Twenty Five Weeks
Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles, including the book and the TNT show; Jane Rizzoli belongs to Tess Gerritsen and Angie Harmon, and Maura Isles belongs to Tess Gerritsen and Sasha Alexander. The plot for this story is my own, but that is all I could or would stake claim to. Leave feedback if you wish; these girls are delectable, and my muse would appreciate your affirmation!
Synopsis: How complicated can the naming process be? Companion piece to Thirteen Weeks and Nineteen Weeks, and set somewhere between the Rizzoli parental divorce and Frank Sr.'s move to Florida. Complete fluff, with an attempt to keep these wonderfully complicated women in character. Let me know what you think. :D
One of the luxuries of flexible scheduling, Maura had discovered around the end of her first trimester, was waking up slowly in the mornings. Generally, she'd be woken by Jane's alarm, but would fall back asleep as the sound of an early morning shower lulled her with white noise. Perhaps an hour or so later, she would slowly climb back into consciousness, stretching and spending a few moments taking stock of the changes in her body before preparing for work.
One of the privileges of being married to Jane, she'd discovered quickly afterwards, was waking up slowly in the mornings on Jane's days off.
Jane supposedly had Sundays and Wednesdays off every week. Murder being what it generally was, and Jane being who she generally was, this usually meant Jane was at least home in time for Sunday dinner, but her day off fluctuated around open cases and trial dates. She had done her best to keep her hours normal and her overtime to a minimum since Maura's pregnancy began, but Jane could never be anything but the homicide detective she had always been. Maura, in turn, tried to work when her wife worked and take a break when her wife did, which was how they ended up with a three day weekend after closing a particularly nasty case.
Long fingers were spreading cocoa butter over her burgeoning midsection. This was the first awareness Maura had upon waking, on the morning of their first day off. Through her closed eyelids, the blonde could feel sunlight streaming in through the window, and her mind processed the smell of vanilla, cloves and honey permeating their bedroom. She was stretched out on her back, a tiny throw pillow tucked carefully under her lower back, and she could feel that Jane had pulled her tank top up around her breasts so that her stomach was exposed.
"What do we think about Rebecca? Hmm?" Jane's voice was soft, little more than a whisper, as her hands rubbed the scented cream into Maura's skin. "Or Harold." Maura's yoga pants had been pulled down to rest on her pelvis under the curve of their child. "What about Minerva?"
Maura and Jane had chosen not to be told the gender of their baby, although the medical examiner assumed it would, at some point, become obvious to her during an ultrasound. As such, they had spent the last few weeks tossing baby names at one another in a half hearted attempt to pick a girl name and boy name. Keeping her eyes closed, Maura allowed herself to enjoy her lover's hands against her skin and her wife's voice in conversation with their growing child.
"I was talking about names in the car with Frost yesterday, little one. He suggested Barry. Do you want to be a Barry?" Jane chuckled to herself, the sound low and gravelly in her throat. "I didn't think so. I'll have to tell him you disagreed."
So far, in the twenty five weeks their baby had been maturing in her womb, Maura had been the only person to feel movements, though Jane tried to encourage kicking by teasingly prodding Maura's stomach every day. The blonde could have easily become annoyed by this, but her wife looked so hopeful as she frequently spent time in conversation with her entirely silent baby bump that she couldn't bring herself to tell her to stop. Maura could tell that the baby was beginning to recognize Jane's voice as it shifted whenever they settled together in the evenings, and she told the brunette detective as much, but they both knew it just wasn't the same.
"Hmmm," Jane drawled as she continued rubbing her palms over Maura's skin. "We said no family names, and I say no Italian names, so how about something Irish? Aislinn? Colleen? Aiden? I like Aiden." Maura was desperately trying to keep herself from shivering or moaning in delight, her skin delightfully warm and soft under the roughness of Jane's hands. "We could go nutso. You could be a Nala. Or an Aladdin. I know!" Jane's voice rose in pitch as her hands halted on Maura's skin. "We'll call you Hercules."
Maura couldn't help it. She burst into laughter.
Jane jumped about a mile into the air.
