Author's note: thank you very much for all your reviews, it's a pleasure to read them (las tuyas también, Veronika!).

Chapter Three: How To Not Succumb To Panic

October

"Okay, I'm here. What did you want to..." Jane stopped right in her tracks as she reached the table at the very far end of the autopsy room. She made a face, swallowed hard. "What on Earth... I guess I can easily say I've seen gruesome things these past few years with my job but... That? Nope, never... What happened to him?"

Scalpel in hand, Maura looked up and smiled nonchalantly at her partner. She didn't seem troubled the slightest bit by the poor shape of the corpse lying on the table now.

"Oh congratulations. How did you manage to assume that it was a man considering what is left... Of his head?"

Jane cast a very last glance at the corpse and shrugged. In all honesty, she had absolutely no idea. A sheet was covering the chest, going down to the feet. One was missing.

"Fifth sense?" She blinked and shook her head to focus back on the reason why she had made it to the room in the first place. "You wanted to see me?"

Maura nodded and delicately put down her scalpel. She took her latex gloves off – loudly – before letting a sigh pass her lips. She forced a smile; a hand on her hip. Obviously, she was hesitating.

"My father sent me an email regarding our wedding."

Jane's smile froze. Charles Isles had stopped by Boston a few weeks earlier, accepting to organize the ceremony in Harvard. Was there a hitch or something that the scientist looked sorry?

Biting her lower lip in anticipation, the brunette tilted her head on a side and made a face. "He did not get it, did he? Shit." She took a deep breath, trying to calm down her latent panic. "It's okay. It was just an idea, anyway. It's not like Massachusetts doesn't have plenty of other spots for a wedding venue. As..."

Maura raised a hand in the air to interrupt her immediately.

"We got Harvard."

Jane blinked – brought the weight of her body on her left leg – and squinted her eyes at her partner to understand why Maura seemed gutted.

"Then why aren't you thrilled? Shouldn't you be going all hysterical, talking to me about flowers and whatever?"

The medical examiner looked down at the table and made abstraction of the damaged corpse lying on it. The senator had asked for an immediate autopsy. She hadn't been able to postpone it and go for a coffee with Jane instead in order to talk about her father's mail.

"I am not expressing any surge of enthusiasm right now because there is a 'however' in all of this..." Pursing her lips, she frowned and tried to find the best words to use for such announcement. Rather in vain. She finally opted for the most direct way. "We can only have Harvard on November, 16th."

Silence.

Maura ran her tongue over her lips and nodded as if to confirm her very own statement. "November of this year. In nine weeks."

Jane finally reacted. Or so. As she opened her mouth to speak, a bare – yet loud enough – couple of chuckles hit the air. She shook her head, almost certain she hadn't heard properly.

"Excuse me?"

...

Dropping her handbag by the door, Maura stepped into the house and followed Jane to the kitchen area. It had been raining all day long. She was cold, exhausted.

A hand on her lover's back – a kiss stolen on her nape – she walked to the counter and grabbed a mug.

"Would you like a coffee?"

The Italian nodded then sat on a stool. She took her jacket off, let her stilettos hit the floor loudly as she freed her feet from them.

"All my life she literally harrassed me with my wedding. I can't believe she passed away four weeks before it. If we hadn't just attended her funeral, I'd tell you my nanna is a bit bitchy here."

A heart attack. At ninety-five, it hadn't been much of a surprise but still. Pulling on the sleeves of a dark sweater she had put on for the occasion, Jane rolled her eyes and sighed. She would definitely miss her grandmother but – deep inside – she couldn't help thinking that the timing was bad.

As if they weren't rushed enough by the express-wedding preparations like that.

"Ma' wants me to wear nanna's veil, now. As a homage. How can I escape from that? I already have my dress and there's no way I add a train. This isn't me, Maura."

Whining. She was whining. And on her grandmother's funeral day, besides. She had no excuse at all for such behavior but then wasn't her wedding supposed to be her very own day?

The day she could wear whatever she wanted and nobody would have a word on it?

