CHAPTER EIGHT
When she wakes, she is alone in Maura's bed.
Yawning, she rubs her hands over her face. Wipes the sleep from weary eyes as she sits up. It's still dark out, but the bedside clock reads 06:05 and she grimaces.
She's exhausted. But then it's only been a few hours since she returned from the alleyway, having disturbed what could have been a full night of restful sleep by taking a jaunt in the middle of the night.
It's almost time to get up for work, yet she reclines. Plumps her pillows and leans back against the headboard. Relishes in the soft warmth of expensive sheets and downy feathers. Just ten more minutes, she tells herself. But not for sleep.
Because the doorway to the adjoining bathroom is half-open, bathing a wide slice of carpet and duvet in warm light. Allowing from this angle a clear view of a very naked Maura as the blonde gets ready for the day.
So Jane watches. Torn.
She wants to remain here and just observe. But she also wants to leap from beneath the covers and sidle up behind the blonde, reenact yesterday evening with her naked Maura atop the vanity.
The former is enough though, she decides. Content to enjoy the view.
How lucky she is to be loved by such a beautiful woman. The thought swells her heart, makes her hopeful for the future.
"Good morning!" Maura sings when she slinks back into the bedroom a little later, disappointingly clothed in silk pajamas and sounding almost surprised that Jane is awake.
"G-Good morning," she croaks, clears her raspy morning voice.
"I'm sorry if I woke you. I was trying to be quiet. Let you sleep a little more."
"You didn't," she says, shares a sweet smile as the doctor crosses the room and disappears into the walk-in closet.
Maura continues, voice muffled by the dividing wall and racks of clothes that separate them. "That's a relief. Getting as much unbroken sleep as possible is important, especially when you have nightmares,"
"I didn't have a nightmare," Jane mumbles, drags the duvet with her as she scoots across the bed. She's not about to explain the real reason why she got up in the middle of the night.
With her brow scrunched hard, she tries and fails to locate the mess of clothes she remembers dumping on the floor last night. "Did you move my suit?" she calls.
Maura saunters out of the closet in a dress, blazer and heels. Finishes fastening an earring. "Isn't it in the guest room where you left it?"
She scratches her head, looks around again. "I- um…" Why would she have been using the guest room?
The bed dips and she turns her face to find the blonde sat close. There's a sympathetic pat to her bare leg where it sticks from beneath the covers.
"Just remember… you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Maura's warm palm lingers, skims up and down smooth skin as warm hazel pitch up and down in concerned assessment. "But you don't have to go about your day pretending it didn't happen either. I'm here for you if you need anything."
Taken aback, her eyebrows lift when Maura snickers a little laugh, nods toward her still sat in the middle of the bed. "I'd say anytime day or night, but clearly that part's not an issue!"
There's a smile on her face and she's not sure why. Like she didn't get the joke but it's the polite thing to do. Or like mirroring Maura's mood is just fast becoming her natural state.
Only as Maura stands and walks away does the smile drop off. Perturbed, her face sinks and she's caught only two seconds later with her chin down, feeling all kinds of mixed up.
"Oh god, I'm sorry," Maura gushes, "It was just a joke. And a terrible one at that. Forget I said anything."
The bed dips again as Maura gathers up one of her hands and a gentle finger lifts her chin. "You are welcome here, day or night. My house, my bed, it makes no difference."
The emotion in Maura's eyes feeds her soul and she leans in, welcomes the hand that cups her cheek. "You're my best friend. My family. You don't have to creep in here in the middle of the night afraid of disturbing me, okay?"
"Okay," she whispers, spellbound and wanting to kiss the lips that still move only inches from her face.
"And if you don't have a nightmare and you still need to come in here in the middle of the night, that's okay, too. We can talk… or not. Whatever you need."
"Okay," she whispers again, almost without thought.
Maura stands abruptly before she can close the distance. "Good!" the blonde chirps happily. "Now I have to be somewhere in ten minutes so I'll see you later. Do you think you'll be too busy for lunch?"
"I – er, I dunno. Depends what else we find on the Mills case."
"Milson," Maura states with a slight head tilt.
"Mills," she says again, increasingly uncertain as the look on Maura's face sows the seeds of doubt. It was Mills, wasn't it?
With a sigh, Maura doubles down. "The case you started yesterday? The woman's body I autopsied? It was Milson, Charlotte Milson. Not Mills." The doctor moves about the room, deposits the last of her things into a large purse as she plows on. "Just imagine what would happen if I or the lab made that mistake. Entire cases might be ruined. Evidence would be thrown out. I put procedures in place the second I took office to ensure that could never happen. Crime lab standards are exponentially higher now than when Dr. Pike was in charge."
"Uh-huh…" Jane mutters, distracted.
Maura stops cold. "What's going on, Jane? Are you really feeling okay? I mean, besides the exhaustion, which is unfortunately very apparent from the dark color of your nasojugal folds - There are some affordable treatments available for that, by the way. I can give you the information if you'd like - But it's really not like you to mix up cases, no matter how tired you are, so now you have me worried."
"I – I'm fine, just… really, really tired," she professes dramatically. "Nothing a huge mug of instant coffee can't fix."
"If you're sure?"
"Go," she insists with an eye roll, plasters on a grin and shoos the blonde away. "Go run your errand, or whatever it is you Medical Examiners get up to before dawn."
"Oh, I'm going to try and meet Jack before his morning lecture," Maura shrugs as if it's no big deal, throws a grin over her shoulder on the way out. "Text me later about lunch."
Trying to appear unaffected, Jane only manages another weak "Uh-huh," in response. Aims for a smile but lands on a sneer.
