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The drive up the mountains took longer than Maura was used to; she had her tyres changed out for the expected snow and she was still getting used to them, was looking out for wildlife as she climbed higher.

The writers retreat was exclusive; invitation only. Twenty invitations. Maura had managed to snag an invite from her lecturer, who continued to tout her as 'promising' based on her coursework. A lot of the colleges were sending students, but there were some published authors slated to be there as well. Some crime authors too, which was why Maura had finally hired someone to fill in for her at work. Her friend Megan, a tiny little woman from Pennsylvania, staying at Maura's house with her teenage daughter for the two weeks Maura was away. Small, redheaded and fierce. Maura would have loved to see her and Jane bicker at a crime scene; she was sure Megan was more than a match for Jane. She'd asked Nina and Susie to keep her updated on the fallout - while she wasn't a fan of office gossip, this was something she was a little mad about missing out on. She wondered briefly if the hostility would get anyone suspended, or if Jane would behave herself once she met a stronger, more stubborn force.

She was also a little sad on missing out on spending time with Megan - they'd done a few training courses together over the years, and Maura had been too invested in Jane to really follow up and see if Megan had been flirting with her. If she had been, the overnight field trips could have been much more interesting, but Maura was loyal to a woman she wasn't even dating.

That was the crux of it. Jane could tell Maura she wanted to have her baby, and that was the extent of it. Maura never could tell, but she stuck to men because dating women - she could tell - would upset Jane in some irreparable way. It was a shame - Megan had a keen eye for fashion and the socialite background that would make them a political dynasty to watch out for all along the East coast. Perhaps even a Governorship in the making. Megan had the guts to make it to being a Senator, but since the accident she'd stayed out of the spotlight, preferring corpses to cameras. Megan had softened significantly over the years. Jane had toughened Maura up too, through their friendship; perhaps they'd come to a middle ground, where Maura could laugh off any snide remarks Megan made, and Megan could make an effort not to deliberately hurt her. She wondered what Angela would make of Megan, and wondered too what the Rizzoli boys, used to dropping in whenever, would do when she answered the door. She'd left Tasha and Cailin's numbers for Megan, in case Lacey needed a babysitter or a tutor, or a guide to Boston. The age difference wasn't hugely significant, and she wanted Megan to feel comfortable leaving Lacey alone during the day if she and Angela didn't hit it off.

They'd settled in well last night, Maura having a small dinner party to introduce Megan to her new colleagues, but she could see Jane eyeing Megan up with a calculating air, could see Jane seethe when Megan had made an in-the-loop joke to Maura, had seen Jane scowl when Maura had hugged Megan goodbye that morning at the precinct after showing her around.

Maura had thought about dating her - probably too much. But they were currently both medical examiners; it wouldn't work. Only one could be chief per state or Commonwealth, and Megan was always more ambitious than her.

But Lacey - little Lacey - not so little any more. A full teenager now, almost done growing up. When Maura had met Lacey she'd just been a kid, and that had been half the draw to Megan - Lacey had been part of the deal. And now she was looking at colleges, Megan thankful for Maura asking her to take over in Boston so Lacey could tour the local campuses. So that dream - the dream of being a parent with Megan - was over, but her attraction to Megan hadn't faded.

And she'd known, instinctively, not to mention it to Jane. Angela knew, had seen the sparks between them at dinner and had looked hurt, perhaps for Jane's sake. And Jane knew too, the moment she saw them together, and Maura wondered why she'd held back all these years. Megan was incredibly lithe and sexy, and she'd made hints that she was attracted to Maura, and she didn't seem hung up on homosexuality as a personal fault. Jane would never have known if Maura had taken Megan the first time she'd thought about it, and she'd still have been just as suspicious last night.

Jane suspected, so they might as well have done it anyway. Jane's feelings were hurt, and Maura hadn't even had a decent orgasm out of their friendship. The friendship with Jane or the friendship with Megan. She felt less bad about fantasizing about being with Megan, though, since she knew - since Megan had explicitly, in great detail said - that Megan fantasized about her. Maura was never the tallest person in her relationships, and she'd found the tiny woman intriguing in so many ways. Her full lips, her amused smile, her calves in heels. Even in heels Maura was taller; next to Jane she looked like a child.

She'd love to be a fly on the wall for the next few weeks, but instead she was halfway to the retreat.

***

It snowed as Maura unpacked. Her cabin was set on the East aspect of the mountain, and the mess hall was a few hundred feet away. Other cabins dotted the landscape, and Maura locked up and headed down to the first evening's scheduled meeting.

There were people from all over the states, and a few from other countries too. There was a crime writer from Maine, who had degrees in both medicine and anthropology, and there were other authors Maura had read who clearly intended for her to be starstruck to meet them. Harry Grady was one such author, and Maura found herself avoiding him.

"He's a pest," someone said lowly, as Maura plated her dinner. She looked over to find a woman speaking to her, brown curly hair cut short, startlingly deep blue eyes for a face that wasn't Caucasian, a wide mouth with an even wider smile. "You're that ME from Boston, right?" She had an accent, not quite British. Hong Kong, Maura would say if she was pressed to guess - which she wasn't, since Jane wasn't here. Overall the effect was stunning, and Maura found herself smiling and nodding.

"Yes. A pest. And yes, Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Doctor Maura Isles." Maura held out her hand. The other woman took it with barely concealed mirth at Maura's formality.

"You've met Terry then?" Maura nodded. "I assume you'll also be writing crime thrillers?"

"I - I," Maura was wondering how to get the other woman to introduce herself. "I'm sorry, I don't recognise you," she finally settled for.

"Samantha Jones. I'm studying agricultural sustainability, and I took an elective and here I am."

"Agricultural sustainability," Maura repeated slowly. Samantha shrugged.

"Call me Sam," she added. "I'm writing what they call solarpunk and clifi - climate fiction. I was published in a few anthologies last year, so I got the invite."

Maura nodded politely. She tried to remember if she'd read Sam's story in the retreat pamphlet. "There's some land out in Western Massachusetts I'm trying to get a grant to study, so perhaps I'll see you around after all this." Sam smiled again and took her dinner plate to a table. Maura hesitated, then joined her.

***

It was an easy rhythm at the retreat - late breakfasts, early dinners - but not one Maura adjusted to easily. She was used to broken sleep and visitors at all hours; the solitude of her cabin was a relief and a source of anxiety. There was no cell service and no wifi out there, so no one would get distracted. There were workshops once a day, and each of the published authors held a reading for the guests each evening after dinner. The way to Maura's cabin was well lit; it was before the ski season, and while there was a little snow, it was all up near the peak.

Every morning, Maura called the house. Usually Lacey answered, yawning in that laid-back teen way even though it was past eight in the morning when Maura called. Sometimes she got Angela, making Lacey and Megan breakfast, and she could hear Jane and Megan bickering in the back. Once she got Tasha, delighted to catch up with her before she took Lacey to BCU, where they would have lunch with Cailin. She gathered that Jane and Megan were on a case, and that neither of them enjoyed the other's company.

"She's good," Jane said shortly, when Maura spoke to her one morning. "An excellent ME. I've only ever seen one better, and that's you. But my god can she -" Jane was cut off, and Megan took over the call.

"How do you put up with her?" Megan asked, direct as usual. Maura laughed. "Seriously, I'm this close to taking her service pistol and shooting one or both of us so we don't have to work together."

"She grows on you," Maura promised.

"I wish you were here, although I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

Maura sighed. She'd have enjoyed Megan's company for the few weeks.

"You can stay a while when I get back," Maura offered. "I'm sure Pike has leave I can force him to take."

"I have my own leave, if you wouldn't mind if we stayed." Megan didn't add anything, but Maura could feel the want - the promise behind what she'd offered. She wanted so badly to be wanted; she always had. If all the want Megan offered was solely sexual, Maura could no longer turn her down. She'd been celibate since Jack, but the time alone up here - the time to think - had made her realise that she couldn't put her life on hold for Jane's feelings about same-sex relationships any longer.

"I'd love that," Maura said honestly.

"Okay," Megan said softly, the way she spoke to Maura sometimes, and Maura melted a little in the warm mess hall phone booth, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting her lip, hearing everything that went unsaid between them.

"Okay," Maura said, equally softly. She heard Jane yelling in the background and then heard Megan groan.

"I'd lock her out but she has her own key."

"Be nice," Maura said, but not sternly.

"I don't know what you see in her - well, I do, she shielded me with her body when we heard a gunshot even though she wasn't wearing a vest - when you have me."

"I have you?" Maura asked, her breath catching.

"You can have me if you want to." Megan was so sure of herself. No little games, like looking at her like she was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen, then pulling back the moment Maura reached for her. No clarifying to people that they weren't a couple. Just honest attraction.

"I'll see you soon," Maura said.

"Do you want Jane?" Megan asked, and Maura knew she wasn't just asking if Maura wanted Megan to give her the phone back. She knew Megan had picked up on the undercurrent that pulled Jane and Maura together, the undertow that was threatening to drag Maura under.

"No. Have fun at work. And don't kill each other."

"Write something sexy for me," Megan said huskily before she hung up, and Maura chuckled, shaking her head.

When she left the booth Sam was waiting.

"Your boyfriend?" Sam asked, seeing the flush across Maura's cheeks. She shook her head. "Girlfriend?" Maura could feel her blush deepen, averting her eyes and shaking her head again. "Ah, not yet, but you want her to be."

When Maura looked back up, Sam was smirking. Maura had found the time to read all of the entries that had won the guests a spot in this retreat. Sam's had been excellent - incredibly well researched with a same-sex Sapphic longing so strong Maura felt her own heart ache in sympathy, could see how her own life had been limited by not taking the kind of chances Sam's characters took. How to say all that without being gay about it?

Then she remembered that it didn't actually matter if she sounded gay about it. People here knew her peripherally, and the only person in her life who'd judge her for it was bickering with the woman she was hopefully going home to - the woman she didn't want to be her girlfriend, but wouldn't mind taking to bed anyway. Jane was the judgmental one, and she was several hundred miles away. Maura didn't need her approval, and she didn't need to prove anything to her. Not here and now, at least. 

"I read your work - sorry, you were trying to make a call - I found it phenomenal. Do you really think algae will be a viable energy source?"

"That's what I'm researching," Sam said with a modest shrug.

"And the - the -" Maura couldn't quite get it out, blushing again.

Sam's smile was wicked.

"Hoped you might like that," Sam said, her accent more clipped. "Some of my best work. Merely speculative, you understand." She eyed Maura, her tongue pulling across her lips subconsciously as she did, watching as goosebumps raised on Maura's forearms at the undisguised lust aimed at her. "I'd like to do some research, if you'd find yourself free of an evening? I'd project six or seven hours. To be... thorough."

