Chapter Text
On her way home, Jane spent the entire drive home trying not to think about Maura Isles. It was not working. Every red light gave her another opportunity to replay the scene at BPD. Maura standing beside Dr. Caldwell, listening with that attentive tilt of her head. His hand resting on the corner of one of the desks as though he belonged there. The easy smile they had shared before the lecture.
None of it had been inappropriate. And that was her problem. There was no reason for Jane to be annoyed. No suspicious behaviour to analyse, no threat to assess. Caldwell had been polite, professional and apparently very good at whatever obscure branch of forensic psychology had brought him to Boston. But Jane disliked him anyway.
"Ridiculous," she muttered to herself in annoyance, gripping the steering wheel as tightly as her hands allowed. Pain flickered through her fingers. She loosened them immediately, flexing them one at a time, regretting her action but making her even more upset. Maura could talk to anyone she wanted. She could have dinner with anyone she wanted. Jane had no claim over her time. They were colleagues. Even friends, perhaps. Jane frowned at the word. It felt both too intimate and not intimate enough.
A horn blasted loudly behind her. "Yeah, I see the light, asshole," she snapped, pulling forward.
The feeling followed her into her apartment. Jane dropped her bag beside the couch and went directly to the kitchen, where she discovered that she had half a carton of milk, three beers and something in a plastic container she no longer trusted to be safe to eat. She took out a beer. As she twisted the cap, Caldwell's face returned to her mind. Tall. Polished. Educated. The kind of man who probably owned cuff links and knew which fork to use at every stage of dinner.
Exactly Maura's type, Jane thought. She stopped with the bottle halfway to her mouth. "How the hell would you know what her type is?" Jane kicked herself.
The darkness that enveloped the apartment offered no answer. Jane drank anyway.
She tried to grade papers, but her attention kept wandering. One student had described trace evidence as 'very small evidence,' and Jane stared at the sentence for nearly a minute without correcting it. Her phone lay on the table beside her. She could message Maura. Something casual. Ask how dinner went.
"No," she refrained from doing so; that would sound strange. She could ask about the research project. That would sound even stranger, considering she had avoided Maura's last two invitations to participate in it. Jane picked up the phone and opened her messages. Maura's name sat near the top of the screen.
"Hope your date went well." Jane typed, but stared at the words in horror. "Absolutely not." She shouted to herself as she deleted the text. Then she tried again. "Did Caldwell have anything useful to say about the project?" That sounded hostile. She deleted that too.
Finally, she put the phone face down and shoved it to the far end of the table. She had survived Charles Hoyt. She had endured surgeries, rehabilitation and the loss of the only career she had ever wanted. She was not going to be defeated by a text message.
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At her townhouse, Maura sat across from Dr. Caldwell as he reviewed a series of behavioural classifications. Technically, the dinner had been productive. He was knowledgeable and articulate, and his proposal for reorganising the cold-case database was statistically sound. Under ordinary circumstances, Maura would have been entirely absorbed in the conversation.
Instead, she found herself thinking about Jane. Jane's expression had changed when she saw them together. It had been subtle, a tightening around the mouth, a narrowing of the eyes, a stiffness in her shoulders.
Maura had initially interpreted it as suspicion. Jane had spent years as a detective, after all. Evaluating unfamiliar people was likely habitual. But then Jane had asked who Caldwell was. Not what he was doing there. Who he was. When Maura invited Jane to dinner, her refusal had come too quickly and with more force than the question warranted.
Maura lifted her wineglass but did not drink. "Is something wrong?" Caldwell asked.
"No," Maura said. "I was considering an alternative interpretation of an observed behavioural response."
He smiled. "Anyone I know?"
Maura looked at him over the rim of her glass. "Not really, no." That answer was technically true.
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Jane avoided Maura for the following four days. She responded to one university email, taught three classes and recorded half an episode before deleting the entire file because her voice sounded irritated. By the fifth day, she had nearly convinced herself that the incident at BPD meant nothing.
