Notes: A special thank you to "Anamatics" for giving this chapter a couple of read throughs and offering some suggestions. Much appreciated!

CH 12: Confessions over Burgundy

There was something special about the Sunday dinner routine at Maura's that had evolved in the aftermath of her parents' divorce. She couldn't say it was a feeling of completion. She hadn't quite come to terms with her father leaving. Most of the time Frankie and Tommy came, but tonight for instance they had not. It just felt right, this newly evolving little ritual. Jane flinched and rolled her eyes, "Ma! Really! With the pots and pans! It's a wonder Maura's neighbors haven't called in a noise complaint."

Angela nudged Maura, "Is she this ungrateful for a free meal when it's not cooked by me?"

Maura laughed and placed the last rinsed dish in the dishwasher, "Dinner was delicious as always."

Angela looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice, "Is everything ok? Janie, hasn't seemed herself lately."

Maura's eyes gravitated towards the sink where the faucet dripped at a mesmerizing tempo. Jane didn't give her parents much credit for open-mindedness and so Maura wasn't sure the extent to which she should explain. "I've been seeing someone and…"

"That beautiful woman I've seen come by a couple of times?" Angela queried, "Not that…I mean, not that I've been nosing around, I just happened to notice...her vehicle isn't exactly inconspicuous. And I might have seen her kiss you."

The look of surprise on Maura's face was quite apparent. "What?" Angela asked, "See, you didn't think I was…hip. No doubt Jane led you to believe I was some hyperconservative hold over from the 50s. Good for you, Maura. Really. And Janie's not homophobic…"

"No, no," Maura waved her hands, "Jane knows I'm seeing Chris…I…I don't think she approves…not because Chris is a woman, but because…well, she and Chris started off on the wrong foot. I'm really not sure, actually."

Angela glanced into the living room at her daughter and then back at Maura, raising an eyebrow, "Mmmhmm, you two should talk." She wiped her hands on the dish towel and called out to Jane, "You girls have a good night, I'm going to get ready for bed."

"Night Ma," Jane called back.

There were still a good two glasses of wine left in the night's second bottle of Grand Cru Montrachet. Maura picked up the bottle and waved it under her nose, inhaling the pungent fruity notes before taking down two fresh glasses and filling them.

"Were you just smelling the wine?" Jane laughed as she walked into the kitchen.

Maura handed her one of the glasses, "The second step in wine tasting is to smell. Smell can be critical to properly analyzing a glass of wine. The aroma helps indicate the quality and can often reveal to the senses subtle notes in the vintage that may be lost in tasting. Mother brought me this from France when she was here for the art installation. I just wanted to properly appreciate it."

"Wine tasting sounds very complicated, I should probably stick to beer," Jane smiled as she went to take a gulp of wine but paused, lowering the glass to take a daintier sip.

They sat on the sofa and Maura turned the tv off, "Actually, beer tasting is a similar procedure. We should go sometime, wine tasting and beer tasting…best of both worlds."

Jane set her glass down on the table, "I'd like that…as long as you don't make fun of me for not knowing anything about wine."

"Deal," Maura giggled, "besides, I am to the world of beer what you are to the world of wine. So, I think it will be an even trade and equally enlightening for both of us."

An awkward, palpable silence settled in between them. Jane kicked her tennis shoes off and pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them protectively. It was a comfort mechanism, a holdover from her childhood. She would sit like that when she was upset, refusing to cry, rocking back and forth. And if tears clawed their way out she'd just cinch her arms around her legs tighter, grit her teeth harder, crinkle her nose until it threatened to freeze that way and beat the tears back with sheer will power.

"So, where's Kelly tonight?"

Maura took another sip of her wine and then set the glass down, "At home, why?"

Jane scratched the back of her head, "I dunno, just…you said the two of you had plans all weekend, so I thought we probably wouldn't be having Sunday dinner and then when Ma said we were I guess I assumed maybe she would be here."

Maura tilted her head and looked quizzically at Jane, "No, I didn't invite her to dinner. I…I guess I think of this as…as our time together."

Jane smiled, "She, uh, probably needed to pack for her training seminar anyway." The look on Maura's face hardened from quizzical to confused. "She…didn't tell you about the training seminar?" Awkward Rizzoli. "She has some week long K-9 seminar, I only know about it because she mentioned while we were working the Camp case that she hoped we wrapped up in time to go. She said the seminar had been scheduled for months and even though…you know, with her dog, she was going to go and help run the classes."

