Doctor Maura Isles reached for her glass of wine and brought it to her lips but did not sip from it. She peered over the rim at her fellow patrons, wondering exactly how long it might take her friend to arrive and furthermore, if she could make it until that point without being approached by the dark haired man at the opposite end of the bar. Sir-smiles-a-lot was probably a lovely fellow, and perhaps on another occasion she might have been a tad more inclined to pursue his obvious intentions, but Maura simply had no patience for dealing with someone like him that evening.

With a soft sigh, Maura eventually allowed some of the crisp, sharp liquid to pass her lips. Having selected a light, refreshing white wine to wait with, she was now thankful that her admirer had lost the opportunity to offer to purchase her a drink. A tiny part of her felt a glimmer of pride that even though she was well into her thirties; clearly many people still found her attractive. That alone was enough to boost her self-image on days when she felt low, but now she found herself wishing that she could fade easily into the background and wave the unwanted attention elsewhere.

Maura was aware of the fact her outfit would do little to deter appreciate eyes of the man she had been avoiding making eye contact with for the past ten minutes. Having only left work a mere half hour ago and deciding against heading home for a quick change, Maura was clad in her usual attire. A tight pencil skirt accentuated the body she took great pains to maintain through a healthy, substantial diet and regular exercise. Her hair, which remained resolutely styled no matter how many times she had to sweep it away from her face and into a ponytail during autopsies, hung in loose curls around her shoulders, which were covered with a deep purple blouse.

She could feel a momentary sense of panic mounting when her admirer from the other side of the room started to rise from his stool with his gaze locked on her, but then she happened to turn around and catch sight of her friend marching into the restaurant with all of their usual flair. Maura exhaled in barely disguised relief and lifted her hand in greeting to draw their attention towards where she was seated.

Doctor Christopher Baxter sidestepped a waiter as he sauntered through the restaurant. Maura was struck once again by his effortless ability to exude confidence whatever the surroundings. The shirt and tie he had presumably selected for work that morning remained immaculately pressed. Indeed, it looked as though Baxter had pulled on his entire ensemble directly outside the building judging by its crisp freshness. The tall, svelte, sandy haired man flashed a toothy smile and a jaunty wave as he picked his way between the tables, suit jacket tossed casually over broad shoulders.

Maura smiled privately as she cast her memory back to their first meeting. She could hardly believe it was almost two years since he rescued her from a serious case of social anxiety after her presentation at a conference. There had been such pressure during her preparation for that evening. Maura spent countless hours writing and redrafting her introductory speech and had rigorously and relentlessly bombarded herself with potential questions until she felt positively ill. The prospect of detailing their push for investments in a new DNA sampling and storing of information that would allow Doctors to identify their charges with the use of an electronic database was terrifying enough, without the added horror of having to mingle with the distinguished guests afterwards.

That evening, presentation completed, Maura found herself embroiled in a repetitive, tedious discussion with one Doctor Charles Riordan. Even now she could almost smell the alcohol that was pungent on his breath as he leaned into her personal space to leer at her findings and what she had previously recounted on stage. He was a perfectly rude and unpleasant man indeed. Doctor Baxter had appeared at her side just as she was beginning to feel the sting of tears in her eyes at being so thoroughly confused as to what Doctor Riordan's issue with her happened to be. Baxter took her by the arm and excused them both from present company to escape out onto the front lawn where there was a breeze to cool her warm cheeks and still the threat of tears.

Maura smiled at the thought of how courteous he had been. Baxter pretended not to notice that she was close to breaking down and instead launched into a rather long, arduous introduction to allow her a moment to compose her emotions. It had taken Maura, despite her lack of ability to interpret social cues accurately, only a few minutes to work out that the precocious, charming Doctor, who had saved her from potential embarrassment and a slump in her colleague's belief in her abilities, was in fact a homosexual.

Baxter had broken off from their conversation to follow the pert, full backside of a passing maître d carrying a tray of refreshments and when he eventually turned back to resume the conversation, he raised one slightly playful eyebrow as if to say 'caught red handed.'

