*16 months ago*
Jane propels herself forward, her legs moving with desperate urgency under the relentless downpour of the monsoon. Behind her, Frankie and the team maintain a close pursuit, the sound of their heavy footsteps blending with the torrential rain.
The weight of the limp body in her arms increases with every step, yet Jane battles against the overwhelming fatigue that grips her muscles. Two kilometers—just two kilometers more to the extraction point. Her clothing, saturated, clings to her skin, adding unbearable weight, while her legs scream in agony and her lungs gasp for air. She is determined—she must save her.
Suddenly, Jane's foot catches on a hidden root, and she stumbles, her right hand striking the muddy earth just in time to prevent a catastrophic fall onto the woman she cradles.
Beside her, Frankie collapses to his knees, urgency etched on his face.
"Jane, we have to keep moving. She's gone. You have to leave her here! Please, Jane, you won't make it otherwise!" His voice cracks with desperation.
"Never, Frankie! I'm not abandoning Maura," Jane counters fiercely, wiping the rain-mixed blood from her face with a shaking hand. She initiates CPR, her arms trembling from exertion and raw emotion.
Frankie grabs her sharply by the collar, his fingers pressing into her jaw with desperate firmness.
"Jane! Janie!" He snaps fingers before her eyes, trying to capture her gaze—cloudy, confused. Not this again.
"This isn't Maura, Jane. You have malaria. You're feverish. You're hallucinating!" His voice is stern, edged with panic.
"Let me go!" Jane's voice is a raw, determined shout.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Jane breaks free from Frankie's hold. She must save Maura. She kneels in the jungle's thick mud, cradling the lifeless form in her arms, her tears mixing with the rain as she mumbles words of comfort and denial.
Frankie signals urgently to Cavanaugh and Korsak, who have just arrived, panting from the effort. Together, they try to pry Jane away from her delusion, grasping her arms and pulling her toward the planned rendezvous point.
"NO! NO! Maura!" Jane's cries pierce the storm as she fights against their hold, her body wracked with sobs and resistance.
xxx Two days later xxx
Maura draws a deep breath before answering the call.
"Hello, Lucas. What can I do for you?" Her voice floats through the room, melodious and soothing.
It's just after 9 PM. She had already changed into her nightgown, curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine and a magazine, when Lucas's message arrived. Lucas, notorious for his arrogance—and, frankly, not the brightest among the prosecutors.
Jane steps into the house, catching the tail end of Maura's conversation. She pauses, detecting only Maura's voice. She must be on a call, Jane thinks, unable to discern the words.
She is…angry.
Jane strips off her heavy boots, military pants, and jacket, dropping them onto a small olive-green duffel bag. This ritual, honed since her first deployment, involves a shower at the barracks followed by a change into fresh clothes. Yet, as soon as she closes the front door behind her, she sheds everything that binds her to the military and her missions, transforming like a caterpillar shedding its cocoon.
Barefoot and dressed only in underwear and a sports bra, Jane enters the living room.
Maura stands by the window, her back to Jane, draped in a black silk nightgown that ends just above her thighs. In the mirror's reflection, Jane can see the deep neckline revealing much of Maura's cleavage. The fabric hugs every curve exquisitely, emphasizing her seemingly endless legs.
"I can't stop you if you choose this path, Lucas. I must emphasize one last time not to mistake my professional and courteous demeanor for a lack of resolve. If there has been any misinterpretation on your part, it may be necessary to underscore other facets of my professional competence."
Her voice is steady, but there's an unmistakable edge of danger beneath the calm.
A surge of desire courses through Jane, igniting a deep-seated yearning. Eight grueling weeks have passed. She strides across the living room with purpose, her resolve to keep her hands to herself faltering with each step.
Maura starts as she feels warm hands on her bare thighs and moist lips at her neck. Instinctively, her body leans into the touch behind her. A free hand snakes back, grasping Jane's neck. Slowly, Jane eases the nightgown upward, her palms sliding over Maura's perfect hips and up her flat stomach, until they come to rest just below Maura's breasts.
"So, so sexy," Jane whispers into the ear not pressed to the phone, her teeth nibbling at Maura's earlobe, leaving a trail of damp kisses.
