I'm back! Couple of things. First, follow me on twitter santonaranja Secondly, there is an 8tracks playlist which goes with this fic and can be found linked in my twitter. Thirdly, the majority of this fic was written before the show decided to go canon with a bucketlist plot but I'm not bitter... And lastly, this takes place at the beginning of season 2, after the premiere. Enjoy!

Jane shuts the door behind her and slumps back against it. She closes her eyes and wrings her hands by her sides. Breathing out through her nose, she lets the tension ease and drain away from her body.

The drive home was so long she thought that she would never make it home. She should have expected the traffic to be so bad. Yet it completely slipped her mind until she was sitting behind the wheel of her car. A train of cars in front and behind. Packing her in.

"Jane? Is that you?" a bright voice calls from out of sight.

Jane's eyes open and a tired smile dawns on her face. She rounds the corner to the kitchen to see Maura. The doctor is chopping an onion into fine pieces on the wooden board.

The M.E.'s eyes light up when she raises her head to see Jane taking a seat at the island. She frowns when she registers the fatigue on the detective's face.

"Oh Jane, did you get held up?" Maura asks, using the knife to dice the onion further into smaller, neater chunks.

"Like you wouldn't believe. Got stuck with another false lead that went nowhere," Jane grumbles. The sides of her mouth turn down. She remembers that particular pill of bitter disappointment.

It had become a familiar taste today.

"Traffic?"

"Terrible."

"Ah, just as I thought," Maura muses, setting her knife down and turning away. "I have just what you need."

Jane doesn't even realise what her friend refers to until a bottle of beer appears. She wraps her hands around the bottle and groans to find it so chilled. From the first sip, she savours the cold drops sliding down her throat. They soothe the irritation of the day away.

The knife picks up on the chopping board again. Jane grins at Maura. The honey blonde smiles at Jane's reaction while still concentrating on cutting with precision.

"Thanks, Maur," Jane says.

Maura doesn't answer, she just beams. Finishing the onions, she lifts up the board. Scraping them into the heated pan, they sizzle with the contact. The smell which arises is immediate and intoxicating.

Jane rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the granite island-top. She stifles a yawn as they maintain a content and companionable silence. And then she stifles another, but only barely.

Maura glimpses over her shoulder as she washes the chopping board in the sink. "Tired?"

"Oh so very tired," Jane replies sarcastically.

When Maura turns, her eyes shimmer with hardly suppressed humour. "Oh so very tired? Yes, because I can imagine how sitting in traffic is physically exhausting," she says. A wink and a sly smile is thrown Jane's way before she returns the board to its correct shelving.

The detective's eyebrows shoot upwards at the remark, and she bursts out laughing. But her mirth is cut short when her scar tissue screams its protest. A hiss escapes her as she gingerly palms her side. It makes Maura frown in concern and pause what she is doing.

"Your side is still giving you grief?" Maura asks. She deftly makes her way around the island, putting a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. Jane groans, shaking her head but not making any effort to shrug Maura off.

"I'm fine. It just flares up sometimes is all," she mumbles. Maura hovers unconvinced. Jane rolls her eyes and takes another hearty swig from the bottle in her hand.

"Jane, if it's bothering you-"

"Maura, leave it will ya," Jane snaps. She immediately wishes she could take the words back when Maura retracts her hand. Like Jane has clicked a lighter and brought it up to sear into her palm. Maura looks wounded; Jane's heart deflates.

"No, no. I'm sorry- I just..." Jane sighs, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. The caring, healing touch returns. A warm hand on her shoulder once more.

"I know, Jane. It's difficult, and you don't like to talk about it." Maura adds as an afterthought, "I'm sorry for pushing you." She moves to the other side of the island.

Jane grips her bottle. She watches Maura retreat back around to lose herself in the task of preparing their dinner. Maura had no need to apologise and yet she did. As if something was her fault. Like she did something wrong. Jane wonders if this is something that Maura has thought and done a lot in her life. It makes her ache inside. As if she is being hollowed out and filled with space.

Nothingness.

"Anyway," Jane segues, full of false bravado. "We have to avoid Ma for at least the next month and a half."

The doctor's eyebrows knit together in confusion. She retrieves the butter from the fridge. "What? Why?"

"Because," Jane explains. She leans a little further forward and lowers her voice as if her mother was lurking out of sight. Ready to pounce at the topic of conversation. "It'll soon be my birthday."

