A/N: Hey, ladies and gents. I want to take this opportunity to let you guys know that I had no intention of offending or upsetting anyone. I'm personally pro-choice, not necessarily pro-abortion, and for me it just seemed like the only logical choice Jane could make. Unfortunately it sparked an interesting response, but you know what, that's alright. I feel as if I personally would be going nowhere as a writer if I didn't offend somebody at some point. Just know that I mean to offend NOBODY, and I hope you all can manage to enjoy the rest of what I've cooked up. I appreciate every review, good or bad.

For the first time in the past few weeks, when Jane wakes up in the middle of the night it's not because of the dream- it's because she's not used to going to sleep so early. She rolls over onto her stomach and realizes that her mouth is dry. For about two minutes she debates whether or not it's worth it to get out of a warm bed and grab a drink of water.

Eventually thirst wins out, and she shuffles into the hallway, stifling a yawn in the heel of her hand. She stops short when she sees a foot hanging off the edge of the couch, tensing up on instinct and taking a step back before she recognizes the mess of honey-blonde hair on the other end of the couch.

"I want to. I have to go. "

Jane shifts slightly so that she can see Maura's profile. In her sleep her brows aren't furrowed the way there are when she's thinking about something- which is most of the time. She looks peaceful. She looks…exhausted.

She wants to forgive me.

What's she supposed to think of that? How can you want to forgive someone but not actually do it? What is it that's holding Maura back, that's keeping them apart? It makes no sense that Maura stayed the night; Jane's glad that she did, but she needs to understand what's going through her head.

She grabs bottled water out of the fridge and freezes when Maura shuffles around under the thin blanket, as if she could possibly be 'caught' in her own house. The blanket is ancient, a relic of Angela's 'knitting' days, hardly thicker than a summer sheet and fraying all over the place. Without thinking twice about it, Jane goes back into her own room and pulls her spare comforter out of the closet.

Maura shifts slightly again when the blanket falls onto her, but she doesn't wake up. After a second she murmurs something in her sleep and pulls the comforter tighter around her. Satisfied, Jane pads back into her room and crawls into bed.

.,.

Maura knows that lying is wrong.

From the second she was old enough to understand what lying was, it was repeated to her, again and again, that lying is distinctly wrong, that it's one of the worst things anybody could possibly do. So for her own sake, when she's bent over her desk at BPD before anyone else has arrived, scribbling onto a doctor's note…she attempts to convince herself that it's not lying. She's helping.

And it's not like anyone's going to call up a "Dr. Kelekian" to check, either- that would, ordinarily, be her job, should the opportunity arise. In this case, the doctor is fake. The excuse is fake. But Jane is not, and some way or another Maura has to keep her out of the field for three weeks, or she's likely to seriously injure herself.

.,.

TEXT FROM VINCE:

hey, i saw ur doctor note, hope ur back feels better

Jane blinks, one foot in a shoe, the other in the air, her blazer half-on, and falls back onto the couch, brow furrowed. About two minutes later, she realizes that the only possible way for that mistake to have been made was for someone to forge a doctor's note keeping her home. There's only one person who knows what she's been through. That person happens to also have a PhD. She taps out a text, kicking off her shoe and toeing off her socks, unable to stop a small smile.

TEXT TO MAURA:

so what's wrong with my back?

Less than two minutes and a blazer over the couch later, she gets a reply- simple, clean cut, unapologetic:

TEXT FROM MAURA:

Pulled a tendon. Out for two days. Office work for 3 weeks.

Three weeks? Jane gives a disbelieving snort and pulls the comforter onto her lap, immediately realizing what a mistake that was when Maura's vanilla-y perfume wafts over her. Does this mean they're friends again? She's not even sure that she wants that, actually. If there's anything she wants, it's for Maura to believe her, to believe that she's not fooling around and that she wants Maura the exact same way Maura claims to want her.

She doesn't know how to prove that, and she's not even going to try to do it over text, but at least Maura's talking . She makes it her goal to keep that going for as long as she possibly can. Meanwhile, she's a little sore, and the Advil she took isn't helping enough.

TEXT TO MAURA:

i didn't realize you were so worried about my health.

The response is almost immediate, and something about the buzz of her Blackberry is as indignant as Maura's reply:

of course I am.

.,.

At some point in the middle of the day, a few episodes of NCIS later (it's pretty true to life, and some character- Kate something-or-other – reminds her a lot of Maura, if she were a cop), she loses the remote between the cushions of the couch. When she reaches down to get it, her fingers close around a thin chain, the kind of expensive gold that feels like silk. It's a simple little ankle bracelet or something; it's not hers and it's probably more expensive than anything she'd ever spare a second glance at. For a second she's genuinely confused, but then she remembers that Maura spent the night on that couch, and she's even a little bit thankful for the excuse.