Maura's breath hitches, her eyes flutter shut. Jane's voice, deep and husky, fills her senses. Whatever Lucas has been saying, Maura hasn't been listening. Her mind seems to shut down from the overwhelming sensations.
"The discussion is over, Lucas. Good night," Maura concludes the call, praying he didn't catch the tremble in her voice.
As soon as the call ends, Jane's hands travel to Maura's breasts, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, drawing a moan from deep within Maura.
It only takes a few more seconds for Jane to decide that there's simply too much fabric in the way.
Maura turns and bites Jane's lower lip before their lips crash together in a fierce kiss.
"Welcome home, baby," she murmurs, her legs wrapping around Jane's waist as she lets herself be carried off to the bedroom.
xxx A few hours later xxx
Maura shifts gently in her semi-conscious state, pulling Jane closer in an instinctive need for intimacy. She glances at her watch; it's only 8 AM on a peaceful Saturday. A smile of contentment brushes her lips. Last night's reunion, filled with deep love, has quickly climbed to the pinnacle of her most cherished experiences with Jane. Maura can't remember when last she had felt such repeated, intense joy.
Beside her, Jane stirs, her movements restless. This disturbance likely roused Maura from her light slumber.
Though they haven't spoken about it since those initial restless nights, Jane's nightmares about her time away are no longer a rarity for Maura. Jane is fully aware that in those first few nights back, Maura's soothing touches along her back and through her hair help dispel the haunting specters of war that seem to follow her home. And even though Maura never voices it, her eyes the next morning speak volumes—a silent thank you for being there and an apologetic sorry for keeping you awake. The subtle need for closeness that Jane exhibits in the mornings after her return speaks to an unspoken pact—they don't need to discuss those nights.
Adjusting her position, Maura once again begins to trace soothing circles across Jane's back, her whispers a soft balm affirming, "I'm here" and "everything's okay."
She feels Jane shudder within her embrace. Maura's hand wanders to Jane's forehead, now hot with fever. Rising, she fetches a thermometer and a cool cloth. The device confirms her fears: over 104 degrees Fahrenheit. She tenderly wipes Jane's forehead with the cloth.
"What're you doing?" Jane's voice is weak, her eyes glazed. "It's cold."
"You have a high fever, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Jane insists, pulling the covers tighter and drawing Maura closer.
With a sigh, Maura reaches for her phone and finds an ibuprofen for Jane, noticing an incoming message from Nina.
Since their initial bonding over a game night, Maura and Nina have developed a casual friendship, marked by sporadic coffees and the occasional lunch or breakfast—a simple way to check in on each other's well-being.
Nina's text reads: "Breakfast for four today? See you later."
Checking the time, Maura recalls their initial plan for a private breakfast at 10 AM, but with Jane and Frankie back, a group breakfast had seemed perfect—if only Jane weren't ill.
She texts back: "Jane is sick, I think we'll stay home."
Shortly after, her phone rings. Stepping away to not disturb Jane, she answers.
"Frankie, is everything okay?"
"Maura. How high?" Frankie's voice is urgent. When Maura hesitates, he clarifies, "The fever, Maura. How high is it?"
"Over 104 degrees. But how did you—"
"Malaria. It's malaria, Maura." There's a heavy pause. "She didn't tell you." It's not a question but a confirmation. Then he adds, "The meds are in her bag. I assume she went straight to you from the debriefing. The deployment was... it was tough on her."
Frankie's tone remains carefully neutral, respecting the boundary of not discussing the details of Jane's feverish nightmares or the dire escape that nearly cost her life—all because a rookie's negligence left his malaria pills ruined by rain, prompting Jane to sacrifice her own supply.
"I'll come over later with Nina. Text me if you find the medications. Otherwise, I'll bring some more."
xxx Two weeks later xxx
Angela is diligently preparing soup in Maura's kitchen when Maura unlocks the apartment door. As Angela turns down the flame, she spins around to envelop Maura in a welcoming embrace. "Maura, darling, how was your meeting?"
Maura lets out a chuckle, "It was dreadful, but thanks for asking." She gratefully takes the wine glass Angela offers. "How's Jane doing?"
With an exaggerated snort, Angela replies, "My daughter is as stubborn as a mule."
"You don't say!" Maura laughs, joining in the light-hearted moment.
