Jane rolled over on her back, sighing heavily.
This was not at all how she'd planned for this to go.
Not that she'd really planned it, per se. Just that, more generally, she'd had ideas about how it would go down.
And this was not a part of those plans.
Lying awake at 3 a.m. for the third night in a row did not fit into her plans.
Glancing at the clock, she exhaled heavily again.
Make that 3:30 a.m.
Some things were so easy to define.
They had clear boundaries, simple parameters, obvious demarcations.
Angela was her mother.
Frankie was her brother.
Frost was her partner.
Cavanaugh was her boss.
Stanley was a pain in her ass.
Saltalamacchia was her hero.
Jo was her dog.
Some things were clear. Easy. Simple.
She was a cop. A sister. A daughter. A friend.
Uncomplicated.
But other things… other things were not so straightforwardly characterized.
Things like, Maura.
Her coworker, friend, confidante.
Maura was intelligent, compassionate, gorgeous, hilarious, loving, gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous…
Jane groaned.
She was so epically screwed.
She knew sleep wouldn't come now.
In the morning, she'd be a complete wreck as a result.
She vaguely remembered Maura warning her that the fourth day without sleep made you crazy.
Rolling out of bed she turned to the stack of cold cases she kept for sleepless nights. Maybe she'd find justice for one of these victims and the insomnia would be worth it.
A few hours later and she, unsurprisingly, hadn't made a break in any of the cases. She showered and headed to work, knowing it would be a long, hellish day.
She was right.
At the end of the day she made a beeline for her mother's house. More specifically, the fridge.
Sighing in relief and delight, she pulled out a wax-wrapped log of cookie dough and collapsed onto a barstool.
She began eating straight from the package and tried to come up with a solution to her seemingly unsolvable problem.
The door opened but she didn't move.
Jane took another bite from the roll of cookie dough, knowing it would draw Angela's ire but also knowing that she needed it.
It was cookie dough or liquor, and she knew that the cookie dough would hurt far less in the morning.
The urge to act impulsive, reckless, foolish… it was overwhelming.
She was in such utter turmoil that she couldn't seem to find solid ground.
Normally, she would go to Maura.
But not this time.
This time, she had to keep Maura out of it.
Jane needed her Ma.
She needed her Ma to pry, to butt in, to ask her questions and draw the truth from her. She needed to rid herself of the awful feeling she'd been carrying around since she'd turned away Maura's offer to dance.
She needed to admit the truth.
She needed to say it out loud. To hear it, to feel the words.
It was the only way she'd be able to get past it. Over it. Through it.
She gnawed off another hunk of the delectable dough. Her mother made it in mass batches, rolling it and storing it in the fridge and freezer.
Jane had been stress eating the sweet raw dough since she was an adolescent- she hadn't been Rolly Polly Rizzoli for nothing, but it had been years since she'd done so directly out of her mother's fridge.
When Angela bustled into the room, she immediately took note of the dough. Her eyes narrowed and she clenched the counter tightly.
"What happened?" she breathed, sheer terror in her voice. "Who's hurt? Who died?"
"No one," Jane assured her, mouth full of sugar and flour and chocolate chips. "Everyone is fine. It's just…"
She lost her nerve.
Fuck.
"Jane," her mother broached gently. She approached like Jane was a wild animal who might startle and run away. "You're worrying me."
"I gotta tell you something," Jane exhaled raggedly. "And it's… it's kinda like a big deal. I'm worried-"
"You can tell me anything," her mother encouraged, soothing but sure. "You know that. I love you- no matter what."
"Yeah," Jane nodded. "I know that, Ma. I do. This is just… well it's something I haven't admitted to anyone yet. I'm worried about saying it out loud."
Angela sat delicately on the stool next to Jane, still moving with such agonizing gentleness, precision, caution.
"Ok," she smiled softly. "Take your time, Jane. I've got all night."
Jane took a deep breath. Another bite of cookie dough.
Her mother put a comforting hand on her thigh.
This was her mother. Her mother who had stood by all of them through bad decisions, jail time, injuries, lies, mistakes…
If anyone would understand, it was her mother.
