Maura Doyle

Jane was right in thinking that leaving must have been a difficult decision for Maura, but she didn't know the half of it, and Maura was determined to keep it that way.

The day before she had been adamant that she would not run again, that she wouldn't tell Jane to stop coming to the bar, that she wouldn't continue to compartmentalize her life. Everything had been going so well. They were making headway on their plan with Ferguson; they had found out who the people on the list were, and would likely have located someone within a few days. Meanwhile Steve was reaching out to the other crime families to see if they could help, to see if a truce could be reached over the common goal of ousting Colin Ferguson. Maura was finally starting to feel the possibility of an end to all this- there was absolutely no reason to send Jane away, no matter what anyone else thought. She had explained this to Danny in no uncertain terms when he'd raised the issue at the end of their meeting the day before.

"I just don't think a detective should be hanging around here so much. It looks bad," Danny had argued.

"To whom?" Maura snapped irritably.

"To the guys downstairs? To the people watching your back?"

Maura bristled. "I'm a police medical examiner, who did they think I spent my time with before I came here?"

Steve appeared beside them, hearing the warning tone in Maura's voice and attempting to smooth the conversation. But he didn't speak up for her; he agreed with Danny.

"That was in the past. Danny's right. Now, to them you're Paddy's daughter. You're Maura Doyle. And if you want them to keep seeing you that way, I'm afraid you're going to have to cut ties with Detective Rizzoli."

Maura couldn't believe what she was hearing; after all, he was the one who lead Jane to her in the first place. As she gaped at him, Danny took the opportunity to reinforce his point.

"Having her around- people are getting nervous."

Maura felt the edge of the threat. "No one touches Jane," she growled.

A nervous shadow crossed Danny's face, and he took an involuntary step back. "I'm just saying-"

"No one!" she snapped, ignoring him. She knew she shouldn't be drawing attention to her feelings for Jane but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "She's off limits; you make that clear to them, to anyone feeling 'nervous'. If I hear of anyone so much as looking at her the wrong way…"

Danny shot Steve a look that wasn't lost on Maura. It was a look that said I told you. They had discussed this before. They had come to a decision without her. She felt the betrayal keenly as Steve tried again in his gentle, reasonable tone.

"Listen, Maura, I know you don't want to hear this, but if you want to keep her safe, she has to stay away."

Maura stared at him, fuming. "You were the one who brought her here in the first place! She had no idea where I was- you told her!"

He shook his head, regretting his bad call. "I thought it would be good for you to see someone from your old life. But that was before I knew…"

"Knew what?" she snapped.

"What you are to each other."

His words hung in the silence that followed. Maura felt the heat rising across her collarbone and up her neck, her skin prickling the way it always did before a she told a lie like, I don't know what you mean, or, Jane's just a friend. She felt horribly flustered and out of control and it made her feel weak and vulnerable, which was the last thing she wanted to feel in this place, with these people. Seeing her discomfort, Steve spoke again, his voice soft, understanding.

"Ferguson will come for you sooner or later. I think the only reason he hasn't sent someone here already is those men downstairs. Things are too precarious; loyalties are strained. He will have to negotiate carefully, and we don't want to give him any room to maneuver, to bargain and make deals. We can't give our people any reason to doubt you. Now, I've almost worked out the details of your new safehouse-"

Maura balked at the suggestion of running again. Steve hurried to continue, ignoring Maura's look so he could get to the most objectionable part of the plan.

"It's just in case! We may never have to use it. But if we do, if you move to the new place... we don't tell Detective Rizzoli where you've gone. The less she knows, the safer it is for her."

Maura was horrified. She could not entertain the notion of losing Jane again. Having her closest friend here had kept her grounded, helped her feel a little less out of control, less rootless, less like she might float away. But Steve's words had sparked conflicting emotions; the need to see Jane and the need to protect her, the fear of not being able to do that. The responsibility of being Maura Doyle. She looked at their faces, waiting, expectant, and the fear and anger boiled up in her so she felt like screaming at them and like her chest would explode from trying to keep it in. But Maura Isles didn't lose control, and neither did Maura Doyle. When she finally spoke her voice held a steady, cold fury.

