AUTHOR'S NOTE: That's it, folks! The very last chapter, the light at the end of a long and twisted tunnel. I hope you enjoyed the ride, even if updates have been infrequent at times. And if you have learned a thing or two about stress and depression along the way, perhaps caught a glimpse of yourself or someone you love in Maura's journey, then it's all been worth it for me as well.
I promised to write an M-rated epilogue, and I still think I will, so (if you're into M-rating) keep the 'story alert' function activated even though I am now calling this story 'complete'. It is complete - the epilogue, once written, will be a completely optional read. And I might as well come out and admit right now that I have no idea when I'll find the time to write that epilogue. I'm kind of drowning in my thesis these days plus the Yuletide fan fic challenge has begun. Also, I don't want to just write an empty sex scene. It still has to bring something new to Maura's journey. And finally - if you haven't gathered as much yet - I am a bit of a perfectionist :-)
Anyway, epilogue or not, I hope you're as happy with Maura's journey as I am. And since this may be the last chance I get in relation to this story I'm going to give up on all pretenses of being humble and tell you outright: I'm a sucker for your reviews. I feast on them and their implication - that I am actually reaching an touching an audience. So please do review! :-)
Cheers and thanks,
KateKane
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CHAPTER IX: PRACTICE MAKES IMPERFECT
Day 65
There was no doubt she'd made the right call. She felt it the moment the door fell shut behind her, and yet she kept her gaze trained on the ground in front of her for fear of meeting other gazes and having to explain herself. All she could think of right now was increasing the distance to anyone affiliated with the Boston Police Department as much and as quickly as possible. And so Maura didn't pause or even slow down until the concrete under her feet gave way to green grass that soaked up the sharp clatter of stiletto heels; until Boston Common had closed itself around her and only the faint humming of morning traffic gave away the fact that she was still in the middle of Massachusetts' capital.
Even then, as her body finally halted, her mind continued to race.
It was the right and responsible thing to do. Dr. Gordon will be proud of me.
So why don't I feel relieved?
Her first week back at the job had been fine. She had kept her schedule light, switched off her work phone as soon as she left the police station's premises, and she had made sure to spend her afternoons and evenings on non-demanding leisure activities. The results: No dizziness, no panic attacks, no sleepless night. In short, Maura felt very well on her way towards full recovery.
Or, she did until that morning. She had barely entered the morgue, decaf soy latte in hand, when her phone rang and she was sent to the Boston Opera House to assess a possibly suspicious death. Jane had snorted at that expression; the deceased had been found in one of the dressing rooms with a sabre borrowed from a Madame Butterfly production sticking out of his back. Not much 'possibly suspicious' about that. However, science as well as protocol still required Maura to perform a thorough on-scene examination with an open, unbiased mind. And she would have been happy to do so, if not for the extremely loud Republican rally taking place in the theatre hall and the age-old, paper thin walls separating the crime scene from it.
Normally Maura wouldn't have cared. She had in early childhood acquired the ability to let herself be consumed by a task, rendered deaf and blind to outside disturbances. During her career as a medical examiner this had often come in handy when working in the field. Maura could ignore everything from the sarcastic comments of impatient detectives to club music accompanied by stroboscopic light. It never affected the quality of her work.
However, today her concentration had dwindled almost immediately. Her own thoughts got interspersed with the thoughts of others, as the mumbling of colleagues and the less discrete clap traps of political speakers snuck their way into her mind. She had tried to focus on the corpse at hand, tried to hone her attention and will her old filter in place, but the only thing yielded by all the efforts was a dizzying headache.
Within less than fifteen minutes it became clear that she had to hand the task over to somebody else for the sake of the investigation as well as her own sanity. Not only was she unfit to do her job under the given circumstances; she worried that her growing nausea might turn into something far more serious if she stayed.
And so Maura had left.
Run off more like it.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, annoyed with her own shortcomings as well as her harsh judgment of them.
Correction: You arranged for another medical examiner to take over, informed the lead investigator of the replacement, and then you left. It was the responsible thing to do, so stop beating yourself up over it.
Wishing Dr. Gordon was there to give her the speech, Maura sighed. Somehow her inner monologue wasn't as convincing. Dialogue worked better.
She was pulled momentarily out of her reveries by her phone. Recognising the ring tone she knew it was Jane even before fishing the phone out of her coat pocket.
She must have noticed my swift departure and is probably worried.
It's not fair to her – having to babysit me even when she's at work.
Maura's thumb hovered over the answer button.
But it would actually be kind of nice to have her around right now. Not to talk, not necessarily, just to distract me before my self-deprecation gets out of hand.
While she hesitated the decision was made for her – she had waited too long, and the call was directed to voice mail. The phone beeped only seconds later indicating that Jane could not have left a very long message. Maura frowned, but didn't play it. She merely slid the phone back into her pocket, gathered her thin coat more closely around her and walked the remaining distance to the park's pond.
The popular outing area was almost deserted, probably because it was still relatively early in the day. Only a handful of people were seated outside the café on the other side of the pond: An elderly couple, the woman clearly suffering from osteoporosis; an elderly man and his dog; and a group of young women, probably on maternity leave as each had a baby with her. They were just out of earshot, but Maura could see them chatting cheerfully among themselves. Her own quiet solace suited her fine, or so she thought – until Jane's ring tone began again.
Maura pinched the bridge of her nose, still unable to decide whether to pick up or not.
She shouldn't have to deal with my issues. On the other hand, she might be truly worried.
If the situation were reversed, and Jane had walked out, what would I want her to do?
Maura sighed as she reached her conclusion in the exact same moment the phone grew silent.
I would want her to talk to me. And I would want to find her.
She took out her phone, once again ignoring the incoming voice mail – she knew what it would be about anyway – and typed in a message for Jane:
"Jane, I'm sorry for leaving abruptly – I was feeling a little overwhelmed and needed fresh air. Am by the Frog Pond, Boston Common. Maura."
Jane's reply came promptly:
"No prob. On lunch break, can b w/u shortly. If u want company? xxJ"
Maura smiled to herself as she typed in her reply, for once openly admitting what she needed from another human being. And not just any human being.
