Jane had been dreaming of Hoyt. Killing him was the best birthday present she'd ever had, even if she'd had to give it to herself. Even if she'd done it for Maura, to save her awkward, adorable colleague and best friend. She'd been dreaming of him, but even in her dreams she didn't kill him. Even in her dreams he haunted her.
He went after couples, and Jane didn't have anyone in her life. Well, she did, she had Maura, but that wasn't - it wasn't what her dreams made of it. She wondered briefly what Hoyt would have done if she'd had a male partner - if he'd tie her up and make her watch Hoyt violate him? Or if he'd give up on torturing the object of his fascination and stick to his MO. The male partner tied up and watching as he violated the female partner.
Before Maura it had been Catherine. Jane had dreamed, after the basement, when she was heavily medicated in hospitals, that Catherine had been her lover and he'd made her watch.
He had made her watch. It was just as well she couldn't wash herself after she'd been taken to hospital and patched up because she'd have scrubbed all of her skin off. Catherine was alive; she'd visited Jane. But there was nothing between them but the knowledge of what had happened to them, individually and collectively, and the memories were so painful that seeing each other made them both flinch. So Catherine didn't visit anymore, and it felt like a divorce. It felt like a relief.
It had been his MO to go after couples. And Jane should never had let Maura come to the prison with her. Should never have left Hoyt ever even see her. She'd been drawn to the smaller woman, and he'd seen that somehow.
But even before her birthday, Jane had dreamt of Maura. Of trailing her fingers across that soft skin, of having Maura's hands grasp her, of Maura's breath catching as Jane's lips brushed her throat, chasing the three little freckles on the right side, running her tongue over them and feeling Maura's knees buckle. Holding her upright, then lifting her, Maura's legs easily circling Jane's waist as Jane propped her on the counter, Maura's busy fingers sliding Jane's buttons from their buttonholes even as Jane tugged at the arcane frippery Maura wore even in Jane's dreams. And then Hoyt, always Hoyt. Taking Maura the way he'd taken Catherine. Jane always woke in a damp sweat, underlaid with a secondary dampness that made her ashamed and confused. These dreams were very soft right up until they were very violent. Nothing about them should be appealing. But the way they started was...
But Hoyt was dead, and Jane had killed him for daring to even touch Maura. She hadn't killed him for her own sake - as much as she'd hated to leave him alive the last two times he'd deprived Jane of her liberty, she could deal with him when she was his only target. But Jane was his target, and he knew, somehow, that her weakness was Maura, and that had made Maura a target too. Jane tried to keep the party vibe light that evening, but Maura looked over with concern every so often, and Jane knew Maura could read the tightness of her smile. Because Maura knew Jane, and she knew exactly what Jane had been through.
Maura stayed, because of course she did. She'd been there. She'd thought she was going to die. She'd watched someone die; she'd seen two people die, and she'd seen Jane kill one of them. She'd been bound and tased and cut. She needed to feel safe and protected, and Jane had done that in real life, she could also do it in Maura's dreams.
The dream started out the same. Maura stepping in and holding her after a long day, then kissing her, because here they were together and this was what they did. And Jane kissing her back, because dream Jane was into this, into Maura, and Maura was soft and sweet, her mouth meeting Jane's willingly, kissing her back, pressing against her, warm and alive. Jane knew she should mind this part of the dream too, but it was a moment of respite from all the dead bodies and murderers in her daily life. It was a moment of sweetness, and she desperately needed one of those, especially when she knew what was coming. It felt disrespectful to Maura, to enjoy it, since Maura didn't know. It felt worse, later, having enjoyed the brief moments after what came next. But for now, Maura's breath heavy and moist and fast in Jane's ear, she didn't mind.
Jane woke to a whimper that wasn't hers. It wasn't Jo's either. Maura shot upright, breathing heavily, and Jane sat up, reaching for her, turning on the lamp and pulling Maura against her, ignoring the throbbing in her hands and chest - and lower - from her own dream. Maura folded herself in against Jane gratefully, holding Jane even as she was held.
"He's dead," Jane said comfortingly. The bad part of her dream hadn't had a chance to start, so all she had was the tingling, heady softness of the first part of the dream, of being with Maura. She'd been wondering about that for a while. Did it mean she was attracted to Maura, or was she just lonely? Hoyt had followed his MO, hurting the partner of his target in front of her. Had Hoyt seen, had Hoyt known? Jane brushed her hands over her crying, vulnerable friend, making soothing little noises, pushing down the rising tension from the brush of Maura's fingers on her bare arms, of the nuance of Maura's lips brushing against Jane's chest, where Maura's head was pressed, wet now with Maura's tears.
