Disclaimer: Testpickles, Schwetty Balls...1, 2, 3! Now that I have your attention, this is my last official non-ownership claim: I'm not the characters creator; I was not present during their conception in any form and blah, blah. I'm strictly a participant in the loaner program here. Now that's out of the way...from now on the rest will be silent.

A/N: Welcome to the last piece of my little AU trilogy. This story will focus primarily on M, and in case you didn't notice 'Soul On Fire' was mostly about J. Let's see any new readers proceed to 'Living Like Hell', or not, your choice. As for everyone else who's been on board since the beginning let's start this out right in Maura's POV.

~~~~~~~Close To The Flame~~~~~~~

-Un-

Four Years Ago...

The early morning palatial cityscape before me is quite breathtaking in it's own right; blackened grey hue buildings that are, in this lighting, almost indistinguishable from the sidewalks at their foundation, and then streetlights begin to dim, yielding their artificial light to the coming dawn. I watch as the horizon itself blushes against the sun, as it takes back it's dominion on this side of the hemisphere once more. I place my hands on the large windowsill and lean forward, my breath fogs the window slightly with each exhalation. Looking down the street, I notice two early morning joggers stretching out, as they exchange more than a few laughs with one another during their interim. I don't feel guilty for intruding on their moment, because I only wish I had someone to make me laugh. Eventually, I watch them jog off together-both of them have great strides.

"Maura, come back to bed?" The sleep laden voice stirs me from my repose, and the voice is even more heavily accented than usual.

I turn away from the window, and offer him a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes, as I pull my arms tighter around myself; like a sudden chill has crept over me, and I move back to the bed. Removing my silk robe, I let it pool on the floor as I slip under the covers. Immediately his mouth is on mine in a demanding kiss. Morning breath currently not factored into this equation, I am suddenly still not enjoying his attention. Why do I continue to let him use me like this? I force myself to try to pretend he is someone else, and eventually I feel some arousal beginning to arise within me, even though his hairy chest is rubbing painfully against my sensitive nipples. He was not very tender with me last night.

Then I feel his hand cover one of my breasts, and he squeezes it rather brutally. I cry out into his smothering kiss, but it only spurs him on more, and I feel his semi rigid erection pushing on my inner thigh. All at once he breaks the kiss; I inhale some much needed oxygen, as he pushes up off me. I look into his plain brown eyes, he smiles, and then I feel his erection pushing inside me. I grip his forearms, while he holds himself up as he begins to move inside me erratically. I'm not nearly aroused enough for penetration and this is hurting, especially considering I'm still sore from last night. I close my eyes, trying to imagine a scenario with someone else that will make me more aroused, but there is no one else.

"Ian, please stop." My voice is so strained, I scarcely recognize it, but at least it stops him from pounding into me. "I...I can't do this anymore."

I open my eyes, and watch his micro expressions as his looms over me, "What are you talking about Maura?" His painfully hard erection is still inside me, but after a few breaths he gradually removes it. I close my legs, as he moves off to his side, and sits up in the bed to stare down at me.

I shouldn't have kept indulging him all these years.

"Well, are you going to tell me exactly what it is I've done?' He prods as he twists the sheet somewhat in his grip.

I sigh, "You haven't done anything really. I just...I can't see you anymore...like this." I grab the sheet and pull it up to cover my breasts. "I mean you just show up every once in a while, and I let you fuck me for lack of a better term." I look down at my hands clasped in front of me, "And then you leave, I let you use me Ian, that must stop." I feel like I've only spoken this out loud to myself, so I finally look up at him, "And I'm not in my twenties anymore and neither are you." I finish and my voice is level despite my churning emotions.

I stare at his obviously confused glare.

"That was never a problem before." He says rather coldly, throwing the sheet off his body. "And I've never forced myself on you," He gets up out of the bed, and reaches down to the floor to pick up his discarded boxers. "Hell, last night you jumped all over me as soon as I stepped through the door Maura." He adds empathically as he pulls up his underwear.

I scoot up in the bed to lean against the headboard, "I'm more than aware of the way I behaved last night. And seeing my oldest and only friend always makes me happy..."

