I am horribly, horribly afraid of this chapter. But at the same time, I want you all to love it. And I'm not even sure if it makes sense, except that it makes sense to me and I think I might be rambling, but guys. seriously. this one... tell me what you think. it hasn't been edited, it hasn't been 'fixed.' this is as raw as it gets. and also, i've never done this before, but i can i suggest something? i wrote this chapter with two songs on repeat, and it might...help...to listen as you read. i don't know. now i'm feeling awkward, but if you want to, they were Madman by Clara Klein and Stay by Rihanna. now i'm feeling dorky. just read. love.
Jane banged through the door, stopping only to kick off her boots before moving deeper into the house. She needed to see Maura. She didn't even register the cold water dripping down the back of her neck or that her hair was plastered to her head, sopping wet. The entire drive home she couldn't get Crowe's horrible, fucked up words out of her head. Or the way his face felt as her fist made contact with it. She needed Maura. It was consuming her, this need. Overwhelming her senses and her thoughts. Stumbling over the rug, she tripped her way into the kitchen, to find Constance and Angela sitting at the table together, mugs of tea in front of them.
"Jane?" Her mother sounded surprised. Constance gasped. "Jane?!" And now concerned.
"Where is she?" her voice came out harsh and unyielding.
"Janie, what -"
"Where. Is. She?" For some reason she couldn't think. Could hardly breathe. She felt that she should know where Maura was, if she could only take a minute and think about it. But her brain was stuck on Crowe's disgusting face, and the way Maura had looked that morning as Jane had slipped out of bed. Small. Sick.
Angela had stood up. The mother was walking towards her daughter, but Jane ignored her, looking at Constance instead. "Bedroom." Constance answered finally, her words making their slow way through the sludge surrounding Jane's thought processes. "She was waiting for you."
The detective gave a quick, brusque nod before spinning on her heel and barreling towards the stairs. Bedroom. Of course. Maura. She needed to see Maura. Taking the steps two at a time, Jane burst through the partially open door and came to a screeching halt. She wondered idly if her heart had skipped a beat. Was that even technically possible? Maura would know. Maura. There she was. Jane felt all the air leave her body suddenly, as though she'd run headlong into a brick wall. She was frozen.
Through the haze of sleep, Maura vaguely registered the sound of a door slamming downstairs. It brought her further out of her dream state, closer to consciousness. She'd been hovering there, trying desperately not to fall asleep. She wanted to wait for Jane. She was exhausted. Chemo always made her feel achy and old and weak. She felt like a shell of her old self. Well, she felt that way most days now. Thankfully, she'd managed to make it through the evening without any of the more physical side effects of her treatment. She and Constance had been working on things, and she'd honestly been pleased when her mother had agreed to take her to her appointment, but she wasn't sure she was comfortable losing control in such a manner in front of her mother quite yet. If ever.
Maura rolled over slightly in bed and cracked an eye open. By the dim glow of the bedside lamp, she could see that the alarm clock read 8:42. Jane should be home soon. Her head ached. She closed her eyes again. Perhaps that had been the door. Maura hoped so. She'd tried to stay up for as long as possible, but after she'd dropped off on the couch for the second time, her mother had insisted that she come upstairs. She had been thankful to sink into her mattress, down covers pulled up tightly around her, cocooned in the warmth. The only thing missing had been Jane.
Pounding on the stairs. That must be her detective, but why was she rushing? She felt more than heard Jane push her way into the bedroom. There was the headlong flight, and the rush of air as the door was flung open, and then a sudden silence, sweeping throughout the room. Maura couldn't even make out the sound of Jane's breathing across the ten feet separating them. Curious, Maura opened her eyes and, "Jane," she whispered.
The brunette was staring at her, eyes wide as though in the rictus of terror. Maura swept her gaze up and down the detective quickly, assessing. Jane's hands were clenched in fists at her sides. Her chest was heaving but there was no sound, as though she was merely imitating the motion of breathing. Her brown curls were plastered to her skull, and there was a puddle forming on the carpet beneath her feet. Her face was white, strained, tense. And she was shaking.
