Well, I'll try anything once…..this is the proof….a Jane POV.

This is a one-shot that takes place after Inteuri which takes place after Primum non nocere. You don't have to read either of those ones first, as this can stand alone.

But you should read them, because I said so.

Look for the third story in my series where I return to my comfort level of Maura's POV…coming soon. Happy reading.

As I get ready for the interrogation, I try to calm my nerves. There is so much nervous energy coursing through my veins that I feel as if I could run the Boston Marathon while playing lead guitar to Journey's greatest hits. While dribbling a basketball the entire time, riding a unicycle, and wearing that stupid P.U.K.E. uniform as Maura babbles in my ear about proper unicycle-riding guitar playing form.

I can't even crack a smile when I remember her stupid sneakers with the individual toes, that's how nervous I am. I should be, I've done this a thousand times. But I know what's coming, and I should be better prepared that I am. I've been expecting this for months but it's been so easy to avoid the situation. Until now. Now that my back is against the wall, I'm jittery and short of breath.

This will be unlike any other questioning I've ever faced. Never have I gone up against someone who can sense my weaknesses and use them to their advantage the way this person can. I have handled the worst criminals, murders, and psychopaths that Boston has to offer, but never has one of them scared me as much as my mother does.

Swallowing nervously, I step through the door and am immediately flooded with the delicious smells of my great-great grandmother's recipes. I can't even appreciate them because I'm so nauseous. I clamp my mouth shut and try to think about things that won't make me pass out from nerves or puke on my mother's kitchen floor.

Okay. Think of good things. Maura naked. Maura naked while eating ice cream. Maura naked and eating ice cream while watching Larry Bird lead the Celtics to the 1985-1986 Championship.

"Hi honey." My mother greets me warmly. I immediately pick up on her tension even though she clearly is trying to hide it; I can sense it simmering just like the sauce on the stove.

"Hi ma!" I answer her brightly, doing my best to fake it. I still don't understand how I can go up against the bad guys, but be brought to the verge of a mental breakdown when I'm in the same room with my own mother.

I knew I was in for it when she called me at work Monday. She had a tone and even though she didn't say anything about why she had said tone, she didn't have to. All she asked was that I come over for dinner this weekend, alone, and I knew.

I pounded on Frankie for information, but he played dumb. Not hard for him.

My mother is bored unless she has something to worry or complain about. I chalked it up to another one of my mother's antics, and tried to push it out of my mind. I had more important things to focus on this week, namely Maura, and honestly couldn't be bothered by the drama my mother loves to create. But now that I'm faced with it, it sucks. Big time.

The table is set with only four plates. Shit.

I guess I was hoping she'd set me up again, and I'd show up tonight to find some 'lacking-in-every-way-because-they-are-not-Maura' guy waiting here for me, complete with half wilted Stop & Shop flowers and strong cologne. That would have been easy, tell the guy to go home, yell at my mother, and leave. Then I could go home to Maura, laugh at the evening and curl up with her on the sofa.

Not so easy tonight. It would actually be easier to be in trouble for almost getting killed or somehow putting Frankie in danger than face what she has brewing. I've seen it coming and tried to make up for it in every other way by making my every-other-day phone calls religiously, and not missing a family dinner in weeks. I just kept bringing Maura with me to dinner because I know that my mother wouldn't have the nerve to bring it up in front of her.

I head into the den to find my father in his usual chair in front of the TV and he greets me the same way he has since I was a little girl. A quick "Hello, Janie," peck on the cheek, and a gesture to sit next to him, which I do.

Frankie is squirming on the sofa across the room.

"What are you staring at, you little twerp?" I growl at him, watching him flinch as he averts my gaze. "And what in the hell is ma up to?" I know exactly what my mother has in store for me, but I want to hear my brother say it.

"Nothing!" He exclaims guiltily. Little maggot. "I don't know what ma's problem is."

"Frankie." My father barks, never taking his eyes off of the evening news. "Don't lie to your sister."

"You little worm." I advance upon him quickly and he sinks further into the sofa. "What is this about?" I push my finger into his chest. "Tell me or I will hurt you."

"Dad!" My wimpy little brother exclaims and my father's eyes flick from the TV to his face.

"Jane, don't hurt your brother." He takes a swig of his beer, and fixates his eyes again on the anchorwoman. Kim Carrigan, I think. He's watched her for years.

