Author's Note: Finally, complete…? That would be an affirmative! Thanks for following to the end. Your feedback has been pretty great, overwhelmingly positive and for that, my thanks again. Wow, it only took me over a year. WTH?! For those of you that 'follow' me, here's my plans: convert Perception into a short and re-post magnificently improved so it's more cohesive, easier to follow. (Plus, I know I can do better since I now have a WHITEBOARD to outline plots…yeah P1, I owe you so much!). Next regular fanfic story will be completely AU and mostly written before I post because…I find it annoying to invest in stories and have to wait for gratification as well. So, I will delay mine (which is posting) on behalf of yours (reading). Thanks again!

Cage Fight

Chapter 40

Three months later…

Reginald Prentiss walked calmly down the teeming corridor, attaché politely at heel against his leg. While others were jostling and vying for position, he navigated his way deftly through the scurrying lawyers, frantic clerks, stoic bailiffs and nervous witnesses. Nothing soothed Reginald quite like chaos. The smell of desperation clung to the air, fortifying his equilibrium. Desperate men were often susceptible to persuasion, a provision Reginald always exploited. The evidentiary hearing for the Rizzoli case was taking place in front of the Honorable Judge Thomas J. Cooke, a gregarious man fond of train sets and acupuncture. Reginald had argued before the judge several times throughout the years. Cooke's two sons were policemen and one of his daughter-in-laws was a detective in Mattapan, facts that could have favorable influences. Chatter from the courthouse grapevine suggested some video evidence went astray or was somehow compromised in the Rizzoli case, boosting Reginald's confidence. After consulting with Jane, he was reasonably certain he could get the case dismissed, even without the serendipitous windfall. Insurance, however, never hurt. The attorney almost smiled.

§

For the hundredth time Jane neatly set out the contents of her tactical bag on the bed. She kept staring at each item, weighing its importance and knowing she wasn't going to improve upon the setup she already devised. There were zippered bags for medicinal supplies like Neosporin and alcohol swabs and various types of Band-Aids. Velcro bags held pens, a flashlight, and batteries. One of the compartments was the perfect size for a folded rain poncho, extra sweats, a sweatshirt, and a pair of socks. She looked around the room, her mind occupied with the past, a little lost and anxious. Jane rubbed a spot on the scuffed riot helmet, remembering how it got there.

"Hey, why the smile?" Maura asked, leaning against the doorjamb and folding her arms.

Jane looked up. "See, look! Battle scars!." She showed Maura the helmet, pointing out the mark.

Hiding a smirk at the tiny blemish her girlfriend proudly displayed, Maura hummed as if impressed. "Tell me the story."

Jane took Maura's hand and pulled her to the bed, pushing aside the gear. "I wasn't out of the academy very long when I got called in for a riot happening downtown. I jump in the squad car with a senior officer. My mind was racing, going through all these scenarios." A wistful smile took shape upon her lips as her thumbs began to skim over Maura's knuckles. "I was little…scared. When we got on the scene and the commander gave us our assignments, we took off, ready for anything…except…Gertrude Stevens." At Maura's encouraging look, Jane began to softly laugh. "She was one of the protestors—"

"Was that the Save the Wydmeyer rally? The one with all the ballroom dancers?"

"Yeah, the city owned the Wydmeyer Hotel and the Historical Society was trying to get it. All the dancers came out since they used the ballroom for their competitions."

"It really was a beautiful venue, Jane."

"Yeah." Jane shrugged. "If you like that kinda thing." Despite Maura's disapproving eyes, the brunette laughed. "Anyway, Gertrude Stevens was this tall, abnormally thin—"

"Jane." Maura's tone held a note of warning. "At the height of her career she was—"

"Seriously, she was mean as hell and old as Jesus by the time I ran into her." Playing off Maura's disapproval, Jane continued, "Anyway, she was very…adamant in her beliefs."

"How adamant?"

"She, uh…" Jane looked up at the ceiling and held a deep breath. Expelling, she finished, "…she decided to give me a piece of her mind and, uh…ended up knocking me on my ass."

"Oh, my god, was she alright? Please tell me you didn't arrest her, Jane. She must have been in her seventies back then!"

"Jesus, Maura, she broke the law! Assaulted an officer, no less. She gave me no choice."

