She was fidgeting again as they both stood over the autopsy table.
Maura sighed quietly. They'd had so many difficult heart-to-heart discussions in the morgue, what was one more? "Jane, it has been pretty clear since this morning that you have something on your mind you want to tell me." She punctuated the statement with direct eye contact and raised eyebrows.
"'So spill,' is what you're saying," Jane replied.
Maura nodded. "Yes, that is what I'm saying." She put the scalpel down and pointed to Jane's hands. She was twisting and wringing them, pressing and rubbing the scars. "They only bother you this much when it's cold or when you're really nervous about something."
Chagrinned, Jane abruptly dropped her hands and averted her gaze. Maura knew her so damn well. Too damn well.
In the silence while Jane gathered her thoughts, Maura picked up her scalpel and resumed her incision. Occasionally, she would raise her eyes to check if Jane was ready to speak.
Jane finally lifted her head and smiled sheepishly. "I…I talked to Casey last night."
"And?" Maura didn't look up this time.
Odd, Jane thought. But she plunged ahead anyway. "And I gave him my answer." She waited, needing some reaction, any reaction. Maura had yet to look at her once she mentioned Casey, and it was throwing Jane off.
The medical examiner finished her incision, laid the scalpel on the table, and raised her head. "What did you say?" She loathed the hopeful flutter in her stomach, hated the way her pulse accelerated as she anticipated the improbable possibility.
"I said…yes."
And there it was. The inevitable truth. Maura had been striving to come to terms with the likelihood that her best friend – and, coincidentally, the love of her life – would soon cleave herself to a man who frankly didn't deserve her. What was more, he didn't know her. Not like Maura knew her. He hadn't spent the time to really learn about her, to understand who she is in her entirety. What he knows is his sexual attraction to her and a superficial admiration of her as an individual. Not that he could entirely be faulted for not taking the time to really get to know Jane. The Army so often called him away overseas, the kind of day-in, day-out intimacy that needed to happen for a long-term, monogamous relationship to be successful was physically impossible for Casey. Maura did not entirely blame him for this. What she could not overlook, however, was his manner of proposing by way of ultimatum. It didn't take a medical degree to see that this was not the preface to a healthy, lasting relationship.
Her stomach clenched.
"Maura?" Jane was staring at her, curiosity and concern drawing her brows together. "What are you thinking right now?"
Her skin felt cold. "You're getting married."
Jane gave a nervous smile. "Yes, Maura. I'm getting married to Casey. Are you okay?"
"Yes!" Maura forced a bright smile that was painfully obvious, no doubt, and pulled off her gloves. "I'm fine!" She even brought herself to touch Jane's arm on her way out and said, "Congratulations, Jane. I'll…I'll be right back." And she whisked toward the double doors. She hoped Jane hadn't felt her fingers trembling as she made her escape.
You are Doctor Maura Isles, ME, Maura told herself as she hurried to the restroom. Calm, composed. Unflappable. Queen of the Dead. She burst into the nearest stall, locked herself in, and sagged against the wall.
In her wake, Jane was left standing at the autopsy table alone, a crease of confusion deepening between her brows and a disappointed slump to her shoulders.