Maura puts her thumb into her mouth, cleaning off a stray sliver of butter. She hums and tilts her head. Jane knows Maura has had plenty of experience with Angela Rizzoli. She understands how heavily invested Jane's mother can get in her children's lives. Especially Jane's. She definitely kicks up at gear when it approaches one of their birthdays.

"What do you propose that we should do to avoid her for that period of time?" Maura asks, returning the butter to the fridge and reaching for the red peppers.

Jane watches Maura wash the vegetables as she considers the question for a second. "Hide in an underground bunker for a while? Stock up on supplies, hook up ESPN. It'll be great!"

Maura cuts the first pepper down the centre. She stops and meets Jane's eye as the knife clicks against the chopping board. Jane grins sheepishly and shrugs. It makes laughter bubble up from Maura's throat as she resumes dicing the peppers.

"What?" Jane protests, holding out her arms in indignation. Even when her shoulders shake with laughter. "It's a great idea!"

"It's a terrible idea and you know it," Maura admonishes. She throws the sliced red peppers into the pan. They scatter amongst the onions.

"Ah, good enough," Jane replies. The smell in the kitchen is beginning to overwhelm her now. The low grumbling of her stomach makes her aware of just how long ago her lunch hour was.

Maura takes care to check the timer for the chicken breasts in the oven. She has an unreadable expression on her face. "Most of the time you act as if you're being suffocated. But being suffocated seems a lot more pleasant than nothing at all."

And then nothing more than the sizzling of the cooking.

Jane feels that the silence is smothering all a sudden. She wonders where on earth that response came from. She looks to Maura to try and understand why the kitchen now crackles with tension. The doctor stands there with her fingertips resting on the pan handle. Unmoving and unblinking, locked away in a different world.

"Maura," Jane coaxes, ducking her head to try and catch her best friend's eye. The side of her lips turn down in concern as Maura snaps out of her thoughts, pain marring her face. "Where did you go just now?"

"It's...it's nothing," Maura tries, her voice breaking before she can clear it.

Undeterred, Jane sits up straighter. But Maura shakes her head, leaning her palms on the island-top.

"I was just thinking about my mother and how she never..." Maura pinches the bridge of her nose and heaves a deep, shuddering sigh. "You're so fortunate, Jane. And I know I have no right to even..." She waves her hand and turns away once more.

"Aw Maura. No, come on," Jane hops off of her stool and stands. She circles the island and wraps Maura up into her arms. The doctor resists at first. Then she goes slack, and finally melts into the detective's embrace. Maura slips her arms around Jane's waist, pulling her closer.

Jane places a kiss on the crown of soft golden hair. To convey some sense of calm and confidence. She ignores how her chest seems to expand and ignite with emotions she can't quite put a name to. She strokes Maura's back.

"Okay?" she whispers after a while.

Maura nods against Jane's shoulder. When they break apart, Maura's eyes have remained dry. The distress that had darkened her features has gone away. Jane is encouraged, winking at Maura before returning to the stool opposite her.

Later, the small talk has exhausted them both. They are more than content just to sate their appetites.

"Jane?" Maura prompts, the name out of her mouth before her question is full evolved.

"Uh-huh," Jane manages between shovelling a forkful of chicken into her mouth.

Maura takes a deep breath, glancing down at her almost empty plate. She can't quite keep eye contact. Concerned, Jane swallows and lowers her cutlery to her plate. She wipes her mouth with her napkin and refocuses on her best friend.

Maura's shoulders slump, tense up, and then slump again. It is a key sign that she is trying to work through frustration to try and voice an opinion. Jane's heart clenches at her friend's nervousness to voice her thoughts.

Like they wouldn't be good enough for her.

Like Jane was going to laugh at her like all the others have before.

"Maura," Jane utters, reaching across the table and gently squeezing the doctor's hand. "Whatever you wanna say, say it."

Maura's eye twitches, and she sits up straighter.

"Have you ever wondered what life would be like if we took a chance once in a while and did something special?" Maura rushes, muscles tensing as she waits for Jane's reply.

The detective's jaw goes slack, and she licks her lips. A sudden gush of adrenaline overcomes Maura and the rest of her idea comes pouring out. "What if we lived our lives through concentrating on the small rewards in life? Would we be more or less accomplished than we are now?"

Jane's eyes widen and she has to clear her throat before she is able to speak. "Uh...beer good. Food smells good. Traffic bad."

Maura finally meets Jane's eye once more. She smiles brightly, shaking her head at the lacklustre response. "I'm serious. I was thinking about your birthday and I was just thinking that...there are so many little things we could do. We live in a very historical city, Jane. How many famous places or landmarks can you say you've actually been to in all of the years that you've lived in Boston?"

