Author's Note: Wow, it is harder to get back into the swing of this than I thought it would be. I guess there's something to that 'making it a habit' thing, huh? People have finally stopped asking me to help them move with my "extra time", so I went through the end of this chapter as fast as I could and got it ready to post at last. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!

Disclaimer- Don't own the show. No profit had. Blah, blah, blah- the usual technical jargon.

Chapter Thirty-Five:

As the officer in front of her slowly placed her hands to either side of her face, cupping her jaw with tenderness that sent shivers down her arms, and wiped the tear marks off her cheeks with her gentle thumbs- Maura felt a swirl of awe and mortification. Awe for the beautiful eyes that looked down on her with such understanding and compassion. Mortification because she'd managed to once again act like a crazy person falling apart at the seams. She couldn't help feeling a little bit pathetic too.

Korsak and Frost had really heard all of that. Again. Hadn't they been around for her last breakdown?

How could she have forgotten they were listening? Here she was, talking and acting in circles, returning again to the panic that had almost paralyzed her in front of Jane the last time. She just couldn't fall apart here, couldn't let herself keep doing this. It wasn't healthy, for one. There was also no bed for her to be tucked into, no moment more to be stolen for her to draw strength from the wiry woman before her or try to give her any in return.

Not that Jane needed anything from her.

The shock of her father's revelation was starting to wear off at last and her anger, once white hot and indirect except inward for such a long time even before she knew it, was simmering down below the surface again after finding its outlet. It was so easy to talk to Jane sometimes. Too easy.

Well, no. That wasn't quite true. It was hard, but for the first time she actually could speak to someone without the roiling emotions inside her head having to be tamped down and find some relief for it. Finding relief in Jane, now that was easy. She took a deep breath, feeling all that relief being replaced with a swarm of contrite feelings. It wasn't right to use the brunette like this, to put her through this.

To make Jane deal with her mess.

What was this doing to her? Why was she already so reliant on the woman?

"Shh... it's okay." Jane murmured, voice as gentle at her fingers against Maura's skin and then scalp as she slid those long-fingered hands into her hair.

Maura wanted so badly to just tilt her head back against the sensation and let Jane brush their lips together, but more than that she wanted to believe. For all that the woman had said to be true. With all her willpower left she put her dizzying, and not to mention inappropriate, thoughts aside to concentrate. To say what she needed to say before she lost what nerve she had possessed during her outburst. "Jane?"

"Hmm?" The woman hummed, engrossed with the play of her fingers through Maura's hair.

"I-I'm s-orry."

Jane looked down at her, bright brown eyes suddenly sharp. "What for?"

"All of it. Everything? I don't know. Blubbering all over you?" She wiped at her tear marks on Jane's dress ineffectively, but luckily her expensive mascara hadn't run onto the officer's beautiful gown. It may have just been an excuse to touch her. "I seem to be doing this a lot lately."

"Hey." Jane met her eyes, brown orbs strangely fierce and sincere. "I don't mind."

She tried not to blush under that look, though their proximity wasn't helping that. "Jane, I-"

A knock at the door startled them both and they slipped apart, both heads down and cheeks flushed. The room came back into focus around them, reminded them where they were.

"Y-Yes?" Maura called, trying not to let her voice tremble. Why did she feel as though she'd just been kissed? Heatedly?

"Everything all right in there?" It was the voice of her mother.

All she did was look at Jane with wide, fearful eyes.

"Fine!" Jane called, taking over without needing to be asked with words. She seemed calm and unperturbed. "Just a sec." She turned and surveyed the vanities before visibly setting her shoulders and spinning about. Lifting her arm, she offered it to Maura. "My lady?"

Maura couldn't help a small snort, taking the proffered limb after glancing at herself in the mirrors. She mustn't look as though she'd been crying. Her eyes were a little bloodshot, but nothing too noticeable marred her carefully crafted facade.

The officer walked them to the door and unlocked it, passing through and tugging her along.

She was grateful for the assistance, because faced with her mother's concerned look, she didn't think she would have been able to move her own body. It was relief to be able to trust someone enough to move it for her. Plastering on a smile worthy of any social function, she greeted her mother and gestured at Jane's hand. "There, see? She's good as new."

"I can see that, yes." Constance commented, looking pleased in Jane's general direction for only a second before her face fell a little again, her gaze returning to her daughter's face. "And you, darling?You seemed a little... rattled."

Rattled? Maura's fear spiked for what felt like the thousandth time that night. What had her mother seen? Had she said something, done something wrong? Something suspicious? It was unlike her mother to be showing such interest. "I-I was just trying to contain the situation. I'm perfectly alright, Mother. Thank you." She took a deep breath and lifted her shoulders a touch as she glanced at Jane with a smile. "Ready to get back?"

