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Maura has had enough.
She parks her car in front of the professor’s house and leans forward so she can see the upstairs windows. The bedroom light is still on, its warm glow leaking out around the edges of the drapes, alerting her to the fact that Jane is still up. If the light alone doesn’t suffice, Maura watches as the curtain flutters and the light from inside flashes brighter just for a moment, surely a result of Jane’s sixth sense reliably alerting her to an unexpected presence. Something flutters inside Maura’s chest too, a flame grows then wanes.
There’s no turning back now.
Or is there? If Maura just drove away, would Jane inquire about it? She definitely would have, once. In fact, there would not be any need to follow up. A couple years ago Maura’s phone would already be ringing; Jane’s wiry frame, her explosion of hair, would already be silhouetted in the opened door of the house.
Tonight, the door remains shut. The only light on is still the one in the bedroom.
So, okay. Maybe for Jane this can still be forgotten. But for Maura, there’s no turning back now.
The moment she’d left Jane’s sublet, Maura’s gut started twisting itself into knots over the conversation they’d had. She’d driven all the way home, parked, and got as far as putting her hand on the door handle before she was starting the car back up and pulling out.
Jane had worried out loud that everyone was moving on and she was still the same. Maura had reassured Jane that Jane was changing too and she was—Jane was unquestionably different from the woman with whom Maura had first become friends. But ‘change’ is value neutral and as soon as Maura stepped out onto the street her mind started hammering away on whether the cumulative differences in Jane truly amounted to change for the better.
So now she’s back. Maura steels herself with a deep, fortifying breath and steps out of the car. Before she can knock, the door opens and the hallway light comes on at the same time. Jane had crept downstairs without turning on any lights. Maura winces a little at the unexpected brightness.
“Maura.” Jane’s tone isn’t exactly questioning, but she does sound puzzled. She says Maura’s name like it’s an unexpected piece of evidence in an ongoing investigation.
“Jane.” Maura makes sure her own tone is firm. She looks Jane over quickly. The other woman has since gotten ready for bed, now clad in well-worn pajama pants and a thin white tank top, that stupid fake tattoo standing out starkly around and beneath it. Maura knows it’s not possible, but the bruise on Jane’s forehead somehow looks worse than it did half an hour ago. It all softens Jane and Maura isn’t sure if this will make things easier or harder.
“Did you forget something?” Jane asks, not yet moving out of the doorway. She looks over her shoulder, scanning the kitchen and small living room for any reason Maura might have returned.
“No. Well—yes. Can I come in, please?”
Jane turns back to Maura in surprise. She looks down at her own socked feet, set in a wide stance and blocking the path into the house, as if shocked to find herself barricading the entrance. She backs off, hand still on the doorknob.
“Yeah, sorry, of course,” Jane says. Maura passes quickly through and Jane shuts the door behind her. “Uh, so you forgot—”
“You have changed,” Maura says, whirling around on her heels to face Jane. Jane looks only increasingly perplexed.
“Yeah, you said so earlier.” Jane speaks slowly, wheels turning as she tries to figure out what’s going on. “And I appreciate—”
“I’m just not sure if all of it’s good.” Maura exhales sharply, almost triumphantly, as she blows past the point of no return.
There’s a flash of annoyance on Jane’s face first, likely a result of being interrupted for a second time, but it quickly shifts into confusion as she processes what Maura has said. A flicker of hurt and then Jane’s expression goes hard. Her back straightens and she stalks closer to Maura. In their everyday life this often has an intimidating effect, but with Maura in heels and Jane without shoes at all it only draws Jane up to Maura’s full height. Maura looks on defiantly.
“What did you say?” Jane says.
“I think I’ve made a mistake, Jane. I’m just not sure if it’s one big one or many cumulative ones.” Maura turns away from Jane and walks over to the kitchen counter where their half-drunk bottle of red still stands. She pours herself a generous serving before turning back.
