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

Chapter Ten: The Story of my Life

Breathless, Maura traveled up Jane's body – planting kisses on her way up to her lips – as her hands followed an another path on her wife's hips.

Shivering skin against shivering skin, stolen smiles vanishing in sighs as the paroxysm of their feelings slowly faded away and the frenzy of their movements ceased.

Quietly – reluctant to take any distance with Jane – the blonde grabbed her wife by the waist and made her roll on her side with her.

Last kiss. Soft. On the Italian's shoulder.

"I love you..."

The words still made the medical examiner blush. Her heart sped up its pace again and all these classic reactions boiled in her body as a bright smile played on her lips. She really was in love. Maybe for the first time if she had to consider the intensity of her feelings.

"I love you too."

Jane's reply multiplied all the sensations in her body. It might have seemed stupid but at times, Maura had a hard time assuming that it wasn't a dream.

Stupid and cheesy. You are not this kind of girl, Isles. Wake up, dammit!

She had been in love with Jane for a long time already, too long for her to actually imagine that one day they would cross the invisible limits of their friendship for something more. Yet there they were, now. Married. Happy. Hoping to start a family together.

As her smile melted into a grin, the honey blonde approached a hand from Jane's face and let her fingers brush the warm skin; following the curves of her bones before dying in the depths of her nape.

Eyes locked with the brunette's dark ones, she simply remained like that; quietly settled in her lover's arms as a soft breeze of a hot night entered by the opened window on her right.

"You are all my life." Maura's whisper slid on her lips and barely hit the air, as if the words themselves had decided to be secretive. "You have always been the one. Always."

And sneeze.

The blonde burst out laughing – turned around to grab a tissue – then handed it to her wife. "You are such a mood killer, Jane!"

"Like I do it on purpose." As if to apologize, the detective slid a suggestive leg between her partner's and began to caress her inner thigh. "See. Now this is something I do on purpose. Nuance."

…

"Maura? Maura Isles? As in Constance Isles?"

If the question made Jane frown, Maura simply nodded – rather politely – at the woman in front of her and lifted her chin up almost in defiance. She was used to it.

"I am. And you are..."

"Margot Whiterman. I know your mother quite well." The woman grabbed Maura's hand to shake it enthusiastically.

Not a big surprise, here. As a matter of fact, Margot looked a lot like Constance's friends: an artist in her sixties, probably married to some upper social class man whose salary allowed her to embrace a so-called artistic career. Although if she had to be honest, Maura had to say that Margot was rather talented.

"Your sculptures are gorgeous. I was..."

But before the honey blonde had time to finish her sentence, Margot focused on the Italian who had remained silent until now.

"And you must be Jane, Maura's wife. Constance is so proud of your wedding... Actually, she is very proud of her daughter. You are a medical doctor, aren't you?"

And back to Maura who – speechless and taken aback by the news – nodded in silence before mumbling an affirmative answer.

"She is the Chief Medical Examiner of Massachusetts." Jane came to the rescue, proud as well. Big grin. Apparently, she had forgotten the pain that her stilettos inflicted her and complains had now completely vanished.

For Maura's highest relief. There was nothing worse than a grumpy Jane at an art gallery.

"Exactly! This means many responsibilities... Constance and I met when you were graduating from college. She was so proud of you."

There. Again. Pride? Really? Constance Isles? Her mother? Maura blinked, unable to say the slightest thing. She had never received any kind of compliment whatsoever from her mother regarding her career. Being successful was supposedly natural for any Isles. Her career had – thus – been passed under silence as if it were the most common thing in the world.

Like breathing.

Yes. Remember to breathe, Maura. You are a physician, you should know how paramount it is if you want to stay alive.

"Of course, Constance was a bit disappointed in the fact you didn't go for a more traditional wedding ceremony but she has already booked this weekend in August for the celebration you two are throwing. She is right, you are such a lovely couple. You are a detective, Jane, am I right?"

Nod. Even the Italian seemed now taken aback by Margot's endless confessions over Maura's mother. Unless the artist knew another Constance Isles? Because the one she was describing had very little to do with the one she met at times; at some hype restaurant, between two flights.

