Jane paced the floor of the now-empty lecture theatre, taking in every rambling word of Nina's panicked explanation.

"… then he told me that he was searching through my open cases and could see no reason why I was looking so then I had to tell him and now he knows who you are and…. Jane… I'm sorry."

Jane shook her head. "Nina, it's fine. Just… thank you for taking that call. I… I'm in your debt, honestly. I knew something fishy was going on!"

The double doors at the side of the room were pushed open.

"Okay, I've got to go."

Jane quickly ended the call and stuffed her phone into her pocket as she watched a tall, suited man walk into the room.

"Jane Rizzoli?" he asked.

Jane nodded and reached out her hand. "I am. And you are…?"

The man shook her hand politely and gestured towards the red, fabric seats on the front row.

"My name is Special Agent O'Neill. I spoke with your ex-colleague earlier who informed me you were working for us now."

"Yes. I… how can I help you, sir?"

"Rachel Maloney is… was my confidential informant."

"Shit." Jane turned pale.

"Since her death, I've been keeping a close eye on anyone looking for her."

"I'm sorry… I…. I just…"

Agent O'Neill patted her arm reassuringly. "You don't need to panic. Your friend explained your interest and I understand."

"Agent, what was Rachel involved in? I… I need to know. Please." Jane's mind was full of panicked thoughts. If someone had killed Rachel for information, how long would it be before the genius Maura Isles became a target?

"Rachel Maloney was a key witness in a murder investigation in England. She found a colleague- Martin Richards- dead in his home. When the police got there, the house was full of all sorts of evidence. Enough to link this man to at least four major international operations- arms dealing, drugs, money laundering and potentially a network of hit men. But it didn't fit. None of it had been touched by him. Forensics couldn't find a speck of trace evidence to link him to any of it."

"It had been planted" Jane surmised.

"Yes. An entire evidence locker's worth of guns, cash, computers, phones and documents. All planted. And, since then, we've heard nothing from any of these groups. Not a peep."

"So Rachel was involved?" Jane questioned, feeling the panic burning in her stomach.

Agent O'Neill nodded. "She knew this guy pretty well. It was easy for her to start asking questions, to dig. The evidence was linked to so many operations- all over Europe, some in the USA- that she ended up reporting to an international task force. We were all involved, but I was her direct line."

"I'm sorry, Agent" Jane softened. As much as this man had a job to do, she knew the harrowing feeling that followed the loss of a CI. The sense of responsibility was a lot to bear.

"I… I'm getting there. But it's hard. Rachel's death- her murder- tells us more than her information really ever did. She had found something but she wasn't communicating. We had our suspicions that she was going it alone. It doesn't pay to be a martyr. In fact, it killed her."

Jane gulped. All she could think about was Maura, alone in England and refusing to let Jane in.

"We didn't hear from her for a while. Then we got the call. Whoever killed Martin was close enough to Rachel to know what she was looking for; what she had found. For now, we have very little to go on. The task force… well, their priority is trying to intercept communications and find this group. Rachel's murder was unfortunate, but it's not their priority. Your friend needs to stay away from this, Ms Rizzoli. For her own safety."

Not a priority.

For her own safety.

Shit.

Jane felt herself sweating. Acid burned her throat as she shook the agent's hand and left the room. Rushing down yet another whitewashed corridor, she pushed the bathroom door open with her shoulder and ran into an empty stall.

Crouching over the bowl, she shuddered as her body expelled her breakfast.

With a pale, shaking hand, she wiped her forehead before resting her head in her arms.

Maura was in danger.

She had to help.

"Jane?" Cameron's voice echoed off the walls of the empty bathroom.

"Jane are you okay?"

Wiping her mouth and flushing, Jane stood up. Lightheaded, she took three deep breaths before opening the cubicle door and meeting Cameron's eye.

"You look awful" he commented, looking her up and down.

Jane, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she washed her hands and face in the small, white sink, spoke without looking at him. "Thanks."

"I…. I just… I mean." Cameron took a breath. "I saw you rush in here. Are you sick?"

Jane shook her head. "I'm fine. I just overheated. That lecture theatre gets hot when it's full."

"Okay. Well, make sure you get a drink and rest. I'll see you later."

As he walked back out of the bathroom, Jane leaned against the cool tiled wall and sighed. It was nice to be allowed to be independent- to be away from her overbearing family- but Jane missed them. Maura would have forced her to a seat. Given her a drink. Taken her temperature. Rubbed her back.

She hated comparing the two- Cameron and Maura- but she couldn't help it.

She missed having someone care so deeply about her. Someone who knew Jane well enough to know when she needed help.

Plucking her phone out of her jacket pocket, Jane quickly tapped a message.

Not feeling great. Going home to rest. See you tomorrow.

Collecting her bags, Jane made her way back through the building and down the stairs to her car.

The drive home wasn't long, but Jane's panic meant that she was back in half the usual time. Her mind was running at double speed, going through every eventuality and possibility until she couldn't take it anymore.

Slamming her front door shut, Jane slid down behind it and sat on the floor. Leaning back, she stared at the ceiling.

Jane had never been one for lists. For pros and cons. But now, sat limply on her apartment's oak floor, she mentally drew up her options.

Leaving for the FBI academy had been a conscious choice. She was sick of putting those around her in danger. Of sleepless nights waiting for the bogeyman to come back. Her memories haunted her, they always would, but she thought that her leaving would ensure that her family was safe.

But the danger was still there, still lurking. All Jane had done was remove herself from the situation.

Her life was supposed to be easy now. She should be happy. She had a 9-5 job that took her out of the field, a decent apartment in a safe area and a nice guy who wasn't a serial killer, and who wasn't going to disappear off to Afghanistan at the drop of a hat.

But now, sat on her floor, staring out at her apartment through a film of tears, Jane finally admitted that her new life wasn't living up to her expectations.

She missed Boston. She missed her family. She missed her job; the thrill of the chase, the sense of purpose. She knew who she was in Boston. Here, she wasn't so sure.

Most of all, she missed Maura.

After their month in France, the hole in her heart had grown every day. At first, she had ignored it. As the pain grew, she threw herself into her new life. She went to FBI social events, went on dates with Cameron, went to the gym, but nothing worked. Not really.

Missing Maura consumed her. Jane stayed busy, distracting herself with paperwork and throwing herself into grading papers and writing presentations. She pushed all her thoughts to the side and invested her energy into becoming Jane Rizzoli: FBI Instructor.

Nina's email had been the final straw that had broken the floodgates.

She had picked up the phone. Dialled her number.

She was far away, too far, but hearing her soft voice had been so wonderful. The rush of warmth to her heart was familiar, the same rush she felt every time they were together.

"Fuck."

Standing up and brushing herself off, Jane walked through her apartment and into her bedroom. Most of the boxes were unpacked, but her suitcase still stood in the corner.

Throwing it onto the bed, she began to search through her drawers, picking anything she could possibly need and throwing it into the open case.

Once it was full, she zipped it up and reattached the lock that she hadn't put away yet.

Finding a piece of paper, she scribbled a note to Cameron. She was sure he would come by to check on her. She felt bad not sending a text or calling, but she didn't want him to follow.

Re-reading the note, she swallowed. She had been nice, but the message was clear.

Her choice wasn't stay or go. It wasn't FBI or BPD.

It was him or her. Cameron or Maura.

The door slammed behind her as she pulled her suitcase out into the corridor.

She had made up her mind.

A blue taxi pulled up outside the building and she quickly hauled her case into the trunk.

"Where to?" The man asked, never taking his eyes off the road.

"To the airport."