A/N: I hope that all of you who celebrate have been enjoying the holiday season! This year has really been trying on so many of us that I hope you found some peace. I've been curling up with a mug of tea and some of my favorite fics the past few days, which has really been great.

Drop me a line if you're enjoying the ride!


"I just don't think it's so bad that the doctors Parker didn't have children," said Maura, walking back up the steps of BPD headquarters with her hand on Jane's forearm to steady herself. Many weeks had passed since she last heard from Hope or Cailin, and she looked markedly better, felt markedly lighter. Her overall ebullience had returned and she smiled more often than not again.

Jane held the arm out for her valiantly, pleased by Maura's good mood. "I guess whatever floats your boat. But do you gotta look down on kids and the people who have them?"

Their crime scene had been gruesome: a psychiatrist couple gunned down in their own office, the husband shot clearly in the process of trying to protect his wife. "I think it's an unfair oversimplification to say that Dr. Parker looked down on children. I would say that she just wants to disrupt the patriarchal notion that women can't be happy without achieving the traditional family," Maura replied as they rode the elevator down to the morgue.

"Yeah, maybe. But it's not like it's a bad thing to have kids. She makes it sound like it's a bad thing," Jane said. When they reached the basement floor, she followed Maura into the changing area.

"Do you want kids? You're pushing awfully hard against the childless lifestyle," Maura asked. She slipped out of her heels in front of her station with its engraved name plate above her locker, and watched Jane in the doorway leaning against its frame in what seemed like practiced indifference.

"No. I mean, I wouldn't be opposed. But I can't imagine takin' months off work and bein' relegated to desk duty before that," Jane said. When Maura started to unzip her skirt, Jane pushed her shoulder off the threshold and stalked closer.

"Your job is too dangerous for you to carry a child," Maura argued, just above a whisper, because Jane was now so close. Jane towered over her, too, with her boots making her just over six feet tall, and Maura only 5'7" on her bare feet. She let her skirt drop to the changing mat below her with a sensual swish. "I would have to do it."

Jane gulped visibly, her thyroid cartilage prominent against her tensed throat. "Who, uh, who said you'd be the other parent?" she asked, her tongue unable to conjure up anything than Boston for the shock she was just dealt. She slipped two fingers on each hand into the slim waistband of Maura's panties, winding the fabric around them and tugging forward.

Maura lifted the hem of her blouse just so, letting Jane look at what she wanted to see. "You want me to have someone else's baby?"

Jane snarled at the notion and put their foreheads together, her eyes still down below. "No. But this is a big conversation for someone who wants to take it slow."

"Says the detective who is currently investigating the most intimate parts of me at work," Maura smirked as she talked, loving the way Jane's olive skin turned rosy, just like the magenta of her button up shirt. She put her thumbs on Jane's outstretched arms. "Help me finish."

Jane reluctantly removed her hands from Maura's hips and started undoing the buttons of her blouse. "Whenever I want, remember?"

"I do," said Maura, allowing Jane to look uninterrupted at her exposed belly, and then the black lace over her breasts. Jane groaned when Maura turned away from their embrace to pull her scrub top from its place on the locker's upper shelf. "Do you think you can be childless and have a fulfilling marriage?"

Jane blinked rapidly at her own whiplash. "What? No. With or without children, marriage is miserable."

"Oh, not so. Studies show that parent's happiness has remained steady since 1972, while non-parents' happiness has dropped," spouted Maura, wiggling her way into her top.

"You're bringing up some pretty heavy topics, Maura," said Jane, now holding out Maura's scrub bottoms on a curled finger. "Somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"I told you when Hope left. I'm committing to you, slowly but surely. I'm committing to this family. That means I have allowed myself to fantasize about… our future. Whatever that may hold. I'm going to autopsy Dr. Rod first. See you soon?" Maura asked, feet in her clogs and hair pulled back in a clip. Jane followed helplessly, reluctant to leave.


