She takes they keys out of the ignition, and they both climb out. They slowly walk up stone walkway. He stops at the door, and looks at her.
"Do I need to ring the bell?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"Knock?" he questions.
She opens the door. He nods, and follows her in. From the entry way, they can see Angela in the kitchen. He slips his shoes off. Angela looks up, from the island.
"Jane, I didn't know that you were coming to dinner," Angela comments, "Maura hasn't made it home, yet."
"That's ok."
Michael stands out of her line of sight.
"I made lasagna," Angela announces.
"I hope that you made extra. What am I saying, of course you did. You always make enough for an army."
"Frankie, and Tommy aren't coming. It's just the three of us," Angela tells her.
"I brought a guest," Jane turns, and motions for him to follow her.
He follows her into the kitchen.
"A guest? Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten out the China," Angela responds, with her back turned to Jane, as she fishes through the cabinet, for a couple more place settings.
"Ma! You don't have to get out the fine China."
She turns around, with the plates. She sets them on the island. She looks at Jane, and then to the young man standing next to her.
"He's a little young for you, don't you think?" Angela whispers.
"He's not my date," Jane furrows her brow.
"Is he your trainee?" Angela wonders.
"No," Jane shakes her head.
"Are you going to introduce us, or are you going to let me keep guessing?" Angela inquires.
"Keep guessing," Jane replies.
Angela stops, and flips on the overhead light. She looks at the boy, that is standing next to Jane. He's in his late teens, with dark curly hair, and big blue eyes. He smiles widely at her, with a set of perfectly white teeth. He looks at Jane, for a moment. She gives him a subtle nod. She steps forward, moving towards Angela. He extends his hand.
"Hi, Mrs. Rizzoli, I'm Michael, it's nice to meet you."
She says nothing, she just stares at him. Michael looks back at Jane, for guidance.
"Ma! You're being rude," Jane insists.
Angela studies the young man standing before her. He's tall, dark, and handsome. He has a golden complexion. He has big, dark blue eyes. His hair is dark, and curly. His smile reminds her of Jane's. His teeth are shaped the same. He has a strong jawline. He's... she looks at Jane.
"Where did you find him? Is this some kind of sick joke, after what I said, the other day?" Angela tries to reason.
Jane shakes her head, "No, it's not a sick joke. This is Michael."
"Michael is a very common name," Maura points out, as she comes into the room.
Michael turns nervously, towards Jane.
"I think this was a mistake," he tells her, ready to flee.
Jane steps forward, moving towards her mother.
"Ma, this is Michael. He is nineteen," she adds.
"Nineteen?"
"Yes."
"He's..." Angela swallows hard.
Michael steps up to the plate, "I know that it's hard to believe. It's hard for me to believe, but I am Michael," he pauses, and looks at Jane, "Her Michael."
"Her Michael," Angela repeats, "You're her Michael? You're our Michael?" she utters, in disbelief.
"Yes, ma'am," he nods.
"How? When? Where? It doesn't matter, right now," she admits. She smiles at Michael, "Give me a hug."
He smiles, as he wraps his arms around her. She envelopes him into a hugs. She holds on for several seconds. Finally she lets go, after nearly squeezing the air out of him.
"It's really him?" she asks Jane.
"Yeah," Jane nods.
"I don't understand," Angela answers.
Maura stares at the lasagna, "Why don't we discuss it over dinner?"
"I'm starving," Jane admits.
Angela nods, and carries the food to the table. They sit down around the table, and begin to eat. Jane chews slowly, surveying the scene before her. Maura chows down on her dinner. Angela doesn't touch her food, she just stares at the young man, sitting next to her.
"You know, you look just like I imagined," Angela tells him.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," she nods.
"This lasagna is really good," he compliments her.
"I am glad that you like it. I want to apologize, though," Angela admits.
"For what? The lasagna is fantastic," Michael responds.
"For telling your mother that she shouldn't keep you. I am sorry for not supporting her. I feel responsible for what happened. If I had allowed her to make the decision, she never would have gone to Tampa to have you. You never would have been kidnapped. You would have been right here, with us, where you belonged, all along."
"Don't be sorry. Everything happens for a reason," Michael smiles.
"Unfortunately I wasn't ready to be a grandmother, back then. I am now."
"You're still too young to be a grandma," he tells her.
"I'm too young to be your grandmother, but that isn't your fault."
"I was young, and foolish," Jane reminds her.
"Accidents happen," Angela agrees.
"I wouldn't take it back," Jane admits.
"I wouldn't want you to. I never told you, how proud I was of you," Angela replies.
"For what?" Jane furrows her brow, "Getting pregnant, as a teenager? Becoming a parent at seventeen? Sleeping too soundly to hear someone come into my room, and take my baby, from me?"
"I am proud of you because you did the right thing. It wasn't the easy thing, but it was the right thing. You made the decision to keep him, and it was your decision to make. I was disappointed that you were going to lose out on your childhood. However, I was proud that you were adult enough to take on the responsibility. I am proud that despite everything that happened, you became the best detective I've ever known."