Jane strode into the precinct with an air of confidence she hadn't felt for quite a while. For once in her life, she felt like everything was in place. She loved her job, she loved her family, she loved her Maura. It was hard for even Jane to believe, but she found herself singing quietly as she strutted, hips first, and bobbed her head to the beat. "She's up all night to the sun, I'm up all night to have fun, she's up all night to get some, we're up all night to get lucky..."

The last few weeks felt like a dream state to Jane. Every morning, she woke up to a warm kiss from the woman she loved. Every night she went to bed with Maura's arms around her and "I love you" whispered in her ear. And all day long, Jane found whatever opportunities she could to make Maura smile. Because now that Jane knew what was behind that smile, and that it was a smile reserved just for her, she wanted to see it all the time. She wanted to know she could make Maura as happy as Jane herself was.

There was a kind of relief that went along with their love. They both knew, Jane believed, that this relationship wasn't something either of them would give up without a fight. They'd been friends for long enough to know how important they were to one another. Add the fact that they'd committed to raising a child together, and they were practically married already. Maura was willing to do all that even before she knew for certain that Jane loved her. For Jane, the romantic aspect of their relationship just made it stronger. It was another tether that connected them, and it gave her added security. With Maura, she felt safe. Home.

But there was something else, too. Jane had suddenly become aware of just how much she looked at Maura. Jane ogled her, really. She peered as Maura squatted over the body at a crime scene. She watched Maura's hips sway as she walked through the precinct with an evidence file. She blatantly stared while Maura did her autopsies. The few times Jane had caught herself staring before, she felt like there was something wrong about it. Like she shouldn't be looking at her friend that way. If Maura ever caught her staring, Jane would try to pass it off as a normal thing to do. Now she didn't have to. Now when Maura caught her, Maura's lashes dropped and the corners of her mouth turned up as if they were sharing a secret.

Of course, it wasn't a secret. They'd let everyone important to them know as much as they needed to know: that they were happy together. Nobody needed to know the details of how Jane's hands sought out Maura's ribs every night. How Jane loved those few inches she had on Maura so that Maura's head tilted back just slightly when they kissed. Aside from the positive change in Jane's disposition, these details didn't alter anything for anyone else. It wasn't their business what Jane and Maura did at home (or in the privacy of Maura's office), so they didn't make it a big deal. They simply made a point not to hide it.

And Jane was pleasantly surprised at how well everyone took it. Maybe they'd had suspicions all along, or maybe they just didn't care, but she hadn't gotten any lip and she hadn't needed to defend herself or Maura. Her family already loved Maura, and Angela seemed to see it coming before Jane even did. Frankie and Tommy took the news in stride. Tommy did ask at Sunday dinner whether this made Jane gay, but she just shrugged it off as a tactless but harmless question. At the office, the only opinions that mattered to her were Frost's and Korsak's, and they were happy for her.

It had been long enough since Jane and Maura's wordless announcement that Jane was sure nobody else at work thought twice about it. So when she walked into the homicide bullpen and found a CVS bag on her desk, her mind didn't immediately leap to the conclusion that it was a practical joke. "What's this?" She used a pen to rustle the plastic and peer inside. It was a box of Trojans, and written on it in Sharpie was, "EXTRA SMALL." Jane stuck the pen through the bag's handle to pick it up, and slung it onto Frost's desk. "Frost, you left your shit on my desk." She sat down and wiggled her computer mouse to wake her computer.

Frost opened the bag and chuckled. "Oh, these aren't mine. They must be Korsak's."

Hearing his name, Korsak looked up from his paperwork, over the rims of his glasses. "Huh?"

Frost just chuckled again. "Nah, nevermind." He tossed the bag into the garbage bin and the joke was over.

Jane pretended to turn back to her work, but throughout the exchange and after, she had been watching the room for suspicious activity. Jane had been on the receiving end of practical jokes before, though not for a while. She'd learned that the best way to handle it was to let it roll off her back, and so she acted like it had. That didn't stop her from wanting to know who the perpetrator was. She noted a couple of smirks in the doorway to the break room and scribbled down their names for future reference, in case there was another crude attempt at humor.

She paged through emails, but didn't really absorb anything. Her mind was wandering. She knew the condoms were supposed to be a joke, but why? Was it a pregnancy joke? If so, they were about three months late to the party; she'd been showing for at least that long.

Their latest victim had left behind an extensive internet presence, through which Frost was sifting. He'd forwarded the woman's phone and bank records to Jane. She opened the files and started looking for patterns.

