"My mother, Jane! My mother is here."

Jane watched helplessly as Maura threw, actually threw, clothes out of her closet into a pile on the bedroom floor.

"I didn't call her. She didn't call to announce that she was in town. Why is she here? The house hasn't been properly cleaned in days!" The doctor's voice was reaching an uncharacteristically high pitch.

All Jane could do was shrug pitifully.

"Can't you get rid of her? Tell her I'm indisposed or-or work called and it's going to be awhile."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I think she's here for the long wait, Maur. She isn't going to buy, 'Sorry! Your daughter can't come downstairs right now. Bug off, please!' It's not going to fly."

Maura emitted a cross between a whine and a humph!

"Besides, you can't lie remember," Jane glanced at the clock on the dresser. They'd been upstairs for over an hour already.

"No," Maura agreed. "But you can. Just one of the many things I love about you."

"Your sarcasm is greatly appreciated, Dr. Isles." There was silence from the closet, so she walked hesitantly forward, peering around the corner.

Maura, dressed only in panties and a t-shirt of Jane's, was staring desolately at the available options, her eyes full of unshed tears of frustration. "Nothing fits," she whispered. "It doesn't fit anymore." She hunched her shoulders miserably. "I have more items of clothing than any sane person should ever own, but none of it fits me," she let out a dry sob and swayed slightly in place.

"Hey, hey," Jane stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the frail woman from behind. Maura leaned back into the embrace, gratefully. "It's alright. We'll get you some clothes, okay? We can go out," but Maura shook her head no, "or you can online shop to your heart's content. It'll be okay. But your mother," Maura tensed at the mention of Constance, "she won't care. It doesn't matter what you're wearing." There were more important things than clothes to be dealing with right at that moment, but Jane knew fashion was a safety subject for the stylish medical examiner. Maura adored dressing well, looking her best, and to present a front that was less than perfect to her high-society mother was probably terrifying, nearly more so than the thought that in a few short minutes, she would be delivering some of the worst news a mother would ever dread to receive. Jane tightened her grip, nuzzling her face in Maura's neck. "Come on. Just slip on some swe-" she cleared her throat, "Yoga pants. Constance'll understand. Just this one time," she pleaded. There was silence from the smaller woman. She was contemplating, and when she turned to face Jane and give her a quick kiss, Jane knew she'd won that round. "You're beautiful," she murmured, waiting until Maura looked up at her. "And I love you," she kept eye contact, willing those hazel eyes to light up in belief, in trust, and eventually they did and she was rewarded with a small smile.

"Now c'mon," she turned and led the way back into the bedroom, gesturing for Maura to take a seat on the bed, before ruffling through the dresser drawers where she'd placed her stuff. Grunting in satisfaction, she pulled free a pair of yoga pants and an old BPD sweatshirt. She knew it was secretly Maura's favorite, although the medical examiner usually claimed she did not understand the draw of a plain cotton pullover. Gently, she handed the items over and then waited patiently while Maura slipped into them. The doctor had already insisted on showering first: a few more minutes wouldn't hurt anything.

"Okay," Maura breathed when she was finished. She smiled hesitantly at her detective, but Jane could detect the trembling in her hands and the slight crease in her forehead which indicated a headache. Her face was pale. She should have still been in bed, taking in fluids and resting.

Jane was never one much for pep talks, but she had a feeling this called for her best shot. She reached forward and gave Maura a hand up, then kept ahold of the long fingers. Taking a deep breath, she was pleased when Maura emulated it. She picked up the hat off the bed and slipped it snugly down over the other woman's head, kissing her cheek when she was finished. The doctor looked significantly smaller without her blonde curls. It was disconcerting. She'd insisted on purchasing several different silk scarves, to wear, but it was the wool hat Angela had knitted which she frequented the most often. She never said, but Jane knew it was for warmth. The doctor was cold almost 100% of the time these days. Often, Jane would stop what she was doing just to cuddle with the smaller woman and warm her up when the covers and layers she wore weren't doing their jobs. It was one of her absolute favorite reasons to forgo chores.

