Gravity

Just getting this out into the open. Some drabble, mostly angst, a little bit of fluff. Back and forth points of view and 'person/voice'. Sorry for any confusion, just how it came out. I do not own anything dealing with these lovely ladies. This song came on today ad was the prompt for rambling on in such a manner. Needed to clear the cobwebs a bit while other fic is on, well, a short hiatus. Thanks in advance for your time.

The plane drifted down and with a slight nudge as it made contact with the ground. She woke with a start. The final leg of this flight started with a two hour delay. Sitting in the terminal she soon began to feel heavy. The delay had allowed her to really take in this journey and what it had signified to her. At this point she began to hope for a longer delay or an all-out cancellation of the last connecting flight. Her willingness to take this journey started with renewed strength but soon turned to crippling fear. She had no problems looking death in the eye. She could see so much with a quick glance over death's features. She could tell so much about another's life as they came across her table once that life had ended. It was the living who confounded her senses. They made her feel uneasy. Her confusion couldn't be discussed away through a scientific hypothesis or the current finding in the latest issue of a medical journal. All she knew was that the heaviness was growing with each passing minute sitting on the runway. As the people began moving around her, doing their best to get to their next destination as quickly as possible, she sat frozen, willing the plane to close its door and climb back to the previous altitude.

"One more for the road?"

"Nah, early day tomorrow. The lead in the Carson case came through. Going to go with Frankie in the morning to pick up the suspect.

"Alright Janie. Have a good rest of the night and be safe."

"Thanks Korsak. And thank you for the drink on the house. You keep that up and you will never get rid of me."

"Well, I don't want to get rid of you just yet. You have grown on me over the years. I guess I will keep your stool reserved."

"See you tomorrow."

"See ya Janie."

She wasn't tired yet. She knew she had a long day ahead of her tomorrow. Her routine had settled back into what she thought of as her previous life. Before her. Before the sleepovers, before the dinners, before the piece that had completed her team. Before, she had opened her heart. She wasn't really a shell of her former self, just a little bit emptier. No matter what routine she had found herself back into, nothing could fill out that space that held out hope that there was actually one single person that knew her. Knew her heart and soul. Knew what made her tick. Could complete her thoughts with or without words. She still acquiesced to the past every now and then. Some days would tick by without a second thought. Those days were few and far between though, even after all this time. Those days were embroiled with cases that had more twists and turns than her mother's new ideas on how to make money when she wasn't behind the bar spouting wisdom to anyone who would listen. She loved her job, understood that in all reality, that death and people showing the worst of themselves kept her in business. As much as she didn't wish ill or suffering toward anyone, she was grateful for those days that had her in the interrogation room for hours on end that once leaving, she could barely keep her eyes open on the way home. She was grateful for those difficult puzzles that had her looking under every rock for clues. She wasn't tired yet. She had been lost in her gratitude mixed with a hint of her. She didn't realize she missed her turn. The song on the radio ingrained itself into her head and now the words were guiding her back down a path that in all of her hope of hopes, she could someday step off. Not tonight and probably not tomorrow. Maybe the day after that. Maybe.

It was cold. The vacant echo settled in as she shivered once she placed her purse on the counter. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Nothing was helping calm her nerves. Everything looked the same. Even that wasn't comforting. It should be. Actually it made her more uncomfortable at the sight of her past right where she left it. The memories vivid as she scanned the room. The couch. The kitchen island. The refrigerator. The dining room table. She focused back on the couch. The weight of the moment catching her off guard as the heaviness returned. She felt the need to sit. She moved toward the couch and then settled into the chair instead. The blanket over the back of the couch was off center and she hadn't realized she had gotten up to straighten it out until her hand came into contact with the Chenille fabric. She left her hand there for a moment longer. She gave into the lethargy and pulled the blanket off the back, wrapped it around herself and settled into the middle cushion.

The street was quiet. You only stopped because it was 'the law', but in all reality there was no traffic to yield to this time of night. You looked to the right and could vaguely make out the two- swing set in the park on the west side of the street. Your eyes steeled forward immediately, but as you were about to put the park in your rear view, you took one last sideways glance, just in case one of the swings was occupied. This was the time of night the two of you chose to sneak off to the dark recesses of the trees, grass and various playground items at the end of a grueling day or a gut wrenching case. The both of you could revel in the dark, take solace in the quiet, in case one of you needed to just breathe, shed a tear or sit in silence. This was one of 'your' places, like a roomy couch where you shared each other's deepest secrets, secret touches and thinking the other was shrouded by the night, secret glances. The gas pedal almost forgotten, you realized you were being pulled back into the words coming from the radio, turned her head back to look ahead once again realizing that just another block would pull you further back into the memory. Always checking both ways twice, before grabbing her hand and leading her back across the street into the safety of her house. Wheels stopped at their own volition. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. You thought it was your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe the street was wrong. No. You were never wrong when it came to her.

