For years and years, over countless escapades, Jane had had to mentally prepare herself every time she thought she was close to taking on her parents' killer. It involved rigorous self-discipline, but never fear. The prospect of being near him didn't frighten her; it excited her. She was thrilled by the potential of trapping him, maybe killing him. Even if she never got him, she looked forward to being Jake, to driving fear and awe into the hearts of other ruthless bandits. It was a real rush.

But right now, she was plum terrified, a feeling she never associated with Jake Wyatt. Oh, but she was feeling it in spades for Maura's sake.

They had gone over the plan an innumerable amount of times, dozens more iterations than was even close to necessary, but Jane didn't want to take any chances—that is, any more than they already were just by allowing Maura to come along. Maura would not be talked of it, and threatened never to speak to Jane again if Jane forged ahead without her. Jane begged her to really think about it, and promised to be more than all right with it if Maura decided to back out, even at the last minute. But Maura was determined, and the more she thought about it, the more she felt convinced that she would be all right. If things went according to plan, she would not have to interact with anyone but Teresa and the other showgirls.

It had taken a very convoluted explanation to appease Garrett, given Maura's chronic inability to lie. She told him that a woman she'd once treated wanted to have her over for dinner in Green Forge, the intimation being that this woman actually was from Green Forge. Really the woman was Jane, who Maura had in fact once treated, and was asking Maura to come over to Green Forge around dinnertime. Garrett was pleased that people thought so well of Maura, they wanted to express gratitude by sharing a meal with her; it reflected well on her popularity and importance. Consequently, he was more than content to give his permission for her to go.

Every morning since Maura had first tried on the corset, she enlisted Melody's help in putting it on again. Jane had said she'd give the brazen thing to Maura once the job was done, so when she explained to Melody why she needed practice putting it on, Maura said she was planning to wear the scandalous garment on her wedding night (which Maura supposed she would now have to do). Delighted that Dr. Isles had indulged such a salacious secret with her, Melody was only too happy to lace Maura up every morning and engage in conversation with her for half an hour or so, sometimes bringing food. As they days went by, Maura got accustomed to wearing the corset, until she finally reached the point where she could speak without gasping.

Meanwhile, Jane had gone to Green Forge a couple of days early to set up base and give Stanley a talking-to. As she had expected, he was eager to comply with Jake's demand that his girl be allowed to perform with Teresa's troupe—he was thrilled for the opportunity to brag that Jake Wyatt had been to his tavern. That was the kind of publicity that couldn't be bought, so bringing in Jake's girl for one night was a small price to pay.

The only person besides Jane who knew what Maura would be doing was Frost—not even Korsak was in on it. Jane had flatly told her partner once that Maura had volunteered to disguise herself as a showgirl, and Jane had further instructed him that he was not ever to bring it up with herself or the doctor once it was all over; or, for that matter, while it was going on. It would be a lie to say Frost hadn't been shocked when Jane had told him this, but he accepted it and promised not to question her or Maura anymore about it.

Unfortunately, Maura had forgotten to tell Garrett that she had a ride out of town. So at 7:30 on the night of their mission, he drove up to Melody's boarding house to escort her. Frost was already there in the coach he had borrowed from Korsak, and he grimaced upon seeing Garrett arrive. Maura walked out and didn't even notice her fiancé until she approached Frost's coach; when he didn't get down to help her up, she followed his gaze and jumped when she saw where it was fixed.

"Garrett!" Oh no, she was not prepared for this.

"Thought you might need a lift to Green Forge," he said, gesturing to the empty seat next to him.

"Didn't I mention Frost had offered to take me?"

"No," Garrett said, drawing out the syllable in a steely tone. "I assumed the responsibility would fall to your fiancé."

In her panic, all Maura could think to say was Frost's joke, "Well, you know what they say when you assume!"

Missing Frost's surprised laugh-turned-cough, Garrett said, "No, Maura, what do they say?"

Repeating the crude punch line would be too much for Garrett's refined ears, forcing Maura to weakly finish, "Uh… that… you shouldn't?"

"How very clever of them," Garrett snorted. He lifted the reins. "Now don't be silly, Maura, and get in."

"No!" Maura said a little too loudly. "I mean—that's sweet, Garrett, but I don't want you to drive all the way over to Green Forge and back, only to have to turn right back around and pick me up!"

"Well, I'll wait for you in town! I have things I can do there, ways to stay entertained for an hour or two if necess—"

"Garrett, no!" Maura cried, her voice threatening to reach a pitch that it only did when she was beyond anxious.

