Look at her. We both know the real cowardice is keeping her alive. 'Saving her.'
We will never not be her nightmare.
You're her new worst fear.
I'll give your regards to Katherine.
…
It doesn't scare her as much as it shuts down all the parts of her brain that are not connected to the functioning of vital organs.
It's barely four sentences, but it makes the doctor go cold all over. It makes her shiver. Even with Jane pressed into her, above her like protection.
"Maura," Jane's voice is like broken concrete. It jabs at her, trips her up. "Maura, I don't want to be…I can't live with the idea that I-"
This pleading. This woman over her, needing her, imploring her really, is what returns her to reality.
"No," she says, pulling the dark head down to her shoulder. "No. No." She is aware that she sounds panicked, but she can't help herself.
Jane wraps her arms around Maura's waist, pulling them together so hard enough that it hurts. "Maura," she says.
"Shh," the doctor runs her fingers through Jane's long tangled hair. "Shh, he was wrong. He was so, so wrong, sweetness. I'm right here. I'm not leaving."
He was wrong, Maura thinks as she continues to whisper comfort into the detective's ear. He was wrong.
But how did he know. How did he pick these words to leave her with? How did he know what would stick, and what would wound?
"No," Maura says, and because she's been following her own train of thought, her voice is more forceful than she means it to be. Jane jumps against her.
"No," she says, softer this time, finding Jane's face and cupping both cheeks in her hands. "He is wrong. He doesn't know anything, least of all you."
Jane shudders. "Maura-"
"No, Jane. He expected you to carry this around with you, and never let it go."
Jane shakes her head, but doesn't interrupt. Maura keeps going. "He expected you to be too proud to admit you needed my help. To admit you needed anyone's help. He expected his words to get to you, and eat at you, and destroy you. Break us apart."
Jane convulses, and Maura holds tighter, knowing why. "But they didn't, Jane. Listen to me. They aren't going to. You are not my nightmare. You are…you are my knight and my world and my…everything. He couldn't take that away from Katherine by murdering her, and he can't take that away from me by leaving you with those hateful words."
Jane stops moving, Maura can feel her listening. She speaks again, without really planning her thoughts.
"He's a bastard," she says. "He's cunning and clever and he's good at getting in people's heads, Jane…but that's all it is. A mind game. He knew as long as he left those words with you, and you held onto them, he couldn't die. He would always be alive…somehow."
Jane shivers. Maura rubs her back again.
"Let it go. Let them go. Kill him."
Jane sniffs. "Kill him," she echoes softly.
"Stay with me," Maura whispers. "Stay with me, please. I can't think of any other place I'd rather be than here with you. And when I close my eyes, I don't see a nightmare. All I see is us together. How much we still have left to do…and it is the most beautiful dream I've ever had. Please. Beautiful. Kill him."
Jane holds onto her tightly, and starts to cry again.
.
"We could go away," Maura says, a little later, when they are both calmer, drifting between sleep and consciousness.
"What?"
"Yes," Maura likes the idea more and more as she continues to speak. "We could go someplace warm. You and me. And we could just sort of…be together."
There is a long pause, and then,
"Yeah," Jane says quietly, and Maura kisses the side of her head, and then both her cheeks, still wet with tears.
"We'll go, and we'll…just relax. Somewhere warm so your hands stop aching."
"They don't-"
"Jane," Maura shakes her head, and the brunette stops, dropping her eyes.
"Somewhere warm," she says quietly. "That sounds nice."
Maura wraps her arms around Jane's waist. "Can you sleep?"
"Are you leaving?"
"Never."
"Then I can try."
Maura puts her head on Jane's shoulder, humming at how safe she feels, how content. "He knew what to say to get to you," Maura says quietly, and when Jane tenses, she rubs along the brunette's back.
"He was dying, and he'd lost and he wanted to haunt you forever, Jane. He wanted to break you into pieces."
"He could have been right," Jane says, her voice heavy.
Maura shakes her head. "No," she says firmly. "He doesn't know me. And he doesn't know you. Not really."
"But you do."
Maura nods, feeling confident in this fact. "Yes. I do."
Jane shifts against her and sighs, a sigh of contentedness, and maybe of sleepiness. But not of despair.
"Maura?"
"Right here."
"I want to go away with you," Jane says it boldly. Maura smiles. "To some place warm."
