A/N: In which Jane is a useless lesbian, Maura is sentimental, and I'm back on my "semi-historical" bullshit. This time we're stretching the truth with regard to translations of Sappho and the existence of lesbian bars in the 1860s. (Although fun fact, the words "sapphic" and "lesbian" have both been around since the 1700s, though the latter was generally used in a derogatory way.)

Anyway, thank y'all, as always, for reading and especially for commenting. Enjoy!

The ride to Aurora had never seemed so long. Jane generally enjoyed it—it was relaxing, being on Friday's back and surrounded by nature on all sides—but not today. Today, despite the fact that they were making good time, all Jane had been able to feel was an itching, restless impatience.

She couldn't stop thinking about Maura. Specifically, she couldn't stop thinking about Maura's lips, and her hands, and the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. It was all very distracting, especially now that she was allowed to think about Maura like this. Jane didn't have to be ashamed of it anymore, and with nothing else to do but watch the monotony of trees, roots, rocks, and, well, more trees pass by, she was more than happy to let her imagination run wild.

But as nice as it was feeling like she could think these things about Maura, just thinking about it was no comparison to the real thing. Which was the problem. Maura was riding along behind her on Herschel, but the road was a one-track trail, far too narrow for two horses to travel side by side. Which meant that if Jane wanted to get so much as a look at Maura, she had to turn around in her saddle and crane her neck just to smile at her. Never mind talking, which was practically impossible unless Jane planned on hollering at Maura over the sound of the horses' hooves and the distance between them, which she didn't think Maura would appreciate very much.

Not that the inconvenience had stopped her from turning around several times just to catch a glimpse of Maura riding along behind her with seemingly effortless grace. (Seriously, how did Maura make everything look so easy? She'd only been riding Western since arriving in California, and yet her form somehow managed to put Jane to shame.) Every time they made eye contact, Maura smiled back at her in a way that made Jane's stomach flip-flop inside of her. It made her feel like a teenager again—or like a teenager for the first time, really. She'd never felt anything like this before.

By the time they rode up to the little boardinghouse they'd stayed at on Maura's very first night in California, Jane was near bursting with anticipation. She practically bounced down off Jo Friday's back, causing Maura to laugh and give her a bemused look as she gracefully dismounted Herschel.

"You're certainly in a hurry," Maura commented.

Could she really be blamed for that? Jane leaned in close to Maura's ear, voice low as she said, "Yeah, Maur, 'course I'm in a hurry. I've missed you."

"We've been together all day—" Maura began, only to halt with an abrupt inhalation of air when she saw the gleam in Jane's eye. "Oh. Point taken."

Jane grinned, taking Friday's and Herschel's reins and beginning to lead the horses around the back of the boardinghouse. "You want to go talk to the boardinghouse owner and I'll get these two settled?"

Maura nodded; Jane couldn't help but smile wider, watching her rummage around in the saddlebag to find her money with that little crease between her brows that meant she was focusing on something. Equally endearing was Maura's sunny smile when she produced the money from the depths of the bag, leaning over to grab Jane's hand and give it a squeeze before she set off towards the front door of the boardinghouse.

Jane, for her part, led the horses to the barn out back and began unloading the saddlebags and untacking the horses. It had been a long, dusty day of riding; she made sure the horses had both had their fill of water before checking their bodies for injuries (thankfully, both appeared healthy) and letting them out into the paddock behind the boardinghouse. There was something therapeutic about being in the company of horses and not people; it made Jane feel grounded to have something to take care of like that. Jane wouldn't say she was the type of person to crave stability or responsibility—quite the opposite, in fact—but this was an exception. Unlike humans, horses didn't judge.

She watched them in the paddock for a while before slinging the bags over her shoulder and going to join Maura, who she found waiting for her on the front porch, room key in hand. The doctor stood upon seeing Jane with a smile that immediately sent a flood of butterflies rushing through Jane's stomach.

"Would you like some help with those?"

"Nah, I got it. Just hold the door for me."

Maura did so, and the two of them trooped up the stairs and onto the second-floor landing, where Jane waited for Maura to lead the way to their room. Surprisingly, she found herself treading a familiar path, stopping in front of the door to the room they'd stayed in before.

"I asked if we could have the same room as last time." Maura glanced over at Jane as if gauging her reaction. "I hope that wasn't inappropriately sentimental."

Judging by the lump in her throat, it was Jane who was the 'inappropriately sentimental' one. She cleared her throat. "No, uh, that's perfect." God, I'm getting so soft.

"Are you blushing?"

"What? No!" Jane exclaimed, automatically denying the accusation, but she could feel her face getting hotter and hotter under Maura's gaze.

Maura gave a pleased hum, looking at Jane out of the corner of her eye as she unlocked the door, holding it open for Jane (and the saddlebags) to pass through. Jane dropped the bags in a heap near the front door, immediately kicking off her boots and sprawling out onto the bed, her long limbs taking up the entirety of the surface.

