It's awkward, after that. Of course it is. That's why Jane put it off so long, even though it had been so clear that Maura had wanted to kiss her. Maura loved people - she loved the Rizzolis, she loved Ian, she'd loved Garret too. All criminals - well, most of them. Angela hadn't been involved in the tax fraud. But Jane and Frankie were killers, which hadn't been illegal but still was morally grey. They bent the law to put bad people away. Jane knew she wasn't in the same category as Paddy Doyle, but somehow Maura even loved him.

The point was that Maura loved people, but she loved terrible people, people who hurt her. And she loved Jane, and Jane never should have taken advantage of the love Maura offered - the platonic, friendly sort of love Maura offered - to get her rocks off like that. To use Maura's body to vent her frustration. To use Maura. To touch her body - all of her body, all the curves and creases of her, the little hairs that rose in the wake of Jane's fingers, the dimples in her lower back, the crest of her hips. To use Maura for her own satisfaction, kissing the soft skin exposed to her, to hold her close as she came, to nuzzle into her silky hair. She knew Maura wasn't socially experienced enough to be able to protect herself from someone like Jane sneaking into her life and taking what she wanted - the sweet, affectionate kisses, the way Maura's breath caught when Jane touched her, the way Maura's breath had caught when she touched Jane. Jane shakes her hands out, looking at the morgue window.

"Rain coming?" Maura asks, not looking up at the movement, and Jane nods, Maura finally looking up to catch the affirmation. Maura's eyes slip from Jane's like they always do now, but they catch on Jane's hands, and her tongue slips out for a moment, as though she was remembering what Jane had done to her with those hands. Jane shakes her head, trying to clear away the memories of just how she'd touched Maura, just how she'd like to touch Maura even now. "Do you need me to drive you home?"

Jane hesitates. Her own tongue wets her lips as she tries to reply. They try now not to be alone together in one of their homes since it happened, and Jane knows she'll need to invite Maura in. And if she does, she knows Maura will explain, slowly and carefully, watching Jane's response, that what happened can never happen again, that Maura loves her as a friend. Her heart clenches painfully, and she brushes her nose with the back of her hand, looking away again, back at their victim. She can't put this off any longer; it's been miserable. Every time Maura reaches for her she pulls away. She can't be alone with her, because she doesn't want to know - doesn't want to hear - how she'd taken advantage of Maura. She doesn't want to hear that it wasn't willing consent, the wine making things blurry. She doesn't want to be the kind of person who sexually assaulted someone inebriated. Maura had - Maura had been - Maura had straddled - but they'd been drinking, and she clearly didn't want Jane now, clearly regrets it, and Jane started this so she has to let Maura finish it. She nods, and Maura slices open the body.

Maura is subdued on the ride home. Probably wondering how to tell Jane that she won't press charges for assault. Or that she told Angela. Or that she's straight. Jane clenches her teeth. Of course Maura is straight; so is Jane. It had just been one of those cases where she'd had to let go of all the awfulness somehow, and Maura had seemed - she'd seemed to understand. She'd seemed to be on the same page. She'd seemed to need it too, her own mouth bruising Jane's throat and breasts and thighs from the pressure of her teeth. Or maybe she'd been trying to fight Jane off - it was so hard to tell. It hadn't felt like that at the time - it had felt so wonderful, like Maura was a radiant source of heat and Jane had been frozen for decades. It had felt like Maura had loved her completely, trusted her completely. And now it felt like Maura had simply loved her too much to turn her away in her hour of need.

She unlocks the door, and Maura follows her into the professor's house. She'd had to stay with Maura, and it had been awkward, but for the most part she'd managed to avoid having this conversation. It had been a while - maybe a year? Maybe two years? She didn't know why she was still so hung up on it, why she thought about it so much. A guilty conscience, perhaps. Or maybe it was that the way Maura looked when she came was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. It didn't matter. Maura didn't want that. Maura was just someone who'd fucked Jane once. They were friends who fucked once; it happened. People came back from that. They could come back from that.

"I know you don't want me," Maura says lowly from behind Jane. She's making them tea; Jane has given up on asking her not to. Every time she finds Maura's tea stash, there's always a new one, even better hidden. It's actually really good tea, but she'll never admit it. She watches Maura warm the teapot, swirling the water within, her eyes fixed down. "You don't need to worry. I understand. It was just the case, it's not that you - not that you want me. Wanted me. I know you only date men. You don't need to avoid me. I understand. And I'm sorry - I should have known at the time that you would regret it."