Both women nodded in answer, Jane confident and her mother thoughtful.

When they got back to Hoyt, her father was standing beside him once more.

Gregory Isles seemed rather tense, his hand holding his drink glass a touch too hard based on the whiteness of his fingertips and his face slightly flushed, but he had a small smile tilting his lips upward even before he saw them coming back. His eyes clouded a bit when he noticed Maura approaching, but he just as quickly shook it off and turned his gaze to her mother.

Next to him, Hoyt wore an easy grin. The same one that make her feel dirty on the inside as well as out, whether it was directed at her or not.

Maura tried not to lurch when he turned it on her, managing to only hesitate a brief second on one step. Her body didn't want to listen to her, but it fell in line when she took another deep breath.

Everything was fine.

She was okay.

It seemed like Jane was watching her out of the corner of her eye, because she took the misstep in stride without a moment's uncertainty, once again keeping them moving when Maura would have quailed. She greeted Gregory Isles smoothly, as though she was used to him half-glaring at her.

Constance was looking at Maura too now, heavy gaze like a weight on her shoulder blades, pressing into her chest and making it hard to breathe.

Why?

The second she noticed their scrutiny, Maura put aside all other thoughts and smiled as widely as she could, feeling the ache the pull created on her cheeks all the way up to the back of her head. "Mr. Hoyt. Please excuse our absence. Our sudden departure did not leave you unaccompanied, I hope?" She glanced at her father and back. How she got all those words through her tight throat she would never know, but she'd never felt more gratitude for the propriety her mother had instilled in her. It was getting a little easier to speak in front of him at least and she was hardly shaking at all. Certainly enough to cover.

Hoyt arched an eyebrow her way. "Not at all, Miss Isles, though I'm glad you've returned. Miss Gerritsen, are you alright? I don't quite know what happened." He seemed quizzical.

"It's fine." Jane answered amiably, casually dropping her arm and catching Maura's hand as it slipped out of her elbow. She entwined their fingers very deliberately. "A scratch only. Besides, I've got the best doctor in the city to patch me up." Her eyes cut over to Maura, bearing more warmth than was perhaps wise.

Maura tried to convince herself that she was imagining things when she thought she saw Hoyt's eyes flash. "Should we continue our walkabout? There are so many more works of art to appreciate."

"Excellent idea." Her father attempted what might have been a swallowed laugh.

After a moment or two of walking in silence, Hoyt sidled up to her left. "I had a question for you, Miss Isles, but I'm afraid I didn't get a chance to ask you before you took charge of Miss Gerritsen so... efficiently."

"Of course, Mr. Hoyt." Maura glanced at Jane, but the officer was already engaged in conversation with her mother.

"You're a doctor, yes?"

She swallowed. Ironic that he should bring that up so soon after what her father had told her. She glanced at the back of Gregory's head where he walked in front, wondering if it actually was a coincidence and not really believing for a second that it was. "I am. Though, I have not completed my internship yet."

"Oh?"

As though he hadn't been watching her. As though he didn't know. "I'm on hiatus at the moment, concentrating on research work. It's very rewarding."

"I'll bet." His voice was somewhere between condescension and feigned interest. "As you may know, I too have a doctorate." It was like he was boasting, expecting her to be impressed.

"Yes, an honorary one, isn't it?" She said before she could censor herself.

Cold blue eyes shooting sharply to her, Hoyt appeared to examine her carefully neutral face for an eternity. "Have you decided on a focus?" His voice was tight.

Had she struck a nerve?

It was too terrifying a prospect for her to even tell.

"I've been thinking of pediatrics." She almost lied. It was a shave. She had been thinking about going that direction before doing a rotation in peds. It had been all she could do not to run in the other direction the second she'd first had to turn off the machines for a little life that hadn't even been lived. She hadn't stood a chance when a teenage girl had shown up in her ward after having been raped and almost beaten to death by a group of boys at her school.

Maura had been trapped in a bathroom trying to calm her panic attack for two hours after that. "A noble subject, but not really challenging for someone of your skill, I'll bet."

She looked over at him quickly. Had he been watching her at work too, when she had still been going? It shouldn't surprise her if he had.

"Have you thought of going into surgery? Now there's a fast paced adrenaline rush."

"It's not exactly my pace." She murmured demurely.

"Come now, Maura-"

Her body flinched away from him using her name like that, as much as it did for the way he briefly brushed the back of his fingers against her arm while they walked, in a far too familiar gesture. Thankfully, he wasn't really looking at her, so he might have missed her reaction.

