They were to leave for Paris in the morning. Maura had begrudgingly let Jane pull out her sweatpants and tug them on to sleep in, had loaned Jane a singlet that looked nice on her lithe frame. Maura had two alarms set and she was all packed, but she was too hyped up to sleep. She stared at the ceiling, the sound of Jane's breathing comforting and familiar. It had been years since they'd shared a bed; nearly two years since the miscarriage, when Jane had come crawling in next to Maura in the middle of the night, her face wet where it nestled against Maura's chest inside her open arms. But Maura had been with Jack, then. Even when Jane had stayed with Maura after her condo burned down, she hadn't come to Maura's room. And Maura didn't stay over at Frankie's, afraid of making him uncomfortable in his own home. And Maura didn't stay at the professor's because by then it wasn't something they did any more. But Maura had reasoned that Angela was already being kind enough to wash Maura's sheets after she left, there was no need to make more work for her. And Jane, yawning after her long day, nodded sleepily and rolled onto her side midsentence to look at Maura through lidded eyes. The bed was large enough for them to sleep far apart, and maybe that was a good starting place. If they were starting again.

Maura's bookings were all for one person. They'd go back to this, to single rooms and shared beds and the casual intimacy Maura had so missed. Jane rolled over then, reached out and found Maura, pulled herself close the way she used to, like a magnet. Maura felt the answering tug in her own chest. Maura wondered if Jane thought she was her new FBI friend, but a moment later Jane mumbled Maura's name, long and drawn out and somehow content. Maura let her hand run down Jane's back, and for the first time in two years she let herself hope.

The last time they'd slept like this, Jane had cried herself to sleep in Maura's arms, finally processing, finally vulnerable. When Jane woke in the night, Maura comforted her again, and Jane had seemed to enjoy it. She'd pulled closer to Maura, as though she was trying to be part of her.

And then Jane had kissed her.

And Maura had - Jane's mouth had been so soft and sweet, her lips so hesitant and uncertain, her hands the same as always holding Maura the way she needed to be held - Maura had noticed the moisture in the kiss from Jane's tears, had pulled away to wipe Jane's face, to kiss the tears from her cheeks, the glow in her chest almost a fire with how much love she had for her main defender, her protector, her safe place.

A moment later she remembered Jack and the glow turned into a weight, a millstone in her chest. She'd always wanted this, but she and Jack were monogamous, and therefore this was cheating and as much as she loved Jane, she respected Jack too much to do that to him. When Jane moved forward to catch Maura's mouth with her own again, Maura had pulled away. It hurt, it hurt like hell, and it hurt worse to see the hurt, frightened, dejected look in Jane's eyes as she shrank away, tiptoeing from the room, Jane's side of the bed rapidly cooling, her scent left on the pillow which Maura hugged to herself in lieu of Jane.

It felt like Maura had hit Jane, so devastated had she looked.

And in the morning Jane wouldn't talk about it, kept changing the subject, and then she was back in her condo and she wasn't coming around as much any more. And she didn't stay the night, and when she did she didn't let Maura stay with her, and she didn't come into Maura's room any more. And when Maura went over to Jane's, Jane called her a cab if it was getting late, putting space between them. Space Maura didn't want between them. It was as though Jane was punishing Maura. Or, more likely, Jane was punishing herself.

Jack had left, and Maura hadn't tried to stop him. It would have been selfish to, for Allie's sake, but also for her own. How could she keep Jack when every time he kissed her she compared him to Jane? How was that fair to any of them?

But after he'd gone, Jane still wouldn't talk about it, still wouldn't listen. Maura had wanted to explain that it had been the thought of Jack - who she'd been willing to break up with - that had made her pull away. Not that she didn't like Jane or didn't want to kiss Jane or hadn't enjoyed kissing Jane.

And now here Jane was, lying in Maura's arms again, the way she hadn't for so long. She was coming to Paris. She was choosing Maura, for a few weeks anyway.

