A/N-Minor trigger warning: this chapter has characters discussing Jane's encounter with Hoyt, nothing too graphic, but I'd rather be safe than trigger-y.

My initials still aren't J.T., TNT or T.G., so I can't possibly own any of this...

Jane was not one of Maura's favorite subjects after their disagreement. She wanted to give Jane the professional relationship that she apparently craved, but she had already called Detective Frost before Jane decided to vent her frustrations with Maura, so he showed up in the morgue at the end of the day, right when he said he would.

"Hey, doc," Frost said, as he took a survey of the room before entering. "You need something?"

"Yes, I did," Maura said. She could have turned him away, but if Jane was going to be strictly a coworker, Maura needed to work on cultivating new friends. Conversing with Detective Frost would be a good start. "Nothing case related though, so it can wait if you need to work the Asimov case."

"Nope, we just got the guy," Frost said, then added with a knowing smile. "There was enough to convict, but when Jane got through with that interrogation we had our confession. She was on the warpath for sure today."

"That was actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Maura said. "Do you have any idea what's causing her bad mood?"

Frost leaned against Maura's desk and squinted his eyes thoughtfully for a moment.

"You know, I thought maybe it was just Jane being all business, but it's not, not really," Frost said. "Wait. What's the date?"

Maura glanced down at her desk calendar.

"October 11," Maura said. "Why? What's the significance?"

"Oh man," Frost said. "That's it. It's no wonder she's on edge."

"What? What's 'it'?" Maura asked. Maura always found the frequent use of pronouns without antecedents by English speakers equal parts frustrating and fascinating.

"It's today," Frost said. "Today's the anniversary of Hoyt."

"Hoyt?"

"You mean you don't know?" Frost asked. "You haven't seen Jane's scars? They're from a serial killer, guy named named Charles Hoyt."

"I hadn't known, I had no idea, I mean, I asked several and she never told me, always made a joke," Maura said. Her mind was going in a dozen different directions at once, and she needed to focus on something specific, something concrete. "What happened?"

Frost shrugged.

"She's told me about as much as she's told you, and I've been her partner for awhile now. It's just not something Jane would ever tell me. There're no details in the newpapers to prevent copycats, and all the statements are sealed by a court order," Frost said. He looked at the back wall of Maura's office and continued. "It bugs me sometimes, that she won't trust me. But I've gotta respect her, you know?"

Maura looked blankly at the same wall as Frost, unsure of what to say. Her interactions with Jane had just become a lot more complicated. Jane hadn't been angry at Maura, at least not nearly as angry as she had acted. Jane's suppressed anger and frustration at the approaching anniversary had apparently manifested in an inability to perform unnecessary or friendly social interactions.

"I have to go," Maura said turning to Frost, who turned to look at Maura. "Thank you though. And you are an excellent partner. I'm sure Jane knows that."

Frost nodded and smiled thinly. He stuck out his hand. "Thanks, any time," he said.

Without doing her customary double check of all locks and lights, Maura left the morgue for Jane's apartment.

Maura strode out of the elevator and down the hall. She was an M.E. on a mission, that much would be clear from the name tag she had forgotten to remove on her way out the door of the office coupled with her purposeful stride towards Jane's door.

She knocked sharply on the door a few times and waited with the patience usually more characteristic of Jane. Really, why wouldn't Jane trust her with even the most basic information regarding those injuries? She hadn't been hoping for all the gritty details, but she did wish that Jane would have at least said the wounds were from an attack. Even Detective Frost knew that much.

No, Maura got nothing. She'd been blindsided by Frost's revealation, and Maura did not particularly like it, especially when she considered Jane one of her few friends. It hurt to think that Jane wouldn't trust Maura when Maura had trusted Jane enough to discuss some very personal, private things, things she'd only ever mentioned to Garrett and Ian.

When Jane answered the door, she looked exhausted, which was how Maura had grown accustomed to seeing Jane, having spent a good deal of time working extremely long hours on some horribly gruesome murders.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Maura asked, sounding just a bit more demanding and unreasonable that she had intended.

It was equal parts frustration at being left out of the loop and a delayed reaction to Jane's treatment of her in their conversation that morning. Discovering the reason for Jane's moodiness had taken some of the sting out of their earlier conversation, but Maura still felt a bit hurt by the way that Jane had treated her.