"Jay?" Maura whispered again, unsure what to do. She sat up slowly. The other woman watched her movements closely, almost warily, but she gave no indication that she'd registered the words leaving Maura's lips. "Honey," the medical examiner pulled back the covers and slid her feet onto the floor, moving slowly, as one might with a wild animal. Standing carefully so as to avoid a head rush, the medical examiner made her way towards her girlfriend. Jane didn't move.
"Hey there, pretty girl," Maura began, unsure where the words came from. "Hi. Sweetheart, why are you all wet?" Jane didn't answer, but her breathing slowed as Maura approached. Holding her hands out in front of her so that the brunette could seem them, Maura stepped forward until the two woman were only separated by several inches. She could feel the cold seeping off of the other woman through her pajamas. Peering carefully up into brown eyes, Maura lifted one hand and placed it gently on Jane's arm. The detective flinched at the contact, but the doctor didn't remove her hand. She didn't understand what was happening or why. She wondered if she was still dreaming, if this was some type of strange nightmare. But Jane's arm was solid beneath her fingertips, she could smell Jane's lavender scent and sense the other's woman fear rolling off of her in waves. Fear. And anger.
"Jane, honey, we need to get you out of these clothes. You're too cold. Can you take these off? Come on, sweet girl." Keeping her voice soft and controlled, Maura brushed her hand down along Jane's arm until she reached the clenched fist. She attempted to fit her fingers into the grasp, but let go immediately when Jane let out a gasp. Frowning, she peered closer and noticed that the knuckles appeared bruised and swollen. Those bruises were consistent with punching something...or someone. Glancing up, she saw that Jane was watching her closely, waiting for a reaction. Schooling her features, she adopted the cool mask she'd perfected after years of society functions and medical school. Jane gave a slight nod.
Holding onto Jane's elbow instead, she gave a slight tug. The brunette immediately began to walk forward, following on her heels as Maura led the way to the bathroom. She still hadn't spoken, nor had she taken her eyes off of Maura. The medical examiner could feel her own anxiety level rising as each second of silence passed, but she forced herself not to panic. "You need to warm up, Jay. So, I'll turn the shower on. Not too hot. And we'll get you out of these wet things." She had so many questions. Letting go of Jane's arm, she stepped forward, surprised when she felt Jane move behind her, mirroring her every step, sticking to her side as though Maura were her north. "It's alright, pretty girl. Okay. That's alright." She didn't stop speaking even as she leaned into the shower and flipped the nozzle, letting the spray wash over her hand as she waited for it to warm up. She smiled crookedly at Jane over her shoulder, trying not to let her panic show. Should she call for Constance? For Angela? Had they seen Jane when she'd come in?
"I think that's a good temperature," Maura whispered, realizing that she hadn't spoken above a hushed murmur since Jane had entered the bedroom. "We don't want it too hot right away. Your wet clothes have lowered your surface temperature, and it should be a gradual increase," she was rambling, but she didn't care. Jane didn't stop her. "Here, love." Maura stepped forward once more into Jane's personal space, reaching a hand into the silent woman's blazer pocket and retrieving her cell phone. Then she reached up and slid the jacket down Jane's shoulders, trailing her hands along the strong shoulders and well-defined musculature of Jane's arms, before folding the item neatly and setting it aside. Finally, she unclipped the detective's badge from her belt and put it almost reverently on the sink. Jane wasn't wearing her gun. With one hand, Maura undid Jane's belt and then slid it slowly around the thin waist. She paused for a moment, wondering how to proceed. It was as if Jane was in shock, but Maura couldn't fathom what might have brought it on. The bruised hand wasn't much of a clue.
The ME bit her lip, and looked up at the taller woman. Jane wasn't looking at her anymore, she was staring at the water cascading from the shower head. "Maur?" The word was hushed, broken, indecisive. It bounced off the tiled floor until it was swallowed in the rushing water.
"Jay. Honey," she reached forward, but pulled back at the last moment, unsure.
Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them and gazing piercingly at the smaller woman. Her dark gaze searched Maura's face. "Maur."