Three years and two months. You couldn't ever get settled into any sort of routine. You thought you were going crazy. You were always looking for something. Looking for something that wasn't there. At least not in the physical sense. You would go out after work. Looking for some sort of connection. You could feel a pull here and there. In all reality, that pull was not guiding you toward anything, but further away from yourself, your true self, your subconscious, your joy, your pain, further away from her. You were offered what you thought was a chance of a lifetime. A chance to break free from what you thought was some kind of permanent holding pattern you had wedged yourself into. It could have been different, you thought many times, if only. You didn't guess, you didn't live on what if. No matter what you thought you knew. You didn't know anything. Not now. Not then. You didn't want to know. You didn't want to know what it felt like to have someone in your life who knew all of you. Knew each quirk that made you different, not worse not better, but different. You didn't want to know what it felt like to be consumed every waking moment with the thought of the voice that was the last thing that you heard (or said voice words over a text message) before you fell asleep or the first thing you heard in the morning. Who would want that? Who would want to feel so connected to someone who stood by you even when you were your own worst enemy or you let your naiveté turn against you and they would cloak you in a protective bubble to soften the blow. A name plate on a door and private jet at the ready for your new found celebrity when it was deemed necessary to share your knowledge and discoveries in forensics was worth more than all that. It had to be right? You couldn't get settled, no matter how many times you heard your name announced in a different city or called Professor or Doctor in a hallway by others who held the same academia aspirations as you always had. Here. You thought you would be more appreciated for your 'Google mouth' and your knowledge of the wing speed of a tsi tsi fly compared to a worker bee. You thought you didn't need any of what she had to offer, this recognition was much more fulfilling. She only offered you the world, of course, you didn't need any of that. Your hand fell against the cushion to your right. She always sat there. It was easier for her dominant hand to reach out to you after an emotional moment during a movie, discussion, silent contemplation, or just the flat out need to feel that someone is there, with you, in all this madness, and understands. You spread your fingers out thinking if you left it there long enough you could feel the warmth after she had gotten up to get another beer or you another glass of wine. Your contact had diminished over the months that turned into years. Holidays were the norm now. The empty promises to have a happy holiday and safe New Year became the new ritual. You promised yourself you wouldn't be like those other people who left out on a journey or a new challenge and lost touch with those closest to them. Those that took them in as family and into their heart. Your connection could outlast any distance you choose to place in between the looks, the hugs, the high fives, the touches and the unspoken 'I love you's'. You would be different, because you are different. She said so. Your hand stopped moving, realizing the only warmth you were feeling was the fact that your hand was creating friction with the cushion. You put your hand back in your lap with a thud. Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, a slight shift in thought as you look at the light and fan fixtures hoping the cleaning crew made good on their promise to get to every nook and cranny no matter now high or low. You let out a deep breath realizing even if they did promise, you were going to make a point to check it in the morning. This is the first time in your life you broke a promise. You know what it feels like to doubt. To be the one whom someone doubted now. Your stomach is empty but the feeling settling in is signaling you to void its contents. A clammy sensation overtakes your body as you struggle to the let feelings all the way in. That wall you crafted to accompany that façade of happiness and fulfillment in another part of the country is crumbling fast now. She always sounded proud and happy for you when you actually exchanged words. There was always a hesitation before you ended each conversation, regardless if it was right after you left or what turned into two or three times a year. You always thought there was one more thing you could say, one more thing she would say. What was it? You couldn't allow yourself so guess, so you just said 'bye.'

You are staring at what you think is a figment of your imagination. You hadn't heard from her in over three months. The last text was 'I'm glad that you closed the case, I am sure there is a beer already waiting for you at the Dirty Robber.' That was so long ago you don't even remember what case it was. You only remember staring at your phone, willing it to do something other than show a sentence that ended with 'Dirty Robber.' You thought she was the one who left. She should have more to say than that. Life went on the same in your side of the country but she may as well have been in China as far as you were concerned. She was the one who thought she needed something else. Something other than what your city and what you, yourself had to offer her. You thought you were enough at one time. You thought you knew everything in her heart, whether she said it out loud or not. You could see her. You thought you could see her. You were blindsided. You expected her reaction when you shot yourself to get the dirty cop. You expected her reaction when you shot her father to save your partner. You expected her reaction when yes to someone else because you didn't think you had any other options. You expected her reaction when you turned around and said no to that same person because she and you knew it wouldn't have worked out. You didn't expect her reaction when she was offered this opportunity to share her expertise on the other side of the country. You didn't expect her to choose to take this journey over you. You had chosen her over all of it, over family, over a fiancé, your grieving, to show her how much she meant to you and your life. You thought your actions were enough. You thought that you had pulled her safely into your world and that she was happy being pulled. You began to include the 'what if' mantra into your daily routine before during and after she left. She left. You stayed. What if you said she could do all that here? What if you said that you would find your Ma another place to live if she needed some space? What if you said that she could take a leave of absence and travel, then come back home? Wait. You did say all those things. You did try out all those scenarios. She wouldn't fall for your what ifs, she wanted concrete evidence that what she needed would come to fruition. There was something missing for her to leave and not look back. You thought you knew. You thought you were enough. What if. What if you actually said what you really wanted to say? What if you showed her how you truly felt and let those glances progress into actual words? What if. What if she was trying to pull you in? What if you were the one not willing to leave all of yourself to her? Your head was on fire. Your hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel. What if.