Jane's eyebrows scrunch together in an attempt to catch Maura's meaning. "So you're saying we're gonna go on one of those bus tour things? Count me out, Maur, they always make you wear stupid I Heart Boston T-shirts like it's frickin' NYC." The brunette vehemently shakes her head, brown locks dancing. "No. No way."

Maura rolls her eyes and tilts her head. "No, Jane." She sighs, uncertain of how exactly to phrase what she wants to say. "What I'm trying to say is that imagine we didn't get so caught up in the daily thrust of life. Imagine we lived for the smaller, finer moments. Doing something kind for a stranger, trying something new for a change. Something different that pushes the limits of our comfort zones."

Jane narrows her eyes, and then clicks her fingers. "Like a bucket list?"

Maura taps a fingertip to her lips. "Yes, I suppose so."

Jane tosses this idea around in her head for a second. She leans forward, unable to deny the spark of curiosity and interest inside. "So, what? You wanna make a bucket list?" she clarifies.

Maura licks her lips, the question stagnant in her mind for a moment before she sharply nods. "Yes."

Jane narrows her eyes, scrutinising her friend for her level of seriousness. She finds no flaw or joking tease; the detective finds her completely honest. Taking a viciously deep gulp of her beer, Jane looks away from the intensity of waiting hazel eyes.

The beer bottle clicks against the island as she sets it down. Seconds of silence slip by them, around them, but Jane's mind is far from silent. It's a din; a symphony. But none of the notes match or harmonise and instead of music it's just white noise. Blaring white noise.

And then her mind goes still. She meets Maura's eyes, glimmering in the bright kitchen lights.

"Okay, but I kinda wanna make one too," Jane states nonchalantly. She presses a thumb into the scarred centre of her hand.

Like the sky with fireworks, Maura's face is overcome with glee.

"Really? That's wonderful, Jane!" she all but squeaks. Jane would have scowled if the burst of excitement had come from anyone but the woman opposite her. She wonders briefly what that says about their friendship. She thinks about asking.

"What are you gonna put on yours?" she asks instead.

Maura plays with the purple ring on her finger, unsure of where to start. She hesitates. Jane thinks this is because she is terrified of being judged by her best friend. Perhaps the thought of Jane reacting negatively or cynically causes a spike of paranoia to prickle inside.

Bracing herself with a deep breath, Maura carefully chooses where to begin. Jane stretches her hand across to Maura's, rubbing her knuckles with the side of her thumb.

"Well, I've never been on a rollercoaster," Maura begins timidly. She gasps as Jane's hand clamps down on her own. Her eyes fly up to meet hers, and when she sees the jaw hung open and the chocolate eyes so wide they're almost white with shock, every muscle in her body tenses painfully tight.

"Maura, you've never...have you ever been to a fair?" she breathes, eyes flitting over her friend's face. Maura's expression is ashen; even the hot, embarrassed flush which attempts to surface doesn't have much of an effect. She shakes her head solemnly.

"No. My parents never took me and by the time I was old enough to take myself, it would have been too strange, Jane." Maura is still shaking her head slightly as she lowers it in shame. "I didn't have any friends to go with, either. But I've always wanted to know what it was like."

Jane can't believe what she is hearing. Her friend looks practically broken, all the pain from childhood once again seeping through like venom. Maura is so well put together on a daily basis, and yet she harbours so much internal loneliness and grief.

And to think that Maura considered Jane to be the stronger of the two.

She squeezes Maura's hand, willing her to look up at her. When Maura does, Jane is utterly unprepared for the devastating emotion she becomes pinned down with.

"Listen, Maura," Jane urges, ducking her head and smiling lightly. "You put that on your bucket list, and I'll take you. Whether it's at a fair or one of those theme parks near the outskirts of the city."

To her delight, Maura begins to smile fondly. She continues, more animated now. "And we're gonna get more candyfloss than you can handle. You'll probably spend most of the night telling me about all of the nasty, sugary chemicals in it but we're gonna eat it anyway cause that's what we do."

Maura's laughter makes her chest swell with relief and something that feels magnificent. Familiar and warm like home after a long day's work.

Wistfully, Jane imagines taking Maura to one of the shooting games at the fairs that she attended with her friends and brothers as a child. How she would use her advantage of being a trained cop to hit every target dead centre, just to win the prize for Maura. A teddy, cheap candy, something novelty; it didn't matter. Jane would be after one thing; that smile of pure bliss and innocence that Maura got when she experienced something for the first time and enjoyed it.

