"Do you want a divorce?" Jane's voice was harsh and unforgiving. She didn't care, though, because she was doing everything she could not to scream at the heavens. Maybe she could go as far as breaking something. How conveniently restraining that she was in a house filled with valuable antiques and artefacts.
Maura was silent, shocked and a little unsettled by the sight of what seemed to be a furious Jane. However, lately, that was the only Jane she had been experiencing. A frustrated Jane, an angry Jane, a dejected Jane. Given the circumstances, she acknowledged that it was completely understandable, perhaps even natural.
Driving along the street she used to drive along every single day for years, maybe multiple times a day, had never felt so foreign. It was strange because she still felt like she belonged here; she believed she did. Some of her possessions were still in the house, things she didn't think she'd need for the time being, or that she'd wanted Maura to keep. Because she was going to come back at some point, wasn't she? This situation between them would resolve itself. Somehow.
Streetlights made a confident attempt at brightening the road ahead and the houses on either side. She could never fault living in Beacon Hill, a neighbourhood that had previously been so alien to her, so far out of her reach as a child and a teenager and somewhere she never would have believed would become such an integral part of her life. But it was, from spending so much time every week at Maura's house, to eventually moving in and living with her as their relationship had progressed far beyond the point of merely being friends. When Maura became a home for Jane, Beacon Hill did too.
Of course, that was before it had all fallen apart.
As the car approached their house – it was still Jane's too, wasn't it? – she noticed that the motion-sensor outdoor light was on. Maybe Maura had just returned from the precinct; the medical examiner had always used her work as a great way of distracting herself from any turmoil of her personal life, and Jane was aware that their current circumstance was no exception. It was only when she was a house away that she noticed Maura standing at the door, facing a man who had his back to the street, to Jane. She could see her smiling, that smile stretching into a full grin when the tall figure leaned in to kiss her soft, porcelain cheek.
A rage consumed Jane that she hadn't experienced in a long, long time. The jealousy was overwhelming, so much so that she was surprised she didn't crash the car. Parked on the other side of the road, she sat still, gripping the steering wheel as her hands continued to shake furiously. How could this be happening already?
"Fuck," she muttered as she wiped rogue tears from her cheeks, hating herself for being so upset but also hating herself for letting this situation even occur. This wasn't fair. From the few seconds she had seen of the man standing on the doorstep of her house, she didn't recognise him. Would it be worse if she had? If it had been someone they knew, and knew well? "Fuck." Her volume was louder now as the realisation sunk into her bones. Maybe she had lost Maura.
Distracting herself with breathing techniques – of course, she had learned them from Maura – she failed to notice the car passing her own and heading for the end of the road. Her detective skills were slipping; maybe that was one of the effects marital separation had on her. It wasn't until she heard the sound of the front door shutting that she realised he was gone. The light in the living room, however, told her that Maura wasn't.
A few moments and some words of self-encouragement later – as though this was as simple as an old softball game – Jane had managed to convince herself to get out of the car, cross the street and knock the door of the house she had been living in a month prior. Every time she had done this since their separation, she felt further and further from Maura. Was it really still her house if she felt like she had to knock?
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Maura could be heard from inside, her voice only to be described as light, something Jane hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime. "What did I forge-" she asked as she opened the front door, but she stopped speaking mid-question and the smile on her face was replaced with an expression of surprise and embarrassment. "Jane."
Jane couldn't help it. When she pretended to act confused, and asked, "Oh, oh sorry, were you expecting someone else?" in a manner that was clearly sarcastic, she really couldn't help it. She wanted to make sure that Maura knew she knew.
Her coat and heels now off, the medical examiner stood in a purple knee-length dress that Jane was sure she had never seen before. Her face was a picture of sheer guilt, red tones blaring across her cheeks. "I think you'd better come in."
The detective welcomed the invitation, all the while detesting the fact that she felt like she even had to be invited to enter their house. She didn't wait on her wife to lead them into the living area, not tonight. Her hands gripped the inside material of her pockets. Anything to feel an ounce of control. Her footsteps were loud and stormy, a stark comparison to the silence which accompanied Maura's. How she wished she could appear just as calm.