"Yes," she wasn't sure it'd come out at all.
And then Jane grabbed her by the wrist, gently but firmly, with her uninjured hand and she pulled Maura into the shower with her, completely clothed. The glass door swung shut behind them, trapping them both under the spray.
Jane was staring at her and Maura felt as though she were being opened by the detective's black eyed gaze. Her every thought, every feeling, every aspect of her being was being pulled out of her and laid before the commanding woman. She felt more naked and exposed than ever before. But she did not feel afraid. Not then, and not when Jane reached a single, slim hand out to place it, gently, oh. so. gently, directly above the ME's heart. The hazel eyed woman did not look away from Jane's face, but she felt her body react to the touch, move imperceptibly forward, an automatic reaction. Jane closed her eyes once more.
Maura watched the droplets of water drip off the ends of Jane's curls, mixing with the water spraying down on top of them both. She felt her heart beating and knew, without knowing quite how, that Jane was counting the beats. The smaller woman took one deep breath and Jane's eyes flew open to gaze in consternation at her hand, as though unsure how it had come to be pressed against the now drenched BPD t-shirt Maura had been sleeping in. The medical examiner reached up and covered Jane's rough hand with her own smaller one. Was she dreaming?
Slowly, slowly so as not to break the stillness, Maura slid her hand down, along Jane's arm, tracing the curve of her elbow, the outline of her bicep, along the ledge of her collar bone, and behind her hair to rest on the back of Jane's neck. As her motion ceased, the brunette began to lean forward, as though the end of Maura's action had simply been the beginning of her own. Forward until she dipped her head and pressed her lips beneath the smaller woman's jawline, finding her pulse point immediately. The touch was feather light, so soft Maura thought perhaps she'd missed it. Until there it was again, and again, and then Jane was kissing her. Measuring the beats of Maura's life with her lips. Soft. Insistent. Honorary.
The blonde felt her head tip to the side of its own accord, providing Jane with easier access. Jane's hand above her heart felt heavier now, warmer, as though she was burning a hole through Maura's shirt, sending heat directly to her center. The blonde let out a gasp at the sensation. She slid her hand up and tangled it in Jane's wet curls, being careful not to pull.
The shower was still raining down on them from above. Maura felt as though her every nerve ending were coming alive, as though she could sense each droplet of water as it landed on her skin, as though Jane's touch was scalding her. The places where Jane was not touching her felt cold in comparison, numb. Needing more contact, the doctor place her other hand on Jane's hip, pulling them closer together so that Jane was directly under the spray, but once more, it was Jane who continued the action.
The detective spun them, slowly, but assuredly until Maura was inches from the glass wall, out from under the shower head, while Jane absorbed the full brunt of the spray. The doctor took her cues from Jane, placing both hands in the detective's hair, wrapped around Jane's neck. She felt the brunette tense, her shoulders contracting, and then she was being lifted, firmly held in the strong and capable hands of her detective. Maura was no longer thinking. She was simply moving. Reacting.
She wrapped her legs around Jane's waist, knowing, even as she did so that it was unnecessary; Jane would not let her fall. The other woman stepped forward and as her back came into contact with the cold wall of the shower, Maura felt a jolt run down her spine. The contrast of the concrete glass behind and the warm, flexible body pressed against her entire front, was shocking. Jane had placed one hand above the two of them, her arm locked, fingers splayed. With the other, she was tracing a pattern along the doctor's side. Her lips played teasingly with Maura's ear lobe.
"Maur." It was the first words spoken since they'd entered this closed off world of water and want. "Maura." And it was i love you i love you i love. "Maura."
"Ja-" but Jane's lips were on hers suddenly, insistently. Questioningly. Maura responded immediately, opening her mouth to the other woman, granting Jane access, moaning at the taste that filled her, pushing forward, wanting more. Jane sucked gently on Maura's bottom lip, before sliding her tongue into the other woman's mouth, and suddenly Maura felt as though her entire life up until that point had been a lie. There had never been anything but this moment. There had never existed anyone else except for the woman in front of her. She was no longer Maura Isles. She was lost, floating on a never-ending sea, but Jane was her tether. No. Her life line. Jane was anchoring her to the earth, but at the same time she was asking Maura to let go. To let go with her. To trust. Oh God. To trust her. She did. Implicitly. Without question. Without worry. Illogically.
