A/N: Okay, y'all know how in Aladdin there are those two times where Jasmyne is skeptical but Aladdin holds his hand out and is all "do you trust me?" And um I guess because he was lying to her the second time around, this might not be the best analogy, BUT: stick with me. For a couple chapters we may be standing with one foot on the edge of a balcony, and you have to trust that I'm going to catch you at the bottom of the angsty fall. So do you trust me? If not, you may want to stop now. Just a heads-up.

At seven-thirty on the dot, Jane jumped when she heard the doorbell buzzing. She sprinted to open it, beaming when she could see Maura through the glass window by the door. Maura was a wintry vision, decked out in a long, silver-blue coat and tall green boots. As she entered the house, she unbuttoned the coat to reveal a crimson sweater and a silky black skirt—and, to Jane's surprise, no stockings.

"Jeeves get you here all right, then?" Jane said, waving at the chauffer who then drove away.

Maura started removing her boots. "Bryce did fine, yes. I'd have driven myself, but I'm not entirely sure I trust my abilities on these icy roads."

"Should he have left?" Jane joked. "He'd have been welcome to stay in the… driveway."

Maura just laughed and unbuttoned her coat. "I told him you would get me back home."

"Well! That was very presumptuous of you. What if I told you that I didn't have a car handy?"

"Then I know you would let me hop on your back and you would walk me home."

Rolling her eyes, Jane shrugged and folded her arms. "Sure! Barefoot, and uphill both ways. Or I could call Bryce—or your parents—for you."

"My parents are hosting a soiree tonight," Maura said. She shrugged off her coat when Jane reached for it. "Children weren't invited, which is why Garrett and I were going to have dinner elsewhere. I think they were trying to beat the rush of Christmas parties, as it isn't really a Christmas party, per se, but an end-of-semester celebration before some of my father's colleagues depart for the holiday. Food, dancing, all of that."

"So what'd you tell Garrett, anyway?" Jane asked, hanging up Maura's coat. When an answer didn't come right away, she glanced over and saw Maura looking rather guilty. Jane burst out laughing. "You didn't tell him!" she crowed. "You stood him up!" For me!

"Well, if I'd called and told him I couldn't go—"

"Couldn't, or wouldn't?" Jane asked with a smirk.

Maura blushingly continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "He'd have wanted to know why, and as I'm incapable of lying, I would've had to tell him the truth."

Jane mimed holding a phone up to her ear: "Hi, Garrett, sorry I can't make it tonight. I'm going over to Jane Rizzoli's house because as dreamy as you are, you just can't hold a candle to homemade Italian perfection!"

"Italian perfection?" Maura giggled, trying to play this off as cool as Jane was. "Is that how you're describing yourself these days?"

"Uh, I meant the dinner," Jane said, and Maura looked embarrassed yet again. "Honestly though, what would've been the problem in telling him? It's not like you cut out to see another guy."

Maura played with her necklace, nervous about looking Jane in the eye. "I suppose I didn't have the time to get a hold of him once I'd gotten myself all ready to come over."

"Gotten all ready?" Jane asked dumbly.

She had noticed right away that Maura was made up a little more than usual, wearing eyeliner, eye shadow, and a more noticeably red shade of lipstick than she often used. It matched the color of her impeccably manicured nails. Her hair was swept up in an elaborate style, making her look as if she might have fit in quite well at her parents' party. But then Jane noticed that Maura's opal earrings matched the locket around her neck—the one Jane had given her. Garrett's ring was nowhere in sight.

"You got all… like this… for me?" she asked in a hushed voice of humble surprise.

Maura couldn't even bring herself to nod. She folded her hands together, smiling shyly at Jane, and that got the message across.

"Gee," Jane mumbled, running a hand through her hair. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, all of which screamed casual. "I feel like a right slob, here."

"Oh, don't," Maura said quickly. "You look perfect."

"We don't match," Jane said, waving a hand between the two of them. "At least let me, I dunno, dress up a little."

"Are you comfortable?" Maura asked.

"Um…"

"If you're comfortable in those clothes, you should stay that way. You must be warm, at least."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Then don't worry about it."

"Okay." They lingered by the front door a few moments longer, then Jane shook her head to clear it and nodded down the hallway. "Well c'mon, before the food gets cold!"

She was about to turn into the dining room, but Maura caught her by the arm first, looking alarmed. "What happened to your wrist?"

"What? Nothing," Jane said, though there was clearly a burn mark there. She'd been so startled when Maura had rung the bell that she'd almost dropped the pan she'd been holding, and scalded herself in the process. "It's fine. You want me to go put some ice on it?"

