4:15 A.M.
The lingering cries for help resonate in your mind, as you sit upright in your bed, gasping for air. The storm raging outside has cut the power, but you don't know that yet. You try your bedside lamp, then check your phone only to see that it has died in the night.
It's dark, and you're alone.
It's been four months.
Four months of this aimless stupor. Four months of waking up far too early in an empty bed. Four months of deceptively calm seas. You wish for a storm so huge, it pounds you into the shallows of the vast ocean pulling you away from her.
Four months.
But you're what they call a rogue. You travel fast and alone. Head up, back straight, do your job and do it right the first time. You are successful in your endeavors, but you are... alone. And alone is... well, alone is lonely.
But once! Just once you took a risk. You shared your life, your heart, and your bed with another. Yes, you took a risk, and you got hit out of nowhere. And now you're more alone than you've ever been.
With Jane, you were given the illusion of adventure and happy endings. But beneath it all, you were sinking. The hole in the hull flooded any chance for survival. Yet here you are four months later, alive, alone, and awake at god knows what hour. It was no fault of hers, and you know that. It was you.
She steered your ship with excellence and tact: She was amazing. You were introduced to a world of family, warm hugs, and holiday festivities. It was wonderful. Something truly beautiful in the eyes of someone like yourself. You'd never experienced the kind of love she seemed to be surrounded with... and apparently drowning in. She'd given you the strength to find the words that earned a torrent of smiling faces and accepting hugs, and she'd given you the reality-check that sometimes words need to stay locked behind your teeth, safe where no one can hear them.
Oh, but you failed! The wrong words! The wrong words stranded you, and sent her off your course while you slept, oblivious to what you'd done! She'd floated away from you, and now you're lost at sea. But she'd met her fate crushed to pieces on a reef.
You found safety on land. Found your feet once your battered half of the boat fared through great ocean pressure. The sleet and the rain blinded you, oh, but the lighthouse. The lighthouse was within your reach! You left her broken to save yourself.
What have you done?
You wish for one day. Just one day to live over again. One day to take back your biting words. To give your love in every way you could, even if it ended with both your bodies washing up in the end.
But you know that's impossible. You're never getting her back. Your tactless words ruined everything. She's so far away you can no longer feel her.
They say the captain will never abandon her ship. She'll weather storm after storm, and they're right. You stuck fast to your ship, but you let Jane fade away. You let her drop into the cold water, so cold she didn't have to fight for long. You're successful in your endeavors for sure. You succeeded quite brilliantly in eradicating her from your life.
But that wasn't at all what you wanted. You were scared and overwhelmed all at once. It was all too much. She'd told you she loved you and introduced you to Malia. Her young daughter. Her carbon copy. Her blood. She wanted you to join her. She wanted you to be her family.
And after months living together just like a family would, she wanted one more thing. She wanted you to be her wife, hers forever. And you wanted to say yes, but...
But you got scared! So scared. At one point you may have even told her she was lying. It was all a joke to make you look foolish. You hurt her more than you care to admit. It was all too much. Her love, her daughter's... everything. So you broke it all. And in turn, your guilt is destroying you. This is why you're awake at this ungodly hour. This is why you've been somewhat forced into a leave of absence from work. This is why you haven't left your house in a week. This is why you're now living off of your multitude of vacation days.
But you can fix this. You know you can. There's still a small chance she doesn't hate you. There's a chance you haven't traumatized her beautiful daughter. There's a chance you can still show her how much you love her. Your bravery faltered that imperative day so long ago, but now you know what you want.
This story is old. You know it. You're sure everyone else knows it too. You've realized the truth in your foolish actions, and now you want to mend it all. Yes, this story's old, and you'll make it go on and on until there's nothing left. No one left to recount your tale.
Call her... No. See her. Taste the salt you forced her to breathe while you shoved her underneath the waves.
You throw the covers off yourself and rush to find some clothes. Even after weeks of her absence, everything you own carries her scent. Lavender and something remotely spicy. You find that the only thing you want to wear is her Boston Police Department sweatshirt. Holding the soft fabric in your hands, you can practically see her wearing it. You can see the loose garment hanging over her body, disguising just how thin and lanky she is. You can see her long legs accentuated by a pair of old jeans with fraying threads. You can see her standing in your room, both your room, with her eyes trained only on you. You can see her dilated pupils as she pulls your clothes off, her strong hands wandering over your body.
