#i must not make it longfic. longfic is the time-killer. longfic is the little-death that brings total obliteration etc etc

[ohhgingersnaps]

writer priorities: sitting in the urgentcare lobby with pneumonia, scribbling down a bunch of notes on what it's like to get chest x-rays done because you can absolutely use it for a fic

[ladyriot]

Snippets from the longfic I've been tinkering with for ages and have still not made work in a way I would be happy to write. Tentative title is The Revisionist. Case-fic, angst-fest, pining galore... set after the series ends. Jane wants one last case with Maura and comes to regret it.

~~

Maura's entrance is announced by the muffled sound of heels across carpet. Jane stands from her crouch to make room for her to get close to the body.

Maura betrays almost nothing, in a professional mood that forces humanity out as best as possible because otherwise this job gets too much. But there's something about the way she's holding her mouth that means this one's getting to her, which means this is one of those times that Jane needs to put herself in the autopsy room, a distracting force so Maura won't get too in her head. It means Jane should show up on Maura's porch later and act like it's her who needs comfort tonight. 

She's hit now with a bitter strike of loss. Who's gonna take care of Maura when she's not around, someone who won't hover and worry and hug like her mother always tried to in times it would make Maura skittish to be touched by any hands but Jane's? Who would make sure Maura was okay when she didn't want to admit she wanted company, didn't want to ask and risk sounding needy? 

Jane resolves to call every night, no matter what, be ready to switch to video at the slightest hitch in a voice, as Maura takes careful stock of the body. 

"I can't estimate time of death here," Maura says finally, voice measured and even. "I'll need to do the autopsy first."

Maura finally meets Jane's eyes. "Do you have an ID?"

"No," Jane says. "Nothing on her. Anything you can tell me before I canvass?"

"There should be more blood on the victim," Maura says, leaning further over the body. "Look at the spray, how none of it is on her face. The blood might've been wiped off. I'll look for traces of solvents that might've been used. If we're lucky, fibres."

"Thanks," Jane says, taking a step back. "Killer was really angry. How'd he find the calmness to clean up after himself? And why just her face? You think he knew her?"

"I can't possibly tell. I'm gonna let them get her back to the lab, okay?"

Jane nods dutifully, softening her eyes in a way Maura can read as reassurance. They've become fluent in each other. Maura gives an almost imperceptible nod of her head and walks out of the room as if unbothered.

~~

"Are you doing the autopsy tonight?"

"In the morning," Maura says. "Just an external exam for now, get everything processed."

Jane nods. "You look like something's off about it, though."

"Surgery," Maura says softly. "She has indicators of cosmetic surgery. Look at this scar under the chin. It's where chin shaving would be done. There are also indications of filler." 

"So you're upset because a stranger didn't like her face?"

"No, Jane," Maura says. "I'm upset because these scars are fresh. The swelling must have just recently gone down."

"Are you saying the killer did surgery on her?"

"You know I can't say that, Jane," Maura says. "I can tell you the technique is slightly antiquated. It wouldn't likely be done this way by a recent graduate of the last five or six years. And it's a little less precise than I'm used to seeing in medical books. It wouldn't be out of the question."

"Fuck, that's sick," Jane says. "That's deranged."

Maura doesn't even correct her language. "Dental records might help us see when her jaw was altered. And I've sent swabs of her face to check for solvent and any trace off for processing already."

~~

Maura leans against the window, remembers it's unsafe, (car safety wasn't even tested on women) and sits up straight again, rolling her skull back into the headrest. She's drained. Jane drives carefully, tapping her non-driving foot in a staccato rhythm that only makes Maura sleepier as her breaths elongate into four counts. But she doesn't want to go to bed. Her fatigue is at war with the potential loss of Jane. She swallows hard at the remembrance of Jane's words on video, wondering when she ever got the chance to record it. It'd been so sweet, and Jane had met her eyes in a way that told her it was for her. Mostly for her. It had made her stomach clench. 

Maura'd done her own video after washing the body for the autopsy the next day. Kent had returned as she was finishing and helped her put it in cold storage for them to pull out in the morning. She'd paced her office, unsure what to say and Kent had told her to say what's in her heart. But her heart just thundered a pulse of Jane's name, over and over. 

"You woke something up in me that I thought wasn't there at all. This ability to connect, to love and be loved both openly and entirely. And I love you. I am willing to speculate, just this once, that I couldn't stop if I tried." 

Maura, for the first time, was glad there was so much ambiguity in the word love. And yet still she felt transparent, felt like Kent could read it on her, see exactly how it is she loved Jane.

"How was that?" 

"Good" 

"I'm really sad." And she had felt deeply hollow. So hollow that she went and cancelled her plane ticket. She had wanted to avoid watching Jane leave by booking her trip to begin before Jane had to go. She could spare a few days witn her to not have to see her walk away from everything that held them together and that lingering… posiibility that Maura had little belief was something she felt alone.

But now they pull up to Maura's driveway. Jane shifts the car into park and Maura watches her arm flex. Her mouth goes dry with a want to ask her inside, to ask her to stay, protect her with those muscled arms. But she won't ask. 

"Thanks for driving me home," she says instead. "I was uncomfortable driving at that estimated blood alcohol content." 

"You're good, Maur," Jane says, stepping out of the car with Maura. 

They head up the stairs together and maybe Maura won't have to ask at all. Maura unlocks the door and steps in, Jane following after and locking and bolting the door. She goes off to put her kit belt in the gun safe. Watching that, how Jane still has it, makes her think. How long is Jane extending her work? It never really made sense for Jane to leave anyway. If she wanted safe, there were safe job positions in Boston. Her family was Boston, her whole life. But still, she wants to leave everything to start again, alone, somewhere new.

Part of Maura has to cover up the instinct to believe that Jane is trying to get away from her. Maybe they spent too much time together. Maybe she was limiting her from the life she actually wanted. Maybe she's noticed the way Maura just can't keep her eyes off her sometimes. 

"Are you planning to stay until this case is solved?" Maura asks lightly, trying to curb the hope from the question.

~~

Maura gets ready for bed in contemplatory silence. But then Jane knocks, dressed in pyjama pants and a tank top.

"Goodnight," Jane says.

"Come here," Maura says, her heart betraying her with its fierce beat.

She hugs Jane, lets herself be held, and the horrors of that day, slowly creeping in in the dark, finally start to blur at the edges. She breathes easier in Jane's arms. Feels so safe. 

"Can I… ?" Jane asks.

Stay. She knows that's what Jane's asking just by how soft and scared it sounds. One of the only things that scared Jane was asking for a vulnerable moment of intimacy. Maura nods against her, then exits her embrace, pulling her by the hand towards the bed and flicking up the sheets on her side as invitation while she slips into the bathroom to finish getting prepared.

Clean and moisturized and brushed, Maura slips into her own side of the bed. "Can I turn off the lights?"

"Yeah," Jane says.

Maura does. "Night, Jane."

"Goodnight."

Maura can feel Jane's fierce warmth already and it lulls her towards sleep. She knows she's going to wake up with those arms wrapped protectively around her. But they never do while she's awake.