"He's dead, he's never going to hurt you again," Jane said fiercely, pulling Maura tighter. Weird dreams or not, Maura was the person she'd kill for. The person she'd die for. The person she'd fight for.
Maura pulled away and swept her face with her fingers, clearing away tears. She looked up at Jane in the dim light.
"Thank you," Maura said, her voice shaking. "But I'm not sure that's accurate. Today is going to stay with me for a long time."
"Me too," Jane admitted, not admitting that the dreams had been going on for a while, that the dreams were ongoing. Not admitting that she dreamed of Maura when she dreamed of Hoyt, not admitting that she'd miss the dreams when they were gone because the touch of Maura in them was all that got her through her worst days.
"I know it's your birthday, but would you mind holding me?" Maura asked as she lay back down, and Jane turned the lamp back off. She lay next to Maura again, and this time she slid her arms around the body she knew so well. From her dreams, yes, but also from the way they held each other in their waking life. Jane felt like half of a pair, and when she pulled Maura tight against her she felt like part of a whole. She heard Maura sigh, then felt her relax.
Jane woke again a bit later, Maura shaking her shoulder. She sat up, annoyed.
"What?" Jane asked, rubbing her face. Maura shrank away, and Jane regretted it. "No, really, what do you need?" Jane asked, honeying her voice as she reached for the lamp again.
"You were making a high-pitched noise, and I haven't heard you make it before so I thought I'd better wake you." Maura looked Jane over. "Was it a nightmare?"
Once again Jane had been woken before Hoyt could make an entrance. She rubbed her face. She didn't really want to talk about this, could feel drying sweat on her back and face.
"Kind of." Jane sighed; it was time to come clean. "You know how Hoyt went after couples?" Maura nodded. "When I was in the basement, he... you know his MO, but instead of tape I was..." Jane rubbed her palms nervously. "So when I dreamt of it, it was all confused. Catherine was... in these dreams, or hallucinations in the basement, my brain caught up on the case and thought she was... my wife. He, uh. Gloated. About making me watch..." Jane rubbed at her face again, finding her hands wet when they pulled away.
"And then, when you and I started getting close, when he got loose. Hoyt tricked me, saying Marissa was dead. But in the dream it's you he's taken, and he's..." Jane shook her head when Maura reached for her.
"I'm alive, thanks to you," Maura said softly. Jane shook her head again.
"But the dreams changed. They started... when we got to know each other, started sleeping over and spending more time together - spending most of our time together - my brain put you as my... my wife. And the dreams would start with us living together - please hear me out," Jane begged when Maura looked like she was going to interrupt. Maura paused with her mouth still slightly open from the question she'd been going to ask. "That part isn't the nightmare. We'd come home, and you'd be cute and sweet and wifeish, and that part of the dream isn't - I mean, we're not married, but I could do worse, right?" Jane shot Maura a hopeful glance. Maura's mouth closed, watching Jane carefully.
"And we would go to bed, go to sleep, but when I woke Hoyt would be there, and he'd be slicing into my hands, pinning me upright against the headboard. You know how I used to have a chair in here and don't any more? He used to... he'd have you..." Jane started crying, crying too hard to talk. "And we'd have had this amazing day and it all..." Maura's hands slid around Jane, pulling her tight against Maura's side. "And I couldn't do anything, and you were so, so scared. So when he... today, when he touched you..."
"Oh, Jane," Maura said softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's not - it's not the kind of thing you tell your best friend. 'Oh hey, by the way we're married in my dreams and then a serial killer...' are you okay?" Jane asked, feeling moisture against her shoulder where Maura's face rested. Maura nodded.
"It's just me? He doesn't touch you?"
Jane shook her head. "He doesn't have to. Nothing he could do to me could ever compare to what he does to you. Nothing could hurt me as much as having to watch helplessly, knowing he's hurting you."
"Oh, Jane," Maura said again, her voice thick with tears. She tried to pull Jane closer but found she couldn't so instead she climbed into Jane's lap, straddling her so she could pull Jane against her as Jane started to sob uncontrollably. Jane clung to her, head buried in Maura's chest, arms gripping Maura so hard that she wondered if she'd have new bruises in the morning to go with the ones she could already feel forming. "Oh, Jane," she said helplessly as her own tears started, letting her hands wander Jane's back without the creeping fear that it might not be welcome that she usually had.
"I dreamed of you," Maura said quietly, running her fingers through Jane's tousled hair. Jane had stopped crying, but she hadn't loosened her grip on Maura. "After you shot yourself. I was sleeping in the chair by your bed. Angela tried to kick me out, to make me go home and sleep in a bed, but she had two kids in two rooms and Frankie was awake, and I'm the Chief so... you were the first person who saw me for who I was and loved me anyway. You were everything and I thought I'd lost you. I used to dream, sitting up, that you... do you remember the lesbian bar? The way you looked at me... I used to dream... and then the gun, and the look on your face as you fell..." Maura sighed. "It doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say is the worst nightmares I have are when something happens to you. Like yours are about something happening to me."