"Your friend?" Ian interrupts, the volume of his voice raising. "I thought you loved me Maura."

I absently trail my fingers over my bottom lip, "I did love you very much at one time, in our youth. But that time has passed, and I cannot be your friend with benefits anymore." I state, making eye contact with him once more. "You may not label it as that, but that's what this arrangement feels like to me."

Ian closes his eyes and shakes his head, "So be it Maura." He says flatly, yet his voice carries a tang of bitterness. "I won't come knocking on your door for what you've suddenly deemed as sexual favors anymore."

"Please don't be like that." I reply quietly, "You need to find someone else. You need to find something more, and so do I."

I watch Ian lower his eyelids and purse his lips, "I should go now. Maybe in time we can truly just be friends, but not right away."

I grip the sheet tighter to my chest, "Goodbye Ian." I hate that I'm losing my friend.

He nods and I watch him collect the rest of his discarded clothes, before going into the bathroom. I move back down in the bed, its comforting warmth envelopes me, and I turn my head towards the window. Daylight is streaming warmly through it now; my pupils constrict against the glare, but instead of squinting against it, I embrace the brilliance. The newfound brightness highlights the suite's mahogany hardwood floors, as it warms up the room, and I stretch my arm towards the ray of light.

"I'll see you around Maura."

I choose not to turn my head in the direction of Ian's retreating voice, as my arm dangles over the side of the bed-still reaching for that light. I don't watch him leave, I only listen for the sound of the door closing and locking behind him. I close my eyes, as I feel a weight lift off of my heart, it hurts, yet within the same breath I also feel freed.

As I walk through one of my childhood homes towards my mother's studio a certain measure of peace envelopes me with each step and I inhale the familiarity of it all. I stop at her door, it's halfway open and I can hear a lovely somber aria emanating from within. I smile and quietly push the door open more, and step just inside the doorway. My mother is sitting in front of an easel-sketching. I lean against the doorframe just observing her, almost trying to decode her internal abilities. But more than that, ever since I was old enough to walk and retain some semblance of memory, I've always wanted to spend as much time with her as I could. I smile as I hear her charcoal pencil scratch on the paper. The only voice an inanimate object can offer to the passion it's translating. The revelation makes me smile wider, as I watch her continue on, unaware of my presence. I've always loved my mother, even though I'm adopted, there is still a certain warmth I have always felt from her, but also an awkwardness towards me. Then again I'm what you would call odd.

"So how is Dr. Ian these days?"

My mother's abrupt question puts me off kilter, as it jars me out of my thoughts. Her tone isn't friendly but not quite condescending and she was obviously pretending she didn't know I was watching her.

I pause, as my fingers begin nervously tapping out an irregular rhythm against the doorframe.

"I suppose Ian is doing well, why does it suddenly matter now mother?" Deflection is really my only weapon, not that I'm ashamed of my dalliances but...

I hear my mother sigh as she turns around to face me, before abandoning her sketching. I steel myself, willing my face to not betray me. My mother is also excellent at reading people.

Constance frowns slightly, "Maura, it's painfully obvious to me that you're deflecting." She says gently, as she walks closer to me, "I know you stayed at our families suite at The Connaught for a few weeks, and I was also informed that you had a gentleman caller a few days ago." My mother smiles politely, "Tall, ruggedly handsome with an unmistakable Australian accent. So to repeat my earlier unanswered question: How is Dr. Ian these days?"

I exhale deeply while closing my eyes, "He is on his way back to Africa." I reply simply, opening my eyes to meet my mother's concerned blue ones.

"Darling, I was under the impression you had out-grown him years ago. You know it reflects poorly on our family consorting with men of his nature. And yes, I realize he is quite the humanitarian and you are very fond of him," At one time I would have classified him as the love of my life. I mull the thought over briefly, as my mother continues. "But he is in no means future material for you." Constance states, her voice belaying no kindness on the subject of Ian. I hate that I've disappointed her even in some small way.

I purse my lips and fidget with my ring, "I ended it in London." I blurt out, subduing the sudden urge to raise my voice. "And I'm flying back to the States in two days, my appointment to be a district judge in Boston was approved," I look up from my hands, "So I will be turning over a new leaf there mother."

