Jane never considers playing the piano again, because no one ever brings it up in fear of Jane having flashbacks, till Maura asks her about it, cause obviously, she'd do anything for Maura.

Why don't you play anymore?

It was a question Maura had wanted to ask for years, but never had the courage to. And not just her, but Angela, Frankie, Korsak, almost anyone who had known her before it happened. You see, what most people don't know, is that Jane, our bad-ass detective, is - or used to be- an accomplished pianist. It wasn't something she ever bragged about, or brought up in conversation unless someone else brought it up. And when it did come up, she'd just say, "Yeah, I play." She'd say it like she hadn't had 9 years of instruction. Like she hadn't performed in countless recitals. Or that she didn't have awards from competitions sitting in a box in her closet, stuffed behind all the old Christmas sweaters her mother had knit over the years. (Yes, between field hockey and softball, Jane Rizzoli performed in music competitions.) She'd even bought herself an upright piano when she moved out for the Academy, so she'd have something to play when she got the craving for ivory keys under her finger tips.

But alas, now that piano was covered in piles of books and old case files and was barely recognizable. Unless you knew before that there was a piano under there, you'd think it was just a desk or something. Nobody said anything when Jane put a sheet over it during the months after her first encounter with Hoyt. Nobody said anything when the books and files and clothing started to cover it. Even Dr. Maura Isles, in her lifelong quest for knowledge, didn't ask.

But for some reason, today, seemed like a good enough day.

The two were lounging on Jane's sofa after sharing a large, half pepperoni/half mushroom pizza and kale salad (Maura's idea). It was a Saturday, and neither were on call. It was an empty day and there seemed to be no reason that Maura shouldn't ask. For the last hour, Maura's eyes had darted back and forth between the covered piano and the TV, where the Sox were playing some team called the Tigers; yet she had no idea where they were from.

"Jane?" she started, hesitantly

'Yah." came the short reply from the distracted detective

"Have you ever considered playing again?"

"Baseball? Yeah, I mean, I play on the Homicide team every summer."

"Piano." Maura's eyes squeezed shut the moment the word left her mouth, waiting for the Detective to snap

Jane tensed. The room was silent except for the sound of the game.

Maura slowly dared to open her eyes after a quiet minute. Jane was now sitting at the edge of the couch, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, thinking.

There was a pregnant pause as Maura internally berated herself for bringing it up. But before she could apologize, Jane spoke, "Do you think I should?"

"Oh, Jane, I don't know…"

Jane cut her off, "But do you think I should?"

Maura took a deep breath, giving herself a moment to think of a response, "Well, from what I've gleaned from the few psychology courses I took in med school, my medical opinion would be that I think that it could be beneficial to the healing process. It could help with the nightmares. It seems as though this is, uh… his last hold on you. I know he's gone, I know you killed him and that dissolved a lot of the mental holds he had on you, but I think this, playing, could get him out of your head once and for all."

Jane lifted her head, now staring out the window.

"I know you still have nightmares. And those may never go away fully. But at least you could play. Many people play instruments as a way to relieve stress, and, uh, pain." Maura started to fizzle, seeing the look on Jane's face.

The two were quiet again. Jane finally sat back on the couch, releasing the breath she had been holding, "I'll consider it." she muttered, grabbing her beer and taking a sip.

Maura sighed in relief, and spent the rest of the afternoon fighting, and failing against a small, victorious smile.