I went looking through all the stories I've written looking for a Rizzoli and Isles one, but I found this instead and thought it was cool so here it is!
Photos
She had never thought she would do it voluntarily, yet here she was sitting on the couch looking through her own baby pictures. There were the standard ones her mother would one day use to embarrass her in front of boyfriends, the one of her naked in the bathtub or the one taken just after she'd dumped a bowl of oatmeal on her head. And then there were some with a man in them. In the picture of her at her sixth birthday party, he looked like it was the last place he wanted to be. There was another when she was four and sleeping in his lap while he tried to block the camera with his hand. In one picture she was holding her mom's hand and her mom was holding his. They weren't both holding onto her like most parents did with their kids, when they swung their son or daughter into the air as they walked.
She didn't know the man's name, but she could recall a handful of fuzzy memories with him from over ten years ago. She remembered that he made her mom happy. She remembered when she was eight and she visited him in the hospital to say goodbye the day he died. She remembered that he loved her, despite everything the pictures seemed to say. And that was all that mattered.
I know it's short, but that's part of the beauty of it :)