It wasn't Maura. It wasn't her. You keep repeating the words over and over in your head as you run. It wasn't Maura. You try to unclench your lungs with each deep breath in. It wasn't her. You try to drown out the echoed scream with each beat of your heart.
You are not JJ. The feebleness of that thought seeps downwards; the heel of your shoe breaks. You end up sprawled out onto grass. You forgot you were even wearing heels.
You lie there, not even fighting the anguish as it seizes your body. I don't want to hurt her.
Dr. Maura Isles.
Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. You met her along with the rest of the detectives when she started over a year ago. You, like most of the guys in the room, were checking her out. For the guys, that was no surprise, but it was unlike you. You couldn't help it, she was ethereal.
She had on a yellow blazer, her golden hair down in elegant curls, her makeup unnecessarily brought out her eyes. She smiled at you.
You were unsettled. You figured it was simply her staggering beauty.
At first, to keep up your delusion you scoffed, like the rest of them, at her uncompromising control and exhaustive analysis of each crime scene. But as you watched her work, you were impressed with her professionalism and accuracy. She was dedicated. And damn good at her job.
Other detectives found her socially awkward, spouting random facts like a cyborg. Although you didn't mind it, you clung to the idea that she was all brains and no heart. You went down to the morgue late one evening and saw her virtuous devotion—Maura was consoling the dead. She gently laid a hand on a recent victim's head and promised to be thorough and find every piece of evidence that would lead to the killer. She was in her scrubs and gear, but she seemed just as naked as the girl on her table.
You were taken by her. It had only been two weeks.
You found yourself excited to go to work, which hadn't happened since years ago. You enjoyed working with this quirky, fashion loving, science geek of a woman. Maura seemed to like working with you as well and she began helping on more of your cases. You two started hanging out for lunch, coffee, breakfast, and drinks after work, leading to spending time outside of work and the BPD vicinity. You found out so much more about her—she's well-traveled, cultured, smarter than you originally thought, generous, caring, honest, selfless, strong, and adorable. You began to feel a fierce loyalty and protection over this more than capable woman because of the genuine good in her. Yet, you were confused why Maura Isles wanted to be around you, a simple blue-collar detective with less class than Maura's little finger, but you wanted her to stay.
One night, as you were both falling asleep on her couch after what had come to be your routine dinner and movie, she said she was so glad to have you as a friend. You smiled sleepily, a reflex. She was happy, and that was your doing, so yeah, you smiled. But then, an uneasiness. It could have been because you didn't think you deserved her friendship; there was still a lot she didn't know about you. It may have been that you wished to be more than friends.
And shit, looks like you don't deserve her at all, you think as your bare feet hit the pavement of Boston streets. Somehow you were walking again, broken pair of shoes in hand.
As you walk, you begin to sober up. Your actions tonight wash over you.
You're such a dick, you berate yourself. You take off your tux jacket and fold it over your arm.
What does she even see in you? You sigh and untuck your blouse. You undo a few buttons by your neck.
What makes you think you'd be good for her? You take your hair down and angrily mess your curls.
You look up and found your feet had lead you to her door. You need to apologize before she completely cuts you out of her life.
You raise a hand to knock.
You turn around to sit on the steps, outside her door. You feel everything threatening to rush out again. Your anger and fear and despair; your inadequacies. You need to dull them, before they gut you.
The door opens behind you. "Jane!"
Butterflies. You find you've missed her voice.
She hugs you immediately even though you both end up in an awkward position on her steps. She has changed, now in jeans and a sensible pair of heels.
For a moment, you are pacified. Then feeling her arms hold you with such tenderness, after everything, brings you to close your eyes in shame.
"I was just about to go back out and look for you. I was so worried." She kept her embrace, burying her face in your curls. As if they gave her comfort. "I'm so glad you're here," she breathes. Like she's unveiling a secret.
You feel tears on your cheek. You are unsure if they are yours or hers. They prompt your apology.
You shakily begin, "Maur, I have so much I want to apologize for." You try to find courage. "For tonight, this past week. I'm just such a fucking mess. And I know. And I wanted to keep you far from it. But then, like tonight…" You choke on disgust for your actions.
She hugs you tighter. Safe haven. Like the pillow forts you made when you were younger.
