"Thank you, yes," Maura replied as Dr. Sorin offered her tea as usual. This time, she flavored it properly. It had been an eventful few weeks, and most of the intervening sessions had been spent simply relaying the events; the processing had been done in her email journal, with the occasional question emailed back to her for consideration and elaboration.

First on the table in almost every session was the way Jane seemed to be responding to her therapy, which was important because it influenced the way Maura responded to Jane. She was getting more comfortable recognizing the line between supportiveness and codependency, and more and more, she was remaining on the proper side of that line.

In consequence, the psychiatrist was fully aware of Jane's decision to get out from under her dependence on alcohol, and the progress she had made in therapy, or at least, the information she had shared with Maura about it. Maura had told him all about Jane declining invitations to the Dirty Robber, claiming she needed to go home to sleep or catch up on various errands and chores.

She had also described Jane's fight with Angela, cases the two had worked together, and the way sports, verbal sparring, and gargalesis seemed to be the way that the Rizzoli siblings took out their aggressions, improving one another's toughness, reflexes, and mental acuity through these substitutes for violence, helping rather than harming one another. In fact, most details of Maura's life, both at work and within her growing place within the Rizzoli family, had been vivisected by herself and the doctor. She was really an ideal patient, in a lot of ways.

Today, however, it gradually became apparent that there was information that she had withheld.

"She hasn't woken up with nightmares quite as often," explained Maura with a touch of pride as well as relief, "so we've both gotten a lot more sleep lately. There are still a few, of course. I don't know that she'll ever be fully rid of Hoyt or Marino, but those nightmares seem to be losing their intensity lately. She might startle awake, but she doesn't scream or moan as often before she wakes." Sorrow infused her words as she added, looking down into her sweetened, milky tea, "She still cries when I'm the nightmare, though. I can always tell when it's about me, because even before she wakes up, she…"

"Maura, I'm sorry to interrupt your train of thought," Sorin spoke quickly, a confused look on his normally neutral face as he flipped through his notes of their various sessions, "but I seem to be missing some information in my notations. Can you tell me, how is it that you know these very specific details of Jane's sleeping patterns and habits?"

Maura's head tilted, as it often did when she was puzzled enough to have to jostle and sift things loose and let them resettle into more discernible patterns. "Because I'm there," she said, holding up her hands as if to say, This is obvious, isn't it?

"Perhaps some clarity is in order?" Face going back to its pleasantly neutral state, Sorin flipped to a clean page in his notebook. "You are there in the sense that you are in the same dwelling as Jane and can hear her when she is distraught, or you are there in the sense that you and she are sharing the same room when sleeping, or you are there in the sense that you are sharing the same bed?"

The patient actually laughed as she pointed out, "I don't want to make assumptions about anyone else's life, but in my bedroom and in Jane's, there's only one bed. We share it. Them. Both. That is to say, whichever home we choose for the night, we share the bed."

Sorin made a few quick notations. "The two of you sleep in the same bed." It was a statement. He was clearly not looking for clarification. "How long has this been happening? How common is it for the two of you to share a bed?"

This time, the head tilt was accompanied by eyes rolling upward, as if the answer was on the ceiling: she was delving into memory. "Let's see. Most nights since Jane's been speaking to me again. Sometimes one of us is on call and catches a case, but other than that, we're either at her apartment or my house. We didn't see one another much at all from the first time she called me and I came over straight from Byron's, but when she was in the hospital, I stayed there with her most nights. Before the shooting, I'd say about once or twice a week, depending on nightmares. Usually hers, but I had a few right after I was kidnapped by my birth father."

"Would you say it is common for one or both of you to find comfort in touch while in this sleeping arrangement?" The psychiatrist pulled out the list Maura made of the things she and Jane regularly did together while they were off duty, double checking it as he spoke. "Or do you simply share the same bed space but are not apt to lean toward physical contact?"

Maura's shoulders and spine waved, indicative of a so-so sentiment. "I think it's pretty common for any two people sharing a bed to be in contact, isn't it? I've never shared any kind of sleeping accommodation without some form of contact. But," she added after a moment's pause for thought, "it is comforting. For both of us. Naturally, it would be; I'm sure you've read the same studies I have about sleeping singly versus co-sleeping, resonance in patterns of breathing and heart rates, and so on. Even more to the point, Jane doesn't have as many nightmares when we're spooning as she does when it's summertime and we're too warm for much more than holding hands. I feel easier, too. Both of us sleep better and wake up in much better moods."

