Angela insists TJ takes piano lessons like Jane did, and one day, when he's practicing at Maura's house, Jane finds herself standing outside, unmoving, just listening. He makes a mistake and starts over, but keeps making the same mistake. Without thinking and unable to stop herself, she walks in and helps him fix it.

Two small feet dangle from the edge of a piano bench as two small hands plonk out a simplified version of Claire De Lune. A few notes here and there are missed, but the child keeps pressing on with a determination only a Rizzoli would have. A thin, worn out book of sheet music sits on the stand, open to this very song. Someone had written out every note name and count in red pencil as a help. Every time he misses a note, his little head full of dark brown curls tilts to the side as the gears shift in his brain.

Not far away, just outside the doorway in fact, stands another curly haired brunette, staring at her work-worn, serial-killer-battered hands, and listening intently to her nephew playing a familiar melody. She imagines his tiny little hands with long fingers (which he got from her), sliding across the keys, playing the same song she played a hundred times when she was his age. The same song she spent years perfecting, until someone took away her will to play.

Angela stood in Dr. Isles' kitchen, preparing a light lunch for her grandson and herself while listening to him play the piano down the hall in Maura's home office. When Angela first mentioned something to Maura about having TJ take piano lessons, Maura insisted she let him practice on her own piano; the piano she had bought for Jane to play whenever she came over. But then Hoyt happened, and the piano was shoved into the home office before Jane knew it even existed.

A happy smile was pasted to Angela's lips as she spread peanut butter and fluff across bread. So many memories of little Janie, glued to a piano bench as a child, flooded her mind.

The front door opened and Maura came waltzing in, purse in the crook of her arm, and shopping bags in her hands. An early morning of boutique shopping had occupied Maura's Saturday off.

"Oh, Angela, hello." she said, dropping the bags by the couch

"Hello sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?"

A frustrated chord of wrong notes echoed through the hallway. They both winced and Maura gave a knowing look, "I see practice isn't going so well."

Angela chuckled, "Not at the moment. Would you like a sandwich?" Angela held up a half of sandwich with a smile.

Maura nodded, "Actually, yes, that sounds perfect." Maura took the offered sandwich half and took a bite, "Are you ever going to tell Jane that he is taking lessons?"

Angela sighed and shrugged, looking back down to her hands, her long hair falling to cover half her face, "I don't know. I mean, she worked so hard for so many years and she was an amazing pianist. You've heard her play, right? But that man." Angela looked back up to Maura, "That man took away her love for it, and she's never been the same since. Yeah, she's found other hobbies and other things that have caught her fancy. And I know that if none of that horrible stuff had happened, she'd be the one to insist on him taking lessons, maybe even give him the lessons herself. But now, I don't know how she'll take it."

They listened to the little boy plonk out wrong notes here and there till suddenly, the notes were right, and the melody was perfect. They both looked at each other in confusion. There was no way that a six year old would get a song perfectly after just struggling through it.

They dropped what they were doing and slowly crept down the hall to the office and found something they never thought they'd see:

Jane, kneeling behind the piano bench, cheek to cheek with her nephew, her arms around his small frame, his hands resting atop hers as she guides him through the song. The song finishes and TJ quickly asks her to do it again, "Aunty Jane, again!"

Both women huddled in the doorway, waiting with baited breath for Jane to respond. This is a delicate situation. Either Jane could bolt, and let Hoyt win over her subconscious yet again, or she could stay and fight for herself.

Jane pulled back to look at her nephew and kissed his cheek, "Ok, once more, then its your turn again." TJ's squeal of excitement covered the sound of the two women sighing in relief as Jane lifted her fingers to the ivory keys once again.