She drives fast through the shiny slippery city, wishing she had sirens on the top of her car like Jane. She'd been across town, forty five minutes away when the call came, and she hadn't been expecting it. She's not dressed to see any of the Rizzoli's, least of all Jane.

But it doesn't matter. The call came in, and before Angela could even get the full story out, she was backing out of her parking spot, mentally mapping the fastest way to get to Downtown.

The door to Jane's apartment isn't locked when Maura tries it, and she pushes it in slowly, not sure of what she'll find. But the apartment looks normal. It looks cluttered in the way that the doctor has come to expect from Jane. It doesn't look like anything out of the ordinary has happened here. But it didn't happen here, Maura reminds herself.

"Angela?" she calls softly.

The older woman comes into view from the kitchen, her eyes still red from crying.

"I'm sorry to pull you away," she says, and her voice has gone rough from crying, making her sound like her daughter. "I didn't know who else to call. Jane said you were with-"

But Maura waves her off, unwilling to hear his name in Jane's apartment. It would be like a betrayal, though whose betrayal - hers or Jane's - she couldn't say.

"It's nothing," she says, meaning he's nothing. "Jane is more important."

Angela says nothing to this. There's nothing to say, really.

"She won't let me in. She's been in the bedroom since before I called you," she hesitates, throwing a glance towards the closed door. "She didn't say anything at all," she continues, lowering her voice. she just gathered all the boxes up into her arms and left. Just like that."

Maura holds in her frustration, calculating her next move against her ultimate goal.

"Angela," she says firmly. "How could you save them?"

Angela looks a bit struck by the question, but she recovers quickly. "I'd already wrapped them. They're the ones I'd buy any time she got...I mean...she could - it could happen again. And why have to go out and buy the same things over again?"

Then why couldn't you hide them more thoroughly. With one ounce of sense, Maura thinks but does not say.

She opts instead to cut to the chase. "Angela, you need to go home."

The other woman's eyes get wide and indignant. "What? I can't just-"

"Think of what Jane is feeling right now. Think of how carefully she's avoided this subject, especially with Christmas so near. And not only have you reminded her of what she's lost, you've chased her here. You've cornered her."

Angela looks like she is on the verge of tears. "It's Christmas," she says weakly. "We didn't have you, Tommy is God knows where, and Frankie is on a shift until tomorrow morning. I just wanted to spend Christmas Eve with my daughter."

Maura had wanted to spend Christmas Eve with her daughter too. Looks like only one of them will get their wish tonight.

"Angela...I promise to bring Jane over tomorrow morning. But right now, you have to give her this space. You have to."

There is a long silence.

"When you bring her tomorrow," Angela says slowly, "I want you to stay too."

Maura almost smiles. How simple Angela makes it.

"I will do the best that I can," she answers.

…..

When Angela has left, Maura moves to Jane's bedroom door. "Jane," she calls softly. "It's Maura."

The last bit was probably unnecessary, but she can't be sure. "Your mother has gone."

Silence.

Maura puts her hand on the door. "She told me what happened."

Is that her imagination, or is there rustling coming from within.

"Please let me in. Or at least let me know that you're okay."

The distinct sound of footsteps, and then the twisting of the lock on the door. Maura pushes the door open and looks around the corner, just in time to see Jane's boot disappearing over the sill of the wide open window.

The boxes she'd found in Maura's guesthouse are strewn around the floor, silver paper and gift bags, tissue paper and bows, ripped to pieces.

And on the walls, each held through the heart to the wall with a shiny silver scalpel… Are a dozen or so baby's onesies.

She hasn't taken her coat off, and now she's grateful. The air from the window is frigid. On a whim, she pulls Jane's comforter off of Jane's bed, and shoves it out of the window in front of her.

The metal of the fire escape pierces her hands like wire ice cubes, but Maura hauls herself out onto the little platform, and inches herself towards Jane.

The brunette is huddled in the corner of the fire escape, her arms wrapped around her knees. She is only wearing her BPD sweatshirt and a pair of loose track pants. Maura offers up the blanket.

"For me," she says, when Jane starts to decline.

A moment's hesitation and then Jane nods. "And you too," she says, pulling Maura to her along with the blanket.

Maura lets Jane drape the blanket over both of them. Jane doesn't comment on how she's dressed or the way she smells of cologne.

For all her worrying on the trip over, for all her nerves about comforting Jane, getting to this point has been relatively easy.
She realizes, as Jane lets out a breath, that the detective did not believe she would come. That she is relieved to see her.

Maura realizes that it is her betrayal. And hers alone.

"I saw your artwork," she says, letting the levity in her tone serve as Jane's out, if she wants to take it.

Jane shakes her head. "It would have made Ma cry."

Maura considers. "I found it heartbreaking as well," she finally confesses. "I wish you would have expressed that sentiment verbally."

"Rather than ruining baby clothes I'm never going to use?"

Maura pushes a little closer to Jane. "You don't know you're never going to-"

"I didn't just miscarry, Maura," Jane says, and for the first time since the entire ordeal, her tone is something like anger. "I lost the baby because of my job. Some a-hole got the drop on me and beat me into miscarrying." As soon as it is out of her mouth, she looks like she is going to collapse.

Maura finds her hand under the blanket, and takes it in both of hers. It is still cold.

"The job lost me the baby," she says. "The job loses me everything."

Maura closes her eyes, not bothering to try and stave off the guilt.

.

"I don't want him Maura. I want you. I've only ever wanted you. I said no. I'm not going to marry him. And we can make custody work. I...I know - I mean I think - you want me the way I want you. You love me. And all I want is to wake up next to you for the rest of my life."

"I would have named him Michael," Jane says. "I've always liked that name a lot."

"I can't, Jane. I can't I can't….I can't.

.

Jane lets Maura kiss her. She lets Maura shift to face her, and pull her face forward and kiss her. She does not resist, and she does not pull away, but when Maura pulls back, her eyes stay closed.

"Don't do this," she murmurs. "Don't do this if…"

But Maura presses their lips together again, and when Jane's cold hands come in contact with the skin of her lower back, she gasps.

Jane pulls away from Maura, and presses her head into the bend of the doctor's shoulder.

Oh, God, does it feel like home.

She puts her hand in Jane's hair, and pulls her closer as she starts to cry. Later - days, maybe - it will be her turn to fall apart. And Jane will hold her, and thread her fingers through her hair, and they will fall asleep together in their bed.

Their bed.

And haven't they both always needed to be so strong for everyone else?

"We would have been magnificent parents," Maura says quietly.

Jane tightens her hold.

It starts to snow.