More notations followed the silence as Sorin considered his patient's words. "Those studies are normally done on children and parents, or on partners who share a romantic connection. It is rare to find one that focuses on sleeping patterns of two adults in a platonic relationship sharing sleeping space. In fact," Sorin stood to move to his bookshelf, pulling out a thick, dark covered book from its place among the rest, "the most recent study was done on romantic partners." He returned to his seat, handing the book to Maura. "I find it interesting that you would cite such studies when describing your affiliations with Jane. Tell me, do you consider your relationship with Jane to be similar that of a mother-daughter pairing?"

"Certainly not," Maura protested, albeit with a laugh. "I may be codependent, but I'm not maternal, and I don't really know how to be much of a daughter, either. Jane doesn't see me as a mother or a daughter, either, despite the fact that we do take care of one another in many ways, and in various situations." Another laugh; Maura realized aloud, "Can you imagine? If Jane thought of me as her mother, she'd probably want to see me once a week, at most, and only if I made gnocchi."

Sorin allowed a small smile to grace his lips before he continued. "If you do not qualify your relationship in terms of a mother-daughter pairing, then how do you define it within yourself?"

"Pardon?"

Giving an atypically heavy sigh, the doctor shook his head. "No, I'm terribly sorry. That was a bit confusing, wasn't it? Let me ask this in another way. Based solely on your internal thoughts, feelings, and processes and not withstanding any outside factors – be it your perception of Jane's thoughts, feelings, etc. or anyone else's – how would you say you qualify your relationship with Jane? Be truthful, Maura. I believe the cliché saying would be, 'What does your internal voice say when you think no one is around to hear it, even yourself?' I, again, am terribly sorry for asking in such a way, but I feel I've exhausted other avenues, and this new bit of information," he stopped himself, his obvious earnestness regarding something he had clearly sorted out about his patient making him uncharacteristically pull out of his normally neutral state. "Maura, what, exactly, are your entire spectrum of feelings for Jane, honestly?"

"The entire spectrum of my feelings?" Maura repeated incredulously, then glanced at her wristwatch. Twenty-five minutes to go; not enough time. "Dr. Sorin, again, I am extremely reluctant to speculate on the emotional depth of other patients of yours, but mine is considerably beyond that of this teacup," she said, holding it up for emphasis, then setting it down again in its saucer, and the two items together back on the table, half-finished and cold. "I couldn't possibly begin to explain my entire range of emotions concerning anyone in my life in an entire session, let alone – and by the way," added the woman, with lessening calm, "why do you say honestly, as if that would be novel? You know I can't lie. Have you ever had cause to believe I was being less than fully honest with you?"

"With me? No." Sorin resettled into his chair, clearly contemplating his next words before speaking them aloud. "If Jane were to engage in a romantic relationship tomorrow with another person, and it was clear after a time that the relationship would end in marriage, how would you feel?"

Maura colored, then blanched. "I would be glad… for her," she whispered as her hands flew up to her face to catch the words, stuff them back in before she could pass out. Something had to be done if she was to remain conscious. "But I would be so cold."

"Explain why." The statement was gentle but demanding. It was clear the psychiatrist would not back away from this line of conversation until some resolution was achieved.

Discreetly, one feminine hand snuck towards the box of facial tissues and plucked three, letting two fall to her lap for later while Maura brought the third preemptively towards her face. "Because Jane is my… She's… Because she only has a full-sized bed, and there wouldn't be room there for me anymore."

"And what place do you really desire to hold in Jane's bed?"

Maura swallowed down the nausea that had been boiling up in her since Dr. Sorin first brought up the notion of Jane being in a romantic relationship with anyone, though the effects of the sensation were still evident in her facial expression. Nevertheless, this patient was quicker than most when it came to honest self-assessment, and she proved it by squaring her shoulders and saying clearly, "I suppose pointing out that it's obvious does not obviate the need to make it explicit as well. Fine. I don't care what that place is called, as long as it's always mine."

Leaning back in his chair, Sorin tilted his head in consideration. "Are you ready to verbally say what you are admitting to by making that statement?" He was gambling that his patient was as self aware as she had proven time and again to be. If this was the wrong step, she may relapse. However, some risk was sometimes needed with Maura Isles in order to encourage her to take the same.

Despite a little sniffle, Maura remained sitting upright with excellent posture. "There's nothing to admit. That term would indicate either shame, or a prior deception that had to be corrected. However, I am glad to recognize it, and now that I do, I'm happy to declare that I love Jane."

Easiest coming-out ever.

"Now," the patient continued, reaching for a tissue, "maybe you can help me understand why that should change anything. My best friend, whom I… whom I love, is hurting. I'm hurting with her. But we're getting better, individually and together, so now I need to have a plan going forward. I need to know how to help both of us as best I can, without pushing her into any stage of recovery for which she's not ready yet."

