I love this song, and as soon as I listened to it thinking about Jane and Maura, this happened.
Guys this one shot is SAD as hell. even for me. I rated it M simply for the sheer sadness of it.
I also actually like it more than most, though, so I urge you to give it a try.
THANK you for all the songs. Remember that if you want to know what I think/if I will fic it, you need to send me the music off anon, or with some way for me to get back to you.
Sand & Water
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Ari is difficult from the moment she is born. She screams into the world four days late, with a full head of jet black hair, and when her eyes open to look up at her mothers, they are as clear and crystal blue as the Atlantic.
She is a beautiful baby, Jane’s miniature features cut more finely. Her small, infant hands are delicate, like a doll’s.
They swaddle her, bathe her, feed her. Maura sings her French lullabies, Italian ballads. Waltzes.
Ari cries and cries. The wailing is endless. She screams as though they have wronged her. As though she has been kidnapped. Beaten. The word Colic is not a comforting one. Knowing the cause does not bring either of them closer to curing it. Ari balls up her fists and scrunches up her face and she yells.
“There’s no tears,” Jane says one evening. She is holding Ari in her arms, against her chest. She has circles under her eyes and last night she whispered to Maura that she wished her mother were still there to help them. “She’s not crying any tears.”
Maura nods. “Not for another few weeks or so,” she says. “Newborn babies don’t cry tears.”
Jane looks down at Ari, tired half smile. “We live with a doctor,” she says softly. “Your mommy is the best doctor in the whole world.”
Maura smiles, and fights down the frustration that rises when their daughter only stops crying to pull in a long, shaky breath. Jane looks up at Maura, and she can see her own worry and exhaustion and fear reflected back at her.
Jane is a dedicated, nervous, intense new mother. She takes the offered maternity leave, and then two thirds of her paid leave time. Maura does the same, and in the two weeks when their time overlaps, Maura discovers she adores her detective as a mother.
She discovers that resents their daughter for not adoring her too.
Ari won’t latch. She seems uninterested in even trying. Jane spends hours working at it. Days. She has a patience that she usually reserves for her cases, for victims unwilling to share all of the details, or suspects just on the brink of confession. She stays up late, even when nothing will stop the little girl’s crying. Her hands shake pouring coffee in the morning.
Maura coaxes Jane out of the nursery and into the city for a walk.
“I’ll take care of Ari for a little bit. Clear your head, honey. Take an hour or two.” Maura can see the guilt turning inwards, becoming blame. There is nothing wrong with Ari. She is a month old. Too new to have any blame assigned to her, and Maura did not birth her. No, this must be Jane’s fault.
“Call Frost,” Maura suggests, holding the fussy baby on her shoulder, opening the door with the other. “Call Frankie. Go to the Robber.”
Jane blinks, nods, shuts the door as quietly as possible.
Maura finds her three hours later, asleep in the driveway in the back of her cruiser.
Lots of #tinyflowers #interspersed among the #nativeprairie #grasses #ExploreSask #Canada #CelebrateWild #CelebrateWildflowers https://www.instagram.com/p/BxU218uhQuW/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=wnyp6iyi6inf
Generally the #layout was more #sparse with many #vendors and their #merchandise #interspersed with the #floral #displays, an #understandable #change (at Floriade) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsOxohGgsmi/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ofet2r6iq9pj
