"So you said you'd done this before?"

"Well, I saw Sophie and V do it last week, anyway."

"Okay. So you at least know how it's done, right? Kinda cup it here with your palm—yeah, that's good. Then slide your fingers in there. Geez, Maura, don't be squeamish! Just stick 'em in there!"

On one level, Maura was hesitant because the bowling ball Jane had handed her was grimy and smelled like a chain smoker's spit. But mostly she was having a hard time concentrating because with Jane whispering in her ear, one hand covering Maura's, discussing the positioning of her fingers …well, it was tempting to think she was prepping Maura for something else. As it was, she gripped the ball and waited for further instruction.

"So I'm curious," Jane snickered. "How come you just watched your little French friends play? Why didn't you join in?"

"I wouldn't wear used sports shoes for just anybody," Maura replied. She smiled when Jane looked both touched and amused by this answer. "Now can you give me a tip on how to aim, or something? This ball is heavy."

"Right, sorry…"

Frank took a puff on his cigarette as he watched his daughter teach Maura Isles how to bowl. Vaguely he thought Jane was being a little more handsy than was necessary, but then, Maura had seemed a little nervous tonight. Maybe Jane was reassuring in that way. A few moments later, he made the same observation that Angela had a few weeks ago: his non-hugger daughter seemed very touchy-feely around this posh kid. Maura had just knocked three pins off the left side, and whirled around to give Jane a victory embrace. Rather than squirm away as Frank had seen Jane do countless times, she laughed and returned the tight hug. She almost looked ready to lift Maura off the ground.

(In fact, the only thing that made her resist was an elbow nudge from Betty, who added, "Don't look, but your old man's got his eye on you. Take it down a notch, hot-shot.")

"Hey, Frank."

"Hm? Yeah, Jim, what?"

"What d'you make of McRae's niece over there?"

"I'm sure she's a nice girl. McRae said she's a real hard worker."

"She dresses mighty queer, if you ask me."

Frank turned to look at him, agitated. "So what, trousers are funny? They're all the rage for girls these days. Thinks it makes 'em liberated or something like that. No big deal."

"I dunno," Jim said. "Personally, I'd never go for a girl who paraded around dressed like that, even in a bowling alley."

"Well, good thing we're not in a position where we have to worry about that."

"Yeah, but Frank…" Jim looked uncomfortable, knowing he was about to broach sensitive territory. His gestures as he tried to think of the proper phrasing indicated he might have been about to attempt laying hands on a dangerous animal. "You sure you want your daughter hangin' around a girl like that?"

Frank's retort was sharp, like a hunter's trap snapping shut. "Like what?"

"McRae told me she's twenty-five. Turned down the only serious boyfriend she ever had. Works like a dog, dresses like a man…"

"All right, so she's a little old to be single! Doesn't mean there's no hope."

"A doll face like that? Dames that pretty ain't single by choice."

"Hey Jim, I think you better shut up. I don't like the tune you're singin' here. No, no," he said when Jim tried to explain further. "You think McRae's niece is some kinda deviant 'cause she don't go around in dresses and she don't shrink away from hard work. And she hasn't got a fella. Well I tell you what, pal. You ask your old lady and you'll get an earful about how hard it is being a wife and mother! Lots of work. That's all girls like Jane and Betty are doing; they're getting themselves good and ready for the most noble career there is for a woman."

Jim held his hands up. "Hey, I didn't say anything about Jane."

Frank dropped the friendly tone he'd just been using, and the sharpness in it was such that Jim felt as though he was getting jabbed in the chest. "You as good as did, knowing Jane's habits like you do and making those leaps about McRae's niece. You think I'd let my girl hang around any chick like that? Even if I did, you bet Jane could sock her way out of that situation. She knows right from wrong. Listen up, Jim. You're my bud. But if you ever so much as hint at garbage like that about my daughter again, I'll use your wrist for an ash tray. You understand me?"

This was the dangerous, no-nonsense tone Frank had used often in the field, and Jim had seen enough to know that his threat was not made in jest. The best thing he could offer by way of response was a weak nod.