Then Maura appeared outside her classroom. Jane stopped in the doorway. Maura stood near the wall, dressed in a dark coat, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Several departing students glanced at her with open curiosity.
Jane's pulse gave an inconvenient jump. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I was nearby," Maura answered, unconvincingly.
Jane looked down the hallway and then back at her. "The BPD headquarters isn't nearby."
"No," Maura conceded. "It is approximately 3.8 miles away, depending on the route."
Despite herself, Jane smiled. "So, you weren't nearby."
"Not initially." The warmth in Maura's expression made it difficult for Jane to maintain her irritation.
She stepped back into the empty classroom. "Come in before my students decide you're here to arrest me."
"Medical examiners do not possess arrest powers," Maura responded with a slight smile.
"Yeah, thanks. I know." Jane tried to maintain her façade of irritation.
Maura followed her inside as Jane collected the remaining papers from her desk.
"I wanted to thank you for the lecture," Maura said. "I did not have the opportunity to do so properly."
"You thanked me right after it ended," Jane said as she gathered her things and put them in her bag.
Maura looked at her for a second before continuing. "Then I wanted to thank you again."
Jane glanced at her. "You drive almost four miles just to repeat yourself?"
"Apparently." Maura nodded. She wasn't necessarily sure of her intentions with her visit, but she knew she wanted to be there.
Something in Maura's voice was playful. Jane wasn't accustomed to hearing that from her, and she liked it more than she should have.
She looked back at the papers before Maura could read her expression. "So…" Jane said, striving for indifference, "…how was dinner?"
There was a brief pause.
"Dinner?" Maura said, confused about the question Jane asked.
"With Caldwell," Jane said matter-of-factly
"Oh." Maura's tone remained neutral, but Jane could feel her attention sharpen. "It was productive."
"Good," Jane said with something that could be named as annoyance in her voice.
"We discussed the database." Maura continued trying to explain. "Dr. Caldwell is an engaging conversationalist."
"Sounds exciting." Jane's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. "Great."
Maura watched her for a moment. "You don't appear to think so."
Jane looked up. "I don't care one way or the other."
"Your tone suggests otherwise." Maura pushed.
"My tone is fine," Jane said, now with a hint of anger at the blonde.
"It has become noticeably clipped." The blonde noted.
Jane gave a short laugh. "You always analyse everybody like this?"
"No." The answer came without hesitation. The room seemed to grow quieter.
Jane set the papers down carefully. "Then why are you analysing me?"
Maura considered the question. Jane could almost see her selecting among several possible answers. "Because you're an interesting character, Jane Rizzoli."
The words were simple. Calm and devastating. And Jane could only stare at her.
Maura's expression did not change, but there was something in her eyes that hadn't been there during their first lecture. Or perhaps it had been there, and Jane had been too frightened to see it.
She reached for sarcasm because it was safer. "Like a rat in a lab experiment?"
"No." Maura shook her head.
"A cold case?" Jane continued asking, enjoying the playfulness of the moment.
"Certainly not." Maura again shook her head.
"Then what?" Jane asked, even anxious to know the answer.
Maura took one small step closer. "I have not determined the correct terminology as of yet."
Jane's mouth went dry. For once, Maura Isles, the woman who seemed to possess a precise term for every bone, disease and obscure human behaviour, did not have a definition. And Jane found that oddly reassuring.
She turned away and began placing her papers into her bag. "Well, join the club."
They left the building together. Outside, the evening was cold enough for their breath to show. Jane shoved her hands into her pockets, partly for warmth and partly to hide the tremor that had begun in her fingers.
Maura walked beside her in silence. At the bottom of the steps, a cyclist came around the corner too quickly, cutting close to the pavement. Jane reacted before any thought caught up with her. She reached across Maura, catching her around the waist and pulling her back.
The cyclist passed with a shouted apology. For one suspended moment, Jane's arm remained around Maura. Maura's back was pressed lightly against her. Jane could feel the warmth of her even through their coats. She could smell the faint trace of Maura's perfume.
