Eventually Maura gets tired of waiting for things to change. Watching Jane tiptoe away from her. Sleeping alone in her massive bed, spending evenings without Jane. Feeling like she's excluded Jane from a family which isn't hers. Feeling passed over, overlooked. Ignored. It cuts like a knife. Jane still comes to autopsies. But she's in and out like she can't stand to be there. Like she can't stand to be near Maura.
"You're sick of me," Maura tells Jane, who, as expected, sputters indignantly. She doesn't deny it though, even as she mops beer from her front. She'd come over to Maura's to see Angela. And Maura had come home and Angela had left and Jane was just finishing her beer.
"You are. Everyone gets sick of me, eventually. You lasted a lot longer than most. Thank you for that. But you don't have to pretend. We don't have to make small talk. I can just be your colleague and your mother's landlord."
Jane has no recourse. She has no defense. She's been hoping Maura's manners would override her bluntness.
"It's not that," Jane says finally, not looking up from the mess she's trying to clean up. "You're just as charming and adorable as you ever were. But I spent four - five years waiting for you to tell me to break up with men I didn't even like. I spent four years sleeping next to you. Going to your events as your plus one and watching you leave with men. Four years of you coming to all of my family dinners and sitting next to me. Holding my hand under the table like I meant something to you. Four years of you looking at me like - god, like I mattered more to you than anyone - and I realised you didn't - you don't - you were never going to choose me. And it's okay, you never had to choose me, you're so - so rich and gorgeous and you have better, male options - but I couldn't be at your side if I wasn't -" Jane cut herself off and rubbed her face. "I'm not sick of you. I'm sick of me. Sick of wanting something I can't have. So I'm - I'm making room. For whoever you actually want to be with."
Maura's fingers touch her lips, her brow furrows.
"I never realised you were a contender for my affection. I thought we were very good friends who occasionally flirted to get rid of undesirable men. If I've made you uncomfortable or feel rejected in some way -"
"Maura. You've told me every single signal of attraction. You knew." Jane sounds bitter.
"I thought that was how you were supposed to feel about a female friend. That all women are a little bit attracted to their best friend but they just ignore it because that's what you did, and that's what I did."
"You did?"
"I did."
Jane steps forward and takes Maura's hand at the wrist, moving her fingers away from her lips.
"I also thought you were a little opposed to the idea that we would - that we could - that dating me was the last thing you wanted to do. Specifically because I'm a woman, but also because I'm - well. I'm me."
"Oh, sweetheart," Jane says, and it's been years since Jane's called her that. Maura's weak for it. Weak for Jane. She ducks her head and closes her eyes, feeling tears spill down her cheeks. The tone of Jane's voice is pained, like something Maura said has hurt her. "The only reason I wouldn't want to date you is because I'm not worth it."
"Jane!" Maura admonishes her quickly out of habit.
"Not because of who you are. Who you are is wonderful and precious and weird and -" Jane still holds one of Maura's hands, but her other hand is pushing Maura's hair behind her ears, her fingers sliding over Maura's cheeks to catch the tears as they fall. "Who you are is someone I'll never get sick of. Who you are, Maura is -" Jane's voice cracks, and so does Maura, weeping as she looks up at Jane. "Maura. You're someone I love."
And the space between them diminishes as Jane curls her arms around Maura, bringing her in for one of her old hugs where they press every inch of themselves against each other. Where Jane's head nuzzles into Maura's hair. Where Jane's hands aren't scared to hold her, aren't scared to rub over her back. The kind of hugs they haven't had lately. And Maura can't stop weeping, her own hands fisting in Jane's shirt, clinging to her. Seven years she's longed to hear those words. Every single Rizzoli other than Jane has said it to her, but never Jane. She used to assume Jane loved her but wouldn't say so, and then, more recently she assumed all the closeness was manufactured to get autopsy results faster. But now Jane's saying it - she's saying a lot of things, her lips pressed into Maura's hair, whispering the sweet nothings Maura always loves to hear from her. Maura's eyes close again, her nose pressed to Jane's throat, the familiar smell of lavender almost as comforting and soothing as Jane's arms holding her.
She knows she just lied to Jane, but until Jane called her out, she'd almost believed it. She'd never smiled at seeing Nina's name on her caller ID. Never felt a flush of warmth when Susie brushed up against her in the lab. Never wanted to sleep next to anyone who wasn't Jane Clementine Rizzoli.
"I'm not sick of you," Jane says when Maura's sobs turn to ragged breaths. She doesn't pull away. "I'll never be sick of you. How can I, when I can never get enough of you? The problem is I want more. And I couldn't - I can't ask for more, so I needed less."
"I don't like less," Maura tells Jane petulantly.
"You could have more," Jane suggests, and even without pulling away she can hear that Jane has been crying too. "But it would be more-more, Maur."
"Can you specify what more would entail?"
"I can," Jane said, sounding nervous. "But you might hate me."
Maura shakes her head against Jane's chest. Pulls back and looks at her. "You know I can never hate you."
Jane's expression is - well, it's damp with tears first and foremost, and it's scared. Maura puts her hand to Jane's cheek, intending to wipe her thumb under Jane's eye, but Jane leans down too quickly, catching Maura's open mouth with her surprisingly soft lips, and Maura feels the dam break.