Angela playfully nudges Maura's shoulder, their laughter mingling in the warm kitchen air. "She's nearly driven me mad. By God, Maura, you deserve a medal. I'd forgotten how headstrong my daughter can be," Angela adds, her laughter echoing off the walls. "She's asleep now. You can freshen up if you'd like, the soup will take another twenty minutes or so."
"Thank you," Maura says, and they share another warm embrace, a testament to the familial bond they've nurtured since Maura first entered their lives. Angela has always treated Maura like another daughter, and Jane often jokes that in a theoretical breakup, she'd be the one put up for adoption, not Maura.
Moving into the dimly lit bedroom, Maura sits on the edge of the mattress. Jane's eyes flicker open, glassy and clouded with fever. "Hey, sweetheart, how are you feeling?"
"Fine," Jane murmurs, her eyes closing again as Maura gently strokes her hair. "Are you hungry?" Jane nods weakly. "I'll bring you some soup later, okay?" Jane shakes her head, a stubborn edge to her voice, "I can get up and eat the soup at the table."
Maura knows better than to argue in such moments. "Okay, baby, I'll shower and then we'll eat together. Alright?" Jane nods and quickly drifts back to sleep under Maura's soothing touch.
Twenty minutes later, Maura and Angela sit together at the table, the homemade soup warming them from inside out.
"Janie is really lucky to have you by her side. Thank you, Maura, for taking such good care of her. It's comforting to know she has you," Angela says with a heartfelt smile.
"Thank you, Angela. But truly, I am the lucky one. Jane is wonderful, and I am so grateful for how welcoming you've been to me," Maura responds, her voice tinged with emotion.
"Don't be silly, of course, we welcomed you. You're a wonderful person, Maura. You two are perfect together. I can see how happy you make her! She really loves you very much."
Maura fights back tears and whispers softly, "I love her too."
"I know, my dear," Angela responds, patting Maura's hand gently. They finish their meal in a comfortable silence, enjoying the ease of each other's company. After cleaning up the kitchen, Angela takes her leave.
Maura closes the door behind Angela and returns to the bedroom with a radiant smile. She lies down beside Jane, feeling as if her heart might burst with love. Jane's family has been warm, kind, and endearingly genuine, filling the void left by Maura's own family with remarkable ease and grace.
xxx A few weeks later xxx
Nearly six weeks pass before the malaria finally begins to recede. Throughout this time, Jane endures relentless cycles of chilling fevers, sweats, and brief respite on better days.
Reclining on the sofa, Jane watches a documentary about the Red Sox as Maura approaches with two steaming cups of tea. Gently, Maura strokes Jane's hair, coaxing a weary yawn from her; Jane's frame is gaunt, her complexion ashen.
"How are you feeling, gorgeous?" Maura inquires, proffering a handful of pills. "Vitamins," she clarifies.
"Thank you," Jane responds, swallowing the pills without hesitation—a telltale sign to Maura of her still precarious health. Jane rests her head in Maura's lap, and Maura begins to ease the tension from Jane's neck with careful, soothing motions. A soft sigh escapes Jane as Maura leans down to press a tender kiss onto her temple.
"I think you've beaten it."
"God, I hope so. I can't take much more, Maur. I'm so exhausted."
"I know, baby," Maura murmurs softly. "Sleep a little, I'm right here."
The journey to this moment has been arduous for Jane. It was a struggle against herself, against the relentless tide of her illness. She had stubbornly tried to mask her suffering, pushing herself to keep active on days free from fever. The many reassurances she offered—that she was fine, that it wasn't so bad—were never enough to convince Maura. Just before the onset of the fifth bout of illness, as they sat on the couch, Maura absorbed in an article about nanotechnology's medical applications, Jane reading quietly at the other end, their feet touching, Maura had sensed the onset of another chill. Setting her magazine aside, she reached out silently. Jane's weak protest, "It's okay, I'm fine," couldn't hide the truth from Maura's perceptive eyes—her crumbling facade, her moist eyes, her clenched fists. Maura moved closer, touched Jane's cheek gently, and reassured her, "Jane… darling. It's okay not to always be strong. Let go, I've got you, I promise." That was all it took; Jane collapsed into Maura's waiting arms, her defenses shattered, revealing her more vulnerable self. From that moment, Jane adhered to Maura's careful regimen, accepting her medications without resistance, seeking comfort in Maura's embrace with each new shiver.
