I made a graphic today and this sort of just came to me. I've always thought that the looks Jane and Maura give one another speak volumes. This is a one shot for now. Please leave reviews, they make my heart smile!
Your eyes tell me the things that your lips won't dare to utter.
The first time we met, they flickered with something: uncertainty, intimidation, wonder.
You told me much later, when we had become more acquainted, that you had heard the rumors and jokes. They called me the Queen of the Dead. They said that I was eccentric and oddly intelligent.
Your eyes told me that it wasn't all they said. They would always grow angry when you heard them use that nickname- I believe that it reminded you of the cruel words they said behind my back.
Our first sleepover told me so much. You laughed, asked if I was trying to tell you that I was attracted to you. Your eyes told me that you were only partly joking.
The hurt in your eyes when I said that you weren't my type was confusing. I didn't know then what I know now. I didn't know that I could look into those eyes for days. I was simply stating a fact. You are not the type that I typically date, the type that I generally fall for. I was speaking literally, hoping that I wouldn't give away the fact that I have grown fond of you and want you in ways that I have never wanted anyone before.
You have looked at me with affection, compassion- and I dare to hope, with love. I knew that you were being honest and not merely kind when you said that I was nothing like Hoyt. You stared deep into my eyes and I saw it, then. Your beauty, your passion, your honesty, everything that you are can be read in those expressive chocolate orbs.
Sometimes I wonder what it is that my eyes tell you. I can't help but think that they portray my affection for you. I must assume that, paired with the lingering touches and hitches in my breath, they have told you much more than I am willing to admit.
Your eyes told me that you might be attracted to me, once, when you stared appreciatively at that bar some time ago. I have always been careful to watch for the dilated pupils and passive gulp before your eyes flit away from me.
Whenever I felt your eyes watching me, a shiver would run down my spine and I felt the need to move with a certain sense of awareness and what I hoped was gracefulness. I wonder if your eyes have raked over me the way that mine have run down your form when you swagger into my morgue.
Your eyes have told me things that your lips would never dare to utter. Now I wonder if I will ever see those beautiful eyes again.
Your eyes closed in pain as that bullet tore through you. My eyes filled with stinging tears.
I rushed to you, attempting to staunch the flow of blood that was slowly taking you from me. Your eyes flew open then, apologetic and pained.
You must have seen the sorrow, fear, longing, and love seeping through these hazel informants.
Your lips moved then, trembling as you grasped my blood soaked hand at your side and brushed a tear from my cheek.
Your lips attempted to whisper something- perhaps the very words that your eyes had been screaming for months. I waited patiently, shaking as I clung to you.
Suddenly they were clamped shut, your lips and eyes sealed to the world as you grunted in pain and lost consciousness. My patience wore quickly, giving way to exasperated screams for the paramedics to do anything to save you.
Now I sit here at your bedside, soaked with deep crimson blood and holding that hand. I watch for the slightest flutter, the merest movement of your long lashes.
I yearn for another look into those eyes.
I have sworn to whatever force is out that there that if you are brought back to me, I will speak the words that beg to be spoken. The tears that overwhelm me will not obstruct the truth that my eyes and lips will tell you.
I love you, Jane Rizzoli.