Author's Note: It's a long one! Fingers crossed. As always, thank you everyone for sticking with this story and for the comments, those who are still loving it, you really flatter me, and I am very happy :)

T

Puzzle Pieces, Chapter 11

Jane lowered herself back onto the couch, dropping her head into her hands.

You think you have it all worked out, everything perfect. So when it all comes undone, what do you do?

There was no doubt in Jane's mind, if anything had come undone she had been the one to do it. She was that person, that one who saw a stray piece of cotton in a fabric and unable to stop themselves pulling at it, despite knowing the consequences, pulls anyway and it all comes unravelled… and suddenly all they have to show for it – all she has – is a messy pile of pig-headedness at her feet and Maura threadbare in front of her.

Idiot, Rizzoli.

She had never been delicate… never good at any dance that required a person to be thoughtful and light on their feet. Certainly never someone who considered all angles before making a decision. Always act first, think later.

She had punched a boy at school once for saying she was too tall to go to the dance with him. She hadn't liked his answer, and so she had become angry, and punched him.

She hadn't liked Maura with Jack, she hadn't liked him in the space that had been so comfortably theirs, and so she had become angry, and hurt her.

Maura, who had sat with her, held her, taken care of her, chased her demons away with the touch of a hand and the whisper of a song. Maura who, in absolute contrast to what Jane had attacked her with last night, had proven, over and over again, that she was not alone, even when her instincts screamed at her she needed to be.

Maura, who was now so far under her skin it terrified her.

Jane sighed into her hands, pushing her fingers against her closed eyes. She had always been the raging bull charging through the china shop.

'She fought so hard to keep you alive Jane.'

She really should have considered the damage to the china.

Letting her right hand fall to her knee her eyes traced the rough edges to her nails, discolourations on her knuckles from one too many rounds with perpetrators, or walls, or punching bags, and further still, until she found herself staring intently at the white, raised mark that lay between the tendons connecting her fore and middle fingers, the muscles beneath them, the bones beneath them.

Jane's brow furrowed, and, unusually, she found herself unable to look away. She had fought so hard not to be defined by that day, but no matter what she did the fear of being seen as weak lingered over her like a great menace. For the most part she tried to ignore the scars, except when pain or an overly curious handshake reminded her. If she were really honest with herself, she would struggle to remember the last time she had looked… really looked at them, at all.

She turned her hand over, palm facing upward, just as it had when he-

She closed her eyes against the image.

Could it be that after all this time, she still was driven by having something to prove? That she's not afraid?

Opening her eyes again Jane lowered her other hand down, slowly, until they sat side by side on respective knees. Seeing the two together, which only usually ever occurred by accident, still sent chills down her spine if she was caught on an off day. The mind could be tricked into accepting one scar as happenstance. Two, matching… well that was intent. That was memory.

And that memory had her backed up against a wall so far she'd bare teeth at anything that came within ten feet of her.

Why was she still running?

Was this the irony? that in fighting so hard to show she was independent, strong, unaffected, she fed the very thing that haunted her?

…Why hadn't she touched a piano?

With a sharp shake of her head to clear her mind, Jane dared a glance back towards the stairs. It had been over half an hour since Maura had gone to bed and the house was eerily silent. There should be a movie on. They should be on the couch, throwing popcorn and drinking beer – or wine – or they should be sitting at the kitchen island talking. They should be – being friends. But instead…..

Jack may have stepped inside their safe space.

But Jane had been the one who'd broken it.

'More importantly, Jane Rizzoli, is what are you going to do about it?'

She chewed on her lower lip

She made a decision.

Jane didn't know what she was going to do when she got there. Talk, maybe? Beg for more forgiveness? Offer herself up as a blood sacrifice just so Maura might share a bowl of popcorn with her again at some later date? Jane felt herself fidgeting with her hands, pressing her fingers into her palms one at a time. Maura would still be awake, she had rituals; first she would get ready for bed, then she would organise herself for the next day, and finally, she would read, even if only a couple of chapters of a book, a magazine, one of those scientific journal… things..

Once after a particularly stressful day Jane had caught her categorising her shoes, by designer, in order of purchase. A smile came unbidden to her as she recalled the look on Maura's face when she realised she had been busted – the way she'd held that pair of Christian Louboutins to her chest in the same way a person would hold a towel in front of them if they'd been caught naked..

'What – organising relaxes me!'

Shaking her head and chuckling to herself at the memory Jane turned the corner towards Maura's room, wondering which stage of the ritual she might be interrupting. Her smile faded however when she reached the door, her eyes nervously dropping to the line of darkness in the space beneath it.

She shouldn't have been asleep already. It wasn't like Maura to just go to bed like this…and that reality struck her right in the ribs. It was her fault. Maura wouldn't want to talk with her any more than Maura wanted to see her tonight. Nor did Jane deserve any different. She ran a hand through her thick hair, shaking the ends out through her fingers. A breath hissed through her lips.