God, she hurts. She wishes she were the sort of person who could actually stay still for a few hours.

She waits until the workday is over, but even then, when she gets there, Maura's lights are off. It's not surprising that she's stayed late, if that's the case, but Jane can't help her suspicion. Is Maura out with Frost again? Is something going on? Does she have the right to be upset about it? She knows she doesn't have a claim on Maura, but she wants to, and she can't help but feel like that ought to count for something.

When she tries the lock with her spare key, it doesn't work.

Maura has changed the locks.

Jane feels like an abandoned pet, sitting out on that front step with the bracelet hanging off her fingers, but her wait isn't long. A sigh of unwarranted relief leaves her when Maura approaches, arms laden with grocery bags, brow furrowed. She follows Maura inside without an invitation because it's pretty clear to her that she's not going to get one. This sudden coldness, after Maura had been so kind, so there…it's frustrating. And in her current state, frustration is only going to lead to something worse.

"You should be resting," Maura says, setting the bags down on the counter. "You shouldn't be driving." Jane ignores her and powers through, the thin gold clutched in one fist. "Isn't forging a doctor's note technically lying?"

"You would do the same for me," Maura replies, still maddeningly resolute.

.,.

Maura is aware of Jane's frustration; she's acutely aware, given that the last time Jane was this frustrated with her she was shoved up against the wall of her apartment half-dressed. She knows Jane wants some kind of reaction from her, but she refuses to give it. If she responds warmly, Jane will know she wants more than a cold working relationship, and if she responds coldly she's sure Jane's going to snap and push her against a wall again, in which case her response will, once again, give her away. So she keeps her tone level and her eyes on the organic vegetables and her hands busy unpacking.

"Stop avoiding me."

Too late. Jane's frustration is too great for her to avoid it, as she feared, and she's forced to look up and meet the detective's gaze, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up just from the way Jane's eyes have already darkened. "I'm not avoiding you." Apparently lying gets easier once you've done it the first time; Jane seems to have the same thought. "Well," she laughs joylessly, "look how good you're getting at lying to me."

She doesn't answer. She can tell that Jane's not finished speaking, and as much as she's terrified of what she's about to hear, she realizes and accepts that she can't run away from it anymore. Jane has come to find her for exactly that reason. Some kind of fear must has made it's way to her facial features, because Jane's expression softens and she steps closer. Instinctively Maura leans away, realizing after a moment that her lower back is pressed against the counter.

How many times in the past few weeks have they been in this position? How many times has Jane had her, literally, with her back against the wall? How many times has she managed to slip away?

"I want what you want," Jane says.

"No," is Maura's sudden reply, "you're projecting; you've seen some inkling of how I felt- feel- and you've convinced yourself you feel the same. It's a natural reaction but you're deceiving yourself."
"You can hide behind science all you want," there's the same confident grin she's so used to seeing, the same confidence returning tenfold just as her own wanes, "but I don't see why you would want to."

"It's been scientifically proven that if feelings last for less than four months, it's simple infatuation," Maura replies tersely, straightening up in a vain attempt to mask her insecurity.

Jane gives an exasperated sigh, running a hand through her hair. "Who says it's been less than four months?"
"How long has it been, Jane? A few weeks? A few days? A few hours?"

"Try since Hoyt."
"You're lying."
"I didn't realize it until you kissed me, but I'm not lying."

As she speaks, Jane moves closer, and this time there's nowhere for Maura to run. Even if there had been, she's not sure she would have bothered. Jane's proximity is like some kind of substance, a craving turning slowly but surely into an addiction. Jane tilts her head slightly and moves in at an unmistakable angle, but Maura stops her with one final attempt: "Whatever you're feeling, it's going to go away eventually."

.,.

Jane can't help but laugh a little. It's almost cute how Maura's trying to stop her, when it's so obvious that she's scared, and there's nothing wrong with that. She doesn't have a reply, really, other than the one card she has left to play. She leans in the last few inches and this time Maura doesn't move. In fact, she doesn't hesitate to return the kiss.

"You'll regret this later," Maura breathes against her lips when they part again.
"If I don't, can I come back and quote you on that?"

She moves away and holds the bracelet up in her hand, briefly, before she drops it to the counter. "You left this at my place. I just wanted to drop it off." Something about the surprise on Maura's face is satisfying enough that Jane's smiling the whole drive home.

She knows what her next move is going to be, and if it works, her next will be a checkmate.

.,.