Frank loosened his stance and smiled. "Good." He folded his arms, turning to look on as Jane lined up a shot. She bowled a strike, which sent Maura into a fit of cheers. "Jane's got a lot of friends. See that girl with her now, Maura? You couldn't get any further from a dyke than that kid. Look at her. See, Jane's whole deal is that she and Angela drive each other up the wall, so Jane doesn't want to be anything like her. Homey, female, y'know? But this Maura kid, see, she's closer to Jane's age and being around her shows Jane more of a… makes her see that maybe femininity isn't from the devil, you know?"

Jim would've responded if he thought Frank was still actually talking to him. But as he stood there watching Jane, Jim couldn't help feeling that Frank was just attempting to comfort himself. He was trying this reasoning on for size, and it seemed to fit okay.

"Right. Yeah. And hey, you know Gilberti, the mechanic? His son brought Jane a full bouquet of roses the other day! She wouldn't go for him, though. Too smart for that boy. He's not good enough for her."

"Heck, Frank. Does any father think a kid's good enough for his daughter?"

It was Betty's turn to bowl. Frank issued a stream of smoke in direction of their lane as Maura put her head close to Jane's to whisper something in her ear. He put the cigarette out.

"Nope. Guess not, Jimbo."

Less than an hour later, Maura was struggling to keep her eyes open. In addition to adjusting to the time difference from France, she had gotten up very early that morning to make the trip from New York to Boston, then spent much of the day doing none-too-relaxing things with Jane. As fun as it was, the game seemed to take forever, and when a girl suggested going for another, Maura all but fell back into her seat.

"Tired, slugger?" Jane asked.

"How could you tell?" she yawned.

Betty walked over, hands in her pockets. "Guess this means you're not up for a second go, huh? You kids need a ride home?"

Jane was about to politely decline the offer, but Maura was quick to accept it. With the later hour, it was sure to only be colder outside, and the prospect of walking home was made even less desirable. She saw no issue with taking Betty up on what sounded like a sincere offer, and wasn't sure why Jane was grinding her teeth. As it was, Jane waved goodbye to her father and followed Maura and Betty out the door.

It was clear by its pristine state that this car was one of Betty's most prized possessions. The model itself was not remarkable, but that didn't deter its owner from treating it like a Rolls. Jane thought she might strike up a conversation about it, but Maura, sitting up front, dove right into a much more personal matter.

"So is that Beacon Hill address you gave us for a gay bar?"

Betty laughed as Jane made some sort of "are-you-serious" groan from the back seat. "That's callin' it right, princess!" she said cheerfully. "You can do what and be what you please there, no questions asked."

"Oh, how thrilling!" Maura enthused, pointing Betty in the direction she ought to drive, then turning around to face Jane. "Aren't we lucky? A place like that right in Boston!"

This was a conversation Jane had wanted to have in private, but maybe it'd be good to have the perspective of someone who'd been around the block a few times, and who seemed less likely than Roxie to push or tease.

"Look, about that," Jane sighed. "Betty, you don't live here. I mean, you're not from here. What if we ran into someone we knew? Not in there, I mean, but maybe on our way in or out? What if we got caught? Is a place like this even legal? Heck, what if the cops—"

"Oh Jane, come on!" Maura scoffed. "Where's that old rule-breaking spirit of yours? Where's the devil-may-care confidence?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe it's somewhere with your old common sense! C'mon, Maura, think about it. This isn't some club in Paris you're at while your parents are partying somewhere else. You're gonna be surrounded by women you might run into every day. And besides, what if we're leaving this place and—I dunno, Principal Adams is walking by and asks where you've been? Are you gonna lie and pass out, or are you gonna say 'gee sir, we were just engaging in some nice, wholesome homosexual activity!'"

Jane's attitude had taken a sharp downwards turn from its already wavering position, and Maura couldn't mask her disappointment. "Well gosh, Jane, maybe I can just do what Roxie suggested and treat you like the man in our relationship. Then you could just do all the talking and lying for me!"

