Chapter Five

Jane's phone alarm trilled obnoxiously into the silence, and she darted a hand out for it quickly, knocking it off the bedside table. "Shit," she muttered, not wanting to wake Maura. As she finally silenced the blaring alarm, she darted a glance at the opposite side of the bed and an eyebrow at the empty space next to her.

Jane swung her legs out from under the sheets, the air cool against them, and padded somewhat groggily towards the kitchen, where the telltale sounds of a pan clanging against the stove alerted her to Maura's presence.

Sure enough, Maura stood over the stove, wearing a dress that didn't look like anything one should ever cook in. "Maura?" she asked, taking inventory of the eggs, milk, and sliced vegetables littering the counter. Sure, Maura behind a stove wasn't that big of a stretch, but Jane couldn't remember the last time the medical examiner had voluntarily ate anything besides yogurt or a bran muffin for breakfast.

"Would you like some eggs?" Maura asked, glancing casually over her shoulder, as if resembling a line cook at six-thirty in the morning was an everyday occurrence for her.

"Sure," Jane replied slowly, testing her. "How you doing, Maura?"

"Fine," the blonde said, her attention squarely on the stove, her shoulders rigid underneath the thin material of her blouse.

Jane caught the unmistakable lemon scent of cleanser. "Did you clean?" she asked incredulously. The sun wasn't even high in the sky yet. What kind of detective was she that she slept through a marathon morning like that?

Maura walked past her to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of orange juice. "A little," she replied casually, pouring two glasses. She slid one to Jane.

Jane stared into her glass, but gazed at the shorter woman over the top of it. Clearly, Maura was far from being the wreck she had been last night, and Jane couldn't help but admire her tenacity. If she had gotten such mind blowing news about her own parents, she was more than certain she'd be curled up into a pajama ball watching the home shopping channel and eating cereal.

Maura, however, seemed more than ready to face the day. "I'm feeling pretty lazy at the moment," Jane mumbled, glancing around at the kitchen and giving her a fleeting half-smile.

Maura braced herself against the kitchen counter, setting her glass of orange juice down. "I couldn't sleep," she said, although the bags under her eyes had already confirmed that. She sighed, her lips pursed into a fine line. "I just need to see things rationally again," she said earnestly, her voice thin with exhaustion. "These emotions are running me ragged, Jane."

The thought was sincere, but so utterly, conventionally Maura-esque, that Jane couldn't help but grin ever so slightly. "Yes, emotions can be quite tiresome," she corroborated, nodding. "They are, however, always good for cleaning. Same goes for procrastination."

Maura smiled bashfully, glancing around her. "I'm going into the hospital on my way to work."

The decision didn't surprise Jane. Maura may call it being rational, but she simply called it love. Despite her difficulties with her parents, Jane had always seen love in Maura's eyes when she talked about them. Granted, at times it seemed quite unrequited, especially before the accident, but whatever it was that drove that love, it was there. "Good,Maur. I think your parents would like a chance to explain some things."

"Why didn't you tell me I was being selfish last night?" Maura asked, not accusatory, but searchingly.

"Because I didn't think that's what you needed to hear last night," Jane replied softly, finally reaching out and placing her hand over Maura's. She felt the blonde's hand turn underneath hers, fingers gently rubbing her own palm before giving her hand a slight squeeze.

"I hope you're hungry," Maura said, glancing at the stove.

Jane smiled. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"That's scientifically proven, you know," Maura said, turning her attention to a carton of eggs. "It signals the metabolic rate to spike, letting the body know to start burning calories. It's like kickstarting an internal combustible engine."

Jane raised an eyebrow at her. "Why can't there be a woman talking cars and cooking in my kitchen every morning?" she asked.

Maura giggled, but didn't turn around, and Jane was secretly relieved that her comment wasn't taken as awkwardly as it could have been. She had no idea where the two of them were drawing the line after last night's kiss, but for Maura's sake, she would let her bring it up.