"Please," she managed. But it was yes. i trust you. i trust you. oh, god, jane.
Please. Because she couldn't understand why it had taken them this long, or why she had never understood before. And Jane had slipped her hands beneath Maura's shirt and she was raising it inch by precious inch and slipping it off, over the doctor's head. And Maura felt that perhaps she was meant to feel self-conscious, to feel naked in front of this other person, this other being. But she didn't. She couldn't. Not when Jane hadn't taken her eyes off of her. They were the color of the night sky, Maura realized, the thought flitting through the back of her mind. Of the empty spaces between stars. Which weren't really empty at all. The stars the filled that space were simply too far away to be seen, their light hadn't reached earth yet, but in Jane's eyes, Maura felt as though she could see those stars, unfathomably far away, but here now. Shining out at her. And she was lost in those eyes.
Jane was kissing her again, stealing her breathe, making her heart race. Then suddenly Maura was standing, the water bouncing off the tiles beneath her feet, and she was under the spray as well, but her hands were still tangled in those long dark tresses, and Jane's lips were still on hers, even as the detective's hands caressed places on her skin that Maura hadn't realized existed. Words. She was writing words across Maura's spine, her clavicle, her hip. this. yes, this. is love. i love you. i love you. i love you. maura.
"Please."
And Jane's hands were above her head as Maura removed her of her shirt. She leaned forward, her mouth capturing the place behind Jane's ear, the place which always caused Jane to shiver, to come apart. "Please," she murmured.
And Jane had pressed their bodies together. Skin to skin. Palm to palm. Racing heart to racing heart. It was faster now. As the brunette slid one hand between them, reaching the place that was aching for her touch. Maura nearly came undone in that moment. And then Jane was inside of her. Filling all of the spaces Maura hadn't even known had been empty. Taking away pain and heartache, sickness, and fear. There was only this. Only Jane. Completing her. Holding her safe and sound and, God. Please.
"Maura," she couldn't hear it over the rushing water, over the ringing in her ears, but she felt Jane's lips move against her skin. And she was coming undone even as Jane was putting her back together. The only thing holding her up was a pair of strong, steady arms. She was shaking. Was she shaking? Yes. But she didn't know where she ended or where Jane began. It was fluid now, unconnected, hazy.
She kissed Jane's skin anywhere that she could reach. She could taste the salt of her lover, her anchor. And she knew that Jane was crying, even as she loved her, even as Maura knew that she'd never been happier, she could taste Jane's tears. Rushed away by the water flowing down her skin, mixing with the scent of lavender and hurt. She had given in completely. Her skin felt alive, her lips were numb but on fire. Jane's touch scalded her.
Was this what flying was? What the soul was? This was her soul. Here, in Jane's arms. Jane had given it to her. Was that how it worked? Was there a moment for everyone when you found that your body, hot, and heavy, and out of your control drew you to its mate? Where you fit into every crook, every cranny, every dip and ridge, and between breaths and blinks and heart beats until you were so in synch that you were not a me but an us. No longer an I but a we. A pair. A single, living, breathing, organism. A single soul. Two parts of a whole. Because here was her whole. Here was her missing piece that she'd never realized had been out of her grasp. And Jane was fitting into the space between Maura's thoughts and she had settled herself gently against Maura's heart and the doctor did not think she could survive ever being separated again. How had she ever stood being incomplete before now? How had she survived without her soul?
And she and Jane were crashing together, harder and harder until she was sure she would burst from the hurt of it all. Because it hurt. More than anything had ever hurt before, and through the steam rising all around them she realized that she was crying too. And that her heart was pounding in time to the one beside it and that her entire being was screaming for release. The pain was so intense that she could feel the blackness on the edge of her vision, until she was over the edge, the precipice and she and Jane were falling together, tied by some invisible thread and there was no more darkness only stars and the pain was throwing her over the cliff into ecstasy. And she should have been terrified, but Jane was there, Jane was with her, never again to be apart and so she was not scared. She wanted to laugh in relief, in release, but Jane was cradling her tightly and her lips were not her own and she had no breathe except for Jane.
