ā¢ Author's note: Merry Christmas! I've tried to use as many of your tropes/prompts ideas as possible and managed to keep my angtsy/whumpy side under control to create something softer than what I'm used to ahah.
The rain was heavy in Boston tonight. The falling drops were forming a thick curtain of water over the city, forcing people to run to the safety of their home instead of hanging out in town with friends. Not that many people were out late in this period. Since the days were shorter and the weather chilly, people preferred the warmth of a home over the cold of the streets. The pouring rain was chasing the little people who could have been brave enough to face the dullness of a night out in the cold season. When they were little and their mother wouldnāt let them go playing in the rain, she and her brothers would sit in front of a window, choose a drop, and watch them race down the window among other drops. She would cheat sometimes, just to win the race, until Tommy started whining which would draw their motherās attention to them and have Jane grounded for upsetting him.
All these were just echoes of maybe happier times coming back to her mind as she stood alone by her kitchen window watching the rain flood the streets of Boston and washing away the horrors she could see every day in her job. She wasnāt that innocent and carefree little girl anymore. She had grown up and grown tougher with each difficult moment she had to endure. The rain used to be soothing. The sound of it hitting the ground and windows in a regular rhythm while she sat in her family home, listening to her mother cooking in the kitchen and fighting with her brothers over a card game she was losing at. Now rainy days meant an uncomfortable amount of pain and the suffocating reminder of the darker days she had survived. The memories liked to torment her when she was left in her own to ponder on what the future might have in store for her.
She heaved a deep sigh and turned away from the window. The kitchen counter was littered with untouched takeaway boxes and an unopened bottle of beer. It was a Friday night and she had the whole weekend off for once. Her exhausted and battered body was relieved, her racing mind, not so much. She had worked real hard those past few weeks just to keep from thinking and numb the aching pain in her chest. Cavanaugh must have noticed the crazy amount of accumulated extra hours she had worked lately because he didnāt give her the choice but to stay away from the precinct of all weekend. He had even threatened to have her arrested if she was seen any close to the building. So she was left to stay locked in her crappy little flat (her Maās words) doing nothing but eat takeaway food and drink beer while watching shitty programs on TV. Alone.
Friday evenings didnāt have the same flavor without Maura. This flat could barely be called home anymore as Jane was spending most of her time in Beacon Hill. Mauraās house was a home to her, to her family. When she wasnāt working, she was there, sharing quality time with her best friend. Not tonight. Maura had other plans. Plans that didnāt involve her. A date with some random bloke she had met at a charity event a couple weeks ago. Maura had been talking about him since then, and Jane had pretended to be interested when she was in fact glad that work was keeping them apart. Until tonight. Tonight was all about that long overdue date (the blokeās words from a text Maura had shown her) and Jane was left to eat and drink on her own, thinking about the kind words and soft touches and warm smiles this guy would get instead of her.
It was easy, falling for Maura. One just had to lay their eyes on her and appreciate the view. She was gorgeous and well aware of her attractiveness. Maura loved the attention and had an awfully long morning routine to draw said attention on herself. Not that she needed it though. She was just as magnificent without makeup and fancy clothes, but she wasnāt as confident without them on. They were an armor she wore for the rest of world to see the confidence she was far from feeling inside down. She thrived on the attention she was getting, and maybe she needed it now to compensate for all the attention she wasnāt given when she had needed it in the past. It sure had to be uplifting to have all eyes on you, even if the majority of said eyes were only there to get an eyeful of the generous curves of her body.
Loving Maura was harder. At least, for those who only had eyes for her physical appearance. They would leave after they got what they wanted from her. They couldnāt handle the big brain, the random facts, the awkwardness, the lack of social skillsā¦They made fun of everything that made Maura who she was behind the mask and run away. It was incomprehensible to Jane as, as her eyes, Maura was the kindest and purest human she had ever met in her entire life. Sure, she was a bit weird, but that made her adorable, and so lovable. None of these men took the time to really know her. Not even the love of her life (until he ran away back to Africa). Only Jane had been allowed in and to her loving Maura was easy. The harder was to watch her waste her time with suitors who would end up breaking her heart.