"Unfortunately, I do not have any bunny-shaped pancakes for you this morning," Maura said, her lips curling into a smile as she turned quickly toward the island and grabbed a spatula from a drawer. She stopped short, and looked curiously at Jane. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes suddenly concerned.

Jane quickly shook herself out of her thoughts, glazing them over with a simple smile. "Nothing," she offered, standing. "What can I do to help?"

Maura gave her a lingering look, but nodded toward the end of the counter. "Slice up those tomatoes and cucumbers?"

Jane chopped the tomatoes eagerly, happy for a task. "What's your biological mother's name again?" she asked, moving onto a cucumber. "Emily something?"

Maura shook her head. "No."

"What?" Jane asked, looking up at her.

"I'm not telling you, because I don't want you running her name through all of your databases and scary big brother files."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "You've never had a problem with my scary files before."

Maura turned to look at her, a silent plea in her eyes. "I just want to do this right," she said. "Through my parents, not through some database."

Jane could offer nothing more than an understanding nod, silently chastising her internal detective. "Of course, Maur. I get that. You're right."

"Thank you, though," Maura said, her gaze still fixed on her, to the point where Jane felt her own cheeks flush.

"Where, uh, do you want these?" she asked, pointing with her knife to the chopped veggies on her cutting board.

Instead of answering, Maura took a step closer to her. "Jane, about last night - "

A loud, incredibly inconvenient knock sounded at the back door, and Jane groaned as she caught a glimpse of her mother's hair outside the window. Was it the woman's goal in life to have ever-worsening timing? "Come in, Ma!" she yelled, shaking her head as Maura reluctantly returned her attention to the eggs on the stove.

Angela slipped inside, a smile on her face, oblivious to the moment she had just interrupted. "I thought I saw your car outside, Jane, and I just wanted to pop in and say hello." She glanced at the stove and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Wow, Maura, did you do all this?"

"I did," Maura said proudly.

"Wow," Angela cooed, walking towards them. "It looks delicious."

Maura glanced at Jane, giving her a purposeful look and nodding towards their visitor, a gesture that she knew meant that she should invite her mother to join them for breakfast. But she shrugged, feigning ignorance, and ignored the frown Maura gave her.

The medical examiner rolled her eyes, but smiled as she turned back to Angela. "Would you like some?" she asked. "There's plenty."

Angela looked over at Jane, who gave a quick, pleading shake of her head, but as expected, her mother nodded. "Of course. I'd love to join you lovely ladies for a real breakfast. And on a weekday, too. What a treat!"

Jane sighed, defeated, but a quick jab in her ribs from Maura prompted her to give her mother a reluctant smile. "Great," she offered weakly. "Let me get you a plate."

Maura's phone gave a slight buzz, and she glanced at it. "Oh," she said, giving Jane an apologetic look. "Actually, you two are going to have to eat without me. I've got to get to the hospital before an 8:30 webinar at the office. It completely slipped my mind with everything that's been going on."

"Oh, don't you worry, Maura, we'll be fine. And we'll make sure to clean up, too."

Jane narrowed her eyes at Maura, repeating the words back to her. "A webinar?"

She nodded. "I'm looking forward to it, actually. It might help me take my mind off things. This one is about intralinear mucosal residue along the lining of the small intestine."

Jane had picked up a serving spoon, but quickly dropped it back in the pan, turning to face her mother, whose face had gone two shades paler after the medical examiner's description. "I think we'll wait just a little while on food, huh, Ma? Maybe start with coffee?"

Angela nodded quickly, but gave Maura a polite smile.

"Okay, then," Maura said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door, but not before giving Angela a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you for the spaghetti you brought me the other night," she said sweetly. "It was delicious. Your tupperware container is in the cabinet," she called as she walked toward the back door.

Jane couldn't help but feel jilted, and she followed her, pulling the door shut so as to give them some privacy from her always-prying mother. Maura looked back at her, surprised. "I really do have to go," she explained again. "You know I love meals with your mother."

"Yes, I think you love them more than I do, actually," Jane replied with a smile. She studied the woman in front of her, taking in the soft lips, pert nose, and innocent, clear eyes. "If you need anything today, don't hesitate to call me, okay?" she offered quietly.