On the verge of stridently objecting, Maura's caught the teasing glimmer in Jane's dark eyes. "Don't tell me she was the one to scuff up your pristine helmet."

An attractive blush recast Jane's defined edges into more moderate lines. The pad of her thumb firmly pressed over the delicate bones of Maura's hand as she mumbled from under a curtain of black hair, "I was trying to get away from her. She kept poking me and I kept backing away."

Maura covered her mouth, attempting to mitigate the levity that threatened to erupt. "Ballroom dancers protesting. One a seventy-year old no less. You must have been extremely cautious." Tilting her head to the side, Maura softly tormented, "It's a wonder how you survived."

"It counts!" Shrugging, Jane continued, "I didn't want to hurt her but with all the gear—and I was so panicked, I ended up tripping over myself."

Maura pitched a little forward and kissed Jane, fingers gently delving into long, silken strands. "Hmmm, you are so adorable ."

Stealthy fingers snaked under the short sleeve of Maura's shirt and traced the outline of her left tricep. It took a minute for Maura to recognize the intent. When her eyes met Jane's, she saw the mischievous sparks and immediately felt the warmth in her chest glow hotter.

"We don't have time." Maura murmured. Nevertheless, she didn't stop the caress's progression.

Jane's smile was impish as she sidled up closer. The hand that was stroking Maura's tricep moved to the front of her blouse, swiftly releasing a few buttons. Maura's eyebrow rose but she didn't inhibit her lover's questing fingers as they skimmed across the top of her breast.

Cocking her head to one side, Jane bit her bottom lip then purred, "There's always enough time."

Maura's eyes dropped, watching Jane's fingers unfasten several more buttons. Jane leaned in and whispered against Maura's jaw, "You seem indecisive, Dr. Isles."

"Don't start something you can't finish, Jane. We can't be late." Moving away from temptation, Maura was suddenly yanked back and pressed down on the mattress, Jane's body on top of hers.

"Then I better be efficient." Jane breathed just before her hand slid below the waistband of Maura's jeans.

§

Eighteen minutes late for the family 'shed-raising party', a frazzled Maura was being hustled up the walkway of the Rizzoli house. Jane, breathless and laughing, pulled her girlfriend along by the hand up the few brick steps to the front door. Before entering, she swung Maura around until she was encircled by a warm embrace.

"You make me happy, Maura Isles. I freakin' love you!"

"You love giving me orgasms." Maura considered the riant smile on Jane's face. "And I love receiving them."

Quietly Jane huffed, "You're killing me, Isles."

"That's later tonight." As Jane opened the door, Maura walked through, sighing, "Don't plan on walking tomorrow."

"Maura! Jane!" Angela called out in greeting, hurrying across the living room.

The women exchanged looks before Jane's mother arrived.

"You were supposed to be here a half hour ago! Your father and the boys are tearin' up the yard. They're parts everywhere."

"Relax, Ma, I've got it covered." Jane winked at Maura, then departed for the backyard.

"What took you two so long?"

Maura cleared her throat. "It's only thirty minutes past three now."

Angela's eyes narrowed. "Were you tryin' to make my grandbabies?" Delighted laughter rang out as Angela clapped her hands then gestured to the front of Maura's shirt. "Don't play poker, Maura. They'll eat you alive."

Blushing furiously, Maura glanced down at her shirtfront and saw the misaligned buttons. Without uttering a sound, she promptly began re-fastening them into the correct holes. A hard pulse in her neck thudded, visible in the artery underneath her pale skin. When she was finally composed enough to face Angela's regard, Maura struggled with a new wave of embarrassment. It was so unlike her. Over the years she had candid discussions whenever the topic arose with Jane's mother. What the difference was now eluded her. Grimacing, Maura made a decision.

"As you well know, Angela, two females cannot reproduce. To be honest, that wasn't our intention. Jane's sexual drive—"

"Whoa! Hey, hey, hey. There's a limit to what I want to know about my daughter!" Shaking her head, Angela gently put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "Do you want babies?"

Merciful Jesus! A dozen replies warbled in her head. "Eventually."

"Are you and Jane thinking about marriage?"

Weakly, Maura whispered, "We're not even cohabitating, Angela."

The older woman winked. With one last squeeze, she let Maura go, her voice polished with mother-in-law wisdom. "Well, neither one of you are gettin' any younger you know."

