Author's note: Thank you very much for all the reviews and private messages; one more chapter and we're done with this story.

Part Nine: L'Ile Rousse, Corsica – France; population: 3,740

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Silence Is Louder Than Words

Maura had always enjoyed going to L'Ile Rousse if only for a day. It wasn't far from the main island of Corsica and – even if the ferries that connected Corsica to the French Riviera stopped by the harbor of L'Ile Rousse – this tiny bit of land was extremely peaceful.

A lot more than Porto-Vecchio and Bonifacio.

She had insisted on taking the train that connected the main town to the beach with Jane because she loved the station: an old, golden house that seemed abandoned in the middle of nowhere. An architecture typical from Corisca. They had visited the old town of Pascal Paoli in the morning where hundred-year-old plane trees offered well-needed shadows and had even had the chance to see some of the infamous houses with interior Florentine staircases.

Then they had headed to the beach of Marinella: a lagoon of transparent waters and white sand.

The Serendipity would leave Corsica in the evening. Putting an end to the cruise with a day spent on L'Ile Rousse was an excellent idea. The perfect way to enjoy until the last minute the treasures that the island had to offer to the tourists.

"Did it hurt?" Lying on her beach towel, Maura looked at Jane over her Chanel sunglasses as her partner came back from the water. "Maybe you should have kept your tape."

Jane shook her head which caused a dozen of water drops to land on Maura's stomach. Maura stiffened at the unexpected touch. Jane sat down – laughed quietly - and cast a brief glance at her ankle. It was still bruised but she could easily walk now. Swimming hadn't been an issue at all.

She wouldn't need any sick leave when back to Boston and – most of all – she wouldn't have to stick to paperworks. This was worse than being sent back home.

"The water's hot but it was actually pleasant."

Anyway even with a broken foot, Jane would have gone for a swim. Within forty-eight hours, she would be back to Boston. There was no way she wouldn't plunge one more time into the cristalline waters of the Mediterranean. She had absolutely no idea whether she would ever come back to Corsica so it was a bit now or never.

"Gosh, ma' is gonna get drunk. Look at her! She's sipping on another cocktail."

The remark made Maura's lips curl up in a timid smile. She cast a glance at Angela who was sitting on a deckchair next to the large table where they all had had lunch but didn't show the same anxiety as Jane about it. Angela was in the shadows talking with Louise. She would do just fine.

"She's simply enjoying her last day in Corsica. She's having fun, Jane."

Maura wrinkled her nose. Her tone of voice hadn't been as sweet and light as she had hoped for. It had sounded a bit too patronizing for her taste. Thankfully Jane didn't take it badly. As a matter of fact, she didn't seem to even notice the nuance. Instead, she simply settled down on her beach towel and grabbed one of Margaret's magazines.

"An art magazine in German? Really?" Jane rolled her eyes then waved the publication at Maura. "Your cousin's just as weird as you."

Maura grabbed the magazine and started leafing through it with an obvious interest. She pouted, more amused than bothered by Jane's comment.

"Margaret owns an art gallery. She's passionate about art... And men." Maura looked up at her cousin who was in full talk with some guy a bit further down the beach. Some things would never change, obviously. "I'm going to buy ice-cream. Do you want some?"

Who was she kidding? She still had to see the day Jane Rizzoli would turn down any kind of junk food.

Maura grabbed her bag then walked towards the restaurant. A large part of the Serendipity passengers had either decided to go back to Pascal Paoli or to enjoy whatever the one-square-meter island had to offer. The crossing back to Marseille would take eleven to twelve hours. Everyone wanted to enjoy the land under their feet until then.

"Your favorite used to be pistaccio. Pistaccio and vanilla if you wanted two different flavors. There was a brief time when you wanted nothing but strawberry, though."

Maura warmly smiled at her mother's comment. She hadn't seen her approach. Constance had been on a deck chair until now, reading some book while sipping on a frappe.

"It hasn't changed... Pistaccio is still the one I prefer." Maura motioned Jane. "The chocolate one is for her. Double chocolate, should I actually say. Not the healthiest one of all..."

Constance waited for the employee to go prepare the ice-creams before talking again. They could have spoken French but she had chosen English in purpose. She wanted to make sure that the young employee wouldn't understand even if he probably had basic English knowledge.

"You look very happy together. I am happy for you, Maura."