Jane's voice draws Maura from her thoughts. "A penny for your thoughts."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Maura asks, her tone free of blame. Jane hesitates, the weight of her silence heavy between them. "I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want to be a burden. I thought I could tough it out when it started again. That was foolish. I'm sorry."
"You will never be a burden to me."
Maura inhales deeply, her eyes closing briefly before she whispers, "I love you, Jane." The words feel new and profound, as if spoken in a foreign tongue.
Jane lifts her gaze, her large, chocolate-brown eyes luminous. A smile spreads across her face, radiant and comforting. "I love you too, Maur."
xxx 8 days later xxx
Maura alights from the car and waves a brief farewell to Thomas. She checks her watch as she hastens toward her home—it's just past 11 PM. The day has left her drained; her head throbs, her entire body aches.
Her visit to the prison had been bewildering. From the moment the call from the penitentiary reached her, she sensed it was a mistake. Her father's overly sweet voice seeped through the receiver, compelling Maura to grip her phone until her fingers ached. Despite her better judgment, she had driven straight to the prison, yielding to Paddy's request for a visit. She entered the stark, windowless room and took a seat on a stark plastic chair, dismissively brushing away thoughts of its cleanliness before facing her father. "So, I'm here. What do you want?" she asked, her voice icy. Her father's laugh was mocking, sinister. "Can't a father request a visit from his daughter?" he countered. The conversation ebbed and flowed, Maura's patience wearing thin. "If that's all, I can leave now," she retorted, her frustration palpable. Rising to leave, she was stopped by Paddy's piercing words, "If you think she loves you, you're wrong. She has playthings like you all over the world." Maura turned, her gaze locking with her father's. It was difficult to discern his intentions, but dealings with Paddy Doyle were always laden with complexity. As she turned away, he sneered, "Do you really believe someone like YOU could ever love? You're cold-hearted, your heart is made of stone." Maura blinked back tears as he continued, "You're a Doyle, Maura. You're not worthy of love. We Doyles are lone wolves. Jane Rizzoli doesn't love you, and you don't love her." His words filled the room with scorn. Maura stood paralyzed, his accusations slicing through her defenses. What if he was right? Hadn't she always questioned what Jane saw in her? Why would Jane choose her, Dr. Maura Isles, the notorious daughter of Paddy Doyle?
"Hey, Babe."
Startled from her reverie, Maura realizes she's already home, the door unlocked without her conscious thought.
Jane greets her consistently each evening, a steadfast ritual of care. Tonight is no exception as Jane assists Maura with her coat, her embrace enveloping her, her lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss, her inquiry about Maura's day sincere and concerned.
Pausing in the doorway, Maura's mind echoes with Paddy's harsh words. What has she done to deserve Jane? This incredible, warm-hearted, resilient woman who now gazes at her with the deepest, most compassionate chocolate brown eyes she has ever known. Jane's smile is infectious, pulling a smile from Maura in return, despite the heaviness in her heart.
Jane steps closer, concern etching her features as she studies Maura's pale, exhausted face. She opens her arms wide, and Maura, overwhelmed by the comfort offered, falls into her embrace.
"Hot bath?" Jane murmurs softly.
Maura nods, grateful beyond words, her heart aching with a mix of sorrow from her father's cruel words and solace in Jane's tender care.
Jane effortlessly lifts Maura into her arms and carries her to the bathroom. In a seamless, almost choreographed motion, she helps Maura shed her clothes and gently places her into the large corner bathtub now filling with steaming water. She lights a candle to cast a soft glow, dims the lights, and brings two glasses of wine to set the mood.
For Maura, days like these reaffirm that choosing Jane was one of the best decisions of her life. She closes her eyes, allowing her body to float momentarily, surrendering to the warmth enveloping her.
The water's gentle lapping mixes with the sensation of Jane's hands exploring her bare skin. Jane positions herself behind Maura, enveloping her between her legs in a protective, intimate embrace.
Their comfortable silence is a canvas, painting a picture of deep connection as Maura relishes every inch of contact.
"I'm worried about you, Maura," Jane confesses, her voice filled with concern.
