***31 months ago***
As the polished metal doors of the elevator glide open, Dr. Maura Isles steps into a realm bathed in a soft, welcoming glow. She adores the grand foyer that leads to her laboratory and office at the top floor of the Boston Police Department. The space is adorned with fine art, most pieces from her personal collection, each contributing to an atmosphere of peace and contemplation. Warm lights tucked away in the corners cast a gentle illumination, making the entryway feel like a gateway to a sanctuary of thought and precision. Maura pauses briefly, her eyes closing momentarily as she takes a deep, grounding breath before proceeding.
Her steps echo softly as she moves past the reception, her fingertips lightly caressing the petals of fresh orchids displayed in sleek, elegant vases. Passing the emblem of the Boston Police Department, she carries the light scent of blossoms into her domain.
Maura is usually the first to arrive in the mornings. Though it may seem a quaint holdover from a less seasoned professional, there is something profoundly satisfying about greeting the lab in its quiet stillness—before the sun rises, when the halls are shrouded in darkness, the desks empty, and her only companions are the faint buzz of computers and the hushed breath of the ventilation system. As the office fills and buzzes to life, the space transforms from a solitary haven to a bustling hub of activity. This daily metamorphosis not only invigorates the lab but also revitalizes her spirit, making her pulse with the vibrancy of life.
She sweeps through the office with poised, deliberate steps that reflect her years of command, settling into her chair with a practiced ease. Her assistant, Susie, steps in to outline the day: a calm morning followed by an autopsy at eleven, a lunch meeting with a prospective collaborator, a conference call with a counterpart in Vancouver, and a visit from a journalist. All manageable tasks. She thanks Susie and powers up her laptop, her inbox efficiently pared down. The concise emails are handled either in the quiet of early morning yoga or in transit to the office. Yet, some correspondences demand a deeper reflection, sculpted with precision and clarity—these she reserves for the solitude of her office, sitting authoritatively behind her minimalist, imposing desk. Here, ensconced in her expansive, elegantly crafted leather chair, she embodies the epitome of professional acumen, her formidable intellect and intrinsic authority perfectly poised to steer the forensic institute through any storm of challenge or controversy.
The shrill tone of her phone cuts through her concentration, and Maura Isles finishes her sentence with a brisk scratch of her pen before answering.
"Dr. Maura Isles."
A heavy silence hangs on the other end. Just as she is about to disconnect, a familiar voice stirs the stillness.
"Maura? It's...Jane..."
At that, Maura stills, the sharp pang of recent rebuffs mingling with the lingering doubts that have ebbed from a torrent to a mere stream in the last few weeks. A rush of cold fury floods her, chilling her from within. She inhales deeply, her training allowing her to mask the momentary crack in her composure.
"Jane," she responds, her tone frosted with formality.
"Maura... I... can we talk?" Jane's voice, strained and taut, conveys the gravity of her request. She is back in her apartment, having just turned on her phone after a hasty and all-too-abrupt departure.
Silence is Maura's initial reply. She could easily lash out with a venomous retort, yet she understands all too well the power of holding one's tongue. She has mastered the art of cloaking her vulnerabilities in quietude, rather than revealing them through rash words. So, she listens to Jane's uneasy breaths.
"Maura... please. Just 15 minutes. If after that you want nothing more to do with me, I'll accept it. But please, give me this time."
Maura glances at the clock; it is 9:03 AM. Her schedule is clear until the autopsy at 11. She contemplates making Jane wait—let her stew a little longer in her anxiety—but her own need for resolution, for a definitive end to weave through the narrative of their entanglement, presses her to decide.
"09:30 AM, at the French bistro on Golden Hill Square," she states crisply, terminating the call without a farewell.
