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Chapter Text

Prologue

Jane sat at a table in the precinct coffee shop and looked over a current unsolved case file.  She needed a change from her surroundings – namely Frost and Korsak, who could not shut up about Dr. Pendleton and Maura.  She would have thought two grown men would not resort to kissy sounds or repeating a stupid children’s chant, after the three had witnessed Maura and said Doctor in a heated kiss outside the precinct as he dropped her off.  There was certainly no fucking tree, mention of marriage or a goddamn baby carriage; it was just a fucking KISS they saw!  And she sure as hell didn’t need Korsak and Frost yapping about it.  All.  Day.  Long.

Jane also didn’t need to be a detective or have a nosey mother living in Maura’s guesthouse to know that Doctor Pendleton had spent the night again with Maura.  She shook her head with annoyance, considering Maura was going to live to be 150 if sex had as many health benefits as her friend had touted.  Jane sipped her coffee and snorted derisively considering her own sex life; she’d likely keel-over before forty…if her job didn’t do her in…or her mother nagged her to death.

She quietly moaned when she spotted her mother approach, like a heat-seeking missile.  While grateful her Ma had a job and one that she loved, Jane wished it were at some other coffee shop . . . far away from work.

“Jane!  Just the person I was looking for,” Angela boomed.

“And here I am,” she said with an innocent smile, wondering what Angela wanted now.

“So what are you going to get Maura?” Angela asked in a worried whisper.

“Get Maura?”

“For her birthday,” she explained as if Jane was a bit dense.

“That’s like two weeks away,” Jane scoffed with a chuckle.

“That’s NOT a lot of time,” Angela complained.

“Get her . . . a Hickory Farms gift basket or something,” Jane offered, causing Angela’s eyes to widen in disbelief.

“What!?!  What kind of gift idea is THAT?” Angela snapped, swatting Jane’s arm for good measure.

“Hey!” Jane looked at her crazy mother as she held her abused arm.

“We need to get her something with class!” Angela hissed.

“Even if she doesn’t like Hickory Farms, she can offer it to her guests – namely us.  When we’re at her house for the games, Frankie and Tommy inhale whatever she has.  Summer sausage and cheese – tell me that’s not a good gift,” Jane argued, not understanding.

“It’s not a good gift!  I’d die from embarrassment if she opened up something like that at her party,” Angela complained.

“Party?” Jane asked, the first she had heard about any party.  Though she supposed her mother would throw Maura one too, as she is now the official party expert - her “My pretty pony” party went over so well.

“Constance is planning to throw this really fancy . . . . Shhh!” Angela suddenly blurted unnecessarily when Maura entered the coffee shop.

“How do you know that Maura’s mom is…?” Jane asked curiously at Angela’s insight into what Constance’s plans.  Last she had heard, Constance was busy in New York City.

“Shhh!” Angela added, interrupting her slow daughter, and plastered on a huge smile for the Medical Examiner.  “Maura dear!  The usual?”

Maura smiled.  “That would be lovely.”

“Coming right up,” Angela said happily to the Doctor, sneaking a quick glaring look at Jane to remind her she needed to really think about the present.

Jane smiled and finger waved at her mother.

“This seat taken?” Maura asked politely, looking at Jane then the empty seat.

“Yes.  By you,” Jane said with a smirk, moving her folders out of the way.

“Was Angela shushing you?” Maura asked curiously as she sat, glancing towards the elder Rizzoli, who was busy behind the counter.

“Would you believe she sprung a leak?” Jane offered.

Maura eyed her, clearly unsatisfied with the answer.

“Why yes, Maura, my mother was shushing me,” Jane said with a sigh, hating to be shushed.

“Why?”

“Now if I told you, then that would defeat the purpose of her shushing me,” Jane explained easily with a shrug.

Maura smiled at her friend, undeterred.  “I’ll get it out of you later,” she said confidently with a sparkle in her eye.

“You should try Ma, she’s more likely to crack under pressure,” Jane countered with a smirk, looking towards her mother behind the counter.

“We’ll see,” Maura responded, certain with the right questions and enough patience, she could extract the desired information from her friend.

“You get the DNA results yet?” Jane asked, sipping her coffee.

“Yes,” Maura said, feeling bad for the sudden hope in Jane’s eyes.  “Unfortunately, no match,” she offered with a sympathetic wince.

Jane exhaled with frustration.  “I thought for sure….eh.  Back to square one, I guess,” she said looking down with a shrug as she reigned in her disappointment.  Something she was getting a lot of practice with, Jane considered with annoyance.

“You’ll figure this out, Jane,” Maura said and reached out, placing a comforting hand over Jane’s.

Jane looked into sympathetic eyes, almost getting lost in them.  “We’ll see,” Jane said neutrally.  She awkwardly patted Maura’s hand before promptly withdrawing both of hers with a weak smile.

Angela came to them with a cup for Maura and a pot of fresh brewed for Jane’s refill.

“I gotta go, Ma.  Criminals to catch and all,” Jane blurted, suddenly hopping up from her seat, and kissed a surprised Angela on the cheek.

“Oh.  Ok, honey.  Be safe!” Angela called out to her quickly departing daughter.

After watching Jane disappear into the hallway, Maura turned to Angela with a curious look.  “Have you noticed Jane acting odd lately?”

“Lately??” Angela snorted with amusement and left to attend to another customer.

Chapter 1 – Symphony Hall

Dr. Charles Pendleton smiled at his date; Maura looked amazing as usual.  He didn’t care for his tuxedo, which felt a bit suffocating.  Though rubbing elbows with the wealthy and influential required a few concessions, he acknowledged as he glanced around the modest gathering of several dozen people, a small fraction of the general audience.  Only the very important patrons of Symphony Hall were allowed to the after-performance social events, he considered smugly, proud that he could arrange this exceptional evening.  Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was dating the daughter of two prominent members on the board of directors either, he thought with a smirk.

“Oh Charles, the performance was simply . . . breath-taking.  Thank you for bringing me here,” she said again, guided by her dashing date through a group of patrons.

“Well you said you hadn’t been to an event at Symphony Hall in a while.  And I thought you’d enjoy getting dressed up and having a night on the town,” Charles said, very pleased with himself.  He was also looking forward to her appreciation later that evening.

“Oh you know I don’t need a reason to get dressed up.  But the sentiment is appreciated, as is your selection of venue,” she smiled, looking around the room.

“My pleasure,” he said with a sly smile, fully expecting it would be.

“There she is!” Maura gushed like a kid on Christmas.  Charles bristled slightly when he noted a few of the patrons look at them disapprovingly.

“Maura, calm down dear.  You’re attracting attention,” he said in a hushed tone.  It hadn’t been the first time Maura had embarrassed him in public.  But on the bright side, she more than made up for it in private, he considered.

Her enthusiasm was immediately dampened by his words and look of censure on his face.  “I’m …sorry. I am just in awe of her talent,” Maura explained, getting a small smile from her date.

“I know.  I am too.  I appreciate anyone who can play the piano so well.”

Maura nodded, focusing on the virtuoso, who was engaged in a lively conversation with a few patrons. Her black dress was simple but elegantly complemented her attractive form.  Her dark hair was pinned up, with hints of grey around her temples, which was the only outward sign she was in her late forties. Her energy, laugh, and passion for her playing bespoke eternal youth to Maura, who smiled.

As they made their way towards the pianist, Maura felt her excitement return.  When the woman saw them approach, she smiled warmly, subtly glancing over Maura with appreciation.

“Ms. Calderón, Dr. Maura Isles, I am so very honored to meet you,” Maura said and gushed to the elegant woman, “Your performance this evening was amazing!”

The woman chuckled at her unabashed enthusiasm.  “I am delighted you think so!  I have always had a warm spot for Boston’s Symphony Hall.”

Her voice was warm and laced with a lovely Argentinian accent, Maura noticed and offered, “You played here in 1989 and then in 2003, standing room only.”

“Ah, both were special performances.  I have always enjoyed performing in Boston,” Martha Calderón acknowledged with a sparkle in her eye.

“Then why haven’t you performed here more often?” Charles interjected curiously, causing the pianist’s smile to fade as she briefly looked at him with irritation.

Noting the sudden tension, Charles added with a weak smile, “I’m sure it would delight your Boston fans to see you more.”

“There are agents, managers, and other commitments, naturally,” Ms. Calderón offered dismissively then returned her gaze to Maura.  “I truly hope my infrequent performances are not perceived as being unappreciative of Boston’s very lovely and enthusiastic music lovers,” she said and smiled.  “I can assure you, I am most appreciative.”

Maura smiled cheerfully.  “Your fans appreciate you - your live recordings of those performances were extremely popular, they surpassed all other classical music sales those years,” she offered, making Ms. Calderón chuckle again, impressed with the woman’s knowledge and sincere enthusiasm.

Charles shifted uncomfortably at Maura’s spouting of facts, again; she did not seem to have the filter that most people had.  Though he was greatly relieved Maura’s facts were apparently found charming by the illustrious musician, not incredibly awkward, as they have been painfully known to be.  He fingered his chafing collar, which he worried would leave a rash.  He then realized Maura could kiss it better and smirked.

“I leave those details to my manager, though I do seem to recall he was very happy those years,” she said as a waiter passed by.  “Champagne, Doctor Isles?” Martha casually asked, smoothly picking up two glasses, expecting a yes.

Charles frowned and quickly grabbed himself a glass from the passing tray with an uncomfortable smile.

“Thank you,” Maura said with a smile as she accepted the glass from the musician.

“So do you play?” Martha asked, focusing on Maura’s lovely face.

“Oh no,” Maura said, shaking her head.  “I have studied Ballet and fencing,” she offered instead.

“I can see you in a tu-tu or fencing jacket,” Martha said, admiring Maura’s fit form.

“I play a little piano,” Charles interjected.

“I didn’t know that,” Maura said with a delighted smile at that discovery.

Martha smirked as she sipped her champagne.  Men were always so competitive, even when they were woefully out of their league.  She eyed the man, wondering what this lovely woman saw in him beyond his attractive appearance.

“Well, it was a while ago…haven’t played in a while,” Charles quickly backpedaled, realizing his mistake; Maura would ask him to play for her if he didn’t.

“That’s a shame,” Martha Calderón honestly offered, not able to imagine life without the piano. Maura nodded.

Charles wished he hadn’t said anything.

***

Jane and Frankie were in combat . . . on the old neighborhood basketball court.  They were on their third game as the sun went down; the illumination for their epic battle was quickly becoming only the streetlights.

“She shoots, she scores!” Jane cheered as the basketball whooshed through the net and held her arms up in victory, revealing large spots under her arms that matched the other dark patches soaking through her tee shirt.

Frankie rolled his eyes at his sister who was now doing a happy dance, with her ponytail bouncing wildly.

“Lucky shot, sis,” Frankie said, retrieving the ball from the grass at the side of the court.  He took the bottom of his shirt and wiped off his dripping face.

“Ha!  Lucky three games, you mean!” she razzed him happily.

“Four out of five,” he negotiated, dribbling the ball.

“Do you realize how many games you now have to win in a row to beat me, Sherlock??  I can’t believe you passed your Detective’s exam,” Jane said with amusement, going over to the bench.  She wiped her forehead with a towel before throwing a hoodie on over her damp tee.

“Afraid it really was luck, huh?  Can’t beat me again, can you?” Frankie taunted, knowing his argument was horrible – she thoroughly kicked his ass, which was a surprise.  Though she did seem more driven than usual for some reason, he considered.

Jane laughed at him.  “Yeah.  That’s it.  Keep dreaming, bro…” she said, then frowned when her phone rang.  “So much for a quiet evening,” she muttered, “Rizzoli,” she answered.

Frankie noticed a look of concern wash over her.

“Are you Ok?!?” Jane immediately asked.  “Good.  Ok, I’ll be right there in…” Jane said, looking at her watch, “ . . . no more than fifteen minutes.  All right.  See you there.”

“What’s up?” Frankie asked curiously, joining her at the bench.

“DB at Symphony Hall,” Jane said with a thoughtful look as she dialed her phone.

“Isn’t Maura there tonight?” Frankie asked.

“She’s the one who called me,” she answered then got dispatch on the line.  “Yes, this is Detective Rizzoli, Homicide, Victor 825.  I got a call from the Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Isles, who is on scene with a DB at Symphony Hall with a possible 187.  My ETA is about 15 minutes.  Thanks.”

“Wow.  And I thought an evening at the symphony would be boring,” Frankie joked.

“Never a dull moment around Maura,” Jane said with a smirk.  “Gotta go, bro.”

“You going dressed like that?” Frankie asked, taking in her sweaty sweats as she went to her car.

“It’s either this or naked,” Jane said sassily and got into her car.

“I didn’t need to hear that!” Frankie called out with a cringe as she waved at him with a chuckle and quickly drove off.

***

Jane was well aware of the looks of disapproval she received from the elegantly dressed patrons and security guards as she made her way towards the dead body in her sweaty workout clothes.  She would have thought the security guards at least would cut her some slack, but then, they were probably trained to be snobby to work in this fine establishment.  She was certain her crappy attire would have prevented her access to the Hall had it not been for the gold shield at her waist . . . well that and the weapon she wore.  The great equalizers, she considered with a small snort.

“Jane!” Maura called out with relief when she spotted her friend.  When she quickly joined her side, Maura glanced over her outfit with a frown.

“Basketball with Frankie.  I crushed him,” Jane said succinctly and unapologetically.

“Oh. Congratulations!” Maura offered genuinely, making Jane smile.

“You look . . . amazing,” Jane offered sincerely, glancing down at Maura’s elegant dark green dress that perfectly hugged her ample curves.

“Thank you,” Maura said, exceedingly pleased by the unexpected compliment.  “I could say the same about you,” she offered with amusement, glancing over Jane’s sweats again.

“Oh this little ol’ thing?” Jane joked in a Southern Accent, making Maura smile.  “So what do we have?”

“Maura!  There you are!” Dr. Charles Pendleton blurted with exasperation as he joined them.

“Charles, I’m working now,” Maura said, glancing between him and Jane, who smiled politely.

“But . . . you were off tonight,” he complained with a frown.

“Guess the dead body you found changed plans,” Jane interjected helpfully with a shrug.

“Jane,” he greeted her politely, his eyes glancing over her inappropriate attire.

“Chuck,” Jane responded with a nod, prompting a displeased frown.

“Can’t you get one of your assistants to…,” he suggested and trailed off with a wince, motioning towards the body.

“Charles,” Maura admonished.  “It would be inappropriate for me to leave the scene.  I’m here now and it will be more efficient for me to continue with the case,” she explained.  Jane bit her lip to prevent a smile.  Noting Maura’s eyes on her again, Jane nodded in ready agreement.  Evening off or not, she wouldn’t have left the scene either.

Satisfied, Maura turned back to Charles and placed a gentle hand on his forearm.  “You shouldn’t leave yet,” she said, which apparently appeased him from the satisfied smile.  “I’m sure Jane or the other detectives will want to take your statement.”

Charles’s smile faded.

“I’d like to talk with friends or co-workers of the victim first,” Jane said authoritatively and glanced at Maura who pointed in the direction of a small distraught group.

Charles sighed realizing his plans to spend an intimate night with Maura were unlikely now.

“That would be the group with Ms. Calderón, the pianist we came to see,” Maura offered helpfully.

Jane nodded, eyeing them and their interactions.  There were four in their group.  The stout man, mid-fifties and balding, seemed irritated.  The attractive brunette, late forties, was seated with tears in her eyes, looking heartbroken.  A blond, mid-thirties, stood next to the pianist with a comforting hand on the pianist’s shoulder and a worried look on her face.  Another younger brunette, in her twenties, stood by the stout man with her arms crossed over her chest, looking around uncomfortably with tears in her eyes.

“From my limited examination of the victim, there were no obvious external injuries noted,” Maura offered.  “But I really need…” she said with irritation just as her assistant arrived with her needed bag. “Thank you,” she said with surprise to her pleased assistant.

“Neat trick.  Need anything else, Doctor?” Jane asked with an amused smirk.

“I’ll let you know if there is, Detective,” Maura said with a small smile and headed to the body as Jane went to interview the small group.

Charles sighed and headed to the small bar, only to find out it was closed as part of the investigation. He rolled his eyes wishing he had just invited Maura to her favorite French restaurant.

***

“I’m Detective Jane Rizzoli.  Would any of you mind telling me about the victim, Kyle Gruhoffer?” she said gently, causing four sets of eyes to look at her.

“He was my friend and an excellent musician,” the attractive brunette spoke up in an Argentinian accent.

The younger brunette nodded and sniffed, wiping her nose with a tissue.  The blond woman frowned and rubbed the older woman’s shoulder.  The man checked his watch.

“You are?” Jane asked the pianist, surprising the woman.

“She’s Martha Calderón!  The closest you’ll get to genius in your life-time,” an older man piped up with irritation at the detective’s ignorance and her scruffy appearance.

Jane briefly glanced over at Maura with a small smile then back at the volatile man.

“Roberto, Roberto . . . the good Detective is here to find out what happened to Kyle,” Martha said tiredly, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

“You said he was also a musician?” Jane asked.

“A great pianist,” Martha offered with a sad smile.

“But not the greatest,” Roberto countered firmly.  Martha patted the man’s forearm and shook her head, not needing him to champion her talent right now.

“And you are?” Jane asked the irritating man, who stiffened at the questioned.

“I am Roberto Trejo, Ms. Calderón’s manager.”

“I see.  Isn’t there usually only one starring pianist?” Jane asked curiously.

“Yes.  And that’s Martha Calderón!” Roberto snapped.

“Roberto,” Martha sighed tiredly at his unnecessarily protective nature.  “We have a record coming out of piano duos.  We were promoting it in several cities.  After Boston, our last stop was to be at the Bar Harbor Music festival,” Martha offered adding, “He was a kindred spirit.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jane said, not detecting any artificiality from this woman.  Her sadness was very real, she considered.  “The Boston Police Department will not rest until we find out what happened.”

Martha looked into confident and determined brown eyes.  “Thank you, Detective,” she said softly.

“When can we go to our hotel rooms?” Roberto asked tersely.

“Well, once you give your contact information with the patrolmen, you can go.  But because we will likely need to question you further, you are asked to not leave the city at this time.”

“Surely Martha will be able to go to Bar Harbor for her performance for the festival,” Roberto stated indignantly.

Martha sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

“Won’t the performance be impacted by Kyle Gruhoffer’s death?” Jane asked curiously.

“Not significantly, the concert is predominately Ms. Calderón; Mr. Gruhoffer accompanied her for only two pieces.”

“Roberto – enough.  I am tired of this talk.  We will support the police,” she snapped, causing him to frown.

“I . . . truly hope we can wrap the investigation up in time to support your concert,” Jane said diplomatically.

“Gah,” Roberto said, not appeased at all and sought out a patrolman to expedite his departure.  One of two women with their group quietly followed Roberto.  The blond hesitated and eyed Martha with concern.

“Go on, Lidia,” Martha said, getting a troubled frown and reluctant nod.  Lidia glanced at Jane a moment before leaving.

“I am sorry for his rudeness,” the pianist said to Jane.

“It’s a difficult time,” Jane allowed.

“His rudeness is not a result of this situation,” she admitted with a sigh.

“Ah.”

Jane was startled when Martha Calderón placed her hands over hers.  Seeing her smile slightly and pointedly look at the pad and pen she held, Jane blinked and gave them to her, watching the pianist as she wrote something down.  “It’s my private number and room number at the Four Seasons.  I trust you will not share this outside of the investigation?”

“Of course.”

Martha smiled slightly and handed Jane back the paper and pen.  “Good evening, Detective,” she said and started to leave but stopped and looked at Jane curiously.  “So you never heard of me before?”

Jane looked at her and smiled politely.  “Disappointed?”

“No.  I find it refreshing,” she said, looking at Jane thoughtfully.

***

“Any more information on the vic?” Jane asked as she jointed Maura, who watched the body be loaded onto a gurney for transport to the morgue.

“Unfortunately nothing conclusive,” Maura said with a disappointed frown.

“You’ll find something,” Jane said confidently, gaining a thoughtful look from Maura.
“Looks kind of young to just drop from natural causes,” Jane ventured.

“I won’t know until I . . . ,” Maura countered firmly, once again resisting Jane’s efforts to get her to guess.

Jane smirked and interrupted her expected response.  “So, how was the performance??”

“Oh. My. God!  It was most incredible concert I have attended,” Maura gushed.

“And you’ve been to a few,” Jane noted with a smile, enjoying Maura’s enthusiasm.

“Quite a few.  Ms. Calderón . . . transports you with her music,” she said, trying to explain the experience.

“It was pretty amazing, wasn’t it,” Charles added with a small smile when he joined them, placing his hand at the small of Maura’s back.

Possessive much?  Jane wondered with irritation, hoping he didn’t have the urge to urinate on Maura’s Louboutins.

“And to think we witnessed her final performance with Kyle Gruhoffer,” he said with odd enthusiasm.

Maura and Jane eyed him an uncomfortable moment before Maura offered to Jane.  “I think you’d appreciate her performance of Marche Funèbre. “

Charles eyed her workout clothes, considering it was unlikely the Boston Detective could appreciate anything more sophisticated than beer and a ball game.

“Really?” Jane asked with a chuckle.  “I’m not so sure if I’d have to get dressed up.  I’m suspicious of any activity that requires me to wear uncomfortable clothes,” Jane offered.  “I’ll just enjoy my ringtone when you call, thank you.”

“Jane!” Maura said with exasperation.  “Dressing up doesn’t automatically mean you will be uncomfortable,” she countered with a disapproving shake of her head.

“So what do you think there, Chuck?” Jane questioned, surprising the man by including him in the conversation.  She had noted him fingering his collar and wincing a number of times during the evening.

Seeing Maura’s curious gaze on him, Charles smiled.  “Maura’s right, of course,” he said with confidence, patting her hip.

Suck up, much?  Jane wondered.

“That only means you’ve never had to endure heels and panty hose,” Jane countered, causing Maura to roll her eyes with an amused smile at her friend’s stubbornness.  “Or have you, and found you like it?” Jane accused teasingly.

“Of course not!” Charles immediately sputtered.

Maura chuckled.

“So can we leave now?” Charles asked the Detective with irritation.

“Did you give your information to the patrolman?” Jane asked.

“Yes,” he said with impatience.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Jane, do you mind giving me a ride to the lab?” Maura asked, surprising both Jane and Charles.

“The lab?  But . . . I waited,” Charles said, looking at her dumbfounded.

“Charles, it really is out of your way.  Jane can drop me off on her way to her apartment.”

Jane glanced at Charles, who was not pleased.  She could understand why – she’d be annoyed too.

“But Maura, honey, I thought we would have a . . . night cap,” Charles blurted, knowing it was a long shot after Maura had been working on this inconvenient case.

Jane hated to hear a man beg.  She hated it worse when a man tried not to sound like he was begging. And Charles was begging big time, but Maura didn’t seem to notice, or was just better at ignoring it.

“As lovely as that sounds, I want to get the blood work started.  I’ll see you later this week,” Maura said, pecking him on the lips.

Jane’s eyes dropped to an interesting spot on the floor.

“I understand.  You are the Chief Medical Examiner and lead by example.  I look forward to seeing you sooner than later,” Charles said with a forced smile.

The comment seemed to please Maura, who smiled back brightly.  “Me too.”

“Jane,” Charles said.

“Chuck,” Jane responded politely, causing him to bristle at the nickname.

Chapter Text

“I am in awe of her talent,” Maura gushed reverently, enthusiastically providing detailed commentary for each piece of music played.  “And the last duet was . . . so . . . ,” Maura searched for the perfect word. “Sensual,” she offered, satisfied with her selection.

“Sensual, huh?  And what was it?” Jane asked with a smirk as she stopped at a red light.

“The Libertango,” Maura answered with excitement.

Jane responded with a nod.

“You know the piece?” Maura asked curiously.

“Isn’t that the one Assy Pizzacola wrote?”

Maura laughed and warmly corrected her.  “Astor Piazzolla.”

Jane grinned slightly; Maura’s laughter was music to her ears.

“I wonder if Charles would take Tango lessons with me,” Maura suddenly blurted curiously.

Jane’s smile faded.  Up until that moment, Jane was really enjoying the conversation.  “Isn’t Dr. Doolittle usually busy with his animals?”  She offered, recalling Maura lament about how hard it was to schedule dates with him.

“Unfortunately, his successful practice does make it difficult to find time that is mutually agreeable with both our schedules,” Maura offered, ignoring Jane’s nickname for him.  “But he promised to try harder.”

“Ah,” Jane said and drove into a parking space.  “Well, good.  He’d be a fool to pass up a chance to dance with you,” she offered softly.

Maura looked at Jane with a warm smile.  “Thank you,” she said, then her eyes sparkled with excitement as she thought of an alternative.  “If he can’t commit to a class with me, maybe . . . .”

“Here we are!” Jane interrupted and turned off the engine.  She cringed, wishing she had just kept her big mouth shut about Charles and the class.  She did not need to be taking a Tango class with Maura . . . though she would definitely be the one to lead, she considered, then grew annoyed with herself for the stray thought.  One of many that plagued her these days, she lamented.

Maura frowned slightly, then realized Jane wasn’t dropping her off; she was getting out of the car.  “You’re not going home?” She asked as Jane got to her door and opened it.

“And let you have all the fun?” Jane countered, holding out a hand to help Maura from the car.  As she shut the door, Maura leaned in slightly and took a sniff; she winced.

“Hey!” Jane blurted.  “Stop sniffing me!”

“You sure you don’t want to go home to take a nice hot shower?  Hot showers have both physical and psychological benefits.”

Jane rolled her eyes.  “Because I’ll be both physically clean and psychologically happy about that??”

“Well after exercise, there are benefits to a hot shower other than getting clean – it can also relieve muscular….” Maura responded.

“I got it.  I stink,” Jane interjected with a huff, briefly lifting her arm up and sniffing herself.

“I didn’t say that,” Maura countered and headed towards the station steps.

“So I don’t stink?” Jane challenged, walking beside her.

“I didn’t say that either,” Maura said with amusement.

“Fine!  I’m gonna grab a quick one in the gym.”

Maura seemed satisfied, then made a face, glancing down at Jane’s workout clothes.

“I’ve got clean clothes in my locker, Maura,” Jane said in irritated defense as they ascended the steps together.

“Good.”

Jane rolled her eyes as she grabbed the station’s door and opened it for Maura.

***

After her quick shower and change, Jane sat in her chair and pulled out a file from her file drawer.  With a sigh, she opened up her last case file that still had her stumped: teenaged runaway on the streets, prostitute, drug addict, and beaten to death…things that most people would gloss over as unfortunate and proceed to ignore.  The victim got herself into more trouble by trying to leave an unhappy foster care situation.  Jane had thought her pimp, who had a few assault charges to his name, was the one.  But that theory didn’t pan out after Maura’s DNA results came back negative.

Jane sighed heavily, really wanting to put that bastard away.  All they got was probation for their efforts.

Standing, Jane stretched, feeling the long day catch up to her.  The Child Services investigation ruled out abuse at home, she considered as she started to pace.  Her interview with the other foster kids didn’t produce any leads. They were all rather tight-lipped, Jane considered, rubbing the back of her neck. Understandable, she thought, shaking her head wondering what it would have been like to grow up in a foster home and not with your own family. The lack of security and the possible upheaval constantly threatened would give any kid a reason to build walls, she considered. Her thoughts strayed to Maura and her privileged childhood as an adopted child. Not even gobs of money could guarantee a loving home and the sense of family.

Oddly, Jane felt the need to call her mom.  Pulling out her cell, she pressed her speed dial.

“Jane! What’s wrong?!?” Angela blurted, making Jane cringe and realize her mistake.

“What? Can’t I just call my mother without the third-degree?!?”

“Sorry!  So you just called to what?  Chat?” Angela said sarcastically.

“Actually . . . never mind,” Jane said uncomfortably, wishing she had not caved in to her emotional impulse.

“Jane,” Angela said more softly. “You can call me anytime to chat, you know,” she encouraged, sounding a bit contrite.

“It’s just a case, Ma,” she admitted with a heavy sigh, rubbing her eyes.  “The victim was a foster kid running away to the streets . . . just makes me feel lucky, ya know?” Jane offered.

“I . . . I’d say you’re lucky,” Angela offered, not used to Jane sharing with her.

Jane chuckled.  “Yeah.  I thought you would.  After everything…you still love me, so I can’t argue.”

After an unusually long pause, Angela responded, “Of course I love you.  And you know better than to argue with your mother, Jane,” she offered.

“You’d think,” Jane offered with mild amusement though she felt herself becoming dangerously emotional. “Uh, gotta go, Ma,” she said, needing to reign in her feelings.

“Don’t work so hard!” Angela scolded her daughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.

“LOVE you,” Angela blurted.

“Love ya, Ma,” Jane said and hung up.  She stared at her phone a long moment, not hearing Maura when she joined her.

“Hey,” Maura said softly, startling Jane who quickly recovered.

“Hey.  All done for the night?”

“Yes.  I have sent off the blood work to toxicology.  The rest I’ll do tomorrow.  Are you finished?” Maura asked curiously, glancing at Jane’s file.

“I wish.  Let me straighten up a moment and I’ll take you home,” Jane said, getting a nod.

As she put away the papers, Maura noticed the case.  “The Potter case?” she asked.

“Unfortunately. I’m still stuck on this one,” Jane admitted and slipped the file into her desk, locking the drawer.

“I wish I could have helped,” Maura offered apologetically.

“You did, Maura.  And as much as I hate not throwing Lacy’s pimp in jail for her murder, I’d hate it worse if we got the wrong guy and let the real murderer get away with it,” Jane offered, squeezing Maura’s forearm briefly.

Maura nodded.  “Is this case what has been bothering you lately?” she asked, eyeing Jane who looked at her in confusion.

“Bothering me?”

“You’ve seemed . . . distant,” Maura said.

Jane blinked.  “Uh . . . I’m not happy with our progress . . . or lack of it,” she offered.  “Let’s get out of here,” she said, motioning for Maura to join her.

Maura looked at her friend thoughtfully then smiled. “Let’s.”

***

“So that was Jane?” Constance asked curiously and sipped her mediocre white wine.  The Dirty Robber was not exactly a five star restaurant with an impressive selection, she considered, but it was strangely . . . comfortable.

“Yeah. She was feeling down about a case,” Angela said, still surprised by the call as she put her phone back into her large purse.

“It must be nice to have your daughter call you when she wants emotional support,” Constance said wistfully.

Angela looked sympathetically across the booth to the elegant woman, who lost out on the trials and tribulations of raising her only child by letting someone else do it for her; something she wouldn’t have given up for all the money in the world. “Jane usually doesn’t call.  Something is going on with her,” she offered, shaking her head.

“I hope she is all right,” Constance offered sincerely.

“She will be.  My Jane is nothing if not resilient,” she said proudly.  “But I do worry that she works so hard,” Angela lamented. “She’ll never find someone if she’s always working, you know,” she complained and sipped her grasshopper. “She’s not getting any younger.”

Constance looked at Angela.  “Jane is an impressive woman, Angela.  She has a noble career, which she’s passionate about, amazing confidence, and not to mention remarkable beauty – I wouldn’t worry so much.  You’ve done a great job raising her.”

“Thanks, Connie,” Angela smiled proudly, then admitted wearily, “It wasn’t easy.  She’s headstrong and a handful.”

“But chivalrous towards her friends,” Constance offered with a warm smile, recalling how Jane wasn’t afraid to speak up and bluntly point out what she thought was very poor treatment of her daughter.  No one had ever dared challenge her about Maura like that.

“Speaking of friends, I saw Maura dressed to the nines and leaving with a gentleman in a tuxedo for the Symphony.  He’s the one she’s been seeing a lot; a veterinarian isn’t he?” Angela excitedly asked, clearly impressed.

“Yes.  Dr. Charles Pendleton,” Constance said flatly, bringing her wine to her pursed lips.

“Oh,” Angela responded with surprise.  “I would have thought you would be more enthusiastic, Connie.  She’s seeing a Doctor!”

“The Pendleton’s are new money,” Constance said dismissively, wondering why Angela had started calling her Connie; no one else had ever presumed to call her that.  But oddly, it sounded rather . . . fitting from this brash Italian woman, who she now considered a friend.

Angela laughed. “Honey, I’d like to have ANY money - regardless of its age,” she joked, making Constance smile.

“Yes, well.  You have a point.  But truthfully, he is not of the caliber I would hope for my daughter.  He strives to impress everyone, as new money usually does - it is quite annoying,” Constance admitted.

“Well, he’s supposed to try to impress you.  You’re Maura’s mother!” Angela countered with certainty.

“What would impress me is if he treated her like the most important person on Earth . . . and celebrated the person she is, not treat her as some prize to show off to improve his social standing.”

“Aw.  That’s too bad.  Maura’s a sweet girl and deserves the best - not some jerk like that.  Have you talked to her about him?” Angela asked curiously.

“Oh no,” Constance responded uneasily.  “We are just starting to talk now.  I am certain she wouldn’t want me to meddle in her love life.”

“You’re her mother!  Meddling comes with the territory!” Angela said with such vehemence, Constance chuckled.

“It would be new territory, I’m afraid,” she admitted.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here!  This is very old territory for me,” Angela said with a sly smile and a sparkle in her eye. She surprised Constance by pulling out a pad and pen from her large purse.  “So!  We’ve established you want someone to treat Maura like the most important person on Earth and not like some prize,” she said with excitement, making notes. “Any other traits?”

Constance found Angela’s enthusiasm both amusing and endearing.

“Confident,” Constance offered firmly.

“Confident- check.  He definitely can’t be intimidated by her job or smarts,” Angela said, writing down the trait.

“Attractive.”

Angela chuckled and wrote the trait down.  “Of course; you’ll want good-looking grandbabies.”

“Chivalrous.”

“Someone who treats her like a princess,” Angela sighed happily, writing that trait down.

“In a noble profession which they are passionate about,” Constance offered with a slight wince as she watched Angela start to write that down and pause.

Angela looked up from her notes, seeing Constance shrug.

“Someone . . . like Jane,” Angela offered hesitantly.

Constance smiled slightly with a nod.

Angela’s gaze dropped to her notes for a long moment of contemplation, making Constance worry she had gone too far. But surely Angela had to know how much Maura and Jane meant to each other – even if they did not recognize how much themselves, she considered.

Angela took a long breath as she put down her pen.

“Someone exactly like Jane,” she finally said with a smirk, picking up her drink and lightly clinking her glass against Constance’s in a toast.

“Exactly like Jane,” Constance repeated with a smile and sipped her drink.

“You’re pretty good at meddling - for a beginner,” Angela offered with approval.

***

After dropping Maura off, Jane opened up her apartment door to find Jo Friday at the door looking up at her.  One growling bark let her owner know of her neglect.

“Ah, sorry Jo.  Let’s get you out, huh?” she said guiltily, prompting another bark as Jane grabbed the leash.

As they walked around the block looking for Jo’s special spot, Jane noted other dog owners doing their nightly chore, offering friendly smiles as she passed.

One owner in particular caught Jane’s eye, a blond woman, mid-twenties.  Her blond hair was very nicely coiffed, Jane considered, appreciating the time it took to tame her own mane – time she did not normally spend unless Maura guilted her into it.  Jane noted the woman with the nice hair also wore the type of clothes Maura would wear – heels that accentuated her shapely calves, a stylish dress that allowed appreciation of those calves, and a short poncho coat, with a tasteful light brooch on the dark material. Jane had to wonder why a woman would want to walk a dog in that dressy outfit. She smiled, thinking perhaps Maura’s selection of Bass as a pet was due to not being required to walk him. Though, Maura would probably feel perfectly comfortable walking a dog in high heels because she was certainly comfortable climbing all over a crime scene in them, bringing her back to her fundamental question; how any woman could feel comfortable in heels like that?

“She’s adorable,” the blond dog-owner offered with a warm smile for Jo and Jane.

“Don’t say that so loud, it will go to Jo’s head,” Jane joked, causing Jo to bark before greeting the other dog, which sniffed at her too.

The woman chuckled. “So her name is Jo?” she asked, tucking a blond strand behind her ear.

“Jo Friday.  I’m Jane Rizzoli, Jo’s human,” Jane said with a smirk, holding out her hand.

The woman smiled and shook her hand slowly, which made Jane a bit uncomfortable.  It was one of those “dainty” handshakes you’d expect from a high-society lady.  When she first met Maura, who was stunning in her designer clothes and reeked of money, she expected the same.  Boy was she surprised by the firm, commanding grip when they met at their first crime scene together.  That memory made her smile.

“I’m Regina Wilkinson, Cooper’s human,” Regina offered, glancing down at her beagle that was saying hello to Jo.  “My friends call me Gina.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jane said.  “And Cooper,” she smiled at the beagle that looked up to her.

“I just moved into the area,” Regina said.  “Have you been here long?”

“Yeah, several years,” Jane said, glancing back at her apartment building.  “But I’m not going to tell you how many because then you’ll know I’m really old,” Jane joked.

“Please!  You are not old.  You are perfect,” she gushed, causing Jane’s smile to falter a little.

“I have several people who would sign an affidavit that I’m not,” Jane countered.

“You’re a lawyer?” Regina asked with great interest.

“Detective,” Jane countered.

Regina smiled.  “Must be exciting work.”

“Sometimes,” Jane said with a shrug.  “But there is a lot of paperwork and research that can be dull.”

“What color are my eyes?” Regina suddenly asked with a smirk and shut her eyes.

“Light blue,” Jane responded without hesitation.

Regina smiled brightly.  “You noticed.”

“Well, I am supposed to be observant,” Jane said with a weak chuckle and shrug.

“Did you also observe that I find you attractive and would be open to a lunch or whatever you might have in mind to offer?” she said suggestively, reaching out and caressing Jane’s forearm.

“Uh . . . I . . . ,” Jane said, stunned by the bold comment, glancing down at the hand on her arm as she started to question her observation skills.

“Too strong?” Gina suddenly blurted, biting her lip and wincing as she quickly retracted her hand.  “Damn.  I’m sorry.  I just came out and . . . well.  I think I better appreciate what guys have to go through . . . I’m sorry about the bad pickup line. You obviously are used to better….”

Jane scratched the back of her neck.  “Uh . . . not really.  Listen, no harm no foul.  OK?”

“God I’m so embarrassed,” Gina said and couldn’t look Jane in the eyes.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be,” Jane said, reaching out for her shoulder but awkwardly retracting her hand.  “I mean, I’m flattered and kind of impressed by your guts.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So?” Gina asked hopefully.  “What do you say we have coffee sometime?”

***

After their walk, Jane put out a bowl of food and fresh water for Jo, who slowly trotted over to the offering then looked at Jane with a snort.  Apparently still upset with her neglect, Jane concluded.  “I said I’m sorry, Jo,” she said with a sigh.

Scratching the back of her neck, she shook her head and headed to her bedroom and stripped into her pajamas and slipped under her covers.  Staring at her ceiling, she sighed, trying to stop thinking and go to sleep.

Chapter Text

Jane yawned as she unlocked her desk drawer and pulled out a file.  Sipping her coffee as she sat down, Frost came over to her in a rush.

“Jane, we’ve got another DB.”

Jane sighed heavily as she got up from her chair.  “Lovely start to what I’m sure will be a wonderful day,” she said with a plastered on smile.  “Where?”

“Symphony Hall,” he said.

“Who?” She immediately asked with concern, for some reason wondering about Martha Calderón.

***

“These deaths are giving classical music a bad name,” Frost joked softly as they walked onto the stage.  “Oh man,” he mumbled with a cringe, seeing the body crushed under the shattered spotlight in a pool of blood next to the Steinway.

Jane took a quick glance around; Maura had not yet arrived.  Jane noted the position of the body as well as the open space of the concert hall.  It was a different perspective, being on the stage side of the Hall – for any reason.  She also took note of the uniformed officers at the exits and on the stage next to a few people, including Martha Calderón.

The tearful pianist looked up from her lap, noticing the Detective approach.  The woman, who was clearly distraught, looked relieved to see a familiar face.

“Detective Rizzoli,” Martha Calderón greeted Jane and took another deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Ms. Calderón, can you tell me what happened?” Jane asked softly, crouching down next to the pianist and touching her forearm gently.

She nodded and took another uneasy breath.  “I was gathering my music after practicing and he,” she said, motioning to the body, “was setting up the stage for the quartet.  He smiled at me when I walked past him,” she offered, recalling his kind face with distress.  “I . . . there was a pop and the next thing I know, he pushed me . . . and he . . . he saved my life,” Martha offered in a shaky voice, new tears falling.

“Who is he?” Jane asked, glancing back at the body, then up at the ceiling where the large light came from.

“He saved me and I never took the time to know his name,” Martha said miserably, letting out a sob.  Jane took her hand and squeezed.

“Brian Carter.  Symphony Hall employee for 23 years” a uniformed cop offered softly, getting a nod of thanks from Jane.

“Ms. Calderón, I don’t mean to be an alarmist but I think you should take precautions for your safety until we determine what happened,” Jane said softly.

Martha looked at Jane with alarm, then looked over to the body in anguish. “Why would someone want to kill me??” she gasped.

“We don’t know that’s the case, but better safe than sorry, huh?” Jane said apologetically.  Martha’s teary eyes shut as she nodded.

“Where’s Mr. Trejo?” Jane asked, having noted he was not around.

“Why?” Martha said with irritation.  “Are you thinking that he…?”

Jane raised her hands up in surrender.  “I’m thinking you should have someone watch over you that you trust, Ms. Calderón.  If not him, someone who can help keep an eye out for you.”

“I’ll do it,” a young woman said nervously, stepping up.  She nodded at the detective then smiled uneasily at Martha.  Jane noted she looked very pale.

“And you are Lidia Argerich, correct?” Jane asked, looking at the young woman who had been consoling Ms. Calderón the night of Kyle Gruhoffer’s death.

“Yes,” she answered softly, glancing at Martha worriedly.  “I’m Martha’s personal assistant.”

Jane nodded and glanced towards the body when Maura arrived with her team.  The two shared a smile before Maura started processing the scene.  Jane kept looking, taking in her cream dress with chocolate bolo jacket that really complimented her figure – as usual.  Her gaze traveled to her legs as Maura gracefully knelt down by the body for a closer inspection.

“Lidia, I’ll have Roberto….” Martha said tiredly.

“Do you plan to stay here until he decides to return?” Lidia asked the pianist with a hint of irritation, catching Jane’s interest.

“Decides to return??” Jane asked, looking between the women.

“Lidia’s right, she can take me to the hotel, Detective,” Martha said, making Lidia smile with relief. Before Jane could say anything, Martha offered a small smile.  “I know the routine, Detective.  We’ll be expecting interviews.  You still have my numbers, correct?”

Jane nodded and noted the curious look of irritation crossing Lidia’s face.

*

Jane walked towards Maura, who was crouched down by the body, looking at the power cables on the light.  Jane caught herself glancing at Maura’s legs and frowned at how easily she was distracted.

“Anything interesting?” Jane asked, rubbing the back of her neck.

“The edges are cleanly cut, except for this one,” Maura said, pointing to the wire with a Q-tip.

“What’s that stain?  Explosive residue?” Jane asked kneeling down to take a closer look.

“I’ll know that when I do some tests on it, Detective,” Maura said with mild frustration that Jane had not yet learned to stop asking her to guess.

“Not even a . . . ,” Jane started to joke, then realized her face was very close to Maura’s.  “Ok,” she blurted and quickly stood back up.

Maura eyed her curiously and stood.  “Are you all right?  I noted that your nasojugal folds exhibit pronounced darkening.  I could see them from here when you were talking with Ms. Calderón.”

“Just need more beauty sleep,” Jane tossed out and continued before Maura could ask her why.  “Sooooooo.  We’ve got a popping sound overhead, a light with a partially severed cable with residue on it,” Jane summed up, looking up then out at the seats in the audience.  “Sounds like a small explosive charge broke the light free.”

“That sounds like a guess,” Maura countered with mild disapproval.  “Symphony Hall was one of the first auditoria designed in accordance with scientifically derived acoustical principles.  While the slope of the stage walls helps focus the sound outward, the shallow design of the balconies and other architectural features avoid trapping or muffling the sound.”

“Okaaay,” Jane said, not understanding the point.

“The pop could have been assumed to be directly overhead but have actually originated elsewhere,” Maura offered, motioning to the ceiling above seats, then either side of the auditorium.

“Ever consider becoming a flight attendant?” Jane said with amusement, mimicking the motions.

Maura glared at her.

“But didn’t these amazing acoustics of yours get ruined when contractors repaired the concert stage floor in 2005?” Jane argued, withholding a smile.

“2006,” Maura immediately corrected as her eyes lit up, clearly signaling she had something interesting to say.  Jane smiled; she loved seeing Maura’s enthusiasm for all things geeky.

“And no, they were very careful to avoid changing the sound of the hall by using the same methods and materials as the original, including tongue-in-groove, three-quarter inch, hard maple boards, with a compressed wool underlayment and hardened steel cut nails, hammered in by hand.  Quite impressive workmanship, actually,” Maura offered with appreciation.

“Yeah.  Sounds really good in here,” Jane said dryly, glancing around the impressive stage.  Maura rolled her eyes.  “But I’m still going with an overhead pop.”

“And I’m still going with my lab results,” Maura countered firmly, eyeing her in challenge.

Jane grinned at her.  Maura sighed with feigned frustration and shook her head as a small smile emerged.

***

“We finished interviewing Ms. Calderón, her agent, and personal assistant.  I have a funny feeling about Trejo, but besides him being an ass, I don’t have anything else,” Jane announced as she entered Maura’s office.

“Jane,” Maura sighed with disapproval at the name-calling.

“Anything on either Symphony Hall DB?  It’s too much of a coincidence,” Jane ventured, shaking her head as she plopped down on the couch, rubbing her eyes.

“Kyle Gruhoffer’s arteries were more than fifty percent restricted.  And his blood work showed notably high cholesterol and significantly elevated proteins, indicating damage to the heart.  From his stomach content, his diet looks very much like yours,” Maura said with disapproval.

“You know my cholesterol is just fine, thank you very much,” she said defensively, rolling her eyes as Maura got up from her desk and joined her on the couch with a folder in hand.

“For now,” Maura said, not pleased with Jane’s stubbornness regarding her diet, but let it drop.  “I also found elevated levels of Adapin in his system, which is a commonly prescribed tricyclic antidepressant.”

Jane looked at her with surprise.  “He had a record with Martha Calderón being released and he was depressed??”

“Adapin may also be prescribed for anxiety,” Maura offered, getting Jane to nod slightly.

“Could the elevated levels have caused a heart attack?” Jane asked, thinking a possible intentional overdose.

“It can have side effects including low blood pressure, seizures, rapid heart rate,” Maura responded readily.

Jane blinked.  “Could the elevated levels have caused a heart attack?” She repeated flatly.

“Yes,” Maura said and sighed.  “Normal levels could have, also,” Maura continued and watched Jane’s gaze drop in thought as she offered more information.  “The normal dosages prescribed are from 75 to 300 milligram.  The level found in Kyle Gruhoffer was approximately 550 milligrams.  If I knew when he ingested the drug, I would be able to determine the dosage he took.  Unfortunately, I can’t,” she said with displeasure.  “I found nothing else of note in the toxicology results on Kyle Gruhoffer.  He died of a heart attack,” Maura said, causing Jane to frown.

“But we can’t tell what triggered it.  It could be natural causes or homicide,” Jane said with a heavy sigh.

“I can not definitively determine the cause of the heart attack,” Maura said, disappointed she couldn’t offer Jane the answer.

“Well, if you found all the answers Doctor Isles, I’d have nothing to do,” Jane responded distastefully, provoking a small smile from Maura, who was often surprised by how Jane could read her so well.

Maura offered the folder in her hand to Jane. “You were right about the residue,” she said, making Jane perk up.

“What was that?” Jane said, leaning towards her with her hand cupping her ear.  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I heard you.”

“How old are you?” Maura asked dryly, shaking her head at her happy friend.

“Old enough to be . . . RIGHT!” Jane declared happily.  “I’m rih-ot, I’m rih-ot, I’m rih-ot,” she chanted, popping up from the couch for a little dance that punctuated her rightness.

“You would think you were never right,” Maura said with an amused chuckle as Jane continued her “I’m rih-ot” dance. “Which of course is not true.  Statistically speaking, you are right impressively often,” Maura said, causing Jane to suddenly stop and look at her.

“What was that?” Jane said, leaning towards her with her hand cupping her ear.  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I heard that either.”

Maura laughed. “Jane!”

Jane smiled and sat back down.  “So, do you want to come over and catch the game tonight?”

“Oh, I can’t,” Maura said with a sigh of disappointment, placing a hand on Jane’s knee, which almost made Jane jump.  The warmth that started to quickly spread was dampened by the next comment.  “I made plans with Charles – he’s taking me to dinner.”

“Oh,” Jane said and plastered on a smile.  “Well, we can do it another night, right?”

“I’d love to,” Maura said, squeezing Jane’s knee firmly before removing her hand.

“G…good,” Jane said, feeling that flush return.  “Now I must take my impressively right self and go catch the bad guys,” Jane said firmly, waggling her eyebrows, before she got up and left.

Maura chuckled.

As the doors shut and the elevator took Jane back to her floor, she muttered with irritation “Impressively stupid self.”

***

Frost hung up the phone and looked at Jane who was sifting through paperwork across from him. “Kyle Gruhoffer had been diagnosed with anxiety,” Frost offered Jane, who exhaled and sat back in her chair thoughtfully.

“I guess performing with Martha Calderón made him nervous,” Frost added with a shrug.

“Well, I couldn’t do it,” Korsak noted absently.

“Wait a minute, you’re not a world class pianist, Korsak?” Frost feigned surprise, making Jane chuckle.

“I meant I’d be a nervous wreck to perform in front of any audience, regardless of who was with me or what I was doing,” he said with irritation.  “It’s a common fear,” Korsak added defensively.

“Picture your audience naked.  I hear that helps,” Jane smirked.

“Rizzoli!  Frost!  My office!” Cavanaugh barked into the bullpen from his office door, causing the detectives to look at each other across their desks.

“What did you do?” they each accused each other as they got up.

“Jinx,” they both added.

Jane rolled her eyes and entered the Lieutenant’s office first.  “What’s up, Lieutenant?”

“You two are going to the Symphony tonight,” he ordered.