Angela Rizzoli pulled up to the curb of BPD, dressed to the nines, clearly quite pleased in her new silver Camry. "Frankie," she motioned toward her son, who had foolishly taken her call upstairs and then been roped into helping her. "The groceries are in the back, help me get them."

"I'm proud of you for saving up for your own car, Ma," he said, deciding that it wouldn't hurt him to be nice instead of snarky.

"Yeah, well, it's the nicest car I ever had. Janie went to the dealer with me, made sure I got a good deal," Angela said, popping the trunk.

"Yeah she went with me to buy my first car, too," Frankie chuckled, "never met a meaner negotiator." He took reusable bags from the trunk and set them on the bench nearby.

"You got that right. Well, let's get the food inside and I'll take you for a spin," Angela offered. "It's voice activated and you can search maps on it."

Frankie rolled his eyes good naturedly at his mother's wonder, and he didn't have the heart to tell her that most cars came standard with those things now. He watched her with affection as she leaned into the rearview mirror to check her lipstick, and for a moment he was content to forget she was possibly dating his sister's boss and just admire her as a human being.

His heart lurched when her head shot forward, nearly colliding with the windshield glass. A fraction of a second later, he heard the screeching tires behind them. "Ah!" Angela screamed, "oh my god! Somebody hit my brand new car!"

Frankie hustled to the bumper after he was sure that his mother was alright. Just as he readied himself to punch the lights out of the guy who had the nerve to bump his mother's car, he saw a very pregnant, petite woman emerge. She was blonde, and thin around her rather large belly, and distraught.

"Well, I didn't hit it very hard, did I?" she asked, unshed tears making her blue eyes look fat and glossy, "oh good, it's just a little dent."

"Just a little dent!" Came Angela's voice roaring behind them, "it's a brand new car!"

"Oh shoot, I'm, uh, I'm sorry. I'll get it fixed," the blonde whispered. She fished around her worn purse for a wallet, and Frankie noticed the wear on her jean jacket when she finally pulled it out.

"Oh, you bet you will! Don't you look where you're driving?!" Angela screamed, drawing stares from passersby as the two women hashed it out on the sidewalk.

"Can I just give you cash? I mean, um, is thirty dollars enough?"

"Are you kidding me? Frankie, tell me she's kidding me."

Frankie glared at his mother just as the younger, smaller of the two dropped several papers that fluttered to the ground. Her tears fell in earnest when she tried to bend down for them but found her stomach in the way. "Here, let me help you with that. Ma," Frankie whispered harshly.

"What?" Angela yelled back. He pointed to her very obvious pregnancy and Angela softened. "Oh. How uh, how pregnant are you?"

"Seven months," the woman sobbed all over again.

"A'right a'right, don't cry. We'll call your husband," Angela offered. Her sympathy was reluctant, but also very natural.

"Fiance," she replied quietly, shamefully. "Ex fiance. He dumped me."

"Oh," Angela said, suddenly with a lot more sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Here," Frankie said, standing up and holding her mail out for her. "That's, uh, that's a lot of unpaid parking tickets."

"Thank you. That's why I'm here. You're gonna boot my car if I don't sign up for a payment plan."

"There isn't really a payment plan."

"Then what am I gonna do? I lost my job, my roommate kicked me out because I couldn't pay rent… now I live in my car…"

Frankie heaved a sigh of commiseration and pity. He looked down at her tickets and his eyes widened at the name on them. Lydia Sparks. "Lydia?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah?" Lydia whined. Frankie shook his head in disbelief. Lydia Sparks was the name of his father's fiancee.


Frankie dropped Lydia off at the payment counter of BPD and stomped back towards the elevators. By pure happenstance, he saw his sister exiting into the lobby for a cup of coffee, and then he shoved her right back into the elevator.

"Frankie what the hell?!" Jane yelped as he grabbed her elbow and then pushed the stop button.

"I just saw Lydia. She's pregnant, Jane," he said to her.

Her face dropped in shock. "Oh my god. You're sure? Lydia Lydia? Dad's fiancee, Lydia?"

"Yeah. I saw her name on some parking notices. Lydia Sparks."

"And you're sure she's pregnant?"