Jane stares at the now silent phone, a knot of apprehension tightening in her stomach. This meeting, she realizes, might demand more of her than she initially anticipated. She needs to prepare, not just the words, but herself—for whatever closure, however sharp, might come.
xxx Shortly after xxx
Maura ends the call with an employee, only half-listening. She glances at her watch—it's 9:32 AM. She's careful not to arrive too early, as it might seem desperate, and that's a perception she intends to avoid at all costs. Arriving just a few minutes late strikes the perfect balance: just enough to imply it was intentional without needing an apology, but sufficient to make clear who sets the terms.
Thomas holds the door for her, and she steps thankfully under the shelter of the opened umbrella. She smooths a non-existent wrinkle from her pencil skirt, squares her shoulders, and lifts her head high. "I'll only need 15 minutes. You can wait here," she declares, answering the question he hadn't asked, and takes the umbrella from him.
She enters the quaint bistro, her eyes sweeping the room. It only takes a few seconds before she spots her appointment. Jane looks up, her recently tanned skin glowing with a golden hue. Their eyes lock, and while Jane offers a nearly shy smile, not a single muscle moves on Maura's stoic face.
She approaches the table and sits down. Jane slides a cup toward her.
"Green tea?"
*Interesting,* Maura thinks. She had mentioned this small detail to Jane over lunch a few weeks ago. The fact that Jane remembers surprises Maura so much that her typically impassive face betrays a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth.
She lifts the cup and inhales deeply. Over the rim, she looks at Jane, who is still watching her. Time stretches, and Maura can't tell if seconds or minutes pass. Slowly, her patience thins.
"Are you going to speak, or are we going to sit here in silence for these 15 minutes?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
"I..." Jane stammers, her eyes darting nervously around the bistro.
"Full sentences, please," Maura retorts sharply. Heads at nearby tables turn their way, and Maura closes her eyes briefly, cursing her quick temper. It has taken years, decades even, to master it. Only rarely does her fiery side surface, but when it does, it's moments like these.
"Sorry," she adds, her voice softer now.
Jane sighs and clutches her cup.
"Maura... it... it's complicated."
Maura raises an eyebrow again and sips her green tea. The grassy, fresh aroma reminds her of a cool summer morning, allowing herself a moment to linger in that warm memory.
"You ghosted me, Jane. What's complicated about that? If you didn't want to see me anymore, you could have just told me," Maura hisses quietly. The last thing she needs is a public scene.
"But it's not like that!" Jane hisses back, and Maura leans back, irritated. Once again, a few heads turn their way. Jane snorts in frustration and runs her hands through her hair. She looks out the window. The torrential rain has stopped, leaving only a few raindrops falling from a still-cloudy, dark sky.
"Let's take a walk," Jane suggests, grabbing her jacket and standing up without waiting for Maura's response. She's a few steps away before Maura, rolling her eyes, reluctantly gets moving. She hates taking orders, but she has nothing left to lose in this matter, so she follows Jane out of the small café.
Jane looks up at the sky and takes a deep breath. The scent of wet asphalt fills her lungs with its earthy, fresh smell. She abruptly turns left, and Maura follows until they reach a small park. Jane passes through a large arch covered in ivy. Maura checks her watch impatiently. "Your 15 minutes are almost up."
Jane has rehearsed this conversation hundreds of times in the mirror. She has spoken the words, changed them, turned them around. Rearranged the sentences to make them fit better. But they always seemed too superficial, too simple.
She stops and turns around. Maura stands between the street and the park, right under the archway, looking frustrated. Her foot taps the ground and her arms are crossed.
"Maura..." Jane starts to reach for Maura's crossed arms, then thinks better of it and lets her hand hover between them before wrapping it protectively around herself.
Maura shakes her head. It's an emotional rollercoaster. Somewhere between the steep rise of her unbridled anger and the descent of her disappointment, there's a loop of hope. Hope. That's why she agreed to this meeting.