Maura nods, "but?"
Jane takes a deep breath that moves them both.
"But I have to do something first."
…
…
"I don't trust you with my kids," Jane's voice is just barely loud enough to be audible, and when Angela processes the words, the hopeful expression she'd worn on her way in the door slides from her face. She opens her mouth to respond, but the therapist holds up her hand.
"Keep going, Jane," she says, and Maura rubs and rubs at the small of Jane's back, hoping that she's adding something in the way of silent comfort.
"I…" Jane struggles for the right words. "I'm scared. No. I'm worried, about what you might say to them in my absence." She presses her palms together, flat, and Maura winces, like she can feel the twinge this causes. "I don't want them to ever think that any of their parents don't love them. I…They will get enough unpleasantness from the world. I don't want them ever to feel like their family won't support them through everything."
Jane stops, and Angela looks at the therapist for permission before speaking. It had been one of rules that she'd had to agree to, in order to be allowed to sit in on this session. She could not interrupt or talk over anyone. She had to wait until her daughter or Maura finished their complete thought before chiming in. She had to stay open minded. She had to try.
"I would support those little girls through anything, Janie," Angela says, and although her voice is thick, Maura thinks she sounds indignant, insulted that her daughter would say such things in public. "I don't understand how you could think that."
Jane closes her eyes for a long second, but when she opens them, she looks determined.
"You didn't support me," she says thickly. "I didn't feel that way."
Angela sighs in a way that tells Maura she doesn't see what any of this has to do with anything. And indeed, the next words out of her mouth are "Janie, sweetheart, that was such a long time ago," she smiles politely at the therapist, and misses the way Jane's hands curl in on themselves.
Maura doesn't miss it, and neither does the therapist.
"I think," she says quietly, smiling back at Angela, "what Jane is trying to say is that the safety of her family is of the utmost importance to her at this time. And she-"
But Angela seems unable to stop herself this time. "I would never hurt my grandchildren," she cries indignantly. "I bring them presents, and play with them in the park. I love watching them develop into little people, and I would never do anything to put them in harm's-"
"I'm not talking about physically, Ma," Jane says suddenly, and Angela falls silent.
"I'm talking about…I'm talking about how I felt growing up. How I felt like I had to be ashamed of who I was and what I wanted. How I had to deliberately leave out pieces of myself so that I could fit in at home." Jane shakes her head, and Maura pushes a little closer to her, wanting to make sure the brunette knows that she is there. "I always felt like…I always felt like if something happened to me, anything, if I got made fun of at school or if I got hit by a car…you and Pop would look at me like 'that's what you deserve.' You guys would see it as…like…my own failings that made that happen to me. And I refuse to let my kids grow up feeling off balance. Feeling like all points of their lives are uncomfortable or…" She hesitates, turning her head towards Maura without looking at her.
Maura half smiles. "Incongruous," she says quietly.
Jane nods, and Maura leans forward to kiss the side of her head. She can't help it. Jane doesn't pull away.
"Yeah," she says thickly, turning back to look at her mother. "Incongruous."
Dead silence.
Maura watches Angela's face carefully, trying to make out what she's thinking. She's ready to intervene should the older woman lash out in any way, but she doesn't look angry. She looks…immensely sad.
"Your father," she begins, but Jane shakes her head, looking tired.
"It wasn't just Pop, Ma. Can you admit that to me?"
Angela hesitates, and every one in the room seems to hold their breath.
"Yes," She says finally. "Yes. I can admit that." She glances at the therapist who nods encouragingly. "I…was terrified of you, Jane." she says quietly, and Jane looks up, confused.
Angela shakes her head, "You were my first born. My baby, and my little girl and you were…so different from anything I'd imagined. You didn't want to wear dresses or play with dolls. You didn't want to snuggle with me or lie still while I read you nursery rhymes. You didn't really want to bake with me if it didn't involve meat pounding."
Jane smiles faintly, and Angela continues, spurred on by the gesture. "You were rough," she says and when Jane looks a little ashamed, she hurries to continue. "You loved me, and your father, I never doubted that at all, but you were rough with your love…you loved us so…hard. and I…didn't always know how to receive it. It was so…different."
"I'm…sorry," Jane murmurs, looking down at her lap.
