So, I had previously published this story, but the muse struck for two more stories like it. So because all three stories are based off of Irish Folk music songs, I thought I would lump them into one story. The story below, I haven't changed so if you've read it you can skip to the next chapter or you may refresh your memory. According to my muse these stories are separate instances but they do have a linear progression. So while chapter two and three will not be dependent on chapter one, they will all combine to tell one large story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles. Those rights belong to TNT, Tess Gerrtisen, and Janet Tamaro and probably more people. Likewise, I do not own the song Black is the Colour or anything Celtic Woman has ever done. Neither do I own Luciano Pavarotti or Ava Maria.
Black is the Colour
Most people listen to fast, thrumming, almost angry music when they work out but not Dr. Maura Isles. She preferred classical, adult contemporary, and opera. It made her workouts far more cathartic. The dulcet tunes and blending harmonies brought a peace to her mind like few other things did. The music stilled the ever present thoughts that constantly traversed her "big brain," as Jane liked to call it.
As the last echoes of Pavarotti's Ava Maria bled into the opening notes of Celtic Woman's Black is the Colour, Maura focused on her friend Jane. While the two normally did all of their workouts together, Jane had had a rough week and was across the gym pounding out her frustrations on a heavy bag. Maura watched as Jane's hands blurred in ever increasing speed, pounding the bag, doing more damage to Jane's knuckles than it. Maura knew that Jane's hands would be swollen and sore after this. Jane's hair was pulled up and away from her face in what Maura had heard jokingly referred to as the "Ponytail of Righteous Justice." The curly mane swung with each jab and sunlight from the nearby windows glinted off it like polished onyx.
Black is the colour of my true love's hair.
The soprano's voice filled Maura's head and the words became more poignant as Maura kept her focus on Jane. She thought of Jane's hair, swinging faster now with every furious punch, and the opening line of the song. She loved Jane's hair. She had once allowed Maura to brush through it one night, freeing it of the shower induced tangles. The whole length was spread across Maura's thighs as she ran a gentle brush through its mass. Cool and silky, Maura had luxuriated in the feel of it; often grazing her nails across Jane's scalp that sent shivers down the other woman's arms. That was probably the night Maura had realized that she was in love with her friend.
Her lips are like some roses fair.
She has the sweetest face and the gentlest touch.
Her lips. God, her lips. Maura stumbled a bit on the treadmill as her thoughts drifted to her friend's lips and face. Though Maura couldn't see from where she was at, she could imagine the sweat rolling down Jane's face. Following the crease between her eyebrows and down her cheek as Jane frowned in concentration and anger. While Maura whole heartedly believed that Jane was beautiful all the time she much preferred the Detective when she was smiling. It didn't happen as often as Maura would have liked but when Jane smiled, truly smiled; it reached up to her eyes and filled them with a light that made the normally articulate doctor mute. Perfect white teeth flanked by deep dimples were the things Maura dreamed of. But even when Jane wasn't smiling her full lower lip caused enough distractions for the doctor. Heretofore unexpected thoughts of kissing Jane, tasting, and nibbling on that lower lip were thoughts Maura struggled to keep private.
Maura loved everything about Jane's face but it was her touch that Maura really treasured. Gentle, always gentle. A calmness pervaded Maura whenever Jane touched her. Little touches throughout the day, inconsequential touches that Maura was sure Jane never even noticed. But Maura noticed, each touch, innocent though it was stirred within Maura feelings of longing. Maura had seen Jane use her hands for great violence, much like she was doing to the speed bag she had moved on to, but Maura knew that those hands had known so much pain. It constantly amazed Maura that Jane's touch could be so light and comforting, when to Maura they represented such strength and control.
I love the ground whereon she stands.
I love my love and well she knows.
I love the ground whereon she goes.
And how I wish the day would come
When she and I can be as one.
As Maura switched from the treadmill to the elliptical she kept her eyes on Jane. She could tell that her friend had begun to calm down. I love the ground whereon she stands. While Maura would gladly spend her days worshiping the ground upon which Jane stood, this line meant so much more to her. Figuratively, Jane was a woman who stood her ground on things she believed in. This more than anything was something Maura found immensely attractive. It was also one of the things that had Jane so frustrated today. While Jane and her team had done everything right in their investigation the perpetrator was going to go free. Jane and Maura both had worked long nights to make sure the man was going to go to prison but verbal deftness on the defense attorney's part had freed the man. And through the trickledown effect the investigators had been blamed for this loss. Jane had stood her ground insisting that their investigation had been airtight and fuming that the man who had brutally murdered his wife and mother-in-law was going to go free. But it wasn't just in her work that Jane had such standards. Maura had seen Jane hold to her principles in every aspect of her life be it with her family or friends. It was Jane's loyalty and protectiveness that Jane never seemed to deviate from that Maura found so attractive.
But Maura had never told Jane any of this. She was afraid. She knew Jane loved her, at least platonically, but Maura couldn't risk losing the only real friend she had ever had. She would follow Jane to the ends of the earth if she asked. The lines And how I wish the day would come/When she and I can be as one sent a pang of yearning through Maura's heart. Those words more than any other in the song were so true for Maura. She longed for the day, the likely fictitious day, that she could be with Jane the way she truly wanted.
"Maura, you done?" Maura was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts. The song long over, Maura looked at Jane blankly having not noticed the detective's approach.
"What?"
Jane Rizzoli smirked at her friend. She had noticed that the whole time they'd been working out that Maura had been deep in her thoughts. "Probably lost in that big brain of hers," Jane thought.
"I said, are you done?"
"Yes, Jane, I'm done." Maura replied taking one of the ear buds out of her ear, the faint strains of a piano piece coming through. Maura got off the elliptical and followed Jane to the locker rooms.
"To the ends of the earth." Maura thought.