Chapter One: Beck and Call


Maura adjusted the shamrock brooch on the lapel of her short sleeve belted blazer and then gave herself one last look in the mirror of her visor.

The front of Dallas Police Headquarters was bustling with civilians and uniforms alike. St. Patrick's Day in the city was always a busy affair with police officers out in full force in preparation for the holiday. Maura had been on time leaving her house in the Swiss Avenue district of east Dallas that morning, but with all of the traffic and road closures —causing her to detour at least twice— she had ended up pulling into her parking space outside DPD a good twenty minutes late.

Maura nudged the door of her blue Toyota Prius shut with her hip, her hands full with her black leather Birkin bag and coffee tray which she balanced with some difficulty. For mid-March it was already sweltering… and at nine in the morning, no less. The thick air hung stagnant like the inside of an oven as she made her way toward the front of the building. A breeze would have been a small blessing, though with all of the surrounding structures, the jungle of downtown was a wind-free zone. The sun beat down on her relentlessly until she caught an open door held by a young man in uniform. He doffed his straw police-issued Stetson at Maura with a warm smile and she thanked him profusely as she hurried along inside. Another gentleman who worked building security helped her with her arms full of designer bag and sloshing hot liquid so that she could retrieve her badge… wherever it was. Maura patted the front pocket of her blazer with wide eyes, fearing that she may have left it all the way back in her car. Her hand swooped to the waistband of her skirt where she found it clipped and hidden beneath the billowing fold of her green satin blouse.

"Ah—" She said with a great deal of relief. "Here it is."

At least there wasn't any risk that her coffee would turn cold. Another smile flashed her way as she walked beneath the metal detector and gathered up her things once again. For all of her hurrying, everyone she had encountered so far still seemed to have a mind to treat her with kindness. It wasn't unusual for people to want to smile at Maura. She'd been told for most of her life that she was "approachable". Making friends was easy enough, idle chatter being something of miniscule effort. It was the keeping friends and maintaining conversation part that she struggled with most of the time. Maura's mouth had a tendency to flap relentlessly sometimes, rattling off statistics and etymologies in the place of awkward silence. Maura hated silence. She found that it made her skin crawl. Whenever cornered or pitted into a place with no escape such as an elevator or checkout line, Maura seemed to want to fill the humdrum around her with interesting facts or historical significance. Dallas, Texas being a great place to reveal the latter. It was as if the people around her were susceptible to finding out some dark, hidden secret about her if she were to be quiet for just a moment or two. Her gift of gab unnerved her in a way that she despised, because no matter how much forethought went into the desire to be silent, she more often than not found herself in a grand state of awkward and remorseful dithering when "idle chatter" inevitably morphed into unrelatable rambling.

Maura continued on down the long corridor to the large, open floor office space where she made her way most every morning. The desk her eyes focused on in her hawk-like pursuit was empty. She turned in a tight circle on her Jimmy Choo suede pumps as a flash of silver hair out of her peripheral got her attention.

"Detective Korsak—"

"Good morning, Dr. Isles." Sergeant Detective Vince Korsak greeted her with a smile, holding two cake donuts by a finger through their middles with one hand and a coffee mug in the other.

"Good morning- Have you seen Jane?" Maura asked quickly.

"Thought she went out for a run with you?"

"I got here late, I'm afraid she may be upset if she ended up waiting for me."

"Nah—" Korsak said, giving a short wave with his donut hand. "She'll turn up. Wanna leave her coffee on her desk?"

The coffee tray in her hands was becoming more cumbersome to manage by the minute, as the strap of her bag had drifted into the bend of her elbow. She desperately wanted to unload her arms and hands, and soon.

"No, that's alright. I'll find her." Maura answered, giving the man a half smile and averting her eyes whenever his own landed on the look of apprehension on her face.

She was anxious to find the woman whom she'd been bringing coffee to almost every morning for the past seven years. They were meant to go out for their morning jog at a nearby park like they do every Monday, but Maura was concerned that Jane had left without her. Jane Rizzoli wasn't exactly what you'd call "patient".

"Have a good day, Detective. Love the new tie." Maura said and went to make a tight turn on her heels.

The man whose coarse goatee matched the color of his hair smiled at her, taking a moment to lean his chin downward in inspection of his necktie. "Thanks! Got it over the weekend, clearance rack at Nordstrom's. Kiki took me. Says a different tie for every day of the week can improve the mood, or something about my blood pressure… Not sure."

"Well—" Maura mimicked a smile back in his direction. She very much wanted to be on her way again, but didn't wish to be rude. "It looks great on you."

"You should see the one I have for tomorrow- little kittens playing with balls of yarn. See ya around, Doc." He finished with a forward step and a bite from one of the donuts that was impaled upon his short, stubby finger.

Maura gave Jane's whereabouts some additional thought as she rounded out of the desk littered office space, deciding that she'd make one more stop… just in case. The far end of police headquarters past the ground floor evidence garage was home to a small workout room, where she knew Jane to frequent during times whenever it was suggested that the detective go "blow off some steam". Maura put the backs of her hips to the push bar of the gym door and backed her way in, hearing the dull pounding of a heavy bag off in the far right corner. Her gaze fell upon a woman with a gorgeous mane of soft, black hair that was pulled up into a tangled ponytail at the back of her head. Her arms were like sculpted marble, straight from Michelangelo's chisel. Lean bicep muscles glistened with a sheen of well-deserved sweat, and Maura's knees felt suddenly weak as she watched them extend and contract atop the middles of the woman's humeri.

