Yourself (or someone like you)
Long Day
It's sitting by the overcoat
Jane looked over at the overcoat hanging on the back of her front door. She avoided looking at it because next to it was
The second shelf, the note she wrote
The note, sitting on the shelf. Maura had written it so long ago that she didn't even know if it was still relevant, but as long as she ignored it, never acknowledged it, she could pretend it was.
It had been not long after Jane took that header off the bridge, and Maura had already been hurt - by Jane being shot, by the loss of Jane's baby - but she'd been devastated after that in a way Jane hadn't seen before. Even finding out about her dark roots hadn't changed Maura like this. She'd known when she said she hadn't thought about Maura when she'd jumped that she'd hurt her. She'd seen it on Maura's face. And nothing she'd said had made Maura less hurt.
And the note was all mixed up with that hurt, the way Jane had made Maura feel insufficient. Maura had always felt like she wasn't good enough, but the reality was that Jane wasn't good enough for her. Maura deserved someone who thought about her all the time, especially before deciding to do something potentially life-threatening. And Jane wasn't that person, could never be that person, and the note was Maura finally realising that she'd built her life around the wrong person. That she wasn't waiting for Jane any more.
And while Jane didn't want to admit it, that hurt. She'd never knowingly - she'd never wanted - but she had. Deep down, too deep for her to admit, she loved Maura. Not just as her nerdy colleague, not just as her awkward, generous best friend. She loved Maura in the way she'd never loved Casey or Dean. She'd give up her career, if Maura asked. She'd be a kept woman, a housewife. A mother.
She'd always wanted a wife. And once she met Maura, she'd always kind of wished she could marry her. She wanted to be Maura's wife, she wanted Maura to be her wife. They spent so much time together that it almost felt like they were married.
But they weren't, and given that note, they never would be.
They'd never dated each other, so it shouldn't feel like a break up. But Jane was here alone in her tiny apartment, without even the company of her Jo Friday, and Maura was probably in her own Beacon Hill home with Jane's mother. And they were probably discussing Jane's most recent reckless behaviour, and Maura, despite everything, would still be hurt.
Jane rubbed her face, barely noting that her hand came away wet. She never minded putting her life in danger. Without Maura, her life had no value. If she'd been honest with herself sooner, maybe she could have - maybe Maura would have -
But now all Jane had left was a note on her shelf, listing everything she'd lost.
That I can't bring myself to throw away
Still, Jane left it where it was. Knowing that Maura would never come over again. Knowing Maura would never see it. Maura never came here any more. And Jane liked to hurt herself. It was why she went into dangerous situations without backup. It was why she lived alone, even after Hoyt took her hands from her. It was why she punished herself. She shouldn't feel this way. Not for a woman. Not for Maura. But nothing she'd tried had stopped her wanting Maura, had stopped her thinking of her.
And without the note there to remind her, she'd forget.
That Maura had been waiting for her to come to terms with their relationship, their entwined lives. The way they used to sleep together on opposite sides of the bed, Maura so chaste and wholesome as she slept with a sweet smile on her face while Jane watched her, consumed with fear and wonder, never brave enough to broach the breach.
Jane had squandered every last chance Maura had given her. And she couldn't blame Maura for that; she'd been more than patient with Jane, waiting for her to come around on her own. And Jane hadn't, until the note, which reprimanded her every time her eyes landed on it.
She let out a breath, tearing her eyes away. The game was on, but she wasn't following it. She could go down to the bar, watch it there. Being alone in a crowd would feel better than this. She snagged her overcoat and headed out.
And reach she said for no one else but you
Jane nearly turned to leave when she saw Maura there with Frankie and Nina and Angela - off duty - and Korsak. She had been invited, Frankie had mentioned he was going down to the Robber for the game, but she hadn't known Maura would be there.