“We are?” Jane and Frost both said.  Jane glared at Frost who shrugged innocently.

“Ms. Calderón has requested police presence at the performance this evening,” Cavanaugh offered with a frown.

“She’s still playing??” Frost asked with surprise.

“Yeah.  Apparently, the show must go on,” Cavanaugh said with disapproval, shaking his head; it would be a hell of a lot easier if they took appropriate precautions and just cancelled performances.

“Why us and not unis?” Jane asked with a frown, knowing she was close to sounding like she was whining.

“They will be there too. But you two will be mingling with the guests before, during and after the performance.”

“But….” Jane said unhappily.

“No buts – you are going, Rizzoli.  I know it’s not up your alley but you just have to suck it up.  You might even find something useful out,” he said gruffly then barked.  “Dismissed.”

As they left his office, Frost noted the scowl on Jane’s face and asked with an amused smile, “so, shall I drive?”

Jane shook her head, not looking forward to getting dressed up.

***

“I’m coming!!” Jane shouted with irritation at the knocking at her front door, awkwardly holding the back of her dress together as she went to answer it.

Looking through the peephole, she sighed and opened the door.  “Ma!  I don’t have a lot of time,” she complained, expecting her mother was going to unload a long, sad saga.

“You’ve got a date?!?” she blurted with surprise, seeing Jane all dressed up…or almost dressed up.

Jane frowned.  “It’s been known to happen, Ma,” she responded testily.  “Can you zip me up?” she asked, turning her back to her mother.

“Who’s the lucky fella?” Angela said uncomfortably as she zipped her daughter up.

“Thanks, Ma,” Jane said, then answered with an innocent smile, "Frost."

“Frost?!?” Angela blurted with alarm, not having seen that coming.  “I mean . . . uh.  I didn’t know you two . . . well . . . he’s a sweet fellow,” she offered weakly.

“Relax, Ma.  We’re going to the Symphony on police business.  Protection of Martha Calderón,” Jane said with a smirk, enjoying getting her mother flustered.

“Oh,” she said, trying not to sound too relieved.  “You look beautiful, by the way,” Angela said with a proud smile, absently running her fingers over the pretty material.

“Thanks.”

“Too bad Maura couldn’t go,” Angela said as Jane grabbed her clutch and put her badge and sidearm in it.

Jane looked up uneasily.  “Well I’d prefer her to go instead of me, but they were really hoping to not need her services this evening,” she said dryly.

“No, I meant go with you,” Angela interrupted. “She could have told you all sorts of interesting things about music.  And you might have been able to tell her a thing or two that Nonna taught you,” Angela offered gently, getting an uncomfortable look from her daughter.  “It would have been fun,” she blurted enthusiastically.

“Uh huh,” Jane responded, thinking her mother was acting oddly.  Well, more odd than usual.  “Maura’s busy with Charles tonight,” she said bluntly, going to the hallway mirror to apply lipstick.

“Yeah. Charles,” Angela said flatly.  “You know, Connie doesn’t really like him.”

Jane looked at her mother suspiciously. “You are talking a lot with Constance Isles these days,” she offered, recalling her mention of Maura’s mother several times before.

“Our daughters are best friends, of course we talk,” Angela countered defensively.

“Great,” Jane said flatly.  “What’s with the nickname?  Connie??  Do you actually call her that to her face??” Jane said with concern, certain the informal name annoyed the refined woman.

“She’s just fine with it!” Angela said with exasperation then plowed ahead, undeterred by her daughter’s sidetracking. “And she’s told me that she’s worried that Charles is more concerned about impressing people than making Maura happy.”

Jane sighed, not surprised by Constance’s observation.  “She seems happy with him, Ma.  And it’s none of our business,” she said sternly, glaring at her mother in warning.

Before Angela could respond, the doorbell rang.  “That must be Barry,” Jane blurted with relief and went to the door.  She smiled broadly when she looked through the peephole and opened the door.

“Whoa, look at you!” Jane said approvingly, glancing over her partner in a tux.

Frost smiled smugly, pulling at his linked cuffs, knowing he looked damn fine.

“You clean up pretty good yourself, Jane,” he said, glancing over her dress and what he imagined were torture devices on Jane’s feet.  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Rizzoli,” he said with an easy smile.

“You do make a handsome couple,” Angela said approvingly, looking between the two.  “I wish I had my camera,” she lamented then quickly brightened with a solution.  “Hey Jane, where’s yours?!?”

“Geeze, Ma.  This isn’t my prom!” Jane complained.  Barry tried to tamp down a smile.

“But Jane,” Angela said with a pout that made Jane frown.

“Look at the time!  We gotta go, Ma,” Jane blurted and glared at Barry, whose amused smile faded.

“Oh, right!  We really have to go,” he offered uncomfortably as Jane practically shoved him out of the apartment.

“I wish I had known about this!!  I’d like to have pictures when you dress up – it’s so RARE!” she shouted down the hall at the retreating couple.

Angela went inside Jane’s apartment.  Pulling out her cell phone with a frown, she dialed and lifted the cell to her ear. “Hey, Connie, it’s me.  Jane’s busy with police work.”

“Oh no. Maura is home alone,” Constance said with a sigh.

“How did you manage that?” Angela asked with interest, having only heard Connie vaguely say she would take care of it.

“A friend’s cat suddenly needed some medical attention,” Constance said with mild amusement.

“Aren’t you worried he will know something is fishy?” Angela asked.

“Not at the prices he charges.  He’ll gladly listen to a neurotic owner of a perfectly healthy pet.  And Cynthia knows it’s for a good cause.”

Angela had to laugh.  After they said their goodbyes, Angela hung up and stared at her phone a curious moment before it hit her.  “Gah!!”

Her phone had a camera.

“Jane!!!”  She blurted with incredible frustration.

***

“Mother,” Maura said with a surprised smile upon finding Constance at her door.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Constance said.

“Not at all.  Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” Maura said with a pleased smile as her mother entered her house.  She had always wondered why Jane was so irritated when Angela came over unannounced, wistfully wishing her mother would show as much interest.  But she’s here now, Maura thought with delight.

“Your timing is fortuitous.  Charles actually just called to cancel our dinner plans and I was about to make something light,” she relayed.  “Would you like to join me?” Maura asked hopefully.

“That would be lovely.  I hope everything is all right with Charles,” Constance said, following Maura into the kitchen.

“Just a medical emergency for a pet feline.  He frequently gets calls in the evenings,” Maura offered as she put on an apron over her dress.

“Oh.  I would imagine with your schedules it’s difficult to coordinate free time,” Constance noted, sitting at the kitchen island.

“It is a challenge,” Maura acknowledged.  “But we’ve managed,” she added with a shrug getting the salad vegetables out of the refrigerator.

“With how difficult it is to squeeze Charles into your hectic schedule, I would imagine it is nearly impossible to find time for your friends,” Constance ventured sympathetically.

“Actually, Jane and I spend a lot of time together,” Maura responded.  “Well, not as much as we used to,” she admitted with a thoughtful look and slight frown.

“Well that’s probably a good thing,” she said with understanding.  “Even the best of relationships can suffer by spending too much time together,” Constance noted with a knowing smile.

“I . . . No,” Maura said and frowned.  “That’s not the case with us.  I think we both would enjoy spending more time together,” she said a bit defensively before her gaze dropped guiltily; she hadn’t considered that Jane might be missing their time they usually spent together.

“Of course you do, darling.  But one can understand enjoying a . . . romantic encounter more.  And there are only so many hours in the day,” Constance offered.

“I . . . ,” Maura said, not sure how to respond to that.  There was no question in Maura’s mind; she enjoyed Jane’s presence far more than Charles’s.  But she enjoyed having sex with Charles, who was quite capable in bed.  And studies have shown that a healthy….

“I remember how my friendship with Cynthia changed when I started dating your father and had little time left for her.  I was terribly relieved when she started dating her husband Tom and our friendship blossomed again.  I’m so glad that Jane is dating someone seriously too; she’ll be spared the same feelings of resentment about your shift in priorities and inability to spend as much time with her,” Constance offered with a smile, interrupting Maura’s thoughts.

“She’s dating someone seriously?” Maura asked with great surprise, not knowing of anyone.  Jane had rejected all the interested suitors she knew about; Joe, Gabriel, and most recently, Casey.  Though she was not very forthcoming in her reasoning, Maura considered curiously, thinking each had several positive qualities and seemed like good matches for Jane.

“Angela mentioned she was going to the Symphony tonight.  Sounds like a wonderful evening.”

“Jane went to the Symphony?” Maura repeated curiously.  Constance closely watched Maura’s thoughtful face.

“Oh,” Maura said as a smile of understanding emerged.  “That would make sense since the police are concerned about Ms. Calderón’s safety.”

“Darling, why are you assuming she’s not on a date?” Constance asked curiously.

“I’m not, Mother.  It’s more like a logical deduction,” Maura responded with a smile.  “Jane would not want to go get dressed up unless she had to.  Not to mention it would have been a last minute decision because she had invited me to her apartment to watch the game with her tonight which . . . conflicted with my plans,” she added softly, still feeling disappointed by the timing.

She had noted that Jane’s invitations to do something after hours or on the weekends had become rarer after repeated conflicts with her date plans; plans that were most often cancelled due to a pet emergency, not a homicide.  And instead of salvaging the evening and contacting Jane, she spent the night alone; it just didn’t seem right to say she wasn’t available and then impose on Jane.

“Well, perhaps an old flame popped back in to sweep her off her feet and away from her normal routine,” Constance offered wistfully.  “It has been known to happen,” she added innocently, watching Maura’s eyes drop uncomfortably. “Unlike Angela, I am certain Jane Rizzoli will not be single forever - she’s beautiful, accomplished, a very impressive woman, which I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Constance said with a smile.

“I . . . well, of course I have,” Maura responded, recalling when they had first met at a crime scene.  And Jane had been in charge.  Maura knew she had been closely watched and scrutinized by each officer, which was understandable.  She was their new Chief Medical Examiner and she was aware her appearance often made people jump to conclusions, which she abhorred.  When those piercing brown eyes focused on her, Maura took a deep breath and approached the Detective she had heard and read about.

“Detective Rizzoli,” Maura said confidently, making the Detective smile slightly.  “I’m Doctor Maura Isles, your Chief Medical Examiner,” she said assertively and held out her hand.

With a knowing smile for the deliberate demonstration of knowledge about her and the declaration of her rank, Jane took the offered hand.  “Pleased to meet y . . . yeeoow!” she said with a pained wince at the strength of the grip.

Maura immediately let go, realizing the Detective’s hand injuries were not yet completely healed.  “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” she said, horrified by her thoughtlessness and took Jane’s sore hand to inspect it.

Jane blinked and started to laugh, confusing Maura, who awkwardly let her hand go again.

“You should see your face,” Jane offered with amusement.

“That would be rather difficult without a mirror,” she answered sincerely.

“Yeeeeah,” Jane responded with a hesitant nod.

“Is your hand all right?” Maura asked with a slight cringe, carefully taking her hand back and inspecting the pink scar that had been caused by a serial killer.  She couldn’t imagine the pain and terror Detective Rizzoli had felt when scalpels impaled her hands.

For some reason, Jane did not pull her hand back and allowed the Doctor to confirm there was no outward sign of additional injury.

“Well it was, before you tried to bring me to my knees,” Jane joked dryly, causing Maura to frown and start to apologize again but Jane would have none of it.  “Hey, I’ve been there - people judging you before getting to know you.  And now I know not to piss you off – somehow you zeroed in on my weaknesses and went in for the kill – I’m impressed,” Jane joked, retrieving her hand and flexing it.

“I am so sorry,” Maura just had to say, still feeling horrible.

“Fine.  If you really want to apologize properly . . . ,” Jane offered, gaining a hopeful look from Maura. “You can buy me coffee.  A fru-fru coffee drink.  With chocolate.  And whip cream.  If they see you buying it, they won’t harass me,” Jane said conspiratorially, looking around at the other officers at the scene.

Maura looked at her. “All right,” she said hesitantly, with a slight frown.

“So what do you think?” Jane asked.

“I think it is unfortunate that you have to worry about other officers bothering you over something so trivial as what coff….”

“No, I meant about the DB,” Jane interrupted with an amused smile, finding this woman . . . intriguing.

“Oh,” Maura said with a frown at her inability to follow Detective Rizzoli’s train of thought.

Jane noted Crowe staring at them a moment before her warning glare sent his attention elsewhere.  “And if any of the officers bother you, about anything, let me know.  I’ll take care of them.”

Maura looked at her with surprise, touched by the offer, if not a little confused by another inexplicable shift in thought.

“Though you probably don’t need my help,” Jane teased with a smirk, flexing her hand again.

“I said I was sorry,” Maura said, rolling her eyes with a slight smile, enjoying the Detective’s banter.

“Jane?” Frost called out, getting a nod from her.

“Nothing says I’m sorry like ridiculously expensive coffee.  Or beer.  Beer is good too!” Jane amended with a smirk as she went towards Frost by their cruiser.

“And I would imagine on occasion, Jane would be happy to dress up for someone special.”

Maura watched the Detective retreat, considering she was certainly not what she expected.  Then she smiled thoughtfully.  How could anyone sufficiently describe the sheer magnetism of someone’s personality and their comforting demeanor?

“Someone . . . special?” Maura repeated when her mother’s words caught up to her, finding this conversation . . . odd.  But then, she and her mother were just starting to talk more.  She frowned, having no idea her mother was so prone to speculation.

“Well, she doesn’t seem to be the type for casual relationships.  Or I’d imagine she’d have a date every night, wouldn’t you think?” Constance said with a grin.

Maura blinked.  “She is discriminating…,” she acknowledged, still wondering why it didn’t work out with Casey.

“Good for Jane.  Life is too short to be wasting time on someone . . . inferior,” Constance said with conviction.  Maura’s gaze dropped thoughtfully.  “So, would you happen to have any wine, darling?”

“O . . . of course,” Maura responded, not quite understanding why her mother’s comments made her uncomfortable and self-conscious, wondering if this was a typical outcome of mother-daughter talks. Of course, she knew Jane would assert an emphatic “yes” but Maura had always considered Jane’s reaction to her mother to be a result of their Italian heritage.

Now she was reconsidering that theory.

Chapter Text

Jane stood backstage, looking at the various Symphony Hall employees and musicians flit about just moments before the curtain would rise.  She watched with interest as the musicians, save Ms. Calderón, settled into their seats.  Martha Calderón, the guest performer, was standing next to her, head down with eyes closed, concentrating on her performance ahead.  Jane didn’t dare speak for fear of disturbing the pianist’s pre-performance routine.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Martha raised her head and opened her eyes, looking at Jane.  “Thank you for being here.”

Still not wanting to disturb the pianist’s routine, she just smiled and nodded.

The curtain rose.  The appreciative audience applauded vigorously.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Martha noted with a smile before she left Jane’s side to enter the stage.

Jane absently looked down at her dark blue dress and then back to Ms. Calderón, who received a standing ovation as she stepped on stage.  The pianist nodded towards a stagehand that appeared with a cordless microphone.  Martha took it with a small smile. “Thank you, David,” she said softly, getting a smile from the man whose name she made sure she knew.

After waiting for the audience to quiet, Martha spoke to them.  “I am dedicating tonight’s performance to Kyle Gruhoffer and Brian Carter.  Who, each in their own way, gave us the gift of music,” she said with conviction, receiving enthusiastic applause.

Returning the microphone to the stagehand, Martha sat on the piano bench and took a deep breath before placing fingers to keys.

Jane stood riveted to her spot and swallowed hard as Rondo Alla Turca played and a memory washed over her…

“Nonna!” Jane rushed up to her grandmother and gave her a fierce hug.

“Mio bel bambino!” she answered. “Che cosa si gioca per me oggi?”

“I want to surprise you for once!” Jane said happily and grabbed the older woman’s hand and pulled her to the Boston upright piano in her grandmother’s living room.

Jane sat on the bench and pulled out her sheet music from her beat-up book bag.  After opening the pages up, she looked at her Nonna expectantly.  Receiving a warm smile and nod from her grandmother, Jane began.

As Janie’s fingers began to hit the keys, the clear sounds of Mozart’s Rondo Alla Turca came forth with a certainty and confidence that had delighted Maria Rizzoli, who knew with the focus her ten-year-old grandchild applied to her music, she would have a great presence in whatever she chose to do in life.  As the music played on, Maria wondered if Jane would chose to become a music teacher, like herself or perhaps become a performer.  She just needed to decide what she wanted and she would be successful, Maria believed.

When Jane finished, she looked uncertainly to her grandmother, who eyed her a moment before a big smile and laugh bubbled up.

“Che un dono meraviglioso, il mio amore!”

“Did you really like it?” Jane asked, having practiced really hard on the church’s piano.  Which was more difficult with jerk-face Joey Grant hounding her all the time.  But she got good at ditching him after catechism class and covering her trail.  “There were a lot of mistakes and I simplified the more difficult passages,” Jane said self-consciously.

“Not so many mistakes,” Maria responded warmly, caressing Jane’s cheek.  “And they can be corrected in time. And I did not miss the more complicated passages, but they too can be added in time.  But do you know what I enjoy most of all when you play?  I feel your love.  That is what makes it such a wonderful gift,” the older woman said with a warm smile as she caressed her granddaughter’s cheek and kissed her forehead.

Jane blinked and felt the trails of moisture on her cheek.  She quickly wiped them away as she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Satisfied no one had, she took a deep breath, and listened as she scanned the area for threats.

***

The after-performance gathering was not something Jane would have recommended but Ms. Calderón and her manager had been determined there would be no change in their plans.  She was relieved she did not have to endure Roberto Trejo’s presence at the moment; he was immersed in an animated discussion across the room.

Jane glanced towards a young man who approached the pianist with purpose. While not sensing a big threat, she wasn’t going to take any chances. She moved closer to the tense pianist’s side, placing a reassuring hand at the small of her back. Though relieved by Jane’s presence and touch, Martha smiled tightly, still feeling claustrophobic and nervous in the room of patrons.

“Ms. Calderón, your performance was amazing.  Even more so with what you went through today,” a young gentleman in a tux said enthusiastically.

“Jane?” She leaned towards the Detective. “Could you please take me away from here?” Martha asked with a calm voice, but her hand firmly gripped Jane’s forearm like a vice.

“Of course, if you will excuse us, please.  It has been a long day for Ms. Calderón,” Jane said, smiling at the young admirer, who nodded.

“Certainly!  Thank you so much for the wonderful performance, Ms. Calderón.  I’ll always remember this night,” he gushed and left them.

“Would you like to go back to your hotel now?” Jane asked her quietly.

“No.  Roberto is hounding me like a mother hen,” she said with frustration, glancing over to her manager who had been keeping a close eye on her.  “I just need some peace and quiet,” she complained miserably.

Jane looked at Frost, who had hovered closely behind them.

“Well that rules out the Dirty Robber,” he said dryly.

Martha looked into Jane’s eyes, silently pleading for help.

“I’ve got just the place.  Frost, you should let Cavanaugh know she’s in my protective custody for the night,” Jane said with confidence.

“Uh . . . you sure about this, Jane?” Barry asked uncomfortably.

“Yeah.”

***

“Perhaps you should have skipped tonight’s performance.  No one would have blamed you,” Jane said sympathetically as she opened her apartment door, politely ushering her guest through.

“I will not allow my music to be affected,” Martha said with conviction.

Jane nodded then glanced around her apartment.  “It’s not much but it’s home,” she said with a shrug.

Her guest looked around the comfortable looking apartment and felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. If only for the moment, she felt safe.  “It’s lovely.”

“I’ll make up the bed for you and the couch for me,” Jane offered.

“Detective, I’ll take the couch,” Martha stated firmly.

“No way.  You’re my guest and I’d never hear the end of it from my mother if I didn’t offer my bed to the world famous Martha Calderón,” Jane said dramatically.

Martha looked at the Detective with a sparkle in her eye, considering that the offer of Jane’s bed would be better if the detective came with it.  “She sounds like my mother,” Martha offered instead, with a small smile as she sat on the couch.

“And I am sorry for that too,” Jane offered dryly before retreating to the bedroom to change the bedding for her guest.

*

Jane returned to the living room, carrying a nightshirt and robe for her guest, who had fallen asleep on her couch.

Jane sighed and went to the pianist.  “Uh…Ms. Calderón?” she said softly, gently shaking the woman’s shoulder.

“Oh,” she said, a bit groggy as she rubbed her eyes and sat up.  “Please, call me Martha, especially since I’m imposing upon your hospitality like this.”

“It really is no problem . . . Martha.”

Martha smiled warmly and glanced at the couch.  “I can’t believe I managed to fall asleep after everything,” she said with quiet amazement.

“I’m glad you could,” Jane said softly, having experienced many sleepless nights due to fear.

“The couch is very comfortable,” she noted, looking at Jane.  “I really don’t mind the couch,” she tried again.

“No couch.  My apartment, my terms.  And since you know the couch isn’t horrible, you really shouldn’t feel guilty for me taking it,” Jane countered.

“But I do,” Martha said with a pout.

“You get the bed.  There are no negotiations on this,” Jane said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you always this overbearing, Detective?” she asked with a smile, guessing the answer.

“Yes,” Jane said unapologetically.  “Now get some sleep!” Jane blurted with feigned irritation.

Martha stood and faced Jane.  “You are a Godsend, Detective,” she said sincerely.

“Jane,” she corrected, making Martha smile.  “And I’m no . . .” she countered, finding the pianist’s fingers on her lips, interrupting her protest.

“It may be your apartment, Jane.  But do not presume to tell me what I think,” Martha scolded softly but firmly, looking into brown eyes pointedly and receiving a slight nod, conceding that point.

She removed her fingers from Jane’s lips and slowly leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Jane’s cheek. “Good night,” she said softly.

Jane exhaled uneasily as she watched the woman disappear into her bedroom.

***

“Did you sleep well?” Jane asked as her guest emerged from her bedroom and joined her in the kitchen, hoping Martha got more sleep than she did, having tossed and turned all night - and not because of an uncomfortable couch.

Jane glanced over Martha’s disheveled appearance.  When immaculately dressed for a performance, Martha Calderón was no doubt a striking woman.  Not a traditional beauty in the classical sense, although she was certainly physically attractive with an engaging personality and captivating smile.  Her slightly greying hair only made her seem more sophisticated.  Her appearance coupled with her clear passion when she played made her bigger than life.  But in her humble home, with the robe sloppily wrapped around her curvaceous figure and hair that showed distinct signs of bedhead, Martha Calderón was much more appealing to Jane; she seemed more approachable.

“I actually did, thanks to you,” Martha said, sitting down at the kitchen counter, watching Jane serve breakfast.

“Hope you like scrambled eggs and bacon.  If not, I have some Lucky Charms,” she said, adding uncertainly, “I just hope the milk is ok.”

Martha chuckled.  “What you’ve made smells wonderful,” she said, taking the plate and taking in an appreciative sniff.

As Jane poured her guest and herself coffee, Martha focused on her hands.

Jane braced herself for the inevitable questions about her scars as she placed the coffee pot down and reached for her mug.

“You have the hands of a pianist,” she said with a slight smile as she boldly took one of Jane’s in hers and traced her fingers over her scarred palm.  “Do you play?” Martha asked.

“Not anymore,” Jane said dismissively, about to pull back but stopped, surprised to find a notable scar on Martha’s left hand.

“What happened to you?” Jane asked uncomfortably, hesitantly tracing her fingers over Martha’s scar, knowing she hated it when people asked her the same question.

Martha smiled tightly.  “A car accident, August 23, 1991. It almost ended my career . . . and my life,” she added bluntly, surprising Jane.  “It took several years to regain the dexterity I had before the accident.  And it took several more years to regain the confidence I once had,” she said honestly, picking up her coffee and sipping as Jane contemplated how hard it must have been for the accomplished pianist.

“Your injury wasn’t public information,” Jane suddenly noted with surprise, more impressed with the musician sitting across from her.

Martha looked at her curiously.  “No.  I did not want and could not stand anyone’s pity,” she responded vehemently. “I wanted to recover on my own terms - not my publicist’s or manager’s or the press’,” she acknowledged, looking at her hands critically.  “But it was slow; the press thought I had abandoned my music for several . . . interesting reasons.  One of my favorites was that I joined a convent,” Martha relayed thoughtfully.  “I nearly did.”

“You almost joined . . . a convent?”

Martha chuckled softly.  “No.  Almost abandoned my music,” she offered.

Jane considered her words as she too gazed upon the accomplished hands, nodding in understanding.

“So, you looked me up?” Martha asked with interest, looking into the soulful brown eyes.

“I’m a detective, Martha.  Investigating is my business,” Jane countered neutrally.

“Of course,” she said, feeling a bit disappointed.  “So why did you give up playing?” Martha asked, tremendously curious. The woman before her did not seem like the type to give up, even in adversity, which those scars appeared to represent.

Jane frowned and looked down at her hands.  Jane’s normal response to that question was to either brush it off or use her scars as an excuse, which usually shut people up quickly.  “I actually stopped playing seriously before I graduated high school,” she said and added “before these,” holding up her hands.

Martha looked at her with surprise.  She was intensely curious about what had caused the scars - but was much more interested in Jane’s abandonment of something that was like air to her – her music.

“After my Nonna died, I just played at family gatherings at Christmas or occasionally, other parties - but then these happened and . . . I don’t even do that anymore,” she said, prompting a sympathetic nod; Martha knew how hard physical therapy could be and she had been lucky her injuries were able to be overcome.  “I haven’t really played for many years,” Jane offered with a heavy sigh.

“You would play for your Nonna?” Martha probed gently.

“Yeah,” Jane responded with a slight nod, staring at the countertop as she recalled those times.  “She was a retired music teacher and had this beautiful Boston upright in her home.  She longed for a Grand, but the house was too small for even a Baby Grand,” Jane said with a small smile, getting one in return.

“Didn’t you have a piano at your home?” Martha asked, sipping her coffee.

“Yeah, but I also had two brothers who made it their mission to interrupt me, or make fun of my mistakes.  And it didn’t help having my mother constantly yell at them to settle down,” Jane said with a shrug.  “Nonna let me play at her home whenever I wanted and she taught me . . . ,” Jane trailed off in a pained whisper and fell silent, unable to continue as her eyes welled up.

“I am so sorry for your losses,” Martha said sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on Jane’s hand and squeezing.

Jane blinked uneasily.  Until then, she had not considered that she had also lost her music; an unexpected sadness washed over her.  With a weak nod, she squeezed back before picking up her mug of coffee.

***

“Jane’s famous!” Korsak blurted loudly with a smirk as Jane came into the bullpen.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jane snapped, shooting a glare at Vince, who held up a tabloid with a grin.

She glanced at Crowe as he passed her with a glare of disapproval, which was par for the course.

“Oh man,” Frost said with concern as Cavanaugh marched towards an unaware Rizzoli with an unhappy look on his scrunched face and the same tabloid in his hand.

“Would you mind telling me what the hell you were thinking, Rizzoli?!?” He barked, pushing the tabloid in her face.

Her eyes scanned the tabloid and widened.  “Love and Murder!  Famous Pianist and Detective begin torrid love affair during murder investigation.” Several pictures showed the two women standing closely together; one of which where she had her hand at Martha Calderón’s back as the pianist leaned into her ear to tell her something at the reception that looked unfortunately . . . intimate.  Then there was a grainer picture where they ascended her apartment building stairs, with her hand at Martha’s back.

As Jane frowned and took a breath to respond, he held up a hand.  “NO!  Don’t answer that.  It’s pretty clear you weren’t thinking.  I’ve already gotten phone calls from the Police Chief, District Attorney, and Mayor about this mess!” he barked, making her wince. “And now, because you weren’t thinking and allowed the Paparazzi to get these, I have to play damage control.  I’m sick and tired of having to defend you to them, Rizzoli!  Effective immediately, you’re off that case.”  With a growl, Cavanaugh did an about face and stormed back to his office.

“Fuck me,” Jane moaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Wasn’t that what got you in trouble in the first place, Rizzoli?” Crowe snickered as he leaned back in his chair with a smirk, earning a glare.

She tamped down her desire to shoot Crowe, even though she was pretty sure a jury of her peers would have considered it justifiable homicide. She just shook her head as she sat down at her desk. Pressing her palms to her eyes, she tried to avoid the headache she felt coming on; she was unsuccessful.

“Incoming!” Frost announced as Angela marched into the bullpen with a copy of the tabloid.

“Jane!  What were you thinking!!”

***

“Oh God, not you too!” Jane bemoaned as she walked into Maura’s office and spied the tabloid sitting on her desk.

“Me too, what?” Maura asked in confusion, watching Jane sluggishly drag herself to the couch and plop herself down.

“Go ahead, I’ve heard everyone else’s opinion on the article.  Let’er rip,” Jane moaned, leaning back and throwing her forearm over her eyes.

Maura looked down at the paper and tilted her head.  “You are very photogenic.”

Jane lowered her arm and looked at her.  “Really?? I’m photogenic?  Is that all you have to say on the subject?” The lack of response annoyed her for some reason.

Maura thought a second.  “Yes.  I believe so.”

“You’re not going to say I shouldn’t have brought her home with me??” Jane challenged, searching her face for . . . something.

Maura paused before answering.  “Why would I?”

Jane rolled her eyes.  “Oh, no reason.  No reason at all,” she said testily, wishing . . . wishing she didn’t keep looking for something that wasn’t there.

“Jane.  I trust you did what you thought was best for Ms. Calderón at the time.  What do you want me to say?” Maura said, sincerely puzzled.

“I don’t know!” Jane groaned with honest frustration and sighed.  “I’ve been kicked off the case,” she offered dejectedly.

“Well, considering the appearance of impropriety, while unfortunate, it is understandable.”

Jane shook her head as she tiredly stood and started to leave.

“Jane,” Maura called out to her with concern, wanting to help her upset friend but not knowing how.

Jane stopped in the doorway and rested her hand on the frame.  “It’s ok, Maura.  I didn’t mean to dump on you with this,” she said absently with an apologetic smile.  “And I appreciate the vote of confidence in my character.”

“That goes without question, Jane,” Maura said with conviction.

“Thanks.  But it’s kind of ridiculous right?  Thinking someone like Martha Calderón would actually want to be involved, let alone have a torrid love affair, with someone like me,” Jane joked weakly and left Maura wishing she understood her friend’s odd behavior and surprising words.

***

At lunchtime, Maura left her office to find Jane, hoping that treating her to a nice lunch might cheer her up.  When she arrived at the bullpen, she noted only Jane and Detective Crowe.  Frost and Korsak were probably on the Symphony Hall case, she considered.  Then she frowned with disapproval when she heard Detective Crowe taunting Jane; she could see Jane was struggling to ignore him from her clear tenseness.

“So do pianist’s fingers really hit all the right notes, Rizzoli?  Like the G-spot??” Crowe chuckled.  “Was she finger-licking good?”

Maura winced, hurrying her step towards Jane, hoping her presence would help tamp down Crowe’s rude remarks as it usually did.

“So Rizzoli, what does Dr. Isles think of you …”

“That’s it!” Jane blurted and shot out of her chair.

“Jane!  Lunch!  Now!” Maura called out crisply, swiftly going to Jane’s side, grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

“She’s not even the least bit concerned with your cheating?!?” Crowe smirked.  Jane stopped in her tracks, almost causing Maura to stumble.

“Jane,” Maura said firmly, causing Jane to pause as she felt Maura’s firm hand on her arm again.  “Please.”

Jane took an irritated breath and nodded, causing Maura to sigh with relief.

As they started to leave, Crowe called out, “Does Jane beg and roll over too, Doc?” He chuckled, highly amused with himself.  Maura stiffened and stopped.  Jane looked at her with surprise.

“Does your lap dog fetch your paper?  Or do other tricks?”

“Come on, Maura.  Before I lose my appetite,” Jane said softly, placing a hand at Maura’s back and ushering her out of the battle zone.

“Sorry,” Maura quietly said, irritated she let him get to her.  “Equating you to a trained pet was just . . . infuriating,” she said, making Jane smile.

“Can I have a cheeseburger?” Jane quickly blurted excitedly.  “Huh?  Huh?  Can I can I can I?” she begged, looking hopeful.

“Jane,” Maura said with exasperation.  “I suppose it is an exaggeration to call you anything close to trained,” she said dryly, gaining a hurt pout.  “Yes you MAY have a cheeseburger,” she offered with a chuckle.

“Awesome!” Jane said with a fist pump.

“Yes, you are,” Maura said earnestly, causing Jane’s smile to fade as she looked at her sincere friend.  “And Detective Crowe is intimidated by that.”

Maura could see thanks and unfounded uncertainty in Jane’s dark eyes, just before her gaze broke away.

“I’m starving,” Jane said suddenly. “Let’s go!”

***

“I was very surprised when my mother showed up at my front door,” Maura relayed, sipping her iced tea.

“I wish I would be surprised,” Jane said dryly and ate a French fry.  Her mood had improved considerably with the consumption of the high caloric, fat-laden meal, Maura noted with mixed feelings.

“We had the oddest conversation,” Maura admitted with a perplexed look.

“See!  That’s what you get when you start talking with your mother,” Jane said sagely, waggling a French fry at her.

Maura glanced at her friend with a small amused smile.  “Don’t play with your food.”

“Just getting your money’s worth,” Jane said, waggling the fry at her again before eating it with a satisfied smile.

Choosing to ignore her antics, Maura continued.  “Mother had been convinced you were on a date to the Symphony, which I concluded to be unlikely,” Maura shrugged and picked at her salad.

“Thanks a lot!  I could have been on a date . . . to the Symphony,” Jane said, insulted.

“Jane, I realize that - but merely concluded it was unlikely,” she explained to appease her sensitive friend.

“Oh.  Well that sounds soooo much better.”

Maura frowned.  “Have you not stated that you’re suspicious of any activity that requires you to wear uncomfortable clothes?”

“It would be a special occasion, cause I am more comfortable in casual clothes - but I’d have gone to the Symphony . . . with the right person,” Jane said with a frown.

Maura blinked, recalling her mother’s similar comment.

“So why was your mother convinced I had a date to the Symphony?” Jane asked, still mildly annoyed with Maura’s conclusion . . . and that it was right.

“Angela told her,” she said with a shrug and sipped her tea.

“What??” Jane said with surprise, gaining a confused look from Maura, which prompted Jane to explain.  “Don’t you think it odd that my mother and your mother are talking so much?”

“Why would it be odd?  We’re friends.  It would make sense our mothers could be friends too,” Maura offered reasonably. “What?” she asked, seeing a confused look on Jane’s face.

“Ma knew I wasn’t on a date . . . oh GOD,” Jane said, rolling her eyes.

“Jane,” Maura said with frustration, not understanding Jane’s dramatic behavior.

“Ma told her I was on a date because I haven’t had one in ages and she’s worried your mother will think your best friend is a loser,” Jane lamented.

Maura laughed.  “Really, Jane,” she said, shaking her head with amusement.

“I’m serious!  Mothers think differently than normal people.”

“I’m sure it was just an assumption by my mother. She’s quite impressed with you actually.”

“Yeah,” Jane scoffed.

“Really, Jane.  She was saying that you were a beautiful, accomplished and very impressive woman who she did not believe would be single for much longer.”

“Oh….” Jane said in a small voice then shrugged. “You did say it was an odd conversation."

“Jane,” Maura exhaled with frustration.

“What!”

“You are a beautiful, accomplished and very impressive woman,” Maura said emphatically.

Jane looked into Maura’s eyes.  After an awkwardly silent moment, Maura’s gaze dropped.  “I need to go powder my nose. I’ll be back in a moment and we will continue until you understand what I am saying is true,” Maura scolded, getting up and leaving without waiting for a response.

Jane watched as Maura left; her gait was always graceful with an alluring sway of hips.  She frowned noting two other male customers also taking in the feminine vision.

“Jane?”

Jane turned to find fellow dog owner, Gina, approach her with a big smile.

Jane stood with an answering smile.  “Hey!  What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

Gina placed a hand on Jane’s forearm and kissed her cheek, surprising Jane with the casual affection.  “Retirement luncheon.  We’re over in the corner.”

“Rather quiet for an office luncheon,” Jane noted, glancing over at the sedate table.

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Another reason for me being over here, rather than over there.  I saw you in the paper,” she said with amusement.

“Great.”

“Those tabloids will print anything.”

“So you knew it was not true?” Jane said with a slight frown.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to mix business with pleasure.  At the risk of your job, anyway.”

*

When Maura returned to their table, she was surprised to find an attractive blond woman sitting in her chair and speaking with Jane; she would punctuate her comments with touches to Jane’s arm.  As she approached, Jane spotted her and stood with a smile.

“Maura, this is Regina Wilkinson, Gina, this is Doctor Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Maura said with a polite smile, holding out a firm hand that Gina shook daintily, still seated in her chair.

Jane noted with amusement the brief look of disapproval that washed over Maura’s face.

“Would you believe we were discussing my new-found notoriety?” Jane offered.

“Well if you were going to be notorious, I would think a torrid love affair with a celebrated pianist would be the way to go. Just think of your private concerts,” Gina said with a sly smile and small chuckle.

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Jane said, scratching the back of her neck.

“Are you going to join us?  We could get another chair,” Maura said with a painfully polite smile, looking pointedly down at her half-eaten salad plate and tea.

“Oh, sorry!” Gina said with a wince and got up.  “Well you enjoy the rest of your meal, ladies.  It was nice meeting you, Maura,” she said, glancing to Maura briefly before focusing on Jane.  “I’ll see you around the neighborhood.  Say hi to Jo for me,” she said, placing a hand on Jane’s arm and giving her a goodbye kiss on the cheek before leaving an uncomfortable Jane and curious Maura alone.

As Maura sat, Jane automatically held the chair for her.

“Close friend of yours?” Maura was compelled to ask, looking at the Detective.

Jane rolled her eyes.  “If she was,” Jane said, leaning down to Maura’s ear, “she’d know the concept of respecting personal space.”

Maura smiled slightly, feeling oddly relieved.  She sucked in a surprised breath when Jane gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Oh Damn,” Jane blurted miserably.

“Jane, it’s all right, I didn’t . . . ,” Maura said with a small smile, startled when Jane suddenly took off in a sprint out the door and frowned until she realized Jane was in pursuit of someone.

“Jane??” Maura called out worriedly as she too exited the restaurant, as fast as her Jimmy Choos would allow.  She watched as a car peeled away, leaving Jane to pace back and forth like an angry caged tiger.  “Jane?” she tried again.

“Someone’s following me and taking more pictures!” Jane spat, motioning towards the restaurant.

Maura frowned.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this,” Jane said guiltily.  “Whatever this is,” she added with frustration, motioning towards the direction the car sped off before running her hand through her hair.

“Jane,” Maura said firmly and grabbed her arm.  “You’re not dragging me into anything.”

Chapter Text

“What was she thinking?!?” Angela bemoaned, placing the cloth napkin in her lap. “I want to wring her neck!”

“Angela, darling.  I think you are over-reacting to this tabloid nonsense.  They are known and expected to fabricate sensational stories.  It’s what they do,” Constance said dismissively, taking a sip from her lemonade.  “You know as well as I there is nothing going on between Martha Calderón and Jane.”

“Of course I know!  But the brass is not happy with Jane for bringing the woman they are trying to protect home with her!” Angela blurted with frustration at her daughter’s questionable judgment.

“I’m sure Jane did what she thought was best for the poor woman,” Constance offered reasonably.

“Unfortunately the brass doesn’t see it that way.  Jane got thrown off the murder investigation!” Angela responded.

“Oh dear,” she said with surprise.  “It’s not going to hurt her career . . . is it?” Constance asked tentatively.

“Who knows??  I swear to GOD Jane is going to give me a stroke one day!” Angela said, pushing her lunch from her; she was no longer hungry.

Constance’s gaze dropped worriedly.

***

At the end of the very long day, Jane sat at her desk with a big smile on her face as she pulled out her cellphone and dialed a private number.  After two rings, the call was answered.

“Hello?”

“I am back on the case.”  Jane said, her smile hadn’t left her face since Cavanaugh told her the brass changed their minds.

“There is some sanity in the world!  I wanted to call you after Detective Frost told me this morning, but didn’t want to make it worse.  I am so sorry I got you into trouble for helping me,” Martha said guiltily.

“It wasn’t your fault and I’d do it again.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m just glad I’m back on this case.  I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.  How’s the security firm you hired?”

“Suffocating.  But a necessary evil.  I’d prefer you and your apartment, but that would undoubtedly end the world as we know it.”

“Been there done that, got the front page to prove it,” Jane joked.  “I’m thinking of getting a tee-shirt; they make tee-shirts from pictures and we have several of those, as you know.  I’ll get one for you too.”

Martha laughed warmly.  “I do look forward to seeing you again, Detective.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me unless something else hits the fan,” Jane said wryly, glad she reported the incident with the photographer to Lieutenant Cavanaugh; she was sure something else embarrassing would be printed about her.

“I could think of worse things, Jane.  I was honored to be in a torrid love affair with you, however brief it was.”

At the end of her shift, Maura entered the bullpen.  It was empty, save for Jane, who was talking on her cell.  She smiled at the sound of Jane’s chuckle.

“And here I thought you were slumming,” Jane said with a laugh, which Maura heard making her smile.  Her friend was in a good mood.

“I’d be honored , Jane,” Martha repeated firmly, leaving no doubt of what she meant.

“Oh,” Jane said with surprise.  “Uh, well,” she added as a small smile emerged, “Thanks. I’m gonna have to look up the word torrid though,” she joked.  “I’ll let you know if we are making progress, Martha.”

“I hope it’s soon.”

“Me too.  Bye.”

After hanging up, Jane stared at her desk thoughtfully, then jumped when she heard a voice clearing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Maura said uncomfortably.  “I heard you are back on the case.”

“Yeah. I feel like I have whiplash,” Jane noted with a smirk.  “Cavanaugh said the Brass thought taking me off the case was lending credibility to the story.”

“It was surprisingly quick that they would change their mind.”

“Well, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  I’m just happy I can keep working the case.  Frost is still running a check into Martha’s manager, which is complicated by his nationality.  I have a funny feeling about him,” Jane said with a thoughtful frown.

“Martha’s . . . manager?” Maura said uncomfortably, noting the use of the pianist’s first name.

“Roberto Trejo.”

“Jane . . . I think you should . . . ,” Maura said uneasily and stopped, knowing Jane would not appreciate her words of advice about being careful.

“I should…?”

“Come over for dinner? I’ll cook something?”

“Oh . . . ,” Jane said hesitantly. “I have plans tonight.”

“Plans?” Maura repeated with surprise then frowned, “You work too hard, Jane.”

“True, but it’s not work,” Jane joked with a smirk. “Rain check?”

“Of course,” Maura said with a smile that covered her disappointment.

***

After work, Jane drove across town and parked in front of a small grassy field of simple tombstones.  She got out of her car and looked around, before heading towards a familiar headstone.  She knelt down and placed her fingers against her lips then pressed them to the headstone next to the inscription.

Maria Jane Rizzoli
Beloved Wife, Mother, Grandmother, and Teacher
1922 – 1990

“Hey, Nonna.  I know it’s been a long time,” she said sadly.

*

As Jane walked to her car, her stomach growled loudly, prompting her to get a bite to eat in the area.  She found an Indian restaurant and considered it a good change of pace.

Entering the restaurant, she was greeted by a smiling hostess, who wore a green sari.  She noted that was likely the only thing authentically Indian about her, glancing at her strong Italian features.  As she was taken to the back of the restaurant and seated, she noticed how dimly lit the room was in the dining area.  “Enjoy,” the woman said and handed her a menu. After the hostess left Jane’s smile faded as she opened the menu and tried to read in the poorly lit room.

The waiter appeared by her table.  “Good evening.  What would you like?”

“A cheeseburger and fries?” she joked, imagining the look of disapproval she’d get from Maura.

The waiter sighed, shaking his head.

“Butter chicken,” Jane quickly ordered with a weak smile, handing back the menu.

“Adventurous,” he said flatly, unimpressed.  “Anything to drink?”

“Ice water is fine.”

“Of course,“ he said flatly and retrieved a red plastic glass and matching pitcher of ice water.

“Thanks,” Jane said after he poured the water.  The waiter glanced at her and silently left her table to give the order to the kitchen.  She silently snorted in amazement at his rude behavior.

As she waited, she sipped her water and glanced around the room, noticing a couple in the corner of the restaurant.  It was rather embarrassing to watch them practically molest each other.  She wondered what it would be like to be less inhibited and not worry about public displays of affection, like Maura, who didn’t seem to have a problem with PDA; she winced, recalling the heated kiss with Charles in front of the station that fueled Frost and Korsak’s immature behavior for that whole irritating day.

When the man got up and left for the restroom, she could see the woman’s face; one she recognized.  Anita Riser – from Child Protective Services, she recalled with a slight frown.  She was still at an impasse on the Potter case.  Her frown deepened knowing that there were strict policies about professional conduct and she wondered if playing tonsil hockey in public was bordering on breaking those policies.

The waiter returned with the dinner order.  “Your adventure in Indian cuisine - butter Chicken to go with your . . . ice water,” he said in a condescending tone, causing her to look at him in disbelief at his attitude.  “Enjoy,” he said with a thin smile that looked like he had gas.

As Jane started to eat, the man returned to the Ms. Riser’s table, getting a warm, bordering on indecently hot welcome.  Her eyes widened when she caught a good glimpse of his face.

She quickly pulled out her wallet from her coat pocket and tossed a few bills down to cover the barely eaten meal.  As she started to walk out the door, she glanced at the curious waiter as she passed.  She paused a moment, pulling back her jacket to discreetly reveal her badge and weapon.  “Here’s a really good tip for ya,” she said quietly with a piercing gaze of irritation.  “Never piss off a customer – you never know if they might have a gun.”

Seeing his eyes widen with alarm, Jane left as a small smile of satisfaction emerged.

***

Jane went to the station and started up her computer.  She debated calling Frost but thought she could do the basic searches she needed.  Pulling out the Potter file, she looked at the picture of the foster parents, Jack and Kim Urban.  Jack was in the Indian restaurant playing tonsil hockey with Anita Riser.

After searching for a few hours through various databases, she started to wish she had imposed upon Frost; he was much better at it.  Finally finding what she was looking for, or rather not finding it, she pulled out her cell phone and pressed her speed dial button and number one.

After three rings, she heard a soft “Isles.”

“Maura, don’t all Child Services Workers have to undergo a background check and have their fingerprints and DNA on file?” Jane asked without the usual pleasantries.

Maura blinked and sat up in her bed.  “Not all.  If there is no direct interfacing with children, then DNA may not be required,” she said and yawned.

“But Anita Riser has no fingerprints or DNA on file.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Maura said doubtfully as she rubbed her eyes and asked, “Are you sure you are looking in the right database?”

“Yeeeess,” Jane responded with annoyance. Sure she was no Frost but she could do computer searches too! “I found her assistant’s file WITH fingerprints and DNA information.”

“That’s highly unusual,” Maura said, shifting the pillows behind her.

“Thank you for that expert opinion, Doctor Isles,” Jane said dryly.

“Why are you looking into Anita Riser’s file?” Maura asked, ignoring Jane’s sarcasm.

“I saw her with Jack Urban at a restaurant together.  With very public displays of affection,” Jane said, making a disapproving face. “The kind that makes you want to take a scalding shower with a Brillo pad after witnessing,” she said distastefully.

After an awkward silence, Maura asked.  “Are you suggesting that Anita Riser might have killed Lacy Potter?”

“Well, she did the investigation of Jack and Kim Urban’s Foster Care – which one could question the objectivity of, to say the very least.  And I’m pretty sure adultery is not one of the character traits Child Services is looking for when placing a child in Foster care.”

“In fact it is a disqualifier.  According to Child Protective services regulations, a prospective foster parent may not have a felony conviction - that includes employees for the department as well.  And adultery is a felony in this state.  Per Massachusetts General Laws, Chapter 272, Section 14 - a married person who has sexual intercourse with a person not his spouse or an unmarried person who has sexual intercourse with a married person shall be guilty of adultery and shall be punished by imprisonment in the state prison for not more than three years or in jail for not more than two years or by a fine of not more than five hundred dollars.”

“Ok.  And you know this, how?” Jane asked with mild concern.

“I looked it up on my laptop, Jane.”

“Oh, here I though you might have memorized all of the Massachusetts State law for fun.”

“No.  I have never really had an affinity for law.”

“Really?? Says the Chief Medical Examiner?” Jane asked with amusement.

“Jane, now you are just being difficult.”

“Sorry,” Jane said with a yawn.  “Can you believe those two?  What else are they covering up?  What about the Urban’s other foster kids??  And how the hell does Child Services let someone work without the required checks?  Are they even doing their jobs and looking?” Jane vented her growing frustration.

“All very good questions, Jane.  The State could be putting the children at risk without realizing it,” Maura said with equal concern.

“Because they are not doing their damn job!” Jane snapped.  “I’m going to arrest them all!”

“Jane,” Maura said wearily.  “You’ll need solid proof to go after the Child Services department - not just missing information; they may have a reasonable explanation.  This will become a very sensitive issue for the State,” Maura countered practically.  “And you’ll need DNA from Anita Riser to see if she’s actually connected to Lacy’s beating and not just exhibiting a gross lack of judgment with Karl Urban.”

“I know, which is why I’m going to get the needed warrants and get that proof!” Jane declared passionately.  “I’m going to call the DA’s office right now,” Jane blurted with conviction, on a mission now.

“Jane!” Maura called out so she wouldn’t hang up.

“What?!?”

“You might want to wait a few hours,” Maura counseled uncomfortably.

“Why would I do that?!?” Jane said testily.

“It’s four thirteen in the morning - and you’re not exactly in their good graces,” Maura said carefully.

“Oh shit!!  I’m so sorry, Maura.  I didn’t mean to disturb you and Chu. . . uh forget it.  I don’t want to know,” Jane said with a cringe.  She really didn’t want to know.

“You’re not disturbing us and it wouldn’t matter.  Charles knows my work is unpredictable and important to me.  I want you to call me, Jane.  Any time - even if it is to bounce an idea off me.”

“Ok,” Jane said softly, a small smile forming at the offer before it disappeared with her next thought.  “But it’s still interrup…never mind.”

“Just so you know, he’s not here now . . . and he’s unlikely to be for the immediate future,” Maura offered, glancing in the direction of her guest room.

“Oh?” Jane asked, trying to tamp down her immediate curiosity.

