Canon of the Flesh by ArcadiaArden

The hollow rush of air echoed in through her nose and left her in an audible rush. Drawing another lungful of air in, Maura could feel and hear each breath as she stood in the entryway to her morgue. Across the empty expanse, the door to lab was dark. Behind her, florescent lighting bounced off scuffed linoleum, the empty hallway her only witness. Even the most dedicated were not here.

Here her word was law and tonight by decree her kingdom was hers alone.

Maura smoothed her hands down her scrubs, the material an extension of her skin. Rubbing her lips together she absently dragged her tongue along desiccated ridges and crevices. Blinking her eyes she could feel the grit of the day wearing roughly against her eyelids. She allowed herself one more moment, allowed herself one more breath, before pulling her shoulders back.

Queen of the Dead.

A woman who ruled in the realm of mortality. Existing in the abyss where life and death met for one last time.

The doors to the darkened autopsy suite parted with a soft mechanical whoosh over her skin. Maura opened a cabinet by the entry and pulled out a gown. Put on another layer. Soft nylon netting bound her braid before the cotton surgical cap slipped into place. The familiar comfort of the talc on her latex gloves wafted into her nose. With a quick glance at the clock she felt a small sense of peace. She still had time.

On the door to the walk-in cooler Maura paused to record the temperature and verify the calculations matched the recording on top. Briefly she scanned for deviations. With a soft sigh she gripped the metal lever and opened the door.

The wheels on the steel gurney rattled unevenly over the threshold as she pushed the body out. Habit and routine made her verify the information before closing the cooler but there was no mistaking this form amid the others.

Locking the wheels in place, Maura checked to make sure the surgical lamps were in the optimal position and the floor drains were clear of debris. She pulled a surgical cart closer and reflexively counted the instruments. Inspecting the edges of her tools, she frowned at the skull chisel and made a mental note to speak to the tech in charge of resupply tomorrow as she replaced it.

Hitting a pedal with her foot Maura verified she could activate her recorder and flipped on the overhead monitor. Looking over her shoulder she ran though her mental checklist before she picked up her safety goggles and pushed the last piece in place.

Enrobed, she was physically ready.

Determined now she walked over to the wall and flipped on the overhead lighting. Stainless steel sparked harshly as she uncovered stilled arms and legs. For just a moment she was immobile.

Static.

Until the vents above her head buzzed, startling her into motion as the air circulating through the room encased her.

White noise hummed though the space as Maura verified the information on the computer against the information on the body. Name unknown, age unknown. The body was so tiny, naked and exposed. Experienced eyes carefully studied the soft cheeks of childhood, the tangled brown hair. White filmed brown irises stared back at her, spoke to her. Somebody's daughter. Somebody's baby. Discarded on the side of the highway, unclothed, left to the elements.

Maura looked at the clock. There was still time.

Time to pull the bag off one tiny hand. Time to gently tip it this way and that to collect what secrets lay hidden. Time to swab under nails, take x-rays, log in fingerprints, all evidence sorted into bags for later.

She held the tiny hand in hers for a moment. Let it rest on her palm, unresponsive and chilled, the fingers small against her own. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the space was still her own and she brought her other hand over, covering, warming, apologizing. It wasn't fair. Six, maybe seven years was too short a life. She inhaled sharply and her exhale was the only noise of life in the room.

Hazel eyes lifted to check the hour. The inevitable had arrived. It was time.

Time to do this. The body was a body. Simply a shell of life with a story to tell. Maura dropped the tiny hand and moved with purpose.

Her moves were synchronized, the dance perfected, brusque and efficient. More bags were collected, labeled, shelved on the cart. Lips were pulled back on a motionless mouth, partially erupted teeth lay evidence to the fact that this child wanted to grow, wanted to live. For a moment the contrast of her latex glove against pale skin caught her off guard and Maura gently touched the cheek and assured the little girl that this was wrong. That she should not be here cold and alone, that she would have her story told.

Maura checked the clock. She needed to move faster. The sponge glided over rounded limbs and bony knees. It had been some time since she had prepped a body on her own but for this little girl she trusted no one else. The innocence of childhood should not lie shattered in her morgue.