One would call it jealousy, and they would be right. She was envious of those men being granted the attention she was craving for. It wasnāt like she could tell anyone. It was out of question to talk to her Ma. She couldnāt keep a secret to herself and; honestly, Jane was scared of her reaction at being told that her only daughter would never bring a man home or give her grandchildren. Homosexuality was a sin in the Rizzoliās household. They werenāt as religious as they used to be but the Catholic principles had been etched in her memory day after day for years. There had been rumors about her, rumors that started during her teenage years, rumors that she had vehemently denied for fear that one might find out that she could be a sinner. She had managed to push that part of her so far away that she kinda forgot about it. Until Maura came into her life and turned it upside down.
Outside, the wind picked up in intensity as if it was following the wild train of her thoughts spiraling into dark lands. The storm wasnāt anywhere near its dying hour. It would keep raging for the rest of the night and maybe even for the rest of the weekend, gone as it was. Her Ma had stopped by her office earlier to give her candles and a bunch of survival stuff that her favorite broadcaster had deemed necessary if they had to remain confined until the end of the storm. The candles would come in handy. A power cut wasnāt unlikely with how often the lights flickered. What would she do then? Catching up on sleep would be a good idea but she was too restless to even stay sat on the couch for a minute. She was left to pace around crowded flat, imagining she was Mauraās date instead of that guy and ignoring the hurt the rational side of her brain reminded her that it would never happen.
The lights flickered again struggling against the weather with all they had until they couldnāt anymore. They gave in, plunging the whole condo in the dark. Jane let out a curse, reaching for the candles and matches she wouldnāt be able to strike. The weather was ruthless on her dysfunctional hands. They had sensed the storm hours before it hit the town and been either numb or pulsing with a dull pain, incapacitating her. Cavanaugh had seen it and must have strengthened his decision to take those days off. It was no secret to anyone that when she was rubbing her hands together and massaging around the scars, it meant that she was experiencing some pain or discomfort. They would never be as good as new like she said to the bastard who had inflicted these wounds to her. She would suffer from chronic pain for the rest of her life. But at least, they were working well enough for her to keep her gun and badge. She would have hated a forced retirement for medical reasons so early in her career.
A knock on the door distracted her from her task. She moved as quietly as she could in the dark toward the front door. Her curled fingers clumsily took hold of her gun. She wouldnāt be able to fire but the sight of it in her hand would be discouraging enough for anyone with bad intentions. She glanced through the peephole but couldnāt see a thing. Of course.
āDrop the gun, Jane. Thatās me.ā
Maura. What was she doing here? It wasnāt that late, she should still be with her date. Why would she come here? Had it gone wrong? She should feel guilty to have such thoughts. She should be happy for her friend instead of being a grumpy mess with a broken heart.
She placed the gun back down and turned her attention to the several locks on her door. They were all there because of Hoyt, because she had grown paranoid and needed to feel safe. Ironically, the safest she ever felt wasnāt in her own place, with all the locks, nor was it at the precinct, surrounded by all her colleagues. It was with Maura. Maura made her feel safe, and she didnāt need any weapon or closed doors for that.
She pulled the door open once all the locks were off. She didnāt see Maura, but she heard her and all her instincts kicked in. Her breathing was quick and shallow. Maura wasnāt an athlete, but a couple flights of stairs wouldnāt have let her out of breath like that. Something was wrong.
The lights blinked back on to a lower intensity than they should be but Jane didnāt notice it. Her eyes were glued on her friendās face. She was soaked to the bone, her hair was stuck to her cheeks and forehead, her make up had left two black streaks down her face, but the most striking was the darkening bruise on her left cheekbone and the split bottom lip. She frowned and delicately took Mauraās chin in her hand.
āWho did this to you?ā
Maura looked down, avoiding her eyes. The question was stupid. Unless a random stranger decided to brave the raging storm to hit another stranger (which could be possible with how twisted the human kind was), it could only be the guy Maura was with tonight. If her path ever crossed his, he would regret being born at all. How could one lay a harmful finger on such a pure soul like Maura who was nothing but kind and caring even with people who didnāt deserve it?
Maura didnāt answer. Her bottom lip was quivering, her whole body was trembling. It could be the shock or it could be the cold. Or both. She flinched when Jane gently led her inside the flat, stood still while she pushed the locks back on, remained silent when she took her to the bathroom. Jane cupped her bruised cheek gently and lowered herself to meet hazel eyes.
āYou need to get out of these clothes and take a warm shower before you catch pneumonia or something worse.ā
The smaller woman held her gaze, holding back tears, and slowly nodded. Janeās heart shattered further more at the tears clinging to her eyelids, at the lack of verbal answer from her usually talkative friend.
