Maura realizes two things right off the bat. The movers that arrive are clearly brothers.

They are brothers…and they are going to fight over her.

She shakes their hands and leads them up to her apartment, wishing too late that she'd taken the staircase behind them. She turns at her door to find one of them looking her up and down, smirk on his face.

"I have a lot of furniture," she says, choosing to ignore him. "And a good deal of kitchen appliances. I've managed to box up most of my bathroom, and bedrooms, but there's still a good deal to do. I'm not sure if just today will be enough."

One of the brothers – Maura believes him to be the younger of the two – shoots a look at the other.

"Hear that? Still a good deal to do in the bedroom."

Maura raises an eyebrow, as the older one (what was his name again?) punches his brother in the shoulder.

"Sorry," He says to Maura. "You have to forgive Tommy, he has a brain condition."

"Oh," Maura begins, ready to apologize.

"He doesn't have one," he finishes, and for a moment, there is silence.

Maura can tell by their faces that they were expecting her to laugh and respond, but all she can think is that there is absolutely nothing funny about a child born with no brain.

The older brother chuckles nervously into the awkward emptiness. "Sorry," he says. "It was a joke…I just meant that Tommy here doesn't always think before he speaks."

Maura manages a smile, looking between them. "Okay, so you're Tommy, and I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name-"

"Frankie," The older boy says, and he seems relieved to move on. "Where would you like us to start?"

.

Whatever her first impression of them, Maura soon discovers that they are efficient enough workers, and Frankie –at least – has done this kind of work before. She oversees them in the kitchen for about half an hour and then excuses herself to her bedroom to continue in there.

She works steadily for several hours, packing boxes methodically, listening to the banter of the brothers in the next room. A couple hours in, her phone buzzes, and she flips it over to see the name Annika Smart blinking up at her, along with the close up picture she'd set to pop up when she called.

Maura wants to curse.

She presses the decline button, and when after 35 seconds of silence, her ex-girlfriend calls again, Maura does swear under her breath, picking up the phone with a hiss.

"What?" she says, glancing towards the bedroom door. The boys have been dropping by periodically to take the boxes she's packed to the van, but the hallway outside her room seems clear.

"Maura," Annika says, "How are you?"

This makes Maura laugh. "How am I," she echoes. "How do you think I am, Annika? What do you think the answer to that question is?"

There is a pause, and Maura hears Annika take a breath. "Chelsea told me you're moving."

Maura grits her teeth. "I am."

"Why?" Annika sounds genuinely confused. "Why would you want to move? You just picked that place out."

"No!" Maura says, her voice higher than she'd like. "We picked it out! We picked it out together."

"Maura."

"We walked through this apartment together, looking at all the appliances, planning our futures together."

"That doesn't mean you have to move," Annika cuts in, sounding reasonable.

"You're no longer in my life," Maura says. "Which means you no longer get to dictate anything about it."

"Maura, c'mon. You know this isn't what I wanted."

Maura snorts. "And yet, it's what you chose," she says, and now her anger is tipping the scales towards frustration, which is making her eyes burn. "You chose this," she says again.

"I didn't choose for you to hate me," Annika sounds like she might be getting weepy as well. "You're the one who's always talking about finding the thing that you're truly passionate about."

This hits Maura hard, and she makes a noise like a hiccup. "You're what I'm passionate about," she says, but Annika makes a sound of disagreement.

"No, I'm not, Maura," she responds. "I know you're upset we're not together anymore, but don't pretend that you're not totally head over heels in love with your school work."

Maura stares at her cleaned out bedroom. "That's…" she begins, but finds that she cannot completely deny this accusation.

Annika sounds too knowing when she speaks again. "Humanitarian work is important to me. Travel to me is like your lab books. I love you, M, but let's stop kidding ourselves okay?"

"I'm not living in the apartment that we chose together."

Annika sighs. "Fine," she says. "Where are you going?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Maura spits back.

