By the time the twins have turned four, anyone familiar with the Rizzoli-Isles children simply call them 'the quints.' If the triplets made Maura doubt the impossibility of telepathy, then the twins leave her without any doubt.
Lise is born first, but Tycho is right behind her, barely giving the midwife a chance to resume her post for delivery. From that moment on, they are never anywhere without the other. When the triplets discover them, later that afternoon, Isis asks to be lifted to the glass for a closer inspection. She peers down at her new siblings for a long time.
"Okay," she says, and when Jane sets her down, she turns to her brothers, both waiting anxiously for her opinion.
"We will love them," she says, her imperious tone slightly undermined by the fact that she pronounces the word love as wuv.
"We will love them," she tells her brothers, who nod seriously. And from that moment on, they do.
So they are dubbed the quints, and once they are all mobile, it's rare to see any of them without at least three of the others.
Benji and Franklin, pudgy, good-natured four year-olds when the twins are born, grow into solid, energetic little boys, with a love for the Boston Red Sox and all things mud related. Isis grows too, though she worries her parents in her fifth year by not gaining one single pound. She eats like a trucker and stretches like Gumby, and just when Jane is ready to cave on more tests, on subjecting her daughter to endless bloodwork and CAT scans, she turns six and puts on fourteen pounds in under a month.
In contrast to their siblings, Lise and Tycho stay within a pound of each other for the first four years of their lives. They both have the same blonde hair and grey-green eyes, and if Ty didn't prefer to let his hair grow long, and if Lise didn't insist on something short and hassle free, many people would have trouble telling them apart.
They hit milestones in the same fashion. Lise learns to walk first, but Ty has it by the end of the day. Lise is the first to escape from her crib, but she waits patiently for the forty five minutes it takes for Tycho to tumble out after her.
The five of them rumble through playgrounds and grocery stores. They go as a group to friend's birthday parties, or the one who is invited refuses to go at all, and Jane falls into the habit of purchasing an additional cake to send along with her gaggle of children. As soon as the twins are old enough, they begin to sleep in bunches, and although the boys have their own room, and the girls theirs, it is impossible to say who will end up where by morning.
They scream and fight and throw things at each other.
They put stickers all over Maura's tortoise, and for a month an a half, Jo Friday has two front paws with sparkly silver nail polish. Benji carries Lise on his back in the park when she is tired. Lise gives him her last goldfish cracker. They fight over a Bubble Guppies episode in the car on the way home, and fall asleep that night in the same bed, holding hands.
Isis and Tycho become so close it is as if they share a brain. They are both slight, and sly, and they have inherited the detectives propensity for sarcasm and sass. They hide from their frantic Nona in a Costco for hours, until she gives up and calls the doctor, who orders her children out with the frosty voice and terrifying glare that only an Isles can muster.
Constance does try to make good on her promise. She is never away for more than a month, and she sends lavish gifts that get less breakable and more appropriate with time.
She arrives in a whirl of brightly colored boxes and cashmere coats on the Christmas that the twins turn three. And when Lise appraises her with Maura's intense hazel eyes, Constance looks back with awe, and lets herself be studied.
"My brother's name is pronounced Tie - co," she says, without preamble. When Jane opens her mouth to correct her, Constance raises her hand to stop her. She nods at Lise.
"Alright," she says.
"He is used to people sayin wrong ways. But I will get mad if you do it, Gramma."
Constance's mouth twitches the smallest bit. "I understand," she says seriously. "Lise and Tycho. I wouldn't dream of getting it wrong."
Lise nods, her face cracking open into a smile. It is only after Constance makes this promise, that Lise and Tycho come forward to hug her hello.
Maura feels like crying, until Jane puts her arms around her waist from behind and says into her ear that every single moment of the past 24 hours has surpassed the previous one to become her favorite.
Then she does cry.
…
Sometimes, when the kids are all out of the house and Jane is engrossed in a case file, or a game on television, Maura will go into her study, and pull down the only book in the house that has never been read. The cover of What to Expect When You're Expecting is still bright yellow, it's spine is still perfectly intact. The picture of Jane's first baby girl is still tucked away inside, just before week twelve. It's joined now by the sonogram of the second child they lost, and Aisha's letter.
"I would have named her Harper," Jane told Maura once, when they were discussing names for their triplets. "The baby I...well...I would have called her Harper."
By then, Maura had purchased a new copy of the pregnancy book. She'd been ready with the excuse that they should use the most updated copy, but Jane had never asked where hers had gone to. Maura doesn't know if Jane is aware that it's here, but she thinks she is. She thinks sometimes, that when she pulls it down, the letter from Aisha has moved forward or back a couple of pages.
