11.

I never knew why Jane loved me. I've been told I'm a beautiful woman but I never believed beauty was enough, not in my situation. Otherwise I just have money and Jane isn't one to covet someone else's money. If anything she'd run from me because of my money. Jane comes from a working class Italian background, very proud of their position in Boston's history of ironworkers and other skilled craftsmen.

Jane told me, often, how much she loved me. It took a long time for me to believe her. I wonder now if that might not have played a role in my turning her away. If I never really believed Jane could love me, then I understood how she betrayed my chance to learn of my biological mother's identity when she killed Paddy. If not this, then why did I walk away?

I'm not good at emotions. Or people. I can't understand why they feel a certain way nor do I know how to help them. The dead are a different matter entirely. I speak for them in finding out how they died. I give this information to Frost or Jane and they take it from there. I am most comfortable dressed in my scrubs and clogs, in my morgue, elbow deep in someone's chest. When I go home after a long day the fatigue I feel carries a sense of satisfaction in it. I know I did my best for someone who left this earth in a questionable manner. Aside from all that I am a simple woman. I read newspapers and medical journals, watch documentaries about subjects I am interested in and go about my life, albeit with the idea that I am a little different from everyone else. I chalk it up to being adopted and having a craving about my true identity.

Jane understood this, or so I thought. When we first became friends we went to the Dirty Robber or watched movies together on Friday nights. We had an implicit understanding that Saturday nights were for dates, if either of us had one, and if not, we spent those evenings together, too. We ended up spending most weekends together but never really discussed why.

It was during one particularly trying case we had our first argument. Garrett Fairfield murdered his older half brother Adam and I tried to please everyone. It didn't help that I dated Garrett in college and believed myself in love with him. As I later told Jane, "I was twenty. Everything felt serious then."

Jane's insecurities surfaced. This was the Fairfield family, old Boston money and prominent in the community. The governor requested the autopsy reports and I sped up the timeframe for getting everything done. Jane called me on it. I defended myself, citing the governor's request, so I was at work on a Sunday. Jane snapped back and accused me, in a polite manner, of kissing ass.

"Why are you here, Maura?" she asked me.

"Catching bad guys, same as you, Jane." I was hurt. Like I said emotions are my weak point and I never know how to defuse a situation when someone brings feelings out and uses them.

"I need this job, Maura, you don't. Why don't you go to one of your charity soirees and sip hundred dollar glasses of champagne and smoke wadded up rolls of hundreds?" Her comment hurt me deeply. I tried to downplay it. Jane had a deep distrust of moneyed people and I saw that when we went to the Fairfield estate when Adam's body washed ashore. Frost was uncomfortable with the manifest from the Mayflower; Jane was uncomfortable with all of the money signs signaling in her brain when she walked through the front door. And, my admission that I used to date Garret and had been a part of the Fairfield lifestyle was not lost on Jane. All of these emotions I compartmentalized under "why Jane could never love me" and tried to concentrate on my job and being satisfied with only friendship with Jane.

I hated when I felt this way; I've never been one to give in to self-pity. I grew up an adopted child in a very cold home. My parents loved me on some level, they were older and had their own lives to lead. I'm seemed to be in the way. I grew up with nannies and boarding schools where I was an outsider. I thought I wasn't worthy of being loved.

I learned to drown my sorrows in my studies. I had a natural curiosity and love of learning. Early on I knew medical school was my destination. The fact that I decided on forensics and being a coroner took everyone I knew by surprise. It led to Garrett deciding I wasn't part of his future. I learned how to be alone and ignored the feelings of isolation.

Then I met Jane and we became friends. I had same sex relationships before and the minute I laid eyes on Jane Rizzoli I knew I could have feelings for her. Thinking she was completely straight I tried not to let her catch my eyes wandering over her body when we enjoyed our Friday night movies and pizza together and she fell asleep on the sofa. I never let on that I guided her head onto my shoulder so I could feel her skin against mine, I never admitted I watched through half-open eyelids when she changed into her sleep shorts and tank top for our sleepovers. I couldn't lose Jane. She had to be in my life on some level.

Then came the evening she admitted her feelings. Our lips came together and while my heart hammered in my chest my brain screamed at me this was a mistake. Jane would come to her senses, realize she kissed another woman and run away from me. The rejection would be complete. Our friendship would be done and I'd be alone.

Strangely, when that happened it occurred by my hand. And when I realized the depth of the hurt I'd caused and the damage done I couldn't undo it. It wasn't because I didn't love Jane, it was because I was so paralyzed emotionally it was as if I couldn't move. Time widened the rift. I moved to the west coast, unable to do anything except work.

Now Jane was in the other half of the hotel suite I rented. I wanted to run in, hold her, kiss her, run my fingers through her hair and call her "baby." I could no longer go back to living an isolated life. Jane Rizzoli opened up a part of me that would not go back into a box. I wanted her in my life again, on all levels.

I'd give a pound of flesh and every drop of blood in my body to make Jane understand I'd never hurt her again. Just one question remained: did Jane still love me? I doubted she did. I didn't blame her. The way I felt right now I didn't love myself anymore either. With tears running down my cheeks I stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling. My eyes started to close in sleep when I heard a throat clear in my bedroom doorway.

TBC I am so sorry for delaying this chapter but Maura kept her emotions well hidden, even from me. This chapter would not set up but I think I finally got it. Oh well. Please enjoy!