I worship my father. Always a "daddy's girl", we have been much closer than my mother and I could ever hope to me. He's always been supportive of anything I've tried to do, and never cared that I was a girl. He was proud of the fact that I could hit a curve ball better than either of my brothers, and liked that I was smart. He always told me that no boy would ever deserve me. I wonder if he knows how right he was.

Frankie can't hide his smirk and I have the sudden urge to wipe if off of his smug face. "Tell me." I use my trump card. "Or I'll tell everyone at the station how you wouldn't go to your first day of kindergarten without your My Buddy doll."

His eyes grow wide and I can see him start to sweat.

"Ha!" My father lets out a bark of a laugh. "Janie, remember how Frankie took that thing everywhere with him?" His laughter grows. "I think every family picture of you kids included that doll. What was his name?"

"You wouldn't tell them about Norman." Frankie whispers, the fright evident on his face.

"Oh, I SO would." I purr at him as I poke his chest again. "But I won't, if you tell me what ma's problem is."

"And." Poke. "You tell me how it's all your fault." Poke.

He glances from side to side, clearly uncomfortable. He swallows a few times, his beer-clad hand trembling. When he finally speaks, his words come out in a rush. "She may have found out that some of the guys at the station were talking about how you and Maura had finally shacked up together and how they were making fun of me for having a lesbian cop as a sister and how they all knew you were gay a long time ago because you'd never date any of them."

Crap.

I sigh. Standing up, I resist the urge to punch him in the face. "And how would she have found that out?"

Gulping, his words come out in a whisper. He knows I am going to kill him.

"I told her. Janie, I'm sorry. It pissed me off to hear them talk about you like that but I knew if I told you that you'd hurt them and get in trouble. I didn't mean to tell ma, it just happened."

"Janie, is it true?" My father pipes up, a small smile on his face.

I sit warily back down next to him. "Yeah, daddy. It's true."

I'm actually afraid to meet his gaze in case it's filled with disappointment. That would inflict much more pain to me than anything my mother could even dream of.

"Good for you. Men are assholes." He replies. I look up in shock, but his attention is already back on the TV.

"Dinner!" Ma calls us from the kitchen, and my father jumps out of his chair. He's lived with her long enough to know the rules.

Frankie gets up timidly and scurries into the dining room. I'm sure he'll sit down right next to mommy so he can be protected by her. Good thing my legs are long enough to kick him from across the table.

After we say Grace, everyone digs into their supper. I half-heartedly spoon my meal onto my plate, knowing I won't be able to eat a bite. I wish I was at home with Maura.

She's probably enjoying the silence. I bet she has the TV on mute and is sitting on the couch with Jo's head in her lap, watching some smart-person documentary and providing her own commentary while painting her toenails a shocking shade of lime green. I'm always amazed when she slides off her eight hundred dollar heels to reveal toes painted in the latest high-school -girl color craze. Whatever she's up too, it's much better than sitting here, waiting to be assassinated.

Squirming in my chair, I push my food around my plate like a five-year old. I wait for her to start her interrogation, and when she doesn't, it makes me more nervous.

Every time I glance at her, she smiles at me. She's psychotic and clearly enjoying my discomfort. I wish Maura were here. She'd at least keep me entertained as my mother slowly tortured me to death.

I can't stand it anymore. "So, Maura and I are living together." I look around the table, my knife and fork poised carefully in my hand as I make direct eye contact with my family members.

Frankie's mouth is open, his glass of water held halfway between the table and his mouth. His eyes dart between mine and my mother's, and if I wasn't so annoyed, I'd be laughing at his 'scared shitless' expression.

"She's a catch. Atta girl, Janie." My father says before swishing his bread through the sauce and taking a big bite. He splatters sauce all over the napkin tucked into the front of his shirt acting as a bib.

"You stay out of this!" Ma's voice is shrill and gives me an immediate tension headache. Frankie's eyes are as if he's watching a tennis match, going back and forth between my father and mother.

My father fixes my mother with an unreadable glare before turning his attention back to his meal.

"You need to learn to keep your big mouth shut." He calmly responds. "That goes for you, too." He directs at Frankie, who flushes with shame. My mother ignores him and advances on me, trying another tactic.

"Why didn't you tell us, Jane?" Placing a dramatic hand to her chest, she continues. "I'm your mother. Do you think I should have to find out by hearing people gossip about you?"

If looks could kill, my sniveling little brother would be floating in the Charles right now. I glare at him as I use my very sharp knife to cut through the chicken parm. Grinning at him, I make a show of stabbing a piece of chicken with my knife and slowly bringing it up to my mouth before taking a huge bite. He looks afraid, and that makes me happy.