"I'm not running. This matter is not up for discussion."

She turned away, a signal for them to leave her. Danny opened his mouth to try again but Helena quickly hushed him. She had been watching quietly from the other side of the room with characteristic detachment, apparently completely absorbed by her work but taking in everything. They hadn't even noticed her appear at their sides until she waved Danny into silence.

"Let me talk to her," she told them, quieting Danny's protests with a look. The younger man swallowed his frustration and turned on his heel as Steve followed him downstairs.

Maura was pretending to be unaware of Helena's presence. She was done talking. She sat at her desk pretending to study her paperwork, not even looking up when Helena approached cautiously and stood in front of her, watching, waiting. She hated Helena's confident meddling even more than her carelessness and disinterest. She wished the woman would leave her alone.

"I understand what you're feeling," Helena said finally, deciding that Maura would not invite the conversation so she would have to push it.

Maura laughed a short, mirthless laugh. "Do you?" she said in a tone dripping with derision.

Helena was undeterred. In fact when she spoke again she sounded mildly irritated at Maura's disrespectful attitude. "I had someone like Jane once," she stated, in a tone that demanded attention.

Maura looked up, curiously. Helena had a strange expression on her face; she looked uncomfortable, like she did not want to share this information but felt compelled to, and didn't like it one bit.

"Not like her," she continued. "But like what she is to you. That's what Myka was to me."

Maura had never seen this look on Helena; she wanted to know what it meant. But Helena looked away before she continued, as if it was easier to tell this story if she pretended she wasn't really telling it. Maura understood that feeling; the importance of not saying things out loud, so they wouldn't become real, so you wouldn't have to face them.

"She was my closest friend. She was the one person one person who knew me better than anyone else."

"Who was she?"

Helena took a deep breath. She looked tired, as if reliving the memory brought with it a pain that was hard to bear. "We used to work together, for a while. She's very good at her job. Determined, driven, fanatical even. She has the strongest moral compass of anyone I've ever known. She will always do the right thing. Always follow protocol, never break the rules. Except when it came to me."

Maura was curious in spite of herself. "What do you mean?"

"I was her weak point. Her achilles heel. Myka has the biggest heart; she'll do anything to help the people she loves. And unfortunately, I was just... always on the wrong side of things. I tried to set things right, but things were always so complicated. With me right and wrong wasn't so easy to differentiate. She had to change the rules."

Maura caught the sadness that crossed Helena's face, and knew the answer to her question before she asked it.

"What happened?"

"I left," Helena said simply. "And I didn't tell her where I was going."

"But she must have been hurt!" Maura protested. "Or angry, or worried-"

"She's safe, that's all that matters." Helena touched Maura's arm in a gesture that was almost too familiar, but Maura didn't pull away. It seemed appropriate for this unusual moment of shared confidence. Helena was watching her carefully as she spoke again. "Ask yourself this, could you ever forgive yourself if something happened to Jane because of you? It's unthinkable, isn't it?"

Helena had left Myka to keep her safe, just as she was telling Maura to leave Jane. Maura felt the twinge of guilt. Was she putting Jane at risk by keeping her close? Was she being selfish? Jane would never see it that way, and she certainly wouldn't stop coming around voluntarily. So long as Jane knew where she was, the point was moot. Maura pushed the question out of her head, deciding to deal with it if and when she had to move again.

The very next morning she read the report which showed that Connor's gun had killed two children.

She wasn't aware of having made a decision to leave, it was simply immediately self-evident. Just as she didn't decide that she wouldn't tell Jane where she was going; it was always already decided.