"You really should change your clothes before you get the linens dirty."

"Oh, yeah?" Jane smirked. "Trying to get me out of my clothes already, Maura?"

It was Maura's turn to blush now. "I—that's not what I—"

"Suuuuure. Deny it all you want, I don't believe you," Jane sang out, sitting up so she could grab Maura's hands and pull her down on the bed next to her.

Jane had fully intended to kiss her then and there, but when she flipped onto her side to face Maura, she found herself momentarily lost in her eyes. Oh. Well, this was a new feeling. Jane had long had an aversion to any of the "sappy" things that came along with being in a relationship, lingering eye contact included. She'd been able to tolerate the dinners and dancing alright, but as soon as any man had tried to talk about feelings or stare deep into her eyes, well, that was it. Jane was out of there faster than a bullet from the barrel of her pistol.

And yet, with Maura there was something undoubtedly peaceful about it. Maybe that was because there was no pressure here, no insistence that Jane be anything other than who she truly was. Maura didn't want to tame her or fix her or get her to settle down and bear children. When Maura looked at her, Jane felt, for possibly the first time in her life, that she was enough.

But as lovely as it was looking into Maura's (dreamy, beautiful, warm) eyes, Jane really did want to kiss her. She'd been wanting to kiss her again ever since the first time, but there had never been a right moment. This morning, with the first rays of sun rising over the mountains and illuminating Maura from behind so she looked like an angel, Jane had considered it. Maura had looked up from adjusting the stirrups on her saddle, and she'd smiled, and Jane had thought it would be so easy to take one, two, three steps and be at Maura's side. It would have felt so natural to put one hand on Maura's hip and the other at the back of her neck and lean in until their lips met.

But then Ma had thrown open the door with a bang (Angela had not so much offered to help her pack for the journey as forced herself upon a reluctant Jane), and then that fantasy had been shattered, and Jane had been left to imagine for the endless hours of the ride what it would be like, kissing Maura again. And again. And again…

It was nice not having to imagine anymore, Jane thought, as she closed her eyes and brought their lips together for the second time. There was nothing desperate or feverish about it this time—Jane wasn't afraid of running out of breath, or of Maura pulling back. Never before had she considered kissing an activity she could lose herself in. The men she'd kissed hadn't made her head spin like this, like she couldn't think of anything else; her body had been attuned to them, but her mind had always been elsewhere. She'd thought of her cases, and that she needed to get Friday reshoed, and about what she was going to have for dinner that night. One time, mid-smooch, Jane had had a sudden epiphany about a crime she'd been trying to solve; she'd left the poor guy on his back in the hay, scrambling to her feet with a poorly-worded promise to catch up with him once she caught the outlaw. Needless to say, that had been their last date.

Jane had always just assumed that was the way it was meant to be: good for the guy, tolerable for her. She'd never even considered that there could be anything else until Clara had brought it up, two summers ago now. They'd been swimming, floating lazily on their backs in one of those river eddies where the water idled and ran slow, and Jane had been complaining about all the suitors Ma had kept having over for Sunday dinner. And that was when Clara had said it: Ya know, Janie, men ain't the only option.

But even thinking about that had been so daunting, had made her feel so wrong and so right all at the same time, that she'd never dared do anything but imagine the possibility. Until Maura.

And as it turned out, reality was so much better than Jane's imagination.

Maura took forever to get ready. Jane had simply changed her shirt, re-braided her hair, and been done with it, but she'd been sitting on the bed for at least fifteen minutes now, twiddling her thumbs while Maura adjusted every stray hair (even though, to Jane's eyes, she already looked fine), and smoothed down the many layers of her dress, and did god knew what else to prepare. Jane had, fortunately, gotten the opportunity to help with the corset again, although she suspected Maura didn't really need her help and had only asked to give Jane something to do so she wouldn't be so impatient. Whatever the reason, Jane certainly wasn't complaining.

When Maura finally turned back to her, Jane couldn't help but tease. "What, you're going out like that?"

"Is there something wrong with my outfit?" Maura looked genuinely concerned.

"Not at all. Took you long enough, though." Jane grinned, taking Maura's hand and bringing it up to her mouth for a soft kiss. "You look beautiful."

"As do you."

Jane felt herself flush a little at the compliment. Dropping Maura's hand, she grabbed the room key and held the door open for Maura with a flourish. "M'lady."

"Jane."

"What, too cheesy?"

Maura didn't even dignify that with a response; laughing, Jane shut and locked the door behind them before dropping the key in her pocket and reaching out for Maura's hand. She was surprised at how natural it felt, the way their fingers intertwined together, and how proud it made her to walk down the stairs and out onto the street holding Maura's hand. It was a simple gesture, an open secret—friends held hands, of course, and the casual passersby would be none the wiser as to the nature of their relationship. They were safe from assumptions.