āIāll get you clothes and make some tea to warm you up, okay?ā
Another quiet nod. The urge to gather her friend in her arms and hold her until she felt better was stronger with every ticking second but the priority was to get her to shower and change so after a soft kiss on the forehead and a light squeeze of her shoulder, Jane left the bathroom and headed for her bedroom.
Her body was on automatic mode as she moved around the room to gather warm and comfy clothes that Maura could wear for the night (it was out of question to let her leave this place until the storm was over, and even then, Jane would stick by her side to protect her from the bastard who hurt her ā he better pray that she never found him because if she did, his own mother wouldnāt recognize him when she would be done with his sorry ass). Knowing Maura like she did, she wouldnāt press charges against the asshole so Jane would make sure he understood that if he ever came close to Maura again, she would make him regret ever having that idea.
She put the clothes down by the bathroom and returned to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. She always had some of the tea Maura liked in her cupboards, just like Maura always had beers in her fridge. If one looked closely, they would think that they were a couple moving on to the next step and making room for the other in their respective homes for they always left belongings here and there to get back later. A step none of their dates had ever reached. Surely it had to mean something. Thatās what her heart was whispering to her. Over the years, they had grown close, closer than best friends should be, and Maura never questioned it because she never had a best friend friend (or a real friend at all) and couldnāt tell how ambiguous their bond was. And herself hadnāt realized what she was doing until someone mistook them for a couple (yet again).
The cup in her hand trembled in the weak hold she had on it. She put it down on the counter before she dropped it (Maura loved that cup, and she remembered buying it just for her years ago) and massaged her hand with a wince. Everyone had noticed that too, how Maura was allowed to touch her hands. It wouldnāt be a big deal, if she wasnāt the only one who could do so. But she was also the only one who knew how to relieve her from the pain. And she never looked at her like she was broken, even when her hands would leave her unable to do the simplest of tasks like pouring hot water in a cup or striking a match to light a candle before the lights went out again. Maura did it for her, without a word, without judgement. Only a small tired smile as she settled the candles in the kitchen counter and around the living-room.
How could one look so outrageously good in an oversized sweatshirt, sweatpants too long for their legs and socks too big for their feet? The make up was gone, and the bruise looked darker now than it did before the shower. She sat on the couch, her steaming cup of tea on the coffee table and legs underneath her, eyes staring at the dancing flame of a candle. Jane grabbed the throw blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders to add another layer of warmth around her friendās body. Maura looked up at her, a grateful smile on her lips. She still hadnāt said a word. Jane didnāt push her. She would tell her, when she would be ready. When her mind would be clearer. She needed time to process what had happened before putting it into words. At least, she had come here instead of retreating to her house to sort through her dressing room. She refused company when she was upset, too used to deal with her emotions on her own, but today, she had run straight here instead, knowing full well that she would dare coming after her when Jane was around to protect her.
For a while, only the television and the combined sounds of the wind and rain could be heard. Jane reached for the remote on the coffee table and managed to switch the telly off after a short struggle. A struggle that didnāt go unnoticed for her hand was between Mauraās hands in the instant that followed and skilled fingers were massaging the painful limb. Relief was quick to come. Maura knew where to press and rub for the pain to disappear. Or at least, to go down to a bearable level.
āIāve thought about it all day,ā admitted Maura.
Her voice was hoarse from the crying she did before arriving here. Or was it from screaming? Had she yelled to that guy to let her go and leave her alone? Had she begged for him not to hurt her? Jane had seen the bruise on her cheek and the split lip but she could very well be bruised in other places covered by the large clothes. What ifā no. Maura hated what ifs. She believed in facts. She couldnāt lose herself to suppositions. She needed facts, and facts told her that Maura was here, that she was overall okay, that she wouldnāt have let anyone hurt her without a good fight.
āWith the change in atmospheric pressure due to the oncoming storm, your hands would hurt. They always do. But you wouldnāt tell anyone and just go on with your day. Youāve grown used to it but that doesnāt mean it hurts less.ā
āSo you been thinking about my hands all day.ā
āWhy do you sound so surprised that I care about your well-being? Knowing you like I know you, you stubbornly refused to take any painkiller because Detective Jane Rizzoli has to be tough in public.ā
āI have a reputation to uphold, Dr. Isles.ā
āItās a point I can perfectly understand as weāre both evolving in so called male territory. But youāre home now.ā
āAnd Iāve just got the best pain treatment I could ever ask for. Your fingers are magic.ā
āThereās nothing magical about medical knowledge.ā
Jane raised her hands and wiggled her fingers with a grin. She was as good as new now thanks to Mauraās brief massage. Her friend shook her head at this childish behaviour but the smile on her face was one of amusement this time. For a short moment, she had forgotten what happened to her. Jane hadnāt. Her rage was concealed, burning just underneath the surface, ready to have her on her feet and running after the asshole who ruined such a beautiful face. She only got up to grab her now warm beer and pop it open while Maura sipped her tea slowly.