When the preparation was completed, she let herself have the luxury of looking at the child, unmarred by her scalpel one last time. Again she felt the urge to hold the tiny hand in her own. To assure her that her death would be explained at least scientifically, that the detectives on her case wanted to know who she was and wanted to let the world know what happened. But Maura couldn't. The clock told her she had run out of time.

The mechanical whirr of the doors opening at her back was a relief. At least now the looming job would be over shortly. Detective Crowe appeared in her line of sight and she looked at him solemnly.

"Doc." Crowe took a step to the head of the little girl and looked down at her. "She was just a baby." His voice lost its usual sarcastic edge and the drawl of his childhood pushed to the surface, burring the words.

When he looked up at her Maura knew what he needed her to do. Queen of the Dead. It was a nickname Jane abhorred and at one time Maura bore it with patience and practicality, logically knowing her interactions and choice of career left people uncomfortable. Uncomfortable people demeaned and debased that which drew them away from the unnerving as a way to control the effect on their sense of balance. It was logical.

Now the moniker held an element of truth to embrace. It was the depiction of role she played as part of the team. This was her realm and her gift to the team was the ability to lead them through the hidden. She was engrained, included and her information vital to their jobs. A role that she knew was appreciated and understood, even if what she stood for was feared.

So she pulled her professionalism around her and presented a regal air of strength for everyone. Steady, unflinching, able to guide the most hardened detectives through the cold facts of death, even when the body on the table evoked emotions that would haunt their dreams. In the end they all worked towards the same goal, a murder solved.

"Good evening Detective Crowe." Maura kept her voice, cool and precise. He needed this from her. "The victim is a female of approximately 5 to 7 years of age." She gently pulled back the child's lips. "Age at this time has been evaluated largely on the partial eruption of the upper adult central incisor and loss of the lower primary lateral incisor. Are you ready for me to walk through the external examination?"

Crowe let out a sigh as he pulled out a notebook and a pen. "Have at it Doc."

Maura watched him shift into work mode. For now the body was a body and the job was the job. Together they walked through the evidence. A bruise here, a scratch there, post-mortem and pre-mortem, a collection of facts that filled notebook pages and minutes of recording until there was nothing left to share.

Her hand moved to her scalpel, calmly she looked at Crowe. "Detective, I believe you know by now that I require full coverage for observation." When he moved off to find a gown, she took her hand off the scalpel and adjusted her goggles, the plastic lightly distorting her peripheral vision.

Looking over her shoulder Maura could see Crowe sorting through the gowns with no apparent purpose. Her instincts had been correct. She knew him by now. The bluster and sharp edge to him that aimed to make you bleed was an encompassing cover, but a cover none the less. Most of the detectives had little tells, small indications of what part of her work crept under their walls and left them exposed. With Detective Crowe, the y-incision was the one point in an autopsy he would stick his nose in his notebook and scribble voraciously. Even as seasoned as Crowe was, he, like her, struggled tonight. With this case, the child's unmarred skin splitting under her scalpel would be too much.

She knew it and Crowe knew it.

So Maura offered him the ability to escape his demon but her own role offered no such luxury. The ridges of the scalpel grip pressed against her palm, her fingertip moved into place, steel glinted in the overhead lights and white filmed eyes stared in unflinching reproach. She placed her other hand briefly on the still, small chest. She was sorry. So very sorry.

Maura took a deep breath and pressed the edge of her blade into the epidermis. The barest hint of resistance and then the initial cut was over and she pressed with purpose, through adipose tissue and dragged her hand down with precision and proficiency. She glanced over her shoulder and met Crowe's eyes. He colored lightly, caught with the gown in his hand, still not ready to come over.

She ignored him and instead her voice echoed in the space, clinical, as she rattled off facts for her recording before picking up her rib cutter and snapping the fist bone. After a moment Crowe was standing on the other side of her table and when she looked up his eyes were steady. Maura slipped her fingers under the chest plate carefully shifting bone until it slipped free and when she started talking, he was back to writing.

________________________________________

Maura pressed the ignition button and her car came to life. It was late. By the time she'd put the needle down Crowe had been gone for hour. It had been a relief for both of them when she had calmly dismissed him and began the process of closing.