Garrett furrowed his brow but remained seated in the carriage. "Why are you reacting like this?"

"Because I'm not y—"

Frost spoke up, his voice drowning out Maura's: "Mr. Fairfield, there's nothing to worry about. I happened to mention in Dr. Isles' company that I'm trying to make some money, and she offered to pay me to drive her up to Green Forge. She was just trying to protect my pride in front of such a financially successful man as yourself, sir." He smiled down at Maura. "It's all right, Dr. Isles. I don't mind. Mr. Fairfield, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me take her. I could sure use the money, sir."

Garrett looked over at Maura, who was doing her best to maintain a neutral expression, or at least adopt the appearance that Frost's story was not new to her. After a long and very tense silence, Garrett glanced back at Frost and said, "All right, boy, you take her. I'll see you tomorrow, Maura." He expected her to follow him as he drove off, or at least to cry out an apology or offer further explanation, but he received none of the above. Frost just climbed down and helped Maura up onto the front of the coach, and they drove off in silence.

It wasn't until they were safely out of sight of the town that Maura felt she could be a little more at rest. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in, and her body relaxed from her neck down. She leaned her head on her driver's shoulder and waited for his stiffness to go away before whispering, "Thank you, Frost."

He cleared his throat, and Maura straightened again. "You're welcome, Dr. Isles. I… sort of got the feeling you hadn't come up with a story to tell Mr. Fairfield and that you might have trouble explaining yourself."

"Yes, somehow I don't think Garrett would be very understanding of what it is I'm about to do," Maura chuckled dryly.

Frost frowned. "Sorry you had to keep the truth from him, doc. I know my opinion don't count for much, but I just wanted to let you know how much I do appreciate what you're doin'. It takes a lot of courage and it takes a lot of heart."

"Your opinion does count, Frost," Maura said. "For very much."

He sighed and sort of smiled. "You must really love Jane a lot to do this for her."

"Yes, Frost," she said softly. "I do."

"Can I ask you something, Dr. Isles?"

"Only if you stop calling me 'Dr. Isles.' I think I've told you at least a hundred times now that you can just call me Maura!"

He laughed, and that got Maura to laugh as well. She had never really noticed how handsome he was, especially when he smiled. Being clean-shaven for once might have had something to do with that—it made him look much younger. (He and Jane believed that given Stanley's disdain for darker people, he wouldn't have ever paid Frost enough attention to recognize him. Still, taking at least some precautions seemed prudent, so off went the beard and mustache.) Frost didn't feel comfortable calling Maura by her name because she was so high-class and so educated, but her persistent sincerity was starting to wear him down.

"All right, all right, Maura. You don't have to answer this, but I was just wondering. When I cut you off earlier by saying you'd offered to pay me to drive you—"

"Oh, Frost, I'd be happy to pay you if you—"

"No, no!" he cut in. "That's not what I was going to say. I wanted to know what it was you were going to tell Mr. Fairfield. I kind of talked over you before you could really get going, but you sounded agitated. And you don't usually get agitated."

The smile on her face had disappeared as she contemplated how much to confide in Frost. "You're right, I don't usually get agitated," she said. "I guess I just panicked. I mean, that could have destroyed our plans, and I'm so awful at lying." This looked like it was enough to satisfy Frost, but after a few more moments of pensive silence, Maura turned her gaze out to the sunset in front of them and spoke in a much quieter voice. "I was going to tell him I—I had no obligation to him. Yes, we are engaged to be married, but I'm not his wife yet. He shouldn't try to dictate how and where I go. I don't belong to him yet. He doesn't own me." She snorted a laugh and looked down at her lap. "Listen to me, how melodramatic I am. He's not a boor. 'He doesn't own me,' good heavens, I'm glad you stepped in. I would have sounded ridiculous."

"I don't think so," Frost said after a short pause. "I respect that, Doctor—Maura. Not wanting to feel like someone owns you."

Maura returned her gaze to him as if she were only truly seeing him for the first time. "Oh, Frost, I'm so sorry. That was so thoughtless of me. Were you ever…"

She didn't know the proper way to finish the question, but Frost didn't need her to. "I was born into slavery, two years before the war started. So I was still a kid when I found out how it felt not to be owned by somebody. My parents were born into slavery, too, but they didn't hardly have time to enjoy being free before they lost their lives. I reckon what you're doing, marrying Mr. Fairfield, that's all right if that's what you wanna do. Jane says he's a good man. You're right, you probably just got a little anxious when we were trying to leave just now. But I don't think anyone could ever own you, Maura Isles. You've experienced too much of real life to let that happen. And what you're doing, right here, right now? That takes a free spirit. The kind that won't give itself over to anyone unless it's a choice."