Your eyes fluttered open. You were squinting already thinking there would be light shining from somewhere. There was only darkness. You realize your phone was face down. You flip it over seeing that you have one missed call, and two new text messages. Your breathing becomes shallower as you notice that she had called. How did you not hear it? You must have not turned the silent mode off once off the plane. She didn't leave a voicemail. You open the texts with a shaky hand thinking they were from her. They were from the Governor and your mother. The Governor was saying he was glad to have you back in Massachusetts and that call when you were ready to come see him to take your pick of assignments. Your heart started racing immediately thinking of working your previous location before you left. Your mother hoped you made it in safely and to call her once you got settled. She said she was proud of you for following your heart and that she loved you. You hadn't mentioned any type of heart following during your call to her to finalize your decision to come back to Boston. You veiled your reasoning behind the Governor keeping in contact with you and gently encouraging you to come back because the current M.E. for the Commonwealth didn't know a scalpel from a box cutter. He knew you didn't need the money so he didn't offer any sort of raise as incentive, just the fact that he was hoping that you would be homesick for some good old fashioned crime solving. Your mother conceded to your reasoning in her words, but her tone told another story. She didn't believe you when you told her why you were leaving and she sure didn't accept your explanation as to why you were returning. You could paint it anyway you wanted it, this was only about one thing and one thing only. Your mother always knew. From the first time she met her. She knew you found that one person, who finally looked past all of the quirkiness and insecurity to let you really shine and be who you really were. She knew you found the one who would one way or another, offer you the security you never had the whole of your life until she came into it. Not financial security or a physical manifestation of a house, but the true security of a home, her own definition of family, and what she had been inadvertently looking for her whole life, unconditional love. Her mother knew she found it. You knew deep down you found it but couldn't allow yourself to accept it, let it pull you all the way in. You set the phone down after debating whether to return a text or call your mother. You didn't even looked at the missed call again. The feeling in your gut was letting you know in no uncertain terms what just looking at the numbers and name across the screen would do. You knew any strength you thought you had was gone. You knew that just being here, in some sort of vicinity, you were surrounded, and you didn't have a choice. She, was everywhere.

She looked down into her hand. She still hadn't opened it yet. She knew the contents. Cold and hard. But a familiar sensation. She had memorized the shape so many years ago. She always had it in reach. It never left her touch. It was the one thing, the only thing she thought that kept her connected. It had opened so many things. Opened her up to a world that she never thought she would be a part of. It held so many promises. Ultimately it was only meant for one thing, for one place, but the metaphors were endless in her mind. She couldn't take it off. This was the last thing that kept bringing her back. To this street. Why it did on this particular night she didn't know. She just went where it led her. A glimpse back, she always wished for a different future, now that this was her new reality. Well, not really new, but much different than she led herself to believe all those years ago. She opened her hand and thought that for one last time, she would do this, and then she had to let go. She had to land the plane and stop circling around in her life in a holding pattern. She was running on fumes and as much as taking the object in her off for good would allow her to finally crash down to earth, it was necessary. She couldn't keep pulling. Her heart was getting tired.

She should have moved to the bedroom. She couldn't allow herself to feel the coldness of the sheets at this point. She had finally warmed up enough that the shiver was gone. The heaviness was still there, but her breathing started to even out a bit after an internal dialogue about how there was nothing to be done at this late hour about anything. She took one deep breath and on the exhale released a sob that turned into more than one. Head in hands, she knew on a scientific level that she needed this release. Her lachrymal glands needed cleansing, the weight needing some sort of catharsis. It was then that she felt it. A weight separate from her own body. She sobbed louder, the moment finally here for this release coming through in now uncontrollable waves. She was soon being pulled into strong arms and her head came to rest against a familiar heartbeat. She began to pull away but was held even tighter against the angular form next to her. "I don't' know if this is a dream or my subconscious playing the worst trick in the history of the world on me, whether it is or it isn't, I am never letting you go, ever again."

That voice. If this was a dream, she couldn't truly explain this away with some scientific reasoning for the manifestation sitting next to her and holding on to her. She had to know, it wasn't enough that she could be dreaming and just revel in the 'realness' of the moment. She was finally given enough slack to pull back and look into the dimly lit face, but those eyes that haunted her all these years came into focus. "Jane, I.. Her words were silenced by soft lips resting against hers. Just feeling, hoping they were real. The pressure became stronger as their bodies moved closer together, pulling each other into their proper place. Soft sighs and a slight moan brought the reality, the realness, the gravity of the moment to the forefront and foreheads met. So many thoughts and conversations in the waiting. None of that mattered at this moment.

"I should have done that a long time ago."

"I should have given you the chance."

"I am not giving you a choice now."

"I never had a choice when it came to you."

Peace… Until we meet again….