A/N: The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing.

Chapter 8

Driving home, Maura felt numb. On auto-pilot, she navigated the streets of Boston until she reached her house and drove into the garage. Believing in the importance of maintaining a routine during times of stress or trauma, she made a mental list of tasks to be completed that evening.

She finished exactly two of them. She collected the mail and sorted it, adding a medical journal to one pile in her office, and three fashion magazines to another stack. Then she returned to the kitchen to feed Bass his usual fare of assorted fruits and vegetables.

Next on the list: feed herself. She went to the cupboard for some pasta, but upon opening it found instead a box of cereal.

Lucky Charms. Cereal she had purchased for Jane, seventeen days ago.

The numbness faded away with a sudden whoosh, like air being let out of a balloon, and Maura Isles began at last to feel.

Clutching the box to her chest, she left Bass to his meal and headed for her bedroom. Divesting herself of shoes, dress, and bra, she put on her yoga pants and a tank top. The same tank top she had worn seventeen days ago, and every night since, even though it had long ago stopped smelling of Jane and begun smelling only of her, in need of a good wash.

Crawling under the covers, she ate Lucky Charms by the handful and let crumbs fall onto the sheets in her lap. Soon, there were more tears than crumbs, and she dropped the box on the bed, sinking deeper under the covers.

When the phone ringing broke the silence, her heart began pounding as she checked the caller ID.

Please, Jane.

But it wasn't Jane.

She took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and answered the phone anyway.

"Hello?" She tried to make her voice sound as steady as possible.

"Maura?"

"Mom? Where are you? I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID."

"We're in Hawaii—your father finished his research a bit earlier than he expected. I'm sorry to call so late—did I wake you?"

"No, it's not too late, I was still up."

"Well, is everything okay? You don't sound like yourself."

Maura hesitated, unsure if she should confide in her mother or not. "Perhaps the connection isn't functioning properly. How's Hawaii?"

"Lovely as always. But you've been to Hawaii enough; you don't need a travel account from me. I want to hear about you, Maura. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, working a lot. The weather is warming up; it's supposed to be 75 degrees this Saturday."

Constance ignored her daughter's attempt to distract her with small talk. "The last time you called you said you were having trouble with insomnia, and then I didn't hear from you for three weeks. That's not like you."

Maura gave another vague answer. "I'm sorry—I've been busy."

"Busy at work? Or something else?"

Maura groaned inwardly. Her mother seemed uncharacteristically determined to drag the truth out of her. "It's complicated," she finally said.

"Would these complications happen to be of the romantic type?"

Maura's heart pounded, but she gave yet another vague answer. "I really don't know why you would ask that, mom."

"Why would I ask that? Because the last time you had a bout with insomnia, it was because you were dating Philip Stewart and agonizing over it."

Maura nearly dropped the phone in shock.

"You knew about that?" The shrillness of her voice surprised even Maura.

"Yes, sweetheart. I knew. I knew you were dating someone that you didn't want your father and me to know about, and then we saw the two of you together at a restaurant downtown one night. We have a mutual friend—you remember Emily d'Hiver? I spoke with her and she confirmed it. She told Philip, and he actually came and spoke to us while you were still considering his proposal."

"Why didn't you tell me? You had to have known I was agonizing over the decision!" Maura's voice rose in anger.

"You were an adult, and we wanted to let you make your own decisions. If it helps, I wish I had said something to you. But at the time I wasn't sure how you would react to my interference."

"I just can't believe you knew."

"Mothers usually know a lot of things about their children, Maura. Even adult children." Maura heard a faint laugh from her mother's end of the phone line. "I also know that you either faint or hyperventilate when you tell an outright lie, so you learned from a young age exactly how to dissimulate. For someone who can't lie, you are awfully good at hiding the truth."

When Maura didn't respond, Constance continued. "I can infer from your silence that you agree with me. Now, I can either use the method I created when you were a teenager to get the truth out of you and ask you a series of increasingly specific questions until you either tell me what's going on, or you can hang up the phone, or you can just tell me. I hope you'll choose the latter."

Maura had an unexpected flashback to her teenage years. Constance Isles had truly been a worthy opponent for the teenaged Maura during several periods of boundary testing. Maura felt a strange feeling of nostalgia wash over her, and suddenly felt very glad that her mother had called.

"I want to tell you, mom; I'm just not sure how."

"It take it you are involved romantically with someone?"

"Yes, I have been, uh, seeing someone."

"Well? Who is he?"

Maura took a deep breath. "There is no he. I'm involved with a woman. Jane, from work."

There was just the slightest of pauses on the other end of the line, and Maura cringed as she waited for her mother's reaction. But Constance surprised her.

"You can't possibly think this would bother your father and me?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes. I'm sure you are aware of the many studies that have been done about the difficulties of parent-child relationships when the child has admitted to feelings of attraction to members of his or her own sex. Not to mention the plethora of anecdotal evidence."

"Maura, you're dissimulating again. You know very well what your father and I went through when we decided to get married against our parents' wishes—why would we ever do that to you?"

Along with a sense of relief, Maura felt another round of tears coming, and suddenly everything came pouring out. "I know, I wasn't really worried about what you would think about our relationship—it's just that I'm afraid there isn't going to be a relationship. I told Jane that I needed to weigh all of the risks before I could consent to anything, and I think I took too long. And then I ignored her birthday, and I said some awful things, and I think it's too late. She'll never forgive me now."

