*21 months ago*

Maura steps onto the cobblestone path leading to her quaint front door, her fingers finally clasping the elusive key within her handbag as she lifts her gaze. There, in a haunting replay of a scene from months past, Jane sits with her back against the cool, weathered wall of Maura's porch, her head resting on her arms, in a deep slumber right at her doorstep. In that instant, Maura resolves to give Jane a key to her home, a symbolic gesture of trust and intimacy.

A smile plays on Maura's lips. Jane has been absent for nearly three weeks - twenty exacting days - and Maura has felt the absence keenly each day. As she prepares to gently rouse the sleeping beauty before her, Jane's head lifts. "Hey, babe," she greets with a voice rough from the cool night air, extending a hand which Maura grasps to help her to her feet.

"You got hurt." Maura's voice is soft but firm, an observation rather than a query.

Jane stands quietly, her head bowed, her body leaning wearily against the door. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice a whisper of regret. Maura reaches out, her fingers tenderly lifting Jane's chin, insisting softly, "You don't need to apologize, sweetheart." Her lips press a gentle, lingering kiss onto Jane's, an affirmation of her return. "It's good to have you back." Jane's smile blooms like a slow sunrise, pulling Maura close until their foreheads touch. "You're not mad that I got hurt again?" she inquires, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Maura steps back slightly, her eyes searching Jane's. "Why would I be mad?" Jane's eyes flit away, shadowed by memories of past conflicts. She recalls her tumultuous relationship with Casey, where every minor injury became a theatrical production of concern and cold shoulders. "Your Ex…was she mad at you?" Maura cuts through the silence that had begun to settle.

"It was a he," Jane admits, causing a surprised "Oh" to escape Maura's lips. "Is that a... problem?" Jane asks, uncertainty clouding her features.

"No! No, of course not. It just came as a surprise, sorry," Maura quickly reassures her, her mind racing to adjust. "Was he mad at you?" she probes gently, and Jane nods, a silent affirmation that confirms her fears.

Maura steps closer again, her hands carefully turning Jane's face to the side to inspect more closely. She peels away the blood-stained bandage to examine the wound on Jane's temple. "It needs stitches."

"Can you…?" Jane's voice falters, laden with both hope and hesitation.

Maura laughs softly, a sound that carries warmth and affection. "If this becomes a habit, I should really restock my medical kit," she jokes, easing the tension. Jane's smile returns, shy yet genuine, as Maura leans in to kiss her once more.

"Come on, let's go inside. I have everything we need to take care of this," Maura says as she opens the door, leading Jane into the sanctuary of her home. Jane follows, her fatigue palpable, each step heavy with the weight of her recent journey. She settles into one of the welcoming chairs at Maura's dining table, leaning back and closing her eyes with a deep, exhausted sigh, surrendering to the comfort of being home at last.

Maura steps closer, her eyes fixed on the figure of her girlfriend sitting with eyes closed. The room is filled with the soft, warm glow of the lamp on the side table, casting gentle shadows across Jane's face. Maura has learned that Jane can be easily startled immediately after returning home, so she softly says, "I'm going to put an ice pack on your wound now. Will you hold it while I get the rest of the supplies?" Jane's eyelids flutter open briefly, and she gratefully takes the cold pack, welcoming the accompanying kiss with a small, tired smile. "'Kay," she replies quietly, her voice thick with fatigue, before letting out a deep yawn.

Maura takes in the scene—the way Jane's body looks both fragile and strong, the faint smell of antiseptic from the hastily bandage wound mixing with the lingering scent of Jane's shampoo, a subtle blend of cedarwood and lavender. She feels a pang of tenderness and worry as she heads to fetch the medical supplies.

When Maura returns to the living room, she finds Jane leaning forward, her head resting on her crossed arms on the table. The ice pack lies discarded beside her, a small puddle of condensation forming on the polished wood. The room is silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city settling into the night.

Maura gently touches Jane's shoulder, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her shirt. "Let's take care of this quickly and then get you to bed, darling." For a brief moment, Maura fears Jane might insist on going home again, but Jane's only response is a hearty yawn, her resistance melting away.

