A/N: Guys, thanks again for being so awesome. I can't tell you how much your reviews have meant to me. They are so gratifying to read and I really am grateful for the time you take to read this, and the time so many of you are gracious enough to take to give feedback. I hope you can all please forgive me for the issues of sensitive nature I take up in this chapter. I'd like to thank you for the trust you have displayed in my telling this story and hope I don't betray it here.
Garrett had not been pleased to learn that Maura's devil-may-care mother would be coming to the States for a visit.
He was even less pleased that Maura was planning on going to the woman's art show even with the express instructions that he was not invited. He wasn't sure how he felt about Jane accompanying Maura to Chicago. Much as he was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, he could not understand why Maura was such good friends with her. They were complete opposites: Maura was the very definition of class, while Jane lacked it any capacity; Maura was respectful, soft-spoken and delicate while Jane was loud and rough-and-tumble; Maura enjoyed the graceful art of archery while Jane went around riding horses like a man and shooting off pistols. Who knew what shenanigans Calamity Jane might get up to away from home, unsupervised? What might Maura be exposed to?
He was only assured when Maura had said, "If I survived Europe under my mother's hand, I'm sure I will be fine with Jane en route to Chicago."
But now Jane had run off with that black friend of hers (which was another thing—what was she doing running around all the time with a man she wasn't married to? Didn't she know the meaning of propriety?). Korsak had explained that Jane and Frost had taken off to meet a cattle rancher from Texas who was bringing his herd to Hollow Creek. Actually the deal was already done and the rancher had more than enough assistance, but it was a good cover that satisfied Angela (in that she found it believable—she was still frustrated that Jane tended to take off without word).
To lighten the annoyance that Garrett was feeling, Maura tried to spend as much time with him as possible. The night before she was bound to leave for Chicago, Maura stayed later than usual at Garrett's after dinner. They sat together on the back porch, Garrett reading a paper and Maura knitting a scarf. They seemed to be the only couple on the block who enjoyed the cool night air: everyone else was shut up safe and warm inside.
After a while, Maura stopped her knitting and looked over at Garrett. She had noticed that since yesterday, he had been walking and sitting a little funny, as if part of him were in pain. When he moved to turn a page of the paper, he grimaced in unspoken discomfort, wincing as he shook the paper out.
"Garrett? Are you feeling all right?"
"Hm? Yes, of course."
She was hesitant to push him, but after a short pause, asked, "Are you sure? Far be it from a trained medical professional to say it looks as though you're in pain, but it… it looks as though you're in pain."
Garrett laughed and folded the paper. Though proud by nature, he could bring himself to let Maura give him a hard time now and then. "I'm afraid it's a rather embarrassing story. The carriage I usually take had fallen into disrepair, but I was in a hurry to reach Deputy Grant's home and didn't want to keep him waiting, so I just rode a horse. It had been a while and I didn't dismount properly."
"Oh, Garrett, you fell!" Maura said with the kind of sympathetic tone a mother might take when her most mollycoddled child skinned his knee.
"I lost my balance, but didn't quite fall," Garrett explained. "I'd have been fine if it weren't for that darn picket fence around Grant's yard." He chuckled and massaged his shoulder. "I very nearly took a dive onto it!" He thought Maura looked a tad more contemplative than the scenario called for, and misreading the serious look on her face, said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just thought—after what happened with that robber the other day, you… well, you made it seem as though I was a stranger to pain and overreacted to small things."
She shook her head as if coming out of a reverie, and waved her hand. "That was different, Garrett, and I apologize for my attitude. You had every right to be anxious about that; a stranger held you up! Anyone would've been startled. And you needn't feel silly about being in pain over this, either. Joints are particularly susceptible to pain." She cleared her throat and in a forced level voice, asked, "Would you like me to look at it?"
Though she was attempting to appear cool and collected, Garrett sensed that the idea of her proposition terrified her. "Maura," he said, also trying not to let emotion and excitement override him. "Are you… I mean—"
"Garrett, I've given it a lot of thought," Maura said, folding her hands in her lap to further imply the calm she was so desperate not only to convey but actually feel. "Dr. Byron and my father have both operated on and seen female patients. There's nothing wrong or indecent about it; it's merely medical professionalism. Why should it be different for me to do the same?"
