When Maura started at BPD, she studied her colleagues and the police force like specimens. Like the bodies she studied in the morgue. Wondering what she could glean of their lives from observation.

The lab techs were easy enough to understand. She could file them away. They weren't driven by science, but they had a passing fascination, and that was enough motivation for them to be working there, interacting with Maura. Some of them were more serious than others, and Susie was a wildcard - she seemed too well-adjusted and personable for a lab tech.

The officers, likewise. Some were surprisingly complex, but she could file them away into a category. They wanted to be something or someone, they wanted justice, they wanted to be able to shoot people. They wanted power, some day, but for now they were small fry and hopefully the undesirable traits would get weeded out.

The detectives, though. They were a different story.

Crowe was an angry, bitter little man who felt entitled to things everyone else had to earn. Maura put her foot down sharply in any interactions with him. He relentlessly bullied anyone he thought was smaller than him, so she had to make him feel small.

Korsak was simpler even than the officers. He had two compunctions: to uphold and serve the law, and to rescue animals.

Frost was a little more complicated. Driven by a desire to prove himself, but let down by his own biological functions. Maura liked his vulnerability and his broad smile, broad enough to include even her.

And Jane.

Jane was anything but simple. She didn't care about proving herself, she wasn't vulnerable or bitter, though she had cause to be. She had a mind like Ferrari, always speeding ahead. Maura hadn't thought she'd like the other woman, but one day Jane caught her by the elbow when she stumbled down the precinct steps, made sure Maura was stable before she pulled away as though she thought nothing of it, like they were familiar enough that saving Maura from skinned knees was entirely unremarkable. It was then that Maura noticed that Jane was always doing little things for her like that. The coffee that appeared if she yawned, the phone call at night to make sure she made it home safely if they had worked late, the way she hovered when Maura was in heels, always ready to catch her if she fell. Yet Maura didn't feel as though it was condescending, or patronising. It felt... nice. To know that someone was looking out for her. That someone would notice if she was sick or hurt or tired. That someone cared enough to check in with her. She hadn't had this before, she didn't know what to make of it. And Jane never mentioned it, didn't even seem to notice. Maura had seen Jane with her family, and she was - off the clock at least - a friendly, happy person. Perhaps this was normal for her.

Maura didn't go in for friendship much. It had never seemed necessary; it was an avenue to being hurt. But Jane had slid in under Maura's defenses like a baseball player sliding home (something Maura used to spend a lot less time thinking about before Jane showed up on game nights with a six pack and pizza and an expectant smile), and before Maura could cognitively process, suddenly Jane was everywhere. In Maura's house after work, across the booth at the Dirty Robber, singing loudly and out of tune in the driver's seat, walking beside her out on the hiking trails, showing up for Maura's award ceremonies. It should have felt smothering. It should have been too much. But Maura found herself next to Jane too, sliding easily into her car, coming up to her desk to hand-deliver reports - something Crowe always had a comment about, something Jane would unerringly throw a smart yet cutting insult back at him for. Maura extended invitations to her obligatory events - she was on so many boards - and she saw them next to each other in the society pages. They looked good together - a perfect contrast. And Maura looked closer, and she could see the smile on her own face, wondered how she'd never seen it before. Jane's hand was always on Maura in these photos - at her waist, on her elbow, on her hip, around her shoulders. Jane was always touching Maura, and Maura never knew what to make of it. She wasn't used to affection, casual or otherwise. Whenever Maura noticed and looked at where Jane's hands rested on her body, Jane would remove her hands and look away, as though she'd been caught out, as though she didn't want to talk about it.


Jane had taken them back to her place, and Maura had given up on her lectures on bacteria. She'd never thought she could be so comfortable somewhere so untidy. Jane sat next to Maura on the couch, handed her a glass of wine she'd poured, a bottle of beer in her own hand. Maura had seen Jane take apart her dishwasher last week, cursing, sweaty and damp, and it had done something to her. She liked to see how things worked, and she could see, now, how Jane worked. How she tackled a problem systematically, how she used logic and reasoning at a high processing speed, how she leaped to conclusions based on instinct. Maura knew she'd been an instinct Jane had when they'd met. That Jane had taken one look at her, the way she had the filter pump, and known. Jane had known that Maura was right for her, and every moment since she'd acted as though she was right in that initial assumption.

She'd been right about the filter pump, too.

"Today was rough," Jane said, leaning back, clinking her beer against Maura's glass. "Thanks for being there."

Jane had thought she'd figured out a pattern in the body dumps and taken Maura to a potential crime scene. They'd gotten there the same time as the drop was happening, and Jane had ended up leaving a suspect for Frost to chase while she covered Maura from any potential threats. Maura knew Jane loved the thrill of the chase, but Jane didn't seem disappointed, the way she normally was if she didn't get to run them down herself. Frost had got their suspect, and they were going to nail him for it. Jane looked down at her beer.

"Sorry to put you in danger like that," Jane mumbled. Maura knew it was because Jane had asked Maura along, had potentially put her in danger. But Jane loved chasing down suspects - Maura had seen Jane fling herself off a balcony and ride a man down to the ground like a skateboard, a feral grin on her face as she cuffed him. And today she hadn't, today she'd let Frost go, and instead pushed Maura behind her.

Jane loved chasing suspects, so by the transitive property, deductive reasoning would suggest that she loved Maura more. Jane must have known Maura had made the connection because she looked up with a wry smile. Maura knew Jane - knew her very well by now, and she knew that while Jane was physically affectionate, she'd never acknowledge verbally how much she cared about Maura. So Maura spoke the language she knew Jane would understand. She put down her wine and took Jane's hand for the first time.

"You got your murderer, and everyone is home safe. It was a good day."

Jane's hand squeezed hers, and Maura smiled.