- Chapter 2 -

"Are you sure you're okay with Korsak's promotion to lieutenant, Jane? Because, if I were you, I'd be very uncomfortable with this new arrangement. Change can be overwhelming, especially when issues regarding power and authority are placed in the situation."

Jane sighed in exhaustion. From taking Bart from his crib, washing him up, and picking out an outfit from his color organized closet full of little baby thingies, she had had to deal with her wife's needling over her new position of authority at work. Talking about the issue held no meaning to her. Things change, so what? If it had been up to her, yeah, she would have had Korsak stay with Homicide but her former partner had been itching for a move for the longest. With his promotion to Lieutenant, it made no sense for him to continue sitting around when another unit could benefit from his leadership experience and expertise.

"Maura," Jane began, her attention focused on Bart's high energy efforts to escape from his high chair, "I'm fine. I've had three months to get used to this. He told us before the honeymoon that he was planning on making a big move if he got promoted so it's not a shocker."

"Shock or not, it's still a lot to process."

Shifting her weight to her other leg, Jane shrugged. With the familiar weight of the badge and gun on her hips, the concerns of her new role dissipated in the safety of being firmly entrenched in her identity as a homicide detective. Being a cop was all she had ever known, all she had ever wanted to be. Whether her title or responsibilities had changed, Jane knew that she would be able to handle whatever came her way at BPD. She always did somehow, no matter how stressful things could, or frequently did, get.

With a smile, Jane shifted her focus to their overeager son trying desperately to remove himself from the harness that wrapped around him, keeping him in his high chair. The damn thing hadn't even come with a harness but after the first incident – Bart had managed to figure out if he rocked the chair back and forth, the rickety thing would fall and he could get a "get out of jail" free card – Maura had called in some favors to figure out a safe but workable alternative. How the child could be so smart was beyond her intellectual capabilities. Bart certainly didn't get it from her. In all honesty, the only thing Bart got from his dark-haired mother was overabundance. From the big personality to his even bigger head of untamable curls that made him look like Jimi Hendrix's long lost son, Bart was completely her son…on the surface, at least. Go a little deeper and their son revealed himself to be more like Maura than Jane cared to admit. Despite his crazy and somewhat reckless personality, Bart had a kind soul and was honest to a fault, just like Maura. It only made sense given he had spent nine months listening to Maura, well, be.

Noticing his mother's look of amusement directed at him, Bart turned to give Jane a toothless smile before returning his focus to his other mother as she stirred some oatmeal in a brightly colored bowl, perfectly scaled down for Bart's little hands. Bart released a squeal of delight, his hands following suit with a playful pitter-patter on the table of his high chair, as Maura began to walk over to their son.

"Well, since you don't want to talk about work…" Maura gave her son a disapproving frown as he tried to rush her in delivering the spoonful of oatmeal to his gaping mouth. "Frost called."

"Was it about him taking Bart for the weekend? He said something about it at work…I think? This last week has been a blur," Jane said, taking a banana from the kitchen island. With quick movements, she began stripping the yellow fruit from its skin before dousing it in green hot sauce.

"Jane, is that really your breakfast?"

"I'm hungry and I know, nine times out of ten, I'm gonna get called out to a murder of some kind."

"Which means?"

"Which means I don't have time to eat a proper Continental breakfast. Murders always spike during the weekend which means live people find dead people on Monday. Today is Monday. Put two and two together, honey."

Maura rolled her eyes, dramatically. "Yes, I get that, but remember when we said we were going to set good examples for our impressionable son? Eating a banana covered in hot sauce is not really what I had in mind."

"But I got Tabasco instead of that stuff I used to get. What was it called? Oh yeah, Uncle Guido's Piccante…now that was some good shi-stuff. There was an old warning they used to put on the bottle that it was guaranteed to make a grown man piss his pants it was so hot. Of course, Tommy had to be the dumbass that decided to test that warning."

Bart began to laugh at his mother's crazy expressions as she described Tommy's reaction upon taking a shot of the sauce. Jane's face lit up upon the discussion of her family, prompting Maura and their son to join in the happy mood. Maura clearly disapproved of her wife's colorful language in front of their impressionable son but there was no denying Jane anything, especially when she began telling a story about her family.

The familiar sound of their cell phones ringing on the counter interrupted the family moment between the two women and their son. Both of their eyes reflected a similar measure of frustration and disgust at having been interrupted by work but the feelings were quickly replaced with equal measures of understanding and excitement. They both knew that solving murders was their livelihood. Doing anything else, including being full-time moms, would have been anathema. Despite knowing they were missing out on some elements of Bart's development, both women took a level of pride in making the streets of Boston safer for their son and everyone else who called the metropolis their home.

Both Jane and Maura picked up their phones and delivered their standard brusque message to dispatch while Bart watched silently, sucking happily at the spoon full of oatmeal as a glop of the gooey substance began to drop from his mop of curls onto the table of the high chair. After hearing the necessary details, both women turned automatically to look at the clock.

"Shit, the nanny isn't scheduled to come until another hour," Jane said, turning to meet Bart's mischievous eyes. "What are we gonna do with you, St. Terrible? Can't leave you here by yourself, that's for sure. God knows we'd find you hanging from the ceiling fans, drinking a beer."

Maura playfully punched Jane in the scar tissue. "Not funny, Jane. Babies are more susceptible to alcohol poisoning than adults."

"Odd how you picked the beer thing out of that sentence but not the hanging from the ceiling fan. Explains where your priorities are."

"The point is, what are we going to do about Bart?"

"What we always do when we have an early rollout." Jane quickly dialed a number in her cell, raising the device up to her ear. "We call the one woman in the world who never has anything to do, is always up in our business like she doesn't have two other children to meddle with, and obsesses over Bart like he's the second coming: my mother."