In response, Maura reached for her, running a hand along her bare forearm. Something clouded her expression for the briefest moment, and Jane cocked her head lower until Maura was forced to look up at her. When she finally spoke, her voice was strong. "I meant what I said last night. I'm not confused, or vulnerable. I may not have the best timing, but I was being completely honest when I told you I loved you."

"Well, I didn't detect any hives or allergic reactions, so yes, I would say you were being honest," Jane replied with a light smile. She caught a tinge of redness coloring Maura's pale cheeks, and it was comforting just to see some color lightening the pallor that had seeped into them since the accident. "Listen, if your webinar doesn't cut into lunch – and I sincerely hope it doesn't, based on the subject matter – why don't I grab us some food and we can eat outside? It looks like it's going to be beautiful today."

Maura nodded, glancing up at the sky. "I have been lacking in the Vitamin D department."

The two stood awkwardly for a moment, neither moving. She wasn't even sure why they weren't moving until Maura angled her head up to her, and then the meaning became all too clear. Their lips came together in a sweet, loving seal, their tongues prying shyly against one another. Maura's hands had moved up Jane's arms, caressing her shoulders, and Jane let her own wrap around the smaller woman, resting on the small of her back. When they broke away, only slightly out of breath, Maura's eyes didn't move from hers, but the smile she gave her was relaxed and wide.

"Don't forget to load the dishwasher when you're done with breakfast," she said, stepping out of their embrace and hitching her purse higher onto her shoulder.

"Too domestic, too fast," Jane replied. "I need you to slow down."

Maura laughed, and the sound was pleasant in the cool morning air, as if it were bouncing off the dewy blades of grass. It had been awhile since Jane heard that rewarding sound. "I think we jumped that shark a long time ago," Maura replied. Jane grinned down at her, now more than an expert at deciphering the blonde's misguided cliches. The shorter woman glanced up at her knowingly. "That was the wrong colloquialism, wasn't it?"

"I tried to make it work, but yes, it's the wrong expression." She placed a kiss on Maura's cheek. "Good luck today at the hospital. Remember, parents are never perfect."

She watched Maura walk towards her car, giving her one last wave. Then the image hit her: she was still wearing her pajamas, waving goodby from Maura's own stoop, and about to sit down to breakfast with her mother. She did have to agree: the two had jumped the domestic shark long ago. She chuckled softly to herself as she returned to the kitchen, where her mother had already prepared two plates. Apparently the image of subcutaneous mucus didn't stick with her for very long.

"Breakfast is served," she said jovially, her voice higher-pitched than normal. She purposefully avoided Jane's gaze, moving briskly around the kitchen, clattering the drawers for silverware. "Would you like some more juice? Or coffee? Or would you like some more juice?"

Her mother sounded as if she'd already drank a pot of coffee, and Jane could only attribute that level of adrenaline to nervousness. She crossed her arms over her t-shirt. "I'm assuming you were spying on us, Ma?"

It took Angela a moment to stop her distracting course around the kitchen, and she dropped a hand towel onto the counter, her eyes finally meeting Jane's. "I didn't mean to," she replied. "I just wanted to ask Maura where the coffee filters were. If she were still using my organization system, I could've found them." She cleared her throat, and it was clear that the ball of confession was fully in Jane's court.

"Ma..." she began, waiting for her panic to seep in, but for some reason it didn't, and she felt relief flood through her instead. She had never broached the subject with her mother, although Frankie knew about most of her exploits with the fairer sex, mostly from college. Once she hit a certain age, those one-nighters became less pleasing, but she soon found out that even the most rewarding courtships with men didn't quite do it for her. "I should've brought this up a long time ago..."

"I didn't know Maura was gay," Angela said thoughtfully. "Now that's a bit of a surprise." She bit her bottom lip, cocking her head in thought. "Although now some things are starting to add up."

"Wait, you knew I was gay?" Jane asked, her long-awaited coming out to her mother unraveling under her feet, and for the second time that morning, she felt a little jilted.

