Chapter Ten: Come Hell or High Water

Maura's Irish coffee did little to soothe her intense hangover.

In her twenties, she could drink to excess and then go for a jog the very next morning. Burning the candle at both ends simply wasn't a problem. Now in her thirties, a hangover like this had her sick and out of sorts for at least two days in a row. Maura hadn't meant to have so much wine the night before, but it had been three days since she'd heard anything from Jane. She hadn't received so much as a text or a voicemail.

Not a single word since the night Jane had touched her beneath the stars.

They usually spoke —at the very least— about once every day, so the silence made her both confused and anxious. Everything had been brought out into the open and both of them were made to come to heel finally with the way they felt about one other, so why the distance? What had gone wrong?

Sure, Maura could just as well have picked up her phone and dialed Jane herself… But Jane was usually the one to call or text first.

Should I…?

Maura grumbled with an exhausted breath and then shoved her phone away upon her desk. She held her throbbing brow inside the palm of one hand and wrote with her other, updating the ledger's expenditures for the month of October. Lately, the thought of just selling the funeral home and moving on was something she considered more and more often. The business had become nearly stagnant from the month before, having only one service to provide for the whole of it. Such was the way the death care industry operated sometimes, as Kent had explained. Death apparently was not so fond of being thought of as "predictable". After saving the business from closing when she had first set out to balance her father's remaining debts, Maura soon realized that she had run the money too thin, and that they very much would depend on families soliciting their services to care for their loved ones after they had passed on. Without more staff in place to keep things running besides Kent and Susie now, Maura had no choice but to stay.

Maybe she's still upset…

Maura simply could not take her mind off Jane. It was driving her mad with grief. Or was that the upset of her stomach? Jane had begged her to come back to Dallas, and Maura only wished that she had been able to tell her the whole truth. She feared for the safety of the two employees she did have if she were to leave them exposed to the extortion that loomed over the funeral home like a dark cloud. It was all on her shoulders, and Maura knew that she couldn't risk leaving now.

The sound of footsteps at the end of the long hallway as someone walked towards the office broke her out of her spiraling, nauseated misery. Her funeral director and right hand must be stepping in for their morning tea, as was their routine.

"Kent?" Maura called out from where she sat at her desk and looked up. She had a mind to tell him that she wasn't feeling well this morning and that she would prefer some solitude for her aching head and queasy stomach… but as the familiar -creak- of a floorboard opposite the guest bathrooms rang out, the footsteps growing ever nearer sounded slightly different. Maura had a knack for strides, as well as each person's particular bearing in the way that they divided their weight with each step.

It wasn't Kent.

As if in slow motion, the scene that played out before her was something quite like out of a horror film. A pair of soulless eyes and a devilish grin rounded into the doorway, and Maura felt the very chambers of her heart grind in working order to keep from stopping altogether. She immediately became aware that there was nowhere to run in the space of her office, as the man who had threatened her months ago stood right in the path of the door, staring almost right through her. He almost didn't even seem real since it had been so long that she'd seen him. Admittedly, Maura had hoped that he'd met some untimely end, or was incarcerated deep in a dank, dark hole somewhere.

"Sorry I'm late." He said gleefully.

"You say that as if I knew when to expect you." Maura shot back from her chair as she moved her hand towards the desk's right-side drawer. Her father's revolver was at the back of it, and she knew that it was loaded, but she felt like vomiting at the mere thought of having to use it.

"That's fair, you didn't." He replied with a chuckle.

"In fact," Maura continued bravely, "I don't know many things when it comes to you. Perhaps you'd like to share your name with me this time?"

The man shook his head with a frown. "You don't need it."

"How about I call you 'H' then?"

He suddenly dropped his hands from where they wrung together maniacally in front of him and stepped into the middle of the room. It was his underlying sense of unpredictability that scared Maura more than anything. He was rather small and wiry in stature, and his skin was leathery with age or years of abuse from the sun's ultraviolet rays. She didn't quite know what it was that made her so nervous about such an unseemly cretin of a man, but Jane's persistent urging for her to stand her ground more often yelled at her from a distant memory.

"Don't go and get any bright ideas now, Maura girl, you have what you have only because I haven't yet taken it away."