"Answer me." My mother demands and I turn to her and point to my full mouth. I've never been allowed to talk with my mouth full, and that rule alone could possibly get me through this dinner without committing matricide. I wonder if Maura would come and visit me if I got locked up? Probably, as she's been begging to act out that women in prison fantasy of hers for a few weeks now.

As soon as I'm finished chewing, I swallow dramatically and take another big bite. The sooner I clean my plate, the sooner I can get out of here. I've faked phone calls before to get me out of my mother's house, and I'm not below doing it again.

"Jane Angela Rizzoli." My mother uses her 'don't mess with me' tone, and I know I'm really in for it now.

Swallowing, I give my brother one more glare before batting my eyelashes innocently at my mother.

"Delicious dinner, ma. Thank you so much for inviting me over!" I smile widely at her.

"Why didn't you tell us?" She asks again, her tone softer this time. I can tell her patience is wearing thin. That makes two of us.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know." My sarcasm, always hated by my mother, comes out at the most inopportune time. "I'm sure that talking about this while I was in my hospital bed would have really sped up my healing process. At least you waited until Frankie and I weren't nearly dead to bring it up!" I fix my mother with my most charming smile.

"Your brother told me all about it. How you've never left Maura's house and that you're lesbians together and how everyone at your job is talking about the two of you." She shakes her head sadly. "I can't believe you'd do this, Jane. You've worked so hard to build your reputation and now everyone is gossiping about you and Maura."

I've never been good at controlling my anger and I smile as I let a long leg fly under the table, hitting my target. My brother takes a sudden gasp of air and my smile widens. This could be fun; I just have to look at in from another perspective.

How badly can I piss my mother off?

"So, if you had your way, they'd be gossiping about me screwing Joe Grant, who was only my boss at the time, right?" I ask calmly as I switch into fight mode. Lord knows I tried to avoid this, but my back can only be up against the wall for so long before I snap.

My mother looks nervous and doesn't answer. I can't believe I caught her off-guard and with nothing to say. Jane 1, Angela 0.

"Or if they were gossiping about me dating and sleeping with men, it would be fine as well?" I look pointedly at her, fixing her with my most tried and true 'interrogation gaze'. "You'd rather have your daughter be the department whore than be living with the person she loves?"

"Frank, do you see how she's talking to me?" My mother asks, clearly begging my father to take sides. He doesn't answer, and just continues to eat his dinner methodically. "I didn't think it was true that you were living together, but then I stopped over at your apartment and its empty, Janie. How come you never told us?"

"Seriously, what is wrong with you?" My voice holds promise of a rage about to be unleashed, and it takes everything I have to control myself so I don't strangle my own mother right now.

"I don't know what your problem is," I continue, "but it's that. Your problem. It's not mine, and it's not Maura's."

"I just want what's best for you." She responds, tears welling up in her eyes. Oh god, here it comes. If I don't tread lightly, she will work herself into an overdramatic, hysterical tailspin. My poor father, how in the hell does he deal with this on a daily basis?

"Maura is what's best for me." I answer. "I didn't see it coming either. But she's the person I've been looking for." I smile gently at my mother. "I'm in love with her, and I have been for a long time. Nothing you say to me will make that change, so for once, just accept things the way they are and move on."

"You know we all love Maura." She continues, pointing at me with her fork. "But, Jane..."

"No butts." I command forcefully. "Your only choice is to accept it." Fixing my mother with a direct stare, I don't release my eye contact until she looks down at her plate. Tears fall down her face silently, and I can practically see smoke coming out her ears as she tries to come up with an argument. Her silence is golden but I know I only have a minute before she decides on her plan on action and her quiet crying grows into full-blown hysterics. I don't have the energy for this. I'm out of here.

Giving my brother the dirtiest look I can imagine, I remove my napkin from my lap and toss it on the table.

"Thanks, Frankie." I rise from the table. I cross to my father's seat, give him a kiss on the cheek and squeeze his shoulder.

"Love you, daddy." He gives me a sad smile as I storm out of their home.

I manage to stay calm until I reach my car, but once I'm inside I hit the steering wheel angrily. Why do I let her push my buttons? I am such a failure when it comes to anything dealing with her.