“Mother and I decided she should stay with me while she is in town.”

“That’s good, right?  Getting to know your mother better?” Jane offered.

“I think so.  Yes.  She really seems to be making an effort to spend more time with me.  She wanted to see where I work tomorrow.  She has never asked before,” Maura said with surprise in her voice.

“She’s probably realizing what an amazing woman Maura Isles is and how much catching up she has to do,” Jane offered, causing Maura to smile at the sincere compliment that made her extraordinarily happy.  “I’m sorry I missed out on the dinner with you . . . two,” Jane said uncomfortably, unable to help herself for some masochistic reason.

“Oh, she already had plans with a friend,” Maura readily supplied, unaware she had just brought a small, pleased smile to Jane’s face.  “But if you’d like, we can try to plan something with the three of us, or perhaps the four of us - we should invite Angela too and make it a mother-daughter evening,” Maura said with growing enthusiasm.

“Great.  Just what we need to do, encourage our mothers to spend time together,” Jane muttered.

“What’s wrong with that?” Maura asked, genuinely confused by Jane’s concern.

“Why, nothing. Nothing at all,” Jane said flatly and yawned loudly.

“Have you been working all night??” Maura suddenly asked with disapproval in her voice.

“Uh . . . Kinda?”

“Jane, you need to get some sleep!”

“But…”

“No buts. I mean it, Jane,” Maura said sternly. “Go home and get a few hours. And I had better not see you in the same clothes when I come in.”

“Fine.  Fine.  You win,” Jane said with a sigh, rubbing her exhausted eyes.  She knew she could use a few hours of sleep before getting warrants and raising hell with the Child Protective Services department; she wanted to be on her A-game for that.

“What was that??  I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you,” Maura teased.

Jane laughed.  “FINE! Hanging up now,” she said and heard Maura chuckle before she disconnected.

Maura sighed with a smile, staring at her phone a moment before placing it back in its cradle.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Maura entered the police station’s coffee shop with her mother, who glanced around curiously.  “Well, this is the café,” Maura said, awkwardly motioning around the shop.

“I can see that,” Constance said with amusement, making Maura smile weakly.  They glanced over to the counter and spotted Angela waiting on a customer.  Angela saw them and happily smiled with a small wave, before returning her attention to the young officer and taking his order.

“Perhaps we can have a coffee before we see your office and work area.  That is, if you have the time for coffee, darling,” Constance said with a warm smile.

“Really?” Maura said with delight.

“Really,” Constance confirmed with a warm smile, though her heart ached from her daughter’s childish enthusiasm for such a simple thing, coffee with her mother; she vowed to make up for the lifetime of neglect.  “You know, I have never seen a Chief Medical Examiner’s office and workspace before,” she relayed, not surprising Maura.

“Most people don’t care to see where bodies go to be examined.”

“I suppose.  However, I am not most people. I’m the mother of THE Chief Medical Examiner and I would love to see where my daughter works,” she said firmly, making Maura smile happily.  “After a cup of coffee, that is,” she added, making Maura chuckle.

“Of course,” Maura said, her delighted smile still on her face as they went to a table.

As Constance sat, she noted a handsome uniformed man enter the café with urgency, marching towards Angela with a paper in hand.

“That’s Frankie Rizzoli,” Maura supplied, noting her mother’s curious look.  “I wonder what’s going on,” she added absently.

*

“Frankie! Where’s the fire??” Angela blurted with irritation as he pulled her back from the counter and handed her the paper as he glanced around the café uncomfortably. She looked at the headlines and provocative pictures.  “Again???” Angela moaned incredulously, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, Ma. Just thought you should hear it from family,” Frankie said with a wince.

“Unlike the first time.”

*

As Angela poured Maura and Constance coffee, she shook her head.  “I really hope this doesn’t hurt you, Maura,” she said worriedly, glancing at the tabloid.

“I don’t see how it would,” she said honestly.

Angela and Constance shared a quick look before glancing back down at the tabloid with showed several pictures of Jane, with two “other women” she was cheating on Martha Calderón with.

“Who’s that blond bimbo?” Angela asked with disapproval, pointing to the picture with the attractive woman kissing Jane’s cheek.  Maura looked at her with interest, wondering how she could have come to that conclusion from those pictures without having met her.  “Doesn’t she know Janie hates it when people get into her personal space?” Angela said, making Maura smile slightly.

“Jane had mentioned something to that effect at lunch,” Maura said with mild satisfaction and sipped her coffee.

“Well, except for you, huh?” Angela said, patting Maura’s hand.  Maura looked at her curiously.

“Clearly,” Constance said with a knowing smile, tapping her finger on the picture of Jane kissing Maura’s cheek, invading her personal space.

Maura took a breath to explain what prompted Jane to kiss her cheek when her mother continued.

“Well, you two do make a striking couple,” Constance offered approvingly.

“Mother…” Maura responded with concern, glancing at Angela uncomfortably.

“She’s right, ya know,” Angela interjected with a warm smile.  “Too bad Janie isn’t a doctor or lawyer, huh?  Like Dr. Pendleton,” she said with a shrug.

Constance frowned slightly at his name.

“I . . . ,” Maura exhaled, blinking.  “Her profession doesn’t matter,” she said firmly, then cringed at the sound of that.  “I mean, of course it does . . . but . . . uh,” she blurted in helpless confusion and looked between the two older women, who appeared to be hanging on her words.

“But she’s not a man,” Angela supplied with a shrug and understanding smile.

Maura blinked, wondering how on Earth did she end up talking about Jane as if she were a potential lover?  It wasn’t as if her best friend had ever even showed the slightest bit of interest, she considered and looked down at the tabloid and the picture of Jane kissing her cheek.  A slight flush washed over her as she recalled how . . . pleasant Jane’s attention was.

“Well that is readily apparent,” Constance said with amusement, causing Maura to look up at her mother in alarm until she noted her mother was glancing down at the pictures.  Jane’s not a man - Maura’s brain shifted back to Angela’s comment and the conversation at hand.

“But I think men are overrated,” Constance added conversationally, sipping her coffee.

Maura looked at her mother with surprise.

“Yeah.  Look what my man did,” Angela groused. “I don’t think a woman would have treated me like that,” she complained, prompting Constance to place a comforting hand on Angela’s arm, drawing Maura’s gaze to Angela’s arm.

“Sadly, being involved with a woman doesn’t spare you from possible heartache, Angela,” Constance said sagely as she glanced to the paper and retracted her hand, but not before squeezing Angela’s arm sympathetically.

Maura’s curious gaze returned to her mother.  Since when had she been so tactile and compassionate?

“Too bad,” Angela said with a sigh, then snorted with amusement. “Look at this - according to this article, Romeo Rizzoli is intimately involved with three women at the same time,” Angela noted wryly with a shrug.  “Jane has always been an overachiever.  Her father only cheated on me with one.”

“This article is clearly preposterous,” Maura blurted with irritation, causing Constance and Angela to share another brief look.

“Darling, don’t you think Jane could have several lovers if she wanted?” Constance asked innocently.

“I . . . no . . . I didn’t….” Maura protested weakly, once again terribly confused by this surreal conversation.

“Well, I certainly do,” Constance interjected.  “She’s quite the catch.”

“Aw, thanks Connie,” Angela gushed, withholding a laugh at the perplexed look on Maura’s face.  For someone without a lot of practice, Constance Isles certainly seemed to be a natural at getting under her daughter’s skin, Angela considered with approval.

“Frankly, I am surprised she’s not constantly fighting off suitors,” Constance offered.

“Well, she’s pretty intimidating, even without her gun.  I’ve always told her to be nicer and smile more . . . and not flash her gun and badge so often,” Angela offered wearily with a shrug, drawing Maura’s confused gaze.

Constance bit her lip to not laugh.

“She . . . ,” Maura started to counter Angela’s tangent but stopped herself, trying to get back to the original train of thought; she wasn’t really sure why, but she felt compelled to explain, “I only meant that Jane would never cheat on anyone.  Jane’s just not like that,” Maura said emphatically.

“Of course, not.  I wasn’t suggesting she was,” Constance easily replied, glancing at Angela, who smirked slightly.

“Ah sweetie, that’s so sweet of you to defend her honor, though,” Angela said warmly.

“Well, they are best friends,” Constance chimed in, sharing a knowing smile with Angela.

“Yes.  We are best friends,” Maura answered, feeling she was returning to solid ground, finally.

Maura glanced uncomfortably between the women, starting to suspect that Jane’s wariness about their mothers spending more time together had serious merit.  She also suspected this conversation of bizarre conjecture, which provoked incredible unease, was akin to something Jane referred to as being in the Twilight Zone.  Though on the positive side of this uncomfortable encounter, Maura considered as she sipped her coffee, she had new appreciation for Jane’s selection of that theme for her mother’s ring tone.

“Jane ought to try women for a change,” Angela blurted, causing Maura to cough on her coffee.

“You all right, dear?” Constance patted Maura’s back.

“Fine,” she wheezed, realizing she had not yet left the Twilight Zone.

“Who’s to say Miss Right isn’t right in front of her and she might not even know it.  Ya know?” Angela offered, pointing to the picture of the blond for example.  “Well, not her,” she amended, retracting her finger with a wince.

Constance smiled with amusement.  “How very enlightened, Angela.  Being Catholic, I would have thought lesbianism would have bothered you more.”

Maura glanced at Angela, greatly interested in her answer.  She had always heard of Mrs. Rizzoli pushing men on her daughter, never expecting she’d be open to….

“I just want my Janie happy.  As long as she finds someone she loves who treats her right, who am I to say it’s wrong?”

“Well said,” Constance said approvingly, cheering Angela with her coffee cup.

“And besides, I know Lesbian couples can get married and have kids – so I can still see her get married and give me grandbabies,” Angela said with a pleased smile, then looked at Constance’s empty cup.  “A refill?” Angela asked.

“No!” Maura blurted, getting surprised looks.  “Uh, I mean,” she offered uncomfortably.  “I would like to show you my office now, if that is all right?” Maura asked with a weak smile.

“It’s quite all right, darling,” Constance said warmly, getting a relieved look from Maura who stood with a pleased smile, her excitement returning.

“Angela perhaps we can catch up with each other later?”

“It’s a date!”

“Marvelous,” Constance said and turned to her daughter.  “Shall we?”

“O . . . of course,” Maura said with a weak smile, looking between the two women warily before motioning for her mother to precede her out of the café.

***

“Maura, I am soooo . . . ,” Jane said as she rushed into Maura’s office, abruptly stopping when she saw Constance in Maura’s chair.  “Oh. Mrs. Isles,” she said uneasily, awkwardly placing the tabloid she carried behind her back.

“Jane, good to see you again.  And please, call me Constance,” she said warmly, receiving a slight nod and smile.  “Maura is discussing a case with her assistant and should be back shortly,” she informed the detective.

“Oh,” Jane said, looking around the office uncomfortably.

“I see you have the latest gossip rag,” Constance said wryly.

Jane winced.  “Mrs. Isle . . . ,”

“Constance,” she corrected once more.

“Constance, I am sorry for dragging Maura through the mud like this,” she said as her gaze dropped guiltily.

Constance frowned.  “Mud?  Jane, darling, if you had seen what was written about me years ago in those rags when I was engaged to Mr. Isles,” she said with a small chuckle.  “And if you really were with Maura, that would hardly be a scandal, it would be wonderful news.  Though, I would certainly hope you wouldn’t seek the attentions of other women while in a relationship with her,” Constance said with an amused smile.

“Uh,” Jane blurted. “Excuse me??”

“All I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you really understand how unimportant the tabloids are to the Isles family, Jane,” Constance said firmly.

Jane frowned, believing that was not all Constance Isles was trying to say.

“Unfortunately, the Police Chief, Mayor’s office, and the DA’s office seem to have a different opinion,” Jane said looking down at the tabloid as Maura finally returned to her office.

“A different opinion about what?” Maura asked brightly and stood next to Jane with a smile.

“Maura,” Jane said miserably.

“What’s wrong?” Maura immediately asked with worry, instinctively placing a hand on Jane’s arm, which Constance quietly observed with a small smile.

“They barred us from the Potter and Protective Services case.  I am so sorry.”

“Oh dear,” Constance said worriedly, looking between the two.

“Why?” Maura asked with surprise, feeling the sting of the decision.

Jane briefly held up the tabloid.  “The DA thinks the optics of two women working on the case who are reportedly in an intimate relationship, with me cheating with two others at the same time,“ Jane said with clear irritation “…is not exactly helpful to the case involving adultery and inappropriate conduct.  They think if we’re involved it will be a media circus distracting from the case at best, and at worst - the defense might have grounds for repeal.”

“Based on what?!?” Constance blurted indignantly.  “Perception of hypocrisy?  That’s just absurd.”

Jane looked at Maura’s mother with small smile of gratitude for her support.  Her smile fell, hearing Maura’s rationalization.

“I can see their point.  They want no potential liabilities, however small, for what we expect to be a politically sensitive investigation of the Child Protective Services and Anita Riser,” Maura said logically.

“Maura I am sorry you were dragged into this,” Jane offered softly.

“It’s not your fault, Jane,” Maura said absently with a disappointed sigh; she really wanted to personally conduct the DNA test of Anita Riser when Jane made the connection.

“Certainly not,” Constance added indignantly.

Jane nodded weakly, unconvinced; had she not taken Martha Calderón to her apartment, there would have been no story and no follow-up article involving Maura that got both of them kicked off a case.  “I’ve got to get back to my desk.  I’m still on the Symphony Hall case . . . for now,” she said dejectedly and started to leave Maura’s office.

Constance glanced over to Maura with worry; but she found to her relief that Maura was already responding.

“Jane,” Maura said taking a quick step to firmly grab her arm.  “Look at me,” she demanded when Jane was hesitant to look her in the eye.  When she reluctantly met her insistent gaze, Maura continued.  “This whole foolish tabloid debacle is not your fault,” she insisted firmly.  “And you shouldn’t second-guess yourself about your actions; actions which were nothing, if not professional.  I know that; everyone who knows you, knows that.  And I know if I asked Martha Calderón whether your actions gave her the security and safety she desperately needed during an extremely vulnerable time, I know the answer; it would be a resounding yes.”

Jane intently listened to Maura, whose unwavering faith in her slowly lifted the burden of guilt.

“The Brass is being extraordinarily careful on what will no doubt be a volatile case - a case that you found key evidence for.  You may not get the satisfaction of getting the arrest personally, but you should feel great satisfaction in knowing that because of you, many children will be helped,” Maura said with a fire in her eyes.

“You’re guessing . . . about the outcome,” Jane noted softly with a small smile, looking into Maura’s mesmerizing eyes that narrowed slightly.

“No.  I’m using current evidence and experience to support my conclusion.”

“You mean, your gut,” Jane countered as her smile grew slightly.

“My brain, not my intestines, Jane,” Maura scolded mildly with feigned exasperation, causing a small chuckle from Jane – an immensely satisfying sound to Maura.

Jane’s soft chuckle quickly faded as she offered, “I hope in all this mess, they don’t forget about Lacy.”

“I won’t,” Maura offered.  “And I won’t let my team,” she vowed and Jane believed her.

They looked at each other a long, silent moment before Jane’s gaze dropped, pausing a dangerous moment at Maura’s lips before glancing over to Constance, who had the grace to be inspecting an interesting paperweight on Maura’s desk.  With a small, lopsided smile, Jane whispered, “Thanks” and placed a hand over Maura’s.  With a gentle squeeze, Maura hesitantly released her arm.

Maura watched Jane leave.  After a moment, she felt her mother’s comforting hand on her shoulder and smiled tightly. “You’re a good friend, Maura,” Constance said proudly.

“I wish I could do more.”

“I know, darling.  But you have eased her burden for now,” Constance said with a small smile. “That is an incredible gift for someone like Jane.”

“She’d do the same for me,” Maura offered dismissively and added quietly, “she has.”

Constance simply nodded.  “So!  Where are these dead bodies I keep hearing about?” she asked brightly, causing Maura to chuckle.

Chapter Text

Jane and Korsak stood at the hotel door.  “Wonder if she’ll be pissed at you, Romeo,” Korsak said and snickered with amusement.

Jane shook her head with a sigh as she knocked on the door.  As Korsak took a breath for another comment, Jane interjected with an angry groan “Korsak, I swear to GOD…!”

“Touchy touchy,” Korsak said, holding his hands up innocently.

A muscular man in an ill-fitting blazer answered the door.  Jane and Korsak flashed their badges, which didn’t impress the security guard.

“Detectives Rizzoli and Korsak, Boston PD. Ms. Calderón is expecting us,” Jane offered with an easy smile, one that was not returned Jane noted.  Perhaps his tie is too tight, she considered with a slight frown.

The man stepped back and allowed them to enter.  “Thanks,” she said with a friendly smile, causing the guard to roll his eyes.

Korsak glanced around the large, impressive suite, and looked at Jane, silently mouthing “classy.”  Jane had to agree.

“Jane,” Martha said, warmly greeting the Detective with kisses on both her cheeks.  “I wasn’t sure you’d return to me after having strayed.  I’m not sure I should take you back,” she teased.

Jane wasn’t sure if she should respond and caught Korsak’s smirk. She glared at him to behave as the pianist turned her attention to the other officer.

“Detective Korsak,” Martha said cordially, offering only a polite nod, which both detectives noted.

“Ms. Calderón,” he said respectfully.

“Nice place,” Jane said, scratching her neck and looking around the large suite. “Nice big place,” she added, spotting the grand piano with interest.

“It is adequate,” Martha said, looping her arm in Jane’s as they walked towards the Steinway.  Korsak’s smirk grew as he followed at a distance.  He glanced back the guard who sat in a chair reading a newspaper.  Tough work, he considered wryly, wondering how much this gig paid.

“Don’t you keep the neighbors up with your playing?” Jane joked.

“I am told there is sound proofing, so they are spared the noise,” she said wryly.  “So, do you and Detective Korsak have any leads?” Martha asked and sat on the edge of the piano bench as Korsak continued to roam around the suite and listen.

“A few things to follow-up on.  Did you know Kyle Gruhoffer was taking medication for anxiety?” Jane asked as she took a seat near the bench.

“Yes.  He struggled with his anxiety since he started our tour to promote the album of duets.  It is . . . was,” Martha corrected herself with a wince “his first tour and album.  Why?” Martha asked curiously.

“It appears he had ingested more than the normal dosage, which can lead to medical complications including heart attacks, which was determined to be the cause of death,” Jane offered, studying her reaction.

Martha frowned.  “Kyle was very careful about his medication,” she said confidently, then hesitated, thinking.  “Or he seemed to be.  He said it affected his performances so he had certain times he would take it.  I can’t imagine him taking too much.  His music meant too much to him,” she offered earnestly.

“Do you know what foods he liked to eat?” Jane asked, getting a surprised look from the pianist.

“Rich foods.  He wasn’t one to pass up a French fry or potato chip,” she offered, getting an understanding nod from Jane as she took notes.  Martha recalled a memory with a wistful smile, “He loved to celebrate after a performance – he was also not one to pass up wine or champagne, either.”

Jane looked at her thoughtfully.  “You had previously mentioned he had not been drunk, but did you see him drink any alcohol the night of his death?”

“A glass of champagne.  We all had a toast for the successful performance.”

“You had also mentioned he was your Protégé,” Jane said and looked her in the eye as she gently asked, “did you have an . . . intimate relationship?”

“Of course we did, Detective,” Martha said honestly, noting what looked like disappointment cross Jane’s face before her neutral mask returned. “When one shares music with another, one can not help but be intimate,” she felt compelled to elaborate.

“Were you physically intimate?” Jane persisted.

“How so . . . exactly?” Martha innocently asked with a slight smile.

Jane frowned.  “Were you sexually involved?”

Martha looked at her a long moment before answering.  “No.  As I think you are aware, I prefer the female form, Detective,” she said, continuing to focus intently on Jane.

Korsak looked between the two women with great interest, not having known Ms. Calderón’s preferences except for what was written in the tabloids, which he took with a grain of salt.

“How does one become your protégé?” Jane asked, ignoring the subtle and not-so-subtle comments.

“There is no formula, Jane,” Martha sighed, getting up from her bench and walking along the piano, allowing her fingers to trace over the instrument like a caress.  “I meet someone who has a passion to learn and who I think I can teach.  And of course, the person must truly have promise, not just . . . desire,” she said, glancing at Jane intently again as she sensually leaned against the instrument.

Korsak fingered his collar, wondering how Jane was faring with those looks being directed at her.

“When I find someone with the right qualities, I will commit my time and energy to see that they learn what I know.  And in return I get exposed to a fresh, unique perspective.”

“Do you have more than one protégé?  Someone who might be jealous of Kyle Gruhoffer’s success?” Jane asked.

“I thought you said he died of a heart attack.  Do you really think he was murdered?” Martha blurted with alarm.

“I don’t know.  The evidence is inclusive.  He could have died from natural causes or an overdose of Adapin, accidentally or intentionally.”

“He would never have killed himself,” Martha said emphatically.

Jane nodded. “Any other students?”

Martha shook her head no. “I have precious little time to devote to my own music and guide more than one protégé at a time.  And I can’t imagine any of my former protégés being able to . . . kill.”

“Unfortunately, people surprise us all the time,” Jane offered softly, making Martha pause uneasily.

“As far as jealousy is concerned, there is no reason.  Kyle’s success has not yet been realized; we have not released the album – his first.  I don’t see how anyone I taught before would feel Kyle was garnering more attention or was more successful,” she said, clearly perplexed at the potential for her former protégés to be murderers.

“For thoroughness, would you please give us a list of your protégés names?” Jane asked.

Martha sighed heavily, thinking it would not be very useful but relented.  “Very well,” she said and leaned forward, placing her hand on Jane’s that held the notepad, which Jane relinquished.  Holding her other hand out, Martha waited, getting a small smile from Jane, who handed her the pen too.  Martha jotted down a few names and handed back the pad to Jane.

“Thanks,” Jane said softly.

A loud, insistent banging on the door startled everyone in the suite.  Standing protectively in front of the pianist, Jane glanced at Korsak, who stepped closer to the door with his hand on his weapon, focusing on the noisy arrival with interest. The security guard answered the door and blocked the way of the irate man.

“Get the hell out of my way, you buffoon!” Roberto Trejo spat and tried to barge his way in, easily detained by the guard. “Get your filthy hands off of me!”

“Calm down,” the guard said in a deep voice, which annoyed Ms. Calderón’s manager more.

“You know I’m her goddamn manager and I need to see her!”

“Daniel, let him in,” Martha said with a tired sigh.  The guard frowned and stepped back as directed, allowing the angry man to march into the suite.  He stopped in his tracks, seeing the Boston police officers.

“I thought I told you NO interviews without my presence!” Roberto spat at Martha, who rolled her eyes.

“Are you her lawyer?” Korsak asked politely, earning a glare.

“We were about to finish up but . . . ,” Jane said hesitantly, looking at Martha with concern.

Martha smiled slightly and walked towards her, stepping into Jane’s personal space.  “It’s all right, Detective,” she said in a quiet voice.

With the crisis apparently passed, Daniel sighed and sat back down, picking up his magazine.  Both Korsak and Roberto watched the women, annoyed they couldn’t hear their conversation.

“I grew up on the streets of Cordoba.  I know how to handle an angry man,” Martha offered with mild amusement.  “Roberto is harmless.”

“If you say so,” Jane said with a sigh, making Martha smile warmly at her concern.

“I do and I have Daniel here.  Though you know the arrangements I’d prefer . . . ,” Martha said with a sly smile, not needing to finish as she glanced over to the two curious men staring at them.  “You have my number.  Please call if you wish to talk about the case or . . . ,” she offered, slowly placing a kiss on both of Jane’s cheeks.

Roberto rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest with a disapproving grunt.  Korsak frowned slightly.

“Martha,” Jane said uncomfortably, feeling a warm flush wash over her.  “I’ll be in touch,” she said, getting a smile.

“I hope so.  I have one more performance in Boston.  I am hoping to go to Bar Harbor to finish the tour,” she said.

“I can’t promise you anything,” Jane said honestly.

“I’m not looking for promises, Detective,” Martha noted with a slight smile, giving Jane pause.

***

“Would you mind telling me what the hell was all that in there?” Korsak said in a hushed tone as they left the pianist’s hotel room.

“What?  Are you buying into the Tabloid crap too?” Jane snapped as she entered the elevator.

“What I saw in there was real.  She’s attracted to you,” Korsak said quietly, not that it mattered.  They were alone in the elevator.

Jane glared at him.

“And . . . ,” he said and paused, debating whether to mention his other observation.

“Do you have a point, Korsak?” Jane said tersely, crossing her arms across her chest.

Korsak shook his head, knowing Jane was stubborn and unreceptive to his attempted cautionary words.  He sighed heavily and pulled out a handkerchief.  He handed it to her, causing her to eye it in confusion.

“You’ve got lipstick on your cheeks.”

***

“Maura, did you process the….,” Jane asked as she blew into Maura’s lab.  “Oh.  Hey Frost,” she said and smiled at Maura.

“Hey, Jane.  Any breaks on the Symphony Hall cases?” He asked curiously.

“Not yet.  Just got back from interviewing Martha.  Her manager is a piece of work; Korsak is looking into his background. Whatchya got there?” Jane asked, seeing a swab in the evidence bag that Frost held.

“DNA sample of Anita Riser,” he said with a big grin.

Jane looked at Maura with concern.  Maura nodded in understanding.

“I know I can’t process it personally.  My assistant will do it,” Maura said and looked at Frost.  “If you’ll please place it in the basket on the counter, I won’t even need to touch it,” Maura offered, causing Frost to shift uncomfortably

He had never been banned from working a case; like the whole department, he thought it was ridiculous for people of Jane and Maura’s caliber to be tainted by the messy politics of public perception.  Well, except for Crowe, he considered with a cringe.

“Good,” Jane said with a small smile.  “I was wondering if your team had processed the Adapin bottle for fingerprints yet.”

“Not yet,” Maura said apologetically.  “But it’ll get done today,” she promised.

“Thanks.”

“You think someone tampered with his meds?” Frost asked with interest.

“I’m not ruling anything out at this point,” Jane said with a sigh, causing Frost to nod.

“Gotta get back to Crowe,” he said with a groan and started to leave.

“Sorry about that,” Jane called out with amusement.

“Uh huh.  Tell me again why you got Korsak?” Frost asked at the door.

“Cavanaugh knew I’d be more likely to shoot Crowe before the end of the day?” She joked.

“After today, I’m not sure that will be true,” Frost frowned.  “Oh, I thought you might want to know - we’ve got the Inspector General’s Office involved in auditing Child Protective Services.  They’ve found other gaps in personnel records,” Frost offered.

Jane frowned and shook her head in disgust.  “Did they even once think about the kids?”

“Well, they are thinking about them now,” Frost said, lightly tapping on the doorjamb with a fist before leaving the women alone.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?” Maura blurted with a smile.  “I thought we could also catch a movie.”

Jane winced.  “Sorry, I’ve got plans.”

“Oh,” Maura said with surprise. “Anything interesting?” Maura asked curiously, forcing a smile to hide her disappointment.

“I think so,” Jane said with a smirk. “You’ll let me know about the Adapin bottle?”

“Of course,” Maura said.

“Thanks,” Jane said with a smile and left the lab.

Maura watched the Detective until she was out of sight with a dissatisfied frown.

***

Jane sat at her desk, sifting through a folder on the Brian Carter case, reviewing the sketchy facts.  A popping sound, cables cut except for one - which had explosive residue on it – but no traces of detonator.  It looked like an intentional act to have the light fall.  From a background check of Brian Carter, he did not appear to be a target.  He was never arrested, had an excellent work record with Symphony Hall, an all-around, squeaky-clean guy.  Not to mention Martha said he had pushed her out of the way, which would mean she was the likely target. But who would like to kill off a famous pianist? And was that intended murder connected to the death of Kyle Gruhoffer an up-and-coming pianist and protégé to Martha Calderón?

“Anything on Trejo, yet?” Jane asked Korsak with a heavy sigh.

“Nope.  But I found something else interesting,” Korsak said as Jane curiously came to his desk.

“A car accident three years ago?” She said, sitting on the corner of his desk as she read the article on his screen. “Promising pianist…,” Jane read and paused, glancing to Korsak.  “Francesca Arrau, died in a tragic car accident in Buenos Aires following the final, sold-out performance of the wildly successful Argentinian tour of celebrated pianist . . . Martha Calderón,” she said looking at him with a raised brow.

“Keep reading,” Korsak said, motioning to his screen.

“Arrau, who survived a large . . . apartment fire,” Jane said with surprise. “…earlier in the month, said she still had her health and her music, for which she thanked God every day,” Jane said with amazement, looking curiously at a picture of Francesca and Martha on stage, receiving a standing ovation.

Jane read on.  “Martha Calderón, too distraught for an interview, released a statement about her protégé. ‘It is rare to find a soul whose music transcends our physical limitations.  When Francesca played, we knew no limitations and heard what was in her heart.  The country has lost a treasure, I have lost a friend,” Jane said softly, looking at another picture – one of Martha with Lidia’s arm around her, consoling her.

“Interesting, huh?  You know, Janie, bad things seem to happen to people around her.  You’d better be careful,” Korsak teased, prompting Jane to roll her eyes with an annoyed groan.

“Why must Jane be careful?” Maura asked as she approached them.  “Well, other than the obvious.”

“The people around Jane’s girlfriend have really bad luck,” Korsak snickered.

“Would you give it a rest, Korsak!?!” Jane snapped and returned to her desk.

“Jane’s . . . girlfriend?” Maura said curiously, looking between the two in confusion.

Jane shook her head with a heavy sigh and sat in her chair.

“Martha Calderón,” Korsak supplied helpfully.  “The woman Romeo here cheated on with you and the other woman,” Korsak added with a chuckle.

“Ah,” Maura said with understanding.  “Actually, the more apt term in this scenario would be Casanova.  He was known for his seduction and sexual conquests of several women whereas Romeo was known for only romancing Juliet . . . and as you know, that ended badly.”

“One should always try to be apt,” Jane said flatly.

“Casanova Rizzoli?  Nah, Romeo Rizzoli has a nicer ring to it,” Korsak said as he printed out the article on Francesca Arrau.

“I suppose that is one reason for the inaccurate sobriquet,” Maura allowed with a slight frown.

“Jane??” Angela called out as she entered the bullpen.

“Oh look, Mama Montague herself,” Jane muttered, causing Maura to smile with delight; Jane always had a way of surprising her with her knowledge.  “Hi, Ma.  What’s up?” Jane asked.

“I know it’s not Sunday but . . . ,” she said hesitantly.  “What do you say you and Maura come by the guest house for dinner?  Connie and I thought it might be fun to have another mother daughter dinner.  What do you say?” Angela looked hopefully between the two women.

“Ah, darn Ma.  I already made plans.  But I’m sure Maura would love to,” Jane said with a thin smile as she batted her eyelashes at her friend.

“No!  I mean . . . uh, that sounds lovely Angela but . . . I have plans with Charles.  Sorry,” Maura said uncomfortably.  Jane looked at Maura with amusement.  Seeing Jane’s amused smirk, Maura shifted uneasily.

“So what are your plans, Jane??” Angela asked bluntly with a frown.  Maura looked at Jane with a pointed look and now batted her eyelashes at Jane, very pleased Angela had asked the question.

Jane’s eyes narrowed at Maura slightly before glaring at her intrusive mother.

“Plans that don’t involve me coming to the guest house and having dinner with you and,” Jane said with irritation then stopped.  “Oh please don’t tell me you are calling Constance Isles Connie to her face; she must think we’re grade-A dorks!”

“Connie is a friend, Jane.  You know the only one worried about her name is you!” Angela protested. “Right Maura?”

“I . . . .”

“Would you not drag Maura into this?  The fact is neither Maura and I are free so perhaps we should try another time? OK??” Jane said with irritation, getting a heavy sigh from her mother.

“Fine,” Angela said tersely, disappointed the dinner plans fell through.

“That would be lovely,” Maura offered with a smile for Angela.

“You are a sweet girl, Maura,” Angela said with a warm smile, then glared pointedly at Jane, who chuckled and rubbed her eyes. “I’ll tell Connie we’ll need to try another time. See ya later girls,” she said and turned to leave. “Vince,” she said on the way out, offering a shy smile for the Detective who weakly waved with a small smile.

After Angela left, Jane leaned back in her chair and looked at Maura. “You so totally lied to her!” Jane said with an amused snort.

“I did not,” Maura said defensively, shifting uncomfortably.

“So does Charles know of these plans of yours this evening?” Jane said with a knowing smile.

“Uh . . . not yet,” Maura said, biting her lip.

Jane’s smile widened.  “So being alone with the two of them spooks you, doesn’t it?  Admit it,” Jane said with a smirk.

Maura wanted to deny it but she couldn’t.  “It does seem that they are communicating on a different plane.  I’m not sure how to describe it; but it is quite…uncomfortable.”

“Ah Grasshopper, you are learning,” Jane said in a poor accent, bowing her head.

Maura looked at her, her head tilting slightly in confusion, not understanding the reference.

“Oh come on, you’ve must have watched Kung Fu!” Jane said.

“I have seen a very impressive Kung Fu weapons demonstration when our fencing team hosted Chinese students during their stay in Boston,” Maura said enthusiastically.

“Kung Fu was a TV show Pop really loved . . . , you know what?  You need to see it to understand.  We’ll have to have a Kung Fu night – with Chinese, of course.”

Maura smiled at the thought of spending more time with Jane.  “I look forward to it!”

Jane smiled at her enthusiasm.  Maura and she shared a smile for an unusually long moment that caused Jane’s smile to fade as she looked at Maura curiously.

“Oh,” Maura said, her appreciation of Jane’s expressive eyes interrupted.  “I have the results on the Adapin bottle, if you’re interested,” Maura offered with a pleased smile at the spark of anticipation in Jane’s eyes.

“Tell me you have something good,” Jane pleaded.

“I have something good,” Maura dutifully repeated back.

“Yes!” Jane said with a fist pump.  “What did you find??”

“Uh . . . well, I’m afraid it’s not THAT good,” Maura winced.

“What is it?”

“We retrieved two partial fingerprints off the bottle that are not Kyle Gruhoffer’s.  There are no matches in AFIS,” Maura said.

“Does AFIS access passport biometrics for other countries?” Jane asked pointedly, looking at Maura.

“Unfortunately, there is no master world database, yet,” Maura offered, interested by Jane’s question.  Jane had an uncanny ability to unravel complex cases into fundamental principles of human behavior.  Her deductive reasoning was truly fascinating, Maura considered with appreciation.

“You’re thinking Argentinian suspects?” Korsak asked, getting Jane to nod.  “Doc, can you forward me the prints?  I’ll see if I can get some help accessing the biometrics.”

“Of course,” Maura offered, interested in where Jane’s hunch might lead.

“Let me know what you find?” Jane asked Korsak, who nodded as she got up and looked at her watch and grabbed her coat.

“Hot date?” Maura joked with an uneasy smile.

“Of course I am,” Jane joked.  “Just look at the tabloids,” she added, shaking her head at the irony.  “See you tomorrow, assuming it’s quiet,” she said and walked out.

Maura frowned in frustration.  “Is she deliberately obfuscating?”

Korsak looked at Maura.  “I think she thinks the less she says, the less we can tease her,” he said with a shrug.

“She has been through a lot lately with the tabloids,” Maura said sympathetically.

Korsak snorted.

“What?” Maura asked curiously.

“She may have been through a lot lately, but it can get worse if she’s not careful,” Korsak warned.

“Careful?  Vince, what are you talking about?” Maura said with concern.

Vince sighed.  “I know Jane wouldn’t compromise an investigation because of … emotional attachments,” he said uncomfortably.  “But I think Ms. Calderón and Jane have one.  And while Ms. Calderón has been more overt in her interest with Jane . . . ”

“Overt?” Maura said with surprise and a tinge of another feeling that was new to her - a feeling she did not particularly like.

Korsak cringed.  “Uh, just trust me, she is.”

Maura frowned, though she could understand the pianist’s interest in Jane, who was noble, intelligent, kind, and of course, physically attractive.  Exceptionally so….

“I don’t think it’s one way,” he offered, startling Maura.  “And as you know with the Potter case, it doesn’t matter if there is anything there it’s the perception that there is that counts.  Jane just needs to be careful,” he finished uncomfortably.

Maura looked at him with a weak nod of agreement, feeling a growing unease.

Chapter Text

“Jane can be so infuriating!” Angela groused as she placed a slice of pepperoni on a plate for Constance then served herself.  “Jane is . . . God knows where, and Maura is out with Dr. Pendleton.  Not exactly the perfect evening we planned,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Well, you must admit our idea was not exactly well thought out.  We need to plan better,” Constance added optimistically, accepting the plate.  “And don’t worry about Charles,” Constance smirked.  “Once he realizes I’m here, he won’t try to spend the evening.  He’s not that bold,” she said confidently.

“Maura deserves someone who can’t be intimidated by her mother,” Angela said with a frown.  “Beer?”

“Uh, sure,” Constance replied cautiously and accepted a longneck bottle.  “Unfortunately, I’m rather intimidating - even when I’m not trying,” she said wryly.

“You shouldn’t apologize for THAT.  It’s actually a good thing, ya know?  It’s like a gauntlet . . . if someone can still get the family stamp of approval – they are worthy of our daughters.”

“But . . . ,” Constance said, then fell quiet with a wince.

“But what?”

“From what I understand with Jane, you are not exactly a discriminating . . . gauntlet,” Constance offered awkwardly.

Angela smirked.  “That’s because Jane is the gauntlet.  I don’t have to be.  So I pushed a few . . . less than desirable dates her way,” she admitted with a shrug.  “Unless she’s out there actively dating, who’d know she’s available?  Right??”

“Uh . . . well, I suppose,” Constance said with a polite smile.  “I’m afraid with Maura’s taste, I will need to be the gauntlet until Jane is in the picture.”

Angela nodded thoughtfully.  “I hope you know that even if it doesn’t work with Janie, I’d hope that Maura finds someone worthy.  She really is a sweet girl.”

“Oh Angela, thank you.  I wish I could take credit for how she turned out but she is who she is - in spite of me,” Constance said sadly and took a sip of beer, finding it not so bad.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Connie.  You’re here now and that’s what matters,” Angela said sincerely.  “To our daughters,” she said, clinking the necks of the beer bottles together.

“To our daughters,” Constance said approvingly and took another sip.  “You know, this is really good,” she offered with genuine surprise, making Angela chuckle.

“Plenty more where that came from,” Angela said with a smile.

***

“This was a nice surprise,” Charles said as he sat across from Maura in the restaurant.

“I know spur of the moment plans don’t usually work out for us but I thought I’d give it a go,” she said with a smile.

“I’m glad you did.  And you were able to get us a cozy table for two,” Charles said with a grin.

The waiter came over with menus, which Charles waved off and just ordered.  “I’ll have a filet mignon medium with a glass of ’98 Stag’s Leap Cabernet.  She’ll have the Coquille St. Jacques with a glass of ’02 Cullen Chardonnay.”

“Right away, sir,” the waiter said with a slight bow and left.

Maura frowned slightly.  “What if I had wanted the salmon?”

Charles looked at her with surprise.  “Do you want the salmon?”

After a thoughtful moment she responded “no.”  He smirked.  “But you always order for both of us,” she offered curiously.

“You never complained before,” Charles countered with a frown.

“I had not really thought about it before.  Why do you do that?” She asked.

“Do what?” Charles asked, confused by her questions.

“Order for me?” She asked curiously.

“I . . . if you want something besides Coquille St. Jacques, I’ll go get the waiter,” Charles said with irritation, perplexed by his date.

Maura thought a moment.  “No.  That won’t be necessary.  I’m actually in the mood for Coquille St. Jacques.”

Charles stared at her.

***

“I made her take ballet lessons,” Angela said as they retired to Maura’s couch with their beers.  “Something I never got to do,” she said regretfully, sipping her beer, her fourth – one behind Constance, who was really enjoying the beverage more than she had expected.

“Ballet is a wonderful thing,” Constance gushed.

“I thought so – the grace and beauty of it all,” Angela said with a shrug, sipping her beer. “But Jane didn’t like it,” she offered then chuckled weakly. “Well, that’s an understatement – she hated it.”

“I can see that her height might have been a problem,” Constance said thoughtfully, sipping her beer.

“Yeah, she grew quickly.  She wasn’t very graceful, like a baby giraffe trying to walk,” Angela said with a smirk, getting an amused snort from Constance.  “Oh she wasn’t a total klutz – she excelled at softball and track, she was better than her brothers and competitive as all get out,” she offered with a shrug.  “But Jane really wasn’t made for ballet and hated it.  Oh and the tutus!  The fights we would have over the tutus, you’d have thought I was asking her to swallow rusty thumbtacks or something!” Angela said, shaking her head at the memories.

Constance smiled, envisioning Jane’s rebellion.  Her smile faded, recalling Maura never complained about anything . . . and wishing she had.

“But I thought if I just made her go some more, it would grow on her and my little girl would learn to love it,” Angela said with a frown.

“You didn’t have Frankie or Tommy take ballet?” Constance asked curiously.

“Ha!  Like they’d be caught dead in tights!  There would have been a mutiny and Frank would have disowned me and them!” Angela said with amusement.

“I find it sad that Jane’s aversion to ballet was not respected because of her gender, yet the men’s were.  At least Jane had her own interests and as you said, excelled at them.  It would have really been tragic if she was discouraged from those interests because of gender roles - she may have felt like a failure; not fitting into a mold that was never meant for her.”

Angela looked at Constance with a frown.  “Are you channeling Nonna Rizzoli or something?”

“Nonna Rizzoli?” Constance asked curiously, sipping her beer.

“You want to talk about intimidating mothers?” Angela groused.  “Frank’s mother was the most strict and uncompromising woman I have ever met!  She was a music teacher and of course my lack of any musical ability didn’t win any points with her.  But Jane took to her immediately.  I think . . . I know I was jealous of their relationship,” Angela admitted with difficulty.  “Jane would go to Nonna Rizzoli’s for hours. I know our house was not exactly a great environment for her to play, but we had a piano and I tried to curb the boys’ behavior to give her practice time.”

“She played piano?” Constance said with interest.

“Yeah.  She did,” Angela said thoughtfully and sipped from her bottle.

***

“Have you ever watched the TV show called Kung Fu?” Maura asked Charles, who paused his forkful of chocolate cake at his lips.

“Uh . . . Why??”

“Jane had referenced it today and I was unaware of the TV show.  Did you enjoy it?”

“I . . . I guess.  It was a while ago.  Kind of hokey – a Shaolin priest roaming the old west and fighting for good while searching for family, yadda yadda,” he said dismissively, waving his fork for emphasis.

Maura nodded.  Family - a simple word that held so much meaning.  And thanks to Jane, she had learned what it was like to have one.  She smiled to herself, thinking about how much the Rizzoli family meant to her.  They had accepted her, idiosyncrasies and all.

“I think I’d like to go home now,” Maura said softly, getting a surprised look from Charles, who then smirked.

“Your wish is my command,” he said, waving to the waiter.

***

“So she doesn’t play anymore?” Constance asked curiously.

Angela frowned.  “No.  She stopped after her hands were injured,” she said, looking down at her own, scar-free palms.  “I’m just happy she is able to use her hands for everyday stuff.  We weren’t sure she’d be able to, ya know?” She said with a quiver in her voice, recalling her fears for Jane.

“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you,” Constance said sympathetically, finishing off another beer.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one with my hands stabbed by scalpels,” Angela said with a sniff, trying not to tear up.  “Jane worked so hard to get her hands working.  I just wish….” she said and fell silent with a thoughtful frown.

“You wish what?” Constance asked gently.

“I just wish she would have let me help her.  But she pushed me away, Connie.  She pushed everyone away - like she had to prove she wasn’t weak,” Angela said sadly.  “No one ever thought that.  Janie is one of the strongest people I know,” she said emphatically.  “But my baby was hurt and wouldn’t let her own mother help her,” Angela said weakly as tears began to fall.  “She never has talked to me about Hoyt.  Even after this last time when she finally took care of him for good, thank God.  I was always worried about her but I just wanted her safe, you know?” Angela said and shook her head with a sad laugh.  “If only she had been interested in plumbing.”

“Oh Angela, that would be like expecting Jane to want to be a ballerina.  From what Maura has told me, Jane is perfectly suited for her profession and excels at it.”

“I know!  I just wish she wasn’t so damn good and liked plumbing!” Angela groused, causing Constance to chuckle. “She never did listen to me,” she added with a frown.

“Perhaps . . . that’s because you never listened to her?” Constance offered hesitantly.

Angela looked at Connie with irritation.

“I’m sorry, Angela.  I shouldn’t have presumed to say anything - as if I know anything about motherhood,” Constance said dejectedly.

“No.  It’s all right.  You’re right, you know,” Angela admitted reluctantly.

“Jane, continue with your scales, while I chat with your mother,” Nonna said to Jane, who was still in her softball uniform from the game earlier that day.  Jane frowned, but nodded and did what she was told without argument.

Angela frowned slightly, wishing just once Janie would do as she said without argument. She watched her mother-in-law slide the pocket doors shut, closing off the music room, though Jane’s dutifully played scales were heard loud and clear.

Maria Rizzoli sat on her couch with a thoughtful look.  Angela found the silence uncomfortable.

“So . . . how is Jane doing?” Angela asked awkwardly as Maria a patted the seat next to her. Angela smiled weakly and sat rigidly next to her mother-in-law.

“Molto bene,” she said with a pleased smile. “Which is what I wanted to discuss with you.  I am thinking she has a very good chance of getting into the Boston Conservatory’s summer music program.”

“That sounds expensive,” Angela said worriedly.

“It costs nothing except hard work - she would have to focus more on her music and try out.  The competition is substantial, but I think Jane has the talent to get in – with more practice.  And if she gets in, many more doors will be opened for her.”

“And where’s she gonna get this time for more . . . ?  Oh.  I should have known,” Angela said with annoyance, rolling her eyes.  “Janie is not giving up her ballet lessons,” Angela said stubbornly.

“Angela, Jane will never be a ballerina, no matter how much you may wish it.  But she could be a pianist or whatever else her heart desires.”

“She’s playing piano because it makes you happy,” Angela countered with irritation.

“You clearly do not pay attention to your own daughter.  She plays because it suits her,” Maria said with irritation.

Angela was about to respond but her surprised gaze was drawn toward the music room when she heard Jane’s scales become more impressively complex.  She glanced at her mother-in-law who smiled knowingly.

“Angela, she takes ballet because it suits you; and she goes because you have threatened to take away the things she loves – softball, track, piano - if she does not,” Maria said with a frown.  “And in forcing her, you risk a precious thing.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Angela said a bit defensively.

“Her trust,” Maria said bluntly, causing Angela to wince.  “I know you love her, Angela.  But you cannot force her to be something she is not.  Let her be who she is; encourage her and you will be amazed by how she blooms,” Maria said imploringly.

“I just want her to be happy,” Angela said weakly.

“I know,” Maria sighed.

The pocket doors slowly slid open and Jane poked her head in.  “More scales?” Jane said uncomfortably.

Angela took a good look at her daughter, who had a dirt stain smeared across her team jersey.  She just wished Jane would like more of what she did - the pink canopy bed, pretty dresses, ballet and shopping, cheering the boys on . . . not trying to beat them at their own game.  She just wished she and Jane had more in common, she considered wistfully.

“Excellente, amore mio,” Nonna said with a warm smile, causing Jane to smile broadly.

Angela couldn’t help but notice Jane’s pure happiness, one she never saw with ballet classes.  Her gaze dropped with guilt.  Janie definitely got the musical talent from Frank’s side of the family, she considered dejectedly and looked at her daughter with an uneasy smile.

“Janie?  Nonna says there’s a summer program at Boston Conservatory that you might like,” Angela offered, causing her mother-in-law to look at her with hopeful surprise.

Jane looked between the two women uncomfortably.  “I’d have to try out,” she said guardedly, slowly entering the living room.

“Yeah.  Well, of course and you’d have to practice a lot more because the competition is pretty fierce from what I understand,” Angela said.

“I can do it, Ma,” Jane said with growing hope.

“But I’m afraid you’d have to cut down on your other activities to focus on your music.”

“Oh,” Jane said dejectedly, looking down with disappointment.

“Now I know Mr. Reardon and Miss Demetrious would kill us if you dropped softball and track.  So as I see it, if you want this, you’ll need to drop ballet,” she said, watching Jane’s eyes pop up in disbelief.

“Really?” Jane said, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Well, unless you have another idea,” Angela said with a smirk.

“Uh.  No,” Jane offered.  “Maybe I could pick ballet back up after the summer?”

Angela’s heart broke a little at her daughter’s attempt to negotiate to make her happy.  “Nah.  I think you’ll have your hands full – but so help me if your grades fall!” Angela said with warning.

“They won’t.  Promise!” Jane said excitedly, barreling into her mother with a big hug.  “Thanks, Ma!”

“Jane!  Ah the dirt!!” Angela scolded, looking down now at the dirt on her own shirt.

“Sorry, Ma,” Jane said with a cringe.

“Eh, just more wash, huh?” Angela said with a shrug, getting a relieved smile from her daughter.

“Now why don’t you play Rondo Alla Turca – as written, no more no less,” Nonna said with a knowing smile.

“Ok!” Jane said and darted back to the piano.

Nonna stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt.  “Te sei una buona madre, Angela,” she said before joining Jane in the music room.

***

Charles chatted as he drove them back to Maura’s house.  He did love to talk, Maura noted, though found that he did not appreciate it when she clarified something he said or added additional interesting facts to the discussion.

Maura glanced at his profile, noting he was very handsome.  Complementing his excellent bone structure was blond hair, a fair complexion with nearly flawless skin, and light blue eyes.

As Charles continued to chatter, Maura realized she had not been paying attention, uncertain if he was still talking about his job as they approached her front door.  To her surprise, she found she really didn’t care.

She felt his hand at her back as she put the key in the door and tapped the security codes and opened the door.

“You know, I’ve been looking forward to this all night,” Charles said into her ear as he pressed himself into her.

Maura frowned slightly, and pushed him away gently.  “Uh, Charles.  I’m sorry but I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Charles paused with surprise, then smiled.  “Are you sure, hun?  Give me a chance to get you in the mood.  You’ve all ready got me in the mood,” he said, slipping his hand back around her waist and pulled her in, his hardness confirmed his statement.