The numbers were monotonous and Jane was losing focus. More likely the 'joke' was a jab at her relationship with Maura. Saying Jane was a guy with a small dick. That was irony, wasn't it? That after years of being a woman doing a man's job, it took getting pregnant and becoming all domestic with Maura for them to think of her as a man.

Jane shook the thoughts loose from her head and leaned in closer to the computer screen. The victim had called the same number every Sunday; a quick reverse phone lookup confirmed that this number was her parents' house in Ohio. Another set of long calls turned up as her sister's cell in New York.

From the corner of her eye, Jane saw the men exit the break room and walk away, down the hall. They avoided eye contact with her. Well, fuck 'em, she thought. Fuck those assholes and their sexist jokes. They wouldn't get under her skin, as much as they tried. As long as they didn't try to demean Maura in any way, Jane didn't care what they thought. She decided not to mention this incident to Maura. It would only upset her.

She turned back to the phone records. A fourth commonly-called number on the victim's phone records was to a name Jane didn't recognize. José Maldonado. She wrote it down. Probably a boyfriend. Or an ex. The calls stopped two weeks earlier.

Jane tapped her pen on her desk. The more she considered it, the more she thought the 'joke' was poorly executed. She was probably the only person in the precinct (aside from Maura) who had no use for condoms at all. Wasn't she? Jane's lack of knowledge on the subject of lesbian sex embarrassed her. Come to think of it, her knowledge on lesbian anything amounted to just about nil. If she was gay now, did that mean she'd have to start wearing flannel and stop shaving her legs?

The victim's bank records showed the usual credit card charges: dining, shopping, bills. Two weeks ago there were several large charges to high-end clothing boutiques. Looked like the victim dealt with stress the same way Maura did.

How was she supposed to react? "Condoms? What are those? Penis? Yuck!" Men were such idiots sometimes. They were probably just jealous that the most beautiful woman in the building (the world, Jane corrected herself) preferred to spend her evenings on the couch with Jane, instead of with them. She sat up straighter in her chair, as if readying herself to take on any challengers.

Jane pulled up Maldonado's RMV records and got an address in Dorchester.

It was a shitty joke anyway. Dumb fucks. And now she was dwelling on it. Why couldn't she just let it go? It wasn't worth her time. They weren't worth her time. She should be trying to solve this murder or listening to Maura googlemouth or something, not wasting her time thinking about a stupid pack of condoms. Jane couldn't decide if she wanted to hit something or go to the restroom and cry. She crossed her arms tightly around her chest. Mostly she just wanted to go back to bed and wait for a new day to begin.

"Hey, Frost? I got the vic making regular calls to a José Maldonado in Dorchester up until two weeks ago, might be an ex-boyfriend."

"Her roommate didn't mention a boyfriend. You think we oughtta go check him out?"

"Yeah..." Jane glanced at the bag in Frost's wastebasket. "Can you and Korsak handle it? I'm not feeling well. I'm thinking a goin' home early." She put her hand over her belly for good measure.

"Sure, no problem. You need a ride?"

"Nah, I got my car today. Maura came in early."

Half an hour later, Jane was greeted at the door by Joe Friday, tail wagging a mile a minute. She let the little dog out into the courtyard and then lay back on the couch, flipping on the TV for a distraction. She landed on a kids' show about the ocean. Toddlers sticking their hands into touch tanks at the aquarium. The announcer was saying how starfish could get injured, even lose a whole arm, and still be able to grow it back. The show seemed innocuous enough, though Jane wasn't really paying attention anyway. She needed to get this thing off her mind before Maura got home. She didn't want Maura to worry about Jane being bullied.

Was this what it was like to be gay? To have another reason she didn't fit in, and for people to treat her like an outsider? Why couldn't they just mind their own business? It had no effect on them at all.

Jane turned on her side and buried her head in the cushions, as if they could block out the rest of the world. As much as she didn't want to bother Maura with something so insignificant as a box of condoms on her desk, Jane wished Maura were there with her. Taking the day off to wallow alone seemed indulgent and a waste of time. She should at least go play with Joe Friday or something.