As she tied the last knot she had looked at the angry evidence of her intrusion on a little body that had suffered too much indignity already. Wheeling her back into the cooler and walking away had been difficult. It seemed heartless to leave something so small to the dark depths even if logically she knew the dead did not know loneliness or fear.

When Maura finally closed the heavy metal door she knew she was done for the night. The written report would wait until morning. She needed time to quell the restless disquiet humming along her nerves and challenging her focus before putting words to a report.

Maura had left her morgue the way she found it. Empty, clean and ready for tomorrow. She'd passed the small break room near the intake doors and freed her night shift tech from its confines, granting him oversight in her absence.

Now she was driving through the subdued streets of Boston, glowing dully from the streetlights. For a moment at a traffic light the sparse pedestrian traffic caught her attention. Were any of them like her, tired and facing the solitude of night when the only thing she craved was the activity of life? They passed in front of her, unseeing and silent but they gave her an answer all the same.

She had a choice not to be.

Parking on Jane's street for once was mercifully easy. Maura pulled out her mobile and pressed Jane's name, not surprised when the call was picked up at the first ring. She had assumed Jane would be waiting for her call. The soft, casual "Hey" over the line made her smile. She could hear the buzz of the evening news in the background. "Hello, we ran late as I expected."

Jane's voice was soft and quiet. "You hit Crowe's case tonight?"

"Yes and I handled it by myself so the report won't be written until tomorrow." Maura pressed a nail into the leather on her steering wheel, feeling the surface give under the pressure and spring back when she let it.

The noise Jane made over the phone was non committal. Maura knew she didn't like it when she dismissed everyone and handled all the work on her own. But she also knew Jane understood it. "Was there anything on the news tonight?"

Jane's sigh was long. "Oh yeah, all three stations had coverage. Channel 7 is calling for our heads for not identifying her yet but all the stations had her image up asking if anybody could identify her. Best guess is we'll all be helping Crowe screen through the calls tomorrow. There goes my own paperwork. Fuck me." They shared a small bout of laughter before Jane continued. "Was the asshole at least behaved tonight?"

Maura leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. "I assume you are referring to Detective Crowe? He was professional."

"Fine, then I'll help him tomorrow without the side of bitch thrown in." The background noise changed and Maura imagined Jane was walking around her apartment. "So Maura, question for you. Are you going to stay outside all night or come up already?"

Startled Maura sat up. "What?"

Jane's chuckle came over the line. "Look out your window." Maura sat up and stared out the driver's side up at Jane's apartment seeing the outline of the brunette at the glass, a hand waving. She didn't bother with goodbye. She simply ended the call and got out of the car.

Jane was waiting for her in the doorway of her apartment, looming casually with her hands grasping the frame above her head as she leaned out in the hallway watching her walk over. They stood there staring at each other.

Jane could see the day etched into Maura's face. It was instinct to comfort but knowledge of her lover that held her in place. Her voice was soft. "I'm sorry."

Maura knew Jane wasn't apologizing as much as offering up sympathy. She also knew Jane was waiting to see what she wanted. Commiseration, support or oblivion. All were on the table in equal spades and Maura knew tonight she was going to take what she needed.

For now she settled on walking up and pressing her lips softly against Jane's cheek with a muttered "Thank you." Before she ducked under Jane's arm and went into the apartment.

Jane let the door close behind her and slipped the security chain into place, letting Maura finish greeting Jo, the terrier rolling on her back in welcome. Even her dog was willing to submit tonight. "There is dinner in the microwave if you are hungry. Nothing heavy, I cooked that salmon you brought over last week along with some asparagus."

Startled Maura looked at her. "I told you that I wasn't going to be able to come over tonight."

Shrugging Jane went back to her couch and dropped down. "I know."

Maura knew Jane would eat fish when she made it for dinner but it was hardly a menu option she sought out on her own. "So you cooked me dinner?"

Jane arranged herself in a comfortable splay of arms and legs. "I had to eat." Peering over the back of the couch, she watched Maura walk into her kitchen and open the microwave, examine the plastic wrapped plate inside.

"I understand that, but this perhaps more representative of what I would normally prepare for a meal versus what you might enjoy on your own." Maura waited for a response but all she received was another shrug from Jane. She tried again. "I wouldn't expect that you would actively seek this out on your own."

