The first time Doctor Hope Martin met Doctor Maura Isles, she spoke to a detective, who was lurking around the corpse with wide, anxious eyes, always hovering, always one hand half-reached towards Doctor Isles, as though Hope was a potential threat, or Doctor Isles was particularly fragile. The way Doctor Isles cried when they cracked the case, Hope could see why the detective was so protective of her. It was sweet; she was sweet. The Doctor, not the detective, although when Hope looked back through the morgue window she could see the detective wrap her arms around the still-sobbing doctor. Maybe they were both sweet.
The second time Doctor Martin met Doctor Isles, the detective was there for dinner. With her mother, who lived with Doctor Isles. It was a little awkward, trying to figure out the family dynamic, but the only conclusion, the way Jane looked at Maura, the way Maura looked at Jane - well, they had to be a couple, didn't they? And they were just being cautious because they worked together and Hope was a relative stranger. Cailin agreed, once Hope could talk to her again. Hope could be discreet.
The third time Hope met Maura, Jane wasn't there. Hope knows she was lucky Jane wasn't there, because she found out later that Maura had told the truth, that Maura was her daughter, the daughter she thought she'd lost and the burden, the anxiety, the deep-buried grief and loss would have paled in the background of Jane's anger and indignant rage. She'd sensed a kinship with Maura, but she'd put Paddy and her past behind her. Cailin was enough; Cailin was more than enough. But she'd spoken out of astonishment, out of disbelief. She should have seen the articles, like Cailin had - Cailin, who kept apologising, looking around doorways with wide, sad eyes, wondering if Hope would turn on her like that too. Wondering what it meant to have a half-sister her mother hated. Hope almost wished Jane had been there - Jane would have talked her down, would have stopped her before she could have said all those useless, hurt, hurtful things to that poor woman. Maura should have told her, yes; but how could she tell someone something like that? How would Hope have taken it if Maura had been upfront? Would she have taken her at her word, would she have done some research, would she have agreed to meet her? Maura had needed professional help at the time, not a mother. Not a mother like Hope. Not a mother that didn't even look for their child, and then, when they found her, yelled at her 36 years later. If Jane had been there, she would have stepped in. She would have given Hope a chance to cool down, to go home, to recover from the shock. She wouldn't have let Maura bear the brunt of Hope's anguish.
The fourth time Hope met Maura, it was at an emergency scene. Jane had been keeping Hope away like a tiger standing over a cub, teeth bared. And she saw Maura go into that basement with her, following Jane to the ends of the earth, and she almost went after her. But she had no right. Maura still cried when Hope hugged her, and now she knew why; Maura's body stiff and uncomfortable. She saw Jane wrap her arm around Maura, saw the way Maura melted into her. Saw Angela descend on Maura, holding her tightly, thanking her, saw Maura laugh as though it had been nothing, light and comfortable in Angela's arms. She'd missed out on so, so much, but at least she knew Maura was safe and taken care of. Knew she had a good life. Knew she was loved, which is all she could ever want for any of her children.
The fifth time Hope met Maura, it was about Paddy. It always was, eventually. She sought down Jane first, and Jane, without Maura there to steady her, was more honest and abrasive than usual. But something must have sunk in, because Jane was polite when she let Hope in. She asked for help, and Hope had a feeling Jane didn't do that often.
Maura said she didn't like being touched when she was upset, but she'd seen her crying in Jane's arms in the morgue, on the street. They were a package deal, and Jane was protective because she thought Hope might hurt her. Maybe one day she could prove she wouldn't.
The sixth time Hope met Maura, Jane was on her side. Hope had her say, and Maura watched Jane carefully, taking cues from her. But Jane was relaxed and calm, holding Angela back to let Maura make her own choice. Jane with her hackles down was new to Hope, but it was enough to apparently convince Maura that she could trust Hope. She saw the way Jane ducked at the last moment to land a kiss on Maura's cheek instead of her mouth, saw the disappointed twist of Maura's mouth, understanding that there was family there.
"How long have they been together?" Hope asked Angela, when Maura and Jane were holed up together on the couch, Jane sneaking bites of Maura's frozen yoghurt, Maura parrying her with her own spoon.
"A few years. They think I don't know, but -" Angela gestured to the couch, where Maura was wiping frozen yoghurt off of Jane's cheek, slipping her finger in her mouth to clean it. "They're not subtle," Angela finished, and Hope nodded. "It's not a problem for you, is it?" Angela asked. "Took me a while."
"No, I never imagined the child I wanted so much could still be alive, let alone have such fierce and loyal advocates. I work with marginalised people, I know it's not easy for them," they looked over at the couch again, where Jane had caught both of Maura's hands in one of hers and was clearly trying to swirl Maura's yoghurt with her remaining hand. "But they make it look easy, don't they?" Hope sighed.
The first time Hope met Maura, she didn't realise she'd be one of three mothers of the brides at her wedding. But when she hugged Maura after the ceremony, Maura fit in her arms, the way Cailin did, the way Jane and Angela did. Hope hadn't gone to meet Maura looking for family, but she'd found it anyway.