"You okay?" Jane asked, her voice lower than she intended.
"Yes." Maura didn't move away immediately. Neither did Jane.
Then Jane released her and stepped back, clearing her throat. "That dude was going too fast."
"He was." Maura agreed, but didn't move from Jane's grip
"Could've hit you." Then Jane said, not letting go of the blonde either.
"Yes." Maura agreed.
Jane frowned. "You don't sound very concerned."
"I knew you would not allow that to happen." The certainty in Maura's voice unsettled her.
Jane looked down the street, checking for another cyclist even though the road was empty. "It was instinct."
"I know." Again, Maura agreed, but she didn't move yet. But Maura was looking at her in that quiet, perceptive way that suggested she knew it had been more than that. They walked toward the car park.
Jane's irritation had faded, replaced by something softer and no less confusing. She had wanted to protect Maura from a speeding bicycle, from Caldwell, from anyone who stood too close or assumed too much. It made no sense. Or did it?
Maura was more than capable of looking after herself. She did not need Jane hovering over her like a nervous bodyguard. Still, Jane found herself asking, "You seeing him again?"
"Dr. Caldwell?" Maura's asked, confused.
"Unless you've got another well-dressed psychologist hanging around," Jane said sarcastically.
"We have another meeting next Thursday," Maura answered truthfully.
Jane nodded, keeping her face deliberately blank. "Right."
"Professionally." Maura clarified.
Jane nearly stumbled. "I didn't ask."
"No," Maura said. "You didn't."
There was the faintest hint of amusement in her voice.
Jane stopped beside her car. "You think this is funny?"
"No." Maura chuckled.
"You're smiling." Jane pointed out.
Maura's smile deepened slightly. "Am I?"
"Yeah." Jane also chuckled at the interaction.
"I may simply be pleased to see you." Again, Maura said truthfully.
Once again, Maura had found a way to leave Jane without a usable response.
Jane unlocked the car, then turned back before opening the door. "I wasn't jealous."
Maura blinked with exquisite innocence. "I didn't suggest that you were."
"Good." Jane nervously and quickly replied.
"I merely clarified the nature of my relationship with Dr. Caldwell." Maura continued.
Jane then pointed out. "Which you didn't need to do."
"Apparently not." Maura again smiled and shook her head, satisfied with the friendly banter.
Jane glared at her. Maura's smile remained. "Good night, Jane."
"Yeah. Night."
Maura walked away, leaving Jane beside her car with her heart pounding and her carefully maintained denial in pieces around her feet.
Later that evening, Maura opened the podcast app. There was still no new episode of Echoes of the Badge. For once, she did not feel compelled to analyse the absence. She had seen Jane. Spoken to her. Watched concern flash across her face when danger came too close. And she had seen something else. Jealousy was not a difficult emotion to identify. It involved a perceived threat to a valued relationship, often accompanied by vigilance, defensiveness and fear of displacement.
Jane had displayed all three. Maura understood the definition perfectly. What she did not yet understand was the hope it awakened in her.
Jane sat at her kitchen table with the microphone plugged in. She stared at the recording screen, thinking of Maura's smile. 'I may simply be pleased to see you.' She repeated those words repeatedly in her mind.
Jane pressed Record.
"This is Echoes of the Badge. I'm Cassandra Wells."
Her voice faltered.
She stopped the recording, deleted it and tried again. "This week, I want to talk about instinct. About the things we know before we understand why we know them." Jane paused, looking down at her hands.
"Sometimes instinct warns us that something is dangerous. Sometimes it tells us that something matters. The difficult part is learning the difference." She thought of her arm around Maura's waist. Of the certainty in Maura's voice. 'I knew you would not allow that to happen.' Jane leaned closer to the microphone.
"And sometimes," she continued quietly, "the thing that frightens us most isn't losing control. It's discovering what, or who, we're afraid to lose.