"I had my suspicions. Come on, Janey, when's the last time you had a long-term boyfriend that spent most of his time in the same country as you?" She raised an eyebrow. "A mother knows more than you think."

"Why didn't you ever ask me?"

"Are you kidding me? Would you have told me if I had asked?"

Jane shrugged. "I probably would have told you to mind your own business."

"Exactly," Angela replied with a knowing frown. "Self-discovery is important. I wanted you to come to terms with it yourself, first."

Jane fiddled with the fork on her plate. "That's very thoughtful of you,Deepak Chopra." But she gave a quick smile, shoving a bite of eggs into her mouth. "But thank you."

Angela patted the seat next to her, motioning for Jane to sit. "How long have you and Maura... been together?"

"No, Ma, we're not 'together', all right?" She slumped into her chair, unsure of how to explain something that she wasn't even sure of. "I mean, we're working on it. Maura's been through a lot lately. I don't want to rush into anything. My first priority is as her friend right now." When her mother didn't respond, she looked up, and caught her staring at her with an expression that was altogether unreadable. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious. Her mother never made her self-conscious. "What's that look for?"

"That's the most responsible thing I've heard you say in a long time," Angela replied.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Well, I am a grown-up, Ma." She fiddled with the napkin beside her plate.

"What's wrong?" Angela asked. "There's something you're not telling me."

How did she manage to do that every single time? Her mothering spidey sense was always infiltrating her brain. "Maura's biological mother is alive," she said, looking over at her. "She faked her death, or tried to, changed her name, and fled. Constance is actually her sister. Which makes her and Maura's aunt."

Angela's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. "Holy sheesh," she said. "That's straight off the Sopranos or something."

Jane didn't suppress her grin. "That's what I said."

"Well, on some level, that's good news, isn't it? Doesn't she want to meet her biological mother?"

"I don't know," Jane said, taking a bite of now lukewarm eggs. "I think she does. But I think she's feeling guilty. She doesn't want to hurt Constance or Phillip. Not after everything that's happened."

Angela shook her head. "I may have my differences with Constance," she began.

"I'll say," Jane snorted, dipping her head to her food.

Angela rewarded her with a piercing look before continuing. "But, she's still a mother. And a mother will always get over her own fear and disappointment when it comes to what makes her child happy. I know that for a fact."

Jane looked over at her. "That's why you got over me and Frankie becoming cops?" she asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Angela asked, looking over at her. "I struggle with that every single day. I think you two are completely out of your minds."

Jane laughed. "And what about being a lesbian?"

"As long as I get grandkids, I don't care how you do it," she replied. She gave Jane one last smile before focusing back on her meal. "I know it's not my business - "

"Here we go," Jane sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"But I don't think you could do any better than Maura Isles."

Jane's lips curled into an unintentional smile, and she stretched her arms into the air, placing them behind her head. "I think you might be right about that, Ma."

"I'm always right," Angela responded briskly. "Now sit up at the table and eat your food."

Maura slipped into her mother's room, surprised to see her already up and sitting in the leather-backed chair in the corner of the room. She sat with a magazine of some sort in her lap, but her head was facing toward the window.

"Mom," Maura said, the word slipping out of her mouth without any aforethought, even though it didn't quite sound the same. Old habits were hard to break. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Not going crazy," Constance replied, with a thin smile. "I needed to get up and move this morning. Don't worry, it's been approved by the whole slew of nurses."

"Where's Dad?" Again, the word slipped past the Wernickes area of her brain, and she wondered whether she would ever get to the point where she referred to them as Aunt and Uncle. Or whether she even wanted to.

"I made him go to the hotel and take a shower," Constance said. "I honestly thought he was staying with you." Her eyes held guilt, the same concern that Maura had seen outside the restaurant the night of the accident.

Maura shrugged. "The two of you certainly enjoy your hotels," she replied noncommittally, but immediately felt remorse at the cutting retort. "How are you feeling? Any headaches?"