Feeling the tension in Maura's body, Jane persists gently. "There's really no need," Maura replies, her tone tinged with a professional detachment.
Undeterred, Jane brushes Maura's hair aside and presses a reassuring kiss onto her shoulder. Her hands wander with intent, trailing slowly down Maura's arms to her hands, finally intertwining their fingers.
Maura sighs, a sound of surrender, and tilts her head back. She feels the tension drain away under Jane's tender ministrations.
"Please don't shut me out, Maur." Jane's plea is soft as she kisses Maura's shoulder again.
In response, Maura guides Jane's hands—one to her breast, the other between her legs. "Fuck me, Commander," she moans with exaggerated desire.
"Maura…" Jane's voice is a blend of admonition and affection as she anchors their linked hands at the edge of the tub, halting Maura's advance.
"Baby, stop it," Jane gently reprimands.
Maura's whisper, seductive and desperate, fills the air, "Don't you want to hear me scream your name?" She tries once more to direct Jane's touch, but Jane resists, maintaining their embrace.
Maura squirms, creating ripples that lap over the tub's edge. Jane tightens her embrace, effectively stilling Maura's movements.
"What is this, Maura?" Jane's tone remains soft, filled with unwavering love and concern. "You know I always want you. I love it when you cum because of me. But not like this."
The struggle subsides as Maura concedes, her eyes tightly closed, fighting back tears.
"God, I'm so broken, Jane," she confesses, her voice thick with emotion. Jane's response is to stroke her hair soothingly and plant a gentle kiss behind her ear.
"Tell me."
But Maura shakes her head, refusing to divulge her fears.
"What are you afraid of?" Jane's voice is steady, her thumb wiping away Maura's tears.
"That I'll ruin everything," Maura murmurs, her heart laid bare.
"Baby, you won't ruin anything. What happened?"
Maura sighs heavily, "I was at my father's today…in prison."
Jane grumbles, her disdain for Paddy Doyle palpable.
"He told me that I could never love you, that no one would ever love me, that you don't love me and you have thousands of other women," Maura whispers, her voice breaking with each word.
"Darling, you know that's not true. He's trying to hurt you. Don't let him win."
"What if he's right, Jane? I haven't been loved in so long, maybe even never…I don't even know how to do it. Maybe I'm incapable of loving? I'll destroy everything good between us." Maura's admission is heart-wrenching.
Jane's resolve hardens, her protective instincts flaring. "Don't let him get to you. I know you. You love me; I feel it every day. And I love you. And on days like today, I'll simply show you how love is done. Okay? Let me love you, Maura."
Maura nods hesitantly, allowing herself to believe in the possibility of a love without conditions.
"You're not alone in this relationship. We're a team. You told me a few weeks ago that I don't always have to be strong because you're there to catch me. The same goes for you. I will always catch you when you fall."
"Beaten with my own weapons," Maura murmurs with a smile, a trace of her usual humor returning.
"I learned from the best," Jane replies playfully, biting Maura's ear gently.
"And who might that be?" Maura turns to face Jane, curiosity dancing in her eyes.
"Let me think…" Jane taps her chin theatrically, then leans forward and whispers softly in Maura's ear, "She's beautiful, insanely intelligent, incredibly sexy, and I really love her very much."
"Do you?" Maura teases, a spark of playfulness in her tone.
Jane lightly caresses Maura's nipple before letting her hand wander agonizingly slowly between Maura's legs. Maura arches expectantly.
"Let me show you how much I love you."
Hours later, Jane rests her head on Maura's chest, cocooned comfortably between her legs. Maura's eyes are closed, one arm casually draped behind her head, while the fingers of her other hand tenderly massage Jane's scalp. Jane exhales a satisfied sigh, attuned to the rhythmic beating of Maura's heart as it settles into a peaceful cadence.
"Let's get away for a few days," Maura suggests, her voice soft but deliberate.
Jane responds with a drowsy murmur, "'kay."
The suggestion almost seems lost in the tranquility of the moment until Jane speaks up again, minutes later. "Do you even have time? I mean, with crime scenes, autopsies, and all that?"
"I'm the chief medical examiner of the state. Essentially, I can do whatever I want," Maura states with a tone of gentle authority.
"Hmm… where do you want to go?" Jane asks, curiosity coloring her voice.