Angela nods, looking bitter. "Right," she says, "so I taught you to do that. To apologize." She sighs heavily and leans back in the armchair, remembering. "I used to tell the people in my prayer group that God broke the mold with you," she says, looking a little embarrassed. "It's a saying, and usually people mean it flatteringly, but I," she stops, waiting for Jane to lift her head, "I used it because I didn't know what else to say about you, honey." There are tears in Angela's eyes. Real, genuine tears, and Jane looks a little caught off guard to see them there. Not asking anything of her, not even forgiveness.
They lapse into silence for a time, and then Angela chuckles making everyone look around at her.
"And then Katherine," she says, "about as feminine as you could get. About as sweet and soft spoken as a house cat. And she seemed to just…understand you, Jane. The way Maura understands you now…the way I never seemed to be able to."
Jane shrugs, "I didn't make it easy."
Angela shrugs too, mirroring her daughter. "It wasn't your job to."
"Ma," Jane rubs the back of her neck gently. "Ma, Maura and I want to go away."
Angela looks horror struck. "Move?" she says, her voice rising. "You two are moving? No! Oh, No, Janie, isn't there anything that I can do to make you stay?"
Jane is shaking her head, saying her mother's name over and over, with a sort of weird smile on her face. Even as Angela dissolves into tears, Maura wonders if this spontaneous show of grief, of despair over her daughter's apparent wish to vanish, is proving something to Jane that words never could.
"Don't go, Janie. I'll change. I'll-"
"Ma. Ma…MA!"
Angela finally stops long enough for Jane to get a word in edgewise. "I mean we want to go away on like…a vacation. Just the two of us."
Angela looks at Jane and then Maura, clearly still trying to make sense of this information.
Jane sighs. "And have you look after the girls?" She says hopefully, "Just while we're gone."
Angela's eyes get wide. "You mean…" she begins, but then seems unable to continue as wave after wave of emotion washes over her face.
Maura squeezes Jane's knee. "Read her the thing," she says quietly, and Jane nods, reaching behind her to pick up the old worn red notebook from its place on the couch.
She cracks it open and begins to read, and Maura has to bite her lip to keep from giggling. For all her intelligence and confidence and swagger and bravado, Jane reads her own words like a tentative teenager, nervous and halting.
"February seventeenth, 2014," she says slowly. "Ma used to take me and Frankie to the aquarium and joke about how the penguins were all bad little girls and boys who got changed into penguins as punishment. She even picked one that was our brother, and we would always stay until they got fed to make sure he got some. When we misbehaved at home, Ma would tickle us and tell us that was the spell that would transform us…" Jane pauses, and glances at Maura, who nods, grinning.
Jane takes a breath and looks back down at her paper.
"I…I hope that she can be that kind of grandmother to my kids. Those are my best memories."
Angela is still crying, but she laughs a little too, reaching up to wipe her eyes. "You three loved those penguins," she says.
Jane's smile is the first genuine smile of the session. "We loved that you took us, Ma. Even after Tommy was too old to believe that story."
Angela hiccups with the effort of holding back new tears. "Can I hug you, Janie? Please?" She looks from the therapist, to Maura, and then finally to Jane, like she needs all three of their permissions to hug her daughter. "I'll be gentle. I promise. I just…can I hug you?
Jane pulls herself gently away from Maura, and pushes herself to her feet. She laughs.
"Come on, Ma," she says, holding out her arms. "You just said it yourself."
She grins as Angela looks confused.
"I love to hard for gentle."
…
They go.
Maura buys them two tickets to Villingili Island in the Maldives, and four days after the therapy session they are on a plane, Jane looking nervous, and Maura trying to comfort her by explaining the mechanics of a 787.
"We shouldn't be going for so long," Jane says, her hands tightening on the armrest as the plane hits a pocket of turbulence. "They're going to think I've abandoned them. Left them with their grandmother for all eternity."
Maura smiles, pulling the hand closest to her into her lap and starting to rub at it. Jane's shoulders relax an inch. "They are ecstatic to be with your mother," Maura says gently, "Did you see Maya's face light up at the prospect of redecorating the guest room? It's like a dream come true."
Jane smiles fleetingly, but her eyes wander down to take in her hand in Maura's, and she frowns.