The thought of Jane mirroring her actions on her own slow days makes Maura smile. on the days when things are quiet, and no one is around to see her, Maura will pull these things down from the highest shelf in her study, and look through them. She will draw her finger around the curve of Harper's little head, and she will think of all the things she would tell her daughter were she here with them today.
But usually, the only thing she says aloud is, thank you.
…
…
Maura is bustling around her office, trying to finish up the last of her work so that she can make it home on time. She'd promised Jane that she would be home in time to help set up for the party, and wrangle the children into their semi-formal wear.
The phone rings just as she shuts off her computer, and for a moment, she considers not answering. She is not technically on the clock, and any medical intake matters should go to the doctor taking over for her.
And then she sighs, and picks up the phone.
"Dr. Isles," she says.
"Dr. Isles," an unfamiliar female voice answers. "I'm glad I caught you."
"Who am I speaking with?" Maura resists the urge to groan.
"My name is Kelly Washington. I work with Ada McManus?"
The name causes a bolt of panic to run up Maura's spine before she really knows why.
"She was your legal counsel during the Fairfield trial?" Kelly says this as though it is a question.
Maura sits down heavily in her seat. "I remember," is all she can say.
"Ada's partially retired these days, so I've taken over many of her cases, including yours. I wanted to reach out to you to let you know that Mr. Fairfield is going to be eligible for parole within the next three weeks."
Maura stares at the wood grain of her desk, trying to attach an emotion to the moment. "I see," she says.
"I know this might come as a shock, Doctor. My intention is not to alarm you. I wanted to alert you to the possibility that he might soon be a free man again. I also wanted to inform you of your rights."
The first sentence is too much for Maura to think about, and so she attaches herself to the second.
"Rights?"
"Yes. You have the right to speak at his Parole hearing, either for or against his release. Should he be granted his freedom, you also have the right to file for an order of protection. That would extend to you and your immediate family, of course."
"My wife is the detective he shot."
She doesn't know what makes her say this, other than blank shock, and the desire to make herself feel something. Anything. And the sentence seems to force feeling back into her fingers.
"My wife is the woman he shot. She almost died protecting me."
There is a slight pause. Maura can hear the rustling of papers. "I...I'm sorry, Dr. Isles," Kelly Washington says quietly. "I wasn't aware."
"She lost a child," Maura continues, anger rising. "Did you know that? He killed her daughter that day."
"I...was aware that she..." Kelly trails off. "But I had no idea…."
"When is the hearing?" Maura asks.
"It hasn't been officially scheduled yet. He's only put in the motion to petition this morning."
"So I will have time to discuss this with Jane. And you and I will have time to meet as well?"
"Of course," Kelly sounds both surprised and impressed. "I...wasn't sure you wanted-"
"I do," Maura says firmly. "Very much. However, today is my tenth wedding anniversary. We're having a party, and my family is expecting me, so I cannot discuss this now."
"Oh!" Kelly makes a noise like she's swallowed an ice cube whole. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Isles. I had no idea. I mean, obviously, I had no...please! Go enjoy your party. And congratulations."
"I'm back in the office on Tuesday morning. Will you please call me then so that we can set up a meeting?"
"Of course," Kelly says, breathless. "Of course."
"Thank you."
When she has hung up the phone, Maura sits in the office for almost twenty minutes, listening to the bustle just outside her office, and trying to get her thoughts to stop buzzing through her mind.
Finally, she stands, reaching blindly for her coat. Today is a happy day, she tells herself. And I will be happy. I will go home to my wife and my children, and we will celebrate the last ten, amazing years.
She walks toward her office door, looking down at her watch.
And then she runs.
…
…
Angela is already at the house when Maura arrives. Lise and Benji are in the dining room, the younger girl perched on her brother's shoulders, attempting to throw a streamer over the chandelier.
"Mommy!" Franklin is the first to reach her and hug her. "Happy Wedding Day!" he says. He is almost to her shoulder now, and she kisses the top of his fluffy head.
The mantra she'd been repeating to herself for the drive: I will be happy. I will not ruin the party. We will talk about it later, is suddenly much easier to believe.
Angela hugs her too. "Happy anniversary, dear," she says happily. "You're a little late."
"She got held up, Nona." That's Isis, coming to hug her mother too. She is always on Maura's side, usually without even knowing the argument.
"Yeah! She's a doctor. She's pretty important." Benji. As devoted to Isis as Isis is to Maura.
"You two," Angela says, brushing off the reprimand. She steps around Maura to inspect the streamers in the dining room. "It looks lovely."