He leaned forward and tapped the book now sitting on the coffee table that he had handed Maura earlier. "Internal motivation is key to understanding emotional needs and upsets. Without probably understanding the 'whys' of things, we can never hope to unravel the 'hows' of things. For example, the case studies you cite when you state that you and Jane cuddle while sleeping are, truly, associated with intimate or child-parent relationships, which is why I asked you early if you thought of yourself in a mother-child relationship with Jane. When you answered in the negative, I realized we could be going about things in a more effective manner."

Carefully, he set the notebook down on the side table and then stood to fetch a cup of tea as he spoke. "The fact that you associate as you do means that how you deal with a situation may vary from that of a person who was not romantically attached in some way." He returned to his chair, mimicking Maura's normal seated position, coffee cup in hand. "You are still searching for goals in which you assist both yourself and Jane. Have you entertained the thought that, perhaps, Jane would be better helped by not being as supported by you as she has been? When was, for example, the last time you spent a night away from Jane?"

"Other than when one of us was called in for a case and the other wasn't?" Maura asked, stalling for time, but Sorin's nod didn't give her more than an additional second to work with. "We tried about a month ago just to see how it went, but I wasn't sleeping well, and apparently she wasn't either. When Jane called me after a nightmare, we talked for the next hour and a half until it was time for our usual wake-up and going running. Oh – she's running with me again, did I mention? She even came to yoga last week."

"Yes, you did in the last session." Sorin made another note. "Have you given any consideration to giving Jane time while also providing for yourself? As you well know, I'm not apt to make suggestions to my clients," as if the very idea was distasteful, he shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, "but have you given thought to taking a holiday or, at the very least, one night where you spent time with someone else? At the very least, this would help you gauge your codependence. At the very most, you would allow Jane time to again learn to cope while being alone. I cannot, and would not of course, diagnose another's patient. But, if you were having such issues as you've indicated to me Jane has, I would encourage you to try to have some time alone once you'd progressed to a certain level so that you could better learn to engage your coping mechanisms."

He stood, an unpleasant look quickly crossing his face as he picked up the book to return it to its shelf. "I'd rather not do that again," he said as he returned to his seat. "I rather dislike 'what if' type statements."

Again, Maura stalled. "You know, I never liked statements that began with 'what if', but J—someone reminded me that all of science begins with 'what if'. That's the basis for every hypothesis that has ever been tested according to the scientific method. Not that psychology is a hard science. It's far more difficult to test things concerning the human psyche, given that unexpected results can be so disastrous for the individual." She cleared her throat, glancing elsewhere. It had been close; she'd nearly said that psychology wasn't a real science.

"Be that as it may," continued the woman once her thoughts were in order, "I don't want to spend a night away from Jane. Even aside from her conflicts with alcohol and my issues with codependency, I've always found it pleasurable to sleep with another person, and Jane is someone with whom I already share physical ease and comfort. Not to be too personal, since I know that our meetings are the furthest thing from a two-way street, but how often did you enjoy spending time away from… the person who was your primary relationship in life?" she nodded towards the picture of Sorin and a beautiful Indian woman, resting unobtrusively on a bookcase near his desk.

"Not well, and I miss her dearly," he answered quietly. "But we were wed, and our situations were different to yours and Jane's. If you are seeking a warm body, you have indicated that you've options of which you have not explored in some time. Perhaps readdressing those other options for, at the very least, one night would be something to consider?"

"But she…" Maura looked stricken, then controlled the reaction with a speed that was both admirable and troubling. "Okay. I suppose I could accept an invitation from an old friend who's coming to town the day after tomorrow." By now, Dr. Sorin was familiar with the term as Maura used it: old friend generally meant sexual history.

Sorin raised an eyebrow as he jotted down something in his notes. "I would encourage you to consider opening yourself up to other options. I think it would be healthy for you. I am, after all, here to help you find ways to help yourself, and the only way to do such a thing is to start by focusing on yourself, even if that focus is very short-lived." He nodded toward the photo Maura had referenced just a moment before. "My wife had a saying," he smiled gently at the memory, "Never deny one's inner self for the sake of another's outer needs.' She was, naturally, much wiser than I." He winked.

"I don't want," Maura began, then sighed in resignation. "But I should, shouldn't I? I may love Jane, but she's… she's not in a healthy place right now." She reached for the tissue box. "Until she is, it would be not just fruitless, but possibly harmful, to derail her recovery process by making her deal with my emotions on top of her own. Maybe you're right. She's probably getting tired of me always being underfoot anyway, and nothing feels worse than finding out that someone doesn't want you there after you've been there for a long time. And, and, and I could use some space, and a night out, and… Anyway, I'll do it. Okay. I'll call Harold and let him take me out. And I'll sleep without Jane that night."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Sorin made a final notation before closing his notebook and setting it and the pen on the coffee table. "I realize it's still a bit early, but I think we've come to a good stopping place today. As always, feel free to contact me day or night should you need anything."