Maura's hands move with practiced ease, but her heart is anything but steady as she cleans and stitches the wound. Jane winces slightly as the needle pierces her skin, but she remains silent, her eyes closed, breathing deeply through the discomfort. The ointment's sharp medicinal scent fills the air, mingling with the fresher, cleaner aroma of the bandages. A tender kiss on the treated wound seals Maura's care, a silent promise of her devotion.

She inspects her handiwork, nodding in satisfaction at the neatness of the stitches. She then takes Jane's hand, the feel of her rough, calloused palm against her own smooth skin a familiar comfort. She leads Jane to the bedroom, the soft rustling of their clothes and the creaking of the wooden floorboards the only sounds breaking the silence.

In the bedroom, Maura sits Jane on the edge of the bed, helping her remove her jeans, T-shirt, and socks. The room smells faintly of vanilla and clean sheets, a sanctuary from the chaos outside. Jane's skin is cool to the touch, the fatigue and pain evident in her sluggish movements. As Maura heads to the bathroom, she hears the quiet sigh of relief Jane lets out as she settles into the bed.

When Maura returns fifteen minutes later, the bathroom light casting a soft halo around her, Jane is already sound asleep, her breathing deep and even. Maura carefully slips into bed, trying not to disturb her, but Jane instinctively turns over, resting her head on Maura's shoulder and draping her arm across Maura's middle. The warmth of Jane's body against hers, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, soothes Maura. It takes less than a minute for Maura to follow Jane into sleep, the comfort of their closeness wrapping around her like a blanket.

xxx Few hours later xxx

Maura shifts uneasily on the edge of her expansive, now seemingly boundless bed, her fingertips brushing against the chill of the empty sheets beside her. She opens her eyes, the enveloping darkness amplifying every sound in the cavernous room. A dull, rhythmic thudding pierces the silence, drawing her attention. With a delicate grace, she wraps her silk kimono tight around her body, its fabric whispering against her skin as she rises and follows the sound through the shadowy corridors of her apartment.

The source of the disturbance is just beyond the slightly ajar door of her personal gym. Maura nudges the door wider, her presence silent, her gaze piercing the semi-darkness.

Inside, the methodic thump of Jane's footsteps on the treadmill fills the space, underscored by a faint bass beat pulsing through the air like a subdued heartbeat. Maura leans against the door frame, her arms folded, her eyes tracing the contours of Jane's form with both admiration and concern. Jane, clad only in shorts and a sports bra, moves with a runner's precision - her legs, long and toned; her back, muscular and glistening under the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the expansive windows, turning sweat droplets into shimmering jewels on her skin.

The sight is breathtaking, and Maura can't help but smile at the effortless allure Jane exudes, utterly unaware of her own magnetism. Compelled, Maura steps closer, her gaze momentarily catching the green glow of the treadmill's display—1 hour 12 minutes and 40 seconds covering a distance of 13.2 kilometers. Maura's eyebrows lift in impressed surprise; her own best time paled in comparison.

She moves closer still, circling the treadmill to stand where the moonlight can't reach her, watching as Jane slows the machine to a walk and pulls out her earbuds.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?" Jane's voice breaks through the quiet, raspy with exertion.

"I couldn't sleep…" Jane continues hesitantly. A silent beat passes as she stops the treadmill. "Do you want to talk about it?" Maura asks, her voice low and soothing, while she extends her hand, a silent invitation.

Jane accepts it, her touch a mix of gratitude and intimacy, her lips pressing a kiss to the inside of Maura's wrist. "You smell good," she comments, and Maura chuckles softly. „You're deflecting," she whispers, gently brushing her thumb across Jane's cheek.

"Sometimes I…" Jane starts, pausing as her gaze drifts to the cityscape beyond the windows, bathed in moonlight. She turns back to Maura, a sigh escaping her. "I often have bad dreams..." She hesitates again, the weight of her words hanging between them. "It's…challenging for the person who shares a bed with me. I wanted to spare you the drama. I don't want to burden you. After all, they are my demons, not yours," she says, looking down.

