A pic fic that got out of hand. Wanted to post before the season finale but Jane and Maura had other plans. If you want to see the gif that inspired it, check out my tumblr. Url in my profile. Enjoy.
Home
She woke alone. Bed sheets cold and empty to her left. Jane's side. She pressed a hand to the indentation, tracing wrinkled cloth and remembering whispered promises, slurred with weary drowsiness, and the close press of body heat beneath layered covers. Safe. Funny how darkness lured secrets into the open. Secrets and desires, allowed release under the supposed safety of night—and within the arms of the one you trust.
Now sunlight slashed through the gaps in the blinds, painting bars across her bed and onto the floor. Maura rolled onto her back and rubbed sleep from her eyes. She thought of reverent hands, roaming touches, and hesitant confessions. One of the best nights she'd ever spent.
She swallowed hard, staring at the empty pillow. Dread and disappointment slithered through her torso.
And maybe one of the worst mornings.
Sliding from the covers, feet steady on the floor, she shivered against the sudden chill and hoped for a note as her gaze wandered across nightstands and dressers. She hoped for sounds of life from downstairs—the clink of a pan, the soft thud thud thud of socked feet trying to be quiet.
She waited, standing bare and small in the middle of her bedroom, listening...
Silence never felt so final.
...
There was some truth to the adage of waking up on the wrong side of the bed. A scratched car door, detoured traffic, and a coffee-stained blouse later, Maura exited the elevator doors to the welcoming chill of recycled air and a silent morgue. The day kept her busy. Between paperwork and new cases, autopsies and lab findings, she rediscovered the peace found in doing a job and doing it well.
It didn't fully quell the uneasy roil within her stomach that seemed to lurk in the silences between consultations and the scratching of her pen across paper. For there was no familiar head of dark curls to break up quotidian routine, no Hey Maur to draw her from darker thoughts. Ten hours, and she hit the lights, hitching her purse higher on her shoulder. Jane was right. Some risks were too great. She watched the rooms flicker into shadow and wished she'd known that twenty-four hours ago.
...
Seven days, and Maura resigned herself to the truth. She was not delusional. She knew what avoidance meant, and she would respect Jane's decision.
She wished it didn't mean losing her.
How could something so wonderful lead to such pain? This was a question she pondered on nights spent on the couch with a glass of wine, Bass a listening ear. She tucked the throw blanket around her legs extra tight nowadays. It felt less empty that way.
She saw her on day eight. Happenstance, really. No design on either of their parts.
The morgue door slid open, the click of her heels echoing into the corridor. Matching boot thuds drew her gaze up and a stunned shock jolted through her body. Jane's similar surprise was a slap in the face, as was the brief wave of panic that flowed across her features before they smoothed into evenness once more. Her long stride faltered and Jane halted outside the elevator. Maura kept walking, determined to regain at least some fragments of what they'd lost.
The elevator button glowed, a small stopwatch counting down the seconds.
She stopped a respectable distance away. Jane kept her eyes averted. She looked good, the dawn-soft blue of her shirt contrasting against olive skin and bringing out dark hair and darker eyes. Eyes that still wouldn't meet hers.
"Hey," Maura said, almost like a challenge, and cursed herself for the weakness. Always nudging, pushing. Wanting. It's what had gotten them here in the first place.
Hope was such a fragile and tenacious flame.
One didn't need words for something like this. It only took a single shared gaze, regretful and resigned—perhaps not for the same reasons, but that didn't matter. They stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. A glance up, holding brown eyes for one heartbeat, two, told her all she needed to know, and then the ground became fascinating, if only for the purpose of keeping the tears where they couldn't betray her.
She should have known.
Jane spoke first.
"I'm sorry."
The rough confession spoiled her attempts at composure, and she felt something sharp and tight contract in her chest. She wanted to grab it, claw it out and shove it towards Jane and say here, here! Keep it. I don't want it anymore.
"I didn't mean to…"
To what? To love me? Is that so difficult? She fought the urge to cover the pulsing pain with a palm, to try to stifle its harsh beat.