"Seriously, Maura? You're just damn set on being spiteful? Let's be honest about what our relationship was, huh? Let's talk about how when something came up at the lab or at school, I wouldn't see you for days on end. Let's talk about how my degree in Sociology disgusts you, because it's 'subjective' and 'not based in any sort of factual data'"
Maura can see Annika making the air quotes in her mind's eye.

"Let's talk about how I'm second to school, every time."

"Okay," Maura says, breathing deeply so that her voice does not shake. "And then, afterwards, we can talk about how, in our two and a half years together, you never once invited me out with your friends."

"Wha-"

"And then let's talk about how they would make fun of me, and you wouldn't stand up for me. We can finish by discussing how many times I had to bring up the subject of moving in together. We can talk about how, despite the gifts, and the sex, and our names on this lease…you were always ashamed of me."

Silence. Maura shakes her head, tears falling now. "Say whatever you want about my attachment to my studies. Maybe I did neglect you sometimes. But I was damn proud to call you my girlfriend, and if you had spoken to me, I would have changed. I would have worked at a compromise…with you."

Annika still doesn't answer, and after letting the silence drag on for another beat, she hangs up, wiping her eyes angrily.

When she turns to go back into the kitchen, she comes face to face with the older brother, Frankie, looking caught, and more than a little embarrassed.

"Sorry!" he says quickly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop…I just came to ask if you had anymore packing tape and to tell you I think we should call it a day."

"It's fine," Maura wipes her eyes quickly. "I'm sure you would have heard me from the kitchen anyway…That was very impolite of me."

Frankie hesitates for a minute, then he steps forward. "You okay?"

She nods, but what comes out of her mouth is, "No! Women are such…" she trails off, hands gesturing hopelessly. "We chose this apartment so we could be together, did you hear that part? I went up against my mother and my father for her. I stood up to them because I believed her when she told me that we were going to last. How foolish of me."

Frankie fidgets slightly, and Maura realizes that her outburst must seem horribly immature. She turns away from him, shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she says and when he opens his mouth to protest, she speaks over him. "No…no, I am. I don't know what's come over me. Actually, that's not quite true. The brain often processes heartbreak like a physical injury, did you know that? Many of the same hormones are released into – I mean, not that I'm saying I'm heartbroken. I just mean that, an emotional trauma, an emotional loss, I mean has the same effect as-"

"Miss Isles!" He's been trying to get her attention for the duration of her little speech.

She goes pink. "I'm sorry. You didn't ask for the details of my personal life."

But Frankie smiles kindly. "How long were you with her?" he asks. The question makes Maura sit down hard on the edge of her bed.

"Almost three years, can you believe it?"

"She's a college student like you?"

"Yes…well, she was. The phone call you heard the end of just now was her informing me that she was dropping out of B.U. and heading to Brazil to 'see what she could do there to help.'"

Frankie raises his eyebrows. Maura nods. "I know," she says. "It is not that I am against humanitarian work. Quite the opposite. The more I study medicine the more I think something like Doctors Without Borders would be very fulfilling. I just don't understand how she could throw away everything we," Maura catches herself, "everything she worked for."

Frankie settles carefully on the edge of a box of books. "It just came out of the blue?"

Maura nods, then shakes her head. "Yes…No, I suppose it didn't. What is the saying? Hindsight is 20/20."

They sit there for a little bit longer, not talking, and then Tommy calls from down the hall, seeing what is taking her so long.

"I swear to God, Frankie, I called dibs. If you are in there smashing, I'm gonna be so-" but he pulls up at the door to the room, looking at Maura's red rimmed eyes with an almost comical surprise. "Oh…" he says. "Sorry…I…Did Frankie tell you we should finish up?"

Maura stands, smoothing her dress and nodding. "He did. Thank you."

Frankie stands too, turning to grab the boxes he was sitting on. "We left you a chair in the living room. And you have the bed. We'll be back tomorrow to grab those, and then we can head over to the new place."

They start out the door, Tommy throwing a meaningful look at his brother before heading down to the Van.

"See you!" he calls, jumping into the cab.

Frankie starts after him, but Maura holds him back. "Thank you," she says, "For listening to me earlier. You didn't have to do that."