"No!" Maura gasped. "You mustn't do that! Putting ice directly on a burn will make your body too cold, and could cause further damage to the wound. Come here." She took Jane by the hand and lead her into the kitchen, which Jane couldn't help but find amusing as this wasn't even Maura's home. But that didn't stop her from taking a bowl and filling it with water. "The trick is to put it in water that's cool, not cold. That will reduce swelling by conducting heat away from the skin."

"If you say so, doc," Jane said. The burn still stung a bit, but she'd planned on just riding it out. She liked having Maura play nurse, though.

Maura pulled the bowl out of the sink, and directed Jane to submerge her hand and wrist into it. "There now, just hold it for a while. I don't suppose you've got anything we could use for a bandage?" Before Jane could answer, Maura added, "Gauze would be best. Cotton or something like it could get lint in the wound. I suppose it wouldn't kill you if you kept the burn un-bandaged, but covering it will keep air off and reduce the pain and protect your skin if it's gotten blistered."

Jane was smiling patiently, but Maura blushed, nervous that the look was a patronizing one and she'd rambled on for too long. "There should be some gauze under the sink," Jane said once she was sure Maura's explanation was through. "First aid kit."

"Oh! So there is. I'm glad you keep one of those around!"

"Mm, Tommy kinda made it necessary. Can't tell ya how many times he'd bust his nose or his forehead or his knee just playing around as a kid. Come to think of it, he still does that." Maura laughed as she got the roll of gauze from the kit. They stood in silence for a few moments, Jane fidgeting as she always did before getting ready to ask a question she was anxious about. "So how come you bolted earlier today? At the studio?"

Maura inhaled deeply. She'd been expecting that question to come sooner or later. "I had to leave."

"How come?" Jane pressed her.

"I felt uncomfortable. It was your session, and I was trying to dictate it. I oughtn't have gone and thrown off your concentration."

"You didn't throw me off. Hell, I wish you'd stayed around, you could've kept me entertained, at least!"

"What else did he have you do?" Maura asked, smiling and feeling relieved as it seemed Jane wasn't going to push her anymore.

"Oh!" Jane groaned. "Well after we legitimized the swimsuit, we had the golf get-up, and the softball uniform, and then the equestrian clothes."

"You had better show me those photographs when they come out," Maura said with a grin.

"Hey, you're the one who up and left. You could've seen the real thing live and in person."

Thanks, but it was my exposure to the real thing that made me have to high-tail it out of there.

Maura couldn't help but think back to a time many months ago, when Jane had come inside after mowing the Isles' lawn, and Maura had walked in on her using the hem of her shirt to wipe some sweat from her brow. That was the first time she'd gotten a look at Jane's abs, and while shocked at herself for being so aroused, she'd fervently hoped it wouldn't be the last time. Jane had teased her then about staring. If they'd still been in that phase of their relationship, Maura was sure Jane would tease her now: you probably wanted to get out of there because you knew wouldn't be able to help yourself from groping me, right? I bet!

Jane's voice broke into her thoughts. "Hey, you okay?"

"What? Yes. I'm fine."

Another silence, this one somewhat painful. "That locket looks real nice with that sweater," Jane finally said.

Maura's hand went up to clutch it. "Thank you. I was wearing it earlier today, too, under my shirt." Was that too much information again? What did it matter that she'd been wearing it earlier? She cleared her throat and touched Jane's arm. "I think you should be safe to take that out of the water now."

"Okay, doc," Jane whispered, grabbing a hand towel to dry it off. Before she could reach for the gauze, Maura grabbed it instead, and wrapped some around Jane's wrist. "Thanks," Jane muttered, flexing it. "Good as new."

"Gosh, I didn't even ask what happened," Maura said, putting the kit back where she'd found it.

"Ah, well, just happened while I was cooking. I do all right in home economics most of the time, but I guess we all slip up now and then, right?" She laughed and led the way towards the dining room, adding, "I hope dinner's worth the trouble!"

Maura gasped when she walked into the dining room. Unbeknownst to her, the Rizzolis only ate in here on special occasions—holidays, birthdays, and the intermittent Sunday. Most of the time the scrappy kitchen table was good enough, but Jane knew that wouldn't cut it tonight. She'd spent a good chunk of time polishing their best flatware to be put out with newly-cleaned dishes and glasses. It wasn't a far cry from stuff you would find on the table at a cheap diner, but it had been the best Jane could pull together on short notice. There was a bottle of wine and a pitcher of water in the middle of the table, a small space between them that might have fit a nice candlestick if Jane could've found one.

"Sorry there's not better lighting," she said, when Maura continued to stare in silence. "I almost wish Ma still had her menorah."

This jarred Maura from her stunned state. "Your mother had a menorah?"

