Rizzles man, they kill me...Here's more story fodder for those like me who're going to struggle surviving the series break.

Ever wonder why despite all the eyesex Jane and Maura don't just admit their feelings and jump into bed together? There's a backstory you'll never get to see on television. Rated M for TGTGF, which is a big step up from TGTGT…

Clearly, I don't own these characters, but I feel okay about that as long as they promise to tease us forever.

There was nothing wrong with the police gym, not really. It was free for one thing, as well as big, well-lit and fully equipped. Also on the plus side was its convenient location, housed on the fourth floor of the same building she worked in. Like many other Boston Police Department employees, Jane found it easy enough to wander on up and let off some steam after work, or even during a lunch break if the day was particularly slow. However, that convenience Jane decided, was now precisely the problem.

She loved working out; she always had. She loved the slow burn in her muscles as she ran on just a little harder and faster and lifted weights, each heavier than the last. She'd always been athletic, but as soon as she'd decided she wanted to be a cop, there'd been a new strength of purpose in her commitment to her own physical fitness, which so far had lasted her through all her years as a police officer. And now, quite suddenly, her enjoyment of the gym had been taken away forever by the unexpected sight of Korsak's pale, sweaty ass-crack.

"No." The word had spilled out her mouth the second she'd lifted her head, almost tripping off the treadmill at the view before her. She let herself slide at speed off the back of the machine, barely avoiding a faceplant, before putting her hands on her hips and panting. "No. No, no, nooooo. Oh god, please don't be happening," she prayed skywards. But there it was, Korsak, in tiny gym shorts and a tanktop, grinning like a jack 'o' lantern.

"Doctor's orders, Jane," he shook his head. "I won't pass this year's medical without losing a few inches."

"For christ's sake, Korsak! Put some more clothes on would you? You're not Britney Spears." The older detective shot her a pained glance.

"No way! I overheat when I work out. I need some air around my sweat glands, same as you," he gestured to her own similarly selected workout gear. Jane winced at the mention of any of her ex-partner's glands whatsoever, but as she was racking her brain to find a way to explain exactly why her own attire was so different, a snort came from over by the bench press.

"Detective Rizzoli's sweat glands are nowhere near as offensive as yours old man. They're not anywhere near as painful to look at either, come to think of it."

"Hey!" she snarled. "Keep your eyes on your own glands, Boyd," her glare flickered over at the grinning meathead on the bench, before settling back on Korsak. "Seriously? You're going to go through with this gym business? Is this going to be a regular thing or just a one-off? Please god, be a one-off."

"C'mon Jane, what's the problem? It'll be fun. We can talk through cases together, and exercise at the same time. Two birds with one stone."

"Yeah, then afterwards we could go rent some movies and braid each other's hair during sleepovers," she bit back. "What the hell, Korsak? We already spend way too much time together as it is, without you ruining my work-out time as well. My nice, quiet, stress-relieving work-out time," she glowered at him in warning.

"Alright, you win," he held up his hands in surrender. "I'll just work out quietly on my own then."

"Great," Jane shrugged and stepped back up onto the treadmill.

"Great!" Vince turned and sat down on the rowing machine in front of her, reaching forward to grip onto the handles and exposing a good four inches of pale, hairy flesh Jane could have happily lived her entire lifetime without viewing. Quickly she ramped up the speed on the treadmill and ran hard, scrunching her eyes closed despite the danger to her life and limbs.

She comforted herself with the belief that Korsak would never stick it out. No way in hell. No doubt he'd be back to his doughnut munching ways before she even knew it. And yet, by the third week, she had to admit that the man had more grit than she'd given him credit for. She should have known better; the threat of being limited to life as a desk jockey had clearly rattled him out of his usual torpor. Day in, day out, there he was, blissfully ignoring Jane's eye rolls and crabby asides, either nattering away to her like a breathless fish wife, or exposing her eyeballs to images of his sweaty flesh in action - and if there was one thing Jane Rizzoli did not need right now in her life, it was more fodder for her nightmares.

