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On The Verge Of Us
Maura didn’t scream until the silence became unbearable.
The water had swallowed Jane whole—one moment, her voice sharp and commanding, her figure poised on the edge of the bridge; the next, gone, the echo of her splash barely registering over the chaos.
Maura couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Her legs locked in place as her mind spiraled, the world narrowing to the dark, churning river below. Her knuckles whitened against the cold railing, her chest tight with the weight of her trapped breath.
Then, Frost’s voice cut through the haze: “We’re sending boats out now!”
That was when she screamed.
It wasn’t a sound she recognized—hoarse, guttural, torn from the deepest part of herself. Her knees buckled, and she barely caught herself against the railing. A warm hand—Korsak’s—settled on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off violently, staggering backward as the tears burned hot trails down her face.
“She’ll be fine,” Korsak said, his voice steady but hollow.
“Don’t say that!” Maura shouted, her voice breaking. “You don’t know that. You don’t—” Her words crumbled into a choked sob, her breath hitching painfully.
Korsak didn’t respond.
No one did.
Hours passed.
They found nothing. Not Jane. Not a body.
The bullpen was a chaotic blur—officers moving in and out, radios crackling with clipped voices, coffee cups discarded on desks as the precinct swelled with tension. The hum of activity should have grounded her, should have reminded her that they were doing everything they could.
But Maura couldn’t feel it.
She sat at the corner of a desk, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at nothing. The noise faded to a dull roar, distant and hollow, as though she were trapped behind glass. Her hands shook against the fabric of her coat, and no matter how tightly she clung to herself, she couldn’t stop the cold.
Frankie crouched in front of her, his face pale, his voice gentle. “Maura, you need to go home. We’ll call you as soon as we hear anything.”
“No.” Her voice was flat, clipped. She didn’t meet his eyes.
Frankie hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You’ve been here for hours—”
“I’m staying.”
The words cut through the air, sharp and final. Frankie stood, glancing over at Korsak, who gave him a subtle shake of the head. Let her be.
The hours stretched into eternity.
Maura sat frozen, her body locked in the same position even as the sun rose and fell beyond the frosted windows. No one could get her to leave. Not Frost, who left a coffee on the desk beside her. Not Korsak, who quietly slipped a blanket over her shoulders.
She stayed rooted there, staring at the wall, her mind filled with nothing but Jane. Jane’s voice on the bridge. Jane’s silhouette against the sky. Jane falling, disappearing.
Grief clawed at her chest, sharp and unrelenting. She wanted to scream, to cry, to shatter the silence that pressed down on her from every side. But all she could do was sit, waiting, the seconds dragging into hours and the hours bleeding together until time lost all meaning.
She had loved Jane quietly for so long, had built her life around that love in a way she didn’t dare acknowledge. And now, now it felt like that love might never be known, might never have the chance to be spoken aloud.
She hated herself for it. Hated Jane for it. For making her fall in love. For making her need her so much. For throwing herself into danger without a second thought, without ever considering what it would do to Maura if she didn’t come back.
When the call finally came, it didn’t feel real.
“Dr. Isles.” Frost’s voice was strained, but his words came out in a rush. “They found her. She’s alive. She’s alive, Maura.”
The relief was sharp and sudden, but it didn’t bring her the peace she thought it would. Her chest felt hollow, her heart pounding erratically as she stumbled toward her car. She didn’t ask questions—didn’t even know where she was driving—until she found herself at the pier, shoving past officers and ignoring their startled protests.
She had to see her.
Jane was standing near the water, wrapped in a scratchy blanket someone had thrown over her shoulders, her hair damp, her clothes clinging to her skin. She was talking to Frost, her voice rough, and she laughed softly at something he said.
Maura froze.
Her knees threatened to give way again, but she locked them, forcing herself forward. Jane turned as she approached, her face lighting up in that familiar way, her lips curling into a smile.
“Maura,” she rasped, her voice warm despite its hoarseness. “I’m okay. Really—”
“You should get checked out,” Maura interrupted, her voice clipped and cold. Her throat burned from holding back the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
Jane’s brow furrowed. “Maura—”
“Frankie.” Maura turned to Jane’s brother without looking at her, her tone brisk. “Make sure she rests.”
Then she turned on her heel and walked away.
The next few days passed in a blur.
Jane called. Maura ignored her. She sent texts. Maura deleted them.
It was easier to be angry.
Anger was safe. It kept the grief and the fear at bay. It held her together when she felt like she might shatter under the weight of everything she had almost lost.
But Jane, of course, wouldn’t let it go.
“Maura!”
The sharp knock on her office door startled her, but before she could respond, Jane pushed it open, her boots heavy against the floor. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound reverberating through the quiet room.
“What are you doing here?” Maura asked, her voice colder than she intended. She straightened in her chair, her fingers tightening around her pen.
