"So you're saying there's been no change?"
Maura tightens her grip on Jane's hand when the question leaves her detective's lips.
Ryan looks apologetic and frustrated, tired and a bit upset. He doesn't wear the mask they give you in Medical School when he is with them anymore. Jane asked him one time to cut the bullcrap and he'd agreed with a smile and a nod. They were very nearly friends now. On some sort of wavelength that Maura, although he is her doctor and Jane is her girlfriend, is not privy to. "I'm sorry," he sighs. And he really is.
"Well, so what does that mean?" Jane turns her hand over so she and Maura are palm to palm. Closer. She needs the contact. They both do.
He taps his fingers on his desk, picking up the scan to stare at it once more. He isn't actually seeing it. "There's still the third round. And we'll switch up the cocktail. Hopefully that will do the trick."
There is silence. The "If it doesn't?" lingers between them all. Maura should say something. This meeting is about her after all. About the disease ravaging her body.
"Right now, the most important thing is that you're taking it easy," Ryan directs this in her direction. "Rest. Relax. Try to recuperate as much as possible over the next two weeks."
She nods. That is all she does anyway. Rest. Relax. Lay on the couch while life goes on around her. If she had a bit more energy, she might feel frustrated, angry enough to want to rebel against her situation. Instead, she leans across the divide separating her from Jane, and she feels her body sink into the tall, angular form beside her, Jane's arm coming up automatically to rest around her. Cradling her as much as is possible in the professional space.
"And so we just...wait?" Jane asks again. She is angry. Maura can hear it in the dip in her raspy voice at the end of the question.
"Yes. And we'll call next week to check in. But, until then, we just wait."
"Ryan," Jane's tone is warning.
He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, Jane," and it is both not enough and more than enough. "Maura."
She nods again, trying to stay focused on Jane's arm around her and not the pounding at the base of her skull.
He does not need to explain that her body is growing weaker, giving in to the chemicals that are pumped throughout her bloodstream. Poisoning her from the inside out. He does not need to tell them because the evidence is right there for the world to see. For Jane to feel with her strong hands, for Maura to experience every time she stands, every time she takes a breath. He does not need to tell them that there is the chance she won't even make it through the third round, that the third time won't necessarily be the charm in this case. That they might not have enough time for the third round to try for miracles. He does not need to tell them that if this is not successful, their options are limited because focused radiation would do more harm than good. He does not say for the third time that, unless the tumor shrinks, surgery will more than likely kill her. He does not use numbers or statistics, because, like the professional mask, this is something Jane abhors. He does not need to say all of this, his apology does it for him.
They all sit in silence for a moment. Jane is staring at the carpet, worrying her bottom lip. Maura lays her head down on the stronger woman's shoulder when it becomes too heavy to hold up on her own, and as if that is some unspoken cue, Jane and Ryan both begin to move, standing and reaching out to shake hands. It is left handed because Jane has yet to let go of Maura.
"Call anytime," he tells them both. "Any questions, any changes, anything."
Jane sighs in response and finally lets go. Maura feels her absence immediately, and even the coat being slid over her shoulders is not enough to recreate the sense of warmth and protection that Jane elicits. "Thank you," she murmurs, and it is Jane's fingers along her back that say, 'You're welcome.'
"See ya around, Doc," Jane half plays to the man in front of them, because this is how they end all of their appointments. On a half-hearted light note, trying to pretend that it hasn't been disappointing news once again.
"Jane," he nods. "Maura," he smiles.
And they are gone, stepping carefully out into the hallway and heading for the elevators. Jane is holding her hand, a gesture that has become unconscious and immediate. A reflex.
Maura focuses on that contact, grounding her. She had never understood before Jane that sometimes it is not words that decry love. Jane is the first lover Maura has ever had who does not buy her flowers or take her out for expensive dinners. Who does not say she is beautiful only when Maura has spent four hours doing her hair and applying her makeup and picking out the perfect designer dress. She has never had a lover like Jane. Jane, who was once so easily embarrassed by simple public displays of affection. Jane, who is stoic and strong in the face of evil, but who breaks down at night when she thinks Maura is sleeping because of a demon she cannot fight. Jane, who pats a tortoise on the head every time she passes him, who hides behind sarcasm and strength. Jane who is soft in all the right places, whose edges are not as sharp as they appear. Jane, who is bumbling and fumbling when it comes to words, but who moves through physical expressions of love as though she has been dancing all her life. Jane, who is both graceful and gawky, gorgeous, and shy. Jane, who whispers i love yous with the constellations in her dark brown eyes. Who tells Maura that she is beautiful as dawn makes its way through their bedroom window, in later afternoon, and over dinner. Who hides forevers in the spaces between their fingertips while they hold hands tightly in hospital wings, in the car, wrapped so closely around one another on the couch that they are one person. Jane is the first lover that Maura has ever had who makes her feel loved with every glance and every breath. She never understood before Jane that love is the constant struggle between exalting in her wings and flying too close to the sun.