My mangy little puke brother is almost just as bad. I'm not an idiot, and I know the guys at the station house have been running their mouths. Since returning to work I've heard the rumors, had people hush as soon I enter the room and scatter like cockroaches when the kitchen light is flipped on. I'm sure they've been teasing Frankie about it, but the stupid dick didn't have to go running to mommy to complain. I've had this job long enough to know that most cops are dicks. Literally. When they have nothing else to do, they gossip like little old ladies. Of course I don't want to be talked about, and I sure as hell don't want them talking about Maura. But the best way to handle them is to fight fire with fire and give it back tenfold. Frankie better learn that and toughen up; or this job, and the people associated with it, will eat him alive.

He's just such a dumb kid sometimes. I know he didn't mean for any of this to happen.

Sighing, I realize that I'm just as at fault for tonight's situation as my brother is. Sure, he didn't have to run his mouth, but I should have told my parents that I was going to continue to live with Maura. I shouldn't have avoided the situation that was bound to come up sometime. I'm just thankful that it was done without Maura present. She's been through so much with her own family drama; she doesn't need any of mine to burden her.

Why didn't I tell them?

I guess I knew that I would get a reaction like I got. I know my parents, and they'll be fine. My mother needs to be overdramatic, but once she realizes that my decision is made, she'll support me. As much as she hates that I'm a cop, she's the first person to tell everyone she knows that I'm a police officer.

She cried the entire summer after I graduated from high school and told her I was going to the academy in the fall. She not only cried, but she made me watch police dramas where the cops get shot at and get killed. Then she started cutting out random newspaper articles about cops that were killed on the job and would put them on the coffee table. She suddenly had a million stories told to her by a "friend of a friend" or "the woman in the checkout line at the grocery store" about cops who had been killed or injured, leaving their families penniless and children orphaned.

After my first day at the academy, I called my parents and told them how hard it was and what assholes the drill sergeants were. They told me that I was just a weak little girl and would never make it. Hazing wasn't taken seriously back then, and they made everyone's lives hell, especially the women's'.

Although I was determined to prove them wrong, my confidence was shaken and I was upset. When she heard my shaky voice on the phone, her attitude changed immediately. Suddenly she was proud of me and rallied with me against anyone who thought a woman couldn't be a cop. When I'd come home on a break she'd be watching reruns of Cagney & Lacey. She started introducing me to everyone as her "daughter and the future Boston police chief."

It was then that I realized something very important about my mother.

If I told her that I was going to do something she disagreed with, she'd hate the idea and fight me on it.

But, if I asked for help with a decision, or let her think that it was her idea, she'd support me 100%.

That was my mistake in this case. Because I didn't tell her I was living with Maura, she feels like I hid it from her and now it's been made into a goddamned big fucking deal.

So now, in order to avoid Rizzoli Family World War Fourteen, I need to make the peace with her and go back with my tail tucked, telling her that I was wrong to hide anything from her, and apologize. I'll seal the deal by asking her help in figuring out how to approach Maura about making our living arrangement permanent, and my mother will feel needed and wanted again. All will be forgiven.

Shit. There are a lot of things I hate. But there's nothing worse for me than having to admit when I am wrong about something. Except snakes. Snakes are much, much worse.

I hate family crap and all these stupid games just to keep the peace. Why can't it be as simple as "Ma, Maura and I are living together now. Yes, we're a couple. Yes, we are in love. Yes, you were right all along, I am a big lesbian."

Maybe if I had said that all along, this whole thing could have been avoided. But maybe if my mother wasn't such a royal pain in the ass, I wouldn't feel like a caged tiger every time I was in her house, constantly waiting for her to poke me with a stick just to get some kind of reaction.

God help me, I love her. I mean, she's my mother. She's not perfect and I'm certain that the state of anxiety she keeps me in perpetually has taken years off my lifespan. I bet Maura could accurately predict how many years, right down to the minute.

I know it's not my mother's fault and that she means well. I just don't understand why she has to be so overdramatic about everything. Maybe she needs a job. When she sold that stupid fruit juice she at least left me alone for a few days because she was so busy. But as much as she drives me crazy, I still love her, even though she's insane.

And I have to be honest and admit that I didn't think this was the right time to bring anything up with my mother when Maura's has been playing a serious case of mind-fuck with her. I'm not an asshole, and the last thing I want to be doing is complaining about my mother when Maura has now been abandoned by both of hers. I know she's touchy about the subject, and it's caused me to become more distant from mine, just adding to this problem.

Looking at the door, I can only imagine what has happened inside since I've been sitting out here in the car. I have to go back in. I'd rather watch an endless stream of Korsak's adorable puppy videos than face what's coming, but I know I have to do it.

