Perception -10

The silence between them beat louder than any sound. When there was so much to say, its persistence galled Maura. Words tumbled inside her head like wet clothes in a dryer. After all this time and everything they've done and said, she still didn't know how to fix it. What was the right thing to say? To do? Why wasn't it coming to her? All the professional accolades and academic degrees seemed profane if they couldn't help Maura figure out what was happening with Jane. She retreated to the sofa, preoccupied with her thoughts, barely aware the other woman followed.

"Maur…I'm gonna get us somethin' to drink, okay?"

Automatically she nodded and was relieved to be alone. Something within was gaining momentum. It was a sensory interpretation, similar to creaking joints stiffening before the onset of rain, and one that she instinctively believed in. Maura leaned back into the sofa cushions and kicked off the heels that had been deforming her feet the entire day.

"I hope red's alright."

Absently, Maura took the wineglass. "Yes, thank you."

Jane twisted off the beer cap and swallowed until foam filled the bottleneck. At Maura's raised eyebrows, Jane asked, "I was…thirsty."

"Apparently."

"Maur…I don't know what to do or even say."

Staring into her drink, she quietly said, "Perhaps we should start by being…honest."

"You haven't been? Is that what you're tryin' to tell me?"

Maura closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. Before answering, she took a deep breath then resolutely looked into Jane's tempestuous eyes. "God, you've driven me crazy all these years, Jane. Every day I had to fight my feelings. You'd move your hair over one shoulder, or wear all black, or smile because of something you saw, or laughed…whatever you do—whatever you say-however you look, it touches something inside of me and it keeps growing. You're always with me, Jane."

"I don't know what to say to that."

Jane's response was dependable, if not wholly insightful. Nonetheless, the pain it caused was serrated, easily allowing Maura to trace the jagged line between the present and future.

"I've fallen in love with you." Maura clenched her jaw then whispered, "That's not true…I've always been in love with you."

Uttering the admission initially felt like compensation for all those lean years of keeping it unsaid. Maura was ephemerally elated and relieved that that particular struggle had met its end. The silence continued and her fears ripened. What else could Maura add when countered by Jane's expression which was more suited to a high stakes poker game than unadorned honesty? Her thoughts, harshly, commanded her to leave, to get up and leave. Save yourself before the fallout. Before it irrevocably coated her.

They eyed one another cautiously. The contents of Maura's belly roiled, a hot queasiness that began to rise.

"I…I'm not there…yet."

Maura jumped up, too confused to add to the motion. She had been so sure of Jane's response, so ready to immolate her heart, Maura almost missed the 'yet' at the end of it. 'Yet' wasn't so far from 'soon'. A small detail but one that grew roots in her mind. Months ago, weeks ago, Jane would have left, closing the door behind her.

But Jane stood, her hand curving around Maura's hip. By degrees, with nothing more than Jane's proximity and scent, Maura sank into the embrace.

"I promise you, Maura, I'm trying—"

Frowning, Maura said, "Don't."

Just below the surface lustier needs hummed. There was nothing more she wanted to do than touch those lips with her own and forget everything else and create an amnesia they could both believe in. Instead, Maura backed away, breathing shallowly as if conserving for more disappointment. "I can't help feeling this way and you…you can't either."

Maura's smile was pained. She swallowed, briefly closing her eyes for what was to come.

"Love is or it…isn't. I know I am important to you. I know you love me. I know you don't want to hurt me. And we've known each other for a long time." Helplessly she shrugged and started to speak the last part that needed to be said but Maura couldn't.

Jane watched intently, frowning. She looked poised to contradict. The longer Maura stared into her eyes, the more difficult it became to break the reticence.

"So, you must know…" Maura swallowed, ignoring the tremors in her limbs. Her voice grew husky. "I can't keep doing this..." Her hand motioned limply. "…the fighting…" Her tone lowered to a breath. "…the fucking…"

"No." It was said emphatically, leaving little room for rebuttal. Jane's hands, conversely, were timid as they cupped Maura's jaw.

For a second, Maura weakened, rubbing her cheek into Jane's palm. "I can't see you as just a friend. I will always see you as more."

"Maura, just wait a second, okay?" Jane's hands took hold of Maura's shoulders. "You don't have to decide anything right now."

"I can't pretend it doesn't matter."

"Maura, just—please—give me some time, will you?"

It nearly broke her, the entreaty. Concentrating on the supple movements of tendon and muscle in Jane's neck, Maura herded the stragglers of her broken strength. Not to ask the question, but to listen to the answer.

"Time for what, Jane?"

Once the decision had been made, Maura spurned the cowardice impulse to glance away. She saw the befuddled expression, the tightening of skin around the eyes, then the glimmer of comprehension.

Jane's arms pulled away. "For me to catch up."

