"Maura, can we just go home? I don't care which home just, you know, some place where we can lay in bed and not be bothered. I'm pretty drained, and I'm not really that hungry." Jane slouched in the passenger's side of the Prius. "I really hate that your place isn't like it used to be, a sanctuary away from my crazy family. I know you need to go back to your place. I'm sure you want to get clothes and soak in a real sized tub and whatever else it is you do in the bathroom. I guess I could deal with Ma for a night or so. I mean, what are the odds that she'll come walking in on us?" She held a hand up. "Don't answer that."

As she put the car in gear and backed out of the lot, Maura chuckled. "Actually, your mother has learned not to walk into my bedroom ever, for any reason. She learned that the first time she tried to do my laundry to say thanks for letting her stay there."

"Don't tell me; I don't want to know." Jane held a hand up to stop any possibility of hearing the rest of that story. "So we go to your place, make a break for your bedroom, and shut ourselves in for the rest of the night. Sound good to you?"

Casual for a moment, Maura smiled over at Jane, but something in Jane's expression turned the driver suddenly blank-faced, to an even greater degree than when Giovanni the face-licker had offered the two of them a threesome a few months ago. "Yes?" She used the stop sign to take a closer look without causing an accident. "Yes. God, yes." The car remained stationary until a honk from behind them drew her attention back to the here-and-now. From there on out, Maura drove as fast as the speed limit and common sense would allow.

Showered, refreshed, and in a black satin robe she was pretty sure Maura had never seen on her, Jane stepped out of the master bathroom and headed for the bed to wait for Maura to come out of her giant walk-in closet. "You know, it's not like we're going to a five star restaurant, baby girl. It's okay if you're not wearing shoes." She chuckled as she sat down on the bed, admiring the lovely job Maura had done of rolling back the sheets.

"I'm not wearing shoes," Maura said, her voice muffled by the walls covered in garments as she faced the interior of the closet. "I'm trying to decide. I… You'll probably think I'm silly, but I just want you to know that I think you're worth taking a little extra effort to impress."

Jane smiled. Maura did always look so good, so put together. As she thought about it, though, the detective realized that wasn't true. The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her as a memory came popping back into her head. "Hey, Maura, remember a little while ago when I walked into your office while you were trying to put eye drops in your eyes? I think I came down to get the Bowen file. Anyway, you... you didn't seem so... I've seen you look better than that day. By your standards, you were a little sloppy."

Maura was quiet for a moment, not even rustling around in the closet. "That wasn't the first time I hadn't dressed well. It was just the first time you noticed. I'd been behaving passively-aggressively through fashion. You hadn't made fun of how put-together I was for over a month, and that was how I became certain something was wrong. It just took me that additional time to figure out exactly what it was. I initially thought you were angry with me over something I'd done. So I thought, well, if she doesn't care how I look, who else matters? I work with dead people, and a bunch of people who aren't Jane."

Her voice had gone very soft, and then she fell silent again for a moment as rustling began. It didn't take long this time, however; no flipping of hangers back and forth, just a little shush-shush of silk, and then the caramel-haired woman emerged from the closet in a gown of silver-green like sage, loose enough to avoid trashiness despite the cling, the shimmer, and the low neckline. Her soft smile was back. "But you notice now, don't you?" she asked.

But then Maura caught a look at what Jane was wearing, and it rendered her inarticulate. "Sweet… Holy… You look… Jane… I can't even…"

Jane raised an eyebrow, smirking despite herself. "It's a black robe, baby girl. It's not like I'm naked." A certain amount of bemusement in her voice, she asked, "You going to be okay?"

"I really hope so," Maura replied with feeling as she remembered to walk over to her side of the bed, turning off the lights on the way there. All that remained were the lit lamps on each nightstand, letting her see a clear path unobstructed by tortoise or dog. She sat down, turned to face Jane, and paused. "This feels different."

"Yes." Jane stood and untied the robe, letting it fall from her shoulders to the ground to reveal a matching black satin, spaghetti strap nightshirt and sleep shorts. "Did you think it wouldn't? I mean, I know I'm a little slow sometimes, but even I knew that it's got to feel different after admitting to everything we did over the past couple of days, right?" She slipped back into bed, expecting a long, drawn out response. Instead, there was silence. "Right, Maura?" She looked over to the doctor, who was simply staring at her. "Maura? Hey, baby girl? Hello?"

"Hi," said Maura from beneath the covers, where she'd slipped while Jane had done the same on her own side of the bed. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me?"

A blush crept across Jane's face as she gave a bashful smile to the other woman. "I hope," she said as she leaned toward the doctor, "half as beautiful as you are to me." She reached forward, running a hand through Maura's hair and along her chin, fingers stopping just below the doctor's lips. "Because you're breathtaking to me."

Maura's eyes hooded, smoldering as she took a moment just to feel that touch. She turned into Jane's hand, lips pushing out to bestow a half-kiss to her fingertips. "Very different," whispered the petite woman as she nudged herself closer, drew Jane nearer to herself with a hand running up that long spine.

Jane leaned closer, following the directions from Maura's touch. "Yes," she said as she settled against the other woman, bodies pressed together, front to front. Without another word, she leaned forward and laid the barest of kisses against Maura's lips. "Fair warning," she whispered as she pulled back, "I'm a screamer, and I know Ma's in the kitchen." She waggled an eyebrow suggestively, smirking.

"You are?" Maura asked rhetorically, eyes widening, utterly captivated. "Oh, I have got to make that happen so I can hear it for myself. It's a good thing I've been practicing."

An actual giggle escaped Jane's lips as she leaned in for another kiss. "Can't wait."

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From Googlemouth: I'd like to mention that a great deal of Dr. Georgia Dearborn's dialogue was based heavily on (and in some cases quoted directly from) Dr. Calla Dearborn, a character in Katherine V. Forrest's Apparition Alley, a lesbian murder mystery featuring Detective Kate Delafield. As I am not a psychiatrist, nor have I been psychoanalyzed, I did not have personal experience on which to draw. However, because many of Jane's issues are also issues that Kate Delafield shares (unbeknownst to AdmHawthorne, who I don't think has read this series of books), as well as certain commonalities of personality and mindset, I thought that this fictional doctor's approach to the issues might be suitable to adapt to Jane's needs. No copyright infringement is intended; I consider this an homage to a better writer, rather than an attempt to profit from her work in money or reputation without giving her due credit.