A/N: Just an angsty one-shot that's been floating around in my head for a few days. Again, angst. You've been warned. Please don't ask for a happy ending. This is all for now.
On another note, fans of Grey's Anatomy should recognize a quote here.

The stoop was not an ideal place for where Maura wanted, needed, this conversation to happen. Jane had sounded so uncharacteristically pitiful when she'd asked "What am I gonna do?" with tears in her eyes. Maura did not like seeing this side of Jane. She didn't quite like that Casey was the only person, the only thing, who she had ever seen make Jane cry. She had a hope, a very concrete plan, for what exactly Jane was going to do.

And as she walked Jane slowly back upstairs to her apartment, Maura went over all the collected information in her head. It was something she had been building for quite some time now, shortly after realizing her feelings for Jane went beyond mere friendship.

Are we having a sleepover, or is this your way of telling me you're attracted to me?

After some thought, that had been a disarmingly good question.

It seemed to Maura that Jane was a classic closet case, open and shut. She gagged at the mention of men, and rolled her eyes at anything remotely feminine. She growled at or distrusted or mocked any man Maura dated. There were looks exchanged that lasted a bit too long, touches that went a little low or were a little possessive. Undercover at the Merch, Maura had noticed a natural flair Jane had for flirting—one that was noticeably absent around any man she professed to be interested in. Her wedding fantasy had left out any mention of a gender-specific spouse. She hated hugs but frequently went to Maura with open arms. Years after Hoyt had scarred Jane's hands, Maura was the only person she let touch them.

Many were seemingly insignificant details, but Maura Isles had always prided herself on her ability to lock down on subtleties. She didn't let herself think maybe she was trying a little too hard; that maybe for once, instead of following a scientific trail, she was picking and choosing which breadcrumbs to put under a microscope.

Some just seemed so obvious. Jane said she didn't need a man to make her happy.

So what was the deal with Casey?

He had represented her escape from feelings she was most likely afraid of. She was perhaps understandably nervous that her Italian Catholic family would not be understanding of the true desires that Maura had convinced herself strummed so strongly beneath Jane's exterior. Casey was non-threatening, he was (before his return from Afghanistan) kind and attentive, a friendly familiar face from Jane's past. The perfect candidate for a cover. What was she going to do if he wouldn't play the game?

Safely inside Jane's apartment, Maura led them over to the couch. Jane was bitterly wiping away the last of her tears, and Maura rubbed her back soothingly.

"I feel so pathetic," Jane muttered. "Don't even have any Kleenex around the place." She sniffed loudly and sat up a little to see Maura holding out a tissue. Jane laughed weakly and took it; Maura pulled out a few more from the packet before stuffing it back into her purse. "Geez, Maura. You're always prepared."

"I do what I can," Maura replied.

After their big fight, when they hadn't been talking. When Korsak had miraculously saved them. When she had come to and asked after Jane, and Korsak had told her what she'd said: "I wouldn't leave her."

Maura felt the same. Casey was such a fool for walking away. She would never, ever let Jane go. It broke her heart to see her best friend, the woman she loved, so torn up. For weeks she had been trying and failing to pluck up the courage to speak first, to finally address what seemed to her to be the metaphorical elephant in the room. One of them had to do it, and even if Jane had always been the brave one, it seemed she was stuck here.

"She's got you doing yoga, hm? Must be getting serious." And Maura had gotten Jane to accompany her to yoga. She had in fact gotten Jane to do many things everyone said she'd never done and never would do. But she'd go and she'd do them, just because Maura asked her. Yoga. A high school reunion. Lamaze class with Lydia. Her mother's art show. Yes she'd whine and she'd pout and she'd put up a fight at first, but she would always eventually cave. That was just how it worked.

"Why are you beating yourself up about this?" Maura asked quietly. "You've done all you can do. Casey's an adult, and he's made his choices. They're juvenile and that's regrettable, but it's his loss."

"I know," Jane mumbled.

"You know what?" Maura pressed her.

Jane sniffed again and sat up straighter. She sighed heavily. "I know it's bad to let him treat me this way." Well, it was good to know she could at least acknowledge that. "I need to …I need to just learn to let go of it. Of him." She shrugged, staring at the floor. "It's not gonna work out, and I've lost my self-respect. No relationship is worth that."

