"Okay, Frankie, in hindsight maybe this was a really, really bad idea," Jane's voice is panicked as she twists around in the car, trying to see her latest addition.

"Jane, it's not that bad. Honestly, it's really rather sweet," Frankie admits, then gives her a smile meant to mock. Jane slaps his arm.

"No, really, you know how she is about certain hygienic things. I'll probably be subjected to a thirty minute disposition on the complications that arise from getting inked," she ran a hand through her hair, tense.

"I really think you're over-exaggerating," Frankie says as he looks over at his big, bad, love-struck sister. "Probably only twenty minutes." He winks and in spite of herself, Jane grins. She claps her brother on the back before getting out of the vehicle and disappearing into the house.

Maura was just pulling a beer out of the fridge for Jane when the brunette walked through the door. When no remark regarding the current state of the door's lock burst from Jane's lips, Maura took it as the first clue that something was amiss. The second indicator was the almost guilty look on the detective's face. Strike three was the grimace of pain that flitted across Jane's face when Maura grazed her side.

Despite many protests, she yanked Jane's shirt up to reveal the freshly bandaged wound.

"Oh, Jane! Why didn't you tell me you were hurt? What happened?" She interrogated as she started picking at the tape, determined to redress it herself.

"No, Maura, please don't look under-" but Jane's desperate plea was cut short as wind blew across the tender skin.

There's a delicate smattering of ink across the detective's red skin, obviously fresh from the parlour. It's modest, about the size of a half-dollar, and Maura just wants to run her fingers over it. Much to Maura's surprise, it's actually a very tasteful piece of body art, and the sentimental value is over the top. She can feel tears starting in the corners of her eyes.

It's breathtaking: two Celtic knots are the main components, specifically the knots signifying long life and love, tied together. And right in the middle, tying those two together is a cursive 'M' which, if Maura didn't deem it highly unlikely, she could have sworn was written with her own hand.

"Jane," Maura says softly and it's only then that Jane has the courage to look down at her best friend. She's startled to see tears leaking out of the pathologist's eyes.

"Maur, are you crying?" disbelief and remorse evident in her tone.

"I'm sorry, my amygdala and lacrimal gland have a connection that I can't really control," Maura explains as she wipes a couple tears away. She looks up to meet the inquisitive eyes of her girlfriend. "It's beautiful."

Jane smiles shyly, "So're you."

"You looked up the knots yourself?" Maura asks, suitably impressed with the thoroughness of the detective's research.

"Yeah. But the 'M' was all you," Jane shrugs, moving her hands so Maura no longer has to hold her shirt up.

Maura's confusion is evident. "How?"

"Oh." Jane pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "I had her recreate your 'M' from this note you left me a while back."

Maura takes the note in shaky fingers and opens it:

J,

I just went out to get us some coffee; I didn't have any left in the cupboard.

Please don't think I left you like a one-off stand.

I love you.

M

"You still have this?" she asks, pleasantly stunned.

Jane blushes. "Well, yeah. It's the first time you said you loved me. You know, in that way."

"I love you," Maura states automatically before pressing a kiss just off to the side of Jane's permanent declaration of love.

"Love you, too," Jane responds, smiling euphorically.

Maura takes her by the hand and pulls her to the bathroom. "Come on, let's get your tattoo redressed."