She looked at ease, the way she hadn't lately. She looked comfortable with Jane's family in a way she no longer was with Jane. It was okay, though. Because Maura had earned her place in their lives. She was so supportive and genuine and generous and gorgeous. It was no wonder everyone loved her. It was no wonder Jane loved her.
Jane's breath caught at the realisation. She'd always known, of course. Down in that deep down that wanted to marry Maura, the deep down that almost slipped out when she asked Maura to take her kid if anything happened to her. Maura looked up before Jane could catch her breath, and such a look of anguish crossed Maura's face that Jane stumbled, even as Maura reached out her hand across the room, too far away to help, too far away to touch her, but Jane was branded by that look, that accusation and she fell back against the door behind her, fumbling with the handle and slamming it into herself, unable to look away from Maura even as her hand retreated to cover her mouth. Jane backed away, reaching her way around the door until it was no longer behind her,
The door closed between them.
'cause you won't turn away when someone else is gone
Jane shoved her hands in her pockets. She should've brought her gloves. She always forget how much more sensitive her hands were now to the cold air, how it made the ache in her palms turn to fire. She walked quickly, even though she didn't expect Maura to follow her. No one else had seen her come in. Well, she wasn't sure of that, because she hadn't been able to look away from Maura. She saw her every day, but she didn't smile like that. Not with Jane, not any more.
Maura looked happier without her. It consoled Jane a little, made her feel better. If she'd addressed what Maura had written, she'd have fallen apart, and she was clinging onto the last of what held her together. She was surviving. It was cold and harsh, her walk home, her life without Maura. But it kept Maura safe. It kept her with enough deniable plausibility that no one would ever suspect that Jane had once loved Maura so fiercely that she'd killed the man that still plagued her nightmares.
He had Maura, in these nightmares. Even Hoyt had known what Maura meant to Jane. No one knew, now. No one could suspect it. Maura could be safe, now she'd rejected Jane, as though Jane had ever worded a question. Jane wiped her dripping nose with the back of her hand as she entered the condo's vestibule, surprised when the door didn't close behind her when she pushed it, even more surprised when Maura pushed it open, closing it behind them both, sheltering them from the bitter wind.
"Jane," Maura started, but Jane shrugged and looked away, not heading for the stairs. "I know Frankie invited you. We need to arrange -"
"What, shared custody of my family?" Jane spat out, instantly regretting it
I'm sorry 'bout the attitude I need to give when I'm with you
Maura's face hardened again, and Jane hadn't realised how open it had looked before. She wasn't used to Maura looking at her softly any more, and it hurt now that she'd made the softness go away again.
"Sorry," Jane said, her voice low and as gentle as she could manage. "Sorry. I was just - just trying not to think about you, and there you were."
"With your family," Maura said curtly, clearly still hurt. Jane sighed, shifting from foot to foot. She really didn't want to invite Maura up. She didn't trust herself. At least here in the common area of the building they might be interrupted and Maura might leave without saying what she so obviously wanted to say.
"They're your family too," Jane admitted, her voice hushed. "Even if I'm not any more. Even if you can't bring yourself to - do you want to come up? I have - I have that tea you like."
Maura's face brightened, and Jane hated how it lifted her own heart. She shouldn't. She would only hurt them both more. Maura nodded, a shy smile on her face. "Not - not the panda one. You know I can't afford that. The matcha one."
Maura nodded again, and Jane climbed up to her condo, hearing the familiar clip of Maura's heels behind her.
But no one else will take this shit from me
Jane found her hands trembling when she tried to open the door, and Maura's hands covered hers to take the key, to open the door herself.
"Gloves," Maura admonished Jane, not unkindly. Jane slung her overcoat on the rack rather than the door, avoiding the shelf there entirely. Maura followed suit, sitting herself on a stool at the kitchen counter as though she'd never left. She rested her chin in her hand, the other playing with the worn Formica of the counter. How could Jane have ever assumed she was enough for Maura? Maura's dress alone was worth more than the fittings in Jane's entire condo.
