A/N: Wow, it has been a long time. Like, I think I last posted a fic over Columbus Day weekend, so that's bad. Sorry, guys. Hi, long time, no see. Hopefully I will get back in the groove. I haven't had a lot of free time (which never stopped me before) but the last like eight months man...wow. Lot of drama, lot of trauma, shouldn't joke, but that's how we cope right? Humor and fic? Anyway, enjoy. As usual, I don't own shit blah blah, not making money here, blah blah. Story idea is my own, characters and the show are not, etc. Thanks for reading.

-RI-

"It's raining."

Jane registered distantly that Maura was not only talking, but talking to her specifically. But for the life of her, she couldn't think of anything to say. Normally Jane might have teased that the brilliant Maura Isles would make such an astute observation or groaned because it infringed on their plans for the evening or maybe celebrated the end of the heatwave or the absence of snow, depending on the season, but tonight Jane could barely do more than to drag her eyes from the TV to look her best friend in the eye.

Her best friend.

Her best friend, who had spent two days in jail. Her best friend, who had come damn close to being framed for murder. Her best friend, who nearly had her life taken from her. Her best friend, who her mother had sold out to her boyfriend and Jane's boss to save Jane from herself.

God, it all sounded like a bad movie.

Earlier that morning, it had seemed more like one of those feel-good cop shows with the necessary happy ending at minute 59 out of the 60 minute weekly airing. Maura had been released and welcomed back with open arms, applauded by her colleagues and clean and fresh in an unwrinkled dress without even the scent of prison clinging to her hair or hiding in her pores. Jane had hugged her enthusiastically, lovingly, and with deep relief before leaving Maura to an uninterrupted day in the morgue, a nice attempt at normalcy.

But it was enough time for the guilt and regret to creep in, and by the time Maura had found her at her desk and was ready to go home, Jane felt more like a tangle of nerves and puddle of clammy, relentless worry than actual human. Which was particularly unfortunate, Jane noted as they drove home in near silence, since Maura could use an actual human at the moment, seeing as she had spent the last two days in the company of women whose humanity was deeply in question.

"It's raining," Maura said again, this time a bit more pointedly, so Jane forced herself to raise the remote to flick off the TV. Why they were talking about the rain, she didn't know, but clearly Maura wanted to talk about something and not sit around watching SportsCenter.

"Yeah," Jane answered, finally beat. "Yeah, it's raining." She fixed Maura with a look as if to say "what does it matter?", eyeing her in her comfortable loungewear Jane couldn't help but to think of Maura's previous night: locked away like an unwanted animal, no privacy, not a soft pair of pajamas or a kind face in sight.

Maura sighed then and looked away. "You don't realize," she said softly. "Or I guess I didn't anyway. I didn't realize."

"Didn't realize what?" Jane sensed this was getting somewhere. She scooted over on the couch even though there was plenty of room, suddenly eager to offer something, anything as an invitation. Maura took it wordlessly, but a bit cautiously, though Jane felt her unstiffen slightly as Jane gently took her hand.

"What I'd miss." Maura's words came out like a whoosh, as if she had been trying desperately to hold them back but now couldn't stop once the dam had broken. "What I'd miss if I was in prison for the rest of my life."

"It's normal to feel like that," Jane said carefully. "It's like if you're on the edge of something and suddenly you get pulled back. It's like you're more scared after than you were at the time, because you had time to think about it."

"I suppose." Maura examined their joined hands pensively, still not looking Jane in the eye.

"I know that doesn't sound so technical," Jane offered a bit defensively. "You probably have a more medical term for it. PTSD or something. But that…feeling like that sucks, like sucks a lot. You probably need time, right, to feel like you aren't on the edge anymore? And to not remember so clearly how afraid you were?"

"When was the last time you felt like that," Maura countered suddenly, so swiftly and bluntly that Jane nearly did a doubletake. She had been regretful of her tone the second the words had left her mouth, but she'd had no time to rein it back in before Maura apparently was off and running. Instinct was telling her to bite back twice as hard, and it was on the tip of her tongue to throw out Charles Hoyt or Doyle's shooting or Frankie's near death until she finally got a look at Maura's carefully hidden face. There was more going on here.

When she did speak, it was honesty that rang out. "Right now," Jane offered gently, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible. "I wasn't trying to sound like a know-it-all or take away from your, God, absolutely awful past couple of days. But from the moment they let you out, the only thing I keep thinking about is what would have happened if they didn't." She swallowed thickly. "If you had to spend the rest of your life in prison, and I couldn't do anything to stop it, and my mother helped put you there."

"Jane, none of this was your fault." Maura sounded tired now, and Jane was filled with even more regret that Maura was reassuring her instead of the other way around. If her regret were raindrops, Boston would be underwater by now. It suited her, Jane thought, regrets and raindrops. She'd never felt more untethered.

"I don't…it's not about me," Jane exclaimed, suddenly at her wit's end. "I'm…God, Maura, you're trying to talk about your own stuff and I'm over here making it all about me. You were in jail, for Christ's sake. In an orange jumpsuit with thugs and psychos. You had to strip down in front of your colleagues and have your best friend put you in handcuffs and, Jesus, the rape kit." She looked up at Maura, fresh horror setting in as everything she'd kept at a clinical distance during the case rushed back. "You had to have a fucking rape kit done while you were all alone. You didn't even have someone to hold your hand."