"Yours, always."
She had already pressed the send button when she became aware of the unintended double-pun of her brief message: Maura had been referring to her persistent delight in Jane's company, but the words could be interpreted on a much deeper level. However, the statement would still hold truth, regardless of the interpretation – Maura realised this with a small shudder and a more visible headshake.
Freudian slip, clearly.
Oh well. She'll read what she wants to read.
She stayed on the side of the pond away from the café. It was a relatively open area and Jane would be able to spot her easily. As she paced the length of the pond her mind once again drifted back to the crime scene she had left and the manner in which she had left it.
I wonder if I will ever be my old self again. Or if this is how it will be, how I will be from now on.
Her shoulders sagged slightly at the thought and she pulled her collar up against a chill that clearly had nothing to do with the sunny day and its lack of wind. In that moment, however, someone called out her name. Instantly recognizing the voice Maura straightened up and saw Jane waving and grinning from the other end of the pond.
"That was remarkably fast! Did you run all the way here?" Maura remarked as they met halfway. She glanced at her iPhone clock, then back at Jane whose grin only widened.
"I'm gonna kick your ass at the next Boston Marathon. Just you wait!" Jane smirked. She wasn't the least bit out of breath and soon caved under Maura's sceptical gaze. "Alright, I was already headed here," she admitted.
Maura frowned. "But I only told you my location a few minutes ago."
Jane shrugged and checked the ground beneath her before sitting in the grass. "I figured this is where you'd go."
Maura remained standing for a beat, watching her best friend who was looking back at her expectantly.
She knows me so well.
And here I was reluctant to talk to her. As if she hasn't already read me like an open book.
Jane padded the ground next to her. "It's dry. But you can sit on my jacket if you're worried about your skirt."
"No, it's fine," Maura said as she finally joined her friend on the ground. Jane was sitting cross-legged, and Maura's thigh accidentally brushed against her friend's knee. The touch was fleeting, but enough to activate a longing for more contact that had been an almost constant undercurrent to her interactions with Jane since that morning outside Dr. Gordon's office. Even now – weighed down by her current sense of professional failure – Maura needed the kind of comforting closeness that could only be conveyed through touch.
I just want to lean into her. Nothing inappropriate. Just to soak up her warmth, her scent.
She cleared her throat realising Jane's uncharacteristic quiet probably meant she expected Maura to speak her mind.
"Jane, I…" she began without looking up from her own fidgeting hands. "About this morning…"
Warm, slightly calloused fingertips snuck gently along her wrist and across the back of her hand until one of Jane's more or less enveloped both of hers. Stilling them, but not in any forceful way; Jane was gently, rhythmically squeezing Maura's fingers and stroking her thumb with her own, offering a hint of what Maura had longed for.
Once again she seems to know exactly what's going on in my mind. How long has it been like this?
Somehow the physical connection grounded her. Maura felt her tension slowly subside and suddenly words flowed much more freely.
"All I could think of was to get out of there as quickly as possible, but mostly I didn't want to once again cause you unnecessary worry." Maura huffed and shook her head. "I realise now that's probably exactly what I did by leaving without offering you any kind of explanation. I'm sorry."
"Hey, don't apologize. It's not like you're making me worry – you can't make someone worry without their consent," Jane stated firmly. "Also, you don't have to explain anything unless you want to."
Maura blinked a few times, as if physically clearing her vision would also make it easier to figure out what she wanted.
Do I want to explain? Dr. Gordon thinks I hold too much back and perhaps she's right.
I should give Jane a chance to understand my behaviour this morning.
"I'd like to try to explain…" Maura said slowly, and she could sense Jane nodding out of the corner of her eye. "This past week, being back at work – it's been alright. I've enjoyed it, actually, and I haven't felt uneasy at any point until this morning. The rally next door… I used to be able to block out things like that, but ever since my-"
Breakdown.
She bit her lower lip, feeling her unwillingness to say the word out loud like a lump in her throat. She swallowed around it as Jane's hand squeezed hers more firmly and for once she decided to not censure herself.
"Ever since my breakdown and subsequent depression it's like I'm missing a filter. Like a fuse has blown. Noise, words, visual impressions all come in at once and make it impossible for me to focus. I get dizzy and disoriented from trying." She sighed, then quickly added: "Things have improved over the past few weeks – I am able to go to the baker again, for one – but the crime scene this morning was apparently more than I could handle."
"Well, political baloney that early in the morning would drive most normal people up the wall," Jane said, a hint of a smile in her voice.
Maura turned her right hand within Jane's in order to squeeze it back in response. "I know, I'm just used to being more in control when placed in such situations." She felt her voice thickening as she quietly, honestly added: "And I can't help wondering if I'll ever have that control back."
"You will, Maur," Jane said with conviction. "You said it yourself. Things have improved already! It just takes time."
Maura nodded slowly, automatically, as she pulled her left hand free of Jane's grasp in order to pick at the dry grass they were sitting on. "I know. Dr. Gordon has been telling me to take note of the little victories instead of comparing my current lack of abilities to my situation a year ago.
It's just… so circular. Sometimes I feel I am taking one step forward followed by two steps back. I continue to repeat certain mistakes. Even if I'm not relapsing exactly, it's certainly not the Western narrative of steady, linear progress either."
"Would that be Maura-speak for 'I'm getting impatient'?"
Maura looked up for the first time since she sat on the ground and found her friend grinning widely. She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again and felt her lips betray her as they curved into the tiniest smile. "I suppose it would," she admitted.
"I understand. I know you know I do – you were the one putting up with my notorious lack of patience when I was recovering from the gunshot. I still can't comprehend how you managed to not strangle me with a pillow at some point. It would have been so easy, and unlike most people you'd know how to get rid of the forensic evidence." Jane mostly took care to let Maura know when she was joking. This time she bumped her shoulder lightly against Maura's.
"Oh, I never considered any such thing!" Maura bumped back. "Sedation, however…"
She smiled at her friend, and their eyes locked in a way that spoke of earnestness beneath the jest.
"Anyway, I totally get the impatience thing. But Maur, you gotta take care of the particularly fine machinery you've got."