And Jane's heart shatters. She's been blaming herself all this time, thinking that she'd done something awful to her best friend - and she had, but not in the way she thought she had. Maura hadn't been unwilling - of course she hadn't been, she'd taken charge the instant Jane had shown the slightest bit of interest. She'd been enthusiastic and vocal and affectionate and sensual and everything Jane had let herself imagine and so much more. Jane's eyes shoot to Maura's, which are still turned down to the teapot. Jane turns off the stove and cuts off Maura's protest that the water is some whatever temperature for whatever reason (140F, so as not to scald the leaves and make them bitter) and turns to face Maura.

"I'm sorry," Jane starts. Usually she balks at saying those words but she doesn't; not here and now, not when Maura needs to hear them. "I thought you didn't want me. It's not that I don't - it's not that you aren't wantable - you are. And it's not that I only date men. I thought you didn't want me, that I'd done something you didn't want me to do, and I couldn't live with myself if you told me that I'd taken something from you like that, even though I did."

"You took nothing, Jane, nothing that wasn't freely given." Maura is close to tears and Jane has to quell the urge to step forward and hold her - her shoulders are broadened, her stance is defensive. Jane can read her like a book, and she wonders now how she ever thought that Maura hadn't wanted her. It was only afterwards, after Jane avoided her gaze and moved away from her touch that Maura had started showing these defensive poses to Jane. She barks out a short, rueful laugh. "Although if I'd known you couldn't bear to even look at me afterwards, I wouldn't have..." Maura's face tilts away and Jane can sense that the tears have broken through, have started spilling down Maura's cheeks. She wants to see them. She wants to wipe them away. She wants to hold Maura and let the tears seep through the cotton of her shirt. But Maura doesn't want that, and Jane never does anything Maura doesn't want her to do.

It hits her then. She'd known, she'd always known, that Maura hadn't been unwilling, because while Maura has a hard time telling some people how she felt, Jane had always been able to tell when she wasn't genuine. Jane had just been too - insecure - to read her properly, mistrusting her memory. Jane never does anything Maura doesn't want her to do. Jane always does what Maura asks her to do. So Maura had - Maura hadn't not wanted Jane to - which meant that Maura had wanted Jane to - which means that all this time...

"Oh, Maura," Jane says finally. The tone of her voice, the brokenness of it makes Maura turn, showing Jane her tearstained cheeks, ones that match Jane's. "I thought I fucked it up. I thought you thought I'd used you, that you hated me for - that you only wanted the one night. When I woke, you sounded surprised that I was still there, like I'd broken some one night stand protocol or overstayed my welcome, and I - it was easier to run and blame myself, to tell myself that you thought it was a mistake than to listen to you tell me that yourself."

"The only mistake I made was letting you leave without listening to me," Maura says. "When I saw you'd stayed - I thought you'd leave in the night. I thought you didn't want to admit what it meant between us. Didn't want to admit that I was a woman you were attracted to. And then you did run, and you - confirmed all of my worst -"

"I am the worst." Jane tries to chuckle, but it's caught in her throat and comes out as a sob instead. "I wanted you. I never stopped wanting you. I've always wanted you. Ma always says you're the best thing that happened to me, and she's right. I should have said something sooner - I should have stayed and heard you out. I'm sorry. If you felt anything like the way I've been feeling -"

"You want me?" Maura asks, and her eyes are wide again, hopeful but reserved. She looks at Jane the way she always used to - the warmth of her almost makes Jane turn away. She doesn't deserve this - she's never deserved Maura, even now. But to turn away would hurt Maura again, and she can never, ever hurt Maura again.

"How could I not?" Jane asks. "You're everything I could ever want in a woman, and twice as hot. You were right, about Casey. I liked him more the further away he was. But I've always lo - liked you the most the closer you are to me. It's been hell, trying to give you space. I thought you wanted space. I thought I'd taken advantage of you - we'd been drinking - I thought-"

"You're the one with all the sexual hangups," Maura retorts. "I thought I'd taken advantage of you."

"No," Jane shakes her head vehemently. She moves closer, and Maura pulls in, drawn in as though Jane is a magnet, and they are together again, pressed against each other with no space between them for further misunderstanding. "No, I wanted you. I want you. I love you. I've always loved you." Maura pulls away and examines Jane's earnest face, then nods.

"Prove it," Maura challenges her.