She stiffened a little when Maura reached out and cupped her cheek, forcing Jane to look at her. Maura's eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Jane furrowed her brow in concern.

"I'm so glad to hear you say that," Maura breathed, her thumb brushing away Jane's final tear.

"You're glad to hear I've been miserable?"

Maura inhaled sharply, not removing her hand. "No." Don't mess this up. "I'm—I'm glad you have reached a place where you can see why this …why all this would have been a mistake."

"Yeah," Jane muttered.

She couldn't be more articulate than that. It was hard to express, even to her best friend, how much this was killing her. Casey's constant rejection after his initial lie hurt more than Jane ever would have guessed possible. It had taken a very long time for it to occur to her during their Skype chats and his furloughs that she had fallen in love with him. He'd been strong and admired her strength; he'd respected her and laughed with her and made her feel safe like no man ever had before. His accident, much as she hated to think it, really had ruined everything. She didn't want to think that way because it seemed disrespectful, but it was true. Getting through the physical ramifications might have been difficult, but she had cared so deeply for him that she'd have pulled it through it all.

It killed her to see him so proud, too proud to let her help him through this is. Sorrow and misery at his evident pain and weakened state filled Jane's stomach like lead, dragging her down and making her work, her life, her family difficult to enjoy. Why had this happened? Why couldn't he see that she wanted to help him, to love him? Why couldn't he see that he was the best thing that had happened to her in years, and that she could be such a figure of strength and succoring for him?

If he hadn't been ready to make love, he could have at least let Jane still feel wanted. She would have been happy to while away hours just kissing him, holding him, being embraced. In the stolen hours they'd had before his accident, he had made her feel so treasured, so comfortable with her body and his in ways she'd long swore Sunday School would make impossible to enjoy without guilt. It upset her to think that even if he came in now, without apologizing but willing to kiss her, she would probably let him. That was how desperate she felt, and she did not like it.

Maura was right, his response to it all was juvenile. Jane had done her level best. She'd given him months when he hadn't even had the balls to tell her he was back in Boston. If he wanted to go through life alone with nothing but self-pity? Fine. His choice. Anyone that determined to be miserable was only going to bring Jane down even further. It was no use pining after him anymore.

"He doesn't deserve you," Maura said, gently breaking into Jane's thoughts.

A hesitant smile made its way onto Jane's face, and Maura tenderly reflected it. Her hand was still resting on Jane's cheek, thumb moving side to side although there were no tears left to wipe away. It stopped when Jane brought her own hand up to lightly take hold of Maura's wrist.

"Thank God I've got you, Maura Isles," she said thickly.

Maura's smile widened slightly. She felt an indescribable glow swell in her chest at the love emanating from Jane's eyes, replacing the misery that had been there only moments before. She doesn't look at anyone else this way. Maura bit her bottom lip, and saw Jane's gaze briefly drop to it.

Maura leaned closer, her free hand shifting to gently rest at Jane's neck as she kissed her.

Jane's lips were wet and a little salty from her tears; Maura's were soft. Maura could feel her heart racing like mad, and if Jane had been capable of thought, she'd have registered that her own heart appeared to have stopped in shock. Her hand slipped and fell from Maura's wrist, landing dully on the sofa as Maura shifted closer, not breaking the kiss. She was not daunted by the fact that Jane didn't seem to be responding—it was right in character. It would've been stupidly optimistic to assume Jane would be totally comfortable with all this right away.

Still, Maura hadn't quite expected what Jane would do once her senses returned. When it became apparent that Maura wasn't going to pull back on her own, Jane gave her shoulder a light shove to push her away.

"Maura, what the hell?"

Her voice wasn't angry or even loud. It wasn't scared. It was genuinely shocked.

Maura had been prepared for fear, for denial, even for anger. Panic shot through her veins at the appalled expression on Jane's face.

"I—I'm…" Her hands started twisting in her lap, a nervous habit, as Jane stared at her. All of the romantic words Maura had carefully planned and semi-rehearsed were completely gone; she had no idea what to say. Free-falling. "It's—me, Jane, it's me." The words came out choked between dry sobs.

