Hi, Rizzlers! :) This is my first fanfic for the fandom, but not the first one ever obviously. I decided to write this from Jane's POV, first person, because I find it much easier to get inside her head. Maura is too intelligent for me to do that, personally. Maybe one day.

This fic takes place right after the season 3 summer finale. You know...that one. Rated M for language, not smut. Sorry. Intended to be a one-shot, but not entirely opposed to making it a short multi-chapter fic. Emphasis on short, as I've had writer's block since forever and a day and this is the first not-shitty thing I've produced in months. Obviously, seeing as I'm sharing with you. :)

Disclaimer: don't even get me started. I'm just putting in my two cents in this fandom outside of ridiculous commentary on Tumblr and Twitter.

Also would like to thank my wonderful gf, seeing as she's the one who inadvertently inspired me to start writing something - anything - again.

Later that evening, I went back to my quiet apartment. It felt wrong to leave Maura by herself, after she had almost been killed…again…but she didn't ask me to stay. I didn't feel right imposing on her – casting my fears and feelings about it all – if she didn't want me there.

I finally crawled into bed around 1am, but despite my beer-buzzed brain and body, I couldn't fall asleep. My mind kept flashing back to that very second when Dennis had stepped back toward the open elevator shaft and still had Maura held tight in his grip.

In that split second, I thought I'd lost her. I thought I'd lost the best friend I'd ever had and the only person I've ever really loved – at least romantically – and she had no idea the depth of my feelings.

But then something within Dennis made him let her go, and suddenly she was being thrown forward toward us – toward me. She was in my arms.

Alive.

Breathing.

Safe.

She clung to me as if I were the last person on Earth. As if her life depended on it.

And it was at that moment I knew.

I can't live like this anymore. I can't live without her knowing. I had to be brave and she had a right to know.

As I lay in my bed trying to fall into a slumber that seemed reluctant to come, I gave in. I let a dozen hot tears streak down my face before I wiped at them furiously.

No. I can't cry. Maura should be the only one allowed to cry.

I believe it was approximately 1:56am when I decided I had to drag my ass out of bed to go to Maura's and spill my guts. Although I didn't rightfully know how she felt about me, she has always seemed like the person who is open to loving anyone. Gender probably didn't matter to her, so part of me felt like there was a chance she might return my feelings.

Pulling my white cotton tank top back up around my neck, I put my bra back on, pulled my tank top back down, and slipped into some slightly baggy, gray BPD sweatpants. About 25 minutes later, I pulled up at Maura's. All the lights in her house were off, but past experience had taught me that didn't always mean she was asleep. To be on the safe side, I sent her a short text – "Hey, are you up?" – knowing if she were awake, she'd answer pretty quickly, probably with something like, "No, Jane. I'm not literally up, but I am awake." After waiting for about a minute, I still hadn't received a reply. I got out of my car, closing the door as quietly as possible, and walked to her door.

Slipping the key in the lock, I entered her foyer as quietly as possible, closing and locking the door behind me. Quickly remembering her alarm, I disarmed and then rearmed it. I slowly crept up the stairs – avoiding the spots where I knew there were creaks – to her bedroom. Her door was closed.

I turned the doorknob softly and stepped inside the room. Maura was curled up on her side – the left side – of the bed, sound asleep.

Knowing her, she probably took some sort of sleep aid – be it holistic or synthetic, since with her you could never really predict – because I know she'd never be able to sleep restfully after such a traumatic event. After I shot myself to save her and Frankie, she couldn't sleep properly for weeks.

Lifting the covers on the right side – my side – gently, I slipped underneath them. Although the movements didn't startle her, they still woke her up despite her deep slumber. She didn't even bother to open her eyes as she rolled over and placed her head against my arm, breathing in deeply and wrapping her right arm across my torso.

"What took you so long?" Her words were quiet and slightly mumbled from having just been asleep.

I whispered equally as quietly, "How'd you know it was me?"

"Only a select few have keys to my home and the code to my house alarm, Jane. And only you come to me in the middle of the night and slip into my bed."

"Oh. Right."

"What took you so long?" she repeated softly.

I hesitated a second before replying, "You didn't ask me to stay. But I couldn't fall asleep. Too much on my mind."

She lifted my arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, snuggling closer into my side and resting her head in the crook between my arm and chest.

"Mmm. 'S'why I took something. Want to talk about it?"

Hot tears instantly sprang to my eyes. I took a deep breath and released it evenly.

Fuck. It's do or die, Rizzoli. Oh wait. Terrible saying right now.

"I almost lost you tonight, Maur."

Not "You almost died tonight, Maur" or "Dennis almost killed you tonight, Maur."

I almost lost you.

She opened her eyes and tilted her head up to look at me. "I'm extremely aware of that, Jane. I haven't properly dealt with it yet, but I've become quite adept at compartmentalization over the years. As have you. What's different this time?"

What was different about this time?

Just say it.

"Eventually it feels like a wakeup call," I finally managed to get out.

There. Close enough.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean." Her brow furrowed as she looked at me and I could still see her face, despite so little light.

"I love you, Maur."

"Now I'm afraid I really don't understand. You already knew that you love me, Jane."

"No, I mean…" I sighed heavily. I already felt frustrated with our conversation.

"No, I know what you meant. But you already knew that you were in love with me. The question is, why is what happened tonight making you feel like you have to tell me? Like you have to confess some big secret?" she questioned softly.

"I…wait. You knew, Maur?" I accused, shocked.

Looking down between us, she reached for my left hand and intertwined her fingers with mine. Then she reversed her gaze back to my eyes.

"Jane, I've studied nonverbal communication, particularly F.A.C.S, for quite some time. I'm a scientist. I observe everything around me. How could you think I wouldn't know?" she explained, as if it were obvious.

I felt speechless. Why didn't she say anything?!

"But," I stuttered. "But you never said anything."

"And I let you continue to act around me the way that you have."

"How have I acted?" I asked, even though I knew already. Protective, even territorial at times. Attentive. Chivalrous. The way I looked at her when she wasn't looking.

"Why?" I felt so confused.

"Well, you've acted that way because you love me."

Ugh. She was so sequential sometimes.

"No, Maur. Why didn't you call me out on it?" I clarified.

"What does your detective gut tell you?" she asked back.

I thought for a second and cycled through the possibilities inside my head.

She felt bad for me. No, that's not like Maura.

She liked it. Definite possibility.

She was interested in me, too. Slight possibility.

She was in love with me, too. Also slight possibility. But interest didn't always imply love, right?

I decided to go with the one I was almost positive about. "You liked it."

"Most humans like being taken care of and cared about, Jane."

I contemplated throwing the interest thing out there too, but I didn't feel confident enough about the chances of that.

"What else?" she pressed further.

I chewed on my bottom lip. Remember that whole confessing your feelings to her thing?

"I think you," I paused and breathed in deeply, trying to gather my thoughts and courage. "You might be interested, too."

I felt her chuckle against me and my body tensed.

She's fucking laughing at me! What the hell?

"Oh, would you relax? Don't you think I'm a bit more than 'interested' in you at this point?"

I grinned and I knew she could tell.

Suddenly I felt terrified. I'd never been with a woman before.

She somehow sensed that, too. "Seriously, Jane. Relax. There's nothing to be worried about," she said soothingly, followed quickly by a yawn. "Now, I'm going back to sleep. You can think later about how to ask me out on a date."

Ah, shit. What am I getting myself into?