The lustier part of Garrett's brain wanted to tell Maura to just go ahead and do whatever she wanted, but the well-raised young man in him felt he ought to at least make an effort to protest. "Well, it would be different because you and I are… engaged. I shouldn't want to… well… encourage any, uh…"
"Oh for goodness' sake, Garrett," Maura sighed. "I'm not asking you to strip down and bathe in front of me, am I? No. I ask only that you take off your jacket and outer shirt so that I might help to heal you! There is no ulterior motive behind this request!"
"Oh, I didn't think that!" Garrett was quick to say.
"Well what's the problem, then?"
"It just—it doesn't seem decent," Garrett mumbled, though it was clear his resolve was weakening.
Maura smiled and reached for her fiancé's hand. "Garrett," she said in a soft voice, no longer feeling panicked. "You and I have been good friends since we were children. You are very dear to me and I admire so many things about you, including your sincere earnestness to be upstanding in a situation like this, where some men might have tried pressing their advantage. Soon we are going to be as close as a man and woman can be. Darling, I've looked forward to that day for years. It's been a long, hard wait, but I can wait a little longer. Patience is one of my virtues, and healing is one of my talents. I can exhibit both at the same time—let me show you. Let me help you, please."
With a resigned sigh, Garrett leaned back and surveyed Maura. She was always honest in her intentions. If she believed there was nothing objectionable about this, he ought to take her at her word. Still, his voice was somewhat strained as he said, "All right. We should maybe uh, go inside. In case anyone happens to come and think…"
"Yes, good idea," Maura agreed, picking up her sewing and getting to her feet.
She led the way into the sitting room and headed over to close the curtain. Garrett shrugged off his jacket and asked, "Do you need to uh, get any of your supplies, or…?"
"I figured I should see what the problem seems to be before I get anything," Maura answered, pulling a chair to the middle of the room. "Go ahead and sit down."
For all their posturing, both of them felt as antsy as if this was their wedding night. Garrett got to work undoing his tie, and Maura went to hang up his jacket for lack of anything else to do besides watch him as he next moved to his shirt.
Nothing to get nervous about, Fairfield, he thought as he started unbuttoning his shirt. She treats men all the time. Granted, Byron has always taken care of patients who would require removing any of their clothes, but still. Maura is a doctor and I should respect her professionalism. If she's going to treat anyone with his shirt off, it should be me! This pep talk was sufficient, and Garrett nodded to himself as he took off his shirt and hung it on the back of the chair, which is when he remembered that he hadn't put on an undershirt that morning.
He was going to tell Maura this, but then she walked back in and saw for herself. An involuntary gasp escaped her and her first instinct was to cover her eyes and turn away. "Garrett! Why aren't you—?"
"Maura, I'm sorry, I completely forgot—I haven't been wearing an undershirt since it happened, because it, well it irritated my shoulder to pull it on and off. I'm sorry, should I…? I mean, do you still want…"
Taking a deep breath, Maura turned to look at him, forcing her gaze to stay on his concerned-looking eyes. "Yes. I still want to take a look. My aunt was a nurse in the War, and her services were so needed that she saw plenty of men in every state of dress! I think you and I can both handle this."
"Yes, yes of course we can," Garrett agreed, though he didn't point out that he was in less dire straits than any soldier Maura's aunt would have encountered. He sat down on the chair, hands curling into fists at his knees as Maura walked towards him.
She had underestimated them both.
There was a clear bruise on Garrett's shoulder from where he had hit the fence, and Maura gingerly pressed the surrounding area to see how far it had spread. She took his hand and gave it a firm tug, moving the shoulder joint in all directions. Garrett grimaced with pain a few times but said nothing as Maura continued to knead and prod before ascertaining, "You've bruised your shoulder."
"Yes," he said with a short laugh. "I figured that much."
"I don't think there's anything more to it than that. You ought to put some ice on it, though, since it's still bothering you. Is there an ice house nearby?"
