Maura woke with her nose between Jane's shoulder blades. The reversal of their usual positions was the only evidence to suggest that Jane's approval of her stolen kisses the night before hadn't been just a vivid and wonderful dream. Armed with this permission, she could do it again that morning, hold her close and plant kisses on every inch of exposed skin until Jane woke, then kiss her smile, too. But Maura doubted herself, and doubted her memory. Despite the kissable way Jane's shoulder peeked out from under the strap of her tank top, and that her hair didn't even pretend to want to get in the way, Maura decided to play it safe.
The day was full of tentative smiles and furtive glances, on Maura's side at least. It was a work day, and Maura knew nothing would happen outside the privacy of their home, but still she kept looking for some sort of sign that something had changed between them. As awkward as Maura felt, trying to figure out what (if anything) she was allowed to do, Jane appeared unmoved and unaffected. Maura was desperate for any little touch, Jane's fingers on her elbow, a hand on her shoulder, something. Even in the kitchen that morning, there was no friendly, 'Oops, we both reached for that mug at the same time.' Maura silently cursed herself for buying a house with a kitchen large enough for two people to move around comfortably without bumping into one another. Dinner was the same way. They talked about work and other people. Nothing significant.
Maura had almost given up hope and accepted that it had, in fact, only been a dream, when they settled in for the night. Jane watched Maura turn out the light, then turned away, on her side. Maura paused, trying to be happy with a snuggle (which had been everything to her, just a few weeks prior), when Jane looked back over her shoulder. She lifted her head and pulled her hair over to the side, then turned away again, exposing her neck. For good measure, her hand passed over the skin there, and nudged the strap of her tank top down over her shoulder. Permission granted, this time unmistakably.
Maura lost count of how many kisses she planted on Jane's neck and shoulder. Several went to her jawline, including one to her right mandibular process, several more to her trapezius, at least five along her clavicle, one to the suprasternal notch, and Maura's fingers tugged on that strap as she placed several more to all sides of her shoulder. When she looked up, wondering if she had been just a touch too eager, she saw Jane's eyes had closed and her procerus and orbicularis oculi had relaxed. A hint of a satisfied smile graced her mouth. Maura imagined what it would be like to spend all night kissing every inch of her.
Perhaps sensing Maura's eyes (instead of lips) on her, Jane turned to look at Maura again. Her expression changed so quickly that Maura didn't have time to interpret it. All she knew was in the several moments they held each other's eyes, Maura grew worried. It wasn't going to be that easy. She bit her lower lip.
Finally, Jane swallowed and broke eye contact, her eyes raking over Maura like Maura had only imagined they might. Jane took a few breaths and looked at her own hands, her fingers intertwined, palms up. "I don't want to hurt you."
Maura didn't understand, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. "Then don't."
Jane turned away again and pulled Maura's arm around her waist, then pretended to fall asleep.
And that was that. Jane had drawn up her borders and Maura didn't dare cross them again. Jane clearly didn't want anything more than friendship from Maura. It was a mistake, she decided, to push Jane like that, and she wouldn't risk making her friend uneasy a third time.
A week later, both women were lacking in sleep and in comfort, but neither was willing to admit it. They were both resolved to pretend nothing had happened, preferring to preserve their friendship at the cost of their own happiness. Maura wasn't very good at hiding her sadness, and Jane could see how dejected she felt. This only made Jane feel more guilty for the way she had acted, and although she had tried to cheer Maura by offering to go shopping over the weekend, all she got was, "No thanks, I'm just going to go for a run." Jane was hoping this morning's victim and his stomach contents would help.
Maura picked up the number 10 scalpel, ready to begin the internal examination. She paused, as she always did, and looked into his face. Jane was used to this moment, and she imagined Maura was offering up her version of a prayer. It reminded Jane of how she'd heard native hunters would apologize to their kill, and thank the deer or antelope or whatever for helping to feed their family. Jane imagined that Maura was apologizing for what she was about to do, and thanking him for whatever information his body held that would help them find his killer.