Jane blinks. “You’ve made a—sorry, I’m stuck on the ‘changed for the worst’ implication. Could you possibly, uh, elaborate?” Jane’s irritation is present in her voice but there’s something else colouring the edges and Maura’s pretty sure it’s fear.
“I think your relationship with your mother has improved. Though, for the record, I think it’s because she’s put a lot of work into becoming her own person as much as it’s anything you’ve done,” Maura says and Jane draws her head back like she’s being attacked.
“Maura, what the hell. Where is this coming from?”
“You’ve been withdrawing from everyone, Jane. From everyone, but especially from me. I think I first really noticed it after your apartment burned down and I told myself that when we caught Alice, you’d return to me—to us.”
Jane’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Shoot. Maura might have shown her hand a little. She plows ahead.
“But you didn’t. You got worse, in fact. And when I started to really think about it, I realized the roots of this go back much further, way before Alice, though I’m not exactly sure how far. I think maybe around the time of the bridge.”
Jane scoffs loudly. “Maura, I’m just trying to have boundaries.”
“Boundaries?” Maura’s tone is skeptical.
“Yeah, boundaries.” Jane hits the ‘b’ loudly and snaps off each word. “I realized everything was a little too entwined and I’m trying to change that.”
“You realized this after the bridge?” Maura speaks calmly and from the way Jane relaxes just slightly, Maura knows the detective is about to walk into her trap.
“Yeah, after the bridge.”
“Let me get this straight, then.” Maura takes a slow sip of her wine. “You jumped off a bridge, and then, in your estimation, everyone was a little too concerned you may have drowned in the fucking Atlantic ocean?” Maura’s voice starts off quiet but she’s nearly yelling at the end of it. Jane’s eyes bug out when Maura swears. It takes Jane a moment to collect herself before she can speak.
“My family needs—”
“No, stop.” Maura holds her hand up. Jane’s jaw clenches.
“I swear to god, Maura, if you interrupt me one more—”
“You’ll what?” Maura does it on purpose, with relish. Jane’s eyes narrow dangerously but both women know that whatever Jane was going to finish with would only be an empty threat. Jane doesn’t continue, so Maura does.
“I don’t want to talk about your family, Jane. I think you’re withdrawing from them too, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t actually care about that right now. I want to talk about us.”
“Us?” Jane says it so skeptically, like the concept of an ‘us’ composed of her and Maura is a foreign concept. The nerve of it is astounding. Static roars in Maura’s ears and a war begins inside of her, one between nature and nurture. Every drop of Southie blood circulating through her system wants to grab Jane, maybe hit Jane, while her Boston Brahmin upbringing urges her to cut with ice. She pulls a long breath in through her nose and throws her shoulders back, forcing her features into impassive lines. It doesn’t exactly settle the age-old debate, Maura just knows Jane well enough that she's certain which will hurt more.
“Yes, Jane. Us. We were best friends.” Jane’s face twitches at the use of the past tense and Maura makes sure she doesn’t betray any of the satisfaction she feels.
“We were too close,” Jane says dismissively and Maura gains another edge because unlike Jane, she doesn’t react when cut.
“According to whom?” Maura asks coolly.
“Being close to me is how people get hurt, Maura. You kept getting hurt.” Jane shrugs.
Maura scoffs and drains the rest of the wine in one go. She slowly licks her lips and watches as Jane’s eyes dart away from her own for just the briefest moment. It’s all Maura needs to be sure of her next move.
“So I think it’s both,” Maura says. Jane is immediately confused. Maura lets her sit in that confusion as she sets her glass down and takes a few slow steps over to Jane. “I think I’ve made one big mistake but I’ve also made many cumulative mistakes.”
“You don’t really make mistakes, Maur.” Jane’s voice has softened and she is scared, Maura realizes. The nickname, in the heat of battle, is a dead giveaway. Jane is trying to thaw the ice, soften Maura’s edges. Maura refuses to be made docile.
“Professionally, no. Almost none. Personally? Romantically? A litany.” Maura watches Jane swallow harshly at ‘romantically.’