All the insecurity, all the negativity and self-consciousness she'd been feeling was swept away because she was somebody Jane wanted to kiss. Somebody Jane was kissing. It took a moment before she realised she was kissing Jane back. Jane had started soft and sweet, but Maura was kissing Jane like her life depended on it, like the only oxygen in the world was in Jane's lungs, her hands pulling Jane tight against her, desperate, drowning.
Jane pulls away, her breathing heavy, her lips pink from Maura's lipstick and from the sudden blood flow to them. Her chest is flushed in an obvious sign of arousal, and the pulse at her throat is accelerated. Maura is exceedingly proud of herself - she's never kissed a woman before, but she's reduced this one to speechless want on her first try. Maura loves succeeding almost as much as she loves Jane.
"Do you hate me?" Jane asks, her eyes still worried, as though she misread Maura's passion for anger or compliance or loneliness. Maura shakes her head.
"Do you hate me?" Maura asks in return, knowing how hard Jane had fought against rumours that she might be gay at the church, at school, at the academy, at the precinct. Jane's brow furrows and her finger touches the edge of Maura's mouth, carefully wiping lipstick from her face.
"How could I when I love you so much?" Jane asks, and Maura presses a little kiss against her mouth for being so brave. Maura hasn't told Jane she loves her for five years because she saw how terrified Jane was the last time she said it.
"As much as I love you?" Maura asks, and Jane rolls her eyes.
"Everything's a competition to you, isn't it?" Jane kisses Maura again, soft and sweet. Lavender and beer. "But if you mean what I think you mean, then I'm the winner. I end up with you, and all you get is me."
"You've always been more than enough to me," Maura says. They should talk, she knows. Should settle this now. But Jane's hand is rubbing Maura's lower back in that spot that always hurts a little after a long day and Maura lets herself be folded up in Jane's arms, humming in satisfaction as Jane holds her. Jane will stay; she knows this. They will probably kiss again. They might do more. Jane's heart is beating so fast that she's pretty sure they'll do more. The body pressing against hers is leaner, less defined than it used to be, as though distance from Maura has left her undernourished. She can fix that. She can't fix Jane; she's not broken. But she can come back to her and take her place at Jane's side again now she knows she's welcome there.
"Well, it's about time," Angela says. Jane doesn't pull away though. Maura has to try to disentangle herself from Jane's long limbs enough to look at Angela, who is smiling softly at them.
"You don't mind?" Jane's voice is low and still scared, but Angela chuckles.
"The only thing I mind is that you haven't made an honest woman out of her yet." Angela comes over and kisses Maura's cheek, then Jane's. And then she leaves, locking the door behind her. Jane pulls away enough to look down at Maura, a little bemused.
"You've always been her favourite," Jane jokes.
"And you've always been mine." She means that Jane is her favourite person, her favourite date, her favourite place.
"I'm yours," Jane agrees, and holds Maura tight, the way she used to, the way she hasn't been lately. "I've always been yours for the taking."
"Consider yourself taken." Maura's voice is hushed and reverent, her hands soft on Jane's back. She knows this woman and she knows she wants to keep her. "I've frozen some eggs," Maura tells her.
"What, for breakfast?"
Maura pulls away with a chuckle. "No. For me. For us, I suppose."
"Okay, even for a lesbian that's fast," Jane jokes.
"Do you not want children with me?" Maura asks. She knows her clock is running down, knows age will prevent her from enjoying her children if she waits too much longer.
"What, right now? Not this second, no. But yeah. Someday."
"Someday soon?" Maura asks hopefully. Jane takes her hand seriously, her eyes wide and honest.
"Can I just enjoy having you to myself for a little while? I mean, we haven't even - where would we live? Which one of us will have to quit working? Do we need to get married to have equal parental - we just kissed, Maura, and now you're talking about having children with me."
"You talked about it before we kissed."
"I just mean - it's a bit of a commitment and we haven't - I mean -" Jane shrugs sheepishly.
"Do you have to sleep with me to know I'd be a good wife and mother?" Maura challenges Jane, and Jane shakes her head immediately.
"No! I just wonder how you can be so sure when we haven't - we're not even dating. We don't live together. We've never dated women, and -"
"Are you not sure?" Maura asks, and Jane's eyes open even wider.
"That's the problem. I shouldn't be, but I am. I have been since we met, but I keep getting in my own way. Telling myself I like men not Mauras, telling myself you're too good for me, that you'll never want me."
"But I do," Maura says, as though it had been obvious for a very long time.
"But you do. And I do. And we do." Jane rubs her chin. Her eyeliner has run, but it makes her look vulnerable so Maura doesn't move to clean it up. "Is it too soon to-"
"Your mother gave us her blessing."
"get married? Oh."
"Do you want to?"
"To you? Yeah," Jane breathes the last word as though she's savouring it. As though she can't believe she's lucky enough that Maura asked. Maura smiles at her like she's looking at a sunrise after a long night, and Maura takes her hand and leads her to the stairs. Maura has never wanted to sleep next to anyone who wasn't Jane Clementine Rizzoli, and now she never will.
Notes:
In the midnight hour
She cries 'more-more, Maur'