Years of immersion therapy, watching Maura make the Y incision with her trusty number 10, helped Jane to see it as merely an object, and not a source of danger. Maura handled it delicately, with reverence to the damage it could do to a living being. She had steady hands and the confidence that came with using her tools on a daily basis. It was the same with Jane's gun, she realized: they were inanimate objects, and when handled with the proper care, by the proper people, they would do no harm.
Jane had always loved to watch Maura do her autopsies. Most detectives didn't bother, opting to just wait for the written report, but Jane always made a point to be there while Maura dissected the body. Initially, it was because Jane believed it gave her a better feel for the victim, and that by observing she might pick up on something that seemed insignificant at first, but turned out to be important to the case. Of course, Jane soon learned that Maura's autopsy reports were so impeccable that even Crowe could solve a case armed with Maura's evidence. But still, Jane insisted on being present.
After working together for a few cases, they developed a rapport—no, more than a rapport, a partnership—that resulted in the highest conviction rate in the state. They learned to communicate through body language and eye contact and to think together. It wasn't like what people described as 'sharing a brain,' because they didn't always think along the same lines. Their connection was more complementary, so that when one of them got stuck on something, the other could fill in the blank. It wasn't just Maura, and it wasn't just Jane. It was the two together.
Maura pulled back the skin, noted a thick layer of subcutaneous fat, and put on her face shield. Before picking up the bone saw, she nodded at Jane. Ready? With that simple cue, Jane donned her face shield and nodded back. Ready. Jane watched Maura cut into each rib, one at a time. Each rib, plus the sternum, had to be severed before the entire breastplate was free and could be separated from the chest cavity. Maura had once explained that the breastplate is connected to the rest of the body at several places, and while each connection is not exceptionally strong (in fact, the cartilage makes them flexible enough to expand and contract for breathing), together they are able to protect the vital organs inside. It played like a cautionary tale to Jane: sometimes many flexible tethers are stronger than one. Despite their recent disconnect in the bedroom, Jane and Maura still had a strong working partnership.
When Maura had finished with the saw, Jane asked, "Do you ever think about us, Maur?"
When Maura looked up, her face was unreadable. She took a moment and then smiled, but it didn't reach all the way up to her eyes. "All the time." Then she went back to her work, without elaborating further.
Jane knew it wasn't necessary for her to be there for the whole autopsy. Sometimes she would skip out early and begin her investigation, if cause of death was obvious and she had other leads to chase down. But when she could, she preferred to watch the whole thing. The time they spent together strengthened their connection, made them both better at what they did individually. They tempered one another, so that instead of going to the extremes of logic and intuition, they would meet in the middle.
It was the same outside of work. The truth was that Jane felt stronger when she was with Maura. She felt like she could do more and be better, so long as they were together. She liked who she saw reflected in Maura's eyes, and she wanted to live up to that image. The more time she spent with Maura, the more confident she felt about herself and her choices. Maura was the best thing that ever happened to Jane, and she congratulated herself for having found the courage to ask Maura for help before it was too late and her friend had moved on.
Jane also felt like the more time she spent with Maura, the closer she wanted to be. For instance, at that moment in the morgue, as Maura cut into the abdomen, a tiny part of Jane thought it might be the perfect time to get up, walk over to Maura, and slide an arm around her waist, slipping her fingers under the hem of her scrub top and holding onto her far hip. Jane imagined that might put her close enough to... what? Whisper in her ear? Feel the softness of Maura's cheek on her own? No, Jane chided herself, close enough to kiss her, you idiot. Close enough to restart what she had so ungracefully put a stop to a week ago.
Maura interrupted her thoughts, "Touching one's face during an autopsy may not be a true biohazard if you haven't already touched the body, but it's a bad habit to develop." Jane's hand snapped down. She had unconsciously been touching her lips. "I can't imagine the latex tastes very good, either."
