To say the slap across the face was a surprise is unquestionably an understatement.

They had yelled at each other, guilt-tripped each other, certainly ignored each other, but Angela had never raised a hand to any of her children until now.

Jane sat in her apartment, beer in hand, TV on, but completely void of any sensation. She stared blankly into space unhearing of the sport scores and unfeeling of the bottle sweat rolling down her fingers.

It was hard to believe that it had only been two weeks. In fact, it had only been two days later than they had planned to return from the cruise in the first place. Somehow, it felt like months, and it was hard to reconcile that the Boston bustle was chugging along as if there had never been a rift in the fabric of time. The fabric of Jane's own timeline felt worn and frayed.

Senator Markey had sent a private plane down to retrieve his daughter. He didn't come himself or send his wife which the detective found peculiar. In her line of business, peculiar usually led to a cover up of something, something not good. Jane remembered Sarah's excitement on the approach to upstate New York. She had sighed knowing that this was not the end of the ordeal for the youngster. Her father was involved in something worthy of international kidnapping. That meant that Sarah's life was bound to be upturned again…and probably soon. Jane had hugged her goodbye and turned her over to the senator's aids. Then she'd hopped a transit train for Boston.

The knock on the apartment door was nothing if not unwelcome. She knew who it was. Only two people ever knocked on her door. And one of them was…well, was not the one knocking for sure. Jane stalled until the persistence and increased vigor signaled that her mother had no intention of leaving.

She didn't remember setting the bottle of beer on the coffee table. But when her left hand reached for the doorknob, it was, in fact, empty. She got the door cracked about six inches before it is was slung open by the force of her mother's entry. The Italian woman swallowed Jane into a hug so complete it was nearly a swaddle.

A stream of loosely-connected endearments and worry words poured forth from Angela as she squeezed against the squirms of her lanky daughter. When Jane finally bellowed out a "Ma!" She stepped back to take in her returned child.

"What are you wearing?" Jane had forgotten that she was in borrowed clothes. There had not been time to contact the cruise line about their luggage. In the coming days, she knew she would need to be providing statements and details about her time on the ship. She'd have to spend more time than she wanted untangling the red tape associated with the mess they'd found themselves in the center of.

"Have you eaten anything? I can make something simple for you." Jane didn't know how her mom got past her and into the kitchen. She seemed more interested in asking the questions than actually listening to the answers. She was already opening the fridge and deciphering the edible from inedible.

"Is Maura laying down?"

Jane tensed so completely that she forgot to even blink. She held her breath hoping against hope that her mother will continue on to the next in her string of questions. But she knew better.

"Jane. Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you."

"Why aren't you answering me?"

Offense was the best defense. Aggressive first attack. "I'm not her keeper, Ma. She's still in the hospital in Saint-Martin. She's fine though. They are just treating her for some things she picked up on the island. It is no big deal."

Jane had moved toward the kitchen as she spoke, which meant she could actually see the veins bulging in her mother's neck.

"No big deal? You LEFT her in the hospital?!"

"Calm down, Ma. I had a job to do. I had to take the senator's daughter back to New York." While she was going for confident and forceful in her response, it might have been more successful if she wasn't staring at her feet. Jane's mom moved around the counter to stand directly in front of her daughter.

"Bullshit!"

Now Jane was forced to look her in the eye.

"Bullshit!" She repeated. "Your not in charge of that little girl. She had a private plane for god's sake. You did enough for her. What about Maura? You're her friend…"

"That's right, ma. And she is just a friend." Jane tried to wrestle the conversation back. "I'm not in charge of her either…She's not some stray dog, you know. Haven't I done enough for her, too? She can rely on her own damn family instead of always mooching off of ours!"

And that is exactly when Jane found herself on the receiving end of a slap across the face.

Maura handed the cell phone back to Dr. Zindagi with thanks and an offer to pay for any international charges. He waved her off and told her to get some rest. He believed that she would be discharged in the morning. She had not wanted to take advantage of his generosity, so her only call had been to the family lawyer to make travel and passport arrangements. She had also asked her to please call her mother and advise her on what had happened and assure her that Maura was fine. There was really no need to speak to her mother directly. It wasn't the type of relationship they had.

Now, the slight woman had little to do but sit and think. Her symptoms were beginning to abate with the antibiotics, anti-parasitics and aggressive rehydration. The headaches were less and she was even able to keep bland foods down. She'd read her medical file cover to cover and spoken to the police, who were delighted by her French fluency. Maura had given them as much information as she could, but there was little to contribute after the first day on the island. She was very frustrated that they were unable or unwilling to give her any information in return.

She only knew that the French military police force had raided the island. Everything beyond that was a mystery. She wondered what had happened to the girl whose name she struggled to remember. And Jane. She knew from the nurse that Jane was OK. But the woman she'd considered her best friend left nothing so much as a note before she fled.

Maura's initial reaction was to construct a list of reasons…justifications on why Jane would need to get back to the states. But she eventually sobered up to the inevitable truth. Being rescued had not changed the vitriol Jane felt toward her emotional transgression.

Maura sighed into the empty room. She had absolutely done this to herself. Years of friendship with Jane, the only real relationship she'd ever had with another woman, had been slowly misconstrued by her. She had been gradually lulled toward a familiarity whose boundaries were solid for Jane and clearly fluid for Maura. Now, she racked her brain to catalogue the clues that she had so poorly misinterpreted.

Maura was almost compulsive with her wide personal space bubble, but Jane was very free with physical contact. At first it had been jarring and uncomfortable. Maura was not used to being touched, at least not outside of sex. Sex was easy to understand. There was a purpose, and the intention behind the contact was apparent. Jane's touch was often comforting, but frequently just to communicate her presence. Gradually, Maura found herself touching back. And that became something special that she shared with Jane. Something that was just for them. But Maura should have kept it in context. She knew herself to be emotionally neglected. Jane's physical attention was as potent as alcohol and she had behaved like a drunken fool.