Maura sighed.  “Charles, I am sure.  Please,” she said firmly, making him sigh with frustration.

“I really don’t get you, Maura.  You called me up, remember?” Charles complained.

“Yes. But why do you automatically think dinner equates to sex? Can’t we just have a nice evening out, enjoying each other’s company?”

“Have you just changed the rules on me, Maura?  Didn’t you say that we were consenting adults who enjoyed sex and did not need to worry about where this would lead.  Are you looking for a serious relationship now??”

“How does wanting to just enjoy an evening out, without sex, become a serious relationship?” Maura said, baffled.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You want more now, don’t you?” he accused in an angry hiss.

“Charles, your anger is unwarranted and unappreciated.  It appears you have deep-seated commitment issues or you wouldn’t be reacting so immaturely at the thought of a serious relationship – or is it a result of being denied sex that makes you act like a spoiled school boy?” Maura asked pointedly, both irritated and strangely fascinated by his behavior.

“You’re a real piece of work, Maura.  You ought to take a hard look in the mirror before you start accusing someone of commitment issues,” he spat, making her wince before he stormed off in a huff.

Maura watched him slam his car door and drive off, stunned by his anger as she reviewed their bizarre conversation.  She frowned at his accusation; she wasn’t afraid of commitment, she thought with irritation.

She had never made apologies for enjoying sex and for indulging in the perfectly normal physical act.  She was an attractive, healthy, successful woman who enjoyed being the object of someone’s desire, being wanted.  She enjoyed flirting and being flirted with.  She just didn’t want to complicate an enjoyable physical relationship with emotional intimacy and potential heartache, she considered, recalling the hurt Ian had caused.  She frowned again believing it was getting far too late to be analyzing her id and ego.

Shaking her head, she entered her house to find all the lights on.  “Mother?” she said curiously, then spotted her on the floor by the coffee table, which had several empty beer bottles covering it.  “Mother!” she went to her side and saw Angela sitting up against the sofa, holding a box of Kleenex in her lap, sound asleep.

With a small grimace, she gently shook her mother’s shoulder.  Constance groaned and blinked as she roused from her nap on the carpet.  “Maura?” she called groggily.

“Yes, mother.  Can you sit up for me?” Maura asked, kneeling next to her.

“Of course I can, daaaarling.  You know, your carpet is veeeery comfortable,” she noted approvingly, awkwardly pushing her hair back from her face as she sat up.

“Frankie and Tommy weren’t by to help drink this, were they?” Maura asked hopeful though the evidence indicated otherwise as she picked up an empty beer bottle from many and looking between the two women.

“No.  Just Angela and I – we had a veeery good conversation and . . . ,” Constance said.  “Oh dear,” she said, holding her hand to her mouth with wide eyes.

Chapter Text

“How’s the Potter case coming along?” Jane asked curiously as she looked up from her desk to Frost.

He looked at her uncertainly.  “Good?”

“Hey, I already told you – I’m glad at least you are working it.  And the good news for me?  No tabloid article today,” Jane said with a bright smile, making Frost smirk. 

“Ah damn.  I was kinda hoping for another chapter in the lives and loves of Romeo Rizzoli,” Frost teased dramatically.

“It’s disgusting,” Crowe piped up, handing Frost a folder.

Jane rolled her eyes and slowly rubbed her sore hands.

“Yeah, that Jane can get more action from “the ladies” than you could,” Frost countered with amusement.

“I do just fine,” Crowe snapped with a frown and left.

Jane looked at her supportive partner.  “Thanks??” Jane said hesitantly with a cringe.

“Got your back, Romeo,” Frost said with a twinkle in his eye.  “And maybe we can go clubbing together so you can teach me how you do it,” he said with a grin, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m quite sure there is nothing I can teach you,” Jane said flatly as Frost chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Jane.  You are very informative on several topics,” Maura interjected encouragingly as she joined them. “What topic does Frost want your assistance on?”

Jane looked at her a moment, sighed, and swiveled in her chair to glare at Frost.

“Picking up women,” Frost said helpfully with a big grin.

“Oh.” Maura frowned.  “Is this is where you tell me I shouldn’t come into the middle of a conversation?” she asked with a wince.

Frost chuckled and returned his attention to the case file on his desk.

“It’s always a risk,” Jane noted sagely, flexing her hand before grabbing her coffee.  “Any interesting news from the basement?”

“Well, not from the basement,” she responded and glanced at Jane’s hands.  “Are your hands sore?”

Jane shrugged.  “Probably gonna rain or something,” she said dismissively.  “So what news is interesting that is not from the basement?”

“Our mothers decided to have that dinner anyway,” Maura said uncomfortably.

“Ok?” Jane said, still not understanding why that was interesting news warranting a visit to the bullpen, not that she minded Maura visiting. Ever.

“They . . . ,” Maura said and stopped, biting her lip.

“What?” Jane said guardedly, getting up from her chair.

“Well, they . . . imbibed.  A great deal,” Maura explained with a cringe.

“Aw geez, I’m really sorry, Maura,” Jane moaned guiltily, not wanting to have her family impose on her friend…well, any more than they already had.  “Why didn’t you call me?”  She looked at her curiously, instinctively reaching out to touch her arm.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your . . . plans,” Maura said uncomfortably.

Jane frowned, glancing down at her hands.  “You call me.  Anytime.  For anything,” she said unequivocally.  “Don’t worry about my “plans,” all right?  If you think of calling and are not sure – just call.  I’ll make myself available.  OK?” She said, gently squeezing her forearm.

Maura blinked; Jane’s fierce declarations washed over her . . . like a strong, protective embrace.  No one in her life had ever put her so clearly first, she considered as her heart pounded.

“Please?” Jane said hesitantly when Maura didn’t respond, worried she was being overbearing…again.  But Maura should never feel alone when dealing with crap, she firmly believed.

“Ok,” Maura finally responded with a shy smile, getting a relieved one from Jane.  “But it really wasn’t necessary last night, Jane.  Your mother really was no bother,” she offered, getting a skeptical look.

“Mine, on the other hand,” Maura continued, rolling her eyes, “has developed an affinity for beer, which unfortunately her stomach hasn’t realized . . . as evidenced by my sofa.”

Jane winced sympathetically, though she couldn’t squelch a small chuckle at the thought of Constance Isles getting loaded on beer.  “You should have still called,” she said.  “I could have helped you clean . . . or burn the sofa,” she added thoughtfully.

“No burning was necessary.  But thank you,” Maura said warmly, gazing into Jane’s expressive eyes.  Eyes that lit up with a mischievous glint, making them even more striking, she considered.

“You know what?  I think I need a cup of coffee from the café.  Care to join me?” Jane smiled brightly.

“I already have a latte in my . . . ,” Maura responded then understood her friend’s intent.  “Oh Jane, you really shouldn’t,” she said mild concern.

“I know,” Jane responded with an evil grin and chuckle.  Her husky voice and predatory gaze stirred Maura so unexpectedly she took in a startled breath.

Clearing her throat, Maura managed to caution her.  “Be nice.”

“Oh I will be,” Jane said devilishly and left the bullpen.

Maura blinked again, trying to process the onslaught of physical responses to her best friend.  Shaking her head slightly, as if that might clear it, she silently left the bullpen and returned to the morgue.

Frost watched Maura leave, then returned his attention to his file.  “Romeo, imagine if you actually knew what you were doing,” he muttered under his breath.

***

Jane entered the café and immediately spotted her mother, who was wearing dark glasses and moving in slow, methodical steps as she refilled a napkin dispenser on the counter.

“Hi, Ma!” Jane said enthusiastically as she sat at the counter, prompting Angela to flinch.

“Hi, honey.  Would you like something?” Angela said tiredly.

“SURE!” Jane blurted with a grin, causing Angela to cringe.

“Would you PLEASE stop shouting?!?” Angela barked, then winced at her own voice.

“You don’t look so good, Ma.  Coming down with something?  The flu??”

Angela lowered her dark glasses and glanced at her smug daughter with narrow, blood-shot eyes.  “You know very well it’s not the flu,” she hissed.

Jane smiled unrepentantly.  “How about a glass of water?”

Angela frowned with a heavy sigh, placed her dark glasses back on, and slowly retrieved a glass of water for her daughter. She smiled thinly as she placed the glass down and slid it in front of her.  “Anything else?”

Jane pulled out a blue rectangular packet from her pocket and tore it open over the glass, allowing the two pellets to drop in the glass and bubble as they dissolved.  Jane pushed the glass back towards her mother.

“Not that I’ve ever, ever, had to use it myself,” Jane said innocently and stood to leave.

Angela looked at the glass then her daughter.  “Jane,” Angela called out, causing Jane to stop and look at her.  “Thanks,” she added softly.

Jane smirked.  “I am sooo glad you were not the one who puked all over Maura’s couch,” she said with amusement. “Love ya, Ma,” she added and left.

Angela chuckled weakly at her departing daughter and picked up the glass and took a long sip.

***

At the end of the busy day dealing with two accident victims, Maura headed to the bullpen.  She found only Frost and Crowe at their desks.  Looking more closely at Jane’s desk, she saw her friend’s blazer was still on her chair.

“She’s in Cavanaugh’s office with Korsak,” Frost offered, looking up from his desk at the CME.

“Ah.  Thank you, Barry,” she said warmly.

As they came out of Cavanaugh’s office, Vince sighed.  “It’s never easy, why is that?”

Jane shrugged.  “Well, we’ll get a dinner out of it,” she said as she headed to her desk, smiling at Maura.

“You mean, you’ll get the dinner,” he grumbled.

“What dinner?” Maura asked with interest, then winced.  “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

Jane smiled at her.

“The dinner where we’ll need to get fingerprints from several of our potential suspects,” Korsak offered with little enthusiasm.

Maura frowned. “Your search on the partials wasn’t productive?”

“No,” Korsak groaned.  “Thanks to the slow wheels of international bureaucracy, I’m gonna have to collect evidence at a fu-fu banquet.”

“Quit being such a baby,” Jane scolded him.

“You’re not the one who will have to collect the evidence – or wear a tux.”

“Oh PLEASE!” Jane said incredulously.  “You don’t have to wear hose and heels!  If you want to moan, do it about something worthwhile, huh?”

“A formal affair?  Sounds like fun,” Maura interjected with enthusiasm.

“Yeeeeah,” Jane said, clearly not of the same opinion.  “It will be a banquet in Ms. Calderón’s honor after her final performance in Boston on Saturday.  Which I will also get to attend.”

“Do you know what you are going to wear?” Maura asked with great interest.

“Clothes?”

“Jane,” Maura sighed with disapproval, not amused.

“I have that blue dress…” Jane said with a shrug.

“You can’t wear your blue dress again,” Maura said emphatically.

“Yeah, Jane, what are you thinking?” Frost supplied with feigned disbelief, earning a glare from Jane.

“Geez.  Even I knew she shouldn’t wear the blue dress again,” Korsak chimed in, shaking his head, withholding a chuckle.

“There is nothing wrong with….,” Jane blurted with irritation.

“We need to go shopping!” Maura said excitedly.

Jane blinked at her, knowing to argue was a lost cause.  Maura had a shopping trip in mind for her best friend and any attempt by said best friend to get out of it would be met with as a minimum, a disappointed look and frown.  And depending on how excited Maura was about the planned excursion, Jane could be left to face the quivering lip and watery eyes of rejection that Maura would attempt, unsuccessfully to hide from her, making her end up promising even more than Maura originally asked of her to banish all signs of hurt.

Jane turned to the older detective with a pointed gaze, causing his smirk to fade.  “So Korsak, exactly what were you moaning about again?” She said flatly.

“Nothing.  Nothing at all.”

***

“Jane!  Would you stop fidgeting!” Maura scolded as she held another dress, a deep red, almost black one that looked very promising.  In fact, knowing Jane’s preferences perhaps better than Jane, Maura considered this was likely to be the one Jane would want to get.  While she had seen it immediately upon their arrival, Maura couldn’t pass up the rare opportunity of seeing Jane in several types of dresses, even though it came with the inevitable complaints.

“Let’s face it, I won’t find anything.  I’ll just wear my blue dress again,” Jane moaned, rubbing her hands. She hated trying on clothes and they had been through a bazillion, she considered.

“No,” Maura said with mild annoyance.

“No?  But my blue dress goes really well with my gun and badge,” Jane responded with a thin smile.

“Put this on.  Now,” Maura said firmly. Jane sighed with a light growl of protest and retreated into the dressing room.

After a moment, the door opened up.  “Well?”

“You have to zip it up to know if it fits right, Jane,” Maura said with frustration.  Jane was worse than a two year old.

“Well can you help me out?  The zipper’s small and . . . why can’t they just use Velcro or something?” Jane grumbled, turning around and presenting her bare back as she flexed her sore hands.

Several thoughts crossed the ME’s mind as her eyes traveled over Jane’s exposed back, which sported several scars.  One was the need to refrain from reaching out and touching the angriest scar; the bullet’s exit wound, which almost took her life.

Maura frowned slightly as she grasped the small zipper, and indulged in the light contact with Jane’s smooth skin as she allowed her fingers to slowly glide up her back with the zipper.

“Maura?” Jane asked, turning around to glance at her suddenly quiet and thoughtful friend.

“They are sore, aren’t they?” Maura asked gently, taking a hand in hers, another reminder of how Jane had cheated death.

“It’s probably the start of monsoon season,” Jane said with a smirk that quickly faded, seeing the disappointed look from Maura.

“While there are monsoons possible in North America, they are limited to the Southern States and I highly doubt…” she said with irritation.

“Even with global warming?” Jane interjected with a shrug.

“Jane, please.  Just tell me,” Maura asked earnestly.

Jane sighed, unable to say no when Maura played that totally unfair “please” card.  “They are sore,” she admitted and quickly added. “Not bad, but sore.”

Maura nodded.  “Aspirin should help,” she said softly, glancing down to Jane’s hand, which she tenderly caressed with her thumb.  “I have some in my office,” she added and looked into Jane’s eyes, which bore into her with a surprising intensity - an intensity that drew her in, making her want....

“Do you ladies need any help?” The sale’s clerk asked as she checked on them.

Maura took a sharp breath as she broke her gaze from Jane’s, allowing it to fall, pausing momentarily at Jane’s lips.  “We’ve decided on this one,” Maura said, surprising herself by her calm voice.

“We have?” Jane said with surprise, looking down at her dress, which actually wasn’t bad.

“Absolutely,” Maura said confidently and gazed over Jane and her new dress with appreciation.

“Excellent choice,” the clerk said with a smile.

***

As they left the boutique, Jane glanced down at the bag with a frown.

“I told you I would buy it for you,” Maura said with pursed lips.

“I can buy my own clothing, thank you.  I’ll just have to skip food shopping for the next few months.”

“It was actually a good price,” Maura protested.

“Uh huh.”

“Why don’t I treat you to a dinner tonight?  I’ll make sure you get left overs that will last you a while,” Maura offered with a small smile.

Jane eyed her with mild amusement.  “Actually, I have plans.  But don’t worry; I’ve got Ma’s leftovers in the freezer.  I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“Oh,” Maura said with disappointment.

Jane hated to see Maura disappointed. “Hey.  Not big plans.  I can…” she said, reaching out for her shoulder.

“No.  I . . . you don’t need to change your plans for a spur of the moment idea.  We’ll just have dinner another time,” Maura said with a fake smile, squeezing Jane’s hand.

“You sure?  I mean…” Jane said uncomfortably, then noted a shiny reflection of light across the street.  “Son of a . . . ,” Jane blurted angrily and started to dash towards the camera man in his car.  She slowed to a halt when the car peeled away from the curb and raced away.

She glanced at the Massachusetts plate that was conveniently covered with mud.  “Damn it!” she spat in frustration for the continued intrusion.  “I’ve got a gun!!  You don’t stalk someone with a gun!  What the hell is he thinking?” Jane fumed, tempted to use it the next time she saw him.

Maura walked up to Jane.  “I’m not sure,” she offered with a sigh, shaking her head.  “It would have been a much better picture had you been wearing your new dress,” she said with a big smile.

“Thank you, Coco Isles,” Jane said wryly with a smirk.

Chapter Text

Maura and Constance were having a quiet dinner in Maura’s home as her mother reflected upon the day she spent at the Art Gallery.  Absently dragging her fork through her wild rice, Maura was not making much headway eating it or her roasted chicken.  She wasn’t particularly hungry.

“And there was an interesting portrait that looked nothing like Jane,” Constance offered with amusement, looking curiously at her daughter, whose gaze finally glanced up to meet hers.

“Hmm?”

“Darling, am I boring you?” Constance said wryly, sipping her water.

“Uh,” Maura said uncomfortably, seeing her mother looking at her expectantly.  “I’m sorry, mother.  I’ve been a bit distracted.  What were you saying?” she said with an apologetic smile.

“Nothing as important as what’s on your mind, dear.  Something wrong at work?”

Maura hesitated but answered, “No.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s really hard to say exactly,” Maura said with a shrug and glanced uncomfortably at her mother, who remained quiet, waiting for her to explain.  After a painfully long moment of silence, Maura offered hesitantly, “It’s Jane.”

Constance withheld a smile, not surprised. “Oh?  She’s all right, I hope.”

“Other than her hands being sore lately . . . ,” she noted absently, trailing off with a frown.  She glanced back at her mother, who patiently waited for her uneasy daughter to explain.  “I, well . . . I’m worried.”

“Worried, about her hands?” she asked in confusion.

“She has aches from time to time, but no.  I . . . I’m not sure where to begin,” Maura said uneasily.

“Just start someplace, darling.  I’m sure you’ll fill in the rest as needed,” Constance said with an encouraging smile, sipping her water.

“I almost kissed her today,” Maura blurted uneasily, studying her mother’s face for her reaction.

After a thoughtful moment, Constance asked curiously.  “Why almost?”

That was not the response Maura had expected.

“A store clerk . . . interrupted us,” Maura answered the unanticipated question.

“How unfortunate,” Constance said wryly.

“Mother, Jane didn’t know I was thinking of kissing her,” Maura tried to explain the significance of her dilemma.

“Oh.  Do you really think she would be upset?” Constance asked.

“I . . . maybe . . . she’s never . . . I just . . . I feel like I’m losing her before I even had a chance to explore what I’m feeling with her,” she said, trailing off in a small voice.

“Losing her?  Why ever so?” Constance said with surprise.

“She’s been busy recently when I’ve suggested spending time together. It feels like she’s avoiding me,” Maura complained helplessly.

“Busy?  Doing what?”

“I don’t know,” Maura blurted with irritation.  “I’ve asked, but she deflects.  She excels at avoiding answering questions she doesn’t want to answer.  But why would she not want to tell me what her plans are?”

Constance frowned with concern.  “Do you suppose . . . she’s seeing someone?” she asked gently.

Maura looked at her with unease.  “She hasn’t mentioned anyone but…” Maura said as her gaze dropped with worry.

Constance wondered if she was truly suited for mother-daughter talks; they were emotionally draining and Maura was taking forever to get to the point.

“But…?” Constance finally encouraged after a lengthy moment of silence.

“Sgt. Korsak had mentioned Jane needed to be careful around Martha Calderón; he thinks she is attracted to Jane and that they have an emotional attachment.  And I’ve heard Jane refer to Ms. Calderón by her first name, which is unusually informal for her with witnesses,” she said uneasily.

“You don’t think the tabloids were right about them, do you?” Constance asked with alarm.

“No; Jane would never compromise an investigation like that, mother,” Maura firmly responded with unwavering conviction.

Constance sighed thoughtfully.  “Ms. Calderón’s does have . . . a reputation; if she does have her sights on Jane….” she offered uneasily, seeing a fire in her daughter’s eyes.

“Jane wouldn’t,” Maura countered firmly, then added weakly, “compromise the case.”

Constance nodded.  “But you’re not sure what she will do after the case?”

“I’m not sure about so many things,” Maura blurted with frustration at her chaotic emotions.  “As long as I’ve known her, she’s never dated or indicated an interest in women.  I don’t even know if she is even receptive to the idea of a female lover.”

“And you want that . . . with Jane?” she asked softly.

“A few days ago, I had not seriously entertained that thought about my best friend.  Now?  I can’t seem to think about anything else; it exhilarates and terrifies me.”

“Terrifies you?” she probed gently.

Maura looked at her mother.  “She isn’t just my friend; she’s my best friend. I’m terrified of jeopardizing the most emotionally intimate relationship I have ever had by seeking a physical dimension that she may not want.  It will change everything….”

“I can see that, whatever her response,” Constance allowed, not helping to sooth Maura’s worries.  “But why would you pursue something more with her?  You already have a physical relationship with someone else,” she pressed, searching Maura’s eyes, which dropped as she gazed at her plate.

Maura shook her head. “Not any more. I broke it off with Charles.”

“Oh?  Why?”

“I . . . want more than just a physical relationship.  I want . . . more,” Maura said uncomfortably, finding it incredibly hard to discuss her feelings.

Constance smiled broadly, very pleased.  “I’m glad, Maura.  Good for you.  You should expect more.  You certainly deserve more.  And you think Jane is . . . the one?”

Maura looked at her mother.  “I already love her, mother.  I can’t imagine my future without her.  I don’t want to.  I just don’t know if we should take that step . . . or if she could ever feel more for me than friendship.”

“Well, I believe Jane is a good match for you,” she said with confidence.

Maura looked hopefully at her mother, comforted by her support. Then she frowned as she considered what seemed like an insurmountable mountain – her fear of changing the status quo with Jane, who could very well push her away.

“I wish I knew what to do,” Maura bemoaned, glancing down at her plate feeling like she was drowning in emotional chaos, the chaos she had tried to avoid all her life, the chaos she was never good at handling.

Constance eyed her daughter.  “To be able to solve a problem, one must first…?”

“Define it,” Maura automatically answered, looking up curiously.

“What are your immediate concerns?” Constance asked, smiling encouragingly.

Maura blinked.  “I . . . want to confirm Jane’s receptiveness to a physical relationship with a woman and whether she is interested in one with Martha Calderón,” she answered uncomfortably.

Constance nodded and asked, “And after one defines a problem, what must one do to seek a solution?”

Maura tilted her head thoughtfully.  “Do background research, construct a hypothesis, develop a series of experiments to test the hypothesis, analyze the data and draw a conclusion,” she answered, her confidence returning as her emotional chaos was slowly finding order.

Constance smiled brightly.  “So, now that we have that all taken care of,” she said with amusement, “are you busy Saturday night?  I have tickets for Ms. Calderón’s final performance in Boston.  I’m anxious to hear what you have been raving about.  But I do hope to avoid any dead bodies,” she said with a wry smile.

“You have tickets?” Maura said with surprise.  “How did you get them?  They’re sold out.”

“Darling, really,” Constance said with mild scolding.  “I have connections.”

“Of course, Mother,” Maura said, rolling her eyes.  “But Jane’s working there that evening and it would be highly inappropriate to . . . gather data for personal reasons that could possibly distract her from the case,” she said and got up to clear the dinner table.

“I am not sure how going to watch Martha Calderón play will interfere with Jane’s work, darling,” Constance said innocently, getting up to help her.

Maura frowned.

“Well, think on it. Angela and I would love your company,” Constance said as she got up and started to help clear the table.

“Angela?” Maura blurted curiously.  Her eyes narrowed at her mother’s dismissive nod.  Something was going on; and for some reason, which Jane would likely label her gut, she considered that something should worry her.  “Why would you take Angela Rizzoli to the Symphony?”

“I’m surprised you of all people would ask, dear,” Constance said with mild reproof.  “Angela has graciously introduced me to several unique experiences in her world and I thought I’d share some in my world with her.  Surely you can understand the desire to share new things with your friends?” She asked, getting a reluctant nod.

***

After Maura retired to her room, Constance opened her cell and dialed as she distanced herself from her daughter’s bedroom.

“Angela?  It’s me, Connie,” Constance said in an anxious whisper, looking back towards Maura’s bedroom.

“Hey! How’d it go?” Angela asked eagerly.

“We had our first real heart-to-heart conversation,” Constance gushed, moved by the huge breakthrough.  Her eyes started to water, prompting an awkward hand to wipe them away.

“That’s wonderful!  Soooo, what'd she say?” Angela asked enthusiastically.

“Besides breaking it off with Charles, Maura admitted to wanting to kiss Jane today at the boutique,” Constance noted with a grin and added, “And not as a best friend.”

“Really??  Wow,” Angela said with wonder; she was expecting it would take longer to make that much progress.  “That is . . . ,” she said happily then frowned, asking pointedly.  “Why the wanting and not the doing? Did Jane do something stupid?!?”

“No. No. It seems Maura wanted to but was interrupted by the store clerk. But even without an interruption, I’m not so sure she would have gone through with it - she is still terrified of rejection,” Constance noted, glancing back towards Maura’s bedroom.

“Jane can be dumb sometimes,” Angela offered with a sigh.

“Angela,” Constance countered with a frown.  “It is entirely possible that even if Maura makes her intentions known and we show them our support, Jane will still find it difficult to accept a lifestyle that is not fully accepted and the complications that come with it.”

“Yeah, she can be dumb.”

“Well, so can Maura,” Constance countered, rolling her eyes.

“Please,” Angela scoffed.

“Charles?” Constance provided compelling evidence bluntly.

Angela winced, unable to argue.

“Anyway, Maura has two concerns – one is Jane’s receptiveness to a woman lover,” Constance noted.

“Which shouldn’t be a problem,” Angela said knowingly.  “My friend Fannie Libowitz?  Her daughter was straight up until her forty-second birthday and bam!  Found a nice woman, settled down, had kids…”

“I . . . would agree that same sex attraction is the more minor concern.”

“What’s the other?”

“She is concerned that what Vince picked up on between Jane and Martha Calderón could be serious.”

“Jane just met the woman.  Really, how serious could it be?” Angela countered, not worried.

“Yes, well, it is never good to assume anything, Angela.”

“Well, even if there is some . . . interest on Jane’s behalf, she won’t do anything about it.  The woman lives in Argentina for God’s sake.  Jane’s never even mentioned wanting to go there.”

Constance was truly fascinated by Angela’s unique logic.

***

In her bedroom, Maura paced in her silk pajamas, biting her lip as she glanced towards the phone.  Jane did say call her anytime, even if she had plans.  And it was a “mother emergency,” she considered.  With a deep breath, she grabbed the phone and pressed speed dial one.

After several rings, Maura frowned, beginning to worry Jane was too busy with her “plans” to answer her….

“Rizzoli.”

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Maura asked uneasily.

“Nah. What’s up?  You’re not going to need help burning furniture, are you?” Jane asked with amusement.

Maura shook her head with a small smile, climbing into bed.  “No, but I’ll keep you in mind if I do.”

“Excellent.  Just let me know and I’ll bring the marshmallows.” Jane smiled.

“I had an interesting conversation with my mother tonight,” Maura offered, slipping her legs beneath the covers.

“Was I right or was I right?” Jane asked smugly.

“About?” Maura asked, placing pillows behind her to make herself more comfortable.

“Mothers and their strange, suffocating, guilt-infusing conversations.”

“Actually . . . I would only consider it unexpected.  Our mothers are going to the Symphony Saturday night . . . together,” Maura explained with a frown.

“Great.  Did you tell them there’s still a murderer running around and possibly targeting the pianist?”

“Not in those exact words but I did mention to mother that you were working and it was inappropriate to distract you. Perhaps you could talk with Angela and tell her it’s not a good idea.  Then she might be able to influence my mother.”

“That’s assuming I can influence MY mother; if I could, she would have stopped pushing losers my way back in high school. But I wouldn’t worry too much about their safety, most of Boston PD, including yours truly, will be in the area.”

“Aren’t you worried about a distraction?”

“With my mother, that goes without saying.  But I can’t exactly ban her.  And it’s kind of nice she’s getting out to enjoy herself . . . even if it’s not the most ideal circumstance,” Jane said with a shrug.  “Hey maybe you should chaperone, since you seem concerned about our girls out on the town together,” she joked.

“Well I was invited by mother tonight.”

“The tickets are sold out,” Jane countered curiously.

“Mother has connections.”

“Ah.  Gotta love those connections,” Jane chuckled.

“I think I’ll go.  Something tells me they are up to something.”

“What was that?  Was that your GUT talking, Dr. Isles?” Jane teased.

“My intestines do not talk, Jane.  However, my Spidey-senses are tingling,” she smirked.

“Very nice.  Tell me, can you climb walls too?” she asked with amusement.

“Only metaphorically,” Maura offered, pleased she had correctly used that reference from the movie Jane had insisted they watch.

“Like when our mothers are together and you are outnumbered?” Jane suggested.

“That would be one case, yes.”

“Well, if you need back up, you’ve got Boston PD’s finest there.  And we’ll all be armed.”

“Good to know, Detective,” Maura said with a chuckled.  “But I truly hope it doesn’t come to that.  But it would make for an interesting tabloid headline “Romeo Rizzoli shoots Mama Montague.”

“You are not allowed to use the word tabloid, or any of its variations, derivations, or permutations in any conversation or communication with me.  Ever again,” Jane countered flatly.  “It’s a four-letter word.”

“Technically…”

“Maura!”

“So, if we were to play scrabble could I . . . ?”

“Nope.”

“Now that’s just being unreasonable, Jane.”

“Actually, playing scrabble with you is an unreasonable scenario.  Now poker?  I can see.”

“But poker is not a word game.”

“Which is one of the many reasons why I so love that game.”

“I see.  You do realize that scrabble and other word games can be very…” Maura offered.

“So what are you planning on wearing Saturday night?” Jane interrupted with a smirk.

Maura rolled her eyes with a small smile.  “I really haven’t decided; I just decided to go only a few moments ago,” Maura offered.

“Well, make sure whatever you wear goes well with my blue dress,” Jane said dryly.

“You are not funny, Jane,” Maura said with pursed lips.

“I amuse myself.”

“I’ve noticed,” Maura said and heard some barking.

“Hey Jo, just a few more minutes,” Jane called out, tucking a thick folder under her arm and trapping the cell phone between her cheek and shoulder as she opened her apartment door with her key.

“Oh, it’s time for Jo’s last walk for the evening?”

“Give or take,” she said, entering her apartment.

“Well I won’t keep you any longer then,” Maura said with some disappointment.

“If you have anymore conspiracy theories, give me a call, OK?” Jane said with a smile.

“I’ll do that.”

“Maura?  I’m really glad you called,” Jane said softly.

Maura smiled warmly. “I am too. Good night, Jane.”

“Night, Maura.”

***

After walking Jo, Jane grabbed her folder from the kitchen counter and retreated into her bedroom for the evening. Exhausted, she sat on her bed and pulled off her boots tossed them to the floor with dull thuds.  She felt like she had run a marathon, on her hands.  Twice.  Flexing her sore hands, she stared at them a moment then glanced at her folder.

With a heavy sigh, she hauled herself to her feet and took her folder to the closet.  Grabbing a cardboard file box tucked in the back, she pulled it out.  Sitting on the floor, she opened it and returned the contents of her folder to the box.  Both worn and new sheet music was carefully filed in the front and the finger-exercise book was returned to the collection of practice books in the back of the box.  With a small smile, she pulled out and glanced through another, more advanced exercise book, recalling Nonna’s insistence on the basics.  Tucked inside was a folded flyer that fell out.  Picking it up, she opened it curiously.  She smiled as memories of the amazing 1989 concert flooded back.

“Thank you sooooooo much, Nonna!” Jane gushed as they left Symphony Hall together and walked on the sidewalk. “She was sooooo beautiful!”

Maria eyed her granddaughter knowingly and chuckled.  “Did you even hear Martha Calderón’s music, Jane?”

Jane winced, falling uncomfortably silent as an embarrassed blush washed over her.

Maria stopped them with a gentle hand on Jane’s shoulder.  She turned towards her granddaughter, lifting her chin.  “It is all right to appreciate beauty, Jane.  Whatever form it takes.”

“But . . . she’s a woman,” Jane said nervously.

Maria smiled and took Jane’s hand, placing it in the crook of her arm as she continued their walk.  “Indeed she is.  And a beautiful and talented one.”

After several silent moments of walking in companionable silence, Jane admitted quietly, “I really like Jenny Whittaker, Nonna.”

“She is a sweet girl,” she offered with a small smile, surprising Jane, who was pleased her grandmother thought so.  “And she likes you, does she not?” Maria looked at her granddaughter expectantly.

“I mean . . . like like,” Jane said awkwardly.

“And?”

“Y…You’re not going to tell me it’s wrong?” Jane asked with surprise and an enormous amount of hope.  She could see herself actually dating Jenny, unlike the losers, like Joey Grant, her mother tried to shove her way.

“Do you respect her and treat her well, Jane?” Maria asked, glancing at her granddaughter.

“Yes!” Jane immediately replied.  “I . . . we haven’t done anything. Besides kiss,” she amended awkwardly.

It wasn’t because Jenny or she didn’t want to do more than kiss, God knows she wanted to, but they both were afraid.  They already had stupid comments tossed their way because they hung out together at softball and track.  To her amazement, even Jenny was called a dike.  How could someone who was really pretty and liked to wear dresses all the time be a dike, she wondered with a frown.

“Well, it is good not to rush into something you are not ready for.  When you do share yourself with someone, it is serious.  And they should be very special . . . because you are, my love,” Maria said with conviction, looking intently at Jane, who was riveted by every word.

“Anyone can have sex, Jane, but you should wait until you can make love.  That is God’s gift to us,” she said with great conviction. “ Do you understand, my child?”

“Yes, Nonna,” Jane said and believed.

Chapter Text

Jane sipped her coffee at her desk, looking through several articles she had collected from a search on Martha Calderón and her protégés.  She flipped over page after page as she read through mostly reviews of performances.  Flipping over another page, she turned it back and reread it curiously. It wasn’t a review.

“Frightening New Year’s Eve Near Tragedy: Local Celebrants Discharge Firearms Narrowly Missing Upcoming Musical Star, Daniela Alverez,” Jane read the article over again and sat back, staring at the ceiling.

Two protégés were dead, and she just found one nearly killed, Jane considered with a frown as she pulled out her phone. Thinking it over, she put her phone back in her pocket and got up, grabbing her blazer off the back of her chair.

***

Jane knocked on the hotel door glancing up and down the hallway, pretty sure no paparazzi had followed her.

The door opened and a security guard, Daniel, opened it up.  Jane could hear the piano playing.  Pachelbel’s Cannon in D, she recalled with a slight smile.

“Detective Rizzoli to see Ms. Calderón,” she said, holding up her badge and smiling.  He stared at her a moment before sighing and stepping back to allow her in. 

“Jane?” Martha looked up from the keyboard with a smile.  “I thought I wouldn’t see you until Saturday night.  But I’m delighted you came by,” she said getting up from the piano bench to greet her guest.

“Don’t you ever take a brake?” Jane asked, glancing at the piano as she received light kisses on her cheeks.

“If someone can provide an adequate distraction,” Martha said with a smirk, not stepping back from Jane’s personal space.

“I . . . have a few more questions about your protégés,” Jane offered, getting a tired sigh and reluctant nod from the pianist.

“What would you like to know?” Martha said softly, taking Jane’s hand and leading her to the piano bench.

***

Lidia entered the hotel suite with an arm full of sheet music, hearing the somber and driven strains of Piazzolla’s work, Oblivion.  She paused as the familiar mood it provoked washed over her, a longing for what was out of reach.

She glanced to the piano and frowned.

“Yes, yeeees,” Martha said softly, moved.  “Driven, almost possessed, yet gentle . . . wanting.  Crescendo there, yes, yes, as if you can’t contain what is in your heart – it aches for just a chance.  Yes.  Pull back - dolcemente.  As if your vision is suddenly before you . . . tangible.  You desire to touch it, but you are afraid.  Dolcemente.  Yes.  You finally reach out to experience it . . . but it is but air.”

Jane finished the piece and sat silently, feeling terribly emotional and exposed.  It was one of the three pieces she had worked so hard on for the Boston Conservatory tryout.  She recalled how hard she had practiced it, how the music spoke to her then.  In her teens, she had wondered if her longing would ever stop.  In her thirties, she realized sadly it hadn’t…it had grown.

Martha studied her face, knowing the raw emotion Jane shared through her music was borne from experience.  “Don’t let “what ifs” drive you crazy, Jane.  Let them motivate you to grab that brass ring,” she whispered warmly, gently moving an unruly strand of Jane’s hair to behind her ear.

Jane’s gaze dropped uncomfortably as she rubbed her aching hands and offered a weak shrug.  “Carpe Diem . . . and all.”

Martha smiled.  “And all,” she chuckled softly.  “You are very good, Jane.  I would love to work with you,” she said sincerely.

“What’s going on??” Lidia demanded as she finally found her voice and approached the piano, where Martha and Jane sat closely together on the bench.

“Lidia!  You’re back early,” Martha said with surprise.

“No, I’m not,” Lidia said tersely, noticing Martha’s hand, resting on the Detective’s thigh.

“Oh, dear.  You’re right . I have completely lost track of time,” Martha said, glancing the clock on the wall.

“Where’s Daniel?” Lidia asked, glancing around.

“On a break.  He should be returning soon,” Martha said dismissively and smiled at Jane.  “Lidia, did you hear our Detective play?!?” she gushed, looking up at her assistant, who looked between the two of them.  “Who knew what treasure the Boston Police Department was hiding!”

“Yeah.  Wrong notes and all,” Jane joked as she got up.  “I’m sure Lidia heard each and every one of them,” she said, glancing at the assistant who was frowning.

“Even with the mistakes, you were good, Detective Rizzoli,” Lidia said begrudgingly.

Martha beamed.  “And she could be extraordinary!  Jane, I don’t make these offers lightly.  I mean it when I said I would like to work with you to develop your playing.”

Jane looked at her, then Lidia, whose mouth dropped.  “I appreciate the offer, Martha.  Really, I do.  But I have my job which I love.”

“What if you take some time off?  Nothing permanent.  A sabbatical.  Surely the City of Boston would allow a bit of time off for their heroic detective,” she said enticingly, looping her arm through Jane’s.

“Heroic?  You should know not to trust the tabloids, Martha,” Jane blurted, scratching behind her neck.

“If detectives can play piano, why can’t pianists do a bit of detective work?  I’ve read up on you,” she said with a pleased smile at her initiative that quickly faded under the guarded look she received from the private Detective.  From her research, she understood why.

“Please,” she said softly.  Think about it.  I am not asking for you to give up your career, just give me some time with you.  I would love to see what you can do,” Martha said, searching Jane’s eyes.

“It’s tempting,” Jane allowed.

“Don’t let what ifs be all you remember out of life, Jane,” Martha countered sagely before pulling Jane into a sensuous kiss.

Jane froze at first, but was slowly drawn in and kissed her back.

Martha pulled back delighted Jane had actually responded.

Jane blinked then glanced towards Lidia, who had turned away and walked to the piano with her sheet music.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Jane whispered, clearing her throat still feeling the effects of the kiss.

“No?” Martha said innocently.  “It should have been.  You’re an excellent kisser.”

***

Jane returned to the precinct and relayed her suspicions regarding Martha Calderón’s protégés to Korsak and the Lieutenant in his office.

“You did what?!?” Korsak blurted, eyeing Jane, who winced at his tone.

Jane glanced to the Lieutenant.  “I have gotten her to agree to mentor me.  To see if we can draw out the killer.”

“Going in alone??  Putting yourself in the line of fire?!?  Of all the stupid and idiotic…!” Korsak spat disgustedly.

“Sergeant Korsak!  Enough,” Cavanaugh snapped.  “I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” he said, making Jane tense.

“What if Ms. Calderón is the killer?!?” Korsak blurted.

“Oh come on!  She is not the killer!  Why would she risk herself with the stage light?!?” Jane responded angrily.

“How the hell are you so sure?!?” Korsak countered.  “Maybe the explosive accidently…”

“Stop!  Both of you, shut the hell up!!” Cavanaugh interrupted angrily, silencing the argument between his valued detectives.

He eyed Jane.  “So can you convince anyone else you are worthy of Martha Calderón’s attention?”

Jane looked at him.  “You sure do know how to make a girl feel good about herself, Lieutenant.”

Cavanaugh sighed wearily.  “You know what I mean, Rizzoli…as a protégé,” he grumbled.

“Martha’s personal assistant, Lidia Argerich, is convinced I’m worthy.  I’m sure she and Martha will let others, like Trejo, know of this…development.”

“You can’t seriously be supporting this,” Korsak looked at Sean, who glared at him.

“Two people linked to the world-renowned classical pianist Martha Calderón are dead in our city, Vince.  We have very little evidence and the Brass want answers!  What you and Rizzoli dug up about her past protégés is the best lead we have.  Tell me you have a better idea and I’m all ears!”  He snapped in frustration.

Vince frowned, unable to respond.

“Of course, I’m gonna need a sabbatical,” Jane noted with a slight smile, drawing the irritated gazes from both men.

***

Frost watched as Korsak and Jane returned to the bullpen.  Korsak had a scowl on his face as he sat down, glaring at Jane.

Jane just shook her head as she sat at her desk.

“What’s wrong with him?” Frost quietly asked Jane.

“PMS.”

Frost chuckled.  “Pissed-off Man Syndrome?”

“Something like that,” Jane said tiredly, rubbing her temples.

“Guess what?  DNA samples came back,” Frost said with a grin, getting Jane to look at him with great interest.  “It’s a match.  Anita Riser’s DNA is what was found on Lacy Potter’s body.”

Jane smiled tightly and nodded, unable to feel happy.  She wanted justice for Lacy, and with that evidence, they would finally get it.  But that didn’t erase the fact that the poor girl didn’t have a family, and the people that she lived with treated her poorly, making her run away to the streets and become a prostitute.  Then she was brutally beaten and murdered by someone who was supposed to be one of the good guys.  “When you get the story on that…” Jane said softly, looking at Frost.

“I’ll let you know,” Frost committed, making her nod.

“Any other progress on the Child Protective Services investigation?” She asked.

“The Human Resource Director was relieved of duty, without pay.  He may get jail time out of this.”

“Good.  I hope they throw the book at him,” she said softly.

***

Jane went down to the café and watched her mother pour a cup of coffee for a patrolman.  Sitting down at a table, Jane continued to watch her smile and chat with the customers.  After a few minutes, Angela glanced over to her with surprise.

“Jane!” Angela said happily and approached her table.

“I want to take you to dinner tonight,” Jane said with a small smile.

“Why?” Angela said suspiciously.

Jane rolled her eyes.  “Because??  When you get off, I’ll be by to pick you up, ok?”

Angela looked at her in confusion.

“Ma!”

“You don’t need to spend your money on me, honey.  I’ll cook you dinner at the guest house,” Angela said warmly with a smile, very pleased her daughter wanted to spend time with her.

“I wanted to do something different for a change and take my favorite mother out to dinner,” Jane said with a smirk.

“I’m your only mother!” she countered with amusement then grew thoughtful.  “Well, until you get married, then you’ll have another mother to worry about.”

Jane held her tongue and smiled tightly.

***

At the end of the day, Jane looked at her watch and got up from her desk and grabbed her blazer.

“Jane!  I’m glad I caught you,” Maura said with a smile as she entered the bullpen.

She turned towards Maura and smiled back.  “What’s up?”

“Are you free tonight?  I wanted to invite you over for dinner and a . . . ,” Maura noticed the wince on Jane’s face. “You’re busy,” Maura said with disappointment.

“I’m taking Ma out to dinner,” Jane said, putting her blazer on.

“Well, you are both welcome over,” Maura offered hopefully with an easy smile.

“Ah…. thanks, but I actually wanted to talk about some stuff with her,” Jane said uncomfortably.  “And fill her in on some things that will be happening with the Symphony Hall case that will have me tied up for a bit,” she said with a shrug.

Maura looked at her curiously. “Tied up for a bit?”

“I’m following up on some leads on Martha’s protégés.  But it will take some time away from the precinct,” Jane said and glanced at her watch.  “Look, I gotta run.  But thanks for the invite.  Rain check?” Jane asked with a hopeful smile.

Maura blinked.  “Rain check.  Of course,” she said and forced a smile, which faded as she watched Jane head out of the bullpen.

***

“I’ve never been here before,” Angela said with a smile as they sat down in an Indian restaurant.

“I was here once earlier this week,” Jane offered, glancing around, noting a few families dining.  “But didn’t get to finish my meal.”

“Enjoy your meal,” the hostess said with a smile, handing them the menus.

“Thank you,” Angela said, smiling politely at the woman.  As the woman left them, she turned to her daughter with a frown.  “Why didn’t you finish your meal?” She asked with mild concern.

“I found a break in the Potter case.”

“Here?” Angela asked curiously, looking around the room.

“Yeah.  I spotted a very amorous couple, which I recognized.  It was the Foster dad of Lacy Potter and the lead Child Protective Services caseworker.  The homicide case relied heavily on the CPS investigation, which cleared the family of any wrongdoing.  Of course, the case worker failed to mention her adultery with the father,” Jane said distastefully.

“What happened?” Angela asked with interest.

“Turns out the there were several inconsistencies with the CPS’s investigations, including background investigations for those hired by them, including Lacy’s caseworker,” Jane offered.

“God, the children,” Angela blurted with concern, getting Jane to nod.

“It was enough to get a warrant for the DNA of Lacy’s caseworker’s. It matched what we found on the body.”

“I bet that arrest was satisfying,” Angela said approvingly, shaking her head at the sad situation.

“I wouldn’t know.  After the tabloid article saying I was cheating on Martha Calderón with Maura and Gina, the brass thought it was too sensitive a case to have me working on it,” Jane said with irritation.

“That’s ridiculous!” Angela said indignantly.

Jane shrugged, but was pleased by her mother’s reaction.  “Maura was kicked off the case too.  I’m glad she’s still talking to me,” Jane said wryly.

“She knows it wasn’t your fault, honey,” Angela offered sympathetically.

Jane frowned, not quite convinced she really wasn’t at fault.

“Ladies,” the waiter said as he arrived at their table.  “What would you like?” he said tiredly.

“Butter chicken,” Jane said, looking at him pointedly.

He started to shoot a disapproving glare her way but his eyes widened in recognition.  Jane smiled.

“Oh!  That sounds good.  I’ll have that too,” Angela said with enthusiasm, handing the menu back to the waiter.

“Of course,” he said tightly as Jane smirked.  “Anything to drink?”

“Ice water,” Angela and Jane responded at the same time.  “Jinx,” Angela said with a giggle.

The waiter shut his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath.  “Very good,” he ground out with a tight smile and retrieved their drinks.  Promptly setting them on the table, he paused an uneasy moment to look at Jane, who smiled pleasantly and nonchalantly leaned back in her chair, which just happened to shift her blazer to reveal her weapon.  He frowned and quickly left them to place the order in the kitchen.

After he left, Angela leaned towards Jane and asked conspiratorially. “He seems rather uptight, don’t you think?  I wonder what his problem is,” she said curiously, glancing back at the kitchen.

Jane shrugged and sipped her ice water.

“So what’s going on, Jane.  You don’t normally offer to take me to dinner.”

“I know.  You always cook for everyone; I thought it might be a nice change to not have to go to the trouble.”

“But I like to cook,” Angela responded, making Jane sigh.

“Fine, I’ll never take you out to dinner again,” Jane responded with exasperation, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Jane.  I’m happy as long as I’m with my family.  I don’t mind cooking for you.  And I don’t mind you spending your money on me for dinner either.  I’m just wondering . . . why?” Angela said, looking around the restaurant then towards her touchy daughter.

“I wanted talk to you,” Jane said.

“We talk all the time,” Angela said, still confused.

“Actually . . . ,” Jane was going to argue that it was always one-sided but sighed.  “Look, I wanted to tell you before you heard about it in another tabloid; I’m going to take a sabbatical from Homicide.”

“A sabbatical?  To do what?!?” Angela said, unsure if she should be happy or alarmed.

“I’m going to be Martha Calderón’s next protégé,” Jane said with a shrug, sipping her water.

“What?!?” Angela blurted, deciding she should definitely be alarmed.

“Well, not really, but that’s the story.  Kind of funny, isn’t it?” Jane said with a smirk that faded.  “Too bad Nonna isn’t here to see it,” Jane added softly and sipped her water.  “I would have loved to introduce her to Martha,” she said with a smile.

“I don’t understand…” Angela said looking at her frustrating daughter.

“I can’t go into details, Ma.  But there is a lead involving her protégés that is the reason for the undercover story.  It might be a few weeks, but I know I’m on to something.”

“A few weeks?  With Martha Calderón?” Angela asked uneasily.

“That should set the tabloids on fire, huh?” Jane joked uncomfortably, knowing it just might set her on fire.

Angela’s mind was racing.  Before she could think of anything to say, the waiter came back with their orders.

“Enjoy,” he said flatly as he placed their plates in front of them. He smiled tightly and quickly left.

Jane picked up her fork, eyeing her food thoughtfully.  “You know, before the tabloids,” Jane started softly.  “I had to put up with a lot of sh . . . crap,” she amended “ . . . with the rumors,” she said.

“Rumors?” Angela asked curiously.

“About being gay?” Jane said uncomfortably.

“Oh.  Well.  I think the term is actually Lesbian, sweetie,” Angela corrected her helpfully, thrilled Jane was talking about this with her.

“Thanks, Ma,” Jane said flatly, glaring at her.

“Don’t mention it.  And for the record, I wouldn’t mind if you were,” she declared softly with a small smile.  “Love is love, right?” she said with a shrug and took a bite of her butter chicken.

Jane looked at her a long, thoughtful moment, then shook her head with a weak chuckle.  “I wasn’t so sure, growing up,” she admitted uneasily.

Angela looked up from her plate curiously, amazed Jane was still sharing with her.

“I . . . wasn’t sure of what was right and wrong,” Jane continued softly, making Angela want to get up and hug her daughter.  But Angela refrained, knowing Jane was likely to clam up and she really wanted to listen.

“Kids in school were pretty cruel to anyone different and Catholics aren’t exactly known for supporting gay rights,” Jane admitted quietly with a shrug.  “And you . . . you were always pushing boys at me and talking marriage and babies.”

“I just don’t want you to end up alone, Jane.  And women can marry too…and have babies together; it just takes more planning,” Angela offered enthusiastically, taking a bite of butter chicken.

“Yeah.  So, you gonna stop trying to set me up?” Jane asked, surprising Angela, who nodded and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“I guess I know why it didn’t do any good before,” she noted with an amused chuckle.  “No more guys, promise.“

“No more anyone, Ma,” Jane strongly amended with a pointed look.