Although Maura Isles was yet to shake off a lingering sense of worry and self-doubt within any friendships that weren't between herself and Detective Jane Rizzoli, she was quite secure in her relationship with Christopher Baxter. As a well-liked and sought after pioneering surgeon and research participant, Christopher moved in many differing social circles. That was both his curse and his forte. He possessed an inherent ability to perform with excellence in situations where his conversational talents were required, and then afterwards, sink back into old habits of watching the more insufferable of his acquaintances with subtle disdain.

Maura found the manner in which Christopher dealt with friends, colleagues, acquaintances and even clients to be both mystifying and admirable. A natural people person, Christopher Baxter was as smooth as you like without being neither smug nor smarmy with it, and despite her initial reservations, Maura couldn't help but grow to like her now treasured friend.

"Maura, you look stunning as always," Christopher leaned in, wafting a wave of expensive and pleasant smelling aftershave her way as he kissed both her cheeks. He immediately noticed the disappointed chap with his eyes latched onto Maura who had previously been working up the courage to approach the distinguished Doctor. On instinct, Baxter looped an arm around Maura's waist as he ordered his first beer of the evening. To any onlookers, they would look every inch the happy couple. The dejected gentleman sloped off towards the restroom not a moment too soon, much to Maura's relief and Baxter's quiet satisfaction.

Now that Christopher Baxter was up close, Maura familiarized herself with his features once more. The designer stubble marring his defined, almost regal chin was a misleading sort. His was a fatigue well earned. Another Doctor born into a wealthy family, Baxter made the choice to work for his own fortune and respect. Now, as the owner of a private practice, a respected Doctor and a renowned investor in a multitude of on-going research projects, Christopher was content with his lifestyle. Growing up, he suffered a great deal of resentment towards his estranged parents. As with Maura, Martha and the elder Christopher Baxter were incredibly wrapped up in their own lives and rarely spared enough time to spend with their only child.

As two kindred spirits in a highly competitive field, Christopher and Maura found an unlikely ally in one another. They sought respite in the other's company during conferences and seminars, presentations and dinners attended by those who genuinely wished to offer assistance with their money, and those who simply craved the attention it brought them.

Maura blinked herself back to the present and smiled as she affectionately squeezed the muscled arm around her, "Same to you Christopher, is that a new suit?" she commented sweetly, running her fingers over the expensive and expertly tailored crease of the material beneath her fingertips.

Her date for the evening rolled his eyes dramatically as he took a less than dignified pull from the chilled bottle of beer in his hand, "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Chris?" The deep, rich tone of Doctor Baxter's voice was a welcome blessing for his patients. His bedside manner was unrivalled, and many of the people he dealt with daily felt instantly soothed and reassured by the confidence, care and empathy that managed to weave itself into every syllable he uttered.

This instruction had become something of a personal, good natured battle of wills between them. Ever since they met Maura had insisted on addressing him by his full name, regardless of the fact nobody but his ageing parents ever bothered with calling him Christopher. Indeed, the words call-me-Chris had been said so often it now felt like a catchphrase. Maura had even penned his Christmas and birthday cards with that same sentiment.

Doctor Isles chuckled, stepping delicately down from her perch as Chris snatched up her purse, impatient to order dinner after a long, tiring day on call. "Well, call-me-Chris, let's find a table shall we?"

With a mock bow, Chris led the way over to an empty table and swept out Maura's chair for her before collapsing into his own with a weary sigh. The low lighting gave their faces an ethereal glow, the sort usually found on groups huddled around dying camp fires. There was a momentary lull in conversation between them whilst they got comfortable and they allowed the steady hum of chatter around them to fill their ears, both of them basking in the sense of normality and relaxation. Baxter scrubbed his talented hands over his slightly haggard face for a moment as Maura looked on, worry etched into her features.