Maura's head whipped around, mouth agape and frowning.

§

Frankie scratched his head, sweat leaking down the sides of his face and neck, as he contemplated the diagram in his hands. It might as well have been in Japanese. Again, he turned the creased and abused paper sideways but it still didn't make any sense.

"What the hell?" Tommy complained over Frankie's shoulder. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"Give it over here." Frank called, gesticulating from an aluminum lawn chair under the branches of a shade tree. "Let your old man have a crack at it."

Tommy fished a beer out of the oversized cooler and plopped down next to his father. Frankie joined them, claiming the semi-full beer can nestled in grass near the cooler.

"Look, I set out all the pieces!" Tommy spread his arms wide. "What else you bozos need? Let's build a shed already!"

"Where's my Stanley hammer?" Frank grumbled, spectacles sliding down his nose as he made a show of reading the schematics.

"It's metal, pa. You don't need no hammer, damn!"

In frustration, Frank cursed then flung the paper away. It fluttered to the ground. No one picked it up. Content, the men drank their beer and started talking about football.

"It must be true!" Jane yelled from the porch.

Tommy swiped at a fly then swallowed a healthy amount of beer. "Yeah, what's that?" he shouted back.

Jane didn't answer until she made it across the yard. Retrieving a beer, she teased, "If you want a job done—at all—get a woman to do it. So, here I am to save your sorry asses."

Much to his father's displeasure, Tommy wrenched a fistful of grass from the ground and flung the wad at his sister.

"What's the matter with you!" Frank grumbled then lethargically attempted to swat him.

"The instructions aren't even in English!"

Jane shook her head, took a sip from the beer. "Good thing I'm here to tell you what to do."

"You were supposed to be here like forty-five minutes ago!" Frankie groused, snapping up the instructions and handing it to his sister.

Jane ignored him, seemingly intent upon reading.

"Good thing your cousin Joey poured the concrete last weekend cause the rate you guys are goin', we're gonna be sittin' out here for a month of Sundays."

"It's Saturday, dad." Tommy explained, trying to be helpful.

Frank stared at his son. "You aint never heard of somethin' called a 'saying'?"

Tommy snorted, upended his beer to finish it. "It woulda made more sense to say Saturday instead of Sunday is all I'm sayin'."

§

While Angela made sandwiches, Maura looked out the kitchen window. Her hands stilled in the warm, sudsy dish water as she watched Jane's slender body in motion. Contentment filled Maura. Her thoughts were nomadic, lazily touching down only to float off without direction. The late afternoon sun cast longer shadows across the yard. Distant sounds of kids at play were carried upon the breeze that gently lifted the thin, bright yellow curtain. Maura's eye slowly closed, a hint of a smile cambering the corners of her mouth.

"I'm almost done. Could you get those bags of chips over there?"

Maura glanced over her shoulder and smiled, reaching for the dishtowel. Angela, hands balancing a platter of sandwiches, motioned with her chin for the other woman to follow her. Dutifully, Maura trailed after Angela, carrying the potato chips.

"We got sandwiches!" Angela hollered, setting the platter down on the wrought iron table. She disappeared back into the house, mumbling something about plates.

It didn't take long for the group to assemble on the porch. Tommy and Frankie, with an impressive lack of table manners, started popping open the chip bags only to hear their mother yell at them through the window to wash their hands. Grinning, Jane leaned against Maura's back, arms stealing around her waist.

"You owe me."

Jane drew back a little to kiss the top of Maura's shoulder. "Oh, I do, trust me, I really do."

Playfully she pushed Jane away then picked up a potato chip. "You heard your mother. Wash up." When Jane opened her mouth to protest, Maura easily inserted the chip.

Abruptly, the blaring of Maura's cell phone interrupted Jane's quasi-offended reaction. Jane sauntered into the house and Maura's eyes watched her go before answering the phone.

"Maura, this is Reginald."

"Is there something wrong?"

"I tried to reach Ms. Rizzoli's phone but she doesn't answer."

When everyone started spilling out of the house in a boisterous mess, Maura walked over to the glider for a little more privacy.

"Would you like to speak with her now? We're at her parents' home."