Frankie grins. "No problem," he says. "I have a sister. I know what it's like."

He heads down the stairs and jogs to the truck, opening the driver's side door and punching his little brother until the boy slides over into the passenger's seat. "Tomorrow, 8am!" He calls, like a reminder, and she lifts her hand to see them off. It is still raised when the truck swings around the corner at the end of her street. She lowers it distractedly and turns to head back inside to her bare apartment.

…

The moving truck rolls onto her street at 7:57 the next morning. Maura hears the telltale shift of gears from the only chair left in her apartment, where she is trying to study for a Microbiology course. She opens the door as the truck rumbles to a stop outside her building, smiling when she sees Frankie Rizzoli's face pop up over the top of the cab. He waves, and she waves back registering the absurdity of the emotion even as she puts a name on it.

Happy. She is happy to see him. She is even looking forward to seeing scruffy little Tommy, and she drops her eyes to the passenger side door, expecting to see his smirking, handsome face. But the person climbing out is not Frankie's little brother, Tommy. She is a girl, with the same dark hair and tan skin as Frankie. She looks to where he's waving and then turns to look at Maura.
She smiles and waves too.

Maura can only blink back in shock, standing there until the duo has made their way up the walk to where she is standing.
"Hey, Maura!" Frankie says brightly, "Are you ready to-"

"Where's Tommy?" Maura interrupts.

Frankie pulls up short, but changes his approach easily. "This is my sister Jane," he says, "Tommy couldn't make it."

Jane holds out her hand. Maura takes it, feeling callouses under her fingers. "You're a mover too?"

Jane makes a nondescript movement with her shoulders, still smiling. "When necessity requires," she says. "So it's just a bed and a chair before we head to the new place?"

"Y-yes," Maura says, stepping aside.

Frankie follows Jane into the little hallway, and then towards the bedroom, and Maura stands in the hall, listening to them dismantle the bed.

She catches snippets of their conversation between the clunking, and Maura thinks that Frankie seems more at ease with his sister than he had with his brother.

"So, you told her then?" She hears Frankie ask. "Did she freak out?"

Jane sounds like she's blowing hair out of her face. "Nah. I mean…it was some time coming…" there's a massive thump, "…girlfriend," Jane finishes.

She turns away from the door, face hot. She feels stupid for confiding in the boy. Of course, he probably told Tommy about her in the car, and then Jane the moment he got home.

She is in the empty living room, facing away from the door when Jane comes striding in. She moves to the chair and lifts the textbook resting on it.

"Microbiology," She says with an appreciative whistle.

Maura turns around, frowning, but Jane is holding the book out to her with a smile. "You about ready?" she asks, and when Maura takes the book, Jane bends and lifts the chair all on her own. "We can follow you to the new place?"

Maura blinks at Jane's shoulder muscles flexing under the weight of the chair, and then looks up into the dark eyes, still glinting with the remnants of a smile.

Is she flirting? A realization hits Maura. She is flirting. Her brother must have told her because-

"Um…Ms. Isles?"

Maura shakes herself. "Yes," she says, not returning the smile. "You can follow me. I'll see you out there."

And with that she moves past Jane, towards the front door. She doesn't look back.

…

…

"Look," Maura corners Jane in the little hallway outside her new bedroom, stepping in front of her before she can move into the bedroom with the box in her hands. "I'm not really sure what your brother told you about me," She holds up her hand to stop Jane from responding. "But I'm not some sad, lonely, charity case that needs her moving boy to fix her up with his sister."

Jane raises her eyebrows, shifting the box in her arms so she can lean a little on the wall. They've been moving all morning, Jane and Frankie going back and forth from the van to the one bedroom apartment on the third floor with tireless efficiency. Maura has not said many words to Jane, but every time she found herself in the brunette's presence, Jane had tried to start a conversation, or most recently, removed her t-shirt to reveal a tank top underneath, stuck to the middle of her back with sweat.

Jane furrows her brow. "Lord knows you're not a charity case, Miss Isles," she says with a amiable grin.