Jane Rizzoli was beautiful. Sports bra, running shorts, tennis shoes and boxing gloves, all of it perfectly complementary to the sun kissed skin which it adorned so gracefully. Jane stopped the striking of her gloved hands against the bag when she looked across the room at Maura, her thick ponytail trailing over a shoulder.

"There she is." The raven-haired woman said, her voice deep and with a certain grating quality that made Maura's heart flutter rapidly from time to time. "Figured it was too hot out today to go running anyways. You forget about the road closures for the St. Paddy's day parade?"

"I must have." Maura replied, fighting hard to speak against the desert of dryness currently occupying the inside of her mouth. "I'm sorry, Jane. I brought your coffee, though."

"Great, thanks. Can you set it next to my bag? I wanna finish up here and then shower."

"Alright."

"Actually, can you hand me that water bottle on the bench right there?" Jane asked, turning on her feet to face her. She gestured with a toss of her chin toward the weight bench beside Maura and pinned a glove against her ribs with an arm in an attempt to pull her hand free of it.

Once again Maura was momentarily distracted by Jane's undeniably attractive physique. She was symmetrical at her every inch and diagonal in places that made Maura's insides twist into knots. Places like the base of Jane's torso where her lower abdominals and obliques veered into a sharp "v" which disappeared beneath the waistband of her running shorts. Even the sight of her latissimus dorsi was pleasing in the way that they wrapped around the external ends of her ribcage, giving the trunk of her body a distinct triangular shape from how toned she was from head to toe. Jane was long-boned and marvelous in stature, being nearly five inches taller than Maura. Fully clothed, one would hardly be able to tell just how much taut and defined muscle rested on Jane's gorgeous frame, but Maura had the particular privilege of witnessing her like this more often than anyone else— being her best friend for several years now. Jane was completely comfortable and at ease with Maura's eyes hanging over her, though she did give a nudge of her elbow toward the bench again after another moment or so passed.

"Maur?"

The medical examiner's coppery blonde hair bounced atop her shoulders when she throttled back to the present. "Yes, sorry." She discarded their coffees on the bench then near a neatly folded towel and hung her bag around the end of the weight bar.

"You feelin' alright?" Jane asked.

Crossing the floor of the gym with Jane's bottle of water in hand, Maura shook her head slightly with a short -tsk- from behind her teeth. "I like my routine- I like our routine. It just puts me out of sorts when I'm running behind or when I've missed things."

"I know." Jane said around the velcro wrap of her boxing glove where it was bit between her teeth. She pulled there at it, but her arms appeared to be too tired. She dropped both of them with a tired huff, the weight of them hanging limply at her sides like dumbbells. "Thirsty. Help." She pouted.

"Here—" Maura said, screwing off the cap of the water bottle. "Open."

Jane tilted her head back while Maura carefully poured water into her mouth, allowing her a swallow with each mouthful. Some trickled out from the corner of her lips and ran down her neck, where Maura saw was beset with moisture like the rain spotted back of a horse— beautiful and tender on the outside, miles of raw power lingering on the inside.

"Oh…" Maura went to swipe at the trail of water with the back of a knuckle, feeling faint just from the touch alone. It took her a split-second to feel the bottoms of her feet inside of her expensive heels again, and then she was fine.

Jane smiled.

Maura wanted to collapse.

"You always wear that perfume before we go on a run. Why?" Jane asked.

"Which one do you mean?"

"The one you're wearing right now, genius."

Maura knew exactly which perfume Jane was talking about, and she knew exactly why she wore it every Monday morning. Jane had complimented her on the way she smelled one morning seven years ago when they started running together, and consequently Maura had been applying a dab of the same perfume just beneath each of her ears on their jog days ever since.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Maura teased.

She loved this part of their dynamic.

Maura Isles and Jane Rizzoli had been flirting habitually for years.

"Whatever. At least one of us smells good."

Maura laughed through her nose a bit and tilted the bottle back to Jane's lips when she had gestured for another drink. "Empirically speaking, sweat doesn't necessarily have to smell 'bad'. The naturally occurring steroid-structure component known as androstadienone is known to be a human pheromone, when secreted—"

"Ew, Maur…" Jane swallowed another mouthful of water and then drew her head back to laugh without choking.

"You have wonderful androstadienone secretions, Jane." Maura teased again, doing her best not to smile by pulling her lips into a thin line. She took the opportunity to swipe once more gingerly at Jane's chin with her thumb. The way she wanted to run that thumb in a straight line all the way along the severe and devastating plane of Jane's jawline was hard to deny, but she unhanded the other woman with a small, sinking feeling in her chest and then worked to screw the cap back on the water bottle in her hands.

"Thanks, I'll be sure to wear them more often. Just for you." Jane replied playfully.