"You can do this," she affirmed, running a finger along Maura's cheek.

"My mother is a formidable woman," the medical examiner reminded, trying for practicality but sounding frightened instead.

"And she's your mother," Jane made sure to emphasize the word. "She loves you. She might be upset at first; it's kind of a shock," she gave a kiss to take the sting out of her words, "But she's your mom. She'll come around. Just give her some time."

Maura looked fondly at the brunette. "You're wonderful, did you know that?"

Jane flushed at the compliment. "What can I say, it just comes naturally," she joked.

"I'm being completely serious," Maura insisted.

"Well, I think you're pretty great, too, Doc. And smart, pretty, strong, beautiful, brave, perfect," she punctuated each word with a kiss.

"No one is perfect," Maura breathed.

"I know someone who comes pretty damn close then," Jane whispered, nose to nose with her girlfriend, staring seriously into dark hazel eyes.

"Language," Maura murmured back, but Jane felt the word more than heard it.

"Do you love me?" Jane asked.

"I do."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

Jane closed the inch of space between them, taking Maura's lips in her own. "Then c'mon downstairs. And trust me; I won't let you fall."

"Promise?"

"I do." Taking a frail hand in her own, she led the way downstairs, glancing back every now and then to make sure the doctor hadn't forgotten to breathe. When they got to the bottom of the steps, they paused in unison. Two distinct laughs could be heard emanating from the kitchen.

"Sounds like my mother's here." Jane muttered. Maura's grip tightened. They didn't move. Another laugh broke out. The brunette heard her mother mention a fruit cake gone bad, and realized, with a slight tinge of horror that she was sharing old Rizzoli family stories, stories about Jane and her brothers, embarrassing stories. To Constance Isles. She wanted simultaneously to hide and to yell out in frustration.

While she was focused on that, she didn't realize that Maura had silently sunk down onto the bottom stair, her hand still stretched upwards so as to be connect to Jane. The detective glanced down in surprise and then quickly followed suite. She waited patiently for Maura to speak.

"I should have called her when I first found out." Jane merely nodded in agreement.

"Do you think she'll be upset with me?" Maura's fearful eyes looked at her as if Jane's answer would determine whether or not the other woman would survive the next few hours.

"Probably," she answered truthfully. "But, she'll get over it. She's a logical person, a smart woman. She'll understand...eventually."

"Will she hate me?"

Jane started at the question. "Hate you? Maura, no. What? Hey, look at me," she waited until she'd recaptured those beautiful hazel orbs. "She won't hate you. Sure, she's gonna be mad. But she loves you." Jane couldn't emphasize it enough. Sometimes she wondered how many times Maura had heard those three words throughout her life, and then she stopped wondering because it made her stomach turn over in discomfort and sadness. She didn't like feeling sad. "I love you." She never wanted to stop reminding the ME.

Maura nodded blindly, staring at the floorboards. Another shout of laughter rose from the kitchen, just as Bass poked his head around the corner.

"Look, even the turtle loves you."

"Tortoise," Maura automatically corrected, but she smiled at him.

Finally, Maura heaved a sigh, and pulled herself up into a standing position using the banister. Her face went white at the movement. Jane grabbed her elbow quickly. "I'm fine," Maura murmured, breathing evenly.

"It was bad last night," Jane brought it up for the first time. "Maybe I should send the mothers away for now," she looked doubtfully at the kitchen doorway. "Ma could probably keep her entertained for the rest of the day."

"No," Maura shook her head resolutely. "Thank you, but no. I simply need to get this over with."

"Alright," she had to agree. "Let's do it then."

Maura set her face in grim determination and began walking forward, straightening her spine as she did so. In front of her eyes, Maura Isles was transformed, as much as was possible in her present condition, into Dr. Maura Dorothea Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, trained in the art of high-society politics with the best of them, unafraid, solid, unwavering. Jane was in awe of the woman beside her, especially since Maura did not once let go of the detective's hand. Even this version of her girlfriend, this scientific, intimidating version of her best friend, relied on Jane Rizzoli. Even this version of Maura Isles loved her. Jane wondered when the butterflies would ever go away when she looked at the woman she loved.

