A/N: I'm glad for everyone who did not give up on this fic and I'm so grateful that you people out there actually ready my story :) Your lovely comments are so very appreciated 3

Chapter 17: Of Gossip and Shoe Boxes

Jane's POV

"Remind me again why we have to do this today", you say but there's no sharpness in your voice, as your words are purely rhetorical. Maura surprises you by taking the steps to BPD headquarters two at a time, holding open its doors for you. This is something you usually do for her and it has caught you completely off guard so that you can momentarily only stumble after Maura as the two of you head inside and show your badges to the officer on duty.

Maura, who is already on her way to the cafeteria, turns around mid-sentence. "You're not listening, are you?"

"Umm -"

"Never mind", she replies, shrugging it off and starting anew as you trail after her: "I said, as Cavanaugh does not have any away dates today, the timing seemed fitting. Also, you will not be able to hide your belly much longer. But", and here Maura pauses to pull open the cafeteria door for you, "we mainly decided to disclose at work today because of my horrible dinner with my mother last night." She states it as matter-of-factly as if she was talking about the weather, but you know better. Maura tends to hide behind facts, explanations and logic in difficult situations. In order to ease the tension, you glare at her exaggeratedly as you step into the cafeteria where only a handful of officers are scattered in the room at this early time of day. "Well, and if you keep opening doors for me, people will start to suspect something anyway."

"Why?", Maura asks genuinely confused while the two of you make your way to the cash register to order coffee ("Decaf", Stanley grumbles as Maura places the order, "can't believe it", as if preparing such a beverage would require him to perform a complicated and not particularly pleasant ritual first), and you lower your voice as you reply: "Well, I'm the one normally opening doors for you. In case you haven't noticed."

She shoots you an admonishing glance. "Of course I do, I pay attention, Jane! The circumstances, however, require me to take care of you, not vice versa."

"I was only making fun", you reply, not wanting Maura to get agitated over something so insignificant. It should not even matter who holds the door open for whom in a close female friendship. The weird thing is, though, that it bugs you. Gestures like these have become second nature for you whenever you are with Maura. When you are totally honest with yourself, you didn't even consciously think about doing all that stuff like holding open doors for Maura or helping her to slip into her coat in winter. It just somehow happened, and it always felt so right. "How much time do we have until we gotta talk to Cavanaugh?"

Maura glances at her watch. "Half an hour."

You groan. "I need more time", you say, and in case Maura doesn't understand you're being purposefully dramatic, you add: "But at the same time, I'm really kinda glad to get this over with."

Stanley slams to cups of coffee onto the counter with so much force that Maura has to pull her hand away so that droplets of the hot liquid don't burn her fingers.

"Ever the gentleman, Stanley", you comment dryly before you and Maura make your way to one of the tables.

Maura takes a tentative sip of her coffee. "I will never understand how coffee made by Stanley can taste so different than coffee made by your Ma although they are using the exact same equipment."

"Stanley uses spite, on top", you murmur, your thoughts already elsewhere. Nervous energy is coursing through your body and making it hard for you to focus on anything else but the upcoming conversation with Lieutenant Cavanaugh, your no-nonsense boss.

Maura, on the other hand, retreats to facts and figures once again. "Did you know that Finland is the country with the highest coffee consumption per person? On average, the typical Fin will drink-"

"Can we not talk about coffee consumption?", you interrupt, but gently, not wanting to hurt Maura's feelings. She looks at you with a wobbly smile plastered on her face. "I'm sorry, I always ramble when I feel anxious."

"I know." With a deep sigh, you push away your decaf. "It's just not the same without caffeine."

"I do not know why I am dreading this conversation so much", Maura muses. "The course of it is actually quite predictable. Cavanaugh will be astonished, then he will congratulate us, and then he will talk about work arrangements, he will probably also mention all the PTO you have not taken until now, and ask you to consume it. I presume that he is then going to ask me to-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you again", you start, "but do we really have to have this conversation, like twice, one time down here and one time up in-"

All of a sudden, you hear a loud whistle and when your head snaps up, Frankie comes straight up to your table. "Oh God", you mumble, burying your head in your hands. "Can you please just send him away, Maura?"

