First of all, I'd like to apologize for the eight day wait. I've been on my reading week but since Opening Night for a show I'm in is next week, I've been swamped with rehearsals. Second, thank you all once again for your patience and encouragement. I haven't replied to the reviews for the third chapter yet, but for clarification to all, I'd like to say the following:

This story will have six chapters (I'm leaning towards seven for an aftermath of the last physical encounter, but you get the idea). The first five chapters are for the "awkward" physical encounters. The last one(s) are for the not-so-awkward physical encounters, if you know what I mean.

This takes place in season two, but without all the jazz of Maura's biological father.

I've also noticed from the stats that a fair amount of readers are from France, and I can already see little slips of the language in some reviews. Don't hesitate to review in French! I understand the language well and can reply quite decently since I'm working towards a degree in that.

Lastly, thank you so much for the reviews, alerts, favourites and constant encouragement. Your reviews have given me fuel to flesh this chapter out to my best ability (and also to create outlines for more R&I stories, woo). Hope this chapter makes up for the long wait! Enjoy!

Fooled

Maura, when put into a situation under the right circumstances, has the ability to act fast.

When a life is lost and the vessel in which it lived lays on her table, she knows that whatever she finds is a key to catching their killer. The silence of her patient fuels her desire to give them closure. And with that, Maura's mind can easily put the pieces together and work towards a solution. It's why she does what she does, and where she does it is a big contribution as to why she's so successful.

The autopsy room. The morgue.

For places that lack such life it's the places where Maura feels most alive in, no pun intended. Maura gains a privilege in saying what they can't, and seeing what others don't with the silence of her work. The silence allows her to get under their skin and get a glimpse as to what their last moments must have been like. The silence allows her to heal them - to stitch their wounds closed and give them justice. The silence, above all else, allows her to find the truth.

But when there's chaos, say a detective screaming pleas in her ear to save her wounded brother, all the pieces come to a halt. It's in that moment - when the distress forces them to wander away from each other and fall from Maura's grip - when she begins to feel helpless. It's only when she's pushed that she ever breaks from her impotent state. But when no one is there to push her and the panic surrounds her alone, it creeps its way inside, down to her bones and rattles her very core.

So it comes as a surprise to her that the moment she arrives home and hears a scream of help, her mind and body react in one fluid action, agreeing to find the source of distress. The tone is unmistakable and the huskiness is evident despite the higher octave. She knows it's Jane, and that alone is perhaps the reason why she doesn't react the way she usually does. Dropping her belongings where they are and quickly pulling her gun out from her cabinet, Maura steels herself. When her shoulders drop and her neck cranes into position, a sudden nostalgia waves over her. It's almost as if Jane isn't calling out for help, as if she's still behind her, ghosting over her frame; she can still feel the light grip of her fingers, the security of her body enveloping hers and the hair brushing against her cheek. And before she can indulge herself with that voice whispering in her ear, Maura hears another cry for help. She shakes the memory off and pockets it for another time.

Maura navigates her way around her home, and when the living room and study come up empty, she finds herself in the kitchen, pointing her revolver at an usually odd scene. "Maura- what the Hell?" The question, though laced with confusion, has a tinge of panic. This call for help isn't the kind to be solved with a gun. Seeing no need - and feeling a little disappointed - for the use of her weapon, Maura drops her aim and sets her revolver aside on a counter nearby, eyes never shifting their focus.

Arms fully extended above her head, Jane stands in the middle of the kitchen, holding up a bowl full of water against the ceiling with nothing other than a broomstick. Behind her is a chair pulled from the dining table and just than a few feet away is the kitchen island, the only obstacle in Jane's way being Bass.

She wants to laugh and inquire at the same time, but instead opts for silence at the ridiculous predicament. The frustration is evident in the woman's face; her jaw is clenched, and her eyes that flashed with panic from spotting the gun now return to their stoic state. Maura takes a step forward, mindful of her tone as she finally begins to speak. "May I ask what-"

"No." Jane hisses. It takes Maura a moment to recover from the sudden bitterness, but with her proximity, she begins to notice the trembling fatigue in her friend's arm. It immediately dawns on her just how long she must have been here. "I mean," Jane sighs, exhaling any remnants of venom in her words, "I was just finishing up something with Ma when Tommy came by. He came to pick her up and when she was in the car and he was about to leave, he called me here and.." She trails off, eyes shifting from Maura to the ceiling. "And this happened."

