1.

Barold Frost comes to see her in the morgue the day after they close the case. She has been the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for 21 days, and she has just finished the paperwork on her first successful case with that title. The knock on her door catches her off guard, and she looks up from her laptop, slightly confused.

"Detective Frost!" her voice is a little more harsh than she wants it to be. It is a problem she has whenever she's nervous. Usually it turns other people off, but the detective continues to stand in her doorway, his easy smile not faltering. He's holding a thick manila folder in both hands, held up to his chest like an offering, and for a moment, she thinks that she's forgotten something having to do with their case.

"Hello, Dr. Isles," he says politely. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"
Maura shakes her head, wondering if she should stand and go to him. Her mother always instructed her to greet her guests at the door, but that seems far too formal for this setting.

She settles for standing and going half way, gesturing him across the threshold.

"Not at all," she says. "Come in. What can I do for you?"

Frost takes a couple steps into her office and then stops, unsure. "I…" his eyes flick down to the file in his hands. "I was hoping you'd take a look at something for me?"

The last part comes out as a question, and Maura watches him shift nervously, waiting for her reply.

"We should sit," she says, moving towards the little couch that sits just inside the door. "You're nervous."

Frost's eyes jump to meet hers, and for a moment, she feels the heat of humiliation that comes with saying the wrong thing.

"I just meant," she begins, but Frost gives a weak laugh, and lets himself fall onto the couch with not a small bit of relief.

"No," he says quickly. "You're right. I am nervous. I don't know why I should be, though. You'll either say yes or you'll say no."

Maura sits down in the chair near the couch and folds her hands in her lap. "I might also tell you I need to sleep on the matter," she says reasonably.

Frost raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Maura nods. "Yes," she says. "If it has to do with whatever is in that folder, I might need time to go over all the information. It looks like there's a lot of data there."

Frost looks down at the manila folder in his hands as though he'd forgotten it was there. The doctor studies his face, trying to discern his expression so that she can gauge the direction of the conversation. Finally, she gives up.

"Why not just jump in, Detective?" she asks, trying to make her voice as gentle as possible.

Frost swallows visibly. "Okay," he says, lifting his light brown eyes to her. "Okay. Do you know Detective Jane Rizzoli?"

Maura bites her lip.

She has heard of Detective Rizzoli. Everyone has. She looks down at the file folder in Frost's hands, feeling a little bit more apprehensive.

"I have," she says finally. "It is difficult to live in Boston and not know of Detective Rizzoli's heroism."

Frost watches her choose her words carefully, and when he is sure her sentence has come to an end, he nods. "Yeah," is all he says in response, though he looks like he wants to say more.

They sit in silence for a little bit, and then Frost takes a breath.

"She was out of the Academy when I started. Got her Detective's shield so fast," he smiles at her, but Maura can tell that he's not really seeing her. "And then that d-bag Casey…"
Frost shakes his head, trailing off. "Anyway, the medical director that did, uh, that did Connor's autopsy."

Maura frowns at the turn in the conversation. "Autopsy," she echoes, and Frost nods.

"He's just awful, Dr. Isles. He's messy, and pompous, and he couldn't catalogue a bullet wound if the victim came back from the dead and told him what happened."

Maura's frown deepens. "Surely that's an exaggeration," she says.

"Not a large one," Frost says earnestly.

Maura glances at the folder again, a realization suddenly dawning. "Detective Frost," she says carefully. "I'm aware that you may be close to Detective Rizzoli," she pauses not quite knowing how to approach the subject that appears to be at hand. "But, whatever is written in that file, I cannot alter it in anyway. For any-"

But the young man cuts her off, shaking his head vigorously. "No!" he says quickly. "No, Doctor, you misunderstand. I don't want you to alter anything."

Maura simply looks at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Jane wouldn't want that either," He says earnestly. "Honestly."

"But that is...his autopsy, yes?"

Frost's hands contract slightly on the folder. "Yes," he says quietly.

"You...want me to look at it," she tries.

Frost nods again. "I do. I want you to look at what Pike did, and his report...just to make sure it's okay."

Maura can think of nothing to say but, "It is anything but okay."

"You're right,' Frost says quickly. "But it is really not okay if Pike didn't do his job competently."

Maura considers this point. She has to admit that it feels nice to have this young man imply that she is good at her job.

"Please," Frost says, clearly not above begging. "He was her everything, and...if she can't bring him back, at least she can make sure that Hoyt rots away in a cell for all of eternity."

Maura thinks about the last three weeks, about her work with Detective Frost, and how courteous and polite he'd been all through the case.

She tries to imagine Detective Rizzoli as his partner, as the brash, fearless woman that all the papers were talking about.

She tries, finally, to imagine coping with a loss of the same magnitude.