Unsure of how to navigate the conversation for fear of saying the wrong thing and finding herself in yet another fight with her wife, Maura decided basic was best. "What brings you here?" Her voice was kind, sincere; she did care deeply for Jane. And yet, any discussion with her in the past while had been nothing short of a minefield. And she had just caused an explosion.
"What?" The tone in Jane's voice could be considered one of pure disgust, at least that's what it felt like to Maura. Looking into fiery brown eyes, she wished she could take back her words. Jane continued, "Is this not my house anymore? Am I no longer allowed to come by? Do you wanna just keep the other half of my stuff that I've left here?" Her voice was getting louder, and Maura knew exactly where they were headed if she didn't do something about it.
Raising her own voice, she fought back, which was ironic considering fighting was the very thing she was trying to prevent. "Just stop, Jane!" She choked a little on her words as she felt tears form in her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was cry, but it seemed to have worked: Jane was now silent. Her eyes were focused on the floor, a clear indication that she felt bad for losing her temper so quickly. "What brings you here?" she asked again with a little less evidence of patience.
"Sweats." It was the first word Jane could muster from her chaotic mind. It was also a bare-faced lie. "I think I've left some here in the dresser 'cause I can't find them at my place." Those last words left a sickly taste on her tongue. "I thought I'd be able to stop by and pick them up." She knew that of all the things she'd taken with her to Frankie's when she moved out a month before, her gym and lounging clothes were the first to go. She knew that Maura probably knew that too.
All she received was a nod and a smile in response before Maura headed to the coffee machine at the kitchen counter. She's not stupid, Jane thought to herself. Of course she knew it was a lie. Maybe she was tired of fighting, just as Jane was. Who knew what Maura was thinking anymore?
"I'm going to have some tea. Would you like some coffee?" It felt strange to even have to ask that question. Maura had spent every day of her life for years – three of them married – making Jane coffee. Going against her own medical advice, she would often make Jane her own cup without asking. She would do anything for Jane. Or at least, she would have done. It was as though all she had been doing lately was reminding herself that everything was different now.
Jane nodded as "Mhmm" barely escaped her mouth. Silence swallowed the room whole as Maura followed the process of making coffee and tea whilst her wife watched her from behind. The detective could almost feel a smile stretching across her lips as she looked on. The way her hair settled so perfectly against her back. It was such a minor thing, yet Jane couldn't help it. She was just so beautiful. And then the memory of the ten minutes came flooding back to her and she corrected herself. Her face now bore no expression, at least, no positive one.
"I thought you'd be working late tonight." Maura immediately regretted her words, glad her wife couldn't see her the panic across her face.
"I thought you'd be working late tonight." Jane was ruthless. She had no idea who that man was and she had no idea why he had kissed her wife on the cheek, but she had every intention of making Maura feel bad about it. And she knew that she was doing a good job of it when she noticed hands gripping against the counter as her head hung low. A voice at the back of Jane's own head niggled her for feeling the slightest satisfaction.
Maura cleared her throat as she continued to face the cabinets. "I started early this morning." Jane observed how she pushed her hair behind her ears, and how her hands were shaking. "This case won't solve itself."
The fact that they were still working together was a miracle. There had been plenty of opportunities for both of them to move to another precinct. Maura could have handed some of her responsibilities to her assistant and spent less time being such an integral part of the team. She was the Chief Medical Examiner, after all. But both women were too stubborn for their own good. They assured their colleagues that their personal lives wouldn't interfere with their professional lives, partly because they didn't want to inconvenience each other, and partly because they really did want to prove that it could work. They could exist around each other without causing problems for other people. But then again, they were well aware that their separation had affected everyone in their circle.
As Maura turned to face her wife with a mug in each hand, neither woman withdrew eye contact for a few moments. Jane thanked her as she handed her the coffee. "You're welcome," came Maura's quiet reply, her fingertips still momentarily on the mug after the brunette had accepted it. It happened again. They reminded themselves of the situation, and Maura soon pulled back her hand, stepping back a little as she kept her distance. This was harder than she ever thought it would be.
Sipping in silence was agonising. Maura knew just how much Jane was itching to ask the question, so much so that part of her was relieved when her wife tore into the quiet. "So, who is he?" How wrong and foolish Maura felt to think that she actually wanted to get this part of their conversation out of the way.