A/N: I don't own the characters, or anything, etc etc. Happy reading.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," Jane said as she dried the plate Maura had just handed her. When Maura gave her a slightly quizzical look, but said nothing, Jane elaborated. "Any of this: Mom's birthday meal, inviting me, letting me stay with you." The tension was palpable, more uncomfortable than either of them had expected.

Maura's tone was impersonal, almost professional. "Angela is not only my tenant, but my friend. I was more than happy to throw her a celebration for her birthday, regardless of who that included." It was almost as if Maura had realised how blunt she had been, for a few seconds later, she looked over at Jane and gave a small, civil smile. "I couldn't let you waste money on a hotel room." Even when they hadn't spoken for seven months, Maura still struggled to be mean.

Getting through the meal had been difficult, to say the least. All the necessary organisation for this day had been communicated via Angela, much to her frustration. They really hadn't even sent so much as a text.

Neither of them had anticipated plain sailing, but it was in the little things: the way Maura purposely sat at the other end of the table from Jane; how Jane would feel Maura's gaze on her, but as soon as she looked up, the focus was on something else; how Maura refused Jane's help with any aspect of cooking or serving. Everybody noticed it, but nobody said anything, not even Angela. It was obvious, and it was embarrassing.

However, when Jane insisted on helping clean up, Maura knew she had no choice but to accept – she wasn't going to be the one to ruin Angela's birthday by having a screaming match with her daughter. Much to their surprise, within ten minutes of the group finishing their respective slices of birthday cake, they were all putting on their jackets as they magically produced numerous excuses as to why they had to leave. With Ron taking Angela out for drinks and spending the night as his place (this particular excuse provoked a small groan and a jokingly disgusted expression from Jane), the two women were alone. How convenient.

Who knew silence could fill such a huge area so quickly? Nothing was said as Jane brought the plates and cutlery over in a couple of trips, likely because both of them were mentally preparing for the inevitable discourse ahead.

Now standing beside each other at the kitchen counter, small talk ensued as Maura washed the dishes whilst Jane dried them and immediately returned them to the correct cupboard. Of course, she still knew where everything belonged. The physical closeness between them could not compensate for the emotional distance; the few questions and answers they gave (mainly concerning work, naturally) were meaningless, the words empty. It was futile, and after another bout of excruciating silence, they knew they could no longer skirt around the issue.

The problem was that, as they spoke simultaneously, it became clear that they had different ideas of how they wanted to approach it.

"We need to talk."

"I love you."

There was fear in their eyes, stinging them, but for completely different reasons. Jane had never wanted the ground to swallow her as much as she did at this moment. Maura's demeanour rendered her a combination of fury, devastation and confusion.

"What?" Maura refused to believe she had heard those words come from Jane's mouth. She felt defeated for a reason even she couldn't quite comprehend, but she didn't want to expose herself to the person who had hurt her so recently, and so profoundly.

Trying to find her confidence and charm again, there was now sincerity in Jane's eyes. They had softened a little as she smiled, a stark contrast from the steely gaze which met her. "I love you."

"What do you mean, you love me? Don't play games with me, Jane." Had the lighting in her kitchen always been this harsh? She could feel her heart pounding in her chest faster than it had in months, and a slight feeling of dizziness ensued: she was worried she would go vasovagal. The last time she had felt this heightened state of stress and anxiety? The last time she had seen Jane.

"It's not a lie, Maur. I wouldn't lie about this." Her eyes were pleading, begging her to listen. "I'm in love with you, and I've been wanting to tell you since the second I landed back in Boston."

The volume and pitch in her voice began to rise. "Why are you telling me this now? You couldn't have told me seven months ago?" All of those feelings she believed she had worked through, or had at least compartmentalised, were beginning to resurface. And they were causing her more pain than she would have liked, especially in direct confrontation with Jane.

Arguing was the last thing Jane wanted to do. Whilst she knew that Maura had every right to be angry and upset with her, part of her had secretly hoped they'd run into each others' arms and be able to act as though nothing had happened. She thought of all the wasted time, the solitary months in DC without her best friend. How desperately she had wanted them to be more than friends, and yet she hadn't even really been able to call her that after Paris. "Maura, please."

"I can't do this again."

Jane had no problem expressing her confusion, slipping back into what felt like natural conversation with someone who knew her after months of awkward introductions to new colleagues. "Do what? I know that I hurt you, and that I was wrong to leave you like that. I am sorry for what I did, but isn't this a good thing? I want to be with you, I do."