Maura, always polite, does no such thing of course. She kindly greets Frankie and then asks him about his shift. He often does night patrols at the moment as there has been a rise in armed robberies in more affluent neighborhoods lately. Frankie, who normally enjoys talking about work-related stuff and gets along well with Maura, gives a rather perfunctory, curt reply. You notice that one of his eyebrows is twitching almost imperceptibly and that he is shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"Oh, come on, Frankie, spill it." You cross your arms in front of your chest. "What's the matter? You're going to quit BP and go all rock star on us?"

"What? No!", Frankie immediately protests, but then seems to think better of it at your penetrating gaze, his eyes avoiding your stern look guiltily. "It's not really important", he hastily says. "Just some dumb rumors, is all?" He forms the end of his phrase like a question. Like he's really not even wanting to be here at all although he was the one to approach you in the first place. But that's your baby brother, eager, sometimes insecure Frankie. He's never been able to keep his mouth shut around you. He also secretly still looks up to you (which you secretly really enjoy) which is why he comes running to you even in situations where he probably better should not.

You raise a brow. "What kind of rumors?"

"Uh -" He flinches as he turns his body towards Maura in a wordless cry for help. Maura only frowns at both of you, though.

"It's really stupid", he says and lifts his hand to scratch at the nape of his neck. "I mean, it's obviously just talk..."

"Dear God, Frankie", you groan, "we don't have all day, so can you get to the point, please?"

"TheyresayingyourepregnantbutitsobivouslynottrueandalsotheythinkyouandMauraareyouknow..involved?"

You blink at him with a dumbstruck look on your face. "Who is saying that stuff?"

"Well, Crowe and Martinez, but other officers as well." He sniffles. "And recently, Pike mentioned-"

"Oh no, not him", Maura interrupts, sounding appalled. "That man is driving me crazy."

Frankie's eyes perform a complicated ping-pong as he turns his gaze towards Maura and then back to you. "So I guess people are just... bored? Never mind, Janie. I should've known better."

With a low whine, you shake your head in an attempt to order your unruly thoughts. "Frankie, listen – this is not how I wanted to tell you, but I am indeed pregnant."

His eyes widen incredulously. "Are you serious? And why haven't you told me already?" There's a hint of genuine hurt in his voice.

You sigh. "Because we wanted to tell Ma and Maura's mother first, okay?"

"Oh." Frankie shoots a quick look at Maura. "So you two really are, umm... you know?"

"What?", you bark, petrified at the idea of Frankie picturing you and Maura in the throes of passion. "No, Frankie! God, don't be a pervert, right? Maura is trying to have a baby and I am her surrogate."

"Oh". He still seems a little lost but you can see understanding dawn on his features. "So... you are not actually having a baby?", he asks, directed at you.

"Well, I'm gonna be the one pushin' it out, but it is Maura's kid. She's the one who's going to be its parent", you state firmly.

He glances at Maura almost shyly. "So I guess I can congratulate you now?"

Maura smiles but you can see it's somewhat forced. "Thank you very much, Frankie. And I am so sorry you had to find out... like this. We wanted to talk to Cavanaugh first, Tommy and you would have been the next ones to confide in."

"Oh", he blushes a little, "it's fine. So", he turns to you again, "talk later?"

"Yes, let's talk later" you confirm and watch him walk over to the counter in what still seems to be a little bit of a shock.

"Well, I guess we have one person less left to tell", you say but when your eyes search Maura's gaze, you are met with a teary-eyed, upset expression on her face. "Maura, what's wrong? I'm sorry people are not minding their own business, they're jerks." An unsettling thought crosses your mind. "Wait, do you think I didn't keep my mouth shut? 'Cuz I swear, Maura, I never-"

She gestures dismissively. "You know what, let's just go see Cavanaugh and be done with it." She gets to her feet quickly and you almost have to run after her as she quickly marches out into the corridor and towards the elevators.