Constance smiled at her, the lines etched on her face curving upwards. "No, Dr. Isles, no headaches or nausea, or anything besides the expected aches and pains." She was quiet for a moment, her gaze stoic and unnerving, and Maura felt the distinct urge to move out of her line of sight. "Do you remember the day one of your schoolmates broke her arm?" she asked, her blue eyes becoming slightly glazed with memory.

Maura shook her head. "I don't think so."

Constance nodded. "You were young. Five or so. A girl on the playground fell and fractured her arm. I happened to be in town that week and picked you up from school that day. Your teacher told me that you had been so interested in that broken arm, and explained to the girl exactly how they had snapped, and how they would fuse back together. It made the poor girl panic, of course, and she bawled until the ambulance arrived." She laughed faintly. "Even then you were such a little scientist."

Maura smiled, unfamiliar with this side of her mother. "Clearly not the best caretaker," she replied.

Constance shrugged. "Well, I don't think I gave you any help with learning those skills, now, did I?" she said, her tone flat. She cleared her throat, and took a small sip of water from the plastic cup sitting on the table beside her chair. "I spoke with Hope," she said, her voice quiet.

Maura felt her stomach drop at the words, suddenly weighing her down, and she sat slumped onto the edge of the hospital bed, facing her mother. "I would imagine she wants to make sure you're okay. Does she know about Patrick?" she asked, unable to utter the one question that she had rehearsed in her mind on the way to the hospital.

Constance nodded. "I told her everything." Her eyes met Maura's. "Everything."

The question was on the tip of her tongue, but once again, her brain was unable to process it into a syntactic structure that made any sense, and all she could do was nod.

Constance waited expectantly, as if she knew what Maura was afraid to ask, but when the question didn't come, she continued. "Maura, she wants to see you."

She sat quietly, her heart rate increasing to the point where she thought her mother could see it pulsate underneath her blouse. "After all these years, she wants to see me?" she asked. "After the secret's out?"

"I can't speak for her," Constance said, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. "There's absolutely no pressure, darling, you know that. She knows that. I told her that it was completely and utterly your decision."

"Do you want me to meet her?" she asked, quietly. Now that she had the choice, she was afraid of it.

"Sweetheart, I want you to feel whole. If this helps you feel whole, then that is what needs to happen."

"Do I look like her?" Maura asked, her eyes finally connecting with her mother's. All her life, she had heard strangers tell her that she looked so much like her mother, and she had always taken some pride in that, not wanting to break the spell by telling those strangers that she was adopted. That there was no biological reason that her and her adopted mother should look like. Now, of course, she saw those comments in a whole new light.

Constance smiled, her eyes flittering over her. "Oh, Maura. You look exactly like her. The same eyes, the same nose. Just like her." She exhaled shakily, and placed her fingers on a piece of paper lying near her cup, sliding it toward Maura. "Here is her phone number. You can call her, or you can rip the piece of paper to shreds. It's up to you."

"Is she coming to see you?" Maura asked. Shouldn't she? What kind of a family let their own lie in a hospital bed for a week? How could she cut them all off so easily?

Constance's eyes welled, and she looked away briefly. "Yes, she is."

"How long has it been since you've seen her?"

"I haven't seen her since you were born," she said, her chest hitching, but she managed to reign in the threatening sob. "Maura, you have to understand, she was out of our lives. For your protection and for hers."

"What about your Grandfather?" she asked. "Did he know?"

"My father had disowned Hope the minute she got engaged to Patrick. Hope was passionate, driven, sometimes to the point of recklessness. I don't think she ever spoke to him again."

Maura felt her throat tighten. A criminal for a father, and a reckless, selfish mother. Even accounting for nature versus nurture, she didn't seem to have very good prospects. "Why did you adopt me?" she asked suddenly. She had always wondered, but even as a child, she had never asked the question. For so long, she had been afraid of the answer, but she was beginning to see Constance and Phillip Isles differently.

Her mother reached out a hand, placing it on her knee, a gesture entirely motherly, and one that inexplicably felt very natural. "Because Hope and Patrick loved you so much," she said. "And we saw that love in their eyes, and the minute you were born, we felt it, too. It was more than duty, Maura."