It all happened too quickly, and she was too overwhelmed with feeling to interrogate her decision-making. She was filled with regret for the part she had played in keeping Connor off the streets. He had shot a cop, but covering it up had seemed like a necessary evil at the time, not to save a foolish boy, but to get Ferguson out of the way, to end the fighting, to restore some order and ultimately save lives. But the cop wasn't Connor's first stupid mistake, and now Maura was implicated in his misdeeds. She felt ashamed and afraid; she was supposed to be the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. What would everyone at Boston PD say if they knew? What would Jane say?

They could never know; this wasn't an error she could come back from, this lie could never be exposed. As furious as she was with Connor, she was committed to this course now; her fear of discovery would keep her going down this path.

Jane had the day from hell.

Everyone knew about the ballistics report. Everyone knew when Ferguson was released. Everyone watched her nervously and tip-toed around, like she might blow at any moment. Jane hated it. She felt like she was on display, like she was experiencing the most personal emotions publicly. She was short with Korsak and Frost, she snapped at Frankie, she even yelled at her mother, who yelled back of course. She went to the prison to be there for Ferguson's release, to see him, to make him see her, so that he knew she was watching him. Then his lawyer warned her that he would get a restraining order and lodge an official complaint if she continued to harass his client. Agent Dean tried to reassure her that the FBI would be monitoring Ferguson 24/7, but that was small comfort considering how easily he had given them the slip before.

She could only hope that Maura and Paddy Doyle's clan knew what they were doing. And having to cling to that hope had already driven her half-mad by the end of the day, not because she didn't trust Maura to take care of herself- she had already proven herself more than capable. And it wasn't that she didn't believe Doyle's people were up to the task; they were probably better suited to dealing with Ferguson than the cops or the FBI, having the advantage of operating outside the law. The real problem was that Jane had never been good at relinquishing control. She was a doer, and without a task, without being proactive, she felt frustrated and anxious and useless.

That feeling was not helped by the fact that she knew Casey was waiting for her at home, and right now he was the absolute last person she wanted to see. She stayed at work for as long as she could, but she quickly pissed off and alienated everyone around her with her negative attitude. Still, she stayed late at her desk, and they left her alone. But eventually she knew she'd have to go home.

Since her chat with Frankie and Tommy, she had become convinced that she didn't want to marry Casey. Now that Maura was missing again, she realized that she didn't even want to see him. She wanted her space, her apartment back, to be able to cry on her own and not have to deal with Casey, have to confide in him, have to perform the role of a girlfriend.

She wanted him gone.

The thought formed quickly and clearly, and she was surprised at the force of it. That couldn't be right; she was being rash because she was upset. She was unwilling to take her feelings at face value. But the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became. The thought of going home and not finding Casey there filled her with relief. He was a complication she just didn't need right now. But he wanted her to marry him, to become a permanent complication in her life. She couldn't stand it. All at once she made up her mind, and before she could second-guess herself, she was grabbing her coat and heading out the door.

Their conversation was surprisingly brief. He protested of course; he tried to reason with her, he shouted, got angry. But it was all over so quickly. She had underestimated his pride; he did not like being told 'no'. He was hurt, his ego wounded. He left not really believing that it was over; he left because they were fighting. He would be back, when she didn't call to apologize, when he started to realize that she might be serious, that she wasn't just upset about Maura.

It didn't matter; at least he was gone right now. Jane felt horrible at her relief, but she couldn't deny how great it felt to have her home back, to be allowed to be herself. She sat down heavily on her bed, exhausted, completely emotionally drained. Her fight with Casey had sapped all her remaining energy. She ached to see Maura. There was no one else in the world she wanted to speak to more right now. Her absence was palpable. Jane crawled under the covers, sad and lonely, reaching for the oblivion of sleep.

It felt like she had only closed her eyes for a moment, but it was pitch black in her room when she felt a familiar prickling at the back of her neck, suddenly aware that she was not alone. She snapped awake, sitting up, eyes searching in the dark as one arm flailed towards nightstand where she kept her gun. Her fingers found the cool metal and she jerked the weapon up, pointing it at the doorway.

"Jane."