R&I-R&I-R&I-R&I-R&I

Okay. What did you say or do to upset Maura? You can't believe that this is what you are compulsively thinking about. After all, it's been only a few hours since you told your boss that you're expecting a child for your best friend who cannot have a baby naturally. The conversation went... fine, you guess. Cavanaugh remained polite and professional although he expressed the difficulty of having a pregnant detective in Homicide. You tried to convince him it wasn't that big a deal, but he was having none of it, stating that your safety was his utmost priority and that he wouldn't risk one of his best detectives only because she was "too stubborn to be true". He did allow you, at least, to shadow a suspect with Korsak today, which is why you are currently sitting in Korsak's unmarked ruminating while your older colleague is busy devouring a hot dog.

"You sure you don't want anything?", Korsak asks, swallowing down an enormous bite. "The hot dog cart is just around the corner. They're even selling sausages made out of tofu! Wouldn't Dr. Isles love that?", he chuckles.

"We're investigating", you mutter. You know you sound less than friendly but Maura's off behavior has gotten under your skin. She didn't even properly look at you once in Cavanaugh's office! And afterwards, her only response to your "Okay, see you later" was an awkward half-wave.

Korsak snorts. "Oh come on, Jane, why are you in such a foul mood? Has Joe Friday peed on your carpet once again? I told you that small breeds also have smaller bladders! You need a dog-walker."

"I don't need a dog walker", you growl, "I need a translator."

Korsak takes a gulp of his soft drink and suppresses a belch. "For men?"

"What?", you groan. "Why is it that men always think that all women think about is men?"

Korsak chuckles. "Because it is true in most cases?"

You sigh exasperatedly. "Yeah, right."

"You are moody", Korsak states.

"Yes."

"And you seem to have developed quite a complicated relationship towards food." You wanna interrupt, but he shushes you by pointedly raising a finger. "You go to the toilet all the time. And you have taken more time off recently than you did in years." He lifts an eyebrow. "I am not one to give a damn about the gossip going on back in the precinct, but I am wondering if there is anything you may wanna tell me?"

"Holy crap", you groan, "why today of all days, Korsak?"

He shrugs lightly. "Because you talked to Cavanaugh today and I strongly suspect it wasn't about the case. You would have said something otherwise."

"I can't do this", you mumble, but you know you have no choice so you just flatly state: "Okay, I'm pregnant."

Korsak only nods. "Thank you. I appreciate you not lying to me." A minute of heavy silence ensues before he carefully clears his throat. "Are congratulations in order? Or are we-?"

Reaching for the bottle of water on the back seat of the car, you answer without looking at him. "Umm, I don't even know, Korsak. I am carrying this child for Maura. I'm her surrogate, so to speak." You unscrew the lid of the bottle and take a long sip. Then you dare to look at him although you feel uncomfortable as heck. Yeah, this might be Korsak, Korsak who truly likes both you and Maura, but it's still weird to tell him something so personal.

"So you are not going to raise the baby?", Korsak softly asks for clarification. "Nah", you reply hastily as realization suddenly hits you at your current partner's words. Shame builds inside you, rising up your throat like bile, hot and nasty. "Oh no", you mumble as you replay the cafeteria conversation with Frankie inside your head. "Oh no", you huff. "I hurt Maura really bad, Korsak."

He frowns, puzzled. "I'm sorry, Jane, I can't really... follow?"

"There have been rumors", you quickly say, avoiding his gaze. "About me and... well, about Maura and me. Y'know. The nature of our... friendship."

Korsak only grunts in agreement. You know he is very aware of what you are talking about and you feel embarrassed. But still. He doesn't seem like he's judging you. He's never been that type of a person. You know you can't tell him everything, that would be far too much, but you try to give a summary that leaves out "the night". "Frankie came up to us this morning in the cafeteria. He'd heard some of the rumors, about the pregnancy and about … the other stuff and I confirmed the pregnancy rumor but he wasn't sure about the rest and I reacted... well, I over-reacted in front of Maura." You hear how agitated you sound and try to take a deep breath. "I just... I dunno, I kinda got mad at Frankie for maybe... picturing stuff that's not true and I snarled at him in front of Maura and..."

"And now she is hurt", Korsak finishes, "because you made it sound like being with her was something horrible?"

"Exactly", you say and another sigh escapes your lips. "Which is so insane because Maura is – well, she's gorgeous. She's the one guys can't get enough of."

