A/N: Don't you just hate when your paying job keeps you from your real job of writing fan fiction? Thanks for being patient guys. Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Ellen Page and anyone else lucky enough to have both the freedom and the courage to be out.

"She's coming," Angela said. "Everybody hide!"

Maura ducked behind a plastic-wrapped chesterfield, heart pounding, hand fumbling for Jane's when someone turned out the lights. She had never been to a surprise party before. She hadn't meant to attend this one, only to help Jane with her make-up and give her a few last-minute pointers about walking in heels. But then Jane had looked at her with eyes that said "don't leave me" and Maura had found herself accepting Angela's last-minute invitation to Nonna Rizzoli's 75th birthday party.

Jane squeezed Maura's hand, and Maura squeezed back. There was whispering from every corner of the room, which reminded her of God's Ear, her mother's award-winning sound-art installation. She had felt a little crazy walking through the dimly lit room of recorded prayers and confessions, and she felt a little crazy now.

"You okay?" Jane asked, much closer than Maura had expected.

"Yes."

She rested her head on Maura's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Of course."

A key turned in the door, and the whispers dropped off. A sliver of light expanded and was eclipsed by a burst of overhead light: the signal. They jumped out and yelled "Surprise!"

Nonna Rizzoli staggered backwards, clutching her heart wounded-cowboy style. "You sneaky, sneaky devils. Trying to finish me off?"

Everyone laughed, and began lining up for hugs.

Maura turned to Jane, who stood staring at her feet, muttering "heel toe, heel toe, heel toe". "Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"Your mother's coming."

Jane dropped Maura's hand and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What are you two still doing behind the couch?" Angela said. "Go say hello to Nonna."

"There's a line-up."

"Then come mingle, help me prove to Uncle Gianni I only have two sons."

A vein in Jane's forehead twitched.

Maura placed a hand at the small of her back, rubbed tiny circles, waited for the obligatory sarcastic retort.

Jane smiled wider than a newly crowned Miss America. "Lead the way."

For the next forty minutes, she was paraded around the room like a prize-winning pony. "This can't be little Jane who used to beat up her cousins," said an Uncle. "Oh, she's grown up so beautiful," said an Aunt. "She'll have no trouble finding a husband now," said an old lady who everyone assumed was family, although no one could tell you quite how. And all the while, Jane said nothing.

When Angela's feet became to swollen for her heels, she limped to a sofa and was handed a plate of food.

"This way," Jane whispered, like a convict with a secret tunnel. She pulled Maura up the stairs and into a dimly lit study, kicked off her shoes and sagged against a wall. "So, how'd I do?"

Jane had asked the very same question after Jeremy's show. For her, the party was a performance, but real life wasn't supposed to be a performance. Maura wrapped her arms around her. "You were absolutely beautiful, and I want you to promise you'll never do that again."

Jane pulled back, wide-eyed. "What?"

"I don't know who that was out there but it wasn't you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dressing up is supposed to be about showing off, not hiding who you really are."

"I wasn't hiding, I was making Ma proud."

"By trying to be something you're not?"

Jane wiggled her toes, made the creases across them dance. "By trying to be more like you."

"Me?"

"You're like the perfect girl."

Maura clapped her hand over a burst of laughter.

"What? It's true. You love shopping and makeup and shoes. You flip your hair when you talk, you swing your hips when you walk, and do you even own a pair of pants?"

"Of course." They were the most practical choice for yoga, fencing and horseback riding.

"And why do you always smell so damn good?"

"I'm not sure what–"

"You shit roses don't you? Probably figured out how for some science project and now you only poop potpourri?"

"Well, that's just preposterous."

"No, preposterous is you not realizing how freaking amazing you are." Jane ran a hand through her hair. "You think guys at school ever get up to offer me a seat? You think…" Her voice cracked and she looked away. "You think people's mothers point at me and say, "Why can't you be more like her?"

A whale of feeling swam up in Maura, rocking her like a tiny boat. She had always understood Ishmeal, but never before the idiom of a heart breaking for someone else. "Jane, look at me."

Jane turned farther away.

Maura cupped her face and tilted it until they saw eye to eye. "I'm not her, Jane. You don't have to wear makeup or dresses for me."

"Stop it."

"No, I think you need to hear this."

Jane tried to pull away, but Maura wouldn't let her.

