Author's note: thank you for all the reviews!

Chapter Eight: Live The Life

"Alright, come on. Give me your hand. If you keep on sipping on your glass, you have a huge chance to end up swallowing the glass itself."

Maura rolled her eyes at Jane but didn't complain and stood up as her wife grabbed her hand to lead her to the middle of the bar. It was a nice place, cozy enough. Dimmed lights, a couple of fake palm trees probably brought in for the special evening and music at full blast.

"Classes are on Thursday. It is Saturday, today."

Jane shrugged – looked around – and let her hand slide on the honey blonde's waist to hold her tight. "And so what? People are still dancing so let's dance. Nobody will judge us if we don't execute the steps as perfectly as professional dancers. Especially if they have all been sipping on their cocktails. They're probably too drunk to even notice you... As much as they don't know what they're missing, of course."

The compliment in disguise made Maura blush but instead of looking down as she usually did in such circumstances, she boldly locked her eyes with the brunette's and smiled as brightly as she could. Jane had never been so sweet and attentive since they had learned the failure of the artificial insemination. Against Maura's fears, it seemed like the situation had actually strengthened their couple.

Credits to Jane who had been there all along, trying to make her laugh and understand that it didn't mean anything at all. True enough. It was their first trial. Sure the result was somehow disappointing but it took time to get it. Time and determination. As soon as Maura would be able to go through it again, they would give it a new try.

And in the meantime: merengue. Life was going on, after all. Jane insisted on that point a lot. All the time. And she was right. Before the honey blonde's disappointment, it was paramount for the Italian to be as cheerful as ever. Carpe diem. Nobody had died. They were both healthy – in love – and with a thousand projects in mind. Having a baby was only one of them.

"How I wish we could go back to Punta Cana... I miss the quiet atmosphere of the place, and its landscape..."

Maura's murmur slid along Jane's ear as the blonde leaned over to be heard over the music. The brunette rolled her eyes – pouted – then nodded. "How about September? No vacations before... And it's three weeks off..."

"I thought you wanted to go to the Maldives for your honeymoon."

Another pout. As long as there was a lagoon – sun – and Maura, Jane would do just fine. But an exotic landscape was indeed rather paramount among her choices. She knew that her wife would have preferred Italy or some European destination with a heavy cultural past but she simply seemed eager now to fulfill the Italian's dreams. No matter what.

Besides, the Isles owned a house in Tuscany. They could go there anytime.

"As long as we don't stay in Boston..." Glance at the window a few steps away. It was raining hard, now. The drops forming abstract forms while sliding down before disappearing in the night. "I hate the summer, here."

July had brought its storms – its high temperatures – and humidity. Two steps outside the BPD and you were already sweating as if you had just run a marathon. The asphalt seemed close to melt, revealing its unpleasing scent at the hottest hours of the day.

The summer was quite a bad season for crime scenes as well. The heat had a terrible effect on corpses, from the smell – hard to bear – to the insects that rushed to the dead even faster. Small wonder why so many detectives desperately tried to go on vacation by then.

They wanted to escape from the worst. Fair.

"You don't have children, Rizzoli. So you don't have priority."

How many times had she heard this? Hopefully it would change soon and she would be able to take vacations in the summer as well and not just in September when everyone was back.

Yes. Hopefully, soon she would be a parent too and seen as one; with respect. Detectives who decided to have a family were respected, even more than the others. If only because of these risks that never really left them when in duty.

"Stop making me twirl around like that, Jane. I wouldn't mind keeping down my dinner."

"Oh. Sorry!" Apologetic smile, end of her daydreams.

…

"How about a movie? Or gardening. We have finally built that miniature fence for the beans and I'm sure we can plant some more. Or a cake, let's bake a cake!"

Laid on the couch – a shawl on her shoulders – Maura smiled softly at Jane and looked by the window. The rain had won in intensity. The wind as well. "I won't go out with this weather... Neither will you. Unless you want to fly away, of course."

"Then a cake. Or crepes. How about I make crepes? And tea, as you think there are too many calories in a hot chocolate. Crepes and tea! How about that?"

Timid nod. "Yes, why not... Thank you..."

Satisfied, Jane turned on her heels and was about to leave for the kitchen when she stopped – turned around again – and held out her hand to her wife. "Come on, let's make crepes."