Jane didn't realize that she'd dropped Maura's grip and her gaze and thrown her head into her palms, her fingers clutching desperately at her scalp, until suddenly there were hands on her wrists pulling her arms back and a warm body pressed tightly to hers. "Stop," she protested weakly against Maura's collarbone. "Stop, you shouldn't be comforting me about…" And she couldn't even finish her own sentence.

Maura hugged her tightly for what seemed like a long time before easing back a little. Jane searched her face for any sign of disquiet or trouble and was surprised to find nothing of the kind looking back at her. "Do you know what I'd miss if I was in prison for the rest of my life?"

Jane fought the urge to again bury her face in her hands, to give in to the rising nausea, to scream without stopping, to break down and cry. But this was about Maura now, and Jane owed her this much. Jane owed her everything. "What," she managed to choke out. "What would you miss?"

"The rain," Maura said so simply that it made Jane smile. All of this, for the rain.

"Or the smell of it anyway," Maura continued, returning Jane's smile. "Bass. Doors that lock. Windows that open. Fresh air. My closet. Unlimited phone calls. Sunshine. Comfortable mattresses."

"Food not from a can," Jane offered. "Friends who won't knife you in the shower."

"I was going to say friends, period," Maura corrected gently. "And family. Your family. And you. Especially you."

"I never would have left you," Jane blurted out. This, she needed to say. "No matter what. No matter what happened or where they put you or what they said you did. I would have written so that you'd have mail every day. I would have answered no matter when you called, always. I would have visited you every moment they would let me in that room and not a minute less." She quieted as her voice choked, thinking through the awfulness of those possibilities. Talking through phones with glass between them or on separate sides of a beat up table, unable to touch, forbidden to hug. It hadn't occurred to her at the time, or perhaps she hadn't let herself even think it, that she was facing a reality in which she'd never hug Maura Isles again. Never would fall asleep beside her on the couch or on top of one of their beds. Never would jog by her side through their city, or crouch across from a body at another crime scene. Never would poke playfully at each other at family dinners or share blankets on the couch on snowy Sundays. Never would banter easily as they made dinner in one of their kitchens or celebrated case closings at the Dirty Robber. Each unwanted thought added to the persistent loop in Jane's mind. She wondered how she'd managed to block it all out, but knew that if she hadn't, if she hadn't compartmentalized and done her job, Maura wouldn't be sitting here within hugging distance after all.

"Jane," Maura was saying, and she shook herself back to the more pleasant present. "Jane, I know. I know you wouldn't have left me. And I wouldn't leave you. I won't leave you." And at that, Maura suddenly looked apprehensive in a way that made Jane start paying attention.

"So I won't leave you, you won't leave me," Jane repeated slowly, trying to make sense of what had Maura suddenly on edge.

Maura shook her head to emphasize her point. "No," she said. "Well, I mean yes, that's right. But Jane…I never realized before. I should have, but I didn't. I didn't realize what I'd miss if I lost it all tomorrow, if I went away. If I never had the chance."

"But you do," Jane countered, trying to be comforting. "You're not going away. The rain and Bass and your closet and sunshine and windows and all of us…it's all still right here."

"And so are you." Maura's answer was so prompt Jane barely had time to process before she barrelled forward. "You're still right here. I'm still right here. And two days ago, I wasn't, and if you hadn't cleared my name, I wouldn't be. I would have lost my chance. And chances…they don't wait around forever."

Maura was looking at Jane with such intensity that Jane had to fight the urge to turn away. "Chance for what," she finally whispered, although she was starting to get an idea. Could it be? It almost seemed too much to hope for.

But apparently it wasn't, because in a way that seemed both careful and swift, Maura was again moving across the couch into her personal space. But rather than the hug she'd given and received so many times, or the kiss on the cheek that Maura could have resorted to had nerves won out, Jane suddenly had Maura in her arms and Maura's lips on hers, the two of them connected in a way they'd never been before. Jane's thoughts petered out as the enormity of the moment - and Maura's bravery - hit her full on, and she responded to Maura's kiss fully, marveling at how it already felt like they'd done this hundreds - millions - of times before. Maybe they should have been. But now they would.

After what could have been five minutes or twenty, Jane couldn't be sure, Maura pulled back softly. "I wasn't sure how that would go," she admitted softly. "But once I realized I could have spent the rest of my life not knowing, it seemed too big a risk not to take."

"I'm glad you did," Jane murmured. "I…I was so caught up in everything that I couldn't see clearly. I guess…I have a lot of regrets, you know. But now this doesn't have to be one of them."

"I wish you didn't have any," Maura said honestly. "But regrets are a part of the human condition, I suppose. But denial…"

"Yeah, there's no more of that." Jane felt lighter then, the weight of the past few days and arguably the last few years dissipating around her. Had all of that heaviness, that burden she'd carried for so long, really been denial? Jane never realized how bogged down she'd been until it was all finally out there. She could breathe now. They both could.

Jane was on her feet before her brain could catch up. "Come on," she said breathlessly, pulling Maura up beside her and tugging her toward the front door. Jane yanked it open and they both gazed outside at the dusky sky, the rain lightly falling in the evening light.

"Jane?" Maura reached for Jane's hand and held it tightly, but without any sense of hesitation or misgiving.

Jane pulled her out into the soft drizzle. "It's raining," she said gently. She smiled as Maura hugged her tightly and crashed her lips against hers.

"Yes it is," Maura whispered softly between kisses. "It's raining. And we're both right here."