Just as I reach for the door latch, my phone chimes. I have a new text message.

Maura.

Hello, Jane. I'm sorry to bother you when you are with your family, but I have to embarrassingly admit that I miss you.

I smile and all of my anger and frustration dissipates. I don't know how she does it. I quickly text her back.

Miss u more. Sitting in car outside ma's house. Going to kill her. Long story. Will try to be home asap.

I open the car door and get out quickly before I change my mind. I could have already been home with Maura, so I'm determined to get this over with fast.

My phone chimes again as I'm about to enter my parent's house.

Take a deep breath and try to calm down. And for goodness sake, don't joke about killing your mother. If you actually did kill her, by texting me your intentions to do so would now be on record and you'd be charged with premeditated murder. I'd have to testify that you told me you were going to kill your mother and my testimony would result in you receiving a far worse sentence than if it was just an spontaneous murder. Everything will be fine. Bring me home leftovers. Tell them I said hello. Oh, and Jane, I'm not wearing any underwear. Hurry home. I love you.

The love of my life has a really strange sense of humor. Grinning like a lovesick teenager, I text her back before opening the door.

Thanks for that visual. C u soon. Luv u 2.

I am not at all surprised that my mother is waiting there for me.

"Hi." I greet her warily, not sure what she has in store for me. "Can we sit down and talk?"

"Sure, honey." She pats my arms and I follow her into the den. "Frank, turn that off." My father looks up from the TV but doesn't seem surprised to see me. Clicking the power button on the remote, he sits back in his chair and folds his arms over his midsection.

My father is an interesting man, and he's a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for. He prefers to sit back and take it all in, observing everything around him without revealing much about himself. Quiet and withdrawn, he only speaks when he feels it's necessary, and I learned at a young age to listen intently to everything he said because it had to be important if he chose to say it. He's never been wrong in my eyes.

They are all sitting and staring at me, so I decide to speak first.

"I'm in love with Maura, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with her. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Hours later, and well past my bedtime, I warily make my way to the car. I make the drive from Revere to Brookline methodically, enjoying the way the lights glint off the harbor as I cross the Tobin Bridge. I've always loved the city the most at night, when everything is lit up and there is a hushed peace on Boston's normally chaotic streets. Unfortunately, I know that dark nights make for dead bodies to be discovered by the light of day, but I still try to enjoy the scenery as much as I can. If I ever get to the point where I hate Boston for more than I love it for, I will know it's time to retire.

Creeping into our home, I'm not surprised to find our house bathed in soft light. Maura has left a light on in every room, ensuring I wouldn't have to come in to darkness. I pass Bass in the hall and he loudly thumps over to say hello. As much as I hate to admit it to Maura, he is pretty cute. And I like that when he sees me; he always comes over and sticks his head out for a pat.

"Night, buddy." I whisper, taking out a few grapes for him as I put my mother's leftovers in the fridge. I change and get ready for bed as quickly as possible, and turn off all the lights as I make my way into the bedroom.

Maura is sound asleep on my side of the bed, with my stuffed hippo clutched protectively in her arms. I still can't believe I told her about that. She has turned me into such a mushball. But only with her.

Jo, the little traitor that she is, lies curled up behind her knees and barely raises her head to greet me.

Maura looks so much younger when she's asleep. The recent stress that she's been through, starting with my injury, has taken its toll on her. She won't admit it, but she's struggling.

I'm doing everything I can to help her, but I never feel like it's enough.

I slide in behind her and shove Jo out of the way. The little dog glares at me and I give her an equally dirty look. She sighs dramatically, as only a little dog can do, and curls in around Maura's feet. The dog has it bad for her, as soon as Maura sits down Jo has to be in her lap or touching her in some way.

I know exactly how she feels.

Pressing as much of my body against Maura's as I can, I tuck one arm under my pillow and wrap the other securely around her midsection. She moves back against me until we are practically sharing the same skin. Perfect.

We sigh in unison, and all of my tension from the day vanishes. Feeling completely relaxed, I tell her about my day.

I'm not an idiot, and I know she's asleep. But it makes me feel better to talk about it, and I like to imagine that on some level she can hear me.

"Tonight started out horribly. Frankie, being the complete worm that he is, decided to blab to ma about all the rumors going on at the station about us. Of course, my mother freaked out and confronted me over dinner. That's when I got in my car to leave."

