A/N: This story won the Rizzles Fan Award for Best NC-17! I'm stunned, shocked, amazed and above all delighted that so many of you took the time to vote. Thank you all so very much; it was second best Christmas present this year, the best being that Kiwi, my elderly beagle who has lymphoma, got a glowing report at the oncologist and can step down to a 6-week schedule for her chemo.

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate. I am off from work from now until January 2 and hope to finish this during my vacation. It's been an interesting journey. Thank you all for taking the ride with me.

Jane swaggered back into the interview room, pantomiming a bravado that she didn't feel. She pulled back the empty chair next to Frost and straddled it, resting her elbows on the scarred tabletop. Crystal Rigsdale was crying softly, eyes focused on her own hands in her lap.

"Hey." Jane's voice was softer than it had been all morning.

The sobbing woman did not raise her head, but she glanced up at Jane through damp eyelashes.

"Dr. Isles just brought me the paternity test results." Crystal Rigsdale shook her head and cried harder. "Your husband was not the father of those boys."

"I told you that, but you didn't believe me."

"Mrs. Rigsdale, if I believed everything I was told in this room, I would never have closed a case."

She turned to Frost. "Did you show her the letters?"

"Yes."

The widow sat up straighter and swiped at her red-rimmed eyes. She met and held Jane's gaze. "My husband did not write those letters. That is not his handwriting or the way he spells his name."

"What?" Jane looked astonished.

"My Phil was Phillip, with two Ls. This person is Philip with one L."

The color drained from Jane's face turning her olive skin sallow, though she managed to fix the cool expression in place.

"The paternity test has tagged your father-in-law as the probable candidate for parenthood of the Smoot boys."

Crystal Rigsdale said nothing.

"So Phil was their brother. They were uncles to your girls."

"The better part of me wants to tell you both to stick your DNA test in your asses, but you mention my girls and I can't walk away. Those dead boys have the same hazel-green eyes as my Pru and Paris. Gimme one of them letters."

Frost slid the photocopies across the table.

"I can't say I recognize the handwriting; I don't think I've ever seen anything written by my father-in-law, but I can look through Phil's papers when I get home. It might be he has a letter from his daddy."

"And the spelling?" Jane asked quietly.

"My Phil was not a junior, wasn't named after his father, but his grandfather on his mother's side; that's why he was a double-L and his father a single. The old bitch wouldn't even let the man name his own son."

"You mean Prudence Rigsdale?"

"Yeah, named my Phil after her own daddy who was some big-shot shipping tycoon, Phillip Winslow."

"The Winslows own half the Boston waterfront."

"Yeah, that's them."

"So the family money came from Prudence's side?"

"Mostly, but not all. Philip's family had plenty too, they were bankers."

Jane rubbed her temple, trying to cut off the dull headache that had begun to beat behind her eyes.

"Did you have any idea that he had a second family?"

"No, I barely knew the man. He was always pleasant to me, not like his wife. We weren't shunned and disinherited until after his stroke."

"When was that?"

"Let's see, Pru was a baby, but Paris wasn't born yet. Maybe 2001 or 2002?"

"The last letter Philip wrote to Deniece was dated January 5, 2002."

"That's right. Philip had his stroke around the holidays. We had Christmas with them; someplace I have a photo of Pru on the old man's lap."

"So after his stroke, your father-in-law slowed down and Prudence took the lead in social matters."

The widow laughed. "Slowed down? Yeah, you could say that. He was a babbling idiot after the stroke, couldn't tell you his name or who the President was. He would shuffle along behind Prudence like he was her child. She made all the decisions and he smiled and nodded, even when she disowned both of their children. The old man died a few years ago and neither Phil nor his sister were allowed to go to the funeral."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rigsdale. If we have any further questions..."

"Yeah, you can call me."

"I'm sorry about earlier." Jane made certain to look her in the eye.

"S'all right, you was just doing your job."

"Jane, you are not a monster." Maura place a comforting hand on the small of her girlfriend's back and began rubbing gently at the tight muscles running along her lumbar spine.