"I'm glad you're not like me. You are funny and brave and more compassionate than anyone I've ever known. And I don't care what your mother or anyone at school says, I wouldn't change a single thing about you because you're perfect just the way you are."

The words swirled between them unbroken by a single breath until a figure emerged from the corner clapping. "I couldn't have said it better."

"Jesus Christ, Nonna!" Jane said. "How long have you been there?"

"Awhile."

"Why didn't you say something?"

Nona Rizzoli shrugged. "You were having a moment."

"Well, what the hell were you doing sitting in the dark?"

"Same as you, hiding."

"But it's your birthday."

"Exactly. Why should I have to sit through all that ass-kissing when half of them only want in my will? Meanwhile, my favourite granddaughter hasn't even said hello."

Jane kissed Nonna Rizzoli's cheeks and hugged her tightly. "Don't say that too loud, you'll get me in trouble."

"I thought you liked trouble." Nonna Rizzoli tweaked Jane's nose. "Aren't you going to introduce your friend?"

"Sorry, Nonna, this is Maura Isles." Jane smiled at Maura. "My best friend. Maura, my grandmother, Nonna Rizzoli."

"Pleased to meet you." Maura shook Nonna Rizzoli's hand not minding the firmness of her grip or the twin scalpels that saw right to her core. For the first time in her life she had a best friend.

"You like wine?"

Maura nodded.

"Of course you do. Grab two glasses from that table there."

Maura handed them to Nonna Rizzoli, who filled them with a deep red wine.

"Salute," Nonna said.

"Salute," Jane and Maura said.

Maura swirled her glass, sniffed and took a sip. Dark cherry, currants and a hint of tobacco played across her tongue before settling into a smooth raspberry finish. "This is possibly the best wine I've ever tasted. What is it?"

"A '94 Chateau de Gordes," Nonna Rizzoli said.

Maura gasped "But those are extremely rare. This bottle must have cost at least six hundred dollars."

Jane spat a mouthful of wine back into her glass. "Nonna, we can't drink this. It's too much."

Nonna Rizzoli waved the objection away. "It was a present from Federico Tacchi. I was saving it for a special occasion, only I saved it so long I nearly forgot I had it." She turned her glass at an angle, coating it with a film that broke into fat red tears. "Two weeks ago he died from a stroke. He was seventy-four, today I'm seventy-five, and who knows if I'll live to be seventy-six. So I'm drinking it." She took a big, lip-smacking sip. "And you two are helping me because it's my birthday and I say so."

"Can't argue with that." Jane said. "To Federico."

"To Federico." Maura sipped her wine slowly, savouring its complex bouquet and the delicious feeling that filled her every time her eyes met Jane's. She was going to be the best best friend ever, she was going to read every article written on the subject, she was going to prove to Jane just how special she was.

….

"And the man looked down at the cactus and said "Are you sure you don't have anything bigger?" Nonna Rizzoli paused after the punchline for laughter that never came. She looked from one dreamy-eyed girl to the other and rolled her eyes. Teenagers were always the toughest crowd, so caught up in themselves.

No matter. She liked being around young people, liked the energy they brought to a room. "Did I ever tell you about the great rose shortage of Oriolo?" She knew the story so well she could tell it in her sleep, which allowed her to observe the girls while she talked. The way they looked at each other reminded her of Pina and Zita, the women who shared the little red house at the end of the street. Neither had married but Nonna Rizzoli had always been a little jealous of their garden.

"There you are." Angela limped into the room and turned on the light. "We've been looking all over."

Nonna Rizzoli shrugged. "You should have looked in here."

Angela frowned at the wine bottle and wine glasses and wine-stained lips. "They're not old enough yet."

"And, I suppose, I'm too old?"

"Of course not. You're in great shape for a woman of your age."

"For a woman of my age?"

"That's not what I…" Angela rubbed her eyes. "Look, why don't you come back to the party? Everyone's dying to see you."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Nonna Rizzoli split the last of the wine between the three glasses, and handed the empty bottle to Angela. "Ready girls?"

Jane and Maura nodded.

"Let's go see how bad your Uncle Gianni wants in the will."

"Aren't you gonna put on your shoes, Janie?" Angela said.

"Nope."

"But your feet will get dirty."

"Yup."

Angela frowned and Nonna Rizzoli smiled at the swagger that was back in Jane's step.