A/N: It's different, but hopefully not unappealing. She still wears Chanel and casually has two Hermès scarves in her Birken for random usage in an Aston Martin. The article mentioned in the summary is real. Also, English is hard.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Amélie Saunders was a caucasian brown haired, brown eyed woman who once stood at 162.56 centimeters. She was an atypical accountant. From her crisp, long-sleeve white button-down with a pocket protector she was found in to the Sharp QS-2130 Compact Desktop Calculator found in her briefcase, there wasn't necessarily anything extraordinary about her. The thirty-four-year-old female had no next of kin and her 450 square foot studio showed no signs of a significant other.
However, underneath the starched oxford shirt and perfectly pleated pants were artful lines and symbols permanently inked into her skin. Her legs, arms, and back were tastefully decorated. Some larger and some darker than others, showing the agedness of the black ink. None exceeded a width or diameter of more than an inch and three-quarters. Most importantly, all were easily concealed by professional attire and crew socks.
The most jarring embellishment were the twin barbells pierced through her nipples. The bars themselves were implant grade surgical steel and were completed with near colorless diamond balls to secure them in place. They overshadowed the matching gem nestled in her navel. Beneath the 'Plain Jane' aesthetic was a complexity that Maura understood.
"C.O.D.?" Jane's voice echoed in the morgue as the automatic doors whooshed shut behind her.
"Myocardial infarction. The victim had congestive heart failure." Maura couldn't stop staring at the wisps of black ink that peeked out from the white sheet covering Amélie Saunders' body. It made her back itch with anticipation and her hip twitch in guilt. With both hands, she gripped the edge of the autopsy table and tried to breathe out evenly.
"So...a natural death?" The detective's voice was hopeful. The medical examiner didn't have to turn around to see the partial excitement that flashed across the detective's face. It had been a long week and they were all eager to have a murder and paperwork free weekend. While a natural death required no investigative efforts, a full report as well as a death certificate still needed to be filed and issued. For everyone else, they'd get to leave early. For Maura, she'd stay the extra few hours on a Friday night to have a free and clear weekend, but to also give peace to the woman on her table. She also knew that Jane would keep her company for the extra hours she'd stay past the end of the normal working day. It was Friday after all.
"Yes, Jane. I'll file the report today and issue the death certificate. Vital statistics will be long gone by the time everything is complete, so the body will be released on Monday. Dinner tonight?" Maura knew it was a silly question, but it was nice to have the confirmation.
"Where else would I be?" The raspy and sarcastic drawl of Jane's voice was not missed, but ignored. She continued, "And why are you giving Saunders' tattoos a visual autopsy? Are they not art museum worthy?" Jane smirked at her own quip.
Maura opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She wasn't sure why she was reacting this way. Throughout her tenure at BPD, her career prior to Boston, and even during her residency, she had seen hundreds of bodies with tattoos and piercings. While she appreciated the craftsmanship and artistic creativity in almost all of them, Amélie Saunders' struck a chord. Instinctively, she laid a hand over her lower stomach and tried to find words.
"Outwardly, she's proper and presentable, but the things that she values the most are hidden. They're like reminders to herself in ways that only she'd understand. They're permanently personal." Maura's voice was softly wistful.
"O-kay. So instead of sticking Post-Its on her bathroom mirror, she just looks at herself?" Confusion riddled Jane's question. "Jane, do you have any tattoos or piercings? While I have seen you in various states of undress, I've never seen you nude. There could be a multitude of places for—" Maura rolled her eyes as the detective interrupted her.
"W-what?! No! What kind of question is that? Do you?!" The Italian was animatedly using her hands to express her shock, but long gone was the discomfort of talking about most things with the doctor. As time flew by and their friendship grew, Jane slowly got past Maura's lack of filter and instead found it to be more refreshing than a nuisance. Jane also realized that it was either forever get exasperated with her best friend or accept it and go with the flow.