"I am not a girl, and how is it fair that you know my name, but I still don't get to know yours?"

"Life. Isn't. Fair." He replied loudly through the snarl of his teeth, emphasizing each word with a biting sort of anger. "It's suffering, plain and simple. Piss-covered, hungry, and shivering. Life is meaningless if you've not got the gall to grab it by the small hairs and twist. That is the only way to do anything, you see. With cruelty."

Maura's hand shook to pull the drawer open slowly, "I won't give you what you want."

"Oh yes, you will."

"Doctor Isles- someone's driven over the wee petunias again out the front, should I—" Kent Drake wheeled to a stop inside the doorway of Maura's office and then froze. He locked eyes with the man standing in the middle of the room, and his hands furled into fists. "You…"

In a flash, Kent lunged through the threshold just as "H" quickly lifted a boot and kicked the door into him, hard.

Maura gasped, leaping up from her chair. "Kent!"

Landing flat on his back in the hallway, Kent scrambled to get to his feet but was met with a fist to his face. H punched him once, twice, and then three times, holding Kent up off the floor by his shirt collar so that his head would rock back with each blow. He continued hitting him and didn't appear to want to stop, smiling all the while.

"No- stop it!" Maura shouted. That hard line of an oath that ran through the very middle of her begged her to not take up her father's gun, but the chaos of the moment gave her very few other options. Maura pulled the revolver from the drawer and ran to stand in front of her desk, squaring her feet upon the beige Aubusson rug. She cocked the hammer back which gave a very distinct and mechanical -click- sound.

"Stop it!" She yelled again, her voice wavering wildly from the amount of terror she felt. The gun in her hands was small, but her arms shook as if it weighed much more than it did. Devastating at short range, Maura had six bullets at her disposal. The man ceased his repeated pummeling of Kent's head and then looked over his shoulder.

"Get away from him," Maura warned, "…now."

As if he felt no real inclination towards fear —that or he either had absolutely zero sense of self-preservation— the man she now knew as "H" stood back up and walked the few steps toward Maura to dig the snubnose barrel of the revolver right into the middle of his chest. He was grinning from ear to ear again and looking at her as if he were proud… Almost like he admired her.

"The papers." He insisted with a calm voice.

Surely he would have kept striking Kent until he had killed him. Maura knew that it would have taken nothing for him to do so. Just by the look of his cold and empty eyes, she could tell… He had enjoyed himself. Herself on the other hand, she simply couldn't find the conviction to pull the trigger. She was a physician, after all. Maura wouldn't take a life, and he knew this.

Maura shook her head, still pressing the gun into his chest. "I can't give them to you." She said, choking past a sob.

Suddenly, H's demeanor changed right in front of her eyes as if a flood of calmness had washed over him. "Hmm," He took a deep breath through his nose, "Would you care to know what my favorite fruit is?"

Puzzled, Maura furrowed her brow and flapped her mouth up and down in search of words.

"A clementine." He said, "Not quite an orange, though not quite anything else either… But so sweet, mm-mmm—" He licked his lips, "I love them."

Every hair on Maura's body stood on end.

Clementine was Jane's middle name. Jane had always hated it, which was why very few people on earth even knew it.

"You," Maura swallowed, "Don't you dare—"

"Give me what I came for and no one else has to get hurt."

Left with no other choice, Maura gestured towards the record player on the other side of the room with a toss of her chin, both of her hands still gripping the polished wooden stock of her father's gun. Her finger on the trigger itched a bit more now. She knew that it only took four to six pounds of pressure to fire a single-action revolver and at the mere mention of Jane, something inside of her threatened to override her oath to do no harm. Maura wanted very much to be rid of this man, but that still didn't mean that she wished to kill him.

"Taped beneath the record case. Take them and never come back."

H gave an admonishing -tsk- twice and with a wave of his finger, he went to retrieve the files. "You should know better by now…" He said on his way out, clutching the files beneath an arm, "You'll never be rid of me, little girl."