"I guess she forgot to mention it," Maura swirled the wine in her glass and watched the deep burgundy liquid circle near the lip before settling. "Jane, can we talk…about what we talked about Friday night?"

Jane averted her eyes and fidgeted with her pants.

"Ever since I started seeing Chris, you've been…not yourself, distant, and then when you asked me about being attracted to women and said you were trying to understand yourself…Jane? Are…are you attracted to women?" Maura set her glass down again and scooted closer to Jane on the sofa.

"I'm just gonna go get the wine…" Jane started to get up but Maura anticipated her flight and was already reaching for her shoulder to drag her back down.

She sat for a moment, looking…anywhere but at Maura, at the blank tv screen, towards the front door, up at the ceiling, "I just…said it, ok. That I wanted to understand me. It just came out, you know, cause you're my friend and there's this…" she waved her hand, gesturing between them, "this thing, that I didn't know about and now I do and I just wanted to understand."

Maura crossed her arms, "You're lying to me. Well, perhaps not lying. Definitely deflecting."

Jane finally looked at Maura; she could feel her heart rate accelerating. Fear. She hated that feeling; it came too often in scenarios involving Maura. Oh, what the hell. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, "Yes. Yes, I…" holy shit, "I…am." The laugh started out deep in the pit of her stomach; it didn't feel like a laugh at first, in fact Jane thought she was about to throw up all over Maura's expertly and expensively upholstered sofa. But it rumbled up and soon her face was buried in her knees as raucous laughter took over her body.

"Oh my God." Jane paused, placing her hand on her chest, the huge smile on Maura's face nearly sending her into another fit. "In high school, her name was Claudia Shipman. I was completely enthralled with her. We played field hockey together. Jesus, I used to watch her change in the locker room when no one was looking. Susan Atchison when I was getting my Associate's Degree, she was in the criminal justice program with me. My God I used to stare at her during class; I bet she thought I was insane. Lindsey Robertson in my academy class; she was gay. I almost kissed her, but it…I…felt wrong. Everything's always felt wrong. Trying to be with men, feels wrong. I think I've wanted liking women to feel wrong and I haven't been able to make it."

"You can't make something feel wrong that's just a natural part of you, Jane. What you feel, it's not bad, it's not unnatural, it's not a sin…I firmly believe that. It's just you, and it's me and it's millions of other people across the world and throughout time."

"Thank you," Jane sniffled, pinching her nose and fighting back the raw tide of emotion that wanted to breach her finely crafted defenses.

Maura reached out and took Jane's hand, "Thank you. For telling me." Finally.

"Maura I'm attracted you." Word vomit. It just came spilling out, one long nightmare of consonants and vowels. "Oh…fuck…I shouldn't have said that, Maura…I'm sorry." Jane slammed her face into her knees. A moment passed and she opened one eye and peeped out at Maura, who was still holding her hand.

"It's ok, Jane," Maura's voice was soft and understanding. "Jane…look at me." She waited patiently for the dark brunette to sit up, turn and face her. "Jane, I've had feelings for you…for quite some time. I…" Maura paused, looking down at their intertwined hands, "But, I am also attracted to Christine. I didn't expect that. I'm not sure how to say this, without it sounding harsh, which isn't how I mean it at all…but, with this revelation, what do you want from me?"

It was contemplative, the look on Jane's face as she looked in Maura's eyes. What do I want from her? How much do I want from her? "I know that sometimes I want to kiss you and touch you. But…I need to know, for myself that it's more than that. And right now, Maura, I…it's all so new and I'd never forgive myself if I did something stupid with you that I couldn't follow through on…something that didn't mean what I thought it did or wanted it to. I don't even know if I'm making sense."

"It makes sense Jane," Maura smiled, "It makes perfect sense."

At least I'm in the shade. Kelly winced and gritted her teeth, glaring down at the on call physician and the dark red blood smeared across the gashes in her side. It's too dark, I should drink more water. She wished she were in Boston, so she could tell this pimply-faced resident to fuck off and go get Maura to stitch her up. It was Wednesday, Korsak liked to go to that calzone place on Wednesday for the lunch special. She licked her lips thinking about a juicy, cheesy calzone. Ow! What medical resident jack-wagon draws first aid tent duty at a police K-9 seminar? Obviously the one who feels like he's stitching me up with a rusty nail and barbed wire. Maybe they don't teach suturing anymore in medical school, just send the fuckwits out on their own with a needle and thread and let them figure it out. He could probably perform an organ transplant on me but can't stitch me up without it feeling like I'm in the eighth installment of the SAW franchise.

