Jane woke in the night; a relief, since Hoyt had been visiting her in her dreams again. She turned on the light, not exactly surprised to see Maura asleep in leisurewear next to her on top of the covers. Jane yawned and rubbed her face, sat up to unzip her boots, heard them drop - thunk, thunk - to the floor, lay back down next to Maura, peaceful in sleep and twice as beautiful because - for the night at least - she was Jane's.
She only admitted this at night, once Maura was asleep. She only let herself feel this after a night like this, after a dream like this. But she always wanted nights like this, she always wanted nights where Maura was hers, where Maura slept next to her, pretense or otherwise. She always wanted Maura close to her, and it scared her how badly she wanted it, how easily Maura's presence calmed her.
Maura mumbled something about sardines, rolled onto her side towards Jane and reached for her, sighing happily when she found Jane, moving closer still until her head nuzzled its way onto Jane's chest. Jane let it happen, powerless to do anything else, let one of her hands tangle in Maura's hair, rubbing the base of Maura's neck in the way that made Maura sigh, even in her sleep. Only in her sleep, because Jane wasn't brave enough to do this in daylight, would never do this when Maura was awake enough to ask Jane what she thought she was doing. The sigh from Maura released most of the tension in Jane's chest, made her feel like she wasn't doing anything wrong.
Not that holding Maura had ever felt wrong, but Jane didn't do this in daylight, when Maura was aware of it. She was fiercely protective of Maura and the rest of her family, but she was only soft like this for Maura. Memories of Hoyt faded into nothingness as Jane let her thumb brush against the small scar at the base of Maura's skull. She rested her own scar tissue atop it, healed wound against healed wound. Scar against scar. They were so broken, but when they were together they were together. They held each other together. Without Maura, Jane would fall apart. Without Maura, Jane would be sitting up, heaving sobs rolling through her chest until she threw up in the toilet, hunched over, knees cold on the the tiles. Without Maura she would be calling the prison, the FBI, the funeral home, CODIS, making sure the bastard really was dead. She'd done it before, on nights Maura wasn't there. She knew she'd do it again, and she knew the people she contacted didn't hold it against her or think any less of her for her late night calls. They knew Hoyt. They carried some of the nightmares with them too.
"We match," Jane said vaguely, when the scars lined up. It had been so many years, and Jane had always thought that Maura would say something, would call Jane out for loving her too much, but she never had. Jane found herself daily almost letting her own heart out from behind her teeth, but every day she thought about how it would feel if she told Maura and how it would feel if Maura turned away from her, deciding that she needed to separate their lives from the tangle of codependency it had become and the very idea of it silenced her; she never managed to say anything And Maura didn't either, but Jane had seen Maura looking at her quizzically, like Jane was a puzzle she was still solving.
So for now, this was all she had. The heavy weight of Maura on her chest, a sleepless secret she couldn't help but keep.
But Maura stirred, blinking sleepily up at Jane and Jane was caught; caught out, caught in that gaze. Maura propped herself up to pull the blanket at the base of the bed over them both, looked down at Jane, whose hand remained raised from cradling Maura's head. Maura took the listless hand in her own, kissed each errant finger before looking down into Jane's face. Jane's breath stopped halfway out her chest, making way for an anxious swallow as Maura leaned down to press those soft lips against Jane's mouth before returning her head to Jane's chest. Jane's hand returned to Maura's skull, and Maura hummed in appreciation, arms tightening around Jane as her breathing slowed back down into the sleep pattern Jane was so familiar with. Jane could breathe again, Maura's head rising and falling with Jane's breaths. This happened sometimes, Maura waking. Maura kissing Jane like that. Maura snuggling into Jane in her sleep. It didn't mean anything, the same way it didn't mean anything the way Jane's heart was still beating too fast. It was the nightmares, it was some sort of shared trauma bond, it was Maura being nice, or having a sleep disorder.
In the morning, they wouldn't talk about this. They never did, both too unsure if it even happened. But when Jane woke to the dim light of dawn tangled in Maura, and she told herself it was good enough.
Notes:
Me on Friday: I need a break from Rizzles
Me on Saturday: yeah but what if...
Part of me wants to write a huge opus based on this but the rest of me is tired and sore.