"She's out to here," Frankie motioned about a foot in front of his belly.

"Well, what do we do?!" Jane shrieked, arms flown out by her side, nearly slapping Frankie in the process.

"How the hell should I know?! You're the one who's supposed to know!" he yelled.

"Well should we call Pop?!" Jane matched his hysteria and their crazed eyes mirrored each other.

"No, she says he dumped her," Frankie whispered, vitriol in his words.

"Do we just not know him, or is he having some deranged, late midlife crisis? He had everything with us and he just threw it all away," Jane argued, just as angry and just as stymied by grief.

"Janie, she's living out of her car." Frankie's stance was solemn, and he began to cave into himself, hands on his belt. "What if that's our…?"

"Our brother or sister?" Jane asked, crazed again, hand on her forehead, Oh my god."


"Turn her over for me," Maura ordered Jane gently as she held a clipboard in her hands. Jane did. "What kind of cake would you have?"

"Uh, for what?" Jane stopped fiddling with Dr. Eve's lapels and looked up, confused.

"Your wedding," Maura said as though it were obvious.

"Who am I marrying, huh?" Jane smirked to hide her anxiety. "I thought we stopped talking about this hours ago."

Maura ignored her. "I'm going to have a hazelnut almond, chocolate ganache, and maybe mocha buttercream."

"You had me until mocha buttercream," Jane said.

"You love coffee," Maura protested.

"Coffee belongs in cups and not on cakes, Maura. Also, you're not getting married."

"Oh I know. I just think it's fun to play fantasy wedding, don't you?"

"If you're five," rebutted Jane.

Maura rolled her eyes. After a few beats of silence while scrutinizing the body on her slab, she spoke again. "What does your dress look like?"

"I don't wear dresses," Jane complained, stamping her foot. "Can we just get on with the autopsy please?"

"Oh come on. You must have fantasized about your wedding as a little girl," Maura teased.

"Once. I had a very high fever," Jane replied. "Why are we talking about this?"

"My gown," Maura paused with a finger in the air, prompting Jane to wait for the payoff, "would be silk charmeuse with an empire waist and a twenty-foot train. And the ceremony would be in the cliffs of Santorini, right above a volcano."

Jane nodded gravely. "And what if the volcano erupts on you and this imaginary guy?"

"Oh, I'd check for seismic activity, of course," Maura replied, just as seriously. "And I wanted to marry Antonio Benivieni when I was 12."

"You liked Italians even then?" asked Jane, with a crooked smile.

"Mmm, I suppose so. I think it was more about the fact that he pioneered the autopsy. But I'll admit that my name flows well with Italian surnames - I'd be Maura Dorthea Isles Benivieni."

"Dorthea's way better than Clementine. It suits you," Jane complimented her. Her forearms rested on the tools of her belt, her fingers tapping against her buckle. "But Rizzoli sounds better than Benivieni."

Maura's skin ran hot and her heart hammered in her chest. She spread her arms out against the cold table in front of her, licking her lips to gather herself, crossing her legs to stave off a dizzying wave of arousal and hope. "See? Fantasizing can be fun."

"Yeah, I guess so, Maura Dorthea Rizzoli," Jane taunted. Maura nearly combusted - mission accomplished. "I'll take care of her jacket."

"Ok," was all that Maura could say. As Jane worked, something metal clattered onto the autopsy table.

"Shit. That's a shell casing. Where's the bullet that went through Dr. Rod? She musta been shot first, then he was shot, and the casing flew off her sleeve," Jane held the casing up to the light, turning it on her fingertips. "Takes guts to throw yourself in front of anybody, even your wife."

"You'd do it for me," Maura finally gathered herself enough to speak, but what came out was a husky murmur.

"Yes I would. Wife or not. Can't say the same about my father," Jane scoffed, handing Maura the casing. "Speaking of, Frankie met Lydia today."

Maura dropped the casing into a bowl on her tool tray and it clanged cacophonously a second time. She pursed her lips and looked everywhere but at Jane.