"I felt like one today; I had that woman cornered and weeping, and I pressed on."

"That's your job, baby. How many times has your aggressiveness in the interview room produced a confession?"

Jane grunted and pulled away.

"I was so pumped that I was blind to what was right in front of me; textbook body language, eye signals, facial clues. She was telling the truth and I couldn't see it; I just wanted to nail her."

"That's the adrenaline, Jane, combined with norepinephrine and cortisol; the rational mind disengages in favor of increased energy and physicality. It's paradigmatic of what happens to soldiers facing the enemy on the battlefield or homicide detectives facing a murder suspect in the interrogation room."

Jane dropped heavily into a kitchen chair, deflated. Maura thought that perhaps she was finished, that the engine of her self-recrimination had burned through its fuel and would allow the detective to rest, but Jane had merely downshifted into a quieter, more thoughtful gear.

"Maur, am I a good cop because I am a bully?"

"You're not a bully. You're the complete opposite of a bully; a defender of the weak, a noble protector." She bent and kissed Jane's cool cheek. She considered initiating sex, letting Jane work out her anger on her body, but Jane was no longer angry. She was brooding and self-pitying, which never made for good sex.

"I've been off my game, that's why I'm mad. How could I have missed such an obvious thing as the difference in names? That's a rookie mistake."

"You're not the only one who missed it, Jane. There are three detectives in your squad and a Lieutenant…."

"I don't give a crap about who else missed it. I missed it." She thumped a fist against her breastbone.

Maura felt her old insecurities bubbling up from her stomach; they lay like sour sick on her tongue. She struggled to counter the rising anxiety flooding through her. It was unlikely, no, completely impossible that she would lose Jane's love. Jane was not going to break up with her to be a better detective. Just that morning she sat at her desk and read Jane's devotion written in her own hand.

"It's my fault, Jane." She blurted. "I take you away from your work and…."

"Jesus, Maura, for a genius you can be a real dumb ass. Your fault? Am I not an active participant in this relationship?"

"Yes, but… you're getting less sleep since you moved in with me."

"No, I'm getting more sleep. You exhaust me and then I sleep like a baby. When I was single I'd lie awake all night gritting my teeth and pissing resentment into my toilet."

"What an image, Jane."

Maura relaxed into the strong arms that circled her waist.

"If I can't stop thinking about you all day, that's my problem and it's a problem that I thoroughly enjoy. There have been a lot of changes for me lately, but it will be fine. It's a balancing act, love, and Jane Rizzoli has the grace and dexterity of a cat."

"A sleek, lithe black cat." Maura agreed, nipping at the underside of an angular jaw. "What happens now, love?"

"Now we start all over, reinterview everyone on Holworthy Street, look at the traffic cameras again, pore over phone records, try to find another clue we missed the first time around."

"You'll get your killer. I have faith in you."

Jane sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of two dead boys. She kissed the top of the doctor's head, taking a moment to inhale the clean scent of Maura's shampoo.

"I'm going to start dinner, babe. I stopped at the store and bought everything I need. Today's my pop's birthday and I always have the same thing in his honor, or dishonor, as the case may be."

"You haven't spoke with your father in over three years." Maura frowned. Maybe Jane's foul mood ran deeper than the morning's interview with Crystal Rigsdale.

"He's a fucking scumbag, but I do love a heaping bowl of Rizzoli Surprise." Jane's mood was rapidly improving and the doctor decided to go with it, despite any reservations she may have had about the ingredients of Rizzoli Surprise. She had a surprise of her own, but had decided that Jane was not in the right frame of mind for it.

After Dinner. She decided.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, go into our bedroom and change into something a little less doctorly."

