And then it's the comfort after the hurt.
Maura's house is a Rizzoli house. The boys and Angela stick around after Jane is released from hospital to check on Jane, who shows no signs of the terrible ordeal she's just suffered through. Maura meets her at Mass Gen, and before they can even take Jane inside she has collapsed into Maura's arms, thankful that it's only Frankie there, that Frost and Korsak went to do paperwork for Dominic's body as Maura holds her, murmuring softly into Jane's shoulder, hands grasping Jane as tightly and Jane grasps her. And once they're back at Maura's house and Maura has kicked everyone else out, she gives Jane the beer which she keeps for her, knowing it's too late for Jane to object or say anything about driving home, especially since her car is probably still outside the precinct. And Maura won't give her a lift, because Jane was violently taken from her and she needs Jane there to ensure her brain knows Jane is safe now.
And Maura watches Jane as she lets Jane skirt around how serious it had been, how Jane hates to be restrained, to have anyone touch her, and she brought Jane's spare clothes to the hospital and helped her change because she knew Jane would rather come home in a hospital gown than what Dominic had got her up in, and drove her home to her own house where she can watch Jane sleep. Because she nearly had to watch something else happen to Jane.
Maura would have watched. Not out of a perverse pleasure, wishing it was her touching Jane. Not for evidence; she would have had to let it record anyway. But because if Jane had to go through that, then Maura had to go through it too. She'd never tell Jane, never had let Jane know that she'd stood there in silence watching if it had happened, but she'd have been better equipped to help Jane deal with the aftermath, she would know how not to touch Jane for a while in order to reduce Jane's fear responses. And if Dominic had killed Jane, Maura would at least have done her the courtesy of not letting her die alone or unknown. Maura would be with her until the end, no matter how much it hurt to watch because it was the only way she could help Jane.
But Jane makes another little 'I'm totally fine' joke, and Maura smiles over at her, aware of how much she almost lost that day, aware of the way Jane's bare foot is resting under Maura's thigh, aware that Jane's voice is higher than usual, aware that Jane's eyes dart into the dim corners of the room as she draws closer to Maura.
And when they're done with their drinks, Maura rinses the bottle and her glass, sets aside the recycling, and she leads Jane to the spare bedroom. She's taken her makeup and jewellery off so she's ready for bed, and Jane no longer comments when Maura lies down beside her in the evening. Tonight Jane shifts a little closer, needing the comfort Maura offers but unwilling to ask for it. And Maura's responses come slower and sleepier, and she folds up her legs toward Jane as she lies on her back and Jane is familiar with what it sounds like when Maura is asleep so she waits a little longer before she curls convex into the concave spaces Maura leaves and the movement makes Maura roll over onto her side facing Jane, slips an arm over Jane to hold her and Jane can finally relax and trust this reality in which she's safe because that's the space Maura leaves her. The space between them makes Jane feel safe, and when Maura rolls over again and tips Jane onto her back, settling half on top of Jane like a lover, Jane feels the safety sink into her chest along with something else she can't quite name, something else that she isn't ready to acknowledge or name but the two foreign feelings are enough to shake off the feel of metal on her wrists, in her hands, the feel of Dominic's stubby fingers on her skin. The soft weight of Maura's head on Jane's chest, her steady, even breathing is enough to lull Jane to sleep.
It's the comfort after the hurt that keeps Jane in such a violent job, because if she left, she would lose the sweet comfort Maura offers so willingly. And that is worth any amount of Hoyts or Dominics or anyone else that tries to come between them, because there is no space left between them at all.