Jane's hands came up, then down. She dragged fingers through her hair, the struggle evident in her hunched shoulders and furrowed brows. "Maur—"
Maura stifled a grunt from the sudden stab of pain.
"—I don't know what to say."
Jane shifted, clearly uncomfortable. Maura caught a whiff of lavender and closed her eyes against an onslaught of memories, now tinged with wistful sorrow. So this is what it's come to? Years of laughter and closeness and a single night of whispered promises made real and now… Now unable to exchange the most basic of words.
I miss you.
She wanted to say it, show Jane how true it was. How she missed the comfort of easy company, the everyday affection that meant lunches spent in laughter rather than silence. Something as simple as a text chime to brighten the day. She had someone... Not just someone, but Jane. She had Jane, who now created this gaping hole in her absence, all because of one night of truth.
Truth shouldn't hurt this much. Unless it was only her truth. The realization made her take a step back.
Instead, she said, "I meant what I said." There. A more solid honesty, one you could cradle in your hands and study. Caramel eyes met hers with a jarring sort of suddenness. Words trembled in her throat from the intensity, but she continued:
"And I meant what I…what we did. I don't regret it."
She watched the length of Jane's throat as she swallowed. I wish you didn't regret it, either. Brown eyes danced between hers, searching, and Maura wondered if Jane read the words there. Wondered if she could trace those consonants and vowels in the curve of her cheekbones or the downward slope of her mouth.
Please… She tried to ignore the part of her that wanted Jane to say it back.
A soft ding disturbed their connection, and Jane blinked, looking away. Something in her chest tugged. It tugged and stretched and stretched until it broke. This small corridor had never felt so vast as elevator doors jostled open.
Was this it, then? The end?
"The elevator's here," Maura said. Listless, perfunctory. She was tired of hurting. Tired of hoping.
"Yeah." Jane sounded lost, dazed. But she stepped around Maura and headed for the doors. Maura didn't bother to turn, too busy trying to hold fragmented pieces together, keep them from dropping to the floor and shattering. She wrapped her arms around her torso, holding on. After a few interminable moments, the doors shuffled closed, and Maura bowed her head, letting her hands drop to her sides. The hum of the air conditioner sounded loud in the silence, and Maura wanted to match the frequency of the hum to ground herself, to harmonize with something unlikely to end in rejection.
"You know what? No."
Heart battered and bruised, Maura didn't know what to make of the brush at her elbow, the whoosh of air and the sudden appearance of agitated brown eyes. Present and startling.
"Jane?"
Jane paced back and forth, strides long and purposeful. Maura followed the movement with her eyes, wary.
"I can't… I don't know how—" Jane made a noise of frustration. "I don't know how to do this." She came to a stop in front of Maura, just on the edge of encroaching into personal space. Maura didn't know what to make of the urge tingling across her skin, the urge to press nearer until there was no distance between need and want. To revisit a brief moment in time when there was no such thing as too close or too much.
"This?" she asked carefully. She had already hoped once. She snuffed the flicker threatening to rekindle.
Jane reached out as though to touch, but her hand only hovered, tentative, just above her forearm, like she didn't know if it was welcome. Maura's skin prickled with the almost caress, and she imagined this was what it meant to yearn. That inexplicable surge through the body for something almost within reach. Anticipation mixed with desire. Shaken, not stirred.
The hand started to drop, but Maura caught it on the downswing and cradled it between hers, the press of scar tissue familiar and soothing. Their first contact since that night, and she treated it like a delicate bloom too easy to bruise. Jane was trembling.
Maura's voice softened, and the jagged edges in her chest began to melt.
"Jane…"
"Maura, I love you." She said it with a vehemence that almost drowned out the sentiment. More like an accusation, but within it Maura heard Jane's struggle. She saw the fire in stormy brown eyes, raging and frightened. Lost.
"It's okay."
She tugged the hand in hers, just a light pull, and Jane came willingly, folding into the circle of her arms like half notes making a whole, gentle yet complete.