Jane wasn't sure how she'd feel if she thought people could tell just by looking at them that they were together. Maybe she wasn't ready for that yet, but she decided to accept this small victory. Months ago, she'd hardly dared wish for anything like this; years ago, she would've hated herself for even entertaining the idea. Now, though, as she drank in the late summer air, holding Maura's hand on the street felt right.

"Where are we going?" Maura inquired after a while, with a gentle squeeze of Jane's hand that sent the butterflies swarming through her stomach again.

For the first time that night, Jane felt nervous. "You remember Clara?"

"Of course. She's quite the character."

"Yeah." Jane couldn't help but smile a little at that. "She really is. Uh, anyway, she… there's this place called the Wild Rose."

Maura frowned. "I believe she mentioned it last time we were in Aurora. But you wouldn't give me any further information."

"Uh, yeah." Jane could feel her words devolve into a sort of mumble. How was she supposed to explain this? "It's like… a bar. An underground one."

"Underground?"

"Not literally," Jane said quickly, knowing how literal Maura could be sometimes. "Just. Secret, I guess."

"Is it something illegal?" Maura asked, and Jane could see the gears turning in her head. Feeling a rush of fondness come over her, Jane swallowed hard and looked away. Maura really had no idea how adorable it was when she was all focused like that.

"I mean, not really. Kinda?" Jane tried, feeling relieved that they'd reached the building in question. "It's hard to explain, Maur, I'll tell you once we're inside."

The outside of the building was typical of the other saloons in town—a rough wooden exterior, battered by many years of standing against the often-harsh hailstorms that were relatively common in the winter. Bold letters proclaimed it the "Bandits' Den," and as Jane pushed open the door and held it for Maura, the interior of the building certainly lived up to that expectation.

The room was dimly lit by a low-hanging chandelier, several kerosene wicks burning at once to illuminate the large space. The crowd here looked rougher than in the saloons Jane usually frequented; a couple of men wolf whistled at them as they stepped through the door, and as they passed by one particularly rowdy table, one of the men reached out to grab at Jane. Needless to say, her elbow connecting solidly with his nose deterred him from trying anything more. Up front, in a large open space, a lone fiddle player accompanied a husky-voiced female singer as dancers in short skirts gave sultry smiles to their audience, occasionally stopping at one of the tables to brush a hand down the well-formed biceps of the more handsome men.

Maura looked confused; Jane had dropped her hand, but she gave the doctor's arm a reassuring squeeze and directed her towards the bar in the back.

"Is this a brothel, Jane?"

Jane gritted her teeth. "I know what it looks like, but you're gonna have to trust me on this one."

Jane's eyes were scanning the bar for Clara, but she saw no sign of her friend as they approached. Thankfully, they'd managed to make it to the back of the room without any further mishaps involving creepy men, but even so, a little wave of panic was beginning to well up inside Jane. This was a mistake; she shouldn't have taken Maura here. Maura would probably think it was seedy and low-class, they probably had far nicer places back in Boston, which Jane wouldn't know because she hadn't been there since she was ten, and oh, god, Maura was going to laugh at her and then everything would be ruined and—

"Janie!" The twang of her name in Clara's Southern accent interrupted Jane's spiral of panic, and she felt an instant surge of relief when she turned to see blonde curls and an infectious smile weaving their way through the crowd towards her.

"Clara!"

"And the good doctor, I see." Clara gave Jane a wink. "What brings y'all to my part of town?"

"Uhh…" Jane stole a surreptitious glance at Maura out of the corner of her eye before she responded, relieved to see that Maura looked much more composed than Jane felt. "Many crowns of violets."

"Ah." Something flashed in Clara's eyes, and she took Jane by the elbow, leading her and Maura back behind the bar. "Hoped it was somethin' like that. It's good to have ya back, Janie."

Jane swallowed hard past the lump of anxiety in her throat. "Good to be back."

Clara stopped at the far side of the bar, pulling back a heavy purple curtain and gesturing for Jane and Maura to walk through. Jane reached out once more for Maura's hand, although whether that was more for Maura's benefit or her own, she wasn't sure. Either way, she felt instantly reassured at the brush of Maura's fingers over hers. Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

"I'll catch up with ya later, Janie," Clara said with a wink. "Got some newcomers out here I gotta sort out, but after. Yeah?"

Jane nodded, and then Clara let the curtain fall back into place, leaving Jane and Maura in a dimly lit hallway. It was a close space, too tight for Maura and Jane to stand side by side, with walls painted black and only a small wall-mounted candle to illuminate the shadows. They stood face to face now, Jane feeling almost too paralyzed to move beyond the little hallway.

"Was that some sort of passcode, Jane?"

"Huh?"

"The Sappho line. About the violets."

