A/N: I wanted to make a little note about the flashbacks, because they are getting more in depth as of recently. Since this is Maura's story, I was eager to explore her past as well, and her storyline with Dell will affect how she handles/views things with Jane, but if I ever to go overboard or you feel as though it's taking away from the current storyline (which is going to pick up the pace quite shortly, I do assure you) please let me know. I really am curious to know how you all view this as readers. Thanks!


"Are we nearly there?" Maura asks, because it feels as though she has walked the entire expanse of Boston thus far, which, in a pair of stilettos, is definitely a feat. Only Dell could convince her to do this.

"Almost," Dell promises, reaching for Maura's hand. She gives it a reassuring squeeze. Maura nearly melts into a puddle.

They turn down a side street. It's a little slummy, and Maura does admit she's a little nervous. But Dell still has her hand, and that simple fact makes everything infinitely better. It's turned into a sickness, how often she longs to be with Dell.

"It's right here." Dell drops her hand to point. Maura flexes her empty fingers, letting out a tiny sigh as she follows Dell to the building, winding up a creaking staircase to the apartment.

"Hey, Archie!" Dell greets a boy smoking a joint near the window. He has lazy brown hair splaying out around his neck, and he's wearing a Black Sabbath shirt with a slightly faded fleece thrown over it. He is so effortlessly handsome that it makes Maura's insides flop around uncomfortably. She notes the way Dell looks at him, wondering how this same girl has just held her hand so tenderly moments before.

The bathroom door across the living room swings open. "Ian," Maura breathes a sigh of relief.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight, Maura," Ian plops himself down on the couch, patting the cushion beside him.

"Dell can be very convincing." Maura glances at her once more before sitting down. She is at the window with Archie, elegantly huffing an exhale out the window.

Ian laughs, the sound warm and comforting. His eyes are heavy and red, and Maura feels naive for not realizing what kind of activities would be going on tonight.

"I'll be back soon, Maura," Dell tells her once they finish the joint, Archie's hand draped loosely around her waist, until they disappear behind the bedroom door.

And they're not quiet about it either. Maura fights the urge to bury her face in a throw pillow for a buffer.

Ian turns to smile at her, warm and endearing as always, quite oblivious to her inner turmoil. "They're going to be a while." His hand finds her knee, and Maura watches it, cautiously. He leans in, hovering for a moment over her lips, and Maura knows he'll stop if she tells him to.

But she is so frustrated, hurt, and confused that she gives her consent.

XXX

"Nice turtle." Jane peers into the large aquarium at the far end of the living room, pressing her nose up against the glass like a curious child.

"He's a tortoise, actually," Maura can't help but to correct, stepping up behind her. "An African spurred tortoise."

"No kidding," Jane mutters thoughtfully, watching the reptile ease his head out of his shell. "I thought tortoises were bigger."

Maura watches her watch him. It's crazy how inexplicably beautiful Maura finds Jane when she's doing the most mundane things. "Size hardly has anything to do with the classification of reptiles, though he is hardly his adult size yet. African spurred tortoises can grow up to thirty-six inches in diameter and live as many as one hundred and fifty years."

Jane lets out a low whistle. "You got a name for him?"

"His name is Bass - after William M. Bass, the forensic anthropologist who founded the famous body farm."

"You are such a nerd. But I love it," Jane adds, before Maura even has a chance to decide is she should view the comment as derogatory or not.

"Have a seat." Maura motions toward the couch. Her apartment is small, one bedroom, and a conjoined kitchen and living room, though she hardly as a reason for any more space. "I apologize that I don't have any beer, but you are welcome to a glass of wine."

"Nah, I'm good, but thanks." Jane kicks off her shoes, making herself comfortable.

Maura arranges herself at the other end, smoothing her skirt.

"You always look so nice," Jane notes.

"Thank you." Maura is surprised by the unexpected compliment. "I just had dinner at my mother's."

"Does she live close?" Jane props her foot up on her knee, leaning into the throw pillow. She rests her elbow on the arm of the couch, letting her hand run lazily through her curls. She looks more at home here than Maura does.

"Yes, Beacon Hill."

Jane's eyes widen, coughing back her words, which Maura realizes were in all likelihood a snarky remark. "Nice neighborhood."

Of course, Maura doesn't know how to respond with anything other than a nod, so she waits for Jane to change the subject.

Jane sighs after a moment, bringing her knees to her chest. She rests her chin there, her eyes wide, letting out another long breath before she speaks. "I'm probably gonna sound like a broken record, but I really am sorry about the other night. Casey's a good guy...he really is." She tugs her fingers through her hair again, though this time it appears to be an anxious reflex. "I don't tell many people this, but he was diagnosed with PTSD after coming back from Afghanistan. Saw one of his buddy's head blown off in the middle of combat. I can't even imagine how rough it is, trying to keep yourself together after the things he saw. So he has his bad days...gets distant and moody."

Maura swallows before she can answer, "That must be very hard for you."

Jane seems surprised that Maura has even looked at it from this angle. "I mean, yeah, it is," she relents, sighing heavily. "But I feel selfish feeling that way, you know? After what he's been through."

"That doesn't mean it can't be difficult for you, too." Maura is surprised to find how firm her words are.

Jane looks over her knees with those wide eyes again, looking more vulnerable than Maura has ever seen her. It delights her and frightens her all at the same time. "I really always do feel guilty when I feel that way. He's a good guy, Maur. I promise you that."

"I wasn't questioning it," She defends quickly, though she knows that Jane can't blame everything on the PTSD.

"Yeah, well," Jane mutters, unwrapping her arms from around her knees. "I'm lucky to have him. He cares about me. Always has. I don't think I'd ever find anyone else who'd put up with me like he does."

Maura politely refrains from answering. She tactfully decides not to mention that is certainly not a reason to stay with someone. She reminds herself that she is being irrationally jealous. She has no logical reason to feel so bitter toward Casey, no reason to despise him so vehemently, but she can't push away that gnawing twinge that tells her something just doesn't feel right.


A/N: So I've been posting my updates on tumblr as I publish each chapter, but I am curious to know how many of you actually benefit from that, or if you just check your emails. I do like posting my chapters from time to time, but if nobody is relying on an update there, I may post them less often. Thanks again for always being so supportive!