Maura tilts her head in an apologetic manner. "It was very thoughtful of you to not drop the bowl on the floor." She says, stepping out of her heels.

"Well, I can't really do that since he's right under it." Jane's lips form a frown as she gestures them down at Bass. "I didn't wanna make a mess either with the water since I don't know how expensive your floors are and-"

"Jane." Maura stops the rambles spouting out from her friend, patting lightly at her shoulder. "Let's get this thing down, shall we?" She says as she pulls the chair a little closer. It's only when she's on it that she realizes her height restricts her from being of any help. Her fingers wiggle up in the air as she tries once more to get a grip of the bowl, and when her toes begin to rise with desperation, she hears Jane sigh.

"It's not going to work that way, Maura. You're not tall enough."

"Then let me hold it from-"

"No." Jane immediately says. The tone is different this time, like she's gone over the possibility before, and she most likely has. "You have to hold it exactly from my angle or it'll tip over and we'll get wet."

The image invades Maura's mind despite her better knowing, causing her to tune out for a brief moment. The thought alone of Jane causes her pulse to race, which she finds rather unhealthy and rather bewildering, yet, rather normal. But the normalcy of it doesn't really calm her. If anything, the fact that it's become a normalcy frightens her, and her body has been nothing but useless in helping her mind find a reason.

Especially in their last physical encounter.

The moment Jane's body draped over hers in that field, she remembers feeling panic. Maura remembers feeling needles prick at every pore of her skin and an ice so cold spread over her cheeks that it nearly burned. It was only when she reminded herself what Jane was to her that she exhaled the panic.

Because out of all people, Jane is the person Maura's supposed to feel the safest with; she's a detective and her best friend, yet she doesn't feel as safe as she does exposed. Maura often finds herself in a hole of vulnerability when she's with Jane, and with each encounter the hole only gets deeper. And deeper. It's something she's come to notice, and as much as she tries to ignore the amount of times Jane's been an exception to her rules, the awareness of it overpowers the oblivion.

"...can't you just move your turtle?"

Maura fights the urge to correct her, inhaling as much tolerance in before she replies. "I can't simply just push him away, Jane. I have to pick him up, and the weights I lift in the gym don't even account for a small fraction of his weight. Bass will move when he feels like it." And before Jane can sigh again, Maura steps off the chair and circles the kitchen island. "But I can move." Despite the fact that her attire and height limit her ability to help, Maura still manages to seat herself (gracefully, of course) on the counter. And despite the fact that she's at the edge of the island and her hands can actually touch the ceiling, the bowl is still out of her reach.

"Tommy's put more thought into this." Maura muses. Though she shouldn't be praising Jane's brother of the effort he's made to pull a prank on her, she's still allowed to ponder on it. She ponders on it until the slight shuffles below both make them shift their focus to Bass.

When no more than a minute passes by and Bass is out of the way, Jane begins to inch closer to the island. "Finally." She breathes out a sigh of relief. "Can you squeeze between here?" The request is innocent, like an afterthought as she gestures to the small space Bass once occupied.

"I'm.. I don't think-" And before she continues to stammer out anymore incoherency, the look on Jane's face stops her. The plea in those charcoal eyes triumph her uneasiness with their growing proximity. So Maura nods and swallows her remaining hesitation.

The rest is really out of her control.

Without missing a beat she crouches down and slides off the counter, her body just filling the void between them. Just. Because if there's one thing neither thought to consider when taking this next step, it's the fact that Maura is not a tortoise. So the places where Jane is used to having lots of space is the places where Maura fits, almost perfectly, against her body. It's surprising and comforting to Maura all at once. And just before her mind can refute her heart and say that whatever she's feeling is wrong, her body reacts in that way it did before. Only this time do the needles feel like knives, and despite the amount of pain it should bring, to Maura, it's never felt so.. right.

With men she remembers it to feel blocky and straight, leaving spaces in the areas she yearns for closure. But with a woman - with Jane, it feels right. The absence of her heels make her shorter than she already is. So when her hips align just below the hollow of Jane's and her breasts graze past the inward curve of the woman's torso, it's then she realizes this fit can't be found anywhere else. Because it just feels right. It feels so right and so fitting that her mind doesn't even bring attention as to how close their faces really are. It's only when Maura feels everything against her jerk does her mind continue to run on rationality.