He glanced over at her and was startled to see tears in her eyes. "Frost, that's one of the kindest things anyone's ever said to me."

"Well…uh…" He shrugged, uncomfortable. "I just call 'em like I see 'em." Clearing his throat, he slowed the coach down to a stop and said, "I figure we're probably at a good spot now. For you to change, I mean."

They had reached a stretch of the road that was particularly bare, and Frost helped Maura down and into the covered back part of the coach. There was stowed the crate with her disguise, a hand mirror, and enough makeup to paint a dozen faces. Maura was already wearing the garish red corset, but it was hidden beneath many protective layers that she was now starting to remove. The skirt she'd been wearing had reached down to her ankles, hiding the scandalous black stockings that went up to her thighs. She couldn't help shivering as she slipped on the short skirt that had been in the crate—she had never had this much of her legs exposed, even in front of other women, unless she was changing. In an effort for more authenticity, Maura was wearing nothing beneath the corset but a cotton lining she had sewn in herself. It showed a lot more skin, but Jane had made it clear that showgirls weren't shy about putting their bodies on display, so Maura couldn't be either. As for accessories, she wore a simple black choker, black lace sleevelets, and little else. When they couldn't figure out where to hide a weapon on her person, Jane and Frost custom-made a pair of shoes with knives in the toe.

The red-colored wig was the most convincing of its kind that Maura had ever seen, and as with the corset, it had taken a bit of practice to get used to wearing. Only having a hand mirror in the coach made it a tad difficult to determine when it was right, but Maura was able to get it done quick enough. With a bit more apprehension, she began creating a fake beauty mark using a trick one of her mother's friends had once taught her: put a dab of stage adhesive on the desired area (in Maura's case, a little to the left of her nose and down), wait for it to dry, then color it with brown eyeliner. Once this was complete, she gave Frost the go-ahead to keep driving, so off they went.

The enormity of what Maura was about to do didn't really strike her until she and Frost arrived at Stanley's place. She grabbed the box filled with makeup and drew a long cloak around her that covered her from head to foot, protecting herself from any unwanted attention as Frost helped her out of the coach. An off-duty deputy who'd been okayed by Jake led Maura and Frost up a staircase in the back of the tavern. They could hear the sounds of debauchery on the other side of the wall, really giving Maura pause for the first time at the thought of what she was doing. This was real, she had volunteered herself for it, and if a man somehow came over and tried something indecent, her mother wouldn't be on hand to smack him over the head with her umbrella.

"Before I forget," the deputy said, turning in the stairwell, "your boss wanted me to give you this." He was holding a slip of paper out to Frost, who frowned and scanned it.

"Jake says hello," he said to Maura, handing her the note.

She squinted to read it in the poor light: "Frost – do not come in to the tavurn. Man next to me has killed over 10 dark men and says he will shoot the next one he sees on site. J." The darkness of this message was off-set by the post-script: "if Maura is with you, tell her hello for me."

"I hope he gets the chance to say it in person," Maura whispered before they followed the deputy up the rest of the stairs. She had convinced Jane to let her tell the other girls she knew Jake Wyatt, because she was sure it was not only something bound to impress them, but was also something she wouldn't have to lie about.

They had reached the room where the showgirls were getting dressed. Standing outside of it and eying Maura in annoyance was the girls' manager, Bradley. He was not very pleased with the forced arrangement, made evident by the scowl that looked right at home on his face.

Frost stepped up to him and said, "Tell your girls to cover themselves if they feel so inclined. I need to give this room a going-over." When Bradley raised his eyebrows and looked incredulously at the deputy, Frost said, "Sir, this is not a request. I will be going in there."

And so the girls were forewarned, and Frost spent about five minutes making a thorough search of the room. Only one of the girls had opted to cover up; the others didn't seem to care, and many of them preferred watching Frost to getting ready. They cackled and made crude jokes that were already making Maura blush, a fact partially hidden when she started applying rouge to her cheeks. She was sorry to see Frost leave, because now she really felt alone, like a piece of meat thrown to lions.

Frost had noticed that Maura didn't look as prepared as she had maybe let on or even felt. It would probably be a good idea to have Jake make an appearance. It would cool Maura's nerves and solidify her standing with the other girls, something it was instantly apparent to her that she needed.