"I have a cabin in the northern mountains. It's quite secluded—no internet, no cell service… I haven't been there in years."
"That sounds great. Let's go there," Jane murmurs, her words transitioning into gentle kisses along Maura's collarbone and neck.
"Why are you so easy to convince?" Maura murmurs back, a note of amusement mixing with her contented sigh.
"I just want to be with you, no matter where in the world. I love you," Jane confesses simply, her voice resonant with emotion, expressing a deep, unconditional affection.
xxx Three days later xxx
Jane glances at the display of her cellphone. No signal. Maura hadn't exaggerated. With a resigned flick, she switches it off and tosses it into the small bag she brought. The journey took longer than expected, weaving through the memories and miles alike.
"Do you want the grand tour of the house now, or should we eat first?" Maura inquires, peeking inside the refrigerator. Her staff have prepared well; the cabin awaits their stay with a fully stocked fridge, a replenished woodpile beside the fireplace, and everything meticulously clean.
"Food, of course!" Jane claps her hands, her voice filled with enthusiasm as she heads toward the kitchen. It turns out that Jane's culinary skills significantly surpass Maura's, a fact that brings a chuckle from Maura. "Of course! What a question."
Hours later, the ambiance shifts to a quieter tone. Maura reclines on her side on the sofa, her head propped on one arm, while Jane lies on her back before her. The flickering firelight casts a golden, dancing glow on Jane's sun-kissed skin, the light playing across her features and illuminating the room with a soft, warm light. With her free hand, Maura traces the outline of a scar—an old memory etched in Jane's skin from when they first met. Each touch brings a flinch from Jane, a reminder of past pains.
Maura lifts her hand, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Jane's face. She leans down, her lips meeting Jane's in a tender kiss. Her hand wanders further down, gliding over Jane's hip bone to where the roots of the tattooed tree stretch from her shoulder blade nearly to the inside of her knee, covering another story, another scar. "Maura!" Jane's exclamation carries a mix of command and vulnerability.
"What happened here, baby?" Maura's voice is soft, probing.
"Maura…" Jane's reply is a whisper, fragile as the flicker of candlelight.
Maura kisses Jane's reddened lips again. "Tell me," she whispers, her plea gentle yet insistent.
Jane looks into Maura's eyes, filled with a mix of pleading and strength. "Please, Jane." Maura's fingers touch the scar again, causing another flinch. Jane hesitates, her voice low and filled with reluctance. "I'm not proud of my body being covered in scars," she confesses, looking away.
Maura waits, her presence patient and comforting, until Jane meets her gaze again. "I know. Sometimes it feels like there's a part of you that you don't let me see."
"I don't want you to see the ugly parts...the dark side of the life I chose," Jane admits softly.
"I love ALL parts of you, the beautiful ones and those you're not proud of. They make you who you are. Don't shut me out, Jane, let me see everything. Okay?" Jane turns her head, torn, almost fearful. "Maura…you really don't want to know…"
But Maura nods, her resolve firm. "Yes, I want to know everything that belongs to you." Jane shakes her head, sighing heavily. "Are you sure...?" Maura confirms with a nod. "Okay…"
Maura once again traces the scar, and Jane manages to suppress the reflexive flinch. "What happened here, sweetheart?"
"Second deployment. My first injury in the field. I had to take cover and slid into a rusty iron rod." Maura shifts slightly, leaning forward to kiss the rough spot beneath the tattoo. "And here?" She touches another scar on Jane's upper arm. "Grazing bullet. Kandahar." Maura kisses that spot too, then tilts Jane's head to trace a small scar behind her right ear. "Rockslide, Peru." She kisses there as well, then wipes away a lone tear that escapes Jane's eyes before capturing her lips in a long, deep kiss.
"Turn over," Maura requests softly. Jane hesitates, but Maura reassures her with a gentle kiss. Jane turns onto her stomach and Maura's hand explores further, reaching the three round scars near Jane's spine. "These here?"
Jane shivers. "I got shot, four years ago." Maura kisses each scar tenderly. Jane then turns to her side, looking into Maura's eyes, bright with unshed tears. "I almost…" She halts, the rest unsaid.