"What if she loses them at the mall?" She asks, looking up into Maura's face. "She lost Tommy at the mall when he was four. That's right between Maya and Zoe, and you know that the baby likes to wander off after-"
But Maura silences Jane with a kiss, smiling against the brunette's lips when she feels her sigh. "Honey, we're only gone for six days. We'll call them every day, and bring them back every souvenir the gift shop has to offer. They're going to be alright. They're going to bond and come to know their grandmother really well."
Jane makes a noise that sounds like 'harumph.' "My mother-" she begins, but Maura shushes her again.
"People change, Jane,"she says simply, and the detective looks thoughtful, and then satisfied, and then sly.
"You know who else is going to do some bonding…" she asks, leaning towards Maura.
The doctor manages to keep a squeal inside when Jane presses her lips to her neck.
.
The hotel is amazing, and even Maura feels a little awed by the sweeping panoramic view from the window of their suite. She turns from the balcony to call for Jane to come look, but the detective is standing at the foot of their bed, fingering the dress that Maura has laid out for dinner.
"Jane?"
"This dress probably cost more than I make in two months," she says quietly.
Maura blinks at her. "What?"
"This whole trip," Jane says, looking up at her, "I'll never be able to repay you for it. This hotel, flying first class…" she trails off, looking a little panicked, and Maura crosses the room to hold her, confused.
"Where is this coming from?" she asks, pressing her lips against Jane's shoulder. "What just happened?"
"I want to be with you," Jane says, and Maura pulls away to look up into the brunette's eyes, thinking of the disjointed thinking that accompanies brain injuries.
"I want to be with you too," Maura says slowly, "Jane-"
"But I…you make much more money than I do, Maur. Or you…just have more…and how am I supposed to, make it even between us if-"
But Maura pushes Jane back, onto the bed, and then keeps pushing, until the brunette is on her back, looking up at the doctor through wide eyes.
"Honey," Maura says firmly. "Jane. Do you think I care about the money?"
Jane doesn't answer, but her gaze drops from Maura's eyes to her lips slowly.
Maura takes Jane's hands and puts them on her collar, silk and smooth. "Can you grip this?" she asks, and Jane almost bristles, before she looks up into Maura's face and sees that the question was asked without malice.
"Yes."
"Rip it."
Jane's eyes get wider. "What?"
Maura laughs. "Rip it. Pull it apart. Take it off me." Maura laughs again at Jane's astounded look. "It doesn't mean money to me, Jane. All it means to me is one more barrier between my skin and yours. And your skin is all I can think about at the moment."
Jane's expression darkens with lust, and then hardens with concentration as she tightens her grip on the edges of Maura's blouse and pulls outwards, gasping as several little buttons go flying in each direction.
Maura catches her breath, full of admiration and arousal and affection.
"Maura?" The doctor shivers at how low Jane's voice is.
"Mmm?"
"How much do you care about that bra?"
Maura laughs, and Jane pulls her down on top of her, growling.
It's the first time they've really been intimate with each other since Hoyt. And, Maura realizes with a gasp, as Jane's bare legs come in contact with her own, it's the first time ever that they've been completely naked with one another. The first time that their sex is about sex, and not about forgetting, or comforting or fear.
"Oh my God," Jane says, throwing her head back, revealing more skin for Maura to explore, "Oh, my God, Maura. That's so good."
"Mmmhmm," Maura nods, fingers working in time with her mouth, her other hand wrapping around the narrow waist and holding on. Keeping them locked together. "Yes," she murmurs against the hollow of Jane's throat. "Yes, baby. Let me be good to you."
Maura thinks she'll never feel anything more wonderful than Jane coming apart, really coming apart, all around her.
But then Jane rolls them over and looks down at her, grinning, and says, "I can't use my hands, Dr. Isles. I guess I'll have to use something else."
And Maura has to reevaluate her previous theory.
.
Later, still naked, still wrapped around each other, Jane shifts against Maura, bringing their lips together.
"We should get ready for dinner," she murmurs. Maura makes a disgruntled noise.
"Room service would only require us to put on robes for the time it takes to open the door and roll in a cart."
"No fancy dress? No showing you off?"
Maura shuts her eyes at the feeling of Jane's hands in the small of her back. "No fancy dress," she repeats. "No showing you off."
"Maura?"
"Mmmm."
"I want to…be…with you."
Maura opens her eyes to see two deep dark ones looking back at her. "I was under the impression that we were together, Jane."
