Chapter One - Confessions
A/N: Republished due to prior dissatisfaction.
The story will mostly focus on dynamical changes in the relationship between Jane and Maura and the resulting consequences. If you're more into an action filled and case centred plot, this will not be what you are looking for.
However, I do hope people enjoy.
Thank you for taking your time and reading this, A.
[Disclaimer: I don't own the original storyline or characters.]
(Update: Some people are confused with the pairing: It will be Rizzles later on, just be patient and enjoy the journey.)
[Present - January 1945, New York City]
"I miss you."
The sudden and softly spoken whisper violently puts an end to the calming silence of night, making your tired mind highly aware of where - and most importantly with whom - you are.
You swallow.
Then you notice her movement accompanying the whisper across the dark room; feel her coming closer and closer until eventually the bed dips and her breath is mingling with yours. It blows gently over your skin, making everything tingle in its wake. Immediately, you're surrounded by her sweet and distinctive scent, clouding your mind with countless memories.
(You try not to dwell on the fact that she still smells the same, even after all this time.)
Her words, however, they are made of treacherous poison - consuming your heart and making you weak. As soon as you realise this, you tell yourself you need to leave, to run far away, but sadly there is no more escaping her now. She has you trapped in your own bed; in the place you have come to call home.
It's funny though, how you're both laying there so close - facing each other and breathing the same air - while at the same time you're both so far apart. Still, she's too close, you decide, being terribly aware of her steadily beating heart, a rhythm so different from your own right now. But somehow, you can't get yourself to move with your nerves running high, and her proximity making thoughts hazy and limits unclear. It terrifies you because you had forced yourself to forget this effect she had on you, and now - being confronted by it again - you have no idea how to withstand it.
Rationally, however, you know you should fight it, fight her, because of what happened the last time you let yourself get lost in her.
But when your eyes meet, everything stands still and you can't help but to be pulled in. Something in your mind tries to protest because no, you can't dare to let her in now, not when things have finally started making sense again. After your move to New York without her and with the child.
But you just stay motionless - looking at her - feeling your heart adapt the rhythm it had lost so long ago.
This can't be happening.
Why did you have to invite her to come in, to stay the night? Because at the moment this seems like the worst decision you have ever made - with her being this close to you again, in your bed. Countless accusations and regrets press forward, teasing your overwhelmed mind and thoughts.
(You blame her. Her and your naive irrationality for tearing open old scars. Painful scars.)
You should be indifferent about her and her advances now since it was you, who left her in Boston in the first place. You should listen to the incessant warning bells of your heart because you can sense this feeling rising in your chest - the special feeling only she can cause. You should know better and have your walls up higher than ever before to protect the vulnerable treasure that is your heart. To protect it from her.
She is terribly dangerous.
Because she can break everything. She can break you.
It worries you. A lot.
Because something deep inside you doesn't care about the risk; something insanely unreasonable still wants this. Wants her.
After arriving in NYC, you had promised yourself to keep your heart safe and complete; far away from harm and pain because of your souls most precious possession; the only thing you have ever truly lived for. She shouldn't get to take this away from you as well, and that's why you have to protect it from her.
But right now, you sense that you're losing that final battle. The piercing stare of her hazel eyes does nothing but help to intensify the roaring echo of the unleashed words raging in your heart - tearing down your walls brick by brick - until eventually you're lying there naked; baring the treasure of your soul.
(The treasure being her - Maura - and the beautiful castle of memories you had built together during a time when your world had still been her world; during a time when loving her had been possible.)
It's these images that immediately surge through the open doors of your mind. You close your eyes and catch images of her laughter, her smile, the sparkling look in her eyes whenever they caught yours. Images of the way she would hold you - hold you so close - suffocating your demons and reviving your heart with her love. Images of her endearing quirk of grasping your sore hands, caressing them as if they were the most delicate thing she'd ever touched; treasuring their hideous scars.
The familiar feelings of love and yearning burst through your heart - momentarily drowning out the painful ache her words have left - and you are lost in this world of sheer happiness and fulfilment. You don't even try to stop the soft smile coming out to grace your lips. This feeling right here had always been enough for you, enough to keep the deadly doubts and hurt away.
But suddenly, you falter and the smile disappears from your lips.
If only these memories were the only thing you had left of her.
If only you could forget.