"You're looking very, very guilty," noticed Jane. She intimidated Maura with her hands on her hips. "What are you not telling me?"

"I promised Tommy that I-I wouldn't say," Maura said, scanning her surroundings for something, anything, to distract her.

Jane looked around, too, finally landing on a scalpel. She picked it up and held it out in a threat. "Huh, this looks very sharp."

Maura held up her hands. "Ok. Ok. But don't get mad. We were fighting when I learned this information."

"What's there to get mad about, Maura?" Jane interrogated, stepping around the table and closer to her. "What do you know?"

"Tommy came to me for advice," Maura started. Jane dropped the scalpel on the table and pushed up close to her.

"What would Tommy need advice from you for? When was this? What were the two of you doin'?" Jane's questions came one right after the other, assaulted Maura with their precision.

"He came to me when he was on the job, Jane. He did try to hit on me," Maura volleyed to the woman in front of her, hoping she would fall on the grenade rather than stay true to her purpose.

It was in vain. "You rejected him though. Otherwise we wouldn't be standin' here. What do you know?"

Prolonging the inevitable wasn't working, so Maura steeled herself by snapping off her gloves and running her hands back and forth over the slopes of Jane's trapezii. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jane said, reciprocating reflexively.

"Tommy told me that he had sex with Lydia shortly before he introduced her to your father," Maura confessed.

Jane shouted loud enough for the whole basement floor to hear. "What?! Tommy slept with Lydia?!"

"Shh!" Maura shushed her. "I told you not to get mad!"

"I'm not mad at you!" Jane shouted, "I'm mad at my idiot brother! God, so that baby could be Tommy's?"

"Wait, what baby?" Maura pulled back, confused.

"Lydia's pregnant, Maura! Frankie said she's already huge!"

"Oh, my god. Lydia's pregnant?"

"That's what I said. God. What the hell am I gonna do?" Jane moved from rage to despair, rubbing her hands against her face to bring some blood back to it. The motion broke Maura's hold on her shoulders and her hands moved to her own sides again.

"I think you should tell your mother that Lydia's baby might be her grandchild," Maura said, tapping the toe of her shoe against the linoleum below.

"That baby might also be her ex-husband's bimbo's kid," Jane spat. "It's a good thing Tommy's fishing in the gulf. I want to kill him."

"No, you don't. You're upset, rightly so, but you don't want to kill him. He did something stupid," Maura said in response, "maybe that's why your father called off the engagement."

Jane had a dark epiphany. "Because Lydia told him that it might be Tommy's baby? No, no, no, no. This can't be happening. No, no, no, no." She pulled out her phone.

"Are you calling your father?" Maura asked, mortified.

"No, I'm gonna call Frankie."

Maura pulled the phone out of Jane's hand. "Uh uh. You can't tell him he might be an uncle over the phone."

"But…" Jane pouted, and Maura leaned forward to kiss the jutted-out lip.

"Absolutely not, Jane. Give it the work day and I will have him meet us at home so we can tell him in person."


"You're telling Frankie," Jane whispered into Maura's ear as she marched her, hands on the small of her back. They approached the front door of Maura's Beacon Hill home close to eight in the evening.

"I'm telling him what?" Maura asked as they pushed inside.

Frankie was already sitting at the kitchen island, halfway through a cup of black coffee, still in his uniform. "Ok, so, I'm here. What do you want to tell me?"

Jane pushed her right knuckles into the scar on her left palm. "No, uh, okay," she stuttered. "It's about Tommy, and he uh…" with Maura's hand taking her own to keep her from worrying her scar raw, she wavered. "I can't believe I can't say this."

Maura was heartened by Jane's gallant flip-flop. Just moments before in the courtyard, Jane demanded that she tell Frankie what Tommy told her. But now, Jane attempted to fall on the sword for her, when it counted. "He slept with Lydia," Maura said. Jane deserved a lot, but the least Maura could do was deliver her from this.

"He what?!" Frankie yelled, just like his sister earlier.

Maura was delivered from explaining by Angela bursting through the back door. "Maura!" she called out, Lydia barely conscious and in her arms, stumbling toward the living area.

