A/N: So here's part two. I hope I did a good job. This was a nice little break from the other long fic I'm currently writing (or neglecting.) Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed!
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Maybe it wasn't Jane she was worried about.
Thinking about it now, knelt down on the floor beside Bass might not be the best of times, but better now than alone in the dark of her bedroom. All alone with her thoughts... she shudders at the very idea.
She offers Bass a strawberry- not just any strawberry, but the very one she's been offering him for the past half hour. And it's certainly not because he's already full. No... not at all. She's not using her pet as a distraction. No... that would be...
That would be...
Exactly what she's doing.
Maura sighs and leans back against the cabinets, turning the strawberry over in her hands. It's not Bass' fault he couldn't distract her forever, she just wishes he had a bigger appetite.
She glances down at him a little thrown-off to find his head still peeking out of his shell. Leaning forward, she drums her fingers gently on the top of his shell, smiling as his head lifts.
"You're awfully friendly tonight. What's got into you?"
Lately, she's noticed he hasn't moved about her home much. He's confined himself to the kitchen and hallway. She believes it's largely because of her mother's last visit. Constance had nearly tripped over him three times and once squashed his hind foot with the toe of her stiletto. Not intentionally, of course. Her mother just wasn't accustomed to living with a tortoise.
"You're not scared are you? No?" she signs again, "Then I guess it's just me... You know what I did tonight, Bass?"
She pauses for a moment, then remembers a second too late that he cannot actually speak.
"I may have ruined everything with Jane."
The tortoise stares blankly at her before slowly pushing himself backwards. Out of her reach. Her jaw drops slightly as she just watches him walk away from her.
"Bass?"
But he's having none of it. It takes a few seconds, but he finally manages to disappear around the island, effectively sealing himself out of her view. She groans and leans her head back, deciding he's right not to want to hear about it. She messed up. That's that.
Still, has Jane read it yet? Could she even make out the words? Did she even bother to take it from the trash? Questions. Questions. She could go on for days. Bass was right to get away while he could. She traces a circle over the seed-covered surface of the strawberry still in her hands with her thumb, clinging to the small hope that her bucket list is still in her trash bin.
'Tell Jane I love her.'
It's true. Staggeringly so, and to admit it to herself, let alone Jane? Well, that may be the bravest thing she's ever done- that is, if Jane even bothered to fish the list out of the trash. It's been difficult enough to get a read on the brunette lately, and maybe this is the last thing either of them needed.
Jane's the best friend she's ever had. To lose her... she cannot begin imagine how that would feel.
'Tell Jane I love her.'
She wanted to say it. Ideally, they'd be together right now, halfway into their wine glasses, half through their lists. She'd slip it in casually like she always does. 'I love you, Jane.' Only this time only she'd know just how much she meant it. Jane would probably roll her eyes and laugh it off as just the wine talking. But Maura would know the truth, and that would be enough.
Not much, but enough.
A person could live on 'enough.'
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The doctor stumbles through her- usually methodical- nightly routine, emerging from the bathroom wired rather than sleepy. Knowing she could sleep even if she tried, she makes her way back out into the kitchen and begins to throw together something of a fruit salad. In the back of her mind she registers that her sleep cycle is going to take a hit from tonight.
Sleep cycle be damned.
She's in love with her best friend.
Even as a thought bouncing around in her head, the words shoot through her skeleton like some kind of organic electricity. The idea is so completely irrational, she nearly laughs at herself. Maybe it's the hour.
Without much thought at all, she systematically cuts slices of banana and cubes on cantaloupe to add to her makeshift fruit salad. And since Bass doesn't seem to have any interest in his specially-ordered British strawberries, she adds those in too. Humming to herself, she begins to find something of a pattern without realizing it. But in a moment of sudden, strong clarity, Maura pauses, knife mid-slice, the thought hurdling back to her.
She's in love with her best friend.
So what?
There's nothing she can do about it that she hasn't already done. Up until today, she'd tried everything from subtle hints to shameless flirting. Jane's just so... so...
Her hand clenches, banishing the poor strawberry that happened to be in it to fruit hell. The juice leaks down her wrist. For a moment she feels as if she should weep for it.
"Come on, Maura," she mutters to herself, shaking her head. "Wait a second..."