As if on cue, the castle falls together like stone turns to dust, and the preceding images are washed away by memories of her frown, her tears, the worthlessness she felt when you shut her out. The hurt in her eyes when you had walked away. The devastation in her voice when she had realised you were never coming back. It's these memories you remember the most. Agonising reminders of the hurt you had caused her - painfully etched into your heart - to never make you forget that you never had been good enough for her.
Never would be good enough for her.
A sharp pain cuts through your chest at this thought, making you wince.
You just couldn't dare to let yourself forget.
"You can't."
The voice coming out of your mouth sounds unfamiliar, pathetic even. The slight tremble makes it seem ridiculously weak, offering a vulnerability you're not willing to share with her now or ever again. Your throat turns dry and your eyes start to burn. You keep your eyes closed until you can't withstand the suspense any longer and have to look at her; needing to see the impact your words have on her. You are quick to regret your puerile curiosity when you are met with the unperturbed stare with which her eyes just continue to watch yours. The heat emanating from them is terribly uncomfortable. It feels like they are feeding off every emotion offered in yours, making them burn even further from exhaustion - literally draining you out.
You realise that you can't endure this closeness much longer.
Because you certainly will break if this goes on any further.
So you desperately will yourself to fight against this mysterious yet well known hold she has on you. You know that you need to make her stop. Your unhelpful thoughts are turning increasingly dangerous the longer she musters you with this wistful gaze. And yet, just before you're about to throw caution in the wind and act, she unexpectedly lowers her eyes and sighs. Immediately, the spell is broken and you don't hesitate to take your chance to turn around towards the soothing darkness. When your cold cheek lands on the warm pillow, you finally feel able to breath again.
(You really hope that this reinforces your conviction of keeping her away from you.)
But unfortunately, the ordeal is far from over.
She sighs again while moving closer, and the soft caress of warm air across your neck makes shivers ripple through your body and fine hair rise on your skin. Unfortunately though, it also throws every bit of your diligently acquired conviction out of the window - leaving you without any viable reason to reject her. But still, you don't dare to move, trying not to give her any indication of how much she's actually already won, of how much her proximity kills you.
Moments later, you feel a steady hand slowly making its way over the path of your lean arm. When her skin comes in contact with yours for the first time in years, the sensation is just as intense as you remember - igniting each and every nerve on its journey through your system; making cold blood boil and your rhythmic heartbeat explode.
And yet somehow, you manage to contain the pressing urge to react.
But she goes on, taking the absence of response as an open invitation to let her hand travel down to your stomach before pulling you back into the soft body behind you. You're utterly overwhelmed at the feeling of completeness that immediately fills you when she melts seamlessly into you.
(As if this was how it was supposed to be.)
During lonely nights and in countless dreams it had always been thoughts of her - only her - that had been able to silence the screaming void that had made its way into the centre of your soul after leaving Boston. This has to be one of these dreams, your mind tries to tell you, but the heat between your bodies feels so heavenly real that you just wish you could press back into her. Knowing she would reciprocate. Knowing she would moan.
(Seriously, this really had to be one of these terribly torturing dreams.)
"Don't."
The words are fraught and desperate, offering your last restraint. To your relief, however, she almost fully complies. The warmth on your back disappears and with it the pressure of the hand on your stomach. Strangely enough, it doesn't move. Instead fingers begin to dance, drawing invisible shapes on the taunt skin found there. Of course, sensations have to increase tenfold at the pleasurable touch, as well as the traitorous number of appearing goosebumps - showing just how much her light and seemingly innocent touch arouses you. The unbearable, almost tangible tension between you makes you want to act, respond, do anything to satisfy this terribly telling ache.
It makes you want to be reckless.
But you have to stay strong, you tell yourself, fearless even.
You can't let your heart surrender to her again.
"But I miss you."
This time louder, even more purposeful. She presses her whole body against you again, and it's enough for you to finally let go and savour her heat. This time you don't stop the desire running through your veins. This time you don't suppress the anticipation for her next touch. This time you can't help but to press back into her.
She moans.
Oh, this sound, it's like music to your ears. You had forgotten how much you'd missed it, even longed for it. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought of being allowed to hear it again. It has been so long, you plaintively realise. Albeit, the melancholic thought is quickly lost when she grinds into you, while holding you in place rather dominantly, in order to create even the slightest feeling of friction. She moans again when your bodies come together, and honestly, the animalistic note in her voice is awfully addictive - you want to evoke it again and again and again, to never stop giving her the pleasure she so desperately craves from you. As she moves to place a soft kiss to your neck, you have to close your eyes. The tempting ache the somewhat shy notion causes in the depths of your heart makes you foolishly want to turn around and wrap your arms around her, never letting go of her again.