And she'd tried to turn Maura away from her with all her snark and attitude and unkind little digs for years, any time Maura got too close Jane would dig in harder, trying to put space between them. And Maura just... took it. Like she expected it from Jane. Like she knew it was a protective shell Jane raised to try to keep herself safe from her own emotions, let alone Maura's. It had just made Maura softer and more understanding. It had just made it hurt more when Maura realised Jane didn't think of her in times of trouble.
Maura couldn't lie. Jane could. And she'd thought about Maura, behind her on the bridge. The woman she'd already let down so many times, the woman she kept putting in danger. Hoyt, the Doyle shootout. Jane was unfit to be anyone in Maura's life if she wasn't able to protect her. If she kept putting her in danger.
So she'd jumped. Maura couldn't be in danger if Jane wasn't there to put her in it.
And she'd survived, somehow. But their friendship hadn't when Jane had told Maura she didn't think of her, when in reality all she thought of was Maura, Maura, Maura. Like a song on repeat. Every time Maura touched her, Jane made a mental note, remembered the shy smiles Maura gave her, remembered how soundly Maura slept beside her, like she was finally safe when she had Jane to watch over her.
Maura had completely trusted Jane. She probably still did, with everything but her heart. The kettle boiled, the whistle startling Jane, Maura's attention still turned to the counter. Jane made the tea the way she knew Maura liked it, and handed Maura the mug she preferred most out of all Jane's mugs, hating how much she anticipated the sweet smile that crept across Maura's face when she recognised it.
Maura sipped and looked around. Jane would be embarassed by the mess if she didn't know that Maura had seen her place looking worse. She'd cleaned the fridge recently, and the bathroom. Her place was clean but not tidy. She knew how Maura felt about germs and part of her cleaned in the vain hope that Maura might one day forgive her.
Maura set the mug on the counter. "Your family," she said again.
"You can have them," Jane said quickly. "They like you better, anyway."
Maura pinned Jane in place with a look, mug almost to her lips - lips that looked plump and pink in the lights Jane turned on, the lamps rather than the overheads that washed Maura out, the lamp light doing Maura all sorts of favours, making her glow all copper and gold and everything precious about her came to the surface in the light of those lamps - and Jane shivered, drinking her own tea.
And I'm so terrified of no one else but me
"You always do this, Jane. You push people away, and then what? Punish yourself? Throw yourself off bridges, shoot yourself? What's so awful about having a conversation with me that makes you run away?"
"Me," Jane choked out. "Not you. Me. You're perfect. I'm - I'm not worth - you should go back. They're probably worried about you."
"They're worried about you," Maura said. "And frankly, so am I. You don't come over any more, you barely say a word to me at work. I think you've been trying to make it easier on me, but-"
"On you?" Jane snorted, looking away immediately. She fingered the scars on her hands, then wrapped them around her mug. She was so scared, so so scared that Maura was only here out of pity, out of whatever they used to have between them. She glanced over at the note, and Maura caught the look, followed it. She put her mug back on the counter and walked over to it. Jane had taken it from Maura's bin at work. She'd been watching through the window, trying to gauge if it was a good time to come in with her gift, but Maura had been crying and scribbling, then she'd violently torn the page from her notepad and scrunched it up, then thrown it in her wastepaper basket. After that, it had lived in Jane's pocket for a while. To remind her. To strengthen her resolve. It was crumpled, and she'd tried to lay it flat but it kept crinkling upwards. Maura plucked it from the shelf, reading it for the first time in months, years.
"This wasn't for you," Maura said, and she sounded angry; about as angry as Maura ever got. Jane wasn't scared of Maura, even when she was angry. She was scared of how she'd hurt Maura next.
"You weren't wrong, though." Jane was calm and passive, shut down with fear. She'd rather face down an armed gunman than face her feelings for Maura. Than voice her feelings for Maura. She'd given the note a lot of thought, and she knew Maura was right.
"I was hurt."
"Rightfully so."