"You recognized it?" Jane asked lamely, then kicked herself for what was obviously a stupid question. Of course Maura recognized it; she was the most well-read person Jane knew.

Maura nodded, something like a smile toying at her lips, although Jane couldn't get a good read on her expression in the dim light. "Sappho is one of the greatest lyric poets ever to have lived."

"So you probably know… other things about her, too."

"Yes, Jane." Maura's voice was warm, comforting. "That's why you didn't tell me about this place on my first night here, isn't it?"

Jane nodded, and when she spoke, the words tumbled out in a rush. "I don't come here often, just—Clara's my friend, we grew up together, it wasn't even until she said something that I even realized there are…" she trailed off, unsure of how to finish that thought.

"Women like us," Maura supplied. "Sapphic women."

"Uh, yeah. That." Jane felt vaguely uncomfortable with the label even in front of Maura, which was stupid because Maura was the last person she'd ever expect to judge her. Still, there was a part of her that felt the need to justify herself. "I've only been here once. Clara just—she said I should come, I didn't think I was like the women here, I was just… well, Clara thought it was a good idea."

Maura was looking at her with a fond light in her eyes, or at least what Jane hoped was fondness (it was too dark to be very sure). She leaned in, and Jane half-expected their lips to meet in a kiss, but instead she found herself surrounded by the comforting warmth of Maura's arms. Resting her chin on Maura's shoulder, Jane wrapped her arms around Maura, returning the embrace.

There was a tight, funny feeling in Jane's chest. It was both freeing and frightening, hearing Maura say the word aloud—Sapphic. Saying it like that, so openly, was a privilege Jane had always denied herself; she'd never had the language to describe it before, and she still wasn't sure she wanted to. There was an odd contradiction inside Jane, even now, that made it possible for her to want Maura in ways she had never wanted anyone before and yet hesitate at the thought of assigning those feelings any sort of label. It was one thing for Jane to want Maura in her heart and in her bed; those feelings were private, they belonged to Jane alone. Sapphic was a declaration, and one Jane was not sure she was comfortable with. She didn't want women. She wanted Maura.

They stood like that for a few moments, still and quiet, listening to each other's heartbeats and the muffled sounds of the crowded saloon they had left behind. Maura's breathing was steady; her arms made Jane feel secure, not stifled the way she would have expected.

The sound of Maura's voice was soft next to Jane's ear when she spoke. "You never have to be ashamed of who you are when you're with me, Jane."

"Even if I'm not ready to be a Sapphic woman?" She could hear the tremble in her own voice and felt a stab of shame. Jane was glad Maura was holding her like this; it meant she didn't have to look Maura in the eye and let her see just how vulnerable this made her.

"Even if you're not ready."

"I want to be with you, Maura, I really do," Jane said, feeling like she was screwing everything up despite Maura's words of reassurance. "I know that. I just don't know if… I mean, I've never been with a woman before."

Jane was half expecting Maura to laugh, to say, neither have I. Had she been with women, Jane wondered? But Maura just pulled Jane in closer and traced soothing circles over her shirt at the base of her spine.

"I'll wait until you're ready," she said simply, and Jane hated how close to tears she felt upon hearing those words.

Taking a deep breath in, she stepped back and gave Maura a small smile, reaching out for her hand once more. "Alright, then. Let's go."

It was a tight fit to keep hold of Maura's hand down the hallway, especially with the doctor's voluminous skirts (she was definitely overdressed again, which Jane had just accepted as one of her quirks at this point), but Jane managed it. Taking a final deep breath in, Jane pushed open the door to the Wild Rose.

It was much as she remembered from the last time she'd been there—small and a bit crowded, with women tucked into booths and tables that seemed to cover almost every square foot of the place except a small open area for dancing. A mass of people swayed in time to the music, a haunting melody sung by a tall, dark-haired woman with piercing blue eyes. She looked somber, maybe even bored as she surveyed the room, catching Jane's eye and giving her a deep nod before resuming her slow onceover of the Wild Rose's patrons as she sang. Beside her, a blonde with a pixie cut strummed a stringed instrument that Jane didn't recognize, periodically glancing up at the singer with affection in her eyes.

Jane made a beeline for an open booth in the corner of the room, practically dragging Maura behind her until she collapsed into the wooden seat hard enough to make her wince. Walking through the door, she had felt strangely exposed, as if all eyes were on the spectacle that was her and Maura's entrance. Here in the corner, Jane was the watcher rather than the watched.

And there was a lot to watch. All around them, women from every walk of life came together in an atmosphere of merriment. There were women dressed in men's clothing like Jane's, mingling amongst traditionally feminine women, hair done up and wearing the fancy gowns Maura favored. Young barmaids chattered excitedly among themselves at the edges of the dancefloor, engaged in bashful flirtation; some of the older women sipped cocktails or downed beers at the bar. At tables and in booths, couples chatted, deep in conversation with clasped hands and fond smiles towards one another. A few even kissed on the lips, lost in each other and unafraid of who might see.