And yet, something is holding you back. Something can't fully revel in the pleasure of experiencing this unique intimacy with her again after so many years of wishing and wanting. Something inside of you knows that you just can't do this. And while lying there with your back to Maura - boldly receiving her caresses - you finally realise as to why your conscience is seemingly immune to each and every attempt to silence it.
(You feel terribly embarrassed at the fact, that your rediscovered egoism is strong enough to block out the only other good thing you have had the pleasure of having in life besides her.)
You can't do this with her because your safe haven is no longer found in Maura's arms - she isn't yours anymore, regardless of how much you wish it were otherwise. You had moved on with Casey, and then your beautiful daughter Charlotte had come into your life, filling your heart with new joy - becoming your family. You can't do this because of what had lead to you being here in NYC and Maura staying in Boston. They are your family, not Maura. No, she had lost this place in your life when she had chosen him. When she had chosen him over you.
(You try to ignore the insistent 'she had to', which your heart immediately provides, trying to defend the choices she had to make all these years ago.)
He and especially Maura were not your family anymore.
She couldn't be worth losing everything again, and her closeness couldn't be enough to justify childish escapes into this irrational egoism anymore. Because really, was she truly worth jeopardising the life you had built out of countless tears and sleepless nights - a life that you were content with? Your minds instant 'no' is harshly confronted by the uneasy 'yes' of your heart, and you find it extremely frightening, how your heart and mind can't seem to find a matching answer to the pending question.
Why did life have to be so cruel and torturing? Why didn't she just stay away from you like you had agreed on shortly before your move to NYC? Why did she have to torture the both of you even if she knew exactly, that this here would be going nowhere? Confused and exhausted, you can't stop the telling tears forming in your eyes, threatening to fall and make the pain excruciatingly real. But you can't choose her, not anymore, and the palpable rawness of your voice portrays the roaring despair when you have to reject her. Again.
"Maura...Maura, stop. Please...we can't. We can't do this. We can't do this to them. We promised it. Please get off me, Maura." You take a deep breath, thoughts and feelings too fast to grasp before they settle on the worst. Guilt. "Damn...letting you stay really has to be the worst decision I've made in a very long time. Please just...just go back. Go back to him."
The smothering contact disappears at once, hands and sensations leave you shivering. The prompt loss of heat is quickly followed by an eerie quiet emerging in the dark room, which does nothing to diminish the tension. Instead it heightens your awareness of her even further when you hear the first soft sob leaving her mouth. It's this that hurts the most, you recognise, your capability of making her cry.
Because of you.
The sharp twinge of hurt makes you revisit the fragments of the now destroyed castle of memories. Longingly, you think back to the glorious time of its integrity, when devastating promises, social expectations and the world of unrequited love had held no meaning yet; a time when the only thing mattering to you had been Maura and her happiness. But these times were long gone - gone since you left her with him and you yourself married Casey - and couldn't ever be brought back. The present scars and fears were never going to allow it.
Because of them.
(And him.)
He, who came in after you and quickly swept Maura out of your grasp with subtle smiles and touches, while you were dealing with the consequences of being urgently advised by them to leave her alone. He, who won her with courage, a trait you had always been lacking with her, ever since you had been children. Courage, that would have given you everything, but because of running from it, it had gotten you nothing. Instead, you tried to face her with cold denial to make her stay far enough away from you, but in the end that hadn't helped at all, no, it had made everything worse. Heartless, even.
After her engagement, your beautiful friendship had made way for a relationship full of animalistic lust and cold ignorance, depriving both Maura and you of your infantile innocence. Sneaking away for kisses and touches, lying to him and Casey, it had all been so easy to do. And yet, while trying to keep her close, it had poisoned your heart instead, making you incapable of ever loving uninhibitedly again.
After her wedding day - the moment she had broken your heart for good - they pressured you into moving to NYC with Casey, the soldier who you married six months later.
(Even if your heart could never love him the way you had and unfortunately still do love Maura.)
Denial and fear had always been your greatest weaknesses. Overwhelmed by the possibility of having her, you had denied it. Had denied her. Because in the end, she had been too precious, the fantasy too fragile and your parents too powerful. It had been them, who were the real reason for leaving and denying her, threatening to tear you apart if you continued seeing her and opposing the church - being a disgrace for the family's name. It had been them, who had cleared the way for the man who had her now.
Your brother. Frankie.
"Maura...please, just leave."
