A/N: Yay for back-to-back updates! I feel so accomplished! Hope you like. ;) This one's a little longish.

"What do we have?" Jane demanded of the nearest uniform as she stepped out of the sedan with Korsak in tow.

"Elderly lady that lives in this house here," he pointed to a trim little house just down the street, now encircled in yellow crime scene tape, "was adding a couple little trees to her backyard. Guess she dug deep enough to find a prize. Says her shovel hit something that looked like plaid. Dug a little deeper and found a guy buried. She's got no clue who he is or who put him there. Her son's with her now."

She nodded. "Thanks." Ducking under the yellow tape, she turned to Korsak. "Gotta make sure we talk to her before we leave. Preferably alone."

"Agreed."

They skirted the house, passing the CSU van as they made for the gate leading to the back yard. Maura was already standing over the unearthed body – still in its shallow grave – pulling on gloves. She'd forgone her heels from this morning and donned a pair of bright yellow Wellington boots, strikingly similar to those Jane had loaned her for the beach floater case about a year ago. God, why'd it have to happen in her neck of the woods? On top of everything else, she doesn't deserve to deal with this. Maura made fleeting eye contact with Jane before launching into her typical diatribe of initial observations. "Judging by the condition of the flesh due to invertebrate consumption, I would estimate time of burial…"

Only half-listening, Jane slipped into auto-pilot and crouched down to take a careful look at the body for herself. It was hard to gauge because the guy had been worm-food for a little while now, but he looked to be in his mid-twenties, and in fairly good shape – aside from being very, very dead. She looked closer. In the breast pocket of what appeared to be a plaid flannel shirt, a little edge of something white seemed to be peeking out. She pulled out a pair of gloves that she'd stashed in her blazer pocket and snapped them on.

"What do you see, Jane?" Korsak said.

"He's got something in his breast pocket. Might be a phone number?" Jane reached into the hole and pulled at the white thing. It was a folded piece of paper. When she opened it, a flattened white flower fell out.

Korsak retrieved it and handed it to Jane, who snagged a fold of Maura's blazer sleeve between her fingers. Maura obeyed the silent gesture and leaned closer, inspecting the flower. "It appears to be a pressed lily," she concluded.

"Lily," Jane repeated thoughtfully.

"Yes," Maura said, gently taking the lily from Jane's hand. "A white stargazer lily, to be exact. Lilium archelirion. The white stargazer is often associated with expressions of sympathy in Western culture."

Korsak grunted. "Think the killer knew that?"

Maura shook her head, straightening. "Much too early to even begin to speculate why the flower was even there, let alone the killer's knowledge of the plant's significance." She looked to Jane, who had returned to her crouched position at the edge of the impromptu garden grave. "It is an interesting coincidence, though." She returned the flower to Korsak, turned and strode over toward the house, presumably to talk to some CSU staff about transporting the body.

"Coincidence, sure," Jane muttered to no one in particular. "There's something written on the paper, too," she said, unfolding it again. "'No harm, no foul.' The hell is that supposed to mean?"

She mentally faltered a moment when Maura failed to respond with a literal answer to her rhetorical question. Then she remembered Maura had stepped away to delegate. She sighed, looking from the paper to the body and back again. Finally she gave up. There was nothing more to be seen here, that she could tell. She reached back without looking, extending the paper behind her. "Frost, take the note and the flower to CSU for –," her voice choked off as she realized her error, her whole body going rigid with tension. She angled her head slightly, afraid to make eye contact with either of her colleagues, but detecting no movement out of her peripheral vision. "Shit," she whispered brokenly, and stood up. Brushing absently at her slacks, she turned and pushed past Korsak, wrist pressed beneath her nose in a vain effort to conceal her growing distress. She barely saw Maura through the tears blurring her vision as she passed her.

But Maura saw her.

Glancing from Jane's retreating form back to Korsak standing bewildered beside the flower bed, Maura excused herself from the discussion with CSU staff and made a beeline through the investigative bustle toward the sergeant.

"What's wrong with Jane? What did you say to her?" she demanded, feeling a sudden rise of righteous anger.

Korsak backed a step and held up his hands. "I didn't say a thing. She started to ask for Frost, I think, and then realized…anyway, it was hard for me to hear her, and she took off before I could ask."

Taking in his defensive posture, Maura relaxed. She realized in that moment how naturally protective she felt of Jane when her best friend was hurting. She didn't feel it often because Jane so rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, but there had been some key points in their history together that the usual roles of protector and protected reversed. In those watershed moments, Maura felt it not only her duty, but her honor to stand sentinel over the remarkably tender heart that Jane normally kept so carefully ensconced in toughness and bravado. In those moments, she found it startlingly easy to cast aside her usual meekness and civility.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant."

