The crimson stains were worse than any scar.
Jane remembered the bloody mess. The red viscous dew coated her palms, covering marks of another tragic day. This day, however, trumped all other tragedies. The day she lost her partner.
The day Barry Frost died.
She could still hear the gun backfire in her head. It all happened too fast. It was all so wrong. They weren't chasing down villains or caught in a shootout. The two were checking up on a lead, interviewing a suspect's family when the gun was drawn on them from behind. Only prudence could have saved them.
A teenage boy with his father's gun, under the impression he was guarding the family, took Frost's life. Jane shot the young man on instinct before he could line up and take her down as well. She knew internal affairs would grill her for such tactics but in the moment all she knew was that her partner was down and she was likely to be next.
She called for backup, while blood and screams filled the seedy apartment. The young man's mother screamed and the children wailed over the teenager's body. Frost choked on his own blood, pulling at Jane's shirt and gasping for air. Jane urged him to hang on, begged him to keep his eyes open but before he could even manage final words, Frost was gone. She pounded on his chest until the medics came and watched silently in the back of the ambulance as he flat lined. Jane only hoped that he wasn't in any pain.
Nearly half of the Boston PD showed up at the hospital, milling around, sharing bad coffee and reassurances. Jane wasn't surprised. It's what happened when one of their own was caught in the line of fire. But what she longed to tell them was that there was no hope. The moment Frost closed his eyes, she knew he was dead.
Some of the officers tried to speak with her, Korsak included, but she could only mutter that someone needed to break the news to Barry's mother. She had no other words. She simply sat in the hallway, waiting for the final confirmation from the doctors, hands trembling and still covered in crimson. There was so much of Frost's blood on her shirt that when they arrived the doctors thought she had been wounded as well. They insisted on taking a look at her but Jane couldn't stand the thought of contact with anyone else and stubbornly refused.
The moments were a hurried blur after that. The confirmation of Frost's death, the statement, the condolences, calls, tears, guilt; Jane could hardly breathe thinking about all of it. Only one face, one voice among chaos could save her from the darkness.
"How long have you been awake?" the voice questioned.
Light was just beginning to twinkle through the blinds and gave Jane's small bedroom an early morning glow. "A few hours," Jane lied. It was surely more than that. Of course now she could hardly differentiate between her thoughts and nightmares. Perhaps she really had been asleep. Perhaps, it could all just be one horrible dream.
Maura Isles frowned at the distance in Jane's brown eyes. It was improvement upon the sheer terror and forlornness she'd seen at the hospital, but not since the incident had the detective appeared to have any spark in her face. Two days had passed and in that time Maura had made camp in Jane's apartment.
Jane of course had protested at first. She needed no one and was determined to be left alone in her grief. The medical examiner was taking no such orders. So it was Maura who was there for Jane. She was the one who took her home, held back her hair when she got sick from the adrenaline, fed her, took the calls she couldn't bear, and did her best to comfort the woman when she allowed herself a few tears. Jane put up a front of aloofness, but deep down she needed Maura. It's why when night fell and darkness inspired a sense of anxiety and panic, she asked her to stay.
For two nights, Maura slept next to Jane. They made little remark of their bodies brushing together or the occasional spoon. The timing was too tragic to draw attention to the natural feeling of being close. Too much angst to admit that Jane's heart fluttered despite its sadness with Maura's warm body next to her. In the moments when she couldn't sleep, Jane would watch the strawberry blonde enjoy slumber. But it was neither the time nor place to even consider such musings. These were dark days.
"What have you been thinking about?" Maura asked. It wasn't yet six and they hadn't gone to bed until well after one, but she shook off her desire for rest. The medical examiner sat up in bed, wiping sleep from her eyes.
"Nothing," Jane replied. "You can go back to bed, Maur. I know I've been keeping you up…"
"Bad dreams?" Maura inquired.
Jane shrugged, biting on her lip to suppress emotion. She kept her gaze far away from Maura's, desperate to keep a strong front. "I don't know anymore," she admitted.
"Are you going to be okay for today?"
It was the day of the funeral. It was the day Jane was expected to wear her formal uniform and take a stand next to Barry's coffin. They asked her to speak since she was his partner, but she'd prepared nothing. The task made her feel nauseous.
"Jane?" Maura tried again. She placed a gentle hand on the woman's strong back. Jane's heart felt light and her stomach tingled with pleasure at the touch. She pulled in a slow breath, calming herself. The influx of emotions was making her extra weary.
"He was just a kid, Maura," Jane whispered.
Maura rubbed Jane's shoulder. "Barry was a brave man and he knew what it meant to wear the badge," she assured her.
"Not Frost," Jane replied. She nearly lost her breath and looked down, swallowing past the pit in her throat. "That boy I shot. I shot a kid Maura. Just fifteen, and I turned around and I killed him in front of his mother and little sisters."