Suddenly, there was a beat of silence between them. Jane Rizzoli was the only person on earth whom Maura could stand to be quiet with. To be still with. Their bond was unlike any other she had ever experienced. The way Jane dominated the space in between her ears and had full command of her thoughts from the time she awoke each morning to the time she laid down to rest every evening… the way they could sit on a park bench with their coffees and not even say a word to one another but still have a perfectly splendid time… the way Maura's heart dared to palpitate erratically every time Jane graced her field of vision whenever she least expected her to…

The way Maura Isles loved Jane Rizzoli with every fiber of her being… and how it paled in comparison to the feeling of knowing that it was mutual.

It was just that neither of them had admitted it yet.


Head swimming, Maura's feet took her down an empty hallway back toward the building's elevator lobby. Dallas police headquarters was an impressive building with several floors and basement to boot, the latter of which being where Maura made her office as Dallas County's Medical Examiner. She liked the privacy of having an entire basement floor to herself. Her digs took the most security clearance to reach compared to the towering floors above, so not many people ventured down to the depths of DPD just to stop and say "hello". It's where the dead people are, after all. Maura had free reign in her kingdom of isolation, just the way she liked it. She was Queen.

The elevator in front of her gave a tinny -ding- as their doors opened, and without looking Maura moved to step inside. Her first mistake; Empty elevator shafts have been known to kill thirty and seriously injure a staggering seventeen thousand more people every year in America according to the Consumer Product Safety Commission. She knew this, yet she swept through the parting doors without a second thought anyway. Her second mistake; Apart from not looking down, she did not bother to look up either. It would seem that Jane Rizzoli's tanned and ropy forearms still occupied the space between Maura's ears. She suddenly came toe to toe with another warm body, colliding into them with a quiet squeak—

"Oh!"

A gentleman wearing a nice, robust brown twill suit grimaced as he caught himself at the elevator door's edge. A large, wet stain now donned the front of his suit jacket. "Hot—!"

"I'm- Oh my goodness, I am so sorry…" Maura began to apologize profusely.

"It's… it's fine, really." He said, taking a few swipes at Maura's still incredibly hot coffee that was now soaking through to his shirt.

"Is there anything I can get you? A towlette, perhaps? I may have s—" She trailed off as she began to plunge her way through the contents of the bag hanging from her other elbow.

"Like I said, it's fine." The man replied, managing a tight smile. Or was it a scowl? Maura couldn't be sure. She always had trouble with deciphering facial expressions, especially in situations like these.

"Alright." She paused, her embarrassment expanding like heated mercury. "Well. I'm—"

"Sorry?"

"…Yes." Maura tilted her chin downward shamefully. Her stomach threw itself into a knot. Lengthy awkwardness tended to nauseate her, and she just didn't know what to do with her hands. Or her mouth, apparently. "Did you know—" She began in spite of her immediate desire to stop talking, "There are three distinctive ways to extend apology in the Irish language…"

He raised a confused eyebrow at her, and Maura continued.

"Colloquially speaking, gabh mo leithscéal- in this context, would mean 'please accept my excuse', whereas tá brón orm- the more sincere form of apology meaning 'I am sad' would be less fitting. However, the third, tá áiféala orm- meaning 'I am remorseful' might be just as adequate since I am remorseful for having spilled my coffee on your…" Maura looked him up and down for a quick moment, second-guessing her choice of words, "…charming suit."

The man blinked at her slowly. Perhaps "gawked" was a bit more like it. "Uh huh." He said, fanning the no longer steaming fabric of the front of his suit and then took a wide step around her. "Well… you have a nice day now."

Maura turned after him, "I'm—"

A wave of his hand as he walked away stopped her short. More than three apologies in the span of just a couple minutes did seem a bit much, now that she thought about it. Whether they were in English or Irish. She clicked her tongue admonishingly and tapped the down button for the elevator again, having missed the car entirely due to her embarrassed rambling. She looked down again, noticing not a drop of coffee upon the floor. Maura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. That acidic, twisting feeling in the middle of her gut threatened to travel north again. The door of her office downstairs couldn't come fast enough.

With maybe one third of her coffee left in her paper take away cup, Maura placed it upon her desk and rummaged around at the bottom of her bag again, looking for something very specific. The awkward event in front of the elevators whirled around in her head like a moth seeking daylight, bumping along the dark edges of her mind over and over again. Why couldn't she ever just shut her mouth? She wished Jane had been there. Jane was usually the one to emphasize a strong aversion to over-apologizing, especially on Maura's behalf. The tall, dark and handsome detective would have had that man turning on his heels and apologizing for stepping in front of Maura's path to begin with if she had been there.

Her fingers ran around the slender end of a small bottle finally and from her bag Maura retrieved a mini Irish crème liquor. She remarked inwardly for a moment at how unintentionally fitting it was for the holiday at present.

"You can't rely on Jane to fix everything for you." She chastised herself again, openly now. With another sigh, she twisted off the cap and dumped the entire mini bottle into what was left of her coffee.

Maura Isles was many things. Genius, pathologist, socially awkward fashionista, not to mention hopelessly in love with her best friend… but her truest self?

Well. It's not like she would outright admit that she was a functioning alcoholic.

That would just be a problem, and Maura Isles did not have problems.

None that she couldn't solve, anyway.


