Author Note: Thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, I am surprised that so many people did given that it's about Jane and Nina. Thanks for the comments, favourites and follows. I think it's going to be an interesting story to write.
Did you know Nina wasn't on the character list? Well, she is now, so hopefully more people will be able to write about her.
Onwards with chapter two...
The keys clattered against the kitchen counter. Jane leant over them as tears gathered in her eyes. She played with fire every day in her job, she risked her life chasing criminals, a gun always by her side, and she never knew if a chase would be her last. She was fearless in the face of bullets. Relationships should have been the easy part.
She didn't know what came over her. Sex at work. If they'd been caught, she'd have been dragged over the coals. Relationships between co-workers was frowned upon at the best of times. But to do that. In the building. Jane didn't even do frivolous relationships. It was all or nothing. What her and Nina were doing went against everything she thought she knew about herself and relationships.
The sun had already set hours before Jane left work. The case had consumed much of the day and she had to return early the next morning. She stripped off and lay under her covers in the darkness. Closing her eyes, Jane could see Maura's tear-stained face staring back at her. The last image she had before she left. Saying goodbye broke Jane's heart. But not as much as reading the letter that Maura sent just five months ago.
In the early hours, Jane gave up the fight and pushed the bed sheets away. The fall temperatures had dropped but Jane felt like she was in an oven. She knelt on the floor beside her chest of drawers and pulled out piles of underwear and socks. When her fingers hit paper, she felt her lungs smash against the cage of her ribs, stalling any hope of breathing normally. She went back to the safety of her bed and curled up against her pillow. She unfolded the letter like Charlie peeling back the wrapper of his Wonka bar. Maybe if she wished hard enough, the words would be her golden ticket, instead of the nail in her coffin.
The words swam across the page before her tired eyes. Jane narrowed them in the hope of gaining some focus. Her effort was unnecessary. She knew the words by heart. Folding the letter back up, she held it against her chest and closed her eyes.
"Dear Jane," she recited. "The village in Tanzania has no internet access and it'll be another week before an engineer can come out to fix the satellite phones. My father's condition deteriorated suddenly and he died a short while ago. We will bury him as per the traditions of the community he supported for the last forty years. I will remain in Tanzania for the remainder of the year to continue his work, whilst I consider where my future lies. It is likely I will stay indefinitely. All my love, Maura."
The distance hurt more than Jane cared to admit. The lack of warmth in Maura tone hit her where it hurt the most. Losing her father was something Jane could barely comprehend, and she accepted that Maura would need time to grieve. What Jane couldn't see through was the reason for Maura's removal from her life on a permanent basis.
After everything they'd been through. After everything that happened before she left.
The worst thing was she only had herself to blame. She saw all too frequently the things she did that contributed to Maura's decision, and reconciling with that was a battle she could not win.
Nina sought as a welcome distraction, one that she was unwilling to give up. If she was going to self destruct, she had to do it with support. But putting that pressure on someone she barely knew was neither fair nor necessary. Seven months ago Maura walked out of her life, and though she struggled to cope without her, she always knew that eventually she would come home, and her wrongs could be righted. Receiving the letter two months later ended all hope.
She slipped into her joggers, laced up her running shoes and set off down the street from her apartment. The dawn chorus cheered her along the empty streets. Before Maura left, Jane avoided running. She valued what little sleep she could get and nothing was going to stop her from getting it. Even Maura standing on her doorstep in her jogging gear. Without her there, Jane ran most mornings.
"Finally doing what you wanted," she said, her feet banging against the sidewalk in succession.
The route took her past her old neighbourhood; the house she grew up in. Every time she ran that way, she stopped for a moment and remembered. The games of basketball she played in the yard with her brothers. Shovelling snow out of the driveway so that her mom could drive them to the store. Her first kiss with Billy Smithwick by the back door, until her father caught them and dragged him away from the house. It was a place that represented a time before Maura.
When she reached the church her family visited every Sunday for most of her childhood, Jane stopped. She stared up at the intimidatingly large doorway, it felt much bigger when she was three feet high, but it never lost its intimidation. A couple times a year Angela dragged them in for confession, a tradition she didn't keep up.
"Don't even think it," she said, staring up at the sky as she pushed on the door handle. It opened easily, the hinges creaked a little as she slipped inside and pushed the door behind her.
The confessional was off to one side. She knew where it was all too well. Despite only ever visiting occasionally, her mother used it as leverage whenever they did something wrong. Her father threatened to take her there after her kiss with Billy, but Angela talked him out of it. She stepped behind the curtain and sat down. She waited for the priest to step into the other side, but nobody came. He was probably asleep, like most of Boston. Jane rested her head against the back of the small space and closed her eyes. She didn't really need a priest to talk to God.
"So, it's like this, God; I like woman," she said, staring upwards. "I know you don't really think much of that, but I do. I didn't know. I thought I had to be the good Catholic girl and marry a man, have children, give my mother everything she wants. I didn't realise there's something else out there. Some people say you'd hate it, that you'd hate me, but I don't think it's that simple."
She tried to smile. Her mother always told her to smile at God. He didn't want to see her sullen face on Sundays. He wanted to see that she loved him, that she was glad to be in his house.
"I guess I have a lot to confess," she said, placing her hands on her knees. "I'm not married but I have had sex. Lots of times. I did it at work. I know it was a stupid idea, I don't know what you think of that. I guess it doesn't matter. I know it's wrong. It's wrong that I've been using sex to forget about Maura. Why did you take her away from me? Is this the punishment I get for wanting to be with a woman? Love the sinner, hate the sin, that's what they say, right? What if I love a sinner and a sin?"
"Welcome, child," a man's voice travelled across from the other side of the confessional.
Jane froze. She tried to remember the protocol, but her mind had gone blank. Talking to God had allowed her to talk freely, to say the things she wanted without reprisals (that she could see). But having someone directly address her felt harder. Maybe God would judge her. But the priest would judge her more openly. She would have to atone for her sins, say her Hail Marys and pretend that she could move on from what she had done. In truth, she didn't want to. In spite of committing sin in the eyes of the church, she couldn't just turn off her emotions.
She stood up and pushed the curtain to one side. The priest's voice piped up again. Jane hovered at the second curtain, he knew she was there and she knew that he knew she was there. But if she spoke he might recognise her. Her mother still visited every Sunday, without fail. She couldn't risk her finding out that she'd been. The amount of questions she'd be asked would drown her. She crossed her chest and ran from the church.
Author Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Comments appreciated, whether they're sent via FFnet, or blown onto the wind, haha.