At this point, they might have been half from fear, but she refused to acknowledge those ones. If Maura wasn't going to show weakness after spending more than half the night on her knees in the bathroom, a drug cocktail running through her veins, killing the good stuff as well as the bad, then Jane could sure as hell stand beside her, knees locked.

Maura stared at the back of the woman only ten paces in front of her. Constance Isles was facing away, looking over the island at Angela who had a book laid out in front of them. Maura, although she did not guess, predicted that it was most likely a photo album. Specifically one containing pictures of Jane and her brothers from when the three were children. She wondered idly if her mother owned such an album of her adolescent years, captured and preserved on film. Doubtful. But she pushed that thought away. She licked her lips in preparation for speech. She swallowed. And then she felt Jane's hand on the square of her back, not pushing, simply resting, reminding her of the detective's presence. She cleared her throat, but not loudly enough to be detected by the two older women.

"Mother," she managed, sounding at least in her mind, half terrified, half absurdly surprised. Angela looked up quickly, and Maura caught the flit of emotion which crossed the Rizzoli mother's face. Anxiety. So she hadn't given Constance any idea of what to expect. Jane stiffened behind her; she must have read it, too. "Mother," she said again, and Constance Isles turned to face her.

The older woman did not speak. She merely looked at her daughter, not a single hair out of place, designer suit unwrinkled. Maura wanted to shrink at the thought of how she must appear to her mother: old lounge pants, a sweatshirt of Jane's that nearly dwarfed her, hat on indoors. Not to mention the fact that she had lost approximately 14 pounds since her mother had last seen her. It was not an inordinate amount, but she could not afford to lose much from her athletic, petite frame before it began to have obvious effects.

She was about to repeat the title for the third time, willing the blank look to dissipate from Constance's face, when Jane nearly growled the other woman's name from behind her. It was a warning, Maura knew. And she watched as it took affect, seeming to shake her mother out of a daze. Constance's piercing blue eyes swept over her, once, twice, seeming to run some sort of gauntlet of emotion, until at last they settled on her face. And then her mother was out of her chair and approaching. The doctor forced herself not to shrink back. She wasn't afraid of her mother, certainly not, more so it was an automatic reaction to an unpleasant situation.

"Oh, darling," the older woman all but whispered, and then she was in her mother's arms, swept into a large hug, perhaps the most effusive display of emotion she'd ever witnessed from Constance Isles. Maura merely stood frozen on the spot, shock running through her veins. She vaguely recorded Jane moving from her position beside her towards the brunette's own mother before Constance had pulled back, gripping Maura's elbows, and kissed both of her cheeks gently. The Medical Examiner didn't know how to respond; she merely looked on dumbly as Constance examined her from a closer vantage point.

"Why don't you two go sit and talk in the living room," Angela suggested before Maura's silence could get awkward. "I'll bring in some tea."

Constance nodded and turned to lead the way, taking Maura's hand in hers, but the doctor looked over her shoulder questioningly. Jane was watching her closely from beside Angela; there was something nearly feral in the protective way her dark brown eyes possessed the doctor. She wanted Jane to come with her, she did not want to have to do this alone. She wanted Jane to sit next to her on the couch, to hold her hand, to place her strong fingers along Maura's spine in order to keep her upright, to protect her. From what, she was not quite sure. Her mother? Constance was not a threat. Herself? From what? But she knew, even as she was pulled around the corner, and the lanky woman disappeared from view that she needed Jane's presence in that room with her, she needed the detective's energy and strength and courage.

