M-rated one shot, Maura's POV. At Paddy's bedside in episode 3x01, when Maura asks Paddy if he planned to shoot Jane, and Jane tells Maura she wants to show her something, they exchange a series of looks that are so smoldering that I refuse to believe they didn't ravish each other at some point between that moment and the visiting of baby Maura's grave. So this story fills in the gaps. Or gasps. What's an s between friends?
My heels sound hollow on the floor of the hospital hallway. I've just visited my mother's bedside and am now on my way to the bedside of my biological father. What a mess.
Suddenly I hear the clunking of her boots. I know that it's her. When I am working on a body in the morgue, it is the first thing I hear to indicate that she is on her way, "Maur," she calls after me. But I'm just not in the mood. I keep walking. "Maur. Maura! Listen to me dammit. Maura!" The clunks are rapid, she's running now, and I don't care. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of my attention. I keep walking.
Hands close around my wrist and I'm yanked back. Cavewoman Jane has caught up with me. "Maur, stop!"
"Let go of me, Detective," I say calmly, coldly.
"Do *not* go into your father's room until I tell you." She doesn't remove her hand. It burns around my wrist.
"Excuse me?" I say indignantly, then turn around and try to free my hand. She grips it tighter and pulls me back.
"Do *not* go there until I say it's clear, do you understand?"
"No I don't. I will ask you one more time to let go of me, Detective, or I will raise alarm."
She pushes me backwards against the wall in a rough way, usually reserved for perps. She has me pinned by my shoulders, her face inches from mine. I have missed her touch. For weeks I have gone without a hug, or handholding, or her guiding me places with her hands. I crave it. I crave her.
"Listen," she whispers angrily. I can feel her breath on my face. "The cop that's with your dad right now? He's dirty. He's the one that's been setting us up. I have to go in there…" She suddenly seems to realize just how she is holding me. Her eyes suddenly go from clear chocolate to deep pools of darkness. Her breathing speeds up. "I have to…"
She steps back and lets go of my shoulders. She swallows and takes a few moments to refocus. Knowing that I have the same effect on her as she does on me is exhilarating and only heightens my need to touch her, to be touched. It is so overwhelmingly strong that I feel tears well up. I quickly close my eyes.
"I'm going in there, and you are staying out here. Understand?" she asks. I nod, not daring to open my eyes.
"Good," she says. I hear the clunks of her boots all the way to the end of the corridor before I dare open my eyes. A glimpse of her silhouette from afar is enough for another wave of craving to wash over me.
I try to take a few moments to calm my breathing and slow my heart rate down. Instead anger rushes through me. "By the dog!" I swear out loud. "Merde!" She has gone into a room with my father and a dirty cop with some heroic plan for an arrest. What is she trying to do? Get shot? AGAIN?! And I stood by and let her walk in there, because…well, because…"The dark pits of Hell!" I'm livid. I stomp through the corridor and round the corner only to be pushed against the wall by far gentler, but equally strong hands. It's not my day.
"Maura, sorry," Frost's friendly eyes are on me. In a low voice he tells me: "You can't visit your father right now. We're arresting a dirty cop."
I nod, and a flood of curse words runs through my brain. "Thank you," I force out. "Is she in there?"
"Yes, don't worry, though. She's good, and we've got her back."
I see Korsak nod at him. "Show-time!" he says before letting go of me, drawing his gun and barging into the room. I know I should stay back but I need to see if Paddy is alright, I tell myself. As soon as I walk into the room my eyes fall on her though. I'm still so angry and so turned on and I see the sentiment reflected in her eyes.
I see Cavanaugh handing her back her gun and welcoming her back to Homicide. She's going back to her old duties, whereas I have resigned. It adds fuel to my anger.
Everyone filters out of the room, but she lingers. What for? To rub it in?
I somehow manage to take my eyes off of her, and turn to my father.
"I need to know something," I ask him sharply. "Would you have shot her?"
I know he wouldn't have. It is out of revenge that I ask. I want Jane to hear it.
His eyes lock on her and without any noticeable eye movement he says: "Hell yeah…she's a cop."
No eye movement means he is lying. And I don't get it.
I look at him for a few moments and he calmly looks up at me. And then I realize. He wants Jane in my life. He has chosen her for me, to love and protect. Well that's just great!
She stands beside me suddenly, glancing down at Paddy. Goosebumps rise all over my arms. I see that he notices it. Dammit!
Her eyes lock on mine. "I got something I need to show you."
For lack of an interfering deity, I look to my father for a life line, but he's not throwing any. He has picked Jane - infurating, triggerhappy, selfsacrificing Jane as a good match for his daughter. Infuriating, sexy, tantalizing – infuriating, I try to remind myself – triggerhapy, hot, hot Jane, who wants to show me something. Alright then. I follow her out.
She rudely pushes me into the elevator. As she angrily slams the button for the ground floor, I decide I've had enough and shove her against the mirror that covers one wall of the elevator. She turns around, her face magnificently beautiful and passionately angry. She lifts an eyebrow at me. "What the hell?" she growls.
"Show me," I snarl at her. "Show me then!" My face is inches from hers.
I see a flash of confusion in her eyes. I pin her against the mirrored wall and whisper against her lips. "Show me..!"