Alone, she processes. Dissects their interaction and concludes something startling. This reality is exactly as she remembers from before that first hard knock to her skull.
"It worked?" she breathes, full of wonder. Holy fucking shit.
The goddamn doorway and the blinding lights… That has to be it.
She didn't imagine anything. She's not crazy with grief or denial. There are no dreams, no nightmares. No concussion to reason it away.
And all those things she didn't remember, well… they weren't forgotten after all. Because they weren't her memories to begin with. Like Frost being taken from them. Or Hoyt cutting Maura more than once.
Who knows what other twisted differences she might have stumbled upon had she stayed.
But now everything that was wrong is right again and, despite having no idea how, or why, it's such a relief.
Everything is back exactly as she remembers.
Everything except Jack. She had genuinely forgotten about him. And as she hears the front door snick closed downstairs, it feels like someone has thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over her.
With an angry huff she throws her upper body back down onto the bed. Double fists a pillow and plants it over her face. "It worked!" she yells, screams her frustration into Egyptian cotton. "Aaaggghhfuuuck!"
Maura was hers. For one single solitary day, Maura was hers, and it's already ruined.
She throws off the pillow, slams it down over her thighs in a white knuckled grip. Welcomes the cool air on her face and lies in silence for long moments as her thoughts swirl.
Memories of Maura's touch last night fill her with tingling heat. The caress of those lips… mmm. And later, the way the blonde had welcomed Jane's arms around her, murmured acceptance and pleasure at the full-length press of Jane's warm body as she slipped back under the covers…
Nightmares or not, why would this Maura allow her to do that, and not even mention it if she's with Jack?
Jane shudders at the notion that maybe Maura thought she was Jack when she slipped into her bed last night. It's not a visual she wants or needs swimming in her mind, wishes she could focus on something else, or wash her brain with bleach. Either option would work.
Even half asleep, wouldn't Maura still sense a difference? The blonde had all but said she'd gone to sleep knowing Jane was staying over. Does that mean Maura's response to her was genuine, intentional?
Maura is a devoted friend. That much has always been clear. But it feels like quite a stretch to imagine Maura might harbor some hidden desire for her now, might be burying a romantic yearning that can only be acknowledged under cover of darkness. Or under the covers, maybe.
She wonders if Maura knows of her feelings. If she's been a little more obvious than she'd hoped over the years. Supposes if Maura wanted to test a suspicion, the doctor might do so assuming Jane would never want to talk about it.
Regardless, it's all conjecture. Wishful thinking doesn't get her anywhere. Maura has a boyfriend.
When the alarm sounds at 06:30, she shuts it off with a deep sigh. It's time for her to face the day. And she hopes by the time she sees Maura again that there's no residual afterglow humming around the doctor. That particular sight would really sting.
She catches the feint sound of a text alert and finally rises. Pads through to the guest room in just her t-shirt and pants, finds her phone on the bedside table. It's with a light chuckle she notes her crumpled suit now hangs neatly off the closet door, a freshly laundered tan suit that screams wear me hangs right next to it. Maura is as subtle as a brick.
As she wakes her phone, flicks a fingertip over the screen, she can't think of a sensible reason not to comply. That it will make Maura happy is beside the point.
A second message chimes and she barks a laugh as she notes the sender, cups a hand over her mouth to catch a sob that quickly follows. Both messages are from Frost.
- Meet me in BRIC as soon as you get here.
- p.s. It's about the Milson case.
She types out a reply, wipes away a happy tear and gets ready in record time.
- On my way!
A low whistle lights up her face as she swaggers into BRIC.
"Looking good, baby!" Frost teases, looks her up and down. "Well, apart from… this," he adds, splays a hand and motions to her face.
"Shut. Up!" she snips with an eye roll and a smile. Despite copious coffee, there's no hiding how tired she is. Makeup might have helped with the bags under her eyes, but she hadn't wanted to waste any time. Wanted to see him as soon as possible. Make sure he was real.
He fingers the fabric of her suit jacket. Gives a slow, impressed nod, the corners of his mouth turned down. "This is a good color on you. Is it new?"
"Maura," she offers with a shrug, as if that's supposed to explain everything.
"Uh huh," he responds with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, clearly not fooled by her false apathy.
She grimaces, grips the lapels and adjusts the jacket as if uncomfortable. "I think she had it altered."
It's nothing but an attempt to save face. In reality, she's never owned a suit that fit so well. Like it was tailored for her exact body shape, designed specifically to suit her lifestyle. The difference between this suit and the one she wore yesterday is undeniable. Maura must have spent a fortune, she realizes, but she's not complaining. It is glorious, like a second skin and she'll die before she admits it.
Luckily, Frost lets her bullshit slide. "Mm-hm. The Doc has good taste," is all he says, a twinkle in his eye that she knows is an unspoken comment about her hidden feelings.
"Whatever, man," she tuts, rolls her eyes again. The Frost branch of the Isles Appreciation Society is clearly alive and well. "Listen… I didn't sleep. It's a long story. Don't ask," she dismisses bluntly before he can put voice to the frown he's sporting. "I've got a killer headache, so do me a favor and recap everything we've got so far before you give me the new stuff, okay?"
"You bet!" he grins. Because it's fun to be extra cheery when she's crabby.
And even if she is doing her best to just act the part today – forcing a scowl instead of squealing with joy at finding him alive and discovering her memories are genuine – they still know each other too well.
"Great," she grumbles, stifles another smile. Waves a lazy hand at the screen as she plops down in a chair beside him. "Full case summary. Go."