She tried to imagine what Maura would say, if she were there. Probably something about how sex is good for depression. Oh my God, Jane realized. She's been saying that for YEARS. That was what she meant by 'throwing hints'. A tidal wave of guilt washed over Jane and she put the heels of her hands to her forehead to try to keep it from taking hold. Maura had been wanting to sleep with Jane for years, and now Jane was putting it off, just because she didn't know how. (Well, Jane's subconscious argued, maybe that wasn't the only reason, but it was the most tangible one. The most difficult one to ignore.) Maura was probably good at sex. Even with women. If she hadn't done it before, she'd probably at least read a gazillion books on the subject and could spout off all sorts of erogenous zones or something. How was Jane supposed to measure up to that? How could she hope to impress or even just please Maura, when no one had ever been able to do that to Jane?

Jane had always trusted her instincts. Her gut. She was handsy; even before she realized it, she was touching Maura all the time. This kind of thing should come naturally to her. Shouldn't it? Jane imagined herself in bed with Maura. Not pregnant—that would just make things more awkward. In her imagination, she was hovering over Maura in push-up position but with knees down. That didn't seem right at all. Jane wanted to hold Maura, to hug her and melt into her, not just... drill her.

Maybe if Maura were on top, straddling Jane? Then Jane's hands would be free to touch. She'd hold Maura's waist and look up at her. That sounded better. Jane would run her hands up Maura's sides and—wait, what would Maura be wearing? Underwear? Pajamas? Nothing? Jane's eyes flew open and she looked around the room. Still alone, she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Jane liked that purple flowery nightgown Maura sometimes wore. The one that reached down just below her butt. Jane could slide her hands up Maura's sides and let her thumbs drift... Suddenly Jane felt the urge to put her face there. There. To feel Maura's breast against her cheekbone. And her lips. It didn't make any sense: Jane had her own boobs. Why should she want to touch someone else's? It sounded ridiculous. And yet, that was exactly what she wanted.

Jane was in Maura's house, but it was dark. She used her flashlight to search each room, finding them all empty. Maura wasn't there. Jane wasn't pregnant, but the baby wasn't there, either. Not even Joe Friday or the tortoises were there. Maura had left and taken them all with her. Jane was alone.

Maura came home to find Jane sprawled on the couch. She had been worried when she found out Jane went home sick without notifying Maura. The TV was on and Jane's eyes were open, but she didn't seem to be watching. Maura stood over her and tilted her head. "Jane?"

Jane made eye contact and let one arm drop to the floor, her fingertips touching the toe of Maura's white pumps. "Hey, Maur." Her eyes drifted along with her fingers.

Maura could see there was something on Jane's mind, and that it would come out with little prodding, so she just waited. She combed a stray wisp of hair off of Jane's forehead.

"Do you think we're gay?" Jane was still looking at Maura's shoes, her index finger now buffed the toe. "Tommy asked me if this means I'm gay now."

Maura still didn't say anything.

"I don't feel gay."

Maura chose her words carefully. "One of the things I love about you is that you don't let anyone else define you." Maura wanted to sit down, to put her arm around Jane and tell her it didn't matter what other people thought or said, all that mattered was that they were happy together, that they loved each other. But that didn't feel like it would be enough. This felt bigger and more important than that. It couldn't be solved with a simple hug. So she remained standing, poised to take on whatever other problems lay beneath the surface. "Labels can be useful if you want to self-identify, or to help you feel like you belong in a group. They can also feel oppressive, if they're used inappropriately." She took a small step closer, and Jane traced along the top of her foot, up the cuneiforms, past the navicular, and to the talus, and around to the back of her ankle, the Achilles tendon. Maura continued, hoping to touch on whatever aspect of 'gay' was weighing on Jane. "I identify as bisexual because I am attracted to women and men."

Jane's hand slid up Maura's calf, her fingers pausing at the contour where her gastrocnemius emerged, then stopping in the hollow behind her knee. "I'm attracted to you. Is there a word for that?"

Maura couldn't find her voice. Her breath was shallow and she couldn't focus. She felt as if her legs were about to give out and hoped that if they did, she didn't land directly on either the coffee table or on Jane. She cleared her throat, trying to remain present, "I— Um."

"Maura-sexual," Jane rasped.

It felt like all the oxygen vacated Maura's lungs at once. Jane had just defined her sexuality in terms of Maura. Whereas the mathematical set of people Maura was attracted to could be defined as {women, men}, Jane's set consisted solely of {Maura}. It was the most erotic thing she'd ever heard. She dropped to her knees beside the couch. She held Jane's head in both hands and kissed desperately, needing her, needing her to feel how much Maura needed her, needing them to be one.