"When was the last time you slept Christopher?" She asked, concerned. It was not uncommon for her friend to go through extended periods of time where he grew so engrossed in his work schedule, or so dedicated to a patient, that he often forgot to take care of his own needs. He was like Jane in that respect. Indeed, Christopher Baxter was reminiscent of Jane in a number of ways, and Maura wondered if she had pursued a friendship with him because of those striking similarities, or if she simply attracted a certain kind of company.

Baxter grinned lopsidedly, the left side of his mouth curling up further than the right, giving him an almost dopey appearance. Maura was all too aware of the charm the Doctor had at his disposal, and the ways in which he implemented it. That charming smile won the hearts of many investors, and soothed even the most fraught patients.

He shrugged noncommittally and handed Maura a menu whilst simultaneously opening his own, "I sleep plenty Doc, don't you worry about me," Chris winked, prompting a lock of his unruly mop of tousled, sandy hair to fall forwards into his line of sight. Doctor Baxter's washed out blue eyes were yet another of his many attractive traits. This again, coupled with his affable, charming manner and good looks, gave many the impression that he was less intelligent than they. This notion could be dismissed within seconds or weeks; depending on how often one came into contact with Christopher Baxter on both a personal and professional level and to what extent he revealed his true self.

Maura tipped her head to one side as she considered the man sitting across from her. She wasn't quite sure where he had picked up his strange drawl of an accent. She knew that he travelled a lot when he was in his late teens and early twenties, and continued to do so even now, and she deduced that this muddled inflection was a result of a refusal to remain stasis in any one place for more than a year at a time. He was fond of travelling to Texas, where he might have sourced the slow, drawn out sounds of some of his intonations. Chris also entertained frequent business trips to the UK, mainly England and Scotland, and took great pleasure in bringing back increasingly hideous gifts etched with garish flags and pictures of red buses and the elusive loch ness monster which were dispatched to friends and colleagues with gleeful attempts at the difficult accent to accompany them. She supposed it was possible he had developed some of the harsher, broader hints within his tone from the time he spent there.

With a tut that signified her disapproval without the need for words, Maura perused the open menu in her hands, already fully aware that they would most likely order their usual feast. After a further few moments of perfunctory deliberating, Chris glanced up and signaled for the waiter at a nod from Maura.

After ordering fresh crab cakes, lasagna with garlic bread as his meal, as well as a feta cheese salad and chorizo carbonara for Maura, he also added a side portion of fries and then a sundae to share for desert. At a glimpse of Maura's raised eyebrows as the waiter hurried away with their orders and a request for their most popular wine, Christopher chuckled, "I skipped lunch today Doctor, I can feel you judging me, please stop."

Maura smiled as she took a sip of iced water, "I worry about you Christopher, I'm allowed to be concerned," she chastised him good naturedly.

With his usual laissez faire attitude, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand and reached for the bread the waiter left on their table in a small woven basket. Tearing off a sizeable chunk, Chris popped the bread into his mouth and chewed silently for a moment, savoring the first morsel of sustenance he had consumed since that morning. A sliver of information he would choose to keep from his friend.

"So," he said, swallowing thickly, "How's work been? And your team, and the human you have stashed in your guesthouse, oh and Bass of course," Baxter smirked, his questions coming out quick. He was used to firing off enquiries in a hurry when dealing with patients, and those habits often carried on into personal life.

Maura laughed easily, helping herself to a piece of Baxter's bread, "The 'human' I have staying in my guesthouse is my colleague's Mother, and a friend, as you well know," she intoned, smiling as Christopher grinned at her, fully aware that he was joking, "As for everyone else you mentioned, they're just fine, thank you for asking."

Chris tipped back into his chair, eyes twinkling as the waiter slid their plates in front of them and Maura thanked him kindly. When they were alone again, he finally said, "Oh Maura, I think that Detective Rizzoli is much more than just a 'colleague,' wouldn't you say?"