"A valid one." Maura held her breath. She knew what was coming. Her breathing was becoming labored and she felt the rising heat rush up her neck. Her body shivered as goose bumps crawled up her legs and shot straight up her back. Her face was furiously red, and her eyes burned as if the vitreous fluid turned into acid.
"Tick tock, Maur. The hives are here." The jest was evident, but Jane Rizzoli had a heart. She briskly walked to the not-dead freezer and grabbed two ice packs. Rushing over to the hyperventilating and blotchy faced doctor, she pressed one cold pack to the back of Maura's neck and the other just above the 'V' of black scrubs. Pressing her front against Maura's back, Jane rested her chin on the top of blonde hair. Patience was not a trait that was often associated with the detective, but for Maura, she had all the time in the world. So she waited in silence.
"Yes," Maura whispered.
"I always knew you were a badass." Jane pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of the doctor's head and tossed the melting ice packs onto an empty metal slab. Placing her damp, cold hands on Maura's waist, she coaxed the tense woman to turn around. As she slid her hands up, Jane cupped a warm face as her thumbs brushed over blotchy cheeks. Dark brown eyes zeroed in on the slightly freckled skin of Maura's face and Jane's thumbs wiped the two stray tears that escaped rapidly blinking green eyes.
"So which one is it?" Jane continued, "Piercings or tattoos?" Tugging the blonde closer and burying her nose in the space between Maura's shoulder and neck, the detective in Jane was unable to let it go.
"Both, actually." The honey blonde's voice wavered slightly, but Jane's hold kept her grounded. Maura let out a ragged breath as she continued, "As I got older, I took a lot of the piercings out, but I still have a few remaining. And much to my mother's chagrin, I still adore my tattoos." Maura burrowed her head against Jane's chest, hoping to hide the redness that was brightening across her freckled face and climbing up her chest.
The detective shivered. Her attraction to the doctor in her arms increased tenfold. "Plural tattoos and piercings? Dr. Isles, you've been holding out on me." Jane smiled against Maura's neck and breathed in deeply.
It was no secret that the doctor and detective were wildly attracted to one another. They knew it and everyone around them did too. They've been teetering on the edge of giving into years of pent up flirtation and blatant sexual attraction. Both women stopped dating and spent nearly all their free time together. Affectionate gestures grew into brazen touches to the point of separate cold showers and never-ending frustration. They were so close to the tipping point, but there was an unknown threadlike roadblock that neither of them could surpass. Until now.
"Show me." Jane's voice was low and vibrated against the pulse point of Maura's neck. The detective dragged her lower lip up the length of soft skin and nipped gently as she got to the small space behind the doctor's ear. Maura's eyes slammed shut as she grasped the detective's belt to keep herself upright. Tilting her head to the side, the smaller woman bit her lip and tried to find words to string into a coherent sentence.
"You have to take me out first." Maura mewled at the loss of contact when Jane pulled back. Hazel eyes darkened as she felt brown eyes scanning her from head to toe. Taking the taller woman's hands into her own, Maura slid their hands up towards her midriff and back down, settling on her pelvic region.
"Piercings and tattoos that warrant wining and dining?" Jane's whispering made the hairs on the back of Maura's neck stand up.
Choosing not to answer the brunette's question, Maura clasped their hands together and stepped on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss against Jane's cheek. She pulled back and smiled up at the taller woman. "Come down and pick me up at 7:00P.M?"
Jane nodded her head and returned a lingering kiss to the doctor's forehead. Unable to verbalize her response, Jane unclasped her hands from Maura's and brought them up to a freckled face. She ran her thumb across cheek bones once more and leaned down one last time to place a gentle kiss on the corner of soft lips.
Untangling from their intimate embrace, Maura watched as Jane walked confidently out of the morgue with the automatic doors whooshing open and shut. Hazel eyes followed the lithe form of the retreating taller woman as hands reached up to softly trace her own lips. Blushing and averting her eyes down to the linoleum tiles beneath her clogs, Maura shook her head lightly and continued her work—albeit wildly distracted.