"Thanks," Lise says. "Mommy? When is cake?"
Tycho, on the couch with Jo Friday on his chest looks up from his comic book. "Cake?" he asks. "Hi Mommy!"
I am happy. Maura thinks. It is the truth.
"Hello, loves. The dining room does look wonderful, and you all look wonderful. Has anyone else arrived yet?"
"Auntie Eesha is here," Lise says. "She and mama are 'n the kitchen."
"Jesse?"
Benji makes a face, and Franklin explains it. "Out drivin with some girl." he says.
Maura laughs. She kisses Lise, and then manages to get her lips to Isis' cheek before the girl squirms away, and then heads down the hall to the kitchen.
She can hear Aisha's voice as she draws closer, and she is about to call out and announce her presence, but what Aisha's voice says makes her stop dead. "You know I hated you so, so much, right?"
To Maura's immense surprise, she hears Jane chuckle. "Yeah," she replies easily. "I know. From the moment I was mobile."
Maura steps closer to the doorway, taking care to keep her heels from making any noise.
"Yeah," Aisha says, and without being able to see her face, it is impossible to tell what she is thinking. Is this a joke? Jane certainly doesn't seem very concerned.
"Actually a little before that. I hated the way she came to check on you when you weren't awake. I hated the way she looked at you."
Maura envisions Jane nodding. "Understandable," She says, still sounding completely at ease. "And I didn't exactly make a point of trying to make you feel better.
"Hardly. You dragged her through nine rounds of insemination."
So, it isn't a joke. Maura stands paralyzed in the hallway. How long has her best friend hated her wife? And how is it possible that they both could have kept this information from her?
"I made it up to her. And it was worth it. Even you have to admit that."
"You shouldn't have to make things up to her," Aisha's voice drops low, almost to a growl.
"I know," Jane says. "I know."
And who is this submissive Jane? Maura doesn't think she's ever seen her be so quick to mollify anyone.
"You don't deserve her."
This makes Maura pull in a sharp breath, and she almost misses Jane's answer.
"No one does."
Aisha makes a noise that Maura recognizes as one that the doctor makes when she is pleased with the progress her patient is making.
"I love her so, so much, Aisha. I never expected this to be my life."
They are silent for long enough that Maura thinks they aren't going to say any more. And then Aisha continues, sounding unsure for the first time.
"I met someone," she says.
Jane pauses. "A romantic someone?"
"You know I don't do romance," Aisha grumbles. Maura smiles. She expects to feel hurt that Aisha is sharing this with Jane, and not her, but the hurt doesn't come.
"Well," Jane says after a moment. "If you did do romance. I would tell you that you couldn't choose a better person. Period."
"He's good with my son."
"You've seen him with mine," Jane says. "And I trust him with my life, with the life of anyone in my family."
Maura has to suppress another gasp. Frost. They have to be talking about Barry Frost.
The young detective has not come with Aisha to any event that Maura can remember, and although he always greets her and her son warmly when he sees them, nothing about their interactions has suggested a relationship more intimate than casual friends.
"...trustworthy as hell," Jane is saying, when Maura comes back to the conversation. "Not even I could make him tell something that he'd promise to keep in confidence."
When Aisha answers, Maura thinks she might be smiling. "You're just that good a detective?"
Jane snorts. "I notice things," she says. And then, more seriously. "I pay attention, Aisha."
"I know you do."
"Do you?" Jane sounds hopeful. Genuine. "I know that I'm not...That I don't…" Maura can see Jane's hands in her mind's eye, trying to make up for her inability to speak. "They are everything to me."
And this time Aisha's voice is soft, tender even. "I know, Jane," she answers. "You have never given me any reason to hate you. You've known it since the second we spoke after your first night with her, and you never even breathed so much of a word to her. I should have stopped hating you in that moment."
"I love you too, you know," Jane says softly. "And Jesse. You're both family too."
There is something about this silence that lets Maura know the conversation has come to its end. She is about to sneak back down the hall to the party, when two small arms close around her legs.
"Mommy!" Ty has found her, and it is useless to tell her most exuberant, most excitable child to be quiet.
"Hello, honey," she says bending to pick him up. He is six, quickly outgrowing her arms, and she takes any chance she can.
"I want juice!" he says, and when she just raises her eyebrows, he bestows her with the devilish, charming grin of her wife.
"I want juice...please," he amends." And she kisses his cheek, and steps into the kitchen, hoping she's given the two women enough time to compose themselves.
Jane looks almost normal, and by the time she sweeps Ty out of Maura's arms and promises him the "best pickle juice in town," no one would be able to tell that anything odd had happened.
