When Maura walks in the door, Angela is waiting. She stands in the kitchen, staring at a boiling pot. Allison grabs her bag, and heads into the guest bedroom. Maura approaches Angela, slowly. Maura takes a seat, on the counter. She allows her heels to drop to the floor, so as not to scuff the cabinet. Angela glances at her.

"Are you giving me the cold shoulder?"

"Jane ran out of here like a bat out of Hell."

"She was ready to break," Maura reveals.

"Break? I was just asking her a few questions."

"What questions?"

"Ah, nothing."

"Angela, if there is something that you'd like to know, you should just ask."

"Allison is how much younger than you are?"

"Seventeen years."

"You are supposed to be biologically unrelated, yet you two nearly look identical. You really expect me to believe that she's adopted? You want me to believe, that she's your sister?"

"What do you believe?"

"Is she your daughter?"

Maura stares at the woman, for several moments, in silence. Angela had been like a mother to her, and the thought of disappointing her, makes Maura's stomach turn.

"I am sorry that I lied to you. It was wrong of me to do that. I just didn't know if you would understand. It's not an easy subject, to talk about."

"So she is?"

"Yes," Maura nods.

"Why wouldn't you just tell me that?"

"I didn't want you to think less of you."

"Why would I?"

"I was seventeen when she was born."

"Maura, we were all young, once. All of us, at one point, or another have made stupid choices, naive choices."

"I chose to allow my parents to raise her."

"You were a kid."

"I should have taken responsibility. She was, is my daughter."

"Why is this just coming out, now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen her before."

"We're not that close. She despises me, most of the time."

"Then why is she here, now?"

"She came for her birthday."

"And hasn't left yet?"

"She's sick. It's a form of leukemia."

"Poor girl."

Maura's hazel eyes plead with Angela, "Tell me what to do," she begs.

"You are asking me for advice?"

"You are the best mother, I know. What do I do? What can I do to make her like me?"

"No, Maura, you have it all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"You're her parent, not her friend. You don't need her to like you. Do you think that Jane likes me? Most of the time she is so annoyed by me, that she could strangle me. A mother's job is not simple. You are responsible for loving them unconditionally, that is probably the most difficult, because children can be trying, at times. You have to love them anyway. Love their strengths, and love their faults. You have to embarrass them, at least a few times, in their lives, that is to build character. But, if you want respect, then you have to earn it. You have to connect with her."

"How do I do that? I spend my days, dealing with the dead."

"What do the two of you have in common?"

"I..." Maura trails off.

"Start small," Angela suggests.

"Like what?"

"It's not about the money you spend, it's the time. It doesn't have to be elaborate. Keep it simple."

"Like what?"

"Rent her favorite movie, and order her favorite takeout. With Jane, I would always make her special cookies."

"Special how?"

"They weren't special, they were Toll House. When she was small, I made her cookies from scratch. She ate them, but it wasn't the same. She was about, twenty six, when I started buying slice and bakes. She eats half of them before they get into the oven."

"How is that special?" Maura raises an eyebrow.

"Because it's something that we do together."

"What else?" Maura queries.

"You'll think of something."

"I don't know how much time I have."

Angela smiles, she tosses the dishtowel over her shoulder, and wipes her hands on it. "None of us do."

"But..."

"What about her father?"

"I just told him."

"She's met him?"

"Yes."

"How did that go?"

"It did not go over well with her. He's a genuinely nice person, and he wants to get to know you."

"Did you ever consider the fact that she might be jealous."

"Jealous, of what?"

"That you're paying attention to him. That you spend time with him, when you could be spending time with her. She may be an adult, but in ways she's still a child. She probably doesn't understand why you would want to spend time with someone who she feels abandoned you."

"He didn't even know."

"Forgiveness is something that comes much later, in life. Do you remember what you were like, when you were her age?"

"No one could convince me that I was wrong."

"You're still that way," Angela jokes.

"I guess that I'm the one who has to make the effort," Mauraa concludes.

"She may be an adult, but you will always be the mother, and she will always be your daughter," Angela points out.

"You're right."