Chapter eleven: Constellations

Blurriness: noun. Something that is hazy and indistinct to the sight or mind; the quality of being indistinct and without sharp outlines.

It had been raining for at least an hour, now; the intense noise of the beginning finally turning in a soft melody after a while – when everyone had got used to it. Leaned against the window, Maura followed the path embraced by a drop. Down the glass before vanishing, swallowed by the brick wall. It was a quiet night, one of these she hated more than anything else for them being a bit too favorable to a long and painful introspection.

"Here we go! Are you ready?"

She turned around – grabbed the bottle of beer that Jane tended her – and nodded enthusiastically. At least she wouldn't be alone, that night. The rain wouldn't have the bittersweet effect it usually had on her and everything would be alright. Perfect.

She sat down at the bottom of her friend's bed and sagely waited for Jane to turn the light off. As the detective did so and came to settle down by her side, Maura smiled brightly.

They all had appeared by magic, all the constellations. Orion, Taurus, Andromeda... A second had been enough for the ceiling to reveal its glimmering stars.

The honey blonde remained quiet, softly mesmerized by the sudden vision.

"I honestly can say that it's the best present I've got in a very long while..."

Jane's comment made her blush. She knew how the detective rarely gave into such confessions; not that she was insincere but it usually came implicitly. She wasn't made to express her feelings.

"I wonder how John is going to react when he sees it."

Since they had come back from the weekend at her family's mansion, Maura had tried to slow it down, to take her distance with the brunette. John's words at the supermarket hadn't left her a single second.

It hadn't really worked out. All she had been thinking about was today, when they would install all the fluorescent stickers in Jane's bedroom and share a moment together. The only thing she had realized was that not only the detective was her best friend but her only friend at all.

The others were mere acquaintances; faces that would fade away with the passing of time.

"I don't."

Jane's reply took her aback. Perplexed, she turned her head around and stared at her friend. The door had been left ajar so a thin ray of light came to slid on the hardwood floor but they were mainly in the dark; the outlines of the brunette blurry.

"I asked him to stop calling me... He wasn't the right one."

The words floated around, melting into Maura's confused sentiments. There was something relieving about it – nobody likes being the only one single – but mixed with a blurry sadness that left a bitter taste in her mouth. She felt sorry for Jane. There was nothing worse than realizing we had gone wrong one more time.

"You will find the right one. Don't be worried."

This is the most ridiculous thing you could ever find to say, Maura. Really. Congrats. A wave of heat embraced her cheeks as she realized how her remark sounded stupid; too polite. She took a sip of her beer and appreciated the fact that they were pretty much in the dark.

"Maybe I already have."

Even years later, the medical examiner wouldn't have been able to say if it was the way Jane's voice had shaken or the mere confession. But still. Maura's heart suddenly began to beat faster; pounding loud in her chest. Everything seemed to have disappeared around but the rain and its staccato melody that accompanied her pulse.

Her eyes focused on her friend's shoulder for long seconds. Then, slowly, she looked up until she lost herself in the detective's gaze. A disturbing mix of uncertainty and fear welcomed her.

As Jane's fingertips brushed her cheek, Maura swallowed hard; didn't move. The brunette's hand came to rest of her friend's nape who expectantly – almost by automatism – closed her eyes, waiting for the next move that seemed inevitable, now.

The honey blonde felt the detective's breath on her lips; warmer and warmer as she was getting closer. An invisible contact and she suddenly turned her head around, not allowing the final kiss to happen.

"I remember what I did. I have always known it."

With awkwardness, Jane took her hand away from her friend's nape. It had taken her all the courage she owned to actually try – and see. See if the others were right. If it was really what she wanted.

But within a second, Maura had put an end to it. Abruptly. Harshly.

"What?"

Another sip of beer – a long one – and the medical examiner realized that she had emptied her bottle. Perhaps soon enough, alcohol would soften a few things and life would seem easier to handle. But for the moment, it was tough. And rough.

"Last weekend. I know what I did. Everything, I remember everything. Absolutely everything."

The kiss, in the bedroom. It didn't take Jane long to understand what Maura meant, if only through half-words. The morning after, the medical examiner had seemed to have forgotten about it. And they had just gone on; as if nothing had happened.

"You lied?"

The detective frowned. She knew how her friend was incapable of such a thing; not morally but just physically. Maura couldn't lie. It was a fact. Her reactions when she tried to were undeniable and quite obvious.

"No... I just didn't mention it."

Was it supposed to open new perspectives? To change things irremediably? Jane appreciated – even if quite late – the honesty. And now? What's gonna happen now? Maura had kissed her, she had just been about to do the same. Was it supposed to make things easier? Or just blurrier?

"I'm sorry."

It sounded like a whisper, a very ashamed one; sliding on the honey blonde's lips with all the regret she could have. A truck passed in the street, below; its tires sliding on the damp asphalt.

"Maura, look at me. Please."

Slowly, the medical examiner obeyed and turned her head around to look at her friend. Regrets seemed to have embraced her features; and that latent fear to have got stuck in a dead-end. Something hurt in Jane's heart, echoing Maura's gaze; a mutual pain, a loud one.

Only silenced by their lips as they brushed again. But this time, nobody broke apart.