The image is too much.
You fall to the ground, clutching the sweatshirt to your chest, wondering what possessed you to let her go. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you, and you're certain that her daughter would also play a key part in the future of your happiness. Your family's happiness... that is, if it's not too late. You gather yourself and get to your feet, slipping the sweatshirt over your head. You hurry down the hall, nearly tripping over some kind of baby doll- one Malia must have left the last time she was here.
A few minutes later, you're in your car, driving on autopilot. You're too busy thinking to care much about what's happening on the road. All you see in darkness threatening to engulf your headlights.
She's haunted- graced- your dreams ever since you'd told her 'no.' You've never believed in the significance of dreams as the psychologies are shaky sciences, but it has to mean something. Your subconscious has been trying to piece together something you've perceived yet missed. You try your best to recall the details.
You dream nightly of underwater mountains. She's drowning, tied to the trunk of a grand tree rooted beneath the surface. She cannot get out. She cannot untangle herself. She dies. And you die with her.
Or...
She holds you safe in her arms as you sleep. Your daughter, her daughter made both of yours, jumps on the bed and attacks you both with hugs and kisses. It's Mothers' Day, and Malia gets to make twice as many macaroni-decorated cards as everyone else in her preschool class. She hands you a pink card, and Jane a red one. She calls you 'Mommy' and nestles into your arms.
Both dreams wake you from your sleep, confused and delirious.
Boston is dark. The storm has swallowed all hopes of electricity, and for a fleeting moment you wonder if you should be driving. The rain pelts your windshield, and you can't see the road before you. But you know the path to Jane's house well. You could do this in your sleep.
The words you said to her, you spoke without knowing their sting, what they all could mean. But now you know. Now you know that telling someone you don't love them hurts. You never understood why you broke out in hives once retreating the conversation. But now you know why. You love her. More than anything else, you love her. And you want to run to her, scoop her daughter into your arms and never let her go. You want a family. You want this family.
You know that this is what you want. You're tired of this funeral you're facing at your home. You no longer want to be away from her. You want another chance even though you know for a fact you don't deserve it.
You don't want to be alone.
You need her... You need them both- Jane and Malia. And if they won't have you like you know you deserve after what you've pulled, you'll still need them. Like water in your lungs.
This is it. This is your last chance.
You cannot mess this up.
5:00 A.M.
You pull up to Jane's house, happy yet unnerved to see two lights bouncing around in the kitchen. One is sharp and direct- a Maglite- and the other is green- the toy flashlight you bought for the three-year-old. They're both awake, but you knew they'd be. Jane has to go to work. She used to be able to leave Malia with you when she'd leave early. You'd get the little girl ready and drop her off at school on your way to work. You loved your little routine of picking out clothes, braiding hair, and cooking breakfast. You miss it so much. You miss the little girl reaching out to you with sleepy eyes and ruffled hair. You even miss the days when she was cranky and she fought you for more sleep.
You miss it all.
You grip the steering wheel tightly because you're confused. For the first time in your life, you don't know what to do. It's as if you've all the sudden come across clear, unmoving waters when all you want is a giant storm to push you along. To fuel your trek.
Oh, there's a storm alright. It's right outside your car. The dense noise of heavy raindrops assaulting the roof of your car makes you even more reluctant to leave your makeshift haven.
But you know where the real haven is, and it's not here. It's not in this shiny black Lexus. It's not in your lavish Beacon Hill home. It's not in your world of nice things. No... It's here in this Boston suburb where the grass is dead near the edge of the sidewalk, and mailboxes have family hand prints. Where cars have those family member stickers, and windows are mucked with little fingerprints. Where children play hockey in the streets, and life happens.
You've never been happier to be here. Now if you could just get out of the car!
It's been four months, and four months too long.
You do not expect her to welcome you with open arms, hell, you don't even expect her to give you a chance, but you just know you have to try. You know whatever Jane chooses, it won't be rash. She'll consider her options. You know she'll choose what's best for her and her daughter, and if you're not it, then so be it. That's the way things have to be.