Maura had showered at work and changed into a clean pair of scrubs, eager to remove the reek of her morning autopsy that seemed to cling to her skin and hair. She entered her cavernous closet, shedding clothing along the way. In the far corner, in a red and yellow striped bag was the tiny iridescent green bikini that Constance had insisted she purchase in Ibiza. She bought it to placate her mother (who had drunk heavily all day), but Maura had never dared wear it. Now she slipped the thong up her bare legs and reached behind her neck to tie the top. She admired herself in the full-length mirror. It was very sexy, but a size too small and not seemly to wear on a public beach. She tucked an errant nipple behind the negligible fabric of her top.

Jane won't mind.

She sauntered into the kitchen and took her customary place at the table. Jane's back was turned as she ladled something chunky and brown into two ceramic bowls.

"Eccola, carina, Rizzoli Surprise. Mangia." Jane turned and nearly dropped the steaming dish.

Maura grinned at her from behind the table. "Is this suitably nonmedical?"

"Uh… yeah, but babe, your…" The blushing detective gestured at the doctor's chest where the same stubborn nipple had once again poked out from behind the shimmering fabric. Jane took a huge gulp of beer. How was it possible that a scantily clad Maura was more tantalizing than a fully naked one?

The doctor glanced down at her exposed breast and made a minor adjustment before demurely draping her napkin across her lap and lifting her fork. She hesitated, staring down at the lumpy concoction before her.

"This doesn't look Italian, Jane, and it smells… porcine."

"It's not Italian." Jane took a big mouthful from her own bowl with a tablespoon. "This is pure American comfort food: hotdog nuggets boiled in a pot of baked beans and melted Velveeta cheese. Pop learned to make this when he was in the Navy."

"Oh" was all the doctor could muster. She looked across at the earnest face of her lover and took a delicate bite, chewed and swallowed. It wasn't entirely unpalatable, just not something she would ever have eaten if left to her own devices. She took another bite and then another, remembering all the healthy meals she had foisted on a grumbling, but ultimately acquiescent Jane.

"Do you like it, love?"

"I suppose I could learn to enjoy it once a year on Frank Sr.'s birthday."

"That's good." Jane beamed. "We have our first tradition."

A quick knock on the kitchen door heralded Tommy's entrance. He glanced quickly at Maura and then shyly looked away. The doctor glanced down at her chest; she was covered, but barely.

"Damn, Janie, I want to come back as you in my next life; eating Rizzoli Surprise with Maura in a bathing suit. You got the life, sis. Hey, today's Pop's birthday. Did you send him a card?"

"Oh no, I did better than that. I sent him and his bimbo on an all-expense-paid tour of Europe, culminating with a stay at the Isles Estate in France where a team of servants will peel them grapes and tickle their anuses with peacock feathers."

"Why the fuck would you do that? If anyone deserves a vacation like that it's mommy. Hey, wait, you're pulling my leg, right? Frankie said you guys were chipping in to buy Pop a coffin. I'd want in on that one."

"What do you want, T?"

"Nothing. I just stopped in to tell Maura something."

"Well, spit it out and hit the road."

"Maura, I took care of that thing you asked and it's all ready."

Jane eyed him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

"That's between Tommy and myself, Jane. It's nothing to concern yourself with. Tommy, would you like to join us for dinner?"

"Yeah."

Jane growled.

"I mean no. Can I take mine to go?"

Jane scooped the remainder of their dinner into a tupperware container and ushered her brother to the door while Maura methodically scraped her plate into the trash, preserving one small piece of hot dog for Jo Friday who was eagerly lapping Jane's plate, melted cheese clinging to the sandy hairs on her snout.

"Jane? I've experienced your Rizzoli Surprise and now I have an Isles Surprise for you."

Jane grinned lasciviously. "Did the dildo arrive?"

"No. That would be impossibly quick shipping."

"I thought you might have flown it in on your private jet."

"I don't have a private… oh, a joke."

She pressed her bare midriff against Jane's back, whispering hotly in her ear. "I don't have an estate in France either, but I do have something for you in the backyard."

"Is it a pony?"

"Better. Close your eyes and I'll escort you."

She switched places so she was in front and placed Jane's hands on her hips.

"Are we doing the conga, Maur?"

