When the first blast sounded, they thought it was thunder.
Jane looked up at the clear blue sky. Frankie shrugged listlessly.
Not a cloud in sight.
It was only twelve seconds later when the second bomb detonated. It felt like hours.
Everything slowed.
Smoke rose from a block or two away; it was difficult to tell. A child began to wail.
Jane rushed towards the smoke billowing above, Frankie by her side. There were screams, sirens, shouting. When she rounded the corner onto Boylston, it was total chaos.
Her heart pounded, adrenaline screaming through her veins.
With every beat, one thought resounded.
Maura.
The woman she loves is somewhere unknown and the world is falling apart, ripping open at the seams.
In the moment, the epiphany is weightless.
Thinking of Maura that way, of calling it love, bears little importance when it might all be too late anyways.
Maura was running the marathon this year.
She had yet to cross the finish line.
Jane thought fleetingly that she should have run with Maura. Should have let those dark imploring eyes and those soft lips talk her in to it. She shouldn't have fought so hard.
Jane got lost in the mayhem, her training and instincts kicking in.
She carried a small boy away from the scattered bodies and handed him off to a medic. She helped a young woman stand up and limp away from the madness. Then the all-call came in and every cop in Boston rushed to their duty posts, Jane included.
The cell service was down but she sent messages to Maura anyways. Maura's phone was somewhere in a volunteer-staffed tent near the finish line but Jane called incessantly regardless.
Maura.
Maura had to be alright.
She had to be alive.
She had to be.
Jane couldn't think, couldn't focus around the panic, but she continued doing her job on autopilot.
The city faded, blurred.
Nothing was how it should be.
Every breath she took smelled like fear and something else rotten, foul.
The guys were worried about Maura too, she could see it in their eyes, but they put on a good face for her. She didn't question their concern.
They were sent to run down some leads that turned out to be dead ends. The streets downtown were deserted other than emergency personnel. The smoke lingered. It was eerie, unsettling.
Jane's skin crawled.
Her anger at the still unknown perpetrator was overshadowed by her nauseating fear for Maura's safety.
Every time her phone rang, Jane's heart clenched.
She was glad to hear that her friends and family were safe and unharmed, but there was a sinking emptiness inside her that would never abate if the same couldn't be said for Maura.
They walked a beat, something she hadn't done in years, and every minute of hyper-vigilance wore her thinner. Every heartbeat, her mind echoed, Maura. Maura. Maura.
Where was she? Why hadn't she called, texted, something?
When the call finally came in to head home some ten hours later, Jane could barely stand. She was too tired to walk, too tired to think, certainly too tired to drive, but she had no other option. She slid behind the wheel of her cruiser and headed to Maura's house.
Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding.
The blood-splattered streets haunted her. She couldn't shake the fear in that little boy's eyes. The terror in every line on his mother's face. The chaos, the madness, the emptiness in her gut.
The streets were deserted.
The city was wounded.
Days later she would walk by the bomb scene, life rushing onwards as if nothing was different.
But she would know.
The city will always have a scar.
When she arrived at Maura's, the house was dark. But then Jane saw it- the bedroom light was on.
Everything was a blur from behind the wheel to pounding on Maura's door. Then the door was open and Maura was standing there and Jane grabbed her and pulled her in for a crushing embrace.
She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't even think.
All she could process was that Maura was alive.
Maura held back just as tightly, and the embrace lingered as the panic slowly subsided.
"Please come in," Maura whispered against Jane's neck.
"Ok," Jane nodded, not loosening her hold in the slightest.
They held each other a few moments longer before Maura coaxed Jane into the house. Maura didn't offer explanations or plaintive remarks. Didn't try to placate Jane or excuse her lack of contact.
Maura just guided Jane over to the couch and back into her arms. Jane came willingly.
In shorts and a ratty sweatshirt that Jane recognizes as her own, Maura held Jane tightly. When Jane was able to focus somewhat, she realized that Maura was shivering.
"Hey, hey," Jane pulled back enough to look Maura in the eye. "It's ok. You're ok."
"I was so worried about you," Maura whispered. Her eyes were a dark, chaotic plea that Jane had never seen before.
"I tried to call you," Jane responded, puzzled.
"I couldn't get to the tent where my phone is," Maura replied. "I tried to get ahold of you with another phone but the lines were down and I, I came home and I've just been here worried sick about you."
"I'm ok," Jane assured her friend. "I'm ok."
Jane closed the distance between them again, burying her nose in Maura's hair. Maura's arms tightened around her in response.
"I love you," Jane breathed, nothing more than a sigh, a whisper.
Maura tensed. A heartbeat, a breath, her arms circled Jane tighter.
"I love you too," she responded softly.
"I'm so glad you're safe," Jane pulled Maura impossibly closer. "I was so scared."
"Me too," Maura responded. "I was so worried that you were where the explosions happened and I-" her voice caught.
"I'm ok," Jane assured, gently rubbing Maura's back. "I'm ok. Frankie's ok. Everyone is ok."
"Are we going to talk about-" Maura began.
Jane cut her off.
"We are," she nodded, pulling back to meet Maura's gaze. "But right now I can't think. I just need to sleep."
"Ok," Maura soothed. "Come to bed."
She extracted herself, stood, and extended a hand to Jane.
Jane took her hand and stood as well, steadying herself with Maura's unyielding strength. They made their way to Maura's bedroom, hands still locked together. Jane climbed into Maura's bed and closed her eyes.
The bed shifted as Maura slid in beside herself. Instead of staying on her side, Maura rolled up and tucked herself against Jane's side. Jane held her closer than she ever had before.
"I'm glad you came home," Jane whispered.
"Me too," Maura sighed. "And I'm glad you came home as well."
Jane realized immediately that Maura was right.
Coming into Maura's arms was coming home.
It was where she belonged.
And if she had anything to say about it, it was where she would go from every day forward.