Maura's Queendom —otherwise known as the Morgue— was a refreshing and chilly reprieve from the sweltering summer heat outside. The refrigerated compartments located in the basement of what Jane liked to call "The Ranch" —otherwise known as Dallas Police Headquarters— were to run day and night at no less than forty-five degrees Fahrenheit, and it was because of this which made the entire floor a sweet escape from the brick oven that was downtown Dallas. Maura's adjoining office just offset from the autopsy room came complete with privacy blinds, and a large and perfectly rectangular teak desk with two comfortable armchairs across from a small, double-seated couch. Bookshelves packed with numerous editions of Grey's Anatomy and other such medical tomes lined two of the four walls. The third was home to several ceremonial African tribal masks which she collected and the fourth was inlaid with two long windows. Maura felt at home here. Apart from the one she shared with Jane's mother just beyond the east end of downtown, that is.

Angela Rizzoli lived in Maura's guest house on Swiss Avenue, a historic area of northeast Dallas. After the first few weeks of uninterrupted screeching from having been visited by "spirits" and "ghosts" and the like, the two of them soon fell into the swing of things. Maura couldn't wrap her head around Jane's incessant perturbation of just being in the same room with her own mother for more than five minutes, though, she supposed she wasn't the one to grow up with the woman from birth. Angela was the perfect guest… If not overly attentive at times. It was the strong maternal side of the eldest Rizzoli that she liked.

Maura was thinking about asking Angela to assist her with a rather new recipe she'd discovered involving gnocchi later in the evening when the familiar, heavy-heeled boot stomps of Rizzoli the younger marched toward the front door of her office. Jane swung in, lacking an appropriate knock as always. This was just as much Jane's Queendom as it was Maura's, anyway.

"I don't have the toxicology report yet, Detective. But I believe I've found dinner, would—"

"How do you always know it's me?" Jane interrupted with a playful smirk.

Maura smiled; her eyes still glued to the screen of her laptop which sat squarely on her desk. She hadn't even bothered to look up. "You have a particular stomp."

"I do not stomp—"

"You do."

"Frankie stomps. I don't stomp."

Maura shrugged with a faint note of a hum. She did have to admit, Rizzoli the middle did have a similar gait, but she knew Jane like she knew her favorite well-illustrated and hardbound copy of Robbins Basic Pathology. "Look at this—" Maura said, turning the base of her laptop toward the detective who then made a noticeable effort to not stomp across the cozy space of Maura's office. "Fennel seed." Maura continued, "…with gnocchi. There's marinara and ricotta cheese…"

"That doesn't look like my tox screen—"

"Jane." Maura huffed.

Jane knew the rules: Banter before business.

The raven-haired woman had lost her glorious sheen of sweat, having showered and donned more workplace appropriate attire. She wore a soft teal shirt which plunged from her neckline and had on a pair of black, straight-legged slacks which hugged the long curves of her hips in all the right places. Maura was admiring the way Jane always chose to tuck the front of her shirts past her belt when she noticed the detective rubbing at one of her wrists with a slight pinch in her face. She was hunched over and looking at the gnocchi recipe on the laptop when Maura reached for her. Jane swiped her wrist away just in time, aware now of Maura's instinctual care-taker personality having kicked in.

"Let me see it." Maura insisted.

"S'fine. Just rolled it a little on the bag."

"Did you wrap your wrists inside of your gloves this morning?"

Jane gave a little tamp with the raised heel from one of her boots. "It always takes so long…" Her voice held a bit of a whine, and Maura sighed.

"Serves you right." Maura admitted matter-of-factly as she reached for Jane's wrist again. "Let me see it." She repeated.

"Quit it—" Jane squeaked, darting both of her hands behind her back.

Maura turned in her chair and rolled out from her desk then, revealing her crossed legs. She caught Jane's eyes as they immediately dropped to them. The tight fabric of Maura's skirt cinched a bit up along her thighs whenever she leaned back. "Would you rather me report you unfit for duty just so I can order a CT scan? That might take hours, even days to schedule—"

"You wouldn't."

"I might. Tell me… am I bluffing, Detective?" Maura asked.

She was.

Jane gave the medical examiner a hard squint down the length of her beautifully straight and inherited Italian nose. "You've been playing too much poker with Tommy."

"He's quite skilled at chess, too." Maura added, the chipper tone of her teasing working in her favor. Rizzoli the youngest was admittedly a mixed bag, being the most troublesome of the three but also the more inclined to exhibit patience in the right setting. A perfect storm among both siblings.

With a final grumble and a single step forward, Jane relinquished her obviously hurt wrist from where she held it in her other hand. "It's just sore. But these still work, see?"

Jane's fingers waggled playfully, though the pained grimace on her face more than gave her away. Maura took up Jane's hand and turned it palm-upward toward the ceiling, and then back over again. The way she mapped the surface of Jane's wrist with her fingertips as if she were committing every touch to memory made a slight shiver run throughout the detective. Maura pretended not to see it. Inside her head she was still was still marveling over the rugged beauty of Jane's hands.

Remarkable...

"Ow!"

"Oh—" Maura shook her head to derail the runaway train of intrusive thoughts plowing full-steam ahead in her mind. "Tá brón orm…" She said quietly as she continued to inspect Jane's injured wrist.