Then there were the looks. This really frustrated the doctor. Maura had extensively studied facial expressions. She'd even used her expertise to assist in interrogations. Jane's face could be very open and expressive. There were times when she clearly looked at Maura with affection, pride, tenderness, warmth. It just seemed impossible that there wasn't also desire. The scientist in her checked her reasoning. Desire predicated intent. Sure, Jane had great affection for her. But it was Maura who had assigned a motive on her friend's behalf.

Yes, she had absolutely done this to herself.

The two women stared at each other, both with eyes wide in shock.

Jane could see the regret in her mother's face, but her own guilt stopped her from uttering a complaint. For several long moments, they simply let time spin around them. Her mother's diminished voice broke the swirl.

"I think you'd better tell me what happened between the two of you."

Angela snagged Jane by the forearm and led her into the seating area. The lanky woman flopped down with a huff.

"I don't know where to start." She snapped.

"Well, don't make it more complicated than it is."

"Ok, Ma. Geez." Jane remained silent contemplating where to begin and how much to tell. In most cases, brevity was recommended when dealing with Angela Rizzoli. "I found out that… that Maura…well, that she..that her feelings, you know, go beyond friendship."

Apparently, brevity would not be her savior. "And that is why you abandoned her in a foreign hospital?!" Angela's tone was both questioning and incredulous.

"I just…look, I can't face her if I know she feels that way."

This triggered a laugh - a sharp, skeptical burst laced with I knew it. Jane was not amused. Her eyes narrowed at the teasing. But her mother continued on.

"I have two detectives in the family. Do you think I can't pick up on clever word choice?"

"What are you talking about?" Jane asked cautiously.

"The problem is not that Maura is in love with you. The problem is that now you know it."

"Okaaayyy?" Jane couldn't quite decipher the meaning.

"Her feelings toward you aren't the issue. Now you have to deal with them...which means you have to deal with your own feelings - something you don't want to do."

Jane stood up and moved to a defensive position behind the sofa. "I don't have any feelings. Not those type of feelings. Maura is my friend. She's even my best friend. But that's it!"

Angela stayed seated and put her hands out to calm her daughter.

Jane's voice was on the rise. "Maura's the one who is confused. You know she can't read people. She doesn't have friends. She doesn't even understand what a normal relationship it. Don't you get it? This is about her. It's her mistake. It's not even about me!"

"Jane, honey please. You need to stop this."

"Stop what, Ma? Come on. I've spent my entire adult life trying to convince everyone I wasn't gay. The job, the sports, Maura…it doesn't make me gay!"

"Jane…"

"I'm not! OK. Will you just believe me? People can call me what they want. Assume. Tease me. It doesn't make me gay!" Jane spat. She was actually seething. Her jaw was clamped shut and breath came and went as snorts through flared nostrils.

Angela tried not to inflame the situation. Her timbre was soft and sympathetic.

"Why are you so angry?"

Jane couldn't answer right away.

"Jane…?"

Silence.

"Jane…?"

"Because I hate that people think that about me!" She spoke through gritted teeth.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not! I'm not! I'm not gay!" Her daughter's hands were clenched into fists as she bellowed to the ceiling.

Angela slowly stood listening to the echoes bounce through the tiny apartment. She knew that she was facing a volcano whose energy had not yet been spent. But she also knew there was only one direction to head.

"If you're not, then you're not." Her mother pressed softly. "Janie, tell me why are you so angry?"

Angela caught sight of the tear that breached the corner of her daughter's eye and escaped down a tense cheek. Her heart broke seeing her eldest child grapple with inner demons who held happiness prisoner in a dark cave. Like any parent, she wished hopelessly that she could take the pain for herself. This was Jane's fight. She could only help to pick up the pieces.

Eventually, Jane dropped her gaze from the plaster. Her eyes were now so full that her mother's face was distorted from view. Even so, she could feel the compassion flowing toward her. Jane felt as if she were standing on the edge of a pool. Arms reached out promising to catch her, but she was still so scared to jump. So very scared.

There was a lump in her throat. It nearly strangled her. She knew it was not a real one…medically speaking. Maura would know the scientific term. The thought brought the chestnut blonde's face unbidden to her mind's eye.

Maura…Loyal. Kindhearted. Trusting. Generous. Attentive….Loving.

Jane found her voice.

"What if I am?"

Angela thought for a moment that Jane was speaking to herself. When she didn't immediately react, her daughter's face contorted from sadness to fear. This jolted her into action. She moved around the sofa and seized Jane firmly around the biceps. The woman instantly dropped her chin to her chest. Angela could feel the tremors course through the thin upper body.

"Janie, sweetheart," she beckoned. "Let go."

The stalwart detective did just that.

Jane collapsed into her mother's arms with such force they fell against the back of the sofa. Arms wrapped around her trembling frame in an attempt to absorb the ache. Angela had seen her daughter cry, but she had never seen her sob. The pain from Jane's question…or admission…was palpable. The younger woman sagged against her shoulder as if she lacked the strength to stand.

"It's OK. It's OK," Angela repeated like a mantra into the mane of hair spilling over her side. Her only answer was the sound of anguished tears and ragged, gasping breaths spilling forth from a broken heart.

Angela knew that the enormity of this revelation went well beyond the events that led to it. It was a keystone in the arc of Jane's life that simply could not remain buried any longer. Its timing did nothing to color the inevitability of its emergence. Still, Angela could not deny that Maura was most certainly the key to a very tricky lock. One that had been jammed shut by its owner in an irrational attempt to circumvent fate.

She could only hope that fate would be forgiving.