"Phew! Should I leave?" Betty cut in before Jane could respond. "There's some awkward sexual tension in this car right now." Embarrassed by their spat in front of a near-stranger, Jane and Maura were both shamed into temporary silence. When Betty spoke up again, her quiet voice sounded much louder than it actually was. "I've just been goin' straight here, princess. Do I need to turn soon?"

"Left on Crowley."

Another short silence followed before Betty said, "Look, Jane. I can see where you're coming from with all this. It's a scary thing, sometimes. But I will say this: the place is pretty secluded. It'd be real hard to find if you didn't know about it. So that's low visibility right there, even in a nice area, and a real low chance of cops findin' the joint. I'll escort you guys there myself, if that'd make you more comfortable."

"Jane?" Maura asked hopefully. "Would it?"

Looking uncomfortable, Jane folded her arms and shrugged. "I dunno," she mumbled. Each syllable came out like a tooth getting pried from her mouth. "I'm…" Afraid was a word she was too proud to use, childish an attitude though she knew it was. "How can the thought of it not make you nervous?"

"Because—oh turn right here, Betty, then it becomes my street—because, Jane. I've experienced that side of life now, and I don't want to go back to pretending it doesn't exist."

"Don't I exist? Is what we do just pretending?"

Maura was wary of taking the bait and getting into another fight. She made sure her tone was gentle and not biting when she said, "That isn't what I meant."

Jane slunk down further into her seat. "Yeah, I know."

It was hard for her to know how to articulate this, even to herself. Part of her still felt the immature sting of interpreting Maura's comment to mean Jane wasn't enough for her. It was more than irrational to feel jealous, and furthermore she knew it would be hypocritical for her to quash Maura's dream of meeting other girls like them.

When Roxie had been her one window into that world, Jane wanted to shut it and close the drapes. There had been no exchange with her that felt wholly comfortable. If anything, despite the solidarity, her whole demeanor made Jane feel as if her own feelings were wrong. Roxie was happy to flaunt her lack of morality of any kind, and as unreasonable a conclusion as it was, Jane couldn't help worrying maybe they were all like that.

Camille had helped her see a way around that. Jane found comfort in having a motherly figure, but even that was surreal now and then. Most of the conversations they'd had involved Jane unloading on her; she had very little idea of what Camille's actual life was like. She didn't understand how the woman's world worked. The one deterring insight Jane got was how nervous Camille was every time Frost showed up—like he'd know, like he'd figure it out. The fact that he hadn't been told, that this had to be kept from him, was a depressing reminder of the secrecy involved in just trying to live your life the way it felt natural to you.

It's other people who are the problem, not you, Camille would say. There is nothing wrong with you. Something's wrong with them. It'll come to us in time.

For reasons Jane couldn't identify, that time seemed much closer now than it had even earlier that day. She'd known Betty McRae for all of an hour and a half, and felt bonded to her already. There was an easiness about her, a self-assuredness and attitude that Jane had often tried to own. In the minds of many, she did own it, but in her own eyes she didn't exude half the confidence and easygoing nature that Betty did. It wasn't typical of Jane to bond with other people this fast. The best part was that underneath all that, if she wanted to, Jane could've initiated a conversation about girls, about her plans with Maura, and Betty would've happily listened and advised right before taking her own turn at the lane.

Jane was already hungry for more. She wanted more friends like this. She wanted more people who could share their stories, who knew the same ups and downs that she did. This bar was the best way to do it, but apprehension was clouding her view.

Maura told Betty to stop outside her house. "Well, Ms. McRae, thank you for the ride."

"My pleasure, princess."

"And if the offer is still good, I would love a lift to that bar tomorrow night." Both of them glanced into the backseat, where Jane looked deeply saddened that Maura would go without her. But then Maura went beyond insinuation and said, "This is something I need, Jane. I would be thrilled if you came along. Please, please, please do. I won't have as much fun without you."

With a sanctimonious nod, she got out of the car and started walking up to her house. Jane asked Betty if she wouldn't mind waiting for a minute, and hurried after her. Maura turned at the sound of being followed, and felt a pang of guilt for the sorrowfulness evident in Jane's face.