"Tall blonde what?"

"It's Irish for 'I'm sorry'. Now, does it hurt whenever you invert it like this?" Maura motioned with her own hand in example.

"It hurts in general, Maur, I don't know. When I sneeze, when I breathe, when I flipped off the courier who stepped on my toe coming out of the elevator earlier- Ow! Would you stop?!"

"Scapholunate dissociation."

"What…?"

"You've misaligned your scaphoid in conjunction with the seven other bones in your wrist." Jane glowered at her impatiently. "You dislocated it." Maura explained further as she stood from her chair.

Jane made no attempt to regain possession of the hand Maura was still wholly focused on. Marvelous things indeed, Jane's hands. Maura could stare at them for hours. Apart from every other impressive facet of Jane's body, Jane's hands were by far Maura's favorite. She used them so much in all that she did and so often did they fall upon Maura's own. Their friendship was a tactile one, to say the least.

"Frankly, I'm surprised you can keep a straight face with what level of pain you may be currently experiencing." Maura admitted.

"Shot myself, remember? I can do pain." Jane bobbed her head animatedly when she spoke. "So, is it bad?"

"If your wrist were any more swollen than it is then I might have cause to suspect a fracture, but a simple closed reduction should do the trick."

"A what?"

"Here—" Maura said, turning herself fully into Jane's space. She pressed her back against the warmth of Jane's front and tucked some of her sandy blonde hair behind an ear.

"You're gonna fix it now? Will it hurt?"

"I thought you said you can 'do pain'?"

"Maura—"

She did her best not to giggle. "Possibly." Maura said as she secured Jane's arm beneath her own, pinning it to her side. "I can be more sure that it will hurt much less if you just allow me to help you." She spoke confidently over her shoulder now, awaiting Jane's permission.

Jane took a deep breath and exhaled somewhere near the back of Maura's neck. The way it crept inside of Maura's shirt and buffeted down the length of her spine like an out of control rollercoaster made her want to moan, but thankfully she caught it midway up her throat as it dared to shamble its way out of her.

"Alright." Jane agreed.

Maura paused. A touch of well-placed misdirection would do well here, at least for Jane's sake. Maura knew this would hurt. She hadn't lied so much as simply watered down the truth. Lying outright made her absolutely red and splotchy with urticaria, but after seven years with her tall and broody detective of a best friend, she'd picked up a thing or two.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"What perfume am I wearing?"

She felt another breath fall upon the back of her neck, stuttering this time. "Th- the one you wear every Mond—"

Maura gave Jane's wrist a sudden hard yank in a very precise direction, her thumb smoothing over the offending scaphoid bone and plodding it back into place without a fight.

"Ow! Holy shi—" Jane stopped. Maura turned to face her again and witnessed the pleasantly surprised expression she wore, her dark eyebrows sitting high upon her forehead. "Oh…"

"Better?"

"Yeah..." The raven-haired woman took another deep breath, this one dragging a bit with what looked like relief. "Thanks, Maura." She rubbed at her wrist for a few seconds longer and then reached out to lightly touch the point of Maura's chin with a hooked trigger finger. Yet another unspoken and agreed upon physical display of affection they shared from time to time. This one never failed to make Maura's heart leap into her throat.

"You're welcome." Maura's email notification rang out from her laptop just then. "Ah. There's the toxicology screening."

"You were talking about dinner?" Jane diverted when Maura stepped away.

Maura flipped her hair over her other shoulder as she turned to look back. "I was?"

"Gnocchi?"

"Oh- yes. Lots of cheese involved, I'm sure you'll love it."

"The guys invited us out to the Dirty Robber tonight, come out with me instead?" Maura gave a -click- with her tongue as she tapped away on the keyboard. "Please?" Jane begged.

Maura's head turned up in an instant. Jane rarely ever said "please", and even rarer so in that particular tone of voice. She had to stop her bottom lip from retreating into her teeth. How Jane could strike such visceral reactions from within her was a mystery; one she had plans to unravel… someday. For now, Maura had been looking forward to having a night in and cooking for Jane. But how could she possibly say "no" to the face the other woman was currently making? Jane's lower lip stuck out with a beautiful pout. Damn her.

"I suppose I could join you this time." Maura relented. The Dirty Robber wasn't her favorite haunt, but it was Jane's, which only meant of course that it was Maura's "favorite-adjacent". Living vicariously through Jane Rizzoli had led her down some interesting paths for sure, new drinks, new foods, new sports… In the end, whatever made Jane happy made Maura happy.

Absentmindedly, Maura pulled at a drawer in her desk in search of a pen when the unmistakable -tink- of glass from her breakfast liquor clinked into a second purse-sized bottle. The mini vodka that went into her lemonade at lunch made an awful racket as it rolled again to the back of the drawer as she slammed it shut. Maura cleared her throat loudly to mask the sound, and Jane's curious twist of her head made her feel flush around her collar. She yanked at another drawer and plucked a pen from it quickly. "Coming off the printer now." The pen in her hand gave a point toward a nearby table where page after page of their latest victim's toxicology report printed out.

"What about this weekend?" Jane asked as she swaggered back over to Maura's desk and tamped the pages down to file them straight in her hands.

"What about it?"