When he was gone, Maura fell to her knees and threw the gun across the floor behind her, wanting it as far away from herself as possible. She felt sick, but mostly glad to have her finger away from its trigger. Kent gurgled from where he lay in a crumpled pile on the floor just on the other side of the door, and Maura crawled on her hands and knees quickly to get to him. He aspirated blood through his nose, working to either breathe there or through his mouth. Maura couldn't tell, as his top lip was severely split and his breathing was so intermittent that she was worried he may drown in his own blood. She rolled him onto his side and then he coughed.

"Can you breathe?" Maura asked, still trembling from head to toe.

He nodded painfully. "Forgive me, I should'ae told you…"

"Should have told me what?"

"I couldnae do it—" He coughed again, "I couldnae be persuaded to steal from you. Forgive me…"

"Are you saying- Wait, was that the man who gave you the black eye?"

He nodded once more and then became very still. A second later his eyes closed, and then his limbs went slack as if a doll had all of its strings cut at once. Maura shook him. "Kent?" When he didn't come back, she shook him again, frantic this time, "…Kent!"

There was only one person in the world Maura wanted to call as she paced back and forth in the hospital's waiting room.

Her hangover was of little concern now as she turned on her heels, each of her stilettoed taps echoing off the tall ceiling. A baby cried in the background and an array of different beeping sounds and other digital tones surrounded her. Maura wasn't exactly a fan of hospitals. She much preferred the peaceful quiet and sterility of her morgue. She also knew hospitals to be teeming with bacteria, so she was careful not to touch anything. Her irrational fear of chromobacterium violaceum —a deadly flesh-eating bacteria— wasn't nearly as irrational to her in a place like this. A set of doors pushed open then with a -whir- behind her and the smell of outside air that poured in was a brief reprieve from the pungent, acrid odor that hung inside the lobby.

Susie Chang rushed towards her, squeezing her hands open and shut nervously, "I got your message, what happened- is everything alright?"

Maura shook her head and struggled to speak past the feeling of her throat slamming shut, "Kent… he—"

"Doctor Isles," A woman's voice came from the large doors past the intake desk then. When Maura spun around to look at her, the woman gave a wave of her hand, "Come with me please?"

"Maura, what's going on?" Susie begged. It was rare that she called her boss by her first name.

Instead of finding the words, Maura grabbed Susie by the hand and pulled her along through the doors, following the nurse down a bright hallway. The walls were an awful cream color, and the floor was teal and scuffed in many places from the traffic of equipment wheels. The nurse eventually stopped at a door marked "OR 1" and turned to hold a finger up.

"Wait here a moment."

Susie still had a hold of Maura's hand and didn't appear to want to let it go any time soon. They both stood there petrified and short of breath until a man in a blue-green operating gown stepped out and pulled his mask down below his chin to speak.

"Does Mr. Drake have any family in the country?" He asked.

Maura's heart stopped. "Please tell me that he's alive…" She begged.

"He is, but the contrecoup contusion he sustained to the back of his brain has left him minimally responsive. The CT scan showed a lot of damage, which we won't know the extent of until he wakes up."

"He hasn't regained consciousness?"

"No ma'am. Someone will be watching him closely. Does he have anyone—"

"His family is back in Scotland, there isn't anyone here. It's just him." Susie cut in as she began to cry. She turned to Maura with tears in her eyes then, "What happened?"

"He was attacked…" Maura began to explain as she squeezed her mortuary assistant's hand, "Susie, I'm going to close the funeral home for the time being, it can't run without him and I'm so worried—"

"Of course, I understand. Is there anything you need?"

"No. Just for you to stay safe, and to—" Maura's phone suddenly rang in the pocket of her pleated dress pants, and she grabbed at it immediately. It was Jane. "Please excuse me, I have to take this…"

Maura left Susie to speak with the surgeon and she walked quickly to round the other end of the hallway in order to answer her phone. She tapped its screen and took a second to check the pitch of her voice before she spoke. "Hello?"

"Hey. Everything… alright?" Jane asked.

Maura had to work very hard to maintain control of her emotions and to be very careful of what she said, especially since now she knew she was an accessory to a federal crime. "It's been a rough morning. Why haven't you called me?" She stamped her foot, wishing that to have sounded a little less abrupt.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just…" Jane began to apologize, "I was just working out some stuff in my head. I should have called sooner."

Maura sighed. The sound of Jane's voice did wonders to soothe her in most situations, and that held up even here. "How have you been?" She asked.