The medical examiner springs to life, all but pouncing on her purse. She sifts through its contents carelessly until her hand closes around that distinct crumpled paper. "Aha!"
Jane's list. The list they were supposed to be laughing about right now over wine and Jane's choice of those awful pretzels or pizza and fudge clusters.
Who needs alcohol and sugar when you have desperation stemming from years of one-sided pining?
She doesn't bother finding a place with suitable lighting, instead she plants herself right there on the dining room floor lit only by the kitchen, and faintly at that. As she smooths out the yellow paper against the floor, she hears the scraping of Bass' shell.
She looks up and narrows her eyes at him, "So now you want to participate?" He moves closer and closer only stopping once his shell bumps into her leg. So now he remembers who used to rescue him when he managed to flip himself over.
"If you think I'm going to read this to you now, you have another thing coming, mister."
He bumps against her leg again as if trying to persuade her, and to her dismay it seems to work. Who ever heard of a persuasive tortoise? Well... any pet of Maura Isles is absolutely exceptional.
"Fine, but only if you eat your cactus pads."
Another bump. She takes it as affirmation.
"Okay," she says squinting to decipher Jane's borderline unreadable script. All evidence of left-handedness apparent as most the words are smeared in correlation with the sliding of her hand.
Bass nudges her again.
"Oh, calm down," she mumbles, monotone words lifting into a light chuckle as she reads the first item on the list, "'Take Maura ice-skating.'"
The tortoise bounces his head against her knee, but she reaches out to stop him from doing it again. "It's okay, boy... What's next?" she tilts her head and strains her eyes in the dim light. "'Learn how to make Ma's gnocchi.'" The next one down, "'Teach Maura how to make Ma's gnocchi.'"
She wonders for a moment why she is in these. Surely there are things Jane should want to do. None of these sound like activities the Jane she knows so well would enjoy, right? Maybe she doesn't know her at all.
'Learn how to make ravioli with Maura.'
'Find Jo Friday a brother or sister.'
Her smile widens as she pictures Jane at an animal shelter absolutely taken with every dog she lays eyes on. Surely Jo would gain at least three new brothers or sisters.
'Let Maura show me Paris her way.'
It seems the more she tries to memorize the inner workings of her best friend, the more lost she finds herself. She's never known this side of Jane.
Her phone buzzes loudly somewhere on the table above her. Slightly startled, she reaches up, feeling blindly through the spilled contents of her purse atop the table.
It's Jane.
"Hello?"
"Hey... you're up."
"I am." Maura glances at Bass, feeling slightly reassured he's still at her side. She rubs the top of his shell, all of the sudden nervous.
"What're you doing?"
"Well," she looks over at her abandoned snack, "I was making a fruit salad."
"Riveting." Sarcastic. Always so sarcastic. Can she turn it off? Does she try? Jane clears her throat, "Have you read my list yet."
"Not yet." Technically not a lie. She's reading it. She hasn't quite finished yet.
"Oh, why not?"
"I've been distracted."
"With what? Murdering fruit for your salad pleasures?"
She smiles and leans her shoulder against the leg of the table. Another joke, of course. Nothing's on the line here! Nothing's hanging in the balance! Hey, maybe she's starting to get a handle on sarcasm.
"I guess you could say that."
Maura scans over the next few items of the list, feeling her mood continue to soar high above the trees. Jane's list is so simple. So much more down-to-earth than her own. Little things. Perfect things.
"I read yours."
She freezes and falls straight from the treeline. If Jane read the list... that means... no. Oh, no. One hand tightens around the phone while the other slides from Bass' shell to the ground, earning another bump from the tortoise.
"You did?" she swallows, waiting for it.
'Take Maura to a Sox game.'
"Yeah, I did. What? You thought I wouldn't."
'Invest in a English-French dictionary so I'll know what the hell Maura's saying.'
"I don't know. I suppose I thought it wouldn't matter much," Maura admits, running her thumb over the torn corner of the list. Bass pushes his head into her wrist, but Jane has her undivided attention.
"It does, Maur. It's important to you so it's important to me," Jane laughs. Genuine. Brave. She's the same as ever. Sounds the same. Laughs the same. It's then when she fully realizes that this Jane... this Jane on the phone is the very same one who wrote the list beneath her fingers.