Because she never knew, before Jane kissed her skin and left her marked with sunshine that love could be both eternal and fragile. She feels the threat of an ending whenever her detective smirks at her or shrugs embarrassedly as she hands Maura a perfect leaf, veins stretching symmetrically in a sea of orange. Whenever her throat closes in terror at the thought that there will not be enough time for her to explain in silent prose how wonderful she finds the woman beside her, how outstanding this other human being is. How, in all her flaws, Maura finds peace and beauty and simple elegance. There is not enough time. And she did not know before. Not until Jane started holding her hand.
Jane leaves her in the lobby with a peck on the cheek while she goes to collect the car. It is snowing. Maura watches her detective walk outside, the wind pulling at her instantly, whipping her coat around her waist, tugging at brown curls. Her shoulders are hunched agains the weather and the cold and the bad news is that is piling up against them both. She is tired. It has already been a long day. But she pulls the phone out of her pocket anyway and presses the speed dial button, holding it up to her air in nervous anticipation.
"Angela?" she says when the matriarch answers the phone. "Yes, we've just finished. Listen, I know I asked for your help, but I was thinking that perhaps we ought to do it today." She paused, looking once more to where Jane has disappeared around the corner. "I think we need to do it today."
And when Jane returns with the car several longs moments later, with the heat blasting and dried tear tracks on her cheeks that she has been unable to hide, wearing a smile that is too bright, Maura is able to meet the smile with a softer, more real one of her own.
"Ready?" Jane asks, sweeping in through the sliding doors, bringing in the snowflakes with her.
"I love you," Maura whispers, because although she is fluent at interpreting Jane's unspoken words, she prefers to speak them aloud. Jane misses a step at the glow in the ME's eyes. Maura is excited and she wants Jane to feel it, too, even if it leaves the detective confused. "Let's go home," she orders, kissing Jane on the cheek as she steps past.
Jane responds brilliantly, although she does not know where this sudden excitement has come from. She has always been so good at reacting. "Your chariot," she murmurs, opening the car door for the smaller woman, and Maura knows this is, "I love you, too." And Jane's hand in hers on the way home, her curious glances that Maura avoids by looking out the window because she doesn't want to spill the peas, or beans, or whatever it is, tell her that she is loved.
"Ma!" Jane calls as they clomp through the front door. "We're home!" She turns to help Maura with her coat, but the ME shakes her head no and holds the material closer around her. Jane is confused. The other woman has been acting strange since the hospital, and she won't say why. Normally, all it would take is some gently prying on the detective's part; Maura has never been good at secrets, and she can't lie, but this is something else. She seems excited. So, Jane is going along with it.
Jane is feeling anything but excited. The news from Ryan was less than ideal, and although she feels like she should be used to it by now, it still comes as a bit of a shock when things end up being shitty. Once, she might have run, like that she did that first time. But, she's matured now she thinks with a rueful grin. And so she'd tried to contain her disappoint as much as possible. And she'd taken the opportunity afforded to her on her walk to get the car to process the sharp jolt of fear.
Fear is a constant these days. Fear that is different from the fear she feels every time she is out in the field chasing down a perp with her gun drawn, fear that is different from the time the precinct was under siege, fear that is more piercing than even Hoyt was able to elicit from her. She lives with fear now; it is her constant companion. She knows it exists, but she only allows it to manifest itself at specific times. After a meeting with her girlfriend's neurologist when she is alone for the first time. In the shower in the mornings. The third mile of her daily run. The rest of the time, she contains it, shutting it away in a compartment buried deep within her brain.
So, if Maura is excited about something, then Jane will bury her fear for now. She is certain that the ME has seen it; she always does. But the insightful doctor won't bring it up, not until they are in bed under cover of darkness, wrapped around one another tightly enough to keep the demons at bay. Because although Jane prides herself on being tough, Maura has a way of breaking through her detective's defenses and bringing Jane's carefully constructed walls crumbling down. For now though, Maura has a secret and Jane is determined to discover what it is, even if it means playing along.
"Oh! Excellent!" Her mother is bustling towards them and she has a bag on one arm and a picnic basket on the other.