Jane turned halfway, reached over with her free hand and let it rest lightly on top of Maura's scalp to indicate the machinery in question. She kept her tone light, but still held Maura's gaze.
"You know, the kind of stress you've been exposed to physically alters the hardware. Not just the brain chemistry, but the actual tissue." Her thumb slipped down to gently stroke across Maura's forehead as she spoke. Maura had to fight the urge to let her eyes drift shut. "Hippocampus, the hub for learning and memory, shrinks and forms fewer connections, while that place that regulates fear and emotions…" The thumb paused along with Jane as she thought for a moment, looking upwards. "Jeez, I know what it's called… The amygdale!" The thumb resumed its ministrations and Jane found Maura's eyes again. "The amygdale grows and becomes hyperactive. So you end up with all sorts of anxieties and anger and fear, but no hippocampus to help you with context and perspective."
Despite the sombre topic Maura felt a smile taking over her face as Jane spoke. "Would I be using your term correctly if I said you were Google mouthing just now?"
"Uhm…" Jane withdrew the hand on Maura's head in order to run it through her own dark curls. "I suppose… Yes?" She averted her eyes, suddenly shy-seeming, and there was an odd, tense silence until Jane literally shrugged it off. "I needed science to convince you, remember? Also I kind of wanted to know what you were going through." She said the last part lightly, casually, but Maura felt the implication of the words deeply.
She wanted to understand, and she still does. She was never scared off by any of this. By any of me.
"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is this." Jane straightened up, embodying authority as she drove her point home: "It may be less visible than my gunshot, but you've injured yourself just the same. So it will take time, and in the meantime you gotta not spend all your energy straight away the moment you regain some. You have to save some so that big brain of yours can heal."
Maura bit her lip as she admitted: "I know, but navigating the difference between wanting to do something and actually being able to do it is very difficult for me."
"Of course it is, cause you're like me in that respect. You wanna do it all!" Jane gestured energetically with her free hand; the left remained in Maura's. "But this is your brain we're talking about, Maur. Your million dollar education, your geek speak, it's all in there! In my case it probably wouldn't make that much of a difference, since I act without thinking and have my head up my ass half the time anyway-"
"That's not true, Jane," Maura interjected with a small laugh.
"-but without your Rain Man memory and annoying logic you wouldn't be you, Maur. And we'd all be fucking lost."
"Language, Jane," Maura scolded, but she was smiling just the same. Jane's sincere compliment wasn't lost on her.
"Right, sorry." Jane smiled too, but quickly became serious. Under the pretext of studying her nails she avoided Maura's gaze as she added: "Anyway, you made the right call this morning by choosing to protect yourself. I just wish I could do something to make you feel less bad about it."
"You already have, Jane," Maura said quietly.
"I wish I could do more." Jane peeked at Maura sideways, through the corner of her eye, as she awaited Maura's answer.
"Well, it's hard to talk these things away…" Maura bit her lip again, her gaze flickering from Jane's face to their still linked hands and back as she considered her reply.
Do I dare, or is it too much to ask for? She does want to help.
"…but I find tactile sensory input has a very calming effect on me."
The words came out of her mouth rushed, and Jane frowned for a second, clearly having a hard time making sense of them. But then her forehead flattened and dimples and a wide grin overtook her face. "You want a hug? Great! I'm good at those."
"That you are," Maura agreed as her friend's hand finally let go of hers and slipped around her waist instead, pulling her into a sideways embrace.
A short one. Maura felt her heart skip a beat as Jane pulled away.
"This won't do," she said. "Come sit in front of me instead." Jane uncrossed her long legs, stretched and parted them, then indicated the space between them with her free right hand while tugging at Maura with her left. Although Maura did not dare to meet Jane's eyes, she obeyed and moved over tentatively, making sure to leave half an inch of space between their bodies so as to not push any friendly boundaries. Jane, however, made short work of that plan. Her arms slipped around Maura's waist and pulled her so close there was hardly any part of Maura's back not touching Jane.
Maura had requested tactile sensory input, but this was more like a sensory explosion. Jane's knees were brushing against the outside of her thighs; her arms were enveloping her completely and her breath close to Maura's ear. She shut her eyes and tried to not focus on the feel of Jane's breasts against her shoulder blades, pressing gently into her with every breath, but her efforts had the opposite effect of the intended. An effect which would most certainly leave a mark in Maura's underwear.
So maybe this request was not solely about needing calming comfort.
Oh well. At least from behind she can't tell I'm blushing.
"Mmm," Jane hummed with appreciation. "If this is the kind of help you have in mind, never hesitate to ask."
Is her voice even raspier than normally?
No, it's probably just me.
Jane's voice was so close Maura felt it tickle her temple and the sensation quickly spread downwards, leaving her cheek and neck tingling. She forced a chuckle past her lips and tried to sound as casual as possible when she delivered her uncharacteristically brief reply: "Okay."
For heaven's sake, pull yourself together!
"You said you didn't want to once again cause me unnecessary worry," Jane began after a beat. "Even if I did agree to the whole causing-people-worry-thing… Which I don't. I mean, come on; look at my Ma!" Maura felt the light shudder of her friend's ribcage against her back as Jane snorted. "She's a prime example of how someone takes worrying upon themselves."
"She worries because she loves you," Maura clarified.
She felt Jane tightening her hold on her momentarily as she thoughtfully agreed: "Yeah. Love does that to people."
People? Who exactly is she talking about?
Maura closed her eyes and tried to will her thoughts back under control.
Just enjoy this embrace. This, right now.
"Anyway, my point is: Never feel guilty about sharing or asking me for something that you think might cause me to worry, because is it's not like that with you," Jane said, then quickly added: "Not that I don't worry about you. Of course I do."
What is she implying now? She just said love makes people worry.
Maura's right eye automatically flew open as if she could figure out her friend's intentions through peeking. But Jane's face was out of her field of vision anyway.
Stop it, Maura. 'Love makes people worry' does not equal 'all worried people love'. You're creating a false syllogism.
"What I mean is; you're in no way using me, if that's what you're afraid of, because with you it's never one-sided."