"Every doctor loves to cut." His voice when he said those words sounded hungry. Wanting.

If a man had ever used that tone with her, it was only in a hotel room as they slid their thumbs roughly over the peak of her breasts. Hearing it said about cutting into human flesh made her absolutely sick to her stomach. "I've never felt much of a need, to be honest. I suppose I'm a little different from most doctors."

"I'm certain." He said lowly, not looking at her directly, though they were side by side and closer to facing each other than not.

She could still feel his stare somehow.

"Maur," Jane called her attention away just when her skin felt ready to crawl off her body and briefly squeezed her hand to be sure to get her attention. "Can you see the- "red cape" that your mother is talking about in this one?"

Maura hadn't even noticed that they'd reached another painting, much less the two they apparently had already passed. It was as though she stepped from a haze and the room rushed back into her. Like with Jane, only it had been an isolation that was unpleasant and jarring with only Hoyt to share it. She was just glad that she didn't have to keep speaking to him. "Oh. Uh, yes, in fact I can. The patch of pink along the left shoulder of the half-figure, here." She pointed momentarily, but her hand shook, so she let it fall quickly before someone noticed, mostly worried Jane might feel as though something was wrong. "That leads into the red in a descending slope, so..."

"So it's called the Red Cape." Her mother finished for her. "The figure has it draped upon their shoulder in the style of the Romans."

"As many nouveau styles emulate." Maura nodded. She almost smiled at their synchronized back and forth. The one thing she and her mother had always shared was an appreciation for the subtlety of art and it's many influences.

"It's said that the Red Cape hints at subtle Christian overtones of the late artist." Hoyt's tone left the impression of a sneer behind, even though it wasn't so blatantly obvious as that. He sidled closer to her on the pretext of looking closer at the painting. His body brushed hers purposefully this time.

She lost what breath was in her lungs at the proximity.

-His fingers dragging her nightgown from her body, his body moving against hers. Making her tremble. Making her skin heat with shame. Violating her.-

"But it's not even a real figure." Jane argued. Unexpectedly, she tugged on Maura's hand still entwined with hers, so that she had to take several steps toward the painting and away from Hoyt. She then dropped their hands, ducked behind her, placing her right hand in the small of her back, and leaned against her left shoulder. Effectively putting herself between Hoyt and the rest of them.

Putting herself between Maura and her nightmares.

Breathing hard, Maura swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. Though she saw the move for the protective and possessive action it was, she didn't protest. She couldn't even muster a try at a glare. Why had she thought she could manage a night of speaking to this monster? How could she protect Jane when she couldn't stand to be near him? She already felt like she needed to take twelve showers just to be able to forget his words, her flesh raw already from his grating eyes and slimy touch. It was all she could do not to burst into tears.

"It cuts off any shape. Plus, this part is too bulky, too wobbly." Jane continued. "If it's anything close, and if you ignore this bit here, it might be a kid. Like Red Riding Hood."

"T-The gray has been likened to a w-wolf's shape." Maura got out, swallowing afterward with difficulty. "One could argue that it's devouring her."

Her mother was looking at her again, eyes narrowed slightly.

Though... no, not narrowed at her.

At Hoyt.

"Ha! What if it is and this guy made thirty-thousand dollars on a painting based on a Grimm fairytale?" Jane mentioned, amused by the idea. She smiled and it was like heaven. "Can you imagine? That much for some toddler's story."

"It wouldn't be unprecedented." Maura gestured at it, feeling a little more normal. "Many classic artists have done works based on fairytales. For example, Henry Meynell Rheam did many watercolor paintings based on fairy tales, including his famous 'Sleeping Beauty'."

"An excellent pre-Raphaelite painter." Constance beamed at her as if pleased by her knowledge, something she had never really done before when Maura spouted off facts, even when they had concerned art history. Her hand gently brushed Maura's arm, as she suddenly moved between Hoyt and Jane. She looked at Hoyt. "Mr. Hoyt, my husband seems to have wondered off to another painting. Perhaps we should find him? I remember you bought a Riopelle from me once, didn't you?" Her mother glanced at Jane, and Maura was sure she saw Constance wink.

She just stared at the woman in shock, not certain if perhaps she had fainted and was just imagining things or not. It wasn't clear what had led to her sudden protection and Maura worried again that she'd let something slip. But what?

Hoyt seemed as surprised as Maura felt by her mother's actions. "Yes, indeed I did. Many years ago, it now seems. An expensive, but worthwhile piece to have hanging in my home." He glanced at Maura when he said this.