Maura steps closer, lifting Jane's chin gently. "Look at me, sweetheart." Jane meets her gaze, vulnerable yet seeking reassurance. "Did HE say that?" she asks, and Jane nods.

"Darling, if you let me, I will fight your demons with you," Maura declares with quiet conviction. "You already told me the first nights are tough for you. You don't have to be alone with this anymore; you don't have to sneak out and exhaust yourself to escape. It's no drama at all for me if you have bad dreams. You are allowed to sleep, and you are allowed to dream here with me. I do not share HIS views."

With a tender kiss on Jane's lips, Maura gestures playfully towards the bathroom. "Go shower and come back to bed, babe."

"Aye aye, Ma'am," Jane replies with a light-hearted salute, a smile breaking through her earlier solemnity. They head back to the bedroom, Maura settling back onto the bed as Jane disappears into the bathroom, each drawn into the comforting cycle of their shared lives.

xxx Three days later xxx

As Jane strides into the café, at least half of the patrons turn to gaze at her. Even without the allure of her snug, low-cut jeans that perfectly accentuate the curves of her hips, or the form-fitting white shirt that frames her toned abdomen and ample, round breasts, she would still command attention. There's an assertive, almost defiant quality to her posture that hints at a military background. The afternoon sun catches her brown, curly hair, casting soft reflections that dance along the cascading strands over her back, inviting the touch of an admirer. Maura, watching from across the room, muses that Jane could drape herself in a trash bag and still manage to make heads turn and eyes linger in silent appreciation.

Maura has been seated at their usual table for a few minutes, her fingers idly playing with a napkin. It's been three days - three interminably long days - since she last saw Jane. Maura had been called away to New York for an urgent autopsy on a high profil case. The enforced separation has left Maura grappling with an unfamiliar urge to openly stare when usually, she would afford others a more discreet glance. Her heart beats a staccato rhythm, betraying her lack of composure. They have spoken over the phone each day, yet the physical absence has been keenly felt.

Jane queues for coffee, and Maura wrestles with her desire to keep her gaze fixed on her. Suddenly, Jane turns, catching Maura's eye with a playful wink that sends an unexpected surge of warmth rushing through her. Up until now, their interactions had been largely confined to private spaces - her home or office - making this public display of affection both exhilarating and slightly unnerving.

Their eyes lock again, and a wave of warmth floods Maura's stomach, butterflies fluttering wildly. The connection is palpable, and even if Maura wanted to look away, she finds that she simply can't. Jane's expression shifts from hesitant to a knowing grin, mirroring the smile that breaks across Maura's own face - a smile that ushers in a sense of peace and contentment that wraps around her like a comforting shawl.

Their moment of connection is interrupted as Jane's order number is called. Shortly after she approaches the table with their drinks, her hips swaying confidently, her long legs commanding Maura's undivided attention until they are face to face once more.

"Like what you see?" Jane teases, pushing a large, unsweetened oat milk latte across the table towards Maura.

Maura tilts her head playfully, her eyes narrowing slightly as she responds with feigned uncertainty, "Maybe."

Jane's laughter rings out, warm and genuine. She leans in, her thumb brushing the remnants of milk from Maura's lip before pausing inches from her face. "Are you sure?" she murmurs.

Maura nods, her heart swelling as Jane leans closer to kiss away the last traces of milk from her lips. Closing her eyes, Maura savors the gentle touch of Jane's lips and whispers back, her voice barely audible, "It's been eight months. I don't want to hide anymore...I don't want to hide us - this - anymore."

xxx Two Weeks later xxx

The day unfurled like an unending marathon of autopsies, starting with a jarring ring of the phone that heralded a new case cloaked in suspicion. Maura Isles felt a familiar knot of foreboding tighten in her gut, the shadows of doubt creeping in even before the murky details were laid bare. Today, like many others in her life, defied the mundane; "ordinary" had long been expunged from her vocabulary.