"Yeah, I know," Jane said warily, wiping at her bottom lip with the crook of her finger. "Maura, are you…" She didn't know how to finish the question, alarmed herself by Maura's reaction to all this. "Are you what, you're just trying to make me feel better?" When Maura only shook her head, Jane's voice got a little louder, starting to sound annoyed: "What, are you gay?" she asked, emphasizing the word in an effort to get Maura to say something.

"I don't know!" Maura said quickly, mistaking Jane's inflection for disgust. Keeping secrets was different from telling lies, because she could usually do it. But now that it was out, she couldn't fight down the rest: "Jane, I—I love you, and seeing you so hurt is killing me!"

"Maura, I love you too, but…"

"Jane, no, I'm in love with you."

For a few painfully long moments, the only sounds in the room were the result of Maura finally breaking down, sobs coming out of her in short bursts as her desperately blazing hope came crashing down all around her. Jane was stunned into silence, subconsciously afraid of trying to comfort Maura, lest it be misread as encouragement.

"I know the t-timing might not be desirable," Maura finally sputtered, "b-but I've been carrying this torch for you for so long, Jane. I wasn't sure when or how I was going to tell you, but you were so low tonight and I just w-wanted you to know—I wanted you to know you are loved, somebody wants you desperately. I—I want you!"

"Maura!" Jane whispered, relenting and pulling her friend into a tight hug. She grit her teeth and screwed her eyes shut when she heard and felt this move elicit a loud sob from Maura. Tears of her own were falling again, and she struggled to know what to say or what to do. Maura's arms clenched around her, and Jane felt her chest heaving with continued sobs. "Maura, I'm sorry, I…"

"Sorry for what?" Maura hiccupped, pulling herself far enough away to look into Jane's eyes. She searched them hungrily, reading them more closely than she ever had before.

Was that desperation reflected in her gaze? The walls of denial finally starting to crumble? Maura wanted it so badly, had felt so sure initially, that she wasn't too proud to try again. They were sitting sideways on the couch, and she shifted so one knee was between Jane's legs. She put her hands on either side of Jane's face, giving her time to push or pull away if she wanted to, but Jane was frozen.

A moment of weakness.

She leaned down for another kiss, and this time Jane responded almost instantly: hands clutched at Maura's waist, pulling her closer; her mouth opened against Maura's, hot breaths exchanged as Maura's knee pushed against her. For a few more glorious seconds, her hope was burning with possibility again; she was flying. And for those few moments, Jane was starting to feel her long-dormant, long-frustrated needs being met.

But no, it was wrong. It was all so very, very wrong.

Closing her eyes didn't make this okay. She still knew who she was kissing and how they both felt.

"Maura, stop," Jane said suddenly, breaking away.

"Jane, please," Maura said breathlessly, trying to kiss her again, but Jane pulled away, dropping her hands. "Please, don't fight this—"

"I don't want this with you!" Jane said thickly through her tears. "I don't feel that way about you, Maura, I don't! I don't wanna use you!"

"Use me," Maura pleaded.

That remark brought out the saddest look yet on Jane's face. She removed herself fully from Maura, sitting a safe distance away on the sofa so that they were no longer touching. Maura realized the enormity of what she had just said, of what she'd been desperate enough to allow. She raised a trembling hand to her lips, as if to push the two words back into her mouth and down her throat.

"You don't really mean that," Jane whispered, nearly sounding scared.

Maura shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. She'd tried to explain herself, given Jane the chance to acknowledge and reciprocate it, and been shot down twice. If Jane were to ask "what do you mean?", Maura wanted to have an answer. The question never came, but she had the reply ready, the one she also wanted to be the answer to Jane's desperate "what am I going to do?"

Her voice was weak with defeat, tinged with tears: "Pick me, choose me, love me."

Jane was trying to rid her face of tears again, but this time, Maura didn't offer a tissue. Twice she took a deep breath to try and steady herself, praying she could get through this: "Maura, please. You're—you are great, and you deserve someone great. You deserve somebody who worships the ground you walk on, and I—I'm not that person. I love you, but not… not the way you love me."

"Jane, please," Maura said weakly, her hands reaching out for Jane's. Jane didn't pull them away. "Please. Don't dismiss it right away."