She holds out her hand. "Give me the folder."

...

2.

The first time she sees Jane Rizzoli in person, it is at the funeral for the detective's son.

She doesn't intend to go, after all, she's only been working at the Boston precinct for a little over a month. But she is in the little cafe on the first floor, putting the top on her morning cup of coffee, when dozens of officers start streaming past the doorway, towards the exit.

Maura stands in the doorway, watching, until she spots Barry Frost and he waves her over.

"What is going on?"

They push out through the main doors of the precinct and into the weak spring sun, and Maura thrills a little at the feeling of Frost looping his arm through hers as they descend the steps.

"It's the funeral," he says quietly, not wanting to disturb the somber mood of the procession.

For a moment, Maura does not understand what he is talking about, but when she does she stops walking. She has no interest in going to the funeral for the son of a woman she barely knows. She has nothing to offer to the detective in the way of comfort, and therefore her presence might be misconstrued as gawking.

She does not need a front row seat to grief she cannot ease.

But Detective Frost's arm stays linked with hers, even at the end of the staircase, and she finds herself buffeted along by the steady stream of uniforms, until the young man is holding his car door open for her. She hesitates, but finally submits. Her manners and her nerves will not let her decline.

It turns out that Detective Frost is not only close to Jane, but is also on very friendly terms with the entire Rizzoli clan. Maura is introduced to Jane's younger brothers, Frankie and Tommy, both somber faced, Frankie dressed in his officer's uniform.

She meets Frank, Jane's father, and her weeping, inconsolable mother, Angela, who hugs Maura around the shoulders upon introduction, stammering something unintelligible into the collar of the doctor's pea coat, until Tommy pulls her off.

"Jane's in the limo," Frankie says under his breath, as the rest of his family moves off. "She won't get out."

Frost blows out a breath, looking over his shoulder at the two sleek limos idling by the curb.

"How's she been?" He asked. "Any better now that she's home?"

Frankie shakes his head, glancing at Maura briefly before answering. "Worse, if anything. Ma and I went round and cleaned the room…you know, made it look less like 'Zo was just gonna rush in at any moment." His voice catches on the name, and he looks away.

Maura considers simply walking away. She feels acutely out of place, and leaving is the only resolution she can see to the problem.

But she doesn't get a chance to act on this desire. Frost steps away from Frankie and gestures at Maura to follow him.
She does, her relief slipping into dread as they approach the second limousine, and Frost knocks on the window lightly.

"C'mon, Jane," he says, so softly that Maura thinks there's no way the woman could have heard him.

But then the door clicks and opens a couple of inches.

"Ma gone?" comes a gravelly voice from within.

"Yep," Frost says.

The door shuts with a thunk, and then reopens fully a minute later, and Jane pulls herself out from the backseat with an effort that seems herculean. She looks at Frost balefully for a moment.

"Out," she grunts. "Happy?"

Frost nods.

Jane's eyes jump suddenly to take Maura in, and for a second they just stare at each other. Maura is sure she looks terrified. Jane, for her part, looks completely blank. Empty.

"Jane, this is Maura Isles. She's the new-"

"Medical Examiner," Jane says, though there is no life in her voice and no recognition in her expression. She nods, her eyes scanning Maura's frame once. "Frost says you're the best the precinct has had in a really long time," she says dully, holding out her hand.

Maura looks at it. "That you can recall something Detective Frost has said about me, in such a trying time, is one of the highest compliments I think I've ever received," Maura says.

She doesn't take the other woman's hand, and she shakes her head once, discreetly, to show that she won't.

Jane blinks, and for a moment her expression clears. She seems to focus on Maura for just a moment, before the sound of her name being called makes her turn away.

Frost raises his eyebrows at Maura, and then offers his arm to her. "How did you know to do that?" he asks, as they head toward the rows and rows of folding chairs.

Maura looks at him. "To do what?"

"To not shake her hand," Frost clarifies. "To not tell her how sorry you are for her loss."

Maura swallows, feeling a jolt of misplaced panic. "I didn't know those things," she says crossly. "You didn't tell me either of those things."

"But you knew them," Frost reiterates. "How?"

Maura sighs, unwilling to let go of her irritation, even in the face of his obvious awe. "Deduction, I suppose. I am truly sorry for her loss, Detective, but what good does that do her?" Maura shakes her head. "As for her injuries..." Maura trails off, trying to think of a delicate way to speak about the damage that she knows was done to Jane Rizzoli's hands. "As a doctor," she begins again, "I took an oath to first do no harm."

Frost doesn't answer, but she thinks she sees the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

...

3.

She breaks.

Of course she does. Maura does not see how anyone in attendance could be surprised that it happens, though perhaps, they have not been watching her as closely.