This was a mistake.

She had turned to leave when she heard it, in the end it was the smallest of sounds, and had Jane not already been so close to the doorframe she might have missed it. But she hadn't, and her heart leapt when she heard what it a second time.

A sniff.

It was the sound of someone crying.

Of Maura crying.

Every argument she had just made vanished, replaced by instinct. Immediately her fingertips reached up and pushed, thankful the door had at least been left ajar so there was no need for noisy doorhandles. Jane stepped inside, taking care to make as little noise as possible, as her eyes adjusted to the lighting in the room.

Her heart froze in her chest - Maura was lying close to the edge of the bed, facing away from the door, knees drawn up against herself, arm wrapped around them.

'...one day, she is going to stop fighting'

At the end of its arc inward the door creaked, and Jane bunched herself up, squeezing her eyes closed at the sound.

"Jane?"

She opened one eye.

Maura was glancing over her shoulder, and even in the dark Jane could see she had uncurled from her position. "What…are you- Is everything okay?"

Jane took a slow step forward. "I could ask you the same question."

"I'm fine Jane," She turned away. "Just tired."

"You know I can see hives in the dark, Maura."

"Jane.." She paused, then Jane heard the sound of a defeated sigh. "Is there something you needed?"

"No." She answered simply, "But... I.. came to see if there was something you needed."

"I told you…" Maura said, more quietly this time and with a hit of a waver in her voice. "I am fine. I just.. want to be alone."

Jane took a quick breath. "What if…" she trailed off, losing her confidence for only a moment before snatching it back again and taking another step into the room. "What if I said no?"

"What point could that possibly prove, Jane?" Jane heard the hint of irritation underlying Maura's words as she turned her head towards her again. "How would you have reacted if I'd said that to you last night?"

Feeling an automatic droop in her shoulders Jane moved further inside, and lowered herself to the edge of the bed, furthest from where Maura was. "I would have pushed harder." She said softly.

"Exactly." Jane could see Maura's eyes glinting in the light from the window. "And I know you're sorry Jane, I know you are. But It still hurts, and I'm tired, and I would rather be alone, so I don't say something I also regret."

"Say it." Was all Jane said. "Truth or not, exaggeration or not, I deserve it. Don't protect me."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Maura's voice raised in pitch, she turned fully now, and Jane recognised the glint as anger. "Protecting you? God Jane- I'm protecting myself!"

Jane blinked, confused. "What do you mean, protecting yourself? Maura? You're not making any sense!"

"Because hurting you is not an option for me!" She snapped, and Jane could see her eyebrows raise as she softened her words to explain. "Because the moment I do, I'm instantly afraid – I'm afraid that's the last straw, the last time, and you'll-" she trailed off, unwilling to finish her sentence.

Jane answered for her.

"..Disappear?" Maura's silence told Jane she was right. She rubbed her forehead in confusion. "Maura, how could you think-"

"Because that's what you do Jane! It doesn't matter what you go through, or how much it hurts, you always move on, make yourself keep going… put it behind you, forget.." Maura eased herself back down onto the bed and rolled away from her again, shaking her head. "I can't compete with that."

Jane stared incredulously at her lap.

How could she think-?

Her eyes came to rest on the shadow of her hands. She blinked again, remembering the way they looked in the light of the living room, remembering her thoughts, her realisations.

Of course Maura would have-… but didn't she know?

"Because I have you." She murmured softly

"What?" The word was hissed, barely a question.

"I have you." Jane repeated it as if it were the simplest answer to the most complex question, and at the same time something new, uncharted, ignited within her. "I was wrong Maur, last night. So wrong… In that moment I wanted not to be, because that's-"

"Who you are"

"Who I was-" She corrected. "And yes, sometimes who I wish I could still be if for no other reason than it didn't get anyone else hurt…" Jane shook her head, "God, Maura," She said, "Remember that night, when you said I was a puzzle?"

"Jane-"

"Please," Jane interrupted her before she could continue. "Let me finish…" She turned herself towards Maura's back, her knee now bent across the bed and her other off the edge. "You told me some of my pieces had been knocked around. But you know what I've realised?" A pause, and she threw a silent prayer to the ceiling, hoping, after everything she'd said so wrong, she would say this right.

"-I've realised, you are a piece, Maura. You're one of the pieces. More than that… you're like… that piece in the puzzle with all the detail that everyone wants because it shows them how to finish the rest." Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing it steady again. "I do what I do," She continued, eyes still closed. "I keep going, because you, Ma, Frankie and Tommy…. You're all part of that puzzle." She opened her eyes again, staring at Maura's back, her next words barely above a whisper. "But especially, especially you." She sighed and raked a hand through her hair again. "You're right Maura, I'm not good at this… I'm not… used to this." She finally confessed. The truth. The real truth. "I'm not used to someone getting under my skin like you do."