Maura recognized Teresa from the banner Stanley had put up to advertise her troupe's appearance at the tavern. The painting was much softer than she was in real life. Her short brown hair was styled upwards, leaving her long neck bare. Her eyes were dark and hooded, like she knew a secret about you that you'd pay good money to keep her from spreading. Pouty, full lips were wrapped around a black cigar, which Teresa pulled out in an obscene manner, issuing a thick stream of smoke directly into Maura's face.

"So…who are you?" she asked, sounding bored.

"You can call me Marion," Maura said, trying not to let her voice tremble.

"And you can call me the Queen of Sheba," Teresa snorted to the amusement of some of the other girls. Ignoring Maura's outstretched hand, she stepped closer and said, "Our manager told us we didn't have a choice but to let you join us. What's the deal, honey? You bunkmates with the owner of this establishment?"

"Certainly not!"

Without warning, Teresa reached for the front of Maura's cloak and yanked it off, revealing the scantily-clad body underneath. She raised her eyebrows, impressed. One of the other girls pinched her rear and said, "Oh, goodness. You could do much better than that Stanley fellow, dear."

"I'm not in any kind of relationship with Stanley!" Maura insisted, too flustered with this accusation to mind the way that some of the girls were staring at her. "I—happen to know one of… his patrons tonight who asked that I be allowed to perform."

"I hear Jake Wyatt's downstairs," said one of the girls. "It's not him, is it?" The smirk on her face made it clear she was joking.

"As a matter of fact, yes, it is," Maura said back.

Teresa laughed derisively and blew some more smoke in Maura's face. "Honey, please! You're about as comfortable in your skin as a jackrabbit in the mouth of a coyote. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be dressed this way. What possible interest would a man like Jake Wyatt have in a girl like you?"

Trying her best to look worldly, Maura lifted her chin and said "Plenty," in what she hoped would come off as a womanly, sensual voice.

"Hey, how'd you get your underarms so clean?" one girl asked, grabbing one of Maura's arms and lifting it up.

"I shave them," Maura said, yanking her arm back down. "With a straight razor and soap. It's an easy way to make sure you don't have lice." This was true; as nobody else (excepting tonight) ever saw that area of her body, there was no aesthetic reason to shave them.

"Lice, what's lice?"

"Are they those little bugs that show up in your hair?"

"Didn't Sally get fired 'cause of those?"

Then followed the surreal experience of having a roomful of raunchily-dressed women hanging onto Maura's every word as she tried to give them practical hygienic advice. Teresa was the only one who didn't seem impressed, and interrupted Maura as she was mid-sentence explaining what to look for in a toothbrush.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked suspiciously. Maura's guilty expression was answer enough. "I see. Did Bradley hire you to come in and try and get us to talk? We don't talk, lady. Not to the likes of you. You think you're better than us? You think we need your help? We don't need nobody, so clear on out!"

"I assure you, nobody hired me to do any such thing!" Maura protested.

"So what, you gonna keep up with your line about Jake Wyatt? Prove it, Marion. Prove you're his girl. Go on, go get him." When Maura did and said nothing, Teresa sneered and stepped even closer, lowering her voice so that only Maura could hear her: "C'mon, sweetheart. You show me your rogue, and I'll tell you about mine."

Eyes widening, Maura whispered, "What do you mean?"

Teresa shrugged and took a step back. "Won't know until you prove yourself." She nodded at the door. "Go on. Go out and bring him back, or don't return at all."

Maura looked around at the other girls for help, but none of them were meeting her eye. They knew better than to cross the star of their troupe. So, somewhat haltingly, Maura walked towards the door, outside of which three men were standing. This realization caused her to stop with her hand on the doorknob, wanting to grab a robe or something to cover herself, but she was very aware of Teresa's eyes watching her for any unusual activity. Jake Wyatt's girl wouldn't cover up. Still, revealing so much of herself felt very, very wrong. She was wearing a long skirt over the short one which was open in the front, showcasing her legs, and Maura tried surreptitiously to pull it around and give herself a little coverage. But there was nothing she could do about her cleavage, and as she tried to come up with a quick solution, Teresa came up behind her and shoved her out the door, snarling, "Take a ride, faker."

When Maura stumbled into the tiny hallway, Frost immediately stepped in front of her to block her from view of the two other men there. Directing his gaze at a spot near the ceiling over her shoulder, he whispered, "What happened?"

"They didn't believe me!" Maura whispered back, still feeling a little winded. "Or Teresa didn't, anyway. She accused me of being a doctor that Bradley hired to, I don't know, make sure they're all clean! She wants proof that I know Jake!"

Frost was silent for a moment, then said, "I can go get him."

"No! You read that note—you go anywhere near Jake, and there's a chance you could get yourself killed!"

