Maura waited at the altar, watching the love of her life glide slowly on her father's arm, with a radiant smile, down the aisle towards her. She was clearly nervous, but still positively glowing in the sleeveless white gown. Maura smiled and took a moment to compliment herself on her choice of gown; Angela had been right to trust her judgment on style and fit. The cut of the dress perfectly and tastefully accentuated Jane's athletic, ectomorphic build. She flushed with pride, and for a moment, Jane seemed to respond in kind, joyful smile breaking into a beaming grin behind the sheer veil. Her hair was up, elegantly coifed and beaded with pearls. The medical examiner's eyes wandered from the bride's face, pausing a moment to appreciate how the up-do highlighted the regal curve of Jane's neck. Returning her gaze to Jane's face, Maura noticed the detective had broken eye contact.
Reality slammed into Maura, feeling like a kettlebell behind her abdominal muscles. Jane wasn't walking towards her from the end of the aisle. She had never been walking towards Maura. Her eyes had locked on the man standing not four feet from Maura. The man standing at the center of the raised dais that housed the altar, flanked by the priest, one of his comrades in full dress uniform, Frankie, and herself.
The man Jane had said "yes" to.
Jane, what are you doing? It was all Maura could do to keep from asking aloud as Jane handed her the bridal bouquet so she could take Casey's hands.
"Do you, Charles Anthony Jones…"
Maura could see from where she was standing behind Jane that her best friend was shaking with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She shifted imperceptibly closer, longing so deeply to touch the woman before her. Witnessing Jane's body's natural reaction to all the stress – both good and bad – that had accumulated over the past few months, had a powerful, magnetic effect on the medical examiner. On an intuitive level, Maura experienced an intense need to comfort. Where she had always known herself to be perceived as relatively cold and aloof, Maura had come to understand that Jane coaxed a strong but unpracticed and deeply buried nurturing instinct to the surface of Maura's personality.
"I do." Casey's voice.
Another shiver, visible only to Maura – and perhaps to Casey – passed through Jane's body.
"Do you, Jane Clementine Rizzoli…"
Maura edged her hand closer to Jane, unable to stop herself. She took a brief assessment of the many vantage points within the congregation and judged that the move she was about to make would be noticed by no one save herself. And possibly Jane.
Maura's knuckles brushed feather light against the small of Jane's back. The touch lingered just enough for Maura to feel the nervous tension in Jane's lumbar region. Just barely enough to feel the muscle groups relax at her touch. She needed this. They both did.
"I…"
At the moment when the husky voice faltered, Maura found herself flush again with a heat born of desperation. She wanted to touch Jane again.
Jane, it'll be okay. We'll be okay. Just a little longer. Was she addressing her best friend or herself? Maura's emotions had never been so discombobulated before.
"…do."