Maura slipped inside the house, quiet as a shadow. She heard Frost's car back out of the driveway and ease down the street. She smiled faintly at how he'd offered to stay on her couch tonight so she wouldn't feel so alone. Her mouth twitched at how they'd gone back and forth ("Oh no, you mustn't trouble yourself." "Oh no, it's no problem at all." "No, I insist you go." "No, I insist I stay.") She studiously avoided looking at said couch, or anywhere in the living room. She used to spend most of her time with Jane in that room.

She hadn't been in it in weeks, except for during Sunday dinners.

She left the lights off downstairs and climbed up to her bathroom. She dropped all her clothes on the floor and stepped directly into the shower without giving it time to warm up. She soaped herself vigorously under the tepid spray. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt clean. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted to shower because of honest sweat, rather than because of skin crawling memories. She couldn't remember the last time she'd showered without crying just a little.

Tonight she cried more than a little.

After the water went from tepid to deliciously hot to tepid to unbearably freezing, she finally stepped out. She hung her dress up carefully next to her other dry cleaning, neatly stepping over the piles of clothes from days she'd hadn't been feeling quite so industrious. She toweled off with enough force to strip the barnacles from a wharf and pulled on her most comfortable outfit. She neatly hung up the towel. She prided herself on the little things, now.

She went downstairs and began to wander aimlessly. She had no idea what to do with herself all night. She didn't really sleep anymore. She'd nap for a few hours early in the morning and for another hour or two after work. During the week she'd work all night, coming home only to shower and change. On the weekends she'd stay out all night.

Every single night, from dusk to dawn, Maura stayed awake. She stayed out of her house.

Tonight, she passed through her house several times, unsure of what she wanted to do, what she should do, what she was supposed to do. She hadn't been in her house at night, sober, in a very long time. She had quite forgotten how to do it.

She'd lied to Frost. Well, pretty much. Almost. She'd almost lied right to his face. She was getting better at it, these days, but it still made her a little (a lot) proud every time. She'd looked him in the face and told him that she'd had too much to drink. It wasn't a lie: she'd had a lot of water to drink. But she knew what he'd thought, and she let him. She'd said it on purpose. She didn't want it getting back to Jane that she'd done it sober tonight. That she'd almost done it sober. That she had been going to do it sober.

She'd never done it sober, before. She'd had sex sober, sure, but not like this. Not since she'd started what she silently called her "Secret Sex Panic." Alcohol was a crucial component of the Secret Sex Panic. Without it, she was sure it would just be panic. But tonight she'd wanted to know if she could do it. If she were strong enough to do it sober.

It had been worse sober. It had been a lot worse sober. As she ghosted through the house, she heard the sound of his zipper, of her knees hitting the floor every few seconds. She smelled his hands in every room. She felt his rancid breath in her hair at every turn. Yes, it was much worse sober. And the remembering. That was certainly worse. Maura was not interested in remembering the details, really. Secret Sex Panic was not about details. It was about power. It was about control. It was about Ice.

It was certainly not about Jane.

Maura eventually settled in the kitchen. She sat on the floor, leaning back against the island. She'd gone into Bass's den, picked him up, carried him into the kitchen, and placed him in her lap. It was quite possibly the most absurd thing she had ever done in her life. Bass was heavy, awkward, painful, and clearly unhappy about what was happening to him. But Maura was unrelenting, and eventually Bass decided to just roll with it.

For the next chunk of the night, Bass was the recipient of Maura's undivided attention. She found herself desperate to speak, to use her voice, to assert her subjecthood. She told him some of her favorite stories from childhood as a way to ease into the intimate conversation she was aching to have. She told him all about Robin Hood and Maid Marion, who she suspected Bass had a crush on. She told him about Cinderella and Snow White and Belle, who was totally Maura's favorite because Belle hadn't any friends either. She chastised Bass for judging her for being too old to like Belle, because that story was timeless. She told him the plots of her favorite operas and ballets. She tried to explain contemporary installation art to him, but he had trouble grasping it. She became completely unprofessional and disclosed a lot of confidential details about current and past cases with him.

Bass finally looked up at her with his eyes narrowed. Maura knew she'd used up her allotment of superficial talking time. She took a deep breath, settled him more firmly on her lap (which he totally was not into) and told him about Hoyt. She told him about being kidnapped by Doyle. She started to cry when she told him about watching Jane shoot herself. She told him about watching Jane shoot Doyle. She told him about racing school and physical therapy and she couldn't tell him about closure because there was none. She told him about how Jane's blood looked on her hands. She told him about how her blood looked on Jane's.

She told him about Jane. She told him her favorite things, like how her hair looked when it was down and how she would rub her scars when she was nervous. She told him about how Jane's smell was different while she was sleeping. She told him the scientific reason for that, but with the caveat that she could not explain why both smells made (had made) her feel so good. She told him about how it felt to watch Jane play softball and roll her eyes at her Ma. She told him about each one of Jane's different laughs and about all the scars that she knew about it.

She told him, for the very first time out loud, that she loved Jane. (This was not a huge surprise to Bass. He was not an idiot).

Then she told him about Casey. She told him about Casey's big ugly boots and his asymmetrical big ugly face. She told him about how Casey always abandoned Jane. She told him about how Jane didn't seem to care this time. She told him about her lonely lunches. She told him about how happy Jane was.

She told about how, now that Jane was happy, she didn't need Maura anymore.

She told him that it was just the two of them, now. She fed him a strawberry and made him promise never to abandon her. Not long after she feel into a doze, her only friend in the world slowly crawled out of her embrace, back to the comfort of his heat lamp.