Maura made a face and not eager to move an inch, settled further on the couch; clutched to the shawl. "But I am fine here by the fireplace, reading a novel..."

Frown. For a few seconds, the brunette remained quiet – obviously divided by some thoughts – and finally shook her head; biting her lower lip. "Nah, come with me. Be active!"

"Reading a book is an activity, I am active. Just... Not running everywhere around." As if he had heard her words, Coco Loco chose this exact moment to jump on her lap and settle there, imitating Jo Friday who was peacefully sleeping by her feet. "I am fine, here. Really..."

"But... I don't want... I..." Jane raised a hand in the air to apologize and walked quietly to the kitchen. Without a word, she began to take out of the cabinets what she needed to make the crepes. Loudly. Yet her silence didn't last long and soon enough, her cheerful attitude came back as she started talking randomly about a woman she had seen at the supermarket earlier in the morning. "Pink. All pink... And nothing else. She looked like a giant bubble gum. All... Yeah, all pink. Not really the Gucci-Prada trend of Beacon Hill. Needless to say people were looking at her weirdly. You should have seen that. Or not. Maybe you don't need to face what you'd probably call a fashion disaster of some sort."

Okay... Eggs, milk, sugar, rum... Hmm... Rum, yummy! Wait, where is the...

"Jane?"

The call of her name – so close in her back – made her jump of surprise. She turned around – salad bowl in hand – and blinked at Maura who had approached and was now leaning on the kitchen island.

"Yes? You want something? The tea is brewing, it will be ready within a minute now. But... If you are thirsty then I can pour you a glass of orange juice... Or... A shot of rum? How about a shot of rum?"

But instead, Maura simply frowned and shook her head. She seemed worried, uncertain. As if trying to read through her wife's words and actions. "What is going on? Why are you so... It makes me feel dizzy. You have a day off, enjoy it... Watch a game or a movie, chill out... Why are you so..."

The Italian blinked and swallowed hard. Maura's words had – apparently – touched her a lot more than what the honey blonde had assumed in the first place. Lost, she looked around for help but found herself not finding anything susceptible to come to her rescue. Not even Coco Loco who was now peacefully sleeping on top of a lamp.

A lamp? Why did cats always have to find the weirdest place to take a nap?

"Nothing, I am just... I don't know... I am just making crepes. Why do you say that?"

Maura pursed her lips and shook her head. Obviously, she wasn't buying any of it. "Ever since I... Ever since we got the artificial insemination results, you have been acting weirdly... You know, it is fine to have a rest and settle down for a while. To have a break..."

Guilt embraced Jane's face and as she looked down at her hands, she realized that she was twisting them nervously. A sigh passed her lips, she shrugged; swallowed hard. "I had just assumed that being active all the time would make things easier... When you stop, you start thinking and right now... Right now is not the best time to over think some things."

They had talked about the insemination yet only the day of the results. After that, it was as if a veil had covered the failed experience and it was better to remain silent about it. Perhaps it was not how they should have reacted. Instead of keeping the bitterness for themselves, they might have had to talk about it. Openly.

"It won't change anything to what happened, Jane. Getting busy is a good thing but you don't have to force yourself either. It is alright to stop and think about it. It is perfectly fine, really."

"But I don't want to think about it."

The brunette's reply hit the air with the strength that only regrets could bring. It took Maura aback – completely – but before she had a chance to add something, Angela came in carrying a few grocery bags.

"Maura, it is now time for you to learn our gnocchi recipe. Since obviously my daughter has no desire whatsoever to teach you all about the Rizzoli cuisine secrets, I am here for that. An apron is all you need. Oh, and maybe a glass of Prosecco. Jane, get out of this kitchen. You're too messy for it."

"We were about to make crepes, ma'..."

Scoff. Angela pushed her daughter away – rolled her eyes at Maura – and shook her head. "You aren't French but Italian. Can't you at least try an Italian recipe, for the sake of your roots?"

Jane mumbled a few words that her mother luckily didn't hear and passing by her wife, bent over to whisper to her ear. "We'll have some quality – and quiet – time this evening. Meet me at 7pm in the bathtub. Bring a bottle of wine."

Maura's smile echoed Jane's one.