Maura reached for the slip of paper, if only to have something to do with her hands. "I'm sorry about yesterday," she said, guilt building inside her. "I shouldn't have been angry with you."

Constance squeezed her knee. "Maura, I was angry at Hope for years. It took me a long time to return her letters, to let her in on any part of our lives. The same with Patrick. And, I think your father is still angry at both of them, even now. I can understand your anger, believe me. And there's nothing wrong with it."

"Jane said this was straight out of the Sopranos." She had no idea why the thought popped back into her brain, especially seeing as she had no familiarity whatsoever with the show itself. Judging by her mother's blank nod, she suspected Constance had never seen it, either.

"That is... a mafia show, I believe?" she asked, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe we can watch it as a family, while we're here," she said, pointing at the television that hung in the corner of the room. A smile twitched at the corner of her lips, and Maura let a laugh drift up her throat. The sound was foreign in the dullness of the hospital room, but it felt freeing, and their girlish giggles fed off each other for a few moments, until Constance leaned back in her chair, clutching her abdomen. It may have been joviality bred from abnormality and sheer desperation, but nonetheless, it gave Maura some semblance of hope.

Jane walked briskly down the hallway toward Maura's office, an exasperated scowl on her face. She had prepared an entire picnic basket, and had endured several snide and questioning remarks from Frost and Korsak, all which she had successfully avoided, only to discover that the sky had recently fallen out over Boston. It was pouring rain.

"So, I'm not a meteorologist," she said, walking into Maura's office with an umbrella in one hand and the picnic basket. "It's pouring out."

"Ah," Maura replied, spindling in her chair. "I didn't realize. That's one of the problems with working in a cave. I never can tell the weather."

"Well, you up for a picnic in a cave, then?" Jane asked.

"Of course," Maura said, gesturing towards the couch and chairs in the center of her office. "My cave even has furniture."

"Uh-uh," Jane replied, shaking her head and moving the small coffee table in the center of the room out of the way. "The floor is more comfortable than the furniture you've got in here." She spread a small blanket over the rug on the floor, and sat down.

"That chair is state-of-the-art."

"No matter how many times you tell me that, Maura, it doesn't change the fact that the person who designed it doesn't know a thing about how to please a tush." She glanced out the glass window that lined one wall of Maura's office. "You don't have any appointments, or visitors today, do you? Anyone who might think it odd that the Chief Medical Examiner is having an Alice-in-Wonderland style picnic in her office?"

Maura followed her gaze. "It's the morgue, Jane. I get very few visitors. And the ones I do get, don't tend to exercise much judgment."

Jane shrugged, setting the basket down beside her. She looked up at Maura, who was glancing down at her with a smile. "What?" she asked, opening the basket.

"Look at you, so femme, with your picnic basket and your blanket," Maura teased, dropping daintily to her knees.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Keep up the teasing, and you can go eat with Korsak and Frost," she said, but smiled anyway, unpacking the plastic containers that held whatever the clerk at Whole Foods had recommended.

"Wow, Jane, so healthy," Maura said appreciatively, as she examined a quinoa and black bean salad. "I'm impressed."

"Well, I can be impressive," Jane said with an exaggerated toss of her hair. She settled onto the blanket, stretching her legs out in front of her. "So, spill. How'd it go this morning?"

"You mean my mucosal residue webinar?" she asked, unable to keep the hint of a smile from her lips.

Jane set down the container of carrot salad that she was holding. "Well, judging by your jovial mood," she said, leaning back on her hands. "I'm guessing it went quite well." She cringed. "Or, as well as it could go, I guess?"

Maura spooned out several portions of various salads on each of their plates, and it began to resemble an artist's palette more than a plate. "I apologized to my mother for the way I blew up yesterday."

"That's good. Although, you weren't to blame for whatever happened yesterday."

Maura shrugged, her guilt still plainly etched in her face. For someone so well-versed in the academic world, Jane was constantly surprised by how much the medical examiner questioned her emotional intelligence. "My mother was different today," she said. "I don't know what it was, but she seemed softer. I haven't seen her open up like that... well, ever."