I want to be better for you. "Why do you put up with me," you mumble into her shoulder.
She pulls back from you, surprise etched on her face. She softly cradles your jaw in one hand. Your eyes focus on hers without hesitation. "I thought it was obvious," she says with a glimmer of something you don't quite understand.
You stare at her silently, trying to move the sludge in your brain so that you can properly decipher the crinkles in her brow and the strokes she leaves on your cheek and hands. All you can think is how radiant she is.
She sees your struggle and smiles slightly. She lets out a small, astonished "Hm," seemingly pleased to know something you don't.
She stands, pulling your hands with her. You get up. She leads you into the house.
Her house is the best. It's like you're immersed in all things Maura. You smell floral notes of various arrangements Maura has around the house as well as that spiced perfume she always wears. You relax as the neutral toned walls soften the already dimmed lights. Maura sits you down on the couch next to her, still holding onto your hands.
Sanctuary.
You were sitting there for a while, your hands in hers, the quiet of the night between you.
"Do you think about the future," she asks you in practiced offhand.
Yes. "Not really."
"I don't believe that." She turns to face you. "Everyone thinks about their future even if it is only a few days into it; even if it is only a small hope for yourself."
You'll both be at home, lounging in your pajamas, enjoying a late morning on your day off. She'll do something adorably annoying and you'll playfully wrestle with her. While she's laughing and trying to get away, you'll take her hand and slide on the ring you had hidden from her for weeks. She'll stop, shocked. She'll smile at you, teary eyed. She'll say nothing but will kiss you all the ways for 'Yes.'
"It hurts too much to hope," you say quietly.
She pushes back the strands of curls you try to hide behind. "Do you try anyway?"
You'll be at the park, a small boy in a grass-stained red sox t-shirt tosses you the baseball you'll get him for his fifth birthday. Maura will call you from a picnic blanket, a kid-friendly, yet nutritious lunch carefully set out. You'll chase the boy. He'll giggle and run, squealing into the arms of his mommy, his dark curls will fly about wildly. You'll playfully tackle both, tickling and showering them with kisses. You'll lovingly look at your family; two sets of green eyes will smile back at you. You'll find yourself in a tangled heap, everyone giggling with excess happiness.
"It's hard to." Your voice is gravely as you admit, "It's hard to believe in a future when the past keeps wrecking everything." When you keep wrecking things.
"I think of the future." She looks squarely into your eyes.
You'll both be old and greyed. She'll still look absolutely stunning; white hair neatly pulled into a bun, dimples set a little deeper, green eyes still glimmering. You'll be there, sitting, holding hands, looking at each other. Still in love.
"I think of the future," she says again, "and I find it makes it easier to let the past lie."
You take a deep breath in.
She shifts closer to you. "The future I imagine, is something I want so much."
Your heart begins to clench.
She holds your face between her hands, her green eyes glisten with tears and peer into yours with such intensity you don't think you can look directly at them. "I want it so much that I drop the past and run as hard as I can to get to that future."
"Maura," you sob, pained. All your defenses laid to waste at her feet.
"Jane," she begs. Her thumbs wipe away tears from your cheeks, your eyelashes. They trace along your eyebrows, one follows down your nose. "Please. Drop the past."
You want to so much. Except, you know there'll be more cases that get to you. You can't promise her you'll be perfect. You drop your head into her hands.
She pulls your face up towards her again. "Please, Jane. Leave it behind you. Be here with me now." She kisses your right cheek.
You shudder. You only ever wanted to be with Maura. But you're gonna hurt her. You shake your head.
She stops you. "Let it go. Please. Come with me instead." She kisses the corner of your left eye lid.
You fall against her forehead. You bring a hand up to her neck. You feel her body humming. "Maura, I—"
Her lips are against yours. Beseeching.
You melt. You explode. You fly. You are liberated.
You pull her closer, your fingers tangling in her hair. Affirmation.
She tastes like permanence. She feels like inevitability.
You carefully pull a part. You look into those pools of green.
Maura.
Your future seems infinitely closer. You allow yourself to hope.
A/N: i kind of love it. what did you guys think?
the end! thanks so much for sticking through this with me :) i feel quite accomplished, having finished this first ever fanfic. i do have plans for more. i've been toiling with a few, trying to figure out some of the details. maybe a lighter one next?