Angela looked at her and frowned unhappily.  “Jane, I just want you happy!” she said defensively.

“And pink canopy beds, ballet lessons, and the blind dates with the creepy sons of your girlfriends were what you really thought would make me happy?” Jane asked with a laugh.

Angela felt her eyes start to water.  “Was I such a bad mother to want those things for you?”

“Geeze, Ma.  See?  This . . . this is why I can never talk to you,” she said, motioning to her mother’s tears.  “You turn on the waterworks when I tell you things you don’t want to hear,” Jane said with frustration.  Exhaling heavily, she softened her tone.  “I know you love me.  I know you care for me.  I know I’m lucky to have you in my life, Ma.  Believe me.  But it’s just . . . it’s like after all these years, you don’t know me; you don’t seem to care about what I want,” Jane said emphatically.

Angela couldn’t stop the tears, dabbing the napkin to her eyes.  “And . . . what do you want, Jane?” Angela asked, sniffing.

Jane sighed tiredly.

“I want to hear it.  What do you want?” Angela asked more forcefully.

Jane frowned.  “Fine.  I’ll tell you.  I want . . . you to respect that I love being a Homicide Detective and I want you to stop telling me I should find another job.  I’m damn good at what I do and if I get injured or killed in the line of duty, at least I was doing something I love.  How many people can say that?” Jane asked.

Angela’s tears kept coming.  She hated Jane’s job; her daughter had gotten injured too many times in the line of duty. “What else?” she asked with difficulty, not thrilled with hearing what she knew Jane needed to say . . . and what she needed to hear.

“I want . . . you to stop telling me about all the single people that you think I should date.  I want to be the one who chooses who I date and when.  And I want you to stop telling me I’ve got to date because I’m not getting any younger.  I know I’m not getting any younger, and thanks to your job, the precinct knows I’m not getting any younger, and thanks to Carla Talucci, the whole damn world knows I’m not getting any younger.  And Ma, it’s really not a good idea to talk about anything blowing up at a police station!” she hissed, recalling the embarrassment.

Angela frowned.  How was she to know that rookie assumed she was talking about an actual time bomb instead of Jane’s biological clock?

“And if I’m not dating, it’s not the end of the world,” she lectured emphatically.  “It doesn’t mean I’ve given up on a family and children – it just means I’m not going to waste my time on someone who’s not worth it!” She blurted in frustration, clearly on a roll.  “I don’t have to put up with someone or put out to know they are not right for me!”

“And for the love of GOD, I want to stop hearing about the goddamn health benefits of an active sex life!  I want to be in love with the person I sleep with,” Jane blurted with irritation, making Angela blink.  “Maybe I’m a prude but I want it to mean something.”

“I . . . never suggested you . . . ,” Angela said and trailed off in thought.

Jane froze; her gaze dropped uncomfortably.

“Oh, honey,” Angela said with sudden understanding and sympathy, recalling Maura lecturing Jane on how beneficial sex was to good health, which her old-fashioned daughter really did not want to hear.  “It was Maura, wasn’t…?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“No!  Don’t go there,” Jane hissed in warning.  “Don’t.  Waiter?!? Check. Now!” she blurted harshly, waving at the unpleasant man, who clearly saw she was not happy.

He winced and nodded nervously, promptly going to get the angry police officer her check.

“But Jane, she’s recently…”

“Ma!  What part of No, don’t go there, don’t you understand?!?” Jane snapped as the waiter came by with the check.  She got up and pulled out her wallet; opening it, she grabbed several twenties and tossed them on the table, covering the tab with a healthy tip.  She should have never said anything to her mother, she thought with irritation.

“Janie, please,” Angela said, forgetting about her own hurt and wanting to calm Jane, who stormed out of the restaurant. “Jane!” she growled, chasing after her hardheaded daughter.

“Get in the car,” Jane barked over her shoulder as she marched towards the drivers side, clearly not in the mood to talk to her mother.

“Now who’s not wanting to listen?!?” Angela shouted at her daughter in frustration.

As Jane stepped into the street, both of them heard tires squealing.  Angela watched in horror as a black sedan barreled towards her daughter.

Jane’s head snapped towards the direction of the sound.  Her eyes widened just before she tried to jump up onto and over the hood of the car, something she had seen in a Jackie Chan movie.  But she was no Jackie Chan; her foot didn’t clear the roof of the car and she tumbled over top, falling to the street hard.

“Janie!” Angela cried out and rushed to her daughter as other cars screeched to a stop to avoid hitting her.  Angela looked up and saw the black sedan stop.  When she saw the white rear lights come on when the car shifted into reverse, Angela’s protective instincts kicked in; she grabbed her dazed daughter and pulled her with surprising strength between the parked cars as the black sedan reversed direction.

Jane weakly fumbled for her weapon but her lack of coordination prevented her.  “L…license,” Jane blurted unsteadily.

Slamming on the breaks, unable to finish the job, the driver of the sedan sped off.

“Mrs. R!” Jane heard someone call out before she blacked out.

***

Maura and Constance arrived at the hospital soon after they got the call.

“Angela?” Maura called out anxiously when they rushed into the waiting area.

Angela stood with a haggard look.  “How is she?” Maura asked, giving her a hug and rubbing her back.

“She . . . blacked out,” Angela said numbly.  “The doctor is still with her.”

Constance nodded sympathetically, going to her other side, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“Why would anyone want to run her down like that??” Angela said with confusion.

Maura frowned, unable to answer.

The doctor came out into the waiting area.  “Mrs. Rizzoli?”

“Doctor!  How is she?!?” Angela blurted.

“Your daughter suffered a concussion and minor lacerations on her hands.  We recommend keeping her overnight for observation.  She’s sleeping now.”

Chapter Text

Jane paced back and forth outside the auditorium.  Inside, another hopeful was playing their three selections for the judges.

“Janie, you’ll wear a hole in the carpet,” Angela said with amusement at her nervousness. It was very rare to see her disturbingly confident daughter so anxious, she considered with satisfaction, knowing it would be a long time before she would let Jane forget this day.

“Nonna should be here by now!” She blurted anxiously, glancing at her watch.  “There is only ten minutes before my audition!”

“I’m sure she’ll be here, Jane.  You know Nonna would not miss this for the world,” Angela tried to sooth her upset child, starting to worry if she would be able to calm down enough to play well.  Janie really had worked so hard for this.

“Something must have happened to her,” Jane said as panic settled in her stomach.  Nonna would never have missed this for any reason, Jane knew in her heart.

“Janie….” Angela said tiredly but saw Frank approach them with a distraught look.

“Nonna!” Jane called out in a panic, startling Maura awake.

“Jane?” she said, quickly scrambling out of her cot and rushing to Jane’s bedside.

“Wha…?” Jane said, looking around the room in confusion.

“Jane, you are in the hospital,” Maura said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder, knowing what Jane needed at the moment - information.  “You were hit by a car and suffered a concussion and minor lacerations on your hands,” she explained.

Jane blinked and looked at her hands, which were wrapped in a lot of gauze, making it almost look like she had two white mittens.  “Minor?”

“Well, that does seem a bit excessive,” Maura acknowledged with a slight frown.

“Ma?  Is Ma OK?” Jane said with sudden concern.

“Yes.  Mother took her home to shower and get a few hours sleep before coming to take you home today,” Maura offered. “She should be here in about an hour.”

Jane nodded slightly.  “Korsak.  Is he investigating the hit and run?”

“I . . . ,” Maura said, uncertain. “. . . don’t know.  Why would…?”

“Do you have your cell phone?” Jane interrupted anxiously.

“Yes,” Maura said and went to her purse, retrieving it for Jane.  Maura held it out for Jane, who looked at her and raised her bandaged hands.  “Dial Korsak for me?”

Maura nodded, intensely curious but doing as requested.  “Hello, Vince?  Jane would like to speak with you.”

“How is she?”

“Confusing,” Maura complained.  “Here’s Jane,” she said and tried to hand Jane the cell but sighed when Jane once again held up her white hands.

When she placed it against her ear, Jane asked, “Vince, any intel on the sedan?  I’m not one for coincidences.”

Maura frowned as her curiosity skyrocketed.

“Damn it, Jane, I knew something like this would happen,” Vince said with irritation.  “Are you looking to get yourself killed?”

“Korsak, yell at me later, will ya?  I already have a headache,” Jane blurted.

Maura’s frown deepened.

“We’ve run the plates, the car was stolen.  It was found abandoned and the Crime Scene Unit is getting forensics.  Frost is still working on the facial recognition on the driver.”

“Facial recognition?  You’ve got a photo?” Jane asked with hope.

“Oh we’ve got photos; thanks to your paparazzi guy,” Vince said with a chuckle.

“He came forward?” Jane asked with surprise.

“Angela would have yelled at his mother if he didn’t,” Korsak said with amusement.

“Ma knows the photographer who’s been hounding me?!?” Jane spat incredulously.

Maura looked at Jane curiously and leaned in to try and hear the conversation.

“Yep.  A son of a friend apparently.”

“Of course he is,” Jane ground out.

“Could be coincidence, Jane,” Korsak offered.

“Uh huh,” she said flatly, clearly not believing that.  “Was the driver male?” Jane asked, pushing her irritation with her mother aside for now to focus on the case.

“Yes.  White male, mid-twenties,” Korsak noted.  “Not Trejo.”

“Huh.  Well, I guess he wouldn’t want his own hands dirty.  Let me know what you get,” Jane said.

“Yeah.”

“Bye,” Jane said and looked at Maura, whose face was right next to hers.  Jane swallowed, glancing at her lips before looking down uncomfortably.

Maura pulled the phone to her ear as she stood, eyeing Jane.  “Vince?  When I ask Jane what’s going on, I’m not going to like the answer, am I?” Maura asked.

Jane rolled her eyes.

“I would bet a paycheck you will not be happy,” Vince responded with confidence.

“I see. Thank you, Vince,” she said and shut her phone, her gaze boring into Jane, who grew uncomfortable.

“Rizzoli, Jane?” the food service guy came in reading the ticket on the breakfast tray.

“That’s me,” Jane immediately blurted, trying to ignore the pointed look Maura was giving her.

“Here you go.  Breakfast.  Enjoy,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Jane said with an answering smile as the man retreated.  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know,” she said eagerly and scooped a fork-full of scrambled eggs into her mouth as Maura patiently stared at her.

“Bleh!” Jane said as she let the eggs fall back out of her mouth onto the plate.  “God, are they trying to finish me off?” Jane complained then winced at the thoughtless comment and the resulting anger in Maura’s face.

“You deliberately put yourself at risk again, didn’t you?” Maura blurted tersely, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I just went with my gut and followed a lead, Maura,” Jane said reasonably.

“And going with your guts nearly got them splattered across the pavement.  And do you know the most disturbing thing? You have no idea how reckless your behavior is!” Maura said heatedly.

“Reckless behavior?” Jane said defensively.  “Reckless behavior??” she repeated incredulously.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about!  Which means your conclusion is just a big fat, stinking guess!” Jane snapped.

Maura sucked in an indignant gasp at that accusation.  Letting out a long calming breath, she eyed Jane in challenge.  “All right, Jane.  Explain to me, how your actions are not reckless.  Tell me how, whatever you have done to get yourself run over by a car, could not be considered reckless,” Maura said in an even tone, though her eyes were narrow with anger.  “I certainly don’t want to be accused of guessing.  Please inform me how my conclusion, based on years of empirical evidence, is erroneous,” she said tersely.

Jane stared at her an uneasy moment.  “Look . . . I didn’t know anything would happen so soon or I wouldn’t have had Ma with me,” she tried to explain.

“Ah.  So you expected an attempt on your life later,” Maura clarified, tilting her head.

“Yes.  No.  Maura!  Two of Martha’s protégés have died in suspicious circumstances and one had a near miss.  Martha nearly got killed herself.  I know there’s foul play going on - I had to do something!”

“Do what, exactly?!?” Maura asked in frustration.

“Go under cover as Martha’s new protégé,” Jane said as if it were the most reasonable plan.

“When did this happen?” Maura asked with surprise; that uncomfortable feeling reappeared and settled in her stomach.

“Yesterday.  The Lieutenant approved my plan and time off.”

“You still . . . play?” Maura asked with surprise.

“I . . . played enough to convince her assistant that I had some ability,” Jane offered uncomfortably.  “Martha was the one who really sold it, though,” Jane said dismissively with a shrug.

Maura was surprised by how incredibly hurt she felt; how could Jane hide something like that, something so personal about herself from her long-time best friend . . . yet share it with a woman she had known less than a week?

Jane watched odd emotions wash over Maura’s face.  “Maura?” she asked with concern.

“Jane!” Angela blurted loudly, causing a wince, as she came through the door with Constance.  “How are you feeling?” she asked, walking to her side and kissing her temple.

“Like I want to go home,” Jane said flatly, glancing over at a still quiet Maura.

“Well, let’s get you home then,” Angela said with an uneasy smile as she and Constance noted the tension between their daughters.

***

Janie sat numbly on an uncomfortable hospital chair, waiting to find out how her Nonna was doing.  She stared at the floor as the police detective explained to her parents what had happened to put her in the hospital.

“Mr. Rizzoli, your mother was in her car at a red light when two masked gunmen decided to carjack her vehicle. Witnesses say she refused to get out of the car and argued with them,” he said with a frown; too often, people got hurt and killed trying to fight off armed criminals for a material possession they didn’t want to give up, he considered sadly.

“It was just Pop’s old Buick!” her father blurted incredulously, not understanding.

But Jane understood…and felt sick; Nonna was not going to let anything get in the way of her being at the audition….

“When they tried to forcibly remove her, a weapon discharged.  Another man was killed on scene when he tried to apprehend the gunmen,” the Detective noted, causing her parents to cringe.  “When your mother gets out of surgery and is conscious, I will need to take her statement.  One of the gunmen is still at large,” the Detective said, angering Jane.

“Frank Rizzoli?” The surgeon came towards them.

“I’m Frank Rizzoli,” Frank said with hope in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rizzoli.  Your mother didn’t make it,” he said sympathetically with a heavy sigh, hating his job at times like these.

Jane blinked, finding it hard to breathe.

“Why didn’t she just give up the damn car?” Frank Rizzoli sobbed and Angela held him in a tight embrace, rubbing his back.

Jane had never seen her father cry before.  Even her mother, who never got along very well with Nonna, was crying, holding her father.  Jane was too numb to cry.  And one of the gunmen was still out there, she thought as anger welled up.  Standing, she looked pointedly at the officer.

“What are you doing?” Jane demanded.

“Excuse me?” the Detective responded, surprised by the teen’s question.  Her brown eyes focused on him with an intensity that was a bit unnerving.

“What are you doing to search for the second gunman?” She asked, expecting an answer.

“Janie, don’t bother Detective Korsak and trust him to do his job,” Angela quietly scolded her daughter, wiping the tears from her cheek.

Jane quietly seethed.  Her mother didn’t understand.  She never understood.

“Here,” Korsak said, handing Jane a business card.  “You call, and I’ll give you updates.  Deal?”

Jane relaxed a bit and nodded.  “Deal,” she said quietly, looking down at the detective’s card.

That evening, Jane lay in her bed staring at the pink canopy above her when her mother came in to check on her.

“Janie?” Angela said tentatively, poking her head in the room.

Jane lethargically rolled her head to look at her.

“How are you doing?” She asked cautiously as she entered.

“Fine.”

She was, if one could call a gaping hole in her heart “fine.”

Angela sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.  “I know you worked really hard with Nonna to prepare for the audition.  Maybe I can see about letting you do it another day?” she said with a bit of hope.

Jane looked at her mother.  “It wasn’t that important,” she said hollowly as tears started to well up.  She sniffed and buried her pain and sorrow back down, allowing her guilt and anger to suffocate it.

Angela frowned.  “But…” she said weakly; it had seemed so important before, she considered in confusion. “Maybe next year?” she tried again.

Jane sluggishly shook her head “no” and stared back at the pink canopy.  “Not that important,” she whispered.

A faint knocking roused Jane from her sleep.  She blinked and tried to rub her eyes with her bandaged hands as she woke. She groaned at the awkwardness, hating the bandages, which Maura had strongly suggested she keep on for a while.  A while had passed, she concluded, growling at her bandages.  She glanced at the clock on her nightstand that read 11:23AM.  She had planned to take a small nap and call Korsak on his progress with the hit and run.

The knocking persisted, prompting a groan; she still had a headache and the noise wasn’t helping.  Grabbing her robe, she shuffled to the door, feeling incredibly sore.  Peaking through the peephole, she blinked with surprise.  As quickly as her bandaged hands allowed, she unlocked and opened the door.

“Jane!” Martha cried out and barreled into her with a hug, surprising Jane, who awkwardly hugged her back.  “I went the hospital when I heard this morning but you had already left,” she blurted, then noticed Jane’s wrapped hands.  “Oh my god!” she gasped with worry, her hand going to her mouth.

“Oh.  A bit of overkill by the hospital, probably to make more money; why stop at one Band-Aid when twenty rolls of gauze will do?” Jane joked, but Martha still frowned.

Jane glanced into the hallway to see Daniel standing respectfully behind.  “You want to come in too?”

He eyed her and shook his head.  “No,” he said briskly.

“Suit yourself,” Jane said, shutting the door in his face, not stopping to analyze why that was so satisfying.

“May I see them?” Martha asked worriedly, focused on Jane’s hands.

“Well I was going to remove the bandages anyway,” she said with a shrug as she headed to the kitchen.

“I can’t believe someone would try to kill you,” Martha said with concern, wrapping her arms around herself.

“This wasn’t the first time,” she admitted with a sigh, finding the scissors.  “Could you?” Jane asked, awkwardly holding them out to her.

“Of course,” she said, taking the scissors.

“So, did you notice any unusual behavior around you since yesterday?” Jane asked.

“Detective Korsak has already interviewed me, Jane,” Martha said with pursed lips as she carefully cut the bandages.

“Well, humor me too, if you don’t mind,” Jane responded.

“Everyone thought I was crazy for offering to mentor a Homicide Detective,” she said bluntly, tenderly unwrapping the bandages.

“I’ll bet.”

“Roberto was most vocal, though he never did like me spending time on anything except my solo career.  But what he never appreciated was that having that mentoring relationship benefited me.  But he is not a pianist and wouldn’t understand.”

“He never wanted you to mentor?” Jane asked pointedly.

“Jane, he is brash, greedy, and rude - but he is not a killer,” she countered with conviction.

“Sounds like a wonderful manager,” Jane said flatly.

“Actually, he is,” Martha offered and inspected Jane’s hands.  “Thank God.  They should heal quickly,” she noted, eyeing the abrasions on the heels of her palm.

“Yeah,” Jane said, flexing her hands.  “Was your desire to mentor frowned upon by any others?” She asked, not wanting to press Martha on Trejo any more for now.

“No.  Those who were musicians themselves appreciated that relationship and the priceless benefit to each individual.”

“So Roberto was the only non musician?”

“Well, he played the trumpet in his youth but decided he was best suited to manage musical performers,” Martha offered.

“What does Lidia play?” Jane asked curiously.

“Piano.  Technically, she is extremely proficient but she lacks passion.”

“But can’t a mentor help her with that?” Jane asked curiously.  “You certainly provided that coaching for me with Oblivion.”

“I can feel your heart when you play.  You translate that through your music.  I can only help you tap into what you already have.  I can not create it for you,” she explained.

“So…it must be frustrating for Lidia, to be proficient but to never rise above being your assistant?” Jane asked.

“Jane, you can’t possibly think Lidia . . .?” Martha said indignantly.

“Everyone is a suspect until I rule them out,” Jane said bluntly.

“Have you ruled me out?” Martha challenged with irritation, surprising Jane.

Jane took in an uneasy breath.  “You know I have.  Or I wouldn’t have told you my theory and recruited you to help. Something about you makes me . . . trust you,” Jane admitted uncomfortably.

A smile appeared and grew; Martha was warmed by the admission. “It is mutual, you know.”

Jane returned the smile, her gaze dropping to the pianist’s lips before she let it drop to the floor uncomfortably.  Martha stepped up to Jane and looked into her eyes.

“What makes you so conflicted?” Martha asked softly, her gaze briefly dropping to Jane’s lips, wanting so much to taste and savor them.

“Well, I’m in an active investigation of a homicide and a suspicious death,” Jane responded uncomfortably, feeling drawn in, feeling . . . wanted – a truly heady feeling.

This was so damn different than what she felt from men.  They wanted a fuck; a physical release with a woman, any attractive woman.  They wanted conquest…and submission.  But Martha wanted her, the damaged Detective who shared a love for piano and the trauma of a difficult recovery from a severe hand injury.  Who would have thought - Martha Calderón, the world famous virtuoso wanted the blue-collar Jane Rizzoli?

Martha sighed, nodding reluctantly.  “You’re right.  It is not a good time,” she said with disappointment.

Jane gravitated towards Martha in spite of their mutual understanding that acting on their attraction was inappropriate. “No,” she agreed breathlessly.  “Not a good time,” she added in a whisper.

Martha slowly leaned towards her like a moth to a flame.  Jane was the brightest flame she had ever come across in her worldly travels.

“It would be a distraction you don’t need,” Martha whispered as Jane placed her hands on her hips and gently pulled her closer.

“Yeah.  A distraction…” Jane whispered, closing the distance as she gently captured her lips.

Martha’s arms slipped around Jane, pulling their bodies firmly together as the kiss grew more heated.

***

“Why are you standing in front of my friend’s door?” Maura politely asked the large man, who stood with his thick arms crossed over his wide chest.  That blazer did not fit well, she noted with a slight frown, which is often the case with muscular men.

He didn’t answer, instead looking her over.  Though checking for potential weapons and assessing the threat, he couldn’t help but appreciate her curvy figure, attractively accentuated in a beautiful dress.  “You are?”

“Dr. Isles.  I’m here to see Detective Rizzoli,” she said with irritation at his behavior.

“I’ll need to pat you down first,” Daniel said with a smirk.

“You shall do no such thing,” she said with irritation, glaring at the stranger.

Daniel grinned, enjoying a challenge, and grabbed her.

***

A loud thud in the apartment hallway caused Jane and Martha to jump back from their smoldering kiss.  Her protective nature immediately kicking in, Jane motioned for Martha to remain still as she quickly grabbed her gun and went to her door.

Looking through the peephole, she gasped with surprise, “Maura??”  She quickly pulled the door open and found the security guard on his knees, groaning as Maura applied pressure on his hand and twisted arm.

“Are you ok?!?” Jane asked Maura worriedly, glaring at Daniel when he yelped, “Let me go!”

“What is going on?” Martha blurted, looking at her now-helpless security guard.

Maura looked at Ms. Calderón with surprise and unease, seeing her lean into Jane with a hand at her back.

“He tried to pat me down.  I refused,” Maura said bluntly and let go of the guard.

“What!?!” Jane spat, taking a step towards the guard menacingly, ready to kick his ass.

“Jane, it’s all right.  As you can see, I’m fine,” she said soothingly, holding her hands up to stop Jane from getting in the guard’s face as he stood.

Jane sighed and looked at Maura.  With a smirk, Jane noted with a bit a pride, “I guess he didn’t realize you would go Dr. Badass all over him.”

“I just utilized simple self-defense techniques,” Maura said with a shrug, though feeling inordinately pleased by Jane’s comment.  Her pleasure immediately faded as she noted the smudged lipstick on Jane’s smiling lips, the same color on Ms. Calderón’s.  Her heart sank.

“Daniel, you are done for the day.  Leave,” Martha said tersely.

“But Ms. Calderón….” He complained, rubbing his sore arm.

“Leave.  And we will be discussing this later to determine whether or not you shall remain in my employ,” she said, getting an angry frown from the guard, who shook his head and stormed off.  “I am so sorry, Dr. Isles. I do hope you can accept my sincerest apologies,” Martha said as Jane protectively guided Maura into the apartment.

“No apologies are necessary, Ms. Calderón,” Maura said evenly.

“Martha, please,” the pianist said warmly.

Maura smiled weakly.  Of course Martha Calderón was pleasant and very . . . nice.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Jane asked, reaching out to Maura’s arm, noting something was off.

“What happened to your bandages?” Maura asked, displeased as she grabbed her hand to inspect it.

“They were like mittens,” Jane complained, earning a frown.

“I’m afraid I encouraged her to take them off.  I had to see how badly her hands were hurt,” Martha interjected, carefully taking Jane’s other hand in hers.

Maura frowned and noted something she hadn’t before - a large scar on Martha Calderón’s hand.  Something else that the pianist had in common with Jane, she concluded, the ache in her heart growing.

Jane looked uneasily between the two women holding her hands.

“As you both can see, they are not bad,” Jane said, glancing at the minor road rash.  Maura awkwardly released Jane’s hand.

“Thank God,” Martha said sincerely, carefully squeezing the hand she held before releasing it.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Maura ventured with a tight smile, looking at Jane, who blushed slightly and weakly shook her head no.

Martha remained silent, studying the two women curiously.

“Any news on the hit and run?” Jane asked.

“CSU have finger prints from the vehicle that match the partial on the pill bottle.  Barry is helping Vince to find him,” Maura reported with a small smile, knowing Jane would be happy.

“Finally!  A break,” Jane blurted with a big smile.

“So this means . . . Kyle was murdered?” Martha asked uncomfortably, quickly draining Jane’s enthusiasm.  Maura wanted to be annoyed at her but couldn’t be; a close friend of the pianist’s had likely been murdered.

“It’s circumstantial evidence, not hard proof, Martha,” Jane said gently, getting an absent nod.

“May I redress your hands for you?  No mittens, promise,” Maura offered, eyeing Jane’s hands again with concern.

“I’m good.  But thanks,” Jane said self-consciously, looking down at her hands again and flexing them.

“Jane, you need make sure you keep them clean or you could risk infection.”

“I’ll be careful, ok?  I just hate bandages on them…” Jane said uncomfortably.

Maura sighed and nodded.

Martha noted the awkwardness between the two women.  “It’s about time I get back to the hotel.  I have some practicing to do before tomorrow night.  If you and your hands are up to it, Jane, please stop by.  I would love to work on your music. Tonight or tomorrow,” Martha said breezily, gathering her coat and purse.

Maura eyed Jane curiously; was she seriously working with Jane on her music?  Her heart dropped further; how could Jane not have shared something so important about herself with her?

Jane froze in panic when Martha stopped in front of her and reached up, placing a palm against her cheek to wipe the smudged lipstick off her lips with her thumb.  Noting Jane’s discomfort with the intimate gesture, she awkwardly removed her hand.  “Sorry,” she said softly with a wince.

“S’okay.  Probably wasn’t my color,” Jane mumbled, wishing Martha hadn’t done that in front of Maura, wishing she had been stronger to resist the temptation that caused the smudged lipstick in the first place.  She briefly glanced at Maura, whose gaze dropped.

“Well . . . I’m off,” Martha said, gracing the two women with a smile.

“How are you getting back?” Jane asked.

“There is this marvelous service in Boston.  Perhaps you have heard about them - taxies?” Martha smiled mischievously.

Maura reluctantly found her comment amusing, which made her more annoyed.  She did not want to like Martha Calderón; yet she begrudgingly did.  And a part of her could not blame Jane for being attracted to the pianist.  It was logical – Martha was attractive, kind, exceptionally talented, and shared the piano with her.  Which to her surprise, wounded her; why had she not known her best friend could still play?

“You’re not going alone,” Jane said firmly. “I’ll drive you.”

“Jane, you need to rest,” Martha blurted.

“She’s right,” Maura offered with a firm nod of agreement.  “I’ll drive Ms. Calderón,” Maura said to Jane, who frowned.

“I can take a taxi; I don’t want to inconvenience you any further, Doctor,” Martha quickly said guiltily.

“No taxi!” Jane blurted with irritation.

“I agree with Jane.  And it’s no inconvenience,” Maura said.  “And you really should be cautious of your actions until Jane can solve the two Symphony Hall cases,” Maura offered.

Jane glanced at Maura worriedly.  “But if there’s an attempt on Martha, you both will be …”

“Jane,” Maura interjected.  “I have taken offensive driving courses and have a cell phone,” she offered then challenged with a smirk.  “Are you actually doubting Dr. Badass?”

Jane chuckled weakly and looked at Maura in resignation.  “Be careful?”

“Of course,” Maura answered confidently and looked at Martha.  “I’ll drive you to the hotel,” Maura declared firmly.

“That would be wonderful, thank you, Dr. Isles,” Martha said, getting a nod.

Chapter Text

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car like this,” Martha said conversationally, buckling her seatbelt.

“It’s a Prius,” Maura informed her.  “A hybrid gas-electric car.  It has very good fuel efficiency as well as low emissions.”

“Ah,” Martha said as Maura pulled away from the curb and into traffic.  She glanced over to the beautiful but tense driver and waited, certain there was much on the good Doctor’s mind.

“I don’t want Jane hurt,” Maura finally said after a long silence.

“Neither do I,” Martha responded sincerely.  “But you think I will hurt her?” Martha asked curiously.

“You two appear to be getting . . . closer.  It is not wise for a detective to become intimately involved with someone who is associated with her ongoing investigation.  Jane is an excellent detective, the best actually, but her actions can be . . . reckless,” Maura stated uncomfortably, stopping at a red light.

“Reckless?  Hmm.  I would say she was actually cautious, Dr. Isles.  If she were reckless, would she not have taken me to her bed by now?” Martha said honestly.

Though relieved Jane had not crossed that line during an investigation, Maura frowned with distaste at the thought of Jane being intimate with this woman, who clearly would have welcomed it.  Why wouldn’t she, Maura considered.  Jane was remarkably attractive, intelligent, warm….

“I believe she is exceptionally cautious with her heart,” Martha continued.  “I respect that, regardless of how frustrating it is,” she added wryly, watching the emotions on Maura’s face.  “You are a former lover, no?” she guessed curiously.

“N…no.  I’m Jane’s best friend,” Maura countered uncomfortably, accelerating when the light turned green.

“Hmm.  It is very commendable that you worry so much about your best friend.  But you need not worry about my intentions, Doctor, in spite of the exaggerated rumors of my “frequent” affairs.  Jane is special.  If she chooses to open up her heart to me, I assure you, I will treat it for what it is . . . a treasure,” Martha vowed.

Maura felt her heart sink further at the sincere admission.  “Jane deserves no less,” she softly said, truly believing it was a treasure.

***

“Korsak,” Vince answered his cell.

“Did you find our driver yet?” Jane asked as she paced in her apartment.

“No, but Frost is still looking.”

“Can you email me the pictures?” Jane asked.

“Sure.  Uh, Jane? Cavanaugh wanted to know if you are still planning to continue with your protégé idea.  We’re both worried about another attempt.”

“Why would I stop now?  It’s clear I’m onto something – it got us our first solid lead!” Jane asked incredulously as she filled Jo’s bowl with food.

“Jane! You might not be so lucky the next time!” Korsak argued heatedly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Jane said curtly and hung up.

***

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Constance said, noting the distress radiating from Maura as she returned home after work.

Maura shook her head, feeling lost.  She had tried to push out her thoughts of Jane and Martha from her mind as she worked but she was wholly unsuccessful, unable to think of anything else.  Thankfully, she did not have an autopsy to perform.

Her mother guided her to the sofa and sat her down.  “Maura?” Constance tried again.

“Jane’s . . . involved with Martha Calderón,” Maura said weakly, surprised by her physical response to that fact; her heart ached and her stomach twisted painfully.  She had never felt so strongly about someone before - even after Ian left the last time.

“What??  I thought you said she’d never compromise a case….” Constance sputtered with shock.

“I know what I said mother,” Maura said tightly.  “According to Ms. Calderón, Jane is being cautious by not having bedded her yet.  What she is doing isn’t cautious!” Maura blurted with frustration.

“You actually spoke with Martha Calderón about Jane?” Constance asked with surprise.

Maura looked at her mother uncomfortably.  “Yes.  I drove her to her hotel and mentioned that I didn’t want Jane hurt and that it was not good for a detective to become involved with someone associated with an ongoing investigation,” she said worriedly.

“Slow down, darling.  Why were you driving her to her hotel?  And how do you know they are involved??” Constance said with a confused cringe.

Maura sighed and tried to calm down to explain more clearly.  “I visited Jane during my lunch break and Ms. Calderón was there.  From the lipstick on Jane’s lips, it seemed I had interrupted them,” Maura said with a grimace.  Constance frowned. “And she . . . .” Maura said and fell silent.

“She what?” Constance said worriedly.

“She’s posing as Martha Calderón’s protégé,” Maura said as tears started to form.

“As part of the case?” Constance asked, gently rubbing Maura’s back.

Maura nodded.  “She played the piano in front of her personal assistant well enough to convince her it was true.  I didn’t know she could still play.  Why did she keep that from me?  Why would she play for Martha Calderón and not me??” Maura said miserably as tears trailed down her cheeks, looking to her mother as if she might have answers.

“Oh Maura, I’m so sorry,” Constance said pulling her daughter into a hug, which was still a bit awkward and foreign to both women.  But after the initial surprise, Maura sought the warmth in her mother’s embrace.  Maura’s tears continued as Constance gently rocked her, tears starting to form in her eyes.  There was sympathy for her daughter, of course, but there was also bittersweet recognition that she was only now learning what it felt like to be needed and to provide comfort to her.

“I wish I had never…” Constance lamented regretfully, then suddenly stopped with a cringe, hoping Maura hadn’t heard her through her sniffs.

“You wish you had never…what, Mother?” Maura pulled back, wiping the tears from her cheek.

Constance smiled uneasily as her gaze dropped.  “Nothing . . . really,” she said unconvincingly.

“Mother, what did you do??” Maura demanded with growing alarm.

Constance looked at her daughter with a slight cringe.  “I may have . . . suggested . . . to the DA and Mayor that Detective Rizzoli should return to the Symphony Hall cases or it would appear that they were allowing the Tabloids to have power over them and drive their decisions . . . which the good voters of Boston would likely not appreciate,” Constance said, still convinced it was a valid point; although she would not have made it had she known it would lead Jane into another woman’s arms.

“Mother!  You bribed them??” Maura hissed.

“Of course not!” she said indignantly. “I just made generous contributions to their political campaigns.”

“Oh my GOD, Mother,” Maura blurted, clearly upset.  “Do you even realize your actions may damage Jane’s career?  What if someone finds out you are bribing them on her behalf?!?  The city could launch an investigation and…”

“Maura!  Calm down.  It wasn’t a bribe, for heaven’s sake.  People influence politicians with money every day, it would be naive to believe otherwise,” Constance countered.

“Did you just call me naive?!?” Maura snapped, standing up and causing Constance to cringe.

Trying to calm her distressed daughter, who started to pace, Constance offered: “I’m merely pointing out that…”

“I am not naive just because I don’t happen to believe in bribes or throwing money at problems to make them go away!” Maura spat heatedly.  “You can’t keep doing that! Haven’t you learned by now that it never ends well?  And now??  Now you are doing it to Jane and she’s with Martha Calderón!  You can’t keep doing that!” Maura shouted and stormed off to her bedroom.

Constance jumped when she heard Maura’s door slam shut.  Never before had she been on the receiving end of so much anger from her child.

***

Angela opened up her front door, pleasantly surprised to find Constance.  What surprised her more was that the prim and proper woman’s bottom lip started to quiver.

“Maura hates me!” Constance cried miserably.

“Oh honey, she doesn’t hate you,” Angela cooed, putting an arm around Constance and guiding her into the guesthouse.

***

Jane sat at her kitchen counter, reviewing the pictures Korsak sent as promised.  She had opened them all up in separate windows.  Once again, she snorted with annoyance when she looked over the ones capturing her failed and painful attempt to jump up and over the car.  Wondering how the hell Jackie Chan did it, she sipped her beer and studied the few good shots of the driver’s face.  Silently vowing to get the bastard, she sent the pictures to the printer.

Her cell phone started to play the funeral march, bringing a smile to Jane’s face as she got up to get her cell phone out of the charger.

“Hey Maura,” Jane said, frowning when she only heard a sniff on the other end of the phone.  “Maura?  Are you all right?” She asked with concern.

Another sniff, made Jane even more worried.  “Honey, you’re scaring me.  What’s wrong?”

“Sorry.  I . . . I just wanted to hear your voice.  I’ll be ok . . . I’m just . . .emotional,” Maura said in between sniffs.

“Well, we all get that way from time to time,” Jane said, then winced at how lame that sounded.  But she was determined to give Maura what she needed.  “When you said you wanted to hear my voice…you didn’t mean singing did you?  Cause it’s likely to make you even more upset,” she said, smiling with satisfaction when she heard the soft chuckle.

“I am sure your singing voice is not that bad, Jane,” Maura said with a small smile, tenderly cradling the phone next to her ear with both hands.

“Not after a few beers,” Jane allowed, walking to her couch and sitting.

“Who would need to drink the beer?” Maura asked, smiling when she heard Jane chuckle.

“Everyone.  But don’t worry; wine is also an acceptable substitute.  Lots of wine,” Jane offered.

“That’s a relief,” Maura said, absently caressing the phone with a finger.  “Jane?” she said hesitantly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For not singing?”

“Jane,” Maura mildly scolded.  Jane tended to joke her way out of serious conversation.  It was one of her more annoying traits; though she did have to admire her skill at deflection.

“You’re welcome,” Jane offered quietly.  “Uh, are you hungry?  I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I thought . . . you’d be visiting Ms. Calderón tonight,” Maura ventured uncomfortably.

“Uh, I was going to see her tomorrow morning,” Jane said, knowing it wasn’t prudent at the moment to see her.  At night. Alone.  “But you probably have plans with Dr. Doolittle,” she said reluctantly.

“I . . . no.” Maura blinked with surprise.  She hadn’t thought of Charles at all since she terminated their relationship.  “I’m no longer seeing him.”

“Really?” Jane asked, with a pleased smile that quickly faded.  “What did he do?  Do I need to kick his ass?!?” Jane said briskly, immediately concluding he had made Maura upset and emotional.

“Jane!” Maura said with mild amusement, warmed by her protectiveness.  “There will be no need for ass-kicking.  As you are aware, I am capable of fending for myself.  When used quickly and correctly, pressure points can effectively overcome size and strength disadvantages,” Dr. Badass added with a small smile.

“I have a gun,” Jane offered with a pout.

Maura chuckled.  “You know that’s twice you’ve offered to shoot someone for me.  I’m not sure if I find that comforting or disturbing.”

“Mi firearma your firearma,” Jane declared.

“Then I get to borrow it?” Maura asked.

“No.  If you have the pressure point thingies and the Glock, what’s left for me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be greedy,” Maura smiled.

“Well, I do have a nice Glock,” Jane allowed graciously.

“Are you really up for company tonight?” Maura asked, really wanting to see Jane, not just hear her voice.

“If it’s you, always.  If it were Ma…you’d get a different answer.”

“I never thought I would really understand your need for distance away from your mother,” Maura said thoughtfully. “I’m beginning to.”

“I apologize now for whatever Ma has done…” Jane quickly said with alarm.

“I’m talking about my mother,” Maura clarified.

Jane paused a thoughtful moment at Maura’s significant admission.  “Come over.  I’m reheating leftovers, so I’m not exactly knocking myself out cooking,” she offered and added enticingly, “but there will be wine.”

Maura chuckled. “I’ll be over in an hour.”

“What??  Are you walking or something?” Jane complained, making Maura smile happily.

“I have a few things to do first.”

“If you must,” Jane lamented, sighing dramatically.

“See you soon,” Maura said with anticipation, her mood dramatically improved.

“Good. I’ll be waiting,” Jane said and hung up.

***

“That’s so sweet,” Angela gushed as Constance dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex.

“I just didn’t think Jane was being treated fairly, Angela.  But to listen to Maura, I was the one who was jeopardizing Jane’s career!” Constance complained.

“For making a political contribution?  Don’t people with money do that all the time to influence politicians??” Angela asked in confusion.

“That’s what I told Maura!” Constance blurted with aggravation, relieved Angela understood.  “But she wouldn’t even listen to me try to explain.”

“Connie, you gotta understand. Kids overreact when their mother’s try to help them.  The more you try, the more they seem to resist.  Probably a law of nature or something,” Angela said with mild amusement.

“I never thought Maura would not appreciate my help….”

“Well, she’s not as hot headed as Janie.  After she has some time to think about it, she may actually thank you for looking out for my daughter,” Angela said, getting a weak smile from Constance.

“I hope so.  But she does have a right to be upset – Jane apparently is taken with Martha Calderón.  She saw lipstick on Jane’s lips.”

Angela frowned and grabbed her phone.

“What are you doing?” Constance said with worry.

“Calling my idiot daughter up!!”

“NO!  No, Angela,” Constance said uneasily, placing her hand over Angela’s mid-dial.  “You said yourself Jane doesn’t respond well to the direct approach.”

Angela frowned again.  “But someone’s gotta stop her from being an idiot!”

***

Maura rushed around her bedroom to quickly change from the dress she wore at work.  She stopped at the full-length mirror, satisfied the cream silk blouse and charcoal pencil skirt outfit was casual enough yet accentuated her curves with the desired elegance.

While she knew Jane wouldn’t mind her showing up in jeans and a sweatshirt, Maura considered there was no reason not to look her best for her…in the miniscule 30 minutes of freshening up time, taking into account the 20 minute drive to Jane’s and a few minutes of margin to accommodate for worst-case traffic and red lights encountered; she hated to be late.  Glancing to the clock, she groaned, wondering why she hadn’t given herself more time. She shook her head, knowing very well why; she was so anxious to see Jane, she had a temporary bout of insanity when she committed to arriving in an hour.

Maura quickly went to her vanity and glanced at her hair in the mirror.  After touching it up, she frowned, wanting to do more but having insufficient time.  She grabbed her lipstick, making a face to assist in the application.  Satisfied with the coverage, she placed the lipstick down and debated whether she should wear a fragrance, something she did not indulge in for work.  For Jane, it would need to be subtle, she considered, gazing through the various perfumes she had on the counter.  She selected the small vile of Kai and opened it.  The fragrance of tropical flowers was very pleasant; perfect, she considered approvingly, dabbing some on her fingertip and applying it judiciously behind her ears.  Her gaze dropped to her cleavage a hesitant moment before she gently traced her finger down between her breasts.

“Maura?” Constance called out, knocking on the bedroom door.  “May I come in?”

“I don’t have much time, Mother,” Maura cautioned her as her mother entered and glanced around curiously.

“Going somewhere?” Constance asked, surprised by her primping.

“Yes.  I’m having dinner with Jane and I must leave in 6 minutes,” she said, turning to her mother and going to her closet again, sorting through her sweaters.

“I see….” she said, hoping Maura was not going to get herself hurt.  “Well, have a nice evening, darling,” Constance said, offering awkwardly, “You look very lovely.”

Maura glanced at her uncomfortable mother and sighed. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Mother.  But I can’t have you risking Jane, however remote you might believe that risk to be.”

Constance smiled slightly.  “I understand and I’m sorry for . . . meddling.  But you must know my intentions were honorable – I wanted to help Jane, not hurt her,” she said emphatically.

“I realize that.  And I also realize part of my anger was caused by my latent resentment for how you used your money to raise me instead of raising me yourself,” Maura admitted and added softly, “as if I were simply a problem that could be taken care of by money.”

“Oh my darling, I am so so sorry,” Constance said regretfully, stepping up to her daughter and cupping her cheek.  “As much as I wish I could, I can’t change my past actions.  I can only try to be a better mother now.”

“Thank you for trying,” Maura said sincerely, placing her hand over her mother’s as she glanced at the clock.  Her eyes widened in alarm.  “I’m going to be late!” she blurted.

Constance eyed her daughter rushing around the bedroom with amusement until she noted Maura was packing an overnight bag.  “I take it I shouldn’t wait up for you?” she asked uneasily.

Maura stopped and eyed her curiously.  “You’ve never waited up for me before when I’ve gone out for the evening.”

“True,” Constance allowed and sighed.  “I’m just worried about you, Maura.  Especially after what you told me about Jane and Martha Calderón this evening,” she said honestly.

“I appreciate the concern.  And to be honest, I really don’t know what I expect to happen.  All I know is that the only time when things make sense and I feel . . . like nothing is missing is when I’m with Jane.”

“I understand.  I just don’t want you hurt,” Constance said softly.

“For most of my life, I have been avoiding taking chances and getting emotionally invested in someone,” Maura offered thoughtfully.  “Because when I did, I got hurt.  Now…I realize that if I want more from life, I am going to have to take that chance again and risk getting hurt,” she said, looking at her mother with a smile.  “I believe Jane is worth it.”

“It seems we are both learning about ourselves,” Constance offered with a smile.

“It’s about time, don’t you think?” Maura said, stepping to her mother.  With only the slightest hesitation and awkwardness, she hugged her.

“Absolutely.”

***

Jane looked up from her laptop when she heard the oven ding.  Moving into the kitchen, she grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out the pan of leftover lasagna, taking a good whiff.  “Mmmm,” she said with satisfaction.  While her brothers microwaved all their leftovers because it was faster, she usually found reheating in the oven made them better; her Ma used the oven too. Placing the pan on the oven top to let it cool down a bit, she pulled out two wine glasses and opened a pretty decent red and poured, thinking Maura might appreciate a ready drink after that troubling phone call.  And if the wine got to breathe, which apparently helped improve the taste, so much the better.

Jane pulled out two salad bowls and grabbed the produce she had, lettuce, tomato, pepper, and onion.  She made quick work of tearing the lettuce and began to slice the tomato, then pepper.  When she got to the onion, she glanced at it a long moment before placing it back in the basket for another time.  She looked back in her refrigerator and spotted a plastic deli container of Kalamata olives and smiled.  Tossing a few in each salad, Jane quickly made a vinaigrette with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, one clove of crushed garlic, ground mustard, and a pinch of salt and pepper.

Glancing around her apartment, she checked to see what else needed to be done.  Hearing a knock, she smiled.  She grabbed one glass of wine and went to the door.  Peeking through the peephole, her smile grew.

“Welcome,” Jane said grandly, opening the door and immediately handing Maura the glass.

“Thank you,” Maura said with a chuckle and took a sip.  “Hmm,” she responded approvingly.

“Come on in,” Jane said with a smile and stepped back, glancing over Maura’s ever fashionable attire as she entered the apartment.  Nice fragrance, she also noted.

Chapter Text

“Anything I can do to help?” Maura asked, placing her glass on the dining room table that was clearly not set, save for two lonely placemats.

Jane glanced at the table with a frown. “I don’t suppose you want to eat with your fingers,” she offered dryly.

“Lasagna isn’t a finger food,” Maura countered with a grimace.

“So they say,” Jane scoffed and chuckled at Maura’s less than impressed expression.  “How about setting the table while I dish out the grub?”

Maura smiled with a firm nod and retrieved the silverware from the kitchen, which she knew as well as her own.  Jane followed and plated the lasagna.

“Work?” Maura asked vaguely, glancing at the open laptop on the counter before returning to the dining room table.

“Yeah.  Korsak sent the photos of the driver,” Jane said, grabbing the plates and followed her.

“May I see?” Maura asked, placing the final piece of silverware in its appropriate location.

“Ah, how about dinner first?” Jane said, glancing at the lasagna longingly.

“So you can distract me and avoid showing me the pictures?” Maura challenged.

“Maura, I’m hungry,” Jane whined, motioning to the table, but Maura wouldn’t budge and placed her hands on her hips.

“Come on, Jane.  Show me,” Maura said firmly.

“Great.  Well, the five minutes you weren’t mad at me were really nice,” Jane grumbled, reluctantly going to her computer and waking it.

When the screen lit up, Maura frowned.  “You really should have password protection when your computer is inactive,” Maura lectured, not seeing Jane roll her eyes; her attention was riveted to the screen.

Jane sighed and turned the laptop towards Maura, who scrolled through the pictures with an increasingly large frown.

“Go ahead.  Say it,” Jane said wearily.

“Say what?” Maura glanced to Jane.

“That I’m reckless and stupid,” she said, motioning to the pictures.

“You are not stupid,” Maura asserted, notably not commenting on being reckless.  She didn’t need to; Jane already knew Maura’s opinion on that.  “And your attempt to avoid injury is commendable,” she added, surprising Jane.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like pain,” Jane said, not getting a response from Maura, who stared intently at the picture of the driver’s face.  “Maura?”

Maura looked at Jane with surprise.  “I’ve seen him.”

“Where??”

“At the post-performance gathering when Kyle Gruhoffer’s body was found.”

“Another possible link to his death!” Jane said with excitement, going to her printer and picking up the copies of the pictures.  She stared at them a long moment with a frown.

“You need to talk with Ms. Calderón,” Maura noted, once again surprising Jane.

“Yeah.  I need to see if she knows him,” Jane said with an apologetic look.

“You should call Korsak and let him know of this development.  I’ll wrap up the food.  Then he can meet us at Ms. Calderón’s hotel.”

“….meet us?” Jane sputtered.

“I know this lead is important and we need to act on it quickly,” Maura said firmly.

“We?” Jane blurted incredulously, motioning between the two of them.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Jane Rizzoli,” Maura declared, her tone brooking no argument.

Jane blinked before, of course, arguing.  “You’re the medical examiner,” she said, pointing to Maura.  “I’m the cop,” she explained, pointing to herself.  “You deal with the victims, I deal with the perpetrators.  You are not going,” she said firmly.

“I am your best friend, Jane.  And you are mine.  And you are on Sabbatical, are you not?” Maura argued.

“What does that have to do with….??” Jane blurted in irritated confusion.

“I’m going with you and that’s final,” Maura said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You complain about me being reckless and when I try not to be, you…” Jane argued.

“Please?” Maura asked earnestly, interrupting Jane’s righteous indignation.

Jane looked at her an aggravated moment before blurting “GAH!  So not fair!”

Maura smiled brightly at her victory and quickly collected their plates and grabbed aluminum foil that Jane didn’t know she had.

She shook her head in defeat, watching Maura as she dialed.  Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw her steal a taste of the lasagna by swiping her finger on the side of her plate to collect some sauce.

With her finger in her mouth, Maura happened to glance up and find an amused Jane watching her, making her blush.

“Not finger food, huh?” Jane teased with a smirk as Korsak answered.

“Korsak.”

“Hey, got another lead.  Maura saw the driver at a Symphony Hall reception. We’re going to see if Martha knows the guy,” Jane said.

“We?”

Jane rolled her eyes.  “Yes.  Maura has informed me she is not letting me out of her sight.”