"Actually, that's rather fortuitous. I have some news which is better said in person as well as some papers for her to sign. Do you think it would be—"

"No, please, drop by. I'll let her know you're coming."

"I should arrive within an hour if that's convenient?"

Maura blew out a heavy breath. "Surprise visits from one's attorney are hardly ever convenient, Reginald. We'll be expecting you."

Jane was frowning when Maura reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch. "I told Mom to put the Gruyere cheese on your sandwich."

"Thank you." Maura took the proffered plate then murmured, "Reginald is dropping by to discuss something. He tried to call you—"

"I left my phone in the car." They walked over to the wide bannister where it attached to the house in the corner furthest away from everyone. "Do you know what he wants?"

"No, he just said it was better spoken in person. He'll be here within the hour." Maura bit into the turkey sandwich.

"Can't be good, a high priced lawyer visiting the house on a Saturday."

Shrugging, Maura revealed, "He's always conducted business with my mother at the house."

"Ahh, I sometimes forget how rich—"

"My family's rich, not—well, I…what's that adage? I should quit while I'm ahead?"

"Speaking of finances…I need to know how much Reg—"

"We're not having this discussion."

Jane's eyebrows arched. "Don't get all butched up."

"By 'butched up' if you mean resolved—"

"Alright, alright, calm down. Don't get your panties in a wad."

Maura scowled. "You know very well I don't wear undergarments, Jane, unless you ask me for those times you want to take them off."

Quickly, Jane looked around, ascertaining if anyone overheard her girlfriend's empathetic confession. "Will you keep it down? What is it with you and tellin' the world your business?"

"Trust me, your mother would be overjoyed to know I'm sans panties, especially if it will get her a grandbaby sooner rather than later." The shocked look on Jane's face was enough to assuage Maura's pique. "Relax there, detective. Are you going to hyperventilate?"

Jane slowly exhaled before answering. "She's like a demented clown. Christ."

"Mmm." Maura looked over her shoulder at the backyard project. "Good thing you're here." When Jane looked at her with question marks in her eyes, Maura joked, "They'd still be under the tree drinking if they didn't have you to boss them around."

Grunting, Jane lifted the hair from her neck and quickly put it up in a loose ponytail with the band that had been around her wrist. "Evidently, I'm the only one who can read the instructions."

Maura reached out to steady the paper plate on Jane's lap. Batting her eyelashes, Maura teased, "It's cute when you get all butched up."

§

The sun was beginning to set, perhaps a half hour from disappearing behind the rooftops. Reginald Prentiss pressed the doorbell, yet again, and considered going around back if no one answered. He glanced at his watch, expelling a heavy sigh. Obviously he was going to be late for drinks with his father-in-law which wasn't really such a bad thing.

"Hello. Hey, aren't you my sister's lawyer?"

"Yes. My name's—"

Frankie stood aside, opening the door wider. "Come on in. She's out back. I'm Frankie."

"Reginald Prentiss."

"Help yourself. There's beer in the cooler." Frankie scratched the back of his head then muffled a burp. "I think we're gonna cook somethin' on the grill, too."

Reginald nodded, an anomaly dressed in tailored clothes and expensive imported shoes. Appearances aside, an impromptu backyard dinner wasn't exactly how he would spend a Saturday afternoon anyway.

It didn't take long for everyone else's gaze to settle upon Reginald, especially when Frankie announced the attorney's arrival. Never one to shy away, Reginald squared his shoulders and walked over to Jane Rizzoli, despite how the low heels of the hand-crafted shoes sank into the spongy ground.

"Miss Rizzoli." He extended a soft, manicured hand, one which Jane found surprisingly masculine as strong, lean fingers closed around her own. Reginald's gaze included Maura who smiled politely.

"So, what brings you all the way out here, Reggie?"

Wincing slightly, the lawyer tried to smile away the bastardization of his name. "Is there somewhere more private we could talk?"

Jane calmly took the attorney by the arm. She waved away the concerned and fretful glances shot at her by her parents. Her siblings attempted blasé expressions but Jane had spent a lifetime with them. Their efforts were deeply appreciated at the moment. As they walked into the house and through the kitchen, Maura's presence behind her was both a solace and burden. Not knowing the reason for Reginald's visit and his request for privacy rattled Jane. If it were bad news, she wasn't sure how strong she could be for Maura's sake and hoped she didn't have to be.