“Let me tell you about some of the ones specific to you, Jane. The first one isn’t really my fault, I don’t think. You were the first best friend that I had so I made the mistake of believing that the way we were around each other was how friends behaved. I believed that friends touched as much as we did, slept together as much as we did. I made the mistake of thinking that the way I came to feel was my fault, because nothing about how we interacted was unusual.”
Maura watches as Jane’s nostrils flare slightly, giving away Jane’s need for a deep, steadying breath.
“Another mistake, Jane, is that in the last few years I’ve made myself small for you. Everywhere else in my life I’ve blossomed and I won’t be so cruel as to deny that a lot of that is to your credit. I have friendships that are independent of you. I’ve stood up for myself with my odd assortment of parents. I have cultivated, I think, a pretty good sense of humour. I’ve come to know what I truly want out of life.”
Maura looks Jane right in the eyes and takes a deep breath.
“But while I grew big everywhere else I’ve let you push me away and I’ve let you put me in a box. I’ve supported you every time you’ve come to me for help and I’ve asked almost nothing in return. I thought, perhaps, you were on a journey to greater self-awareness, that the distance would allow you to see better, but you’ve just decided to keep running.” Maura lets her words breathe for a moment, then finishes with an uppercut.
“And my big mistake, Jane, is that I thought you were brave. But you’re actually a coward.”
Jane reacts like she’s been shot and Maura knows that for a fact, since she’s seen it happen. The accusation seems to pull all the oxygen out of Jane’s lungs and she fills them back up with hot air, ready to defend herself against the truth.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jane’s yelling now. “Pulling away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it was the only thing I could do. I had to protect you.” Jane had stood stock still while Maura spoke but now her limbs fly everywhere as she gestures grandly. “Every bad thing that happens to you is because we’re too close and being in my orbit was going to get you killed eventually. Hell, before you got here I was on the phone with Agent Davies, asking about a job at Quantico. That way you’re safe and everyone else doesn’t have to worry about me.”
Jane drops her little revelation about the FBI like it’s checkmate and, not for the first time, Maura wonders if she’s actually any good at chess.
“No, Jane,” Maura says derisively. “Every bad thing that happened to me is because we weren’t close enough. If you want to run off to Virginia to protect yourself, be my guest, but don’t pretend that I’ve ever benefited from any distance between us.”
“What?” Jane exclaims. “Maura, please be real.”
“I’m being very fucking real, Jane. For the first time, perhaps. I’ve been so, so happy to have you in my life and for a long time I wasn’t willing to risk anything by rocking the boat. But now, apparently, I’m going to lose you anyway so there’s nothing to risk.”
Jane’s eyes flash in warning as Maura comes right up to the edge. She doesn’t care.
“I’ve let you pretend you don’t want me, Jane. I’ve let you be so deep in denial that I think sometimes you genuinely believe you don’t. I’ve denied those feelings in myself, I’ve denied their existence to others. And everyone in our lives has played along with it. Everyone ignores it, for your sake. But turns out, the evil people in our lives have no reason to do you the courtesy of ignoring it, so they manipulate it.
“Every person that gets close enough to hurt me is able to do so because you’re pretending I’m not your weak point, but everyone knows. Everyone can see it. Hoyt saw it.”
Maura has seen Jane angrier than she is now, but never before has it been directed at Maura. She gets right up in Maura’s face and somehow manages to make herself seem taller, even in her socked feet. Despite all the fury, maybe because of it, a fire ignites between Maura’s hips.
“You’re trying to tell me that if we—” Jane cuts herself off, still unwilling to put it into words. “You’re saying you wouldn’t have been in the infirmary with me?”
“Of course I would have been there, but maybe we would have seen it coming. I’m certain we would have realized that given his modus operandi, I was at risk.”
Jane glares, unconvinced. That’s fine. Maura’s trump card is her next one. She closes the last few inches of distance between them, her chest brushing up against Jane’s and their breath mingling. She dares Jane to be the one that backs off and she can feel the detective rock back on her heels for a moment before refusing to budge further.