Jane smiled, picking up her artist's palette and taking a bite of something bitter. "That's good, Maura. Did she tell you more about Hope? Or did the healing not progress that far yet?"

"No, we talked about her. She gave me her phone number."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "Whoa. That's huge."

"She's coming to Boston."

This time her mouth dropped. "Whoa. That's huger."

Maura sighed. "Yeah. I mean, it make sense. Her sister was practically killed more than a week ago. You'd think she would come out of her new life for that."

"Well, yes," Jane said, catching the anger buzzing just beneath Maura's voice. She may have corrected any misplaced anger towards Constance and Phillip, but it looked as if she'd now just directed it toward Hope. "But, there's just a good a chance that she's coming to meet you, too, right?"

Maura didn't answer, and instead took a long sip from a bottle of water. "I guess so."

"You haven't had the urge to Google her yet?" Jane asked. "As curious as that big brain of yours is?"

Uncertainty twitched across Maura's jaw. "I don't know," she replied. "Sometimes I wonder what she looks like." Her finger traced a pattern along the blanket. "If we have the same bone structure. The same high arches in our feet." Her eyes faded, losing their usually clear luster. "But, she has a life, Jane. She's gone this long without making contact, maybe it's just best to leave it this way." Her eyes glistened. "Do I really want to know the details of her perfect life?"

"Maura, I know you. You won't stop thinking about something until you know the answer. You really think passing up this opportunity is the right way to go about this? You've been searching for her for years."

"I know."

"I mean, sure, if you're not ready, you can try again in the future, but why waste any more time?"

"I know." She still looked uncertain, and Jane leaned closer to her.

"Then what's the problem?"

Maura shrugged. "I'm just scared. Irrationally, uncontrollably scared of meeting her."

"That's fine," Jane said, putting a hand on her knee. "And completely understandable. But, Maur, don't ever let fear be your reason for not doing something."

Maura traced her fingers, nodding. "How do you know all of these things?" she asked. "All of these right things to say at the right time?" She looked at her curiously. "You have such an over-developed left amygdala."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "That started as a compliment, I think... and then I lost it."

Maura smiled. "You also have a well developed left superior frontal gyrus. Sense of humor."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I would not have connected my 'frontal gyrus' to my sense of humor, that's for sure." Content that she was finally pulling a few laughs from Maura, she kept the conversation light, and by the time she had stuffed herself with things too healthy to name, they were both leaning against the couch staring out at the few leftovers of their meal.

"Duty calls," Jane said, clapping her hand against Maura's bare knee. She didn't move it right aways, and Maura's hand eventually found its way on top of it.

"Thank you for our picnic," she said with a smile. "But I'll still take a raincheck from you on a lunch in the park, once the weather's right again."

"You got it," Jane said, rising to her feet. Maura gathered their near-empty containers and headed toward the trash can, but Jane bolted forward, gripping her arm. "Whoa, whoa," she said. "Don't throw that away."

Maura glanced down at her hands. "Jane, there's barely anything in here."

"That may be true, but there's at least five dollars left in each of those little thingies. Give them to me."

Maura laughed as she handed them over, watching as Jane placed them protectively back in the picnic basket. "Fine. I'm sure Korsak will devour them."

Jane nodded as she balled up the blanket, beginning to stuff it back in the basket. This time, it was Maura who lurched forward, taking it from her. "Oh my God, give me that," she said, shaking it out before folding it neatly into a small square. She handed it over, and her eyes looked imploringly at Jane. "What?"

"You're so neat."

"Is that an adjective referring to my general character or a particular preference for orderliness?" Maura asked, the sincerity of her question prompting an even larger smile from Jane. She meant to answer the question with a practiced quip, but instead she blurted out something unexpected, and she hoped, not misplaced.

"Maura, will you go to dinner with me?" Her face flushed instantly, although it was a question she had asked many times before. Happy hours, brunches, dinners, the works. But this was different, and she could tell by Maura's suddenly serious face that the blonde caught the difference as well.

