Dream (noun):
a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep.
Synonyms: fantasy, nightmare.
She had dreams. It was as simple as that, but the context of the dreams were, dare she say, troubling. Never once had she had what she has now… family, friendship. An unshakable bond with another human being that was more than platonic, but less than physical, passionate love. Did she love Jane? Absolutely, without question, infinitely. Did she want Jane, want to make love to her, be with her? That was something she did not know. Yet her dreams, they confused her waking logical mind. Did she, or didn't she? If she did then what? Could she linger in a perpetual state of limbo, caught between loving Jane's friendship, or wanting more of Jane?
The door to the morgue burst open and Maura took a deep calming breath and threw on her ever charismatic smile while she held a scalpel in one hand, and a liver in another. She didn't look up at Jane, not yet, she still had the view of her dreams skimming along her thoughts, but Jane walked around the autopsy table and stood in her eyesight if she were to look up.
"Maura?" Jane asked in her smoky voice. That voice, so singular, and unique had always made the skin along her spine react in a fascinating sensation. She loved listening to Jane speak just to feel that odd sense crawl up and down her backbone.
"Yes, Jane?' she said as she straightened up and looked in to those deep dark eyes. Jane looked at her with those wide eyes, and waited, and Maura looked at her not knowing what she wanted at the moment. She knew she was here but she, Maura, was still half dreaming due to those eyes.
"Tox report?" Jane prompted. Maura shook her head and placed the liver on the scale, and the scalpel near the dead man's arm.
"Oh yes, they came back negative for any known toxins," she said as she walked to the computer screen and began to peel her gloves off her hands, so she could fiddle with the keyboard and mouse.
"So, he wasn't poisoned," Jane summarized.
"I didn't say that," Maura corrected as she turned around.
"But you just said there were no toxins," Jane countered as she sighed, and placed her left hand on her hip, and the other on pinching the bridge of her nose. Maura knew that gesture. Jane was waiting for her to go on one Jane's so-called Google moments. Maura took a calming breath and paused.
"I said no 'known' toxins," Maura said and then walked to the man on the table, and picked up his discolored liver, "this is an unhealthy liver. I will run more tests on this organ and his others to completely rule out poison," Maura said as she began to put gloves back on her hands.
"So, you think he was poisoned?" Jane asked.
"I don't like to simply think Jane, I like evidence, and proof," Maura sighed, "How many times do we have to have the same argument about this?" Maura snapped.
She immediately closed her eyes and regretted the tone of her voice, and the confrontational verbiage that she heard come from her vocal cords. She looked up and Jane stood in front of her. Dark compassionate eyes looked at Maura and her heart hurt. That was the only thing she could say with certainty at yet another sensation that Jane evoked from her. Jane walked around the table and stood next to her, and placed a strong hand on her shoulder, and Maura wanted two things. The first she wanted to shove the hand from her shoulder, and the second she wanted to turn into the hand and fall into Jane's arms. She knew she would not be pushed away, she would be welcomed by those deceptively lanky yet strong arms. She turned to place the heart on the scale once the liver was removed. She heard Jane's shoes on the floor walk away and she sighed and placed her hands on the table and leaned forward, beginning to breathe again. She spun around when she heard a chair wheeled near the table.
Jane sat down with the back of the desk chair braced against her front. She folded her arms on top of the back of the chair and rest her chin in the crook of her arms. The sometimes abrasive, impulsive, and impatient woman, sat there, waiting. She waited just for Maura. Maura looked down, to her hands, then the dead body, then the inside of the human before her. She grabbed the instruments to stitch up the man's chest, and torso. She kept her hands busy as she thought of what to say, and how to say it. Does she talk about her dreams, and the contents of those images, and actions between the two?
It did not matter anymore. The man was stitched up, practically done being processed. Which left Maura with her paperwork and her findings. She turned away from the body and walked to her office and began placing the details in the report. A hand with spindly fingers reached out and gently clasped her wrist pulling her to a stop. She could do nothing but look down at the hand that belonged to her best friend.
"Are you ok?" husked Jane as she stroked her thumb over the pulse point of her wrist. Maura smiled softly and nodded then Jane let her go as she walked to the computer. "Will you talk to me if you need to?" Jane asked.
"Yes, I will. Thank you, Jane," smiled Maura. Jane smiled softly, yet her brow was furrowed. Maura saw her worry. Jane walked to the glass doors and then out toward the elevator. Maura turned to the computer and began to type.
"But how do I tell you I dream about you?" Maura murmured. She didn't know Jane had come back in to get the file she place on the counter to the far right, heard her words. And then slipped out of the glass doors unnoticed.