Jane made eye contact over the back of her sofa. "I didn't make it for me. I made it for you."

"But I wasn't coming here tonight."

"Well that is what you told me, yes, but you're here right?'

That seemed to settle the conversation for Jane and Maura stared nonplussed at the back of her head when she turned her attention back to the television. Eventually she pulled a fork out and sampled a bite of the fish before setting it in the microwave to warm. Her wine collection was limited in Jane's refrigerator but among the bottles there was a Pinot Gris that would suit her purposes.

Sitting down at the kitchen island Maura ate quietly, waiting for Jane to join her but by the time she had finished eating and putting her plate in the dishwasher there hadn't been another word spoken between them.

Picking up her wine Maura went to the couch and met Jane's warm smile as she sat up and made room, pulling Maura down and against her hip, keeping their hands clasped along her thigh.

Sport Center Extra droned on and Jane gestured to the set with the remote. "I can't believe the freakin' hockey lockout went on this long. Now the season will be shit." She squeezed the fingers entwined with hers. "Dinner okay?"

Maura sipped at her wine. "It was delicious, thank you." Jane didn't say anything else, just sat there playing with her hand while the host on the program droned on. After a few minutes Maura clutched Jane's hand tightly. "I felt horrible leaving her in the cooler all by herself. Ridiculous honestly, but until I know she has a family mourning her it felt as if I was abandoning her."

Jane hit the mute button and shifted until her back was against the arm of the couch and snaked an arm around Maura's waist. "Come here."

The command was soft but booked no room for argument and Maura adjusted until she was against Jane's chest. It was the rise and fall of Jane's breathing at her back that brought the first feeling of life back to the night and the rigid tension in her muscles started to throb. "Nothing indicated a history of physical abuse. She was killed by a blow to the temple." Maura sipped her wine quietly for several long moments. "Perhaps tomorrow Crowe and Pritchard will link her to a missing child report."

Jane kissed the back of Maura's head "Hopefully."

Tipping the last of the wine out of the glass and placing it on the coffee table, Maura shifted downward, resting against Jane's chest trying to get comfortable but the tension still wound through her. She rolled to her side and slipped a hand under Jane's shirt, caressed the warmth of her skin. Felt the hitch in her breathing when she palmed the gentle rise of her abdomen. The surface moved under her touch with each breath. Alive.

Jane swallowed against the acute awareness of Maura's touch. There was a reverberating twinge between her thighs and when Maura turned in her arms, her body pressed against the sensation. Throbbing dully, Jane could feel the coiled muscles along Maura's back rolling under her hands. She yielded under demanding lips and answered by squeezing the waist under her fingers firmly.

The grip on her waist made Maura pull back, breathing hard as the feeling broke through. Jane was looking at her, eyes focused into hers, deep, clear and brown. She pushed up until her knees were under her and leaned back, never breaking eye contact. She reached a finger out and traced Jane's jugular, pressing the vein down and watching it spring back under the skin, ticking rhythmically. Life pulsing with each beat. She leaned down and kissed it softly before pulling out of Jane's arms abruptly and standing up.

"I am going to take a shower."

Jane watched her retreat. Controlled, regal, commanding, unmistakably authoritative.

________________________________________

Turning off the television Jane picked up the empty wine glass and washed it slowly, thinking. She whistled for Jo and jogged down the steps with her. Partway up her block Jane paused to take in the routine nature of the moment. The familiar sounds of the city. The usual feel of Jo straining against the leash as they came to a favorite spot. Nothing out of place on the surface but if she looked harder she could see the apartment building three doors up that Vice had under surveillance. She could turn around and look at the stoplight at the end of her street where there had been a fatal accident yesterday morning and two nights ago a domestic shooting had occurred over on Deblois street. If she hadn't known about each of those events this street would continue to always look the same on her walk. It was easy to forget that the city was ever changing when so much seemed stationary night to night and month to month.

It was what lived under the surface that you had to be aware of and see to understand the entire picture. It was true in her cases and it was true in her neighborhood. It was life.

