”I promise.” Maura whispered, kissing Jane’s nose fondly.

”Come on then Doc.” Tag fidgeted as he watched the couple. ”Let’s get moving.” he lead the way out of the cave and into the scrub. Maura followed him and John completed the train.

Jane watched as they made their way through the trees, being careful not to make too much noise as they went. She smiled sadly, her heart contracting painfully in her chest as she watched Maura leave. She fought the urge to chase after her, to stop her heading away from the safety of the cave but she knew Maura could take care of herself. She also knew that Tag and John would protect her as best they could. It was an unspoken pact.

After John’s confession earlier in the morning, she had come to see him, not as the arrogant homophobe he had initially appeared to be but as a broken and insecure man; lost in his own world and now, lost and alone on an island with no one to believe in him.

She wanted to hate him, treat him as he had treated them and yet, when she looked in his eyes, she couldn’t see the hate there. All she saw was a lost and broken little boy, begging to be loved. She knew Maura had been right to forgive him.

Jane ran her hands through her tangled hair and sighed. She had to go and find the people that were shooting at them. Throwing her bag onto her back, she moved the gun to a more accessible place on her belt and headed out in the opposite direction.

She’d been walking for no more then 30 minutes when she paused to take a drink. The shadow flicked through the trees a few feet ahead of her, she swallowed the liquid that suddenly felt like rocks in her throat. Her heart raced in her chest, adrenalin coursing through her system as she pulled her gun. He moved quickly, making more noise than she would have. He had nothing to worry about, he was a hunter, he had the weapons and was definitely not expecting to be stalked by Jane Rizzoli.

She tightened the cap on the bottle and dumped it unceremoniously into her pack before taking off after him. She stepped in his footsteps, thankful for her long – gangly her mother had said – legs that made keeping stride with him somewhat easier.