"Well, not so good, actually. My serial murderer is back. 'Bout two months ago now, actually. He hit two houses around Coleman county before we got word. These small town cops, I'll tell ya…" Jane huffed, "Havin' a hell of a time, honestly. There's just somethin' about this guy, it feels… I don't know. Not sure how to explain it. It's like he wants me to see what he's doing…"

"Has Dr. Higgins proved to be an asset?" Maura asked.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. He's great. He's no Doctor Maura Isles, but—" A page came over the hospital's intercom system then and Jane stopped. "Wait a minute, where are you? Are you in an ER?"

"I—"

"Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine…" Maura tried to say. It was true, she was fine… At least now she was. The small tremor in her voice may have given her away, though.

"Are you sure? I can come tonight instead of this weekend—"

"Jane…"

Maura's mind flashed back to the veiled threat the man in her office made just a couple of hours earlier, and she realized that she had no real idea of how much he knew, or even what it was that he knew, or how far he would go to get what he wanted… Maura couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk her.

"It's not a good time." Maura said.

"What do you mean it's not a good time? Maur, c'mon- what's going on—"

"Jane, listen. Just… stop." Maura said firmly. "You always do that. You just railroad right over whatever it is that I'm trying to say." She took a deep breath then, calming herself. Maura knew that this was going to hurt. "It's not a good time."

"Alright, fine." Jane replied. "Will you just tell me if everything's okay, at least?"

For the first time in their entire relationship, Maura was prepared to blatantly lie to her best friend. "Yes. Everything is okay."

"Okay. I'll see you this weekend, then?"

"No, Jane." Maura replied grimly, "I'm sorry."

There was a short pause. Jane seemed to be flustered. "Maura…"

"I need some time."

"Maura, please—" Jane begged.

"I have to go."

"Wait! Please… Is this because of what we did? Please don't—"

"No." Maura shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted Jane to feel badly about. "It's not that. I promise."

"Then please," Jane's voice became quieter, "…I love you."

Maura knew that she had to end the call before she burst into tears. She couldn't let Jane worry any more. "I love you so much. Goodbye."

Before she could stop herself, Maura dropped her phone away from her face and tapped the red end call button. Her anguish came out of her in waves: first in ragged gasps, then with a few racked sobs and then with her back against a wall as she slid down to sit upon the floor. Her hands covered the sounds of her weeping, though Maura truly didn't care if anyone could hear her. No one would pay her any mind, after all. If anyone were to hazard a guess, they would merely assume that she had lost someone.

In a way, it felt as if she had.

Friday, October 16th
 Herein lies my journal entries.
 My heart and soul bared to the truth.

I was sixteen the last time I wrote in a journal. Now doubled in age, I wish to chronicle a part of my life once again. I am hoping it will help me to focus in the days to come.

My name is Maura, and I am an alcoholic.

Saturday, October 17th
 It took most of the day yesterday, but I went through the entire house in search of the tucked away spirits my father habitually "saved for a rainy day". I did cry and argue with myself for hours before I was capable of pouring them all down the kitchen sink, but I believe there to be none left. So goes my first twenty-four hours without a drink. I do not wish to be so dependent on alcohol anymore. I want my life back.

A headache has persisted since yesterday evening, and it continues to grow in intensity.

Sunday, October 18th
 I wish Jane was here, but I am also glad that she isn't. I must look an absolute fright. I believe that my body is beginning to revolt. Currently I am running a low fever and my stomach is absolutely unwilling to keep anything down. This is all I can write for today, I fear. I must go and lie down again.

Wednesday, October 21st
 Temperature: 98.7 degrees
 Joint pain: Slight, no longer severe
 Stomach upset: Moderate
 Body aches and lower back pain: Moderate

The final plateau of my delirium tremens has passed, I believe. I am now able to hold my liquids and to keep small mouthfuls of crackers safely inside my stomach. My head no longer feels larger than the rest of my body. It is as if I've stepped through to another side. Everything feels almost brand new. The walls, the furniture... I have laid eyes upon it all more times than I can count in the months that I have kept residence here, but for some reason it all appears so new to me now.