"I'm sorry," Maura choked out through her laughter as Jane pressed a hand against her chest and stared down at her chortling wife in shock. "I didn't mean to surprise you. But, Hercules? Really?" Jane cracked a grin.
"Well, you know. Only if we have a girl." This, of course, sent Maura into another round of giggling, turning her face into the pillow and clutching at it with manicured nails. Jane resettled on the bed beside her wife's body, her long legs crossed, and pressed one palm to the stretching skin where their child was growing. As Maura's laughter tapered off, she returned to laying on her back and covered Jane's hand with her own.
"We are not naming her Hercules," Maura scolded, her eyes glinting with happiness.
"But Aladdin is still in the running?" Jane put on her best hopeful face, but Maura rolled her eyes.
"Definitely not." Sighing mightily, Jane looked to the ceiling and shrugged.
"Ah, well. One could dream." The blonde giggled again, then stretched. "What do you think we're having?" Jane asked, crossing her arms over Maura's stomach and leaning over to rest her chin on them. The medical examiner threaded the fingers of one hand through Jane's wild curls and raised an eyebrow at her wife.
"A human child, I'd expect," Maura returned. This time, it was Jane's turn to roll her eyes.
"Okay, yes, Talking Google. Thank you for that inspired announcement. I meant, do you think it's a boy or a girl." Maura traced over Jane's facial features with one finger, wondering whether their child would have her cheekbones, or the defined arch of her zygomatic bone. She loved this face and knew it almost better than her own.
"Honestly, I don't know. You know I'm not good at guessing, and," Maura shrugged, "I simply don't have even the smallest of clues to work with." Jane nodded a little, satisfied with the answer. "Do you want a girl or a boy?"
"Hmm," Jane smiled, sitting up straight and running her hands over Maura's soft skin. "I don't know. It's not like I was a typical girl, so I'm not sure it really matters."
"Jane, you've never been the typical anything." The brunette chuckled ruefully.
"True." Maura paused for a moment before adding her opinion to the baby name discussion. "I don't think we should go with an Irish name." Jane tilted her head to one side.
"Okay. I guess that makes sense." The brunette reached up to roll down the hem of Maura' tank top, tucking the worn fabric around her body as if to ward off a chill.
"If we're going to go with a name related to ethnic heritage, I'd prefer a French name in honor of my mother's birthplace, or an Italian name in honor of your grandparents." Maura pulled herself up into a seated position.
"I don't like the Italian names. Not the ones I've seen. What are French names like?" Maura reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the book they'd purchased several weeks prior. Flipping to the index, she found the subsection on names with French origins and opened the large paperback to the designated page.
"Well, there's the obvious Marie and Jean," she started, running her index finger down the lists.
"I don't want any old fashioned history-ish names." Jane leaned back on her hands and shook her head emphatically, curls tumbling over her shoulders. Maura glanced up, her eyebrows arched.
"History-ish names? Like what?" Jane waved with one hand.
"You know, like Henry. Or Antoinette. They're too weird." The blonde rolled her eyes.
"Oh, yes, because Maura Evangelina isn't weird."
"It isn't! Your name so fits your personality, and I think it's pretty." Jane sat up and pulled the book onto her lap. "What about Adrianna? Or Aimee?"
"What do you mean, it fits my personality? And no, I don't care for those two." Jane looked up and gestured with her hands as she explained.
"The book said Maura means 'dark,' and Evangelina means 'bearer of good news.' You're a Medical Examiner. You're a dark bearer of good news." Maura contemplated this explanation momentarily before nodding.
"While the true meaning of my name is not exactly 'dark,' but 'Moor,' meaning a black person, I never really thought about it that way. However, I believe I like your explanation better." Jane shook her head with a grin, then leaned forward to kiss her wife.
"I love you." She kissed her again, more slowly this time. "Good morning, by the way."
"Mmm," Maura responded, pulling Jane's face back to hers for a third kiss. "Good morning indeed."
. . .