"Tell you what?" Jane responded as she insitinctively moved aside to let Maura into her apartment.

Maura entered the apartment, but without the same brisk pace as she had walked down the hallway.

"I think you know what," Maura said, making every effort to sound less on edge and more sympathetic. After all, if Jane felt threatened or antagonized, the chances of her opening up to Maura would decrease dramatically.

Jane shrugged as she let the door swing shut. She folded her arms and crossed the room a few steps to plop down on the sofa.

"No. What? That I'm kinda allergic to shellfish?" Jane responded. When Maura didn't add anything more, Jane shrugged again. "C'mon give me a hint here."

Well, now that Maura thought about it, she had been making assumptions that she ought not to have made. She had assumed that Jane would be thinking about Hoyt, partially because Maura was thinking about Hoyt. It was a foolish mistake, one that Maura found she'd made not because of social awkwardness, but based on emotions. That particular faux pas was a new one for Maura.

"Why didn't you tell me what Hoyt did to you?" Maura asked as she sat down next to Jane. "I only ask because I want to help, and I can't help if you don't trust me."

She wanted to take Jane's hand, but resisted, settling instead for rubbing Jane's arm as a gesture of comfort, an indication that she wasn't upset. That anger had dissipated the moment she recognized an unusual lack of inflection in Jane's voice and an almost complete lack of the usual animation as she spoke, a sign that Jane was certainly not herself. The frustration was slowly slipping away too; now Maura just wanted to be able to offer Jane comfort. And she hoped that Jane would trust her enough to allow that to happen.

"Shit," Jane muttered as she put her hands over her face and leaned her head back against the sofa.

"Jane, I'm not going to insist you tell me the details. I would just really like to know why felt you couldn't tell me even a small bit of the truth," Maura insisted. She was nothing if not persistent in her pursuit of an answer. Especially if the answer might help her to make herself more trustworthy for Jane, because clearly she had missed something if Jane hid the source of her scars.

"When did you want me to tell you, Maura? These things don't really come up in conversation you know," Jane said. "How's your day? I'm doing good. Oh, by the way, there was this time a serial killer lured me into a trap, hit me over the head with a two by four, and put a scapel through each hand with the expressed intention of mutilating, raping and killing me in no particular order. Yeah, that makes for really good conversation over drinks."

Now Maura felt incredibly guilty at having forced Jane into revealing such information. Of course she hadn't demanded the revealation per se, just a reason for Jane keeping it all a secret. Still, she felt awful at seeing the miserable look on Jane's face as the detective finished speaking, the pain that the recollection had caused. It'd been selfish to demand answers when Maura didn't know the trauma Jane had experienced. She should have known; Maura felt like she really should have been able to understand the nature of the attack based on Frost's description of Jane's reaction to the events. But she hadn't; Maura had failed to see what should have been a reasonable extrapolation if the doctor had paused for a moment to organize all the new information.

Maura had a hard time looking at Jane.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I just felt as if you didn't trust me enough to tell me. I didn't realize," Maura said softly, looking her own hands. "I didn't realize it was that bad."

Jane glanced back and forth between the door just behind and to the right of Maura, then down at her hands and back again, almost as if embarassed by the fact that she'd just revealed all of that information all at once. Maura didn't know with certainty how often Jane had spoken about the story, but, based on Jane's reaction, that level of disclosure was out of the ordinary for Jane. It took a few long seconds before Jane spoke.

"Yeah, I mean, how should you know? It's not really something I talk about with anyone. I'll tell you the details if you really need it. Hell, maybe I really need it. You know, therapeutic or whatever," Jane said.

The edge in Jane's voice had softened, perhaps at attempt to make up for the aggressively indifferent, then downright aggressive tone when she saw how upsetting the news was to Maura. It wasn't right, Maura thought. Jane shouldn't feel the need to comfort Maura over the fact that Jane was attacked and seriously injured by a serial killer.

But Jane clearly did feel that way. Before Maura could stop her, Jane went over to a bookshelf that held a few police textbooks, some novels, and a few reference books that Maura had purchased for Jane as gifts. Resting against the row of books as a kind of bookend was a plain brown box, no bigger than a shoe box. Maura, though she normally prided herself on observational skills, had never even noticed the box before.