The invitation was blatant, but in contrast to Harry Grady's offer it was almost chaste. Maura nodded wordlessly, and let Sam physically move her from the booth doorway, finding two legs a little too many to work after the last fifteen minutes of erotic stimuli.

***

It started snowing in the afternoon review session, and didn't stop until after dinner. The paths were thick with snow, and when the lights went out and came back with a distant hum, the organiser - Patty, a diminutive woman with a loud wardrobe - used the radio to check in with the ranger.

"We can stay here in the mess hall for the night. The cabins will be cold - the generator is running, but it won't last the night. Maintenance can't get out until tomorrow morning with fuel, once the roads are cleared. The fire will tide us over, but warming each cabin..." Patty shrugged. "It's unusual for us to have this much snow this early in the year, but the woodpile is well stocked. There are sleeping bags kept in the storeroom; if someone could help me dig them out we can get comfortable."

It wasn't so bad; the lights stayed on and the hall was warm, warmer than Maura's cabin had been overnight. The phone line was down, which had Maura a little anxious, knowing Angela would worry if she didn't hear from Maura in the morning. Perhaps it would be repaired by then. Sam rugged up and went out into the night, returning with firewood and a light sheen of sweat from chopping it, even with the cold temperatures outside. Maura helped retrieve sleeping bags, claiming one for herself and throwing one at Sam before dropping the rest off around the room. The mood was light; the way privileged people were when a minor inconvenience happened to them, when they knew how serious it could be. Starving and freezing to death had to be at the back of everyone's minds. Maura had seen evidence of cannibalism before, and she looked over at Terry, who nodded, both of them grimly aware of the dangers of the situation. As two doctors in a camp cut off from society, their roles would be incredibly important; they alone were aware of the realities of the danger the group faced. Anyone injured would have to be airlifted out, and if it snowed further that might become impossible. Maura nodded at Terry again, her head tilting towards the store room.

"Not much in the way of medical supplies," Maura said, her voice low as she unpacked the first aid kit kept in the storage room.

"Considering the majority are authors used to being holed up alone, it might ironically be the lack of privacy that causes injury. Most people go to pot being left alone, but this bunch would prefer it."

"Right. So keep them calm, and separate anyone antagonistic," Maura agreed. "That's the priority." She sorted through the kit; mostly bandages. There was a defibrillator on the wall, serviced before the season started. There were bandages and Band-Aids and aspirin, splints and thermal blankets. Antiseptics and antibiotics, antihistamines and a single EpiPen. Burn gel too, swabs, eye patches, a penlight. It should see them through - as long as no one did anything stupid like wander out into the dark, cold night alone, or had a fistfight culminating in a head injury. Those were the two biggest risks Maura could see. Terry pursed her lips, clearly unhappy.

"No scalpel," she said quietly. Maura nodded. "I'll get something small and sharp from the kitchen, see if I can sterilise it." Maura nodded again; hopefully they wouldn't need it, but if they did it was better to have it on hand with the rest of the supplies. "I know neither of us typically work on live people, but I've followed your career closely since that shoot out at BPD. There's no one - no one here at least - I'd rather have work on me, if it comes to that."

Patty had made hot cocoa, and there was a small crowd around the fire, forks being used to melt marshmallows. Sam looked up, grinning, and held out a perfectly toasted marshmallow to Maura, scooching aside to make room for her.

"Thank you," Maura said, touched, as Sam produced a hot cocoa for her too. Sam sighed and tucked herself against Maura's side, her body warm against Maura's, the slight smell of her sweat from chopping wood not unpleasant. Sam's claim on Maura hadn't gone unnoted, and Harry in particular looked put out.

Sam fed the fire into the night, people rugged up and went to sleep after some campfire songs. The lights went off in the early hours of the morning, and Maura heard Patty raise the Rangers a few times to check in. No one seemed on the verge of panic; this must just be what happened in the mountains.

When Sam went for more wood, someone touched Maura's thigh. She froze, even in her sleeping bag. Harry.

"Get your hands off me right now, Harry Grant," Maura said loudly, seeing people stir, hearing a few people curse Harry out. Sam came back in, and Maura heard a thud as Sam's boot connected with Harry's moving body, trying to get away from Maura so he could claim he'd been innocent of the accusation. Sam helped Maura up, and they sat on one of the tables over near the radio.

"Are you okay?"

"I won't be sleeping, that's for sure," Maura said mirthlessly.

"We might be stuck up here a while," Sam said, her voice low. "It's snowing again, heavier now. I nearly got lost, even though the woodshed is against the hall." Maura's heart froze; she wondered how much danger they were in. Getting out of camp now would be dangerous, even with her snow tyres. The snow was now pressing against the window panes of the hall; at least waist deep. "I'll - I know I'm not much, but I'll do what I can. Maybe we can lock him in the storeroom at night." Maura would rather barricade Sam and herself inside the storeroom, but she knew that wasn't practical. Harry's temper hadn't been volatile so far, but he was her biggest concern. Maura wasn't afraid to speak out; how many of the other women here were more vulnerable than her. "I - I brought the axe in with me."

"Good," Maura said absently, running her hands through her hair. Sam dragged the sleeping bags over; it was cold this far from the fire, but Maura didn't mind. As long as no one else touched her.

But then Sam did, and Maura didn't mind that. Sam's arm slid over her, exposed since it was over the sleeping bag.

"If anyone bothers you, I'll know," Sam said, and Maura could feel the hardness of the axe in Sam's sleeping bag, pressed against her thigh.

She slept; not well, and not for long, and she went outside with Sam each time she went for wood, looking around at the ever-deepening snow with a dark sense of foreboding.

***

The next day came the avalanche. There was no warning. Nowhere to go. Nothing they could do. The cabins were gone, shattering and rolling downhill, but the messhall remained.

The radio tower hadn't been so lucky. It was always dark now too, the wooden structure now buried under what must be feet of snow, the snowline far above the roof. The chimney had been built high and remained clear, but the fire had to be guarded from the frequent snow fall that threatened it. Sam and a few others had brought in firewood, since there were complaints about Sam opening the door multiple times through the night but strangely no one offering to cut wood in her stead. Even so, it was cold, strange sounds coming from the roof of the structure. Maura worried the roof wouldn't hold, that no one would find them. It was a living nightmare and the rank smell of panicked sweat haunted her every moment. The barely concealed fear that hid behind each sentence anyone spoke. The firewood would last a few days at most; they could start dissembling the furniture if need be and using that once it ran out. There was plenty of food, but it was all tinned. The water pipes had burst too, which brought on a host of problems, mostly sanitary.

On the third night, after the avalanche, Harry cracked. They'd all seen it coming, all been kind and tried to placate him. But he'd had enough. It would have been preferable if he'd tried to run out into the snow, but instead he focused on Maura and Sam, cuddled up together as had become usual for them. Maura was so grateful for her, the physical reassurance she provided, the gentleness of her, the kindness in her. She was small of stature, but her field of study had wrought a certain stockiness to her frame, taut musculature holding Maura firmly through the dark days and nights. She'd kept Maura grounded.

Harry kicked for Sam's head as she was sleeping - but she'd been awake, tense and waiting, feeling the vibe of the hall and not liking to let her guard down. She grabbed his ankle and pulled him off balance, tossed him to the ground. She pulled out the axe and held it up casually, letting the blade of it glint in the distant firelight.

"Agricultural sustainability," Sam reminded him. "We haven't had meat for days. I haven't prepared human before. Just cattle. Sheep. Horses. One less mouth to feed, and a surplus to our supplies. Your choice. Come near either of us again and I won't make it merciful." Harry got up off the ground, stumbled and fell back down, scrambling away in the darkness. Maura could feel Sam trembling; the candles had burned out two days ago, and they were too far from the fire to see properly. Maura ran her hand over Sam soothingly.

"Thank you," Maura said softly, knowing she had been the target. Sam turned in her sleeping bag, her blue eyes shining in the reflection of the fire.

"We could die out here," Sam said lowly, too low for anyone else to overhear. Maura nodded; it had occurred to her as well. She leaned forward and kissed Sam softly, aware of the other nineteen bodies in the space; the five authors, the thirteen other guests and Patty.

"Raincheck," Maura said when she pulled away, swallowing. "Until we get out of here." Sam nodded, pulling herself as tight against Maura as she could with the sleeping bags between them.

***

Sunlight came at last through the window the next morning, followed by the sound of helicopters. It was a long operation to extract everyone, but Maura, calm and collected, deigned to stay with the last group to be rescued in case medical attention was required. Sam, her axe concealed on her person, also waited, along with Terry.

When they were alone, waiting for the last chopper, Terry smiled over.

"Well, this was an adventure," Terry said briskly. "I've been thinking this whole time. Maybe a medical examiner stuck in the snow, deserted town. Perhaps a cult. Maybe I could call it something like 'Ice Cold'?"

Maura shivered, hearing the helicopter come back.

***

They were put up at a hotel in the nearest town. Maura called home as soon as she had reception; she'd kept her phone and laptop in her bag as part of her standard operating practice despite the lack of service.

"Maura!" It was Jane's number she called first. "Maura," Jane's voice softened, and Maura could hear a thready intake of breath, as though Jane was trying not to cry. "My god, woman, what are you doing to me?" Jane clearly started crying, and Maura heard a series of noises as though the phone was being palmed by someone else.

"Doctor Isles!" Korsak, sounding relieved and pleased. "Glad to have you back in the land of reception."

"It was touch and go for a while," Maura admitted, knowing that with his military past he'd understand the dangers they'd faced. Then a snatching noise.

"Maw!" Frankie. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine, Frankie, just a little tired and cold."

"I'll chop some wood for the fire. When are you coming home?"

Home. Boston hadn't always felt like home, but hearing Frankie say it made it feel like it was.

"I'll be booking a flight as soon as I can."

"We'll pick you up. One of us will, just text Jane and we'll sort it out. Day or night, we'll come for you."

And then another scuffle, Frankie's wounded 'ow' audible through the speaker.

"Doctor Isles?" Susie's voice was worried.

"Just this once, Susie, call me Maura."

"Maura." Susie's voice was warm and full of wonder. "Detective Rizzoli is crying," Susie observed. "They both are. Both Detective Rizzolis. And I also appear to be. Many other people are -" and then she was gone.

"Maura, oh my god, what happened?" Nina asked, and then was immediately replaced by Frost.

"Maura, Jane's in no state to work, Cavanaugh's taken our case off us and put us on forced leave until you get back. He says get your... behind... back here quick smart because he can't have his best team out for long."

Maura, crying now too, looked at her phone. She'd only been missing four days. Sam's hand slid over her back reassuringly.

"Thank you," Maura said, hearing that she was on speaker phone. "Thank you, everyone. I'll be home soon."