Just as Constance let go to seat herself primly in one of the side chairs, Maura felt her girlfriend slide onto the end of the couch, directly beside her, and she heaved an internal sigh of relief. If her mother was surprised to see that Jane had followed them, she gave no sign of it. Nor did Jane acknowledge that it was not just she and Maura in the room, because as soon as Maura had situated herself, Jane relaxed, allowing their thighs to run alongside one another, their bent legs in contact the entire way to the floor where Jane's foot was nudging her own. The medical examiner did not lean on Jane in any way, although she wished to be wrapped in those long arms more than anything, but she took great comfort knowing that Jane was next to her.

Maura tried to find the words necessary to start the conversation. What was it Jane always said? Get the ball going? Or something along those lines. But the only thoughts in her head were banal phrases and clichés. She stared at the carpet, avoiding the eyes of the woman across from her. Chancing a glance in Jane's direction, she saw that the brunette had her gaze fixed on the perfectly coiffed older woman, not threatening, merely watching, waiting. The medical examiner suddenly found herself wanting to scream, to fill the silence of the room, to drown out the pain in her skull, the roiling in her stomach. She cleared her throat softly instead.

"Jane said you were going to call," and they were off.

"I was," Maura rubbed her hands anxiously together.

"Was it going to be soon, because it looks like this is somewhat old news," the older woman's voice was thoughtful, musing.

"Of course it was going to be soon," Maura snapped her mouth closed, shocked at her rude tone. She looked up to find that Constance had raised an eyebrow.

"I see," she murmured. "What exactly is your condition?"

Maura grimaced. This was going to be nothing but a technical description. She should have been relieved, instead it was somewhat of a let down. Ignoring her disappointment, unsure where it stemmed from, she launched into a clipped explanation, providing the main points, but keeping the minor details to herself. Jane had gone rigid beside her, and she didn't need to see to know that the detective's face would be white with tension, her fingers rubbing at her scars in a circular, rhythmic motion, over and over and over again as she heard the words for what must have been the hundredth time. Now she wished Jane had remained in the kitchen; she hated putting her through this. She sped up, attempting to finish as quickly as possible. These words didn't have any affect on her any longer; she could have been discussing a patient, not herself. The shock, the horror, they'd worn off. Now she was left with facts.

"I began my second course of treatment yesterday after the scans came back with less than satisfactory results," she concluded, nearly breathless with the exertion of explaining.

Constance's face hadn't appeared to change throughout it all. She wondered what that meant. She did not have as much practice reading her mother as she did those she lived her life with now. Constance Isles had been schooled in the art of controlling her reactions since before she could read. She'd been the one to teach Maura, if only via example. There were never any actual lessons. The older woman's voice brought her out of her memories of nannies and cooks and boarding school matrons. "I should call your father."

"Pardon?"

"He's abroad. I'll have to call him and have him come here."

"Mother, I don't think that's necessary. Really."

Constance looked askance. "Of course he'll come."

"But, I-I," she wanted to say that she didn't want to interrupt his work. That she couldn't stand the guilt of pulling her parents away from their lives. It had always been one of her greatest fears. They were important people who did important things. Instead, "I have Jane," she glanced back to find her detective looking angry, but not at Constance, at her. What had she done? "And all the Rizzolis," she finished realizing that her mother did not know the about the advancements in her relationship with the detective. She turned back expectantly, waiting for Constance to agree.

There was a look then, between the brunette behind her and the woman on the chair, a look of understanding, of communication. A private conversation which Maura was not privy to.

"Convince her," Jane said suddenly, rising from her seat and taking her warmth with her. "You have to explain so that she understands." Maura opened her mouth to ask, how, how was she supposed to phrase it differently, when Jane cut her off with a quick kiss. "I love you," she whispered. "Convince her," it was directed at Constance, not her.

Her mother nodded seriously, seemingly unfazed by the public display of affection that quite obviously crossed the boundary between 'friend' and...more so. Maura felt herself becoming more and more confused. And then Jane was gone, around the corner, back to the kitchen where Angela was most likely awaiting a play-by-play update.

"Darling," Constance leaned forward, wrapping one of Maura's hands in her own. "I'll be calling your father, and he will be coming to Boston and both of us will be remaining in the city." The indefinitely lingered between them. "We'll stay at the Elliot."