"I swear to- The gnocchi!"

"Ah—" Maura smiled, slightly embarrassed for how easily distracted she was today. She gave herself a bit of a break around the detective in these kinds of situations. She'd had about seven years of practice, after all. "Yes, that sounds nice. Rizzoli family dinner?"

Jane shook her head, her dark and wild mane bouncing gracefully around the tops of her shoulders. Then she sank to one knee beside Maura and brought her elbow to rest upon the desk. "Nah. Just us?"

"That depends. Will you help me cook?"

"Of course. Who else is gonna open all those jars of marinara sauce?"

Maura laughed, noticing the way Jane's eyes shimmered in her direction as if taking in a priceless piece of art. "We are making it from scratch. No jars."

"Even better." Jane replied, her smile still spread delightfully across her face. Her walnut-colored eyes sank back to the pages in her hand as she moved them in front of Maura, who signed them with a pretty flourish upon the "I" in her last name. "Alright, what do we got?"


The small corner vestibule at the front of the Dirty Robber was packed.

Maura struggled to wiggle and push her way through like a salmon swimming upstream, leaning and squeezing where she could. For once, she couldn't find her voice past the words "pardon me" and "please excuse me", which no one seemed to hear anyway. Patrons —though Maura doubted they were paying actual patronage to the establishment and merely sought to take up the cool air in the entryway instead of standing on the street and cavorting with their friends— all hollered and hee-hawed loudly, making her clap her hands over her ears. Loud and sudden noises had a tendency to jar her nerves, and send her into a flighty panic.

"Excuse me! Can I get through?"

A man looked down at her, his wide grin falling from his face. He stepped out of the way with a gurn as if she had inconvenienced him with her passive need to get past. Then another person stepped into the sliver of empty space and blocked her path again. Maura grumbled, and very much considered just turning around to leave. Jane would understand. She was nearly ready to turn on her heels and make her way back toward the front door when a familiar shouting voice rose over the crowd.

"Move, assholes! The air conditioning isn't free, buy a beer or leave!"

Maura managed to twist her shoulders back around and began to feel as if her throat were seconds away from slamming shut when something gripped her by the thumb and pulled her through a part in the crowd. She bumped rather abruptly into someone else on her way out of the small cloister and then landed firmly inside a pair of familiar lanky arms, the smell of bergamot and amber overwhelming her senses. Jane's shampoo, the one Maura had bought for her birthday.

"You okay?" Jane asked, her dark brown irises flitting over Maura's face with concern.

Maura nodded, finding her words again. Her breath was a bit harder to locate; Jane had yet again stolen it from her. "Fine, thanks. I might have been stuck there all night if not for you." She said, patting the front of her blouse to assess any wrinkles. Maura hated wrinkles. "It's Monday night, what are so many people doing here?"

Jane chuckled. "It's St. Paddy's Day, remember? And also, it's Deep Ellum, Maur, every night's like this out here."

"Ah. Now I remember why I don't come here."

Jane turned her lips up with a teasing pout and Maura smiled. She felt a rush of heat rise to the surface of her cheekbones. Goodness gracious was Jane Rizzoli ever charming…

"C'mon." The detective gave a toss of her chin toward the back of the bar. Her long, slender fingers moved to intwine themselves with Maura's, and suddenly her feet were moving again.

The comfortable way Jane held her hand sometimes made her head spin. It felt so natural, like she was doing anything else such as opening a door or brushing some of her unruly hair from her eyes. Her grip was never anything less than firm either. It didn't shrink, or wither… It held fast. Jane's strong hold of her hand pulled her through another crowd past a row of high tables and toward a wall of booths. Maura recognized the red leather cushions right away, knowing exactly where Jane was going to sit. It was clear that this wasn't Maura's favorite place in the world, but that didn't mean she didn't end up coming here often. Anything for Jane.

Rizzoli the middle —also known as Frankie— waved at her with a toothy smile as he scooted his way out of the booth. He made room for Maura to take the inside seat, being the gentleman that he was. He gave a point of his finger past his sister as Maura climbed in. "Janie—"

Jane turned and gave a small cheer as she was handed a cold bottle of Miller Genuine Draft. Her partner Barry Frost held in his hands one of his own. They tapped the necks of their beers together with a smile and then took a unifying drink. Such was their ritual on nights like these. Maura admired their bond. Frost had taken up the mantle of being Jane's partner several years ago— just shortly before Maura had met her. He was a handsome young black man who'd played the fast track to detective much in the way that Jane had, with a severe lack of sleep, a powerful intuition, and an unyielding desire to balance the scales of right and wrong in the world. Together they were a force of nature. Maura liked his quick wit, as well as his readiness to throttle anyone who looked at his partner sideways. Jane Rizzoli had an enviable nebula of friends and family, where she herself was fiercely loyal to all of them in return. Maura so often wanted to permeate the confines of such a tight knit cloud and become one of them, to nestle herself in the small space between the warmth of their stars. Because that's what they were to her, each of them; Stars.

Korsak sidled up to the table not long after and pulled a dishtowel from his shoulder to polish a shot glass in his hands. His endearing gaze landed on Maura. "Hello, Doctor. Good to see you out and about!" Then he gave a quick turn to look back at the bar. His bar. "Need anything?"