The call cut out, the rugged all-terrain-vehicle sliding downhill between two massive snowbanks.

***

Maura called a tearful Angela once she had reception in the hotel. She'd already been notified multiple times by everyone on her first call, and had told Hope and Constance what little news she'd had. It was nice to feel like her absence had been a notable event to the people who knew her. She hung up and turned to Sam, who was finishing up her own call.

"I'm going home tomorrow," Sam said. "But..." Maura knew what she meant. They'd been awake and on edge too long; the soft bed in the room they'd chosen to share had multiple uses, but sleep was Maura's primary objective. "However, I've been through my emails, and I have a placement in Boston next month."

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" She knew now that Sam was studying in Colorado, working towards a permanent residency. Sam shrugged with a grin.

"Raincheck?" she asked, and Maura nodded, heading for the shower, wanting to be clean for the first time in days.

"I uh... I should shower too," Sam said awkwardly, and Maura felt selfish; they'd been in the same situation, and Sam had done much more physical work than her.

"Of course, you go first," Maura said politely.

***

She was asleep when Sam came out, but Sam didn't wake her or recoil from her unwashed scent, curling up behind her to hold her like she had for the last few days without the bulk of a sleeping bag between them. When Maura woke at dusk, she was disoriented, looking around but not scared, the steady weight of Sam against her a comfort. She booked her flight, messaged Jane, plugged in her phone and laptop to charge and stretched, going for the bathroom. Luxuriating in a toilet that flushed. She had no other clothes with her, so she wrapped herself in the fluffy hotel robe and went back to bed after a long shower at the hottest temperature she could stand.

Sam was awake when she returned, also in a robe. Everything they'd been through - the solitude, the desperation. The way Sam had protected her.

"Room service?" Maura asked nervously, gesturing to their lack of clothes. Sam nodded, swallowing thickly, and Maura pulled her water from the mini fridge. They ate quietly, the television on, their dangerous helicopter rescue shown three times on the news, various reporters commenting on the continuing conditions and dangers. Maura's phone kept dinging until she put it on silent, too tired and overwhelmed to keep up with the amount of messages coming through after so long without.

Sam looked nervous. "I didn't do anything I did to -"

"You weren't trying to seduce me. I understand."

"I would love to -"

"So would I."

"But I'm so tired."

Maura's shoulders slumped. She joined Sam on the bed, this time holding her instead, seeing how nicely Sam fit in her arms.

"My flight is in four hours," Maura said. "And from your anecdotal evidence, we would need anywhere between six to eight hours to have adequately fulfilling hot sex with each other." Sam laughed and shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Raincheck." Maura reassured her, kissing the back of her neck. Sam turned in her arms and kissed her sleepily, lazily, with no ulterior motive and Maura knew she'd never settle for less again.

***

They kissed goodbye in the morning a little too enthusiastically, almost making Maura late for her plane. She followed up on her emails and messages using the plane wifi, wearing the clothes she'd purchased in the hotel lobby. The ones she'd worn for days she'd left in the bin. She'd never be able to wear them again without thinking of being trapped.

***

When Maura got home, Angela enveloped her in a hug at the airport. Her car and everything in the cabin had been written off - Maura was sure she'd be dealing with insurance for months. Angela had offered her car, but Maura would have another delivered by tomorrow. She could chase insurance later; she needed a car now. She could claim part of the cost against a forecast loss of wages in the delay from the insurance company; that would hurry them up.

"I was so worried about you, sweetheart," Angela said, and Maura was chagrined to see tears on her face.

"I'm fine," Maura reassured her. "Everything is okay."

Angela snorted.

"It is not. If we don't get home to mediate, Jane and Megan are going to kill each other."

Maura's eyebrows raised; she hadn't realised the situation had deteriorated so fast.

*** 

Jane was the first to hug her when Maura came in, striding across the room and pulling Maura tight. "God, I was so worried." It had snowed here too, just a little through the courtyard. Someone had cleared the driveway and the stoop; probably Jane or Frankie. Maura held her gratefully. She'd missed Jane. Jane cradled her face and examined her, trying to reassure herself that Maura was safe, then she hugged her again. Maura had to lean up into her instead of down like she had with Sam. Maura must have imagined that Jane's eyes slid to her lips.

Megan stepped forward next, and Maura scanned the room - Lacey wasn't there. Good. She grabbed Megan by the front of her designer pyjamas and tugged her forward, kissing her with a heat and passion she'd held back for too long. She heard Angela gasp, heard Jane swear, but she felt Megan melt in her arms, felt Megan push back against her, trying to take control of the kiss despite her small stature. Felt Megan's hands hold her, felt her smile victoriously into the kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for at least three years," Maura said breathlessly when she finally pulled away.

"The first time I was nice to you," Megan noted.

"Red letter day for you too, hmm?" Maura smiled, and Megan shook her head with a coy smile, knowing she'd been caught out.

"I'm glad you're okay," Megan said quietly. "But I wish you'd been brave enough to do that three years ago."

Maura bit her lip. "Me too," Maura admitted. She looked around at Angela and Jane and decided that as loved as they made her feel, she didn't have the energy to sit around in the middle of the night to recount her week from hell. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. And I'm taking her with me."

With that, Maura dragged a willing Megan up the stairs with her.

***

When Maura woke, it was to a light knock on the door and the smell of pancakes. Hot, homemade food. Heaven.

"Come in," Maura said, realising a moment too late that the weight on her chest was Megan's head. Maura had been tired, but not so tired that she hadn't been able to divest them both of their clothes and a few of their inhibitions. Fortunately it was Angela rather than Lacey bringing the food, and Maura tugged the covers higher over Megan, who slept as Maura pulled a discarded shirt over her own head.

"I couldn't wait any longer," Angela said, setting the tray on Maura's lap; it was just gone seven. "And I don't imagine she wants to explain to Lacey, and she'll be up soon."

"Lacey's old enough to know her mother's bisexual, and she already does," Megan said, sounding amused. She pulled on another discarded shirt and dug into the pancakes, pressing a kiss to Maura's cheek.

Maura listened for the telltale sound of Jane thumping around downstairs and heard nothing.

"She went home last night," Angela said, looking concerned. "I'll leave you to it." She paused at the doorway. "You could have told me, sweetheart. I wouldn't stop loving you over something as silly as who you love." Maura blushed; she enjoyed Megan but she wasn't in love with her.

She was in love with someone else. Had been for years, and she'd spent a lot of time knowing Angela would love her less if she knew. But Megan was here and wonderful and willing and apparently bisexual - and based on empirical evidence, very good at it - and eating most of the pancakes. Maura snagged a bunny ear and a chin for herself.

"So," Megan said finally, yawning and stretching.

"So, when do you have to be at work."

"We have half an hour, maximum," Megan told her, looking forlorn. Maura kissed her slowly, like half an hour was all the time in the world, climbing onto her and getting rid of their shirts again. Megan chuckled and ran her fingers through Maura's tousled hair. "I'm glad you came around," Megan said gently as Maura kissed her throat. "You're too good at this. If I'd known how good, I'd -"

"You'd have what?" Maura asked, mouthing Megan's taut nipple, playing with it with her tongue before closing her mouth over it. Megan gasped in a breath, her hands holding Maura's head against her. Maura finished her off deftly, almost expertly. It was one of the perks of knowing the human body so well, and Megan fell apart so beautifully that Maura didn't mind waiting a few minutes for her to be able to speak. "You'd have?" Maura asked again, but Megan just pounced on her, pinning her to the bed beneath her and thoroughly ravaging her.

***

"Maura!" Jane yelled up the stairs. Lacey came down, scrubbing her eyes, headed for the kitchen where Angela gave her a plate of bunny pancakes, kissing her head. "Megan! I need one of you!"

"Give them a minute, Jane. They've already had breakfast."

Jane blinked, started to ask a question she already knew and didn't want to know the answer to, then slumped at the counter next to Lacey.

Maura appeared, fully dressed and composed, as though she hadn't just had the most enthusiastically tender session of love making she'd ever experienced after one of the worst weeks of her life. Megan was nowhere near as composed, flustered and blushing as she stumbled into the kitchen. Jane felt her stomach drop, then sink again when Maura's hand brushed Megan's, making her blush again. Lacey smirked, like she'd seen this coming, helping herself to Jane's unattended pancakes.

"We got a body," Jane said finally.

"I need to get a car delivered, and sort out some insurance details. Megan?"

Megan blushed at Maura's low tone when she said her name, nodded and grabbed her bag. Jane followed, her eyebrows furrowed.

***

Maura thought Megan was wonderful, but they'd both known that neither of them would sacrifice their job and hometown for each other. They were both too firmly set in their ways for any sort of permanent arrangement. They'd agreed to that shortly after the first kiss, but Maura still felt a sense of loss as she walked her and Lacey to the departure lounge, Lacey giving her a quick hug and a knowing smile before heading off on her own.

"If you're ever in town," Maura said, and Megan chuckled.

"I'll let you know," Megan said, kissing Maura slowly, languidly, like people hadn't stopped to stare and watch them. Megan had worked out the rest of her scheduled two weeks, and stayed a third, seeing the sights with Lacey and satisfying Maura thoroughly every night. Perhaps it worked because they were so similar - perhaps it worked because they were so different - perhaps it only worked because there was a time limit, and firm boundaries in place. Megan bit her lip and looked up at Maura. "If there was a way for us both to be Chief ME somewhere..."

"You'd still try to top me," Maura said gently. She'd enjoyed how Megan had ordered her around in the bedroom, but in the workplace, in a long-term relationship the bloom would wear off that rose fast. Megan rolled her eyes but knew herself well enough to smile with a hint of regret. "Thank you," Maura said awkwardly. Megan nodded and kissed her again. "I meant for filling in for me while I was on the retreat. Unfortunately I don't think it's ethical for me to ask you to in future."

"My boss. Kate. Get her next time," Megan said, giving Maura a slow wink. "You won't regret it."

***

Sam came to town after Jane left for the FBI. Jane had told herself she was leaving so she wouldn't put Maura in danger again - the kidnapping, Korsak's wedding and many more situations when Maura had been put in unnecessary danger by being associated with Jane. Jane hadn't been able to bring herself to discuss the obvious way Maura was having a lot of sex with a lot of very attractive women. After not dating since Jack, she spent most of her nights with some exotic woman. Jane met some of them, but mostly Maura moved on, not looking to get attached. Jane clearly felt some kind of way about this, and Maura just as clearly didn't care.