The familiar whisper caused her to freeze, eyes straining towards the voice, hardly daring to believe it.

"Maur?"

"It's me, Jane."

"Jesus Maura," Jane let out the breath she'd be holding and quickly lowered her gun. "I could've killed you!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just couldn't risk alerting you- I couldn't risk anyone knowing I was here."

Jane barely heard the explanation; she was already scrambling up out of bed and across the room, intent only on getting her hands on her friend so she knew the woman was really there, was really real.

Maura let Jane pull her into a tight embrace but remained impassive herself; her arms stiff, her body rigid. Jane sensed the tension and stepped back, concerned, scanning Maura's face in the moonlight. In the gloom everything about Maura looked darker and more drawn and tired than before; her hair was black as night, her skin was grey, there were circles under her dark eyes.

"Are you ok?" Jane reached out to touch her face but Maura looked away.

"I'm fine," she replied stiffly.

"Maura, what's wrong?"

"I have to go; I have to leave again," Maura explained, her words firm as if anticipating a fight. "But I didn't want to just disappear without telling you. I didn't want you to worry. But I can't tell you where I'm going; it's too dangerous, Jane. I can't see you again."

Any anger towards Maura that Jane had been carrying around with her had disappeared the moment she heard her whispered name. Now she could see how difficult this was, how hard Maura was fighting, and the toll it was taking. She took her friend's hands and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Maura to sit by her.

"It's ok," she whispered soothingly. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll do whatever you need. I know you can take care of yourself."

At these unexpected words, Maura seemed to crumble; her carefully constructed facade was meant to withstand a fight, but she was not anticipating kindness and understanding. The guilt at everything she'd done swelled up inside her chest and she couldn't look at Jane, at her big trusting eyes, at her sweet, open face. She looked down, away, tried not to let the tears escape. She was so ashamed.

"Maura what is it?" Jane's voice was edged with concern at the way her friend had suddenly come undone. She pushed the curtain of dark hair back from Maura's face, smoothing the loose strands behind her ear and running her hand down Maura's back soothingly.

"There's just so much you don't know; things I've done that I'm not proud of. Things I can't take back. I can take care of myself, but at what cost?"

Jane was taken aback by this sudden rush of remorse, and wondered what on earth Maura could mean; what could she have done that would have upset her like this? Well of course it could be anything, she thought. She was living with people who killed for a living, who were killing every day; people who Maura used to put behind bars. Of course she would have done things that would make her question herself, that would weigh on her conscience. But suddenly Jane was struck with a thought that was so much worse. If that regret became too strong, Maura may not be able to do what she needed to. If she tried to follow the letter of the law, she may not survive this.

"Listen to me," Jane said fiercely, gripping Maura's hands in her own. "You're doing what you have to. Whatever you've done, whatever you have to do, you just do it, ok? We'll figure it all out when you're home, but right now, you just need to focusing on getting through this. Do what you have to do."

Tacit acceptance was more than Maura had hoped for, but this overt approval from Jane was beyond anything she could have expected; Jane for whom everything was usually so black and white, right and wrong. But now with Maura she was willing to concede that things were more complicated than that; there could be areas of moral grey. Helena's words rushed back to her. With me, she had to change the rules.

She reached out and touched Jane's cheek, running her thumb across her high cheekbone, the tips of her fingers brushing back loose curls. She held Jane's gaze and the moment seemed to stretch out forever, til she felt that her fingers had brushed against Jane's skin for perhaps too long for people who were close friends; and that they had been staring into each others' eyes in an unflinching way that friends really never do. It really didn't feel like there was such a thing as personal space with them, the way there usually was between friends. Their borders were permeable; they slipped into each other so easily.