"Yes, just down the street. I'll go right away."
"Good," Maura said, turning away.
She jumped a bit when Garrett stood and put his hand on her shoulder. "Thanks for looking," he said.
Maura walked around him, picking up his shirt and holding it out for him to put back on. He smiled nervously at her, wondering if this was an image of things to come in their lifetime together as he slid his arms into the sleeves. While he did up the buttons again, Maura reached for the tie he had placed on the nearby desk, and once he had done the last button, she threw it around his neck and started tying it.
"How is it women are so good at tying ties?" Garrett asked with a laugh.
"One of life's great mysteries, I suppose," Maura said. "Although my mother was often inclined to wear them herself, and she taught me as a girl. In other instances, I might say that tying a tie requires a certain amount of patience and attention to detail that many men lack." On the last word, she tightened the tie, then smoothed out his shirt near the top.
He took her hands before she could lower them, clasping them in his own. Their eyes locked, and Maura knew right away that a line was about to be crossed. Her heart was racing in anticipation, but she was not afraid. She wanted this to happen, and in spite of everything she had said about this situation not being precarious and everything Garrett had said about not wanting to do anything indecent, on some level they both knew that there had been a good chance they might end up here. Garrett found himself lost for words, wanting to say something eloquent but feeling unqualified to do so as he looked into Maura's trusting eyes.
"Maura," he whispered. "May I kiss you?"
She gulped but not did look away. "Yes, Garrett."
He wanted to smile, but seemed to have forgotten how. All he knew was that this felt right. Tightening his grip on Maura's hands, he bent his head and kissed her. For the first time in her life, Maura found herself at a total loss for what she was supposed to do. Is this what kissing was? Should she be doing something else in addition to letting Garrett press his lips against hers? What more was involved? It occurred to her later that she probably shouldn't have been thinking so much while this was going on. After only a few moments, Garrett pulled back, a smile now firmly in place.
"I should go," Maura whispered, taking her hands out of Garrett's.
"Yes, you're probably right," he agreed, stepping back. "Wait—how are you getting back into town?"
She turned at the door. "Dr. Byron is making his rounds at the jail. He should be leaving soon, and I will take a ride from him. Make sure you see about getting some ice for your shoulder."
"Maura, wait," Garrett said, walking swiftly to get over to her. He shut the door when she had gotten it open a few inches. It closed with unexpected loudness, and Maura's instant fear - planted there by Jane - was that Garrett was about to do something to her. But all he did was say, "I'm sorry if that was—I mean I know we both agreed that nothing like that would happen, but that's why I asked you if I could."
"I know," she said, though she still looked shaken. "It still just sort of took me off guard is all. I'm not sorry it happened, Garrett. Really I'm not."
"Are you sure?" he asked with another nervous laugh.
"Of course," she said with a smile. "You were a perfect gentleman. I'm only leaving because I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, and …I really should be going."
They said their goodbyes, and Maura headed down the street to Dr. Byron's home. It would be the last time for a few days that she would be seeing Garrett, as he was unable to leave work to take her to the station tomorrow. Perhaps it was strange, but she felt unbothered by the fact that she wouldn't see him for a small while. When he had first left Boston, she had cried for two nights, although that was because she hadn't known for sure how soon they would be reunited. Her thoughts were interrupted when she reached the doctor's house and asked him if he would mind giving her a ride back to town as he was going there himself. He was quick to oblige, and as he went about tying his horse to the coach, Maura lost herself in her thoughts once more.
In Boston, Maura had not had much of a life outside of the hospital and Garrett. She had enjoyed spending time with him because she felt he was one of the few people in town who liked her in spite of her sometimes odd behavior. In Hollow Creek, she realized that Garrett was very often a footnote in her thoughts. She still considered him a good friend and could not quite picture life without his company, but how much of that was obligation? Were it not for him and his efforts, she never would have come out to Arizona.