Stepping into the hallowed silence of the medical examiner's office, the crisp echo of Maura's footsteps on the stark linoleum floor sliced through the muted buzz of hushed conversations, abruptly silencing them. The room succumbed to a tomb-like quiet, despite the flurry of activity at each workstation. As Maura's measured strides carried her deeper into the room, a clandestine whisper floated from a dim corner, causing a few heads to pivot in her direction, casting stealthy glances that skirted quickly away. Accustomed to the murmurs and the stares, Maura squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, her every move the embodiment of Dr. Maura Isles, cloaked in the impenetrable armor of professionalism. Her expression, a masterclass in stoic calm, masked the tumult that churned beneath as she passed by her assistant, Susie.

Susie, alarmed, scrambled to her feet and hurried after Maura. "Dr. Isles, your father…" she began, her voice trailing off as she caught up. Maura halted abruptly, her back to Susie, her posture a still life of tension. She drew a covert, steadying breath, her jawline quivering with barely contained emotion, yet she regained her composure seamlessly before Susie could perceive the cracks in her façade.

The case before her was a tinderbox of potential scandals, linked to illicit financial dealings that hinted at the involvement of Paddy Doyle, her notorious father. Each incoming call, message, and query that day seemed to weigh heavily on Maura, her shoulders sagging under the invisible burden as she donned her lab coat, a barrier against the world.

Turning on her computer, Maura scanned the latest reports. Her birth name alone magnetized scrutiny, irrelevant of her adopted, virtuous path - guilt by association was the unwritten verdict.

She braced herself for the onslaught of malicious gossip, wild conjectures, and outright fabrications that the media would undoubtedly unleash. The case escalated throughout the day, sparking a maelstrom of fraught collaborations with authorities, jittery colleagues, critical evaluations, and the relentless prying of journalists, all eager to witness her falter.

A heated debate erupted in a subsequent meeting attended by the district attorney, Paddy Doyle's attorney, and the mayor, with Maura also present. "Dr. Isles, we must seriously consider recusing you from this case," Paddy Doyle's attorney argued, citing a blatant conflict of interest due to her familial ties.

The district attorney countered firmly, his faith in Maura unwavering. "Dr. Isles is our preeminent pathologist, sought after by the FBI for her unparalleled expertise. Her professionalism is unquestionable, and she must remain on this case."

As the mayor sought to mediate, tensions soared. "We need to preserve the investigation's integrity to maintain public trust," he stressed.

Maura stood resolute, her hands clasped tightly, her voice steady yet authoritative. "I understand the concerns," she declared. "But my estranged relationship with my father does not impinge on my professional conduct. I have nothing to conceal. I am perfectly equipped to handle this case with the objectivity it demands."

After several more heated minutes and reluctant concessions, the parties finally reach an agreement. Maura can keep the case. Her façade remains unshaken, molded to her calm, analytical stance that she adopts behind her examination table. She prepares to defend her expertise, ready to wield the instruments of her science against the tide of conjecture. No one sees the inner tension hidden in her clear eyes, where uncertainty and pressure occupy her thoughts.

It is past midnight when Maura finally steps onto the small, cobblestone path leading to her porch. With a smile, she notices that it has been cleared of the thick blanket of snow. The recent winter storm has hit the city hard. The streets are snow-covered, and it has taken Thomas several tries to find a clear road to her neighborhood. Maura rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck from side to side, impatiently searching for her key. Moments later, she sighs as she enters her house, slipping off her red Manolos. Her neck is killing her. For a brief moment, she leans against the closed door behind her, pressing her hands flat against the material.

As if she possesses a sixth sense, she feels it before the warm hands even touch her body. She smiles and keeps her eyes closed for a moment.

"Tough day?"

Maura nods.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm here. I heard the news and thought you might need some company. Is that okay?" Maura nods again, silently thanking every deity she knows that she had finally given Jane a key a few days ago, so she wouldn't have to wait outside her door in the future.