Jane took the box off the shelf without worrying about the few books that slid out of place.

"Here," Jane handed the box to Maura, who took it gingerly. "I know it's kinda morbid, but I have a few clippings and stuff. Not sure why I keep it. Its just sort of here, you know. Can't seem to bring myself to throw it out. Just, you know, some of it's kind of, um, graphic."

Maura looked down at the box. She wondered if it was even her place to do this, to pry her way into Jane's closely held secret. Jane had made the offer, but Maura couldn't tell if Jane was really ok with Maura looking at the hidden items. Maura knew that sometimes people offered things they didn't really want to offer out of a misplaced sense of obligation.

"May I?" Maura asked. "Are you sure? I don't need to know, honestly. I'm not angry. I was just, I was surprised by the information, that you hadn't told me."

"Yeah, I know, go ahead. A lot of it's stuff you could've found on the internet anyway."

It was on the internet. Maura could have found all this out with a simple google search, all without subjecting Jane to Maura's insecurity and bringing up extraordinarily unpleasant memories for Jane. And the ironic part was that Maura always did at least a quick search on new coworkers or friends. She just never bothered with Jane because she'd made assumptions, guesses, about Jane and her backstory, had assumed that Jane felt comfortable enough to discuss anything Maura might have discovered in a quick google search.

That was the very reason that Maura never liked to assume or guess; she usually missed crucial bits of information. Maura's affection for Jane blinded her, made her believe in a fairytale version of Jane's past because that's what she wanted to believe, not based on any kind of empirical evidence.

Now Maura needed to reorganize and rebuild that reality; she needed to know Jane's true back story if she was going to have any hope of being the kind of companion that Jane deserved.

Maura opened the box, doing her best to keep her hands steady. She glanced at the first few articles, all with similar headlines. "Officer Assaulted by Suspected Serial Killer" and similarly sterile, succinct description. They were accurate in what little information they provided Maura; it was obvious that the media had been given very limited information, as Maura knew was police procedure with sensitive cases and cases that might inspire copycats.

Then there was a lengthy article about Charles Hoyt's guilty verdict for one of his first murders. The main picture was of the prosecutor standing at the podium. Maura could make out Jane standing in the background. She was in her plainclothes and Maura could just barely see Jane's hand's wrapped in thick layers of gauze.

The final items, at the very bottom of the box were almost too much to take. The pictures of Jane's freshly injured, still bleeding hands from the crime scene photos were a shock after the tame news stories. Four images, one after the other, each image as horrible as the next.

Maura imagined each nerve, blood vessel and muscle that the scapel would have penetrated and felt intensely sad at the thought that Jane had suffered that kind of physical pain. It was torture, those hand wounds alone constituted an intensely torturous experience. Then there was the emotional torture, the kind of torture that was much more difficult for Maura to quantify.

"Oh my God, Jane," Maura said. "Oh my God."

She dropped the photos back into the box and shut it quickly as if shutting the box would remove the images from her memory. Maura didn't know what to do with herself; she felt so helpless in the face of her friend's suffering. For the first time in a long time, words failed Maura.

She pulled Jane into a hug and sniffed as she tried to hold back tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I wouldn't have come here like this if I did. I'm so sorry," Maura said, only letting go when Jane pulled away, a sad smile on her lips.

"Hey, hey, it's not your fault," Jane said. She blinked quickly a few times as she wiped a tear off Maura's cheek. "See, this why I don't tell people about this. I didn't want to make you cry like that. I hate when you cry."

"I hate it when you hurt, Jane," Maura said. "I know this, whatever you went through, still hurts you. I can tell from the way you reacted to the photos. You can't even look at the articles. And it's the aniversary, so you've been withdrawn and moody, and just not yourself."

Jane nodded and looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry about that. That I was such an asshole just because all this crap was coming to the surface again. I've just got so damn good at running away from the scary emotional shit that when you wanted me to stop and explain why I was running I got pissed off and tried to shove you aside," Jane said. "And I got angry at you because you were an easy target."

"Jane, I really-

"I'm just, I want to explain it to you before you say anything else. You're, I do trust you. More than I trust anyone else," Jane said. "More than my own mom. Hell, even more than Frost or Korsak. I want you to know that and really believe it, ok?"