"Allow me to allay whatever apprehensions you may have conceived, Jane." His blue eyes were direct, devoid of emotion. "Your case has been dismissed."

Maura discharged a heavy breath, her palm gently pressing into the middle of Jane's back.

"How'd that happen?" Confusion warred with relief, each angling for dominance upon Jane's face.

"Insufficient evidence and the eye witness has credibility issues." Reginald shrugged and permitted himself a small grin.

"Okay, you're gonna need to walk me through this, Reggie."

"Stanley Meyers is a convicted felon that was hired through an unsubstantiated second party. He received financial compensation for his efforts to hand off the alleged envelop which was never recovered. Ergo credibility issues."

Jane grimaced. "What about the video?"

Reginald's eyebrow lifted. Although his blue eyes held a splinter of censure, one corner of his mouth curved upward. "Unviable. With the absence of any other physical evidence, the judge had no choice but to dismiss the DA's case. There's a few papers to sign and they'll need to be notarized." Reginald looked at his watch. "I'll have the documents drawn up first thing Monday morning."

Maura's arm stole around Jane from behind and pulled her close. "What happened to the video?"

"Wiped clean, evidently."

Jane scoffed, "It was from a police surveillance team. They make copies, Reginald. Plus whoever was in the van can testify to what they saw anyway."

Reginald leaned in, hands holding the handle of his attaché. "The courthouse scuttlebutt is that some virus erased the hard drive before copies could be downloaded. But I have my own theory as to how the video files became 'lost'. As to the surveillance officers testifying, that's the entire prosecutors case. Without collaboration, it's weak enough." Voice dropping conspiratorially, he continued, "I did my homework and there were three upstanding witnesses from the night you…went on an innocent jog…that are prepared to testify they saw you and didn't see a package of any kind."

Jane looked down at the carpet of her father's study. "I don't recall seeing anyone, Reggie."

Reginald Prentiss straightened and sighed. "Betty Shu saw you at the corner of St. Regis and Clark, a minute or so after police swarmed the parking lot where a stranger interrupted your jog to ask you a question in a hotel parking lot you were using as a shortcut. You were standing under a street light and Mrs. Shu saw you clearly sans any package. The police canvassed the area several times—with dogs, I might add—but never recovered the alleged package. About eleven minutes later, Natalie Solis saw you jaywalking toward a park. She remembers your hoodie because she has the same one. Should I continue?"

Irritated, Jane argued, "I could have ditched it."

"Yes, if you had a package in your possession which no one saw you with. The police did a thorough search of all the pertinent areas, Jane, and they found nothing."

Maura yanked on the back of Jane's shirt. "Why are you arguing?" she hissed.

"Let's say there was a package and it was filled with money." Suddenly Jane's throat became dry. "Just for argument's sake. Maybe I gave it all away before I was arrested. I'm sure the serial numbers were documented so they could trace where it went, log it in as evidence."

Reginald's smile was contagious. "That's assuming the money would be part of the sting operation. Perhaps it wasn't."

"Then why were the cops staking out the parking lot of that hotel?"

"An informant's tip about a drug deal going down with a police officer. Their source had always panned out before, so the detectives fast-tracked it." Reginald's smile deepened. "They had only arrived about thirty minutes before you did. There wasn't enough time to get approval for money—if that's what may have been in an non-existent bag."

"Sounds like a double set-up."

Maura asked, "Do you know who's behind it all?"

"I have a working theory along the lines of an interested party's need for… entertainment." Reginald carefully swiped at an imaginary wrinkle on his jacket. "As far as the DA is concerned, Jane, it's unlikely they'll refile. It might be prudent to not…go jogging…any time soon."

§

The homicide floor in the precinct garnered the customary amount of activity as any other day. Detectives whispered into phones, shouted across the open floor plan, darted in and out of offices reserved for the high ranking. Conference rooms beheld investigative questions designed to trap, ploys to counter subterfuge. Nothing had changed except for the extended absence of Jane Rizzoli. Business continued. Yet, she was sorely missed, less for her personality. What she brought to the table was worth fighting for in Korsak's estimation. While Jane languished on administrative leave, he was chasing down some FBI contacts for any information on Special Agent Vanessa Blake.