Silence falls, and Jane continues, "I haven't told anyone, not even my family…" She pauses, her gaze falling. "A bullet couldn't be removed. It's lodged between my spine and heart," she whispers. "It's a ticking time bomb." Then, meeting Maura's shocked gaze, she hears Mauras exclaimed "Excuse me??"
"Sorry, I shouldn't have told you. I shouldn't burden anyone with this," Jane stutters, reaching for a kiss, but Maura pulls away.
"Are you insane?" Maura's voice, though gentle, carries an edge of reprimand.
"Maura, just forget it, okay?" Jane sits up, her back now to Maura, the urge to flee overwhelming her. "I knew it was a mistake! I told you there's a dark side you don't want to see!" She rises swiftly, dressing quickly, and grabs her gear.
"Jane! Wait!" Maura tries to catch up, wrapping herself in a thin blanket. She's too slow; Jane's military-trained reflexes are too quick.
The front door swings open and Jane stands on the threshold, Maura catching up just in time. "Jane!"
"I need some fresh air! Let me go, Maura!" Jane insists. Maura grasps her arm, trying to hold her back. "Jane…" But the resolve in Jane's eyes tells her she has already lost this battle. "Just promise me you'll come back, okay?" Jane nods. "Promise." With that, she steps into the dark night.
Jane races through the biting cold, her breath forming clouds that vanish into the icy air. She trudges through knee-deep snow, her mind a turbulent sea of regrets and what-ifs. How could she have believed that Maura would want to embrace this hidden, darker side of her? The thought that she should share such a profound secret, one she hadn't even disclosed to her own brother, gnaws at her. For over four years, this secret had been her silent companion, a burden she had chosen to bear alone. She had considered confiding in Casey, but his anger during a hospital visit had sealed her resolve to keep her silence. It was a weight meant for her shoulders alone—unfair and selfish to pass to Maura. Yet, here she was again, making the same mistake she had with Casey.
Her heart pounds fiercely against her chest, driving her to quicken her pace, to outrun her spiraling thoughts. She yearns to silence the relentless whirl of her mind.
Suddenly, she stumbles and collapses to her knees. The cold bites at her face, tears freezing upon her cheeks, her eyes burning with the sting of frost and emotion. Frustrated and overwhelmed, she yanks off her gloves to press her hands against her eyes, sobbing with a ferocity and freedom she rarely permits herself.
The unexpected warmth of a hand on her back causes her to jerk upright. "Jane, look at me," comes a gentle, firm command from Maura, yet Jane doesn't comply. Instead, her voice breaks as she whispers, "You're angry. Please, let me be."
"Jane… Babe… please, look at me." Maura's voice is now free of anger, only concern lacing her tone. Jane hesitantly turns, allowing Maura to kiss her shoulder encouragingly. Slowly, Jane faces Maura, her eyes swimming with tears. "I'm sorry I told you," she murmurs so faintly it's almost lost in the wind. "Can we just forget it, please? Can you please not be angry anymore?"
Maura's heart clenches with a rush of protective fury—not at Jane, but at the situation. "Baby, I don't want to forget it. And I'm not angry at you. I'm angry because you've had no one to share this burden with for four years. It infuriates me that HE made you think you have to bear such things alone. Jane…" She tenderly wipes away Jane's tears with her bare hand, her touch gentle. "I love you. You don't have to carry these worries alone anymore. I'm here, standing by your side in every battle. I want you—all of you, with every worry, every burden, the light and the dark, all your baggage."
Overwhelmed by the depth of Maura's commitment, Jane breaks down into sobs, collapsing into Maura's embrace. After a moment, Maura carefully lifts her, guiding them both up from their cold, snowy seat. "Let's go back, sweetheart. You'll freeze out here."
Back in the warmth of their home, they settle into the hot bathtub, Jane's back against Maura's chest. Maura runs a sponge gently over Jane's arms and shoulders, the soothing motions calming the storm within Jane.
"Can we talk about this bullet sometime?" Maura broaches the subject delicately, her kisses soft on Jane's shoulder. Jane exhales a weary sigh. "Yes, but not today." Understanding, Maura nods. "I love you, Jane Rizzoli." Jane manages a small smile, warmed by the heat and the love surrounding her. "I love you, Maura Isles."
xxx A few weeks later xxx
"I'm thinking about quitting."