"You want me to…wait for you to fall in love with me? Is that what you mean?" When Jane simply looked at her, Maura's thinking sped up. "Or do you mean I should keep getting deeper and deeper while you sit on the sidelines all safe?"

"No, of course not." Jane scowled. "Is that how you see me, Maura? A user?"

"I…I think you're scared. Like me."

"I've never really been in love, let alone with my best friend." Blushing, Jane turned away. "Now I need a drink."

Maura held her breath, watching Jane go and didn't release it until she was out of sight. Instantly her shoulders were purged of some tension, her back less rigid.

There was little about Jane that didn't fascinate Maura. Each new piece of information was like a color from a child's paint-by-numbers kit. When they'd first met, Jane was an canvas with an outline. After several years, there was more outline than color but that didn't matter to Maura. The painstakingly slow revealment engaged Maura's curiosity and imagination, filling her with a need to know. Unique or ordinary, exciting or dull, trivial or huge, nothing was beneath Maura's investment.

Jane returned, two beer bottles in one hand and a small platter in the other.

"I got you a beer, too, and raided your fridge."

"Humus and pita bread?"

Jane shrugged as she sat down then placed the platter on the coffee table. Maura joined her on the sofa and gratefully took a beer.

"Hungry?"

It took a minute for Jane to chew, swallow and wash it down. "I haven't eaten all day."

"You should have stayed for breakfast then." The rejoinder had a bite to it in which Maura took no pride nor shame.

Jane, on the other hand, stopped shoveling food into her gaping maw. Eyes plunging to the floor, she fidgeted, still holding a shred of pita bread. Maura struggled not to take on something that wasn't hers. Yesterday, she would have cosseted and forgiven, brushing away her own feelings as if they were lint.

"I wish I had, Maura." Jane finally looked up. The trembling lower lip was too much for Maura to withstand so she didn't even try and softly kissed Jane's damp cheek.

Jane hastily reached for Maura, hooking her around the neck and waist. Face buried in Maura's neck, she murmured indecipherably but the timbre carried her remorse to Maura's willing ears. When the wide shoulders began to bow, Maura scooted closer, gently running her hand down Jane's spine.

§

Wincing, Maura attempted to sit up but something heavy was pining down. Her eyelids stuttered open and realization flooded in. Jane was drooling on Maura's shoulder, still comatose. Maura began the delicate process of extracting herself from Jane's rangy embrace. Once safely free, she stretched then ran tired fingers through her hair. She gathered the remains of their makeshift snack and went into the kitchen. The clock showed it was only a little after nine o'clock but it seemed later. She drank directly from the tap, cupping her palm under the running faucet.

All Maura wanted was to sleep. Fatigued by the emotional roller-coaster the day had been, the quilted mattress beckoned but the shower was presenting a persuasive case. She returned to the living room. Jane had moved onto her stomach, one arm over the cushion's edge. The picture was endearing. Without much energy, she debated whether to wake Jane or leave her be. It wouldn't be the first time she had crashed on the couch. Probably not the last either. Maura smiled then turned off the lights and made her way up the darkened stairway.

The shower proved to be a better debater than the bed with its multitude of settings, its promise of relaxation. Maura didn't linger, however, and quickly got ready for bed. The second her back hit the mattress, she began to unwind, the strain leeching out of her muscles leisurely, in no great hurry.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Eyes too heavy to open, mouth squished against the pillow, Maura huffed, "Comebed."

Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, she could detect the muted sounds leaking from the closed bathroom. There was a reassurance in Jane's presence, in the way her body moved among Maura's things. Innately agile and economical, her motions never encroached upon Maura's sense of order.

Finally Jane crawled into bed and wrapped her long body around Maura.

§

"Hey."

Maura wrinkled her forehead, eyes shut and none too happy at being awakened.

"Maura."

She grunted in response.

"Let's have breakfast."

Maura's eyes snapped open.

Jane's smiling face was looming above her, as eager as a rookie up to bat for the first time.

"Breakfast?"

"Yes! I've been waiting forever for you to wake up! I went to the store and bought some stuff to make pancakes."

"How many?" When Jane rolled her eyes, Maura pressed, "I'm not getting up until you tell me."

"Two…okay, okay, four!" Triumphantly she showed Maura the take-out coffee. "And I got you one, too."

"No wonder you're bouncing off the walls." Maura replied dryly, eyebrow lifting. She murmured a thank you then sipped from the stubby plastic snout. "I can't believe you've had four expressos, Jane."

"I bought fresh blueberries, too." She sang, scampering off the bed and practically vibrating with pent up energy.

"I am not going jogging after breakfast so you can get that out of your head right now."

Jane playfully leered. "Oh, Dr. Isles, there are much better ways to blow off some steam. But I want to feed you first."