But it wasn't the same. At home, he had been the only person she ever wanted to spend time with, and that was no longer the case. The people of Hollow Creek were (for the most part) open-minded, or at least none of them mocked her quirks. Melody was a nicer landlady than she'd have found in Boston. Angela was warm like every mother should be. Even Korsak took it upon himself not to be an aloof figure of authority, but was almost like the town's collective father. She'd have been hard-pressed to find a doctor like Byron back in Boston—he was grateful for her experience and her assistance, and never made her feel lesser because of her gender. Out here, he said, there wasn't often room for prejudices like that.
It had been gratifying at first to have Garrett around, a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. And it wasn't as though he bored her or that she was tired of him, it was just that she realized that much of the time when she was with him, she was thinking of someone else.
Namely, Jane.
Jane was on her mind during the drive back to town (Garrett's physique might give her a run for her money). She was on her mind when Maura went to sleep (I might get to see Jane in two days!). Jane was on her mind when she woke up (oh please, God, let her be there). And while Deputy Grant drove her to the station at Mesa, trying to console her about her brief separation from Garrett, all Maura could think was I hope Jane hasn't done anything reckless. If she went and got herself hurt, I swear I'll kill her myself!
As Maura spent most of her two-day journey contemplating this and everything that had transpired between her and Garrett, Jane was also experiencing a new first—or rather, Jake was.
It had been another week and a half of fruitless searching for Frost and Jane, which they later thought wasn't all too surprising: they hadn't had much to go on besides a location. No incidents, no cases, still no physical description. Just as unhelpful was the fact that people seemed less open to treating Frost as anything close to an equal, sometimes even after they'd been plied with plenty of liquor. Furthermore, though the name Jake Wyatt was known beyond the West, nobody knew what he was supposed to look like, which was something Jane usually banked on. They got into some high-stakes poker games and one bar fight (where Frost acquired a split lip and Jane a cut on the cheek) before finally landing on something potentially useful.
"Guy was talkin' like I wasn't even there," Frost said to Jane, who had been packing their supplies. "Says he was in a bar and heard some fella bragging about past exploits. Murders."
"Murders of couples?"
Frost nodded. "Could've just been empty words, but I figure it's the best we got. The guy I heard, we've seen him around. You've seen him around, I mean. He's the tall, bald one. Kinda dark, like that Jorge."
"Wonder if he's an apprentice," Jane mused, cracking her knuckles. "Stark, the guy who tipped us off, he was tall and bald, too." Frost just shrugged. "Was he the one who was givin' me so much guff about my gun? His name was Bobby… Bobby something."
"Yeah, that's him."
"Right." Jane clapped Frost on the shoulder and said, "Looks like Jake needs to make one more appearance."
Finding Bobby turned out to be easier than Jane had been anticipating, because in fact, she wound up not having to do anything: Bobby came to her.
It was pretty late at night, and she had just asked Frost to go back to try and steal some eggs (unless he could find someone willing to sell to him. Jane would've gone herself, but she was determined to find Bobby). She was just pulling on her belt when she saw Bobby approaching her, alone. His timing was fortunate, as she had only just finished putting up her hair and applying the fake goatee and mustache her disguise required. They were quite alone, as Jane and Frost had chosen a remote spot by a lake to camp out.
"Mr. Wyatt?" Bobby said with a wide grin.
Jane looked him over and said, "You know who I am?"
"Sure as you're born. Recognized you the moment I saw you, but I didn't want to startle the fellas in the game. I got a pal out in Arizona who reckons you're pretty famous," he said, walking closer. "Told me I ought to come join him out west, which is where I'm headed, so long as I'm careful for outlaws like you. He sent me a nice little poster with your face on it." He grinned and tapped his nose. "Doesn't quite do you justice, the picture. Your nose isn't quite so long as they drew it."
"If you're lookin' for reward money, you better calm yourself down," Jane said, feeling calm herself as she pulled out her gun. She'd hadn't met a bounty hunter yet who could come close to rivaling her skills.
Bobby held up his hands. "I ain't lookin' for trouble, Mr. Wyatt. Can I call you Jake? I was just curious what you're doing all the way out here in Cook County."
Throwing caution to the winds, Jane said, "I'm lookin' for somebody. Maybe you've heard of him."