Maura smiled and nodded. She couldn't help feeling a little bit of relief at having inspired such trust in Jane. She reached out and let her fingers rest on Jane wrist. Maura didn't realize until that exact moment how very tactile she was with Jane in comparison to other people; at a time when she would have responded to anyone else verbally, she had instinctively reached out to touch Jane.

Jane looked up at Maura; she nodded as if to confirm something to herself and rose from the couch. Jane paced towards the bookshelf and back again as if she was pondering something before finally settling on her answer and sitting back down on the couch and facing Maura. She tucked both legs under her and rubbed her hands over her face before letting them fall into her lap. Then she looked up at Maura and spoke quietly.

"It still sucks so bad sometimes. When it's quiet, and I'm alone and I start thinking too much," Jane said. "I can't help thinking about it. Like today. Today's been the worst day in awhile."

Maura remained quiet, not daring to move for fear of ruining the moment.

"I can't forget," Jane continued, her eyes flicking down to the box of pictures and articles, then back to Maura before settling on a spot on the couch cushion to her left. "It's always gonna be there, and I can't do a thing about it. Two years later and I still have nightmares sometimes."

Maura reached out and put a hand on Jane's cheek. She sensed that Jane had never allowed herself to acknowledge these sentiments out loud, that she was giving Maura this information because Jane really trusted Maura that much. And Maura wanted Jane to know that the revelation hadn't frightened the ME away.

"I want to forget so bad," Jane said, her voice ragged and thick.

Jane looked up at Maura, and Maura saw Jane crying for the very first time since their first meeting. What broke Maura's heart more though, was the look on Jane's face. It was so lost, so sad, so not Jane. That face shook Maura more than the picture had.

Maura's first and only impulse was to hug Jane, to reach out and pull her into a tight hug and just hold her as she cried. Although Maura was not an impulsive person, she followed this impulse and Jane didn't resist. As a matter of fact, Jane hugged Maura back, wrapping her arms tightly around Maura. Jane wasn't sobbing; she was a quite crier, but Maura could tell even as she held Jane that the detective was crying based on Jane's shallow, irregular breathing pattern.

"I know you do," Maura said as she held Jane's head against her shoulder and stroked Jane's hair.

Maura sat in that position, holding Jane protectively against her for, well, she couldn't have said exactly how long, but it felt like a significant period of time. Maura didn't mind in the least; she liked that Jane trusted her enough to allow the moment to happen.

After a while, Jane fell quiet, but she didn't move. Maura suspected based on Jane's gradual shift from short, jagged breaths to slow, even breaths that Jane had cried herself to sleep, or a state very close to sleep. As much as Maura didn't mind being there in Jane's time of need, her knowledge of the human body told her that Jane would have a stiff neck and back for the next few days if she didn't get the detective into a more conventional position for sleeping.

"Jane," Maura whispered into Jane's ear.

Jane groaned sleepily and snuggled closer to Maura.

"Jane," Maura said a little louder. "Would you like me to help you into bed?"

"You too," Jane said as she squinted up at Maura.

"What?"

"You want to go to bed too?" Jane asked.

"To sleep?" Maura asked. The question felt silly, but Maura thought she needed to ask given her history with Jane.

"Just sleep," Jane said as she stretched her arms over her head and rose from the couch. When Maura did not immediately respond, Jane added, "only if you want to though."

Maura was on the verge of asking if that was what Jane wanted, because that usually tended to be her impulse when people asked her to stay over. Did they really want her, or had she just inadvertently overstayed her welcome? This time, however, she could tell that Jane wanted her there, maybe even needed her there. Jane gestured towards the half open bedroom door.

"You know, I am awfully tired," Maura said as she kicked off her heels and got up from her spot on the couch.

Jane grinned sleepily and walked ahead into the bedroom.

A/N-So, ya'll, for me this is uber!angst and not something that is going to be permanent. Even if this is largely a lighter fic, I just wanted to acknowledge that Jane suffered a major trauma that would, in all likelihood, have a lasting effect on her psyche and how she goes about relationships. Just wanted to put that out there :)

Anyone feeling a little more sympathy for Jane's now as opposed to last chapter? Thoughts? Concerns? Questions? Conundrums? Send all of it my way in a review!