When the kiss ended, Maura didn't retreat, she pressed her forehead to Jane's and struggled to breathe. Their eyes were closed and Maura's thumb grazed Jane's zygomatic arch. Maura's heart was pounding inside her chest, begging to be set free. She whispered her desperation, "Let me make love to you, Jane. Let me touch you. Please."

Maura could feel Jane's forehead wrinkle as her whole head retreated from Maura's grasp and turned away, into the cushions. She didn't have to speak; Maura understood her agonized response. I can't. I'm sorry.

This time Maura didn't let up. She saw conflict in Jane's expression, almost terror. Jane wanted it, she wanted Maura, but intense fear was stopping her. And Jane was ashamed of that fear. Instead of retreating, Maura scooted closer and laid her head on Jane's shoulder, her forehead in the crook of Jane's neck. Her arm rested across Jane's chest, her thumb on Jane's far shoulder. She could feel Jane's labored breathing slow, then felt Jane's lips touch her thumb.

Maura spoke. "Then maybe... you touch me?" They both lifted their heads and their eyes met. Jane's brow was knit and her eyes were red with tears. She was still afraid. "Anywhere you like," Maura offered. "It doesn't have to be... anywhere."

Jane's eyes wandered with the invitation. Her face relaxed and she scanned Maura's body, looking for a location that was both safe and personal. Her right hand reached out for Maura's cheek. Her fingers made light contact, then slid slowly down to her jawbone, then to her neck. She felt the raised skin and broke eye contact, sighing, although her fingers persisted in their transit across the scar. "I'm so sorry, Maur. I'm sorry I let that monster get to you."

Maura leaned her cheek into Jane's hand. "Oh, Jane," she breathed. Her hand covered Jane's. "That wasn't your fault."

"I let him hurt you."

"No, you didn't." Maura pulled Jane's hand off her cheek and kissed the palm. "He frightened me. But you stopped it before he could do any real damage." Maura shook her head slightly. "You rescued me." She smiled softly. "Don't you see? You always rescue me." As if to prove it, Maura held Jane's hand to her heart and bent over to kiss her lips once more.

There was a glimmer of understanding, relief, hope, in Jane's eyes when Maura sat back up. They sat in silence for a moment, then Maura broke it. "Was that all... you wanted to touch?"

Jane shook her head slowly, then reiterated, "No."

Maura's eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly. Where?

Jane bit her lip and her eyes shifted down to where Maura still held Jane's hand over her chest. "Can I—"

"Yes." Always, yes. Anything, yes.

Jane pulled her hand away and pushed herself up off the couch. Maura started to get up from the floor, but Jane stopped her. "No, stay there." Jane slid down so they were both on the floor, sitting back on their heels, Jane's knees splayed on either side of Maura's. It wasn't close enough. "Would you—" Jane's hand hovered near the buttons of Maura's blouse.

"You want me to take it off?"

"No, just undo those."

Maura did as instructed, first pulling the tails from the waistband of her skirt, then unbuttoning her blouse from the top down. When she finished, she let it hang, just a thin strip of skin exposed from her chest, between her breasts, and down to her navel, interrupted only by the tan satin of her bra. Jane's hands entered at Maura's waist, gently parting the silk and wrapping around to hold Maura's hips. She'd been there before, the sensation was familiar, even the feel of Maura's skin under her fingertips. She grasped like the last time and felt for Maura's other scar, acknowledging it but then moving on and around to Maura's back.

Maura's chest rose and fell with her regular breaths until suddenly Jane pulled her closer, lifting her up off her heels so Jane's lips could touch her neck. Jane's nose nudged Maura's chin upward, and her head fell back with a soft, "Oh." Jane nuzzled and kissed and nipped while her hands kneaded and pulled and hugged until finally her head came to rest on the soft pillow of Maura's bosom, Jane's nose tucked neatly between her breasts. She shuddered as she inhaled deeply, finally calming. Maura put her arms around Jane and kissed the top of her head. They breathed each other for a moment.

Jane's eyelashes tickled Maura's skin as she blinked her eyes open. "Maur?" She raised her head just enough to stare at Maura's collarbone.

"Hmm." Maura's fingers combed the hair at Jane's temple.

"Is it true... that you can cut off a starfish's arm... and it will grow back?"

"Yes. Most require the central disc for regeneration."

Jane closed her eyes and tucked her nose back between Maura's breasts. "Don't ever leave me, Maura. There won't be enough of me left to grow back."

"I won't ever leave you, Jane. I promise."