A/N: Don't own.

I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I sort of like it, but on the other hand, it feels a little cliched. Aw well, I'll let you decide. :)

When Jane was a little girl, Frankie and Tommy loved to scare her with stories about the Boogeyman. For a long time after that, the poor child was terrified of even a single piggy toe sticking out of her bed, lest she lose it to the monsters.

But there was always an antidote of sorts, because she also felt hope and happiness at the holidays, knowing Santa Claus would spread his joy every Christmas, the Easter Bunny would bring excitement along with chocolate every Easter, and the tooth fairy would reimburse her for the loss of her baby teeth to help her feel less afraid of growing up.

Now, though, Jane is all grown up, and, of course, she no longer believes in those fairy tales. But she's also seen enough of the world to know that the monsters she was told about do, in fact, exist. They parade the streets every day, mingling among innocent citizens, and then jumping out of the disguise at any moment.

Even worse, they were so good at it that they could be called masters of disguise. At any moment, the nice man next door could turn out to be a torture-murderer like John Wayne Gacy. The lady who shared a delicious cookie recipe could be the next Aileen Wuornos. The monsters she'd learned about as she got older were so much worse than the ones she'd had as a child. The boogeyman could be warded off with a butterfly nightlight and a blanket; murderers, at best, could be stopped with a pair of handcuffs, or, more typically, a gun and a jail cell. Sometimes they couldn't be stopped at all.

And after all this time of being haunted by monster after monster, adult Jane is turning out to be a lot like child Jane, just darker and more cynical. The butterfly nightlight has been replaced with a gun in her bedside drawer. The moving shadows that used to make her shriek and tell anyone who would listen that the Boogeyman was coming to get her instead make her jump and think of her gun. Instead of waiting for angels to take the demons away from her, she catches the demons herself. Instead of having nightmares about trying to escape a beast's belly after being eaten, she has nightmares of serial killers paralyzing her and killing the ones she loves most right in front of her, taking particular delight in her desperate attempts to save Maura, and then moving to her and slowly slicing her apart.

The most obvious change of all is who she runs to to be hushed and rocked to sleep. She used to go to her Ma and shyly ask that she and Mr. Angel Bear be allowed to sleep with her and Pa. Now she jolts awake and rushes to Maura's or has Maura come to her place.

Both of them have lost count of how many times this has happened since Hoyt returned, but it doesn't really matter. What does matter is that Jane is crumbling, hard and fast, and she's going to develop serious mental problems if this doesn't stop.

Maura Isles is secretly impressed that Jane isn't worse off. Maura has had her own demons, but they came under her control when she made some lifestyle changes and started seeing a therapist. Jane doesn't have a therapist, and the way she works, she's lighting the candle at both ends. Maura is getting worried that Jane's going to end up burning out on her job, maybe even her life, if this keeps up.

Maura thinks of something she heard from a friend, a long time ago, that she still remembers to this day. The true definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result. Jane is still trying to do everything the same way she always has, and thinks that she'll just build up a resistance to the stress like a snake handler becoming resistant to their poisons. Maura herself is dancing around their issues time and time again and expecting it to help even though it never has in the past.

She's tried being everything for Jane except for what she needs most; a true protector. Oh, sure, she can't be expected to have any physical prowess, but she can be Jane's rock, and she hasn't been doing that to the fullest extent that she can. She's still holding herself back, keeping her at arm's length, and until she stops, Jane will suffer.

When Jane's call inevitably comes again, and she asks Maura if she can come over, Maura once again says, "Of course." But this time, she plans things out differently. She's tired, Jane is tired- this has to work.

Soon, Jane walks in- they've been friends far too long to worry about knocking or ringing the doorbell- and Maura walks up to her, enveloping her in a tight, comforting hug.

Jane shivers as she returns the embrace, a lone tear trickling down her face.