"I have a complicated job, Maura," Jane finally finds the words. "This conversation... I shouldn't even be telling you this. But you deserve the truth, Maura," she takes a deep breath. "I work in a special military unit. A rapid response team, to put it simply. I get called to assignments at a moment's notice, and we never know when it will start or where we will go. From the moment the deployment order comes, all personal contact is prohibited. No calls, no messages. Nothing. It's a matter of national security," she pauses, waiting for Maura's reaction, but Maura just looks at her with a stoic expression. "That's why I haven't been in touch, Maura." She pauses again. "I didn't expect to be sent out so soon after my injury. I wasn't... I'm not even fully requalified and shouldn't have been on duty... I thought..." she looks at Maura. Tentatively, she lays her hand over Maura's arm. "I thought we had more time."
Maura squints her eyes. She was prepared for any number of excuses, for shallow apologies, even for a "let's just be friends" talk. She searches Jane's chocolate brown eyes, finding nothing but sincerity and regret.
The ringtone of Maura's phone breaks the silence.
She waits a few seconds to see if the caller would hang up. But it continues to vibrate relentlessly. "I need to take this," she apologizes as she pulls her phone from her purse and turns away to answer the call. It only takes a few seconds.
"Do you have to go?" Jane asks. The disappointment is evident, and Maura feels an almost overwhelming urge to bring back that breathtaking smile to Jane's beautiful face. Instead, she nods.
They walk back to the café in silence, where Maura's driver is still waiting. Suddenly, neither of them is in a hurry. Although the sidewalk is almost empty at this hour, allowing them ample space to move freely, they stay close to each other as if they've reached an unspoken agreement. Occasionally, they bump into each other, and their hands brush from time to time.
When they reach the car, Maura turns to Jane one last time and offers a smile. "Lunch, tomorrow, 12:00?" Jane nods and smiles back, and Maura is almost certain that smile could rival the rising sun on a warm summer day. She nods and bids farewell with a promise to send Jane a restaurant suggestion.
xxx 17 days later xxx
As the morning unfolds into a bustling midday, Maura's office remains a sanctuary of calm until a gentle knock at the door signals a shift in the day's rhythm. She looks up from her meticulous work, curious and slightly apprehensive about the interruption. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, pulling her fully away from her thoughts.
With a fluid motion, Maura rises from her chair, her movements precise and deliberate as she strides across the room to answer. She reaches the door, her hand resting lightly on the cool metal of the handle before she pulls it open. Standing in the threshold is Jane, her presence like a breath of fresh air in the stagnant quiet of the office.
Jane's arrival carries with it a subtle excitement, her eyes bright and a tentative smile playing at the corners of her lips. She steps inside, her gaze sweeping over the familiar surroundings of Maura's office, a place that speaks volumes about its occupant's organized and focused nature.
"Good to see you, Jane," Maura says, her voice warm despite the surprise. "What brings you here today?"
Jane's response is quick, a reflection of her purpose. "I was nearby and thought it might be good to catch up, see how things are going."
Maura nods, appreciating the gesture and the chance to break from her routine. She gestures for Jane to take a seat on the couch and sits down herself, turning what was an unexpected visit into an opportunity for connection. As Jane settles next to her, Maura feels a slight, welcome ease amidst the usual rigor of her day.
For a moment, a warm, pleasant silence envelops the room, slightly alleviating the dull ache that has been lurking in Maura's head all morning.
Observing her, Jane tilts her head, her brow furrowed. The longer the silence stretches, the more Maura feels as if the carefully constructed walls around her are being systematically dismantled, brick by brick. It's a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.
"You look tired, Maura," Jane's voice carries a note of concern that's unmistakable.
"High praise indeed, thank you," Maura quips automatically, and the laugh that follows is charming but forced—a reflexive response honed over years, one she'd offer to anyone. But this is Jane. Jane, who she messages daily and with whom she has recently shared several lunch dates. Jane, her sole confidante in a city filled with vultures waiting to exploit any weakness in the daughter of Paddy Doyle who just happens to run the Forensic Institute. Jane remains unfazed across from her, her gaze sharp and knowing, yet her expression gentle.