"Jane, I didn't mean - I was just... confused and frustrated." Maura's fingers traced the words that Jane knew by heart.
'I shouldn't love Jane this much.'
"Is this why you've been so - because you thought I thought I loved you too much?" Maura sounded like her heart was breaking.
"You do. You did," Jane corrected herself.
"And you - what, you decided the way I loved you was wrong? That it was -"
"You decided it was too much," Jane reminded her. "And you were right. I didn't deserve it. I don't deserve it."
I'm here all the time. I won't go away.
"That's not for you to decide," Maura said spitefully, so Jane went over and pointed out the words in Maura's own handwriting.
"I haven't been good to you. Not the way you deserve it. I spent so long scared you wouldn't, couldn't love me the way I couldn't admit I loved you. So it's better if neither of us does. I saw you tonight. You were happy. It's the first time I've seen you happy in months. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy."
"You used to." Maura's voice was very small. "You used to be the only person who made me feel like - like I was real."
"And now you don't need me. You're a real boy, Pinocchio." Jane couldn't keep the bitter edge from her voice, although she tried not to begrudge Maura her new life that wasn't reliant on Jane's codependency.
"And you're a real asshole, Jane." Maura rarely swore, so Jane took a step back. "Can you just not... not be so you for five minutes? Can you just listen to me?"
It's me, yeah well, I can't get myself to go away
Jane bit down a response. She slumped on the couch, then curled forward to rest her face in her hands, rubbing her forehead in irritation.
"I can try," Jane said honestly.
Maura sat next to her, knees together even though her dress rode up a little. Pale, pale skin. Jane looked away.
"Have you been acting this way because I wrote that I love you, or was it because I wrote that I should love you less. Which one hurt you more?"
Jane shrugged and mumbled.
Hey, it's me, and I can't get myself to go away
"Jane?"
"Both. It felt like you were admitting what was going on between us, and then saying you didn't want it. And that's what I - in the water, when I was dragging him behind me for miles in the dark, I finally let myself admit that I'd rather jump off a bridge than tell you how I felt. And I knew I shouldn't feel that way about you, but I still wanted to tell you. Let you have the choice. And I saw you write this through the window of the door from the morgue and you walked away when I came back to shore and I knew I'd left it too late. To say anything would just hurt you, and I'd already done that over and over, and I don't want to do that any more. I'd rather see you happy with someone else than miserable with me."
Maura listened, considering, fiddling with the paper with her fingers.
"You're an idiot, Jane," Maura said finally, with no room left for argument. And Jane let the tiniest bit of hope spark up in her chest.
Oh god, I shouldn't feel this way now
"It's leagues, once you're in the water." Maura tone was merely educational, and Jane felt a fool for expecting anything more. At least she'd finally told Maura. At least it was off her chest now, after waiting so long. She should feel relieved, but all she felt was sad. She'd known it was over for so long now, known Maura had given up, given in. Known she'd waited too long, had left Maura waiting too long.
"How did you feel?" Maura asked, after the silence had dragged on. Their tea, abandoned on the counter, would be cold now. Jane looked at Maura, confused. How could Maura consider there was any other way Jane could feel?
"I shouldn't feel this way," Jane whispered, but she moved closer to Maura, who didn't flinch or move away like she sometimes had lately, careful to keep space between them, reaching for Jane too late or too far away to ever touch her. Maura looked up from the paper when Jane tilted her chin with her fingers, her eyes wide but not scared.
Jane was terrified, and she shouldn't feel this way. She shouldn't feel any of this, but this was the closest they had been for so long, and they were finally talking about it. Her heart was pounding, her face tilting toward Maura's without her compelling the movement. Maura's eyes were focussed on Jane's mouth. She might not ever get another chance. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Maura's.
"I love you. I loved you, and I loved you too much, and I loved you the way you didn't want to love me. The way you don't want to love me. And I still love you, and I probably always will." Jane pulled back and saw Maura's tongue dart out anxiously to wet her lips. "But you don't want that, and I'm not - I'm not someone you should love. I don't put you first. I don't keep you safe."