"Please don't go," Jane whispered, and the uncharacteristic begging wiped the hard determination from Maura's expression. "Please, Maura, don't go without me. I want to… I want to go. And you going without me feels like you're discrediting me, like my anxieties are baseless and you don't care."

"Don't say that," Maura breathed. "Jane, of course I care. How you feel matters."

"Then act like it," Jane said, gritting her teeth in an effort to stave off tears. "Babe, I want to experience this with you. I mean I already wasn't there when you went in Paris, but this is something we could try together here. At the start. Please, just don't… I mean, give me a chance to collect my nerves. Please?"

Maura moved forward to embrace her, and Jane fell into her arms. At the time Maura's determined bravado had felt warranted, even necessary, but she could see now how her insistence on going with or without Jane could've come across as non-caring. She still wanted desperately to go to this bar, but she understood Jane's concerns and needed to acknowledge them as legitimate. That meant not running off to this place right away without her.

"Okay," she murmured, and she felt Jane buckle. "I'm sorry, Jane. I'll wait for you." She kissed Jane's cheek and with one last quick smile, went inside.

Jane stood rooted to the spot for a moment, until she heard Betty's car engine start up and she remembered she hadn't walked here alone. But just as she was heading back to the car, she heard the Isles' door open behind her. She turned, expecting to see Maura, maybe with another word of encouragement or even a proper kiss.

To her surprise and instant terror, it was Constance standing there. For a few moments, neither of them moved; Jane stood frozen, Constance waited patiently. Her stance was such that Jane understood she was the one expected to walk. At first it seemed presumptuous on Constance's part, but then Jane realized maybe the woman just didn't want to push her. She was letting Jane set the pace here. She leaned casually against the doorway, folding her arms and observing Jane with interest.

"I don't want to keep my ride waiting," Jane said, gesturing behind her.

"This will only take a moment, I swear it."

With an apologetic glance back at Betty, Jane hurried to the Isles' front steps. She didn't realize Constance was holding an envelope until the woman handed it to her.

"You have a wonderful way with words," Constance said, and for a moment, Jane thought she was getting one of her own letters handed back to her. But this had her name on it. "I respect your discomfort for face-to-face conversations on this issue, Jane, so I am not going to weep and hug you and make you listen to me ramble. I hope you read this letter, and I hope I was able to convey my feelings well."

"Oh," Jane whispered, relieved that it wasn't some kind of warning or reprimand. Even though Maura had assured her Constance was supportive, innate fear of disapproval was hard to escape. "Um… okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Good night, Jane."

"Good night…"

Constance went back inside, and Jane folded the letter to stick it in her pocket. She jogged back to Betty's car and jumped in.

"Sorry about all that," she muttered, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "Thanks for waiting. And I'm sorry you had to hear me and Maura, uh…"

"Hey, don't worry about it. You both had real good points. Now how do I get to your place?"

"Oh, um, just get back to the bowling alley and I'll direct you from there."

Betty backed out of the driveway. "So. Was that your girl's old lady?"

"Yep."

"Know what she gave ya?"

"A letter."

"Uh-oh."

"No, I mean it's good. I think. She's… okay with it, with me and Maura being together."

"What? This girl's mother knows you like making out with her daughter, and she's okay with that?! Damn, Rizzoli! I've never heard anything like it. That's fantastic."

Jane smiled, but she couldn't keep that rising apprehension from coming back. Camille had had a similar reaction, and as wonderful as Jane knew it was that Constance was supportive, it was upsetting to know how much of an exception she was in that regard. She knew she ought to focus on being grateful for Constance's approval, but all she could do was pity girls who didn't have a parent to turn to. Hell, she didn't, but it felt like a privilege when her girlfriend's mother was like that. But what if they broke up someday? Would another girl's mother or father be anywhere near as understanding as Maura claimed Constance was?

"Jane, you want me to be straight with you? I'll be straight with you," Betty said, noticing the solemn look that had overcome Jane.

"Don't sugarcoat," Jane said. "I want to go into all this knowing everything I can."