Bobby stopped about a foot away from Jane, hands shoved into his pockets. He didn't even seem to care that Jane still had a gun pointed at him. "Maybe I have. What's his name?"
"Don't know the name. Just know the crime. Kills couples. Husbands and wives. Assaults the woman first, and makes the man watch."
"Oh yes," Bobby said, stroking his chin as if he had heard of this man many years ago and not earlier that night. "Yes, I heard some old drunk rambling about it. Name of Charles, I believe. Not sure if that was his first or his last name, though. Why you interested? He kill your wife?"
Jane snorted and stored her gun back in place. "No. Ain't got a wife."
"Doesn't surprise me," Bobby chuckled. "From what I've heard, you don't like keeping women around if you can help it. Kind of funny, ain't it? I know plenty of women who find men like you irresistible. Dangerous, dark, mysterious. Real ladies might not be so interested, but women? Yes." He cocked his head. "How about your man I seen you with? The dark one? I hear dark men tend to be loaded better than most. Would you say that's true?"
"I don't…"
"Must be nice having a companion like that around," Bobby said, his voice getting lower as he stepped closer, and Jane turned away, heading slowly for her horse as Bobby kept going. "Men like you and me, Jake? Women swoon over us. Hell, I'm sure you've taken your share. I know I have."
Instinct told Jane she needed to run off fast or pull out her gun again, but the thought came a second too late and Bobby had both of her arms in a viselike grip, yanking her backwards into him. The force knocked her hat off and her hair down, but Bobby didn't seem to notice or care. His fingers dug into her arms in a gross imitation of a massage before moving down to her waist, pulling her even closer, rolling his hips against her. She was too petrified to move or to speak. Plenty of times men had tried taking advantage of her, but never when she was in disguise, never when they thought she too was a man.
Bobby's breath was hot on her neck as he whispered into her ear, "But sometimes we need more. Women just take it, they don't give back. They don't fight back. Real men, like you and me, Jake, they like a challenge. They like a fight." When Jane still didn't respond verbally or physically, Bobby dared, "Tell me I'm wrong."
Jane finally got her senses back when she felt Bobby reaching for the buckle on her belt, or possibly the fake bulge in her pants. She rammed her elbow into his gut, and he buckled at the unexpected blow. A backwards kick to the shin sent him to the ground with a howl of pain, and Jane turned on the spot, pulling out her gun and pointing it down at him.
"Well, well," he said, sitting up. "That's a bit more of a fight than I expected."
"Don't you touch me," Jane said, trembling from head to foot. She had to fight to keep her voice low, from betraying any hint of femininity. "I mean it. Don't you come near. You hear me? I don't know what stories you've heard, but I am a man of morals."
Bobby looked confused. "Morals? This ain't immoral, Mr. Wyatt. Animals gotta do what animals gotta do. And we're animals."
"Don't get up," Jane said when Bobby made to get to his feet. He stayed down, and she could tell that he looked less confident than he had a moment ago. "I ain't interested. You got that? I ain't interested."
She stood over him, still quivering, but not doing or saying anything else. "What're you gonna do?" Bobby finally asked.
"I ain't gonna do nothin' if you cooperate," Jane said. "You just tell me what I want to know if you know it. This man, this Charles. Did he say where he'd come from?"
"Some place out east—Philadelphia, I think. In Pennsylvania."
Stark had said his boss's last letter came from Pennsylvania. "He say where he was goin'?"
"Just that he was leavin' town tonight. Didn't say where." When Jane swore under her breath, Bobby sat a little straighter, anxious to get on Jane's good side. He had no idea what interest Jake Wyatt had in this person, but he wasn't about to ask. "I don't know if I'd take him too serious, Jake. You know how men get when they drink—liable to brag about things they ain't really done. This man, this Charles, he was probably over sixty, but he was tellin' stories about a showgirl who convinced him to come back west with her. Teresa B."
"Teresa B.? Who's she with? What group?"
"I don't know. That's all he said. Must be quite a girl to travel across the country for," he said with a weak laugh.
