A/N: Slowly dusting off the cobwebs. Hope you all enjoy this little one-shot!

December 19, 2013

Four months.

Four months since the tragic death of her partner, Detective Barold Frost.

Sixteen weeks it took for the entire BPD to finally find the man who killed him.

One hundred and twelve days Detective Jane Rizzoli-Isles hasn't spent quality time with her family.

"Doctor Isles." Maura blindly answers her cell phone as she stirs the marinara for dinner.

"Hey babe."

At the tone of her wife's voice, Maura immediately stops stirring. "You won't be able to make it for dinner again, will you?"

"I'm really sorry Maur but I have to get this paperwork done. Then I can finally put it to rest. Put him to rest."

"I understand sweetie. Just come home when you can. The children really miss you."

"I know. I hate that I haven't seen them in a week. Tell them I love them for me please."

"Of course. I love you."

"I love you too." Maura hears her detective reply before ending the call. "Connor? Madeline? Dinner's ready!" She announces, turning off the stove before plating three dishes.

Connor Rizzoli-Isles is a bright, observant seven-year-old. As he rounds the corner to the kitchen, he dejectedly hangs his head when he sees how many plates his mom is preparing. Not making eye contact with his mother, he drags his plate off the counter and silently walks over to have a seat at the dining table.

This recent pattern of his doesn't go unnoticed by his equally observant mother. After settling down at the head of the table—her four-year-old daughter on her left and her son on her right—Maura turns her attention to her son and says, "Sweetie, I know you miss Mama, but she's doing the best she can to try and come home to you both."

Met with silence, Maura continues with something that might make things a little better. "She'll be home to kiss you two good night." She says, looking to both her children.

"Yeah, but I want to actually be awake and see her when she does." Connor responds sadly, pushing his food around on his plate with his fork.

Not knowing how to respond, Maura gives a small smile before changing the topic.

Three hours later, after everyone has finished dinner and enjoyed a movie, both children are now ready for bed. Once he receives a good night kiss from his mom, Connor stares up at his glow-in-the-dark-starry-clad ceiling, willing himself to stay awake.

Almost thirty minutes later, his eyes start to droop but immediately widen when he hears a voice he hasn't heard in almost a week. Bolting upright, he throws back the covers and jumps out of bed.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, he sees his Ma flopping down onto the couch, her head coming to rest on the back of it.

Creeping down silently, Connor manages to make it all the way to the couch without disturbing his Ma. Standing right in front of her pant-clad legs, he gently pats one of them. Lifting her head slowly from where it rests on the back of the couch, Jane smiles widely at seeing her son. "Hey, whatcha doin' up?" She asks as she extends her arms, letting him crawl up onto her lap.

Settling against Jane, Connor ignores her question and asks, "Ma, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, honey. What is it?"

"How much do you make an hour?"

Jane is certainly taken aback by this question, but recovers quickly. "Why do you want to know bud?"

Lifting his head off his Ma's shoulder, he looks up her with his big brown eyes. "I just want to know. Please tell me, it's really important." He pleads with her.

Startled by the desperation in his voice, Jane responds, "Hmm, I think I make around thirty-five bucks an hour."

Upon hearing this, he slumps his head back down onto Jane's shoulder and whispers, "Oh."

After a beat, Connor's head pops up again and asks, "Ma, may I please borrow twenty-five bucks?"

"I don't think so sweetie. Your Mom and I set up a weekly allowance for you."

"Okay. I'm sorry I asked." And with that he slid off her lap and left for his room.

Jane's heart almost broke at the sadness that fell across her little boy's face. Once she heard the door shut, Jane turns to Maura, who has now settled down next to her on the couch. "What was all that about?"

"I'm not entirely sure Jane."

"He never asks us for money. Do you think there's something he really needs to buy with that twenty-five bucks?"

Thirty minutes or so has passed, and neither parent has gotten any closer to figuring out the reason behind their son's strange question. But they won't have to wait much longer. The nagging feeling that something is wrong, Jane gets up from the couch to fish out twenty-five bucks from her wallet before making her way up to her son's room.

Knocking, Jane doesn't hear a response so she slowly opens the door. "Are you asleep?" She whispers.

"No, I'm awake." Comes Connor's muffled response.

Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, Jane says, "I've been thinking that maybe I was too hard on you earlier. It's been a long week at work and I'm sorry if I've upset you. Here's the twenty-five dollars you asked for earlier."

Connor couldn't believe his eyes. Sitting straight up in bed, he flings his tiny arms around Jane's neck and whispers a "thank you" before turning to open his bed-side table, pulling out ten one-dollar bills.

Jane sees that Connor already has money, and is even more confused by his behavior. Before she has the chance to ask, Connor turns back around to look at Jane, a big smile plastered on his face.

Seeing her son smiling so brightly back up her appeases her wonderment, but only for a moment. "Why do you want more money if you already have some sweetie?"

"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do." He replies cryptically.

"Wha—" Jane starts to ask, but is quickly cut off by her son handing her his money.

"Ma, I have thirty-five bucks now. May I buy an hour of your time? Will you please come home early tomorrow so I can have dinner with you?"

Jane is left crushed and speechless. The only way she thinks to respond is by wrapping her arms tightly around her son.

"Of course I will, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." Jane whispers, her voice tight with emotion.

Kissing the top of Connor's sandy blonde hair, Jane leans back and cups her son's face with her hands. "I love you so much Connor."

"I love you too, Ma."

Three thousand six hundred seconds.

Sixty minutes.

One hour.

That's all he asks for.