Crossing the street Jane let Jo run ahead and jogged after her until they were climbing the steps to her building. She kicked her shoes off by the door and left her sweatshirt on the handle to the closet. Jane paused by the bathroom, listening to the water before testing the handle. Open.

Stepping into the bathroom Jane stripped out of her clothing and stepped behind the shower curtain. Maura turned and faced her calmly, her hair, dark and shining, water forming rivulets over familiar curves and features. Nothing out of place on the surface but if Jane looked harder she could see the rigid set to Maura's jaw, the uptight motion of her hands over her abdomen through the soapy foam and stress lining the edges of her eyes. One last step forward and the water ran over her as Jane waited.

Waited for Maura to look at her. Let the hazel eyes slowly rake over her until their eyes met. Jane held Maura's gaze steadily before looking away, going on instinct, giving up control, offering.

The temperature of the water had warmed her skin and Maura could feel the heat of her touch against the coolness of Jane's cheek as she turned her face back and looked into dark eyes carefully. Reaching down Maura picked up Jane's hand and held it between hers, feeling the skin soaking up the heat, responding to her touch. Jane's lips were supple and warm under hers, parting softly under her lead.

Breaking the kiss, Maura soaped the body sponge, the first touch of white foam contrasting sharply against Jane's skin. She ran it along a prominent clavicle, reaching behind to glide over the protrusion of a scapula, down to the final bump of the 12th rib before outlining the dips of a firm abdomen. Analytically she trailed her fingers through the foam, the body shifting at her touch, moving.

Withdrawing suddenly, Maura rinsed herself one last time before stepping past Jane. "I'm finished in here. I'll meet you in bed."

Jane watched the curtain fall back into place and a moment later she heard the bathroom door open and close. Lowering the temperature of the water slightly she picked up her shampoo and soaped her hair, breathing deeply with each pass of her fingers in the vacuum of space Maura left behind.

The cotton of her towel carried the comforting smell of her detergent, clean and fresh. Her skin was still sensitized and the touch of the cloth along her limbs left Jane acutely wanting. Tucking it around her body she ran her fingers through her hair. It wasn't worth pulling it back or drying it.

Peering into her bedroom from the hallway Jane watched Maura, all soft curves and darkened valleys, her bare skin highlighted by bedside light. Jane waited in the doorway for Maura to look up but she remained perched on the edge of her bed near her nightstand, fixated on the framed photo by the alarm clock.

Maura looked at the bare calves and knees that came into contact with her own. She reached a fingertip out to trace the pale pebbled skin of a scar on Jane's knee, pressing down and feeling the patella give slightly under the pressure. Using both hands she clasped firm thighs and stroked upward, eyes following the path of her hands until she hit the edge of Jane's towel. Maura looked up into dark, intense eyes and jerked the cotton downward, feeling it yield and fall open as it fell to the floor. Her eyes traced the body standing in front of her, naked and exposed.

Her thumbs rubbed against the crease where thigh met torso and Maura watched as Jane's lips parted above her. She nuzzled the skin over Jane's iliac crest until she could press a kiss to the hollow below it, reveling in the shudder under her lips, the hand in her hair. Her hand covered Jane's and fingers wound through hers.

When she tugged, Jane followed, yielding to pressure on her sternum until she was lying down. Hovering, Maura ghosted a hand over the surface of Jane's body, cataloging the scars and landmarks that told the story of Jane's life. Jane reached for her waist and Maura shook her head. Maura looked down and brown eyes were hooded, waiting, needing.

So very alive.

Maura held Jane's gaze, let the connection run into her. Warm her. She leaned down and let Jane's breath wash over her lips before caressing them gently with her own. Sitting back up Maura twisted around and pulled open the drawer on the nightstand and considered the tools at her disposal. Picking up the smooth plastic vibrator she considered its simplicity. As an artifact from Jane's life before her, it was somehow fitting in its minimalism.

Jane was watching her with a small furrow between her eyes and Maura leaned down to press it smooth with her lips as she slipped a leg over Jane's abdomen, relishing the stroke of warm skin against her inner thigh as she straddled her.