"Oh, Maura . . ."

"Please don't lecture me, mom, I already feel bad enough." Maura sobbed, and Constance waited for a few moments before speaking again.

"Can I ask why you were so hesitant? Are you unsure about your feelings for her?"

Maura answered immediately. "No! I care about Jane more than anyone I've ever known. She's amazing, mom, she really is. If you met her, you'd see. We've always gotten along so well, from the first day we met. Even though we are nothing alike. She doesn't care about fashion, she plays sports, I think she would live on cereal if I wasn't dragging her out to restaurants all the time. She's the best detective in Boston, and she really cares about her job, and her family, and—"

"Sweetheart," Constance interjected, "then what's the problem?"

Maura considered for a brief moment. "There are just so many things that could go wrong—the thought of dating her and then losing her—I can't think about that. What if it's just too hard? I mean, we would be a lesbian couple working in a high-stress, male-dominated environment. I don't want to go through the same things that you and dad did when you got married. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to deal with it."

Constance sighed. "What your dad and I went through was certainly difficult. But I have never regretted it—not for one minute. We loved each other, and that was all that mattered. That's all that matters now. No, my regrets are not about your father, or our relationship."

"You do have regrets then?"

"Of course! Doesn't everyone? My biggest regret has to do with the way we raised you as a child and a teenager. I think we left you alone too much, and in the process we made you too independent."

Maura was secretly relieved to hear her mother say this, but she didn't want to admit it. "I've always been grateful that you taught me to be independent."

"A little independence is good, there's no question about that. I was raised in an entirely different world, and I had to break practically every family tie I had in order to achieve my own independence. I was determined not to let that happen to you. I—we—wanted you to be completely free to make your own choices."

"And I did. Like I said, I'm grateful for that."

"But I think we went too far. Somehow, you became afraid to take any risks at all. You became slow and methodical about everything you did. You refused to make any guesses or assessments without collecting all the information possible. For you, the decision-making process became all about risk management—taking the fewest risks possible."

"You say that like it's a bad thing—isn't that supposed to be the way to make decisions?"

"Yes, to a certain extent, but you took it to such extremes, Maura. To the point that you had to do everything yourself, without ever asking for help. I think this was already a part of your nature—even as a toddler you often refused help—but I only encouraged you instead of helping you find a balance."

"I remember the day you told us that you wanted to go to medical school to become a medical examiner. Your goal to become a doctor wasn't a big surprise to us, since you had always had a fascination with the human body and you liked to challenge yourself academically. But you chose the branch of medicine that required you to take the fewest risks. There's no risk that your patients will die—they are already dead."

"Are you saying you think I should have chosen a different branch of medicine?"

"No, not at all. I think you chose the perfect profession for your personality. You are an excellent medical examiner because of your attention to detail and your methodical nature. But that just doesn't translate well when it comes to relationships. Please forgive me for saying this, Maura, but you are a little—closed off. You value your independence so much that you don't want to let anyone in. I think that's what you are really saying, whether you know it or not, when you say this relationship with Jane is too risky."

Stung by her mother's assessment of her, and not a little embarrassed as she recognized just how right her mother was, Maura tried to change the subject. "I have worked on live patients. Just a couple of months ago I treated a college student who had been shot. I took a risk then."

"And how did it feel?"

Maura paused, amazed by her mother's ability to ask just the right questions—the ones that wouldn't let her lie.

"I was terrified. But it was exhilarating too."

"Well, isn't that what's happening in your relationship with Jane? Aren't you terrified and exhilarated? I'm in no position to make the decision for you since I haven't met Jane or seen the two of you together. But if you love her—maybe it's time to take a risk."

"I don't know, mom—what if it's too late? I really have been horrible to her. Sometimes she calls me a cyborg, and I was so cold to her I think she might be right."

Constance laughed softly. "If she's as great as you say she is, don't you think she might give you another chance?"

"I honestly don't know. Maybe."

"I'm sorry, honey. There's only one person that can help you with this, and that's Jane. You need to ask her for help. For once in your life—ask for help."

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Jane.

Maura practically jumped out of bed and headed for the front door. "Someone's at the door, mom, hold on."

Peering through the peephole, Maura saw exactly what she wanted to see—Jane Rizzoli standing outside her door, running her hands through her hair and looking nervous. Her heart jumped into her throat.

"Mom, Jane's here. I need to go."

"Of course. Good luck, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too, mom. Thanks—I'll let you know how everything goes."

Maura set the phone down on the table in the hall and opened the door. She felt herself trembling, and willed herself to stay in control.

"Jane, I didn't expect—" She was cut off when Jane abruptly pushed her way into the house and began walking down the hall into the living room without saying a word. Maura shut the door and followed her.

Jane sat down on the couch, and Maura took a chair opposite her. "Jane—"

"No, let me say this first," interrupted Jane. "You said before that you didn't say no to me that night because you were afraid that I would leave."

Maura blinked, briefly caught Jane's eye, and then looked down at her hands. "I did say that, yes."

"Well, I'm here. I'm not leaving. Even if you are saying no to me, we are still friends, and I'm not leaving. I love you, Maura, but if you decide you don't love me that way, then we can just be friends. But I am not leaving you."

With a look of fear mixed with defiance on her face, Jane leaned back against the couch and waited.

A/N: Thank you for all of the lovely reviews on the last two chapters. I was very nervous about them and I appreciated your comments very much. Thanks to all for reading!