"My mother..."

"... Is an adorable woman. And – may I add – rather impatient to become a grandmother as well. You are her only child, Maura. It weighs a lot, explains everything!"

Jane's eyes widened and – confused – scanned the room quickly to wonder if this was not a prank of some sort. Constance Isles wanted grandchildren? Really? When she had barely had time to take care of Maura?

"Are you thinking about adoption? Or artificial insemination? So many possibilities, these days... I wish it had been the same for me. Sadly, it was a lot more complicated when I was your age."

Margot smiled, shrugged. She looked ecstatic. Nice but over-enthusiastic. Unless she was just happy to finally meet this daughter Constance had been talking so much about. Yeah between two Picasso purchases and her grandchildren fantasies, Riz'.

"We barely got married... It might take time for us to actually... Become parents." Maura's lips curled up in a smile as she felt Jane's hand press hers tightly.

The weeks were passing by and the sentiment of failure over their first trial was fading away, little by little. At last. They wouldn't forget and perhaps they still needed to properly talk about it more than what they had done so far. But still. A serenity had now wrapped them up. They were ready to give it another try. Soon. Very soon.

Besides, they knew that they were running after the passing of time.

"I am so disappointed in the fact your mother is in Buenos Aires right now. I would have loved seeing the two of you together, here. Not for the exhibition – Constance saw it already in Tokyo – but because meeting you with her by your side would have wrapped up perfectly all these times she told me about you."

It took Maura a while to open her mouth and speak again. Even once they would have left the gallery and started walking down the street hand in hand, the honey blonde would be lost in her thoughts. In an ocean of doubts. The Constance Margot had described had very little to do with the woman she knew as her mother. Yes, their relation had got better these past few years – mostly thanks to Jane and Angela – but still. She had never received any compliment nor had Constance expressed the desire to have grandchildren.

Was she living in the Fourth Dimension? What had just happened?

And when had they stopped to get two cups of coffee? Astounded, the honey blonde looked down at her own hand and blinked; swallowed hard.

"What if I have been wrong during all this time?"

Strangled voice. Soft tone. Heavy words, full of uncertainty. Sipping on her own drink, Jane turned her head around and frowned at her wife. "What are you talking about?"

"My mother. The way Margot described her... I had the feeling that she was actually talking about your mother. Mine is quiet – not very talkative, especially when it comes to her family – and certainly not enthusiastic at the prospect of having grandchildren. She has never liked children much. She finds them noisy, exasperating. Exhausting."

Jane nodded and swallowed hard. "Fantastic. She'll be so thrilled when she learns that we'll be expecting one. Thank you for letting me know about it. It's... Comforting."

Eye roll. Snap on the Italian's shoulder. "Don't be silly! She will be happy but – you know – in her own way. Certainly not as over-enthusiastic as Margot seems to see her, though."

And how Margot had actually guessed that Maura was Constance's daughter? Had she seen pictures of her before? The honey blonde frowned, perplexed. The last picture her mother had of her was from her college graduation. An eternity ago. She had changed a lot since then.

"That's the story of my life, Jane. Imagine... Perhaps I have been living on misconceptions about my own mother. Perhaps I was wrong when I thought that she was not interested in me, in my career. Perhaps I have been missing everything."

An odd sentiment of reality was slowly creeping under Maura's skin. Yes. She had been wrong all the time. Her existence was based on wrong facts. What an irony for a scientist.

First, she had assumed that Jane would never love her in return and now she was realizing – little by little – that she might have misjudged her own mother. What kind of existence was that? She had been wrong on all the line.

"Maura, are you okay? You are shaking... Honey...?"

Without any warning – her eyes glimmering through mysterious tears – the honey blonde turned around and grabbed Jane's nape for a long kiss. There, in the middle of street. She didn't mind what people would think about it. She loved the brunette and needed to take advantage of every second of their story.

Then sweep away the misconceptions she had been living on.

It is a new beginning, Isles. Embrace it instead of looking at it passively. Live it fully.