"I-I don't understand."

"Oh darling, oh my wonderful, smart girl," her mother had never used those adjectives in her direction before. The older woman had moved so she was sitting beside her daughter on the couch now, still holding her hand, chafing it between her warm palms. "I'm sorry. I'm so terribly sorry," Maura wanted to ask what she was apologizing for. She needed a clarification. "Is it alright if we come and stay? Is that okay with you?" Permission? Her mother was asking her permission.

"Of course," she'd given it without really understanding what it was for. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be trapped underwater.

"I see that Jane has moved in-"

"I love her," she blurted it out. She'd never discussed love with her mother before. There was a time, when she had been planning on marrying Garrett, when she had almost asked her mother what love was supposed to feel like, but she hadn't.

"I know, dear, and she loves you."

"Do you think so?" She knew that Jane did. On the surface she knew. She felt it every time the detective touched her, looked at her, smiled at her, but she wanted to know if others could see it, too. She needed validation.

"I do," Constance assured her. "Very, very much."

Her mother looked sad. Maura squeezed the hand in her own reflexively.

"Maura," she looked up, "Jane has taken very good care of you." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway. "Good. That's very good," Constance took a deep breath. "You should to be taken care of. You deserve to be loved. All the love that Jane has for you. You deserve it."

"Do you love me?" She knew the answer to that, too. Her mother had pushed her out of the way of an oncoming vehicle. Logic said that she was loved by her, by both of her parents. But sometimes she wished to hear the words more than anything. Sometimes when Angela Rizzoli hugged or, or when the matriarch hit her daughter teasingly with a spoon while making dinner, when they exchanged jokes over the table, when Jane ran from her mother's wide-stretched arms, when the detective mumbled those three words grudgingly and Angela's face broke out into a beaming smile. Those times, she had wished for her mother's voice. For her mother's voice letting those three words escape into the air.

Constance was crying, she realized. She felt badly for making her mother cry, but she didn't really understand. She felt detached. And then she was in her mother's arms again, and the warmth was bringing her back to the present, the hands pressed into her back were waking her up. The "I love you," whispered into her ear, and then again, made her eyes open wide. "Darling," Constance pulled back, giving a laugh as she wiped futiley at her tears, "Do you have any idea how much I love you? How proud I am of you? How wonderful you are?" Maura shook her head mutely because it was the truth. "I'm so sorry," her mother whispered, tears still flowing, "I am so sorry. I love you, and I am going to call your father, and the two of us are going to stay in Boston as long as you need us to because we are your parents, and we have failed you far too many times."

"Mother-" it was a plea.

"Your detective is quite protective of you. I remember that time at my art show. She certainly has no qualms about putting me back in my place." She chuckled. "As well she oughtn't to have any. Because she loves you, darling. I'm don't think it's even possible to explain to you, but I hope you can feel it. It's impossible not to see it," Constance rubbed a hand affectionately along Maura's dry cheek. "She tried to warn me, you see. Before going upstairs to get you. But I didn't fully understand. Now, though. Now I do."

Her mother was making very little sense, and her head was spinning.

"I love you, Maura. And as upset as I am that you did not call me immediately, that you didn't trust me, I understand that-that it is my own fault. I'm so sorry, darling."

She thought her mother was apologizing but she didn't know why. "It's alright," she replied anyway, because it was. "It's alright," she said again, fumbling over the way the words sounded in her mouth.

"I love you."

"It's alright."

"I love you."

"Okay," the medical examiner stared at her mother. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "I-" another breath. "I love you. Too." She was crying now as well. And they were hugging once more, her mother holding her tightly, in a manner that Maura could only vaguely recall from a time when she was still small enough to be afraid of the monsters in her closet.

They stayed that way, holding each other for many, many heartbeats, until Maura felt herself falling asleep against her mother, supported by Constance's surprisingly strong arms, not unlike Jane's in a way. Just as defensive. Just as sure, as sturdy. "Rest," she heard her mother whisper, a kiss sliding across her forehead. She felt herself being laid down, being covered with a light weight of warmth. "Rest, my darling," another kiss, and then she was gone.