And then she was settling back to earth and gravity was taking hold and Jane was whispering in her ear. I love you. Forever. You are beautiful. So wonderful. Strong. I love you. Maura. My darling. My sweet. Maur, please. Love me. I am yours. I am yours. I love you. Maura.
The water had cooled. But she did not remove herself from Jane's grasp. Yes. She answered. Yes. Jane, yes. I love you. I need you. Yes. Pretty girl. Always.
Jane did not let go, her hands sliding over the doctor's wet skin. I am strong with you. You make me strong. You are mine.
Yes. Always. Maura knew, without a doubt that it was not a lie. Always. The truth. A promise.
I am yours, Maur. I love you.
Yes.
Forever.
Always.
Jane lifted her again, gently this time, delicately. Maura reached out and turned off the faucet and allowed Jane to carry her out, onto the bathroom rug. She did not let go. The detective walked them into the bedroom. To the bed. And she laid Maura down as though she were the most precious thing in existence. Slowly. Ever so slowly, she slid her way on top of the doctor, supporting herself on her forearms. Maura did not move. Even as Jane's breath ghosted across her quickly cooling skin, even as the detective kissed her hip bone and Maura's stomach retracted automatically. Even as Jane's fingers traced the doctor's knee and up, along her thigh, to rest three inches from Maura's pulsating center. Slowly. Slowly. Down. Her lips were memorizing Maura's body. Her curves. Her valleys and edges and the pieces of her that no one had ever bothered to love before.
It was slow. This time. Building and building. And her face flushed and her body grew warmer and warmer by degrees as Jane teased and loved and lavished her as if she were perfection. There was no rush. There was no fear. And her skin became slick with perspiration and desire, and she peaked higher than she ever had before, but Jane was there to bring her down once more, coming up Maura's body, even as she fell, to press their lips together. Steadying her.
To rest her ear against Maura's heart. To count the bones of her spine. Up and down. Up and down. There was no time. There was no space. Matter no longer existed. The laws of relativity, of gravity. The laws that defined humanity and kept the planets in orbit, that created a pulsing, pushing system of veins and arteries throughout the body, that organized a moral code, and kept the birds in the sky and the fish in the sea disappeared. And the universe may have been rushing towards chaos, towards destruction, but this was perfection, this was chaos in its purest form. And she lived and died in Jane's arms and she lost herself and found herself and she was shattered and pieced back together until she could not remember her name or where she had come from. And all she knew was Jane and that with Jane she was complete and that she never wanted to be so isolated again, so hopelessly empty.
Slow. Warm. Steady. Filling. Complete.
She was loved. She was being loved. Making love. This was not facts or figures or logics. This was pure emotion, emotion so deep she could not ever have understood until she'd experienced it. There were no words. She had no conscious thoughts. It was primal and the most controlled she'd ever been, but at the same time unrestricted, free.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Until she was falling asleep, as suddenly as she'd been awake and spinning at a million miles per hour. Her head resting against Jane's chest; they'd switched positions. She was being lulled into dreaming by the beating of Jane's heart, in time with her own. Jane's lips against her skin a whisper, a promise. Sleep, my love. Until tomorrow.
Her body was sinking into Jane's. Exhaustion was taking over. Her lover's arms were wrapped around her body, resting on her naked skin. Even as her eyes were growing heavy, even as she settled firmly against Jane, she could not decide where her breathing left off and Jane's began. There was no silence, but there was only silence, laying down upon them, trying but failing to filter into any cracks between their bodies. There was nothing and no one and they were alone, but at the same time it was everything and they were everyone and so completely together that all there was and might have been and would be existed in time and space, but it was not enough to overcome their love. And the stars in Jane's eyes were not disappearing, simply shining softer now and she was slipping away and the stars were dreams and she was gone.
'My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.' - John Green