"Oh, Jane," Maura murmurs, pulling away to wipe the tear off Jane's face. "This one was really awful, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Jane replies, barely managing to suppress a sob. She doesn't make a sound, but her body shakes.

Maura's heart thunders as she wrestles with the choice of whether to back out. But she knows Jane needs at least this much, whether it leads to more or not, so she decides to go through with it. She's seen the way Jane looks at her, after all, and even despite her social problems Maura can recognize those sort of emotions accurately.

"You're okay. Come here, Jane," Maura soothes, and Jane complies, pressing herself against Maura and accepting her comfort like she was a child again and Maura was her Ma.

Maura takes a deep breath, even though she's only about to do a small gesture to test the waters. But they both need this, she reminds herself. She takes a deep breath.

Leaning forward, she presses her lips to Jane's forehead, tenderly and full of emotion.

Jane swallows. She hesitates. But she understands the silent offer that's been given, and she accepts. She accepts Maura's comfort, and then moves away to return the favor. No words are spoken; they don't need them. Their bond transcends everything that words could do. It doesn't matter that this seems spontaneous and out of the blue, because it isn't. They've been building up to this for so long.

Long enough for this, Jane thinks, and takes it a step further, kissing Maura's lips.

And Maura responds in kind, hands resting on Jane's hips, occasionally detouring to stroke her back. Jane shudders in her grasp, but holds on, wrapping her arms around Maura's shoulders. The kiss is deep and needy and soulful. It's a kiss of call and answer, of doubt and reassurance, of promises of protection. It's like the call of a baby bird, lost from its nest, begging for someone to help her, and finding a new flock to take her in. It's like a mare and stallion nuzzling and nickering when they find each other, vowing to stay at each other's side to protect them from whatever predators may be lurking.

Jane revels in the kiss, feeling more relaxed than she has in a long time. She feels safe, cared for. Happy and hopeful. Even with no words being spoken, she just knows. The bond she and Maura share is as deep as ever, and it will continue to nurture and strengthen the two of them until their dying day.

Eventually Jane pulls away, looking at Maura soulfully, tears making her eyes that much brighter.

Maura glances around the apartment as if expecting to find someone else there. When what she already knows is confirmed, she turns back to Jane and asks, "Jane, what do you need from me for you to be okay again?" She inhales slowly, delicately phrasing each word. "I'll do whatever it is you need. You know I will." The kiss they've just shared proves it. She knows the silent vows they've given, and that is more than okay with her.

"I need…" Jane bites her lip. "I need you."

"You already have me," Maura states. It isn't chiding, just a statement.

"I know," Jane says. She wants to say how happy that makes her, but words elude her. But she knows they elude Maura too, so it's okay. She sighs. "I don't know, beyond that."

"Okay," Maura says softly. "That's okay. We'll figure it out. In the meantime," she smiles, "Would you like to come to bed with me?"

Jane understands that Maura doesn't mean the question sexually. They'll get to that later. And right now, sleep sounds perfect, especially if there's another person there.

"That sounds nice," Jane says, smiling.

"Come with me, then," Maura offers softly, reaching a hand out.

Jane grasps Maura's hand, leaning over to kiss Maura again before they start walking.

When they get to the bedroom, they crawl in bed together, and their arms come to wrap tightly around each other. Jane rests her head on Maura's shoulder, sighing softly.

Maybe she'll continue to be haunted by monsters. Maybe she won't. But now, she has someone who can comfort her through the nightmares, joining her figurative ensemble of a butterfly nightlight and teddy bear.

Comforted by Maura's gentle stroking of her hair and slow, even breaths, Jane finds herself calm enough to sleep without fear for the first time in ages.

As Maura watches Jane fall asleep, she tries to analyze what's happened and what will happen in the future, but she gives up. She knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and besides, she's earned the right to live in the moment without over-thinking it, too. She and Jane are together, and it seems like Jane will do better now. That's what's important.

The boogeyman and his monster companions won't touch them tonight. Maura won't let them.