Maura sighs. "It's been a rough morning. A rough week," she confesses, her laugh humorless. Her voice carries a weight as if she's holding up the weariness of the world. "I've been having trouble sleeping," she admits, closing her eyes momentarily.
When she looks up, she thinks she sees pity in Jane's eyes. Suddenly and unexpectedly, Maura finds herself watching as the impenetrable mask she's accustomed to wearing snaps back into place. Desperate to stay present, real, and raw here with Jane, she fights to keep it at bay. Sensing this, perhaps seeing it, Jane places a hand gently on Maura's bare knee. Warmth floods through Maura, seeping into every fiber of her being and banishing the chill of her stony façade.
"I brought you some food. I stopped by that Italian place near the military hospital to pick up a salad for you. And I… wanted to talk to you about something," Jane rushes out the words as she gestures animatedly, a habit Maura has grown accustomed to over the past weeks. Jane's face is hopeful, her smile infectious and warm.
"I… thank you. I'm actually starving," Maura reaches for the box, her fingertips brushing Jane's. The touch is… electrifying. It's fleeting, but it makes Maura's breath hitch for a moment, and she silently prays Jane didn't notice. "What did you want to talk about?" she asks as she opens the box.
Jane hesitates. "I have to go for a requalification test tomorrow," she starts, and Maura raises an eyebrow in question. "If I pass, which I expect to, I'll be back on active duty by tomorrow afternoon…" Jane adds. "I just wanted you to know this time… before I…" Maura cuts off Jane's hesitant words with, "Thank you for telling me." She smiles, and Jane exhales in relief.
Suddenly, there's a knock at Maura's door and Susie enters. "Dr. Isles, your meeting with the mayor and the district attorney is in 10 minutes." The door closes again and Maura stands up, covering her emerging nerves so adeptly that she surprises herself. "I wanted to ask you something before you go," she says as she walks Jane to the door, her hand resting on the heavy wooden frame. "I'm going to a night event at the zoo on Saturday and I was wondering if you'd like to join me." Maura discovered in a recent conversation that Jane shares her fascination with wildlife, often relishing the chance to see animals in more natural settings, much like she enjoys the clear skies during deployments in the desert. Jane turns, her mouth agape, her eyes wide. Maura's confidence falters like a wilting flower. "Only if you have time… and are here, of course?" she adds quietly, uncertainly.
Jane's smile becomes warm and inviting. "That sounds wonderful, Maura. I'd love to come along if I can make the time." A tingling warmth flows through Maura's veins, bringing a broad smile to her face.
"I'm looking forward to it," Maura responds, the smile still playing on her lips.
Jane hugs her briefly but firmly. "Me too," she says softly before saying goodbye. Maura watches her leave the room and savors the warm feeling that Jane has left behind.
xxx 4 days later xxx
Maura changes dresses for the third time. She settles on a gray midi dress made of cashmere and silk that hugs her curves just right. The event isn't a gala, so there's no need for overly formal attire. Yet, it's not a business meeting either, so she opts not to wear a skirt and blouse. She lets her hair cascade over her bare right shoulder and completes the look with her favorite black Louboutin heels. Exceptionally, she applies dark red lipstick to match her fingernails. With one final glance in the mirror, she leaves her house and lets Thomas open the door for her.
The city is vibrant, the evening pleasant, and the streets are bustling with people soaking up the last rays of the sun. The sky is dotted with small, perfectly shaped clouds, and the sun casts the heavens in a brilliant orange glow.
Running a few minutes late, Maura steps out of the car and thanks Thomas before heading to the arranged meeting spot right in front of the zoo entrance.
She waits, patient, glancing at her watch now and then. Thirty minutes and one unanswered call later, Maura enters the large, brightly lit entrance of the zoo. Alone.
Okay folks, this is Chapter 2. Thanks for reviewing Chapter 1 so far! What are your thoughts on Chapter 2? I'm still a bit unsure about whether to continue...what do you think? Are you still with me?