Doctor Isles steadfastly ignored the blush rising in her cheeks and the hives threatening to bloom on her chest. She was grateful that her blouse covered much of the affected area, should she be struck down with a case. "Not this again…" She muttered under her breath, busying her mouth with devouring some of the delicious salad she had grown so fond of during their evenings here. An unassuming little Italian eatery they found by chance one night after being thoroughly let down by the previous establishment they had dined at.

Her friend waggled his eyebrows as he dipped a hearty piece of crab cake in its tart sauce before pointing the fork accusingly at her as he commented, "I didn't mention her last time, that gives me the right to talk about it for twice as long tonight," with a triumphant flourish.

Maura shifted uncomfortably, pushing a lettuce leaf around on her plate as a distraction from Christopher's intrusive stare,

"Well at least if the power goes out in here we can all continue dining by the glow of your cheeks, Doctor Isles," Baxter droned, not unkindly, tapping the back of Maura's hand affectionately as he continued to spear and consume his starter as though those innocent crabs had personally wronged him at some point or another.

She couldn't help but smile lamely at Christopher's banter. It had taken her a while to become accustomed to his sense of humor, just like it had with Jane, but now she understood that this verbal jousting was all in good humor and friendship.

Swiftly changing the subject, Maura said, "Work has been difficult this last month, even more so than usual. We've had a sharp spike in homicides and a spate of suicides in our jurisdiction. There's been so much paperwork and reports to wade through recently I fear I may have to consider a change and pursue a career in writing," she sighed, feeling her heart rate calm as the conversation veered into safer territory.

Chris clucked his tongue sympathetically and although he was listening intently to Maura's woes, his mind was whirring ahead to the next possible opportunity he might have to mention Jane Rizzoli.

"And due to the extra pressure from above, everyone has been exceedingly irritable and prone to snapping at one another, including myself I'm ashamed to admit…" Maura trailed off as their plates were removed and their glasses refilled, "Hopefully now that we've all managed to complete our reports we can start fresh on Monday morning." After a moment's pause during which Maura quenched her thirst with the exquisite wine on offer, she then added, "What about you?"

Doctor Baxter couldn't help but flinch. Today had been a killer. The whole week, maybe even the entire month had been pretty much consistently awful, and the last thing he wanted to do was rehash everything when there were other, more interesting topics of conversation they could be having. He decided on the short version of events, "Shit," he finally said, with feeling, "Basically, shit. We were a man down in theatre this week and we had about fifteen bodies all rushed in from a serious smash on the interstate, we're still trying to identify a couple of them," Chris shook his head, mentally cursing the budgets cuts the department he had been working in recently had suffered.

Maura winced, imagining the hectic and pressurized environment that she thankfully did not have to deal with in her cool, calm lab. Hearing of Christopher's experiences of dealing with living patients was a factor in her continuing feeling that deciding on a career as a pathologist was the right path for her.

"But anyway," he said with forced cheer, "Like you said, fresh start on Monday."

Their main courses arrived and the tense moment was forgotten, they both began eating with renewed fervor, more so Doctor Baxter, who scarcely paused for breath until he was halfway done with his piping hot plate of lasagna. After one particularly large bite, he tried a different tactic with his friend. With feigned innocence, he said, "So, have you any plans for the weekend?" pushing his fork around casually.

Maura's expression instantly brightened and Chris found it difficult to look at her, feeling a hard stab inside his chest. The Doctor's love life was a topic she avoided at all costs with him because she knew he could see through her indifferent façade with practiced ease. Baxter found it incredible that the Detective could still remain so oblivious to the way her friend truly felt about her, for he could see it writ plain as day on Maura's face whenever she spoke about Jane.

"Jane and I are spending the day together tomorrow, I'm not sure what she has planned for us quite yet but knowing her, it will be something... Fun," Maura's smile faded for a second as she noticed her reply sounded awfully rehearsed, and when she next spoke up it was more to herself than to Christopher, "I feel like it's been so long since we've done something like that. She's just been so… Wrapped up in Casey, and I…" she shrugged painfully, shredding the material of her napkin into thin strips whilst Baxter's intelligent eyes narrowed as he watched her lose some of her carefully protected self-control.