Their problem was solved when the deputy tapped Frost on the shoulder. "Got another note for ya," he said. "Or for Jake's girl, anyway. Somebody just brought it up."

Frost held the note open, and both he and Maura read it: "Come on down, honey."

"This doesn't seem right," Frost muttered. "Jake wouldn't want you going down there."

"It does seem suspect," Maura agreed. "But I think it's my best option. Jake clearly doesn't trust anyone else; otherwise why would he have sent notes with different people instead of delivering the messages himself?" Though Frost was giving her a wary look, Maura squared her shoulders and said, "I'm going down there."

He pursed his lips, waiting for her to change her mind, but when it appeared that she had convinced herself, Frost slid off his vest and said, "Cover yourself."

She thanked him and held the vest up to her chest, keeping it out of sight of Bradley and the deputy. The problem was that they then focused their attention on her legs, but she passed them before they could do much more than look. Once at the bottom of the staircase, Maura peeked out of the small curtain that worked as a door, scanning the wide room for Jane. Hopefully she would be close, and Maura would be able to get her attention with perhaps nothing more than an exaggerated wave.

Fortunately yes, Jane was sitting at a table quite nearby. Unfortunately, Maura was too gob-smacked by her appearance to do anything about it right away. She hadn't seen Jane as Jake Wyatt since her first day in Arizona, and she'd been wondering how attractive she would find the persona now that she knew Jake was actually a woman in a costume.

A faded black cowboy hat was cocked to the side and did a pretty good job of hiding the tight bun of scraggly hair piled on top of Jane's head. The only bright color in her ensemble was provided by a red bandana tied around her neck between the collar of a black coat and white dress shirt. Dark denim pants were tucked into a pair of turquoise-studded boots, crossed beneath her chair. Her signature smirk was in place as she engaged in a card game with the men seated at her table, and Maura found herself going weak at the knees. It was only because she had memorized every line on Jane's face that she could see the woman behind the stage facial hair, the sharp triangular goatee and thin mustache.

Oh no. Why do I still find her handsome?

Before she could dwell on this much further, one of Stanley's workers mistook her for a waitress and harshly whispered, "Don't just stare! No one's been to Mr. Wyatt's table in ten minutes, and he might need a drink!" He gave her a shove into the room. "Go to it!"

For the second time in what felt like so many minutes, Maura stumbled into a room, accidentally dropping Frost's vest in the process. She froze for a moment, but with so many other risqué women walking around, nobody seemed to be paying her any special attention. With Stanley's man still standing behind the curtain telling her to get a move-on, Maura took the few strides necessary to get to Jane's table, trying to put herself in the mindset of worldly woman.

"Gentlemen, may I get you something to drink?" she asked in a syrupy voice that was uncomfortably foreign to her. She kept her eyes focused on Jane, sure that she would lose her cover if she looked anywhere else. Besides, she was incredibly nervous at the thought of seeing how some of these men might be looking at her.

Jane turned and was not prepared for her face to be greeted by Maura's ample cleavage. It was nothing short of breathtaking, and she forgot herself entirely. Jane had no idea how long she'd been staring when she glanced up and realized it was Maura looking down at her—and rather quizzically, at that.

Shit. Shit, speak, you moron.

"Uh—no," Jane finally said, turning to face the other men. "We're good. Right, boys? We're good?" Her voice cracked.

"I dunno, Jake," chortled the man closest to her, slapping a hand on Jane's back. "I think it looked to me like you saw something you wanted! Am I right, fellas?"

The table roared with raucous laughter, cuing Jane to stand up and shrug off her jacket, throwing it at Maura. "Put this on," she whispered.

Still trying to stay coolly undercover, Maura asked "Shall I keep something warm for you?" in a murmur that made the hair on Jane's neck stand on end. In fact, Jane felt her mouth go dry as the men burst out laughing again. Maura continued, "Your presence is required upstairs, Mr. Wyatt."

"Go ahead, I'll be right there," Jane said, her voice almost gone as she sat back down. Maura smiled and walked away, mesmerizing in the way she did. Jane pulled it together in time to see her opponents were all staring at Maura as well. But Jane reclaimed their attention just by speaking: "Now listen here, boys. Any of you so much as look at that girl again, and I'll see to it you ain't ever of use to any woman in your natural born life again, you get me?" She glared at each of them in turn, enjoying the ability she had to wipe the lusty grins off their faces. "You hear that? She's mine. Any of you make a move on her, talk to her, look at her—and I can't be held responsible for what happens to ya. And fellas, I sure as hell hope you don't think I'm jokin' around, 'cause when it comes to women, I don't never joke. Now." She looked at her hand and said, "I'm out this round."