Maura did take Jane to the airport and hugged her goodbye. Jane wanted to ask why she hadn't been on the long list of women Maura had worked her way through, but she'd once - venting her frustration - called what Maura was going through a 'slutty lesbian phase' and she was uneasy, worrying that her phrasing had gotten back to Maura. Angela had about ripped her a new one when she heard Jane had said that, not caring that Jane was hurt and lashing out. It was for the best, really, that she left. Everyone preferred Maura to her. Everyone loved Maura more than her. Everyone else was on board with Maura and her endless string of women (there had been three, Jane conceded privately to herself. Megan, that reporter - Katie? And the woman she'd hooked up with when she was snowed in. To Jane, who had never even been with one woman, three was an almost infinite amount of women to have been with). And Jane was out in the cold. Everyone was blaming her limitless heterosexuality as the reason Maura hadn't come out. As though coming out would make Jane look gay too. And Jane had worried about that, had made many efforts to ensure that no one thought that she was gay just because her best friend was.

And that was the crux of it. She'd always kind of assumed Maura was only gay for her, and she couldn't quite accept that she was a little bit gay for Maura. Angela didn't care, not now that Maura had come out. But Maura wasn't her own child. She could afford to be lenient when it came to Maura. She would only let loose on Jane if she came out. It wasn't fair. It was like Maura was just a better daughter to Angela than Jane had ever been, and Jane resented her a little for that.

She hugged Maura goodbye, pausing for a moment to look at her, really look at her. She'd fallen halfway in love with her the first time she'd seen her, lashing out because she had no way else to respond. The other half had quickly followed, won over by her confused smile and little excited, breathless lectures. She'd always loved her, but she'd pushed her away because she'd thought she shouldn't. Now it turned out she could have, and she hated herself for not being upfront about it at the start, and even more for not being upfront now.

Maura's hair was long and loose, the bangs finally grown out. Her hazel eyes were wary, the way they were too often now, they way the never used to be. But Maura's smile reached her cautious eyes, with some small measure of sadness, and that same smile dimpled both of her cheeks. Jane leaned in quickly, aiming for Maura's cheek and getting a little lip as well, then she hugged Maura again and turned quickly so she wouldn't change her mind.

***

Sam fit in nicely into Maura's life. She didn't seem to mind that Maura had dallied between the last time they'd seen each other and now, just nodded sagely with a smirk, pleased to be the catalyst of Maura's awakening. Her estimate had been correct, although it was closer to ten hours of hot gay sex if the nap breaks were included. Every time Maura thought she was done, Sam reeled her back in with her soft mouth and knowing fingers, drawing waves of pleasure that Maura had thought were debunked myths from her.

But it was more than that. She'd reminded Maura of Jane from the start - but a softer, kinder Jane, one that didn't have to remind herself that Maura had feelings, one that wasn't hung up on things being straight or not straight. One that held her and didn't pull away when someone came in. One that said sweet things because she saw how Maura loved when she said them. One who stood by her side when she saw her biological parents but took her cue from Maura, rather than stiffening into something vaguely threatening.

Angela loved her too. Hope and Cailin, Frankie and Tommy. It was the accent, those startlingly blue eyes, her cheeky lopsided grin. She was charming, completely disarming, absolutely adorable. Maura loved her fiercely, possessively.

But not completely. Part of her heart still belonged to Jane, no matter how broken it had been over the last few years. Sam went out through the week, doing her algae and wolf spider studies, then on the weekend she would catch up with Maura, her spreadsheets put aside until Maura got called in.

***

When Jane came home, Sam was everywhere. Everyone loved her, and she was pretty much a stranger to Jane. Angela was making jokes about Maura and Sam giving her grandbabies as though she'd forgotten Maura wasn't hers, and when Maura said they'd been trying IVF Jane excused herself to the courtyard. Maura was the hub of the family still; it was still her home that the Rizzolis piled into for every occasion. Jane felt sick, feeling sweat on her upper lip, trying to hold down vomit.

Sam came out. Not Maura, not Angela. They hadn't missed her, though she'd been gone six months. Sam was just being hospitable. Jane retched, and Sam went back inside, bringing out a cold water and an upchuck baggie. Jane took both gratefully, rubbing the cold water bottle on her hot face before taking a small sip, worried her stomach might betray her. Everyone else had moved on so fast, and she'd gone nowhere. Well, she had. She'd moved, and everyone else had moved on. She lived a quiet little bachelor life out in DC, and if she went missing for four days no one would even notice.

"Must have picked up something on the flight," Jane mumbled when she was sure talking wouldn't make her ralph. "Thanks."

"You can stay if you're not feeling well," Sam offered and Jane burned with indignation. It wasn't Sam's house; it was Maura's. Then she deflated, remembering all the missed calls between Maura and herself. They were never quite on the same schedule any more, despite being in the same time zone. Jane sighed and rubbed her face with the water bottle again.

"I'll just go back to Tommy's. Everyone's having a good time; I don't want to make a fuss." Sam nodded, but she grabbed keys from the counter and gestured to Maura, closing the door behind her. "Wait, what are you -"

"I'll walk you," Sam said, and Jane almost burst into tears. She was feeling so vulnerable and raw and sick, and Sam, who didn't even know her, was worried enough to make sure she got home safely. While everyone else had fun without her. They were better off without her anyway; she'd just spoil the mood. She ruined everything she touched.

"Thanks," Jane said thickly, following her. Sam knew the way to Tommy's; of course she did. Probably had keys too - Jane's old keyring looked familiar in Sam's hand. She felt like she was lost in some twilight universe, and she stopped once to throw up inelegantly in a tree divot in the pavement. Sam's hand was on her back a moment later, rubbing soothingly, helping her back upright, holding the water so Jane could wash her mouth out. Leaving the arm around her to help Jane stay upright as some force like vertigo hit her. To be so completely replaced in her own life.

Sam unlocked the door easily; she immediately knew to thump the lower catch to get the deadlock free. She helped Jane to the study, where the couch had been pulled out for her and set up a bucket and a glass of water, helping Jane to lie down. She came back with a wet cloth and wiped Jane's face and hands, taking it away and then sitting with Jane until Tommy got home, emptying the bucket twice for Jane.

When she was gone, Jane missed the comforting hand on her back, but TJ wiggled in under the covers with her and that was almost as good.

***

Maura called the next day, politely interested in how Jane was feeling. Jane knew Maura had to be suspicious of the timing. Had to know Jane was thinking of the child she'd nearly had. Jane mumbled a half-hearted excuse about food poisoning and went back to bed. She had Tommy drop her off at the airport when he came home, waiting for a standby to get home. Boston wasn't home any more.

Maura didn't call to see where she was when she didn't show up for dinner, and Jane turned her phone off and went to bed.

***

Two months later, Jane had a call from Sam. Angela had had a fall.

"Angela told Maura and Frankie not to call you. She didn't want you to worry. But I have a bad feeling - a gut feeling - I know it's not my place, but I think she'd like to see you, even if I'm wrong."

"No, I'm glad you did. I'll be there this afternoon."

***

Maura was with Angela, who was asleep. Jane waved shyly and Maura's eyes narrowed. Jane leaned in for a hug and her mouth brushed against Maura's when Maura jerked away from her.

"What is your problem, Jane?" Maura hissed, careful of the sleeping Angela. "You run away from me for years and you can't stand to be in the same room as me but as soon as I'm seeing someone else that just happens to be a woman and we're alone you try to kiss me?"

Jane wanted to object, to point out she'd merely tried to hug her, that it was Maura's movement that had brought their mouths together, but she looked over at Angela and shrugged. It didn't matter what Maura thought of her any more, and even if no one cared if she was here, at least she was. She took Angela's hand and sat by the bed, ignoring Maura as she continued to berate her, her shoulders broadened to ward off the worst of it.

"Is it because I'm finally happy, in a stable relationship? She's nice to me all the time, Jane. Not just when she feels like it. She - when I snipe at her, she looks so disappointed in me and I've had to unlearn every toxic thing you taught me about relationships because you were scared we were too close. And now that I have someone, now that I'm happy - now you decide you're not going to be a coward any more and that's cowardly too, Jane." Maura rubbed her face. "God, if I told her you kissed me, she wouldn't even be upset. She'd just ask what I wanted, and whatever it was she'd give it to me. Even if it meant it wasn't her. If I asked her for a threesome, she'd say you aren't her type but she'd do it anyway."

"I - uh." Jane looked up at Maura; she hadn't really been listening. "Sorry?" Jane asked, meaning sorry for not listening, as well as sorry for whatever Maura was angry about.

"Don't." Maura got to her feet, kissed Angela gently on her sleeping cheek and stormed out. Jane stared forlornly after her, then leaned forward to take Angela's hand again. It sank in then, that Maura thought she was a mean coward - the two nastiest things Maura used to call a person. The worst part was, Jane realised, was that Maura wasn't wrong. Jane didn't know how to deal with someone that made Maura happy, so she'd run away. And women made Maura happy, and Jane didn't because she was mean to Maura. She'd been mean to Maura, hoping Maura would never be able to see beneath Jane's spiky veneer to see how soft and all-encompassing the love Jane had for her was.

She'd wanted Maura to know without having to tell her, so Maura could turn her down gently because she didn't like women. But she did like women - as long as the woman in question wasn't Jane. And knowing Maura liked women - even women that weren't her - made it all the worse. Even Maura, even the woman who'd been her best friend, didn't want her, thought she was a cowardly bitch. And she was. She always had been. But it had been infinitely better, for the years they'd been friends, to be a coward and have Maura as a friend than whatever this was.

Whatever this was, it was awful.

***

If it hadn't been for Sam, Jane wouldn't have been there when Angela was diagnosed with a brain tumour. It had affected her balance, and Jane was there in time to see her before surgery. To say goodbye in case she didn't make it, in case it was malignant or inoperable. The doctor said it wasn't, but doctors sometimes got things wrong. Maura didn't, but she was an exception. She was exceptional.

When they wheeled Angela out, Jane turned to Sam and clung to her.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Jane whispered, over and over. And Sam held her, soothed her, patted her consolingly.

Sam was only being kind because she didn't know Jane. Jane pulled away when that thought struck her, seeing the way Maura avoided her eyes - not out of guilt for not calling her but because she didn't want to see Jane. Sam held Maura once Jane let go of her, and Jane saw the way Sam held Maura, none of the stiffness Jane had felt against her. Jane wished she smoked so she could pace the parking lot, get out of this hospital room. Now that Maura was standing, Jane could see she was starting to show; no one had told her. She'd have though Angela would have said, but apparently everyone had branded her a homophobe who hated Maura. Neither which thing was true. She liked Sam, and she loved Maura. She loved Maura too much. It was too hard to see someone else give Maura everything she wanted. Everything Jane had wanted to give to her.

Jane sobbed once, then ran from the room, heading for the stairs. She flew down all six flights. She didn't chase perps any more, so she was a little slow and out of breath. She'd have to start joining in the academy boot camp mornings when she got home. Frankie caught her as she flung herself out the door, heading in himself.