"Kelly," Cpt. Petrovski approached the tent, "Jesus Christ! Maybe you should go to the actual hospital?"

"That's what I told her," the doctor grumbled as he continued to stitch.

"I've had worse," Kelly winced again, "Fuck man! Have you even done this before!"

Petrovski shook his head, trying to hide the smirk, "What the fuck happened?"

"Was just doing sleeve work exercise with a few of the teams. That fucking rook from Springfield…I released the sleeve to reward the dog and I turned around, stupid rook let go of his line to out the dog on the sleeve and the bastard came right back at me and nailed me in the side. Springfield oughta be banned from these seminars, have you ever seen a decent dog on Springfield's roster?"

Petrovski chuckled under his breath, "Well, you know, not every department has the luxury of ex-army handlers and the budget to pop 30k on a proven dog."

"35," Kelly mumbled, "Grecco cost 35."

"Why are you here, Chris?"

She looked up. He'd called her Chris. "I signed up for this seminar months ago."

"You signed up for this seminar when you had a dog. Don't get me wrong, a damn fine dog and you're a damn fine handler. Probably one of the best I've ever seen. But you temp transferred to homicide and then you blow off for a week to come here with no dog?"

Chris gritted her teeth as the doctor tied up the last stitch, she sat up too quickly, grabbing at her side in pain, "Because it's what I do. It's all I've ever done. This is who I am. Being here…makes sense; it's where I belong. If I don't have the dogs; I don't have anything."

"Seems to me, you've got more than you realize. Friends. From what I understand, a girlfriend now, the Medical Examiner? Hear she's smoking hot," Petrovski chuckled, eliciting a smile from his Sergeant.

"Yeah…she is," Chris closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as the pain in her side would allow, "People always disappoint. The dogs though, they've never let me down. Never. And twice…twice I've let them down. You say I'm one of the best you've ever seen? How many of the best have one mutilated partner and one dead one?"

"And you know neither of those are your fault. You saved that dog in Iraq…"

Chris rolled her eyes, "And isn't that just part of the whole clusterfuck! I saved the dog. Half his face and his leg blown to hell and ten feet away a living breathing human being screaming for help, reaching out to me. I see her hand, in my nightmares, Captain. Reaching, her fingers straining as far as they can, covered in blood. And I saved the dog."

Petrovski grabbed Chris by either shoulder, "It was a fucking war zone Chris! I know! 'Nam fucked my shit up for a long time. You didn't do anything any one of us wouldn't have done. The higher ups in the army may not understand, other cops may not understand, civilians sure as fuck won't understand. But I would have done the same damn thing. That was your partner. To everyone else Mik was just a dog, but to you, he was your partner. How many times did that dog save your life? Save the lives of other soldiers and civilians when he alerted on explosives? How many times! And you think returning the favor dooms you to some sort of self-loathing, no happiness-having purgatory. Saving the dog in that instance doesn't have to be a blueprint for the rest of your life."

Chris looked in her Captain's eyes, "But it's how I am, it's who I am, that situation aside."

"It doesn't have to be! It's how you are because it's how you let yourself be. It's easier for you that way, put the dogs first. But it doesn't have to be that way and finding a way to compartmentalize isn't going to make you a worse handler. I promise you, the Chief is going to give you whatever you want. We'll find you a fucking nightmare son of a bitch of a dog you'll goddamn win the USPCA Nationals with; it doesn't mean you can't have a life outside of this. Some people need that talk it out bullshit therapy mumbo jumbo, I didn't, I needed someone to tell me to get the fuck over it and quit screwing over my own life because I only had me to blame in reality. And I think you're the same kind of person, so take it from me Chris, you put the dogs first because it's the easy route and the Christine Kelly I know, in any other situation, doesn't take the easy route. For as fucked up as it is, maybe losing Grecco will be good for you. Spend some time with people, people outside of this scene," he motioned behind him to the dog and handler teams that continued to work on the field, "realize that not every human being out there is just waiting for the opportunity to screw you over. When the time is right, we'll have a dog for you."

Petrovski turned and walked away, "Go home, Chris," he shouted over his shoulder.