"Ma?" Jane asks warningly. There is a dangerous twinkle in her mother's eyes. And a matching one in Maura's she finds when she looks at her girlfriend questioningly.
"Here," the older woman dumps her baggage unceremoniously in Jane's arms. It is heavy and she very nearly stumbles.
"Jesus," she mutters.
"Now. You two kids have fun. And don't stay out too late. I expect you to have her home by ten, young lady," this is directed at Maura.
"I will," the ME smiles.
Jane looks between the two women. Confused. And suddenly worried. "What-?" she manages.
"Go put that stuff in the car," Angela orders. "Maura will be along shortly."
"Ma, I-"
"Go on! And no peeking!" She is shooed out the door of her own home before she can put up a fight. Heaving a sigh, she trudges towards the car and pops the trunk, sliding all the gear inside. She glances back towards the front door, but there is still no sign of Maura, so she gets in the car and turns it back on.
"Are you sure that you're up for this, dear?" Angela asks, studying her. "You look tired."
"When do I not look tired?" It comes out a bit harsher than she intended. She forces her face to soften in apology. "Thank you, Angela," she lays hand on the older woman's arm, "for getting everything together."
"Of course!" She is forgiven. "Just take care. And have fun! You both need it."
They do. She heads out to the car. Jane is sitting in the driver's seat, staring at her phone, but she leans over and pops open the other door as Maura approaches. The exhaust is disappearing into the chill air, and the snow is falling gently around her. She turns to wave once to Angela before sliding into the passenger seat, and the matriarch stands framed in the doorway until the car has disappeared down the street.
"You want to tell me where we're going?" Jane finally asks. Maura had pointed her out of the driveway and then settled back into her seat with a pleased air about her.
"The Commons," Maura says satisfactorily.
"The Commons?"
"Yes. Because, you," and Maura reaches over to entwine their fingers, "are taking me on a date."
Jane raises an eyebrow. "I see. And what, exactly do I have planned for this date?"
"Ohh, lots of fun things." And when she glances over, Maura is smirking at her. They have never been on a date, not an official one at least. They'd done things together as friends. Yoga and spa days, dinner, pizza and a movie, shopping, she'd even managed to drag Maura to a baseball game or two. But they've never done any of those things since becoming a couple.
"Do I get an itinerary?" She jokes knowing Maura's penchant for scheduling, and she grins when the organized ME punches her weakly in the shoulder.
"Just drive," the passenger orders.
"Yes, captain," Jane agrees, bringing the hand in her own up to her lips for a quick kiss. "Whatever you say."
She whooshes to a stop and grabs ahold of the boards. "Are you sure you're alright," she asks for what must be the hundredth time. But, Maura, cheeks pink from the cold, red knitted hat pulled low over her brow, looking absolutely adorable wrapped in the thick quilt Angela had packed for them, merely claps in delight.
"I'm fine," she assures the other woman. "Now go. Impress me!" She waves towards the crowded rink.
Jane smirks at her. "Watch and learn," and then she is off, racing away, weaving in and out of the little kids and their parents, teenagers holding hands, adults lazily working their way around the circle. She has not skated in what feels like forever. The wind blowing in her hair, the feel of the sharp metal of her skates gliding effortlessly across the ice. It is liberating. She can practically feel the anxiety of the past several months slipping away. She has always loved being out on the ice, working her body until her chest feels tight in the cold and her breath comes in quick gasps.
She'd opened the bag when they'd arrived at the Commons to find her old hockey skates, freshly sharpened waiting for her. "Where are yours?" she'd asked Maura who was leaning against the car, smiling at her enthusiastic expression. The smaller woman had shaken her head, reaching out and picking up the blanket.
"I just want to watch you," she'd said.
Jane had immediately felt bad. "Maur, no. Let's do something we both want to do."
"This is what I want to do," she'd responded.
Jane hadn't been able to resist wrapping her in a hug. "Are you sure?" she'd asked into the other woman's neck.
"Positive," Maura promised.
And Jane couldn't deny that Maura certainly looked as if she were enjoying herself. She was smiling; a grin that reached her hazel eyes and made her seem to absolutely glow in the gathering gray light of the afternoon. It is almost five and is growing dark already. She goes around a few more times, her hands outstretched, pretending for just a few moments that she is flying. This is what freedom feels like. There are no responsibilities out on the ice. No job, no murder or death or people who break the law. There are only two thin slivers of metal keeping her tethered to the ground. The rest of her is free to soar.
