"Maura."
Her voice is soft, like a gentle chime of bells. Maura looks at her feet. Her Mary Janes had been white this morning; now they are scuffed, streaked with tar. She chews on her lip.
She wishes she'd stop looking at her.
Maura keeps her eyes fixed on her feet, because she knows the minute she dares to glance up, Ms. Jacobs' face will be so cripplingly sincere that Maura's heart will fall right out of her chest.
"Would you like to talk about what happened?" Her words are so sweet that Maura has to close her eyes for a moment, creating a buffer to keep herself from crying. She inhales, touching her face. She knows the bruised skin of her cheek must be a thousand hues of purple now.
Yes, I'd like very much to talk to you. But the words stick to her tongue and she's too frightened to speak them. Her sincerity and concern are unfamiliar and the influx of vulnerability makes her queasy.
"May I stay in for recess today?" she says instead. She has gathered the courage to look up now, basking in Ms. Jacobs' angelic radiance.
Ms. Jacobs' eyebrows knit together; she draws her rosy lips into a thin line. Maura swallows a breath, and her stomach jumps. She wants so much not to be afraid. "Of course, darling," Ms. Jacobs finally mutters, her voice hushed.
Maura retreats to her desk, her breaths too sharp and too fast. Nestled in her desk is her large novel, Jane Eyre. As she burrows herself in the words, she finds that the heroine's features have taken on a strange likeness to Ms. Jacobs.
XXX
He is asleep.
She is grateful, as she peels her bare body from the sheets, her feet thudding lightly against the floor as she gathers her scattered clothing silently. She leaves the bathroom door ajar, avoiding the blinding light as she squints in the subtle glow seeping through the open crack.
She thinks about how terribly inaccurately the media depicts one-night stands. Passionate, graceful, natural. They fall asleep in unadulterated trust, and the world halts for them in this all-consuming moment. In reality, they are nothing more than tantalizingly fulfilling. Once the alcohol induced state and post-orgasmic gratification (if this stage even occurs) have worn off, you're left with bumpy, unfamiliar mattresses, damp sheets, stale air, and a lump of inadequacy wedged in your throat. The satisfaction is always fleeting, but it is just enough to deceiving you into believing you want more.
She grimaces darkly into the mirror, tugging on her bra, panties and her dress, opting to shove her nylons into her purse. She hooks her fingers into the heels of her shoes, padding quietly from the bathroom, making a beeline for the door.
"You leaving already, babe?" a sleepy voice greets her. She halts, regretfully, biting down on her tongue.
She knows he doesn't remember her name, and the generic, overused pet name makes her nauseous. His name is Bill. While he only mentioned this once, a hasty introduction over a glass of Merlot, Maura has a knack for remembering names. It's a step further in the nomenclature process - a sub-species.
"I need to be getting back home," she whispers gently. Her desire for a hot shower and her own bed has most definitely crossed over from the category of a 'want' to a 'necessity.'
"When can I see you again?" He sits up in bed, his face earnest in his inquiry. The words leave her rigid; she feels guilty, yet annoyed that he has weighted their night with significance. The only way she can summon the bravery to seize these opportunities is to remind herself it's a one time encounter.
"Call me," she whispers, unintentionally seductive, so desperate to leave the suffocating room that her body aches. She kisses him quickly, dutifully; his breath is stale with slumber and the aftertaste of beer.
He falls back to the mattress. Maura makes her escape.
XXX
She loves the city in the morning.
The sun has dyed the far horizon a soothing shade of pink, and the streets have only just begun to hum with activity. Her heels click against the ground, as she slows her pace to breathe in the warm scent of cinnamon wafting from a nearby coffee shop. A young man sweeping the front walk nods politely, and she returns the sentiment, a natural smile creeping to her face as she embraces the morning.
Maura notices her before she recognizes her, taking long strides as she jogs along the sidewalk. Her heart skips an entire beat, and blinks a few times because she's certain she's fooled herself with wistful thinking.
The drug unit is on the third floor of the department. Though Maura's job keeps her strictly in the morgue, she has found herself on the third floor an alarming amount of times in the past week. She likes the vending machine options in the lounge there better. The bathroom has more privacy than the one on the main floor. Pike takes too long when using their ancient copier, so of course it's easier to utilize the one on the third floor.
They aren't lies; they're convenient excuses for a motive Maura keeps denying, though Jane's sporadic smiles and brief conversations make the game she plays indubitably worth it.
"Hey!" Jane's voice is breathless as she halts in front of Maura. Maura's head is spinning a little from the spontaneity of the situation, and her condition only worsens when her eyes register Jane's sports bra and spandex. Jane pants a little as she clenches her hips, leaning forward. Her abs flex noticeably. It is rare that Maura comes across a woman with such defined musculature, and her eyes drink in the majestic sight of her. "Walk of shame, huh?"
"Beg pardon?" Maura immediately snaps her head to Jane's face, a little flushed.
"You wore that dress to work yesterday." Jane grins through another breath. That smile. It slays her, makes her insides melt into a messy puddle.
Maura's cheeks redden. She turns her eyes away, but she peeks at Jane bashfully through her lashes. She wishes she had something clever to say.
"Hey, no judgement. Just an observation." Jane winks, carrying on the conversation with ease. Her demeanor is so natural, exuding confidence. Maura wishes she could feel the way Jane looks, instead of this crippling panic that seizes her in any significant social interaction. "Hope it was a good night," Jane adds.
"You're up early." Maura avoids the topic, her observation plain and obvious. She wishes she could joke easily with Jane, already fearing that Jane will tire of her quickly.
Jane raises an eyebrow, as if debating whether she should continue to taunt her or not, and Maura is relieved when she speaks. "Yep, when I get my ass out of bed and moving, I surprisingly find that I can be a morning person."
Maura forces a smile, willing it to be natural, wildly searching for something to say. "Early risers who exercise on an empty stomach before breakfast can burn up to 20% more body fat." It's hardly eloquent, but at least it's something.
"Good to know," Jane laughs, slapping the skin of her toned stomach. "Been meaning to work off this extra weight."
"Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you had any weight to lose!" Maura feels her stomach drop to her feet, wishing desperately to rewind the conversation.
But Jane only laughs again. "I'm just kidding - lighten up, kay? You look like you're about to have a heart attack."
Stress does increase the risk for a heart attack, so perhaps it wouldn't be too outrageous for her to topple over right now. She sucks in a tiny breath. "I apologize. People make me nervous. Live ones, at least," she laughs a little.
Jane chuckles as well, and it takes Maura a minute to realize she has properly executed the use of humor, despite how achingly true her words are. "I guess working dead bodies isn't really the ideal way to build your people skills. Spend some more time with me, though, and we'll cure you of that," Jane jokes back with her, though she adds, "Listen, I should be going now, but I'll see you on Monday." Jane has already begun to jog in place, her abs tightening.
"Have a nice weekend," Maura offers, inhaling a breath of relief. Her stomach is a knotted mess as she finishes her trek home.
XXX
It's not until later, when she's curled up in bed with her satin robe, a cup of chamomile tea, and a novel on her lap, that it dawns on her that Jane has noticed her enough to recall the clothes she wears.
She grins against the side of her mug, her smile so big that it's a full minute before she can take another sip.
A/N: Thanks for all the feedback so far! I love hearing what you guys think :)