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

October

Chapter Twenty-One: First Time We Met

The lights flickered again but this time, she didn't pay attention to it. She could barely hear the storm in the background – the rain hitting strong against the windows of the building – as images of lightning had finally left her brain alone and she had stopped imagining Maura out there in the morgue, somewhat plunged in a remake of Dr. Frankenstein. A sexier version.

Of course. She wouldn't marry a mad scientist whose only purpose was to bring to life some sort of odd creature with the help of a rather terrifying nurse if the scientist in question wasn't stunning.

You are losing it, Rizzoli. Focus, dammit. And got get some coffee.

A loud sigh passed her lips as she stood up – mug in hand – and walked to the coffee maker. Curiously, nobody else was there. The BPD seemed to have plunged into a sweet torpor as if rocked by the storm hitting the city now.

The hot drink burnt her throat but she didn't wince in pain. The sensation had become almost familiar with the years. A habit as strong as the weight of her gun against her waist.

Back to work. Back to paper work.

If all these administrative tasks represented the part of her job she liked the least, for once she didn't mind much being stuck at her desk. The torrential rain outside helped. There was not a single thrilling thing in revising files but at least she was wearing dry clothes. And hopefully, it would stay that way for the rest of the day.

Smith Case: done. Next one.

Without paying attention to the file number, she opened it absentmindedly and only froze as her eyes skimmed through the first lines. Punta Cana. Restraining a hey to proudly show her colleagues about it, Jane frowned – swallowed hard – and plunged back into all these daily – and by then annoying – reports she had had to write.

The pictures taken. The elaborated plan.

"What are you smiling at?" Sitting opposite her desk – behind his very own computer – Frost raised an eyebrow with great perplexity.

Jane shrugged and evasively motioned at the file. "I'm revising Punta Cana. That's where..." How many times had she debated the whole thing in her head? Finally abdicating, she let a timid smile replace the nostalgic one before looking down at her hands. "That's where I met Maura."

"Met? I thought the two of you had met here at the Division One Cafe."

Eye roll. "Not met-met but... You know... Met." Hmm. Perhaps she shouldn't have played the confession card. Obviously her young colleague didn't get the subtlety of her words. And this is why you shouldn't allude to your private life. Never.

"Oh! Seriously? Not before?"

She had expected a thousand different reactions – from jokes to... well, mainly jokes – but not that. Not Frost looking utterly surprised.

"Well, yes...? Why?"

Suddenly nervous, the young man began to move on his seat; checking constantly from right to left as if he were seeking for an escape. In vain. "I don't know. I had assumed you two had been... Together... For a while before that. I thought... I thought you were already a couple by then."

Jane blinked. It was not that she was surprised – she was well aware of the bets and all that jazz – but she still didn't understand why her colleagues had come to such conclusion when she hadn't had a clue about her own feelings before her trip to the Dominican Republic. Why had everybody guessed before her? It wasn't logical. She couldn't be that blind.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli-Isles!"

End of the introspection. Why? Why did her mother have such a full access to this floor? This was her workplace. A little distance was needed.

"It wasn't me." Frown, echoing her mother's as Angela walked in the room with a plate full of freshly baked brownies. Jeez, you aren't ten anymore, Riz'. Quit these culprit-not-culprit habits.

Without a word, her mother put the food down on her desk and hugged her tight. Too tight, for too long. In front of everyone; even if this 'everyone' couldn't care less and had not even looked up to witness the scene.

"What's with the dumb smile?"

Snap on her head.

"Ouch!"

But before she had a chance to add something, Angela had already turned on her heels and was now trotting back to the elevator.

Grand. Was her mother a schizo or something, now? Stopping by for a hug and a few brownies before exiting the room without any explanation?

"Your mother knows that I am pregnant."

"Why did you tell her?"

"What? I didn't say anything! She guessed it. Not that it is very complicated to figure out since I look like a whale trying desperately to still fit in haute-couture outfits."

Jane smirked, still looking at the door by which her mother had mysteriously come in for a hug. So that was it. The schizo treatment. She knew that something wasn't normal when Maura had told her that her mother hadn't gone hysterical over the news nor had tried to strangle her with one of these awful bear hugs.

But why? What was going on? This wasn't normal, not on a Rizzoli scale. Her mother should have been sending announcements to half of Boston by now for that. Why did she remain so quiet? What on earth is she planning, exactly?

Red alert: activated.

A stifled metallic sound took her out of her daydreams and made her jump of surprise. Her eyes landed on her desk where a pair of scissors had appeared.

"Thanks for lending me these, Rizzoli. Although I'm sure you prefer a whole different kind of scissoring, now."

She looked up at O'Brian and made a face then shook her head. The worst of all was that she was getting used to the remarks. They weren't worse than the macho jokes she had to bear all day long. The vibration of her cell phone put an abrupt end to it nonetheless.

I am not feeling well, very nauseous.

So I am going back home now.

See you tonight.

Love you.

M.

Something hurt in her heart. A pinching sensation that made her swallow hard. Maura had had morning sickness for a few days now; to Jane's highest despair.

She couldn't do anything but watched – disarmed – how the honey blonde desperately tried to repress the nausea, her fingers clutched to the toilet seat; her face paler than a ghost one.

She was two-month pregnant. And if they had been spared with most of the symptoms until now, it seemed like reality had suddenly decided to catch back on them rather roughly.

Wait for a sec', I'm coming downstairs.

J.

Without any explanation whatsoever, Jane stood up – cast a last glance at the Punta Cana file opened on her desk, right on a series of pictures taken from the balcony of their room – then walked out to the elevators.

Why did the Dominican Republic suddenly seem so far? Why was it all so different here? If things had considerably sped up between her and Maura, even Boston had decided to show the exact opposite face to Punta Cana. Why? To make her forget? To make her turn the page?

But she didn't want to do that.

The months had passed by – bringing weddings and pregnancies – but the truth was that she only wanted one thing and one thing only: come back there. Not for the sun. Not for all these lagoons. Not for the cocktails by the pool. But for that sensation of being alive.

It wasn't that she felt dead in Boston but it all looked too much like life. And she didn't like it. Nope. She didn't like that.

"Oh, Maura... Sweetie..."

As she found the honey blonde sat on the floor of her bathroom - desperately clutched to the toilet seat – Jane rushed to her and settled by her side to rub her back and plant a kiss she did hope comforting enough on her shoulder.

"Are you sure this is morning sickness? You're sweating and hot. Let me give you a glass of water. Your lips are dry, you're dehydrated."

The medical examiner shook her head then leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. "My stomach won't keep down anything. Anything at all. I... I should have known better. Why did I think I had been spared just because I had been doing fine for the first month?"

"You know what happens when one is dehydrated and can't even drink water. Come on, I'm taking you to the ER. You're too weak for now."

Very slowly she helped Maura to stand up and settled her on the couch before grabbing her wife's belongings. She sent a message to Frost to let him know that she wouldn't come back before the day after and planted a last kiss on the honey blonde's temple.

You were wrong, Riz'. You didn't meet Maura in Punta Cana. Nor did you meet her at the Division One Cafe. No. Actually, you are meeting her every day. Every single day is a new start or else how would you explain the butterflies in your stomach as soon as your eyes find hers? And the way your heartbeats speed up whenever she's around. It didn't happen when you were away. It's always been like that. As soon as you look at her, it tastes of the first time. The sweetest one.