Jane opens her arms, and Maura falls into the embrace. Without her high heels, she is shorter than Jane, her chin resting on Jane's collarbone while her forehead touches Jane's cheek. She closes her eyes and presses her nose to Jane's neck, inhaling deeply. Jane smells like... Jane. Like home. Like safety. Like comfort. Jane turns her head and kisses Maura's forehead. "I like it when you take your shoes off. It makes you…" she hesitates for a second, "…human." Maura presses herself closer to Jane, feeling Jane's arms tighten around her. She remembers the times she wouldn't take off her shoes even at home. Only now does she understand why she felt the need to keep them on. The shoes are part of the armor Maura dons every day to go into battle. They are part of the carefully crafted persona she has created for the public. Dr. Maura Isles, a born Doyle. Queen of the Dead. Not a person. A machine. But with Jane, she can simply be Maura. With Jane, she can take off the aching, heavy armor and the stone mask. With Jane, she can be human.

"I'm tired," she finally says, and Jane silently leads her to the bedroom, where Maura sheds her Tom Ford dress and, within minutes, is exhaustedly lying next to Jane. She lays her head on Jane's chest, the slow, steady rhythm calming her.

"No matter what I do, no matter how far and fast I run, it always catches up with me. I'm always too close, too involved. I'm always just the daughter of a criminal or the heiress of a billionaire family. Nothing else matters."

Jane continues to stroke Maura's back, waiting to see if she will say more. Then she sits up and pulls Maura with her. She grasps Maura's chin with her thumb and forefinger, forcing Maura to look directly into her eyes.

"YOU, Maura, are so much more than just a Doyle or an Isles. You are generous, warm-hearted, and kind. You are intelligent, successful, and humble. And you are incredibly sexy and beautiful. And although I suspect you don't have to work, you fight every single day for what's right, for justice. You have a career that you owe solely to yourself. You make the world a better place, Maura!"

Tears spill from Maura's eyes, and Jane holds her until her sobs subside. Maura takes a shaky breath.

"I've always just tried to please. Do you understand? I thought my parents would be proud of what I've achieved. My whole life I've tried to be enough. For my parents, for my colleagues, for everyone. But I'm never enough. I wasn't enough at birth; they just gave me away. And now my heritage keeps catching up with me." Jane's heart breaks with every word.

"You are enough for me, darling. More than enough," Jane whispers, kissing Maura on the head.

And I love you. But Jane swallows the words. It's still too soon.

Silence stretches for a few minutes, and Jane lets herself fall back onto the bed with Maura. She gently traces large circles on Maura's back until she falls asleep.

xxx One week later xxx

Maura is finishing Jane's message when the sound of a gentle knock interrupts her thoughts, and Susie, her ever-diligent assistant, steps into the room.

"Dr. Isles, you have an unscheduled visitor... he's been waiting in the reception area for two hours."

Maura sets her phone aside, her brow furrowing in a mix of confusion and concern as she racks her brain for any forgotten appointments.

"A Mr. Jones?" she queries, the name not sparking any immediate recognition.

Maura's expression tightens slightly in annoyance as she asks, "Did he mention what it's about?" Susie hesitates before responding, "Apparently, it's a personal matter that he insists on discussing only with you." Internally, Maura sighs deeply. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of media frenzy. Following the publicly witnessed kiss at the café, the saga of Dr. Maura Isles' romance with the enigmatic woman had dominated every headline, causing both an unwelcome stir and discomfort for Jane. Just when the dust seemed to be settling, another controversy stirred by her father had catapulted Maura back into the relentless spotlight of media scrutiny.

"Is he a reporter?" Maura probes, her voice laced with a hint of wariness.

"I inquired, and he denied it, but one can never be too sure..."

"Alright, send him in. I'll handle this."

As Susie exits, a young man enters. Maura stands, crossing the room to meet her unexpected guest with a measured stride.

He appears a few years her junior, likely in his late twenties. His dark blond hair is meticulously styled, and his complexion, a shade darker than Maura's, contrasts strikingly with his deep blue eyes that suggest local origins. His physique is robust, his facial features sharply defined, the stubble on his jaw and the visible tattoo on his arm adding a rugged charm to his appearance. Were Maura inclined towards men, she'd undoubtedly find him attractive.