"It isn't?" The words fell out of Maura's mouth before she realised it. She was too taken aback by the fact that Jane was once again finding her way directly to the core of the matter; to the thing that had been nagging at Maura for weeks.
No wonder she became a detective so fast.
"No, Maur!"
Jane laughed. She actually laughed.
"Remember how our friendship began? Like, really began? Hoyt had escaped, I was a nervous wreck and showed up at your doorstep in the middle of the night. And you just took me in, no questions asked. Like you've done so many times." Jane said the last part slowly, emphasising each word. "I could never thank you enough for that."
"Well…" Maura squirmed a little, feeling slightly self-conscious in the face of Jane's honest praise. "It's not like I took you in for solely altruistic reasons."
"Likewise," Jane said simply, quietly. And in that moment Maura felt she could melt into the body behind her; if only she dared to truly let go.
Dr. Gordon is right, we need to talk about us.
But not like this. I can't think like this.
"Would you like to stroll for a bit?" Maura suggested, wriggling out of Jane's grasp and standing before Jane could reply.
Fortunately her friend did not seem to realise that Maura was using the walk as a pretext for re-establishing some physical space between them. She simply nodded and followed.
Boston Common is large and criss-crossed by numerous paths, but they weren't headed anywhere in particular and opted for the grass instead, never straying too far from the Frog Pond.
It was new to Maura – this walking slowly, leisurely without any higher purpose. The park was excellent for running, and since exercise helps fight off depression Maura had come here quite often in the past weeks. However, her visits had soon become less about exercising and more about appreciating the relative calm of the green and wide open space. She would avoid the more crowded hours and just trod around, taking in the different trees and listening to the birds. Being an eager shopper and fond of all the modern comforts of a large city it had taken Maura by surprise that she would feel so… at home with nature.
She cast a glance at her friend. The fresh air seemed to visibly relax her as well. Her left hand was hanging loosely by the thumb stuck inside the waistline of her pants, and she occasionally brushed her right hand through her increasingly wild mane. This gesture often indicated nervousness on Jane's part, but right now the opposite seemed to be the case. She was relaxed enough to not be the least self-conscious, and somehow that made her even more stunning than normally. Maura swallowed involuntarily as she allowed her gaze to glide along her friend's incredibly long legs then dwell on her relatively narrow hips and the defined stomach muscles directly under the thin shirt. The shirt which was partially unbuttoned…
As if she had felt Maura's eyes upon her, Jane looked back at Maura in that instance and grinned.
Maura felt heat rise in her cheeks and immediately regretted having given up their former position on the ground. The current distance did nothing to quench the very physical reactions she was having to her friend, and unlike earlier Jane would now be able to read her face.
If Jane had indeed caught Maura looking she didn't let on. She simply looked back. "I can really see your freckles today," she remarked. "Is it because of the sun?"
Maura averted her eyes and bit her lip as she admitted: "Not really… It's because I didn't put on foundation this morning. Well, only a hint of it anyway. Dr. Gordon made me," she added explanatorily.
"Your shrink is telling you to wear less foundation?"
No one but Jane could have sounded as incredulous, and Maura couldn't help but chuckle. "No, no she isn't. Not directly."
Jane stopped in her tracks and eyed Maura, one hand placed on her hip. She was clearly waiting for a more elaborate explanation.
Maura took a deep breath. "I have a bit of an issue with perfectionism."
"Really? I never would have guessed…"
"Well, I do in f-" Maura began, then caught the smirk on Jane's face. "Oh, you're being sarcastic."
"Me?" Jane pointed at herself with a most exaggerated motion. "No! Never."
"Stop teasing. I was being serious here!" Maura swatted at Jane's pointing hand and somehow it got tangled up in hers.
"I know. Sorry," Jane said with a warm smile. "Please go on."
"Perfectionism," she repeated. "It's part of the reason I ended up the way I did. I overachieve, overcompensate… It's the perfectly hideous combination of megalomania and insecurity."
Jane was wrinkling her forehead, clearly trying, but failing to fully comprehend was Maura was saying.
Maura frowned too, trying to think of the perfect image or metaphor to clarify things. And then it came to her. "Like Vasa," she said, feeling instantly proud of her own communication skills.
"Vasa? I'm sorry, Maur, you lost me completely there."
"Vasa was a Swedish warship launched in 1628. Nothing had been spared; it was equipped with bronze cannons and its size was most impressive. But those features made the ship top-heavy and it barely made it out of the harbour before it sank."
"So…" Jane narrowed her eyes as if trying to read a sign far away. "You're saying you're a shipwrecked perfectionist?"
"As a manner of speaking, yes." Maura averted her eyes and realised Jane's and her hand were still linked.
She doesn't seem to mind. And I certainly don't mind.
Maybe this could work. Whatever 'this' is.
"Since childhood I've set insane standards for myself regarding how much and how well I should perform in every aspect of life. It's not sustainable living, because if nothing short of perfect is acceptable then one will always fall short and eventually burn out. Or sink, like the over-equipped Vasa." Hearing her own words Maura smiled overbearingly at herself. "It sounds so obvious, doesn't it? Yet I've had to learn the hard way. I'm still trying to learn."
Jane's relaxed demeanour was suddenly completely gone. She had averted her eyes and was now shifting nervously from foot to foot, fidgeting at shirt buttons with her free hand. "So what happened to you…" she hesitantly began. "It wasn't all due to me shooting myself?" She glanced questioningly up at Maura through dark lashes.
"No," Maura said simply. Only when she saw Jane's shoulders sink with relief did she realise the full implication of what Jane had just asked her.
Oh no, she's been blaming herself. She's as bad as I am.
"No, Jane. No!" Maura shook her head rigorously and tore Jane's fidgeting hand away from her shirt. Both of their hands were now linked, and Maura faced her friend fully as she clarified once and for all: "What happened to me was not you fault. Just like what you went through wasn't mine. We both have to stop taking responsibility for things that are out of our hands."
Maura studied Jane's dark brown eyes until she felt certain the message had come across. And at that point she found it difficult to break the gaze. The fact that their hands were intimately joined – Jane's fingers had somehow interwoven themselves with hers, or perhaps it was the other way around – had dawned on her, making her oddly self-conscious.
