He had her pinned to the ground, trapped, immobile. Beyond scared shitless.
Somewhere in the background, an infant wailed.
He waved his scalpel slowly, gracefully, over her face, grinning because her eyes could do nothing but follow its movements or else stare him straight in the face.
Even the tremors had stopped wracking her body. Her skin was like ice and she couldn't move because of her stark, cold fear.
Because staring up into that pale, leathery face with the stringy, slicked back hair and colorless eyes was the substance of her nightmares.
Every tendon and sinew stood out on his scrawny, cancer-eaten arm. He looked like he didn't eat. He didn't need to. His only sustenance, his very life force, was her abject terror.
He chuckled, breathless in anticipation of what came next.
She heard the baby's cry again, and grief intermingled with her dread because she couldn't save the child from this monster. Because she couldn't save herself from him.
She choked on a scream that wouldn't come out as the scalpel plunged.
Jane's body snapped upright in bed, back rigid, eyes wide and searching the blackness. Breaths came hard, quick, and shallow. She couldn't see anything. Her clenched hands were wrapped tightly in the sheets, wrists feeling bound by the sleek fabric. She closed her eyes, concentrating on relaxing her fingers and slowly rotating her hands to loosen them from the wound up linen.
When she opened her eyes, they had adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom. Her gaze darted quickly to the other half of the mattress where Maura still slept soundly. The mere thought of her – of how beautifully peaceful she looked when she slept - made it possible for Jane to close her eyes again and focus on taking a long, slow, deep breath in and out.
Thank God I didn't wake her up. She had been putting in especially long hours at the precinct, and Jane wanted to make sure she got every bit of rest she could manage.
She heard the baby's cry again and sat up ramrod straight, vestiges of her night terror swirling back into the forefront of her mind. The baby cried again, a little harder, and then Jane relaxed. My baby. It's okay. My baby. She slid off the edge of the mattress and padded out of the bedroom, maternal instinct drawing her down the hallway like a magnet. The floor was cold, and she had forgotten to throw on socks. It didn't matter.
Outside, it rain was pouring down in torrential sheets like it did during the romantic climaxes of Hollywood dramas. That didn't matter either.
What mattered was that the nursery was just five steps down the hall, and within moments she had her little daughter in her arms. "What is it, precious one?" she murmured to the fussing child, carrying her into the living room with slow, swaying steps. "What's the problem, huh? Tell your ma." She ran her index fingertip softly down the little button nose and smiled, forgetting all about Hoyt and his scalpel and his soulless eyes. Her little girl had quieted. Eyes that had been clenched shut so tightly now opened to look at her.
A new infant's visual acuity is only just sufficient for the distance between itself and its mother's face when it is being held. Maura's little Wikipedia moments tended to surface more and more when Jane was distressed. They had an uncanny ability to dispel her anxieties. She looked into her girl's eyes and her smile widened. They were hazel, just like Maura's. Maura said she had Jane's nose. She was, in short, the absolute perfect combination of them both.
A tiny hand grasped at a fold in Jane's t-shirt as mother and child held each other's gaze, drawing the most natural comfort from each other on this sleepless night.
Maura's eyes popped open. It was still dark. She could still hear the rush of the rainstorm outside the bedroom window. She closed her eyes again, sighing as she rolled over. She reached her arm out to touch Jane, but her hand came to rest on cold bed sheets.
She opened her eyes again, alarmed. "Jane?" she whispered.
The silence disconcerted her. She sat up, eyes searching the shadows. There was no light coming from beneath the bathroom door. The house was still. She rose from bed.
Better check the kitchen.
She passed the nursery on her way to the main living area. Intuitively, she ducked her head in, only to find the crib empty. A crashing tidal wave of panic was swiftly quelled by a more logical realization. Jane's got her.
When she reached the living room, she was afforded a view of Jane from behind, in her flannel pajama bottoms and Boston PD t-shirt. Her posture and subtle swaying motion left no doubt in Maura's mind that Jane had their daughter in her arms and was trying to soothe her back to sleep. She took a step closer and smiled. She could hear Jane's voice, low and calming, speaking indistinctly to the baby girl. Maura closed her eyes and leaned her shoulder against the wall to just listen to it for a moment. The rain, and Jane's voice.
Eventually, Jane's murmurings ceased and Maura opened her eyes. Before, she had been afraid to disrupt the moment, but now she wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. She stepped up behind Jane slowly. Cupped Jane's elbow in her palm and rested her chin on Jane's shoulder. Jane's head came up, and for once, she didn't flinch. She was easily startled at night, though it was something that only Maura new about her. She could feel Jane's smile in the darkness, even from behind.
Maura shifted slightly, gliding her hands along Jane's forearms until her arms were wrapped around her wife and her daughter both. She moved in a slow rhythm, resuming the rocking that Jane had stopped when Maura approached her.
"Did Hoyt wake you, or did she?"
"Hoyt," Jane said matter-of-factly. Her voice lacked that distinctive but subtle pitch-change that came when she was perturbed. She sounded truly at peace. Jane sniffed out a soft chuckle. "Both of them, really. I heard her crying in my dream, but didn't realize it until I woke up."
Maura continued to rock both of them and leaned her head into Jane's neck, breathing in the scent of her and the baby. "I'm surprised I didn't hear her." She gave Jane a small squeeze. "You're okay now?"
Jane nodded wordlessly. She had eyes only for their daughter, now sleeping in their shared embrace. "I'd hoped you'd stay asleep," she finally said.
"Don't worry," Maura smiled, her thumb stroking the back of Jane's hand. "I will once you do."