"Maura, don't make his harder than it already is," Jane said through new tears. "I don't have to think about it, I already know. I have never thought of you as anything more than my closest friend. And that is important to me, all right? It's important. You are so, so dear to me."

There was quiet, and Jane briefly thought the message had finally been taken in. But, "Is it because you're afraid?" A shaky, last-ditch attempt for hidden truth.

"Right now all I'm afraid of is losing you forever because I don't love you the way you want me to," Jane said. "I'm not interested in that with you, Maura, okay? Please," she begged. "Please, just tell me you believe that. I'm not like you, I can't lie, but…" She paused, waiting for Maura's red eyes to meet hers. When they finally did, Jane said steadily, "I would hope you trust me enough to believe that I would never, ever lie to you about something like this. I hope you know that I couldn't live with myself if I—if I purposely hurt you just to try and save my own hide."

Maura's mouth fell open slightly and she shuddered. Her heartbeat would not normalize. Her breathing remained erratic.

She had been wrong. She had been all wrong.

"Look," Jane said softly, a little nervous at Maura's expression. "I am so, so sorry if I did anything to—if I led you on or something. I was never the type of girl who had a lot friends who were girls, and—I dunno, maybe I overstepped my bounds a bit. I've just never had anyone in my life like you before, Maura. I didn't mean to…"

She drifted off, but Maura picked it up. "You didn't mean to make me fall in love with you?"

Jane pursed her lips together, not knowing how to respond. Maura slowly pulled her hands away, giving Jane's a quick squeeze to let her know she was all right. With a deep sigh, she picked up her purse and stood up. Jane awkwardly followed suit, turning to watch as Maura walked towards the door. Jane called her name when Maura put her hand on the doorknob. Taking a steadying breath, Maura turned back to face her, still holding the knob.

"I don't want things to be weird between us," Jane said uncomfortably, waving a hand between them as if Maura needed clarification for what she meant. "You're closer to me than a sister ever could be, Maura. I… I mean, I need you."

"I need time," Maura said. She tried to smile, and it didn't work. "I need you too, Jane. Even if I can't have you the way I… the way I want, I still need my best friend. I just need—"

"Time," Jane said, nodding her understanding. "Right."

Maura nodded and stepped out the door. Once she was gone, Jane flung herself onto the couch again, reeling. Of all the ways she might have expected the night to go, that really had come out of nowhere. She was , frankly, astonished. Jo Friday jumped up on the couch, and Jane absently petted her.

If she thought about it, maybe some of the things Maura had said and done in the past could have been interpreted as flirtatious—but it had never seemed that way at the time. It had always seemed like Maura's unusual social skills coming to the fore, teasing Jane back and laughing with her and touching her just because that's what she had observed happened between two people who cared for each other. Her insides cringed at the thought of the humiliation and sadness Maura was no doubt feeling right now. She hated thinking she had caused any level of heartache, but she couldn't help the way she felt.

Nobody could take Maura's place as her best friend, and she didn't want them to. Tonight she'd get on her knees in actual prayer for the first time in years if it would help Maura get over her feelings quickly, so they could be close like before without anything being awkward. She had no idea what the protocol for this was, if she'd handled it well or not. She'd turned down guys before no problem, but it was so different with someone she genuinely cared so deeply for (even if only on a platonic level). Jane had never been particularly lucky in love and no friendship she'd ever had came even close to rivaling the one she had with Maura. Especially after the disaster with Casey, she didn't think she could handle losing Maura, too.

She couldn't help it. Once sure enough time had passed for Maura to be back home, Jane sent her a text: Maura, I just want you to be happy. If it'd hurt you to be around me right now, I understand. Just please don't avoid me forever, okay? She wasn't sure if she should expect a reply at all, or what it would say if she did get one.

Maura was still sitting in her car on the street downstairs. Her crying jag—not only at Jane's rejection of her but at the realization that she had nobody she could talk to about it—had finally come to an end and she'd felt able to drive again when her phone buzzed with Jane's text. Evidently not as cried out as she'd felt, fresh tears sprung to her eyes as she typed out a reply:

Don't worry, Jane. It will be hard, I have no doubt of that. But I wouldn't leave you.