Yes, I definitely need to talk to Jane.
I just need a few more minutes to gather my thoughts.
Feeling slightly cowardly Maura straightened her skirt as a pretext for dropping Jane's hands. "Anyway, Dr. Gordon has been giving me little assignments to help me conquer my perfectionism. I have to deliberately give only ninety percent in certain situations. For instance, she's been forcing me to cut back on my elaborate morning routine and sleep a little later." Maura shrugged. "Yesterday it meant giving up on ironing my blouse-"
"I didn't even notice," Jane interjected.
"-and this morning I had to cut my make-up session a bit short."
Jane nodded thoughtfully for a second. Both of her hands were in her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail that, without any form of hair band, immediately assumed its natural, untamed state the moment she let go. Then an almost cocky smile overtook her face. "Well, you'll get no argument from me, Dr. Isles," she said before turning and strolling on with a swagger in her steps, "since I've always had a thing for freckles."
Did she just wink at me?
For a full minute Maura stood frozen and she eventually had to break into a run to catch up with Jane. Her friend had found a vacant bench and had once again become the perfect picture of relaxation. She was leaning back, her eyes closed against the sun. Toned arms were draped along the backrest and her knees slightly parted. Her lips were slightly parted, too.
Maura swallowed and turned away from her friend.
I can't look at her. I need to think before I speak and I can't think at all right now.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to figure out how to begin the conversation that was so clearly needed. Her heart rate was slightly elevated, she noted, and the fear that a panic attack might inconveniently short-circuit all communication overtook her momentarily.
I have to stop it. I can stop it. I can focus and remain with Jane.
Remembering the techniques Dr. Gordon had taught her Maura stepped out of her heels and felt the grass against her bare feet, wriggled her toes into it.
I'm right here. My feet are solidly planted on the ground.
Taking deliberately slow and deep breaths she moved her focus from her feet to her hands, clenching and unclenching them. Felt short nails dip into her palms.
I'm just fine. I'll be just fine.
Eventually she felt composed enough to turn her attention towards the space around her. A light breeze was making her hair tickle her left cheek. Somewhere in the distance there was the humming of traffic. Behind her, a light rustling as Jane shifted on the bench. And then, above it all, the crisp clear, perfectly pitched song of a bird. A smile grew on her face at the familiarity.
"Listen," she said quietly without opening her eyes.
"Hm, what?" came the drowsy reply from behind.
"The song sparrow," Maura clarified.
The sound of a yawn and something that was probably Jane stretching. "You know about birds?"
"Well, not really. I have recently found myself surprisingly drawn to ornithology, particularly the study of bird vocalization, but not so much for scientific reasons…" Maura nodded her head from side to side. "…although it is interesting to note that bird song sheds light on the evolution; it is a pre-zygotic isolation mechanism involved in the process of speciation, and many allopatric sub-species show differences in calls. However, I mostly just appreciate its beauty."
"You like listening to birds? Since when?"
Maura had expected irony, but Jane sounded genuinely interested. She cast a glance at her friend across her shoulder to confirm this, and sure enough, Jane was looking back with an open, gentle expression.
"Since… Since I first ventured out again after my breakdown," Maura said thoughtfully. "Probably because they represent the exact opposite of everything that came crashing down on me. The simple joys in life." She shrugged, feeling shy at her own banal admission, but Jane's warm eyes and the light smile tugging at her lips encouraged her to go on, to bare herself a little more. "Also, just like my patients, they don't judge me. And they don't require anything from me. In fact, they don't care whatsoever what I achieve, how I present myself, whether I'm here or not. They go on singing their beautiful songs regardless." She sat carefully next to Jane, feeling her friend's eyes on her as she did so, and made sure to keep a little space between them on the bench. "And the song sparrow happens to be one of my favourites."
"Why is that?" Jane asked.
"Just listen to it," Maura said pointing in the direction of the song. "It comes from over there. First a combination of quickly passing isolated notes and then trills. All very crisp, clear and precise. Can you hear it?"
Jane frowned as she followed Maura's directions. "I think so… It is quite beautiful," she admitted. "But doesn't it get a little monotonous in the long run?"
"Oh no," Maura shook her head eagerly, "Each song sparrow – or Melospiza melodia – knows approximately twenty different tunes, and although they repeat the same song many times before switching they employ as many as one thousand improvised variations on the basic theme. In fact, its song is so unique that other birds, such as mockingbirds, are unable to effectively imitate it." Maura held up her thumb and index finger in front of Jane's face to indicate the bird's size. "And all that sound comes from such a small, anonymous bird." She had been so caught up in her lecture that she, without realising it, had inched closer and closer to Jane. "Brown upperparts with dark streaks and a brown cap. It's nothing like, say, the American cardinal or even the American robin with their bright red colour, but they don't sing half as well. Although the American robin does have a rather complex song, too, and its style varies by the time of day. Also, they have an array of additional calls used for communication purposes-" Maura caught a look at Jane's face where the light smile had been replaced by a full-on Rizzoli grin accompanied by teasingly twinkling eyes. It threw Maura off track. "What is it?" she asked confusedly.
"No scientific interest whatsoever, you just think bird song's pretty... Right." Jane chuckled. "Maur, is there anything in this world you can take a liking to without becoming a full-blown geek about it?"
"Um…" Maura tried to give the question serious consideration, but Jane's unexpected reaction stung a little.
Google mouth again. And I'm so socially incompetent I didn't even realise I was doing it.
"No, I don't think so," she said miserably, unable to stop her head from sinking.
However, gentle fingers caught her chin as Jane forced her to meet her gaze. "Hey, I didn't mean I wanted you to stop. I don't want you to ever stop."
"No?" Jane's words were probably meant as an assurance, but left Maura even more unsure of her own ability to understand social codes.
"No, because if you did, you wouldn't be you." Jane explained simply, letting go of Maura's face, but still looking her sincerely in the eye. "I know I tease you about it all the time, but that's just because I'm an ass. The fact is, during the weeks you were, well, less talkative than usually, I really missed… it."
You.
The tiny, almost unnoticeable pause indicated a hesitation, a possible self-censorship on Jane's part.
Really missed… you. That's what you were about to say, isn't it?