Stepping out of your car, you shut the door quietly and pull your hood on over your head. You run to the slightly crooked-hanging gate and undo the latch, letting yourself into the yard you spent so many lazy days reading medical journals and watching Malia play with her toys.
You dash up the walk and up the stairs, pausing before knocking three times on the charming white front door. A door for which you still have the keys, but you wouldn't dare use them. This is no longer your place to access, that is, unless Jane makes it so.
The door opens slowly at first, then flies open and Jane stares out at you. She's understandably confused at your presence, and for a moment you wonder if she even recognizes you. It's been a very long time.
"Jane," you try, but the rain drowns out your words. A thunderclap makes you flinch, but she remains unmoving.
"Maura?" She looks at you like she can't believe you're standing at her door. In the darkness, you cannot tell if your presence angers her.
"Jane," you say louder, though it pains you to raise your voice. Your throat is raw from crying. It's been that way ever since the dreams started. In other words, since the day you left. Out of the corner of your eye you see lightning slash across the black expanse above. You count four and a half seconds before thunder cracks the sky in half.
The storm is nearly a mile away.
Jane's right here, but you still can't feel her. A steady drip of water from the roof lands on your shoulder, soaking your clothes and chilling your skin. But you don't notice the change. All you see is the beautiful woman you love illuminated by the beam of a green flashlight.
"I'm sorry," you shout over the pounding rain. You're not sure if the water on your face is from the rain or from your own eyes. "Jane... I'm s-so sorry."
But you don't know what else to say. How do you apologize for abandoning her and her child in the middle of the sea? How do you mend something that is so clearly broken? Do you sweep it under the rug and pretend like nothing ever happened? Do you face it with everything you have? You need closure. One way or another, you're going to get it.
Malia tugs at her mother's shirt, "Who, Mama?"
"It's me, baby," you hear yourself saying, even though you've lost the right to call this child your baby.
"Mommy?" she squeals. "Mommy! You're back! Back! Yay!"
The little girl starts out the door towards you, and for a moment you fear Jane's going to hold her back. But she doesn't. She lets the girl run past her into your open arms, green flashlight bobbing all over the place. The child jumps into you, nearly knocking you backwards, and your heart soars.
"Ew! All wet, Mommy!"
You hug the child close to you because somewhere in the back of your mind you know there's a huge chance this is the last time you'll ever see her.
"I'm sorry, baby."
She wraps her little arms around your neck and squeezes, "Missed you! Where didju go, Mommy?"
"I missed you too. I'm so sorry. Mommy wasn't thinking."
"It's o'right. But... But you weren't there. You didn't see me in the play!"
You feel your heart breaking in your chest. You missed her spring play. She played a raindrop, but you would never have known had Jane's mother not called you. What kind of mother misses her child's play?
"I know, baby. I know."
She plays with a few soaked strands of your hair, "S'okay, Mommy. I can jus' show you here! We can do it all over, jus' so you can see, Mommy!"
One glance at Jane and your heart sinks. It doesn't look like she's going to allow this for much longer. You cannot see her face, but her body language is defensive. She doesn't want you here, you know it. So you hug the girl extra tight, knowing your time is reaching its end.
"Mommy! You're squeeging me!" she child says giggling despite the sadness that's weighing you down.
"You're so big." You note that she's at least an inch or two taller than she was the last time you saw her. And you don't remember it being so difficult to keep her in your arms before.
"I know! I know! Mama says I growed a whole bunch. An' guess what?"
You don't guess. You cannot make yourself even try. "What, bug?"
"I eats all my vegetables."
You smile at her despite the tears spilling down your face, "All of them?"
"Every last one'a 'em! I promise. I wanna be strong like Mama," she shines the green light right in your face and gasps, "Why're your cryin'? Mommy, why're you sad?"
"I'm not sad, baby. I'm just so happy to see you again."
"C'mon," the little girl says, wiggling out of your arms. She grabs your hand and tries to pull you inside, but you remain rooted in your spot. "C'mon, Mommy! I wanna show you my new owl bank! I paint it all myself!"