"Maybe a flyswatter for all the bar flies taking up residence in your entryway?" Jane gave a hard point with her thick eyebrows toward the front of the place.

The older man laughed heartily, throwing his chin back as he stood up straight again. "If only I knew a bunch of cops who could clear them out. Hard to keep the cold air inside what with all of that loitering."

Jane and Frost froze in an almost comical fashion, staring at each other with wide eyes. Then, with a quick start that made Maura jump slightly, they each shuffled with their hands and hips out of the long red booth seat and scrambled to stand alongside one another, pulling each other up playfully by their elbows. They rushed a few steps toward the front of the bar and then straightened up, brandishing their badges with what Maura had no doubt was their most serious expressions. Korsak came over once again and sat a glass of chardonnay in front of Maura with a smile. She mouthed a friendly "thank you" back at him and then turned to smile at Frankie who sat nursing his whisky neat beside her.

"How come I haven't seen you at DPD lately? Have I just been missing you in the mornings?" She asked, taking a small sip from her glass.

Frankie shrugged. "They got me walkin' a different beat for the drug unit for a while. It's an 'all hands' kind of thing, apparently."

"Is it safe?"

Frankie squared his hips a bit more in Maura's direction as he faced her, smiling almost ruefully. "No."

"Oh, Frankie." Maura said, reaching out to pat one of his hands. The same physical affections that came so naturally to her with Jane were, in a way, held in extension for the other Rizzoli family members as well. Her hand just didn't linger as long as it might have with the oldest of the three. "How much longer?"

"Well, that's sort of the thing. If I wanna make detective, I gotta be a 'yes man' for a while. I just have to be careful and use my head, just like Jane always says."

"She's smart like that. I'd listen to her." Maura replied softly.

"Yeesh—" He pulled in a sharp breath through the thin space of his teeth. "Don't let her hear you say that. Her head's big enough as it is."

Maura laughed and soon noticed how much quieter the inside of the bar was. The wooden heel of Jane's favorite square-toed leather boots approached from over Maura's shoulder, and with it came the euphonious sound of her deep and raspy laugh. Jane tugged at a knee of her black denim jeans as she slid back into the boost beside Frost, hiking her hip a bit to one side to stuff the chain of her badge into a pocket. She gave a quick glance at the now empty wine glass in front of Maura's clasped hands.

"When did you get that? I was gonna—"

"I got it." Frankie cut in, scooting himself out of his seat to stand now. He disappeared into the crowd hovering around the end of the bar a moment later.

"Suck up." Jane muttered under her breath.

Maura rolled her lips into her mouth to hide a smile.

Jealousy?

She gave a soft tap with the toe of one of her sleek pumps against Jane's ankle and those gorgeous, cavernous brown eyes popped back up to look at her. Maura could simply fall into them. Down, down, down…

"Thanks for the assist earlier today…" Jane said from across the table. She rubbed a thumb over her wrist idly whenever Maura quirked her head, not totally sure of what she had meant at first. Jane shot her a quick wink, just to be clear.

"Ah. Yes." Maura swallowed hard past the rapidly forming knot in her throat. They worked so closely most of the time, it would be impossible for anyone else within earshot to understand what they were really saying. Wait, what were they really saying, anyway? "You're welcome."

Frankie returned after some idle conversation with another glass of wine, and they spent the next couple of hours or so chatting and laughing with one another until Maura began to yawn. She didn't want to go home. That was where Jane wasn't. The detective had her own place, a quaint little third floor apartment not too far from the historical housing district where Maura lived. Maura knew all she had to do was ask and Jane would be pleased as punch to stay the night, but most of the time Maura decided against it. The only reason she didn't want to get too comfortable with Jane staying over at her house was to protect herself from the day she wouldn't be able to anymore. For whatever reason that would be, if it ever came to pass. Maura was preemptive, if anything. She weighed the risks in every aspect of her life. Which stocks to invest in, which car to buy, what changes she made to her diet… everything had its place. Though, the amount of joy she levied from saving herself from any potential and future grief was a bit exhausting, to be honest. The words threatened to roll right off her tongue, but Frankie beat her to it.

"I can give you a lift home if you need, Maura."

Finishing another wide yawn from behind her hand, Maura shook her head politely. "That's alright—"

"Get up, Frankie." Jane chimed in from across the table, tucking a few bills under an empty beer bottle.

"Huh?" He replied, confused.

"Scootch." She insisted, standing beside him now and tugging at his elbow. Frankie grumbled and made his way out of the booth again.

Jane was many things, that much was certain. Maura could list them off one by one for the rest of the evening, if she weren't so tired, but what she admired most about her was that she was dependable. Neither hell nor high water could stop Jane Rizzoli whenever she was decided on something, and on this evening, she'd decided on being Maura's escort out of the bar. Just like she did every time. Jane offered a hand down to help Maura to her feet.

"Thank you." Maura blushed, obliging her the kind gesture.

"Night guys." Jane called out over her shoulder once they were arm in arm and headed toward the front of the bar. Some of her wild locks the color of midnight brushed against Maura's cheek when she leaned past a couple standing at a high table. "You had four glasses of wine and I'll bet you can walk a straight line better than any sober person right now. How do you do that?" She asked, zeroing her focus back on the side of Maura's face again.

