Jane read Maura's murder mysteries, feeling like they were a part of Maura she still had. She didn't make it in the feds, went back to Boston to try to get to Lieutenant. But Europe obviously agreed with Maura, and she hadn't been back to Boston in three years, three years Jane spent checking on Bass at the zoo, driving past an empty Beacon Hill house she almost used to live in. She slept in the bed Maura had helped her move, in the bed Maura used to sleep in next to her. She went down to Maura's morgue, dealt with much less competent ME's who resented her as much as she resented them. She walked past bullet holes in walls, she walked past a million memories a day. She only went to the Dirty Robber because Korsak owned it, avoided the booth that she and Maura had filled most nights. Three years. Three books. She'd read each of them multiple times, always recognising the backdrop of Boston, always recognising the immortalisation of Frost and Chang, always missing them a little more in Maura's careful but detailed depiction of them. She knew a percentage of the books profits went to families of BPD who'd been touched by violence, and she knew that Maura had run the books past Susie and Frost's families to ensure they weren't unhappy with the likeness she'd crafted.

Jane also got the advanced reading copy, and although Maura never explicitly stated that the lead detective was based on Jane, she clearly was. She was tall, wiry, impulsive, attractive, intelligent... and a little... a little gay. Jane had thought it was an accident in the first book - of course she and Maura touched each other a lot, but no one ever said anything, no one ever wrote down every time they touched each other, every time they fell asleep in the same bed, every time Jane shoved Maura behind her to protect her. She knew the book was moderate, that it was probably downplaying the physical part of their relationship, but there was something that made Jane pause and reflect, wondering if this was how it had always been and Jane had never noticed, or if Maura was reading too much into how tactile Jane had been with her.

Angela read them too - not the advanced copy, even though she was clearly in the books too, Maura writing her as though she never did anything wrong, Jane thought with a grimace. She didn't get away so well-portrayed - she was represented as a flawed human, and Jane sent her reading copy back with a few notes, nothing that made her seem kinder or more relatable, just notes on the criminal process and how the case would have progressed if there were any technical issues. She made no comments on the physical aspect between the lead detective and the Medical Examiner, how unrealistic it was that two adults that weren't dating would spend so much time together.

Angela always had a copy of Maura's books displayed when Jane was over, looking over at them and sighing, looking at Jane as though it was her fault Maura was in France. As though it was Jane's fault Maura was a best seller in both the crime and the LGBTQIA+ categories. As though there was something Jane could have done, as though Jane was keeping Maura from her. Which she wasn't, obviously. Maura was an adult woman with a life of her own. No matter that they'd been completely codependent for seven years, no matter that their lives had been so completely entwined that Jane had once asked Maura if she'd raise her baby, that they'd talked about their lives as though they'd always be together, making plans like a married could. No matter that Maura had left, they were still friends. They still checked in every few weeks. Had video calls when their schedules lined up. Jane got weird bones in the mail, and Maura got twinkies. It was fine. They were still friends. But when Jane read the books, she was reminded of how much more they used to be too. Maura had been her rock, her safe place, her heart, her conscience, her sounding board. Her everything. And now she was just a smile on her phone every few weeks, and a series of words about how much they meant to each other. How much they used to mean to each other.

Maura always sent through the manuscripts before they went to the publisher, and the fourth one of them had Jane blushing. She video called Maura, still blushing.

"You read it," Maura said, observing Jane's flushed cheeks, the way she wouldn't meet Maura's eyes.

"What the hell, Mau?" Jane asked finally. "You know Ma is going to read this. You know she's going to think it's about us."

"We both know it's not," Maura said, and Jane detected a note of bitterness in her voice.

"Everyone else is going to think... didya have to get so... detailed?"

"It's the fourth book. I can't have all the readers waiting for payoff indefinitely," Maura huffed.

"Not worried about jumping the shark?" Jane asked, and Maura's brow furrowed as she googled that.

"No, I have most of the fifth book written already, and it's the last one for Detective Lane Nizzoli and Doctor Laura Styles."

"Ugh, Maura." Jane looked over the chapter again, the one that bothered her. "Is this even... physically possible? Is it realistic? I mean, did you do research or 'research'?"

Maura blushed now. "I meant to get around to some hands-on research," she said. "A lot of my fans have... I have options. But none of them are..."

"Detective Lane Nizzoli," Jane said mockingly. She sighed. "Well, for one, Lane wouldn't just let Laura have her way with her like that. She's used to being in charge. Laura would have thrown her with that first kiss, but she's angry about her brother being shot, she'd be too fired up to be so passive. It's out of character for her to just meekly let Laura take her against the wall like that."

"Good notes," Maura said, scribbling away.

"And the bit against the wall, Lane could pull Laura's hair to expose her throat, could bite her a little. There's no foreplay, Mau, and that's pretty much all the first three books were. And Lane deserves bigger boobs, too."

Maura's cheeks flushed as she scribbled the amendments. "You've said that before, Jane, but she's perfectly proportioned as she is."

"And Laura was adopted, right? So she could, I don't know, be a little more appreciative of Lane's breasts, you know, work some psychology into it. Since she wasn't breast fed, it's probably her first time with someone else's, and you do always have her staring at Lane's chest..." Jane sighed. "And you seen to have forgotten about the hand injury Lane suffered in book one. She'd get fatigued fairly early on where you have her... uh... doing repetitive motions. With her hands. At least have her switch out, maybe have Laura rub her hands after, I don't know." Jane sighed again, watching Maura taking earnest notes.

"Why are you writing porn about us, Maura?" Jane asked, finally direct. "Is this what you think it would be like if we had sex? Is this just a really public come-on? What's going on here? And did you have to describe my exact nipples in excruciating detail?"

"I didn't intend..." Maura started. "But it sold so well in the LGBTQIA+ category, and it turns out I don't... I didn't see it at the time, but there was always a sexual element to our relationship, wasn't there?" Maura's voice sounded wistful, and Jane groaned, threw herself back on her bed.

"Friendship," Jane corrected. "You said you'd come back to the States when you finished the fifth book. Are you coming home soon?"

Maura nodded, uncertain, feeling rebuffed.

"You come home, and then we can start talking 'relationship'," Jane said. "The rest of the book is fine. I didn't solve it before Lane did. I don't know where you come up with all these mysteries."

"You're the only mystery I've yet to solve," Maura said, her voice still wistful. "Ok, so a more dominant Lane - I felt it was too stereotypical but I agree with you there - and change the nipples. More biting, more foreplay - I'll have the revision to you tomorrow."

"Email is fine," Jane said.

"Hand-delivered," Maura countered, hanging up before her customary "I love you," to Jane. Jane put her phone down, leafed through the manuscript again.

It was there on the front page. The missing 'I love you'. Jane traced the words with her fingers; she'd have rather heard it.

"Love you too," Jane mumbled, starting the chapter again.

Notes:

Nizzoli + Styles = Sizzles?