"I can't really play hard to get after last night, can I?" she asked with an embarrassed smile. "Of course I'll go to dinner with you."

Just to make sure, Jane clarified. "I mean, Maura, like a date. I want to go on a date. With you."

"Jane, I'm not in boarding school anymore. I get it. And the answer is still yes."

"You're sure this isn't too much? Is this too weird?"

"Jane, I used to go home every night wishing that you were coming home with me. So, no, for me it isn't weird. And it isn't moving too fast. And the timing isn't wrong. You can switch off that heightened emotional intelligence," she said with a smile. "How is tomorrow night for you?"

"Perfect," Jane replied, a weight easing off her chest. "I'll make a reservation at a place with a foreign-sounding name."

"Okay," Maura said with a nod of her head. "Any maybe wear that black dress? You know, the one you wore to your reunion?" She cocked her head, slightly guiltily. "Now it's getting weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jane replied quickly. With a glance towards Maura's office window, she leaned over and placed a quick kiss on the shorter woman's forehead. "Call me if you need me tonight," she offered.

"Thank you," Maura responded. "But, I think Jo Friday has earned a night with you."

"She'll be thrilled," Jane replied loftily, heading towards the door. "Oh," she said, raising a finger in the air, and taking a couple of steps back toward Maura. "Before I forget. My mother saw us kissing this morning."

She expected Maura's jaw to drop, but instead the blonde nodded distractedly as she fumbled in the pocket of her blazer. "Great," she said, with a wave of her hand.

That was certainly not the reaction Jane had expected, and she leaned forward a little, twitching her eyebrow. "Great?" she repeated.

Maura's head suddenly shot up at her, the delayed reaction now over, judging by the alarm in her eyes. "Wait, what?" she asked, her voice a pitch higher than normal. "She saw what?"

"She saw us."

"She saw that."

"Yes. She saw us doing that."

"Oh no, Jane, half the precinct is going to know by now," Maura said worriedly. "At least Frankie and Korsak and Frost. And Hank, that weird patrolmen that flirts with her at the coffee shop."

Jane scrunched her face, slightly offended. "Hey, slow your roll, Marma Duke. My Ma isn't a gossip, okay? What happens in the Rizzoli household, stays in the Rizzoli household."

"Jane, she blurted out she was divorcing your father at your medal ceremony," Maura reminded her, placing a hand on her hip.

She couldn't argue with that. Instead, she frowned, clearing her throat. "I'm going to go muzzle my mother," she said quickly, pecking an apologetic kiss on Maura's cheek, and walking briskly out down the hallway.

"Okay," Maura said, but Jane heard her call after her. "But don't be mean about it!"

Maura's productivity had gone out the window as soon as Jane arrived in her office, and unfortunately hadn't returned since she left. She sat, fidgeting, ignoring the scrap of paper burning away in her blazer pocket. She wondered whether Hope – or Emily – was thinking about her. She looked around her office, taking note of everything in it, and wondered what Emily's office looked like. Whether they had the same taste. But no, wasn't that a product of nurture?

As strange and as heartless as it sounded, she wished she had some lab work to do. Something, anything to dissect or test. She thought about making a visit up to Jane's floor, but didn't feel like facing Frost and Korsak, or any of the other sympathetic gazes she was sure to get from the rest of the detectives. Her connection to Doyle had been kept as quiet as possible, but rumors around a precinct spread fast. After a few measly attempts at paperwork, she pulled out the phone number, staring down at Constance's delicate handwriting.

She knew the value of time in a way that she never had before, after Doyle's death. The thought of wasting anymore of it, when she had what she needed right in front of her, was cloying to the point of making her nauseas. Before she knew it, her hands were on her phone. Then it was at her ear, and she heard a voice, deeper than she expected, but still feminine, as if it were coated in honey: "This is Dr. Lawrence."

Goal: to finish this before the season starts. I hope its shaking out interestingly enough. As always, I appreciate the fact that you're reading :) Send any feedback you wish!