When he received the text that the charges against Jane had been dropped, Korsak leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with a heavy hand. Relief sluiced through the tight muscles of his shoulders and neck. For the first time in months, Korsak felt the constriction in his chest lessen. He knew Jane would tell Cavanaugh, if she hadn't already, and her reinstatement would commence although Korsak harbored a few misgivings. Bureaucratic machines advanced like a boulder being carried by millions of ants. It could take up to several months, perhaps even a year for all the paperwork to clear. If Cavanaugh could pull some strings, it was possible for Jane to be reinstated inside a month's time. Regardless, Korsak was happy the storm cloud hovering over Rizzoli would soon be moving along.

"Vince, the Feds are here."

Korsak's expression was bland although a flare of hope lit inside his chest. Slowly he rose from the chair, straightening his tie. When the elevator signaled its arrival, Cavanaugh went to greet them with the detective close behind him. Korsak didn't recognize any of the faces but their suits were dead giveaways. Whether male or female, they all wore the same cut, color, and style. Hanging back, he watched the Lieutenant greet them then escort the trio to an open conference room. Korsak's penetrating stare touched upon each one as they took a seat but their benign faces didn't give away a clue.

"On the phone your team leader said you had information about Agent Blake?" Cavanaugh didn't waste time on preambles, preferring to stand and cross his arms.

Korsak kept silent in the chair at the head of the table which gave him an advantageous position to watch their faces and body language. Some things were ingrained.

"I'm Special Agent Foster. This is Agent Raznik and Lewis."

Everyone nodded. Korsak watched the spokesperson, Agent Foster, as she coolly addressed the Lieutenant. "We learned from the postcard sent to your detective that Blake was in Florida. The primary witness in your murder case of Mazzetti, Victoria Singleton, also had knowledge about Fasano's murder which we know Blake committed in hopes of eliminating loose ends."

"We already know this, Agent Foster." Cavanaugh stated, his tone dripping with boredom.

"What you don't know is Agent Johnson's body turned up in Tarpon Springs, Florida a few days ago."

Korsak silenced a bark of impatience.

Agent Foster's face never changed, not exactly lifeless, more controlled than anything. "We sent a team down there and apprehended Agent Blake in a rental shack on the Silver River. She's being extradited to Boston and as soon as the Federal Bureau is finished with her, she's all yours."

"I wouldn't put it past the DA to make some consecutive shit—"

Agent Foster swiftly interrupted Korsak, "She'll die serving her Federal sentences for killing our agents." A nasty moue slashed across the woman's face. "Can't take her life more than once, more's the pity."

There wasn't much left to say. Korsak listened with only half an ear as the agents and the Lieutenant wrapped things up. His mind was abuzz and he glanced at Agent Foster. Her unconcealed disdain for Blake was so deep, it almost physically manifested. Maybe she'll be sympathetic…? Everyone stood, the cue that the meeting was over. Korsak shook hands but his eyes bored into Foster's.

§

Jane reclined, her back bracketed by the sofa's plush arm and cushion as Maura wiggled her ass between Jane's legs. The evening at the Rizzoli house had gone well, particularly when Jane shared the news of the dismissal. A spontaneous celebration erupted with theatrical toasts, each Rizzoli trying to outdo the others. After the third beer, Jane abdicated to her brothers and drank water. Maura nursed a tumbler of the old man's bourbon, disinterested but not wanting to appear impolite.

Finally, they were alone in Maura's house, Joe Friday curled up on the other end of the couch. Jane sighed into the fragrant mane of dark honey coiled against her chest. Without purpose, she twined a few strands of Maura's hair around her fingers, appreciating the silkiness.

"What are you thinking?" Maura asked huskily, the back of her head pillowed by Jane's breasts. Lightly her fingertips made circular trespasses along length of Jane's arm.

"I'm happy to be here with you." Jane's lips pecked the top of Maura's head as her arms and legs briefly squeezed around Maura's body.

"Jane?"

"Hmmm?"

Maura lifted Jane's hand and began to play with her fingers. "Do you want to have children?" Jane's body instantly indurated like molten lava spilling into the ocean. Maura ignored it, concentrating on massaging Jane's hand, confident she could put her at ease again. "I wouldn't be opposed to carrying our baby…eventually."