Jane hadn't done much people-watching on her last visit; she'd spent most of the time feeling guilt-stricken and anxious. She wouldn't call herself relaxed this time, either, but some of the nervousness was abated by the firm pressure of Maura's fingers giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as the doctor took her seat across from Jane, lifting their intertwined hands to rest them atop the table.

"Do you want to dance?" she asked Maura suddenly, feeling relieved upon seeing Maura's eager nod.

Hand in hand, Jane and Maura weaved through the tables to the dance floor. All around them, women danced in pairs or groups, clapping their hands and cheering. Jane caught snippets of conversation as they passed by.

"Are you leading or am I?" complained a curly-haired Asian woman to Jane's right, causing her blonde partner to reply, "I have no idea," in a lilting, foreign accent. To their left, two girls who couldn't have been more than teenagers danced shyly on the edge of the crowd, eyes flickering around almost as if they couldn't believe this place was real; a regal blonde led her younger partner through the steps of a formal dance that seemed hardly fitting for the setting; and a tall, black-haired woman in glasses let out a throaty laugh as a smaller blonde ground against her in a way that made Jane avert her eyes.

A mused and somehow reassured by the realization that none of these women knew what they were doing any more than she did, Jane waded in among the crowd, resting a confident hand on Maura's waist and feeling a grin overtake her face as she and Maura began to move in time to the music. The singer and musician had struck up a boisterous tune now; the words of the song were in a language foreign to Jane, but the melody reminded her of an old sea shanty, full of vigor.

It was too loud to talk, but she could tell from the glimmer in Maura's eyes that she was having just as much fun as Jane. They danced like that for a while, Jane stepping back so Maura could do a twirl and collide back into her again. Feeling emboldened, Jane pulled Maura in closer until their bodies were pressed up against each other, closer than could be considered proper even for close female friends. But there was no need to worry about that here. Maybe Clara was onto something with this place after all; Jane could get used to this kind of freedom.

By the time the song ended and the musicians called out that they were taking a quick break, both Jane and Maura were breathless. Smiling at the sight of Maura's flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair, Jane leaned down slightly to press a quick kiss to her lips.

"I'll get us some drinks?" she asked.

"That would be lovely."

Spotting Clara behind the bar, Jane found an empty stool and slid in next to a woman who was nursing a glass of some dark liquid, maybe bourbon. "This seat taken?"

The woman turned, fixing Jane with an intense hazel gaze and a sultry smirk on her lips. "Not for you, it isn't."

Unsure of how to respond, Jane settled on a noncommittal grunt, then waved, hoping to catch Clara's eye. Unfortunately, Clara was preoccupied with a group of women at the far end of the bar. It looked like Jane was in for a bit of a wait. She fiddled with the hem of her shirtsleeve, wishing she'd asked Maura to come with her to the bar. Glancing across the room, Jane spotted the doctor talking animatedly with the blonde instrumentalist. One of them had pulled out a journal from somewhere, and Maura looked deep in thought as she pored over something on the page. Trust Maur to find the only other nerd in the place, Jane thought, and couldn't help but smile.

"So what's your story?" The voice broke through the pleasant haze of Jane's thoughts.

It was the brunette in the stool next to hers, slouching artfully against the bar with a sort of practiced nonchalance. There was something almost familiar about her, though Jane couldn't place her; maybe she'd been here last time and Jane just didn't recognize her face. Her memories of that night weren't the clearest, given the amount of whiskey she'd downed afterwards, alone in her boardinghouse room and overwhelmed with some emotion between shame and exhilaration.

She cleared her throat. "Uh, I don't have much of a story."

"Everyone has a story. You seem like the type of woman to lead an interesting life."

There was something about the way she said it that sent Jane right back to her schoolhouse days. She felt flustered, put on the spot, as if there were some specific answer this stranger expected from her that remained frustratingly out of reach.

Was this woman hitting on her? Jane's brain froze for a second. This was new territory. What was she even supposed to say? She was here with Maura; if she could just make that clear, somehow, then maybe—

The woman laughed, as if the panic were evident on Jane's face. Maybe it was.

"Come home with me, Jane," she said, but Jane didn't have time to respond because Clara had finally caught sight of her and hurried over, and the mystery woman brushed a cold hand across Jane's shoulder and down her arm, and then, with the alluring-yet-chilling laugh of a femme fatale, she was gone.

"Who was that?" Clara asked with a frown.

"You haven't seen her before?"

"Nah, don't think so."

"Me neither," Jane said with a shrug. "She was, uh… very friendly."

"Gotcha." The blonde grinned, polishing a glass with a rag as she spoke. "So, Janie. Dr. Isles, huh?"