"Years and years of practice." Maura sing-songed. It certainly wasn't far from the truth. They came to a slow stop next to Maura's car and turned to face one another. Maura lived for these private moments with Jane.

"I should still drive you home." Jane said, a slight concern rolling off her words.

Maura sucked her teeth with a short -tsk- and gave a stiff a pout. "Please don't make me leave my car here overnight, it makes me anxious."

"Nobody's gonna mess with your Prius, Maura." The detective deadpanned. "Though if you had driven the Mercedes—"

"Jane." Maura gave a little bounce on her heels.

Jane gave a long sigh and then brought her hands to rest upon her hipbones. It did something unexpected to Maura's insides for a moment. This familiar stance wasn't anything new, but tonight as Jane stood beneath the warm lamp of a streetlight and was bathed in a yellow gold like something having sauntered vaguely downward from heaven, Maura became absolutely mesmerized.

"Alright. Let's see it then. Just a quick field sobriety test, please?" Jane pleaded, snapping Maura right out of her doe-eyed haze.

Maura rolled her eyes. She was tired, and the thought of her bed —and perhaps one more glass of wine— pulled at the back of her mind something fierce.

Jane tapped her long fingers against her hips with a growing impatience. "Just imagine how shitty I'd feel if you got in some mangled car wreck because you pouted your way out of letting me drive you home—" She gave a wag of a finger toward Maura then, pointing it at her with an air of accusation whenever Maura's bottom lip protruded further. "See- like that. Quit it."

"Oh, alright."

"Kay. To me then, ten steps heel to toe alternating your pointer fingers one at a time as you touch your nose. Go."

Maura complied, narrowing her eyes into daggers at the detective. Jane wore a thin smile as Maura pointed toward the tip of her nose with each careful and precise step. All while wearing a tight pencil skirt and three inch heels, to boot. Maura gave a gleeful hum in her chest once she stood toe to toe with her, grinning upward with an "I told you so" sort of expression. Jane didn't move a muscle, and Maura froze.

"Was that so hard?" Jane husked with a low voice, the sound of it like water breaking over sharp rocks.

One moment Maura was perfectly balanced and grinning from ear to ear, and the next her jaw was slack and her knees were juddering helplessly. She'd felt Jane's breath upon her cheek for how close they were standing now. Notes of a hoppy, champagne like smell lingered between them, and Maura had to fight hard to not lick it right off Jane's lips. She gave an efforted gulp and worked her way back toward her knowledge of the English language again.

"No. But are you satisfied?"

Jane huffed a breath of a laugh through her nose and her eyes fell to Maura's lips, though only for a split second. "Hardly ever." She said quietly, still standing firm.

"Goodnight, Detective." Maura said finally, taking a withering step back. She needed to breathe, for God's sake.

"See you tomorrow."

After that, Maura's drive home was quick and uneventful. She pulled into the garage and tapped the button for the door, making her way toward her large, open kitchen without a single thought in her head. She was on auto-pilot. The sound of a cork being pulled loose from the mouth of her current favorite Riesling made an echoing -thupp- as it bounced off the high, skylight laced ceiling above. Just one more… Maura thought to herself as she poured herself a glass. She needed something slightly sweet to soothe the way her heart continued to pound inside of her chest. It would be impossible to get any sleep if she didn't calm down soon.

Oh, who was she kidding?

Not thinking about Jane Rizzoli was next to impossible.

One glass turned into another, and before long Maura gave up on trying to clear her mind. Making her way up the carpeted stairs to her bedroom was a bit of a struggle, the ankle straps of her heels having those pesky metal clasps which required deft fingers. Jane could take them off for her without any trouble… She had done so several times before. Jane was sweet like that.

"God." Maura mumbled as she shoved the door of her room shut with an elbow and clumsily worked her way out of her clothes. Her satin sheets felt cool against the heated skin of her naked body and she wound herself up in them with a relieved murmur, something along the lines of "hold me, I wish that you would just hold me…"

Maura found herself on her back beneath the sheets of her bed, rubbing small circles into the stiff place at the back of her neck. It felt so good to finally lay down and to be at rest, though with the subtle heat that continued to race beneath her skin, keeping her awake and alert, she knew that sleep was still far off. What else could she do other than what she feared? Every time before it made her feel just a slight shade of shameful, but apparently it wasn't enough to stop her from doing it again. Her hands slid lithely downward, passing over her breasts and squeezing there for a moment. A breath shot between her lips, making a quiet -hiss- sound. She wanted so desperately to relax…

She hummed contentedly when her hands sank lower, running over the small lines of her abdomen and curves of her hips. They found the warm space between her legs and gave featherlight strokes over the heat that radiated there. Maura's fingertips split herself apart and dove one at a time, further and further in until her head craned back against her pillow and her back arched with a glorious bridge. She shook and whimpered as she felt the tension in her limbs leave her body and soon her breaths became deeper, and heavier. Jane Rizzoli's half-lidded eyes stared back at her between her slow blinks; the last remaining image to pass through Maura's mind before she eventually fell victim to the Sandman's beck and call.

She'd just have to try and forgive herself in the morning.