But the detective shakes her head. "I want…" she struggles, and then refocuses. "I want to be…like partners."
Has anything ever mattered so much before? Ever?
Maura has no control over her facial features. She knows she must look horrified. She knows she must look elated.
"With me?"
Jane nods, looking down. "I can't go halves in money, Maur. But I can make it up in a lot of other ways. And I will always fight for you and…be in your corner…and I'll…" She casts around. "Go shoe shopping with you…Maybe."
Maura laughs, but she is crying so it comes out like a guffaw. Totally unattractive.
Jane looks smitten.
"That sounds…so wonderful," she says, as Jane burrows against her, kissing the tips of her fingers.
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"Maura?"
"What is it, sweetness?"
"I'm not hungry yet."
Maura grins. "Is that so?"
…
Maura stands in the shadows of the curtain, looking at Jane out on the balcony, head tilted back to the clear, starry sky. She'd woken up to find herself alone in bed in the dark, but her momentary panic had been assuaged when she'd spotted the detective on the balcony, staring up at the sky.
She'd gotten out of bed and hurried towards the sliding door, still open a crack, but then something stopped her.
Now, she stands a little ways back, just looking out at Jane. She's dressed in nothing but a tank top and underwear, but she looks beautiful. She looks calm and serene and beautiful, and Maura is just about to join her when she starts to speak to nothing.
"Hey, Katie."
Maura draws back a little further, not wanting to interrupt.
"What a spectacular night. There's so many stars out here. In the city I always forget that the sky could ever look like this…I always forget how big and…quiet everything is." She pauses for a second, and when she speaks again, her voice is lower, and thicker, like she's working not to cry.
"You can see it though, can't you? I know you can. I know he was wrong when he said…" she falters, but picks up almost immediately. "I know he's wrong, and you're up there because you were so good and so smart and…you were my best friend. And you were the best mom. And we were, like, super heroes together. You and me, Katie. We were like super heroes."
Maura wipes at her eyes, but doesn't move. Jane's voice is loud enough that she could hear it if she were awake in bed, and so it doesn't feel like eavesdropping. Maura leans against the wall, listening.
"You would love it here, anyway….Kate, but…I don't…wish you were here." Jane says it firmly, even if her voice drops. "Is that what Maura meant? About letting you go? Not choosing, but letting you go? You would love the waves and the sand and God, you must be loving this view right now…but I'm not aching for you baby. I'm not…drowning anymore."
Jane pauses, and then chuckles, and her laugh is deep and almost carefree. Maura feels her heart jump with affection at the sound. "You would be so exasperated with me, honey, moping and hiding and…talking to ghosts. You would tell me to get my head out of my ass or figure my shit out, or both…more likely. You'd tell me to open my eyes.
"Did you send her to find me, Katie? Did you send her to save us?"
Silence. Just the breeze rustling the grass down by the water and the waves lapping in and falling back. Endless. Maura bites her lip so her crying doesn't make a noise, but Jane must have a sixth sense, because she calls.
"Maur, I know you are hiding back there. It's okay. Come out."
Maura moves towards Jane, just visible in the light from the sky, and when she gets to where Jane's sitting in the deck chair the brunette pulls her down onto her lap and puts both hands in her hair drawing their foreheads together.
"I love you, Maura," Jane says, and her eyes are the reflection of millions of stars. "I love you so much."
Maura nods, making Jane's head nod too. "I love you too. More than I'd imagined possible."
"I'm gonna go back," she says. "When my hands let me." She searches the doctor's face. "I'm going to go back."
Maura smiles. "I know. I'm going to be there with you. Every step of the way."
Jane closes her eyes for a second, and then, "Maura?"
"Jane."
"I wanna bring our girls here."
Our girls. Ours. Maura opens her mouth and finds that no words come out. Jane grins at her, just waiting.
"I…I want that too," Maura manages.
"Say it."
Maura swallows. "I-I want…our girls to see this place too. They would love it."
And Jane kisses her, fast enough that she barely gets the sentence out. And when the kiss ends, too soon for Maura's liking, Jane pulls the doctor's head down onto her shoulder and they look up at the mosaic of stars together. Breathing in and out like one entity.
Jane threads her hands through Maura's hair again, she presses a kiss to her forehead.
"I'm safe," she says quietly as Maura shuts her eyes.
"I'm found."