She steps off the ice and onto the rubber mats placed along the bleachers. She is flushed and breathing hard and her heart feels light. "Did you see?" she asks, bright-eyed and transported back to childhood.
"I saw!" Maura answers, playing the part of proud adult well. She gestures and Jane trips her way over to her, accepting her warm hug. "I saw."
Jane pulls back to find that Maura's hazel eyes are shining with more than joy. There are tears that are hovering on the edge of the abyss, held back. Controlled.
"You were flying, Jay," she whispers, and all of the other people have disappeared. They are alone in the quiet of a late winter afternoon. The shouting of countless children has been suddenly silenced. The glow of the lights hung above the rink are muting the sharp edges of the bleachers.
Jane presses herself closer.
"You were absolutely wonderful." The detective reaches up at the awestruck words to kiss cold lips. "I love you," and she feels more than hears the words, reverent against her own.
She slides one arm around Maura's waist, and the other beneath her knees. She braces her knees, and lifts the tiny woman, so light, easily into her arms, leaving the quilt behind all before Maura can gasp in surprise. Carefully, oh so carefully, toting her precious cargo, she steps across the mats and back towards the ice. Maura feels lighter than a child in her arms. Maura has her arms wrapped around Jane's neck and she has not once looked away from the love in Jane's eyes towards the ground. Jane grins at her, "Do you trust me, Maur?"
The ME responds by placing her lips against Jane's cheek. "Of course."
And then they are out on the ice. And all of the other people are back, pulsing around them, but Jane is focused on the ice beneath them and Maura has eyes only for her detective. Maura is laughing, bright and sharp and spinning out away from them, and Jane is grinning. There is no chance that she will fall, not with the doctor held tightly to her chest. They go around once, twice, three times, before Jane brings them back to the bench and sets Maura carefully down on her blanket. The ME scoots over and Jane slides into place beside her, removing her mittens and unlacing her skates, wiggling her toes in the cold air, and then pulling her boots on once more.
Meanwhile, Maura has managed to wrangle the overly large picnic basket up beside her and is rifling through its contents. She pulls out a thermos and a single metal mug. "Hot chocolate?" she asks her lover.
Jane pauses to close the distance between them, leaving Maura with a kiss, "Mmmm. Please."
Maura takes off her gloves and unscrews the lid, ignoring the way her hands shake. And Jane ignores it, too. They are having too much fun. She pours a glass of the warm liquid and takes a sip before passing the cup over to Jane. Their fingers touch as the exchange is made and they both suppress giggles. It is as if they are teenagers on their first, awkward outing together. It is wonderful. Jane slurps some, the chocolate sweet and cloying on her tongue, and when she pulls the cup away from her mouth, Maura reaches forward to wipe away the left behind chocolate mustache. Jane catches the delicate wrist in her hand before the ME can pull away, and the smaller woman blushes.
"You're beautiful," Jane assures her. And the doctor's blush deepens.
They share the rest of the cocoa, and then the soup that Angela has packed for them. Chicken noodle. Still warm. Jane tries not to notice that Maura doesn't finish hers. Instead she focuses on how cute the normally sophisticated woman looks drinking soup out of a mug.
And when they've finished and Maura has begun to shiver even with Jane's old BPD sweatshirt, her winter coat, and the quilt, Jane packs up the picnic basket. "Homeward bound?" She asks because she is certain that Maura is exhausted by now. It has been one of the longest days for the ME in quite awhile. And because, although she is having a wonderful time, she has a hard time imagining anything else that might make this impromptu date more enjoyable. That's why she is surprised when Maura shakes her head no.
"Not yet."
"What else have you got up that sleeve of yours, Dr. Isles?" She receives a blank stare in return. She heaves an overly dramatic sigh. "Alright, so it probably isn't up your sleeve per se..."
At that, the doctor smirks. "Your sleeve, technically," and she indicates the old hoody.
The detective holds out a hand to help Maura off the bleachers and then swings her skates over one shoulder and hooks the picnic basket on an arm. Holding Maura's mittened hand in her free one, she waits patiently for the ME to rise and step down off the metal benches, still wrapped in the quilt. Then they head off towards the car when Maura points the way.
Once they're both settled in their seats, the brunette turns to face the other woman.
"Okay," Maura says. "So, we can either do this next thing or we can head home. It's up to you." She sounds nervous and a bit unsure.
Jane's heart melts a bit. "I'm game, Maur. Whatever you want to do."
"Alright. Here are the directions." She pulls out a folded piece of paper.