Maura thought she'd been obvious about her attraction to Agent Davies, remembering once that Jane had joked about an orgy, hoping Jane remembered. But Jane hadn't, and Maura knew that when they came back to Boston Maura would stay and Jane would go. The last few years had been hard - harder than the years of finding her biological parents and losing a kidney and being framed for murder. They'd been harder because Maura had been kidnapped for a bond that had no longer existed. They were harder because she could see Jane trying to girlify herself, as though she was trying to banish even the suggestion that she might not like men exclusively. And Jane was going, even though most of her family was here. Even though Maura was here. Perhaps she felt it too, the sorrow Maura felt, mourning a relationship that had never truly been. One that had been severed. Jane shifted and pulled tighter against Maura.

There had to be time to talk. There had to be space to talk. Somewhere in Paris Maura would be able to tell Jane, and Jane would be able to listen. Maura held Jane closer, let her hands drift across the familiar landscape of Jane's back, feeling more bones than she used to. Feeling Jane's exhaustion against her chest. feeling herself melt the way she used to when Jane had first started touching her. Jane had waited five years to kiss Maura, and she'd waited until she'd lost everything - her partner, her fiancé, her unborn child. Maybe Jane hadn't meant it, maybe Jane had just been looking for comfort and had been ashamed of herself for needing comfort. But no, Jane had taken it before, and usually only from Maura. And she'd never kissed her before, no matter how low she'd been.

Maybe all that sex with Agent Davies had reaffirmed to Jane that she was straight, if that was what she'd been worried about all this time. Maura knew she wasn't, but she knew Jane wouldn't react well if Maura had dated women in front of her. She'd even been more inclusive about the kind of people she wanted to date after Jack had left, but Jane had never picked up on it. Part of the Paris plan was to finally sleep with a French woman. She'd left that off the bucket list she'd handed Jane. But with Jane tagging along, Jane in her hotel rooms and villas, Jane complaining next to her at the museums and art galleries and churches Maura intended to visit she'd have no luck. But one more month with Jane would be more than worth it, especially if she'd gone back to the affectionate friend she used to be. And when Maura got back to Boston, without Jane, she could date women without Jane feeling hurt or left out or however she felt. It would be fine. Maura drifted off to sleep, and when her alarms went off Jane was already up and out of the bed, and Maura felt the loss like a scalpel to the throat.

There were snags. The first hotel wouldn't upgrade Maura to a suite, or even to a room with two beds. But they'd slept together the night before and they were so jetlagged that even Maura fell asleep in her clothes. Jane managed to take Maura's practical travel shoes off of her and tip her onto the bed, and then Jane was taking off Maura's watch carefully, her right hand under Maura's to prop it up as she worked the clasp, her face close but her gaze cast downwards. And then Maura's necklace, turning the chain to find the clasp, fingers brushing Maura's clavicle. Maura let her sleepy head rest on Jane's strong chest for a moment, and then Jane was cradling one side of Maura's neck, pushing her back against the headboard to keep her upright before turning to Maura's earrings. Jane's fingers brushed against Maura's cheek, her face close as she concentrated, her breath huffing out into the shell of Maura's ear and Maura's eyes closed. When they opened, Jane was looking down at her instead of the earring.

"Makeup," Jane said quickly. "I'll get the other earring and then I'll get your wipes."

Jane had said she hated long flights, but she was still awake. Then again, Maura had hardly slept at all last night, too busy caught up in the way Jane felt in her arms again, too busy listening to Jane breathe in the darkness, too busy reveling in the way Jane's hands held her possessively the way they used to. Jane set the earring down on the bedside table and turned Maura's head towards her. Jane's knees were pressing against Maura's thigh, and this new angle had them so close that Maura's nose brushed Jane's. Jane's breath caught, and Maura's eyes slid down to Jane's lips. How easy it would be to just move her head forward a little and capture those parted lips with her own. But then Jane focused and turned Maura's head again, her fingers shaking as she removed the second earring. The bed shifted when Jane got up, and then there was the sounds of zips and a wet makeup wipe moving across Maura's face, starting with the eyes and moving around for the foundation. Jane paused at the lips, and Maura's eyes creaked open to watch her indecision. Jane tentatively wiped the remains of Maura's lipstick off, meeting Maura's eyes a few seconds too late to pass her interest off as casual. Maura blinked.