"You feel side lined," He interjected softly, not wishing to add to Maura's personal suffering by pushing her further than she wanted to go, but the only thing he wanted from her was a sharing of burdens.

Maura nodded, her head bowed, bottom lip trembling slightly, "Yes, recently I feel Jane would much rather be around Casey than myself," she sighed, running a hand through her hair tiredly.

Chris reached for that same hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. In the past, Maura might have been thrown off course by that action, having not been used to such forward gestures of support, but now she took it in her stride and offered him a watery smile of gratitude.

"Maura…" Baxter began, but his fellow Doctor immediately raised her free hand to ward off the oncoming part of his sentence. She knew what he was about to say, for she had heard it all so many times before, but this evening she was weary of the entire situation. Her life seemed to be stuck in a perpetual state of heartbreak and sorrow, and there was a limit to how often she could discuss her agony before it started to have an impact on her daily life. It was much easier to simply pretend that everything was just fine and bottle up the love she had for Jane and bury it deep in the recesses of her subconscious.

"No, hear me out," Chris drawled, pulling away from Maura as their desert was plopped down and two large, long spoons presented to them. He allowed Maura the first bite before digging into the overflowing sundae himself, like a man who had not seen food in weeks, "I have an idea, though I'm not sure you're gonna like it…"

Maura tipped her head to one side in silent invitation. Two years as this man's friend and confidant had taught her that sometimes, he tended to meddle. He had his friend's best interests at heart, that was a guarantee, but Maura Isles was nevertheless wary of what was next on tonight's agenda.

Brandishing his elongated spoon like a sword in battle, Christopher eagerly shuffled forwards in his chair to meet Maura's gaze beneath the dim lights above them. The reflection of the silverware in his eyes appeared to make them gleam with an intensity Maura had never seen before.

"Jane is stubborn. Agreed?" He said shortly, and Maura nodded hesitantly, "Jane is stubborn, I find that to be the most likely reason why she's still insisting on pursuing this ill-fated relationship with Jones," Although he had never met the man in person, he had deduced his own conclusions from the polite, yet fraught manner in which Maura discussed him, and he could not prevent the sliver of distaste making itself known when he pronounced his name, "A part of her is still waiting for the way she felt about him as a teenager to resurface, and this attachment that's born itself out of their rekindling relationship is doing her more harm than good. She lets him get away with things she would never let any other person have the opportunity to do so, regardless of gender, correct?"

Maura's jaw trembled as she nodded, remembering Jane informing her that Casey decided to mention his deployment to Afghanistan the morning after sleeping with her. The twisted manner in which the two of them relate to one another on a personal level made Maura feel sick to her stomach. Although it might not be her place to pass judgment on her best friend's relationship with the man she professes to love, she couldn't help it. Up until now she had swallowed the comments she desperately wanted to make, to force Jane to realise that she was slowly changing herself, altering her personality in ways she should never have to do, simply to ascertain to the manner in which someone else would prefer her to act. It was abhorrent.

Christopher watched the myriad of conflicted emotions pass over Maura's face with a sympathetic, and yet wholly dispassionate eye. Through mentally blocking the bias he had as Maura's friend, he was able to look beyond what she wanted to hear, and see what she needed to hear as two entirely differing subjects.

"Just because you don't approve of the way Jones treats your friend doesn't make you a terrible person Maura," Chris said gently, dipping his spoon into the ever dwindling sundae and twirling it expertly, searching for the elusive pieces of brownie he knew lingered near the bottom of the glass, "You are entitled to your own opinion of him, you don't automatically have to like him just because he's Jane's…." He shrugged, unable to call the man her boyfriend for obvious reasons.