Jane hated the fact that she was blushing at the mere mention of Maura's name. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good on you," Clara said approvingly. "I'm glad ya brought her here."

"You think it was the right decision?"

Clara looked surprised. "'Course, Janie. She's havin' a good time. Aren't you?"

"Yeah, it's just…" Jane hated this, the way something inside her just froze up having to even talk about these things. These things. She couldn't even put a word to it in her own thoughts. "What if I'm wrong about all this, Clara?"

Clara was suddenly still, setting down the glass she'd been polishing with a loud thunk that made Jane flinch. Reaching out, she grabbed Jane's face with one hand, pinching her cheeks like Jane was just a child again.

"I've known ya since we were kids, ain't that right?" Clara's Southern accent came out strong now, the way it always did when she was especially serious. Jane had been fascinated with it when Clara had first moved to town, fresh off a wagon train out of Georgia and only a few years younger than Jane. Despite all the time since then, the friendship (and the accent) had endured.

When Jane nodded, Clara let go of her face, fixing her with a thoughtful look in her blue eyes. "So I know a thing or two about Jane Rizzoli, I'd say. And, well, I've never seen ya so happy lookin' at anyone else before."

"Really?" was all Jane could manage, feeling low and pathetic but also somehow reassured.

"Yeah, really. Trust me on this one."

"Okay," Jane said, taking in a deep breath and preparing to stride away before she remembered what she'd come up to the bar for in the first place. "Oh. Uh, could I get some beer? Same type we had on Maur's first night here, if you've got it."

"Sure thing." Clara had a gleam in her eye, pouring the drinks with the sort of efficiency that only came with many years' experience. "My, what would my poor ol' Pop think of where I spend the nights when I ain't workin' over at our place?"

"Same as my Ma, I'd expect," Jane laughed. "No one could've guessed where we'd end up."

Clara reached across the bar to give Jane a fond pat on the shoulder. "And I wouldn't have it any other way." Her face broke out into a wide smile. "Now go get the girl, Janie!"

"Thanks, Clara."

"Come visit soon. And bring that pretty lady of yours with ya again." Clara winked.

"Will do." Jane smiled at her old friend, then picked up the two beer tankards and turned back to the bar, scanning the room for Maura. Her eyes picked out the doctor standing around a table with some of the bar's other patrons, watching a card game. She chuckled. Knowing Maura, she was probably talking the nearest card player's ear off about strategies and probabilities and all sorts of things like that. Maura looked up as she approached, smiling with the sort of wide-eyed excitement that Jane always found endearing.

"Careful, Maur. If you smile any wider, you're gonna split your face right in half."

"Technically, Jane, that is anatomically impossible."

Jane rolled her eyes, handing her the beer. "Shut up and drink."

"Careful. If you roll your eyes any harder, they'll pop out of your skull."

Jane couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected comment. "Maura Isles, making a scientifically inaccurate joke? What sideways dreamland have I fallen into now?"

Maura gave her a sly, knowing grin before taking a sip of beer; Jane was pleased to notice that the doctor didn't cringe at the flavor anymore the way she had in the beginning. This California life suited Maura, Jane thought, although she recognized she might be a bit biased.

"What'd you get up to while I was gone?" Jane asked, taking a swig of her own drink. "I saw you talking to the woman who was playing that… whatever it was."

"A lyre," Maura informed her immediately. "It's a multi-stringed instrument that originated in ancient Greece, not often played in modernity."

"Yeah, that."

"It's a fascinating instrument. I asked her where she'd learnt to play," Maura explained, "and we got to talking a bit. She said she and her partner were just passing through and offered to provide entertainment tonight in exchange for a place to stay. And then she said she's a writer, so of course we had that in common. Although her specialty is poetry, and I'm rather more attracted to the novel as a literary form."

"You write?" It shouldn't have come as a surprise—there were lots of things she didn't know about Maura, after all—but Jane found herself impressed all over again. There really wasn't anything Maura couldn't do.

"A bit." Maura shrugged, almost self-consciously. "It's a hobby, really. Nothing serious."

"Maybe I could read something of yours sometime."

"Maybe," Maura said noncommittally, and Jane was just about to ask her more about her work when a shout broke out at the card table.

Jane's hand flew immediately to her pistol, but she relaxed once she realized the commotion was a friendly one. Years of working in law enforcement meant she was jaded, willing to react to the slightest provocation. All too often, what should have been a friendly competition turned to a deadly saloon shoot-out when alcohol and hot tempers were added to the mix.

"You can't do that, that's cheating!" one of the players complained, running a hand through a bushy tangle of dirty-blonde hair that reminded Jane of a lion's mane.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" challenged the brunette sitting to her left, a prim smile gracing her bright red lips. The blonde reached out and elbowed her, causing the brunette to pout. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Careful, kid, or I'm gonna call the sheriff and get him to throw you back into lock-up for a few nights. Didn't really enjoy our last stay there, if I remember correctly." She slapped down her hand on the table. "Full house. And I didn't cheat."