Good.
“Alice Sands could see it, too, Jane,” Maura says coldly, right in Jane’s face. “All the way from prison, she could see what I meant to you, she could see how it would hurt you, and because you so badly wanted to pretend otherwise, convinced yourself otherwise, you thought it had to be Angela. So Joe Harris kidnapped me. You think that happens—” A deep breath, a redirection. She’s not going to ask a question, she’s going to state a fact. “If you have me how you want me, if we’re together like we should be, he never gets close enough.”
Jane’s mouth falls open in shock. For a moment, Maura thinks she got through to Jane and she can feel the water rising inside her, threatening to spill. But then Jane’s jaw snaps shut, she takes two long strides away from Maura and the tide recedes.
“None of it happens if I don’t care about you, Maura. If I’d never cared about you, if we never got close, no one could use it against me.”
“Sure, Jane, but it’s a fait accompli.”
Jane turns around to look at her. She’s still angry, but there’s the bare hint of confusion on her features. Maura presses her lips together in a thin line and tries to come up with an idiom she’s sure she won’t mess up.
“You can’t unscramble that egg,” Maura says, privately a little pleased with herself when it’s clear she got it right.
Jane makes a dismissive noise, arms folding across her chest. “Based on our conversation it sounds like I have been.”
Maura rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you think that. I’m sure over the past two years you looked at the distance between us and thought that translated into some kind of progress, believed that you’ve gotten over me. I think I probably made that easy for you, pretending I didn’t see the way you look at me. I’m about to make it easier yet because you’re going to get your wish, Jane. I’m going to walk out of here and I’m going to let you leave for Virginia. I’ll take care of your family and I’ll see you for Christmas, but I will forget you in the way that matters. It will never be what it was again, just how you want it.”
Maura is dying inside but it’s an angry death. It’s much better than the slow one that has thus far been forced upon her. If she can’t have the passion they both deserve she will have this righteous fury as she buries what could have been.
Maura’s going to be the meteor strike and Jane can suffer the ice age that follows.
With everything laid bare, Maura heads for the door but pauses to look around for her bag. It takes only a second for her to visualize it on the passenger seat and remember it’s still in her car but it’s enough time for Jane to make her move. Maura feels those long fingers, the subject of more than one late night fantasy, wrap around her wrist and yank her back. It’s not gentle. She is turned around roughly, teeters precariously on the thin points of her heels, then stumbles into Jane’s chest.
If this were a movie, Jane would kiss her. She glares angrily instead, her grip on Maura’s wrist unyielding, holding it against her chest, pinning both their arms between them.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Jane’s voice is nearly a growl and between the heat of it and their proximity Maura has to clear her throat to suppress a moan. She leans just her head back, unwilling to move her body because of how it’ll react if Jane uses force to keep her in place.
“I’m leaving, Jane. Whatever this has been, it’s over. You win.” Maura stares icily.
Jane sneers. “Is that right? So what, I try to get over you for years and I can’t, but you’re just going to make up your mind and do it?” Her tone is deeply incredulous.
A part of Maura’s brain registers that this is, in fact, Jane’s first admission of a non-platonic feeling. This moment was supposed to be a lot more fun.
“Correct,” Maura says plainly, like she’s confirming her phone number, and tries to pull her wrist away. Jane’s fingers tighten their hold and Maura wonders if her parting gift from their years long entanglement is going to be a bruise.
“Good luck.” Jane tilts her chin up in challenge and speaks slowly, enunciating each word. Her expression has grown smug. “Good fucking luck. You don’t fool me. I might have been in denial but now it’s your turn.” She leans in close, too close, and there’s a cruel edge to her voice that Maura has never heard. “Because I’m in your fucking blood, Maur.”
