltz" combining with the elegant middle-aged man stretching on a barre near the small dance area marked by the full length mirror and the wooden floor installed roughly ten feet around the wooden handrail. His legs were stretched in full extension, using the barre as support for several minutes, focused on nothing more than the connection between the body and the classical music wrapping itself around the elegant man's lean musculature.

Stepping away from the barre, he entered a quick execution of a battement, his active leg extending forward and backwards slowly before stepping into several rapid turns. Each turn was delivered en pointe and effortless to the man who was clearly well-studied in the dance being performed. Effortless turns became light leaps, light leaps easily transforming into whimsical pirouettes; but, no matter the man's actions, each movement was clearly controlled with an obvious level of advanced skill and training. After twenty minutes of extended work to Chopin's repeating melody, the tensed muscles released themselves into a final slow extension of his arms above his head before bowing his head slightly in respect to the music.

Grabbing the leg warmers and the sweater that were carefully folded on the minimalistic couch near the television, he put them with careful precision before turning the music off. Despite the intensive work-out, the auburn haired man's blue eyes were bright with excitement and pleasure.

"I like the movements…could be a little difficult for some of the younger girls but it'll force them to stretch their skills and rise to a challenge. These Americans dance as if they expect their mommies and daddies to hold their hands throughout the entire performance. This level of embarrassment would hardly be tolerated in Russia. If you were here, Matryona, it would be so much easier," he muttered under his breath while his feet continued to tap out a private rhythm only known by him.

An alarm binged from the speakers of the television, interrupting the lithe dancer's mental train of thought. "It is time to see how the critics have taken our first act."

With a small wave of his hands, the motion activated system on the television turned to the local news channel. The traditional sounds of the news program hit the man's ears, causing him to flinch slightly before turning down the volume. Nothing could take away from the excitement upon hearing the public's reactions to his entrée element of his performance. They would soon know her name…he would make sure of that. And once they knew her name…his final goal would present itself, bringing him ever closer to Matryona. Just two more sacrifices before Ekaterina was his for the taking. She would be honored to present herself to him for such a noble cause, a cause directly related to her actions against Matryona.

Minutes passed and still no mention of his opening introduction. "They have ignored us, Matryona. We will have to go immediately into the adagio, won't we?"

A bead of sweat moved from his forehead to his unseeing darkened blue eyes. "I hate to rush, my beloved sister, but we have no choice. I will try to maintain the integrity of the performance…nothing will change that, you can be sure."

!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!