Author's note: thank you very much for all the reviews and messages, it is pleasure to discuss with it about this story.

Chapter Eleven – We Had A Son Named Timothy

Jane stepped into Maura's office. She looked on her right – then on her left – and went to lean against her friend's desk. Maura was nowhere to be seen but the usual zen music she listened to had been replaced by Latin songs instead. Rather loudly. Not that her patients would complain obviously.

"Maura? I'm here."

Already annoyed by the high heels she had put on, Jane took them off and grabbed the baby guide set down on Maura's desk. She owned a copy of it herself and made sure to read at least two chapters a day to be ready for the day their son would decide to come to this world. They had two months and half left. The birth would happen way before she even had time to realize it.

No reply from Maura.

Jane shrugged and opened the book to resume her reading. Maura was probably changing in the bathroom. She couldn't attend a charity event in her black scrubs. Even Jane had made an effort and was wearing a cocktail dress, great source of teasing from her colleagues the moment they had seen her in it. Some things would never change.

"I must have forgotten my earrings at home. I can't find them anywhere."

Jane looked up only to face a half-dressed Maura. She hadn't zipped up her dress yet and one of the sleeves had slid down her shoulder revealing thus a few more inches of her porcelain skin. It took Jane long seconds to stop staring at her collarbone and focus back on her hazel eyes instead.

"Which ones?"

"The emeralds." Maura shrugged. A delicate smile seemed to embrace her features. She looked relaxed, not really bothered by the situation either. "It is just fine. I can do without earrings. I left in a hurry, this morning. They are probably on my bedside table."

Jane closed the baby guide book and put it back down on the desk. She straightened up but postponed the moment she would have to wear her stilettos anew. Obviously Maura wasn't ready. Her feet still could enjoy an extra ten minutes of freedom.

"I don't think you took them, indeed. I still can see them on the bedside table near my glass of water."

Maura nodded at Jane's remark but immediately turned her back at her friend.

She and Jane had embraced the habit of sharing the same bed for a while now. It all had started when she had hurt her back but there wasn't a week now without Jane sleeping by her side. It did not necessarily happen every night but the recurrence couldn't be ignored nonetheless and it made Maura a bit uncomfortable to openly talk about it.

Probably because she enjoyed it a lot.

"I should be ready within a few minutes, now. I will be right back."

Maura didn't wait for an eventual reply from Jane and hurried back to her personal bathroom. It was small but she didn't really need more space either at her workplace. Her employees had to share an another one. At least she had a personal one.

"What's going on that your office has turned into some old Havana dancing club?"

Jane's question made her smile. She grabbed her eyeliner and proceeded to apply some with an expert hand.

"I don't know. I am just in the mood for it. It brings sun to the morgue, and happiness. Don't you like it?" Maura giggles. "It makes me feel like dancing."

Jane approached the MP3 player and checked the playlist. She had no idea that Maura liked salsa. Until now, her friend had mostly listened to classical music at home. And a bit of rock now that Jane had moved in. Just because they had got married didn't mean that Jane had to renounce to her very own favorite bands. If she had to bear Yo-Yo Ma then Maura had to bear Nirvana.

"It's surely less boring than your usual Tibethan thing."

"And you can dance to it." Maura walked back into the room with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She winked at Jane before closing the distance that separated them. "Show me your skills."

Jane's nervous laugh hit the air. Had Maura started drinking without waiting for her first? They were happy – they were in a good mood – but not to the point of dancing in the middle of a morgue. Life was treating them good and they had embraced the idea but Jane would need a lot more than that to actually accept to dance salsa in Maura's office.

"I can't. I'm wearing a cocktail dress."

That had to be one of the poorest arguments Jane had ever come up with but then Maura had completely taken her aback. She had come downstairs at 6.30pm – just as planned – to pick her friend up. Maura wanted them to attend some charity event downtown Boston and since they were married, Jane had assumed that it was the kind of social events that she couldn't skip. Besides, Maura had assured her that there would be food. Free food.

"Oh... Come on! I knew you braver, Jane."

And without any warning, Maura went to grab her friend by the waist to force her into a dance. She didn't hesitate to mold her body against Jane's before closing her eyes and abandoning herself to the sensual pace of their moves.

"What on Earth..." Jane burst out laughing. The evening was taking a rather unexpected turn, a delicate one if she paid attention to the sensations Maura's closeness stirred up in her very own body. "We're gonna be late." The lack of desire to stop it showed in her voice.

Maura's main line phone rang. She let go of Jane in a whirl of giggles and went to pick up the device. She hadn't left yet, after all. She had to take the call even if she would not go on any scene.

She wasn't on a night shift.

"You're not a bad dancer, Jane. We should definitely take some classes. I will check this online tomorrow." Phone in hand, Maura winked at her friend and cleared her voice before addressing her interlocutor. "Dr. Isles-Rizzoli..."

...

You know people say that our brain has the capacity to shut down to make us forget some tragic memories? I still wonder why mine didn't do that.

I still wonder why I remember this evening in detail as if it had happened yesterday. It haunts me. It still does. It's just I got used to the nightmares and I made them mine with the passing of time but the truth is that nothing has changed. Not really.

I remember how Maura's smile froze and disappeared, swallowed by a layer of an icy silence. I immediately understood that something was going on but I had no idea why. It could be anything, anyone. She whispered words – inaudible ones – and hang up like a robot. Then she remained still, unable to move or speak.

Seven months and a half. You'd think that – at this stage – everything's gonna be alright, that you discarded all the main risks. But you simply happened to forget that it's not how life works at times, that some risks never disappear.

The doctor who welcomed us at the hospital looked way too young to know what he was talking about. I know it's stupid but deep inside I was just hoping that he was wrong, that he wasn't addressing the right people... That he was alluding to... To another family.

They all died at the scene: the taxi driver, Leo – Petunia's boyfriend – Petunia and Timothy. There was a truck... It was too heavy... It crushed down the taxi on a curve.

I hate myself because that's what it took for me to accept to name our son Timothy. I'd been awful all along with this – mocking Maura and Petunia when they kept on saying it was pretty – and all of a sudden our son was taken away from us in the most violent way ever. And Petunia. And Leo. We lost more than a child, that night.

It's our whole life that fell apart.

I still remember the smell of the hospital corridors and the shock in Maura's eyes. You'd think she's used to all of this but she isn't. No more than me, no more than anyone else.

She was livid and could barely talk. I kept on stuttering words that didn't make any sense. I was convinced that this was just a nightmare and I would wake up soon, relieved to see that the sky was still blue and that everyone was alright.

Petunia's parents were already there. It was the first time we got to meet them. This isn't a freaking context. Nobody should have to meet in such circumstances. Nobody should ever had to go through this.

We came back home around 5.30 am. I have no idea why we stayed for so long at the hospital. We didn't have to sign anything, we weren't Petunia's parents.

I suppose we didn't dare to move away from the whole thing because the silence of the house would resound too harshly. And all the rest... There were baby things everywhere, in every single room.

What a cruel way to remind us that it was all over.

I refused to see the bodies. I honestly don't know if I should regret it. Maura said it was a beautiful baby. Why should I care? He had stopped breathing. I guess I prefer to live on the idea I had made myself of him.

We had a son named Timothy. And a beautiful, wonderful birth mother. Just because we never got to see him smile – just because we never got to take him in our arms – doesn't mean that he didn't exist. He did. I can assure you he did.

Or else talking about him now wouldn't hurt so badly.