A/N: I've enjoyed reading quite a few stories here and thought I'd try to give back to the community a bit more than just comments. Here's the first piece of fiction I've written in years and I hope you enjoy it. I'm open to any and all constructive criticism and thank you all for just taking the time to read it. It's a one-shot, two-part story.

BTW: I don't anything related to R&I, but I'm glad they're out there

Detective Jane Rizzoli was sleepwalking, perhaps better described as sleep collecting. For the third time in two weeks she'd woken up with odd objects in her bed. Today it was a wine bottle from the celebration gathering she'd had with with her partners Frost and Korsak from the Boston police homicide unit as well as her best friend Medical Examiner Maura Isles. The verdict had come in on Joe Strathan with the jury sending him away for a good, long while for the murder of his neighbor's child.

The first time Jane noticed anything wrong she'd woken up with a copy of that day's paper on the bedside next to her. She'd blown it off, figuring she must have brought the paper to bed with her. Odd, though, that it was the entertainment section - she almost always skipped that in favor of the sports and news sections.

After that she woke with one of her cloth napkins (a gift from her mother) wrapped around her left hand. There'd been no reason for it, but there it was. This time she figured her dog Jo Friday must have brought it in during the night. Jo'd never really done that before, but she'd been caught worrying at some tidbits of material before. Jane's favorite Converse would never be the same again, for example.

A wine bottle, though; that was hard to ignore. She rarely brought drinks to bed and then it was usually just a glass of water. Sure, she'd had plenty to drink, but not so much she'd be sleeping with her alcoholic conquests. Plus, really, if she was going to take liquor to bed, she'd rather it was a good pale ale from the neighborhood microbrew.

On top of all that, she had no idea when she'd woken up in the night to bring these oddities to her bed. She didn't always get the best sleep, but she rarely got out of bed once sleep finally descended upon her.

Not sure what to do, she got up with a groan to get ready for the morning yoga class she'd promised to take with Maura. The mystery of the nighttime collections would wait; New Year's Resolutions were always hanging over her head. Why she'd agreed to give the classes another chance, she'd never understand.

]-[

As always, yoga class tested Jane's endurance. Physically it pushed her entire body to wake up and prepare for the day. Mentally, she had to work to pay attention and not let her mind drift off, thinking about cold cases, her mother's newest adventure in self employment or the weekend's plans with Maura. She'd never quite achieved an "empty mind" during the workouts. In addition, there was always some schmoe in class who was a little too into yoga and it's hipster vibe. How can anyone really take something like this seriously? Sure, stretching and bending was good for your body, but it was no workout with a punching dummy.

Breakfast following was Jane's pay off. A chance to sit down, relax and chat with Maura. Jane always found the meals following yoga far more centering than any downward dog position could ever be.

"God, Maur, you gotta try this crab omelet," Jane said.

"It does look delicious," replied Maura, "but I'm quite happy with my egg whites. You should try this bacon - you'd never know it wasn't pork."

"Um, yeah, I'm pretty sure I would. To each his own, I suppose." Jane continued to gobble down her omelet. Crabs were in season and her favorite diner was making the most of it.

"OK, Jane, tell me what's happening," Maura looked across the table to her friend.

"What makes you think anything's happening?" Jane knew she could rarely hide anything from her friend's acute observation, but she was still surprised at how sharp the sometimes socially awkward woman was when it came to gauging the emotions of others.

Maura may never have felt completely comfortable around other people, but she'd spent her childhood and young adult years learning how to read the body language of those around her. That knowledge helped her adjust to in social situations.

"There are some small clues: you're fidgeting a bit more than normal and you 'zoned out' more in class that you usually do," Maura said, pointing to Jane's scarred hands. "But it was the muttering to yourself that stood out. You rarely talk to yourself, instead enjoying letting everyone around you know what you think." Maura was proud of her use of the slang "zoned out"; she'd heard Frost use it to grab Jane's attention during their work hours.

"Oh, well, yeah, I suppose there is something nagging at me," Jane weighed out her next words. Showing weakness wasn't one of her strong points and she didn't know what to make of her nighttime acquisitions. "The oddest things have been happening, like today: I woke up with one of the wine bottles from last night's celebration in my bed."

"My, that is odd, even for you," Maura said. "I didn't think you'd imbibed quite that much."

"Exactly! And last week I woke up with one of those fancy napkins you make us use when you come over. Before that there was a newspaper and a pen in my bed. I could have poked an eye out!" Once she started, Jane often found it hard to stop telling her best friend almost anything that popped into her head.

"Any chance you just forgot you'd brought those items to bed with you?" asked Maura.

"Doubt it. The paper wasn't even the sports section, and what would I want with an empty bottle of wine?"

"Somnambulism," Maura always preferred scientific descriptions. "You've been walking in your sleep. It's unusual in adults, but is known to happen. How have you been sleeping otherwise?"

Jane's sleep was often restless. Her job was demanding and she'd been in more than her fair share of dangerous situations. Couple that with the fact she was on call almost all the time and it resulted in less than peaceful slumber more days than not.

"Not bad, really. Case load has been lighter than normal and we're seeing a high prosecution rate. Jo and I have even made an agreement over who gets which parts of the bed." Jane would never admit it out loud, but having the small dog around was quite a comfort. Jo was no guard dog, but it was always nice having something around that loved you unconditionally.

"Did you ever walk in your sleep as a child?"

"Maybe once or twice, but I don't remember it being a habit."

"What about your brothers, were they sleep walkers?"

"I don't think so, but it's not like I paid any attention to them after bed time."

"And your parents? Sleepwalking has a tendency to run in families."

"No idea. We could always ask Ma once we get to work." Jane's mother also worked at the cafe at the Boston Police HQ. "But can we keep this from anyone else? I don't need anyone thinking I'm losing my shit."

"Language, Jane." Maura shook her head slightly at her friend's curse. "It doesn't sound like you're doing anything too dangerous, so no reason to tell anyone. I would like to do some more research. Would you mind?"

"I'm guessing I couldn't stop you if I tried," laughed Jane. "So, go ahead and let your brain try to figure this one out."

]-[

There wasn't much to find in her medical texts about sleepwalking, so Maura had a brief conversation with a friend at Boston Cambridge University's sleep lab. Somnambulism is almost common in children, but rare in adults. Very little is known about its causes and treatment is little more than just making sure the area a sleepwalker has access to is as safe as possible.

"Perhaps I should stay over after our movie night, Jane," Maura suggested during a coffee break with Jane that afternoon. Friday evenings often found the two women together enjoying take-out and a movie at one of their homes. "I can observe your sleeping patterns and may be fortunate enough to 'catch you in the act,' so to speak."

Jane let out a groan, "I suppose so. I mean, it sounds better than the sleep study at BCU. If I'm going to be the guinea pig, I get to pick the meal. I suppose if I let you pick the movie I may just fall asleep that much faster."

Maura, used to Jane's digs about her taste in foreign films or documentaries didn't flinch, "Excellent. I may finally get to prove to you the danger your food choices can bring to you. Perhaps your nighttime sojourns are just a result of too many hoagies."