āWhatās that?ā
Maura was pointing to the thick cream-colored book that Jane had put on the coffee table earlier. It had no title and no picture on it, and Jane wasnāt known to be a reader despite the presence of books on her shelves. You had more chance to find a case file in her hands than an actual book. She couldnāt sit still for long enough to lose herself in a novel like Maura sometimes did when she had the time to.
āMaās new hobby.ā
Jane put her beer down on the coffee table and grabbed the book intriguing Maura. She plopped down on the couch and set it down on her lap. She knew what it contained for she had seen this book hundreds of times before. She didnāt even know her Ma still had it after the chaotic past few years they had gone through.
āShe read an article in one of her mags about people making their own photo books for children that they would offer to them when they get older and decided to make one for TJ. She asked me to help her pick the pictures she could use.ā
That was why she had pulled out their family album and added it to the bag with the candles. Jane had promised to take a look when she would have a moment. She would have done it later, since she was on forced rest for the next two days, but she could have a look now with Maura. It would distract their minds from the reason why they were here, together, in this stormy evening.
Above their heads, the lights blinked for the last time before they finally gave in completely and left them in the intimacy of the candlesā soft glow. How many times has she imagined a scene like this where she and Maura would be cuddling together with the crackling sound of the fire burning in the fireplace? The flames would be their only source of light, and they would share their usual beer and glass of wine, just enjoying the moment in silence. The universe had a funny way of mocking her and her fantasies of forbidden and unshared feelings. Maura would lean against her, seeking warmth or just needing contact, and Jane would wrap her arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head andā
āJane?ā
She blinked. Maura had scooted closer to her, and her hazel eyes were looking straight into hers. Warmth creeped up her neck and cheeks at the proximity and Maura interpreted in the only way she could think of: she pressed a hand to her forehead and frowned.
āYouāre all flushed and warm. Are you okay?ā
āSorry,ā she cleared her throat. āShouldāve known better than drink beer on her empty stomach. Itāll pass.ā
Maura made no comment on her not eating. It wasnāt unusual for her to skip meals, but this time it hadnāt been intentional. She had the food, but her hands just wouldnāt cooperate earlier and she would refuse to be fed like a kid. She would eat later, when power would be back so she could reheat the food or order something else to share with Maura.
Her friend tucked her hands back in her lap but didnāt move away. She was so close now that Jane could feel the warmth of her skin through the layers of clothes they both wore. She forced herself to focus on the book instead of thinking about the troubling proximity of her friend and the visible effects it had on her and opened it to the first page. A large picture of her parents at their wedding started the story of the Rizzoli family. Underneath it, in her motherās handwriting, was the date and the name of the place where the picture was taken. She was familiar with the photo as she had seen it every day for years on the wall of her childhoodās home. Her Ma must have kept it somewhere after being forced to leave the house. She wouldnāt have thrown it away, no matter how much she now despised her ex-husband.
The next pages were full of pictures of herself, from her pregnant Ma to her birth, pictures of her as a baby and then as a little girl with members of the family she had no memories of, pictures of every milestone of her first years, school pictures, pictures with her brothers. She had done the same with Tommy and Frankie. Each picture was accompanied by a date and the name and place of the event. All their life from their birth to the end of their teenage years was there. But it wasnāt over.
āI donāt think Mother had such a complete album of her life,ā Maura commented sadly. āI was lucky if they were even there for one of my birthdays.ā
āThey love you, in their own way.ā
āI know. But I would have loved having a childhood as rich and eventful as yours. You all look so happy on those pictures.ā
āNow. Youāve got us, and we havenāt missed any of your birthdays. Or any important dates of your adult life.ā
Jane wrapped her arm around Mauraās shoulders for a side hug and kissed the top of her head. Her heart broke a little bit more every time Maura mentioned how lonely she was as a child and how much she missed. It must be heartbreaking to see the pictures of the childhood she had wished for every day for years. They couldnāt change the past, but they could make the best of their present and future so only the best memories would remain in the end. Maura deserved nothing but the best there was on this Earth.