"And you think she cares?" Korsak shakes his head. "You know what matters much more to her than some random man's affection? You, Jane, you matter to her. What you think about her is important to Maura." His tone of voice has become so insistent that you can't help but wonder whether he knows much more about your true feelings than he lets on.

"Well, I clearly messed up, then."

"Just go to her and apologize", Korsak suggests. You nod, slowly, wondering if Maura and you will ever be able to really be just best friends again. Or will reminders of the night always come up and make it impossible for you not to walk on eggshells? You don't really wanna know because it scares you too much.

R&I-R&I-R&I-R&I-R&I

You dash up the staircase in Maura's house, calling her name in a loud whisper. Everything is already dark downstairs which means that Maura has already retreated upstairs, but you highly doubt she's asleep already as it is only a quarter past nine. You really, urgently want to get your apology off your chest, so you feel kinda hectic and stirred. You just hope Maura is not in the bathroom performing her complicated bedtime rituals that probably involve more creams and lotions in a week than you have bought in your whole life. Patience is not your strong suit, and knowing that Maura is upset with you makes the thought of waiting even more unbearable.

"Maura!", you call out in relief when you find her bedroom door ajar and a rectangle of light falling into the hallway. You make your way inside, but immediately realize that she is neither in her en-suite nor in the bedroom itself; instead, you notice the faint rustling and shuffling from out of her walk-in closet, and in three long strides, you open its sliding doors (fancy, like almost everything in Maura's house) and find your best friend, barefoot, hair in a messy bun, in sweatpants and a peach-colored shirt, surrounded by shoe boxes, pulling out yet another box from its place on one of the shelves.

"Umm". You clear your throat audibly. Her head turns towards you, but she doesn't meet your gaze, instead letting her eyes wander back to the box in her hands, peering inside. "Oh, it's you", she says, not unfriendly, but not in her usual warm tone whenever you come barging inside. It makes your face prickle and your whole body feel hot in a way that is decidedly not good.

"These are... 100% satin silk Christian Louboutins", she mumbles to herself, "from the fall-winter season 2008... 13 centimeter heels." She pulls a thoughtful face. "So what do I do with you?", she asks and a reply almost falls from the tip of your tongue before you realize she's talking to the pair of shoes.

You know that Maura sorting through hundreds of shoe boxes looks harmless enough, but the thing is – she has a system. An established, well-running (hey, that's a pun, right?) system for all of her shoes. She does not like anybody coming near her shoes, potentially causing disarray, but she normally also does not re-organize herself because there simply is no need to. Also, she's talking to her shoes which is another sign of her emotionally dysregulated state.

"Maura." You gather all the confidence you can muster, although you are somewhat scared to be pushed away, which you would probably deserve anyway, and make your way to her, looking petite and almost fragile in the closet lighting.

She closes the boxes' lid carefully and puts it on a stack of boxes next to her. "You can stay", she mutters, "you're timeless. Never out of style."

You know that Maura doesn't like being touched when she is upset but something in your gut tells you that you need her full attention, that you need her to acknowledge you properly so that she can listen. And thus, you reach out your hand and gently tap her shoulder, once, twice -

She faces you and finally meets your gaze, her eyes more green now than hazel, specks of gold barely visible but still there, precious as the hidden gem she is.

"Maur... what are you doin?", you ask, softly, and she bites her lip a little sheepishly before she replies. "I am reorganizing my shoes. I thought it was time to sort out some pairs. I could give them to charity. I have not worn a few of them in years." She does sound halfway calm, but you do not miss the very slight tremble in her voice. A tremble that tells you more than she probably realizes.

"I will help", you promise, and you nod emphatically at her skeptical frown. "Yeah, I will, but... listen to me first?"

She tilts her head a little to the side. "I am not sure I am ready to listen to you defending yourself for implying I'm a lousy lay."