Determined not to overlook any cues or clues this time Maura tried to take in every visible part of her friend all at once. Her slightly leaning composure, the nervous tapping of her left foot, the clenching and unclenching of her scarred hands. Her dark brown eyes further darkened by dilated pupils that could be due to shadows cast by long lashes or to something else entirely. Her slightly parted lips and the tip of a tongue that wetted them.
So many little things all pointing to the same… The very same thing that I am experiencing.
And yet I can't know for sure, would merely be guessing, and I never, ever guess.
Maura's awareness of her own social shortcomings made her mistrust her own judgement of even this intimate exchange. The current uncertainty added to days and weeks and months of not quite knowing, suspecting, wishing and being plain confused until – in that one, particular moment – Maura finally, finally reached a tipping point. She felt it physically, as if something shifted within her, fell into place, as she realised that the burden of uncertainty by far outweighed her fear of what might happen if she asked Jane outright. And once that realisation was made it would not be quenched or quieted. It had to be followed up by action.
"Jane." Her lips formed the name before her precious brain had time to come up with anything resembling a strategy regarding what she was about to do, to admit to, and maybe that was actually for the best. "Jane, when you came to my place because I hadn't shown at work. What you said to me in the kitchen that day, before I told you to leave…"
Jane's eyes were so dark, so deep, so alert and Maura felt completely dismantled before them. She had to avert her own before finally finishing the sentence that might forever change the most important friendship she ever had.
"…did you mean it?"
In spite of Maura's uncharacteristically vague question Jane seemed to instantly know what Maura was referring to. Her lack of hesitation and the weight behind her words all pointed to that when she replied: "Every word."
Maura kept her eyes trained on her hands fiddling at the hem of her skirt as she gathered up her courage to banish vagueness once and for all. She needed the clarification, needed to rid this moment of all ambiguity so that she would never, should dark days return, look back at it and read it wrong. And so she finally asked outright. "You love me?"
"Yes," Jane replied, just as promptly.
Maura released a breath she hadn't been aware of holding back and with that, it seemed, at least half her weight. She had never felt this light before; her limbs were so light they seemed like somebody else's, and all sounds – the rustling of her skirt, Jane's breath, the song of the bird – were instantly drowned out by blood rushing in her ears so hard and fast she feared she might pass out. But not because of a panic attack. Not this time.
And so she managed to lift her voice above all the noise and go all in. "And you… desire me?"
Fortunately Jane's voice, though hoarser than ever, came through loud and clear. "Very much."
Silence. And then the full implication of the words sank in making Maura feel even lighter. Though not as in light-headed and on the verge of fainting. No, Maura felt giddy, afloat with relief.
She loves me. She wants me.
She was too relieved to keep her ever impeccable pose. Her ballet trained body would no longer be defined by straight lines, and her spine curved, her head fell forward into her own open hands. She felt her own goofy, toothy smile against her palms and it felt ridiculously good.
She wants me.
Me.
Maura was so lost in the moment that she didn't realise it dragged on and that Jane was still awaiting a response from her. Although Maura had openly admitted to a general interest in women she had never explicitly stated a romantic interest in Jane. And now Jane was beginning to stir. She shifted uncomfortably on the bench, fidgeted with the cuffs of her shirt sleeves, scraped her boots back and forth in the grass and generally looked like someone ready to bolt and run far away. Only when Jane coughed lightly did Maura come to it enough to actually look at the woman that had just transformed her. Jane was looking away, clearly afraid to meet her gaze, the uncertainty she had just lifted from Maura's shoulders visible in her every motion.
I haven't said it back.
Maura blinked. It was so obvious, and yet she'd somehow missed it, been too lost in her own worries to ever consider the fact that Jane might be sharing some of them.
I should say it back. I would mean every word.
And so she opened her mouth with every intention of giving Jane the same gift she had just received, but then she stopped herself, realising where they were: on a public park bench, during a lunch break, dressed in casual work clothes.
It's not right. And this, more than anything, has to be done just right.
Jane was still fidgeting, running her hand through her hair for at least the fifth time, and the grass beneath her soles was turning to a green mush. Maura couldn't leave her hanging like this for another second and had to get this conversation back on track immediately. The proper track.
"I wonder if-"
Jane visibly jumped at the words causing Maura to pause, which only made her friend grow even tenser.
"Would you have dinner with me on Friday?" Maura blurted out. "Perhaps go to a movie."
Stunned, Jane looked up, then narrowed her eyes clearly doing her utmost to read Maura in much the same way that Maura had previously tried to read Jane. "Are you asking me on a date?" she asked carefully.
Maura nodded. "I am."
Jane's facial muscles visibly relaxed and it spread like a wave through the rest of her body until fingers and feet finally stilled. But she didn't respond immediately.
Maura, used to being the one asked out, not the one doing the asking, began to lose her nerve. "I'm sorry if dinner and a movie is a bit cliché," she said quickly, "I merely thought that, given our history of blurred boundaries, it might be good to stick to generic for a while. Just to avoid any ambiguities, but I promise I'll be more imaginative in the future if-"
"I'd love to," Jane interrupted. She looked down to Maura's hands and dared to grasp one of them lightly in both of hers before she once again caught Maura's gaze. "And Maura, don't worry. With you nothing ever gets cliché," she said with a small, almost shy smile.
It was apparently contagious. Maura knew she was practically glowing as she launched into another ramble, this one born not so much out of nerves as out of sheer enthusiasm. "Great! There's this little Cypriot restaurant that I've been dying to check out. They're supposed to serve the best halloumi cheese available on the East coast. Halloumi is made from a mixture of goats' and sheep milk and has a very high melting point, which makes it excellent for grilling purposes."
Jane was gently caressing Maura's hand with her thumb, and her smile was widening as Maura spoke. It encouraged Maura to go on.
She is actually enjoying this. She really meant it when she told me not to stop.
If she had to be honest with herself Maura couldn't have stopped even if she wanted to. It was too intoxicating; this feeling of being accepted and wanted on your own awkward, nerdy terms.