"Hello, Dr. Maura Isles, how may I assist you today?" Maura extends her hand in greeting.

"Casey Jones," he responds, his eyebrows arching slightly as though the name should ring a bell. He adds after a brief pause, "I'm Jane's ex-boyfriend."

Maura's face remains impeccably composed, though internally, she struggles to maintain her professional demeanor.

"Okay," she replies cautiously. "And what brings you here today?"

Casey's smile is confident as he strides across the office to take a seat on the sofa. Maura follows, her irritation growing with his presumptuous ease.

"I came to warn you, so you don't make the same mistakes I did." His voice is cloyingly sweet, almost nauseating Maura with its insincerity.

"Well, Mr. Jones, while I appreciate your concern, I am quite capable of handling my personal affairs," Maura states icily, checking the time. "And now, I must ask you to leave. I have another appointment shortly."

Casey stands, clearly unprepared for her dismissal.

"She's only with you for your money, you do realize that?" he asserts, a hint of malice in his tone.

Maura meets his gaze unflinchingly. "I'll have to ask you to leave now, Mr. Jones."

He continues, unfazed, "You'll find that her job always takes precedence over you. You're at best her third or fourth priority. Her brother, her team, her work - they all come before you."

Maura's expression does not waver as she watches him, her patience thinning.

"Jane is unreliable, like a stray cat! She's utterly incapable of commitment!" His face reddens with frustration.

"Please leave my office now, before I call security," Maura responds, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Do you really think that you, a WOMAN, can offer her more than I ever could as a man?" His laugh is scornful.

Maura steps closer and wraps her perfectly manicured hand around his bicep. While giving his muscle a quick squeeze, she says quietly, "I can certainly see what Jane found attractive about you, Casey." She gets the desired reaction, and he flexes his muscle, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously.

Leaning in, her voice soft yet piercing as she whispers near his ear, "But trust me, Casey, the things I do with Jane, and the sounds she makes behind the closed doors of my bedroom, are beyond your wildest fantasies. She may travel the world, but she'll always come back to me."

She steps back, her smile sharp and dismissive, "Now, please leave my office and stay away from Jane and me."

She is about to turn away when he replies. "Or what? Are you threatening me, Dr. Isles?" Maura smiles again. "I don't make threats, Mr. Jones. I make promises."

Casey exits briskly, a hiss of disdain his only response.

Maura returns to her chair, her hands trembling slightly as she sends a message to Jane: "Your ex just visited. It was quite... enlightening."

Within moments, Jane's face lights up her phone screen, her call coming through instantly.

xxx On the same evening xxx

They meander hand in hand through the verdant park, enveloped by the golden hues of a descending sun. Maura relishes the newfound liberty of no longer needing to veil their affection. It's unconventional, certainly, to declare their relationship to the world without the intimacy of shared nights, yet for them, it resounds with truth.

She lets her head find a gentle rest on Jane's shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate from her partner's body. In response, Jane drapes an arm lovingly around Maura, planting a tender kiss upon the soft crown of her head.

"Shall we escape somewhere this weekend?" Jane murmurs, her voice stirring a delightful shiver in Maura.

The sudden jarring ring of Jane's phone slices through their tranquil moment. With a reluctant ease, Jane untangles from the embrace.

Maura watches as Jane nods, her face shadowed by the inevitable farewell looming over them. Each nod, each subtle furrow of Jane's brow speaks volumes to Maura—their shared moments are drawing to a close, yet again. Jane concludes the call with a clipped finality.

"I have to go."

Maura nods, understanding etched deeply within her. "Please be careful," she whispers, her voice a soft breeze that carries all the weight of her emotions. They share one last long, passionate kiss - a fleeting connection that seals their promise of return - before they part ways, each step echoing the silent hope of reunion.

Wow! You are truly amazing! Thank you so much for your reviews so far - you saved my week with your many positive vibes:-)!