When they had first met, Maura hadn't really been sure what sort of behaviour was 'normal' in a friendship. Most everyone else she kept at a comfortable arm's length, in every sense. She didn't know if letting Jane get physically close to her in this way was how people usually interacted when they were emotionally close to someone, or whether this attachment, this easy connectedness, was something beyond, something more. The only thing she had to compare it to was her relationship with the rest of the Rizzolis, which wasn't easily understood either. There was an undercurrent of attraction to both Rizzoli brothers which complicated the friendship and familial bond she felt with them, though she did not feel as close to them as she did to Jane. And while she loved Angela-perhaps even like a mother- she still couldn't stand the woman's physical touch when she was upset, unlike how she imagined a daughter should feel, whereas Jane's embrace was always welcome.

As she sat wondering, her eyes were unconsciously tracing the outline of Jane's features as if trying to burn every detail into her mind; her dark lashes, the way her eyebrows pulled together in an expression of concern, the angle of her jaw, the part of her lips. She let her fingers slip down to Jane's chin and ran a thumb across her lower lip. It was an intimate gesture; perhaps too intimate for them? She wasn't sure. It felt right, and Jane didn't pull away, although something in her expression changed, softened.

Jane felt like they were in some kind of alternate universe; the exhaustion and their bizarre circumstances made everything seem so unreal. And Maura, with her dark hair and her dark eyes, seemed almost like another Maura, similar but slightly different. Her touch was too familiar, too brazen, but also not unexpected and not unwelcome. Jane's stomach flipped at Maura's intense gaze, at the brush of her fingers against skin, at the way Maura's eyes dropped to her mouth. The butterflies were like the first time she saw Casey when he came back from Afghanistan, or when Joe Grant kissed her for the first and last time on the steps outside her apartment, or when Gabriel Dean had asked her if she wanted him to stay with her when Hoyt was terrorizing her again. But these butterflies weren't for a guy; they were for her best friend, and it wasn't the first time she'd felt them. Maybe it was the first time she'd truly acknowledged them. She took a steadying breath.

The sudden intake of Jane's breath brought Maura back to the present. She looked up to find Jane watching her intently, still not pulling away from her touch, but her skin was flushed and her pupils huge. A fear response? Maura wondered as she simultaneously noted the quickening in her friend's pulse and her tremulous breathing. Or something else…? This was inappropriate, she thought to herself, quickly withdrawing her hand. She had crossed a line; this was not how friends behaved.

Jane caught the change in Maura's demeanor, her rapid pulling away, saw her closing up, steeling herself. She felt a pang of fear as she felt Maura retreating, catching her hand and holding on tight, willing her to stay. Jane's mind was racing, painfully aware of the fragility of the situation, trying to think of something she could do or say that would show Maura how much she needed her to be ok, to do whatever she had to unflinchingly, and then come home.

Maura looked at Jane's fingers intertwined with hers, head down, unwilling to meet her gaze after that faux pas, the too-intimate gesture.

"Hey…" Jane's voice was a husky whisper, coaxing.

And then she was leaning towards Maura before she could stop herself, not giving herself a chance to second-guess the impulse. Maura's eyes met hers as the tips of their noses brushed against each other, and she saw green, not black; Maura Isles, not Maura Doyle. Jane hesitated for a second as they looked into each other; Maura and Jane, not a cop and a mob boss, not two strangers with nothing to lose, but best friends with a lot of history and absolutely everything to lose. Then Jane pressed her lips to Maura's, heart hammering against her ribcage, butterflies beating in her stomach, head spinning, arms reaching, fingers entwining, mind floating; in that moment the sensation of her mouth on Maura's the only thing that mattered in this world.

Maura stared wonderingly into Jane's eyes as she pulled back; pools of dark chocolate, or maybe espresso. Something rich and sensuous. Her fingers were threading through Jane's hair, a waterfall of ebony curls. Jane smiled bashfully. Or was it flirtatiously? For someone who was often gruff and surly, Jane had an uncanny ability to turn on the charm when she wanted to. Maura was so enthralled she barely heard Jane's words.

"Come back to me, ok?" Jane murmured in that deep throaty voice that would always turn Maura's legs to jelly. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out. You don't have to worry. I'll be right here."