"We could, if you like." She ground her ass into Jane's crotch. "I think this is what they call tweaking or tweeting."

"Twerking, Maur. Tweaking is smoking meth and tweeting is texting your private shit to strangers on the internet. But you can call it whatever you like, it feels great."

Maura chuckled and gyrated a few more times before leading the stumbling detective across the kitchen, out the back door and onto the patio.

"Okay, Jane. Open your eyes."

"Holy shit!"

"Do you like it?"

"How could I not? I've always wanted a hot tub. Jesus, this must be the Rolls Royce of spas."

Jane circled the huge tub, running her fingers along the cherrywood finish and dipping one hand into the steaming but placid water.

"It's not quite the Rolls Royce, Jane, maybe the Audi. I ordered it this morning and this was the best I could get on such short notice. Tommy was kind enough to meet the delivery truck and the electrician this morning, and he filled the tub after it was installed."

Jane gaped. "You ordered this today?"

"Yes, right after I read your beautiful love letter. I wanted to do something for you that would make you feel as loved as I do. A therapeutic soak after a long, day difficult day seemed germane."

"I thought you just put on that skimpy bikini to show off your sexy body and drive me crazy."

"I did, but I had a secondary purpose. Shall we?"

Maura sat on the tub's edge and gracefully swung her legs around until her calves were submerged. She reached out a hand to Jane.

"Um, do I need to put on a swimsuit?" The doctor smiled and shook her head.

Sweatpants, BPD T-shirt, and charcoal gray boy-shorts lay in a heap on the ground as Jane lowered her long torso into the spa.

"Bubbles?" Maura opened a hatch that revealed a keypad that looked like it could have controlled a Boeing 737. She frowned, her fingers hovering just above the buttons. "I haven't had time to memorize the user's manual."

Jane scooted in closer. "Try hitting Power."

The calm water immediately became a roiling, frothing cataract swirling around them.

"Awesome, babe!"

"Isn't it? This spa has 104 jets."

"Is that a lot?"

"I think so, from my reading the average tub has less than 50."

She sat back and sighed. Jane looked across the agitated expanse of water at the woman she loved. "You had a rough day too, love. I heard about the shit mummy."

Maura cringed at the disrespectful term. "It was an unpleasant autopsy, not just because of the provenance of the corpse, but what I discovered about his death and his life."

"Homicide?"

"No, natural causes, cirrhosis brought on by chronic alcoholism. He was malnourished and hadn't had any dental work in decades. He was most likely homeless and living in the sewer. Can you imagine, Jane, a human being reduced to living in the dark surrounded by feces? It breaks my heart."

Jane stroked her arm and held her hand under the water.

"Let it go, Maur. This is our therapy spa. I can feel the tension and sorrows of the day boil away. See, there goes Crystal Rigsdale; she's floating off and taking that sore muscle under my shoulder blade with her. Let your day go too, babe. It's easy."

Maura shifted and a moment later a luminous green thong floated to the surface of the tub, quickly followed by a matching bikini top.

"You know, I had my first orgasm in a hot tub."

"Really? Who with?"

"Just me. I was 14 on vacation with my parents in Aruba and I experimented in our hotel room. If the jet hits you just right… go ahead try it, Jane."

Jane moved under the water, rolling her hips against the pulsing jets, shifting her body until she found the right pressure and tempo against her sex. When she found it she arched her back, resting her damp mane on the side of the tub.

Maura bent and took one dark nipple, stiff from the cool evening air, into her mouth. She teased it with her tongue and lips until the detective groaned at the slightest caress then she sat back and watched the tension of Jane's impending climax play across her face. When she came, her jaw tightened and then relaxed and a vein throbbed hard in her slender neck. Maura let it play out, feeling her own sex flutter with need under the water, then she moved in close and pulled Jane's sweaty face against her chest.

"So what do think?"

"I think this may be the Audi of hot tubs, but it is the Rolls Royce of vibrators." She grinned. "Your turn, babe. I want to watch you come."