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Just You
"What happens now?"
Jane raised an eyebrow at her from the other side of the couch. "What do you mean? He goes to jail, case closed, everything goes back to normal."
Maura studied her expression closely, but only saw fatigue. She watched Jane take a slow drink, focusing on the white tape wrapping her wrists, concealing dark, periosteal bruising. "You seem very calm about the whole thing."
Maura herself was anything but calm. The image of Jane, struggling against restraints, helpless fear in wide, dark eyes kept flashing through her mind like some residual memory from the worst kind of nightmare. She concentrated on breathing normally so as not to alert Jane, who clearly wanted to put it behind them and move on, a common occurrence.
If only it were that simple. She couldn't shake the feeling that they have been in this exact situation before, guardedly celebrating a narrow escape, too many times. But Maura couldn't fully resent Jane for the day's scare. No matter the hazards of her career choice, there were always unpredictable forces, unseen variables beyond control, such as a psychotic and lonely man wrapping himself in the perfect fantasy.
Glass clinked as Jane leaned forward to set her bottle on the coffee table, pulling her long legs from under their shared blanket to set bare feet on the floor. "Well," her dark eyes were empty as she stared at a space on the far wall, "it wasn't the first time I've had a delusional killer crawling over me, and it probably won't be the last."
"Jane," Maura's voice was soft but firm, and filled with a terrible sadness, "Please don't say things like that."
"Sorry," still refusing to meet her gaze, Jane leaned back into the cushions. "It's like a part of the job."
"What is?" Maura readjusted the blanket over herself, shifting closer.
"Having your name in the newspaper. Attracting all the sick puppies."
"We should have taken those messages seriously," she said, mentally tripping over the comparison of that horrible man to a puppy. Sick, indeed.
"Yeah, next time I have a murdering stalker, you'll be the first to know," Jane rolled her eyes.
Maura nodded in response, admiring her ability to joke about it. An effect of the alcohol, surely. She reached for one of Jane's hands and brought it to her lap, running the tips of her fingers very lightly over Jane's forearm, from the white bandage wrap to the crease of her elbow and back, watching the pilomotor reflex ripple across chilled skin. All she could think about was the scene from the webcam, a bulky figure looming over the detective, leaning against her, touching her. It was all so very wrong.
"It was a lot simpler working a beat, just a regular cop," Jane's voice rasped in the near silence of the room, cutting through the images running through Maura's mind, "Hated the uniform though."
That earned a small smile. "I can imagine."
Finally facing her, Jane waited for Maura to look at her directly. "I'm sorry you saw all of that."
"I'm just glad that you're okay," she sighed, feeling the heavy weight of an uncomfortable silence descend around them. She changed the subject, "Have you given Lydia any more thought?"
"I plan to talk to her as soon as she's well enough, preferably before clueing my mother in." Jane ran a hand through her hair. "We're a pair, you and me. If it's not the monsters, it's family."
Maura felt her eyes stinging, but she had cried far too much in the weeks since Jane shot Doyle, shot her mob-boss of a father. The sad truth in her case was that the monster and family were one and the same.
Jane stood, stretching out her back and covering a yawn. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see you in the morning."
Maura didn't move, but looked on as Jane gathered her things. She picked up her abandoned glass, swirling the wine in a thoughtless motion of her wrist. "Are you really leaving?" She inwardly winced when her voice did nothing to disguise her disappointment.
"I do have a dog to feed. After this sort of week, I like to make sure she still recognizes me," Jane spoke from the kitchen, retrieving her coat from over the back of a chair. Maura rose to follow her into the hall.
"Then I'll come with you," she made it a statement. She didn't bother to dwell on whether it was rude to invite herself over or not. They were far past that sort of thing, she and Jane.
Their eyes locked as Jane turned to her, irritated but trying for a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Maura, really."
"I'm not."
Jane's expression immediately softened into concern. Maura stepped closer. Without her usual high heels, the detective towered over her.
"What's wrong?"
Maura shook her head, brow furrowed, unable to verbalize the answer and grasping for anything to say. "It's been a particularly trying couple of weeks," she started lamely, "and…I'm not sure."
"That's an understatement," Jane moved to grasp her shoulders. "What is it, really? I can't help you if you won't tell me what you need."
What drove her to such forwardness that night, Maura couldn't say. Perhaps it was relief after the precarious and terrifying race to find Jane, or maybe it was all the talk of marriage and children playing upon her very real fear that one day Jane would settle down with someone, start a family, and she would lose her closest and dearest friend. Or even the secret realization that the baker's imaginings of a perfect life with the detective closely resonated with her own. A combination of the lot was more likely.
Regardless, Maura closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Jane's waist and pressing into her, pleased to feel the embrace returned without pause. She loved the way Jane's hair felt against her face. In that moment, Maura felt safer than she could ever recall. She treasured the impression of soft lips planting a kiss to her temple. Cradled in a transient sense of peace, tension eased from her slowly.
"You, Jane. Just you."
Thanks so much for reading. Cheers, -Picc.