It's a serene Sunday morning, the kind that holds the world in a gentle hush, and Jane has been home for nearly three months. Maura cherishes each second of their shared tranquility.
She sets aside her magazine and gazes down at Jane's face nestled in her lap, her hands instinctively soothing Jane's hair and forehead.
"I've been at this for nine years. I've completed nearly fifty tours. Maybe it's time to consider something else?" Jane's voice floats up, tinged with contemplation, her eyes searching the ceiling as if it might hold the answers.
"Are you thinking of quitting because of me?" Maura's voice is gentle, her face a mask of calm inquiry.
"No... maybe," Jane admits, her tone layered with uncertainty, her eyes seeking something in Maura's expression that remains unreadable.
She sits up, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Maura's, seeking physical connection as if to anchor the moment.
"I never really thought about stopping before. When the rush of adrenaline hit out there, it was all-consuming. Facing death on a mission was a risk I knowingly embraced every time I boarded that plane," she explains with a reflective shrug. "But now, these past few weeks have given me a lot to ponder."
"Jane. Baby. I don't want you to give up what you love for me. I would never ask you to make that sacrifice," Maura responds, her voice filled with unwavering support.
"I know," Jane murmurs, biting her lip in thought.
"On the last mission, we nearly got caught. We were submerged in water for hours, waiting, guns at the ready. I was freezing, miserable. I was experiencing a bout of malaria, though I didn't know it then. The flashlights of the men... they swept too close over our heads more than once."
The distress flickers across Maura's face. Jane seldom shares the harrowing details of her missions, not just because they are classified, but also to shield Maura from the harsh realities that accompany them. She takes Maura's hand, pressing it against her chest. "Baby, look at me. Into my eyes. I'm here. I'm alive." She seals her words with a kiss, holding Maura close until her breathing steadies, her embrace a fortress against the world.
"I thought, 'Maura's going to kill me if I catch a cold,'" Jane says with a light laugh, her hand running through her curls, lightening the mood. Maura offers a small, amused smile in return.
"And in that moment, when it seemed we might not make it, all I could think about was you. I hadn't told you I loved you often enough. I wondered how you would find out. If you would ever find out. When I got home, I made sure to add you to my file as an emergency contact."
Silence falls again, the only sound Jane's steady heartbeat under Maura's fingertips.
"Jane... you love your job. And your team."
"I know. And I love you."
Maura's heart skips as those simple words weave through the air between them.
"I love our life. These last three months have been incredible. I dread the thought of leaving again soon."
Jane's gaze drifts past Maura to the winter scene outside. The sun bathes the landscape in a brilliant, crisp light, the snow sparkling like a myriad of diamonds. It's the last beautiful day before the forecasted descent into rain and grey fog, a typical pattern for this season and region, as Maura had explained. Jane, often away, relies on Maura's descriptions to paint a picture of the seasons she misses.
Maura snuggles closer, slipping her hands under Jane's sweater with a mischievous grin.
"If you do that, we won't be leaving the apartment today," Jane teases, capturing Maura's lips in a kiss that promises more than warmth.
"And what if that's my plan?" Maura whispers back, her words a tender trap.
Jane chuckles and pulls Maura to her feet, wrapping her in an embrace that speaks of endless depths of love and protection.
"Come on, let's get outside. The weather's perfect. You spend too much time indoors, buried in your office, the lab, or that dark morgue. You need some sun and fresh air."
Maura melts against her, touched by Jane's tender care, a stark contrast to the solitude that had once defined her life. Now, with Jane, she experiences a profound sense of being cherished, a feeling that transforms even the coldest days into something warm and bright.
xxx Two days later xxx
Two days later, Maura steps into her apartment and a solitary red rose on the dining table captures her attention immediately. Nearby, Jane's personal cell phone and wallet are left seemingly forgotten. Maura leans forward, drawn in by the rich, floral scent of the rose that fills the air with an almost opulent aroma. With a sigh, she picks up Jane's items, intending to tuck them away in the nightstand drawer until Jane returns.
As she handles the phone, the lock screen suddenly illuminates. Displayed on the screen is a selfie of them both, wrapped in a tight embrace, their faces radiant with joy. Jane had captured this perfect moment just days earlier in the park. Maura's lips curve into a smile, warmed by the memory and the promise of their deep connection that even distance can't diminish.