It rankles her that Jane continues to call her Miss Isles when Frankie calls her Maura. She squares her shoulders. "I know that Frankie told you my sad, sad story last night and that's why you're here instead of your little brother. I just want you to know I'm not interested. I don't need help from-"

But Jane drops the box to the floor with a loud thud, and crosses her arms.

"From your moving boy…yeah, yeah I get it."

Maura feels a stab of regret for her phrasing, but not enough to apologize.

"Hey," Jane says, "I'm just here to move boxes."

"So it's just a coincidence that the day after your brother witnesses the phone call in which my ex-girlfriend finalizes the end of our relationship, you arrive in your tank top, with your smile, and your biceps, and you…"

"Hey," Jane says, expression darkening. "Did it ever occur to you that you are not the center of everyone else's world?"

Maura looks at her, aghast. "What?"

"First of all, your moving boy, my brother, is a good guy. He would never tell me something he thought he heard in confidence, not even the lovelorn confessions of some whiny upper class socialite, so I knew nothing about that until now."

"You can't speak to me like-"

"Second," Jane says over her. "Tommy…is not a good guy. Not yet, anyway. He can move an elephant by himself, but he hasn't got the brains of a stick. He got picked up last night for armed robbery and assault. My father is too busy sleeping off your deposit to be bothered helping run his own business, so that leaves me. Now, it's my day off, Miss Isles, and I'd rather be in my bed, asleep, waiting for the smell of my girlfriend's pancakes to wake me up. But I'm not. I'm here, with my brother, moving your precious things. Because he needed me. It has nothing to do with you."
Jane ends this little tirade with a snort, and bends to pick up the dropped box. When she straightens, Maura steps out of her way without a word, hoping that the heat she feels in her cheeks does not translate to a horribly dark blush.

…

…

Frankie and Jane finish a little before dusk, and Frankie knocks tentatively on her door to tell them they are headed out.

Maura pulls four hundred dollars out of her wallet and hands it over, replacing it in his hands twice when he tries to deny it.

"No, no, really. The two of you did a great job," she says over his protestations. "I mean it. I've had it ready for you since yesterday. Nothing broken or anything."

Finally Frankie accepts the money, shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans with a weak smile. "Thanks," he says, "a ton. This is really generous."

They walk back into the front room, but Jane is not there. Frankie sees her looking around.

"Hey," he says, apprehensive. "If Jane said something to offend you today, I'm really sorry. I sent her to the van, I noticed – uh – tension, this afternoon." He seems to see confirmation in Maura's face, and shakes his head, looking embarrassed. "It's my fault she was in a bad mood," he continues. "It's her day off, and she wanted to chill…but Tommy wasn't available, and you," he chuckles, "you have a lot of stuff."

"Oh," Maura says, feeling guilty. "No…no it wasn't her. We had a misunderstanding today. I was, well, I was a bit rude, I'm afraid. Please give her my apologies. And thank her for me too."

Frankie nods, goes to leave and then hesitates. "You know…Jane has a girlfriend too. I mean she's…She's gay too…not that that's what you are. I just mean-"

Maura hushes him with a laugh, and Frankie looks relieved.

"She's had her share of rough break-ups," he continues after a second. "She could...probably lend an empathetic ear, if you need someone."

She stares at him, and he colors under her gaze for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card. He scrawls a number on the back of it, and then hands it to her.
"That's her number. I'll tell her I gave it to you so she'll respond."

"Oh, but-" Maura begins, but Frankie is already heading out the door.

"Also, keep us in mind for any other moving needs you might have," he says, and this is part of his speech. "If your friends say your name, they get 15% off!"

"Thank you," she manages finally, and like the day before, he waves at her from the cab of the van, although this time, Jane is in the driver's seat.

She watches them drive away, turning the business card over and over in her hands without realizing what she's doing.

5 Chapters, 5 Days.
Just a little rom/com (well I hope there's some "com" in here) for ya'll.

see ya'll tomorrow.

happy reading

tc