Jane hadn't known what to expect from her admission, as she was never particularly adept at them in the first place, let alone understanding how other people would respond to them. So it was probably a good thing for her that she was in so much uncharted territory when she heard – and felt – a sob coming from the far edge of the bed.

Instinct.

"Hey …" Jane pulled herself completely onto the mattress, rolling forward closer to Maura so she was in easy reach of her arm. At the first contact Maura flinched, and Jane pulled her hand away as if she had been burnt. A familiar twinge captured her stomach, the one that told her to run, to leave. She pushed it away. Tonight she would not run. Tonight, she would finally stay. "Maura please," The whisper was a plea, "I know I hurt you. I know... but please, don't shut me out." Trying for a second time, when her fingertips touched Maura's upper arm she was still. Tentative, and perhaps on reflection a little shy, Jane pulled herself closer so there was nowhere they touched other than established contact but at the same time, no more than an inch between them in any one place.

Jane bit down on the side of her lip, "Will-will you let me hold you?"

Seeking permission.

Because she needed to.

It wasn't a conventional answer, just a soft sniff, then the slightest of movements backwards, so their feet touched. But it was enough. In the very next moment Jane had closed the distance, pressing herself against Maura completely, her hand sliding down Maura's arm, over where it rested against her stomach down to where her fingers lay.

She could feel the slight tremor in the body in front of her, and Jane squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her nose into Maura's hair and tightening her grip around her.

"I know you saved my life that day, outside the precinct." She mumbled into the strands of honey-gold. "And Hoyt? You know, you save me every other day from him."

Maura sighed, lifting her other arm and curling her fingers over Jane's forearm. "Sometimes, it was the only place I felt I was reaching you." She said, her voice distant, then turned her head slightly back toward Jane so she could make out the shadow of her eyelashes. "Really reaching you…" She turned away again and Jane felt her shrug. "...where you needed someone the most."

"You did reach me." Jane traced her thumb over the back of Maura's hand. "You did, and I didn't even know it. Not consciously, but the moment-" She paused. "The other night, I knew." She tucked her legs closer into Maura's, trying to draw them closer. "God, If I could sing like you Maura, I would…" She smiled sadly into her hair, sad for the situation they were in, sad for the confession Maura had made, but mostly, sad at how badly she had hurt her. "I know the perfect song."

She felt Maura's fingers tighten in a reassuring squeeze.

"You'll have to share it with me, sometime." The voice was so… uncertain. Jane bit back her own anger at herself and kissed her hair, then rested her cheek against the same spot, holding her tighter.

"I'll play it for you." She whispered.

The words came unbidden, and she hadn't realised she had said them until the scratchy sound of her own voice reached her ears. Her breath caught in her throat.

What-

Wordlessly, Maura tilted her head towards Jane for a moment, then without another hesitation she pulled her hand out from under Jane's and slipped it over the top, lacing their fingers together, before drawing both upward towards-

Jane's eyes instantly widened in panic, the familiar fear coiling through her stomach, the same fear that kept her hands hidden from strangers and out of the hands of friends. And even though Maura had become an exception to that rule, she couldn't be an exception to this- her hands were broken, they were broken and dead in the middle and should never-

"Maur-" There was meant to be more, but her tongue was slow and sluggish and her mouth was dry. She felt herself tensing, and the instinct to flee now challenged her so strongly she thought she might pass out.

It had been such a good idea at the time, for a full ten minutes she really believed she could pull it off – she could make this work, she could comfort Maura. She could make it better. She could open up the most frightening, darkest corners of herself and it would all be okay… But it wasn't, it couldn't, it-

Jane felt the puff of air against her palm as Maura spoke.

"Trust me, Jane."

And then Maura's lips were touching her, right over the scar. And they were soft, reverent and warm, not frightening, and her skin was alive, not numb and broken like she always believed it to be. Intense fear was immediately swept away by relief, wonder… and something else Jane couldn't place. The emotion was overwhelming. Jane squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be calm, but all she could feel was herself trembling against Maura's back.

A tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek.

"Maura.." her voice was barely above a whimper, "I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry. He still- I still haven't won."

Truth. The final, ultimate, truth.

And then suddenly she wasn't okay, she wasn't over it, wasn't trying to prove anything, she wasn't moving on, and the long-bottled truth exploded up from the darkest places of her with the rest of the tears. They kept coming, over and over again, waves of memory and agony and anger, until there was nothing… nothing but the night, and Maura in her arms.

She had been so quiet through it all, but as Jane's tears subsided she felt Maura slowly press her palm back towards her lips again, lingering only a moment before drawing it down, this time to lay over her own heart. Jane felt the steady beat under her fingertips, a new sensation but one she knew from that moment, she would never, ever get enough of.

Jane felt herself grow heavy, heavy on the covers, heavy against the pillow. She nuzzled softly into the back of Maura's neck, beneath the locks of hair, and squeezed her tightly. Her eyes slid closed, just in time for her to hear a softly spoken promise.

"You'll win Jane. We'll win."