Jane and Maura caught up online so frequently that it was a little awkward at first - no real news to catch up on, no open cases to discuss together and the chapter hanging over their heads, unmentioned. But all the details of everything that had been going on hadn't transposed well to video calls and soon they were chuckling over Korsak and Kiki's antics.

"Ma is going to be so pleased to see you," Jane said, squeezing Maura's shins where they rested over Jane's lap. "And Hope. And Cailin. Did you tell anyone you were coming?"

"No, I just felt I had to come home, and then I was on a plane."

"Why now? It's been three years?"

Maura sighed. "The publisher has been pushing for me to do some tours in America. The fourth book is coming out next month, and being in Boston just felt like a good idea. I never used to get homesick."

"How long will you be here?"

"At least until the book launch, then probably up the East coast for a while for promotions. The Americas are my biggest market. I did some Europe and Asian tours, you would have seen the press releases, but the thought of coming home..." Jane nodded, eyes wide as she chewed on her pizza.

"You're welcome to my spare room, as long as you need," Jane said when she finished chewing. "Not just now, while you're here this time. Any time you feel like you need to be here. Just show up any time."

"I just need a few days to get the Beacon Hill property opened up," Maura said quietly, looking away. "It won't be the same without Angela there."

"She has a spare room too, and she'd love to have you to herself for a few days if I'm too much for you."

"You never have been," Maura said, smiling. She'd wanted space and time, to get away from the city in which she'd been kidnapped, involved in car crashes, shooting and the murder of a close friend. But Boston didn't feel oppressive right now, the way it had when she'd left. It would wear off soon, and the fear would start creeping back in, but for now she was eating pizza with Jane on the couch and it was like she'd never left. The important things stayed the same. Jane wiped her hands.

"You've been alone for three years," Jane said wryly. "You're allowed to change your mind. You want the tour?" Jane asked, getting to her feet. Maura nodded and followed her through the house, Jane pointing out where the mugs, glasses and forks were, the coffee, the punching bag. All the home essentials Maura would need to use while staying there.

"And this is me. I'm still a light sleeper, if you need anything." Jane stood in the door of her bedroom, and Maura could see the printed manuscript on the bed, mixed up in the sheets, the well-thumbed American trade paperbacks of Maura's books next to the pillow. Maura stepped past Jane, picked up one.

"Didn't you get the hardcovers I sent?" Maura asked, thumbing through the obviously well-read copies of her book; it filled her with pride, that Jane had obviously enjoyed them so much that they were nearly worn out. Jane shrugged.

"They're on display in the lounge room. Those are easier on my hands."

"Oh," Maura said, remembering what Jane had said the day before. She'd seen Jane rub her hands through the years, but she hadn't wanted to ask. She never wanted to bring up Hoyt; for her own sake as well as Jane's; Maura knew she had gotten off very lightly, but it still scared her. Hoyt still scared her, and she knew he still scared Jane too. Jane sighed and sat on the bed, stacking the books on the bedside table.

"I wasn't expecting company," Jane said, pulling all the loose papers of the fourth book into an untidy stack. She'd had Hope print out the digital version to mark up, pages covered in scribbles. Maura sat on the far side of the bed, started sorting the pages by number. "Thanks, I must have fallen asleep reading again." There was a picture by the bed, a selfie Jane had taken for another apartment when she realised she and Maura weren't in any photos together. None that weren't taken by the press or forensics at a crime scene anyway. Maura picked up the frame, the surprised look on her face making her smile.

"Alice," Maura said finally, her mouth twisting, shaking her head and putting the photo back down.

"Bad memories, huh?" Jane asked, yawning and tugging her shoes off, lying down and grabbing at her stack of pages. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to ask about this bit, where you have Blast do all this work off-scene - did you want Nina to do a consult? Or was it on purpose to keep the tech from aging?"

Maura laughed. "I never thought you'd take being a copy-editor so seriously. I'm glad you do though."

"Frankie and Nina are going to be so happy to see you," Jane said, making notes on the page.

"And you're happy to see me?" Maura asked shyly.

