The door opened and shut but Jane did not lift her head from where it rested face down on the counter. Every corpuscle of focus she had left she devoted to the sensation of cool fake granite against her forehead. Warm fingers pried the empty shot glass from her grasp. She heard the click as it was set aside, heard the hollow scrape as the whiskey bottle was pushed away.

"Jane." Her mother's voice. Her mother's hand on her back. "Jane, look at me."

Jane slowly lifted her head and turned to face her mother. She blinked in the sudden brightness of the kitchen lights.

"Tell me what's going on. In here," she brushed Jane's hair back from her face, "and in there," she pointed to Jane's chest. "Give me something to work with."

Jane directed her dull gaze to the whiskey bottle. "I feel like I'm making all the wrong choices, Ma." She met her mother's eyes.

Angela nodded.

"But what makes it worse is that I don't realize I've screwed up until it's too late to fix it."

"Honey, it's never too late to try to fix something."

Jane just dropped her forehead to rest on her hands, clenched together on the countertop.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong, or do I have to sit her all night?"

Jane swiveled slightly on the barstool and took her mother in. This woman, sitting next to her in plaid cotton pajama set, her expression weary but determined – this woman had raised her. This woman loved her unconditionally. Stubborn as they both were, they'd seen each other through many a personal crisis. This woman deserved her respect and her trust. She brushed aside some rebellious dark locks that had fallen into her face.

It was time to start talking. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath and let it out. "I married the wrong person."

Angela nodded again, looking perplexed. "You said that on the phone. You wanna explain that to me?"

"Casey came over."

Angela's eyebrows rose toward her hairline.

"Yeah, I was surprised, too. He found me," she gestured to the case files now strewn across the limited counter space of her tiny kitchen, "like this. Wanted to know what was up. And yeah, it was nice that he was concerned, but then he basically started asking when I was going to be done grieving Frost so he could come back into the picture. And I lost it."

Angela watched her daughter's face.

"I think we're getting a divorce." Jane forced herself to look her mother in the eye.

"Jane, every couple has their setbacks and struggles –"

"Yeah, Ma, but this is more than just a temporary thing!"

Angela pursed her lips, silenced for now.

"Look. I saw red flags when we were dating, and when I had the first inkling he'd ask me to marry him. He kept hinting, then not-so-subtly asking me to seriously consider giving up being a cop for him. And even before that, he basically had every intention of abandoning the relationship when he was injured and thought he wouldn't be able to have it exactly the way he dreamed it with me. But I didn't talk about those. I ignored them because ultimately I thought I was making everybody happy. And I thought I'd be happy, once he came back around. I thought I loved him. And I do…I do care about him, Ma. Don't get me wrong. But tonight I realized that we…we just don't know each other that well. Because for whatever reason, we can't trust each other with the deep stuff." She clenched her fists on the countertop. "The important stuff. Neither of us can be with someone who's a total closed book, but neither of us is willing to be the first one to really open up about what we've been through. We're people that go out deliberately into fucking dangerous situations to help other people, but we're too chicken-shit to share about how damaged we really are." She swiped angrily at the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. "So really, I guess this is something that's actually been snowballing for me for a while. And the shit finally hit the fan tonight." She sighed heavily, staring at the random flecks of color in the imitation granite that comprised her kitchen counter. She looked up when she realized her mother had remained silent. "You haven't said anything."

"Now seemed like the time to listen to you, rather than talk."

Jane managed a watery, lopsided smile.

"But Jane," she took her distraught daughter's hands, "I just want you to be certain that this is right. I mean, you're tired, you've been drinking; you've just been under a lot of stress lately."

Jane felt her shoulders draw up and her jaw clench – familiar sensations of resistance to being told what to do. "Ma…" she growled.

"Hear me out." Her mother held up a hand, voice and expression stern. "I'm not writing off this decision you're in the process of making. Maura's been telling me that it's important I make sure you know that your feelings are valid to me. And they are. I want you to know that, honey. I don't doubt for a second anything you've just told me. But as your mother, I want to advise you to wait just a little longer so you have some time to think about this with a clear head. No one should make life-changing decisions in the state you're in now. Understand?"

Jane nodded tentatively, anger dissipated. She felt like a little girl in Catholic school again.

"But, if a couple of days from now, you've thought about it and you still feel the same, then do what you think is right for you. Even if it's hard. And know you've got my blessing." She cupped the back of Jane's head and drew her in for a kiss to the temple. "You're my daughter. No matter what, I will love and support you through anything. Never ever forget that."

Relieved and touched, Jane allowed herself a few quiet tears in her mother's presence. She leaned in more fully into Angela's embrace and found her breath. Her mother gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"But I know that's not all," Angela murmured.

Unease pooled in Jane's stomach again, replacing the giddy relief she'd felt only moments ago. Fessing up to her abruptly failed marriage now seemed like a cinch compared to what she had to tell her mother next. Sure, she'd handled the idea of divorce remarkably well, but Jane still harbored a slough of misgivings about how she'd react to –

"You said you married the wrong person. Twice. Which makes it sound like there's…someone else? Is there?"

"There's not – I'm – it's not," she stopped for another deep, bracing breath. Just spit it out. "I'm…I'm in love with…my…best friend, Ma. I'm…I'm in love with Maura."

Angela's arms went slack around her. "Jane."

Oh God, what? What did I just walk into?

"Jane…Does she know this?" There was an urgency in her mother's inflection that surprised Jane.

"Well, yes – sort of. Not…I mean, technically…look, it's complicated."

Her mother shook her head and seized Jane by the shoulders. "This is simple. Have you looked Maura in the eye and told her, 'Maura, I'm in love with you'?"

"Not…verbatim?" Jane cringed.

Angela stared at her, jaw slack. "Why the hell not?"

"Ma, why are you so on fire about this? I don't understand…"

"Have you seen the way she looks at you? Everyone else has, I'm certain, but you apparently haven't because you're so tied up inside about this but haven't said anything!"

Jane's jaw snapped shut. "I thought – you're not upset that I'm…?"

"In love with a woman? Jane, I've been living on this planet too damn long to care who falls in love with and marries who. And especially when it comes to my kids, I really just want two things: whatever's good for them, and whatever'll make them happy. And Maura, I think, does both for you. You're at your very best with her. And you do the same for her. And the look in her eyes when you're together – she loves you, Jane. She cares about you more than anything else – or anyone else in the world. That's so rare. You shouldn't let what you two have slip away." She squeezed her daughter's hands.

Jane was taken aback. Part of her could hardly bear the relief she was experiencing, but some unease remained. "But I think Maura's known how she feels about me for a long time, where I'm just figuring things out, and if I say something now it might –"

"You never know until you try, though."

Jane looked away.

"Hey, better to have the guts to just stand up and do it, as opposed to torturing yourself forever with not knowing because you wouldn't even give it a shot."

Jane groaned and buried her face in her hands. She knew her mother was right. She knew she'd hate herself if she never took a chance on this. If she chickened out.

Her mother stood up and grasped her shoulders tenderly. "I'm tired; you're exhausted. It's almost three a.m. Just promise me you'll think about everything." She kissed the top of Jane's head.

Jane nodded, face still in her palms.

"Go to bed, baby. I'm willing to talk whenever you feel you need it."

"G'night, Ma."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Ma?"

Her mother paused at the door. "Yes, baby?"

Jane swallowed hard, feeling choked. "It's too late to drive back. You wanna…stay?"

"You want me to?"

Jane nodded.