"You're seriously gonna give me a heart attack, Maura." Jane murmured, fingers lacing with Maura's. "Everything is happening so fast. Us, the case…I don't even know if the department's going to take me back—" Maura's body tensed but Jane held her tighter and took a deep breath. "I want—everything—with you. I just need some time."

"Don't take too long, Rizzoli. My eggs aren't getting any fresher."

"Younger."

"Eggs, by their very definition, are young—"

Jane's mouth descended upon the sensitive skin of Maura's neck, teeth grazing. "I think I should practice knocking you up."

A slight catch in Maura's response prevented the words from smoothly exiting her mouth. "Excellent idea."

§

Sprawled across the bed, limbs tangled, they slept deeply. Several pillows had ended up on the floor along with half the comforter. The pale blue sheet only partially covered their naked bodies. Black tresses swirled across a backdrop of baby blue, haphazard in its placement. Only the merest hint of honey colored hair was visible as Maura's head was buried under the long pillow, the sheet spiraled around her shoulders and arms, leaving the rest of her exposed.

"Bayyy-beee, phone."

A guttural acknowledgement emitted from somewhere next to Maura. Irritated, she mumbled something more to Jane, swiping at her with a slipshod hand. Abruptly her girlfriend uttered a profanity then attempted to extricate herself from Maura's legs and the sheet. She squinted at the clock on the night stand and cursed again. The ringing stopped but Jane slouched into a sitting position, rubbing her face into wakefulness. She arched her back, popping some vertebrae then stretching a few muscles. Satisfaction coated her body. Relaxed and pleasantly exhausted, Jane picked up the phone.

Be ready by 9:15am. I'm picking you up. Keep it off the books.

Yawning, Jane tried to re-read Korsak's cryptic text only to squeeze her eyes tightly closed at its pinnacle.

"Is it important?" Maura grumbled from underneath a pillow.

Jane erased the message then slipped in beside Maura. "I need to meet Korsak in a few hours." Much to Maura's chagrin, Jane rearranged the sheet, carefully unwrapping it from Maura's head. "Is your alarm set?"

It sounded like a muzzled whine, but contrary to her petulance, Maura's arm hooked around Jane's middle. "I'm the big spoon."

Jane accommodated her lover's sleepy demand, a ghost of a smile on her face as sleep swept in.

§

It was eight fifty-two, minutes shy of Korsak's arrival and over an hour since Maura left for work. Jane peeked out the living room curtains, impatient. Maura had taken the text in stride but not without a stern warning to refrain from "jogging", a semi-joking reference to Jane's ill-fated meeting with an 'informant' which had landed her in jail. She had already put in a call to her union representative and Lieutenant, hoping to accelerate the reinstatement process. The paperwork alone would have been daunting enough but the various groups that needed to sign-off seemed endless. While she waited for Korsak, obsessively checking the time, she had managed to wash the coffee mugs, walk Jo Friday, and make the bed.

Ever leery of commitment, Jane was at a loss to explain her present circumstances. She looked around Maura's home and felt as if she belonged. The transition from her apartment to the house would be relatively painless, in the practical sense. Objects moved from one location to another was a mere logistics matter. How to integrate their possessions filled Jane with a unreasonable cowardice. With her fingertips, she tapped on her closed lips, more than a little distraught. Before it truly took root, Jane's glance touched upon a framed picture of she and Maura, taken years previously at the ballpark. Eyes shaded by an upraised hand, Maura's smile nevertheless was familiar and steadfast. Jane's eyes turned inward as she conjured up images of the woman who started out as her friend but grew into much more. The clump in her chest began to split, pieces sliding away quietly, never having formed into something sturdy enough to withstand close scrutiny. Suddenly cohabitation felt like a logical progression instead of an impulsive, emotional response.

The urgent broadcast of a car's horn scattered the fuzzy cloud her thoughts had generated. Quickly she checked to make sure she had her wallet and phone then headed out the door. After locking the front door, Jane jogged down the steps and pathway to Korsak's waiting car.

"So, what's all the mystery about?"

Korsak's caterpillar brows clamped down over his eyes. "The Feds have Blake. They're taking her in through the underground parking of the Federal building."

Jane looked out the window, stuck her thumbnail between her teeth. "They have cameras and we have to sign in."

"Everything's taken care of, Jane, so it's your choice, if you want it."