They both glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and saw Frost coming back holding a bag with some eggs in it. He looked quizzically at Jane, who still had a gun pointed at Bobby's seated figure. Jane holstered her gun and muttered, "Get up. Don't tell a soul that you seen me or what you done. Get outta here. If I find out anything you just told me was a lie, I'll see to it personally that you ain't fit to interact with any human being ever again."
Bobby didn't bother to point out (again) that Charles had been drunk, so holding him accountable for the information wasn't entirely fair. He also didn't bother to ask how Jake would track him back down. What he did get was the feeling that he was lucky to be getting away with his life, and so sparing a glance for Frost, he scrambled to his feet and ran back to town.
"What was that?" Frost asked as soon as Bobby was a safe distance away.
"Tried to get threatening," Jane mumbled, still a little shaken and confused by that encounter. "But Frost, I think I got something. Bobby said this guy was comin' over from Pennsylvania."
"That's where—"
"I know. Seems he left town already though, tonight. Goin' west. Don't know where exactly, though."
"By train? Coach? Horse?"
"Don't know." Jane sighed, sitting down and running a hand through her hair. "Seems all we ever hit are dead ends, Frost. But this time we're close—we're so close, that the dead ends feel even worse than usual!" Frost sat next to her, pulling out one of the eggs and rolling it in his hand. "Frost."
"Yeah, Jane?"
She wearily pulled off the goatee, then the mustache. "You been a good partner. I think I'd have lost my mind without you these last ten years." With a bitter laugh, she tucked the stage hair into her shirt pocket. "Ten years. Ten years we gave up chasin' this guy. And being this close, I don't wanna give up."
"But…?" Frost asked, sensing something in her tone.
Jane pulled her knees up to her chest and put her arms around them. "I gotta meet Maura tomorrow. I told her, I promised her I'd be there."
"You're gonna put Maura's mother's art show ahead of catching the man who killed our parents?"
"His name's Charles, if this is the man," Jane said. "And no. I ain't puttin' Maura's mother's art show ahead of him. I'm putting Maura ahead of him. I'm putting my life ahead of him. But just for a few days," she clarified, looking over at Frost's bemused expression. "Jane Rizzoli never breaks a promise. Charles ain't in our territory. He ain't our responsibility. Once I get back to the Creek, though, I'm gonna be on the lookout for him. I may keep making small trips out. Sweep the area. See if I can find him. I don't expect you to come along, you made yourself pretty clear. But I got one last favor to ask ya."
"Name it."
"You're headin' back to Arizona tomorrow?"
"By horse. It'll take me a while. I reckon you'll be back before I am."
"I reckon you're right. Look into shows for me, will ya? Ones with girls, I mean. See if any troupe's got a girl named Teresa B. Apparently Charles has been following her. She might know somethin'."
"I'll keep an eye out, Jane."
She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "Good man."
The next morning, they shared a silent breakfast before going their separate ways: Jane the eleven miles to Chicago, and Frost on his journey back to the Creek. As soon as he'd gone, Jane wondered if she ought to have told him what had happened with Bobby last night before Frost had shown up. During their decade of traveling together, Jane had rarely been in disguise alone. Frost was always nearby, always hovering in the background if he wasn't in on the action. In their time spent apart, she wondered if he had ever experienced something similar with another man.
Why did Bobby say he did it? Men like him want challenges. Conquest over women ain't enough. They're passive. I suppose maybe there ain't much challenge in taking a woman. Nothing to feel superior about. She considered how she liked feeling powerful when she was dressed as Jake, how she enjoyed defeating men who thought they were big stuff. Maybe that's all men like Bobby were interested in when it came to intimate encounters, also. But that's not how I want it to be. If moral people wait to be married, it means that kind of intimacy should be something about love, about respect. Passion, maybe. But not power.
Her thoughts bogged her down so much that Jane failed to realize for quite a while just how slow she had been going. She had come out of her reverie upon noticing how dirty her still-masculine clothes were, and she wondered whether Maura might have brought something appropriate for her to wear. In Riverside she had been able to pass for a well-dressed man, but she got the impression that Chicago would expect a bit more of her as a woman. It then finally dawned on her that she was moving her horse at a very slow clip, and with a jolt, she realized Maura's train was due at any minute and she still had miles to go. Without another thought, Jane pushed her horse into a sudden gallop, desperate to get there as fast as possible.