"Whoa, hey. Hey, Janie. She'll be okay. Maura made sure she got the best neurosurgeon in the business."

Jane sobbed harder, clinging to Frankie.

"I wasn't here," Jane sobbed. "No one told me."

Frankie had the decency to look abashed.

"Ma didn't want you flying over for nothing. She knows you hate flying."

"I don't mind flying; not for her, Frankie. Not for any of you."

Frankie let her cry, rubbing her back as decades of pain welled out of her, Hoyt, hiding who she was in a Catholic school, using Casey as a beard, only seeing him because he was so often out of town. The things Angela and Frank had said when she was a kid about gay people deserving AIDS, deserving the cruel painful deaths that the virus had wrought, but now that Maura was gay that didn't matter, and Maura had never had to hear it. She'd never had to live in a family that said those kinds of things. She wailed in Frankie's arms, knowing even as she did that he hated her for it, that he hated her and was pleased she'd left, was pleased Maura and Sam had taken the space she'd left in the family.

"I've been sidelined in my own family," Jane said quietly.

"Yeah well you were pretty hostile when Maura came out." Frankie said. Jane pulled back and stared at him, her eyes narrowed.

"Do you remember - you would have been seven. And I would have been eight. And Sister Winnie told Ma and Pop she suspected I was - I got caned at school and when I got home Pop said it was less of a sin to kill myself if I was - if I was like that - and Ma agreed with him, and you and Tommy just stood there looking at your feet while he caned me too and all I'd done was give a flower to Emily. I gave one to Steve too. I was eight and they caned me in front of you and said I was better off dead than gay. Do you remember that? And now that she has Maura it's like - fuck, Frankie, I gotta go."

Jane pulled away, ready to start running again.

"Jane! Janie!" Jane turned, saw that Maura and Sam had come down after her, had been standing behind her, now behind Frankie who had turned to face her but didn't look like he was going to chase her. His jaw set, he nodded. "Yeah, I remember. But people change."

"She can't change what that did to me," Jane spat at him. "She can't take back saying what she said when I was eight. It was a formative moment, Frankie. Maybe not for you, if you're not gay. But she said she'd rather I was dead, Frankie." Jane shook her head, avoiding looking behind him. "That's not something you can apologise for, and she never did. So fuck her, and fuck you too."

Jane took off again, not sure where she was going. She'd been holding that back for years, always anxious that Angela would pick up on how she felt for Maura, that she'd give Maura the same speech, the same hatred. But either Angela loved Maura more than she ever had loved Jane - if she had ever loved Jane - or she'd learned to hold her tongue long enough to keep herself from homelessness. Or maybe she hadn't meant it back then, maybe the most terrifying thing to happen to her had just been an average Tuesday for everyone else.

***

She ended up at the zoo. She still had her backstage pass to see Bass, and she sat next to him in his enclosure, holding prickly pear leaves for him to munch on. He remembered her; he was slightly larger. His smaller cousin was in TJ's care now, about the size of her palm. TJ was impressive. And soon he'd have a cousin, or whatever Maura's kid was going to be. Bass was more comforting than she'd hoped - he was something else Maura had outgrown, something else Maura had discarded. He didn't need or want a lot of human contact, but he let Jane scratch his shell the way he always liked, half-closing his eyes in pleasure as they sat together in the sun, Jane's tears dried to her face.

Maura and Sam walked to the enclosure, and Jane felt like an exhibit. Bass left Jane for Maura; everyone always did. Jane had only just managed to stop crying. She pulled out her phone, ignoring the audience, trying to regain some - any - composure.

"The zoo called us," Sam said pleasantly. "Apparently having a grown woman weeping doesn't help the turtle exhibit."

"Tortoise," Jane said automatically, resting a protective hand on Bass' shell even as he moved away from her.

"I didn't know," Maura said lowly, bent down a little even with her baby bump to scratch Bass under the chin. Maura didn't love him any more, and he still went to her. Poor bastard. He didn't understand. Jane understood. "I thought you were just having trouble adjusting. I thought - especially when you left - that you just needed space. I had no idea - Angela's never..." Maura trailed off, and Jane, even without looking, could see the insecurity on Maura's face. Knowing that Angela still had different standards for her biological children than she did for Maura. Knowing that Maura knew that too, and that it hurt her as well, even though she hadn't been the one facing the unfair double standards this time. Knowing that Maura had to be digesting what Jane had told Frankie, that at some point the woman she saw as a second - third - whatever - mother once told her eight year old daughter and two younger sons that they were better off dead than gay.

Even if that wasn't what she believed any more, even if she had brain cancer and was in surgery for it right now, it wasn't something Jane thought she could forgive. Not now she'd felt what Maura's lips felt like against her own. Not now that she knew for sure that she was gay. It was why she'd shot herself. To give Frankie - who was straight - a chance to survive. She was disposable. That was why it had been so easy for everyone to cast her aside. It was why she hadn't looked back at the person she loved the most when she jumped off a bridge. She'd believed her parents; they never lied. And then she grew up and found out they were fallible and she still believed this lie enmeshed in her soul. And she believed it; she still believed it. Like a piece of shit in an oyster shell, except Jane was no prize. She was no pearl. And the lie remained lodged in her chest, that she was better off dead, that no one would ever love her if she was gay.

Not even Maura, and Maura was gay.

"Go back to the hospital," Jane said, not looking up from her incredibly engrossing Spotify playlist. "She wanted you there."

"Jane." Maura's voice was pleading but Jane didn't look up, aware vaguely that she was crying again, that Bass had shuffled back to her side and was nudging her anxiously. "Jane. Please."

"Go," Jane said again. She wanted to add that Maura had left her and Bass in the first place and she might as well again now. But she knew it wouldn't make her feel better. She didn't need to be deliberately cruel to a pregnant woman. There was no point in being mean to Maura, because Maura didn't even like her any more. There was nothing left to cover up. Maura had to know from what Jane had said - it wasn't quite a coming out, and Maura didn't like to guess, but Jane had been upset about being told gay people were better off dead, and had also said that Angela had as much said that Jane was better off dead - Maura had the kind of lateral thinking skills that would logic that into figuring out that Jane was gay. That Jane was upset that Angela still loved Maura even though she was gay, when she'd said all that to her own child when she was still too young to walk away.

"Jane," Sam said, and her voice was the kindest thing Jane had heard for months so Jane looked up at her. "I know. That's why I'm here and not where I used to live. Between my family and the law, there was nothing left for me there. If you want to talk, you have my number." Jane let her jaw clench, then lifted her head to acknowledge what Sam had said. "We're going back to the hospital. You can come if you'd like." Jane shook her head, fingers trailing over Bass' shell.

"He was happy to see me," Jane said, her voice cracking.

"So was I," Sam said, her voice soft.

"Because you don't know me."

"I know what it's like to... Jane, I know you. I know you think everyone's disappointed in you, but they don't know what to do. You ran away. You keep running away. I'd like to know you. From what everyone says about you, I like what I know about you. I'd like to know you. I'd like to know the godmother of my child."

Jane's head snapped up. Maura was crying; so was Sam.

"If anything happened to me - anything serious -" Maura started and Jane shook her head, trying to forget the baby that had been violently beaten out of her, hating that Maura had used the same phrasing, gloating in her own fertility. She swallowed, letting the tears that would not stop coming fall down her face in an endless river of excessive pain.

"Don't," Jane said, her head tilted away.

When Jane looked up again, they were gone.

***

Jane stayed in a hotel in Boston long enough to hear (once again, from Sam) that Angela was recovering well. Then she went back home. DC was home now; she'd better get used to it. But now she went through the same thing Maura had gone through, on a larger scale than Maura ever had. She went through women like they were Dixie cups. Never anyone from the FBI but she had a three time thing with an artist that reconstructed the faces of skeletons. Jane had impressed her by commenting on a painting of a woman behind the bar - she turned out to be the artist, and Jane had learned enough from Constance and Maura to be able to detail exactly what she liked about the work - and later the artist had taught her enough about what she liked that she was invited back again and again. She'd wanted to make it four, but she - the same name as her mother, no less - had started talking about going on an actual date and meeting her friends so Jane blocked her number. She didn't deserve - she wasn't the kind of person to take home to meet the family. Jane wasn't the type of person who had friends. She was just flotsam in a bar, drifting towards whoever smiled her way. And a lot of women did - she'd always been called a dyke, but now that she owned it women flocked to her. She was tall and a little bit butch and she had a badge and any woman she wanted in DC and beyond. But she wasn't feeling particularly family-friendly at the moment.

Unless the family was literally the mob. She fit in fine with them. She visited Paddy when she could. Told him Maura was okay; she hadn't been speaking to her, but Sam sent updates. Jane had blocked Maura's number, along with almost everyone else's. They'd made her the bad guy, shut her out. Angela could have died before Jane got there. Jane was glad she'd gone to say goodbye; she didn't want to see her ever again.

Frankie sent an email. There were a lot of apologies and 'I didn't know you were gay's and a few 'I just thought you needed space's. She sent one back that was just a sad face emoji. Let him figure that one out.

Tommy called. Maura had been right. Tommy didn't judge. He made FaceTime calls with TJ and it was the highlight of Jane's days.

That and the women. After decades of denying herself women she was finally indulging herself. Sometimes she slipped over to Virginia. The naval base there had a lot of women, some of them on limited shore leave. No commitment, no strings. She should have been lonely; she hadn't made many friends.

There was an anthropologist that reminded her a little of Maura, but she was probably a little more like Hope, who also reminded Jane of Maura. Gritty, fierce, spent time identifying bodies of the victims of war crimes. Jane had seduced her by complimenting her bone structure, naming every bone in her body that she found attractive, and taking her home to bone her. When she woke up crying, Jane didn't mind holding her. Jane had never stayed the night, but she did for her.

There was an awkward moment or two when the anthropologist turned out to be both friends and colleagues with the artist - something Jane found out when the artist burst in on them, but Jane had the kind of ambidexterity to overcome the awkwardness, and it turned out the only thing Jane Rizzoli liked more than taking a woman was taking two women at the same time, hands all over her, jaw aching, scratch marks across her shoulders, until all three fell to the sheets in an exhausted puddle of boneless, shaking limbs. Jane had found that she loved boobs, and the only thing better than scoring an extra set was having four on hand to play with. The other two women were already friends, had a shorthand, and Jane might have felt left out if she hadn't welcomed the remote detachment she'd been seeking in promiscuity. She settled in between them, finally feeling the fresh wounds of an old hurt starting to fade a little with every tender kiss, every affectionate smile, every sleepy rendition of her name she received from them both. They usually started out passionate and horny, and at some point - usually after they'd each been satisfied a few times - it became soft and loving and comforting and no less hot and passionate for all the emotion colouring their knowing caresses and sweet kisses.

