She's lying in his bed, tangled in his sheets. She smells like his cologne. She's a grown woman, who can make her own decisions, and mistakes. But, suddenly she feels a little bit guilty. She had been behaving like teenager, and.. his voice cuts into her train of though.

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Why aren't you?"

"Because you're breathing too loudly."

"I can go."

"You don't have to go."

"How long do you think that we can do this?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"No."

"We've already been doing this, on, and off, for almost three years."

"How long do you think that we can keep it up?"

"I don't know, why?"

"What happens when someone finds out?"

"Since when are you worried that someone will find out?"

"We could lose our jobs."

"We won't."

"You don't know that."

"Jane, either one of this can end this, at any time."

"End what? What exactly are we doing here?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"It's just sex."

"Just?"

"There is no relationship."

"Our relationship is outside of this room," he reminds her.

"But, we're not together."

"I never said that we were," he tells her.

"I..."

"Do you want to be?" he questions, out of the blue.

"No," she answers quickly.

"So, what's with the game of twenty questions?"

"I just have this nagging feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that something bad is about to happen."

"Jane, something bad happens every single day."

"I know."

"But?"

"I don't want this to end," she admits.

"How long can this really last? I mean this fling can't last forever."

"I just asked you that."

"I don't know the answer."

"Neither do I," she argues.

"Can we not talk about it?"

"What else do you suggest that we do?"

"Sleep, or... just about anything else."

"Sleep," she votes.

"Ok," he rolls onto his side of the bed.

He knows better than to get too close. She wasn't one who wanted to be cuddled. She needed her space, she always had. That's why he's surprised, when she rolls towards him. He rolls over to look at her.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

She doesn't say anything. He scoots closer, and wraps his arms around her. She doesn't move. She doesn't protest. He brushes the hair out of her face.

"Goodnight partner."

"Night," she yawns.

She falls asleep, before he does. She falls asleep in his arms. She rests her head against his chest. His hand rests on her back. Her hand rests on his side. Eventually he falls asleep, to the sound of her snoring.

He jerks into consciousness, at the sound of his alarm. He turns it off, and then opens his eyes. She remains in the same spot. He gently shakes her. She groans.

"Jane, wake up!"

"Not now," she whines.

"Jane, it's seven o'clock."

Her eyes open wide. She looks at him, in panic.

"You fell asleep."

"I stayed here, all night?"

"We have to go to work."

Jane bolts from the bed. She collects her clothing, and leaves. She drives across town, and climbs in her own shower. When she gets out, she finds that she hasn't done laundry. She reaches into her closet, and pulls out the only clean items left. She quickly checks her reflection in the mirror. Before she reaches her door, her phone rings, and she's getting called to a crime scene.

When she arrives at the scene, Maura is the first person she sees. Maura furrows her brow.

"Casual Friday? You know that it's Tuesday, right?"

"I didn't have any clean laundry."

"So a t-shirt, a blazer, and jeans seemed like a good idea to you?"

"All of my other clothes are dirty. My pants are all wrinkled from sitting in a pile, in the laundry hamper."

"Why didn't you do laundry, after work, yesterday? We were only here till seven."

"Maybe, because I forgot."

"How do you forget?"

"Would you stop questioning me, so that we can get to work?"

Maura rolls her eyes, and squats, next to the body.

Hours later, Jane is standing in autopsy, with Maura. She watches Maura, but her mind is elsewhere. She doesn't twirl her hair. Instead, she picks at her cuticle. Maura looks up, at her.

"Jane, stop," Maura warns.

"Stop what?"

"Picking," Maura tells her.

"Sorry," Jane's hand falls to her side.

Maura's gaze doesn't budge.

"What?"

"What's up with you, lately?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lies.