With Jane's reaction a warm breath brushes down her neck, "Do you, do you mind?" The tone is soft, free of impatience. Maura tears her focus away from their bodies in time to catch Jane indicating above their heads. She nods, more vigorously than she should, and mimics the grip on the broom. It forces Maura to lapse her hand over Jane's - light enough that the tired hands can pull away, but tight enough that the change in pressure doesn't make the bowl tip over. They accomplish this exchange, perhaps taking a little longer than they should. Jane isn't really complaining, though. And neither is Maura.

When Jane is finally able to free herself from the torture of Tommy, she immediately climbs on the chair, stretching as far as she can to finally get the bowl down. Though it only lasts a few seconds, it's something that can stretch into an eternity in Maura's mind. It's only with Jane's stretch does the end of the fitting shirt come loose from beneath her belt, the sliver of tan skin haunting her eyes. She watches as the muscles underneath the fabric flex and shift, and right when the shadows of Jane's bellybutton come into view, it disappears. She's off the chair now, motioning for Maura to bring her arms down.

It's when Jane's emptying the bowl in the sink that she becomes aware of how saddened she feels with their distance. The fact that Jane can walk away at any given moment and leave her alone with these thoughts frightens her. At this point, any company is good company. So she creates conversation from panic, and when it fails and Maura finds herself speechless, the tap shuts off and Jane turns around.

"Are we okay?"

The three words make Maura more nervous than she should be; it brings her mind to a numb and a heat to spread across her back, and though this process of fear is more time consuming than anything she's ever felt, her lips reply as quickly as her body reacts. "Pardon?"

"Maura?"

When Maura dodges questions, she dodges them, and it usually irritates Jane. But her tone now - the softness in it, the curiosity and the plea - she's heard it a handful of times before, yet her ears never really get tired of the sound. She looks up at the calling of her designation, and when her eyes level with Jane's, the restlessness becomes evident. "Jane?" She says back.

Her silence says it all. The stillness in her body screams it, and when an arm so usually full of strength limply gestures at the excessive space between them, Maura knows what's about to happen. "Are we okay?" Jane repeats. "I feel distant from you."

"Jane," she starts, and though the words haven't rolled off her tongue just yet, she knows what they are and that they shouldn't be said. Yet she finds herself continuing. "You were hunched over me last week helping me shoot a can of beans, and just now you were-" but before Maura can stop herself from saying what doesn't need to be said, what she notices from across stops her mid-sentence. The mere mention of their contact makes Jane shift. It gives Maura a tint of courage to pursue the topic on her mind - that she hasn't been the only one noticing these things, feeling these things. Yet the rationality inside makes her feel paranoid. What if it's all in her head? What if it's unrequited?

She compromises with a vague approach.

"I'm sorry." Maura begins, taking a quiet step forward. "I think the distance you've been feeling is because of me. Have you ever.." she stops - suddenly realizing the metaphor in her mind is of no use - and redirects her sentence, "Remember when I said there are some things I can't talk about because they make me sad?" The admittance brings a sudden wave of pain running back in her veins.

Jane mirrors her step, pushing herself off the counter. "Like..." Her head gestures over to the area in the kitchen where Ian had operated on her toe.

"Yes. Like Ian." Maura nods, fiddling with the tips of her fingers. Thinking about him doesn't pain her as much anymore. "But lately I've come to realize that there are more things that make me sad, and just thinking about those things.. it hurts. It hurts to the point where I have to leave my body and detach myself from everyone. It makes me distant." She takes a step further, pushing down the threat of tears. "It brings me to this place, this.. this limbo. I'm stuck wondering if my time spent there is taken for reticence here, and I'm sorry that it's translated into that for you. I don't ever mean to hold anything back from you Jane, but I need to understand myself before anyone else can."

She knows it's a lot to process. It's taken her this long just to be ambiguous to Jane about it, so Maura only expects silence to come for the next few moments. What she doesn't expect is a swift response. "I understand." Jane says, the simplicity and the immediacy in which it's said surprising Maura, "and I'll sit with you until you understand."

And Jane does.

It's only a few hours into the night does Maura come to fully understand the very reason for her sadness, and the fact that it's sitting right beside her only deepens her sorrow.

So ends the fourth part of this story. This prank is actually very simple yet it elicits the worst in people. It's happened to me before, so I write from experience the frustration and fatigue. Yet I lack the lovely experience Jane has with becoming free from it. I think I had a particularly hard time with this chapter because it was written in Maura's point of view, and she's very hard for me to get a grasp of. I literally spent the other day reading about and watching autopsies just to get a sense of how Maura views people. I apologize for the long wait and I hope you all liked this chapter! Leave some words here if you can and have a lovely day, wherever you may be!