Jane has left fourteen messages since the end of last week. I was too ill to answer them, but I still fear that it is not safe for her to return. I need to be free of this if "H" comes to call on me again.

I do hope that he is hindered (or in some way occupied) again for another few months, at the very least.

Saturday, October 24th
 I have cried many times today, but it seems to have stopped now. The guilt I feel for having been unable to act faster on Kent's behalf does much to unease me. If I had not been so unwell…

Swallowing is still painful. My body must still be dehydrated.

…I miss Jane more than words can say.

Monday, October 26th
 I believe that my withdrawal symptoms have mostly subsided now. I am able to eat, shower, and dress myself without folding over with the pain from my stomach. The many years that I abused alcohol made the detox process much more violent than I had initially expected; I will admit that I was not prepared for such agony.

Though, I am unsure if anything could have prepared me for that.

I have metamorphosed.

Wednesday, October 28th
 Jane has called again. This time I almost picked up the phone. My emotions are still somewhat unable to self-regulate and at times I feel so very weak at the mere thought of her. I wish I could tell her. I wish I could tell her everything.

Thursday, October 29th
 I am discontinuing my chronicles towards sobriety here. It is too upsetting.
 I will try to seek solace elsewhere.

Maura wound the string of her leatherbound journal that morning and promptly pushed it to the back of a drawer in her desk, wishing to not set eyes upon it for a long while. The worst of her withdrawals had not made it onto its pages, and she was somewhat glad for that. There were times when she was hardly able to hold her head up, too sick to lay down but too sick to sit up, and so she laid haggard in a sort of leaning position for many hours. The shaking and vomiting had seemed endless, and the writhing on her hands and knees upon the floor of her bedroom was as close to a biblical interpretation of hell as she could imagine.

Now that she had healed almost completely, her heart was the only thing left that needed mending. Keeping herself busy was the only thing that helped to take her mind off Jane. If her hands were idle, then her thoughts would begin to race. She would spiral and then break down into tears, and her day would officially be done at that point. Dragging herself up the stairs to sob into her decorative pillows had become a regular occurrence. Was this what sobriety was? Never-ending, gut-wrenching sorrow? Who was she if she wasn't slightly inebriated? How does one find the dulling of emotion without depressants? More importantly, how on earth could she carry on like this?

Something had to give.

The very next day, that "something" came in the form of a -knock- against her front door.

Hesitate by Hazlett played on the walnut speakers in the sitting room when Maura dragged herself away from her green tea with mint. She leaned upward onto the tips of her toes, peering through the spyhole of the door and upon the sight it offered her, Maura felt as if she could jump for joy. Her heart leapt forward, and she felt alive again.

She couldn't open the door fast enough.

Jane Rizzoli stood there in her fringed black-leather jacket, white cotton v-neck and dark wash denim jeans. Her eyes were somber little lumps of coal that seemed to burn impatiently. One of Jane's hands shot to grip the inside of the door frame then as if she were afraid that Maura would shut it on her again. She shook her head wistfully...

"Don't do that."

"What—"

"Don't do that." Jane repeated, a fierce sadness emphasizing each of her words.

Maura's knees began to quake, "Don't do what…?"

Jane took a step inside, the features of her face finally turning soft. "Don't take you away from me."

With all of the vacated breath from her lungs now hanging in the small space between them, Maura lunged forward. She needed to get it back, and desperately so. Jane's lips were made of pure oxygen, and she was suffocating. Maura grabbed her by the smooth lapels of her jacket and then pulled, crashing their lips together.

The door was kicked shut, and Jane's back met its hard wood with a small grunt. Hands tore at clothes, lips passed over tongue, feet shuffled upon floor, and Maura did her utmost to press herself into Jane with an unyielding need to feel her skin upon her own. A lamp teetered close to its table's edge when they knocked into it on their way towards the stairs, and the next thing Maura knew, Jane had sat her upon the fifth step to pull her fleece night pants from her legs. They came away from her swiftly and Maura disrobed herself of her matching top, tossing her hair about her shoulders like a veritably soft blonde fan.

"Lay back." Jane said, now sounding larger than life.

Maura let herself lean against the steps of the stairs and quelled the screeching sense of vulnerability inside of her as Jane pushed her knees apart. Dark eyes like midnight looked up at her from between her thighs.

