Metaphors had never been within her mastery.
Similes were not her strong suit
Figures of speech were never her forte.
Until Jane.
Then everything changed.
Everything.
Those literary devices all required a nuanced understanding of things that Maura historically didn't possess. Since she'd met Jane, joined the tightly knit crew in Homicide, she'd been getting better.
The implications lacing double entendres, metaphors, body language, myriad other non-verbal cues- it all began to come together. And when she didn't understand, Jane was always there to bail her out, fill her in, make sense of it all.
To help her comprehend things.
Things like the explication of human emotion through evocative imagery that, on the surface, had nothing to do with thoughts or feelings.
Before Jane, she lived in the literal.
So when, this is why tortoises have shells, flitted through her mind and she pictured Bass's hard shell encasing her heart, she was surprised.
Jane had flipped Maura over on her shell, so to speak.
Tilted her soft side up, exposed her vulnerabilities to the world, and left her there to squirm.
Maura looked wistfully over at Jane and then closed her eyes against the torrent of emotion that assailed her.
Jane didn't turn, didn't flinch, stared obliviously at the TV as Sports Center flickered before her.
They'd fallen into a pattern in their lives, in their relationship.
For weeks, months, years, Maura was satisfied with it. Happy to finally have a colleague, a friend, someone to turn to and rely on and love.
Jane was more than she had ever imagined in another person.
She constantly amazed Maura. Defied logic.
What had she said once?
You are deceptively complex- I do not understand you.
As true in this moment as when she first uttered the words.
So Maura was shocked but not surprised when she realized what her feelings really meant. It settled over her like something heavy, coarse. Like improperly woven wool.
It itched, chafed.
The niggling knowledge relentlessly hounded her. She couldn't shake it.
It started to leak into her words, her actions.
She couldn't help the darkening of her eyes, the racing of her heart, the flush on her skin.
Jane noticed, of course. She was a detective, after all.
I'm just not quite myself, had only worked for a few days. Then her excuses, not exactly lies, had fallen on deaf ears, been met with prying questions, a furrowed brow.
It drove a wedge between them, a sliver of distance that festered and expanded with every denial, ever half-truth, every near lie. Like a balloon inflating in an enclosed space, filling every possible void until there wasn't room left to move.
Time marched on.
Their relationship took on a new hue. Black and white faded seamlessly into endless shades of grey.
Nothing was clear.
There were no bright lines.
The ambiguity was like drowning.
Before Jane, the whole world had felt like that to Maura. Human interaction had been a maze she was simply not equipped to navigate.
Jane had been her compass.
Her map. Her anchor. Safe port in a stormy universe.
Now, she was adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
Sometimes Jane would swoop in when Maura least expected it. Save her, just in the nick of time.
Other times, more and more often lately, she let Maura flounder.
Maura wasn't able to predict which outcome would be the result in any given situation. No set of hypotheticals or variables helped her to reach a solid conclusion.
It left her constantly off balance, walking a tightrope of uncertainty with nothing to break her fall.
When she was nine, Maura had watched a video of an astronaut fixing part of their craft in space. He suited up and floated out into space with only a thick cord to tether him to his crew, to safety, to life, to hope.
Maura hadn't breathed at all while she was watching.
All she could think was, but what if it breaks?
The reality of his equipment, the back-up systems and fail-safes and propulsion pack strapped to his body temporarily escaped her. Her scientific mind had been momentarily overcome by an agonizingly human panic.
What if it breaks?
She knew now, what that must have felt like.
Floating out in the great, vast darkness of space and time with only a single thread connecting you to humanity.
And she was beginning to understand what would happen if it broke.
She was reaching the end of that length with Jane.
At any moment she might drift away into the blackness.
Be lost.
Jane shifted beside her, still oblivious to the racing of Maura's heart, the fluttering thrum of her nerves, the tightness of her chest.
"I can hear you thinking from over here," Jane rasped, a hint of annoyance to her tone.
Perhaps not completely oblivious then.
"What's wrong?"
What's wrong?
Maura wanted to say, everything.
"Nothing," she said instead.
She had been practicing her lies in the mirror. Tried not to think about how she was schooling herself to be a sociopath. To lie without a hint of remorse or physical response.
Jane looked at her out of the corner of her eye, lips pursed, brow wrinkled.
Don't press, Maura silently begged.
"If you're sure," Jane hedged.
Maura wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything these days.
And she felt another bit of that tether unraveling, felt herself drift closer to the darkness.
Wondered why she let Jane slowly, unknowingly extinguish the light inside her.
Every little misunderstanding, ever near miss of emotional intimacy, was like a knife to Maura's heart. She spent her time allowing Jane to twist it, press it further, cut her deeper, all the while hoping Jane wouldn't tear the blade out, leave her gaping and bleeding.
Jane didn't disappoint.
She tried half-heartedly to get Maura to open up, tried to patch Maura up and maintain the status quo. But that little wound would become a scar, and Maura carried the words and silences around with her like tokens, unable to shake the visceral way they'd struck bone.
And she began to understand things in a way she suddenly wished she didn't.
It was the first and only time in her life that she cursed the acquisition of knowledge. Hated herself for realizing. Wished for ignorance.
Because now, she thought in abstract terms and she comprehended.
Love was war.
She had been defeated.
Love was nourishment.
Maura starved.
Love was dreaming.
She was perpetually awake.
Metaphors had never been within her mastery.
Similes were not her strong suit
Figures of speech were never her forte.
Until Jane.