Jane lets go of her wrist and Maura stumbles back. She’s not sure what the worst part is—if it’s the tone of Jane’s voice, the words themselves, or the ruthless deployment of her nickname. Maybe it’s the literal truth of it, the memory of Jane’s blood being mixed into her own when Hoyt cut into them in quick succession. Whichever it is, it all tumbles together into a ball of hurt the likes of which Maura can’t remember.
She hauls back and slaps Jane across the face. Southie wins.
At the very moment of impact, Maura realizes that she’s striking Jane on the already-injured side of her face. Jane staggers backwards, swearing loudly, her hand flying up to cover her cheek. She stares at Maura with wild eyes.
Maura never meant for things to get this bad. Her palm stings. She sighs, exasperated more than she is contrite.
“Jane, I’m sorry, I—”
The rest of her apology dies in her throat because Jane lunges forward like a cobra strike and now they’re kissing. Jane’s momentum drives them both into the hallway and Maura cries out as her back hits the wall. Jane takes the opportunity to slip inside her mouth and the kissing is rough and angry and all teeth. They crudely jostle for position, and Jane bites Maura tongue while Maura retaliates by sinking her incisors into Jane’s lower lip.
It’s the hottest moment of Maura’s entire life. They’re both slapping at each other’s hands as each fights to be the one to first undress the other, Maura’s advantage being that Jane’s barely wearing anything, and Jane’s advantage being that she’s stronger. Try as she might, Maura can’t get the tank top off of Jane because Jane’s arms are wrapped around her, trying to drag the zipper of her dress down while Maura presses back firmly, trapping Jane’s hand between Maura’s body and the wall.
Maura considers just jamming her hand down the front of Jane’s pajama pants, certain she could have Jane speaking in tongues before she gets any further on Maura’s zipper, but instead Maura wriggles both her palms up to Jane’s chest and pushes her away, hard.
Jane grunts as she’s propelled back a few steps and now suddenly everything is very still. Maura squeezes her thighs together and Jane sees it, eyes dark and hungry.
“What are we doing, Jane?”
Jane’s gaze flick up from Maura’s legs to her face.
“We’re having a big fight and we’re going to fuck about it,” Jane says matter-of-factly. It makes Maura furious all over again. Seven years of putting up with Jane being too scared to name it and now she’s throwing around phrases like that.
“Great, I’m looking forward to it,” Maura says dryly and it takes the wind out of Jane’s sails just enough. “I just need to know whether we’re coming or going?” Jane looks confused, and also like she briefly considers making a joke about ‘coming’, which would be just about the only thing that could derail this night. Maura rolls her eyes and tries again. “Is this hello or goodbye, Jane? I need to know beforehand.”
“Why?” Jane asks. She looks uncomfortable and Maura pieces it together. Sex is fine, it’s the feelings that are still the problem. She thinks she should have seen that coming.
“Jane, I’m going to let you fuck me either way,” Maura says it casually and Jane’s eyebrows jump. Maura smooths a hand down the front of her dress, like there’s some decorum to be had, like it isn’t half undone and about to come off anyway. She levels Jane with a hard stare. “I just need to know if I’m giving you a little bit or if I’m giving you everything.”
“Which one is which?” Jane asks humourlessly.
Okay, maybe there are two things Jane could say to derail this night. Maura exhales noisily.
“Jane—”
“It’s hello.” Jane’s voice is quiet but it’s firm. Maura is caught off guard because it’s not the answer she was expecting. She was sure that this was going to be a long, sweaty goodbye and she just needed Jane to know that as good as it was going to be, it had nothing on what she’d passed on.
Maura takes Jane in. Her hands are tightly clenched at her sides and her shoulders are back. Her dark eyes are almost flint black and she watches Maura with an unwavering intensity. Maura swallows hard.
“If you’re lying to me, Jane…”
“I’m not.” Jane moves forward, gets back into Maura’s space, but she doesn’t touch her yet. “You’re right about everything. I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”
Oh shit. Tears prick at Maura’s eyes and she’s not quite ready to lose her edge like this, isn’t quite sure what to do with a declaration of love that comes so soon after she violently struck Jane in the face. She places her hands against Jane’s chest again, pushing back weakly.