"Are you going to have a shower and get changed, or are you going to fall asleep fully dressed?" Jane asked, and Maura didn't answer, just rolled onto her side.

"You rubbed off on me," Maura yawned, not seeing how Jane's spine straightened at the words she'd spoken, unaware of the innuendo. Jane chuckled and went to shower. When she came back, Maura was strewn diagonally across the bed and Jane had to move Maura's legs to get in. That was the problem with the giant sleeping platform Maura called a bed; she never could get used to Jane's queen. She would starfish out and trap Jane under her strewn limbs.

Maura rolled over, away from Jane, and Jane didn't follow her.

Maura woke up disoriented.

"This is why I told you to wear pants and a shirt," Jane said, amused as Maura tried to disentangle herself from her dress, trying to sit up. It was morning but it had only been a few hours. They'd got in after midnight local time and... Maura looked at her wrist, then reached over to the bedside table for her watch, checking the smaller inset dial... afternoon Boston time. Currently it was night in Boston and morning here. Maura shook her head. Jane seemed cool and calm and totally oriented, and Maura felt a mess. Her throat was dry, she hadn't showered and her hair was coming out of the bun she'd tied it in so many hours ago. She felt like soggy toast. She stood, heedless of the dress twisted up around her waist; Jane had seen it all before anyway, and pulled some water from the fridge, heading for the bathroom.

Everything felt better after a shower. Maura felt collected again, as though she could take on the world. She could use a coffee. She came out in her towel to dig through the suitcase she hadn't unpacked last night. It was empty. Maura reached for the drawers; there were her underwear, folded on the left, Jane's on the right. Her dresses were hanging in the wardrobe. Her makeup was arranged by type and colour on the vanity. And Jane was coming through the hotel room door now, holding two coffees. Maura took hers before Jane could say anything, gulping down the perfect liquid before handing back the half empty takeaway cup. Jane watched, bemused, closing the door behind her.

"That could have been mine," Jane pointed out, sipping the coffee in her right hand.

"No, it was in your left hand. You always carry mine in your left," Maura said, trying to choose an outfit. Maybe she could go buy a new one today - she had plenty of euros. She chose something bright, in the hopes it would help her mood. She looked over at Jane. She was back to the sorts of clothes she usually wore; jeans and a fitted shirt that Maura could see her abs through. She swallowed and reached for the coffee again.

"Jane, I think we should -"

"Yeah, we should get going, it's getting late," Jane interrupted her, walking to the window and looking down at the street below. "Didn't you have an itinerary?"

Maura nodded. It would be like that, then. Jane still locked up inside, not willing to talk about it. Jane back to carrying Maura's coffee and - she'd unfolded Maura's socks from the travel fold into the drawer fold Maura preferred - being sweet to Maura, as though she'd never kissed her and run away. Maura nodded again and took her clothes to the bathroom to get dressed. They didn't always worry about niceties like that, but she wanted a closed door between herself and Jane for a moment so she could soothe her sinking heart.

Jane was back to her usual sarcastic self, but Maura didn't mind. It was part of the charm of her. The things Jane said were so unexpected that they usually made Maura laugh. They went to a café for breakfast, then strolled through the streets together. They stopped off for sim cards for their phones and Jane dutifully called home, speaking to everyone. Maura sent texts and emails instead, checking in with Hope and Constance and Cailin. Maura set up a selfie, and Jane jumped in the frame.

"It's very you," Maura said, sending it anyway. They'd find out soon enough that Jane was here. Constance always said Jane would follow Maura anywhere. Hope had said the opposite. That it was Maura following Jane. Maybe they'd both been following and neither had been leading. Maybe they were just in orbit, never destined to be any closer than they'd ever been.

"Send it to Ma too, huh?" Jane asked, then, impatient as always, took Maura's phone, handing hers over instead.

"Maura!" Angela said, as though it had been more than a day since she'd seen her. "Sweetheart, how is it? Is it wonderful?"

Maura looked over at Jane, sending the photo proudly to everyone they knew from Maura's phone. She chuckled.

"It's perfect."