She doesn't know what to say. If Jane has read her list, she has to know. Could she not read the words amidst the mess of white-out and wrinkles? Did she choose to ignore it?
Another glance at the list before her brings her nearly to the end.
'Make time for Sunday dinners again.'
"Crap..." There's shuffling and static on the other end of the line. "I gotta go. Jo's destroying another pillow. I'll see you at seven thirty, alright?"
"Um... Oh! Yes, of course. Seven thirty. I'll be waiting." She smacks her forehead for sounding unreasonably eager. It's moments like these when she wonders how on earth Jane hasn't noticed she hangs on her ever word.
"And Maura?"
"Yes?"
"I love you, too."
Jane hangs up before she can respond, not that she would have come up with a coherent response in time anyway. She's still stuck on the fact that Jane read her list. She read it... and... nothing. No earthquakes or meningitis outbreak... The world isn't ending... Jane is still her friend?
She gets to her feet feeling some kind of mixture of confused and relieved. It's pleasant enough. At least the feeling of near plummet has subsided. She carries the list with her into the kitchen to read as she finishes making her salad.
Falling easily back into the pattern and routine of assembling her snack, she wields the knife with quick precision similar to that of a scalpel... Not that the thought's all that appetizing. She takes in a breath to rid the image before returning to the kiwis.
Rather than waiting just minutes longer, she steals a glance at the final item on Jane's list, reading it and returning to her fruit. She manages to get the kiwi into perfect sized wedges before her brain catches up with her.
Wait, she thinks, what did that say?
She rereads the item, knife clattering to the counter top. Keys! She dashes for the table, finally understands what it feels like to be Constance Isles as she nearly topples over Bass.
"Sorry, boy," she mutters as she digs frantically through her purse. By the time she produces the her keys, she's already halfway out the door, heart on fire.
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Knocking.
More like pounding. Whatever it is, it pulls the detective from that murky state just before sleep. She gets up. Grumpy and tired.
Jo yaps at the door, her little dog-mind unaware that barking this late equals eviction. She nudges the dog away from the door with her foot and checks through the peephole.
Maura.
She should have expected her to demand answers. Should have expected Maura to not be okay with everything on the list. She should have done a lot of things she didn't. Now look where she is.
Maura knocks once more just as Jane pulls the door open. She's in her silk pajamas. The blue-grey ones. Her face is bare of all makeup, her hair twisted up with a claw clip. She's beautiful. She's always beautiful.
And true to the Maura-way, she jumps right and nearly shoves the yellow paper in Jane's face.
"Did you mean it?"
"What?" It's too late... or too early for confrontation. She wonders if Maura ever sleeps. She seems to be on every hour of the day.
"This," she shakes the list, "did you mean it?"
"Oh... yeah, Maur. I did... really."
"You're not just messing with me? This isn't one of your jokes?"
Jane smiles and shakes her head, "No, Maura. I meant every word."
"Good," she says, clearing the corner of her eye before it could spill over, "because so did I."
"You okay?"
Maura nods, smiling through tears she can't seem to stop. Jane guides her into her apartment, locking the door thoroughly- twice- before turning back to the other woman.
"Hey, I'm sorry," she says softly, resting her hand on Maura's cheek. She wipes a tear away with her thumb. "I didn't mean to make you sad."
The blond hugs her arms around the detective and shakes her head, "No... I'm not sad, Jane. I'm happy... I love you."
"Mm, I knew it," Jane whispers, pressing their foreheads together. "I kn-"
Maura tilts her head back and gently presses her lips against Jane's, effectively silencing the brunette's teasing words. But if Jane minds, she doesn't let it show. She pulls the doctor flush against herself, and in their torturous close proximity, she pulls back just a fraction of an inch.
"I love you, too." She worlds barely leave her lips before Maura's are on hers again. Soft and eager and absolutely amazing. Making up for lost time? Hell yeah. Five years of lost time, but as Maura's fingers curl into her t-shirt and lips take on the distinct taste of finally, Jane knows it won't take too long.
The list drops from Maura's hand- doubtful she notices- and flutters back and forth to their feet. Ripped and wrinkled, it still bears the most beautiful words Maura has ever read in all her life.
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'Someday get Maura to marry me.'
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