"Lydia?" Jane and Frankie ran over to help, and they said her name in unison. Maura grabbed some supplies out of her medical bag, namely a thermometer and a pupil light.

"Oh, my god, Maura, she needs your help," Angela lumbered towards them with Lydia in tow.

"Oh, I don't feel so good," Lydia slurred, eyes barely open, head lolling back.

"This is Lydia Sparks. She ran into my new car," Angela introduced her hurriedly.

"Nice to meet you," Maura greeted.

"Can you tell the doctor what's wrong?" Angela asked.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she's pregnant with your first grandchild and she's drunk," she muttered to Frankie.

"Let's uh, let's get her on the couch," Frankie said, ignoring Jane. "Ok, easy. I got it Ma." He shouldered Lydia and lifted her to the couch.

Lydia indulged in the feel of the oversized pillows on her back and cradling her sides. "I like couches," she sang, rubbing her thumb over the swirl patterns, until she locked eyes with Frankie, who finished setting her down. "Oh," she groaned, "you're really cute."

He turned to Jane in disbelief. You kiddin' me? He mouthed.

"You mean you don't wanna be Rizzoli number three?" she raised her eyebrows at him as she whispered. "Hey Ma, why would you bring a drunk, pregnant stranger into Maura's house?"

"She came to the cafe to apologize. She felt bad."

"So, you cheered her up with malt liquor?"

"No, Jane. We had pasta, salad, some water."

"Oh," Lydia moaned again, trying to get up while Maura looked into her eyes with her light, "I have to pee."

"Again? Maura, she just went," Angela said as she looked down at her children and Maura tending to Lydia, worried that she'd done something awful.

"Lydia," Maura said to her sweetly, "are you thirsty?"

"Uh huh, I'm really thirsty," she replied.

"Ok. Frankie, call an ambulance," Maura ordered.

Frankie, grateful for the reason to get up, spoke into his shoulder radio, calling for medical services.

Maura turned to Jane next. "Get her some orange juice."

"Can't she just sleep it off in her car?" Jane whined.

"She has gestational diabetes," said Maura severely.

"Well, how bad is that?"

"Bad. She's slipping into a diabetic coma."

"Shit."

Lydia moved her head to the sound of Jane's raspy voice, when she saw Frankie coming back around to Jane's left side. "Will you hold my hand? I'm really scared," Lydia held her hand out for Jane to take, batting her eyes, blue and big, as seductively as she could given the circumstances.

"You wanna be Rizzoli number four?" Frankie asked Jane snarkily. She crossed her eyes at him as she snarled.

But, Maura stiffened when Jane leaned forward and took Lydia's hand anyway. "Ok. Um, it's gonna be ok, a'right? We're uh, we're gonna take care of you. Ambulance is on its way, and I got you til then," Jane knelt down, rubbing her fingers up and down Lydia's clammy arm.

"I'm going to get her that orange juice," Maura snapped, heels clipped and loud against the wood floor in the kitchen.

Jane looked up in surprise. She attempted, at least three times, to make eye contact with Maura while she poured juice into the glass, but to no avail. "How far out, Frankie?"

"'Bout five minutes, Jane," Frankie reassured her. "They'll be here in no time."


The ambulance had indeed come quickly, and Angela had Frankie drive her behind it so that she could make sure Lydia was ok. That left Jane to stand in the kitchen with Maura's now subdued mood. "What's goin' on with you?" she chased after Maura, who scrubbed hastily at Frankie's abandoned mug.

"I don't like how I'm feeling," Maura said without looking at Jane, inches behind her. "It lacks integrity."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, "you wanna kill Lydia, too?"

Maura chuckled. "No, I don't."

"That didn't sound very convincing," commented Jane, leaning her backside against the counter by the sink.

"No?" Maura inquired, "why not?"

"Because you basically scrubbed all the gloss off of that mug," Jane answered.