And that was how Jane had found herself at a new commercial gym three blocks down…a women's-only gym, at that. Jane had expected to hate it, but it was the closest facility to work and their rates were quite reasonable. After touring the gym with its more than adequate facilities - rather than the pile of lightweight pink dumbbells she'd feared - she'd reflected that at the very least it meant that Korsak couldn't follow her in there. It only took one trial work-out and she was sold. The whole experience was like a breath of fresh air she hadn't even realised she'd needed. No cops. No shop talk, no loud ribald remarks every time she stretched. No sweaty toe fumes in the air, no 'Eye of the Tiger' piped out over the speakers. Between the facility's long opening hours and her currently less than sparkling social calendar, Jane re-engaged with her love of the gym four or five nights a week.

A couple of weeks in she decided that since no one knew her there, then what the hell, why not check out some classes? A split second of poking her head in the door had her instantly convinced that she'd rather Jello-wrestle with Korzak than take part in Zumba, but Spin classes had her hooked. Yoga - well, no thank you, but pilates? That she'd give a shot at least once. And after one particularly long grinding day, topped off with an infuriatingly pointless argument with Dr. Davis - the spineless weasel of a Chief Medical Examiner who made her job a living hell at times - Jane took one look at the gym timetable and picked a boxing class.

The class was small, the room only being set up with around fifteen punching bags, but the music was loud and the instructor brutal. Jane didn't need spurring on, instead taking out her entire day's pent-up ferocity pummelling the shit out of the punching bag, in forceful one-two punches. Having happily adjusted to the freedom of working out without loud, pervy beat cops around, she wore her now standard attire of a black sports bra above her well fitted sweatpants, but within minutes the high energy work-out had sweat gleaming across her shoulders and running down her chest and abs as her body flooded with heat and her veins began to pop out along the length of her arms. When the class finished, she was happily breathless, her frustrations finally beaten into submission. She flicked open her water bottle and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist, before becoming aware of a woman appearing next to her.

She too was flush cheeked and breathless, but unlike Jane, she wore a dazzling smile, and there was no way she'd just worked out as hard as the detective had. Her honey-blonde hair was barely out of place and her skin glowed beautifully instead of gleaming wet like Jane's. "How did you get so skilled at boxing?" she asked in lieu of greeting, her admiration obvious. "I find it so frustrating…I just can't seem to get the rhythm right. I'm probably over-thinking it of course, but then," she smiled again, "that's always been my problem. I was watching you though, trying to imitate your form, and you were so…impressive," her hand came up to her chest, and Jane's eyes naturally followed, causing her to swallow, hard. "You're so instinctive and natural, whereas I'm just…well," she looked skywards and threw a weak-wristed punch in demonstration.

Jane wasn't quite sure how to respond to this unsolicited outburst. The woman standing before her was slight bodied, a little shorter than the detective and her figure infinitely more feminine. It had been a long time since this had happened to her, but she suddenly found herself acutely aware of the curves before her, the rise and fall of the woman's chest, the smooth glow of her skin and the strong hint of flirtation in those hazel eyes. She hedged a little. "You'll get there," she heard herself husking awkwardly. "It just takes practise, you know?"

"Oh, really? How long have you been taking this class? I've only been here a couple of weeks but I'm quite sure I haven't noticed you before." Did she really just bat her eyelashes at me? Jane blinked and took a sip of water, willing herself not to choke.

"Uh, well, this is actually the first time I've been," she smiled sheepishly. "I get bored doing the same thing in the gym all the time so I figured I'd check out the classes. This one suited me better than jazzercise." The woman laughed and eyed her appraisingly.

"Your body is incredible," she said simply. It could have just been just girl talk, but it wasn't. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she reached out to run one finger down the slippery curve of the detective's bicep. Jane's eyes widened and she quickly deflected by reaching down to undo her gloves, flexing her fingers as they were freed. When she looked up, a small smile played at the corner of the blonde's delicate mouth. "I'd love to…work out…with you sometime," she breathed softly, and the ambiguity of her phrasing was not lost on Jane. It was artful. This again, could have been straight up girl talk, envying another woman's arms and abs, wanting advice, but it wasn't. She didn't want Jane's body, she wanted Jane's body, and she wasn't entirely sure how the other woman would react to the idea.

Interestingly enough, Jane wasn't exactly sure herself. Okay, yes there'd been a few women before, occasionally, but that was many, many years ago now. Jane wasn't gay, despite the stereotype of the tough female cop, or the annoyingly persistent rumours, for that matter. These days in actual fact, Jane was strictly into men (when she had time that was - which she seldom did) and she'd considered that earlier part of her life very much a passing, experimental phase. A phase that was long, long over. Wasn't it?