Jane licked the last of the whipped cream off the spoon, not really listening to her mother, more focused on the quiet from the living room. They'd been in there quite awhile. She hadn't wanted to leave, but Constance needed the chance to try, for her sake, but more for Maura's sake. So now she was waiting, and Angela was driving her crazy, and she wanted to sleep, but also to sleep with Maura and hold the doctor and remind her that Jane loved her. That Jane loved her with her entire being and that she would never leave and never run and never stop fighting for the medical examiner. She wanted their mothers to leave so she could pull Maura close and whisper how beautiful she was, and kiss Maura's neck and that spot, right below her collar bone that always made her shiver. Instead, she was eating whipped cream and waiting for Constance to reappear and reassure her that she hadn't broken her daughter, that she hadn't hurt Maura in any way, because if she had, if this explanation went wrong, there was going to be hell to pay.

"Janie," her mother was waving a hand in her face. "They'll be fine. Stop worrying."

"I know," she muttered, leaning back, and catching sight of the older Isles woman reentering the kitchen as she did so. She leaped from her chair suddenly.

"She's resting," Constance held out a hand to stop Jane's flight for the living room. "She's asleep."

Jane stared at her.

"I think she's alright," the mother explained carefully. "I think...she understood."

Jane peered at her. "Yeah?"

"And I-I understand as well." Constance looked at the detective carefully. "Thank you."

Jane tensed.

"Thank you for taking care of her."

She shrugged.

"For loving her."

She nodded. That was a no brainer.

"Thank you. For being there when I coul- when I wasn't."

Angela bustled around the island countertop, surprising both women and interrupting their little bubble of concentration. "Are you hungry?" She asked to the room at large, but it was Constance who answered her.

"Oh no. But thank you, Angela. I really need to go and call Richard. Make arrangements."

"You'll be staying then?" Jane finally spoke.

Constance nodded. "As long as she wants us to, and most likely beyond that timeframe."

Jane smirked. "Good."

"I, perhaps, that is, once Maura and I have had a chance to talk a bit more, I was hoping you might allow me to help."

Jane looked at her thoughtfully, consideringly.

"I would like to be useful. And I realize that although my actions may speak to the contrary, I feel quite as protective of my daughter as you do, Detective." There was the normal haughty tone in the other woman's voice. Jane found she was actually relieved to hear it. The mother was coming out of her shock. "Anything you're comfortable with, that Maura is comfortable with. Anything," a hint of desperation there.

"Of course," Jane murmured. "Of course." She had gotten used to sharing the responsibility. And of course Maura's mother should be involved, especially now that she would be in the city. Jane knew, without even worrying about it, that Constance Isles would soon become somewhat of a fixture in her daughter's life. That woman was more stubborn even than Jane thought she was. And she was tough. Jane could respect that. She didn't necessarily like Constance all that much, she didn't want to trust her, but she did, and she appreciated the woman more for her actions in the last hour. "Of course." She stepped forward and reached out a hand. Constance looked down at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, before stretching out her own. They shook on it.

"Yes, well, I ought to call Richard."

Jane offered her the room that was Maura's office and which Jane had partly taken over as a sort of den these days.

"If she wakes up before I'm finished, would you come and get me?" It was hesitant. Constance was trying to find the boundaries of this new relationship.

"Of course," Jane agreed.

"Oh, and Jane," the brunette stiffened at the use of her name, "Thank you." Constance had placed a hand on the detective's arm, already slipping into the den.

"She's tough, and stubborn, and strong. Stronger than anyone," Jane responded.

"And so are you," Constance replied, before shutting the door quickly and quietly, leaving a stunned detective in her wake.

AN: My God. Seriously. Y'all just keep blowing me away with your reviews and PMs and support. Holy. Heck. Our two favorite ladies have got some rough times ahead. Things are gonna get worse before they get better. I hope you guys stick around for the ride. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Love.