Jane crossed her arms, her frustration evident in the hard set of her jaw. “What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing, Maura? You’ve been avoiding me for days. You won’t answer my calls. You won’t even look at me!”
“I’ve been busy,” Maura said curtly, turning her attention back to the papers on her desk.
“Bullshit,” Jane shot back, her voice sharp and biting.
Maura’s hand faltered, the pen pressing too hard against the page. “Jane—”
“No!” Jane stepped closer, her hands gesturing wildly, her voice rising. “You don’t get to shut me out like this. What the hell did I do? Tell me, Maura, because I’m running out of ways to fix something when I don’t even know what’s broken!”
Maura slammed the pen down on the desk, the sound loud and jarring. She rose to her feet in one fluid motion, her eyes blazing. “What did you do?” she repeated, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. “You jumped off a bridge, Jane. You almost died.”
“I was doing my job!” Jane snapped, her voice growing louder, her frustration boiling over.
“And what about your life?” Maura’s voice cracked, and the anger she had held so tightly surged forward. Her hands trembled as she stepped around the desk, closing the space between them. “Does that matter to you at all? Do you ever stop to think about what it would do to the people who care about you if you didn’t come back?”
Jane flinched, the words landing harder than Maura had intended, but her own anger sparked in return. “I do think about it, Maura. But it’s my job. You know that. You’ve always known that!”
“I’ve always accepted it,” Maura shot back, her voice rising, her composure unraveling. “Because I didn’t think I had a choice! But this—this was different, Jane. You didn’t just risk your life—you threw it away like it didn’t even matter. And for what? For what?”
Jane’s jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. “For someone who needed me! For someone who would’ve died if I didn’t act! Or does that not matter to you?”
Maura’s breath hitched, the accusation hitting like a slap. “How dare you?” she hissed, her voice low and trembling. “How dare you put that on me?”
“I’m not putting anything on you!” Jane shouted, her voice raw. “But you’re acting like I’m the villain here for doing what I’ve always done. For trying to save someone!”
“And you don’t see it, do you?” Maura’s voice cracked, and her tears spilled over now, unchecked and burning. “You don’t see what it does to me. Every single time you walk into danger without thinking—every time you make me stand there and wonder if it’s the last time I’ll see you alive!”
Jane faltered, her anger deflating for a moment. Her hands hovered awkwardly at her sides, her brow furrowing as she took a step closer. “Maura, I—I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” Maura cut her off, her voice sharp as a knife. “Don’t you dare apologize if you don’t mean it.”
“I do mean it,” Jane said, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t!” Maura shouted, her voice breaking. “And you never do. You never think about what it would mean for the people who have to pick up the pieces if you don’t come back!”
“What do you want from me, Maura?” Jane yelled back, throwing her arms out. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know how to fix this!”
“I don’t want you to fix it!” Maura shouted, her voice cracking again. Her chest heaved, her hands shaking as she struggled to catch her breath. “I want you to stop. Stop risking everything. Stop making me—”
She stopped abruptly, her words caught in her throat.
“Making you what?” Jane demanded, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “What am I making you do, Maura? Just say it!”
Maura’s breath hitched painfully, her tears blurring her vision as she met Jane’s gaze.
“Stop making me love you!”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Jane froze, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and searching. “Maura…”
But Maura didn’t let her finish. The floodgates had opened, and there was no turning back. She crossed the distance between them in two quick strides, her hands grabbing Jane’s collar as she pulled her into a kiss that was anything but gentle.
For a moment, Jane didn’t move, her body stiff with shock. But then Maura’s lips pressed harder, her fingers fisting the fabric of Jane’s jacket, and something inside Jane cracked open. Her hands found Maura’s waist, hesitant at first, then gripping harder as she pulled her closer.
The kiss deepened, raw and furious, all the anger and fear and love spilling out in a rush that neither of them could stop. Maura’s hands slid into Jane’s hair, tugging just enough to make Jane groan—a low, rough sound that sent a shiver through Maura.
Jane pushed forward, backing Maura against the desk, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. She hesitated for a moment, her breath ragged, her forehead pressing against Maura’s as her hands tightened on her hips.
“Maura…” Jane whispered, her voice trembling.
“Don’t stop,” Maura whispered back, her hands tangling in Jane’s hair, pulling her closer again.
Jane didn’t stop.
Her lips found Maura’s again, fiercer this time, her control slipping entirely as she lifted Maura onto the desk. The papers scattered to the floor, forgotten, as Maura’s legs wrapped around Jane’s waist, anchoring her there.
It was a collision of everything unspoken, everything denied, the world narrowing to the heat of the kiss and the press of their bodies.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the charged air.
“Don’t make me lose you,” Maura whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.
Jane’s hands tightened on her waist, her breath unsteady. “You won’t,” she murmured, her voice raw but certain. “I promise.”