Author's Note: This story begins at the end of S3E08 (Cuts Like a Knife). This is my first time writing any story really, so some comments would be appreciated :) Hope you enjoy.
"Take Me To Fenway"
"So you must've had a wedding fantasy when you were little? C'mon, every little girl has one." I know I'm prying, but I just want her to open up to me.
Trust me.
"Okay, it wasn't really a fantasy... I had this dumb idea that... well, I would say my vows at Fenway over home plate... in a Red Sox jersey." She shares, crinkling her face in embarrassment.
I let out a laugh at how impossibly cute she can be sometimes. Okay, all the time.
Her laughter joins mine before I say, "It's not dumb. It's not exactly elegant... but atleast it's colourful." I say still chuckling at the sight of Jane, in her jersey standing at home plate.
Waiting for me to join her. I mean her boyfriend, not me. Him.
There's always a 'him'.
"We would have the reception over the pitchers mound and we would serve foot long hot dogs and frozen lemonade. And guests would throw peanuts at us instead of rice." She's speaking softer now, as if she's inside the fantasy, relishing every feeling.
Breathing in her own happiness.
"Can I come?" I ask curiously, wondering what I would go as. A guest... a bridesmaid... maid of honor...
...the bride...
"Maybe." she replies. She hesitates, as if she were contimplating saying something different, but decided against it.
My emotions gain control and all I can think is, 'Maybe?!' Seriously?
Well, it's better than 'no' I suppose. But it shouldn't be 'maybe'. It should be 'yes', 'of course' or 'certainly'. Any of those options would be appropriate. But instead she chose 'maybe'?
Where is this coming from?
"Okay." I say sarcastically and a little upset. I know Jane won't explain to me why she said 'maybe', so I'm better off leaving it alone. "A Red Sox jersey, really?" I ask to keep her smiling.
Another laugh from her would be all I need to smile again.
"Okay, you're in my fantasy, you can't tell me what to wear." She says playfully.
We laugh again, revelling in the wonderful sounds we create together. Soon enough the laughter fades and silence replaces it. It's comfortable though. It almost always is with us.
My earlier thoughts invade again though, pulling me back to her memory.
Back to her 'maybe'.
I'm still puzzled by her vague response and I can tell that my face is reflecting these thoughts. I know this because her eyes have caught mine and the happiness has faded slightly from them being slowly replaced with concern. She always knows when something isn't quite right with me. I don't know how she always knows though. Maybe it's because she's the only one who's ever really known me.
Or maybe it's because she the only person I've let in.
"Maur...?" She asks, almost a whisper. I pretend not to hear her, hoping she won't inquire any further into my sudden silence. But this is Jane, and I know she won't give up her efforts that quickly.
"hmm?" I mumble ignorantly, still deep within my thoughts.
"Are you okay? You kinda spaced out..." She asks curiously.
I'm not looking at her now. And I'm not sure if I could right now. She seems worried and I feel guilty for not sharing my struggles with her. She's my best friend after all... but I can't discuss this with her, it could tear us apart, and I CAN'T lose her.
She's everything.
"Oh, ah, yes I'm fine... sort of." I half heartly reply turning towards her.
"Sort of?" She asks a little confused. "You can't be 'sort of' fine Maura. You either are or you aren't." She states plainly. I can tell she's staring at me, trying to get me to admit that I'm not really 'fine'. But then she smiles lightly and her eyes grow warmer. "I thought the genius Dr. Isles would know this." she says sarcastically.
That smirk, god that smirk. She could get away with murder using that smirk. In fact, I would help her get away with murder just to see that smirk all day long.
And I could... watch her mouth... All. Day. Long.
"Are you sure you're okay Maur, you're kinda outta breath." She asks with ample confusion across her face. Clearly unable to sense my arousal, thank goodness, I try to collect myself.
"Is it warmer in here than usual, I don't remember your apartment being so hot before." I respond, a blush creeping up my neck and resting on my cheeks. I look away quickly, trying to cover up my embarrassment, but failing miserably. A light cough makes its way to my throat as I try to clear the now motionless air between us.
"Uh, no. It's the same temp as always. Maur you're gettin' a fever..." she replies concerned. While searching my face for signs of impending illness she says, "You're all flushed. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feelin' well?" Her voice is a little higher than usual now, which tells me that she is getting worried now. I feel terrible for letting her think that I am ill, but I don't want her to know the real reason I'm all hot... and bothered... do I?
No. Not yet anyway.
So, I take a mental 'page' out of the "how to avoid serious discussions by making a joke" book; which is practically written by Jane herself, in an attempt to ease her worries.
"Maybe I should go see a doctor?" I ask sarcastically, successfully lightening the mood.
She releases that beautiful laugh she does when I tell a joke properly; which doesn't happen often and I watch as her worries subside, momentarily anyway.
But she continues to watch me, as if she knows there's something I'm not telling her. Something I won't tell her. Something I can't tell her.
I'm the first one to break our intimate staring contest by slowly making to get up off the mattress.
Jane's mattress.