I bury my face in her hair and inhale deeply. She smells so uniquely Maura, a soft and intoxicating scent so different from the heavy cologne the male detectives wear. God, I can't believe I used to actually sleep with men, let alone try to convince myself that I actually enjoyed it. Fucking gross. How did I ever stand their constantly annoying egotistical masculinity? Or smelly feet? Everyone else I've ever shared my bed with pale in comparison when I am enveloped in Maura's softness and warmth.

"But then I went back inside. And I told my parents how I felt about you. How I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and how I just wanted them to be happy for us."

I pause, remembering the look in my mother's eyes when I told her that I was in love with Maura. Unable to keep the tears from my eyes during my confession, I let them fall unashamed. I know it made Frankie uncomfortable, but really what doesn't make him uncomfortable? But it wasn't until that moment that I laid my cards out on the table that my mother finally realized how I felt. And that made all the difference.

"They told me they were proud of me. That I followed my heart and that's all they ever wanted for me."

Smiling against her hair, I remember how Frankie scrambled home after my mother told him she wanted to know who was gossiping about her Janie and her Maura so she could give them a piece of her mind. Now that Maura is "in" with my mother, she'll be in for life. If anyone even looks at her the wrong way, my mother will be all over them like stink on shit.

I continue to talk to Maura, even though she's sound asleep. I tell her everything that I want for us, and just how happy she makes me. I tell her how I get excited to wake up in the morning because I know she'll be next to me, and how I get antsy around lunchtime because I'm anxious for some quiet time together. I tell her how I no longer feel married to my job, because I feel married to her, and how at first it scared the hell out of me. Now I like it, and am proud that everyone knows I landed someone as beautiful and smart as her. I tell her how I told my parents tonight that I didn't know if I was gay, but that I was definitely "gay for Maura."

That's when I feel her chuckle. She tries to hide it, but I know she's awake and listening to everything I've been saying. That little sneak.

"I'm gay for you too, sweetie." Maura mumbles and I resist the urge to laugh. One night before bed when I must have been PMSing because I felt particularly mushy, I told her that I'd never seen anything as cute as sleepy Maura. She argued that many things I see on a regular basis, such as Jo Friday and Bass are certainly cuter. I responded that by trying to deny her cuteness, it actually made her even cuter. She couldn't think of anything else to say, so she just blushed. Cutely.

I asked my parents tonight how I should go about asking if I could move in here with Maura. My mother told me to do something romantic and over the top. Frankie told me to do it soon, so he could sublet my place and get out of his studio apartment in Chelsea. My father just smiled and told me that I'd know how to ask when the time is right.

Like now. I don't know why I'm so nervous, I mean, I think she'll think it's a good idea, right?

"Um, I was thinking of letting Frankie sublet my place so I could stay here with you. Like stay here permanently." My voice drops to a whisper. "Would that be okay with you?"

"Most definitely." Maura's voice is stronger now, but still clearly tinged with sleep. "Now that it will be permanent, we can finally adjust the energy balance in our home to reflect both my and your personas. We will need to do some rearranging and shopping, and hire movers for your things. I'll make all the arrangements tomorrow."

"Great." I tell her and I do nothing to hide my wide smile. I can practically hear the wheels in her head turning. I count down in my mind…..three….two…..one….

"Jane, do you like Tulips?"

What in the world is she talking about? "Uh, sure. I mean, they're pretty."

"Did you know that tulip comes from the Latin word 'dulband' meaning turban? They were given that name due to the shape of their bulb."

"Fascinating. Thanks, Maur. I never would have been able to sleep tonight if I hadn't known that." I smile against her shoulder to show her that I am only kidding.

"I've always wanted to plant them, but I thought it was foolish if I didn't have anyone to enjoy them with. Now is the perfect time to plant bulbs for the spring if you'd like."

Her question is innocent, but I can feel the weight of importance hiding underneath. It is these moments with her that make me feel the most conflicted. On one hand, I'm grateful that no one else has her, and that no one has ever been able to appreciate her complete uniqueness the way that I have. On the other hand, my heart breaks for her that she's felt so alone for so long. I will do my best to make sure she never feels that way again.

"Let's do it." I respond. "And daffodils too. Those are my favorite."

"Narcissus pseudonarcissus." She corrects.

"Sure. Whatever you say." I snuggle closer to her, mentally wanting to smack myself upside the head. I never thought I'd snuggle with anyone. But I can't resist her, or anything she says. "Just think, Maur….the holidays are coming up, we can decorate the entire house, and come spring we'll have all our flowers."

"Perfect." She murmurs as she drifts back off to sleep.

Perfect indeed.