Maura's face was so close that she could just lean down and kiss her. But she wanted to prove that she was grown up enough to have this conversation, that she'd understood how deeply she'd hurt Maura - as deeply as she'd hurt herself.
"Do you remember, down by the docks, the icepick case, Paddy keeping an eye - you were crouched over the body on the shore, and you looked up at me, and your hair caught the light and I'd never seen anything so beautiful." Maura looks stunned; she hadn't been expecting a conversation, clearly. "And we did that marathon - that goddamn marathon, because you wanted us to do something together - and you got us those puke outfits and I wore it because you gave it to me. I took the shirt off because you cried. Even back then, I was a total pushover for you. I didn't know what it meant - but I knew you were - I'd have done anything for you, even back then. And then you hugged me, when we crossed the finish line, in lycra and I thought my heart was going to stop because you fell into my arms like you belonged there and nothing had ever felt so right. And when you slept over, the first time - the Merch case - I held my breath until you fell asleep, in case you woke up enough to realise you were falling asleep and left because I didn't want you to leave."
"So long ago," Maura's voice was full of wonder, but Jane was full of shame.
"I couldn't - I could never tell you. It wasn't just that you were my best friend, or that you were a woman. Or even that you were independently wealthy. It was that I was me, and I wasn't -"
"Okay," Maura says gently, like she's steadying a horse. She rests her head on Jane's chest and pulls her tight. Jane knows this body. She knows this body so, so well. From their hugs, from their decontamination showers, from getting dressed together. From exploring every single inch of it with her fingers, followed closely by her mouth. She rubs Maura's back, feels the tension ebb away. "We'll be okay," Maura says. She doesn't sound sure, and Jane isn't sure what Maura's saying. Is she saying they'll be best friends again? Because somehow Jane can't bear that. It isn't enough; it was never enough.
"Maura," Jane's voice has dropped a little, trying to sound serious. "If I'd have let myself believe - even for a second - that you wanted me, I'd never have run. I'm sorry I hurt you."
"It's okay," Maura says, her voice hushed. But Jane remembers Hoyt, Joe, Alice. People who have hurt Maura because of Jane.
"It isn't. It really isn't."
"It isn't," Maura agrees, not pulling away. "But you knowing that it isn't makes the difference." It's as though she knows where Jane's mind goes, knows their combined history so well that she can tell which of the murderers they've faced are upsetting Jane at any particular moment. And she does, somehow. Even with all the space Jane has tried to put between them they're as close as ever - closer now, no space between them for anything but the truth. And Jane knows that Maura will forgive her, has already forgiven her, and she doesn't think Maura's done anything that needs forgiving but she's forgiven her anyway. Maura is and always has been her person. Her partner. The only one who's understood her. Maura holds her like she can solve all of Jane's problems, and the only problem Jane has when Maura holds her is the knowledge that at some point she might have to let go. And it happens sooner than she's ready for. She's missed this. She's missed Maura. She's missed hugging Maura, the feel of Maura against her, the soft smell of sandalwood. "Should we go... upstairs?"
It was awkward. Jane was very aware of the stairs, of Maura's hand in hers as she led her up them. Even with their reduced intimacy, Maura had been in Jane's bedroom before. She'd worn Jane's clothes, she'd fallen asleep in this bed, Jane taking the foldout in the study. Jane paused at the door, hand on the doorknob.
"We don't have to - you don't have to -"
"I want to." Maura's hand covers Jane's and she pushes the door open. Maura's mouth, when it meets Jane's, is soft and warm and open. The press of her body is slow and familiar, and Jane is aware of everything this time. The way Maura's breath catches when Jane's hand smoothes over the curve of her hip, the way Maura pulls back to look up at Jane, her eyes dark again, her lips slightly open. Jane can't resist, kissing her again, feeling Maura melt against her. "Can I -?" Maura asks when she pulls back, fingers on one of the buttons on Jane's blouse, and Jane nods wordlessly, helps Maura with her buttons. "I want this," Maura affirms. "I want you."
"Want you more," Jane pouts, but she's gentle when she pulls Maura's zipper down, pushing the dress forward over Maura's shoulders. She can hear the rain starting outside, feel the pain in her hands from the change in barometric pressure. It makes her a little upset, worried she won't be able to use them to her full potential, worried they'll distract her from the task at hand. Maura steps out of her dress, leaving it on the floor, and Jane picks it up, brushes it down and hangs it in her wardrobe. Maura watches her as though her heart is breaking. As though she's attaching some sort of significance to the way Jane is handling her clothing. "What?" Jane asks defensively.
"You'll treat me right, won't you?" Maura asks, and Jane knows this is Maura, asking for some kind of a commitment.
"I'll try," Jane says, brushing a crease from the fabric. "I won't always get it right, and I'll need you to tell me when I don't."