Korsak chuckled.

“Shut up,” Jane blurted with annoyance.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jane said tersely.

“No, I didn’t, did I?” Korsak said with amusement.

“Shut up,” Jane said again, with less annoyance but still felt compelled to object.

“We’ll have patrols in the area and I’m on my way,” Korsak noted then snickered.  “Whipped,” he snorted before hanging up.

Jane looked at Maura, who was placing their plates into the refrigerator, begrudgingly concluding Korsak was right.  Her heart was heavy, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Maura found another guy to fulfill her healthy . . . appetites.

***

Jane gave a pointed look to Maura, who stood behind them in the hotel hallway and wearily nodded with a sigh.  Jane glanced at Korsak and nodded, prompting him to knock on Martha Calderón’s hotel room door.

A bodyguard answered.

“Detectives Rizzoli and Korsak, and Dr. Isles to see Ms. Calderón,” Jane said.  “She’s not expecting us.”

“One moment,” Richard said glancing at Maura uneasily and shut the door.

Jane looked at Maura with amusement. “It seems your reputation precedes you,” she said proudly, making Maura softly chuckle. “I’m glad you’re on my team, Dr. Badass.”

“Always,” Maura vowed.

“What am I?  Chopped liver?” Korsak teased dryly.

“Shut up,” Jane said under her breath to Korsak, who quietly chuckled as the door opened.

“Jane? Dr. Isles?” Martha asked curiously.

***

They followed Martha, who went to the Grand Piano.  A Steinway Living Room Grand, Maura concluded, noting the size was just less than six feet. She truly appreciated the instrument and the craftsmanship it took to make the very best.

As Maura passed Richard, who had sat on the living room sofa and had the sports section spread out on the coffee table, she smiled politely.  He glanced over her curiously, trying to imagine her taking down Daniel.  He could imagine the Detective getting the upper hand, but not the small doctor.  But it’s always the small pretty ones you got to be cautious of, he considered, offering a tight, polite smile for her.

“How are you feeling, Jane?” Martha asked taking Jane’s hand in hers.

“Good,” Jane said, uncomfortably.

Korsak noted Maura staring at their joined hands and frowned slightly.

“Would you like something to drink?” Martha asked her guests, glancing at Maura and Korsak.

“No, thank you,” Maura said politely, relieved when Martha let go of Jane’s hand.  She probably didn’t even realize she had taken it, Maura considered, knowing Jane’s presence engendered trust and security.

Korsak and Jane shook their heads no.

“I want you to take a look at these,” Jane said and pulled out the pictures of the driver from the folder.  She placed them on top of the piano.

Martha looked at Jane a curious moment before gazing at the pictures.  “Why do you have pictures of Emilio?” she asked Jane in confusion.

“You know this man?” Jane asked.

“Of course.  That’s Lidia’s younger brother, Emilio.  Why?”

“He tried to run Jane over last night,” Maura offered tersely.  She slightly winced with embarrassment when she noticed the glare Jane threw at her.

“He would never harm anyone,” Martha said with alarm.  “There must be some mistake.”

“Maybe there is,” Jane allowed, gently placing a hand on Martha’s shoulder.  “But I need to ask him a few questions.  These are pictures of the driver who hit me, Martha.”

Martha shook her head in disbelief.

“Do you know where he is?” Jane asked softly.

Martha nodded reluctantly.  “Lidia’s room.  Room 545,” she said tensely.

“Thank you,” Jane said softly and looked at Vince, who started to leave.

When Maura started to follow, Jane stopped.  “You stay here,” she said pointedly to Maura, who was about to argue. “I mean it,” she added with a growl.

“She’s right, Doc,” Korsak offered softly.

Maura frowned with a reluctant nod and watched Jane and Korsak leave for Lidia’s hotel room.

After they left, Maura focused on a stunned Martha, who sat on the edge of the piano bench, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.

“Are you all right?” Maura asked uneasily.

“I just don’t understand,” Martha said helplessly, looking at Maura.

“Well, we will once Jane apprehends Emilio,” Maura said with confidence.

Martha shook her head, still unable to believe the young man could have killed anyone. There must be some horrible mistake, she considered.

“May I ask you a question?” Maura asked, getting an absent nod from the preoccupied woman.  “How good is Jane?”

Martha looked up at the expectant doctor.  “I told you I don’t know, but would imagine . . . magnificent,” she sighed wistfully.

“I meant with the piano,” Maura said with pursed lips.

“Ah,” Martha responded with mild amusement.  “Why do you care what I think?” She asked curiously.

“You’ve heard her play and I haven’t,” Maura said honestly with a slight frown.

“She has genuine talent and could be exceptional - if she practiced.  But her heart must be in it and I’m not sure it is anymore after the loss of her grandmother.  I hope she finds the passion she once had.”

“Her grandmother?” Maura asked with surprise, having expected it was Jane’s hand injuries that had caused her to stop.

“I think you should ask Jane.  I would not wish to betray any confidences,” Martha said apologetically.

Maura felt another stab at her heart.  Why could Jane open up to this stranger about herself and not her best friend? “Of course.”

***

Jane and Korsak stood at Lidia’s hotel room door.  With a glance to Jane, he knocked on the door.

Lidia answered the door.  “What’s going on?  Is Martha all right?”

“She’s fine, Ms. Argerich.  Is Emilio in?” Jane said, glancing behind her with interest.

“He’s out at the moment,” Lidia responded hesitantly, looking between the two.

“Out where?” Korsak asked, also looking behind her.  It wouldn’t be the first time a family member lied for another.

“What is this about, Detective?” she said impatiently.

Emilio whistled as he emerged from the elevator with a grocery bag in one arm and his hotel keycard in hand.  He froze, spotting Jane at his door looking directly at him.  He suddenly dropped the bag and ran for the stairs.

“Call it in!” Jane shouted to Korsak, already in hot pursuit of her hit and run driver.

***

He jumped down the stairs as quickly as he could.

“Stop!  Police!” Jane shouted.  She really wished perps wouldn’t make a run for it; she really hated chasing people on stairs.

Emilio saw two uniformed officers on the stairwell a few flights below and suddenly reversed direction, choosing what he thought would be the path of least resistance.  He barreled into Jane, who grabbed him and received an elbow to the gut.

“Augh!” she blurted as she pulled him with her to tumble down the stairs.  When they hit the landing, Jane’s face smashed into his back.

“Unkff.”

When Emilio struggled to get up, she managed to wrestle him to the ground, gaining the upper hand.  She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him with her knee digging into his back.

“Ow.  Get off me, bitch!”

“You want the pain to stop, huh?  Stop squirming!” She barked as her nose bled onto her shirt.

“Let me go, Dyke!”

“You are under arrest for the attempted murder of a Homicide Detective.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law.  You have the right to speak to an attorney.  If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.  Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

“No lo entiendo, oficial” Emilio smirked.

“Usted tiene el derecho a permanecer en silencio,” she snarled, finishing the Miranda rights in Spanish. “¿Entiende estos derechos?” Jane asked, hating wise-asses almost as much as murderers.

“Sí,” Emilio said, his smirk wiped from his face.

“Thought so,” Jane said as the Uni’s came up.  “Nice of you to show up.”

“Ah, does it hurt?” Frankie asked with a sympathetic cringe, looking at his sister’s nose as the other officer grabbed Emilio and cuffed him.

“Could that possibly be the stupidest question you’ve asked me?” Jane snapped, gingerly touching her face, which throbbed.

Frankie winced. “Sorry.”  He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it with a shrug.

“Eh, me too,” Jane said guiltily and accepted the offering.  “Thanks.  Been a bad couple of days.”  She dabbed it against her nose.

“Looks like it has just improved now, right?” Frankie said, nodding towards the criminal, who was hauled to his feet.

“Yeah.  Book ‘em, Rizzoli,” she said, prompting a smile.  “And don’t forget the assault and resisting arrest charges,” Jane said helpfully, making Frankie chuckle.

“Got it.  I bet he even jaywalked at some point,” Frankie joked.

“Now let’s not go overboard,” she cautioned with amusement.  “I’ll be by the station after I get Maura,” Jane said.

“Maura?” Frankie eyed her curiously.  “Is there a body?” he asked with a frown, no one mentioned another homicide.

“Noooo.  She’s my ride,” Jane explained tiredly.

“Okaaaaaay,” Frankie said slowly with a smirk.

“Frankie,” she warned.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, holding his hands up innocently.

Jane glared at his smirking face before shaking her head and heading up the stairs to the next floor.

***

Knocking on Martha’s hotel door, Jane was startled when it opened so quickly.

“Jane!” Maura said with alarm at the bloody nose of her friend.

“I just banged it,” she explained dismissively, still dabbing her nose with the handkerchief as she entered the hotel room. “Did you even stop to consider that the person on the other side of this door might be a killer?!?” Jane admonished.

Maura tilted her head.  “No.  I did not.”

“You call me reckless!” She complained.  “Come on, I need a ride to the precinct to interview Emilio Argerich.”

“Let me get my purse,” Maura said eagerly, turning to go retrieve it.

“Jane?  Are you all right?” Martha asked softly with a cringe, looking over her face.

“Yeah.  I’ve had worse, trust me,” Jane shrugged.

“I should talk with Lidia,” Martha said absently, still stunned by the turn in events as well as the blood on Jane’s shirt.

“Martha, you should be careful.  We still don’t know what is really going on and you could still be in danger.”

“I shouldn’t talk with Lidia?” Martha said with worry.

“Just . . . be careful,” Jane said, looking at Maura and signaling she was ready to go with a glance to the door.

"I'll have Richard by my side," Martha promised.

"Good."

Chapter Text

“You’re coming with me first,” Maura announced as they entered the precinct’s elevator.

“My nose stopped bleeding,” Jane countered, considering the time for first-aid had passed.  She reached for the button for her floor as the doors shut.

Maura intercepted Jane’s hand as she pressed the button for the basement.  “Yes.  But you should change your shirt and clean up before you interview the suspect,” she said, glancing over the bloodied blouse with a frown.

“Because . . . if I look nicer, he’ll be more likely to give a confession??” Jane asked with confusion.

“No,” Maura said slowly; Jane could be so frustrating sometimes.  “So he can not take any pleasure in the injury he caused you.”

Jane’s gaze dropped, not having expected that. “Thanks,” she said softly, then looked at Maura curiously. “You have a . . . ?”

“It’s a cream yoga top but it should go nicely with your blue blazer.”

Jane chuckled.  “I don’t have to even finish my….?”

“Sentences?” Maura interjected with amusement as the doors opened.  “Come on, Detective.  Let’s get you ready,” she said, marching towards her office with purpose.

Jane followed silently, moved by Maura’s thoughtfulness.

Maura quickly located her gym bag and pulled out the shirt, which she handed to Jane with a smile.

Taking the shirt, which of course was perfectly packed so as to not have any wrinkles, Jane stared at it a thoughtful moment.

“Is something wrong?”

Jane looked up and shook her head no.  “This means a lot,” she said softly.

“It’s just a yoga shirt, Jane,” Maura said with a shrug, though pleased Jane appreciated her gesture.  “Now strip,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye and a brow that lifted in challenge.

Jane blinked, then frowned.  Maura sighed and shook her head at Jane’s modesty and turned around.

***

Korsak met Jane and Maura when they arrived at the bullpen.  “He’s got a lawyer.”

“Wow.  That was fast,” Jane said, getting a nod from Vince.  “Well, let’s see what Emilio Argerich has to say.

“Rizzoli!  Not you,” Cavanaugh said gruffly, joining them.

“But sir, it’s my…” Jane blurted with annoyance.

“You were a victim,” he interjected, causing a distasteful grimace on Jane’s face; she was nobody’s victim.  “Korsak, you and Frost.  Understand?” He looked at Vince pointedly.

“Yes sir,” Korsak said with a nod.

“Good. I want a debriefing as soon as you’re done,” he said and offered, “I’ve got to report to the brass.” He really despised high-profile cases.

Jane shook her head in disbelief, glancing at Maura when her shoulder was squeezed gently.

“Let’s go watch,” Maura said softly, getting a reluctant nod.

*

As Frost and Korsak entered the interview room, Maura and Jane watched, standing behind the one-way mirror in the observation room.

“I am Carlos Fuego, Mr. Argerich’s attorney.  Why have you arrested my client, officer?” Emilio’s lawyer, who had an Argentinian accent, asked pleasantly as Emilio sat back with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.

“Why did your client run away from two Detectives at his hotel door?” Frost asked, his expression neutral.

“It’s not against the law to run away from strangers.  Or has that changed, officer?” Fuego said with a smile.

“No.  It’s not against the law to run away from strangers.  However, Detective Rizzoli did identify herself as the police.  So why run, Emilio?” Frost asked.

“Well, Emilio is at a disadvantage being Argentinian on United States soil – he doesn’t speak English that well,” Mr. Fuego said with a shrug.

“Would you prefer we conduct this interview in Spanish?” Frost asked with pursed lips, making the lawyer’s eyes light up.

“Sí.  I am sure we can come back later, when you get a translator,” Fuego said with a pleased smile.

“You won’t need to go anywhere.  I’ll be right back,” Korsak said with a smirk, which made Fuego’s smile fade.  Frost watched curiously as Korsak left.

***

“Jane, where are you going?” Maura asked as Jane started to leave.

“Él necesita un traductor,” Jane said with a shrug.

Maura blinked with surprise.  “You speak Spanish??”

“Enough to get by,” Jane offered dismissively.

“You still play the piano and you speak Spanish.  What else don’t I know?” Maura asked, sounding hurt.

“Maura, I got back into the piano just recently and the Spanish – it just never came up,” Jane explained.  “I can also speak some Italian because of my Nonna, OK?” She offered with some irritation, not understanding what had Maura so upset.

Maura’s eyes widened at another surprise disclosure.  “I thought best friends shared things like that,” Maura said with disappointment.

“Really?  Really??  You can’t be seriously upset at me for THAT?” Jane said with soaring irritation.  “Look, I’m not the one who kept the “love of my life” a secret from her best friend,” she snapped and marched out.

Maura blinked with surprise, taken aback by Jane’s anger.  “J. . . Jane,” she sputtered and followed her out of the interview room.  “I told you why,” she said, stunned that Jane still harbored resentment over that.

Korsak approached Jane with a satisfied smile.  “Cavanaugh agreed.  But only with translating,” he warned.

“Whatever.”

“Jane, I’m sorry,” Maura said honestly as she joined them, needing to explain.  “I really think we need to talk about this.”

Korsak looked between the two women, immediately feeling uncomfortable.

“Later,” Jane said curtly and looked at Korsak, who wisely kept quiet.  “Showtime,” she said and marched towards the interview room.

Korsak noted the Doctor’s frown as she watched Jane until she was out of sight.

“Shall we?” he asked softly, politely motioning for her to precede him into the observation room.

Maura nodded with a heavy sigh, hating the feeling when Jane was upset with her.

***

Jane smiled when she entered the interview room, taking pleasure with Emilio’s scowl.

“Hola gentlmen. ¿Entiendo que desea un traductor?” Jane said and sat next to Frost, who stared at Jane a stunned moment before returning his gaze to the men across the table with a smirk.

Fuego glanced at his client with a frown. “Sí.”

“¿Por qué corres, Emilio?” Jane asked.

Frost looked over at Jane briefly.

“Mi cliente no tiene nada que decirle. Así que nos diga por qué ha sido detenido,” the lawyer said.

“He says Emilio has nothing to say and questioned why he was arrested,” Jane informed Frost.

“Well, Emilio is wanted for resisting arrest . . . ,” Frost started, getting a belabored sigh from the lawyer.

“I’m sure this is all an unfortunate misunderstanding,” Fuego smoothly said with a slight smile.  “And there have been cases of racial profiling…,” he added with a shrug.

“Assaulting an officer,” Frost added, glancing at Jane a moment.

“Agredir a un agente,” Jane said, looking at Emilio, who kept his head down and stubbornly stared at the table.

“I’m sure he reacted poorly, but I’m sure he was frightened by being arrested for something he did not do,” the lawyer said.

“. . . and attempted murder,” Frost offered.

“y tentative de homicidio,” Jane said.

“Based on what evidence?” Fuego scoffed.

Jane smiled, glancing at Frost, who said “Your client’s fingerprints, all over the vehicle he used to run Detective Rizzoli over.”

“Huellas dactilares del cliente, todo sobre el vehículo que se utilizó para atropellar Detective Rizzoli,” she translated, staring at Emilio.

“Fingerprints can’t place him in the car at that time,” Fuego said dismissively.

“No.  You’re right,” Frost acknowledged with a shrug, making Fuego smile with satisfaction.  “But pictures and witnesses do,” he said, opening up his folder and showing Emilio’s face clearly in the car out front of the Indian restaurant.

Jane didn’t bother translating and just stared at Emilio.  The pictures spoke for themselves and she knew very well that Emilio spoke English fluently.

“That doesn’t prove intent,” Fuego argued with growing discomfort.  “Perhaps reckless driving.”

“Well, witnesses have testified that after he was unsuccessful in killing Detective Rizzoli, he put the car in reverse and tried to run her over a second time.  Sounds like intent to me,” Frost said, eyeing Emilio, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Now that is troubling, isn’t it?” Jane offered with feigned concern.

Fuego stared at the picture a moment.

“Oh, and Emilio’s fingerprints were found on Kyle Gruhoffer’s pill bottle.  And Kyle Gruhoffer died of an overdose.  So your client is also wanted for murder,” Jane added with a smile, prompting a surprised glance.

***

“I can’t prove that,” Maura said with distress. “The evidence is circumstantial!”

“Doesn’t matter at the moment, Doc,” Korsak said with a small smile, intently watching Jane.

Maura frowned and grumbled, “I thought she was limited to only translating.”

Korsak looked at her pointedly.  “You gonna rat Jane out to Cavanaugh?”

Maura looked at him with alarm and shook her head no.

“Neither am I.”

***

“Then there was your collateral damage, Brian Carter, who was the victim of your incompetence with explosives.  You almost killed Ms. Calderón,” she taunted, closely eyeing Emilio, who faintly winced.

“And what proof do you have for that?” The lawyer was compelled to challenge.

Jane ignored him and continued.  “We’ve also alerted the Argentinian authorities,” she offered, getting Emilio’s attention again.  “They are now reopening the cases for the suspicious circumstances surrounding Francesca Arrau’s apartment fire and her subsequent death in a car crash, and that stray gunshot nearly killing Daniela Alverez,” Jane said in English, watching Emilio squirm as he stared at the table with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to act like it wasn’t a concern. “Mr. Fuego, were you aware those women were also Martha Calderón’s protégés?  Interesting theme, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at the frowning lawyer.

Frost glanced at Jane and nodded in agreement with a small smile.

***

“The names are familiar to him…,” Maura said with interest, closely watching Emilio Argerich’s facial expressions.

***

“My client has nothing to say,” Fuego said tightly, absently adjusting his expensive silk tie.

“That’s all right.  We’ve got the evidence and motive and I’m sure when we bring Lidia in, she’ll talk,” Jane said, getting Emilio’s startled attention.  “After all, Emilio was killing Martha Calderón’s protégés for his sister . . . taking out the competition so she could get a shot at being a protégé herself,” she said, noting his eyes widen in panic.  “You do know Lidia will be charged with accessory to murder, at the very least, don’t you?” Jane asked.

“NO!  She had nothing to do with it!” Emilio blurted vehemently.

“Emilio!” the lawyer blurted, grabbing his client’s forearm firmly and staring at him with a firm shake of his head no.

“So you just decided to kill protégés all on your own?  Because you are a loving, supportive brother?” Jane asked curiously, noting Emilio’s interest in that theory.

“Emilio, do NOT answer her,” Fuego said with frustration his client was getting too emotional to control.  Emilio frowned.

“Yeah, don’t bother – I wouldn’t buy it.  You are going down, Emilio, and your sister is going down with you,” Jane announced and stood up.

Emilio looked anxiously between his frowning lawyer and the tall detective.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Jane continued.  “A jury will see Lidia for what she is - a calculating woman, trying to get rid of the people in the way of what she desperately wanted - to be the protégé to Martha Calderón.  A woman who got her brother to do her dirty work.  That’s a clear motive that any jury will understand,” she said, looking to Frost she added “we’re done here.”

“Lidia knows nothing!” Emilio cried out as they started to leave, causing Jane and Frost to stop and eye him.

“Emilio!  Say nothing!” Fuego snapped in frustration.

“She had nothing to do with it!  Please,” Emilio said miserably.

Jane looked at Frost briefly before sitting back down.  “All right, Emilio.  So who did?   I don’t believe you would have done this without someone encouraging you.  You cooperate and the court will take that into consideration in your sentencing.”

“Emilio, I’m advising you not to further incriminate yourself,” Fuego said tersely.

“I have to protect Lidia!  She didn’t do anything,” he argued desperately.

“Whose idea was it, Emilio?” Jane asked.  “Who got you to kill the protégés?”

“For God’s sake, Emilio.  Just shut up!!”

“Roberto Trejo!!  He paid me,” Emilio blurted miserably.  “He paid me to do it all.  Lidia didn’t know.  She didn’t know,” he whimpered as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“The City of Boston will need a signed confession,” Jane noted, glancing at Frost, who pushed a pad and pen towards Lidia’s brother.

The lawyer shook his head with irritation not bothering to object; Emilio was a lost cause.

***

As two uniformed officers escorted a handcuffed Emilio Argerich out of the interview room, an irritated Carlos Fuego followed behind.

Korsak announced, “I’m going to debrief the Lieutenant” when Maura and he joined Jane and Frost.

Jane nodded, and glanced down the hall, spotting Martha and Lidia walking briskly towards them.  This part was never easy, she considered.

“Emilio!” Lidia called out, spotting her brother.  “Emilio, what is going on?” she cried, hurrying towards him.  The officers threw a questioning look at Jane, who gave them a slight nod, prompting them to give the woman some time with the prisoner.

Emilio’s inability to look her in the eye made Lidia halt and glance expectantly at Detective Rizzoli.

“He has been arrested for two murders, one of Ms. Calderón’s protégés and the stage hand,” she said, prompting a horrified gasp.  “And the attempted murder of another,” Jane added neutrally, knowing there was no way to break this news that wasn’t going to hurt.  “The Argentinian Government is also reopening their investigations on the suspicious circumstances surrounding the auto accident killing another protégé and the apartment fire, then apparent stray gunshot nearly killing another,” she added.

“No,” she gasped in disbelief, shaking her head.  “No!” Lidia looked at Martha, horrified.  “Why?!?” She pleaded with her brother, wanting him to deny the heinous acts.

Emilio didn’t answer and shook his head in tearful shame, letting the police take him away.

Martha stepped towards her sobbing assistant and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “It’s not your fault, Lidia,” she said softly, distraught that she was the common link to these atrocities.

Jane walked up to the two.  “I’m afraid it’s not over yet,” Jane said quietly with a somber grimace.  “Emilio was paid to do it.”

Realizing there was more than one man involved in the murders, Martha and Lidia looked at Jane with dread.  “Let’s go to the interview room for some privacy?” Jane said, getting a weary nod.

“Maura, join us?” Jane asked, surprising her.  She noted Jane’s glance to Lidia then back to her.  Maura nodded and moved to Lidia’s side as they went to the interview room.

***

They sat at the table; Jane and Martha on one side, Lidia and Maura on the other.  Maura placed a hand on Lidia’s forearm, which seemed to comfort the assistant.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Martha.  Emilio said that he was paid by Roberto Trejo.”

“No!  No.  Emilio is scared.  He is saying that to get a lighter sentence!” Martha quickly argued.

Lidia started to weep again.

“What was his motive, Martha?  Emilio would not have just gone out to target protégés on his own to help out his sister?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Lidia offered emphatically.  “He must have been influenced,” she said, glancing at Maura, who nodded sympathetically.

“And you said Trejo disapproved of the time you spent mentoring others and not on your own music,” Jane reminded Martha, who shook her head no.

“I’ve known him for so long.  I can’t believe he would do that,” Martha said, clearly rejecting that thought as she shook her head.

“Maybe you are right,” Jane allowed, getting Martha’s hopeful glance.  “We only have a signed confession from Emilio, not hard proof Trejo was involved.  But we need to know if Emilio was paid like he said he was.  We will be working with the Argentinian government to see if there is a money trail but international cooperation takes time.  What I need . . . is a confession.”

Maura looked at Jane with concern, having a bad feeling.  Apparently her intestines could talk to her, she considered.

Chapter Text

After discussing her plan for Trejo with Cavanaugh, Korsak, and Frost, Jane returned to her desk with Maura.

“Ready to go?” Maura asked softly.  “You’re going to need a good night’s rest for tomorrow.”

Jane nodded and remained silent as she followed Maura to her car.  Maura also was uncomfortably silent as she drove Jane back to her apartment, debating how best to prompt a conversation they needed to have.

“You must be tired,” Maura started.

“Yeah and hungry.  You hungry?” Jane asked.

“It’s ten thir. . . ,” Maura said with a frown, intending to lecture her on not eating so late in the evening but was interrupted by Jane’s stomach growling loudly.  “Well then . . . I suppose we should have something,” Maura said wryly.

“Never argue with the gut,” Jane chuckled weekly, which Maura felt was a good sign and refrained from informing Jane that one can not actually argue with one’s intestines . . . or admitting that her own gut was not looking forward to tomorrow.

When they entered Jane’s apartment, Maura took charge of putting dinner together.  “Sit.  I’ll reheat the lasagna,” she said, marching to the refrigerator and pulling out two plates.

“We could have it cold,” Jane said, earning a dubious look.  “What?  It’s good cold too,” she said defensively, following her into the kitchen.

“I’d prefer to heat it, thank you,” Maura said politely and placed one plate in the microwave.

“I’ll just have mine cold,” Jane said with a wince, glancing at the microwave with disapproval.

“Suit yourself,” Maura said with a sigh as Jane grabbed her plate and went to the dining room table.  Maura joined her shortly, with two glasses of wine in one hand and her plate in another.

“You could be a waitress if the Chief Medical Examiner gig doesn’t pan out,” Jane noted wryly.  “You’d definitely rake in the tips,” she added absently, looking over Maura with appreciation.  Jane then froze, realizing she actually spoke that thought out loud.

“It’s good to know I have potential in other fields,” Maura responded with a pleased smile for the unexpected compliment. The smile grew as Jane politely held her chair for her as she sat.

“Don’t forget flight attendant,” Jane offered, smiling slightly as she sat and put a cloth napkin in her lap.  “The safety briefs would be much more enjoyable,” she added with a smirk, then frowned, seeing Maura looking at her with surprise.  “Uh, sorry.  I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Jane said, frustrated with her runaway mouth that got her in more trouble when she was tired, damnit.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Maura quickly offered.  “I . . . appreciate your compliments,” she added carefully, her heart beating a little faster.  She wanted to say more but Jane’s skittish behavior made her cautious.

Jane nodded uneasily and picked up her fork, focusing on her plate.  Maura took a bite, then another as she noted Jane continuing to stare at her food, not eating.

After swallowing, Maura frowned slightly.  “I could still reheat it for you,” she offered, drawing Jane’s gaze.

“Ah . . . no thanks,” Jane said, rubbing the back of her neck.  “Maura?  I owe you an apology.  It was a low blow to bring up . . . whatshisname,” she said uncomfortably, briefly looking at her before her gaze dropped guiltily.

Maura tilted her head, warmed by Jane’s sincerity.  “Perhaps, but you had a valid point,” she noted thoughtfully.

Jane looked at her with a slight grimace.  “Valid point or not, I shouldn’t have made it,” she said and took a bite of cold lasagna.

“Why?” Maura asked, genuinely curious.

Jane blinked, then swallowed her bite, surprised Maura would ask.  “Good friends don’t dredge up valid points that hurt, is why,” she explained with a slight frown.

“Good friends should be able to speak what’s on their mind without worrying about hurting their friend,” Maura countered. “I want to know what’s on your mind, Jane.  I want to know how you feel.  I want to know that you play the piano and speak Spanish and Italian,” Maura said earnestly.  “I . . . I felt hurt when you did not share something that was important to you, like I imagine you felt, when I didn’t tell you about Ian,” Maura reasoned.

“Speaking a foreign language is not like the “love of my life,” Maura,” Jane said with a frown, rolling her eyes.

“No, I meant the piano,” Maura clarified, noting Jane’s immediate agitation.

“It’s not that important, Maura,” Jane bristled, her words contradicting her demeanor as her gaze dropped to her plate and grew hard.

“I . . . am mistaken, then,” Maura said uneasily, not wanting to further upset her.

“The piano is not that important,” Jane said tersely, surprising Maura both with her intensity, and that she actually continued.  “There is no way you can compare it to losing someone you love, Maura; there is no comparison,” Jane declared emphatically, briefly glancing at her then to her plate.

Maura noted Jane’s hand was strangling her fork.  Her curiosity soared.  She desperately wanted to understand; but instead of asking outright, she proceeded with caution, not wanting to provoke her friend further.  “Of . . . course not,” Maura softly said in uncomfortable agreement, which received a firm nod from Jane, who took a long breath before taking another bite of lasagna.

After a long stretch of tense silence as they ate their dinner, Jane looked up uneasily, watching Maura quietly take another bite.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Jane blurted softly with a guilty wince.  “You put up with a lot of my sh . . .stuff,” Jane added with remorse.

“Well,” Maura said and took a sip of wine. “I did say I wanted to know how you feel,” she offered wryly, hoping to ease Jane’s discomfort.

“That goes both ways, Maura,” she said sincerely, looking her in the eye.

Maura blinked, not sure how to respond.  She considered declaring “I love you” but her gut warned her that wasn’t the best plan.  Realizing that her gut was now actually part of her decision-making process, she frowned slightly.

“You were upset when you called me earlier and instead of me helping . . . ,” Jane explained regretfully, trailing off without finishing. She didn’t need to.

“You helped, believe me,” Maura responded honestly. “And we caught a killer, not a bad night’s work,” she offered with a smile and shrug.

“So the cure for emotional distress is catching bad guys?” Jane asked with a small, amused smile, though she personally found work an excellent distraction to ease her own distress.

“When catching bad guys is with you, it is,” Maura admitted softly, noting Jane’s surprise.  Once again Maura’s heart raced as she contemplated what to say next.

Jane nodded, drawing a blank on how to respond, so she ate a bit of lasagna just as Maura did, letting the conversation falter.

Finally breaking the silence thanks to her masochistic curiosity, Jane asked.  “So . . . what happened with Dr. Doolittle?”

Maura looked at Jane, who had brought up a subject that was the furthest thing from her mind.  Though she quickly recognized it was an opportunity to steer the conversation in a useful direction.  Her gaze dropped a thoughtful moment as she set her glass down.

Jane tensed, knowing when Maura was asked a direct question, she’d either give a brutally honest answer or, if it were a topic Maura wanted to avoid, she’d skillfully deflect.  As Maura took some time to think about an answer, Jane was beginning to hope for skillful deflection.

“I wanted more,” Maura said simply, glancing at Jane, who nodded slowly, more to encourage her to continue vice relaying understanding.

Maura stalled a nervous moment as she dabbed her mouth with her napkin and glanced at Jane.  “Charles only wanted a physical relationship, which I am no longer finding . . . sufficient.  I am realizing . . . that I want a committed, serious relationship; one that is both physically and emotionally satisfying,” she said, noticing Jane’s surprise.  “He was ill-equipped to provide me what I wanted.  But it wasn’t his fault,” she offered quickly. “I understood his limitations when I entered our relationship.”

A small, pleased smile emerged on Jane’s face at Maura’s apparent change of heart; she deserved so much more than she was getting from the string of jerks she dated.

“My Nonna told me,” Jane offered softly, looking down at her plate as a fond memory surfaced.  “That anyone can have sex, but it was God’s gift to mankind to be able to make love,” she softly said with conviction, looking intently at Maura, who was riveted by Jane’s personal disclosure; it explained so much about her feelings about sex.  Jane wanted to be in love, Maura concluded as her heart skipped a beat.

A small smirk emerged as Jane gave a weak laugh, joking self-consciously, “Though I think she was worried I’d rush into having sex after I told her about my big high school crush.”

“Well, teen pregnancy is a concern,” Maura offered with a small, understanding smile.

Jane chuckled with amusement.  “That wasn’t it,” she said confidently, gaining a confused look.  “My big crush was Jenny Whittaker,” Jane explained with a wry smile and a shrug, gazing at her plate.

Maura blinked with surprise as Jane picked up her wine and stared at it thoughtfully before sipping.

“I could tell Nonna anything.  She never told me what I was feeling was wrong,” Jane said placing her glass down and stared at it, tamping down her emotions.  “She just made sure I treated Jenny right and respected her.  I did, of course, but it was sort of easy since we were too scared about how people would react to really act on what we felt.  Fear of a public lynching is an incredible motivator for abstinence,” Jane offered with a weak, uncomfortable chuckle.

Maura looked at Jane and felt sorrow for the young love hindered by fear.

“Nonna never judged me.  She never told me how to live my life – like Ma did.  Does,” she amended with a slight frown.

Maura listened, captivated by Jane’s disclosure, savoring the insight.

“According to Ma, I couldn’t be successful on my own.  I had to find a man to marry and have a boatload of children.  Nonna?” Jane continued with a shrug, absently tracing her long middle finger around the rim of her glass, unintentionally luring Maura’s gaze and libidinous thoughts.

“She believed I would be successful with anything, if I really wanted it.  She was the one person who really believed in me,” Jane offered and fell silent, staring at her glass.

Maura looked up, wanting to argue that she also really believed in her, but noted Jane’s faraway look.  With difficulty, she refrained from barraging her with questions, strongly believing it would make Jane self-conscious and stop talking – the last thing she wanted.

“She didn’t just teach me piano; she taught me what was important.  She taught me about myself.”

“She taught you piano??” Maura blurted, unable to help herself.  She winced, noting the darkness that now clouded Jane’s face, worried she had just put an end to Jane’s discourse.

Instead, Jane nodded.  “Nonna was a piano teacher,” she continued, unaware of Maura’s immense relief that she had not stopped talking.  “I really didn’t understand what she did until Ma dropped us off at her house when she had to go to school for a parent-teacher conference. Dad was on some emergency job and couldn’t look after us.  So to Nonna’s house we went,” she offered with a small smile.

“Tommy and Frankie were happy just watching cartoons but I was curious and listened to the lesson Nonna was giving to Greg Bufalo.  He was a little older than I was and really, really bad,” Jane noted disapprovingly, rolling her eyes, making Maura smile, imagining Jane as an opinionated young girl.  “He couldn’t do his scales and Nonna scolded him for not practicing.  He didn’t like that and quit.  Nonna caught me watching and asked if I thought I could do better,” Jane said with a weak chuckle.

“And you said yes,” Maura said warmly, feeling closer to Jane, even though the table physically separated them. This is what she wanted in a relationship – not just the sharing of bodies but of the heart too.  She did not know if they would ever have it all, but Maura considered she would settle for whatever Jane was willing to give.  At that thought, she frowned slightly as her gut told her she wouldn’t settle until she had it all.

“I did . . . I told her I would be better because I would practice,” Jane said as if it were obvious, and sipped her wine, finishing it.  Staring at the empty glass a moment, she suddenly stood, collecting her plate and silverware. Maura followed Jane’s lead and also took her dishes to the kitchen.

Maura quietly picked up the dishtowel and dried as Jane, who had retreated into her own thoughts, washed.  After they finished with the dishes, Jane glanced at the clock, which was now just shy of midnight.  “You staying?” Jane asked softly.

“What do you want?” Maura asked hesitantly.

“Stay,” Jane said simply.

Maura nodded as a pleased smile emerged; but it quickly faded as she noted Jane’s mood was still off. “Are you all right?” she asked, gently laying a hand on her arm.

“I wish you could have met her,” Jane said softly with a weak smile, the ache of her loss welling up again.  “She would have loved you.”

“Thank you, for telling me about her,” Maura said quietly.

Jane nodded hesitantly, her sad gaze dropping.

Compelled to comfort, Maura leaned in and tenderly kissed her; their first kiss feeling so right and surprisingly familiar.  And it truly was, she realized, heartened by Jane’s response; she tenderly kissed her back.

Desiring more, Maura slipped her hand around Jane’s slender waist, finding purchase on her back.  Gently, she pulled her in as her other hand carefully cupped her face like a fragile treasure.  Her tongue brushed against Jane’s lips, which parted without resistance, allowing the kiss to deepen.  Unrushed, the two reveled in the sensations that were building.

With Maura’s hum of pleasure, Jane panicked and stepped back uneasily.

“M…Maura??” she sputtered with alarm, struggling with her breath, which the good doctor managed to rob.

“Jane,” she exhaled, looking at Jane’s lips hungrily, her body humming with arousal.

“Really? “Jane” is all you have to say?” Jane blurted with surprise, taking another step back.  Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of what just happened.  Her fantasy, which she believed would forever remain a fantasy, had just become reality - a reality that was so damn tempting.  But she feared the heartache it would eventually bring….

“I . . . wanted to kiss you,” Maura said, confused by Jane’s reaction, certain she had enjoyed it.

“You just can’t go around doing whatever you want all the time, Maura!” Jane countered tersely, not wanting to become one of many.  “What happened to wanting more??” she protested, recalling the long list of Maura’s conquests.

“I do! With you,” she answered earnestly, not understanding Jane’s unease.

“It’s a bad idea.  A really bad idea,” Jane said uncomfortably, nervously running her hand through her dark mane. She longed for what Maura was offering but…

“Why??” Maura responded with dismay, finding her pulse racing, no longer from passion but growing fear. “We are remarkably compatible and . . . ,”

“NO!” Jane interrupted harshly.  Compatible or not, she’d never be enough….

“No?  Why not??” Maura asked, feeling like she had been slapped.  Then dread suddenly gripped her heart. “You’ve fallen in love with her,” she exhaled.

“Martha??” Jane said in confusion.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened,” Maura hissed, as she turned away, angry with herself.

Jane blinked. “Listened?  Listened to who??” Jane’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Whom,” Maura corrected absently as her heart ached; she was too late.

“Maura,” Jane groaned. “Fine!  Whom, then.  Whom has been telling you to go around kissing me??” She blurted with exasperation, swearing she was going to kill someone and suspecting it was going to be her mother.

“Who,” Maura corrected, unable to help herself.  Seeing Jane’s frustration soar, she quickly blurted, “No one has been telling me to kiss you.”

“No one,” Jane repeated flatly, baffled.

Maura’s embarrassment stopped her from elaborating. Taking a deep breath to tamp down her emotions, she attempted to focus on a way to extricate herself from this terribly uncomfortable situation - unfortunately of her own making when she decided to listen to her intestines, she considered derisively.

“Maura . . . ,” Jane said gently, seeing Maura’s clear distress. The last thing she wanted was to hurt her.

“I’m sorry, Jane.  I . . . I am extremely attracted to you and not just physically.  I had hoped you felt the same but it was inappropriate of me to express my affection when you are in a relationship with Martha Calderón.”

“What?”

“I should go,” Maura said uneasily, looking at her purse, needing to flee.

“Oh no,” Jane said firmly and shepherded her to the couch.  “You have just opened Pandora’s box and now we are going to see what’s inside.  Sit.”

Maura sat, dropping to the couch like a falling rock rather than with the graceful ease she normally possessed.  “That’s a common mistake – calling it a box, when in fact it was a jar,” she quickly blurted, nervously staring at the coffee table.  “This error is commonly attributed to Erasmus of Rotterdam when he translated the Hesiod’s Greek tale to Latin, where he translated “pithos,” which is a large storage jar, to the Latin word “pyxis,” which means box,” Maura said, then dared to glance at Jane, who was staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“And . . . you don’t really care,” she concluded uncomfortably, absently brushing the non-existent lint off her skirt as Jane sat next to her.

“And hope was in the box,” Jane noted softly, hating to see her so uncomfortable because of her.

“Yes,” Maura whispered, looking into understanding eyes.  Her gaze fell to Jane’s lips again; the desire to kiss them again nearly overwhelming.  Maura forced her dejected gaze down to her lap, knowing that hope was not enough now.

“Maura, what’s going on?  My best friend suddenly decides she wants to kiss me now?  Why?” Jane said, placing her hand over Maura’s.

“I’m attracted to you,” Maura offered quietly and withdrew her hand from Jane’s, denying herself that indulgence.  “I have been for some time but I hadn’t thought you would be receptive to a same-sex relationship - until Martha Calderón,” she said with pursed lips as she uttered the name.  “But I know you’re with her now and it was inappropriate for me to . . . ,”

“Maura!” Jane interjected with frustration.  “Just because I kissed the woman doesn’t mean I’m in a relationship with her.  You’ve kissed tons of people you weren’t in a relationship with!” Jane countered, adding with annoyance, “Including me now….”

Maura frowned. “Tons?  Is that why you don’t want to be with me?  Because you think that you are just one hundred and forty three pounds of these so-called tons?”

“One thirty nine!” the former roly-poly Rizzoli objected.

“And you think that you are just a passing fancy??” Maura said, insulted.

“Well . . . yeah,” Jane admitted reluctantly with a frown.

“Well, you’re not!” Maura said with irritation.

“Fine,” Jane said, not wanting to argue about what Maura was feeling. “But it’s still a bad idea,” she stated softly.

“Damn it, Jane.  You can’t keep saying it’s a bad idea without explaining to me why!” Maura fumed, surprising Jane with her anger.

Jane frowned.

“Please,” Maura whispered, looking at her with such sadness.

“Ok.  Ok,” Jane acquiesced softly, unable to say no. After a heavy sigh, she awkwardly admitted, “I . . . I don’t want to be one of your stand-ins.”

“Stand-ins?” Maura said, confused.

“Yeah.  For the love of your life?” Jane said with exasperation. “Where would I fit in when the love of your life decides to waltz back in for a boo . . . visit?” Jane blurted uncomfortably, trying to censor her thoughts on Ian’s disrespectful actions.

Maura took a breath to inform her she did not think Ian would return, but paused to consider what Jane was really saying.  “So you have considered us, as a couple?” She asked, hope filling her heart.

Jane looked at her uneasily.  “Yes,” she admitted.  “I love you, Maura,” Jane said with surprising ease, making Maura blink with surprise before a happy smile emerged.  “But I can’t be second best, knowing you love someone else more.  I need to be the only one in your life – physically and emotionally.  That is why it wouldn’t work,” she said with brutal honesty.  “I just can’t do that to myself, Maura,” she added softly.

“Thank you for telling me this!” Maura enthused.

Jane looked at her warily.

“Jane, I want you to listen to me carefully.  I love Ian,” Maura said, making Jane cringe.  “And he embodied what I thought was the perfect fit for me - a dashing intelligent hero, who would romance me and make me feel special.”

“I’m glad we have that all cleared up,” Jane said distastefully, wondering where a dead body was when you needed one.

“You’re not listening!” Maura scolded.  Jane sighed and motioned for her to continue.  “The problem with Ian is that it only worked between us when it suited him.  When it didn’t, I was no longer special.  I was alone and forgotten.  I don’t deserve that,” Maura announced with conviction, her annoyance seeping through.

Jane looked at her with surprise; Maura finally saw how poorly Dr. Feelgood was treating her.  About damn time, Jane considered as a pleased smile emerged.

“Clearly, I was not the love of Ian’s life and I recognize that now.  And while I will always remember our time together fondly, I am no longer pining away for him to come back.  A part of me loves him but . . . I’m not sure I ever really was in love with him or just the idea of him,” Maura admitted uncomfortably.

Jane blinked, digesting what Maura was saying.

“But when I’m with you,” she said, firmly taking Jane’s hand.  Jane glanced down at their hands then back at Maura.  “I realize what unconditional love is,” she said, squeezing.  “Everything Ian made me feel, the good and the bad, pales in comparison to what you make me feel, Jane,” she said sincerely.  “It’s a bit frightening, actually.”

Jane nodded weakly in silent agreement, her heart pounding at that revelation.

“And when I finally realized you were open to a same-sex relationship, I feared I was too late,” she allowed with a slight wince.  “I have never experienced such intense jealousy before; it isn’t a pleasant feeling,” Maura admitted gravely with a frown.

“No.  It pretty much sucks,” Jane offered wryly as her heart soared.

Maura looked intently into Jane’s eyes.  “I want a chance with you, Jane.  I’ve never wanted anything so much.  I want us to be lovers and partners in every possible way,” Maura declared earnestly.

Jane felt light-headed; Maura Isles was actually wooing her!  Before now, she hadn’t realized how much she really wanted her to, having always thought she’d be the one to take the lead.  Finally hearing what her best friend really wanted, and that it was actually her, brought her indescribable happiness.

To Maura’s great relief, she saw that happiness, thankful her heartfelt plea was not in vain.

“And you should know, my intestines are telling me we should take that chance,” Maura admitted with an amused smile and sparkle in her eye.

“I thought . . . your intestines didn’t talk to you,” Jane said with a smile that couldn’t help but grow.

“I suppose I just hadn’t been listening. But I am now, and they’ve been quite vocal about you lately,” Maura offered dryly.

“Really?” Jane said looking at Maura’s lips with great anticipation as they slowly gravitated towards each other.  “Besides giving a relationship a try, what else have they been saying?” she asked softly.

“That you will be an exceptional lover,” Maura softly responded, “though, I still am a scientist and will require extensive research and empirical evidence to substantiate that expectation.”

“I would expect no less, Doctor,” Jane said, closing the gap between them.  A nagging doubt remained, prompting her to pause with her lips almost touching. “Exclusive, right?”

“Completely.  I do not share well with others; a byproduct of being a single child I believe,” she offered softly, brushing her lips against Jane’s, leaving them tingling.

“I don’t share well either, and I have brothers,” Jane countered, mimicking Maura’s action with a small smile.

“Well, perha…,” Maura’s alternate theory was overcome by a kiss.

As their lips merged, Jane slipped her free hand behind Maura’s neck, stroking the soft skin with her long fingers.  At Maura’s soft hum of approval, there was no panic or confusion this time, just a sense of rightness that settled within Jane.

Maura’s hand sought Jane’s face, tracing over the sharp and striking planes.  She kissed her cleft chin with a smile.

Neither rushed, each savoring the tender, intimate touches and exploration of what only before they could only admire by surreptitious glances.  But as those kisses continued, Maura found it hard to not push for more, her body flush with arousal.

As much as she wanted to see Jane writhing beneath her in pleasure, she wouldn’t push because she wanted Jane to set the pace and be comfortable.

When she pulled back and gazed into Maura’s eyes, Jane saw overt want.

Maura bit her lip worriedly as Jane stood.

“Come on, I don’t want our first time to be on the couch,” Jane said with a smile, holding her hand out.

Maura smiled brightly, hopped off the couch and into Jane’s arms, possessing her lips with a smoldering kiss, which Jane eagerly participated in until she needed air.

“Keep that up and we won’t make it to the bedroom,” Jane chuckled, resting her forehead on Maura’s as she caught her breath.

She pulled back and looked seriously at Jane.  “Are you sure you are not too tired?” she said with a wince, compelled to ask though she did so reluctantly.  “You’ve had an exhausting few days.”

“Sweetie, after a kiss like that, trust me – my whole body is awake,” Jane said, sliding an arm around her as she walked them to the bedroom.

Maura smiled, pleased she had that effect on Jane - for Jane certainly had that effect on her.

“Well, arousal does . . . ,” Maura offered, but was interrupted by a light kiss.

“I think I’d rather you show me what arousal does,” Jane said as they got to the door.

“Yes.  A practical example would likely prove more insightful,” Maura smiled happily.

“I do try to be insightful,” Jane said with amusement as she politely motioned for Maura to precede her into the bedroom, which she did, allowing Jane the opportunity to overtly admire Maura’s lovely figure without her usual covert glances.

Maura turned and caught the hunger in Jane’s eyes. Being the object of desire was not new to Maura, who knew her figure and clothing demanded attention.  She also found it gave her an advantage to control the dynamic in the bedroom, which gave her pleasure.  But control was not what was on her mind at the moment, Jane’s comfort and pleasure was as she anxiously waited for Jane to make the next move.

Jane confidently stepped closer and pulled their bodies together.  Having Maura in her arms was a heady feeling, which Jane intended to fully enjoy.  She gently cradled Maura’s head as she leaned in and fully savored her mouth.

The love and care Jane imparted in her kiss made Maura nearly swoon.  There was no doubt in Maura’s mind that she and Jane would be making love and experiencing “God’s gift to mankind.”

Jane pulled back and glanced down at Maura’s blouse, then looked at her expectantly.

Maura nodded mutely as she basked in the confident aura of Jane, who proceeded to disrobe her soon-to-be lover.  It was tremendously arousing to have Jane divest her of her clothing.  She was pleased Jane did not rush so she could delight in the potent anticipation.

Jane slowly pulled Maura’s top up from the confines of her skirt, while indulging in a sensuous kiss.  She leaned back and looked into Maura’s eyes as her nimble fingers confidently unfastened the first button, which revealed a glimpse of her lacy bra.  She gently traced her fingers over Maura’s neck, down to her cleavage, and over the ample swell at the edge of her bra.  Maura sucked in an uneasy breath at the deliberate and deliciously slow exploration of her flesh.  Jane kissed where her fingers had caressed and unbuttoned the remaining buttons.

Feeling Jane’s lips on her collarbone, and the warm mouth tasting her, she shuddered.  She could feel Jane’s lips curve into a deservedly proud smile.  All over her body her nerve endings came alive, especially at the juncture of her legs, where arousal was pooling.

Jane slipped her fingers beneath the blouse at Maura’s shoulders and let the blouse drop to the floor.  Her gaze dropped to the floor an uncertain moment.

Maura suddenly redirected her attention with a firm hand on her chin before hungrily possessing her lips; her patience was at an end.  Maura now intent on divesting Jane of her clothing grabbed the bottom of her yoga top and pulled it up.  Stepping back slightly, Maura pulled up further, Jane got the hint and lifted her arms.

The normally fastidious Doctor pulled off the top and unceremoniously discarded it with a carefree toss to the floor.  Jane’s amusement was cut short when she was suddenly pushed against the bed and fell back.

Maura wasted no time removing Jane’s shoes and socks, then pants, leaving her in just her underwear.  Jane sat up as Maura kicked off her heals.  She grabbed Maura’s hands as they started to remove the skirt.  After looking into Jane’s eyes and seeing the slight shake of her head, Maura understood Jane wanted that pleasure.  Standing silently with one hand on Jane’s shoulder for balance, she allowed Jane to remove her skirt, then hose.  She sucked in an uneasy breath as Jane kissed up her ticklish stomach, causing goosebumps across her skin.