"Jane…" Maura whispered just as Jane pressed her mouth against the apex of her legs, not bothering to kiss anywhere else but the very warm and wet center of her. "Oh, my God—" She gasped.

Everything had happened so fast. Only the span of a minute or two had transpired from the time the knock came from her front door to now, and already Maura was at the mercy of Jane's tongue. The gloriously slick feel of it had her back bowing upward like a beautiful bridge against the hard angles of the staircase. She had no real confirmation that Jane had ever done this before with another woman, which, if Maura were being honest, she herself had never done so either… with a woman or a man. Something so intimate required real trust, and the act usually made her feel too vulnerable go through with. Having leapt past that barrier and given every inch of herself wholly to Jane, she realized how right it felt.

Each and every muscle in Maura's body melted. The arch of her back crumbled, and her knees fell further apart. It was as if she were turning liquid, thick and hot against each wave of Jane's tongue. For possibly never having done this before, Jane was skilled in the way that she knew exactly where to put it.

Maura liked how slow and wet it was. The mere sound of it was so debauched and vulgar, yet nothing felt more natural. It turned her on so much.

Jane hummed pleasantly into her as if she couldn't be more satisfied, and Maura's body lit up with sparks. That back and forth push and pull like an ocean current which had soothed her limbs to fall slack against the stairs was now a torrential storm, gathering her up one molecule at a time.

"Again- d-do that again…" Maura begged, licking at the dryness of her lips.

Another pleased hum came from between her legs and Maura's hips canted upward to chase the last of it. She moaned loudly. Jane's lips swathed a light path upward then and she began to suck. Maura was barreling helplessly towards the steep edge of a cliff, and her toes curled in an effort to keep herself from falling over. It was incredible and terrifying all at once. One of her hands shot out to grab at a rung of the stair's banister and she keened with a high pitch. Maura was just about to beg her to go slower —for she feared that any faster would simply tear her apart— when Jane slowed to a stop and lifted her head away.

"It's okay, shh…" Jane's voice was deep, her breath cold against the hot and messy flesh of her cunt, "I've got you. Here—" She strained to reach up with a hand, prying Maura's white knuckled grip from the railing. "Hang on to me."

Maura nodded furiously and then placed the back of her head against a step to close her eyes once more. She breathed carefully, focusing on each inhale and exhale as she intertwined her fingers with Jane's. Gently, Jane slipped her tongue back inside, moving it slower and deeper this time. Maura moaned out loud again. The reassurance had given her some freedom to move her hips, and heavens above, it felt good just to follow Jane's tongue… When Jane hummed a third time, the knot that wound itself deep inside of Maura finally unraveled.

She had never heard herself sound so loud and uninhibited before. Somewhere in the middle of it all Maura heard Jane's voice, though she was unable to make out any words. She was aware, however, of the strong grip against the tops of her thighs keeping her in place, but at the same time it was like she couldn't feel it at all. Was she still inside of her body? Stars lit up against the blue-black backdrop of Maura's vision and galaxies zoomed past… Unique heavenly bodies exploded beneath her eyelids and burned her from head to toe, superheating and expanding over eons to fill her up completely. Jane would etch herself upon the surface of Maura's soul there.

Maura floated until she gasped for air and then was thrust back into her own body once again.

No amount of physiological science could ever describe in human language what it was that she had just experienced. Sure, the blanket statement "orgasm" was adequate. But what it truly was, was so far beyond that. Maura had kissed the celestial ether, that thin in-between place that was veiled from this life and the one that lies after… That is, of course, if there truly were a life that came after this one. Maura knew then and there of only one place to spend eternity after death, and it was there.

She'd seek it out for the rest of her natural life, knowing that Jane was the only one who could take her there.

Maura marveled at how glorious the soreness felt on the insides of her thighs.

All except for that, her head was empty. The light from the sun glittered in from the much-too-sheer curtains over her bedroom window, the same ones which were of much debate to replace with a heavier and darker fabric for whenever Jane stayed over. Maura did tend to rise with the sun. She enjoyed it far more than the shrill chime of an alarm any day. The sun was warm and inviting which allowed her to wake gently, whereas Jane probably saw the same as extremely offensive. It would be very like Jane Rizzoli to blame the sun for her bad mood upon waking. Which… she usually did.