"I've never had to before," Maura says. Her voice is so trusting, and it makes Jane close her eyes. She turns; she knows this lace. She knows this woman, this body. Maura steps out of her heels and tucks her hair behind her ears, taking a deep breath. She's so small; it makes Jane feel fiercely protective of her sometimes. Then she tugs Jane forward by the belt, and Jane remembers that Maura can hold her own. She stabs people, Jane shoots people. They help each other. Maura is great at helping Jane out of her pants, and she politely tosses them over the back of the chair Jane keeps in the bedroom for that exact purpose. She doesn't push Jane to the bed beneath her. She lets Jane lead her there, lets Jane sit down before she climbs into her lap, hovering over her, lets Jane eye her nipple through the thin lace of her bra before she slides it off, lets Jane examine her with wide eyes before bending her head down to kiss Jane.
Jane pushes Maura's hair back and lifts her own mouth to that series of freckles on Maura's throat. She revels in Maura's hands on her hips, grasping her through the cotton. She knows what she's doing this time, and she does it slowly, carefully, checking in with Maura frequently, letting her fingers trail feather-light over the soft warmth of her torso, trapping her rosy nipples between her lips, pushing Maura onto the bed beneath her, taking her place between Maura's splayed thighs until Maura tenses, caught between Jane's fingers and her mouth, suspended, crashing down to the bed, pulling Jane up to kiss her frantically. She reaches for Jane, who doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve this, but Maura deserves whatever she wants, and she wants Jane and Jane surrenders to Maura's strong fingers curling inside her, her calculated palm pressing insidiously, playing Jane like a finely tuned instrument - finely attuned to Maura, feeding off her excitement and echoing it back at her. Maura's eyes are drawn to Jane's abdominals as she clenches, her muscles visibly rippling, Maura's mouth dropping open, her body pressing up against Jane's, her own trembling giving her away. Jane's open mouth falls against Maura's, trying to be part of her at this, the moment they fulfil all the waiting want between them all these years, and Maura's mouth welcomes her, clumsy and heartfelt as she reaches a hand up to grip the back of Jane's neck, keeping her close, breathing her air as they're both gasping for it, grasping each other. Jane watches as Maura comes down a little, starts to compose herself before she lowers her mouth to Maura's throat with her teeth bared, simultaneously filling her, and she's rewarded almost immediately with the little swear words spilling from Maura's mouth as she tries to find enough friction on Jane's palm, the high-pitched whimpered begging, the way Maura tugs Jane's head from her throat so she can kiss her, the way Maura's hips still completely before she calls out Jane's name, holding her tightly, rocking against her.
"I missed you," Jane murmurs as Maura's breathing starts to steady again.
"Missed you more," Maura says, running her hand over Jane's bare chest. And Jane knows that has to be true. Jane kept herself insular in life; the majority of people she saw outside work were from work or related to her. Even with Cailin and Hope in town, even with Paddy Senior warming up to her, Maura had still needed Jane. And honestly, Jane had needed her too. It had scared her how much she needed her. Scared her how much danger she'd put Maura into. With space between them Maura should have been safe but Jane had still managed to endanger her by association. But the fear of putting Maura in danger was different to the fear of Maura not wanting her. And she clearly did - she was transfixed by Jane's chest, cupping her breast, squeezing the hard nipple. Jane retrieves her hand from between them, rolling onto her side, resting her elbow on the bed so she can look over Maura properly. She hadn't taken enough of a good look last time, and even now there was no guarantee that Maura would actually forgive her. It was a ceasefire of sorts. She was only now realising the depth of the pain she must have caused Maura, even if this was what they both wanted. Maura looks up at her, so trusting, so loving. Jane was the safest person she'd ever been with. Jane wouldn't try to kill her or anyone else. Jane wouldn't drug her or get her implicated in a smuggling ring. Jane was good for Maura, and Maura was good for Jane. It's taken her too long to admit it, and she hates that she'd wasted so much of their time but she knows she'll spend the rest of her life making it up to her, reassuring her that she's wanted and loved.
All the apologies Jane gave Maura, and she still needs to forgive herself. If she hadn't been so insecure, she could have had - Maura wouldn't have been hurt. And that's the hardest thing to forgive. But she remembers all the things Maura taught her that she likes, and she pins Maura beneath her again and gets back to work, Maura's body willingly meeting hers, Maura's hands pulling her closer.
"You're still here," Jane says when Maura wakes. She's been watching her sleep, like she had the first time Maura fell asleep in her bed, but this time she'd been slowly finger combing out all the tangles she'd put into Maura's hair last night, trying not to wake her. Maura yawns and curls into Jane, Jane who thought she was finally finished a few hours before dawn, Jane who feels the stirrings of lust again as Maura's breasts, impossibly soft, brush against her own as Maura rolls onto Jane's chest.
"I can't think of a better way to wake up," Maura says, and Jane's fingers still in her hair, cup her cheek and she kisses Maura, her tousled hair and blinking eyes. Her satisfied little huff into Jane's mouth, her generous heart and forgiving soul. Jane pushes her back, slips beneath the blankets. There's only one better way to wake up, and Jane's giving it to Maura, who is and always has been the best thing in her life.
She's someone Jane loves, not somebody she fucked once.
Notes:
And that's it.