The place where she sleeps, engulfed in nightmares with no happy endings.
I could be her happy ending.
"Where ya goin'?" She asks suddenly, her eyes shifting from care-free to nervous in a single heart beat as she reaches quickly for my forearm. She just grazes my arm, not firmly touching, but not ghosting either. That tingle in between.
I'm sure she sees my eyes shoot down to her hand faster than a gun leaving its barrel. But I only let myself enjoy the feeling for a moment, before I slightly pull away.
It's these simple touches that are the most agonizing.
Of course gestures, such as hugging, are wonderful, but I know they are friendly and nothing more. Just one friend comforting, greeting or caring for another friend. But these simple touches, so minute in appearance, are what tear at my heart. I often wonder to myself, was that action required, or was it desired? After all, she didn't have to touch my back, thigh, arm, shoulder... but she did, and she will again. Why? Is it just out of habit, like a sub-conscious reflex or is it something more?
"Earth to Maur, come in Dr. Isles. I have a glass of wine for you that I can't pronounce." She says holding a glass of wine out for me to accept.
Oh, right she left our bed, I mean her bed to get more wine, right. I need to stop, what was it she said "spacing out". Yes, that.
"Oh, of course, thank you. And it's Pinot Noir Jane. It's really not that difficult to pronounce." I cast a silly smirk upon my lips. "I thought by now you would've learned to pronounce at least some of the wines I drink." I inquire thoughtfully, trying to ignore my skin that yearns for her touch again.
"Nope, not really." She says truthfully. "I leave all the 'fancy foreign alcohol' to you. You're the smart one, I'm just the -
"brave... beautiful... strong... protective one." I finish for her, surprised at what just escaped my mouth.
I'm still not sure if I actually said those words out loud or in my head. I must have voiced them though because I don't hear her finish her sentence.
I force myself to look up, secretly hoping she isn't looking at me.
My only thought is, 'Please don't look at me Jane. Not yet.'
Of course, the universe does not hear my plea.
When I finally see her eyes, she is looking at me with a strange expression covered in the brightest, cutest, blush I've ever seen. Seeing this brings a smile to my face. For a moment at least.
"uh, yeah, sure. I guess." She mumbles nervously as she sets her wine glass down on the floor.
She's turned away from me now, stroking her hand through the back of her curly locks, trying to comprehend why I said those particular words I suppose.
But that would be a guess. And I don't like to guess.
"Jane..." I try, barely loud enough to cross the space between us. A simple plea, an offering of sorts. An offer to forget it and leave it here. A silly memory between friends.
As it always is.
"Maur..." she whispers in reply. Her eyes have fallen upon mine again, but they are weak now. Struggling to comprehend.
Or struggling to look away.
"Jane..." I try again, finding my voice this time, I continue "you are all of those things I said and more... so much more."
Here's my chance, I tell myself. Just open your mouth and your heart will follow.
I obey and continue, "Jane, I can speak over 7 languages, and none of them can describe just how beautiful you are." A faint blush returns to my heated cheeks. "You are more interesting than any fact I know, more special than any pair of shoes I own, and more protective than I serve." Hopefully she sees the truth in my words. "You're Just more."
I'm breathing quickly now, and my heart rate has surely jumped to levels irregular without physcial exertion, but I'm not finished yet.
I have to get this out. I need to get this out. But is it fair to tell her all of this, if she might not want to know?
So I provide an escape.
"I'll tell you everything... if you want me to. But only if you want me to." I ask quietly. Praying to whatever God may hear me that she says 'yes'. And she has to say yes, because at this point, I'm not sure I could hold everything in if she says 'no'. I wait a few more seconds and still no reply.
I shouldn't have asked. I shouldn't have made it a choice.
Love is never a choice.
Suddenly I hear her say, "Tell me."
It's the quietest I've ever heard Jane speak. Ever. She looks so vulnerable, yet determined; curious even.
I cannot deny her. So I won't.
"Jane," I begin cautiously, "before you, my life was fine. It was normal, quiet, easy. I knew who I was, or at least I thought I did. I was well off and educated. I was fine." I stop briefly to see her listening intently. "But I was also lonely, strange, boring and socially awkward." I pause to collect my thoughts.
How do you tell the most important person in your life that, not only are you in love with them, but that they saved you? In a way your parents, friends, even religion couldn't.
You can't, not completely anyway.
But I could start. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get the rest of my life to explain just how much.
"What I mean to say is, before you, I was fine. And now I'm not." I state plainly. Realizing after how that may have sounded to her, I quickly correct myself, "That's not what I meant." I say reassuringly, hoping she understands. "I'm better off now, I mean... because of you."
At this admittance her eyes soften and a small smile graces her thin lips. I would do absolutely anything to be the cause of that smile. Anything and everything. So I continue.
"With you, everything is easier... and harder. It's beautiful and terrifying. Peaceful and chaotic. It's everything I never knew." My eyes are getting watery and I know that I will start to cry soon. "You are everything I'm not, and yet everything I need. When I'm happy, it's because of you. When I'm annoyed, it's usually because of you (chuckle). And when I'm nervous, short of breathe and can feel my heart beat your name... it's definitely because of you."
