argyle_s: (Default)
Title: The Diary of Jane
Author: Argyle_S
Pairing: Jane/Maura
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: NC-17
Length: About 27,000 Words
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance.
Warnings: Explicit sex. Pregnant Sex. BDSM. Branding. Mentions of sexual assault.
Summary: Three weeks after the incident with Dennis, Maura has to fly to D.C. for the weekend to consult on a case, but she leaves something behind for Jane. Her journal, which contains a series of letters she's written to Jane over the months since the two settled their argument over Doyle's shooting. Letters she's been too afraid to show Jane.


My Beloved Jane,

I find it hard sometimes to know where to begin or what to say. I write these letters as an exercise, a way to purge thoughts and emotions I wish I didn't feel. It feels so rote to write that, or even think that. Your friendship has always been such a wonderful gift. I should be able to accept it for what it is, and not want more. It's unfair to you. It's unfair to me. I just can't help myself. I can't stop myself from loving you. From wanting you.

When I talked to you about the longing I had to know my birth mother, I talked about the Oxytocin shaped hole in my life. I'm a scientist. I've spent my life trying to understand and quantify human behavior in terms of facts. Rules of science and biology. For you, I would throw all of that aside. I can't define you in terms of chemical reactions and hormonal responses. When I'm with you, I want to believe in all the poetry and romanticism that surrounds love in the dialog of human thought.

You're not simply a source of oxytocin. When I look at you, I am always looking East, and it is always dawn, because you are the sun of my world, rising over the horizon, filling every dark corner with the most beautiful light of the day. When I hear you, I am in a jazz club in New Orleans, listening to the whiskey soaked voice, because you are the music, washing over me, giving voice to every feeling that's ever touched my heart. When I smell you, I am always wandering through a field of lavender, drowning in the scent, because you are my spring, bringing everything back to life. When I touch you, I am in a Paris market, running my fingers over the finest down comforter, because I know that when I need it, you will wrap me in warmth and safety. I may never know what it would be like to taste you, but I dream of it, of letting my lips wander over your body and completing my sense picture of you.

I can name hormones, diagram chemical reactions and explain behavioral patterns all day long, but it's all meaningless to me when I try to understand you. I can only understand and define you in the language of poets. When I'm with you, even when I think of you, all the songs, poems and sonnets whose meaning eluded me my whole life suddenly make sense.

And it hurts so much I just want to cry.

I lost my biological mother tonight, for the second time. I lost a sister I didn't know I had, and never dreamed of. I should be feeling that, but I'm not. I'm laying in bed, weeping because I wanted so much for you to stay and hold me, and you left. I know it's not your fault. I've never asked, because I just don't know how, but I want to ask so badly, my love. I want to hold your head in my hands as I look you in the eyes and tell you I love you, and beg you to love me back, and to never walk out of my door to go back to your apartment again.

I want you to be mine. My partner, my love, my life, my Jane.

I know it's greedy to want that. I know I should accept that I'm just your best friend. I know that writing these letters just gives voice to my feelings and makes them stronger. But I don't know how to stop, and I'm not sure I want to.

I just hope that some day, you can forgive me.

With all my love,

I set the journal on the nightstand again. I wanted to keep reading, but I knew I needed a break. It was almost 2:00 AM, and I'd read maybe two dozen letters so far. Most of them were short notes about something that had happened, or something Maura had seen, heard or read that made her think of me, and while those were beautiful, it was the longer letters that kept me turning the pages.

They were so deep, so heartfelt that they took my breath away. It was hard to believe it was actually Maura who wrote them. I was so used to reading her autopsy reports and listening to her talk about hormones and neurotransmitters and orbicularis oculi pars lateralis that it never occurred to me that she could write something so emotional and romantic. Not to mention so erotic.

But they were, and each one made me feel things I didn't think existed outside of one of those sappy romance novels Maura hides behind her medical texts.

The way she described what I meant to her was so beautiful it broke my heart. I'd have chosen different metaphors. Maura's voice was hardly whiskey soaked, and when I went to Paris, I'd never set foot in any of the markets, unless you counted the gift shop at the Louvre, but the feelings were the same. The way the day didn't really begin until I saw Maura, and the way it always seemed brighter when we were together. The way just the sound of Maura's voice made tension melt away and made me feel safe.

I got out of bed, taking the journal with me as I headed to the kitchen to get a beer. I opened it, with an actual bottle opener, instead of the edge of Maura's marble counter tops, then flopped down on the couch and sat the bottle on a coaster on the coffee table.

I looked down at the journal, wondering how such a small thing could hold so much feeling. So much happiness and pain. I remember Maura telling me once that thoughts were the most powerful force in the world. I was starting to believe her.

I looked up when I caught a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye. The kitchen light in the guest house. Ma getting up for Tony's 2:00 AM feeding.

I reached for my beer, wondering how Ma was going to take the news that I was in love with Maura.

I froze, the bottle half way to my lips.

I was in love with Maura.

I felt the corners of my mouth turning up into a grin.

I was in love with Maura.

And Maura was in love with me.

I wanted to get up and dance a jig. I was in love with Maura, and Maura was in love with me. Me and Maura were in love.

When the panic came, it was for none of the reasons I would have expected. I didn't panic because I was in love with Maura, or because I was in love with a woman, or because I was going to have to come out to my mother and my brothers and my partners. I didn't panic because of the shit I was sure to get from some of my coworkers.

I panicked because every relationship I'd ever been in had been an unmitigated disaster, and Maura's track record was even worse. I was going fuck it up. I always fucked it up. And when I fucked it up Maura would be gone.

I closed my eyes, trying to stop the fear and the panic. I just needed to think about this, approach it logically. It was a problem, a mystery. I got paid to solve those for a living, and I was damn good at it. I just needed... not evidence, I had evidence. I needed a witness. I needed someone who could tell me how to do this.

The only question was who? I didn't exactly have lesbians 'r' us on speed dial. In fact, the only lesbian I knew off the top of my head was the one my brother had insisted on asking out, despite all the hints I'd dropped.

I thought about it for a minute. That could work. We were friendly enough. I even had the number in my phone from the last department softball season.

I started to reach for my phone, then I remembered it was still on the bedside table, and it was two-fifteen in the morning.

I decided to call her in the morning. She'd probably be a lot more willing to have lunch with me if I didn't drag her out of bed in the middle of the night.

I looked down at the journal, and flipped it open, looking for the next letter.

The Diary of Jane Chapter List
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

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