Reaching behind Maura’s back, Jane grabbed her bra on either side of the clasp and looked into Maura’s eyes questioningly.  Receiving an encouraging nod, Jane unhooked and removed the bra, releasing what had to be the most beautiful breasts Jane had ever seen. Reaching up, Jane’s fingers glided down the valley of Maura’s chest before both hands cupped the ample flesh.  She rubbed her thumbs over the nipples, which stood firmly out, asking to be suckled.  To Maura’s surprise, Jane refrained as she guided Maura’s hands to the back of her bra.  Maura gladly carried out the request and removed Jane’s bra as she kissed her.

With the bra tossed aside, Maura’s hand rested against Jane’s chest as she slightly pushed, prompting Jane to move further back as Maura crawled onto the bed and straddled her.

Jane pulled Maura down to her.  The contact of flesh against flesh and the searing kiss made each woman moan.  Maura broke it off when she needed air, then proceeded to pepper kisses down Jane’s chest until she reached a hardened nipple, which she took in her mouth and sucked, prompting a hiss from Jane. “God!”

A skilled tongue lapped at the peaks, between nibbling and suckling, inflaming Jane’s arousal.  No one had ever caused her to get so wet from just teasing and caressing her breasts.

“Maura…,” she moaned, her hand cradling the back of Maura’s head, as if she was afraid she would stop.  But Maura was enjoying herself too much, humming a contented “mmmm” against the skin, the vibrations amplifying Jane’s pleasure.

“Maura . . . I’m close,” Jane hissed, amazed it was possible to climax without touching her sex.

Maura stopped, causing Jane to object. “Maura….”

She smiled knowingly and slid down Jane’s long form, taking her panties with her.  “God,” Jane blurted, squirming with need.  Jane moaned when Maura parted her legs, allowing the cooler air to wash over her hot, wet center.  “Oh God,” she cried when Maura blew against her, the light puff causing her to tremble.

Jane almost shot up off the bed when Maura kissed her way up her inner thigh, approaching the drenched source of her need.

“Jane,” Maura said reverently, inhaling in the intoxicating scent that was Jane before tasting her.

“Ahh!” Jane cried as a firm tongue lapped up her abundant arousal and teased her to further heights. Close to climax, Jane felt Maura’s fingers enter her as her mouth firmly sucked.  It didn’t take many strokes before Jane was pushed over the edge.

Though Jane’s muscles contracted tightly around her fingers, there was abundant lubrication; Maura continued to firmly stroke her.  As Jane came off of her high, she felt another stirring start in her loins.  Maura continued, determined to coax a second climax.  “Jesus,” Jane hissed as it welled up so close after her first.

Grabbing the sheets in her hands, Jane cried out “Maura” as the wave of pleasure crashed down on her.

Maura smiled as she kissed her way up Jane’s long body that trembled from the aftershocks.  She cuddled up to Jane, finding herself wrapped in long arms.  “Wow,” Jane whispered, kissing Maura’s temple as she tried to catch her breath.

Maura smiled happily and propped herself up onto an elbow to look down at the sated Detective whose dark mane fanned out wildly against the pillow – a sight she drank in.  She cupped Jane’s cheek.  Lowered herself to her lips, she tenderly kissed her. “I love you, Jane,” she whispered as she pulled back and looked into dark eyes.

Jane reached up and tucked a stray lock behind Maura’s ear with a smile. “Good.  That makes us even.”

Maura smiled brightly.

“Well, not exactly even,” Jane amended, allowing her hand to travel down over Maura’s bare back to her perfect rear.  “Overdressed,” she said with disapproval, sliding her fingers under the silk panties Maura still wore and cupped her cheek, giving a healthy squeeze.

Maura chuckled.  “Sorry, I was distracted,” she offered with a slight smirk as Jane slowly rolled them over so Maura was beneath her.

“Good thing that’s an easy fix,” Jane offered.

“Hmm.  You are a problem solver.  I admire that about you,” Maura responded with a smile.

With a small nudge from Jane, Maura lifted her hips, allowing Jane to remove the last stitch of clothing and discard it to the floor with the rest.

“Problem solved,” Jane said with a smirk.

“My hero,” Maura said with amusement that faded when she saw the serious look on Jane’s face.

“I want to be that person for you,” Jane said, settling back on top of her and looking at her with clear love.  “I want to be the one you come to . . . when you have a problem, when you need something, when you just . . . want.  I want you to know you can rely on me . . . for anything,” she vowed.

Maura’s response concerned Jane, who was unaware emotion had rendered speech impossible at the moment.

“Hey, you ok, sweetie?” Jane said softly, her thumb wiping an errant tear.

“I just . . . this is real,” Maura said and swallowed.

“Yeah,” Jane said, kissing her damp cheek, then the other before focusing on what had to be the most sensuous lips and perfect mouth she had ever kissed. Maura’s hand combed through Jane’s untamed mane as she pulled her in as their kiss deepened.

“Ahh,” Maura hissed in pleasure when Jane’s long fingers slid through her wetness and entered her, stroking her perfectly, stoking her arousal higher and higher.

“You feel . . . so . . . fucking . . . good,” Jane whispered between warm wet kisses to her neck.

“Feeling’s . . . mu . . . tuahhhl,” Maura responded with difficulty, her body humming.

Jane’s kisses migrated down her chest and paused at her breasts, where she lavished warm wet attention. Maura’s hand shot out to hold Jane’s head where it was as she arched into Jane’s mouth.

“Jane,” Maura hissed, feeling her release eminent, her hands roughly grabbed the sheets as she shut her eyes.

Jane peppered kisses up her chest as she continued her confident strokes through her wet center.

“Look at me,” Jane whispered, determined to watch Maura’s beautiful face as she peaked.

Maura obeyed and looked into deep chocolate eyes that were full of love - a love that washed over her.

“Hold onto me,” Jane said, prompting Maura to grab her back; her nails digging into flesh caused Jane to moan.

That sound was all it took to push her over the edge. Sucking in a breath, she exhaled raggedly as her body shuddered in pleasure, releasing a surprising gush that drenched Jane’s hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jane said reverently, her heart swelling with joy.

They looked at each other a reverent moment, basking in their intimate connection.  When Jane tried to withdraw, Maura’s hand reached down.  “Stay,” she whispered getting a slight nod; Jane’s fingers remained snugly inside, slowly resuming her strokes.  Maura reached up and lovingly caressed her face.

“Words seem . . . inadequate,” Maura admitted as Jane leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder.

Jane nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged slightly.  “I’ve always thought actions speak louder anyway,” she offered with a smile, punctuating that thought with a firmer stroke.

“Speak to me again, Jane,” Maura challenged with amusement.

Jane grinned slightly, taking her up on that challenge, determined her actions would speak very loudly until they were both too weak to move.

***

The alarm clock jarred Maura awake.  With a cringe at the loud noise, Maura blinked away her grogginess as she rolled onto Jane’s side of the bed.  Immediately realizing it was empty, she frowned and sluggishly searched for the off button on the vile contraption, wondering why Jane didn’t have a sensible clock radio set to more soothing classical music.

“Sorry about that,” Jane said, returning to the room in a tee shirt and shorts.  “Forgot to turn it off,” she said apologetically, quickly turning it off.  She sat on the edge of the bed, grinning at Maura who unceremoniously flopped back down on her stomach.

“I didn’t know you got up,” Maura muttered into the pillow.

“I told you I was going to make breakfast and you could sleep in,” she said with amusement.  “You looked like you needed it.”

“Really?” Maura asked, propping herself up on her elbows, looking around curiously, trying to recall that conversation.

“Yeah.  But I forgot about the alarm,” Jane said guiltily.

“Uhngk,” Maura said, rolling on her back and throwing a forearm over her eyes.  Jane laughed, admiring the nice view of her breasts.

“Well you can still sleep in while I make breakfast.  How does that sound?” Jane said, kissing her elbow as she pulled the sheet up over her so she wouldn’t shiver.

Maura looked at her curiously. “You are surprisingly energetic.”

“And you aren’t,” Jane chuckled with immense satisfaction, earning a whack of a pillow, then another. “Whoa,” she laughed.  “Careful, I’ll arrest you for domestic violence.”

Maura stopped and perked up.  “Will that involve handcuffs?” She asked with clear interest, stunning Jane.

“Uh…why don’t we cross that bridge later,” Jane said uneasily.

Maura sat up and placed a warm hand on Jane’s leg.  “I don’t want you to do anything that will make you uncomfortable, Jane,” she said sincerely.

Jane nodded.  “Thanks.  I just . . . I’m not so sure about the restraint thing,” she said softly, glancing down at her scarred hands.

Maura caressed her leg with a nod.  “I understand.  How do you feel about toys?” she asked curiously.

“Uh . . . well, I’ve never used them,” Jane said with embarrassment, surprising Maura, causing her to amplify. “With anyone else,” she muttered.

Maura smiled at her suddenly shy Detective. “If they make you uncomfortable, I won’t mention them again.”

“I didn’t say no . . . I’m not a prude,” she said worriedly.

“I would never accuse you of being a prude, Jane. Especially after last night,” Maura said with an amused smile, leaning in for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Maura returned to her home late-morning feeling terribly blue having left Jane after the wonderful night, and morning they shared.  She left, not wanting Jane to think she was too needy or insecure after their lovemaking by giving into her desire to not let Jane out of her sight . . . or bed.  She knew Jane didn’t appreciate smothering; Angela was one clear example.  So to avoid Jane pushing her away, she left.  But she had not realized how much she could miss Jane - until she entered her home.  It was a physical ache.

Her mother, Angela, and Frankie, who were eating brunch, immediately noticed the sad face.

“Uh oh,” Frankie muttered under his breath.

“Maura darling, what’s wrong?” Constance immediately went to her daughter’s side, quickly followed by Angela.

Frankie winced, suspecting who was to blame.

“What did she do this time??” Angela moaned accusingly, just knowing it was Jane’s fault.  “Please tell me she’s not really serious about that Argentinian woman,” she grumbled.

“What?” Maura said with surprise.  “Oh, no.  No, Jane isn’t serious about her,” she said confidently.

“But they kissed…” Angela said in confusion, glancing to Constance.

“Mother, what else did you tell her?” Maura hissed with annoyance.

Frankie looked at the women with surprise, having thought the tabloids had been totally wrong about Jane and the pianist.

“Sorry dear, I just thought Angela should be aware of Jane’s . . . interests,” she said uncomfortably.

“She’s an idiot if she can’t see what’s right in front of her,” Angela offered, motioning to Maura.  Constance graced Angela with a small smile.

“Jane’s not an idiot,” Maura argued firmly.  “She’s . . . ,” she started firmly but hesitated.  “Well … she’s,” she continued uncomfortably, uncertain how much to say. They hadn’t discussed what to tell anyone.  They were too busy for a lengthy conversation, she considered.

“Annoying?” Angela offered.  Frankie snorted.

Maura blinked.  “No that’s not what I was . . .” she said with irritation.

“Aggravatingly indecisive?” Angela suggested helpfully.

“No.  Not at all . . . ,” Maura said confidently.

“Then what is she?” Angela badgered.

“She’s with me!” Maura finally blurted, slightly wincing from the surprised looks, hoping it wasn’t a bad sign. “Well, uh . . . we’ve . . . talked and decided to see each other . . . ,” she said, noticing Angela’s confused look. “Date,” she explained awkwardly.  “We’re dating,” she said more firmly.

“Hey, congratulations.  You guys are good for each other,” Frankie said sincerely, getting a relieved smile from Maura.

“So why the long face when you came home?” Constance asked curiously, briefly glancing to Angela, then back to her daughter.

“Oh honey!” Angela gushed sympathetically.  “I’m so so sorry.  But I’m sure in time, she’ll get better,” Angela encouraged with a weak smile.

“Ma!” Frankie gasped, horrified.

“Better?” Maura asked, truly baffled.  And Maura did not like that feeling.

“In bed, darling,” Constance clarified quietly and patted her shoulder in awkward sympathetically.

“Whoa, look at the time!!” Frankie said, inspecting his watch-less wrist as he grabbed his jacket.  “Later MA!” he called out as he fled from Maura’s home and a conversation a brother did not need to hear about his sister.

“What’s with him?” Angela asked curiously, looking at Constance.

“I would imagine he doesn’t want to hear about his sister’s sex life,” Constance offered.

“Or attempts at one,” Angela added with a heavy sigh, shaking her head.

“Angela!  I have no complaints about Jane’s performance in bed,” Maura said emphatically, needing to counter that ridiculous notion.  Then realizing what she had just admitted, she frowned slightly, really wishing she and Jane had discussed what to tell people.

“Of course not dear,” Angela said warmly, patting her cheek.  “You’ve got a sweet and understanding daughter, Connie,” Angela said, glancing to the elder Isles with a sigh.

“Thank you, Angela,” she said with a smile and turned to her daughter.  “On the bright side, Maura, Jane strikes me as a quick study,” she said helpfully.

Maura took an irritated breath to tell her Jane didn’t need any study but Angela interjected, “Well, in most things. Except for ballet, which is a whole other story,” she amended, shaking her head.

“Who knew the “tango” or “horizontal mambo,” she said with finger quotes, “would also be a problem for her?” Angela lamented, gaining an understanding nod from Constance, who looked at her daughter sympathetically.

Maura’s mouth dropped as she looked between the two older women, unable to fathom how they could possibly jump to such terribly erroneous conclusions so quickly.

“Angela, for your information…” Maura blurted with exasperation but was interrupted by her phone ringing. “Excuse me,” she growled and briskly grabbed her phone from her handbag.

She was actually thankful to hear the ring, though felt slightly guilty that the possible misfortune of another was providing her with a reprieve.  “Isles,” she answered tersely as she marched to her bedroom and shut the door.

“You OK?” Jane asked with concern.

“Jane,” she exhaled with relief.  “I am now,” she said, the sound of Jane’s voice immediately soothing her unease.

“You know, I realized when you left the apartment you were going to face our mothers alone,” Jane said guiltily.

“Actually, Frankie was here too.”

“Oh.  That’s good, right?”

“It didn’t help,” Maura said flatly.

“Sorry.”

“I . . . told them.  About us,” Maura said uneasily, waiting for Jane’s response.

“Well, that saves me the trouble,” Jane said.

“You’re not mad?” Maura said with surprise.

“We’re together now.  I’m not going to hide that from anyone.  Especially family.  So . . . uh, what did Ma have to say?” She said uneasily.

“I don’t think you want to know.”

“Geeze, I’m sorry Maura.  I’ll talk to her and tell her to lay off and that I don’t give a flying…”

“She isn’t upset about us being together, Jane.  And Frankie was genuinely happy.  And my mother already approves of you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Uh . . . so you don’t need me to come by and rescue you?” Jane asked awkwardly.

“I’ll always need that.  Wait . . . don’t you have to visit Ms. Calderón and prepare for tonight?” Maura asked, not wanting to be selfish.

“No.  All I need is some help with the wire.  You think you’re up to that challenge?”

“I believe I am,” she offered, then frowned.  “Who’s . . . helping Ms. Calderón?” Maura asked, not wanting Jane to be placed in that position.

“Bailey and Teresa from Vice,” Jane responded with a small knowing smile.

“Good,” Maura said firmly, relieved.

“See you in a few minutes,” Jane announced happily.

“Jane, I don’t want you to break the speed limit - it takes at least twenty,” Maura countered, though she was warmed by Jane’s eagerness to come.

“Yeah.  Well, I left a few minutes after you did,” Jane admitted uncomfortably.

“You did??”

“Uh . . . I don’t want you think that I’m all clingy or anything but…I really hated seeing you leave this morning,” Jane confessed.

“Oh Jane,” Maura gushed happily.  “I felt the same way leaving.”

“Yeah?” Jane said, feeling ridiculously happy.

“Yeah,” Maura confirmed warmly.

Chuckling, Jane offered with amusement “Man, are we a pair of codependents or what?”

“A pair of anything sounds delightful to me,” Maura said with a big smile.

The doorbell rang.

“Guess who?” Jane joked.

***

“Jane, what a lovely surprise,” Constance answered the door with a pleased smile, inviting her in.

“Good morning, Constance,” Jane said with a smile as Angela joined them by the door.

“Janie!  Maura told us you finally came to your senses.  It’s about time,” Angela lectured, leaning in to kiss her daughter on the cheek.

“Glad you approve,” Jane said cautiously, eyeing her mother, then Constance, who offered a warm smile.

“Why wouldn’t I approve?  I just want you happy and Maura is a lovely woman,” Angela scoffed, then noticed her daughter's gaze hone in on Maura, who had returned from the bedroom in a new dress.

“Lovely,” Jane sighed softly, looking Maura over from head to toe.

Angela smirked at her daughter, who was so clearly enamored with Maura.

“You look great,” Jane said as Maura approached her with a radiant smile, and garment bag, which Jane took, letting their fingers brush together as Jane gave her a tender kiss on the lips.

Angela and Constance glanced at each other with satisfied smiles.

“Thank you,” Maura said warmly.

“Let’s go,” Jane said with a happy smile.

“What?  Can’t you stay and visit your mother for a minute?” Angela groused with a frown.

Seeing Maura tense, Jane took her hand.  “Not now, Ma. Maura and I . . . have to go - but I’ll see you tonight at the concert and post performance reception, right?” Jane said, sparing a brief glance for her mother, though her eyes preferred to appreciate Maura.

“Yeah, yeah.  Go on, forget about your mother,” Angela grumbled.

“Love ya, Ma,” Jane said, placing a quick peck on her cheek, then glanced to Maura. “Ready?”

“Very,” Maura answered truthfully.  “Mother, I’ll see you tonight,” she said, placing a kiss on Constance’s cheek.

“Have fun, you two,” Constance offered, noticing Jane stood a little closer to Maura with a hand at her back as they left.  A very satisfied smile emerged as she glanced at Angela, who suddenly rushed to the window to peek through the blinds to watch her daughter walk Maura to the car.

Constance joined her at the window and watched as Jane efficiently placed the garment bag in the back seat and opened the car door for her daughter.  “Oh, she is very chivalrous, isn’t she?” she noted approvingly.

“Well, Maura’s a real lady and brings it out in her,” Angela offered.  “Whoa,” she said, seeing her daughter wrap an arm around Maura and pull her into a heated kiss.

“It is hard to believe that Jane would be lacking in the boudoir,” Constance noted as she observed the woman’s public display of affection for her daughter, though to be fair the parking lot was not exactly open to the general public.  “She does seem . . . eager enough,” she offered, confused by the contradiction.

Angela glanced at Constance with an evil chuckle.

“Oh!  You never did think she was lacking,” Constance realized with surprise, then chuckled with great amusement.  “Maura looked more flustered than I’ve ever seen her.  And it was quite impressive how quickly you got Frankie to vacate the premises,” she offered, tipping her imaginary hat towards her.

Angela smirked proudly. “The joys of motherhood.”

Constance shook her head and laughed.

***

“Thank you . . . for rescuing . . . me,” Maura said between kisses by the car.

“Was it really that bad?” Jane asked, pulling back to search her eyes.  The immediate glare made her wince.  “Sorry.”

“So!  Where are you taking me?” Maura asked brightly.

“Where do you want to go?” Jane smiled.

Maura grinned as she leaned towards Jane’s ear. “Wherever you want to go,” she whispered before suckling her earlobe.

***

“Jane?  We’ve got to get up,” Maura announced, reluctantly disengaging herself from Jane’s nude form.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Jane argued, tightening her hold and stubbornly refusing to budge from her comfortable spot on her bed.

“We’ve got to get dressed,” Maura tried again with a small smile.

“Clothes are overrated,” Jane declared, tracing her hand over Maura’s side.

“While I tend to agree for certain circumstances, I don’t think Symphony Hall will ever be one of them.”

“Really?  Not even in a private box?” Jane asked curiously.

“There are no private boxes at the Symphony.”

“Well there should be.”

“Jane!  There’s only two and a half hours before you need to be there,” Maura said with exasperation.

“Exactly.  Plenty of time,” Jane said, kissing Maura’s shoulder.

“That’s barely enough time to get ready.  And you have the wire to put on and test it.  And my hair!” Maura said worriedly.  “We need to start getting ready,” she said again. “Please.”

Jane groaned and released her. “Okay, okay,” she acquiesced and got up.  “We could save time showering together,” she offered with a sparkle in her eye.

“That will not save any time, water, or bathing products,” Maura countered with certainty, getting up and marching over to the closet.

“Don’t you need a test for that hypothesis?” Jane asked innocently, motioning to the bathroom as she glanced over Maura’s nude form with appreciation.

“In this case?  No,” Maura said, eyeing the detective.  “You go first and I’ll make something light for us to snack on,” she said, slipping on a short robe.

Jane stared at her a moment with a frown before sighing with disappointment.

“Jane?” Maura said, walking towards her.  She buried herself in Jane’s ready embrace.  “I love you,” she sighed softly into her neck.

Jane smiled and squeezed her more tightly, kissing her forehead.

As she pulled back, Jane sought her lips.  “Jane!” She protested, placing firm hands against her chest. “Shower. Now.”

“Aw Maur,” Jane pouted.

***

“So?” Jane asked, turning away from her full-length bedroom mirror as she looked down at her deep red dress.

“You look beautiful,” Maura readily offered with a smile, delighted whenever Jane dressed up.  They did make a striking couple, Maura considered, having picked a simple black ensemble to best match Jane’s attire.

“I mean the wire.  Can you see it?” Jane asked, once again touching the small microphone tucked beneath the edge of her bra at the top of her breast.  The earpiece was well hidden under her long mane.

“No. But I would advise you stop touching it.”

Jane briefly glared at her then looked at the clock.  “Ready?”

“I don’t like this,” Maura admitted with a frown.

“We need a confession,” Jane responded simply and shrugged, grabbing her purse.

“Really?  Do you really need it tonight?  Can’t you wait for Barry to search his financial records?  Or the Argentinian government to find more evidence?  Or…” Maura rattled off.

“Maura,” Jane interjected firmly.  “There is an opportunity now.  I really think I can rattle his cage,” she said confidently.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Maura said worriedly.

“Maura, this is my job.  This is what I do.  I thought you understood that,” Jane said with growing concern.  “This . . . isn’t going to be a problem for you.  Is it?” she asked nervously, not sure what she would do if Maura objected to her doing her job as she saw fit.

Maura looked at her with surprise.  “Jane, I love you and I don’t expect you to change who you are,” she said, causing Jane to exhale with relief.  “But don’t expect me to change.  I will always worry about you.  And I will tell you my feelings about your actions.  I will ask that you be careful.  That won’t be a problem for you, will it?” Maura asked bluntly.

Jane looked at her a moment before a small smile emerged. “As long as it’s not nagging, I’m good.”

“Good.”

Jane started to lean in for a kiss but felt two hands on her shoulders, preventing her. “Jane!”

“What?!?”

“You’ll smudge our lipstick!”

“I hate lipstick,” Jane muttered.

***

Jane and Maura arrived at Symphony Hall.  There was an excitement in the air as a large crowd of people milled about the lobby prior to the concert.  Jane had heard it was sold out, like every performance, weeks ago; she was impressed with Constance’s ability to still get last-minute tickets.

“Janie!” Angela cried, rushing up to them with Constance in tow.

“Oh God,” Jane moaned, receiving a sympathetic look from Maura.

“You look beautiful!  Look at you!” Angela gushed, making a big production of inspecting her daughter from head to Louboutin-covered toe.

“Ma!  Would you stop!!” she hissed with embarrassment, seeing some patrons glance at the spectacle with disapproval.

“What??  Can’t a mother enjoy seeing her only daughter dressed up in a designer dress?!?” Angela said defensively.

Jane just glared at her.

“You look wonderful, darling,” Constance said, kissing her daughter’s cheek lightly.

“Thank you mother.  And you look stunning as always,” Maura said warmly.  “And that green dress is perfect on you Angela,” Maura said, making the elder Rizzoli beam.

“See??  That’s the way you should treat your mother. You should take notes,” Angela advised Jane, who rolled her eyes.

“You do look really good, Ma,” Jane offered, glancing over her dress and shoes. “Classy.”

“Better,” Angela grumbled.

“Ladies.”  A familiar male voice caused them to turn and find Vincent Korsak joining them - in a tuxedo.  “Whoa!  You actually are in a penguin suit!” Jane said with a smile.

“Yes, well,” he said, looking down at himself self-consciously.

“Don’t listen to her.  She needs to practice giving compliments.  You look very dashing, Vincent,” Angela said with a warm smile.

“Thank you, Angela.  You look very beautiful,” he said quietly with a small blush, then noted Jane eye him.  “Uh, you ladies all do,” he said with a smile.  “Well, duty calls,” he motioned absently behind him and quickly left.

“Can you be more rude?!?” Angela hissed at her daughter.

“Me?  What did I do?”

“You made him run off, is what you did.”

“He has work to do.  So do I, for that matter,” Jane said and looked at Maura.  “Wish me luck?” she asked softly.

“Good luck,” Maura said, getting a small peck on her cheek and a whispered, “I love you,” before Jane was off.  Maura couldn’t help but sigh contentedly as she watched Jane leave.

“Happiness suits you,” Constance offered with a smile.

Maura looked at her mother and beamed. “Shall we?” Maura motioned towards the auditorium.

***

In a small supply room off the reception area, Frankie and Frost checked their gear over for the twentieth time.  “Jane gets to dress up and I get the stuffy closet,” Frankie grumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the folding metal chair next to the folding table with their gear on it.

“I’m done with closets at this point in my career, bro,” Jane said quietly with a small smile.

Frankie snorted.

“Good. Reception is still good,” Frost said with a smile.

“Where are you?” Frankie asked.

“Back stage. I haven’t seen Trejo yet. Ah, speak of the devil. He’s here with Martha.”

“Good luck,” Frankie and Frost said simultaneously, then looked at each other.

***

“Thanks,” Jane said and smiled as Martha approached with Roberto, who frowned at the Detective.

“Jane, I’m surprised to see you so soon after the accident. How are you feeling?” Martha asked, kissing her cheeks in greeting.

“Ms. Calderón is coming in loud and clear,” Frost said.

The voice in Martha’s ear was mildly comforting.  She and Jane had help if needed.

“Good,” Jane responded. “How’s Lidia holding up?” she asked, looking between the two Argentinians. Roberto seemed bored.

“As well as can be expected.  It’s all still such a shock.”

“But the show must go on,” Jane offered.

“Yes.  It is what keeps me going,” she responded quietly.

“So Detective,” Trejo piped up.  “Will we be able to meet our final concert destination in Bar Harbor now that you have apprehended the murderer?” He eyed her in challenge.

“I don’t see why not.  I look forward to the concert,” she said with a smile.

“You . . . what?” he said in surprise.

“Jane has decided to keep me company while we finish our American tour.  Isn’t that wonderful, Roberto?” Martha gushed and watched her long-time manager glare at her, clearly not in agreement.  “I’ll get to work with her on her music and . . . ,” she added, then stopped as he shook his head and marched off.

“Roberto!  What’s wrong?”

He stopped and turned back. “You and your distracting projects! Must you insist on wasting your valuable time on her??” he said incredulously, motioning to Jane.  “An American Detective?  Bah!” he spat.

Martha watched him storm off and wrapped her arms around herself, still finding it hard to believe the blustering and disagreeable agent could be involved in killing someone.

After a silent moment, Jane asked softly.  “You ok?”

“No!  I’m a nervous wreck!” She blurted miserably, trembling.

“Martha, look at me,” Jane said firmly, gaining her attention. “If this is too much, I’ll call it off now.  We’ll keep our presence here for your safety, but not engage him further. We might get lucky with other evidence.”

Frost and Frankie looked at each other, surprised by Jane’s offer.

“No. No,” she said softly, shaking her head.  “The show must go on,” she said, gathering her courage and taking Jane’s hand in hers.

“If you’re sure,” Jane said, eyeing her.

“That’s the only thing I am sure of,” Martha said absently, squeezing Jane’s hand before releasing it and shutting her eyes to mentally prepare for the upcoming performance.

“Guys, cut Martha’s mike and earpiece for the performance,” Jane said quietly.

“Done,” Frost said. “Would you have actually called this off?”

“Shh,” Jane said.

***

The audience stood, clapping enthusiastically as the virtuoso bowed. The orchestra also clapped for their honored guest. “Brava!” was cheered.

Angela also stood, flanked by Maura and Constance.  “Who knew it could be like a ball game?” Angela relayed her surprise to Constance, who smiled.

“Encore!  Encore!” came the next round of cheering.

“Well she earned it, don’t you think?” Constance offered, getting a nod from Angela as they sat.

Martha Calderón consented to the audience’s request with a gracious nod and returned to her piano bench, rousing another delighted cheer and round of applause as the audience sat and quickly quieted in anxious anticipation for another treat from the virtuoso.

Firm strokes of the keys sounded and Angela smiled brightly.  “I know this one!” She said enthusiastically, a little too loudly, getting shushed by one of the people sitting behind her.  Angela winced in embarrassment.

Maura frowned, now curious about Angela’s excitement about recognizing Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6, knowing she’d have to wait until its end to get her answer.

***

After Martha Calderón left the stage and the house lights were brightened, the audience began to leave the hall as a small group of about forty influential patrons and important people migrated to the reception at the back in Hatch hall.

Jane stood in the wings and smiled. “That was awesome,” she said as Martha approached her with a smile.

Her music had calmed her; Martha almost felt normal. “Thank you,” she said easily and walked up to Jane and slipped her arms around her.

“Uh . . . Martha,” Jane said uncomfortably, gently disengaging and stepping back.

“Not while working, I understand,” Martha said with a small smile.

“Actually, it’s Maura,” Jane said with an apologetic look.

Martha’s smile faded.

“What about Maura?” Frost asked Frankie, who smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Get out!” Frost said in happy surprise that Jane finally did something about her attraction to Maura.

“I see,” Martha said with a disappointed sigh, having known the relationship between the two was close.

“I’m sorry, Martha. I never meant to lead you on…” Jane said, causing Martha to roll her eyes.

“The tabloids got something right?” Frost blurted with surprise.

“Well Jane did kiss her,” Frankie offered.

“Martha or Maura?”

“Both.”

“Damn.”

Jane exhaled with irritation.

“Jane, there is no need to apologize; I pursued you.  I really do wish you happiness,” she offered sincerely.  “But I had hoped it would be with me,” she added with a sad smile.

Jane nodded weakly and opened her purse.  Next to her weapon and badge was a folded piece of paper, which she pulled out.  She shyly handed it to her.

Martha opened it up and read the aged flyer to her first Boston performance.  She glanced at it in confusion before it dawned on her.  She looked at Jane pointedly before laughing with delight. “I knew it!”

“What did she know?” Frankie asked Frost absently.  He shrugged with frustration.

“You were a big inspiration then . . . and now,” Jane said sincerely, receiving a pleased smile.

“Inspiration for what??” Frost asked.

“Maybe for asking Maura out?” Frankie shrugged, just as clueless as his friend.

“Would you two shut up?!?” Jane finally hissed into her microphone.

“I had forgotten about them,” Martha gasped with wide eyes. “I’m sorry if I . . . ,” she winced with worry, getting Jane to wave a dismissive hand to stop her apology.

“If you two could stop your yapping for a minute and turn Martha’s gear back on, I’d really appreciate it,” Jane said tersely.

“Done,” Frost quickly said.

“Shall we?” Jane said, motioning towards the reception area.

Chapter Text

When Jane and Martha walked into the Hatch Room, the small gathering clapped enthusiastically.  Jane spotted Trejo over by one of the bars, drink in hand as he talked with one of the servers, who nodded and promptly left.

“This is kind of exciting,” Angela admitted to Constance and Maura, who smiled at the elder Rizzoli as they watched Jane from across the room.

After the clapping died down, a photographer stepped up and took a few shots of the guest of honor, prompting Martha to slip an arm around Jane’s back and smile brightly.

Angela looked alarmed.

“It’s all right, Angela,” Maura said confidently, placing a hand on her forearm.  “I trust Jane implicitly.”

Angela nodded weakly, watching her daughter go to the bar alone as Martha Calderón mingled with fans and supporters, with the photographer following, taking several shots of her with the guests.

“Drinks, ladies?” Korsak said politely, appearing by their side with a tray of Champagne.

“Why thank you, Vincent,” Constance said warmly, taking a glass.  “You do look very dashing this evening,” she noted, getting a pleased smile from the Detective and a slight frown from Angela.

**

“Not going to partake, Detective?” Trejo asked briskly, getting another double.  “Teetotaler?” he questioned, eyeing her club soda.

“Nah,” Jane said dismissively.  “I’m just a bit jumpy after the hit and run.  I want to be sharp.”

“Hmm,” he said, taking a sip.

“It’s a shame Emilio confessed then stopped talking.  He lawyered up pretty quick,” Jane offered, sipping her soda.

“If he confessed, what else do you need to know?” Trejo asked conversationally, gazing out over the gathering as he sipped his drink.

**

“So Angela, you seemed to know the encore piece Ms. Calderón was playing,” Maura said, taking the final glass.

“Yeah.  I remember every song Janie played but don’t ask me its name, I’m no good remembering that stuff,” Angela said apologetically.  “But it was one of the three songs Janie practiced for her Boston Conservatory audition,” she said, taking a sip.

Maura blinked, wondering if she had heard right.

“Oh this is good!” Angela gushed approvingly, looking at Korsak who smiled.

“Jane auditioned for the Conservatory?” Constance asked before Maura could, sharing an amazed glance with her daughter.

Korsak looked between the women, not understanding their surprise.

“Oh no, she was practicing for their summer program.  She was like sixteen or seventeen,” Angela said dismissively, not really understanding.

“And she could play Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody Number 6??” Maura asked with astonishment.

“If that was what that encore song was, yeah,” Angela said with a shrug.  “Janie practiced really hard on that one.  I let her drop ballet to give her more time, but when it got closer to the audition, she even dropped out of track and softball to focus on practicing.  I never thought I’d see that.  The coaches and Frank were not too pleased, let me tell you,” she said with a snort.  “They think she ruined her chances for a scholarship.  But Janie didn’t care – she wanted to make her grandmother proud,” she said disapprovingly. Maura frowned curiously, thinking Angela sounded more upset with Jane wanting to please her grandmother than losing a possible scholarship.

“That summer program is very prestigious, Angela.  Only the best get in,” Constance noted, impressed.  Maura nodded absently as she imagined how focused Jane must have been, preparing for that important audition.

“Maria . . . Nonna Rizzoli thought Janie was good enough. But she didn’t get in,” Angela said sadly, shaking her head.

“Oh, that must have been terribly disappointing.  After all her hard work,” Constance said with a sympathetic wince.

**

“Well, I know that Emilio must have someone pulling the strings for him.  He isn’t smart enough to think of killing protégés on his own.  And I know Lidia isn’t cunning enough to have her brother kill for her,” Jane said conversationally and took a sip from her soda.

Trejo just stared at her.

“So I’m thinking, who is intelligent enough . . . and has the cunning necessary to eliminate the distractions to your virtuoso?  And who would benefit from the massive increase in record sales after the tragedy?” She asked with a shrug.

**

“Actually, she never auditioned,” Angela responded with a sigh.

“What happened?” Maura asked, thirsting for information about Jane.

Angela reluctantly answered.  “The day of Janie’s audition, we were waiting here, well, out in the lobby for Maria . . . but she was very late.  Jane was a nervous wreck.  And when it was about ten minutes before her audition, Janie was convinced something was really wrong.  I just thought Maria might have had a flat or couldn’t find parking, ya know? Jane was right - Maria was carjacked on her way to the audition,” Angela said, frowning at the disturbing memory.

Maura sucked in a surprised breath.

“Frank came to take us to the hospital; I never saw him look so scared in all our years of marriage,” she said, falling silent as she vividly recalled the horrible day.

“It was a real bad one,” Korsak added to help fill in the blanks.  “There were two gunmen.  A male pedestrian got killed trying to help Mrs. Rizzoli out.  She got shot too.  Died in the hospital,” he said, sighing sadly.

“Oh dear,” Constance said gravely, looking at her distraught daughter, who had erroneously thought Jane’s first personal experience with violence was when she was an adult and met Charles Hoyt.  Never would she have imagined it was so early in Jane’s life, robbing her of someone so incredibly important to her.

***

Trejo’s eyebrow rose.  “You exaggerate the increase.  The financial gain was not as one might expect for the loss of a popular artist,” he corrected her.

“Pity,” Jane said, shaking her head, feigning disappointment.

“You don’t strike me as someone who would value the business end of music.”

“I value anything that gets me out of what I’m doing now,” she said tersely, surprising the manager.  “Why should I have to live the rest of my life on what I can make as a cop? Risking my life - for what??  If you hadn’t heard, the pay and pension are not that impressive,” Jane complained.

“I’m not following,” he said, ordering another drink.

“I have an opportunity to get out of this crappy rut I’m in - with Martha.  But she is not business-minded and does not understand the full extent of her opportunities,” Jane offered, noting the interested look in his eyes, as if he agreed.  “She needs you.  And therefore, I need you.  So it is in my interest to help you with whatever trouble Emilio’s confession might bring you.  And I’m pretty sure it is in your interest to accept my help,” she ventured.

***

“My crazy mother-in-law argued with them!  She wouldn’t give up her precious Buick!  So what if it was her deceased husband’s; it was just a stupid car,” Angela hissed, unable to contain her annoyance at the woman’s horrible decision that took Frank’s mother away from him and their kids.

Maura sucked in a troubled breath and looked at her mother, who shared the same disconcerting thought; Maria Rizzoli didn’t fight over an old car because of her dead husband, but because of Jane – to be at her audition.  And as certain she was of the tremendous guilt that was born that day, Maura was certain it still haunted Jane, recalling her surprisingly strong reaction to comparing the importance of someone you love to playing the piano.

“Ya know, that was the first time I met Jane,” Vince offered. “I knew she was going to be a detective some day.  She called me or visited me every day asking a million questions about our progress in catching the second gunman, until we caught him,” he said, admiring Jane’s dedication and composure under stress even then.

Maura could not help but feel anguish for Jane, who did the only thing the teen could do to make sure her grandmother’s murderer was caught.  She blinked back the tears that formed.

“I never knew that,” Angela admitted with a frown, finding another reason to dislike her mother-in-law.

Korsak awkwardly patted Angela on the shoulder, getting a weak smile as she recalled that evening.

Maura looked at Angela incredulously, wondering how she could not have known.  With great annoyance, she turned away before she said something she would regret.  Her gaze sought Jane as she wiped a tear that managed to escape.

“Are you all right?” Constance asked softly, prompting Maura to shake her head no.

***

“I appreciate that, Detective.  But there is nothing Emilio Argerich could say about me that I am worried about.  I gave him some money to help his family.  If that is a crime, then by all means, arrest me,” he said with a smirk.

“Well, we know there’s a money trail,” Frankie said flatly.

“The timing and amounts still might be helpful,” Frost said.

“If we could just get the Argentinian government to help this century,” Frankie sighed.

“How generous of you,” Jane said with a thin smile as she got another club soda.

“I was generous with Emilio and Lidia,” he acknowledged readily. “But I am not generous when it comes to Martha’s time,” he said, his voice turning cold.  “You . . . are a distraction,” he said simply, placing his empty glass on the bar and ordering another.

Jane remained silent but eyed him with annoyance.

“Her record and performance sales have suffered because she doesn’t tour often enough; she’s not focused enough on her own career,” he noted with disapproval, sipping his new drink.

“You are not the only one thinking about what has transpired recently, Detective.  I found myself wondering how a Boston Homicide Detective, who I’ve never heard of from any of the musical circles, could be chosen as Martha Calderón’s latest protégé.  And I came up with two possibilities.  One – she’s sleeping with you and her attraction is clouding her judgment.  I’m afraid it has happened before,” he said with feigned sympathy and a dismissive shrug.

“Two – she’s helping you, not with your music, but with your job – to find out why her precious students died,” he said derisively, looking at her expectantly.

“Did anyone tell him there was more than one protégé that died?” Frankie asked with excitement.

Frost smiled. “Nope.”

Jane eyed him. “There’s a third possibility,” she offered.

“Oh?”

“My music is good enough to interest her.”

“You’ll need to show me to believe that,” he scoffed with a dismissive chuckle, irritating her more.

“Sure.  I’m free tomorrow, are you?” Jane offered, a bit disconcerted to see his smile growing.

***

“Perhaps it’s time to go home?” Constance gently asked her distressed daughter as an excited murmur erupted from the small gathering.  Four stagehands came into the Hatch Room, rolling in a Grand Piano.

Maura looked curiously across the room for Jane, finding her with Mr. Trejo, whose satisfied smile was not very comforting.  She watched curiously as Martha Calderón marched towards them, not looking very happy.

***

“Roberto! What is going on??” Martha Calderón asked with irritation.  “I told you I don’t want to play at the receptions,” Martha said tersely, having had that argument many times before.

“You don’t have to, my dear.  I thought it would be a great opportunity for you to formally introduce your newest protégé,” he said with delight, causing Martha to look at Jane with alarm.  “Attention!  Attention!” Trejo announced, glancing over the gathering that quieted.

Jane eyed him, concluding her initial assessment of the man was correct.  He was an ass.  She frowned wondering what to play.  Lidia probably told him about her playing Oblivion and Hungarian Rhapsody Number 6 was out, she considered, looking at her scarred hands that were sadly not as capable as they used to be.

“Wait!  Roberto, no.  I have not yet had time to work with her properly,” Martha hissed with quiet urgency.

“I could pull a fire alarm,” Frost said anxiously.

“Nah, Jane will pull it off,” Frankie said with confidence.

Jane had to smile at Frankie’s faith.  She hoped he was right as she glanced around the room of curious people.  She took a calming breath, not having played in front of such a discerning and expectant group before.  Drunken family members at Christmas were not hard to please, she considered, her eyes drifting to the bar for a thoughtful moment.

“I have the great privilege of introducing a new musical talent….” he said, glancing back at Jane. “. . . who Martha Calderón has decided to take on as her newest protégé! Detective Jane Rizzoli!!” He announced and started to clap and step back with an amused smile.

A surprised murmur rumbled through the group before a polite applause emerged for the Boston Detective.

Think of them naked, think of them naked, Jane silently chanted, trying to tamp down her sudden bout of nervousness.  She looked at one large man in a tuxedo and winced.  Maybe not…

Constance looked at her daughter and Angela worriedly, knowing this could go very poorly.

Maura felt nervous for Jane, recalling how nerve-wracking ballet recitals were as a child.  But she was extremely curious, having desperately wanted to hear Jane ever since she learned she could still play.

Jane’s eyes found Maura and both their nerves settled.  Jane knew what to play and gave her inspiration a small smile. Seeing Maura’s worry melt as she returned the smile and look at her with such love, Jane felt almost invincible.

Martha took a deep breath and glared at Roberto before raising her hand.  “I’m afraid that Detective Rizzoli is still recov...” she announced.

“Martha, it’s ok,” Jane interrupted loudly, causing the virtuoso to turn to her in alarm.  “I’ll play something.”

Roberto eyed her with surprise.

Martha went quickly to her side and whispered anxiously. “What are you doing??”

“Just say the word, Jane. I swear, I’ll have the building evacuated for you,” Frost said uneasily, feeling his stomach start to churn.

“Jeeze, have a little faith, will yah?” Frankie said, slapping him in the arm.

“Hey!”

“You’re gonna make her nervous talking like that,” Frankie continued with a stern look.

Frost grabbed his abused arm and glared at him.

“Trejo is cocky and has already slipped up once,” Jane said, getting a concerned look.  “He knows there was more than one protégé who died,” she explained.  “I’m sorry,” she said, getting a reluctant nod from the distressed woman, whose steadfast hope for Roberto’s innocence was just lost.  “I need to play something or I’m not likely to get anything more from him,” Jane explained.

“I understand that but . . . can you?” Martha asked worriedly.

“I’d better, or that would be embarrassing, huh?” Jane said flatly.

Martha eyed her uncertainly, noting the determined look. With a reluctant nod, she turned and plastered on a smile. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, my new protégé is not letting her accident and injuries to her hands prevent the show from going on,” Martha announced, her smile faltering slightly.  “So without further ado, Boston’s own Jane Rizzoli,” she said, gesturing with a sweep of her arm.

The photographer stepped up and took a few photos, the flash making Jane wince with irritation and Angela bite her lip guiltily.

As Jane approached the impressive instrument, she felt a bit nervous, not having played for more than family.  Lifting up the fallboard, eighty-eight deceptively simple-looking black and white keys were revealed.

Jane sat and cleared her throat as she noted the expectant group coming closer to the piano.

“Well, it’s been a long time since I took pleasure in playing,” Jane admitted uneasily, surprising the small audience.  “But I was recently inspired to play again,” she offered with a thoughtful smile, causing Martha to smile warmly.

Maura really couldn’t blame Jane for being inspired by the woman; as a non-musician, the virtuoso had inspired her. She could only imagine how much more a fellow pianist would appreciate Ms. Calderón’s talent.  But as logical as that rationale was, she still felt a twinge of jealousy.

“My Nonna . . . my grandmother, who had taught me the piano, told me what she liked most about my playing.  She said she could feel my love.  She said that was what made my playing such a wonderful gift.  Well . . . as it so happened, I needed a gift.  A really special birthday gift for someone who means everything to me,” Jane said sincerely, looking directly at Maura, who blinked with surprise, immediately wondering whether this story was for the benefit of the audience . . . or actually true.

Someone in the small gathering voiced what most thought. “That’s so sweet.”

It was Korsak, who prompted murmurs of agreement, especially from Constance and Angela, who nodded with happy sighs.

Roberto Trejo was livid, knowing the Detective was manipulating the audience with that sappy story!

“A gift way better than a Hickory Farm’s gift basket,” Jane added wryly, getting amused chuckles. Jane shrugged with a small smile.

“What’s wrong with summer sausage as a gift??” Frankie asked Frost worriedly, drawing his curious gaze.

Angela frowned, wondering what to get Maura now.

“Then I met the amazing Martha Calderón, whose talent I have always admired,” Jane said, looking at Martha with respect.  “And even though both of us know my ability will never come close to hers, she graciously offered to help me with my music, even though Martha’s manager is not exactly thrilled she’s offering to spend her valuable time helping someone no one’s heard of,” Jane said with a wry smile.  “I don’t really blame him, but I’d be crazy to pass up Ms. Calderón’s generous offer.  Unfortunately, due to some rather . . . stressful days recently . . . ,” she said, hearing a small murmur from the gathering.  “We really haven’t had much time to work on my music, so Mr. Trejo kind of put me on the spot, here,” Jane said, scratching the back of her head with a shrug, withholding a smirk.

Martha watched Jane with new appreciation; before placing fingers to keys, she was gaining the audience’s approval, managing their expectations, and making her out to be a generous romantic while turning unwanted attention to her manager.  It made her want to cheer “Brava” . . . then mourn, wishing the wonderful gift was for her.

Roberto Trejo seethed as those who recognized him and tossed disapproving glances his way.  He cast a deadly glare towards the Detective.

“But I don’t mind; I think I won’t embarrass myself or Ms. Calderón too much,” Jane said, looking out at what she hoped were sympathetic listeners.  “Maura?”

Maura stiffened with surprise, hearing her name.

“I hope you don’t mind getting your gift a week early,” Jane said with a hopeful smile, looking at her with mixed emotions.  She had truly wanted to play for her, but expected it would be in a much smaller forum, among friends and family.  And they hadn’t discussed what they were going to tell people - though she did say she wasn’t going to hide.  But thrusting Maura and their relationship into the limelight so dramatically was not exactly what she had in mind.  She just hoped Maura wasn’t mad about the excessive attention.

Maura looked at Jane, stunned as a series of flashes went off.  Jane briefly glared at the photographer with annoyance.

Maura looked uneasily at the small gathering that was now looking at her; with a weak smile, she returned her gaze to Jane.  Unable to speak, Maura looked at Jane.  Remembering she had been asked a question, Maura shook her head no. Was this really what Jane had planned to give her?

“Well, here it comes,” Jane warned with a small smirk.  “This is my rendition of Heliotrope Bouquet, by Scott Joplin,” she said, gaining some surprised murmurs from the audience for the unique choice.  “I know Maura already knows this, but for the benefit of everyone else, the floral meaning of Heliotrope is . . . devotion,” Jane announced, gaining nods of approval and smiles, even from Martha Calderón.

Maura took an uneasy breath as her emotions welled up at the tremendously touching selection; but was it truly selected for her?

Taking a moment, Jane focused on the keyboard.  Maura’s eyes were riveted to Jane’s hands, which were poised over the keys.  Then Jane began to play, her long fingers stroked the keys with confidence; the opening strains were soft, but crisp and firm.

“Have you heard this before?” Maura whispered apprehensively to Angela, looking at her expectantly, needing to know.

“Nope.” Angela answered certainly, making Maura finally believe what she had desperately hoped.

Maura shut her moist eyes and finally let the profound gift wash over her like an embrace.

Jane drove the tempo a bit faster than the composer’s intent, but Martha liked it that way.  And she did say it was her rendition, the virtuoso considered with a smile, enjoying Jane’s cheerful, slow-drag two-step.   Martha thought Jane’s selection was not only thematically appropriate, but perfect for her currently abilities, not too simple to be respected nor too complex to be played well by an out-of-practice but talented pianist.  Well done, Jane, she considered, even more curious to see what she was actually capable of.

“Kind catchy, isn’t it?” Angela added with a pleased smile, bouncing her head to the upbeat ragtime tune, enjoying the performance and that Jane looked . . . happy.

“She can play,” Frost said in surprise.

“No duh,” Frankie said, rolling his eyes before returning to bobbing his head to the beat.

Roberto Trejo’s face twisted in anger as he turned on his heels and marched out of the room, roughly pushing past a few startled listeners who had the misfortune of being in his path.  Martha watched him storm out, making her smile fade as she was reminded why Jane was here.

Maura’s eyes opened and she studied Jane’s hands, noting how powerfully elegant they appeared as her long fingers coaxed such beautiful sounds from the keys.  While not as complex and dramatic as Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6, Maura found Heliotrope Bouquet a truly lovely piece and beautifully played; it transported her to a tree-filled park, her arm in Jane’s as they strolled on a sunny spring day.  They would stop, allowing Jane to pick up an overthrown ball and toss it back to a group of children, which they would watch run around, happily laughing and playing.