Maura cuddled into her, more than happy to be given this much love and comfort, and Janeās mind went blank at the now full contact between their two bodies. Was Maura doing this on purpose or was she oblivious to the way she made her feel?
āYou brought life to my dull existence. I canāt only be thankful for that.ā
āYou surely meant chaos.ā
āGood chaos. Most of the time.ā
āDonāt regret it, sometimes? Letting the Rizzoli in?ā
āNot even for a second. Youāre the best thing that ever happened in my life.ā
And the best thing Iāve ever had in mine, thought Jane. She kept it to herself, in the corner of her heart and mind that kept her feelings safe and secret. No one would ever know about her love for Maura, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how wrong it was in the eyes of the religion that had seen her grow up.
She had expected the next pages to be about TJ, but she was caught off guard when it revealed pictures of her graduation from the Police Academy, her official officer picture, pictures of her when she made it to Detective, copies of her police IDs (how had her Ma even gotten these?), and different newspapers articles about the successes of her career. Her Ma had never kept secret the aversion she had for her job, and yet, she had been following her achievements closely and had added them to the family album. Frankie had his own pages of honors as well.
Then came Maura.
Maura with Jane at the Rizzoli Sunday dinners. Maura with Jane at the Dirty Robber. Maura on her birthdays. Maura with the Rizzolis on Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Pictures of Maura with Constance on her rare visits, with Hope and Caitlin, with TJ, and even with Bass. There also were press articles of all her greatest achievements since she became part of their life.
Jane tightened her hold around her shaking friend. Maura was crying but this time, they were happy tears. Maura had told her how she never felt like she belonged anywhere, and this album, these pictures, were telling them a whole different story. Her Ma had added Maura in their family album as if she had always belonged there, and the pictures showed just how well she fitted in the Rizzoli clan, as if her place had always been there and they never realised it until now. Had her Ma known all along?
āI had no idea,ā murmured Jane.
Her fingers rested on the latest picture of her and Maura taken at her birthday. They both were laughing, and their faces were covered with cake icing. Jane remembered picking some of it on her finger and spreading it on Mauraās nose. Maura had lectured her on how it was not okay to play with food, but that had just been a clever distraction because a few seconds later, Jane had icing on her cheek. Before they could make a bigger mess, they were interrupted by her Ma who had chased them both from the kitchen to fix the cake before bringing it to the living-room for Maura to blow her candles.
āShe always saidā¦ butā¦ā
She couldnāt find the words that would fit the situation. Her Ma had always considered Maura like a daughter, like the daughter she had always dreamt of having, and this was just another proof of it. A real documented proof, and not just spoken words. Physical clues that Mauraās rational mind could understand and draw conclusions from.
Maura placed a hand over hers on the picture, their fingers resting on their smiling and cake-covered faces. Jane didnāt move, didnāt remove her hand, not even to wipe the silent tears on her face.
āI told him from the start that nothing would happen tonight.ā
It took a couple seconds for Jane to understand what Maura was talking about before her mind brought her back to the bruised cheek and split lip of her friend. For a moment, she had managed to forget about it, but now Maura was opening up to her about what had happened. All she had to do was listen to her and comfort her ā and catch the bastard who had hurt her.
āHe was nice when we met, and funny. Clever. Attractive. Everything a woman could ask for.ā
āBut?ā
āI realized this was not where I wanted to be. I still went because it wouldnāt have been nice of me to cancel at the last minute when he drove all the way to Boston, but he noticed I wasā¦ distracted. I apologized for giving him wrong ideas about my intentions, and he-he took it well, actually. Or so I thought.ā
Maura sniffled. If that was possible, Janeās heart shattered even more. She closed her fingers around Mauraās hand. A silent way to tell her that she was there. A silent way to comfort her.
āHe was charming and offered to drive me home. I refused politely, and just let him take me back to my car. I thought-I thought he was being gentle and making sure Iād get there safely butā¦ he tried to kiss me. I-I moved away. It angered him. He-he slapped me so hard I stumbled back against my car and nearly blacked out. I-I blinked and he was gone, and I was on front of your door. I have no idea how I got here, or why Iād come here at all.ā
āYou were shocked, Maur. You unconsciously looked for safety and protection and you knew where to find it. You knew Iād do anything to keep you safe from any harm. Even if that meant Iād have to face the storm to find that asshole and lock him in a cell.ā
Maura cuddled impossibly more into her side with a whimper. The idea of leaving her alone even for a second was as painful as it was to Maura. She wouldnāt run after him. Not tonight. But she could set Frost or Frankie on it later. They would let him know that she was coming for his ass and that he better be scared of her. But tonight, she would stay with Maura and comfort her and keep her safe from the storm and from the evil crawling around.