She didn't plan to go home. There was no one left for her in Boston, and sleeping wedged between her two women more than made up for that. Their softness more than made up for the hardships Jane had so recently endured.

***

And then Cailin called. Jane had always had a soft spot for that kid. She hadn't blocked her. Cailin was crying, something about Sam. Jane's heart sank. She slipped out from between her bedmates, letting them curl up into each other in her wake as she tugged her pants and shoes on, leaving her bra and a hastily scrawled note. If she drove she'd be there by morning.

She was at the hospital long before dawn. They let her in, even though it was outside visiting hours and Sam was in the ICU. Jane was on a list, apparently. The machines beeped. Sam's chest rose and fell with the noise from the pump. Maura, gorgeous and so, so pregnant, was holding Sam's mangled hand.

"Oh, Sam," Jane said, her hand landing on her heart, realising for the first time that her tank top was too thin for the Boston night. Jane had never blocked Sam, and Sam had called every week. Jane had answered almost all the time, knowing that she'd end up crying. Sometimes knowing she needed to cry.

"You didn't even know her," Maura said bitterly, when her teary eyes focused and she recognised Jane.

"We talked every Wednesday night," Jane said placidly. She wasn't here for a fight. She was here to support Sam the way Sam had supported her for so long. She walked around the bed and took Sam's other hand, kissed it gently. "Prognosis?"

"I've called her parents. I - I have to decide. When to turn off life support."

"When?" Jane asked hollowly, knowing that if there had been a chance that Maura would have used the word 'if' instead. Maura nodded, wiping her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Sam," Jane said gently. "If you can hear me, I'm sorry this is happening to you, and I'm sorry I didn't let you in sooner. I love you, and I'm sorry."

"You love her?" Maura sounded angry, but Jane didn't look away from Sam's battered face. A threshing machine, Cailin had said. Jane just nodded, holding Sam's hand. "You've never told me that."

"'The only good gay is a dead gay'. My parents told me that. They told me they loved me, but they wanted me dead. It shouldn't be her. She took my place in my life, and everyone loved her for it. It should have been me."

"Cut the 'woe is me' shit, Jane," Maura snapped. "My wife is dying, don't make this about you."

Jane looked up but avoided looking at Mara's angry, tear-stained face. "I wish it was me, not her. She didn't have that weight on her. She - she lived so much better than me. I wish there was something I could do so this wasn't happening to her. Or you. I wish it had been me instead. You could afford to lose me, and I can't afford to lose her."

"Jane." Maura's voice was low, the anger slipped completely from it. "You don't mean that."

Jane shrugged. "Doesn't matter if I do. I can't change the past. I can't save her. I can only..." Jane looked again at Sam's broken face, completely unrecognisable. She kissed the raw flesh as softly as she could. "She was working on this algae - she was close to working photosynthesis into power output. She showed me her graphs. She was so proud. She was so brilliant."

"She.... she didn't say -"

"I'll leave you alone. With your wife. Um. Congratulations? She only said you were engaged. I just needed to say thank you to her one last time. I'm going back to DC. If you - when you - if Cailin can tell me when the service is - I won't come to the church, but I'd like to visit her where they lay her to rest. When I'm in town." Jane kissed Sam's hand one last time and got to her feet. She paused and pressed a kiss to the top of Maura's head on the way past. "Take care, Doctor Isles," Jane mumbled into the familiar smell of Maura's hair.

"Jane. Stay. Please." Maura's hand shot out and caught Jane's wrist, the first time they'd touched in nearly a year. So much had changed, but the way Jane felt when Maura touched her hadn't. It was only now that she could admit to what it was. So she sat next to Maura and put what she hoped was a comforting arm over her shoulders, her other hand on what should have been Sam's knee. "They're twelve hours ahead. They might be home soon - I only had a landline number. Sam never talked about them."

"She did," Jane said mildly. "They're going to tell you to turn her off."

Maura flinched.

"You stopped taking my calls, but she told you about her parents? God, Jane, do you know how much it hurt -"

"Hurt me at least as much as it hurt you," Jane said. "But it's not about us. It's about her."

Maura nodded, crying again. Losing the mother of her child, knowing Sam would never meet her daughter. Jane cried too, for all the lost possibilities. Sam had wanted Jane and Maura to be friends again some day, and Jane didn't think that was possible. But for Sam, she could at least be civil.

The phone rang loudly over the hum of the machines keeping Sam temporarily alive, and they both jumped, Jane pulling away when Maura's head left her shoulder.

Maura took the call, meeting Jane's eyes with a reluctant nod when they confirmed what Jane had said. After that it was a matter of getting the donor recipients into the hospital and prepped for transplant. The Rizzolis came in and out, but Jane acknowledged none of them except TJ, who she swung into her arms with a smile, and Tommy, who she hugged. Cailin likewise received a hug, and she fell apart finally on Jane's strong shoulders, clinging to her while the others watched on, seemingly confused as to why Jane was there.

When the machine was turned off, everyone but Maura watched through the glass, Maura holding Sam's hand. When Sam's chest stilled for the last time, it was Jane's eyes she turned to look into, Jane's arms she fell into when she finally stumbled from Sam's room as the doctors starting harvesting, sobbing inconsolably. Jane took her like she always had, taking her weight, making room for her belly. Rubbing her back with strong, certain hands.

"She knew," Jane said, not knowing what else to say. "She knew how much you love her. She told me just last week that she couldn't believe how lucky she was. She knew."

***

Jane left as soon as Maura's grip on her loosened. She didn't want to, but she was already short on leave. Her women welcomed her back, and she finally told them what she'd left behind. Bones - Jane had taken to calling her that, the bone lady, mostly because it made her roll her eyes but partly because the name 'Temperance' had way too many syllables - commented on the similarities between Maura and herself - lawless parents, the families taken from them.

"She sounds nice," Bones said finally. "Why did you leave?"

"She didn't love me," Jane said flatly. "Not the way I wanted her to. I would have thrown it all away for her, and she was gay for everyone but me."

"Sweetie," Angela said, her voice full of sympathy. "What if she'd been waiting for you?"

"Sam does sound a lot like you. Some of the edges rubbed off, sure. But she..." Bones chimed in. She was making dinner but Jane had no appetite. Out of habit she helped, slicing vegetables as Angela sat on the counter, eating raw green beans with apparent pleasure. And Jane knew what pleasure looked like on that face. She didn't want to be talking about Maura; not here, not with her women.

"She wasn't," Jane insisted.

"Have you ever asked her? Have you ever told her?" Angela pushed. She knew what evasive Jane looked like, and Jane almost hated herself for letting these two women get so close to her emotionally. Not physically, never physically, she could never regret how close they'd physically gotten, only that they hadn't gotten closer. Jane shook her head.

"And you don't believe in God, or that other gay people deserve to die? Just you specifically?" Bones was always curious about religions.

"Is being dead better than being with us?" Jane looked up at Angela; reclined on the counter, partially dressed, looking almost satisfied. She was too much for one woman alone; it often took both Jane and Bones to subdue her.

"I've been dead," Jane said nonchalantly. "Wasn't much of anything." Bones nodded in satisfaction.

"And she saved your life?"

"Twice, at least. She held my guts in when I shot that guy through myself, and she went with me when I was to bring in a jumper. She was the only reason we were found, because she saw me go in after him. She was colder than the water had been, afterwards."

"It sounds like she actively prefers you to be alive, so it's your belief system that's faulty." They'd both seen Jane's scars, had both heard how they'd gotten there. "Surely you can see your thoughts are illogical." Jane wanted to say that Bones' love for her parents and trust in them was equally illogical, but she tried not to say things like that any more. "By your own admission, Maura saved your life at least twice, and you saved hers a few times too. So she thinks you're better off alive, even if you don't."

"She doesn't know I'm gay," Jane admitted quietly.

"She'd have done the same thing anyway," Angela said. "I can sense it. I've met Constance - an amazing woman in many ways," Angela lifted her eyebrows and Jane cringed "- and she wouldn't have raised a child with hate like that in her."

"No, she always forgives me, whatever I've done. I shot her father - the biological one - once," Jane begrudgingly admitted.

"Do you think she'll forgive you, the godmother of her unborn, second-motherless child, for leaving her, an obviously pregnant single mother who'd just lost her life partner right after said life partner died?" Bones asked, tilting her head. From anyone else the question would sound like casual cruelty, but Bones was genuinely curious about interpersonal relationships. She was no psychotherapist, but that was the charm of her. Angela was her tether to humanity, and between the two of them Jane always got a balanced opinion.

"I think she would," Jane said slowly. Angela leaned forward and kissed her slowly, mouth languid, and Jane realised this was a goodbye. She'd miss these two, and where she fit between them. She slid her hands onto Angela's hips, and while Bones usually preferred to keep bedroom activities out of the kitchen she came up behind Jane to help slide her pants down.

***

Jane went home on trembling legs, unblocked Maura's number, checked the redirect on her emails. They'd flooded in. They started with thinly disguised hurt at being abandoned by Jane. The happy, sappy emails about Sam. The updates on Jane's family. The hundreds of attempts to reach out that Jane had ignored. No wonder Maura had given her the cold shoulder her first time back in Boston. And then, an email about Angela collapsing. And then a hundred more. The apologies for never realising that Jane had lived through something like that. For never knowing Jane had felt like that. For Angela not caring when it was Maura and not Jane being gay. Jane's heart broke over and over, her eyes overflowing with tears that made it hard to read them all - and there were still hundred of emails still to read. Maura had kept emailing. Even though she must have known Jane wasn't reading them. There it was, Maura saying she was engaged, that she was pregnant. Asking her to be godmother. Trying to reach a Jane who had retreated so far inside herself that she could barely see daylight, let alone an attempt to help her.

Jane emailed back to the last one. It was the one where Maura detailed exactly what had happened to Sam and exactly how hurt she'd been when Jane left the minute Sam had died. It was just three words she'd sent: I'm coming home.

And Jane packed her meagre possessions and went back to say a second, last goodbye to her women of the Smithsonian collection. They'd miss her, but they had each other, and she needed their strength to make it through the coming days.

***

Maura was standing in the dark outside Tommy's when Jane pulled in late that night. Maura watched Jane park, her face closed and angry.

"Maura," Jane said. She hadn't planned this; not yet. "You made me a godparent."

"If anything happened to me, not her," Maura said harshly. Jane shrugged.

"You don't have to raise your child alone." Jane offered. It was the reason she'd come back. She'd been playing over and over in her head how Sam had told her Maura wanted Jane to be the godparent and how hurt she'd been instead of happy for the person who used to be her best friend, her support system, her everything.