Your eyes widen and you gasp, aghast. You have certainly not expected words like these from her, because although not said harshly, this is not how Maura usually chooses to talk. It only takes you a second to recover, though, because oh do you wanna put this right. "Maura", you state, your hands gesticulating fervently, "I was not implying anything about your qualities in bed! I was simply – well, to be honest, I was more or less shocked by Frankie's talk and when he asked about us, I just really did not want him – my baby brother, Maura! - involved. It's what siblings do, they nag each other about these kinds of things, and you know what? I am so, so sorry that my words hurt you, because I realize what me hissing at him like that must have sounded like to you. I can only repeat that it's a sibling thing that has nothing to do with you. You're such a wonderful person, Maura. Everybody who gets your time of day can count themselves lucky. I swear. It was only – well, me being Jane the big sister, annoyed by her nosy little brother." You take a deep breath as you realize you are running out of air. "I should have handled it better, Maura. I did not mean to make it sound like being with you would be such a horrible thing for anybody." You lower your voice as well as your eyes as you confess, "It wasn't horrible for me. Far from it. I just think that as awkward as this whole situation might be, you should know that." You raise both your voice and your eyes again as you continue: "I totally understand why you are upset with me. I wasn't trying to – make it seem like there ever could be a reason to be ashamed of being with you in any way." You clutch your hands together in front of your chest, a silent plea for her forgiveness. She listens intently but with a somewhat glazed look in her eyes that you can't quite pinpoint. "And if I have ever in the course of our friendship made you feel like you're worth less than you are – well, then I have truly fucked up and I cannot even express how much the mere thought pains me. I-" You stop at the sound of your own voice breaking, raw with emotion. You chance a look at Maura. Her expression has changed, and she is blinking in rapid succession as if to fight back tears.

"Oh, Jane", she half says, half sighs. "You – this... Oh, oh God, give me a minute." She turns away, but not as if she's trying to shut you out. You can see that she's gently dabbing at her eyes and tightening her hairband before she turns back to you and earnestly starts: "I think today just – tore open old wounds. You know what my past used to be like. I never really had friends. Yes, there were people I was hanging out with, but they mostly liked me because I could be of use to them. And while I do think that I have grown a lot as a person since then – well, today was rough and I was anxious and my mother's words were still ringing in my head, so hearing – what you said..." She doesn't elaborate, but continues: "I don't know why exactly it hit me so hard, but I do want to assure you that you have never failed me as a friend. You've always shown up for me. I mean, just look at what you are doing now", and a teary laugh escapes her as she gestures to you, the still almost invisible stretch of your belly hidden under the work blouse you are still wearing, "and here I am, getting emotional over your wording in a situation that was stressful for both of us." She shakes her head as if to thoroughly clear it. "I don't know why I am being so silly. Maybe I should have-"

You interrupt her with more force than either of you seemed to anticipate. "No, Maura, you should not have acted differently or just let it go. I want to know if – when I mess up. I owe this much to you. And so much more." Talking about your feelings always makes you feel on edge, but you pull yourself together because the look of genuine hurt on Maura's face is something you do not want to see again soon. "You are the best friend I have ever had, y'know. And", you brace yourself for your next words, "I hope that the night we spent – together... I hope it will not affect our friendship negatively forever. 'Cause losing you as my best friend, Maura... it would be damn fucking brutal." You grimace. "Sorry, I know... Language."

She smiles and this time, it reaches her eyes some more. "You are forgiven."

"For my cursing?", you ask, half joking, half hopefully.

"For everything", she replies and then she reaches for your hand and squeezes it in a good way. You remain standing there, facing each other, for a long, drawn-out, magnificent moment. Then she sighs deeply. "Jane... I really don't know what's gotten into me regarding my shoes", she confesses, "and now they are all... in disarray." She is quiet for a second. "It makes me feel uneasy", she adds.

You look over the various piles of boxes and at her shelves that are now only about one half full with shoes. Normally, such a task would feel daunting to you, especially considering you don't give a damn about shoes. But you do give lots of damns about Maura. And so,with a smile, you pull your hand out of her gentle grip and reach for one of the boxes. "You know what? I promised to help so let's get us started." You flip open the lid and look at a pair of sunflower-yellow pumps. "What are these? And where do we put them?", you ask diligently, and the sound of Maura laughing at your eagerness is like a whole field of sunflowers, heck, like the sun itself.