Sitting up she watched the rough rise and fall of Jane's chest, the vitality of her breathing. When Jane reached for her again Maura placed the vibrator on her abdomen and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the mattress in a silent plea. She could feel the building tension as the sympathetic nervous system engaged. With Jane the response was acute and the sudden relaxation as Jane acquiesced washed over her and left her throbbing, acutely aware of the fit of the curves between her thighs.

Turning the vibrator on Maura paused, the noise filling the space around them, the anticipation evident in the shifting search of the body under her and she bit her lip as the throbbing sparked upward and her nipples ached. She pressed the vibrating tip to the skin under one clavicle and then the other. She placed it at the top of Jane's sternum and quickly dragged it all the way down until the body under her arched, animated as she moved lower.

Nipples strained to be touched against the warmth of her tongue. Flesh and blood, breath and voice rubbed against her and over her, the force of the living seeping into her, filling her. Maura tasted the salt of skin, the spring of hips in response to teeth questing against the surface as she moved down until she was sliding between twitching thighs. The plastic tip of the vibrator pressed inward and as she thrust upward Maura watched Jane's breath come in short bursts at the intrusion. She looked at the arms flexing as fists grabbed ineffectually at the sheets.

So alive.

Maura dipped her head, brought her lips against Jane's clit and placed her hand on her abdomen, stroking the straining surface slightly. Hips begged, searching for pressure against the vibration, pressing for more against the tongue that played with a promise.

Motion increased, need increased and Maura felt a moment of triumph in the plea that broke from Jane's lips before she swirled her tongue and drew her hand back to slide the vibration upward and in until gasps punctuated thrusts against her mouth and Jane hovered, keening. Still.

La petite mort.

A definition of an ephemeral death that defined the pinnacle of life as Jane lay gasping softly, Maura's hand rising and falling with each draw of life.

Coming back to herself Jane flexed stiff fingers against the sheets, moving a hand to tangle lightly in Maura's hair as the vibrator slipped free. Slowly she became aware of a trembling against her thigh. Blindly she grappled until she could insist that Maura move up into her arms. She held her tightly as she sobbed into her neck, running her hands along the bare skin of her back. When the woman in her arms slowly quieted, Jane reached over to tilt her head up, found the salty lips with her own and worshiped them gently. When hands tightened around her and hips pressed against her side Jane rolled them over. Framing Maura's face with her hands she kissed her forehead before moving down to her nose.

Lips sought hers and Jane fused them together as she brought her hand between them to cup the heat between Maura's thighs. Fingers pressed inward as she placed open mouthed promises along Maura's jaw before drawing the lobe of an ear between her teeth as she pushed two fingers in, letting the body under her arch up.

Jane drew back to stare into hazel eyes, letting them consume her as she felt Maura's body wrap around her.

Maura flexed her hands along Jane's back, holding her tightly, fingers digging sharply as she strained her neck up searching for Jane's lips again. Bringing them together, open and wet, until breath and body combined in a syncopated rhythm.

The body under her curled tightly, clutching Jane to her, holding her in her, searching until Jane shifted, finding Maura's clit, pressed around and against her firmly, letting her fingers fight the pressure with each thrust. Hazel eyes were struggling to stay focused and Jane brought their foreheads together, whispering "Let go, I have you."

Arching into the words, Maura's eyes slammed shut and her blood roared over her senses. She was vibrant and blooming, clutching tightly, wetly, vibrating for seconds before softening slowly, boneless as her pulse ticked in her ears.

Jane pulled out gently and tightened her arms as she rolled onto her back, bringing Maura with her. She tucked Maura against her side and held her close, letting her touch drift over smooth skin until fathomless hazel eyes looked up at her, stripped bare and exposed. Jane stroked her thumb along Maura's jaw before kissing the top of her head, quietly reassuring her. "It's okay. I have you."

Maura felt Jane shift, stretching until the light switched off. Exhaustion crept over her. She burrowed closer, burying her head against the shoulder under her cheek. She let her eyes drift shut as her body pulsed softly, languid and free. In the dark the only noise was the sound of them breathing together.

She let their combined warmth seep into her as she draped an arm across Jane's abdomen.

The regular rise and fall was steady and reassuring.

She was the Queen of the Dead.

A woman who ruled in the realm of mortality. Existing in the abyss where life and death met for one last time.

And she was alive.