Jane tried to think of an explanation or an excuse, or just something to say that wasn't Could you put down that intestine so I can come over there and kiss you? But all she did was grunt and cross her arms tightly, in hopes of preventing the development of any other bad biohazard habits.
Of course it wasn't just the victim's guts stopping Jane from acting on her impulses. Jane didn't trust her own instincts anymore, not so long as she was getting overly emotional about every little thing that happened. Maybe that look in Maura's eye she interpreted to mean I'm yours, really meant you're a good friend, or pass the butter. And the affection Maura had been showing, maybe that was just Maura's way of helping Jane relax, so that the baby wasn't stressed. Maybe Jane was simply noticing these things more because her brain was all out of whack.
But Jane's mind kept wandering back to those hungry kisses. It was hard to deny their intent or implication. Or their effect on Jane. She knew at that moment, and ever since, that she wanted more of them, and not just on her neck and shoulder. She wanted Maura on top of her, Maura's hands and lips and hair everywhere. She wanted to be buried in Maura. And she thought from the way Maura had looked at her that night, like she had been dying of thirst and had finally found an oasis, that's what Maura wanted, too.
No, what was really stopping Jane was the possibility that it was all just some weird pregnancy hormone thing. Like nesting. And crying. Maybe this was Echo's weird way of saying she needed two parents who love each other. And if that was the case, if there would someday be a time when she had to stop loving Maura... to tell her it wasn't real, just a hormone imbalance, and that they had to go back to being friends and co-parents and living together but not sleeping together... Jane imagined how that would feel, and she just couldn't do that to her friend.
So for Maura's sake, Jane had to be the strong one. Her butt would stay glued to that chair and her hands would stay gloved in purple latex. At home, Jane would just have to draw a line somewhere between cuddles and kisses and hope that Maura would be ok with that. Happy, even. If Jane could keep Maura happy and give her the family she wanted, without destroying her heart, then everything would be ok. And if she could just hold on and figure out how to look at Maura and not see a beautiful magnet, if she could forget about how soft her hair was or the way she'd smile when Jane made a stupid joke, then maybe they could be happy together.
Jane looked up just as Maura lifted the heart out of the victim's chest cavity, looked at it for a moment, and then weighed it. "Enlarged heart." Apparently she had been talking this whole time, and Jane had been ignoring her, lost in her own thoughts.
"What causes that?"
"Most commonly high blood pressure or coronary artery disease. I'll examine his blood for coagulants that would require his heart to work harder to pump his blood."
"What else could it be?" Jane was wringing her hands again.
"It could be congenital, or a thyroid disorder. Anemia could also be a factor. I'll know more once his blood work comes back."
"What about love?" Maura froze. "If our victim was in love," Jane clarified, "could that be why his heart is bigger?"
Maura cleared her throat. "Unrequited love carries some stress that may be reflected in the cardiovascular system."
"And requited love?"
Maura lifted the heart out of the scale and began to dissect it. "I don't think I'm the best person to ask about love."
"I think you're the perfect person."
Maura looked up and sighed, frustrated. "Love is a tenuous thing, Jane, it's difficult to even define, let alone identify physiologically."
"I'm talking about true love. Life-long, can't live without them, through good times and bad, eyes for no one else, the kind of love you see in the movies. The kind I thought my parents had until they suddenly didn't anymore."
Maura's hands went out, helplessly. "It would just be my opinion—"
"I want your opinion."
Maura licked her lips and swallowed. She tried to speak scientifically, but Jane could tell it was a struggle. "I think that love lasts if it is built on a strong friendship. A partnership. The ability to communicate effectively. And a strong physical attraction." She pursed her lips and nodded, satisfied?
"Me too." Jane gave her a sideways smile and stood up to leave. Before removing her clean gloves and smock, she put both hands on Maura's shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Maura, you're the best." She left Maura dumbfounded and holding her heart in her hands.