"I've been alone nearly two years, Jane," Maura snarled before she realised how it sounded. "I mean, you left me alone. For nearly two years."

"You had Sam. You had your family - both of them - and mine too. I'm not fighting with you. I just want to go to sleep. We can talk in the morning." It was 3am, and Maura fidgeted. Jane would have to get her car re-registered to Massachusetts, find somewhere to live and a new job. The local branch of the FBI had tentatively offered her work, but Jane wasn't sure she could rely on that offer. Not with a child to take care of. Not that money was a problem for Maura, but Jane wanted to contribute.

Jane sighed, rubbing her face and grabbing her single suitcase.

"You can have the study," Jane told Maura. Maura shook her head.

"I just lost my fiancé. The least you can do is stay with me." Jane nodded quickly, following Maura through the house quietly. She wasn't going to argue with a pregnant woman. Especially one she hardly knew any more.

***

They didn't fit together any more. Maura's belly took up a lot of room, and Jane was aware she was mostly bone. She burned more calories than she ate, even when Angela - DC Angela, not her mother - tried to coax her with delicious tidbits or exotic body food. What Jane ate these days was mostly pussy. No wonder she was so tired. Even so, it was hard to sleep. Even after the long drive, even after all the goodbye sex she'd had with her two now ex-girlfriends, her mind was buzzing, hyper aware of the proximity of Maura's body after so long apart. What if she'd given it all up and Maura didn't even want her here? Her stomach recoiled at the thought of facing Angela. What if Maura started dating again once she had the baby and wanted to raise it with someone else? What if Jane found someone she loved as much as she'd once loved Maura? Maura still didn't love her. Nothing had changed. She saw Jane as the sister she'd never had. But she had Cailin now; she didn't need Jane. She'd never needed Jane.

If she didn't need Jane, why had she asked her to be a godparent, Jane asked herself, remembering what Angela and Bones had told her about using logic on her recurring negativities.

Maura broke the silence first. "I told Angela what you said to Frankie outside the hospital. She said she didn't remember."

"And of course you believe her, she's been flying the pride flag for you for two years." Jane tried to keep her tone flat, but she knew she sounded bitter.

"No, I believe you. Frankie remembers it. So does Tommy, even though he'd have only been six. Frankie says he still has nightmares, where he's gay and you and Tommy watch as Frank beats him to death." Jane shrugged. She could have said that she had the same recurring nightmare, except she actually was gay, in her dreams and in her real life. Maura didn't need to know. It sounded like she hadn't put it all together, the way Jane had resented how easily she'd come out. The way Jane had a death wish for years, chasing serial killers with no backup and no flak jackets. Maybe it was time for Jane to confirm it. To actually come out.

"And Angela doesn't remember. 'The axe forgets but the tree remembers.' Sam told me that. Her parents... of course Angela would say she doesn't remember. Plausible deniability over admitting saying something that awful to your children."

"It wasn't exactly an easy time for her," Maura said, and Jane scoffed.

"She could have left."

"Could she, Jane? A single, uneducated woman with three children? No working history, no job?"

"She could have left. I could have run away, but the police would have found me, or a child molester would have, or I'd have ended up in the system. She was an adult. She had parents she could have taken us to. She had a choice. I had - I still have - nothing."

"You have..." Maura started softly, then trailed off. She took Jane's hand and put it on her swollen stomach. "Are you just here for her?"

"I read your emails. All of them. I know I'm a coward -"

"I'm sorry for calling you that."

"I wasn't ready sooner. I had to - I had to deal with all the stuff in me that still thought that I'd be better off dead than - and my - I have - I had -"

"You were seeing someone?" Maura asked, and Jane knew it was wishful thinking when she thought she heard an edge of jealousy in her voice.

"Someones," Jane said, finally brave enough to admit to the two women she'd been seeing back in DC. "A forensic anthropologist - she worked in areas MEND set up clinics, I have to ask Hope if she remembers her - and an artist, who may or may not have - uh - flirted with Constance."

"Very bohemian." Maura's voice was dry and unamused. "You're calling Angela by her name now?"

"You can have her. She was always a better mother to you than me. I thought you were - one of the women was called - the same name."

"Awkward," Maura almost sounded amused in the darkness, and Jane moved her hand on Maura's stomach, pulling herself closer against Maura's back.

"I used her middle name. Pearly-Gates. Pearl for short."

Maura snorted this time, and Jane chuckled too.

"Not that we did much talking. But they did persuade me that I owed it to - to myself and to Sam. To come home and take over until you find someone else."

"Someone else?" Maura sounded confused.

"You'll date again, someday." Jane tried to sound casual but she could feel how tight her vocal chords were, how high her voice was. "And then you won't need me any more. Not that you ever did."

Maura rolled over. It took nearly two minutes, the fullness of her body making movement difficult. From the emails, Jane knew Maura was at 39 weeks. Maura made it all the way over and turned on the lamp on the table by Jane's shoulder, then let her hand rest on Jane's shoulder.

"I've always needed you. I'm always going to need you, Jane. No matter who is in my life."

"No, you were right when you said that our relationship was toxic and I was the one making it that way. I was a coward."

"When I said that, I didn't know..."

"Still a coward. Could have told you about it. Could have seen someone about it." Jane was aware of Maura's thoughtful gaze on her face and tried to hold back the tears that so often threatened her.

"It's complicated - I'm an example of an unhappy childhood, and you've always accommodated me."

"But you were upfront. You talked about it. I just shoved it down so the person I loved the most wouldn't echo what my parents said and tell me I was better off dead than in love with them."

"In love?" Maura asked, her eyes narrowing. Jane bit her lip, seeing Maura's eyes drift down to the movement.

"I was so convinced that's how you would feel - I really - I messed up Maura. I fucked up. Bad."

"Badly. You fucked up badly," Maura corrected her, but there was no ire, no blade to her tone.

"I did," Jane agreed. "And when I came home you didn't even want to talk to me, or you were yelling, or you were crying, and you were happier - everyone was happier - without me. So if I couldn't be dead, I might as well get as far away as possible."

"I've been miserable without you," Maura said quietly. "Sam was wonderful, but I was surrounded by your family, your memories, your colleagues. I have the last coffee cup you left in my office. I used to glare at it when I couldn't figure something out in the autopsy, imagine what you'd ask me to do. I didn't go a single day without thinking of you. It was like you were dead, and I hated it. Not every minute, but I sent an email every time it was unbearable."

Hundreds of emails. Probably more than a thousand. Jane looked at Maura, trying to tell if she was lying. Maura's eyes widened, and she put Jane's hand on her stomach again.

"Feel her?" Maura asked, her voice reverent. Jane nodded, her mouth dropping open. "I've seen you with babies. You love them, and they love you. I'm already exhausted. Angela asked if I wanted her to move back in - she lives with Ron now - but I said no. I guess I was hoping -"

"I'm here," Jane said. "I'm here to stay. I'm homeless and jobless, but I - I want to tell you all the things I've seen, and the things I've done. I want to hold your baby. I want to be out and proud, I want to be who I am without shame. I want -" Jane looked down at where Maura's stomach was moving again. "I want to be better. I want to treat you better. And I know you've just lost the love of your life, and I know you still kind of hate me, but do you happen to know when you might hate me a little less?"

Maura sighed. "I can never quite hate you," Maura admitted. "But it's going to take a really long time to trust you again."

"You don't think I'd be better off dead?" Jane asked, knowing the question was selfish when Maura had so recently suffered loss. Maura sighed, rubbing her rounded belly - surprisingly hard - with Jane's hand.

"I spent twenty years breaking out in hives at the thought of lying because of something my father said when I was a teenager. A physical manifestation of trauma. I do understand some of what you're going through."

Jane nodded as though that had been an answer, as though the two were somehow comparable. Maura looked Jane in the eyes.

"I'm so, so mad at you. But I also missed you, and I don't fit as well with anyone else as I do with you."

"My family loves you," Jane said tentatively, aware of the still-raw wound of her own family. "So does yours - both of yours. And S-Sam loved you. The two of you fit. I could see - she had a scientific mind as well. She never made fun of any of your big words." Jane had thought she would be the first to cry, but Maura's face leaked tears at the mention of Sam. Jane held her out of instinct, out of compassion, out of love, out of empathy.

Jane planned to visit her grave tomorrow, as well as drop by the precinct and see if anyone was free to catch up in the Division One cafe. She had only told Tommy and Cailin and Tasha she'd be coming - not home, but back. Boston still felt like a rotten tooth in her gums, swaying whenever she reached for it. "How long until you're due," Jane asked politely, even though she'd read the emails. It would give Maura something positive to focus on.

"Next week," Maura said. "I can't imagine doing this without her. I can't imagine having to raise her without Sam. I can't even think of how to tell her that her mother died before she was born."

"I'm not Sam, and I never will be, and I'm not trying to take her place. But you made me a godparent, and I'm stepping up. I know I've been running away for a long time - I thought it was to keep you safe, but it was to find somewhere safe enough to process everything. And I'm still doing it. I'm still working through it, and I'll find a therapist and I'll do the work. I can't tell you that I won't run away again, and I can't promise that I'll ever be comfortable with my family again, but for the first time in my life I'm comfortable with who I am. And that means I have to figure out where I fit in the life that I left. I used to fit with you, but it's like when there's a jigsaw puzzle and the shape is right but the pattern is wrong. I want to be the right pattern this time too. I'll do my best, because you've had the worst of me and you deserved better. Even if you just want to drop the kid off and never see me, I'll take it. Even if you don't want me in your life again, I'm here."

"You're here," Maura repeated. "We're here." The way she said it made it sound significant, but they'd spent many nights lying next to each other in bed, and every single time Jane had cherished that Maura felt comfortable enough with her to sleep next to her. That Maura hadn't thought she was dangerous or evil. That the most precious thing in her life lay within her grasp, within her arms, sometimes. And now she was again, and Jane could see how far she'd come and how much further she had to go to make things right - or at least less wrong. "You're here," Maura said, a hint of wonder in her voice. Every time Jane had come to Boston she had tried to turn her emotions off. It hurt too much. But she let one seep through her now; relief as Maura tucked herself against her.

***

TJ didn't jump on the bed like he usually did when Jane stayed over. He just shook her until she woke, careful of the sleeping Maura that had most of her body resting on Jane even as she slept.

"Hey buddy," Jane rasped out; she'd only had a few hours of restless sleep. She ran a hand over Maura's back but she didn't wake and she didn't want to try to wriggle out from under her in case she hurt her or the baby. "I'm trapped. And you've got school."

TJ pouted but Jane could hear him thumping down the stairs a moment later. A snuggle from TJ would have been nice, but there was no room on the foldout couch, and a snuggle with Maura, after so long, was incredibly nourishing to Jane.