She doesn't move. For a few moments we stand, breathing, lips almost touching. The ding of the elevator closing flusters me and I take a step back to rebalance myself. At the same time her hands are on my hips, pulling my pelvis against hers.
Red hot flashes of raw emotion shoot up along my spine. I crush my lips against hers and force her mouth open and my tongue in, grabbing handfuls of hair and crushing her against the mirror.
As we reach the ground floor and I pull away. She looks overwhelmed and forgets to exit the elevator. I grab her at the wrist and drag her through the corridors.
"Maur'" she says weakly as I round a corner with her. "I need to show you…"
But I'm beyond caring. Her 'leading' has led us absolutely nowhere so far. I'm in charge now. And I will have her. My way. Now.
I walk the familiar steps down to the hospital morgue, drag her through the empty staff room and push her into the women's toilet facilities.
I rip open her shirt and pull it and her jacket off. Seeing her in her tanktop is usually a delightful thing. But now it's means that there is one too many a layer between me and what I want. I try pulling her tanktop up, but then her strong hands take hold of my arms as she pushes me back against the door. Hoh, finally! She has caught on. Her lips crush onto mine and another searing kiss leaves me without equilibrioception. I slump against her and drag her down onto the tiled floor. We fumble with buttons and zips and hooks, and growl our frustration over them and over the last two weeks into kisses, all the while pressing into each other's bodies and touches. Release comes quickly for me. I shudder and scream into her shoulder, but I don't have the attention span to ride out the wave, too busy as I am enjoying the power I have over Jane as she moans and collapses into my touches. The sight of her responding to me so directly sets off a new wave of desire in me. Without the need of another touch a second orgasm crashes over me and she too shudders and yanks my hands away.
We sit together for a while, holding onto each other, steadying our breathing. I intensify our hug for a moment and then get up to salvage my apparel. I redress myself again, as well and as wrinkle-free as I can manage. I help Jane back into her tanktop, and fight the urge to rip it off again. I do not put her shirt back on. Nearly all buttons have come off.
I'll buy her a new one. One with a satin sheen that…god the beast has been unleashed well and truly. Just the thought of a fabric with satin sheen on her torso rekindles my desire. I shake my head to clear it. Not here again, not now. The next time I'm touching Jane, and there will be a next time…I shake my head again vigorously…anyway, then it will be somewhere and sometime that I can leisurely explore her. I dump the shirt in the waste bin and hold out my hands to help Jane get up off the floor.
"G..god, where did that come from?" Her dark voice is still nearly a whisper.
I rearrange her hair in a somewhat acceptable coupe. "Well, you wanted to showed me."
She frowns. And is still frowning as I hold out her jacket to her.
"What did you think I wanted to show you?" she asks.
"This?"
She shakes her head.
"It wasn't a euphemism?"
"No-o?"
"Not like I show you mine, you show me…you know? ..yours? Oh god."
She smirks.
"Oh god, Jane. Oh my god! I'm really sorry."
She laughs now and I can't help but giggle along with her, and pretty soon I'm laughing so much out of sheer embarrassment that I'm wiping tears from my eyes.
"You let me!" I swat her.
"You were kinda persuasive."
"Was this…" I fumble to find the right words. I want to ask if it was too brusque, unwanted, invading perhaps. But I want to find a more neutral word. "Was this…" I try again.
"Necessary." She completes simply and full of her characteristic integrity.
I nod. We look at each other for long moments and I lean forward to kiss her again. Softly this time, but with all the passion I can allow. I drink her in. Necessary, yes. I entangle my fingers in her hair.
Yet she pulls out of the kiss. "But I really need to show you something," she says. "And it's sad. I'm so sorry. This would have been easier when I was still angry."
"You're not angry anymore?"
She shrugs, then shakes her head. I smile in relief, but she doesn't smile back. Her eyes have this dark swirl that I recognize. It is the same look she gives me at a crime scene before she tells me that the body that has been found is of an infant, or something else that is as terrible as it is incomprehensible. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
"Tell me," I say. I suddenly feel nauseous.
"Not here," she says as she slides her hand around my wrist. I put my free hand on hers and slide her hand down until she is holding my hand. Cavewoman is not welcome right now. I let our fingers intertwine and hold onto her firmly as we walk back up through the hallways.
"Tell me," I urge again as we stand outside in the late afternoon sun.
She turns towards me and squints. "I rather just show you. Words…" She drops her gaze. "I just can't. Let me show you?"
I nod. We drive in silence. As she pulls her car into a lane towards a Catholic cemetery, I'm beginning to feel the puzzle pieces connect. "Is this about my biological mother? Jane, is she dead?"
Jane shakes her head as she exits the car. She opens my car door and I see her gaze is even darker now. It's worse than my mother already being dead? What can be worse? Oh god. I get out of the car and immediately pull her into a hug. "Show me," I ask her.
I let her guide me with one hand on the small of my back. We stop in front of a small headstone. A child's grave. A brother or sister? A twin? Every possible scenario races through my head. I kneel in front of the little headstone and let the name on the stone register. It can't.
The air is pressed out of my lungs as I sluggishly try to get my brain to read the name. My name? Awareness crashes over me, as the ground vanishes beneath me.
"Breathe, Maur', just breathe. I've got you." Her strong arms wrap around me from behind.
She's got me. Just breathe. She's got me.
Thank you for reading.