"Yeah, I'm happy to see you. See my face?" Jane gave an exaggerated smile to Maura, goofy and broad Then her face softened into a proper smile, the one Maura had seen in the spare room. The one Maura had only ever seen aimed at her. She relaxed, knowing Jane was genuine.

"Good," Maura said, sitting down as well, grabbing the pages as Jane handed them over, reading the notes.

"I don't know how your brain works," Jane said, still making notes. "But it's entertaining."

"Even the... The Chapter?" Maura asked finally.

"Yeah. You wrote it well, I guess." Maura leaned back against the pillow behind her, still reading, neck more comfortable at that angle.

"You're right, though. Angela and Hope and Mother are all going to think it's based on us," Maura admitted.

"Well that's three readers, and you give them free copies anyway. It's not going to hurt your sales." Jane looked over. "Don't you miss working in the morgue, on real cases?"

"Sometimes." Maura sighed and turned onto her side, watching Jane through soft eyes that were slowly closing. She'd noticed the change of subject, but didn't have the energy to contest it. It had been a long day, and her body thought it was well past midnight. "I miss the precision. I miss there being a right answer, and a solution. When I'm writing it's all so uncertain. I miss the certainty. I miss... I miss having you come down to the morgue and mispronounce things deliberately. I don't miss being kidnapped or being under surveillance or having my house broken into..."

"You write about it a lot. I don't think I've seen so many shootings in a single book before, and you know I enjoy crime novels."

"I write what I know."

"About that," Jane said. "Did you at least update Lane's nipples?"

"Mmm," Maura said affirmatively. "It's in the other room." She yawned.

"Meditating?" Jane teased, getting up to retrieve the new pages.

When she came back in Maura was asleep, curled on her side. Jane carefully took each of Maura's hands to remove the rings from her fingers, then just as carefully removed the earrings out of her ears and the necklace from her throat. She rolled Maura back to pull out the blanket from underneath her, tossing it over her before looking at the clock. It was still early, and she'd already showered so she sat up in bed next to her slumbering friend, and she read the new pages when she got to them in her reread, blushing and looking over at Maura's angelic sleeping face. She looked so sweet and innocent in sleep that Jane found it hard to reconcile her with the person that had written this scorching scene. Jane was only able to dissociate because Maura had made enough changes that the characters felt real, felt like other people rather than an autobiography of Maura's life. Lane had similarities to Jane, but they were different people. And Maura was warmer, softer, much more personable than Laura. It was still weird reading about them having sex, because Jane didn't read a lot of lesbian sex, but it was just as compelling as the rest of Maura's prose. Jane could picture it, somehow. What it would be like, and it was right for the book. The characters were so codependent, it was the only possible way forward in their relationship, especially after Lane's broken engagement and Laura's belated divorce to a man she'd forgotten she was married to. She was glad Maura took her seriously when it came to her notes - she felt she knew the characters quite well, even though they were originally thinly veiled parodies of themselves. They'd grown and evolved, and their path wasn't the same as their origins. It wasn't like it was Jane and Maura having sex on the page in front of her. It was their counterparts, sure, but it wasn't them.

Jane reached over and picked up the second book, thumbing through until it fell open where the spine had cracked from overuse. The scene where Laura had been rescued by Lane, feeling a jolt of attraction and then guilt and shame as Lane bundled Laura into her arms, holding her, making her feel safe. Maura had described Jane almost as she was, harsher in places, softer in others, but the way Laura saw Lane in that moment always had Jane rifling back though the book, staring at the words as though she wanted to eat them so they'd be part of her forever. No one had ever seen her like that, no one described her like that. Was it how Maura looked at Jane? Was it how Maura saw Jane? Did she really feel guilty when Jane touched her, was that why she'd left? To go write these books where Lane loved Laura as much as Laura loved Lane? Was it all projection for Maura, was it all just in lieu of what she wanted but thought she couldn't have? But then, why publish it if it was still an open wound? And then, why did Jane see herself in the way Lane touched Laura, in the way Lane watched Laura's mouth as she spoke, the way Lane's eyes strayed when Laura wore anything low-cut, the way Lane felt content and protective when she had to pretend to be Laura's girlfriend to put off an unsuitable suitor? If The Chapter hadn't been Lane and Laura, if it had been Jane and Maura, what would change? Would Jane be passive, or would she - once Maura showed that she wanted her - be aggressive? Would she want to take her time and undress Maura slowly, or would she not bother, just take her standing, fully dressed, against a wall? She picked up the new pages, read through them again, aware that Maura was asleep next to her, aware that her response was more emphatic than she'd expected. Aware that she could wake Maura up, send her off to her own room and get some privacy. Aware that she could go sleep in her spare room, leave Maura alone, but Maura made a little noise in her sleep, the little whine of fear Jane had been so used to, and her hand reached out, rubbing Maura's back over the smooth satin, hearing Maura's breathing calm. She couldn't leave her, the warm satin smooth under her palm, Maura's back muscles relaxing under Jane's long-practiced touch. Jane was part of the reason Maura was back here, the least she could do was make sure Maura felt safe tonight.