"You might have tried the commercial halloumi available from American stores, but that type is mixed with pasteurized cow's milk, which affects its taste and makes the cheese melt quicker. This restaurant, however, imports the original Cypriot halloumi, which dates back to the Medieval Byzantine period. It's much harder and has an intensely salty flavour." Maura's mouth was beginning to water and she had to swallow before continuing. "It becomes elastic and squeaky and acquires and even stronger taste when heated and-"
My mouth is watering.
Maura stopped in the middle of a sentence as the realisation struck.
My mouth is watering because I'm thinking about food.
"What is it?" Jane enquired.
Frowning, Maura ran her tongue over her teeth just to double check.
I really want halloumi. Cheese. Food.
"I… I just realised something."
"What?" Jane prodded gently, nudging Maura's side with her elbow.
"I'm hungry," Maura replied, still frowning.
Jane tilted her head – a gesture she had most likely picked up from Maura – and confusion was written all over her face. The sight of her friend combined with the implication of what she was currently experiencing made Maura burst into laughter.
Apparently more than one kind of hunger has returned to me…
Both of Jane's eyebrows went up. "I'm lost here. What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Maura hiccupped as she shook her head, "it's just that I haven't felt this for weeks." She slipped out of Jane's grasp to throw both of her hands into the air. "I've eaten because I had to, but I haven't really tasted or enjoyed anything much less craved any food in particular. And now I do!" she declared happily, as she got up from the bench and turned to face Jane. "I guess things really are returning to normal," she concluded.
Some things are returning to normal… Others, well.
"Told you so," Jane said as she pushed herself up and watched Maura stepping back into her heels. "It does, however, leave us with a pressing problem."
"What would that be?" Maura tilted her head.
"We have to feed you!" Jane smirked and nodded towards the Frog Pond. "Come on, let's see what the café offers. It is my lunch break after all." She glanced at her watch. "Or was… Screw it. Frost owes me anyway. I'll send him a text and tell him to cover for me."
The group of young mothers was still seated around two of the small tables outside the café when Maura and Jane got there. Everyone else had left, and so there was no waiting line. The café's selection of food was limited to say the least, and Jane choice – Belgian waffles, the café's specialty – would normally have earned her a lecture from Maura on healthy eating habits. But not today. For once Maura ordered something as lowbrow as a burger and dug into it before she ever made it to a table. A small moan of pleasure escaped her as she sunk her teeth into the mixture of beef and ketchup and melted cheese.
Hot, creamy, sticky… Amazing.
Jane chuckled as she sat on the edge of a table. "That good, huh?"
"It's not exactly halloumi," Maura, still standing, admitted between bites, "but it has cheese in it. Lots of it."
"Told you empty calories are the best." Jane's grin transformed into a frown. "You really couldn't taste anything?"
"No." Maura looked towards the sky. "Well, yes, in the mechanical sense my papillae and taste buds functioned normally, but flavour didn't really register with my brain." She took another few bites of the burger, finishing it in record time, before she elaborated. "It's a paradox. On the one hand my emotions were clearly enlarged. I didn't merely feel sad; I felt devastated. I didn't feel nervous; I was gripped by panic. Yet at the same time I was numb. Nothing really registered. Flavours and scents I usually like, people I care for…" She looked up at Jane to make sure she was still following. She seemed to be. "It was as if there was this impenetrable membrane between me and the world and nothing got past it."
Jane was pushing the remaining bit of waffle around on the plate in her hand, clearly distracted by some inner monologue. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if arguing with herself as to whether she should share her thoughts or not. Only when Maura turned to throw her napkin away did Jane make up her mind: "That day in the kitchen… Is that why you didn't react? Because you couldn't feel anything?"
Maura let the lid to the garbage bin fall shut and turned to see her friend still poking disinterestedly at the remaining waffle.
Like a child playing with her food.
She looked so casual, but Maura wasn't fooled by the display of nonchalance. She walked up to Jane, took the fork and plate from her and placed them on the otherwise empty table. Then she carefully sat next to Jane on the edge of it.
"Of course it was."
She studied Jane's profile for a moment while considering how to properly communicate everything that needed to be said, how to put Jane's obvious insecurity to rest once and for all.
Long lashes, high cheekbones, a classical Roman nose. She's why faces were carved into coins.
And then the illusion of a perfect profile was broken as Jane returned her gaze with uncertain eyes framed by a lively mess of hair that was anything but symmetrical.
I take that back; I choose this over her profile anytime.
"Jane, what you told me that day… I registered your words intellectually, but I was unable to feel their impact or even believe them until much later. And yes, my depression is entirely to blame for that. Under any other circumstances your declaration would have made me jump up and down with joy. I know that for a fact as I've imagined that particular scenario more times than I can count."
Jane's looked almost cocky as one of her eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
"Really," Maura confirmed, daring to hold Jane's gaze, hoping it would convey what she could not yet verbalise.
Jane was the first one to look away and Maura, much to her horror, realised why as Jane wiped at her face with her sleeve. Whenever Maura cried Jane's intuitive reaction would be to physically reach out for her, but Maura was still less versed into the art of comforting through touch. Her hand froze midair.
"I'm bawling like a school girl."
"You're not," Maura protested. It was all she could think of.
"I am, and I hate it," Jane hissed through clenched teeth. "It's just that… I knew that day had nothing to do with me- with us. I realised straight away that you couldn't hear me, I just didn't know if you would ever…" Jane wiped so roughly at her eyes that Maura finally did reach out, automatically grabbing her wrist to prevent her from hurting herself. Jane stared at the hand that held her captive. "I had been postponing that conversation for ages, Maura, because I was too chicken shit to deal with the fact that I love you in a way that I've probably never loved anyone before, and when I finally did pull myself together it was too late."
A tear landed on the back of Maura's hand. It lingered for a bit, as if indecisive, before finally rolling down the curve of her thumb and disappearing.
"I realised that even if did pull my shit together and-" Underneath Maura's fingers Jane's muscles tensed, but she didn't fight the grasp. "-and finally just kissed you," Jane practically spat the words out, clearly disgusted with her own cowardice, "then you might not even feel it. And I didn't know if you would ever again be able to." She sounded defeated, almost crushed when she quietly admitted: "I've never been so scared in my life."