"I appreciate that, but I don't want to be the one responsible for scaring you further away from how happy Maura makes you. 'Cause I could see that in full force tonight, my friend."

"Are you gonna tell me how you got that scar?" Jane asked, gesturing to a cut near Betty's forehead.

"There's risk involved, kid. I'm not gonna lie to you about that," Betty said, and it was the most serious Jane had seen her all night. "I was walking to my car with my girl one night when I got this. Helluva lot of other things too—bruises and the like. I've never been that scared in my life. Lucky for me, one of my pals was around, and she…" Betty managed a laugh. "She likes boys quite a lot, see, and she had a whole gang of 'em beat the tar out of these jackass jerks who were tryin' to take me. Granted, I think I might've gotten outta there okay if I hadn't started it all by throwing a punch, but this guy made a crack about my girl. I couldn't let that go, you know?"

"Yeah," Jane mumbled. "I know." It was hard for her not to sock Garrett Fairfield in the jaw just for existing around the girl she liked. She couldn't imagine what she'd do if he were ever to make a crude remark towards Maura.

"And uh—see, I've not had good experiences with parents. The other girl's, I mean. He figured out what was going on, and he slapped me pretty good. Just once, but that was enough. It was a while ago."

"What'd you do?" Jane whispered.

Betty shrugged. "Hey, that was a bad time. Kate really lost her cool over it. He had her convinced that those feelings were wrong, were sinful. I wasn't even sure whether she liked me at that point. She came back, though." Betty's voice wavered, but she was determined not to cry. She wanted to look hopeful for this kid, so she shot a quick smile Jane's way. "She came back, and it's been heaven ever since.

"I don't wanna push you, Jane. That's not my job. You've gotta decide what it is you want to do for you. I mean the worst part of it is knowing someone's always gonna get lied to, but you have to consider that that's going to happen no matter what you do. If you stay true to who you are, you'll probably feel the need to lie to your family and a lot of your friends about it, maybe for your whole life."

"I hate that," Jane sniffed, pulling one leg onto the seat. She wrapped her arms around her knee, feeling an ugly burning sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"I know, kid, trust me. It stinks something awful. But what's the alternative? Worst case, you lie to yourself. You say, hey. I don't need that. I don't need that beautiful girl in my life. What do I care if somebody else holds her when she's scared, or picks her up when she's down? I can find all that with a man. No problem! So what, then you find that guy, and maybe he's nice and maybe he's cute and he likes you. Are you just gonna lie to him for the rest of your lives? Lie to him and everyone else who thinks you're so in love? Lie to the kids you'd have? Because that's what you'd be doing. Or, maybe you don't marry at all. Maybe you never do. People will want to know why. Could you tell 'em?"

"Dammit, Betty, how is this supposed to help me feel better?!"

"Because if you go with that second route, you have two options. You say 'to hell with that person' and go on by yourself, or you say 'to hell with that person' to the woman you love. That's what I'm trying to say, Jane."

"That it's a lose-lose situation?"

"Kid. Did you not hear 'the woman you love' part? That's what did it for me. I worked with a guy once—real nice guy, real sweet kid—and we dated for a while, but I had to stop things after a point. I was leading him on. We were meant for different people, I told him. And that's true, so help me God."

"So…you're happy?"

"Sure I am! Y'know, that's one of the myths about 'deviants' like us, Jane, that we aren't happy. That we're not capable of happiness. Well gee, maybe some of us get down sometimes because of the way we're treated! That's a novel concept, huh? This works for me. Being with Kate is hands-down the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I would not trade it for anything. There is no better feeling than having someone love you that way, or know you that way. And it probably sounds kind of ironic, given the things I told ya that happened to me, but there's no safer feeling than being with someone you love. I feel safe with Kate. That's the important thing for you to do—feel safe."

Safe.

When she got home, Jane went straight to bed and considered that word until she fell asleep. Being with Maura always had her a bit on edge—a little jumpy, a little unsure, nervous of being caught or found out. But she tried to pare that away, to chalk it up to the opinions of other people, outside forces. Like Betty and Camille had attested, the problem came from outside. It wasn't inherent.