"You broke my heart, Jane," came Maura's response. Saying it so firmly made it real, much to the anguish of both women. "I told you I was in love with you, and you left."

There was every possibility that this could become ugly, if it wasn't already. "I had a job waiting for me, Maura, a job at the FBI. You don't make the FBI wait." Her tone verged on unforgiving, her voice a little husky.

"It was never about the job, and you know it. It's the fact that after all the years we have been friends and everything we have gone through together…" She was lost in thought as her mind flashed back through their years together at BPD, followed by the beautiful memories of Paris before everything went awry. "I told you how I felt about you and you left, and then you texted that you'd landed, and we haven't spoken since."

It was hard to believe that the two women really hadn't interacted since that last text from Jane the evening she arrived in DC. Everyone knew the strength of their friendship – subconsciously probably thinking they were secretly a couple – so when it became apparent that they were no longer speaking, it was a big shock. "I wanted to, but I'd hurt you enough. I didn't know what to say."

Maura's face was painted with shades of disbelief, disappointment and blinding pain. Part of her couldn't really believe those words had just come from Jane's mouth. It was more than clear to her, now, that Jane had no idea the extent of the impact her actions had had on her. There was no better time to make her feelings known than the present. Jane needed to hear this.

"I spent five months in Paris, alone. I missed you every single minute of every single day. Even when I was writing or exploring the city and other parts of the country, I failed to shake the thought of you from my mind." Taking a deep breath, she was aware of her current state of vulnerability as she placed a shaky pale hand on the kitchen island. "I would walk along the Seine and wish we could talk as if nothing had happened. I would reimagine our conversation at the airport in multiple ways, thinking of all the things I would have said and done differently. Thinking of what I could have said that would have made you stay. All I did was think, and analyse, and overanalyse, and criticise every part of myself and every moment of our relationship. I felt so broken, so worthless. I missed you terribly, Jane. And now you're here," Maura looked directly into those all too familiar brown eyes as she spoke, "and my mind is a blank page. I don't know what to say to you."

Jane was cautious, but hopeful. Maura's words had been a lot to take in, but that was the problem: she hadn't really absorbed them. Now a step closer to the medical examiner, she spoke gently when she responded with, "Maybe you could figure out if you still want this?" as she attempted to reach out for the other hand. She was pushing the boat out, and she knew that. However, unknowingly, she was pushing her luck.

Her gesture was met with an immediate flinch, dismissed as Maura moved backwards, a small fury in her eyes. "Want you? Of course I still want you, Jane. The feelings that built up over a number of years did not simply dissipate in five months. No matter how much I wished for such an action, they are still there, screaming and tugging at me like a three year-old child." However, this was not a quick reconciliation.

"And so I'm here, telling you that I love you. I don't want to lose you, Maura. And I'm sorry for what I did. I know that I can never take it back. But I'm here." When Jane's eyes softened, and a slight grin appeared on her face, Maura gave her no opportunity to continue in her attempts to charm her. Now distancing herself even further by standing on the other side of the island, her back to the window, she was faced with a frustration. Because Jane didn't seem to understand.

A heavy sigh emanated from her as her hand instinctively found her way to her cheek, feeling like a cliché as she wiped away the tears which began to fall there. She was so embarrassed. But more so, she was irritated.

"You left, Jane. I opened my soul to you in the middle of Aéroport de Paris-Charles de Gaulle, and you still left me. You – more than anybody – know how much I struggle with matters of the heart. It took me so long to feel comfortable with you, to be able to rely on you as my friend and to know that I could fully trust you. I had never felt such a sense of security before. So, to take that leap, to say to you what I had agonised over alone for a long while…" she trailed off, lost in her train of thought and the pain that accompanied it. Quickly brought back, she soon continued. "It was terrifying. And you simply said 'I'm sorry' and boarded an eight-hour flight."

Having lifted an incredible metaphorical weight from her chest, she turned her back on her friend and put away a few dry dishes that Jane had sat on the counter. It was a perfect excuse to hide the tears which were unsurprisingly beginning to form. Maura detested confrontation, especially when it came to Jane, but she had thought about it for too long. She had been so sad. Her time in Paris was supposed to be reinvigorating, but any memory of joy was clouded with Jane's rejection. With her head hanging low as it leaned against the door of a cabinet, she heard the familiar squeak of Converse sneakers come closer.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, feedback is always deeply appreciated.