She shifts uncomfortably and her smile fades slowly. I know she's thinking about what I've said and how it all connects together. After all, she is a Detective.
My detective I hope.
But she can't connect the dots this time, so I will do it for her.
"When I'm with you Jane, I finally understand what it feels like to be connected to another person in the most intimate way possible." She seems confused by this statement, so I continue, "A connection within their entire existence... their soul. Your soul Jane." I pause to see understanding flash across her face. "And having this connection with you is a large part of what makes me feel special, happy and safe. But most of all... loved."
Her breath hitches at the last word and her eyes grow wide, revealing her insecurities. I need her to hear this though, she needs it just as much as I do.
"You, Jane Rizzoli, make me feel loved. And you will be the only one, ever, to make me feel this way. And it's just one of the countless things I... love about you. I love you as my best friend and my family, but it's not enough anymore because I don't just love you. I'm in love with you."
There, I said it.
My declaration travels among the wind now, never to be breathed in again. I can never take those words back and, oddly, I don't want to. I feel... liberated, as if I've just told the world's greatest secret to a crowd of eager ears.
This feeling fades all too quickly though, when I hear no audible reply from her. I won't pressure her to say anything. But I pray she does.
Anything at all. One sentence, one word, one noise, anything.
I search her eyes for any kind of anger, disgust or sadness. I find none.
She finally lifts her beautiful brown eyes up to mine and takes a long breath. The first one in over a minute I'm sure.
I listen carefully to her breathing and study her face, trying to figure out what she must be thinking. But I can't.
And maybe I don't want to.
"Maur... I..." It's all she can get out at first. Almost as if she's testing her voice to make sure it still works.
"Before I met you Maur, I was a hard-ass detective with an invisible chip on my shoulder. I always felt like I had to prove myself o everyone... all the time. I had to be the best shooter, the fastest runner, the smartest thinker. The best of the best. And I still try to, but... with you..." she takes my hand gently in her own and continues, "I can be those things without needing to prove anything. I can be sappy, tired and vulnerable but still have you think of me as strong and protective too." She looks down to our joined hands and traces her thumb lightly on mine. "I don't have to choose one side of me over the other anymore. You've seen all of me." A small smile appears on her lips as she continues, " The good, bad and really bad." She chuckles lightly.
"Remember the night you fixed my broken nose? I knew then that you were the one for me." She's getting teary eyed now. "You could fix me Maur." I start to feel tears down my cheeks too when she adds, "And I would let you."
She reaches her other hand up to cup my chin and graze her thumb across, wiping my tears away. She leans in closer to me to make sure her next words are never forgotten. "You were the part of me I was missing Maur. The part I never thought I would find. The part that makes my heart keep beating and my lungs still breathing." She pauses momentarily to gather her final words, "What I'm tryin' to say, is that... I'm in love with you too." Pausing briefly she adds, "A lot." with that 'only for you Maura' smile.
I can feel more tears stinging my skin, threatening to vanish under my chin. I can hear my heart beat inside my chest with a thunder incomparable. My body is a beautiful mess waiting for its companion... and lover.
"Oh Jane -" Is all I can get out before her lips are against mine, moving rhythmically together. Amazing is the first word that comes to my mind, followed by beautiful, then perfect. I kiss back so passionately, trying to put all of my words into this one action. This gets me a breathy whimper from her in reply. This is what love feels like. What it tastes, smells and sounds like.
Love is Jane.
I feel her tongue bite my bottom lip and I whimper into her mouth. She does it again with slightly more force causing me to moan loudly in reply. I part my mouth for her; our lips now acting as the stage and our tongues as the performers. My body is trembling and all my senses are exploding with passion. This is the most erotic thing I have ever felt and it's only a kiss! My thoughts then gravitate towards everything else I want to share with her. There's so much more I need her to understand. I feel an urgency about this and I want to tell her right away, but I know I will have the time to do so. All the time I need.
Forever, I hope.
At this realization, I pull away slowly from our kiss, but still intimately close. Her eyes are still closed for a few seconds before she opens them and finds my own. She looks at me a little confused, dazed and very much aroused.
I cup her chin with my right hand while my left is in her thick hair, caressing lightly; enjoying this feeling I've quickly become enchanted with.
"What is it Maur?" She asks nervously, most likely thinking the worst.
I stroke my thumb up the side of her chin again to reassure her that nothing is wrong. It's all right.
Perfect actually.
I gently take my hand away from her face, regretting it immediately. I already miss the feel of her skin against mine. I find new strength in my legs, and use it to stand up off the mattress.
Jane's mattress.
No, our mattress.
I walk towards the bedroom door, inching ever so slowly until I'm standing near the entrance. I never once break eye contact, trying to show her that I want this. I want her. I want us.
Opening the door, I take one small step inside the room and with my eyes still attached to hers I say seductively,
"Take me to the 'real' bed. Then take me to Fenway."