"This week has been nice," Maura whispered drunkenly as the wood crackled in the fireplace of the beach house. "Thank you for coming with us."

Jane looked up from the rim of her beer bottle. In the poorly lit living room, she focused on her ex-wife. In thick pyjama pants and one of Jane's old jumpers, Maura was snuggled into the couch. They'd been coming here for years, but the couch had never seemed so large. Or Maura had never seemed so small.

Jane shrugged. "Of course. I know Annie's getting older, and she understands why everything is…the way that it is, but it doesn't hurt to keep things…normal."

From across the room, Maura hummed her agreement. "Do you think you'll still be coming on winter vacations to the Cape with us when she's eighteen?"

"I don't think Annie will be coming on winter vacations to the Cape when she's eighteen."

Maura watched Jane closely, understanding washing over her, shocking her out of intoxication for a second. "Oh, you're right."

Jane chuckled. "Who knows? Maybe she'll want to hang out with her moms longer than the average kid."

Maura sighed, looking up to the ceiling where their eight-year-old daughter was sleeping above. "I hope not."

Maura's arms fell back over the arm of the couch. Jane watched as Maura's fingers interlocked, pulling at each other. Strong. Slender. Warm. It seemed like yesterday that they were holding Jane's. Maura rolled over and faced Jane, taking her in. At Maura's obvious gaze, Jane tried not to nervously rock back and forth in the rocking chair.

"What?" Jane husked.

"How are you dealing with everything?" Maura whispered.

Jane swallowed. "Cara?"

Maura nodded.

"We were only together for five months, Maura. And it's been a year since…"

"Did you love her?"Maura interrupted.

Jane's eyes glassed over. "I thought so. When she was alive I, I just…I never really thought about it. I remember thinking that I was on my way to loving her. But when she died, I blocked that out. I was so sure that I had been in love with her. Now…now, I remember."

"You were on your way to it."

Jane tried to swallow over the lump in her throat. "I was on my way."

"She was lovely. Great with Annie…"

"Yeah. She was."

Silence settled over the room.

"Would you like another beer?" Maura asked, trailing her fingers over Jane's shoulder as she made her way into the adjoining kitchen.

"Yeah," Jane agreed, a gentle ache already settling in her heart. Tomorrow, it was back to Boston. No more days spent driving out to lighthouses, beaches, or strolling down Commercial Street for Annie to spend her vacation allowance on saltwater taffy. No more Annie every morning at the breakfast table. No more Maura in firelight before bed. Jane looked out at the snow falling against the windows, and tried not to think about her empty apartment with Annie's bedroom that was only slept in twice a week.

Maura returned with the unfinished bottle and another Blue Moon for Jane.

"I think you should definitely finish that off before we leave tomorrow morning. Don't want it to go to waste…" Jane joked as she flipped the top off of her beer.

"Detective," Maura declared, "you read my mind."

"That's why you married me," Jane played.

Maura's face fell.

"Sorry," Jane was quick to apologise. "I shouldn't have said that."

Maura bit her lip. This time, when she sat back on the couch, she seemed a whole lot less relaxed. "That's okay."

"So…"Jane started. "Dating anyone?"

Maura brought the lip of her wine glass to her lips. "No."

Jane decided it was best to not push any further, and her politeness was rewarded with elaboration on Maura's part.

"It's hard…with Annie."

Jane picked at the blanket draped over the rocking chair. "You know…I'd love to have her over more if you want to…trytodate," Jane breathed in a rush. In the four years that they'd been divorced, Maura had never shown any interest in another person, had never dated another person that Jane was aware of.

"I don't want to try," Maura whispered, her eyes trained on the crackling fireplace. "I'm happy." She brought her legs up, and hugged them to her chest. Jane tried not to focus on the obvious fact that Maura wasn't wearing a bra beneath Jane's jumper.

There was that ache again. Bubbling up. Pounding. Jane knew it well. It felt old, untamed, like the smoke that was supposed to run up the chimney, but tainted all of their clothes with that winter smell.

"I miss you," Maura breathed so softly that Jane could barely hear it.

Jane's body stiffened in the chair.

"I miss you so much it hurts," Maura continued.

Jane had no idea what to say. What could she say to that?

"I miss you, too," Jane murmured, her heart pounding wildly.

"Why did we break up?" Maura wondered mindlessly.

Fire broke out between Jane's ribs. "Because I fucked things up."

Maura's stare bounced from the fire to Jane's eyes. "You didn't fuck up anything."

Jane's mouth felt completely dry. "I'm not the same person I was four years ago, Maura. I got help. But it was me. I was distant and I wasn't giving you…I wasn't giving you anything. I was a robot."

"Do you think we would have worked it out if we'd stayed together?" Maura asked.

"No," Jane confessed, tears stinging her eyes. "I needed to hit rock bottom before I could get back up. And I couldn't do that to you. I ruined our family."

Maura got up from the couch, and came to kneel before Jane. Jane could see wetness trailing alongside Maura's fine nose. "Jane…you didn't ruin anything. We're still here, all together. And we're happy."

"I'm not happy," Jane husked, allowing the tears to fall. Maura gently swiped the pads of her thumbs over Jane's cheeks, and Jane thought she might die at the sensation of Maura's intimate touch for the first time in years.

Jane's stare bore into Maura's. Glassy. Dark. Wild.

Maura pursed her lips together, and stood up, moving back to the safety of the couch.

"Do you think about me?" Jane dared.

Maura released a troubled breath. "Of course I think about you. You're the mother of my child."

Jane tried to fight the arousal that rushed over her in waves at the sight of her flustered ex-wife. "I think about you all of the time." As she sat forward in the rocking chair, Jane could feel her cheeks reddening. But she couldn't stop herself. "I think about how lucky I am to still be your best friend, but it's nothing like being your wife."

Maura brought a hand to the base of her throat, and held on for dear life. "Jane." Her gaze focused on the edge of the couch.

"I still remember how you felt. Against me. In my hands," Jane choked out. "I loved you like I'd never loved anyone."

Maura raised her eyes, and met Jane's stare. Desire burned inside of her as completely as it ever had. For four long years she'd been torn between wanting to feel Jane's hand in hers, Jane's fingers inside of her, and peace. So far, she hadn't found it.

"And when did you stop loving me?" Maura asked pointedly, wanting to hear the reality they'd been avoiding for the better part of their divorce.

"I haven't," Jane confessed, peeling the label from the bottle. "And I don't think I'm going to any time soon."