A short time later, Jane made her way to the kitchen to start heating water for tea. As she rifled around in the fridge for something to make as breakfast, Maura wandered into the room intent on the pages of the baby name book once more. Jane's basketball shorts were slung low on defined hip bones and her men's tank top had ridden up, leaving a patch of tan skin open for viewing pleasure. Maura found herself staring for a few minutes after she settled in at the counter in a tall chair, her gaze unbroken until Jane stepped up to the counter on the other side and the patch of skin was hidden.
When the blonde looked back up at her wife's face, she found Jane grinning mischievously. Rolling her eyes, she blushed.
"I like that you still look at me like that," Jane said softly, omelet ingredients forgotten between them. Maura tilted her head to the side in question. "We've been married for almost two years and you still want me on Friday morning at 10:30."
"C'mere," Maura said quietly, pulling her head towards her side of the counter. Jane moved slowly around the peninsula and slid between Maura's legs. They kissed, languid and warm, as Maura slid her hands around the back of Jane's neck and into her hair. "I am going to want you when we're ninety seven years old on a Tuesday afternoon at 3 p.m." Jane grinned.
"That's convenient, 'cause I'm gonna want you then, too." Suddenly, Maura's stomach growled audibly, making the medical examiner blush and Jane laugh.
"Okay, go." Maura made a shoo-ing motion with her hands. "Make your child some food, wife." Jane laughed again and kissed her soundly on the mouth before following her orders. As she cooked, Maura threw out names from the book, each meeting some kind of a negative response. At one point, she included 'Jean-Baptiste,' just to see how Jane would react and was met with a small handful of shredded cheese to the face.
"Jane!" Maura exclaimed, her hands thrown in the air in shock. "One of them went down my shirt!" The detective only laughed aloud, her head thrown back in glee, which made Maura chuckle as well.
"What about Lisette," Maura commented as Jane plated the omelets and turned off the stove. The brunette paused for a moment.
"Huh." She placed the plate in front of Maura who closed the book and pushed it aside. "Lisette. I like it." Jane grabbed a couple of forks from the drawer and sat down across from her wife.
"Me, too," Maura responded, meeting her wife's gaze with a gentle smile.
"Hannah Lisette." Maura's forks stopped between her plate and her mouth, but Jane looked certain. "Hannah Lisette Rizzoli-Isles."
"I have no idea where you came up with Hannah, but I love it. It feels right." Maura was unused to guess work and the "gumshoe thing," but for some reason, the name fit in her mouth, like she could say it for the rest of her life. "Hannah Lisette."
Suddenly, before their gaze could be broken by any outside force, Maura felt the baby kick mightily against her side. She placed her fork down in surprise and covered the spot with her hand. Another kick in the same place. "Jane, come here."
Jane rose from her chair slowly, almost afraid to hope, and moved around the counter to face Maura. The blonde grabbed her hand, pressing a scarred palm against her stomach. For a little while, they waited, breathless with anticipation. Maura looked up at Jane's face, but the detective's eyes were trained on her hand, gaze unwavering. And then it happened.
Under her palm, Jane felt Maura's skin ripple. The medical examiner watched as Jane's face lit up, her eyes suddenly shiny and her mouth curving unconsciously into the widest grin Maura was sure she had ever seen on her wife's face.
"Do it again," Jane commanded, her voice cracking without her permission. Maura giggled a little, but Hannah seemed to have understood the request and she kicked again. "Maura, that's her. I can feel it."
"I know, love." Slowly, Jane sank to her knees on the tiled floor of their kitchen and reverently lifted Maura's tank top once more. Now she could see the indents in Maura's skin as their baby moved, testing out her range of motion from within. "She can hear your voice." Jane looked up briefly and the tears in her eyes took Maura's breath away.
"Hannah Lisette," Jane said gently, pressing her lips to Maura's skin over the kicks. "Your name is Hannah Listte Rizzoli-Isles and I am not sure I have ever loved anything as much as I love your Mommy and you right now."
Maura couldn't speak for a while. Instead, she placed her hand against Jane's head over silken curls and watched as her wife and daughter became acquainted with one another. "Jane," she finally commented when she found her voice.
"Yeah, Maur?"
"I think we're having a girl."