"I get it, Maura. You care about her a lot. We all do."

Maura nodded, feeling her throat constrict slightly. "I'll go talk to her."

He offered a small smile. "Good idea."

She found Jane leaning against the side of the house on the other side of the gate, next to the green waste dumpster. Out of sight. Her forearm was pressed against the wall and she had her forehead leaned against it. The other hand was cupped over her mouth, evidently attempting to stifle any sobs that might escape. Jane was typically hypervigilant at a crime scene; it was impossible to sneak up on her on an average day in the field. But now, without making a particular effort to be stealthy, Maura was able to draw quite close to her friend without Jane appearing to take notice.

Curious, and frankly desperate to mend the breach of coldness and hurt between them, Maura reached out.

Jane jumped when tentative fingertips made contact with her shoulder. But still she didn't look up. She stood right where she was, shaking silently.

Alarmed that Jane was making no effort to pull herself together – like she usually did on the rare occasions when Maura discovered her weeping – Maura dared to edge closer, sliding her hand slowly across her friend's back.

"It's habit," Jane choked out finally, knocking her fist against the siding. "I say his name out of sheer habit." The crying started to wrack her entire body, and her knees began to buckle.

Jane had a track record of refusing offers of physical comfort and reassurance in the past week or so. She had so steadfastly denied her need or want for even the slightest touch of physical affection, that Maura had withdrawn from her – more so than she ever had in the past. The withdrawal had proven surprisingly difficult. But rather than endure the repeated rejection of even her platonic advances to support her best friend, Maura made the challenging decision to give Jane the space she thought she needed. She did it as much out of respect for Jane's apparently tenuous relationship with her husband as she did in accordance with her express wishes to be left primarily alone.

But this was too much to bear. Maura had done as best she could to stand back while Jane "figured things out," but at this point her aimless struggle was abundantly clear. Maura had to step in.

Exasperated, she murmured, "I can't just watch you struggle anymore." Catching Jane as she sank, she gingerly guided the detective to angle their bodies together. Too spent and stricken by unresolved grief to resist, the detective complied. Though they remained standing, Maura felt like she was cradling Jane in her arms. Her best friend felt lighter than Maura remembered, but she thought perhaps that was only because it had been weeks since she'd even touched Jane, let alone put her arms around her.

While Jane fought to get her breathing under control, Maura lifted her head and glanced back at the crime scene. Korsak passed near the gate and risked a look in their direction. He seemed to take everything in after only a second. He wore a vague question on his face, and Maura shook her head silently in reply. It'll be a while before she's ready. Korsak nodded his understanding and turned to take charge of processing and cleaning up what remained of the scene.

Reassured that they were again alone, Maura tightened her grip just slightly as Jane finally took some deeper breaths. Encouraging the flow of oxygen with her own example of calming breaths, Maura took the fleeting opportunity to take Jane in – scent and sensation. It had been too long since she'd enjoyed this unique privelege of physical closeness with Jane, and she didn't know when she'd have another opportunity. Their relationship - strained by grief more than a little repressed desire - remained tenuous.

Then one last shuddering sigh signaled that the detective was as ready as she'd ever be to face the rest of the day.

"I'm screwing up, Maura," Jane admitted quietly as she exhaled. "I feel like I'm getting everything wrong, but I don't know which way is up anymore."

Maura pulled back, but didn't release her completely. In that moment, it felt safe to gently take Jane's face in both her hands and hold her gaze for a moment. "That's perfectly normal."

"It doesn't feel normal. Nothing feels normal."

Maura nodded. "No. And it won't for a while. That's what grief does." She dropped her hands to Jane's shoulders, gripping them firmly.

Jane looked away.

It's not enough, Maura thought. She's not buying it. You're not helping. Say more.

"But Jane," she said, lifting her best friend's chin with the tips of her fingers, "You're not helping yourself, or the people that love you, by trying to keep it to yourself. There is no such thing as not feeling. There is only postponing the inevitable, and the longer you put it off, the more it is going to hurt coming out." She felt tears sting her own eyes at this last sentence. She had no idea where the boldness to say these things was coming from.

Jane nodded her understanding, then shook her head. "It's not that easy. You make it sound easy and it's not."

"I know it's not. Trust me. I know. But…will you at least try?"

Jane just looked at her.

"I'm not asking you to wear your heart on your sleeve all the time, around everyone. But sometimes, when its hardest to bear on your own, will you trust me, trust your family, to help you?"

Her friend's jaw clenched as she waged war internally. She lowered her head.

"That's all we want, Jane." Maura bit her lip, looked down at her bright yellow Wellingtons before looking back up at the heartbreakingly beautiful woman in front of her. "That's all I want."