She stood to leave, and the man next to her said, "Once you're done with her, though …I wouldn't mind sharin' if you'd like to bring her back."

Jane stared at him, and he just leered back. No man, not even Billy the Kid, had dared to look back at Jake Wyatt like this. "What'd you say old man?"

"I feel like I've seen her before," he said, still grinning. "Can't quite say where, but I'd like to think that gives me a right to stake a little claim on that bit of jam."

Jane leaned down and looked him in the eye, gripping his shoulder as tight as she could. "I'm giving you one more chance, old timer. Don't. Even. Think. About her. Refrain from makin' anymore nasty comments or giving her any looks. In that event, I will contain my desire to break your jaw." When she released him, she let go hard enough to make his chair wobble.

As Jane walked towards the curtain which Maura had disappeared behind, one of the men at the table slapped the head of the one who'd dared talk back to Jake Wyatt. "What the hell's the matter with you, Hoyt? You don't know who that is?"

Hoyt just grinned and shuffled his cards. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea."

When she found Maura behind the curtain, Jane hissed, "Mother of Moses, what the hell were ya doin' out there?"

"Didn't you send a note?"

"Why in God's name would I do that?!"

"Well - we'll have to work that out later," Maura said, flustered. She was distracted, unable to erase the feeling of Jane's eyes on her chest, and far from able to get rid of the nervous sensation threatening to shut her down that had come with waltzing into that group of men with so much of her body exposed. "I need you to come upstairs," she whispered, wary of a nearby worker. "To help sell Teresa on my legitimacy. She said not to go back unless you were with me."

Jane sighed in annoyance and waved her hand. "All right, all right, I'll be right there. Go back up and tell her if I ain't with ya in two minutes that she can kick you out a window." Noting Maura's alarmed expression, Jane said, "For God's sakes, Maura, don't worry, I'll be there!" She pursed her lips and leaned in closer, speaking so softly Maura could hardly hear her. "Look, though. If you really wanna sell it, you've gotta let me ...I mean, I think Jake would be pretty handsy. Would you be all right with me, I dunno..." She moved her hands, as if trying to gesture the sorts of actions she might take. "Wanna go over that?"

"You mean like we did with Giovanni?" Maura asked, as that was her only reference point.

"Somethin' like that, yeah," Jane said. "Only, maybe a little more so."

Maura felt her heartbeat quicken. She was sure she didn't know what Jane might have in mind, but this kind of intricate planning was not something they had allotted time for. "Jane, I trust you. I want to sell it as much as you do. Do whatever it is you think would work. And," she added, getting an idea with a shaky laugh, "maybe a showgirl would be coarse enough to push back if she thought you were going too far?"

In a odd moment, Jane wasn't sure if she was choking back a laugh or sudden tears. "Okay, wildfire. No matter what happens, just remember it ain't some ruffian. It's just me, all right? You don't have to worry. Now go!"

Clutching Jane's coat around herself, Maura hurried back up the steps. Jane asked someone where she might find a wash basin, and he directed her to a small table outside. As she headed for it, she considered that normally she'd have been more upset with Maura for coming down like that (and with Frost for letting her), but all she could think about was Maura in that costume. When they'd tried the corset on in the barn, Maura had been wearing a camisole underneath it that kept much more of her chest covered. It had been noticeably missing tonight.

The basin had a dirty mirror nailed to the outer wall above it, and Jane stared at herself long and hard before ripping her gloves off and tossing them to the ground. She dunked her hands in the water and splashed it on the back of her neck, then flicked some on her face. It was cool against her nerves, jarring—but nothing close to being able to calm her down. Her face was red despite the cool water that was dripping from her forehead down to her chin. She gripped the basin until her knuckles turned white and still she stared at her reflection, trying to will her face to go back to its normal color. Peering closer she noticed that her pupils seemed bigger than normal, and it also dawned on her that her breathing had become burdened and ragged.

Calm down, Jane, this is no big deal. You can do this. It's going to be fine.

It wasn't working. She couldn't bring herself to believe the empty words. Just thinking about Maura's breasts in that costume was causing a flush to creep up from the base of her neck to her forehead. Her heart was racing like a roadrunner and would not be calmed; she pressed a hand to her chest, as if to physically grab her heart and slow it.

Jane…come on…why are you reacting like this? What is wrong with you?

What indeed. That really was the question. Women weren't supposed to feel this way about other women, were they? But what way was that? With a shiver, she recalled her encounter with Bobby. It had seemed so immoral, so wrong—but maybe that was only because he had been trying to force something she didn't want. Jane had never felt anything more than natural curiosity regarding what men looked like under their clothes. She had never wondered about one man more than another.