Constance smiles, "That's wonderful. I do hate to see you completely leave your practice here in Paris, but a welcomed change will be good for you." She moves to grasp my arms, "And Maura, I need you to understand I have always been proud of you, how could I not be? I'm aware that sometimes I don't always do a stellar job of showing you my affinity." My mother's voice cracks a little, but she clears her throat and smiles, "But now I have another reason to visit the U.S." She struggles with her emotions as much as I do. "I also will be coming to Boston in a few months time, an art installation, foundation duties that will need overseeing and now...to check on you."

I smile at my mother genuinely, as that warmth from her voice washes over me, "I look forward to that once I'm settled in Boston." I say fondly, as my mother smiles and pulls me into a surprising hug. It takes me a few seconds to process, but I do return the gesture of affection with every ounce of my being.

I never unpacked much of what little clothing I brought back with me from London, when I went there to decompress, and having already sold my flat here in Paris, along with most of my belongings. I plan on buying new things, that have no memory of my old life. Still, I watch as the driver loads my meager amount of luggage into the trunk of my families Mercedes, I nod my thanks as he moves around the car to open the door for me. I turn around to look back at my home, and up on the balcony I see my mother smiling down at me. I suddenly feel like I've been transported back to my childhood, and once again I'm going off to boarding school. My eyes tear up, but I wave to her before I step into the car. I situate myself into the comfort of the leather seat as the driver shuts the door soundly. I spend the twenty minute drive to the Charles de Gaulle airport with my head against the window, watching the scenery pass, as an almost childlike wonder about the new life that awaits me takes root.

It turns out I have to take a connecting flight back to London, before I can begin my journey to the States. I went to college in Boston; I completed my medical residency there. But after practicing medicine for eight years, I found I had no feel for it. However, my experiences during my relief work in Africa were the most rewarding those many years ago with Ian. But being the overachiever I am, coupled with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, I started studying law. I never really entertained the notion that my application for the judge's position would be approved, mostly due to my age. I'm relatively still young for such a prestigious position, but my scores were beyond reproach compared to the other candidates. My family name most likely had a hand in it as well. Not that it matters a great deal to me, because I'm going to dedicate myself to helping people in a new venue, not in healing, but to be their impartial voice and to hopefully right some of life's many wrongs.

The layover at Heathrow was blessedly short and observing people interact in the terminal was rather fascinating. Now stepping into first class on the airplane, I'm greeted right away by a very friendly young woman. I smile and hand her my ticket.

"Dr. Isles your seat is Row Three, Seat M next to the window. Have a great flight and I will be available should you need anything."

That sounded very suggestive. I nod my thanks to the young woman and brush past her. Moving further into the cabin, I notice that first class is sparsely populated, which is completely fine with me. In all honesty, I have no real desire to interact with anyone, other than simple pleasantries. And I will not feel the least bit faulty by my current disposition. I remind myself. So with my purse and the Annotated General Laws of Massachusetts under my arm, I move towards my seat. But my progress is slowed, because I can't help but notice a tall brunette that is slouched in the aisle seat next to my seat.

The woman is effectively blocking my way, with her long legs that are stretched out in front of her. I start to speak, to ask if I may pass, but she notices me before I have the opportunity, she smiles politely at me and sits up straight. Oh my, she's gorgeous and I wouldn't mind talking with her at all. I return the smile as I pass in front of her. Nervously, I stow my purse in the compartment and I place my book next to my seat and as I sit down I smooth out my dress. Then just as I'm about to fasten my safety belt I hear the most unbelievably sexy, raspy muted laugh from the woman sitting next to me. Wait, why is she laughing at me?

Soundtrack:"Love/Hate Sensation" by Kenna, "Policy Of Truth" by Depeche Mode, "Lost In The Supermarket" by The Clash & "I Want To Break Free" by Queen

A/N 2: I 'refurbished' the other two stories that belong to this trilogy and it took me a while but I thought this one deserved it too. As usual this has been gone over again and 'improved' where it was needed; otherwise it's all pretty much intact as I originally presented it.