āIām not going anywhere, I promise. Thereās no other place Iād rather be right now. Nor anyone else Iād rather be with than my wonderful best friend.ā
Friends. Thatās all they were. All they were ever gonna be. She should tell her, but ruining their bond was the last thing she wanted. Maura was straight. And so was she. At least, in the eyes of world. Inside her heart though, she had understood a long time ago that no man could ever make her feel like Maura Isles did. She would never love anyone the way she loved her.
Maura looked up to her with those beautiful hazel eyes glistening with new tears caused by the memory of a disastrous date. Her free hand reached for her face and wiped away the couple tears sliding down her cheeks. Was she crying over the tale too? Or was it the pain of the impossibility to confess her feelings? With how close she was, Maura had to hear her racing heart. She had to be aware of the effect she had on her. Why did she have to look at her like this? Why was her face so close to hers that she could feel her breath on her skin? The faint smells of her own shampoo and soap were tickling her nose. Why did they smell better on Maura than they ever did on her?
āWhen you opened the door, Jane,ā her voice had dropped to a murmur as if she was about to reveal a secret, āI understood that it was where I was supposed to be from the start. This was where I belonged.ā
Her hand rested on her cheek now and Jane was certain she had stopped breathing. She had to be dreaming. Thatās it. None of it was happening. She must have fallen asleep on the couch after that long and exhausting week of work and her treacherous brain was giving in to the fantasies she refused herself during her waking hours.
āI understand now. Why none of these dates worked. It was so obvious, but Iām the dumbest genius youāve ever met, right?ā
Her thumb was stroking her cheekbone now, and Jane kept still, afraid that the dream would shatter and turn into a nightmare like they so often did when she let her guard down. She hadnāt had such a pleasant and breathtaking dream in such a long time. They were always plagued by monsters tearing Maura away from her. Not now. She would hate it if she was to wake up before she saw the end of it.
āThey werenāt you.ā
Her body shuddered when Mauraās thumb brushed over her lips. The touch was so light that she could have thought she had imagined it. Her eyes shut of their own volition andā¦ was that whimper coming from her? Oh God, let it be real!
āWhy do we always want what we canāt have?ā
You can have me! Her heart screamed with all it had. The words didnāt leave her mouth. It was sealed shut by the thumb Maura had left on her lips. It was a torture to have her so close and resist to the urge of kissing her. How could loving someone as pure as Maura Isles could be considered a sin at all? How could love be a bad thing?
The whimper that came out of her throat when Maura broke all physical contact and moved away from her was loud. Her eyes snapped open. Maura was up and moving farther away from her. Jane was on her feet in the second, the forgotten photo album falling to the ground with a thud. Her hand caught her friendās wrist before she could go anywhere.
āIām sorry. I shouldnāt haveā¦ but the revelation was too big, and-and the picturesā¦ I-I know youāre straight and itās okay. Really. Iāll justā¦ Iāll just be your friend. If you still want it.ā
āMaura.ā
āIf you donāt want me around anymore, Iāll leave. I-Iām sorry. Iām really sorry.ā
āDo you mean it?ā
Her scarred hand cupped Mauraās cheek. Tearful eyes looked up at her. Maura had expected rejection from her because she had always fiercely declared that she was straight and because thatās all she had ever experienced from people never scratched the surface to see how beautiful of a person she was.
āWhat?ā
āEverything you just said, was it real?ā
āI canāt lie, Jane, you know that.ā
āI do.ā
āSo why asking the question?ā
āBecause I want to be sure Iām not dreaming.ā
Maura tasted of salt, copper and herbal tea and her lips were as soft as Jane had imagined them to be in her fantasy. Maura stiffened against her and Jane thought that she had misinterpreted her words and overstepped her boundaries. She stepped back, head down, face red with embarrassment, not daring to say or do anything. She expected Maura to run away for good, to face the storm for the second time tonight because she wouldnāt feel safe anymore around the second person who forced their feelings on her.