"Never did understand why you let her get away," Tommy said, propped against the doorframe. "I mean, I know, Ma and Pop and all that. But I've never seen anyone love you as much as she did and you..." Tommy shrugged and brought the coffee over. "We wanna keep her in the family, y'know. I'm taking TJ to school. Stay as long as you need. Her too. She's been real good to all of us, Janie. Please be good to her too. I can't believe it's me saying this, but don't screw this up, Jane."

Jane nodded, looking longingly at the coffee that she couldn't drink with Maura on top of her. Tommy nodded and tapped his palm twice against the doorframe before heading downstairs.

***

Maura woke slowly. Jane had expected pregnancy to fade her a little, but she glowed with some hormone or other. Oxytocin, probably, she was always fond of that one.

"You're still here. I thought it was a dream."

Jane wanted to tell Maura to get off of her so she could drink her coffee, but instead she stroked Maura's hair. It felt far too intimate, even with Maura's body draped over hers. The last time she'd stroked someone's hair it had been one of her lovers, and she was keenly aware than Maura never had been and never would be in that category. "I have to go look for an apartment," Jane said instead.

"If you're serious about staying, the guest house is empty. It'll make it easier, when the baby comes, to have you so close."

"You'll let me help?" Jane asked, still aware of how much she'd broken Maura's trust in her.

"I don't have much choice," Maura said, and Jane knew that both of them knew that Maura was spoiled for choice when it came to babysitters. She could even hire a full-time nanny if she chose to go straight back to work. Maura sat up slowly, with difficulty, and Jane helped her before discreetly reaching for the coffee Tommy had left her.

***

It wasn't weird at the precinct. It was like she'd never gone anywhere, and it was true she'd kept closer contact with her former colleagues than her family. When Maura called, she immediately got to her feet, walking out to take it.

"I'm on my way," Jane said, getting in her car, poking her tongue out at Moe, who rolled his eyes. Of course she had to park right out front one more time.

"So's the baby," Maura gasped, and Jane verbally went over the birth plan Maura had given her. "Meet me at the hospital." Jane looked back at the police station, then ran up the steps. If there was any time for a police escort, it was now.

***

"Jane." Maura's eyes latched onto her as she skidded into the room number she'd been sent, her boots scuffing the linoleum.

"Are you okay?" Jane asked breathlessly, checking Maura over, touching her here and there to reassure herself - her forearms, shoulders, cheek, knee, ankle, then up around the other side as she made her way to the chair, holding out her hand for Maura to take.

"It's really happening," Maura said, panting. The other person in the room lifted the sheet and Jane watched with fascination as she checked the progress. Then she blushed and looked away, back to Maura's face.

"You've seen it all before, Jane," Maura said quietly.

"Not like this, and never because you wanted me to." But thinking back, there had been times when it hadn't been strictly necessary to be nude together. There had always been a little smile on Maura's face when Jane eyed her body. Jane shook her head. "You don't mind that I'm here?" Jane asked, suddenly self-conscious, suddenly aware of the intimacy of the delivery room, of the relationship they no longer had, the strained friendship they were trying to rekindle that might instead crash and burn from the intensity of childbirth.

"You're here," Maura said. "I asked you to be, so you are. I want you here, Jane. Don't make me do this alone."

Jane knew of at least a half dozen people who would drop everything to come be with Maura for the birth of her child - all more deserving than Jane, who had queue-skipped - but Maura wanted her here. A warm glow filled her chest. The birth itself was a bloody, gory mess, but Jane was used to those and the heady prevailing smell of blood. She let Maura squeeze her wrists, her hands too delicate to take that kind of crushing pressure. She encouraged her and pushed her hair back, wiped her face, fed her ice chips. She looked at the face she'd tried to leave behind and she couldn't look away.

"What?" Maura asked, when she noticed. Jane shrugged and smiled.

"I'm here," was all Jane could say, and then she was holding Maura and Sam's baby, bringing her up for Maura to hold while someone stitched Maura up, taking the placenta.

"Would you like to cut the cord?" the nurse asked Jane.

"I can't."

"Sam can't. You can," Maura said sternly, and Jane meekly took the scissors, humbly completed the task as asked.

"Sweetheart, there you are," Angela said, and Jane stepped away, making for the door.

"Don't," Maura pleaded, but Jane's eyes were wet.

"I can't," Jane whispered, slipping away into the hospital.

***

Jane went onto the roof. She always used to climb when she was upset, so she would be out of reach. So her parents couldn't find her or catch her.

"I thought you'd be up here," Angela said, and Jane's guts churned. Instinctually she shifted closer to the edge of the roof. "Jane! Of course I don't -" Angela lurched forward and pulled Jane away from the drop that awaited her. Held her tightly even as Jane went still, went numb. "Sweetheart, of course I don't think - of course I don't want you dead. I love you, gay or straight. I can't believe I ever listened to the church, or your father, I can't believe I could ever say something so awful. Jane, I'm sorry, baby. I've always loved you. I always will. I understand why you left, why you couldn't stay but Maura is down there alone and we can do this later." Angela pulled away from Jane, crying messily. "I don't expect you to forgive me - I don't know if I can forgive myself - but Maura needs you." Angela shoved Jane at the roof door, and Jane stumbled towards it, then ran down the stairs, bursting back onto the ward and sliding into Maura's room again.

"I'm sorry," Jane said. "For all of it, but especially for that."

Hope and Cailin had arrived while she was gone, and so had Frankie and Tommy and TJ, all waiting outside the room. They all looked startled at her sudden entrance, but Maura smiled and held out the baby. Jane stepped forward; all newborns looked the same to her, but she'd been cleaned up since Jane had last seen her. She traced the delicate eyebrows, touched the tiny perfect ears.

"I love her," Jane said, feeling a rush of protective affection wash over her. She would do anything - anything for this baby, even stay in the room while Angela reentered. "I love you," Jane said finally to Maura, after all those years she didn't say it, too scared, too eaten up by fear and self-loathing and internalised homophobia. Maura just nodded, as though she'd known Jane's greatest secret all along. As though she'd never doubted it for a moment, even during those two years they barely even talked. It was too soon - Sam's death looming over them, Sam's baby in Maura's arms - but Jane felt like someday, when she was brave enough, she could tell Maura she was still in love with her, the same way she'd been the full almost-decade she'd known her. She took the offered baby, kissed her soft newborn forehead, then leaned forward and kissed Maura's too.

"Jane, meet Samantha Clementine Isles," Maura said proudly.

"Maura, you CANNOT name her that," Jane glowered at Maura who merely laughed, not intimidated at all by Jane.

"Sam chose it. Go argue with her."

"You want me to take your newborn - name undecided - down to the cemetery - and argue with -"

"She has to meet her mother sometime, and I'd like you to be there when she does." Jane eyed Maura over; she was apparently completely serious.

"We'll wait for you," Jane said gently, handing Sam back to Maura.

***

Five years later

"That lecturer blows," Jane complained. They were at a convention centre for a seminar on best practice for body retrievals, and while Jane loved Sam and Anne - their second daughter, who was named after a goddamned book - Maura was lucky Jane loved her so much - she was grateful for the free babysitting their collective families were providing. Still, the conference wasn't telling her anything new, and she and Maura had a hotel room nearby and no one to interrupt them.

"I thought I heard a familiar voice," Angela Montenegro said as she approached them. She eyed Maura with delight. "Doctor Isles, I presume?"

"Doctor Rizzoli now," Maura said demurely. "And you are?"

"There you are," Brennan's brisk voice cut through the crowd as she strode after Angela. "Oh! Jane!" Temperance hugged Jane, then eyed Maura as well. "I speak more languages than you, Doctor Isles. I read your precis in the bulletin."

Maura chuckled. "I'm sure you do. Doctor Brennan?"

"Bones," Jane, Angela and Brenna said in unison.

"Technically Doctor Brennan, but Bones to my friends, which, since you don't seem to be threatened or intimidated by my intellect or extremely carnal knowledge of your wife's body, I'm sure we will become."

Angela, meanwhile, had continued to eye Maura. "Sweetie, you never said she was this hot. I'm a little jealous."

"Didn't you tell me you once slept with Constance Isles? You cannot hit on her daughter - my wife - as well. One per family."

Bones and Maura immediately went off into separate but related tangents about adopted and biological families and that Angela should probably be allowed to have a second Isles as long as that Isles was adopted and not biologically related to the first Isles. Jane shook her head - she'd shared Angela and Brennan, but there was no way in hell she'd share Maura. Not with those two horndogs.

And then another familiar voice when Doctor Megan Hunt joined them, a blonde woman with a smile by her side. "While we're all showing off, have you met my wife, Doctor Kate Murphy, the Governor of Pennsylvania?" Megan asked smugly. "I quite liked your lecture on fragment resectioning," she told Brennan. "And yours on rehydrating brain tissue, Doctor Isles, but you always did have a brilliant mind."

If it had been five years ago, during Jane's 'slutty lesbian phase', Jane would have dragged them all back to their hotel room and not emerged for the rest of the conference. It was still temping, five years on, the way Megan and Angela were eyeing each other especially. But Jane had a family back home, and as fun as visiting the past might sound, she had responsibilities to live up to, and a wife to think of. Angela and Megan could wear each other out without them, now they'd been introduced, and Jane could have Maura - who was all she'd wanted and more than she could ever have hoped for - all to herself.

Her past was another country. All the loathing, all the fear, she'd left most of it behind. Her family had welcomed her back - a little awkwardly, a little aware of how badly they'd wronged her, how badly they'd hurt her. Jane and Angela were polite when they needed to be, but Jane made sure she was never alone with her children. Those who didn't learn from the past were destined to repeat it. And while she was healing, there was still part of her that was 8 years old and bleeding stripes through her Catholic school uniform, and she didn't want any part of that passed down.

But it was a beautiful day, and the next lecture was on bugs and slime and she'd promised to record it for TJ, so she took Maura's arm proudly and led her back to the auditorium, rolling her eyes at Angela as the four doctorates discussed the weirdest things they'd found inside a deceased human body. She could see now how far she'd come, and she was glad Maura had made the journey with her. She gave Maura a little temple kiss as she sat next to her, ready for the lecture, smiling as Maura's eyes shone up at her.

"What was that for?" Maura asked, arranging herself so Jane's arm fit comfortably over her shoulders.

"For loving me all these years," Jane said quietly, and Maura turned to kiss her properly, the tingle from her lips just as fresh and exciting as it had been the first time they'd done it on purpose, four years ago when Jane had signed the adoption papers for Sam. Maura was still just as full of wonder and science as she'd ever been, and Jane still couldn't get enough of her. Maura rested her head against Jane's and sighed contentedly and Jane knew that she'd make sure, for the rest of her life, that the rest of Maura's sighs were all as content as that one.