Maura shut off the water and sighed, her lips retracted in a pretty half-smile, one that said she was bashful. Jane leaned forward to get a better look at it, and Maura couldn't help but reach a hand out to stroke the strong jawline just across from her own. "Well, I don't want to kill her for the reasons that you all do, at least."

"Because she sweated all over your brand new couch?" smiled Jane. "She was pretty sweaty."

"Because I'm jealous," Maura spit out.

"Of Lydia?" asked Jane, incredulous.

"I told you, it lacked integrity," said Maura quietly.

"What on Earth do you have to be jealous about? That she hit on me and Frankie? She was halfway dead," Jane insisted. "And it's not like we were gonna do anything anyway. She's a fuckin' mess."

Maura watched Jane cross her arms in front of her, watched the way it drew the fabric of her button-up tight against her midsection. Her jealousy spiked at the thought of Lydia seeing, wanting the same, but it was a small flame compared to the fire of everything else Lydia had seemingly accomplished in the last seven months. "It's not that." At Jane's suspicious brow, she amended. "It's not just that. She somehow, despite being so hapless, has managed a permanent fixture in your family. How did that happen?"

"She fucked Tommy and then my dad," Jane deadpanned, "and one of 'em got her pregnant. That's how it happened."

Maura wrinkled her nose. "That's not very pleasant to think about."

"No, it's not. Hence the wanting to throttle her part. And you don't think you're a permanent fixture? You were here first, Maura."

"I-"

"Don't think she's here for good just because she's sick. We're throwing Lydia back in the pond as soon as she gets out of the hospital. And you're stuck with us whether you like it or not. Forever, a'right?"

"That's a very assured view of our future, Jane." Maura's words should have sounded like some kind of admonishment, but she smiled too brightly as she said them.

"Yeah well, no matter what happens between you and me, you're here to stay."

Maura dried her hands, used her foot to close the door of the dishwasher, and wrapped her arms around Jane's shoulders, kissing her gently, confidently. "That's very sweet of you to say."

"I mean, Ma needs a place to live, so…" Jane teased, leaning forward to initiate another kiss when Maura pulled back. She tried again, and Maura hovered just far away enough to be out of reach.

"As romantic as you are, you can be equally unromantic," Maura said, eyes half closed and cheeks pink with desire.

"I'm complicated," said Jane. "But I want somethin' pretty uncomplicated right now."

"What's that?" Maura played dumb, twisting a finger lazily into a lock of Jane's hair.

"You," rasped Jane. The answer was simple, but effective. Maura ceased her withholding and let Jane's mouth find hers again. Jane made her intentions clear when she bunched Maura's skirt higher and higher at the sides, when she let Maura grasp her tongue in between flawless, practiced teeth.

"I'm thinking of freezing my eggs," Maura murmured helplessly as they made out against the kitchen counter.

Jane stopped, put her hands on the lip of the counter on either side of Maura to trap her. "You slippin' into a coma, too? What brought this on?"

"No. I just am not sure if marriage is or isn't for us. And if it is-"

"Maura…" Jane pleaded, interrupted.

"And if it is, if all of it is, the marriage, the house, the family, I would like to preserve my option to have children," Maura explained, feeling Jane deflate in relief against her.

"That sounds fair," Jane acquiesced, squeezing Maura tight at the midsection and lifting her so that her heels floated above the ground.

Maura yelped and laughed when Jane placed a forearm under her ass to lift her up even further. She held on for the ride, kicked off her shoes in the hall as they moved toward the staircase. "Perhaps I should slow down, however. See if you're worth it. I wouldn't want you running away to Florida to shack up with some waitress just as I find out I'm pregnant."

Jane grunted as she walked the both of them to the top of the stairs. She set Maura down gently at the bedroom door and smiled. "And risk Paddy Doyle coming to blow my head off? No way. Now get in there so we can cause some seismic activity of our own."

Maura laughed loudly, hand to her own chest to steady herself, head thrown back and throat bobbing. "That was awful."

Jane shrugged. "Yeah yeah, a'right. Let's fuck. Better?" she asked as she pushed the door open and led them inside.

Maura smirked. "Much."