Author Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has shown an interest in this fic. I think it might be a bit of a slow one, at least to start off with, as Maura and Jane get to know each other. I anticipate that eventually it will become a lot less fluffy and lot more angsty, but for now it's probably angst light (though there's always room for drama).

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli, where have you been?"

The silhouette of Angela Rizzoli stood from the couch and moved from the darkened room into the low light of the lamp. Jane rubbed her eyes. The walk home had exhausted her already tired body and she didn't think she could stand long enough to listen to her mother's lecture.

"Not now, Ma."

"It is five o'clock in the morning," Angela said, walking closer.

"So?" Jane shrugged and clung to the post at the bottom of the stairs.

"So, I've been up all night." Angela's eyes danced across the dishevelled appearance of her daughter, her voice raised. "I was worried."

Jane rubbed her temple and closed her eyes. "Stop shouting, my head hurts."

"Have you been drinking?"

The gap closed between them. Angela's eyes bore down into her pupils, something she'd only ever seen her do to Frankie when he came home from spending time with his marijuana smoking friends.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Jane rolled her eyes. "I am twenty-one. It's legal."

"The least you could have done is called," Angela said, the tone in her voice made Jane feel a little guilty.

"I was at a party, Ma," she said, gritting her teeth. "No one else has to call their mom."

"While you live under this roof you are our responsibility."

Jane placed one foot on the bottom step of the staircase. Her eyes grew heavier. "Good thing I'm a few months from leaving then, isn't it?"

"Oh. Don't say that, Janie." Angela's eyes filled with tears, as they did every time Jane even mentioned leaving home. The level of emotional blackmail her mother was capable of astounded Jane.

"It's true." She wrapped both hands around the post. "The second I graduate, I'm gonna find my own place."

"Why waste your money when you can live here?" Angela asked.

The weight of her eyelids became too much and Jane took a couple more steps up. "I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

"Wait, Janie," Angela said, a catch in her throat. "Do you have lipstick on your mouth?"

"No," Jane said, running the back of her hand across her lips. A slight pink coating came away. She closed her eyes and stared at the ground, her unsteady legs sending her toppling to one side. She stepped down one step to steady herself.

"Jane."

"I stopped by the mall and tried some on," she said, the ease of the lie didn't sit well with her.

"You don't go to the mall," Angela said, a crease settled between her eyebrows. "You even hated it at six months old, you cried for hours, even after we got home."

Jane considered her mother's statement. She was right. The lie that Jane told was so far out of left field that it was lost in the crowd. She averted her gaze, bringing her eyes back up to her mother's for the briefest moment as she spoke.

"I kissed a girl, Ma, and I liked it."

The words lingered in the air. Regret settled in the pit of Jane's stomach. She placed one foot in front of the other and walked up the rest of the stairs. Her eyes stayed down on the floor as she walked past the gaping mouth of her mother.

In the safety of her bedroom, she crawled under the bedsheets fully clothed and allowed a couple of tears to fall from her eyes. Her biggest mistake of the night was kissing Maura, admitting to someone other than herself that she had feelings for a woman. Her second biggest mistake of the night was telling her mother about it.

The bedroom door creaked open a moment later, a gentle tapping against the wood followed. Jane clutched the bed sheets over her head even tighter. She felt the bed shift down on one side, and the touch of a hand against the bedsheets where her shoulder was. She pawed at her cheeks. She was never going to be ready for them to have the conversation.

"Janie," Angela's voice stayed small, but Jane could tell it was laced with worry. Worry over her spiritual future? Worry over her physical future? She didn't know. But she knew when her mother was concerned.

She stayed still. Not daring to move. Angela breathed heavily beside her, her hand not moving from her arm.

"You can tell me anything," she said, opening up the conversation. Her voice remained steady, but Jane only closed her eyes and wished for the ground to swallow her whole. "I'll love you whoever you fall in love with."

"There's nothing to tell," Jane said, monotonously. "I was drunk. Still am."

"Okay."

