One Week

It's been one week since Maura's looked at me.

In that time I've been watching X Files in the dark and ordering more Chinese food than I've ever eaten in my whole life. I even watched some weird Asian movies earlier. In my professional opinion, there weren't enough samurai.

…Okay, so I don't make movies. But, if I did, they'd totally have samurai and ninjas and shit.

It happened last Tuesday. Ever since Maura and I have started dating, she's wanted me to take it easy with my detective work, meaning not throwing myself into potentially life threatening situations. Which is actually a lot harder than it sounds considering, you know, I'm a damned cop and all.

But I've been trying. God how I've been trying. I didn't jump the guy with a knife who was attempting his second robbery/homicide at a drug store even though I really, really wanted to. I didn't try to snatch up the gun from the chick trying to commit suicide. I didn't even tackle any perps for a long ass time. Like, damn. I was doin' real good, bein' all safe and shit. Because that's what my girlfriend wanted. That was her only rule, and the least I could fuckin' do was comply.

But this guy. This guy was…. Too familiar. Too much like Hoyt. He had a kid in his basement, though. A little boy. I could hear him crying from outside. And, don't tell anyone, but I'm a sucker for crying kids. I'll do anything to make them feel better.

Especially when making them feel better involves busting into a cellar, guns a-blazin', and getting cracked over the head with the butt of a rifle.

Talk about ow.

Frost says I was out for at least ten minutes. They pretty much let me lay there while they busted the guy. Some freakin' hero I am. Shit.

But when I woke up on the hard floor, there was a small boy kneeling beside me while Frost shouted into his walkie talkie and Korsak put his jacket under my head.

"You saved me," the little boy said. "If you hadn't come in when you did, that man would have done bad things to me."

"Bad things," meaning…. Well, I don't want to think about what that meant.

And he cried and hugged me, and then later at the hospital his mother cried and hugged me, too. And suddenly, being an idiot was kinda worth it.

Maura seemed to disagree.

She stalked silently into my hospital room where I sat on the bed. They said I had a concussion, but if I stayed with someone who'd be willing to wake me up every few hours so I didn't slip into a coma and die or some shit, I'd be fine.

Maura read my charts, then glanced at me. "I'll be taking care of you, of course."

"Of course," I agreed nervously. At least she wasn't making me stay with my mother, but I was kind of scared she might kill me for breaking her rule.

"You feel all right, then?" she asked, carefully putting a hand to the blackening side of my face and looking intently at me. I'd have one helluva shiner in the morning. I was kind of excited about it. When my brothers and I were little, black eyes were like badges of honor, and that concept has stuck with me.

"Yea, I'm good," they'd given me some prescription pain killers a while ago, and I was feeling pretty excellent.

"Good." She went to fill out some paperwork regarding my release from the hospital, then paused. She looked up at me and tilted her head.

"I'm angry, Jane," she announced, and it was so emotionless you'd think she was lying. But I know Maura can't lie. And I knew that inside, she was killing me repeatedly.

"I know." I tried to look remorseful, because I really was, but I felt the corners of my mouth turn up. I can't help it. Ever since I was little I've had this problem – giggling when being scolded, or in any type of real serious situation, really. I'm the kinda person who laughs at funerals, you know?

"Don't patronize me, Jane," she sighed, looking back to the paperwork.

"I'm not! You yourself said this is probably some kind of weird coping mechanism."

Maura didn't reply, and she didn't look at me.

That was a week ago.

I look down at the rug burn on my knees. It's faded considerably, and it doesn't hurt anymore. I got it two days before Maura stopped acknowledging me. She'd wanted me to teach her how to tackle perps, for some weird reason, and because I'm such an accommodating god damn individual, I agreed. That woman's got a lot of force packed into that tiny body. That tiny…. Sexy… body.

Oh, that's the other thing. Aside from the night of my concussion, I've been sleeping on the couch. We haven't touched. We haven't kissed. We haven't made love.

I'm goin' a little nuts over here.

Maura's forgiven me.

Granted, she hasn't said anything to me, but she made my coffee this morning. Instant and everything. She always makes my coffee, unless I'm in the dog house. Then I gotta make it myself. But this morning I came down to a freshly brewed pot. It smelled fantastic. I wanted to thank Maura, but she was gone. Left early again, just like she always does when she's upset and avoiding me. Okay, so it's a step.

Actually, she's still avoiding me for another reason and I know it. I'm such a douche. She's forgiven me, but I'm so damn stubborn it'll be a little while before I can lose my pride and gain some humility and say sorry. She's waiting for me to get my shit together.

The thing is, I'm really not sorry. I did what I felt was necessary. It was a kid this time, it was different. I'd never have forgiven myself if something had happened to him.

But I am sorry for hurting Maura and making her upset, so I head off to work with the intentions of apologizing when I see her in the morgue. And I know she'll try to apologize, try to say she was wrong for overreacting or something. But she's not. I'm the jerk who did something stupid.

"Hey Maur?" I call gently, easing open the door to the morgue. She groans and tosses down her utensils, and I'm momentarily startled. She throws her arms in the air.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have overreacted, you were just doing your job. But Jane, I – why are you laughing at me?"

I put a hand over my mouth to stifle my giggles. "That's exactly what I thought you'd say," I tell her, and I'm so tickled by it that I continue to giggle uncontrollably. I think it's the irony, paired with relief at the fact that Maura just looked at me. I'm pretty much one giddy-ass motherfucker.

Maura quirks an eyebrow, then smirks at me. "Get… that," she gestures to my giggling, hunched over form, "together, then come back and see me. Okay? I'm busy." She turns back to her work

"Wait," I sober up. "Maura, wait." I approach her, then slowly wrap my arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck from behind. "I'm sorry," I breathe into her ponytail. She smells of chemicals and cleanliness, but thankfully not death. I smile, lips against the dip in her shoulder. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm an idiot. But… that little boy…"

She turns in my arms, and now we're embracing. She strokes my wild curls gently. "I know," she murmurs, "and it's all right. I can't blame you for having a heart, now can I?"

"I guess not," I chuckle quietly. And everything's right again.

It only took one week.