You hear thunder again, but this time it's not the sky it severs... It's your heart. You've ruined the only thing in your life that matters. And because of it, you're losing everything else around you. You couldn't pull yourself together at work, so they put you on leave. You couldn't even summon the energy to feed Bass. You made arrangements nearly two months ago to transfer him to the zoo, where you've only visited him a handful of times. You've lost your family.
"C'mon! Why aren't you movin'?"
Maybe you never found your way to land. Maybe you had it all wrong. Jane found solid ground, and you found salt-water-induced delusions of safety. You've been underwater, and right now, your head is peeking above the surface. But a hundred-foot wave is looming above you, moving in slow motion, but moving all the same. It will finish you if you don't get yourself out of the water, and learn to walk on land again.
"How about you bring it out here so I don't get water all over the place?"
The girl nods and sprints back into the house, leaving you and Jane alone in the darkness. She clicks on her Maglite, but keeps it pointed at the ground.
"Jane..." you try, but you trail off. You don't know what you're going to say or when you'll know. Your decision to come here tonight was rash and not thought out. You went with your gut, or heart, or some other organ you should not have been thinking with. You have a brilliant brain... Why didn't you use it?
"I'll go now," you say quietly, half-hoping she'll just let you go without another word.
"Where're you going?" she says, her voice carrying easily of the pouring rain.
You turn and face her again, but you keep eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry. I was... I was stupid. I thought... Well, I really don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have said those things. I just couldn't believe someone wanted me the way you do... Or did, I suppose. I just... I ruined everything, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't know how I felt when you asked, but I know now, and..."
You don't even understand what you're saying, but you can't stop the words from tumbling out.
"I know you'd never trick me like that. You're not cruel. I know that, I don't know why I thought you were. I have have no excuses, just my own blind stupidity. You loved me, an-"
She reaches out and puts her finger over your mouth, "What do you mean loved?"
Her finger traps the words building inside of you, and you realize she doesn't want you to answer. You've done too much talking, but you don't know what else to try.
"After what I've done... I would understand if you never want to see me again. I shouldn't have left like that. I should have slowed down. I should have waited for my brain to process, and told you what I really wanted. I... I'm so-"
She catches you mid-word with her lips, silencing your ramble as she wraps her long arms around you. She pulls close, despite the drenched state of your clothes. She kisses the worry and fear of drowning right out of you. You mind loses its drag, the weight lifts and disappears completely. At stark contrast to the raging storm howling all around you.
"I still love you," she whispers close in your ear.
There's a part of you that thinks you heard her wrong, and another part of you whispers that she's lying. That she wants to hurt you for hurting her so badly. But you know you she never would. The truth is stained in the deepest parts of your brain. She'll never hurt you the way your hurt her. And you'll never hurt her again.
"I love you, Jane... I really do, and I'm sorry."
She's quiet for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. "I know you are. I was just waiting for you to realize the same thing," she pauses. "Though I didn't think I'd have to wait for so long."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. You needed to be ready."
Despite the time that dragged on between that night and right now, she doesn't even hesitate. You feel as if you're picking up just where you left off as she pulls you inside in the dark house, down the hall, and to the left into her bedroom. You cannot see anything, but it feels the same. It smells like you own home- just like her- only more so here. You never want to leave again.
She helps you out of your wet clothes and pulls one of her own soft t-shirts over your head. She kisses your nose in the darkness and pulls you down into her bed. You settle into her like it's the most natural thing in the world, and it is. She tells you how much she's missed holding you, and her arms tighten around you. And you know that everything's perfect.
You're just missing one thing.
The green light bobs up and down in the room across from Jane's- yours- as Malia looks for her toy. Finding it, she dashes down the hall, in search of you and Jane.
"In here, kid!" Jane calls, and seconds later, that little green light returns.
"You're goin' back'ta sleep? For real?" the child asks.
"No, Mama's gotta go to work soon."
The little girl jumps onto the bed and wiggles between you and Jane. She holds up her owl-shaped bank for you to see, shaking it to signify that she's found a couple coins to fill it with. "I've got lots'a money, Mommy. We can buy somethin' new."