"Whatever he is to her. Yes, he's a highly respected and dedicated soldier, and although I sympathize with the injury he suffered, and you do too, that doesn't mean I have to admire the manner in which he handles his and Jane's relationship. Frankly, I don't understand it. Jane's a strong woman, if everything you tell me about her is true, and I believe that she has it in her mind that Jones is her best bet for… You know, husband, kids… Blah blah blah," Chris waved his hand blithely, "So what if he pops up for a quickie and then disappears for months on end, 'he's a good man.'"

With an eye roll that would put Jane Rizzoli to shame, Chris tipped the last piece of brownie onto Maura's spoon, hiding his woeful regret at giving up the treat with an encouraging nod, and set his mouth in a firm line of satisfaction when Maura obediently ate the chewy substance with a satisfied hum. Despite the fact he often delayed taking care of his own needs during working hours he would never stand for someone he cared about doing the same. Perhaps I should learn to lead by example, he thought with a grim sort of self-awareness.

"What are you proposing?" Maura asked cagily. She didn't particularly care to hear the answer to that question, but she was also desperate to hear whatever words of wisdom might suddenly pour forth from her intelligent friend's mouth.

Christopher stroked his strong chin with two fingers for a long moment, apparently lost in thought. Eventually, he replied, "How about…" he drawled out the words, "We try and give her a different perspective on what's right in front of her. She's probably considered you as a romantic partner beforehand," when Maura started to shake her head, about to refute this claim, he smirked at her and continued on, in a slightly louder tone, "I guarantee you, she has, even if it was merely in passing. Thing is, she is fully aware of the fact that anyone you date has never been exactly 'marriage material,' let's face it, murderers, serial killers and dreadful Doctors, not stellar stuff is it?"

Maura couldn't help but grumble her reluctant agreement.

"So," Chris intoned, as if he were lecturing a student, "She doesn't have to worry about losing you the way you feel you've lost her. She can swoop in after your latest disaster and give you a shoulder to cry on, threaten every man that comes near you, and she gets the best of both worlds."

Doctor Isles opened her mouth to protest this character assassination of her best friend, but then thought better of it. She might as well let him finish now.

"Now, what I'm suggesting is to give her some healthy competition. Namely, me," he said with a grin, pointing at his chest, "I'm a total catch, and if I wasn't gay, I'd probably have proposed to you already," he winked theatrically. The two of them shared a much needed chuckle at the thought of such a mismatched marriage becoming a reality.

"I'm a catch, and you're a catch, and if Jane thinks she's going to lose you to someone like me, someone who isn't particularly dull, someone who doesn't have homicidal tendencies, someone who genuinely cares about you…" Doctor Baxter left that hanging there as Maura funneled his suggestion through the inner workings of her mind, "She's going to be positively green with envy."

Maura thought Christopher sounded gleeful at the prospect of this endeavor, and this forced her to speak up doubtfully, "I think this all sounds rather melodramatic Christopher, and I don't like the idea of being so dishonest with my best friend…"

"Oh contraire," he beamed, "Let me be the dishonest one here, I'll handle the deceit and lies and you just have to go along with it. And hey," Chris shrugged as he gulped the last of his wine, "If it all goes tits up, at least you'll know for sure that you should start picking out bridesmaids dresses."

She bristled at the mere thought, baring her teeth unconsciously as she pictured Jane walking down the aisle and into the waiting embrace of Casey bloody Jones. Maura wondered if perhaps some part of her had always suspected that she would need Doctor Christopher Baxter to concoct this demented, potentially disastrous scheme one day, considering she has never introduced him to Jane.

Granted, he was always moving from one hospital to the other and it was difficult even for her to pin him down on a night he wasn't on call, but there had been opportunities for the three of them to meet. And she never insisted upon it. She doubted Jane even knew his full name.

"Think on it Doctor Isles, whenever you need me, I'm at your service," Christopher said rather solemnly, lifting his hand to signal for the bill as Maura worried the skin of her lower lip, a pensive expression on her face.

A/N: This is not quite my usual style so please; let me know your thoughts on it! This won't be an epic story, maybe around the ten chapter mark or so? I'm not sure yet, but anyway, let the chaos commence.