OOC: I wrote the first part of the Spring section quickly at work, although I've had the idea to do all four seasons for a while now. I didn't really plan on writing winter and, with all my writing here, it was kind of all thrown together just to get it off my mind. I have ideas for Summer and Fall and might post them, I'm not sure. Thanks for reading!
Winter
I thought Jane was invincible. I really thought that nothing could harm her. I believed with my whole heart that whenever I needed something, Jane would be there. It just never occurred to me that Jane would actually need me.
"Maura," Jane whispered as I crouched beside her. A spray of blood had just halted the fight between her and Marino. I gently touched her side and much to my chagrin, Jane moaned from the pain. I was astounded at her own bravery to shoot herself in the stomach just to stop a criminal and save her brother. Of course, I always knew my Jane was brave. Um. I always knew Jane was brave.
Jane was lying rigidly on her stomach, her hand outstretched in front of her. When I began to attend to her medically, my left hand took hers, the one that landed before her. Our fingers laced and I leaned my head down, my eyes meeting hers.
"Maura," she said my name again. I love the way she says my name. Her Boston accent pokes its head out, and it's like she's saying "Mara." That's why I always laugh when she yells, even if it's at me. I can't suppress my giggles when I hear "Mara!" This time, she was not yelling, but her voice was feeble, shaking. "P-Please don't—"
I watched blood dribble down her chin, quickly wiping it away with my finger. "I'll never leave you Jane."
And I didn't.
All winter, when the snow danced along the rooftops and salt was chucked onto the roads, I stayed beside Jane's bed. Or couch. We spent Christmas together in her bed, drinking tea and cookies. Well, I had tea and cookies. Jane had cake and beer.
By January, her wound just begun to heal, but her spirits healed completely. Jane was back to being brassy, stubborn and trying to get me to drink her beer. I didn't mind the bitter cold raging outside because, on just the other side of the pillow, I had my own personal warmth.
Spring
That spring, my courage bloomed with the hydrangeas on my porch. I would watch them as I imagined what to say to Jane. Everyday, she would find a reason to visit me after work. I suppose friends don't need a reason to socialize, but I always wondered if there was more. I swore I caught her eyes on me for just a tad too long to be a friendly glance.
One evening, just after dusk, we were sitting with wine on my porch. Jane complained that she was hot, wiggling in the wooden porch chair. When the heat became enough, she pinched her shirt, pulling the material away from her body like a cooling system. My eyes averted immediately and I looked down to the flowers. When I saw that the violet was bursting and blending with the blue cerulean, I knew I had to speak.
I had seen the scar on Jane's stomach. The slightest pull reminded me of a time I would rather forget. I hated that a twisted traitor could leave a raised mark on that beautiful tan skin.
"Jane," I began. "I thought I lost you."
"What?" Jane turned to face me and suddenly, she was not the only one who was hot. I saw her dark gaze upon me and I thought I might melt. I let words that I harbored close to my heart fly out into the open, like a baby bird taking it's first flight.
"I said, I was scared because I thought I lost you. When Marino shot you."
Jane shook her head, obviously a little confused by my sudden confession. "Technically, I shot myself, I guess."
I looked ahead of me, fearing that maybe I made the wrong move. I should not have said anything at all. Then, from the corner of my eye, the blooming flowers were cheering me on. "Jane, it scared me. If I lost you, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."
Jane tilted her head, seemingly touched. She reached out and placed her hand over mine. "I'm okay now. I'm here to stay."
"I want you to be with me." I wished I was wearing one of her big sweatshirts, something I could hide in and bury myself in her scent. Instead, I felt naked and raw in one of my sleeveless dresses. "I care about you, Jane. I care about you so much."
"I care about you too," Jane admitted immediately, almost automatically.
"You don't understand." I didn't know how to make myself clear. I never knew how to use words the way I wanted. I could only use tools. My lips always betrayed me. Tonight, however, I was determined to prove that I had more to say. I could not dare feel like I lost Jane again.
Jane was silent and I could not read her eyes. They were usually a give away. Jane could put on a façade of happiness but inside her eyes I would see a storm raging. At this moment, for the first time, I was unsure how to read those espresso pools. Just when I needed them most. "Maur, what are you saying?"
"I am saying I love you." I felt my voice shaking like it was suspended on a tightrope.
Jane was, again, silent. She stared at me as if she were trying to decipher me, like a code. "Maura, I've always loved you. Why haven't you ever… How did …" Jane's expression did not change, and she kept blaring those eyes at me.
I can't quite explain why, but I began to laugh. At first, they were small giggles but they bloomed into real laughter, shaking my diaphragm. "I don't know."
Jane saw me begin to crumble into a laughing puddle and began to laugh herself in the same fashion. "Why are you laughing?"
The way we laughed was like the way we fell in love. Slowly, then all at once. I do not know what spark it was that brought Jane and I so suddenly. I could easily blame it on the bullet, that it frightened me into falling for Jane, but that wasn't true. I've always loved her. The idea of losing her would kill me. Perhaps that fear did encourage me to finally voice the love brimming inside of me.
"I don't know, Jane. I'm happy." I said through my laughter.
Jane pulled me into her arms, her chest pressed against mine. "Oh Maura." She whispered, bringing her lips against mine.
Oh, Maura.