The brunette huffed. "You just got lucky this time."

"Shut up and play your cards," the blonde said affectionately, before capturing her partner's lips in a deep kiss that caused Jane to clear her throat and look away.

"Do you know how to play poker?" Jane asked Maura conversationally, averting her eyes and making a blind gesture at the table, almost sloshing beer down the neck of the player who sat closest to them in the process. Shit.

Maura shrugged. "I've picked up most of the rules while spectating. Maybe you could teach me sometime."

"Sure."

Jane had grown up playing poker; her father had taught her. They'd all used to play, Pop and Jane and her brothers, on those long winter nights when it was too cold to do anything outside. Jane had always been good—better than Tommy and Frankie, and before long, better than her father, too. Before he'd run off to San Francisco to have his fun in the gambling parlors and brothels there, of course.

"You know, I have heard about an interesting variation on the game," Maura commented, and Jane wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw the doctor's cheeks go red.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Maura nodded, then leaned in close, her breath warm against Jane's cheek as she whispered, "Have you ever heard of strip poker? I was thinking we could try it. It's quite similar to the traditional game, except—"

"Maura," was all Jane could say, cutting her off before she could get any further, in a scandalized tone that immediately reminded Jane so much of her own mother that she cringed at herself.

"Is that a no?"

"Y-yeah—I mean, no, it's not a no," Jane stammered, cheeks getting hotter by the second, "but wow, Maur, you can't just go and say things like that!"

Maura had a satisfied little smirk on her lips. "I don't see why I shouldn't, if it yields a reaction like that."

"Yields a—yields a reaction?" Jane's brain still wasn't quite processing at a normal speed. "You can't do experiments on people, I'm not a science experiment!"

"On the contrary, human behavioral studies are quite fascinating," said Maura matter-of-factly, "although I'll admit I have ulterior motives when you are the one serving as my test subject."

"Oh, yeah?" Jane said, trying to sound flirtatious but mostly just sounding out-of-breath. "And what kind of motives are those?"

"I think they're the sort of motives one should show instead of tell."

That was all Jane needed to hear. "Do you, uh… maybe wanna head back to our room?"

It took approximately two seconds after the time the door had swung shut for Jane to lean in and claim Maura's lips with her own. If she'd thought the ride to Aurora had been long, well, the walk back from the Wild Rose had felt even longer. It was like time had slowed down to a snail's pace. Or maybe Jane was just an impatient sort of person.

She pushed Maura back against the door, feeling a warm burn in the pit of her stomach at the moan that issued from Maura's lips in response. Unfortunately, Maura's bulky skirts meant that there wasn't a whole lot of exposed skin for Jane to touch, so she made do with running her fingers through the wisps of hair at the top of Maura's neck, her other hand splayed across the cool wood of the door. Maura's hands had initially been resting at Jane's waist, but as Jane deepened the kiss, one of her hands began to drift distractingly lower. For a moment, Jane stilled, breaking the kiss to draw in a shuddering breath that caused Maura to open her eyes in concern.

"Is this alright?"

Jane nodded. It was so much better than just alright, but she wasn't sure she could trust herself to say that out loud, so she decided to let her actions speak for her. Leaning in again, she left a trail of light kisses down the side of Maura's neck, pleased at the little hum of pleasure that left Maura's mouth at the sensation. Her right hand was still tangled in Maura's hair; Jane trailed her left down the back of Maura's neck, feeling around for the laces of her corset underneath her dress. Maura shifted her weight off the door, trying to give Jane more room to maneuver, but after a moment they had to admit defeat.

"I'm no match for your damn corset," Jane grumbled, and Maura laughed.

"Maybe we should take this to the bed," she said gently, which sent an instant jab of something—excitement? anxiety? both?—all along Jane's nerves.

They sat on the edge of the bed together in silence as Maura unbuttoned the front of her bodice, revealing the corset beneath. She smiled at Jane, looking so calm and unafraid that Jane felt ashamed of her inexperience for a moment before she remembered this was Maura. Kind-hearted, gentle, wonderful Maura, who would never laugh at her or intentionally make her feel bad about anything. Jane took a deep breath as Maura turned her back to her, then began unlacing the corset with shaking fingers. Thank god Maura had had her do this so many times before. Her hands were trembling so much she doubted she'd have been able to do it without the practice.

And then it was unlaced. Jane hesitated, her fingers just barely brushing over Maura's bare skin in the gap between the two sides of the undergarment.

"I feel like I'm supposed to say something smooth now."

Maura turned back toward her. "You don't have to say anything unless you want to. And we don't have to do this unless you want to."