"So," Jane starts, "What else?"

"What about you?" Maura challenges, leaning forward over the kitchen island.

Jane isn't sure why the question stumps her. A memory floats through like a dream during a light dose.

Whenever Jane was a sophomore in high school, one of the girls she played softball with was called Holly McGonigale. Jane was very fond of both Holly and her younger sister, Shannon. But by the time Jane and her friends were getting excited about the summer break, Holly's mother Karen had been diagnosed with terminal illness.

The impact that it had on the girls was staggering. Holly dropped out of school, and Shannon began going less and less. Foreseeing the crushing weight that medical bills was going to have on them, Holly went out to work, juggling three part time jobs.

Softball wasn't an option.

Jane soon realised that hanging out after school wasn't either.

Still, the one thing that remains in Jane's mind is the last time that she spoke to Holly's mother. Karen McGonigale didn't look sick or frail. Her eyes were red rimmed, but then who doesn't need a good cry every once in a while? The lanky Italian teen had shuffled her feet, unable to maintain eye contact with the woman, until she told Jane something that she'd never forget.

"You know, you don't have to stand there all embarrassed, Jane Rizzoli. I know you know I'm gonna die. I've come to terms with it. But I know that it could be worse. Have you ever seen those kids in the hospitals? I feel so sorry for them. During the day, when their parents are at work and they're alone in their hospital beds with no one but the nurse that comes around every so often and can only stay for a few minutes with each one of 'em; they're all dying and some of them aren't even old enough to fully understand that.

Don't they get lonely, Jane?"

Jane swallows, remembering how she stood slack jawed in the doorway of the living room that day. Unable to comprehend how someone could be in such a dire situation and still have so much sympathy for others.

When she shot herself in the gut, she thought for sure that she was going to die. The agony of the bullet ripping through her body sparked images in her mind; Frankie, her mother, Maura. Crashing into the hot, gritty sidewalk, her life flashed before her eyes. But as her eyelids closed and she lost consciousness, she remembers her final thought being Karen McGonigale and her words.

"Jane, are you alright?" Maura cut in.

Jane clears her throat, feeling the emotions dislodge themselves as she plants herself firmly back into the present.

"Oh just remembering an absent friend, that's all," she replies offhandedly.

"So?" Maura prompts.

Jane's tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, and she nods before she speaks, affirming her decision. "I wanna visit a hospital, and go to the kids ward. Maybe dress up in one of those cartoon characters or something. Read them a few stories. Just be a friend for a while, I guess. Some charities look for volunteers all the time, right?" Jane breathes.

Maura's eyebrows rise, and she leans back, appraising the detective. "My, Jane that's a wonderful idea. What brought that on?"

Jane shrugs. "Something I've always wanted to do."

Maura nods her approval. "How about we write down a list of say..." She trails off, nibbling her bottom lip and nodding once more. "...twenty items. Then we can discuss."

Twenty two minutes of tapping at their smart phone keyboards, their only background noise the occasional sigh or cynical scoff, and their eyes meet once more.

The sensation of standing in front of an open fire with the flames dancing and heating her skin rises up in Jane, but she doesn't avert her gaze. Maura watches the crimson colouring rising up Jane's sharp cheekbones with interest. It makes Jane blush even more. After all, it was she, not Jane, who had been caught staring.

"Well," Jane starts, setting her phone flat on the table. "Do you wanna swap the lists and read mine?"

Accepting the suggestion, Maura gestures with her hand and gives her phone over to Jane. The brunette slides her own phone across the table. Taking a deep breath, Jane turns her gaze down to read the neatly laid out text on the phone screen;

Get a tattoo
Perform poetry
Learn to play an instrument
Learn a famous dramatic monologue by heart
Write down your regrets and burn them
Tell your best friend something that no one knows
Bake cookies
Sleep with a Boston woman
Build a fort
Go to a Boston Red Sox game
Watch a full pornographic film
Attend a political rally
Ride a rollercoaster
Flirt with a stranger
Go and see an indie band
Buy a random art piece
Shoot a bow and arrow
Drive a racing car
Buy coffee for a complete stranger
Write down your dreams for the duration of the bucketlist.

Jane has to read over the list a few times, seeing as some of the items shocks her so much that she forgets entirely what she's reading. She is buzzing with the need to question Maura on some of the things listed. Instead she grits her teeth and waits for the other woman to finish reading.

Successfully avoiding the temptation of watching Jane's reactions to each of the items on her own list, Maura concentrates on reading Jane's.