The details, the story, the vision, made Maura shiver. She'd seen gruesome crime scenes and spent her days among the dead, but something about Jane in the middle of such horror and affliction made her eyes sting with the threat of tears. She knew her friend's duties as a detective were never easy, and some of them even morally hazardous, but the omission struck low and painful.
"You did what you had to do," Maura whispered.
"Did I?" Jane asked. She looked at the blinds, studying the streaks of weak light. So much of her longed for a chance to break. And yet the stronger part – the stubborn half more accurately – denied such emotion. She knew once the walls broke there would be no going back. "They took my badge, Maura."
"It's protocol, Jane. Administrative leave is common after shootings," she assured.
Jane shook her head. Internal Affairs already interviewed her once and the prospects felt bleak. Shooting a kid, no matter the reasons, would not end well. "I've been thinking about it all morning. All night. If I had moved another way, if we had come at a different time, if the bullet got me instead of…"
"Don't say that, Jane," Maura cut her off. She did her best to hide the fact that the breath was caught in her throat out of fear. The very notion disturbed and frightened her like nothing else. The sharpness of the medical examiner's tone made Jane finally match the woman's gaze. She could see the fear and pain across Maura's face. She hated that she put it there.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "I just don't understand why it was him and not me."
Maura shook her head, hand still on Jane's back. "I don't know either," she said. She gave a tender sigh and reached up, pushing a loose piece of Jane's hair behind her ear. It was a maternal, affectionate gesture, and still deep down she worried of giving off the wrong idea. Every touch, every cuddle or glance, Maura feared revealing something deeper. She did her best to remain at a distance but in most cases it was too hard.
"I was in the lab when I heard of the news…" Maura said suddenly. The silence between them was unbearable and the desire to share the secret had been tormenting her for the last forty-eight hours. Jane fell into complete attention when Maura spoke, comforted by just the sound of her voice.
"Frankie came bursting through those doors and without him even saying anything, I just knew - I knew something horrible had happened. I was so terrified that it had been you, I could barely breathe," Maura confessed. "Even after all these years, knowing you're out in the field, I still worry."
"I didn't know that," Jane replied, voice raspy and subdued. She couldn't pull her dark eyes from Maura's face. Even without make-up, hair left wild down her back, in the unflattering morning light, she was breathtaking. Her breasts were untamed by a bra, white skin generously peeking through the tank she wore to bed. Her body and hands were warm and the sweet aroma that circled her cooed for Jane to come closer. Coupled with the kind words, Jane could hardly keep herself from feeling desire.
"I always worry. If something happened to you, I don't know if I could stand it," Maura confessed. "I was – I still am – devastated that Barry's gone. But there was a part of me, one I don't like to admit, that was relieved when we got the call that it was him and not you who was hit. In those moments of uncertainty, waiting for the details to come through, my whole world felt in disarray."
"If something happened to me, you'd be okay Maur," Jane told her.
Maura shook her head as a lump tightened in her throat. It was a lump that made many appearances lately. "No I wouldn't," she nearly scoffed. She forced a smile, abstaining from all tears but one. It made a slow trail down her cheek. She reached out and grabbed her friend's hand. "I love you, Jane."
Goosebumps flew up and down Jane's arms at the touch. She managed a squeeze back and looked down at the comforter. She still refused to cry and any longer with Maura's eyes would defeat her attempts. "I love you too," she told her.
It wasn't the first time the two women exchanged the phrase. Friends could love each other, and regardless of what was going on between them, they weren't excluded from such proclamations. Still, the detective found herself growing hot in the face and squirmed uneasily. Jane cleared her throat. "I'm going to make some coffee. You want?"
Maura managed a quiet nod, watching as Jane rose from the bed, still avoiding eye contact. The detective's tall, lithe form was emphasized by her small black shorts and a gray BPD crew neck. Her dark hair was pulled in a messy collection behind her head. Maura watched the woman's backside until she was gone and leaned back against the headboard.
While the medical examiner wasn't on hand for the shooting or left to felt responsible for Frost's death, the last forty-eight hours had been her own sort of hell. In all the losses she'd experienced at the Boston PD, this was easily the worst. Frost was family. And while his death was painful, watching Jane, another piece of her quilted clan, suffer was equally difficult. For the first time, Maura didn't know the answers. Logic told her Jane needed help beyond her. Logic told her that their nights spent together in bed would soon have to end and would become confusing if not hindering if they weren't. Logic told her she was stepping over a line. But her heart said different.
In fact, her heart said only one thing.
It said that this was where she needed to be. More than that, it was where she wanted to be.
Not sure if this will stay a one shot or continue - depends on time - but I hope you enjoyed!