So I started writing this over a year ago, but for whatever reason it fell to the wayside. But I've decided to pick it back up and continue :). It's based after the episode where Maura's mum first appears (S2E3 Rebel Without a Pause) and then kinda ignores anything cannon from there on because that's when I started it. Also my previous fic 'Falling' although not referenced in this fic in any way, is the story of how Rizzles got together and this takes place after that, in my head anyway (gotta love head cannon!)

Description: When Maura's adoptive parents can't make it to her and Jane's wedding, Maura yearns to find and connect with her birth mother but it may not be safe to do so…

I'm posting the first two chapters because I figure people want a bit of Rizzles and that doesn't happen until chapter two :)

MAURA WHO?

CHAPTER ONE

It could not be said that Mr. and Mrs. Isles were happy to find out that their daughter was seeing a woman.

"Is that so, darling!" said Mrs. Isles in bright, clipped tones, lifting the fine bone china tea cup from its cradle and sipping. "You never let on."

"It took me by surprise too." Maura replied. She twisted the ring on her finger, feeling the cold sweat under her arms staining her sky-blue Louis Vouiton dress. She hoped they couldn't see it. They sat there, elegantly poised in their tailored clothes and she wondered if they were disgusted with her, if they would sit up in bed that night and wonder how they had adopted not just a peculiar girl but a lesbian no less.

She nibbled nervously on a biscuit.

Maura was at one of her parent's town houses in a quiet cul de sac in Chelsea, London, a breezy spring-time sun shining through large bay windows, illuminating the ivory walls and highlighting the fine embossed detailing along the crown moldings. The portrait of a long-dead English ancestor hung on a shaded wall, peering down at them with sever authority, as if monitoring the trio below. They were seated intimately around an elegant, neoclassic table from circa 1790, taking their tea before being driven to the latest exhibition at the Albert & Victoria Museum in South Kensington.

Maura had flown in from Boston late on the Friday night, upon the invitation of her parents to join them for the weekend. By jet it was a mere three hours away. It was now Sunday morning and she had been girding herself for the conversation ever since, having made the clear decision that it was time to let her parents know.

"So it's Jane, then, is it?" Mrs. Isles asked her accent sounding particularly English despite her decidedly American roots. She seemed to unconsciously adopt it when in London. "That would explain her over protective streak."

"I..."

"You're a lesbian." Her father cut in, peering intensely at her from behind his Ralph Lauren frames and Maura almost jumped in her seat. The way he was looking at her was disconcerting. His nose was always in a book, in a newspaper or staring at some vague point beyond as he ruminated over high-flying academic concepts that would interest only those who worked in his field. Upon Maura's news he had carefully folded and laid the 'The Independent' aside and laced his hands around his crossed legs in a pose that only the European man seemed able to pull off, but somehow, his lanky frame suited. It heightened the air of intelligence that was undeniably his. She felt like he was at this moment de-compartmentalising her like one of his philosophical riddles.

"What about Garette? He was such a nice boy…" her mother was saying

"He's in jail, Mother."

"That's not what I meant. You were so smitten with him, darling. I confess: je suis tres cofus*. Did something happen to cause this change of… heart?"

She smoothed the pencil skirt she was wearing unconsciously.

"I fell in love."

Constance Isles tittered nervously but stopped when she saw the pained look on her daughter's face.

"Please forgive me, darling. This comes as somewhat of a shock."

"Of course."

"I'm … we," she said turning to include her husband who still surveyed Maura, "are... Happy for you, if that is what you want."

"It is."

"Well!" Mrs. Isles exclaimed and trailed off.

An awkward silence fell across the table and they sipped their Earl Grey tea.

"Tell me about her." Mr. Isles finally said. He seemed to have processed whatever though he had been having. "What does she do?"

"Well, she's a Homicide detective for the Boston P.D. She's one of the best. Which is how we met."

"And her family?"

"Her Mother is managing the café at the polices station and is getting a qualification in organisational administration and her father is a plumber." She watched, letting that sit with them a moment.

"I've met Jane's Mother. She appears to be a good sort of person." Mrs. Isles said to her husband, the hesitant emphasis on the 'good'.

"She is a wonderful human being." Maura said firmly. Her mother arched her eyebrow a little.

"Is she still living with you, darling?"

"Yes."

"That is very generous of you to have her stay so long."

"I want her to stay. I like it."

"Oh."

It fell silent once more. Half an hour later they were on their way to the museum and the revelation was not mentioned again.

Please comment!

* Je suis tres confus is French for I am very confused.