"Does that mean something?" Jane asked, Maura sank back onto her haunches so they were level, eye to eye when she pulled away.
"I'm not a psychologist," Maura said absently, still trying to detangle Jane's hair. "But probably. In your dreams, is it nice? Being married to me, I mean,' she added hastily.
Jane sighed and rubbed her face before resting her hands on Maura's waist. She'd asked the question first, she supposed to had to answer this one.
"Yeah. It's nice while it lasts. You're always... nice," Jane said. "Not that you're not nice in real life, but you're not..."
"Not 'wife' nice," Maura contemplated. "So where were you in your dream when I woke you up? You looked annoyed rather than scared."
Jane blushed, and Maura watched in fascination.
"We were in the shower," Jane admitted. "To, uh, save water?"
"Household bills do increase with cohabitation, and water conservation is a very worthwhile goal," Maura nodded approvingly.
"Not a goal we were managing to achieve," Jane said nervously, wondering if Maura had misunderstood. "Mostly because we were a little distracted."
Maura nodded, processing the new information. She looked down, noticing for the first time that she had pretty much mounted Jane, flushing but not making a move to get off of her.
"You don't sound as though you minded the nocturnal intimacy," Maura said, her voice shaking. "And I would no longer be at risk, if we were... neither of us have a target on our back any more." She looked down at Jane with lidded eyes, focusing on Jane's mouth.
"It's just a dream," Jane said. "A very traumatic dream that usually ends in violence or death for one or both of us."
"So I would be doing nothing more than reminding you of your nightmares?" Maura asked in a very small voice.
"If you did what?"
"If I... if I kissed you," Maura breathed. "You saved my life," she reminded Jane.
"It's probably just adrenaline," Jane said, avoiding the question. "And gratitude. And trauma."
Maura nodded thoughtfully; she was aware of a rush of cortisol that her system hadn't fully flushed yet.
"I wasn't saying that I would or should, I just wanted to know how much it would hurt you if I did.'
"You could never hurt me," Jane said softly, looking up at Maura. She rested her hands on Maura's hips. "I just don't want to talk about it any more tonight. You're alive, you're here, you're warm and safe. And so am I." Jane leaned up and pressed a kiss to the small constellation of freckles on the right side of Maura's throat, feeling Maura's sharp inhale, feeling Maura's body jar forward suddenly, the taste of Maura heady and incredible. "But if you did kiss me, you'd have to pinch me."
"Pinch you?" Maura's nose scrunched.
"So I know I'm not dreaming," Jane clarified.
"You're right," Maura said, still not making any move to get off of Jane. "We need time to heal." Maura fingered the bandage at her throat, then the one at Jane's, then ran her fingers over the stitches on Jane's forehead. She leaned forward and kissed Jane right above the stitches. "And until we do," Maura leaned back again, bringing her mouth to meet Jane's, smiling as Jane's lips parted for her, nuzzling against Jane's own smile which she knew so well before pulling away and pinching Jane. "Raincheck," Maura said, sliding off of Jane.
"Ow! You're always so literal," she complained.
"It's what you love about me," Maura said seriously, looking up at Jane from the pillow next to her. Jane lay down too, facing Maura.
"Yeah, I guess it's one of the things I love about you," Jane conceded, her voice low. "If I have a nightmare, wake me up, okay?" Jane asked, her voice tight and constrained. Maura slid her hand into Jane's.
"Always," Maura said. "If you want always, then always."
Jane's breath caught. She'd dreamt of being married to Maura, and this time she pinched herself, watching Maura's serious expression fade into a chuckle.
"I've got you, Jane," Maura said. "I've got your back, I've got your keys. I've got you." And Jane had thought Maura was saying it to comfort Jane, but it seemed to comfort Maura too.
"You've got me," Jane affirmed, wanting to add that Maura could have all of her. "And I've got you."
Maura's smile was so soft as she stroked Jane's cheek. "You do," Maura agreed. "You always have."
The exhaustion from the day rose again, but Jane had time and energy enough to catch Maura's hand and kiss the palm before a restful sleep - her first since she'd met Hoyt - finally took her.
Notes:
Catherine is a character from The Surgeon - the first book in which Jane Rizzoli stars. Catherine is the case that has Jane following hour in her own, and trapped in the basement with another captive woman. So whenever I need to reference the woman Jane tried to save in the flashbacks/first episode exposition, I use Catherine even through she remains unnamed on the show.