Nonna Rizzoli was right again, Maura considered, able to hear the love in Jane’s music.  She could not help but feel . . . overwhelmed, a state in which she was beginning to believe Jane would forever keep her.

When the music ended with a delicate flourish, the small audience clapped happily, having enjoyed the surprising and heartfelt entertainment.  Jane smiled as she looked over to Maura.  Her smile faded as she saw tears and Maura’s discomfort, prompting her to get up from her bench and quickly navigate through the small group of well-wishers. The clapping died as people recognized something was amiss between the couple.

“Maura?” Jane asked uncertainly as joined her, searching Maura’s face.

“What’s going on??” Frost said with concern. Frankie frowned.

The group cheered with delight when the tearful woman plunged towards the Detective and kissed her soundly.

“What do yah think?” Frankie asked smugly, backhanding Frost in the arm.

“Would you quit hitting me??”

“I didn’t take you for being such a baby,” Frankie retorted.

“I did ok, huh?” Jane said with a breathless chuckle, pulling back from the kiss and tenderly wiping the tears from Maura’s cheeks.

“Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you,” she whispered earnestly, gazing into Jane’s delighted eyes before kissing her lovingly.

“Well ladies and gentlemen,” Martha Calderón announced.  “I believe that concludes our evening.  Thank you so much for being here,” she said, looking to one of the organizers, who nodded and promptly opened the doors for the attendees to leave.

Chapter Text

As the small gathering started to disperse, several people made a point of congratulating Jane on a wonderful performance.  Jane’s right arm snaked around Maura’s lower back and it was clear, overt message intended or not, that they were together.  Maura stood by her side, beaming; her own arm was draped along Jane’s back, mimicking Jane’s hold.  Though if Maura had thought to analyze her contact, she would have to admit it was a result of her need to touch Jane, not to establish possession to the many admiring people in the gathering; though she really wouldn’t mind if people interpreted her hold as an attempt to establish her territory.

Well-wishers included the District Attorney and her wife, surprising both Jane and Maura when they walked up to them hand-in-hand.

“Congratulations, Detective.  I didn’t know you had it in you,” Abigail Tarboro said with an approving smirk, glancing between the two women.

“Really?” Dawn Tarboro asked with curious surprise, causing her wife to frown slightly.

Jane chuckled.  “What can I say?  I’m incredibly lucky,” Jane offered, happily glancing at Maura, who was at her side . . . where she belonged, she considered warmly.

“Jane, that performance wasn’t luck.  You practiced,” Maura objected.

Jane grinned. “I was talking about you, Sweetie.”

Maura frowned. “I wouldn’t categorize our relationship as being a product of luck.”

“No??  Then why do I feel so lucky?” Jane warmly countered with amusement, causing Maura to ponder that question.

“I’ll leave that argument for you ladies to sort out,” Abigail chuckled.  As they walked away, her wife asked, “So you really didn’t know Detective Rizzoli was family??”

“You played beautifully, Jane,” Constance said with a warm smile for the woman who made her daughter so happy. Maura looked up at Jane with a bright smile.

“Good job, kiddo,” Vince said with a smile, glancing at Maura with a wink then back at Jane, who chucked.

“It was really wonderful, honey,” Angela gushed, proud of her daughter, who was smiling and in love - what she had always wanted for her aggravatingly independent daughter.

The photographer got closer and took a few more shots of the lovebirds.  Jane’s smile immediately disappeared as her eyes widened in surprise; she knew him.

“You!  Tabloid boy!” Jane spat angrily, pointing her finger towards the startled young man.  “I ought to arrest you for stalking!” Jane said releasing Maura from her embrace to take a menacing step towards him.

“Jane,” Angela cautioned with concern.

“I . . . ,” he sputtered, feeling like her dark eyes were boring holes into him.

“Did you get your kicks from it, huh?” Jane blurted angrily, causing him to back up nervously with each of her steps. “Taking photos and making up stories about me??”

“Jane,” Maura called softly, only easing Jane’s ire slightly.

“No . . . I,” he blurted, glancing at Angela for help.  “I was doing a favor for your Ma!”

“What??” Jane said, swiftly turning to look at her mother incredulously.  “Those articles were a favor for you??”

“I didn’t ask Danny to print anything in that Tabloid, Jane!” Angela said with exasperation, glaring at her girlfriend’s son.

“What favor?!?” Jane demanded with more frustration, looking between her mother and the photographer.

“I took the pictures like you asked,” the photographer said to Angela, then looked at Jane uncomfortably.  “But my boss saw them.  He thought they would help the paper and my career.  They did – I got a promotion,” he said weakly, lifting up his tie and camera as proof of being “respectable.”

Angela rolled her eyes.

“You might want to go now,” Korsak advised the photographer, who nodded rapidly and rushed out.

“Really, Ma?!?” Jane blurted tersely, glaring at her mother, who smile weakly with a shrug.  “Really?  You wanted pictures so bad that you got a Tabloid photographer to take them?”

Maura looked at Angela with surprise.

“I didn’t know Danny worked for a tabloid,” she said defensively.  “Debbie just said that he was a good photographer who could get good pictures indoors, outdoors, any . . . where,” Angela finished weakly with an uneasy smile, shifting uncomfortably under Jane’s angry glare.  “You looked so beautiful in that blue dress, Janie,” she whined with a pout.

“There were some really nice pictures,” Constance chimed in, making Angela smile at her gratefully.

“Mother,” Maura said tightly, glaring at her with a curt shake of the head, which was ignored.

“And she never wants her picture taken,” Angela bemoaned to her friend, rolling her eyes.  Korsak braced himself.

“It’s a shame.  She is extraordinarily photogenic,” Constance offered sympathetically, causing Maura to frown.

“I can not believe you two!!” Jane snapped, glaring between the mothers.  Constance winced slightly, never before having been on the receiving end of Jane’s fury.

“What are you complaining about?” Angela argued with some annoyance, causing Jane’s mouth to drop.

“Really?!?  You make my life was a living hell because of those pictures and you really want to know what I’m complaining about??”

“Jane,” Maura said with a cringe, placing a hand at Jane’s back, hoping to temper her anger. It did, a little.

“You should be happy he was following you!  Danny helped catch the murderer with his pictures, didn’t he?!?” Angela argued, crossing her arms across her chest.

Jane took a sharp breath to respond but her lip quivered with annoyance; her mother was right.  She growled with a glare and did an about face.  “Maura!  Let’s go,” she barked as she marched out of the room.

Maura cringed at her lover’s angry tone then glared at her own mother before following Jane out.

Angela smiled with satisfaction and looked at Constance. “She really hates it when I’m right.”

Constance nodded weakly, finding being on the receiving end of their daughters’ anger not nearly as satisfying as Angela.

***

Jane marched out of the room with Maura following.  “Jane. Jane!”

“What??” Jane snapped, stopping and turning to her lover.

Maura just looked at her curiously, making Jane feel like a jerk on top of being angry.

“Sorry,” Jane exhaled heavily.  “I didn’t mean to ruin the evening,” she offered guiltily, reaching out to take Maura’s hand.  “But I just can’t believe all that tabloid nonsense was because of…” Jane blurted as her irritation quickly resurfaced; gentle fingers against her lips interrupted her rant.

Maura stepped very close to her.  “I know you’re frustrated with Angela, understandably so.  But you have much better things to focus your energy on,” she said seductively, desire clear in her eyes.

Jane blinked.  Maura had a good point; she was a genius, after all.  “M’okay,” she mumbled under Maura’s fingers, which were replaced by soft, smiling lips.  Sheer . . . genius, Jane considered reverently as she melted into Maura.

“Jane!” Frankie shouted as he and Frost ran towards them, startling the women from their kiss.  Jane glared at him for interrupting.

“Calderón’s guard is dead,” Frankie said anxiously.

Maura could feel Jane immediately tense up.  “Where’s Martha??” Jane blurted with dread.

***

“Damn it!” Jane hissed, looking over Maura’s shoulder as she knelt by the dead body of Martha’s private security guard, Richard.  The cause of death was clear, a messy shot to the head.  “And no one heard the shot?” Jane said with annoyance as some unis placed yellow tape around the scene and kept some of the Symphony Hall staff behind the boundary.

“Probably used a silencer,” Frankie offered helpfully as Maura’s team arrived.

“No, really??” Jane snapped sarcastically, causing Frankie to wince and drop his eyes, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Jane,” Maura scolded as she stood and quietly motioned for her team to begin gathering evidence.

Jane exhaled with irritation and looked at her brother apologetically.  He shrugged it off with an understanding nod.

“I should never have let her out of my sight!” Jane hissed angrily, shaking her head.

Maura frowned, knowing that regardless of the number of police officers in the building, Jane would feel personally responsible.

“And we should have been faster when we heard her scream,” Frost said, getting a guilty nod of agreement from Frankie.

“Wait, she still has her mike and ear piece??” Jane asked with hope.

“Yeah but she’s out of range now,” Frankie said with a frown.

“But what if we’re back in range and scan the frequency, will they still work?” Jane asked urgently.

Frost glanced at her and shrugged.  “Yeah.”

“Frankie,” Jane said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Get a BOLO out with the frequency and have every patrolman look for Martha Calderón.  And let them know Trejo is armed and dangerous,” she said.

“Done!” Frankie said with a crisp nod and started to leave.

“Hold up!”  Korsak said, walking briskly towards them with Angela and Constance following behind with the photographer in tow.

“Korsak, did you have to bring them to see this?” Jane said tersely, noting their cringes as they got a glimpse of the bloody body.

“Oh my,” Constance said with a pained grimace, but kept staring.  Maura rolled her eyes, contemplating whether it would do any good to suggest that perhaps she shouldn’t look at the body if it distressed her so much.

“You actually think I’d have any better success telling them what to do?”  He scoffed, causing Jane’s eyes to narrow with annoyance, though she couldn’t argue.

He grabbed the photographer’s arm. “Tell her what you told me,” Korsak said to the young man, pulling him towards Jane.

Jane looked at Korsak with surprise, then the photographer with great interest.

“I . . . ,” Danny said nervously, looking at Jane with fear then to Korsak, who encouraged the photographer, “go on.”

“Please,” Jane urged gently, surprising the photographer. Maura smiled, knowing Jane had an impressive ability to convince reluctant people to talk.

“R…right.  I saw Ms. Calderón being pushed into a cab by her manager.  Yellow cab 145.  She looked really upset,” he said worriedly. “I didn’t think to take a picture,” he added apologetically.

“You did good, Danny.  Real good.  Thank you,” Jane said sincerely, shooting a brief glance to her pleased mother.

Maura cringed, but refrained from correcting Jane’s grammar, her gut telling her it would not be appreciated at the moment.

“I got an unmarked car following,” Korsak relayed with a smile.

“Yes!” Jane blurted, relieved something was going right. “Frankie, send out that BOLO anyway.  I don’t want to take any chances,” Jane said, getting a nod before her brother left.

“Frost, you and I are going to catch up to the unmarked car,” she said, getting a firm nod from her partner.

When they started to leave, Maura followed.  “I’m coming with you,” she announced.

Jane abruptly stopped and turned to Maura.  “Absolutely not,” she said with conviction.

Constance and Angela shared an uneasy look.  Korsak eye them worriedly.

“Jane, I’m going,” Maura countered with equal conviction.

“No!  This is not an interview, Maura.  We are going after a man with a gun, who I’m pretty damn sure killed him,” Jane said, pointing to the body Maura’s team was processing.

“But I . . . ,” Maura said, distressed by the thought of Jane going without her.

“No, Maura!  You are not a cop.  And you have a dead body to tend to, Dr. Isles,” Jane lectured irritably, making Maura wince at the tone.  “Frost, let’s go,” Jane barked impatiently and marched off.

Frost looked back at Maura uncomfortably before rushing off to join the driven detective, who was already halfway down the hallway.

Maura stared at Jane’s retreating form with a hurt look as a storm of emotions warred within her; the most disturbing was the strong feeling of dread that welled up.

“Doc?” Korsak said softly and added hesitantly, “you ok?”

Taking a deep breath, she eyed him with a forced smile. “Yes, thank you.  If you’ll excuse me, I have a body to tend to . . . as Jane pointed out,” Maura said crisply and refocused her attention to the body, which her team needed her approval to transport.  She gave it, after confirmation that photos had been taken and evidence properly collected.

Korsak frowned and looked worriedly at Constance and Angela, who remained silent as they glanced at each other uneasily.

***

“There they are,” Frost said as they finally caught up to the taxi.  Jane nodded and slowed their unmarked cruiser down to stop at the red light, four cars behind the taxi.

Jane got on the radio.  “All units, this is Victor 835.  The suspect, Yellow Cab 145, is at the corner of West Springfield and Washington.”

“Why are they south?  Wouldn’t he try for the airport or their hotel?” Frost asked Jane, who pondered the good question.

A marked patrol car crossed the intersection in front of the taxi, and kept going, without taking any action to provoke the suspect.

When the light turned green, the taxi turned left on Washington Street.

“He’s not sure what to do,” Jane concluded softly, following now only two cars behind.

***

Maura quietly sat at her kitchen counter as Constance paced and Angela vacuumed the perfectly clean rug.

Noticing her daughter just staring at her refrigerator, Constance joined her.  “Darling?  What’s going on in that head of yours?” She said with a gentle hand on her arm.

Maura looked at her with a pained expression.  “I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”

“Strong enough?” Constance asked curiously.

***

“What the…?” Frost asked, confused to see the taxi roll into a parking space by a sidewalk and stop.  “What’s he doing?”

“Well, there’s one way to find out,” Jane said, pulling up several car-lengths behind the taxi and grabbing her purse to get her gun.  “Tell all units I’m going to approach the suspect and would like them to secure the perimeter.  No flashing lights yet – I don’t want to spook him.  He was heavily drinking and is armed.”

“Jane?” Frost asked worriedly.  “Shouldn’t we get a negotiator or . . . ,” he started but was interrupted.

“I think he will respond to me,” Jane countered firmly and opened the car door to get out.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered and picked up a handheld radio, tuning it into Jane’s frequency.

***

The vacuuming stopped.  “Would you two like me to leave?” Angela offered hesitantly.

Constance looked questioningly at her daughter, who shook her head no.

“There is no need for you to leave, Angela.  I . . . I think you should know I may not be strong enough to be with Jane,” she said uncomfortably.

Constance looked aghast. “Why ever not?”

***

Frost watched as Jane slowly approached the taxi with her weapon in her hand, lowered, pointing to the ground.  He absently noted that Jane was a bit over-dressed in her dress and heels for her current endeavor as he pressed the transmit button.  “Can you hear me now?  Can you hear me now?” He said with a smirk.

“Wise ass,” she said softly before reaching the taxi.  She looked around the streets, noting her reinforcements were arriving as patrol cars pulled up.  As she requested, they kept their lights off.

“Martha?  Are you all right?” Jane asked loudly, counting on Trejo still caring for Martha in his own twisted way.  She did not seem to be the target - only her guard was killed.  If she focused on Martha and her safety, he might be receptive to letting her go.

***

“I understand,” Angela said sadly, surprising both Isles women.  “When you love someone, you hate to see them in danger.  And I have seen that job almost destroy her,” Angela said gravely.

Maura looked down at the countertop thoughtfully.  “It’s not like I hadn’t appreciated that Jane’s job can be dangerous. I’ve personally faced that danger…” Maura offered with a frown, recalling her horror with Hoyt and his latest apprentice just before Jane saved her.  She took a moment to collect her thoughts that were bobbing chaotically on a stormy sea of emotion.  “But now . . . she’s out there and I’m not.  What if . . . ,” she said, then abruptly stopped with a cringe, as if voicing her fear that Jane might not come back might make it true.  “I have never felt so helpless.  And terrified something will happen to her . . . ,” Maura admitted uncomfortably, looking earnestly at Angela, who nodded sympathetically.

“Yeah.  And I imagine you are not shielded from the horrors like I am.  I can only imagine how much harder it is for you,” Angela said with understanding.

Maura sighed.  “And I am angry with her for making me feel this way, which I know is unfair,” she said with a frown.

“Hon, unfair or not, it’s how you feel,” Angela offered sympathetically.  “And I guarantee it won’t be the last time you’re angry with her,” she added with a small smirk.

“I don’t like this feeling. I don’t like this fear,” Maura said with pursed lips.

***

The streetlamp illuminated the area enough for Jane to see the outline of Trejo and Martha sitting in the back seat.  She stood just behind the taxi’s taillights, in the street.

“Roberto, please. Stop this now.  What do you think will happen?  Do you really think you’ll be able to shoot your way free?!?  Please.  Stop this,” Martha pleaded, earning a blow when backhanded in the face.  “Ah!” she cried, cradling her throbbing cheek.

“Shut up!  I’m in control here!” He spat.

“Did you get that Jane?” Frost asked, holding two radios next to each other.

“POLICE!  Get out of the car!” Jane barked angrily, raising her weapon towards the taxi.  She watched Trejo turn.  She dove to the ground as he fired three shots through the back window, causing a shower of shards to rain on her.

***

“So you’d . . . walk away?” Angela asked carefully.

Maura looked at Angela, her heart pounding at that horrible thought.

“Maura, you can’t seriously be considering that,” Constance said, appalled.  “She’s always stood by you and supported you, even when her heart was breaking from some of your more questionable decisions.  For God’s Sake, Maura, it would be cruel for you to give up on her because of your fear!”

Maura blinked, surprised by her mother’s passionate position.  As she took a breath to inform her she did not think she was strong enough to walk away either, Angela interjected.

“Connie, it would also hurt Jane to know Maura was miserable being with her,” Angela countered.  “She couldn’t live like that,” she added.

“I’m not miserable being with her.  I love being with her,” Maura countered, once again feeling overwhelmed with emotions.  “It’s just . . . ,” she said with frustration.  “I hate this.”

“Waiting,” Angela said with an understanding nod.  “Not knowing if some whack job is going to hurt her or if she’s coming back,” she added, causing Maura to wince.  “You’ve got to decide, Maura, if you can live like that.  Not many people can,” she offered with a sigh.  Constance frowned.  “I guess that’s why cops have such a hard time with relationships.  And as much as I harp on Jane about her job, she’s not gonna change who she is, no matter how much I’d wish it,” Angela said with a wry smile.

“So why do you harp?” Maura asked curiously.

“I love her.  And I want her to think about how much her family worries about her – so she’ll be extra careful,” Angela said then laughed softly.  “A lot of good that’s done, huh? That girl seems to attract trouble by just breathing.”

“She has had her fair share of trouble,” Maura allowed, her gaze dropping thoughtfully.

“Yeah.  You know, she’ll understand . . . if you can’t live like this.  She loves you more than anything, Maura.  She wouldn’t want you unhappy.  That would kill her,” Angela said with conviction.

“I hate this,” Maura said miserably. Her cellphone rang, startling the three women.  Looking uneasily at Angela and her mother, Maura retrieved her phone from her purse and saw Jane’s number.

“Jane,” she answered anxiously as Constance and Angela glanced at each other.

“I need you,” Jane stated weakly.

The ache in Jane’s voice resonated within Maura’s heart. Knowing Jane needed her brought a profound sense of clarity, successfully driving away her doubts and fear.

“Where are you?” Maura asked firmly, determined to let nothing get in the way of being there for Jane.

***

Frost sat uncomfortably in a plastic chair, glancing over at Jane, who just stared down at the floor in front of her.  She had refused treatment for her arm, which was not a surprise. But her near catatonic silence really disturbed him.  When he looked up and found Dr. Isles, Mrs. Rizzoli, and Mrs. Isles approaching, he let out a relieved breath and stood to greet them.

“What happened?” Maura asked pointedly, glancing worriedly to Jane, who did not show any indications of acknowledging their arrival.

Frost ushered the women to the other side of the waiting area and spoke softly.  “We caught up to the taxi and they pulled over to the curb.  I tuned into Ms. Calderón’s frequency and heard her beg him to give up.  Jane ordered them out of the taxi but he fired through the back window. Calderón grabbed his gun and got shot; she’s in surgery now,” he said, glancing back at Jane, who was still seated, staring at the tile in front of her.

“What happened to Trejo?” Maura asked.

“Trejo’s dead – shot himself in the mouth.  Your team is processing the scene,” he said with a cringe, vividly recalling the incredible mess.  “I told them you were busy…,” he said uncomfortably, knowing that was going beyond his authority.

Maura took an uneasy breath and nodded.  “You did the right thing,” she said, glancing over at Jane.

***

Jane stared at the floor tiles.  They were white, mottled with streaks of gray and blue…not that much different than the tiles she stared at all those years ago.  It was funny how she could feel Maura’s presence.  When she arrived, Jane wanted to get up and run to her, burying herself in Maura’s comforting embrace.  But she refrained, knowing if she did, she wouldn’t be able to maintain her tenuous hold on her emotions.

She heard the hushed voices, guessing Frost was explaining what had happened.  That would be good; the less she had to talk the better.  Jane then heard the deliberate staccato made from ridiculously impractical shoes.  It was actually soothing; Maura was coming to her.

“Jane,” Maura said gently.

Jane nodded weakly, glancing in Maura’s direction but not making eye contact.  She knew the wall holding back her emotions was close to crumbling.

Sitting down, Maura refrained from saying anything more, worried her comments or questions would push Jane into an uncomfortable public display; Jane hated them and would especially hate it if she were the one breaking down.  Maura frowned, never having seen Jane so emotionally unsteady. Not even when Hoyt was after her….

Jane exhaled with relief, not yet ready to talk.

Maura silently checked Jane’s right arm, which had several cuts.  Thankfully they were superficial and could be treated later without great risk, she considered, knowing Jane would argue if she suggested leaving the waiting area for someone to tend to her cuts.  Doing what she could at the moment without her medical bag, Maura pulled out a tissue from her purse and proceeded to carefully collect the shards of glass out of Jane’s hair and clothes.

Jane’s eyes shut as tears fell for the tender thoughtfulness.

Finished, Maura silently stood and walked to the nearby trash receptacle, prompting Jane’s eyes to pop open in mild panic; she immediately felt the loss.  Her gaze fixed on Maura as she disposed of the tissue with the shards.

When Maura returned and resumed her seat by Jane, their eyes met.

Jane sucked in an uneasy breath when Maura firmly gripped her hand.  After a brief moment, Jane squeezed her hand tightly, desperately needing an anchor.

“Why did she have to fight them?” Jane whispered guiltily, her brown eyes searching Maura’s.  “It wasn’t that important…” she said absently, her voice trailing off.

Maura looked at Jane with alarm.  Her gaze dropped worriedly as her mind raced to figure out how best to respond to Jane’s confused distress.  “You’ll have to ask Martha, Jane,” she offered, getting a puzzled look.

“Detective Rizzoli?” The surgeon came to the waiting area and glanced around, quickly spotting the brunette, who looked at him anxiously.

Jane quickly stood, still holding Maura’s hand.

“Ah, Dr. Isles.  It’s good to see you again,” he said warmly.

“How is she, Doctor Ramsay?” Maura asked.

“Ms. Calderón’s surgery went well,” he said with a pleased smile.

“Calderón,” Jane said absently, getting an uneasy look from Maura.

“We’ve moved her to Intensive Care.  We’ll keep a close eye on her for . . . ,” he said, proceeding to explain more to the Chief Medical Examiner and Detective.  But Jane didn’t hear him as her thoughts drifted to the vivid memory of glass shattering.  She blinked, her memory of Martha morphing into Nonna, who wrestled with the gunman before the gun discharged.

Jane winced, remembering the pain of getting shot.  Her eyes blinked rapidly as she glanced frantically around the waiting room, wondering why her Pop wasn’t there.  Her breathing grew more rapid and shallow.  She saw her distressed mother.  But Pop wasn’t with her.  Frost and . . . Constance . . . were.  Everyone was looking at her with concern.  Hold it together, Rizzoli, Jane silently chanted to herself, knowing she was close to losing it in front of them. But she had to be strong.  She had to show them she wasn’t a silly, emotional girl; she refused to be a target for taunting.

Florida.  He went to Florida and left us, Jane suddenly remembered as another ache welled up at that loss.  But she had been strong; her distraught mother, who couldn’t stop crying for days and days, needed her to be.  Even when her Pop had cried for Nonna’s death, she held it together.  Nonna was gone and she was strong; her father needed her to be.  And she had no right to indulge in the grief she had caused….

“Jane?” Maura asked with concern, noting Jane’s growing agitation.

“Nonna…” Jane said with anguish, startling Maura.

Jane took deep breaths.  Nonna was gone.  A trembling hand wiped her tears away with clear aggravation.  She had no right to cry.

“I’m taking you home now,” Maura said firmly, knowing Jane would abhor the thought of breaking down in public, even if surrounded by friends and family - especially if surrounded by friends and family, Maura silently amended.

“Home,” Jane whispered and nodded absently, suddenly finding a strong arm wrapped around her back as she was whisked out of the waiting area.

Angela watched with concern as her tense daughter was led away by Maura.  She had never seen Jane so . . . distressed before.

***

Maura did not fully understand what Jane was feeling but knew it required the safe haven of her home.  With great effort she refrained from hugging Jane before guiding her firmly into the passenger’s seat of her car; she feared that any comforting gesture would be the undoing of Jane’s fragile state.  So she provided what Jane needed - an air of calm determination.  She’d deal with her own fear later - Jane needed her now.

It felt like an eternity before they reached Jane’s apartment. She had debated whether to turn on the radio but elected not to.  While music had a great calming effect, it also often provoked memories; Maura thought that additional sensory stimulation was not wise.  

Finally turning down Jane’s street, she had not expected to feel such relief when she found a parking spot in front of the apartment building.  After quickly parking and shutting her engine off, she quickly got out and opened Jane’s door.

“We’re almost there, Jane,” she said, noting that Jane wasn’t moving, just breathing deep breaths as if she had run a marathon.  Kneeling down, Maura unbuckled the seat belt for her and firmly grabbed her arm.  “Come on, Jane.  Time to get out of the car,” she said, gaining a sluggish nod.  To Maura’s relief, Jane got out of the car and headed automatically up the stairs to her apartment without the need for her shepherding.  At the door, Maura pulled out her key and swiftly opened the door.

With a relieved exhale, Maura shut the door behind her - they were finally inside.  She watched Jane just stand in the middle of her apartment, like she was in a trance.  Now Maura did not hesitate; she swiftly went to Jane and pulled her into a firm hug.  “It will be OK, Jane,” she promised softly, her hand stroking her lover’s back.  She felt Jane’s arms slowly return the embrace.

“She’s dead,” Jane whispered miserably, feeling gutted by the loss that felt so fresh and raw.  “She shouldn’t have died for me,” Jane moaned before finally breaking down and wailing for her loss from over twenty years ago.

Maura held on as Jane’s body shook with sobs.  Her own tears trailed down her cheeks as she wished for the perfect words to soothe Jane’s pain.  But she knew of no words that could ease the deep heartache - all she knew was that Jane needed her and she would be there.

***

Maura woke in the same position they had fallen asleep; Jane curled up at her side with her face nuzzled into her neck.  Maura’s arms were protectively wrapped around the slumbering Detective, who she realized by the light caress on her arm, was no longer slumbering.  Maura responded with light caresses of her own over Jane’s back as she kissed Jane’s forehead.

A warm contented sigh from Jane washed over Maura’s neck.  After several moments, Jane shifted and leaned on her elbow to look at Maura, who quietly waited.  When Jane’s gaze dropped self-consciously, Maura gently lifted her chin and looked at her.

“I love you,” Maura said.

Jane took Maura’s hand and kissed her palm before clutching her hand against her chest.  After a long breath, Jane shook her head.  “Even when I suddenly become a basket case?” she asked softly, her gaze once again dropping self-consciously.

“Jane, you are not a basket case,” Maura countered.  “You suffered from delayed grief, triggered by events that overcame your self-imposed disenfranchisement.”

Jane stared at her a moment. “Precisely what I thought,” she said sarcastically.

“Well you must be feeling better,” Maura said with a slight smile.

Jane rolled her eyes.

“Disenfranchised grief is typically when a person is deprived of the catharsis of shared grief because society does not recognize it.  However, I believe you had caused that disenfranchisement because you erroneously believed you had no right to grieve, believing that you were the cause of your grandmother’s death, which you were not,” she added firmly, noting Jane wince. “You do realize you were not responsible, don’t you?” she urged softly.

Jane looked at her an uneasy moment before exhaling. “I think . . . logically, I know that,” she admitted, prompting an understanding nod from Maura.

When Jane quietly extracted herself from the bed, Maura sighed with disappointment that their intimate discussion had ended.  To her surprise, Jane went to her closet and extracted a worn cardboard box.  She curiously watched Jane return with the box and sit on the edge of the bed, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear and looking at the box thoughtfully.

“I kept my practice books.  Nonna lectured to me that all the greats had to go through the same rigorous practicing - endless scales and finger exercises – there were no shortcuts!” Jane offered with a small smile for a fond memory, pulling out one of her books and handing it to Maura, whose smile grew as she looked through the well-worn book, appreciating the dedication to practicing Jane had possessed.

“When I made mistakes, I always expected Nonna to yell at me, like Ma always did.  But Nonna never yelled, well except when I slammed the door rushing in for a lesson,” she offered with a wry smile, making Maura grin, able to envision a young Jane doing just that.

“She was really patient and told me not to get so upset with my mistakes,” Jane said, pulling out sheet music.

“Because you were so hard on yourself,” Maura offered, getting a nod.

“I wanted to be good,” Jane admitted with a shrug. “When she mentioned the Boston Conservatory’s summer program, I was so excited.  If I got in, I would be able to meet and train with professional pianists.  Martha Calderón was one of the guest instructors,” Jane offered, surprising Maura.

“Nonna took me to see her perform and . . . well, I had a huge crush on her.”

“I see,” Maura said with pursed lips, that Jane leaned towards and kissed tenderly.

“I have a huger crush on you,” Jane said with a sparkle in her eye.

“Huger is not a . . . ,” Maura said as Jane kissed her again. “What were we talking about?” She said with a small, amused smile.

“How much I love you?” Jane suggested, looking into Maura’s eyes as she caressed her face.

“That is one of my favorite topics,” Maura said, slowly savoring another kiss.  As Jane shifted and attempted to move the box out of the way so she could show Maura just how much she loved her, Maura’s hands stopped her.  “Show me your sheet music,” she said with enthusiasm.

“Really?  Now??” Jane whined incredulously.

“Please?” Maura asked with a small pout, prompting a small frown and reluctant nod, causing Maura to beam.

“Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6 . . . ,” Jane sighed, pulling out the yellowed pages.

“Oh!  This was one of your audition pieces!” she gushed enthusiastically, looking through the pencil annotations and comments in Jane’s handwriting.

“How did you know that?”

“Your mother knew the encore piece that Ms. Calderón played, she mentioned the Boston Conservatory Summer program and . . . ,” Maura said and trailed off uncomfortably.

“That I never did audition,” Jane finished softly, getting a hesitant nod.

“What were your other two pieces?” Maura quickly asked, curious as well as not wanting to dwell on the tragedy. “Your mother could not recall the names of what you played,” Maura offered.

Jane eyed her and reached into the box, pulling out more yellowed and worn pages.

“Oblivion!  My Jane, that is a rather emotionally mature piece for a teenager,” she said approvingly.

“When I heard it, I was learning about myself and my . . . preferences; the haunting sounds and longing in the music spoke to me,” she relayed to a mesmerized Maura.

“I also knew to dazzle the judges I couldn’t just wow them with complex fingering.  They needed to know I had emotional maturity not just technical proficiency,” Jane offered, getting an approving nod from Maura, who smiled broadly at Jane’s strategy.

“What was your third?” Maura eagerly asked.

Jane smirked and pulled out the music, handing it over to Maura.

“Peppermint Patty by Vince Guaraldi?” she read with a puzzled expression.

Jane grinned.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that piece,” Maura said with a frown.

“Well, most people are familiar with the Peanuts theme song, Linus & Lucy,” Jane allowed, noting Maura frown.

“Really?  You don’t know about the Peanuts cartoons on TV and the piano music??”

Maura shook her head no.

“Well, that’s easy enough to remedy,” Jane said with a small smile.

“You’ll play it for me?” Maura asked hopefully.

“I was thinking more like watching some DVDs,” Jane said with a cringe.  Maura sighed with a frown.  “Ok. Ok,” Jane acquiesced, bringing a smile back to Maura’s face.  “But I will need to practice before subjecting you to it,” she said, scratching the back of her head as Maura lunged for her lips and captured them possessively.

After Maura pulled back from the smoldering kiss, Jane whimpered with need before quickly returning the music and practice books to the box and rushing over to her closet, tossing the box to the floor with a thud.

“Jane, your music!” Maura said with alarm, glancing worriedly at the closet as Jane returned to bed and climbed on top of her.

“Is fine,” Jane said, kissing Maura’s collarbone, up her neck, to her chin.  “I want you,” Jane said, which was obvious as she hovered over Maura and looked at her with desire in her eyes.

Maura felt a shiver of anticipation from the sound of Jane’s raspy voice.  “I love you,” Maura said softly.

Jane looked at her a long reverent moment before she whispered “thank you,” and slowly lowered her lips and tenderly kissed the love of her life.

Chapter Text

Lidia walked around Martha’s hotel room, ensuring she had not forgotten to pack anything.  Satisfied she had accomplished her task, she returned to the living room and exhaled, waiting for Martha to return from her last doctor’s appointment before they were to fly back to Argentina.

The Bar Harbor concert had been cancelled as Martha recovered from her gunshot wound in Boston.  The doctors had said Martha was very lucky.  But Lidia could not agree, considering the brother of Martha’s assistant had been hired by her unstable manager to kill her protégés.  That did not seem very lucky at all, Lidia considered with a frown.

While Martha had been very polite and understanding with her through this horrific mess with Emilio, who was going to be extradited to spend life in prison, Lidia expected that once they returned to Argentina, she would be in search of new employment.  She couldn’t blame Martha, who had gone through too much in her life to have to endure the presence of someone who could only remind her of the terrible violation of trust and senseless losses.

Glancing to the Grand Piano, she had a love-hate relationship with it.  She loved the music it produced when someone of Martha’s caliber played.  Yet she hated the fact she’d never be close to that caliber.  She sat on the bench and stared at the keys a long moment.  She’d miss Martha, more than the virtuoso would ever know, she considered with a humorless laugh.  Tears filled her eyes as she finally indulged in self-pity.

Sniffing, she placed her fingers on the keys and played Oblivion - Detective Rizzoli’s selection that did exactly what was intended, impress Martha, mistakes and all.  Lidia played, without any fumbles or errors; she was technically gifted.  Yet she lacked heart, Martha had sadly informed her with disappointment, which confused her.  If she had no heart, then how could such a comment hurt her so?

She drove through the haunting chords, feeling lost and alone.  Her baby brother Emilio was now lost to her and soon Martha would be too.  Knowing her musical limitations, she had at least thought she would be able to stay by Martha’s side as her capable assistant, to forever watch the amazing woman as she lived life to the fullest.  Now she would not even have that vicarious pleasure.  Tears fell as she played on, driving, searching . . . hurting.

Maura and Jane stood next to a stunned Martha, who froze when they entered her hotel room to the moving music.  Jane looked at Maura with a surprised grin before returning her attention to Lidia, who finished the emotional piece with soft, fading chords.

“Lidia,” Martha exhaled with amazement, startling her assistant, who jumped up nervously and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Sorry,” Lidia blurted uncomfortably.  “I’m done packing and was just . . . ,” she trailed off as Martha came to her, shaking her head.

“That was . . . wonderful, Lidia.  Truly wonderful,” Martha offered sincerely, looking at her uncertain assistant, who glanced at Jane, who nodded with a grin.  “You and I have much to talk about, dear Lidia,” Martha said, taking her hand and squeezing.

“I . . . we have a plane to catch,” Lidia said, feeling a bit flustered.

Martha smiled. “We do.”

***

They arrived at the airport in plenty of time to check luggage.  Flashing their badges, Jane and Maura were able to wait with Martha and Lidia for the plane to board.

“I will miss you, Jane,” Martha said emotionally and kissed her cheeks.

“I’m glad I got to meet you and call you friend.  I’m just sorry about the circumstances,” Jane offered apologetically.

“Perhaps you and Maura can come visit us in Argentina,” she said, glancing over to Maura who sat, chatting with Lidia, who seemed much more relaxed once she realized Martha had no intention of letting her leave her side.

“Now there’s an invitation I would never have expected,” Jane chuckled.

“You should consider it.  And Argentina is an excellent place for lovers. I understand it’s also a popular honeymoon location,” she offered with a satisfied grin, provoking a startled look.

The boarding of the flight was announced.

“You’re going to give Lidia a chance, aren’t you?” Jane asked as Maura and Lidia stood from their seats.

“We have been through a lot together.  I need her in my life, even if she never attempts to play another note.  But I hope she does,” Martha said quietly then turned to Lidia with a warm smile. “So!  Are you ready for the long flight?”

“I am anxious to get home,” Lidia said honestly.

“Yes, home.  That does sound wonderful,” Martha said, slipping her arm through Lidia’s, surprising her assistant.

“Good-bye Jane. Dr. Isles.  I hope Jane takes me up on my invitation for you two to visit me someday,” Martha said with a grin.  “Until we meet again,” she said, waving as she left with Lidia to board the plane.

“That sounds like fun,” Maura said enthusiastically.

Jane nodded with a small smile as she slipped her hand in Maura’s; they left the airport, hand-in-hand.

***

“Happy birthday dear Maaaauuuuurrraaa, Happy birthday to you!” They sang loudly and mostly on key as Jane played the piano and Angela directed her sons through the group as they carried a large sheet cake with several lit candles on it.

Constance had been reluctant to change the venue of her daughter’s birthday party from the country club to the Dirty Robber as Angela had suggested, but seeing the big smile and delighted laughter from her daughter, she concluded it had been an excellent decision.

“Make a wish!!” Constance called out to her daughter with excitement.

“Geeze, Maura,” Jane said, holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the bright flames.  “I hope Murray’s fire insurance is paid up,” she offered, prompting a few chuckles and earning a slap in her stomach by Maura for her remark. “Hey!” she blurted, earning more chuckles as she rubbed her stomach.

“Jane!  Be nice!!” Angela called out as Maura smiled with satisfaction at Jane, who frowned, predicting Angela would always be on Maura’s side.

Maura pulled her hair back as she took a deep breath and carefully blew at the candles.  And blew.  And blew. “JANE!” Maura said with exasperation after being unable to blow them out.

“Hey wait a minute!  I didn’t do anything!!” Jane countered defensively, as her brothers snorted with amusement. Too much amusement, she considered.

“Right,” Angela scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I was playing . . . ugh,” Jane blurted, giving up trying to defend herself which prompted more snickers from her brothers.  “Frost, Korsak, let’s help Maura blow them out,” Jane said, glaring suspiciously at her brothers as Frost and Korsak promptly stepped up to help.

“Uh, having everyone breathe on my cake is rather unsanitary,” Maura said with concern, then cringed realizing from the frowns on their faces she had insulted her friends.

Jane sighed with exasperation. “I’ll cut you a piece that only you have blown on, OK?”

“I don’t see how you could possibly ensure . . . ,” Maura responded curiously.

“Perhaps you should do something soon?” Constance interjected uncomfortably as she watched the candles continue to melt.

“We can just remove the candles and extinguish them by hand,” Maura said reasonably, starting to take them off.

“But what about your wish?” Constance said with concern.

“You gotta have a birthday wish,” Angela added.

“It’s ok, Mother, Angela.  My wish has already come true,” Maura said, glancing at Jane happily before kissing her chastely on the lips.

“Mine too,” Jane whispered.

“That’s so sweet,” Korsak said with a sigh.

***

“A spa day for two!” Maura gushed as she eagerly showed Jane the coupons that Barry and Vince had pitched in to get. “Thank you!” She blurted, making the men smile with satisfaction.

“Yay,” Jane said weakly with a thin smile, glaring at her former and current partners, who cringed slightly.

“Here’s one of mine,” Angela said, handing over a nicely wrapped box.

“One of yours?  Angela, you shouldn’t have,” Maura said, looking at the pile of presents next to the cake.  It was an embarrassment of riches.

“You should say that after you open it,” Jane joked, her arm draped over the back of Maura’s chair.

“Jane,” Maura scolded softly as she opened her gift to find…. Maura tilted her head and eyed it curiously.  It was crocheted, with the letters B. P. D. on it.

Jane bit her lip to not say anything.

“It’s . . . lovely, Angela. Thank you,” Maura said politely, pulling out the handmade toilet paper doily, covering a roll.

“Charmin. Nice,” Jane said dryly as she tested the squishy roll.

“Oh,” Constance said when she got a good look at . . . the unique gift.  “Handmade gifts are always a favorite,” she added with a polite smile for her friend, who beamed.

“Here’s one you’ll want to open at home,” Angela said, sliding another wrapped gift box towards Maura.  “Trust me,” she said with a knowing smile, immediately alarming Maura.

“Well, dear, I’m afraid you’ll have to go home to get your gift.  And if you don’t like it, we can find something that better suits you.  But I’m confident we won’t need to,” Constance said with a smile.

Maura nodded, feeling a little let down.  She never asked for big or expensive gifts, just her mother’s attention.  Realizing she had been getting more of that lately, she smiled at her, knowing Constance was trying.

“And in the mean time, here’s a little something for you two,” she said, sliding an envelope towards her daughter.

“More spa days?” Jane asked with a weak smile.

“No.  Season passes to the symphony!” Maura said, happy she didn’t have to convince Jane to go.  Now that it was a gift, Jane wouldn’t want it go to waste.  “We’ll need to buy you more clothes!” she said happily.

Jane eyed Constance, who smiled with satisfaction.  “Sounds like . . . fun,” Jane said, patting Maura’s knee.

“I want pictures,” Angela declared without apology.

“Of course you do,” Jane said flatly, sipping her beer.

“Here’s one from me,” Frankie said, nervously handing her a box, gaining a bright smile that made him blush.

Maura tore into the paper and opened the box to read “Isles” on the back of a Red Sox Jersey.  She smiled at him. “Thank you!”

“That’s nice,” Jane said approvingly, fingering the stitching around the lettering, causing Frankie to beam.

“And mine,” Tommy said, smoothly handing over his gift to her with a wink.

Maura smiled fondly at him and opened the gift.  After a pause, she smiled at him “I love Hickory Farms!” She declared honestly. “Thank you!”

“Can’t go wrong with Hickory Farms!” Tommy declared with a grin.  Frankie and Angela frowned, glaring at Jane, who smiled and sipped her beer.

“So whaddya get Maura?” Korsak asked with a smirk, causing all eyes to look at Jane.

Maura glanced at Jane uncomfortably, not wanting her put on the spot.  “I already received my . . . ,” she started.

“I got you something else,” Jane said, also presenting an envelope with some hesitation.  “I just hope they have steel-toed Jimmy Choos.”

Maura looked at her curiously then opened up the envelope. “Jane!”

“What is it?” Angela said with anticipation, seeing the big smile on Maura’s face.  “Yeah, what is it?” Frankie asked. “Darling?” Constance couldn’t help but feel excitement.

“Tango lessons!” Maura gushed happily and planted kisses on Jane’s face.

“Just remember I warned you,” Jane cautioned her with an amused chuckle, delighted she could make Maura happy. She just hoped the actual experience wasn’t going to cause either of them physical pain.

***

“Good night and Happy Birthday, hon,” Angela said, giving Maura a hug.

“Thank you so much, Angela,” Maura said.

Angela looked at Jane and sighed.  “Just try your best, OK?” She said, patting Jane on the shoulder.

“Sure . . . Ma,” Jane said in confusion, glancing at Maura who winced and looked down at the still unopened present in her hand with trepidation.

“Mother?  Where are you going?” Maura asked curiously, noticing Constance quietly start to follow Angela to the guest cottage.

“You don’t really think I’d want to spoil your birthday evening with Jane, do you?” Constance said with a knowing smile.  “Happy birthday, darling.  And I am so happy for you two,” she said, smiling at Jane, who had a hand on Maura’s shoulder.  “Good night,” she said, giving Maura a kiss on the cheek then squeezing Jane’s arm affectionately.

“Good night, Mother,” Maura said and watched her mother retreat with Angela.

***

“Holy shit!” Jane exclaimed spotting the Steinway Upright as soon as they entered.

“Jane!” Maura immediately scolded then blurted, “Oh . . . ,” when she saw what had prompted such a response.

“She doesn’t do things halfway, does she?” Jane asked, going to the upright that fit perfectly along the wall. Anything bigger would have overwhelmed the room.  Jane’s hand traced over the wood reverently.

“Will you play for me?” Maura asked hesitantly.

Jane looked at her a moment. “If you do one thing for me,” she negotiated.

“Anything!” Maura said eagerly.

Jane laughed.  “I can’t believe I’m going to waste that blank check but . . . I’ll play if you play with me.”

“I can’t play . . . ,” Maura trailed off worriedly.

Jane grabbed her hand and led her to the bench.  “Trust me,” she said, motioning for Maura to sit.  Which she did and Jane quickly joined her.

With a smile, she slowly played the simple melody as she softly sang the words.  “Heart and soul, I fell in love with you, heart and soul, the way a fool would do.  Madly. Because you held me tight . . . and stole . . . a kiss in the night…” she sang with a smile for Maura.  “Then you repeat the melody.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Maura said with a growing smile.

“Good.  Remember, there’s no rush and don’t worry if you miss notes.  Just have fun with it,” Jane said as she proceeded to play the rhythm line as Maura, with fierce determination to properly play the melody, dove in.

“Oooh!” Maura blurted with frustration as she missed a few notes.

“Keep going, sweetie.  Sounding good!” Jane said happily, continuing with the rhythm.  As Maura went through the melody again and again, with fewer and fewer mistakes, she finally completed it without any errors, stopping with a perplexed look.

“This becomes rather monotonous after a while, doesn’t it?” Maura asked bluntly, causing Jane to laugh.

“Well, it is a beginner’s piece,” she offered with amusement. “Perhaps you’ll like something more advanced,” Jane suggested.

“I think I’m best suited as an appreciative listener,” Maura responded, sidling up to Jane and whispering in her ear.  “I can be very appreciative.  Play something for me.”

“Do you really think you can just use your feminine wiles to have your way?” Jane felt compelled to object.

“It’s not working?” Maura asked with a slight frown.

“No, it’s working . . . damn it,” Jane said begrudgingly, causing Maura to smile.

“Peppermint Patty?” Maura suggested hopefully.

“Peppermint Patty,” she confirmed, looking at Maura who beamed eagerly.

Jane played the piece capably, though she would have preferred more practice time.  Maura didn’t care, charmed by the happy music being played for her.

When Jane finished the piece, Maura clapped.  “Brava!” she said and laughed with delight.

Jane smiled, her heart swelling with joy.

“I read about Peppermint Patty,” Maura offered with a knowing smile.

“And?”

“She represented the first tomboyish character in the Peanuts cartoon that did not embrace social norms,” Maura said, leaning into Jane, who smiled.

“You selected a classical piece that showed your technical proficiency,” Maura continued, kissing her chin. “A new tango-jazz fusion piece that highlighted your emotional maturity,” she added, slipping her hands around Jane as she kissed her cheek. “And a jazz piece that represented a bit of rebellion,” she said appreciatively, her lips migrating to Jane’s ear. “You were an impressive young woman,” she whispered, then suckled Jane’s ear lobe.

“And now?” Jane exhaled, feeling the tingle of arousal wash over her.

“You are a very . . . impressive . . . woman,” Maura said as their lips merged.

***

In the morning, after they had showered and dressed, Maura joined Jane in the kitchen, slipping her arms around her and pressing herself into Jane’s back as she made coffee.

“Careful, don’t want to spill the coffee,” Jane said with amusement, putting down the coffee grinder to turn and properly greet Maura with a morning hug and kiss.

“Hmmmm.  I like your kisses better than coffee,” Maura mused contentedly, resting her head on Jane’s shoulder.

“Thanks?” Jane responded with a chuckle.  “Hey, you never did open Ma’s present,” she said, looking out to the living room coffee table where the unopened present lay.

Maura tensed.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Not really?” Maura said hesitantly.

“Come on.  Open it,” Jane urged, nudging Maura to the living room.  “I’m curious,” she offered, grabbing Maura’s hand and dragging her to the gift.

“Jane,” Maura complained.

“Maura, you realize you are making me even more curious. Why are you so reluctant?  Do you really think she could get you anything worse than a toilet paper doily?”

“That was kind of sweet,” Maura protested weakly, glancing at the coffee table and the package on it.

“Ugh.  Maura!” Jane whined.

“Fine.  I’ll open it.  Just promise me you won’t get too upset,” Maura said as she picked up the package.

Jane eyed her with a puzzled expression.  Why would she get upset?

When Maura slowly tore open the wrapping paper, it was like she was defusing a bomb, Jane considered with an impatient sigh.  Finally getting to the box, she carefully opened the lid as if it were booby-trapped.  With hesitant fingers, she carefully peeled away the tissue paper with a cringe to reveal . . . . Maura blinked and looked at the present curiously.

Jane peeked over her shoulder to see a really nice wooden-frame and picture of them in it.  She smiled, noting they did make a very attractive couple.  It was just after she had played for Maura at the reception in the Hatch room in Symphony Hall.  Maura was looking out towards someone with a big smile on her face and she had her arm around her waist, looking adoringly at Maura, perfectly capturing the moment and her love on film.

Maura felt her press into her back as Jane slid her arms around her waist and placed her chin on her shoulder. “Danny’s stalking was annoying but he really does take good pictures,” Jane offered softly.  “Though he really couldn’t screw it up with you smiling like that,” she said, kissing her cheek before retreating into the kitchen to prepare their meal.

“So, what do want for breakfast?  I think you have everything,” Jane said, looking in the refrigerator. “Well, except Lucky Charms.”

“I have that,” Maura offered absently, still holding the wonderful picture in her hands, caressing the edge with her finger.

“Really?” Jane said with interest and looked around the likely places as Maura went to the piano and proudly displayed the picture on the top of it.

Returning her attention to Jane, she watched as she intently looked in several kitchen cabinets.  Maura frowned.

“Jane, are you really going to choose a sugary processed cereal, that could be easily classified as a dessert, over the multitude of healthier choices available?” Maura asked as she joined Jane in the kitchen.

Jane blinked. “Uh . . . .” she responded, wondering if that was a trick question.

The End