Maura was a different story, which was odd enough because she and Jane had the same parts. But there was no mistaking it now: Jane wanted to know exactly what Maura looked like under all those layers. She wanted to peel them away and see every inch of Maura's beautiful porcelain skin. What would her chest feel like? What did her stomach, her thighs, look like? If the skin that was constantly exposed to the elements felt as smooth and looked as fair as it did, what on earth would the covered portion be like?

Oh, God. She was throbbing just thinking about it.

In all sincerity, Jane was wondering if this was a result of her living as a man for so long. Was she starting to think like one? Feel like one—lust like one?

Because that, she realized with a jolt, was what she was doing: she was lusting after Maura Isles.

No, no, I can't be. It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong! She grimaced and shook her head, exhaling sharp, heavy breaths. It's not you, Jane, it's not. It's Jake. You're in his head. You're still in his head. You can't blame him for finding Maura attractive, can you?

She couldn't let herself get too crazy about it, because she knew Maura was waiting for her. Hell, if she put this off any longer, Maura might come sailing out of the window above her head. So after wiping her face dry and readjusting her hat, Jane forgot her gloves on the ground and strode back inside and up the stairs with every air of confidence. Shooting Frost a dark glance, Jane cleared her throat and entered the showgirls' room without knocking. Several of the girls gasped in shock and/or delight, but Jane paid them no mind and sauntered straight across the room to Maura, who had draped Jane's jacket over a nearby trunk.

"How they treating you, sweetheart?" she purred, grabbing Maura from behind and putting her arms around her corseted waist. Jane grazed her lips just beneath Maura's ear. "They playin' nice?"

Between the tightness of her corset and Jane's hot breath on her neck, it was becoming difficult for Maura to breathe. And focus. She still had enough in her to manage, "We're getting along fine—Big Jake."

Jane had to bite back a boisterous laugh at the use of the nickname they had joked about using, and the sound rumbled out as a low chuckle. The vibrations from it on Maura's neck, combined with the heady atmosphere filled to bursting with pungent perfume, made the doctor feel about ready to faint.

"Good," Jane said gruffly, moving her hands up past Maura's waist, ghosting them over her breasts before settling them on her hips again. "Because if I hear that my woman has been mistreated in any way, big or small, there'll be hell to pay." Her voice was little more than a growl. "I don't like when people mess with what's mine." She brought her bare hands up to caress Maura's only partially-covered breasts.

Neither of them had been ready for how this would feel, especially Maura, who hadn't been expecting any action close to this. Touching Maura's breasts had been all Jane could think about since seeing her laced up the other day, and here had been her chance to act on it. There could be no better way to convince these morally-depraved women of Maura's place among them. Jane shifted her hands so that they cupped only the clothed part of Maura's breasts. Letting out a shallow breath that only Maura could hear, she exerted a little more pressure, and Maura moaned softly. The sound electrified Jane. Her hands slid still further down to Maura's waist, keeping the woman in place as Jane subtly rolled her hips forward. Maura leaned back to feel as much of the sensation as she could. She whimpered and Jane had to take a moment, burying her face in Maura's neck and fake curls to repress any reciprocal sound.

Other women's gasps and soft, delighted giggles reached Jane's ears and she opened her eyes. This all felt so delicious that for a moment she'd allowed herself to forget where they were and what they were doing. It was a needed reminder for her to recall that Maura was just playing into the part. (Right? Of course.) She was dying to do more, but even if Maura had wanted to, the thought of an audience was not an enticing one.

Still, her hands roved back up to Maura's chest. "I know you'll be working for Stanley for a little while," Jane said, just loudly enough for the others to hear. "But whose are ya?"

She squeezed tighter, earning her a small gasp that was music to her ears. "Yours," Maura choked out. "All yours, Jake."

"That's right," Jane murmured.

She turned the woman around so she could look her in the eye. Maura's expression was startlingly lustful, biting her lip and her eyes dark with desire, and Jane felt light-headed that she was the sole audience for that look. But she didn't allow herself the time to dwell on it.

"Just don't you forget it," Jane said, stroking Maura's cheek and giving it a light slap before turning to leave. "Don't any of you ladies forget it." Then, tugging manfully at her belt, Jane made her exit.

Chatter broke out the instant the door closed behind her. Maura found herself surrounded, with Teresa pushed up right against her. "What did you say your name was again?" she asked.

"Marion. Marion Johnson."