When she reached the Chicago station, it was to see that Maura was the only remaining passenger—an attendant was hovering nearby, waiting to make sure she got off safely, and ready to arrange transportation for her if necessary. Though the trip had been an exertion on the horse and not her, Jane felt breathless as she rode up, as if she had just run ten miles. Standing against the winter morning light in a dark green dress and hat, Maura looked like a figure in a painting. Further adding to the composition were the two pieces of luggage stacked next to her, and the black muff in which she stored her hands matching the color of the familiar capelet around her neck. Jane could only smile at the sight, and sigh with relief when Maura caught her eye, looking glad and not upset.
"Maura!" Jane cried, dismounting and running up to the station.
But Maura's smile faded when Jane got closer and she could see the abrasion on her cheek. "Jane! What've you gone and done to yourself?"
"What do you mean?" Jane asked, stopping almost mid-skip and frowning at the look on Maura's face.
"That cut on your cheek. You promised me you wouldn't get hurt!"
"No, I promised you I wouldn't do anything reckless," Jane patiently pointed out, taking off her hat and turning it in her hands. "Trust me, I forgot all about this already. It ain't nothin'. I'm sorry it don't look very pretty, I know. But I coulda done a lot worse. Uh…" She turned to look down at the horse she had "borrowed" from someone. "Sorry, I didn't think this through so good. I'm not sure how to get you where we're going."
"That's a fair point; I didn't either," Maura said, waving her hand at the station attendant to come down. "Excuse me sir, could we trouble you for some help? We need a ride into town."
"Certainly, Miss, I'll secure a carriage for you," the attendant said, walking away.
Once he was out of earshot, Maura lowered her voice and said, "Well? Did you find him?"
Jane smiled her crooked smile and said, "Nope. Just got some more clues that'll help us out, if we want to keep lookin' for him." She laughed, averting her gaze. "You know, Maura, it's the darnedest thing. It was always—I mean, before, when Frost and I looked, we didn't ever have nothin' to look forward to but disappointment. Anger. We wouldn't find him, and we wouldn't be no place better than when we started. Now we get our first big break in years, and I don't…" She sighed shortly, forcing herself to look Maura in the eye again. "I ain't excited like I thought I would be. Don't get me wrong, I still wanna get him, but I guess I realized something."
"What's that?" Maura whispered.
"I guess I…I told myself comin' out here that even if we didn't find nothin', I'd still have something to look forward to. And I realized it almost didn't matter to me if I found him, because either way, this thing I was lookin' forward to meant more to me."
"The…art show?" Maura asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," Jane chuckled, lifting her arms in quiet supplication and taking one step closer to Maura. "This."
Maura fell forward, putting her arms around Jane's neck as Jane's encircled her back. There were no words to describe how right, how natural this felt. It helped Maura feel safe and looked after, while the embrace reminded Jane of the existence of her own humanity, her own soul. They both needed this, they needed each other; of that, they were convinced.
"I missed you," Jane whispered, tightening the embrace.
"I missed you, too," Maura said, her voice at a higher pitch than usual as she struggled to breathe past the emotions swelling up inside of her. The fingers of one hand fit themselves to the curve of the back of Jane's neck while the other hand gripped Jane's shoulder. With a shaky laugh, she admitted, "I was afraid you weren't going to show up, and I was so heartsick at the thought."
Though Jane knew judging by her lateness that Maura had the right to have considered this a possibility, she said, "I told you I'd be here. I'd sooner expose Jo Friday to a fire than break a promise I made to you."
Maura laughed again and pulled away, as out of the corner of her eye she saw a carriage riding up. "Well, Jane. I will never doubt you again."
Jane brushed one hand against Maura's cheek, earning a widened smile. "There will never be a need."
A/N: Yes, I went there. I thought a gooey movie reference would be a nice way to reconcile our ladies after their awkward encounters during their separation. So yeah, some stuff happened in this chapter that will definitely be delved into later in more detail. Next up: Constance.