Jane pressed her nose into the crook of her neck and wrapped arms around her waist, hands clutching, almost desperate. Each exhale washed warmth across Maura's skin, and her awareness narrowed to the woman in her arms, the solid press of heat along her front.
"It's okay," she repeated, a whisper this time, offered into dark curls.
This was healing. Painful and raw, but good.
"I love you," Jane murmured. This one was more of a question, a why? Maura didn't have an answer for that, so she rested her temple against Jane's head.
She held Jane until the trembling subsided into the occasional tremor. The hands at her waist became less desperate and more gentle. They slid around until they overlapped at the base of Maura's spine, tugging her closer.
"I love you." Realization, acceptance. Wonder. Jane breathed the words into her skin, lips delicate like butterfly wings. The way her tongue lingered on the l, and the careful caress of the rounded o, soft and hesitant, made Maura's breath catch.
The low pitch traveled through Maura's veins, both electric and soothing at the same time.
"I love you, too."
Jane took a shuddering breath that Maura felt all the way to the tips of her fingers. A pause in a discordant symphony. A whole rest, allowing things to settle into place.
The lips at her neck pressed with more purpose, leaving a chaste kiss along the muscle where shoulder met throat. Maura smiled, touched. Then those lips trailed upwards, soft and light, each press a confession. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you. Thank you. They felt like promises, building one atop another, gathering into a rich bouquet that sent Maura's heart racing and made warmth engulf her body, heady and strong. Almost overwhelming.
Jane reached the juncture beneath her ear, the sensitive skin just behind the hinge of her jaw, and Maura gasped. She slipped a hand around Jane's neck, fingers tightening. Jane paused, and there was only the slight brush of cheek against cheek, the intimate press of torsos with each inhale.
"No?" she murmured. The hands at the small of Maura's back loosened, asking for permission.
Maura didn't know. She didn't… She struggled to think around the hazy fog of contentment. She needed to know if… but Jane was here, and… After a few heartbeats, Jane began to pull away and Maura panicked. She gripped her neck tighter. "No. Wait."
Jane stilled once more, settling, just not as close as before.
Shared space, such a wonderful novelty. Maura hung suspended, floating, with only the touch of skin on skin and shared breathes to keep her grounded. This was what she wanted. This was what she wanted, so why was she hesitating?
"I'm sorry I left." Jane murmured the words along the edge of her jaw, raising goosebumps across her skin. "I was scared." Her voice wavered, and Maura tightened her hold, hearing the threatening tears. Jane sighed, pulling back until brown eyes met hazel. "It won't happen it again."
The sincerity—and awareness—in those eyes melted any lingering reservations. Maura didn't know she needed to hear them until the words were already out there. The sudden release of tension left her wobbly, and she was thankful for Jane's hold to keep her upright.
Maura traced a finger along Jane's jaw, relishing the new freedom that allowed her to show affection in more than just gazes and smiles. Brown eyes fluttered, and Maura admired the way long lashes kissed the tops of high cheekbones. My Jane.
"We can wait." She offered an out. Years of certain thinking didn't disappear in a matter of days. "If you need time—"
Shaking her head, Jane cut her off. "I'm tired of waiting."
Cradling her jaw, Maura drew her in. "Me too," she said, and lost herself in the soft press of lips. Tentative at first, like reacquaintance. Slow and exploratory as Jane's hands slipped lower on her hips and Maura threaded fingers into messy curls, drawing her down and in. Guiding, asking for more in the give and take. They moved together, a dance learned one step at a time, yet still familiar. A tilt of Jane's head changed the angle, deepening the kiss and sending molten heat through her veins, curling her toes. Her back met something hard—a wall —and a low noise escaped from her throat as Jane's body pressed into hers, long and lovely.
"Jane?" she managed when she broke away. The vibration of Jane's groan of protest rumbled into her own torso.
"Mmm?" came the hummed response as lips captured hers again. Once. Twice. It made her smile, and she felt Jane's mirroring grin.
"Let's go home."