Post-Its

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Maura had no idea how she got home from the hospital that day. All she knew was that the next time she opened her eyes, she was lying on top of the comforter in bed.

She curled tighter into herself, eyes drifting to Jane's side of the bed. It hadn't been slept in since the incident had taken place, Jane citing that she would be staying at Frankie's till she'd had some time to think. She reached out a hand, curling it into Jane's pillow before clutching it tightly, knuckles turning white. The spot Jane normally occupied cold to the touch. How long since they'd lain together, she thought, eyes long tired from the buckets she had filled in mere hours.

She opened her eyes, blinking to become accustomed to the soft light coming from underneath the bathroom door that Angela had kindly left on to see Jane staring back at her.

"Hey." Seeing Jane staring back at her only brought more tears to her eyes. Damn her lacrimal and amygdala glands. "Aww Maura, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry," Jane said, reaching out a scarred hand that belied its gentleness as she softly wiped the tear away.

"You're supposed to be dead," she whispered. There were no such things as ghosts. This was merely her mind wishing for what it wanted most, she told herself.

Jane shrugged. "Perhaps," she agreed, "or maybe I'm just your Guardian Angel."

Maura looked thoughtfully at Jane as the wheels to her mind turned. "Traditionally only those who believe in God are supposed to have an angel by their side. The Old Testament states that the the archangel Michael was assigned to Israel but nowhere within the book of Scripture does it say that an angel was ever assigned to an individual. Besides," she said, shrugging lightly, her next words seeming to be a mere afterthought, "I'm not religious."

The sides of Jane's mouth quirked up as she was met by Maura's furious googlemouth of fact.

"You believed in me." The use of past tense by Jane's mirage or rather, her hallucination did not go unnoticed by the ME. Always, she thought.

In an attempt to alleviate the growing tension and anxiousness from within, she went instead for light humour. "You're not God," she quipped. Her words were met by Jane's raucous laughter.

Calming down, the brunette looked over to see that the ME had now sat up and was fiddling anxiously fiddling with the engagement ring she had given her when she'd proposed. It was a stunning white gold band encased with diamonds, simple enough that she hadn't had to take it off whenever she had to perform autopsies, grateful for the thought and elegance Jane had put in purchasing the ring. She'd never taken it off and now, she simply never would.

"I miss you..." the admission was quiet, so soft that Jane had to strain to hear it even in the silence.

"I know," she replied pulling the blonde into her arms. The ME tightened her hold round the pillow breathing in what was simply Jane. She snuggled closer feeling Jane's arms tighten round herself and their leg intertwined. She gave a soft smile. It was perfect.


Standing in the doorway of Maura's room, Angela sighed before silently pulling the door closed slightly leaving a little light from the one in the hallway shining in.

She was worried. This had not been the first time since her daughter's death that she'd found the ME speaking to absolute nothingness. For the past four days, she'd enclosed herself in her room, refusing to eat or speak to anyone, choosing instead to carry out conversations to whatever of Jane's spirit she saw beside her. Both Angela and Frankie alike had had to coax her to eat even if it was something light.

She sighed again as she thought of the inevitable acceptance that came with death. The funeral was due to take place in a couple of days. Boston's police department had arranged everything, right down to the last detail; Cavanaugh had delivered the news himself. Of that she was grateful, for both the department having taking care of things and the personal touch in which the news had been carried. Perhaps it would provide her with some perspective, she thought, help her handle her grief.

She went about the house having taking over Jane's job of locking up the house and making sure the windows were closed and properly latched before taking up position on the blonde's couch as she had done over the past few days. Yes, the day after would be a new day, and with that she drifted off as sleep claimed her.


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