Get lost on purpose in a forest (Blindfold?- ask Maura)
Walk in the rain
Write poetry
Gatecrash a wedding
Watch a sunset and sunrise
Get dressed up and go to a fancy restaurant
Sit through an opera
Go to an unfamiliar bar
Buy everyone drinks at said bar
Start a bar fight (Don't get caught, Rizzoli)
Do karaoke
Kiss a woman
Get a lapdance
Dress up and go to a children's hospital
Go to a comedy club
Find someone with the same name
A random act of kindness
Repaint bedroom
Register as an organ donor
Write a note to yourself every day

Just as Jane expected, it is Maura blurting out her surprise that breaks the silence.

"You want to kiss a woman?" Maura inquires, voice a higher pitch than usual.

Jane swallows and shrugs.

Both of them ignore the fact that, though Maura is a woman of little tact, she at least had the sense to avoid the fact she is using kiss as a cover up for her real question. She wouldn't want to make Jane feel embarrassed about anything on the list. They hold a mutual bond of trust, in that respect. So Jane appreciates that Maura keeps her question limited.

Even if she does look like she is dying to know why Jane wants a lapdance.

"You know, Jane," Maura begins, her voice using the tone that lets the brunette know she's in for a lecture. "Drinking alone in an unfamiliar place is dangerous."

"Chasing murderers down alleys is dangerous too. I figured it would be a piece of cake," Jane says noncommittally, grinning at Maura, who frowns back at her. Jane snaps out of her reverie. "Wait, no what, Maura, you want to watch porno?! A full porno. Start to finish. Jesus..."

Maura leans back in her chair, away from the ferocity of Jane's exclamation. "Nothing serious, Jane. It's just been a lingering curiosity that I've had. Have you read some of the statistics? It is a huge part of the modern culture, especially with the rise of the internet and the cyber age."

Jane puts her head in her hands and sighs.

She isn't sure she'll ever be able to understand Maura Isles.

But the fact that she warrants even a second of this genius' time makes her chest expand and every complaint drift away.

"Maura, why do you wanna build a fort and bake cookies?" Jane asks, as they exchange phones again.

Maura's breath catches in her throat. Even when she clears it, it sounds as if something sharp is cutting into her windpipe. "They were things that I didn't get to do as a child. You know how my parents were."

Jane doesn't have to answer. Neither of them have to elaborate. And once again Maura falls into the rut she calls absence of fond childhood memories. Jane becomes determined to pull her right back out.

"So, you wanna see the Red Sox, huh? I'm pretty sure that can be arranged!" she says cheerily.

Maura narrows her eyes, and then they widen again. In her haste, she blows right past Jane's conversation starter. "You want to go to the opera, Jane! That's so exciting!"

And it is terribly exciting indeed for the medical examiner. Jane knows the fact that she wants to dip her toe into the rich pool of culture that Maura was brought up in would make the doctor excited. The happiness shimmering in Maura's eyes makes Jane feel like there is a hummingbird inside of her chest instead of a contracting muscle. Though Maura would tell her that it's anatomically impossible, she can feel the fluttering beats of the hummingbird's wings even now.

And when Jane thinks she is finally setting herself free and becoming willing to explore same sex attraction, even if it's only a chaste kiss, a brief tangle of tongues or even an erotic dance, the hummingbird intensifies. It's the same tingles of excitement she feels but, with a shiver, she realises it's just a little lower down.

Her head is a mesh of moonlit bedrooms, sweat-slicked bare limbs and breathy sighs. Maura and another woman; exploring her own sexual identity. Though now the hummingbird is gone. Something ugly with claws grip Jane's ribs and tug them apart. The kitchen begins to spin away from her. She grips the granite. Thinks about police codes until the spinning stops and the blood circulates back into her brain.

"So," Jane says suddenly, her voice cracking from the hazy maze of sensual images in her mind's eye. "It's agreed on then."

Maura quirks her head. "It is?"

"Yes. We'll help each other complete our lists," Jane supplies, grinning from ear to ear as she holds her hand out over the island.

Maura gracefully accepts the hand, shaking it firmly and nodding decisively. "Yes. It's a deal."

They stare at each other. The air static and charged. Like bringing a knife to a gunfight, knowing for sure you're about to lose. It isn't a bet, it is a promise. So why does it feel so dangerous? Jane wonders. Like they have just agreed to change their entire destiny in a single touch of palms.

"But Jane, you do know that as an upholder of the law, starting a bar fight is an unwise choice of action?"

Jane groans.