She reaches out for the balloon but holds onto the clown's hand. She recognizes the glint in the clown's eyes now. She knows who he is. She knows, who he is.
Despite the bright red wig he wore over his hair, despite the powdered face to conceal his natural colouring, and despite the big red nose and the oversized shoes, she remembers the glint of his eyes.
She had stared at them every chance she had gotten, just to determine if he looked at her best friend, as she deserved to be looked at. She had studied his expressions as he interacted with her best friend, just to ascertain that he's an honest man. She had watched and had observed all that she could have about this man, about her best friend's man, just to assuage herself that he loves her as much as she loves him; and that she herself would never stand a chance with her best friend, with Jane.
She knows who he is, and the heaviness grows in her chest.
"I'm not taking it," she lets go of his hand, and steps a little away back, "It's not mine." She declines again the offer he presents – a balloon sculpture, a balloon sculptured Jane – Jane.
"I know who you are," she states with an even voice as she tries not to feel the growing guilt.
She knows who he is, and she had stolen her away from him.
"Casey," she says his name, and is afraid to meet his eyes; but she forces herself to look up, and she tries to apologize.
She had stolen Jane away from him, but no apology manages to materialize – there is only guilt and shame in her left.
"That makes one of us Doctor Isles," Casey smiles, and she notices that his smile is wide but his eyes fall inside, "And she's not mine either," Casey adds.
She had stolen her away from him. She had stolen Jane Rizzoli away from Casey Jones.
A/N: Hi there, thank you, for the time~
Hmm. I'll love to say trust me, but, no one should ever trust me. Hahaha. All I want to try with this story is, the idea that: there are two sides to every coin, to every story, to every being (at the very least).