"Yeah, you have a lot of money, kid. You're richer than I am," Jane says, then sits up, "Alright. I gotta get you to Grandma's."
The girl shakes her head and latches onto you, "I wanna stay with Mommy!"
"I can stay with her, Jane," you insist. You want her to know that your'e never going to run again. This is exactly where you belong. Besides, you have an entire play performance and four months worth of stories to catch up on. You've got your work cut out for you, and you love it.
"You sure?"
"Yes, you go to work. We'll be fine."
You feel the bed shift beneath you as Jane presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Bye, Mal. I'll see you later, maybe with some ice cream if Mommy says you're good."
"I'll be the bestest! I will, I will!" the child screeches excitedly.
"I know you will."
And then it's your turn. She leans over to you and presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. "And I'll see you tonight," she whispers. "Four months in a long time to be sleeping alone, Maura Isles. I think I'm gonna have to collect."
A smile breaks across your face at the thought of her above you, reclaiming you... loving you.
"Collect what, Mama?" Malia asks with curious eyes.
Jane chuckles, "Mommy's kisses."
"Yuck. I don't wanna see that!" she says, sticking her little tongue out. She braces her little feet against Jane's shoulders and pushes her away.
"Okay, okay. Bye little Mal."
"Bye, Mama. Catch those bad guys. Get 'em all in jail!"
"Alright, just because you said so." She turns to you, her eyes hopeful. You desperately hope she's not wondering if you're going to be here when she gets back. You're not going anywhere. She gives your leg one last squeeze before she leaves the bed, and eventually the room. You watch her go, secretly wishing she didn't have to work today.
Malia pulls the stopper out of the bottom of the owl, and the coins fall out all over the bed, "Oh man! I can't'a believe that happen."
You collect some of the coins and return them into the little bank, smiling at the little girl fretting beside you. You've missed her terribly, and now she's right next to you, cast in silly green light.
"I missed you, baby."
"I missed you too, Mommy," the girl says, pushing her dark mess of hair out of her eyes. She looks you right in the eye, "Don't leave o'more, okay?"
"I won't leave. I promise."
Malia seems slightly less than convinced. She holds her hand out, pinky finger extended. "You have'ta pinky promise, so I'll know it's real."
You loop your own pinky through hers, smiling again at how amazing it feels to have her back. "I promise, baby."
"Good," she says, forgetting all about the spilled coins. She latches back onto you and buries her little head in your shoulder, "'Cause I missed you a lot."
You suck in a breath, "I love you, bug."
You've never told her that before. You didn't think you were supposed to. She was yours, yes, but not yours. Jane had her with another. But now you know that none of that matters. As far as anyone's concerned, Malia is yours.
"Love you more, Mommy," she giggles in your arms. "You're a'pposed'ta say 'No, I love you more.' Say it."
You laugh a little bit, but let yourself indulge in her game, "Mommy loves you more."
"No, me more!"
"No way, absolutely impossible. I love you more."
"I love you eighty-three twenty-four... hundred!"
You feign shock, "Oh my, that's a big number."
She nods proudly, "I know it! I had'ta think of the biggest number in the whole world 'cause that's how much I love you, Mommy."
As the girl settles into you, she yawns and quickly falls into sleep again, and you know you've made it out. You've hit the shore and now you're testing your legs. Those four months did nothing to dull the love you feel for Jane and the beautiful child in your arms. You're never letting go.
Outside you hear the rain thinning, and after twenty minutes you notice that it's stopped completely. The light in the hall flickers back on, and the sun breaks through the last of the clouds. The storm ran itself out in just the way you weathered your own storm.
You made it out to the other side alive, and you have no intention of returning to sea.
Ever.
A/N: The 4:15 section follows the framework of the song 'Play Crack the Sky' by Brand New, preferably the version that's live at the Observatory. Wrote this over the course of one night because I just wanted to play around with oceanic metaphors. And admittedly, yes, it may have got a little too poetic in places, and I wasn't quite sure how to end it. But hey, if you made it this far, then I guess it's not completely terrible. Yay!
Review if you'd like. Thoughts, suggestions, and one-shot requests are always accepted.
Thanks!