Characters aren't mine. They belong to the wonderful Tess Gerritsen along with Janet Tamaro, TNT, Warner Brothers, and other assorted peopled who are much more important than me.

Jane was obsessing. She had tried everything she could think of to stop, but everything just seemed to make it worse. At first, it had been a mild curiosity. Now it was growing into a desire to know, and the worst part was she wasn't certain she really wanted to know. The problem was, whether she wanted to know or not, her nature was to find answers to questions, and her nature wouldn't leave her alone.

That was the excuse she was giving herself as she paced outside Maura's house, key in hand. Since Angela had moved into the guest house, every Rizzoli except Frank Senior had a house key. When she realized that was the case, Jane had asked her best friend if she was sure that was a good idea. The Rizzoli clan isn't known for the respect of personal space or privacy, but Maura had assured her it was fine.

Maura was wrong. It wasn't fine. The last time Jane had used her key to go through the house to the guest house in the back, she'd heard something that she can't stop thinking about. She was thinking about it as she paced outside the house. She thought about it at work. She thought about it when she was at the game. She thought about it when she was with her family. She thought about it when she was having drinks at The Robber with the guys. She thought about it a lot when she was at home, alone, drinking her reserve of whiskey.

What she had heard was Maura. Specifically, she had heard a moan echo down the quiet hallway of Maura's house as she entered it to make her way to the back to see her mother. The detective's first instinct was to stop and listen to make sure that everything was fine and she wasn't hearing things. But another moan had confirmed she had heard something. In that instant, Jane had known two things. The first was that she had walked into the middle of both a personal and very private moment for her best friend, and the second was that her best friend was moaning out a name that sounded suspiciously like "Jane", but the dark haired woman had taken off at a trot to the back door before she could confirm that was, in fact, what she was hearing.

If she had heard the gasping moan correctly, that would make things very awkward. If she hadn't heard Maura correctly, then things would be fine, and Jane wouldn't have to deal with it. But Jane wasn't certain what she heard. Had she heard Maura moaning her name? Had she heard Maura moaning something like "Jake"? Did it matter? Of course not because Jane didn't want to know.

That was two weeks ago.

Jane was still thinking about it.

She wanted to know, and she had no idea why she wanted to know, but the wanting to know was driving her crazy. In an effort to shake it off, she had tried to ignore it, but the memory would pop into her mind at the worst of times, like during autopsies and family dinner night. After a few days, she realized it was a losing battle against herself. She wanted to know, but the why behind her need to know was still a mystery to her.

There were only a handful of options on the table. Jane could actually stop obsessing about it and move on, ask Maura (which could only end badly, she was sure), or keep doing what she's doing (which meant she was going to eventually drive herself insane). None of those options were very appealing to her, but she had to do something. She was starting to dream about it.

The dreams were getting more graphic.

The detective was surprised to say she was starting to really enjoy them.

She paced for a few more moments before gathering her reserves, pushing the key into the lock, and opening the door. In something vaguely déjà vu like, the house was just as peacefully quiet as it had been on The Day, as she'd come to call it in her mind.

Eyes wild, breathing coming fast, she glanced around as she closed the door and locked it behind her. Maura's car was in the garage, and no one else besides Angela was here as far as the detective could tell. Horror and a small thrill raced through her body as she heard Maura call out her name again.

Again. There was little question that her best friend was saying her name. Jane's back straightened, and a line of perspiration started along her hairline. Despite the comfortable temperature, she was suddenly hot, mouth dry. What was she going to do?

She took a moment to do a little mental inventory. Her mother wasn't expecting her. She had just decided to come over because she knew Angela got lonely easily, which meant Angela wouldn't be calling her to ask where she was and why it was taking her so long to get there. She had parked her own car in the garage beside Maura's, which meant that Frankie wouldn't bother to stop in to try to sweet talk her best friend because he didn't want his big sister to kill him. Tommy was at work until tomorrow because he had an overnight shift. Both she and Maura were off duty, which meant no sudden work calls to force them to run off to a crime scene. Jo was here with Angela because the elder Rizzoli woman had insisted her grandpup needed space to run around and the backyard at Maura's house was perfect for that.

There was nowhere Jane was expected or had to be. Another moan, louder than the rest echoed down the hallway and solidified the detective's decision. Taking off her coat and quietly hanging it in the closet, she gave a gasp as she heard a primal grunt come from the direction of the master bedroom. She wiped at her face, walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of tea, and settled on a barstool at the kitchen island to quietly wait.