She would have on this morning as well, if her eyes weren't currently shielded from the sunlight by the cascade of copper blonde hair falling around her face. Maura was on top of her, straddling her hips and rocking them to and fro.

Maura had many more revelations in the span of a single night when it came to her feelings about Jane, and even more so about the sex they had.

She liked it slow, and she liked to be on top.

"Right there—" Jane muttered as she let her head fall back against her pillow, her hair a dark crown of wild and unkempt locks. "Fuck- just like that…"

Maura straightened her back, leveraging her swaying hips with more pressure against the woman beneath her. Ever so briefly upon waking, Maura had thought it was remarkable at how their bodies called out to one another from the depths of their slumber. She doubted very much that they had slept for more than an hour. Maura had awoken with a thigh pressed against her center and with Jane gripping the crest of her hipbone like a perfectly fashioned handle fit only for her hand. The way they touched one another was a different language entirely, one which they apparently did not tire of speaking.

Was it any surprise that they were both extraordinarily good at lovemaking? Maura thought not. She'd never felt this brazen with anyone else before. And Jane? Of course Jane would be naturally skilled at anything she attempted. She just seemed to have a knack for knowing what to do, when, where, and for how long. Perhaps her mapping of another woman's anatomy was something of a second nature because she was also a woman herself? Surely sexual prowess couldn't merely be watered down like that… Maura thought to test this theory with a more thorough examination of Jane's body, but her rapidly working brain —now full of wonderful ideas and the eagerness to explore them— was interrupted by Jane sitting up to kiss her again.

Maura obliged her a short and wet meeting of their lips and then promptly shoved her back down against the bed. She pinned Jane there with both of her hands between the space of her breasts, one resting flat above the other. Maura liked being on top so much because for the first time in her life…

She was in control.

"God- it feels…" Maura bit her bottom lip into her teeth as the grinding of her hips became more and more sporadic and then suddenly, her legs clamped together tightly and she fell forward again.

The sound of muffled moans buried near Jane's ear seemed to be enough to send her over the edge as well, if the night before had been any indication. Jane had been so dead set on worshipping every square inch of Maura's body that there had hardly been any time spent the other way around. Just hearing Maura apparently had been enough.

Several minutes into their heavy-limbed afterglow and hot, panted breaths, Maura flipped her long, tawny hair over a shoulder and propped herself up onto her elbows. She laid there on her stomach beside Jane, leaning down to kiss the sharp line of her clavicle. How delicious and magnificent Jane's bones were… Such a wonderful skeleton to house the soul of the woman she loved, indeed. Maura hung her head for a moment, remembering the decision she had made to keep Jane away. The danger was still present, and she couldn't risk anything happening to those lovely bones. It would destroy her.

"Jane…"

"Mhm." Jane stretched with a long, close-lipped smile, turning toward her slowly.

"You have to go."

Jane's brow immediately screwed together, and she appeared confounded. "What- why?"

"Jane, please. You can't be here." Maura begged.

"The hell I can't…?" The dark-haired woman protested, tucking an arm behind her head. It took her a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose with a long sigh, and then she looked at Maura again. "How about you tell me why? Who knows, I might do something crazy and actually listen." The sarcasm in her voice abounded.

It was a low blow, to be sure. But in all fairness, Maura did deserve it.

Jane didn't appear mad, though her genuine consternation was enough to make Maura want to fold. The things she knew best about Jane Rizzoli, above all else, were her unwavering convictions and deeply rooted moral compass. If Maura came clean, then she would have to come clean about all of it, which meant that she would also have to accept whatever Jane chose to do. There would be no begging her… because there would be no stopping her. What made Maura finally consider it was knowing that no matter what Jane did after the fact, her safety would be her main priority. Jane certainly wouldn't leap to put her in harm's way, but on the other hand, Maura might eventually have to face the music when it came to the legality of the situation. She couldn't see Jane defying the system for her… Circumventing it, maybe. But whatever it was, Maura would have to be okay with it.

Come hell or high water.

"Alright." She sat up and reached for her silk robe hanging over the low end of the bed's headboard. "But you're going to need some coffee first."