"It's about Maura," Jane hedged. "I uh, lately there have been, it's just that I…"
"You're in love with her," Angela blurted quietly.
The bottom dropped out of Jane's stomach. She imagined skydiving must feel the same way. Her mouth was dry, her heart racing, blood rushing in her ears.
"Yeah," she croaked.
Angela chanced a small, kind smile.
"Oh Jane," she soothed. "I know."
"How?" Jane rasped.
"The way you look at her," Angela whispered. "That was my first clue anyways. But it's a lot of things, Jane. It's the way you talk about her, the way you talk to her. The way you act around her, the way you treat her. How you've changed, because of her, for her. Mostly though, I see it in your eyes. When you look at her… almost from the first time I saw you two together- I can see the love."
"I didn't know," Jane sighed. "Until a few days ago."
"Have you told her?" Angela asked needlessly. The answer seemed clear enough from Jane's impromptu kitchen bingeing.
"No," Jane shook her head. "She's my best friend, Ma."
"So you're not going to tell her?" Angela quirked one eyebrow in doubt, her voice dubious.
"No," Jane repeated. "I've thought about it. A lot. She's straight and way outta my league and we're best friends. I'd never risk that just to make myself feel better. And I know her- she's so nice and so considerate that she'd feel guilty for not loving be back, and I don't want that."
"You don't know anything until you talk to her," Angela soothed. "And you should trust her to be gentle with your heart, regardless of her feelings. She's earned that much, at the very least."
Jane hung her head, sighing.
"It's scary," she whispered. "I'd rather face a room full of armed murderers."
"You've always been good with the physical side of fearlessness," her mother nodded. "You're so willing to put your safety aside in order to protect other people. But this is different, Jane. This is your heart, and you've never let anybody get even close before. Don't you think that Maura getting through those barriers means something?"
"I know," Jane agreed, a bit of whine in her voice. "I just wish it was easier, you know? Like, I wish I knew how she felt."
"You're a detective," Angela scoffed. "Maybe if you took your head out of your ass for two seconds you'd see how she feels."
"Ma!" Jane exclaimed. "Jeeze. What are you talking about?"
"Jane," Angela sighed in exasperation. "Think long and hard about where Maura is every Friday night. About who she plays chess with. About whose dog she helps walk. About whose family dinners she makes a regular appearance at." Angela tapped Jane's temple lightly.
Jane opened her mouth to reply but found herself struggling to process her mother's words instead.
Maura did those things because they were friends.
Best friends.
And that's what best friends did, right?
Right?
But now that Angela had pointed it out, it sounded weak- even in her own head.
Best friends, at least from what Jane had seen, didn't go to quite such lengths…
Maybe her mother was on to something.
It made her so nervous that all the cookie dough she'd eaten threatened to come back up.
Maybe Maura liked her too.
Maybe even loved her.
Holy shit.
"Jane," her mother admonished. She realized she'd sworn out loud.
"Sorry," she flushed. "It's just… wow."
"You should talk to her," Angela encouraged gently. "No matter what, she deserves to hear the truth."
"Yeah," Jane bit her lip. "I guess so."
"Jane," her mother's voice was a warning.
"Yeah, ok," Jane rolled her eyes dramatically. "But not until I'm ready."
"Ok," Angela nodded. "But please be ready soon. I want to have grandbabies while I'm still young enough to keep up with them."
"Ma!" Jane exclaimed, whining openly. "No talkin' about grandbabies, ok?"
"Oh hush," her mother laughed. "I know you think about making them with her so I can think about playing with them."
Jane blushed furiously, tossing the cookie dough onto the counter.
"Ma!" she groaned. She didn't bother pointing out the obvious fact that she and Maura couldn't technically make a baby. Having any kind of conversation about sex with her mother, teasing or otherwise, was way outside her comfort zone.
"Now ease up on that dough," her mother wrapped the dough up and put it back in the fridge. "Maura would have a heart attack if she realized I let you eat that raw."
"I'm gonna go now," Jane laughed. She hugged her mother briefly and fled, her mind racing.