Jane studies them. It has multiple destinations on it. The first one is in a neighborhood she has never been to, over on the side of town near Maura's house.
"And when we get there, I'll explain the rest. Okay?" The vulnerability in her voice is endearing.
"Okay. You're the boss," Jane encourages, pulling out of the parking space and pointing the car in the direction of the first address. She flips on the radio and she doesn't even grimace when it's Christmas carols that meet her ears. It's only the first week of December, but already most of the stations have started playing 24 hours of carols. It's nice though. Tonight it's alright. To be driving through the snow, warm from the heater with Maura's hand in her own. It's quite possibly perfect.
Until they pull up outside of the first house, already bedecked with lights, which are flashing on and off in what appears to be random patterns. It's lovely against the white of the freshly fallen powder. She studies the house closely, waiting for Maura to explain.
"It's the light tour," the doctor's honey voice breaks the stillness inside the vehicle. "I know it's still a bit early in the season, but I thought it might be best to do it now."
"The light tour?" It sounds familiar, but she isn't sure that she's ever actually heard what it is.
"A bunch of houses volunteer each winter. They all decorate on the first of the year and synchronize their shows, and the city publishes the route. And if you turn the radio to," she flips the dial past several stations of static, until it lands on one playing "Have Yourself a Merry Christmas," "this station," Jane follows her glance towards the house, "they match up. See."
She does. "Oh. Wow." It's beautiful. And Maura looks gorgeous, framed by the white lights glancing off the snow, cheeks rosy, eyes bright. Jane takes her hand and holds on tightly. "Oh. Yes." She is at a loss for words.
They watch the show in silence for three songs, not letting go. It really is lovely. Finally, they pull away and drive to the next house, only a block away. This one is just as perfect, in white and purple.
"Have you ever done this before?" She asks softly.
"I thought it would be something we could do," Maura answers. "Just us."
"Lik-like our thing?"
"Like a tradition," Maura answers shyly. It is a dangerous word. Tradition. It implies repetition. More than one. It implies a future. And years to come.
"Tradition," Jane rolls the word around her mouth. It tastes melancholy. Hopeful. The doctor is staring at the center console, her mouth is pursed in a thoughtful frown. Jane places a single long finger beneath her chin and lifts until hazel eyes meet her own. "Tradition," she repeats. "Yes."
"Yes?" Maura breathes.
"Yes." It is a promise. "It will be a wonderful tradition."
"Okay."
"Okay," Jane brings their lips together, feather soft. She wraps a hand around the back of Maura's neck and pulls her closer, swallowing the moan the doctor released at the contact. Their mouths move together, easy, like puzzle pieces that have finally found their mate. The taste of Maura on her tongue, honey and vanilla is intoxicating. "But, I think that's my favorite tradition," she murmurs when they separate for air.
Maura gives her one last chaste kiss. "Mine, too," she agrees.
They go back to watching the light show. House after house, until it is fully dark and Maura has fallen asleep, her head resting against the window, pillowed on Jane's coat. The detective drives them home through the quiet city streets. Three inches have fallen so far, and everyone is home after a long day at work. The world seems muffled and peaceful. She takes her time on the way, driving slower than normal, appreciating the quiet that has fallen. She has not changed the radio station and the Christmas carols are still filling the car.
When they pull into the driveway, Jane cuts the engine and glances up at the house. It looks empty now, after all of those decorated ones on the tour. She'll have to get Frankie and Tommy over soon to string the lights. Maura usually hires people, but Jane won't stand for that. She and her brothers have been hanging the lights since they were teenagers. It's tradition.
She turns back to the sleeping form beside her, stroking a finger down a soft cheek. "I love you," she whispers, and Maura only shifts slightly in response. The detective feels her heart contract. "Best date ever," she says, because for the first time in months she remembers what it is like to simply enjoy the day. To delight in the small things. Maura's wide eyed grin as Jane showed off on the rink. The feeling of her girlfriend in her arms, the trust palpable between them. Hot chocolate. The way the snow landed on the tip of Maura's nose. Lights, white and bright and brilliant. Maura's eyes, shining even brighter. New traditions.
She slips out of the car and over to Maura's side, opening the door gently and then lifting the sleeping figure into her arms. Even in her half-asleep state, the doctor wraps her arms around her detective. "Jay," she mumbles.
"Shhh," Jane encourages. "Keep sleeping, pretty girl. You're safe. I've got you."
AN: Happy fluffy date night! I've mapped it out and there are about ten chapters left to go. Some exciting (well, I hope it's exciting) drama-filled times coming your way! Love.