If she really was just thinking about Maura, did she feel safe?

Yes. Maura never laughed at her. Maura didn't judge her. Maura believed in Jane's ambitions and encouraged her dreams. She had a sweet smile and a warm embrace that nobody but Jane received. Whenever Jane was scared, she wanted solace in those arms. When she had good news, she wanted to share it first with Maura. When she needed somebody to talk to, Maura's was the first and often only name that came to mind.

What cinched it was the next morning, when Jane woke up and remembered she hadn't read Constance's letter. Still slightly disoriented from sleep, she rushed to the hamper to get the letter out of her jeans pocket.

Dear Jane,

I will try to be brief, and I hope I do not embarrass you with the contents of this letter. I admit to being a tad embarrassed myself, actually, but feel you ought to know I wept when I read your words. It is every parent's dream that their child will find someone who loves them, who appreciates them for who and what they are. You are a tremendous gift to Maura and to me in that regard. Your selflessness and sweetness in showing her that love is astounding and inspiring.

Furthermore I am moved by the sentiment that you want to live for, rather than offer to die for, Maura. What a fantastic notion. I can only imagine the trials you may face as part of this lifestyle, and I cannot pretend to have answers for how to avoid them. But I will say that I have rarely felt a love declared so strongly and so purely between any two adults as I have in the words you wrote about my daughter. Part of me hopes you made carbon copies of those letters, because if you ever find that you are doubting yourself or worrying, then you could return to those sentiments you articulated and find that reason to keep going.

I am proud to have raised someone you feel makes you want to go out and do as much as you can. You should never be made to feel as though you are limited, as though you are lesser. Your life is just beginning, and there is so much in store for both of you.

You are brave. Do not forget that. And do not forget that I am on your side, and proud to be so. Live your life, Jane. Come what may and love it.

Sincerely,

C. Isles

Moments later, Jane was downstairs on the phone. Frankie and her father were already both out working, Tommy was still asleep, and Angela was busy making breakfast. Jane had said a quick hello before making one call, then dialing the Isles.

Maura picked up. "Hello?"

"Let's go out tonight."

"Jane?"

"FDR."

"Oh Franklin. Again? Well, where would you like to take me?"

Jane smiled at Maura's attempt to play along. "There's this club I heard about in Beacon Hill. Supposed to be pretty nifty."

Maura's tone dropped its jocularity. "Jane, are you sure?"

"Hundred percent."

"But yesterday you were so…I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing your hand."

"You're not, Maura. I promise. I did a lot of thinking while you were away. A lot of growing. I don't know, I guess I just sort of panicked when I thought about, well …a big group. You know, what sort of attention that might attract. But…" She sighed, lowering her voice even more in case her mother was trying to listen. "We have a saying in our family. My Pop said it a lot to his boys in the war."

"What'd he say?"

"We don't give in to fear."

"Oh, FDR! That's similar to one of your more famous quotations, isn't it? We have nothing to fear but fear itself."

"That was rather brilliant of me, wasn't it?" Jane chuckled, and her heart lifted to hear Maura laugh. "In all seriousness, though, Maura. I'm tired of being afraid."

Maura was lightheaded and ecstatic; she couldn't believe this was happening. "Jane! Oh gosh, I'm so excited! I'm so—but if you change your mind today, you'll tell me, won't you? I promise not to hold it against you if you want to back down."

"I won't back down. That's a promise. You and I both want to check this place out, and there's no point in putting it off."

Jane held the phone a bit away from her ear when an excited squeal came over the line. "This is wonderful! Oh, what am I going to wear?"

"I don't know, but make it something sexy," Jane teased her. "I'll pick you up around eight, okay?"

"Okay! It's a date!"

"Sure is, baby. I'll see you later."

A/N: Next chapter is definitely going to include that gay bar - sorry I didn't get to it right away; I just felt like it made sense to expand on Jane's nervousness about it. Plus then I got to use two of my favorite Jane quotes from the actual show ("we don't give in to fear"/"I'm simply tired of being afraid.") And also Constance feels. Because I felt she'd been getting neglected and I love her.