She didnāt look up when Maura called her name with a voice so gentle that she could have turned into a sobbing mess. Even if the midst of chaos, Maura remained true to herself and showed kindness to the undeserving friend that she was. She didnāt run, nor did she yell at her or question her on the reason why she had kissed her all of a sudden. No. She reached for her left hand instead and, with the other hand, she cupped her cheek. She waited until their eyes met. Only then did she stand on tiptoe and pressed her lips against hers.
Her hands found Mauraās hips and rested there while Maura was tangling her fingers in her dark curls. They didnāt let go of each other, not even when they broke the kiss. Jane pressed her forehead against Mauraās. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage.
āSince when?ā murmured Maura.
āI didnāt realized untilā¦ until the Randall case andā¦ what happened in the prison.ā
It could have been another one of his tricks. After all, he only went after couples. Why would he have added Maura to his list of potential victims if he hadnāt seen the bond between them? She had tried to forget about it, tried to date men but after the warehouse shooting, when she had thought that she and Maura would never be friends again, she had known for sure. Dean and Casey had just been a distraction from the person her heart desired for real. They had taken what they wanted and left. Maura had stayed through everything, even through her darkest and most vulnerable moments.
āWhat do we do now?ā
She kept her voice low, afraid that speaking louder could break the moment they were sharing. She had a hard time believing that it was happening for real. She never wanted it to end.
āYou invite me to a real first date.ā
āWhy would it be me?ā
āBecause.ā
āBecause? Thatās all youāre giving me, Dr. Isles?ā
āIt doesnāt have to be anything fancy. You donāt even have to take me anywhere if you donāt feel comfortable with it. It could just be a nice dinner at home. Maybe here, so your mother doesnāt barge in and find out before youāre ready to tell her.ā
āIf I get to date you, Dr. Maura Isles, I donāt want to hide. I want the whole world to see just how lucky I am to love and be loved by the most amazing human being Iāve ever met in my life.ā
Mauraās cheeks turned red at the compliment and Jane thought to herself that she had never seen anyone so adorable before. She was nothing but honest: if she got the beautiful Maura Isles to he hers, she wanted the whole world to know.
Maura smiled at her and this time, she was the one to turn red. That woman had such an effect on her. She had never felt anything so strong in her life and, as their lips met again for another kiss, she wished to feel this happy for the rest of her lifeā¦
Oh, I definitely think Maura Isles can be read as autistic. I mean, just look at how she interacts with peopleāsheās super intelligent and incredibly knowledgeable in her field, but she tends to speak *very* literally and clinically, even in casual conversation. Sheāll be talking about decomposition rates or the Latin names of bones in front of everyone like itās normal dinner table conversation.
She also has trouble picking up on social cues sometimes. Like, you can tell she *cares* deeply about peopleāespecially Janeābut she often says things that come off as blunt or awkward without realizing it. There are moments when she completely misreads the mood of a room, or when she doesnāt realize someone is joking and responds with a serious, fact-based correction. That kind of disconnect between intent and delivery is really familiar.
Another thing is her wardrobe and overall presentation. She always dresses extremely neatly and deliberately, kind of like sheās wearing armor. Her fashion sense is impeccable, but itās also *controlled*. She doesn't really ādress downā or shift into casual mode the way others doāitās like she's most comfortable sticking to a polished routine, which can be a form of stimming or self-regulation.
And when sheās stressed or overwhelmed, she usually retreats into logic or science instead of talking about how she *feels*. Like when something traumatic happens, she might give the medical explanation for what occurred rather than say āIām sadā or āIām scared.ā That kind of emotional distancing, using intellect as a coping mechanism, is common in autistic peopleāespecially those who have learned to mask or intellectualize their reactions to fit into neurotypical expectations.
Oh, and she has a hard time lying. She *can*, but she hates it and usually avoids it. Thatās another classic autistic trait: a really strong sense of honesty or discomfort with social manipulation. Sheās straightforward to a fault, which sometimes causes friction with others who expect more tact.
So yeah, I donāt think the show ever intended to explicitly label her, but when you look at the way she communicates, connects with people, processes emotions, and finds comfort in structureāit lines up really well with how a lot of autistic women experience the world. Honestly, seeing her on screen feels validating, even if the representation is subtle.
Thank you to everyone for filling out the completionist form - there were so many this year! Congratulations to all of you, it's been absolutely incredible to see.
So without further adoā¦
Please give a huge well done to the completionists of 2025!
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