She closed her eyes and started rubbing her temples. Perhaps she was finally starting to understand the kind of stress a wedding could bring to a future bride.

Maura shrugged. In all honesty, she didn't picture Jane out wearing a train nor a veil. It wasn't fitting at all. Besides, they had decided to have a rather discreet wedding . Nothing too extravagant.

Angela's wish slightly changed the perspective.

The medical examiner held a mug of coffee out to Jane and took a sip of her own one before pouting. She bit her lip, leaned against the kitchen top.

Index on her mouth, she nodded. "I might have an idea."

"You're about to Project Runway me, aren't you?"

The question made the honey blonde laugh. Without adding anything, she walked to the laundry and came back a minute later in the kitchen with their respective dresses.

If at first they had assumed the extremely tiny lapse of time would play against them, Jane and Maura had had no choice but to concede it wasn't much of a problem in the end. Everything seemed to fall into place rather easily and proving thus how one didn't need a whole year to organize a wedding.

Very carefully, she took Jane's dress out of its protection and put it down on the couch. Jo Friday approached and sniffed the unusual piece of clothing.

"See, I think we can use this veil but as something else than a veil."

Jane abandoned the stool she was sitting on – reluctantly – and walked to the living-room; her mug of coffee in hand. She cast a glance at the dress before frowning at her lover.

"See. You are Project Runway me."

Maura scoffed but the smirk that began to play at the corner of her lips betrayed her inner thoughts. Disarmed, she ended up shrugging.

"I am just trying to save you on this, Jane. Now if you want to actually wear this train as it is then it is your choice and I put back your dress into the laundry."

Unconvinced but desperate, the brunette shook her head and looked down at her dress. She actually loved it. It was simple – elegant – and emphasized her curves perfectly. She had even had quite of a hard time believing it in the fitting room when she had tried it.

"Go ahead." Oh, do you really need to mumble now, Rizzoli? She's trying to help. Damn, look at the amount of money she puts in fashion magazines. She can be trusted in this field.

"I think..." Focused on the piece of clothing as if her life depended on it, Maura grabbed the old veil made of lace to put it right on top of the dress. "We can sew it just there to emphasize the high waist. Do you see what I mean?"

Jane nodded. She would have preferred to spend the rest of the day talking about something else - she was not a Vogue addict - but she did understand where Maura was heading nonetheless.

And yet.

"But then I'll have a high waist and you an empire waist. Aren't we going to look like siamese or something? I don't know... It might be too matchey."

As if the detective had just explained the Theory of Relativity in ancient Greek, Maura opened big eyes – pleasantly surprised – and grinned. She brought a hand to her heart in an emotional gesture.

"I cannot believe that you are actually thinking about such details. You make me so proud, Jane... See, there is a bit of a fashionista in everyone; even in you."

"Yeah well, don't get used to it." Dancing on her feet, the Italian made a face. "It's just... That I wanna look pretty for our wedding. I mean as much as I can next to you, that is. I don't want us to look too unbalanced."

A bittersweet smile lit up Maura's features. Very slowly, she approached her partner and caressed her cheek before sweeping away a strand of hair from Jane's face.

"I wish you believed me when I tell you that you are beautiful." Her murmur rose in the air with a delicate honesty. She let a few seconds pass by before resuming her speaking. "Now to confirm – or not – what you have just said... Put the dress on. I am going to do the same with mine and we are going to compare."

Jane rolled her eyes. She should have known better than to play along Maura's game.

"Can't we do that another day? Let's just chill out on the couch and watch television. I'm sure there's a good movie on. Or even a documentary." Anything but another fitting session.

Needless to say that ten minutes later, both women were standing in front of a large mirror in their respective wedding dresses; trying to arrange the veil on Jane to make it pass for a waist addition.

Maura always won at this. Always.

"What are you doing?"

Angela's voice in their back made them freeze and straighten up. They turned around – the rustle of their wedding dresses breaking the sudden silence – and laughed nervously at the scene. Half of Jane's family had arrived.

As planned.

Except they had forgotten about it.

"They pretty." In his mother's arms, TJ pointed an index finger at both women and smiled brightly.