Maura stiffened and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She wasn't in the mood to talk about the relationship she had with Jane. Or at least not with her mother. These were matters that she had never shared before with her and the remark – as fair and nice as it was – made her feel very uncomfortable.

She didn't know how to face it, how to handle it. It was new and she lacked references to properly confront herself to it.

Then there was all the rest, all the things she had said before Portofino. Her mother had been right but she – Maura – hadn't listened to her. She had even yelled at her, convinced that none of this was true. Yet now she had no choice but to recognize how wrong she had been.

Jane had wanted more from her. They hadn't really talked about it but it was obvious that it wouldn't stop once they would be back in Boston. Did they have hope for a future together? Probably. A thousand fantasies that would make them keep on smiling.

"I think we are, indeed." Maura looked down at her feet. Did she have to apologize for her outbursts? For the sharp tone she had used with her mother? It was now or never. "Since when do you know for us? Did dad tell you about it when he walked in on us kissing two days ago?"

Constance widened her eyes in an obvious surprise. Apparently, Maura's father had kept a low profile. It seemed logical, though. He wasn't the kind of person who used to spread rumors. He was a very quiet man, very discreet.

"Don't take it badly, ma chérie*, but anyone who can see wouldn't miss it. The way you look at each other... It doesn't take long to understand that you are lovers."

Alright. That was slightly embarrassing. Maura nodded slowly, not really knowing what to say. She had never been good at pretending and couldn't lie. Perhaps her mother's remark made sense. She and Jane had tried to keep it secret but it seemed like they had miserably failed.

She cast a glance at the beach, at the people she knew. Susie, Frost, Frankie, Korsak, her cousins. They were all here, probably aware of the nature of the relationship she had with Jane. Yet they had simply been too polite to make the slightest comment about it.

Her mother insisted on paying for the ice-creams. Maura politely nodded at her – murmured a sincere thank you – then walked back to her spot on the beach. Margaret had finally decided to give up on her prey and was now peacefully reading her magazine.

"Oh, I see. Your girlfriend gets one but your cousin can go to hell. Thank you, Maura." Margaret rolled her eyes then winked. She knew that Maura had a tendency to take things a bit too literally. It was more than needed to add a gesture that would let her understand it was a joke. "Enjoy, girls."

Girlfriend.

Maura sat down in silence and tried to let the word sink in. It was very stupid but she hadn't put words on their relationship. Not just yet. It was the first time someone dared. Her mother had qualified Jane of her lover but Margaret's remark seemed to own a lot more weight. A strange one.

She started eating her ice-cream rather absentmindedly. Frost and Frankie were playing beach tennis. They were too far to have overheard Margaret's comment. Susie however was on a deckchair a couple of feet away. She couldn't have missed it.

"Do you like it?"

Jane nodded at Maura and was about to take some more of her ice-cream when Maura's lips landed on hers for a delicate – public – kiss. The gesture took her aback. She desperately tried to not let her confusion show but something told her it was vain. Margaret's giggles were a complete giveaway, for instance.

A bit panicked, Jane turned around to observe eventual reactions to it. It was the first time that they did something like that, in public. Okay, she highly doubted that someone still ignored that she and Maura were more than just friends but there hadn't been any official confirmation either.

Or at least until a few seconds ago.

"Do you want to try mine? I'm not sure you like pistaccio, as a matter of fact. Do you?"

Jane blinked. Maura's capacity to go on as if nothing had happened was rather astounding. She opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out, nothing but the vague whisper of an inaudible reply. That was it: Maura had completely taken her aback.

"Oh, jeez. She's only asking you whether you want some ice-cream. She isn't talking dirty to you, Rizzoli."

Jane squinted her eyes at Margaret. Maura's cousin belonged to this category of people you were never completely able to define: was she going to terribly miss Margaret once in Boston or – on the contrary – she would be glad to be so far from her?

Maura's light laugh put an end to Jane's sociological wonders. It rose in the air – floated above their heads – then went straight to Jane's heart to warm it up. She loved it. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her life. Pure – sincere – and somewhat innocent.

She would never get tired of it.

"I'll stick to my double chocolate one, thank you. But if you want some of mine, feel free." Jane held out her ice-cream to Maura but raised an eyebrow at Margaret with defiance. "And you can lick it and lick it and lick it until you judge you're completely satisfied."

...

*ma chérie : (my) darling