The doubt in her response made Jane realise that she couldn't take it back. Whether she wanted to, or not, her mother would always know that she was lying to herself. She wondered if she had always known the thing Jane had held the closest. Still, she shifted under the covers, never revealing her face, only turning over onto her other side away from the unconditional love of her mother. Angela took the hint. "Goodnight, my beautiful girl."

When the door closed behind her, Jane threw the bed sheets away from her face, using the edge to wipe off the remainder of her tears. She wanted to believe her mother when she said she loved her regardless. But she'd sat through enough church services to know that when Father Morello spoke of the eternal damnation of sinners, and his inclusion of homosexuality in that, she couldn't avoid feeling like it was all lies. Her mother wouldn't go so far as to ship her off for therapy to correct her ways, but that didn't mean she'd like it, either. She didn't even know if she was gay, or bisexual, or neither. She just knew that behind her dark brown eyes, she had a yearning for someone who was female and it wasn't the first time.

She ran her fingertip along her bottom lip, the taste of fruit punch still lingered. A taste she would forever associate with Maura Martin. The buzzing in her mind slowed. Though she knew by morning she'd probably feel ten times worse. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't rid her thoughts of those lips. That brief sharing of skin that still made her breathless just thinking about it.

Jane lifted her butt off the bed and slipped a finger into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out the slip of paper Maura had handed her. Her name was written in beautiful cursive, each number representing the careful act of handing her contact details over for Jane to utilise.

She reached for the phone on her bedside table and pressed the numbers. One after the other, licking her lips every few seconds as she considered how it would feel to hear Maura's voice again.

"Who the hell is this?" a voice snapped, a sleepy Texas drawl that definitely didn't belong to Maura.

Words caught in her throat. "Is, is Maura...there?"

"It's six am, who rings at six am?" the Texan asked, her tone laced with anger and frustration.

"Sorry," Jane whispered "Is she there?"

"Who's calling?"

"Jane."

The phone clicked off briefly, a long silence followed. Jane didn't dare put the phone down in case Maura did pick up. After a minute, the sleepy, but familiar voice filled her ears.

"When I said for you to call, I meant in a couple of days," Maura said, her tone taut. Jane realised her mistake and stayed silent on the other end, soaking up every second of Maura's presence. "Did you wake me up for a reason or did you just want to keep me from getting some much needed sleep?"

"I'm sorry," she said, hating how desperate she felt in that moment. "I shouldn't have called."

"I wanted you to," Maura said. "Just not when I'm trying to recover from a night of alcohol consumption."

"I like how correctly you talk about things."

"Thank you. I suppose."

A silence fell between them. Jane's mistake lingered in the air and she didn't know how to fix it.

"I had a great night," she said.

"Me too." Maura's tone softened.

"We should do it again." Jane held tightly to the handset, her knuckles grew white. "Soon."

"I'd like that."

"When?" she asked, the need to know surpassing every ounce of common sense that she had.

Maura chuckled lightly. "Why don't you call me tomorrow at seven - in the evening - and we can discuss it."

"Okay."

"Okay." She paused. "And Jane?"

"Yes?"

"Hydrate. It'll help with the hangover in the morning."

"Thanks."

X

After replacing the handset, the phone rang for a second time. Maura reached out and placed it to her ear, excitement running through her weary body at the thought of Jane ringing her. Again. Despite the untimely hour, hearing her voice reminded her why she'd given her her number in the first place.

"What is it now, Jane?" she asked, but the gruff, male voice at the other end made her heart sink.

"Your father wants to meet with you."

"I told you not to call me at the house," Maura said, adjusting her tone accordingly.

"Nine at the warehouse."

Maura gritted her teeth. "Lister, tell my father I'll be there, but don't call here again."

She returned the handset to its holder and lay back against the mattress. Her bed was too comfortable, and her eyes too weary to move. But when Patrick Doyle called, Maura knew more than anyone that you had to do as he asked. She threw back the bed sheets and made her way to the bathroom. Hydration, showering, and a large cup of coffee were her only hope of getting through whatever her father wanted her for.

Author Note: I hope you enjoyed this one. I'm trying to decide what Jane and Maura should do with their time as they're getting to know each other, so suggests would be appreciated. Any date ideas, etc.