"How much time do I have?"

Korsak didn't look away from the road. "Three minutes, maybe four then the window closes."

Jane abruptly turned, her dark eyes fierce. "I'm not looking to get set up again, Korsak."

Breaking at a light, Korsak replied mildly, "Look at it this way, Jane. This time you'll have company." Then his eyes met hers. "Apparently Agent Foster hates Blake as much as you."

"Well, I don't trust them, so, let's tread lightly, Korsak."

Neither spoke for the rest of the ride. Korsak pointed to the paper bag on the floorboard. Jane opened it and took out a ball cap and some sun glasses. She suppressed a groan, wondering how Korsak thought such a 'disguise' could ever fool anyone, but she twisted her hair into a lopsided bun and tucked it into the hat. In the bottom of the bag was a fake mustache.

"You gotta be kiddin' me, Vince." Jane complained loudly, breaking the silence.

"Nothing could be done about the roof cameras. It's just a precaution."

"No one's gonna buy this get-up."

"It's not like they're outfitted with the latest in digital cameras, damn, Jane. Your phone camera takes clearer pictures. I don't remember you being this girly—"

"That was before I went to jail—"

"Oh, cry me a river, Rizzoli. Everyone knows you were Big Momma in there."

A flicker of a smile crossed Jane's face. "'Big Momma'?"

Korsak lifted a negligent shoulder. "Best I could do on such short notice. There's a jacket on the back seat. Put that on, too. We're about five minutes out."

"Who's car is this anyway?"

"A widow's that has a soft spot for me." At Jane's scowl, Korsak explained, "Look, it's a Hyundai for christ's sake. Doesn't have any distinguishable characteristics and the plates were lifted from a wrecked car in Hoboken, New Jersey. Just calm down, alright? I got it all covered."

Jane grumbled under her breath but put on the rest of the ridiculous disguise. "Whatever you do, Vince, don't piss off the widow."

"I have a reason to be at the Federal building. You don't, Miss Has-A-Personal-Grudge-Against-A-Crazy-Agent."

From behind a bushy, stiff mustache, Jane growled, "Been saving that one up, old man?"

"There's more where that came from."

"Lord help me."

They arrived at the Federal building minutes later. Jane kept her face averted from the window, prudently keeping her hands hidden, often a distinct gender indicator when reviewing video footage to determine identity. When they breezed through the checkpoint, the guard went through the motions, handing over a clipboard, ignoring Jane completely. The cavernous echoes of the car testified to the seclusion of the garage. Only a few cars were parked on the lower level, one with the headlights on. Five agents exited the vehicle, two of them on either side of Blake. They waited for the detectives to approach, loosely surrounding the prisoner.

A short, pugnacious looking brown-haired woman addressed Korsak. "Your friend here has three minutes. Blake stays cuffed." She spoke into a phone, waited for conformation then said, "Cameras are dark."

Until she saw Vanessa's sneer, Jane puzzled over what she had wanted to say. But that look brought it all back. Maura's trauma, the fear that pierced their hearts, the set-up, the murders, and criminal enterprises Blake attempted to commandeer.

"Heard you were red-necking it in Florida. Suits you."

Blake's smile was sly. "I have friends everywhere, Jane Rizzoli. I see you started your transition."

"I pitch and you catch, Blake." Jane crossed her arms, cocked her head slightly to the side.

"You want to know why you were set up?"

Frost snarled, "You got a minute left. Make it count."

"Not really."

Without further preamble, acutely aware of the time constraints, Jane delivered several well-placed blows to Blake's midsection. Gasping and doubled-over but supported by two impassive agents, Blake couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.

Jane leaned in close and whispered, "Come near me or Maura or anyone I love and they won't be able to identify the pieces."

Blake wheezed, still hunched over but managed to lift her head slightly. "Looking forward to it, bitch."

Jane turned as if to leave but swiftly returned with a knee strike to the side of the other woman's head. Blake collapsed, unconscious on the pavement.

"That's gonna leave a mark." Jane muttered to no one in particular. "Oops."

Foster gestured to the other agents to pick Blake up. Sighing she instructed, "Clean her up. There's some ammonia capsules in the glove-box." She turned her hard brown eyes on Jane. "I hate when they try to escape, don't you?"

"Absolutely."