Title: The Rain

Author: tika12001 (aka Katie)

Rating: K

Summary: Jane wants to know why Maura broke up with Jack. Inspired by a tumblr post that read: I'd never ask you, deep down I'm certain, I know what you'd say, you'd say I'm sorry, believe me, I love you, but not in that way. My attempt to fix how that post made me feel!

Disclaimer: not mine, make no money, etc etc. I wish they were mine though! The things I'd make them do... hmm... :-P

A/N: okay, I am soooo sorry I haven't updated my camping fic in like, forever. Anyone who has been following me lately knows I've had some health issues and... well yeah. The pain has been flaring up a bit lately and it's making it hard to be inspired and feel creative. I will finish that story though, you have my word.

As to this story: I tried a different style this time. Less narrative, more description. I hope to make the scene bloom in your mind, please let me know if I was successful. :-) that's all for now... I hope you enjoy my latest offering!

R&IR&IR&I

"So... are you going to tell me what happened between you and Jack?"

"I wasn't planning on it, no."

"You're not going to tell me why you broke up?"

Maura sighed heavily and stood up, gathering our containers and cutlery. "Jane, I said no."

"But..." I trail off as Maura looks at me once, then heads into the kitchen, and I find myself haunted by the look in her eyes. What was it I saw in them? It wasn't anger... or fear. At least, I didn't think I saw those things. It wasn't a happy look, or a sad look. She looked resigned... as though to a fate she did not foresee, a future that was not in the cards. I look down at my hands. Scar tissue mars the centre of my palm on both hands... the reminder of a man who terrified me to a point where I could only find shelter with one person. One woman... Maura.

Maura. My gaze drifts to the couch cushion that lay beside my bent knee, and my hand, seemingly without my approval or awareness, crept out to touch it, to feel the warmth left behind from the person who had so recently left it. I trace its thick folds, idly noticing the delicate stitching, the intricate patterns. They were not visible at first glance, or even second, third, or seventy ninth. It is only now, now that I am close to them, that I look at them closely, that I see them more clearly.

Sounds of dishes clattering in the sink draw my attention away from the cushion and I sit up a bit more so I can see over the back of the couch. Maura is standing at the sink, her arms moving and flexing as she cleans the few dishes we used tonight, and I find myself listening for the quiet sound of her breathing. It is difficult: the soft music of the movie we had just watched and the sound of rain outside both vie for my attention, but I focus on her, only on her, and finally I can hear it. Soft, peaceful, and the rest of the world's noises fall into a lullaby around it, soft music to accompany her inhales and exhales and allow me to be totally at peace.

I don't know how... or why... I feel so at peace with her. To be honest, I try not to think of it. After all, she is not a cop. She is a doctor. She has no power really to stop harm from coming to me... but she makes me feel safe. She makes me feel happy, and wanted, and... alive... in a way I had never dreamed of before.

"We should turn this off now," Maura says quietly, and I jolt, so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I did not notice her movement. She picks up the remote and with the press of a button, the movie is turned off and the silence in the room is almost deafening. Only... it's not quite silent, is it? There is the sound of the rain, after all... and the sound of her breathing. My own heart feels like it is beating against my rib cage with iron fists, trying to tear its way out of my chest, and I gasp suddenly. Maura, who had been standing so uncharacteristically, so away from me, is beside me in a heartbeat, her deep ocean eyes filled with concern. "Jane?" she asks, and I look at her, and I try to count the colours in her eyes, but I don't think I have enough words in my vocabulary to count the greens and browns and yellows... the flecks of gold, of brown, of emerald... She is looking at me though, and her mouth is moving, and I think I really should focus on it. "Jane? Are you okay?"

"Why did you break up with Jack?" I ask, and it comes out much quicker than I intended, a sentence that is all jumbled and joined together and I wonder belatedly if I even managed to string the words together in the correct order so I repeat myself, slower, and watch her as she deflates. "It was you, wasn't it?" I press and she shakes her head, her hands pressing on her knees and I panic, my hand on her shoulder as I silently plead with her to stay.

"Jane..." she whispers, and just the sound of my name has never said so much before.

Please don't make me.

Please don't leave me.

Please don't ask me.

Please don't beg me.

Please don't hate me.

Please don't make me stay.

Please don't make me go.

Please make me be here.

Please make me be gone.

Please love me.

God, please... please...

"Maura..." I whisper back and I try to convey as much as I can in that one word.

I will always ask you.

I will never leave you.

I will always care.

I will always need you.

I will never hate you.

I need you to stay.

Please don't go.

I love you.

"I can't." The word is quiet, yet it hammers on my eardrums with its doom bell of hopelessness and I grip her hands, feeling her warmth seep into me, melting the walls I build. "You don't understand." I grip tighter, and I don't try to keep my scars away from her skin. I let them graze her, and pretend that I am burning my brand into her soul. "I know what you'll say," she whispers and I shake my head, the slight breeze from the one open window fluttering my hair so it tickles my face but I don't let go.

"You don't like to guess," I tell her, reminding her of its importance, of her importance. Her integrity, her honour, her sense of moral duty... it all plays a part in her... and I can't let her ever forget that. I can't let her forget how wonderful she is. "Please... don't guess."

"You can't... you won't..." she murmurs, her head lowering now, her eyes dropping from mine, and I let go of one of her hands, pulling it over so it can join its mate being held by my other hand. I gently lift her chin, and I take a breath, but I don't know what to say. So I just look instead. Her eyes glitter... red with barely repressed tears, yet still an amazing array of colours. Her teeth come into view as she nervously chews at her bottom lip, and I find myself looking at every inch of her face hungrily, attempting to count the many freckles that dot the skin across her nose, looking at every eyelash as they glisten wetly, several stuck together even though she has not yet shed a tear, and finally I know what to say.

"Try me."

END

I left it open ended deliberately, and no, I will not be adding to this story. I loooove reviews though, so please feel free to shoot one through, particularly if you have some advice on how I can improve! Be polite though please. :-) If you come in simply to tell me I suck, I will kindly beg you to please f**k off and annoy someone else. Actually, no, I shouldn't wish that on another person... just f**k off, k? :-P haha nah, but seriously, LOVE constructive advice... but the reviews telling me I'm awesome are also fantastic. hehe.

If you don't feel like reviewing, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and have a nice day.

Love to all xoxo