"Yeah," Jane laughed. "I can't even remember where Ma picked it up—a yard sale, maybe? She thought it was just a real fancy candelabra. We had it for a while, until Pop noticed it and wanted to know what the heck a Jewish 'candle stand,' as he called it, was doing in the house. So we don't have it anymore."

"Oh. Well, I think the table looks lovely on its own, Jane."

"Well, it ain't just for lookin', y'know," she said, guiding Maura towards the chair on one end of the table. As Maura sat, Jane gestured to the wine bottle. "I don't suppose I can tempt you?"

"I don't think I should," Maura said.

"Fair enough. Far be it from me to press you." Jane swept over with the water pitcher and poured Maura a glass, then decided to pour one for herself. She returned the wine to her parents' liquor cabinet, then ducked into the kitchen for her pot of gnocchi. A basket of rolls that Angela had made earlier was already on the table, and Maura was helping herself to one as Jane whisked back into the room. "Sorry I haven't got any salad or pre-main course, um… courses," she said. "I didn't have time to do much else."

"Aren't you cute!" Maura laughed. "This is more than fine, Jane."

"And I guess it's not as nice as Chez Pierre," Jane said, hovering over Maura's plate with the gnocchi and a ladle. "Um… how would you say 'this is for you' in French?"

"Well, it wouldn't be fitting to say it in French. It's homemade Italian, isn't it? What is it in Italian?"

"Uh…my Italian's not quite up to snuff, but I can try." She held out the ladle. "Per voi?"

Maura smiled back. "Grazie, signorina."

Jane tried to keep her smile in check as she dished up some gnocchi up for Maura, then returned to her setting and ladled some for herself. She hurried the pot back to the kitchen and covered it, coming back to say, "If you want more, there's more. Just let me know and I'll get it for you."

"Thank you," Maura said. She took a bite. "Mm! Jane, this is delicious!"

"Thanks! It was my grandmother's recipe. I swear, I used to eat it everyday. I'd have had it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if my mother would've let me."

"I don't blame you."

For the next several minutes, Jane regaled a happy audience with stories about her grandparents, who had been the ones to make the decision to come to America. Twice during this, Jo Friday came into the room to ask for food. Maura grew sorry for the dog, and with Jane's permission, tossed her some bites of bread. Seeing the little creature reminded Maura of a dog she'd seen pictures of her father with in his army days. She told Jane about his unit's mascot, helping to keep up morale among the troops.

"My father doesn't like to talk about the war much," she said. "But I suppose when I was younger, he thought I'd like the picture of the dog."

"Boy, my old man could go on for hours about his time in the army," Jane said. "He loved it, and he loved his men. Still sees some of 'em a bunch, in fact."

"Oh, that reminds me. Outside the studio today, I met the wife of a man your father served with. A Mrs. del Rossi?"

Jane choked on her water. "Roxie?"

Maura raised her eyebrows. "You're on a first-name basis?"

"Well yeah, I mean, I'm friendly with most of the guys Pop served with—and their wives," Jane said, hoping that Maura hadn't noticed her sputtering a moment ago (she had). "Roxie's real young, though. Almost our age. Twenty, I think her husband said?"

"She said you had a short temper," Maura couldn't help adding, curious to see Jane's reaction.

She had expected an eye roll or at least faux indignation at this, but Jane looked genuinely upset. For a few moments, Jane was deaf to Maura saying her name. Roxie's smugness and her brash flirtatiousness rubbed Jane the wrong way, and she did not like that the woman had been talking to Maura about her. But maybe this could be a legitimate way to broach Maura's feelings on the issue of girls who found themselves attracted to other girls …Jane's stomach clenched at the thought. What if she found it disgusting? What if she went around town saying what Roxie was? What if Roxie got in trouble because of it, and had to do what her husband had done—that electro-shock therapy? Sure, Roxie was a piece of work, but she didn't deserve all that, did she?

No, no. I'm getting ahead of myself here. Maura would never blab around like that, especially if I asked her not to say anything.

"I just think it's rich of her to have said that," Jane blurted, interrupting Maura's query as to whether she was all right. "I mean, that chick's got a lot of nerve saying something like that after what she's done to me."

Maura's brow was worried with concern. "What did she do?"

Jane was trembling, and it was a sensation that was very foreign to her. But she'd been wanting to tell someone about this ever since Roxie had cornered her against the bathroom door, and who better to confide in than her best friend? Shoveling up her last forkful of gnocchi, she forced herself to sound calm, like the incident hadn't even rattled her.

"She flirted with me, that's all."

After a few moments' silence, she stole a glance across the table at Maura, who did not appear quite as shocked as Jane had been expecting. "Are you sure?" she said.