She automatically curled further away from him, but stopped herself. Her body needed to learn to be strong, like Jane's.

"Don't they have a Rienhardt here? As I recall, their styles are very similar." Constance successfully moved him away with her.

Before Maura could breathe even a lungful of relief, Jane was in front of her, gripping her arms and looking deep into her eyes. "Okay?" The woman's voice sounded close to emotional. Almost like the officer had been afraid.

"Okay." She responded, knowing she herself was shaking and not caring in the least around Jane. "Just ready for this to be over already."

"We've already gotten a few leads to follow up on. Shouldn't be too long now." Jane murmured lowly near her ear, putting an arm around her shoulders to cover the dip toward her ear.

Or Maura assumed it was to cover, until the other woman didn't let her go. Not for the next hour as they moved around looking at the paintings, bumping into Hoyt and her mother and father on occasion, but doing rounds separately among the artwork and crowd of people milling as they were. They stopped on occasion to speak to someone she recognized, Jane being as polite and kind as before, but mostly stayed in their own little bubble. Anytime Hoyt made to stop and speak to them, or her father too with Hoyt in tow, her mother was there to lead the two men away again.

It had her perplexed. Such behavior was certainly strange and unusual for her mother. It was something she would more expect from Jane, if Hoyt wasn't precisely who the officer needed to speak to. When Jane finally took her arm off her shoulder, they still never seemed far from being in contact, hands or fingers entwined more often than not. What was truly strange, more so than even her mother's change of focus, was how natural it felt. How real. As though they'd done all of this a million times before, to the point where it might have become mundane. She hoped it never became mundane to her, because her heart was beating at about a thousand beats-per-second and she didn't want it to stop.

She was alive.

Frighteningly, yes, but gloriously too.

The gala started wrapping up eventually, couples and groups filtering out toward the door. Maura wasn't sure if they should follow. There wasn't any known decorum for a time to leave when you were undercover, as far as she knew. How much more could they get out of Hoyt by staying? Should they wait for him to leave?

Surprisingly, that particular dilemma was not for her to solve. It became resolved by Hoyt himself, bidding them a good night and heading for coat-check.

The kiss he left on her hand burned.

Jane observed him leaving closely, her eyes alight with anger and curiosity.

"Jane." Maura whispered near the woman's ear by standing more on tiptoe than her heels already made her, and she felt the woman shiver under her hand. "You're staring a little too obviously." She smirked to herself momentarily at the brunette's reaction, falling back to her heels, but felt it slip away as her parents approached them.

"We're off, darling!" Her mother said with a bright smile for her, taking her hands in a strong grip and actually making contact with her lips against her cheeks this time. "We must see each other again before I leave."

"O-Of course." She stammered, surprised. It wasn't like her mother to be so... attentive? Affectionate? She wasn't sure what to call it. "Goodnight."

"Jane, it was lovely meeting you. Please, we must get together again soon." Constance took Jane's hand and squeezed it. "Join Maura and I for lunch sometime. I'm scheduled to fly out the day after tomorrow for a bit, so it must be 'soon'." She laughed a bit.

"Certainly, Mrs. Isles." Jane grinned. It even seemed genuine.

The two had gotten along better than Maura would have thought and she was beyond grateful for it. At this stage, the very last thing she needed was to have to try and explain the conduct of both of her adoptive parents.

"Maura." Gregory Isles' voice was deeper than normal. Strained.

Maura turned toward him, but didn't meet her father's eyes. She couldn't. It wasn't because she was very angry with him, or herself, anymore. She simply couldn't look at him the same way and that frightened her. After everything that had happened, she had thought that he could never say or do anything to shake her. As he had tonight. So instead, she carefully leaned up and kissed the air beside his cheek, not making contact. "Night, Papa."

He took her hand despite the distance between them, curling both of his around her smaller extremity. "Goodnight, Maura dear." With that, he abruptly turned away, striding for the door.

Constance shot them a regretful, confused look, but followed her husband after a second's hesitation. "Au revoir." This time, the parting words sounded sweet and oddly sincere.

This might just be the weirdest night of her life, Maura thought, turning back to Jane. Her hand made a crinkling sound as she unconsciously made a fist and she looked down, opening her fingers again, to see a folded piece of paper sitting in it.

Her father must have slipped it there.

"What's that?" Jane asked, slipping her arm through Maura's bent elbow to link them.

But Maura didn't hear. She unfolded the paper in her hand with trembling fingers, dread already creating a rushing in her ears that blocked out all other sound.

Upon the white sheet were four numbers and a single word.

Room numbers, and below them, times.

Lettering beneath said only, 'tonight'.