Early on in their friendship, Jane makes breakfast for the two of them as a thank-you of sorts, but no one has ever made Maura breakfast before.

"Did you ever like the same guy as your best friend?"

"No"

"Did you ever have a best friend?"

"No."

"…You'd tell me if you were a cyborg, right?"

"No I don't think I would."

Jane had spent a few nights over at Dr. Maura Isles' house before, but it had always been due to exhaustion. It usually started with them eating dinner together, and then Jane would get sleepy, and the good doctor would guilt her into staying, making the excuse that Jane was too tired to drive home and that "driving tired is the same as driving drunk". So Jane would retire to Maura's immaculate guest room and was usually up and about to walk out the door before Maura could offer breakfast.

But this morning, this morning in particular, Jane wasn't quite ready to leave the doctor's house and face reality. She wanted just a few more minutes in the peace and quiet of Beacon Hill before entering the busy, bustling, violent, horrific life of being a homicide detective who also apparently had a serial killer after her. So, she rose from the bed, leaving a sleeping doctor, to head to also immaculately clean kitchen. Seriously, who has a kitchen this clean?

The detective poked through cupboards and cabinets and all the shelves of the fridge, finding all she needed to make a nice breakfast for the two of them.

"A meal made with love is better than anything bought in a shop." Jane thought. Something her mother always said, but, she probably only said it to guilt Jane and her brothers into coming home for dinner to see their mother.

Jane cracked a few eggs into what looked to be a brand new sauté pan and flicked on the gas stove. Next, she poured some batter onto a flat griddle and then went in search of fruit.

"What are you doing?" came a groggy voice

Jane spun to see a disheveled, yesterday's-clothes wearing, bed head-sporting Maura Isles standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"I'm making breakfast."

"Oh." she seemed lost, even though it was her own house

Jane turned back to the stove, "Now, what do you want in your omelet? I diced some onion, ham and tomatoes, and I saw some other veggies in there too if you want that also."

"You're making breakfast for me, too?"

Jane turned again with a laugh, "Well, it is your kitchen. You think I'd just make something for me?"

Maura didn't seem like she could respond. A myriad of emotions crossed her face, mostly confusion.

"Ok, so tomatoes, onions and ham it is." Jane said, turning back to the stove when she didn't have an answer. Maura seated herself at the counter and watched in awe. Jane expertly portioned out ingredients to the omelet that was cooking, pinching salt and pepper between her long fingers like she'd done it a million times. She then turned to the pancakes, picking up a spatula and flipping them with ease, then slid down the counter a bit, picking up a long knife and slicing two oranges into quarters and a grapefruit in half. Four slices of orange and one half grapefruit were placed on each plate. Jane turned back to the now half-cooked omelet, grabbing the handle and expertly and smoothly flipped it to its other side, no muss no fuss no mess.

Maura's eyes widened. This was a completely new side of Jane she'd never seen before. Jane flipped two pancakes on each plate, then slid a half of an omelet on each plate and sat herself down next to her friend.

The brunette dug into her food like she hadn't just blown Maura's mind. Maura looked around the kitchen to see the mixing bowl she'd made batter in, and the two cutting boards, dirty utensils and pans. Jane looked up to see why Maura wasn't eating and nodded, "Don't worry, I'll clean my mess." She turned to Maura who was on the verge of tears, "Maur? What's wrong?" she extended her arm to touch her friend's knee.

"No one has ever made me breakfast before."

Jane's eyebrows furrowed, "What?"

"No one has ever made me breakfast before."

"Like, ever?"

The doctor shrugged, "In relationships, its never quite gotten to the breakfast-the-next-morning phase. And before that, mother and dad never cooked, they always had a chef on staff." Jane's eyes softened, "No one has ever taken the time to stop and make me breakfast."

Jane couldn't help but smile.

"I said last night I'd never had a best friend, well actually, Jane, the truth is that I've never even had a friend. And sometimes I forget that I have you. And then you go and do things like this," she gestured towards the whole room, "and it reminds me and I can't help but, but…" Tears fell down Maura's cheeks and she started to breathe deeply to stop the oncoming melt down.

Jane laughed gently and pulled the doctor into her arms for a strong hug, "Honey." She kissed the blonde's hair. Maura pulled away, wiping her tears and attempting to smile. Jane grinned her big Rizzoli grin and watched Maura pick up a fork, and spear her omelet.

"Oh my!" Maura exclaimed, "This is delicious."

Jane went back to eating her own, "Don't sound so surprised."

"Where did you learn to cook?" Maura took a bigger bite and stuffed it in her mouth

Jane picked up her cup and took a sip of the steaming coffee, "My mother is Italian, Maura. Italian women cook."

"What else can you cook?"