"What d'you mean, am I sure? You think I can't tell when a girl's trying to get her way in someone's pants?"

"Well!" Maura raised her eyebrows, her heart palpitating. She definitely hadn't been expecting Jane to tell her something like this, and was deathly afraid of what she thought was a tinge of disgust in Jane's tone as she related it. And then a small part of her was also jealous, angry that Roxie had beaten her to the punch of flirting with Jane. "Well, how do you know for sure, though?" she asked. "After all, you teased me quite a bit when I first moved here, sort of in that line."

"Yeah," Jane grunted. "Trust me, this wasn't teasing."

"Well I think that's abominable!"

Jane's heart sank.

"She is a married woman, and she's older than you!"

Wait, what? "That's all?"

"That isn't enough for you?"

"Well…" Jane looked around the room, as if looking for backup to come and explain to Maura what Jane had implied about Roxie. "She's a woman, Maura. A woman. And she was flirting with me."

"Yes, you've made that clear. Do you want me to hold it against her that she's got a biological impulse she can't help?"

"A biological…" Jane put down her fork, gaping at Maura. She couldn't believe how composed the girl looked (and for her part, Maura couldn't believe she hadn't collapsed from nerves yet). "We sure never covered something like this in my biology class!"

What was that phrase her mother used when being condescending about this country? Oh, yes. "That's because you Americans are so puritanical in your ideas," Maura said, trying to sound lofty and worldly. "I suppose in some ways, you can't help it. It's your heritage. But research has been done by prominent scientists—an American one, even—that proves many people experience attraction to members of their same sex."

"What? How can that be? That's not true."

"It's not true? You have proof of that?"

"Well…" Jane definitely felt confused now, and she slumped back in her chair before coming up with a response. "Okay, but just because it's true …I mean, there are impulses to do lots of things, aren't there? I'm sure there are people who really want to… have… um, really want to know each other biblically before they get married, but they wait, because it's the right thing to do. Isn't it?"

"Monogamy has its positives, that's certainly true. But—"

"So then this is the same thing, isn't it? If you feel an impulse like that, that doesn't make it right, does it?"

The room felt very hot all of a sudden, and Maura's heart was going through the ringer. Jane didn't sound disgusted anymore, but her panic was clear. "Let me get this straight, Jane. You are disturbed by Roxie's flirting with you based only on the grounds that you are both female?"

"You make it sound like you don't see that as odd."

Last-ditch effort to give Jane a chance to save herself: "Well, I suppose I'd be flattered if it was me."

"Flattered?!"

"Sure. She was very attractive. You're very attractive. It makes perfect sense to me."

Jane crossed her ankles under the table, one hand gripping her leg. Her eyes were glued to her plate, but she was still cognizant of Maura finishing off her own food. For her part, Maura wasn't sure how long she could keep up her façade of calmness. If Jane did not cotton onto her line of thinking and became vitriolic, she might very well have to call up Bryce and ask him to take her home. She could say she wasn't feeling well, and it wouldn't be a lie.

Jo Friday wandered back to Maura and sat by her feet, as Jane wasn't paying her any attention. Jane couldn't help it: she was drowning in her thoughts. She couldn't believe how cool and collected Maura was being about Roxie. Did that mean she'd be all right with it if Jane told her how she felt? Would Jane be all right with it, though?

Maura could talk all she wanted to about science and impulses, but Jane couldn't shake the feeling that it was still very wrong. It had to be, if war heroes talked about it like it was a sin worse than murder. Women like Roxie were liars, they were desperate. It couldn't be right. It couldn't. But Maura just sat there, all calm and nonchalant …and godless.

A full minute or more might have passed before Maura at last got up the courage to say, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Finally, Jane smiled a little. "Sorry. I guess I just never thought of it that way before. It, uh… the thing with Roxie …it just gave me the creeps 'cause she's married. You won't tell anyone what I said, will you?"

"Of course not. It's not my business to tell."

"Thanks," Jane said with a grateful smile. She took the last bite of her gnocchi, and tried to think of how she might change the subject. How did one recover, exactly, from a conversation like that? How did one proceed? Aside from the obvious "well hey now, why don't we try it ourselves?"

"Thank you again for dinner," Maura said. The way she put it, it wasn't as though she was planning it as the prelude to a goodbye. She didn't want to leave, and Jane didn't want her to go. She was just trying to change the course of conversation. "It was great."

"Ah, well. Thanks. Sorry there wasn't more."

"Oh, it was fine. But on the phone, you know, you promised me dancing."

"Right." Jane paused, then slapped the table. "Right! I'll just clear up here, and we can get to work."