The fact that Jane had uttered that sentence once before wasn't lost on Maura. Back then the terror had been brought on by Hoyt, a serial killer and clinical psychopath. The fact that Maura – intentionally or not – could cause Jane a comparable amount of pain made her heart skip a beat. She never wanted that kind of power over another human being; she was unsure if she could handle it.
"I would feel it," was all Maura could come up with. "I would feel it," she repeated as she gently rubbed Jane's arm, eventually letting her fingers find Jane's. Holding Jane's larger hand gently in hers another déjà-vu came crashing down on her.
I've been holding her hand like this before. And then I kissed it.
The blinding white terror of that vigilant night by Jane's hospital bed came to her in a flash. She had confessed her feelings to Jane, held her hand and finally, finally kissed it, and Jane hadn't even been aware of it.
I didn't know if she would ever feel me again. It was the most terrifying moment of my life.
She squeezed Jane's hand, and the perfect mirror of the past was shattered into a thousand pieces, forever releasing Maura from the memory of that night as present-time Jane squeezed her hand back.
She feels me.
It's not too late.
She blinked back a few tears of her own as she felt the full implication of what they had so nearly missed, not just once, but twice. There was an odd symmetry to their respective journeys. Maura fully understood the fear Jane had felt in her kitchen, because she had felt the same fear that night at the hospital – but it had been quenched, eliminated, obliterated. And the thought of what remained, what was finally in plain sight, was nothing short of exhilarating.
On Friday we'll go on a proper date. We'll finally do everything right, the way we should have all along. At the end of that date she'll kiss me – or I her – just like it's supposed to happen. And then there'll be no more uncertainty because we'll both feel it.
The images running through Maura's head brought a smile to her face, but it faltered when she looked back up at Jane's. Her eyes were slightly puffy and her forehead creased. She seemed beside herself. Not just that; she seemed worn and fragile and anything but unafraid.
I'm causing this.
I never wanted that power over her. I don't know what to do with it.
Maura looked around, desperately seeking something, some input, anything that might help.
I'm causing this. Therefore I can also undo it. I just need to think.
Her eyes found nothing of interest and once again settled on Jane. She was biting her lower lip.
Even like this she looks adorable. And most kissable.
If only I hadn't had that burger. Cheese and ketchup don't mix well with Belgian waffles.
From the open café door came the sound of a trite 90s pop song. And behind Jane the young mothers were still eagerly discussing their newborns, though one of them, a redhead, seemed to be occasionally glancing in the direction of Jane and Maura.
Great, we now have an audience. And not just any audience, but the pride and joy of everything heterosexual.
She looked back at Jane. At her lips, her closed eyes.
After all we've been through we deserve a completely different, much better setting for our first kiss. It's supposed to be romantic and private, the culmination of a perfect night of-
Maura's eyes widened as the wording of her inner monologue made her realise what was happening.
I'm doing it again. All these sessions with Dr. Gordon, and here I am, once again being the perfectionist. The lost perfectionist. The boring perfectionist.
She shook her head at herself, then stopped because that, too, was a repetition of an old pattern. And Maura was sick and tired of old patterns. Only to break this one would mean giving up on-
Perfection.
"Oh, to hell with it!" Maura exclaimed, echoing her therapist's words, and that seemed to finally get through to Jane. Having never, ever heard Maura curse before she looked up at her in shock.
"Mau-", Jane began, but she was immediately cut off by Maura's lips on hers. Her lips were slightly parted, and Maura took that as an invitation; kissing her fully, deeply, as her fingers tangled in dark curls, pulling Jane impossibly close.
And in the end the corny radio song didn't matter, nor did the chattering women or their babies, because Maura didn't hear them. Filter or no filter, all she heard was the soft moan that seemed to erupt from somewhere deep within Jane's chest and made every inch of Maura come more alive than it had been for weeks. No, much longer than that; she couldn't remember when, if ever, she had last felt this intensely physical, and anyway it didn't matter. All that mattered was this, right now; and the fact that Jane had finally recovered enough to be kissing her back. The flavour of ketchup mixed with that of raspberry marmalade, and it was an odd combination indeed, but beneath it was another taste, an entirely new one that made Maura's head spin and every part of her body receptive. The taste of Jane.
When Maura finally pulled back she was out of breath and her heart was pounding ferociously. Behind Jane, one of the mother's – the nosy redhead – was grinning widely at her, and Maura now noticed that the redhead's free hand was intertwined with that of the woman next to her.
First Dr. Gordon, now this. I really need to stop being so prejudiced.
Maura smiled at the couple as she stroked up and down Jane's upper arms. "Well, I most certainly felt that kiss," she stated. "Did you?" She looked up at Jane and found her friend with eyes still closed and lips slightly pursed. Jane was touching them lightly with her fingertips and completely gone to the world. At least fifteen seconds passed before she realised Maura had spoken to her. She looked at her with a dazed, almost drunken expression in her eyes as she uttered her brilliant response: "Huh?"
Maura chuckled, but gave both of Jane's arms a tender squeeze. "I'll assume that's a yes."
Probably realising Maura had been watching her and read her like and open book Jane blushed deeply and swallowed visibly a few times, which in turn made Maura chuckle harder.
Dr. Gordon is right. Imperfect is rather enchanting.
In spite of her embarrassment Jane managed to smirk a little as she pointed out. "You assume? I thought you never made assumptions, Dr. Isles."
Maura tilted her head from side to side without breaking eye-contact with Jane. "I'm not guessing blindly. I'm making a hypothesis based on an observation, which is entirely different," she corrected, then coyly added: "Of course, I'll need further observations and rigorous testing to fully prove it." Maura's eyes flickered to Jane's still moist and slightly kiss-swollen lips and back.
"Well," Jane said as her hands found Maura's waist and pulled her to stand between her legs. "You can't argue with science, can you?"
"Nope," Maura agreed as she dived in for their second kiss and was met halfway.
THE END
Author's note: Like I said, an M-rated epilogue might be added so keep "story alert" activated if you're into that sort of thing. In any case I thank you for your time - and if you enjoyed the story I hope you will drop a few lines to let me know. It really does make my day.