Teresa clapped a hand on Maura's shoulder, beaming, and turned to face the others. "Girls, this is Marion Johnson! We're going to treat her nice, right?" There was murmured assent, and everyone started talking amongst themselves again. Teresa grinned at Maura. "Well, well, Miss Johnson. I am very, very impressed." It was clear from her tone that impressing her was not an easy feat; Teresa thought very highly of herself. "You may be one of us yet!"

"Jake would like me to be, and I want to please Jake," Maura said.

"What is he like?" Teresa asked eagerly.

Maura wasn't great at thinking on her feet, but she did her best to satisfy her newly-fascinated audience: "He is a very… demanding, demonstrative lover." This was true enough of Jane, at least in terms of friendship, that Maura felt she could get away with lying about it. "Extremely possessive and physical. He gets jealous very easily, and he's quite protective of me."

"I could see that," Teresa said with a smirk. "Is he big?"

"Big?" Maura asked blankly.

"You know, honey," she said with another one of her very womanly, very worldly expressions and tones.

Gauging the expected response, Maura tried her best to match Teresa's sensuality. "Oh, yes," she purred. "Very."

Letting out a shriek of delight, Teresa slapped Maura on the shoulder. "Marion, you wild thing, you! I had my doubts, but my goodness, I suppose that's part of your appeal, huh? You look as innocent as a prairie lamb, but that's just a front, ain't it?"

Maura laughed uneasily. "Ha, ha, yes. A front…" She cleared her throat. "Anyway, who were you going to tell me about?"

"What? Oh, you mean before?" Teresa laughed. "I just said that in hopes that it'd get you to bring Mr. Wyatt up here. I ain't seein' nobody special, honey. Just that weasel of a manager, Bradley." She sighed. "He pays us good, though, so…"

They were interrupted when Bradley knocked and stuck his head in the door. "Well, I hope you all enjoyed that little visit from Mr. Wyatt, because it took up your five minutes to curtain call! Get out here right now, you're on!"

There was a rush of nearly-naked women to pass Maura and run through the door, and in all the excitement, she had forgotten her plan to stay behind. Luckily for her, another girl tripped over a trunk and seemed to twist her foot. She cried out in pain, and Maura looked over at Bradley and said, "It's all right, I'll take care of it! I know a bit about medicine!"

He looked relieved not to have to include this untested performer in his act, and was happy to shut the door on her. The other girl may not wind up so lucky. Before closing the door, Bradley said, "You better be up to performing by tomorrow night, Lola, or you're out."

"Are you all right?" Maura asked, walking over to where Lola was sprawled on the floor.

Lola pulled her leg in and sat cross-legged opposite Maura. "Of course. I just did that so I could have a second to talk to you alone."

"What about?"

"These girls," Lola snickered, a dark glint in her eye. "They think they're rough. They think they've got bark growin' on 'em, they're so hard. But you and I? We're the only ones who really know what it's like."

"What do you mean?" Maura whispered.

"You and Jake Wyatt. Me and my man, too. I'd be willing to bet real money he might give ole Jake Wyatt a scare. Jake's too famous for his own good and he's bound to get sloppy soon. My man ain't a fool. He don't leave his name no place; he changes it every town he goes to. And he's clever when he kills. Wears gloves, wears a bandana to cover his face. He won't never get caught. And he won't never get killed, neither."

Maura suddenly remembered that Jane had made her promise not to be alone with anyone tonight, especially not Teresa—when they had thought Teresa was their tie to the murderer. Lola was definitely the new candidate, and there was something about the look in her eye that made Maura feel distinctly unsafe.

"Is he here with you?" she whispered, standing up.

Lola got to her feet as well. "Oh he'll be gone, now. He said he was going to leave once the girls went on…"

The door burst open, and Jane came barging in, Frost not far behind. "C'mon," she said roughly, grabbing Maura's arm. "We're leavin'."

"But Jake—" This was their chance, this was what they had come for.

"We're leavin'," Jane said in a harder, more insistent tone. She yanked Maura to the door, and the doctor spared one more look for Lola over her shoulder before they were gone.

A/N: By the way, all the supporting characters except for Adelaide come from the show itself. That's everyone from Melody (Korsak's ex-wife) to Bobby (the rogue cop in 1x10), Stark (the apprentice in 1x1), Teresa (the girl who tried to extort Frankie) and Lola (Hoyt's apprentice in 1x8).
I should probably reiterate here that Jane didn't recognize Hoyt at the card table because for contrived and annoying reasons, she doesn't know what he really looks like. And in addition to that, it's been about 10 years.