“Wait, hold on.” She can’t stand how wet her voice sounds. Jane presses herself into Maura’s palms, her own hands coming up to rest against the wall, bracketing Maura’s shoulders.
“Let me love you, Maura,” Jane murmurs, her face hovering close.
A broken sob escapes from deep in Maura’s chest. Jane doesn’t interrupt it, skipping Maura’s lips and diverting instead to her neck. The kisses are tender and exploratory and Maura’s whole body is coming online.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” Jane says softly, her breath hot and damp against Maura’s jaw. She presses a kiss just below her ear. “But I think you should give it to me anyway.”
Maura folds like a house of cards. She grabs Jane’s face, mindful of the now twice injured side, and brings their lips together. The first kiss was all hard edges and anger and this one is too soft and overly wet with Maura’s tears. She a little bit hates it but there’s currently no alternative and she has to take Jane at her word that there will be future opportunities to do this with less weeping.
Every few moments Maura has to break them apart to draw in a raspy breath or sniffle loudly.
Jane is undeterred. She guides Maura’s arms so they’re wrapped firmly around her neck and hikes her dress up. Her hand slips into Maura’s panties and Maura cries out softly as Jane parts her quickly, two fingers circling her clit before traveling further south. Maura feels Jane hesitate and she urgently bucks her hips into Jane’s hand. Maura doesn’t want Jane to ask, doesn’t want Jane to say anything about how she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She just wants Jane to take her. She wants Jane to take care of her.
Jane, thankfully, understands. Two fingers slide easily into Maura and she moans and lets her head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud. Jane presses her lips against Maura’s throat.
“You’re perfect,” Jane groans. “You feel…” Jane doesn’t finish, possibly she can’t, and she just mouths at Maura’s neck, biting and sucking gently, her tongue alternating between pointed and flat and Maura can think of only one thing. Jane fucks her gently to start, her hand moving smoothly, finger curling, hooking against almost the exact right spot. Maura’s about to chalk it up to Jane’s incredible intuition but she realizes that Jane is likely just doing to Maura what she personally enjoys and that idea is somehow better.
Maura realizes she’s stopped crying.
“More,” Maura breathes. Jane looks up.
“Harder?”
“Both.” Maura kisses her firmly, running her tongue along Jane’s teeth.
Jane withdraws two fingers and goes about redoubling her efforts with three, Maura’s shoulders knocking back against the wall with every thrust.
Everything about this is wrong. Not the fact that they’re fucking of course, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this—sloppily, against a wall, after a fight. Jane isn’t supposed to have a neck tattoo and Maura isn’t supposed to be worried about how much mucus she’s producing.
It feels exquisite.
Maura shamelessly wipes her face against Jane’s tank top and Jane’s shoulders shake with a quiet laugh and that above all else is the moment when Maura realizes this really is hello. Before she can ask for it, Jane presses her thumb against her clit and Maura’s whole world constricts down to the space between her legs.
“You’re so pretty,” Jane says breathlessly and that’s all it takes. Maura comes hard around Jane’s three fingers, rolling her hips into her hand, dropping her own hand to Jane’s wrist to keep her where she is, to teach Jane right away what Maura needs to rides out her climax. Jane keeps fucking her, slowing down gradually, replacing the thumb on Maura’s clit with her palm and rocking her hand gently, all the while murmuring soft praise.
Maura’s body wilts. It’s only Jane’s quick reaction that keeps her from sliding down to the floor and Jane holds her firmly upright as Maura finally kicks herself out of the heels she somehow still had on. Reduced to their usual height difference, Maura curls herself into Jane’s chest.
“You’ll stay?” Jane asks, as if there’s any chance that Maura could return home in the state she’s in. But Maura plays along, nods against Jane’s chest.
“I will.” Maura breathes deeply and pulls back to look Jane in the eyes. “And you’ll stay?”
Jane nods without hesitation.
“I will.”