Maura finds she is unable to look anywhere else, and she stares at the detective throughout the entire first half of the service, watching her façade slowly crumble as the priest drones on.

And finally, Maura sees the moment it happens as though in slow motion, she has had enough.

Jane stands, shaking her head, pulling free of her brother as he tries to get her to sit back down.

"No," she says angrily. "No, stop."

She makes her way up to where the priest is standing, looking torn between irritation and sympathy.

"Mrs. Rizzoli," he begins quietly.

"Detective," she growls, moving so close to him that he has no choice to step out of the way. "It's detective."

Maura sees some of the officers in the back row of chairs nod appreciatively.

"I know Ma set this up because no one thought I'd be able to do it…" she half turns to face the crowds. Dead silence.

"But you're doing just…the worst job," she pauses at the little laugh this gets. She almost smiles. Maura's nails dig into the insides of her palms.

"Connor deserves better than that," she says, quietly enough that they almost miss it. For a long moment, she just stands there, looking down at the ground.

Maura is struck with the urge to go to her, though she has no idea what she would say. Next to her, Detective Frost seems to have the same thought, and he has just begun to rise from his seat when Jane speaks again, voice thick.

"'Zo hated church," she says, looking up at them, as though daring any of them to contradict her. "He would have hated this, everyone so somber. Everyone looking at this school picture of him like it shows even a tenth of his spirit, or his…" she breaks off, taking a breath.

"He was laughing…all the time. He was in charge from day one. Everyone knew it. About the time he was two, Ma had nicknamed him Enzo."

Maura is one of the only one who chuckles at this, and Jane glances in her direction, grinning.

"It means 'ruler of the house,' in Italian," she continues. "And he was, from the second he was born. He ruled everything. The house, the bullpen…my heart." Jane's hand make a helpless gesture. "Connor," the hands stop abruptly. "God, we were always late," she says exasperatedly. "I was always late. He never wanted me to do anything without him. What is that called…" She looks out at them. "A Mama's boy?"

Everyone laughs, save Maura and Frost.

"His favorite book was Where the wild things are. Even when he got older and could read things on his own, that was the one he always wanted me to read before bed. God, I could do it in my sleep. I must have spent half my salary on 'Max' costumes. He wanted to be that character every year for Halloween. Even when his friends were superheroes and, uh, movie villains. He always wanted to be Max." Jane's eyes drift out of focus a little, just for the tiniest of seconds. "Except that year that he wanted to be a policeman," she says.

No one laughs at this. It seems every single person is holding his or her breath, waiting to see what Jane will say next.
Maura wonders how many have ever seen her this way, bereaved enough to open up.

"And it became this thing, with us, whenever one of us had to go somewhere, we would say the lines of the story back to each other. He liked the part about the monsters, and the dancing, and everything, but he loved these ones the best. And we said it all the time." Jane's smile this time is genuine, expectant and excited, and Maura's heart feels close to breaking.

She can see what's coming again, see it as clear as day, and she wants to get up and yell, scream, do anything to derail the moment she knows is racing towards them like a freight train.

She does not know Jane Rizzoli from any other Detective here, but she is struck by the desire to spare her.

To help her.

"I'd go, I'd have to go, and I've be running late – God, he always made me so late – and he'd be holding me around the waist or leg…" Jane laughs. "Oh please, oh please, don't go," she says, and then she looks around, expectantly.

Waiting for her son to answer.

For one, long, agonizing minute, Maura watches the realization washing over the detective's face in waves, as though the news of her son's death is brand new. As though she is hearing it for the first time.

And then Frost has left his seat, he is jogging up the aisle to where Jane stands, frozen with grief.

He grips her around the upper arm, but doesn't say anything.

Maura sees Frankie holding Angela firmly in place, preventing her from standing.

Jane clears her throat once. Twice.

"Connor…was my son," she says heavily. "He was better than every drug bust I ever made. Sweeter than any true arrest I ever had, and just…cooler than any medal I ever earned." She swallows, and Maura can see a tear fall from her eyelashes onto her cheek. She shakes her head, turning away. "I would give each and every one of those things back," she says, choking up in earnest. "Just to have him make me late one more time."

…

Maura doesn't wait for Frost to reappear. She doesn't expect him too.

She walks away from the ceremony, calls a cab to take her back to the precinct, and then takes her car to the nearest bookstore.

She only nods at the cashier, who gushes over her choice of books, "Oh, my son simply adores this one!" and she waits until she's safely ensconced back in the driver's seat to crack it open.

She flips through the pages until she finds what she's looking for, and though she swallows and swallows, the lump in her throat does not dissipate.

Oh please, Oh please, don't go.

I'll eat you up, I love you so.