Aisha, on the other hand, keeps her back to Maura until the last moment, and when she turns around, there are still tears glittering in her eyes.
Maura holds out her arms, expecting to be refused, and happy when instead Aisha pulls her into a tight hug.
"You're crying," Maura observes quietly. "Why are you crying?"
Aisha gives her a squeeze before letting her go. She doesn't answer, but she doesn't completely disconnect either. She holds Maura's hand between both of her own, and looks at them, clearly struggling on the verge of speech.
And then, just when Maura thinks she will say something, Aisha shakes her head quickly. She leans forward and kisses Maura on the cheek.
"Happy Anniversary, my love," she whispers, although Jane is politely keeping Tycho busy by the fridge. "Here's to ten...to ten hundred more."
She leaves the kitchen then, and Maura lets her go. She stays behind with her wife and her son, and she hopes that Aisha will be strong enough to let Barry Frost show her the love that she has never believed she deserved.
…
…
"I heard you and Aisha in the kitchen this evening."
Jane is facing away, putting some of her clothes into her dresser, and she pauses for a second, hands freezing on the hem of a shirt.
"Oh yeah?" she says after a moment, trying for casual. She turns to look at Maura, and her face is unreadable. She will be impassive until she knows whether she is to be punished or praised.
"Come over here," Maura says, and she waits until Jane is under the covers beside her, real and warm, and her wife of ten years. They kiss, and Jane's hands come to rest on her lower back, against her skin.
"I love you," Maura says. "I wish you would have told me what was going on between the two of you."
Jane sighs deeply, looking up to the ceiling for a moment. "There was nothing anyone could do about it," she says finally. "And...it doesn't mean we don't care about each other. It's just…" she pauses, trying to think of the words. "One of those things."
"She's the best friend I've ever had," Maura says. "And you are the greatest love of my life"
Jane smiles absently. "Exactly. And you deserve both. We know that."
"Will it change?" Maura asks, putting her head down on Jane's shoulder. "Will you two change?"
Jane rubs her back slowly. "I think it already is," she says.
They lie there for a long moment, just holding onto each other, and Maura doesn't want to break the silence, especially not with the words she knows she has to say next.
"Jane…"
"Yeah?" Jane sounds concerned, she's already heard the tone in Maura's voice.
"I...have to tell you something."
"Okay," Jane says slowly. "Shoot."
"I got a call today, from a lawyer," Maura pauses, but Jane doesn't answer. "She told me that Garrett is petitioning for parole."
Jane's hand's twitch at the mention of his name, but she still does not respond.
"I should have told you the moment I got home," Maura says, speaking more quickly. "But I was late, and your mother and Aisha were here...and then I heard that conversation...and then Lise fell off that chair and the guests...I'm sorry," she finishes, a little desperately, because Jane has still not spoken.
"Jane?"
"Will you speak at the hearing?" she asks quietly.
"I...We have to discuss it," Maura says. "I want to discuss it, darling. I'm sorry for keeping-"
But Jane rolls over to face her, and Maura sees she is smiling.
"You're a better person than I am," she says, kissing the side of Maura's mouth. "I was going to wait until tomorrow. I was probably even going to wait until after Isis' basketball game."
Maura blinks at her. "What?"
"My lawyer called today too," she says, sighing again. "This afternoon. I assume he said the same thing yours did. We can speak if we want, we don't have to, blah blah."
Maura feels relief relax her muscles. "Oh," she says, and then as more understanding washes over her. "Oh, Jane."
"He has the shittiest timing," Jane says, pulling Maura closer. "The shittiest aim, and the shittiest timing."
Maura hugs back. "Do you want to speak?"
Jane makes a movement that feels like a shrug. "At first I was like, that rat bastard is going to look in my face and listen while I tell the parole board everything. He's going to be begging to go back inside when I'm done."
Jane's muscles tighten as she speaks, and Maura feels dual waves of excitement and affection for the woman in her arms.
"But then," Jane continues. "With the party, and watching Frost and Jesse play twister with the kids...I just...watching Lise smear cake all over Ty's face?" Jane laughs, and Maura understands what she means.
"I felt it too," she says softly. "How little he mattered."
Jane nods. "I want him kept the fuck away from us," she says. "But it doesn't matter what we decide about going. And it doesn't matter when we decide it. He doesn't matter at all." Jane looks at her. "He's nothing more than the shitty thing that gave me you, Mo."
Maura closes her eyes, smiling into Jane's kiss. "Don't swear," she murmurs.
And Jane growls playfully, reaching to turn out the light.