She made a few more notes and put down the papers on the bedside table, turning onto her side to watch Maura sleep. It wasn't weird - it had been three years, Maura had come here, fallen asleep in Jane's bed on her own. Jane brushed a few strands of hair out of Maura's face, and Maura sighed. Jane's fingers tingled where they'd brushed Maura's skin. Had they always done that, or was it because of The Chapter? Jane drew her hand back. Maura had always said that the books weren't them, that it wasn't wish fulfilment, and Maura certainly downplayed all her awards for her work as an ME, all her accolades; Laura Styles was slightly underappreciated for her work in the medical field. But the first three books had built this tender, loving relationship, and Jane could see the parallels. And Jane had made suggestions based on the characters Maura had made, not anyone else. Not based on anything she wanted to do with Maura. Just having Maura back in Boston was more than enough; to have Maura in her bed was perfection. There was no improving on perfection.

Maura woke up in darkness, disoriented, a warm weight across her chest. It felt like morning, and her brain and eyes felt gritty from travel, and there was a soft breathing that wasn't her own. It was familiar enough that she wasn't afraid, but she had to make sure. She reached out, finding a lamp and turning it on. The dark curls across her chest belayed immediately where she was. With Jane, in Boston. In Jane's bed, under Jane, in Boston. She'd written something very similar to this recently, and she let her hand rest on Jane's back. She'd love a shower, but she was too comfortable, and she should adjust back to the timezone. Plus, moving Jane seemed counterintuitive. She really had meant to go to a hotel, she really had meant to sleep in the spare room. She hadn't wanted to make this awkward, but Jane was asleep on Maura's chest, so maybe it wasn't. Maybe everything was normal, and she'd just been caught up in the rush of being a popular author, all the support from her LGBTQIA+ fans desperate for representation. Maybe she hadn't been writing about what she'd wanted to do to Jane, with Jane. But Jane hadn't judged her, Jane had suggestions of her own. Maybe Jane wasn't adverse to the idea of something more with Maura. Maybe, after ten years of never finding anyone that came close to treating her as well as Jane did, maybe it was time to see if Jane... Maura felt her heart speed up, felt Jane stir.

Jane's face lifted from Maura's chest. They'd been here before - Jane was a cuddler. When she saw Maura she smiled, her eyes soft, her fondness coming through.

"You fell asleep. I was going to use the spare room but..."

"It's your bed," Maura said quietly. Jane pulled away, sat up, pulled pages out from the sheets again.

"Jetlag?"

"I'm usually having breakfast by now," Maura said.

"You can if you want," Jane shrugged. "Make yourself at home. I'm going back to sleep though." Jane lay back down, a bit of distance between them, and Maura turned off the light.

"I'm not hungry," Maura murmured. "Not hungry enough to get up, anyway," she added, rolling onto her side, bumping up against Jane and slinging an arm over her the way she used to, finding another book in the bed, letting her hand rest on it instead of Jane. She heard Jane's breath catch and release, then just the steady, familiar sound of Jane falling asleep, a soundtrack she'd put on repeat if she could, so calming it was to her. She pulled herself tighter against Jane, hearing a frustrated huff as Jane pulled her arm out from where it had been trapped under Maura's, resting her hand on top of Maura's on the book, then pulling their joined hands to Jane's chest, over her heart where Maura could feel the steady pulse of its beat.

"Welcome home," Jane said.