Jane wakes in the night, still reaching for a body that isn't there. A body that hasn't been there for a long time.

Maura.

Maura is in Paris, and Jane is in a hotel in New York, out on training.

It's funny. Since she left BPD, no one in her family has been kidnapped or shot, no one has been targeted by a serial killer, no one has been in prison for some arbitrary reason. Jane thought it would be the opposite - working for a federal bureau would make her a bigger target, but it seems like that part of her life - all the chaos and blood and car bombs - ended when Maura left. When Jane left Boston.

When they left each other. Jane sat up, rubbing her forehead, her palms stinging. The aircon was cooler than she'd like, and the remote wouldn't work. She pulled her laptop into her lap, flicking on the bedside lamp, feeling nervous in the way she didn't back when Casey would make international calls from whatever military base he'd been stationed on. She flicks her mouse over her Ma's face, knowing it's too late. She checks the time in Paris, checks it again. They're a few hours ahead. Holding her breath she clicks on Maura, holding back from cancelling the call. She probably won't answer. She probably.

"It must be late over there - oh. You're in bed."

Jane's voice is raspier than usual. "I dreamt about - remember how Alice had you kidnapped? And you were gone, and I couldn't find you? And I dreamt... Susie..."

"Do you need me to come home?" Maura asked, and Jane can see now that she's walking down a sunny street, looking all the world as though she belongs in Europe, belongs in Paris in a way that Jane, with similar European roots, never would.

"No. I just needed to make sure... Just needed to see you for myself."

"I understand," Maura's voice was soft. "I'm fine, Jane, but I do miss you."

"Time zones can bite me," Jane says, trying to sound as though she's joking. The best part of all those shooting and kidnapping and car accidents had always been how Maura had folded into Jane's arms like she belonged there, falling asleep with her head on Jane's shoulder, bodies entwined with no space between them.

"I mean it, Jane. I miss you. And Frankie and Angela and Hope and Cailin, but mostly you. But I couldn't spend my life waiting..."

"Are you seeing someone?" Jane asks, as though she hasn't asked before, as though it's of no consequence to her, as though it's not a non- sequitur.

"No," Maura breathes. "No, and I won't be for a while. I'm still getting over..."

"Ian?" Jane asks. Maura barks out a laugh.

"Jane, how obtuse can you be? You were the first person that loved me for me, you were the first person who ever felt safe to me, and I kept hoping that some day... But you never, so I never, and I ended up dating serial killers and getting kidnapped and put in jail and Jane, I can't do this any more."

Jane's heart sank. She'd known why Maura had left, but she hadn't wanted to say anything, to admit it was real.

"I did love you," Jane says, looking out over the New York skyline at 2am. "I do love you," she whispers. "But I was never going to be enough for you."

"You were never anything less than more than enough," Maura said, her voice cracking, and Jane hates that she let Maura leave, Jane hates that she left too, she hates that Maura is so far away and most of all she hates that she knows she could have prevented all of this by letting Maura know, even just once, that Jane loved her. She hates that Maura's voice sounds strained, she hates that Maura's so upset that her sentences aren't fully formed. "You were everything, but I couldn't stay waiting for..."

"I know," Jane sighs. "I know. Just..."

"Just," Maura echoes.

"What are you doing today?" Jane asks, trying to turn the conversation back to normal, like she's not falling to pieces in a dimly lit hotel room far too far away from the only person she's ever really loved. The only person she loved too much to get involved with, because Maura obviously deserves better than some damaged cop with no manners.

"I'm visiting an archive," Maura says. "The Microfiche hasn't been digitised so I'll be scanning in some articles for an idea I'm considering."

"That sounds like something you'd enjoy," Jane says, smiling, her teeth white on Maura's screen along with the tank top she'd worn to bed. "Enjoy yourself," she adds. "I should... It's late. Thanks for taking my call," she says, looking shamefaced.

"I still love you," Maura says. "I always will, even if it's not something you want. Even if you don't want me." Jane's heart hurts. She never wanted to hear Maura say something like that, with all the hurt in her voice like when she'd spoken about her family before Jane had a word with them. It's too late now, but she says it anyway.

"I do want you," she manages to choke out. "God, living without you is harder than living without the use of my hands, and it's only been what, two weeks?"

"Twelve days," Maura amends. "I can be there in... twelve hours. But Jane... I want all of you. If I come back, I want the movie scene airport kiss. I want to be swept off my feet."

"But your research..." Jane says.

"Can you be there for me? Physically, emotionally, sexually?" Jane's breath catches; usually she's the one asking about their relationship.

"I'll try," Jane says finally, honestly. "The first two, yes, I can. I always will be."

"And the last one?"

"Scares the shit out of me, Mau." Jane rubs her face again in a way that's so familiar to Maura, even through the phone thousands of miles away. "But I'm willing to try. And take notes, and feedback, and whatever you need. Just please," Jane's voice cracks again. "Mau, please. I should have said something sooner."

"I could have too," Maura says. She sighs. "I can't even make it a week without you, Jane."

"If you hadn't gone, I'd have never... I'd have been... Not satisfied... But scared. Scared you'd leave if I told you. But you've already left."

"Will you go back to BPD?" Maura asks. "I can pick my job back up."

"No, too much drama. I got a job offer. Consulting for a tv show. They say I can telecommute."

"I've booked a flight. Jane, you'd better not be messing with me."

"Cross my heart," Jane says. "I'll come get you. JFK?" Maura nods. "Email me. I'll be there."

Maura disembarks quickly, with the ease of a seasoned traveler. She looks around. There is a big sign with her name on it, and Jane is dressed like... Humphrey Bogart? From Casablanca?

"Here's looking at you, kid," Jane drawls, pulling Maura into her arms and swooping her down for a long, long-awaited kiss. Jane pulls them both upright, blushing, tipping her hat over her face. "Let's get your luggage, huh?" Jane asks, tucking Maura's arm in hers, and Maura can't wipe the smile from her face.

If she'd known it was going to be this easy, she'd have gone to Paris seven years ago.

"We'll always have Paris," Maura said wistfully, and Jane laughed.

"They were showing it on cable last night," Jane admits. "You said you wanted that monumental big-screen kiss."

"No," Maura says, turning to look at Jane. She looks tired; they both do. But she looks good, she looks comfortable, she even looks a little smug, blush still on her cheeks from kissing Maura for the first time in a crowded airport. "No, I wanted this," she affirms, leaning in to press her lips against Jane's, softly, calmly, and it's better than the movies.

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Jane says, smiling, when Maura finally pulls away.

"Relationship," Maura corrects her.

"As long as I have you, we can call it whatever you want."

"I have learned how to live, how to be in the world and of the world, and not just to stand aside and watch. And I will never, never again run away from life. Or from love, either," Maura says, knowing from Jane's blank stare she didn't understand the reference.

"Frankly my dear," Jane drawls, "As long as I have you, I don't give a damn."

Notes:

It's godawaful fuckoffoclock and the storm cell is keeping my arthritis awake