Jane found herself surprisingly torn. There was no denying that the woman in front of her was startlingly attractive. Nor was it possible to ignore the unmistakable tightening in her chest as she became the intense focus of the most spectacular pair of bedroom eyes she'd seen in a long time, possibly ever, if she was honest. You didn't have to be gay to find yourself quivering under a spell like that, you just had to have a pulse for crying out loud. And as she was well aware by the increasing yammering in her ears, Jane definitely had a pulse.

In the end though, it wasn't just the ridiculously enticing nature of the woman doing the asking that stirred her to answer the way she did. What it really came down to was the fact that goddamnit, she was bored. She loved her job - it was the very thing that made her who she was; she loved her family - the mess and noise and constant nagging were the things that kept her sane; she loved her colleagues too - though she'd never admit it to their faces. But there was something undefinable missing in her life, and her recent near escape at the hands of serial killer Charles Hoyt, had made her want to make damn sure there wasn't a single part of life she missed out on, not if she wanted it.

Jane couldn't quite describe exactly what it was she thought was missing in her day-to-day existence, she only knew that work and family and great colleagues just weren't filling it. Neither, for that matter, was the occasional sex she'd been having, or the even more occasional relationships she'd managed to sustain. Both kinds of interactions were always with the same kinds of guys - cops - and the results were always, when it came right down to it, highly routine. Routine like the same work-out every day, or routine like sex was just a part of work, and work inevitably became a part of sex, creeping its way into her bed at unwelcome moments. Just for once, she thought, I'd like to have something different. Something…wild, and private, and mine alone. And besides, she rationalised, no one else will ever have to know. She lifted her chin and locked eyes with the waiting woman, cocking one eyebrow at her.

"Well jeez, at least let me buy you a drink first," her drawl came out as perfectly as if rehearsed, lazily confident and defying the nerves she felt below the surface. The blonde woman blinked, wrinkling her nose cutely at being called out so directly, but her eyes shone back into Jane's without a hint of shyness whatsoever.

"Oh! I would love that, thank you," she smiled, her pleased tone making it sound as though the invitation had been Jane's idea in the first place, rather than the detective's capitulation to the smaller woman's obvious will. She looked at the detective for a beat longer, as if making sure of her attention before turning and walking back across to her own exercise space. It worked; Jane was unable to drag her eyes away. The other woman may have been shorter in stature than she was but the bare legs extending from those little shorts were incredibly shapely. Jane's observant eye deduced the evidence of a perpetual high heel wearer and her stomach clenched oddly at the image. Her eyes ran slowly upwards over a backside that was, god, perfect actually, and the curve of her hips and waist up to her delicate back under her light pink racerback was so smooth and slight, that Jane's fingers twitched at her sides. The woman turned slightly and knelt down to rummage through her bag. Any person who happened to be watching was treated to a tantalisingly brief cleavage shot, and as the woman's eyelashes flickered upwards, Jane was caught out. It was probably not surprising; the heat of her gaze was probably burning the other woman's skin even at that distance. It was obvious from the flash of dark amusement in the blonde woman's eyes that she'd been perfectly aware of the effect she was having. Her phone in hand, she returned and pressed a few buttons before handing it over. She was standing unnecessarily close all of a sudden and Jane fumbled with the keys as she entered her number and handed it back, their fingers brushing.

The woman looked down and murmured "Jane," as if testing out the feel of it in her mouth, then pressed 'call'. The detective's phone vibrated from her bag at her feet. "You missed my call," the woman's eyes sparkled. "Please make sure you return it soon."

"Definitely," Jane promised, unable to break her gaze. The woman nodded, smiled, and started to turn away. "Wait," the detective blurted. "Who should I ask for?" she prompted, "when I call?"

"Oh! It's Maura," the woman's eyes flickered over her one last time, and her gaze settled comfortably on the detective's lower abs. Her tongue wetted her lips again and Jane felt herself contract with pleasure. "See you soon," Maura's eyes and voice were heavy with promise. She walked away, gathering her belongings and disappearing out the door, leaving Jane feeling far more winded than the class could be credited for. Holy fuck…