Maura went to protest - there were times Jane had protected Maura, but they usually came because Jane had led Maura into danger - but Jane pressed her lips against Maura's open mouth and swallowed the argument. Jane pulled away first, feeling Maura's stiff body next to her on the couch, feeling Maura's confusion. Maura hadn't kissed back. Despite everything, Jane had been sure Maura would have taken the opportunity for a small, free kiss while they were talking about their emotions. She felt her heart sink even lower than it had been for so many months, felt her chest tight and uncomfortable, felt scared of what she'd done and how Maura would react to it.
"See?" Jane said, her voice shaking even as she tried to sound jocular. "I only hurt you."
Maura bit her lower lip and considered Jane a long moment, then the note again. And then she stood, striding for her coat in the corner. She fumbled with it until Jane came over to help her. Surprisingly she let Jane, her face tilted down and away as Jane buttoned the buttons and straightened the lapel for her, pulling her hair from under the collar, her fingers brushing the nape of Maura's neck.
Jane knew this was goodbye.
Reach down your hand in your pocket
Maura looked at the note one more time, then slid her hands into both of the pockets of the coat.
"I need that to remind me," Jane said gently.
"It's not true. It was never true."
"Please, I need it." Jane's hands slid over Maura's into the coat pockets. Maura hands caught hers before she could reach the scrap of paper, and Maura held Jane's hands still in the privacy of her pockets. She didn't let Jane go, even when Jane stopped twisting her fingers, trying to escape. She just held Jane's hands in hers. And then she leaned up.
Pull out some hope for me
Maura kissed slowly, like she was considering every sensation before they even started. Her mouth was matcha-warmed and soft and sweet, her hands still holding Jane's in a vice-like grip that still somehow managed not to exert pressure on where Jane's hands had been broken so badly. When her lips parted, Jane's went with hers. She'd already been torn open once tonight, and the gentleness of Maura's mouth almost hurt worse. It felt like she was a frog in a pot, waiting to drown or be boiled or whatever happened to frogs. She was still waiting for the inevitable crushing defeat of Maura's rejection.
Maura's hands slid away from Jane's, and she unbuttoned her Burberry overcoat, hanging it back up on the rack. All interest lost in its pockets, Jane watched Maura guiltily, hungrily.
Maura shook her head, a sweet smile on her face.
"You're an idiot, Jane, but so am I. I should love you this much," Maura said, taking the note and ripping it up. She left the pieces scattered on the floor. "I love you so much," Maura whispered, leaning up to kiss Jane again, to push her toward a bedroom they both knew intimately.
It's been a long day
Jane was still awake when dawn broke, casting delightful shadows over the warm body she held in her arms. She kissed the shoulder next to her face lazily, and was rewarded with Maura giving a contented sigh, snuggling back against Jane.
It had been a long day, almost as long as the day she'd jumped off a bridge after an innocent man, but this one had been way, way better.
Always
"- in sickness and in health?" Ordained Minister Holiday asked.
"Always," Jane said, kissing Maura before Nina could announce that she could. "Always," she whispered, for Maura's ears alone, and Maura nodded, kissing Jane back.
Notes:
So this was supposed to be about Maura wanting to be the adopted parent to Jane's baby but it clearly is not.
Just a couple of really long days at work - today isn't finished yet and will probably go to tomorrow. So this has been stuck in my head for a while because:
"I'm sorry 'bout the attitude
I need to give when I'm with you
But no one else would take this shit from me"
is such a Jane Rizzoli mood, honestly.
So I've been meaning to write a Long Day story for a while but I was literally singing this at work yesterday and that breath at the start of the song is genius. I might end up using is again or somewhere else but this is what happened this one time and related to the tumblr still set from the other day about Maura feeling abandoned and Jane knowing she screwed up.