"I want to." However awkward and vulnerable and inept Jane felt, she knew this was what she wanted. It was what she'd wanted for some time now, even if it seemed overwhelming in the moment.

"Kiss me again?" Maura said it like a question, seeming to sense the discomfort Jane had hesitated to voice aloud.

Kissing, at least, was something Jane could manage. It was funny how natural it felt now, kissing Maura; it already seemed that they fit together in a way Jane had never fit with any of her past partners. Feeling a little bolder, she let her hands wander over the exposed skin at the small of Maura's back, though she didn't dare venture any further north or south of that.

Jane didn't know how it happened—one moment they were sitting up on the edge of the bed, side by side, and then next moment Maura was laying back and Jane was straddling her hips. The corset, thankfully, was loose but still protecting Maura's modesty; Jane might have combusted had Maura taken it off completely. Maura's hands gripped at Jane's waist, and Jane leaned down to kiss her neck again, and then—

"What's this?" Maura asked, confused, as something dropped out of Jane's shirt pocket and onto the bed.

"Huh?" Jane was a little preoccupied with other things, her head buried in the crook of Maura's neck. "Doesn't matter, Maur, whatever it is, I'll deal with it later."

"Jane." Maura's tone was urgent now, and she sat up, causing Jane to flail and climb off of her lap, bewildered and feeling as though she'd been rejected. "This isn't yours, is it?"

Jane frowned, looking at the object that Maura was holding out to her. It was a dagger, which in itself was not out of the ordinary; what was out of the ordinary, however, was the fact that it was covered in—

"Blood," Jane said numbly, taking it from Maura's hand. Even Maura couldn't argue with that assessment; she just sat, stunned into stillness along with Jane.

"It must have fallen out of your pocket," Maura said after a long silence.

"Well, yeah, but it's not mine." She recognized it, though she didn't say so aloud. Maura didn't need to know the image that came to Jane's mind: the handle of this very same dagger, slick with Jane's own blood and protruding from the palm of her hand. Seven notches were carved into the wooden handle; it was only because of Korsak that there wasn't an eighth representing Jane.

They'd never found those daggers at the crime scene, though Frost had returned to look for them. He'd come to tell her the next day when her mind had come out of the shock of that night, his eyes full of compassion and sorrow. I'm sorry, Jane. Our priority was making sure you and Sheriff Korsak made it out okay.

Jane's words were more to herself than to Maura, mumbled under her breath. "How did I not notice it earlier?"

"Well," Maura said, cheeks coloring slightly, "I was distracting you."

"I still should've noticed." Jane stood and paced toward the door, feeling suddenly as though their room, which had before seemed so cozy, was a cage closing in on her. "I'm better than this, Maur, I should've noticed someone getting close enough to slip something into my pocket."

"Lots of people were close to us all night," Maura pointed out, but even her (admittedly logical) observation didn't bring Jane any comfort. "Any one of them could've planted it. Were you carrying anything else in that pocket? Something valuable, maybe?"

Jane reached into the pocket in question; her fingers connected with a piece of paper, stained reddish-brown with the remnants of drying blood. She cursed. "How much do you wanna bet it's another one of those damn threats?"

Cursive writing, the same feminine script as the last note. Did you forget about me, Jane? Well, I suppose you can't help that. We're all mad here.

"God, I fucking hate it when I'm right," Jane muttered under her breath.

"'We're all mad here?'" Maura repeated. "Is that what it says, word for word?"

"Yeah."

"That's a quote. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll. It's a children's book, published five years ago."

"And?" Jane hoped Maura had a point and that this wasn't one of her tangents.

"You said last time that the teacup was one of Hoyt's symbols." When Jane nodded, Maura continued. "I don't claim to remember everything that happens in the book, but I believe the Cheshire Cat says that quote to Alice before she attends the Mad Tea Party."

Though Jane was sure there was more to the story than that, she didn't need to hear any more. She still wasn't sure how the missing girls or the ice picks fit into this, but the connection to Hoyt was clear. Whatever game he was playing, she refused to take part in it. There was only one solution; Jane had been putting it off for months now, and truth be told, she still didn't feel ready. She doubted she ever would. But there was no other choice.

"I'm sorry to cut our weekend short, Maur, but I think we need to head back early." Jane didn't realize she'd been biting her lip until she tasted the iron tang of blood on her tongue. "I need to talk to Hoyt."

A/N: I'M SORRY GUYS. I promise they'll get it on eventually, we just have some more actual plot to get through before we get to that.

This chapter has been brought to you by Kacey Musgraves' "Butterflies," which I listened to on repeat while writing, and "Closer" by Tegan and Sara, because mood. Also "Gold Dust Woman" by Fleetwood Mac because I needed some ~ambiance~ for the Bandits' Den/Wild Rose.

Also also, I included a bunch of vague cameos in this chapter just for fun. So I challenge y'all to guess the other femslash ships if you feel like it.