Monday, 7:48 pm. Homicide bullpen.

Frost tapped the pen on his desk, beating out a random rhythm in the empty bullpen. He had nowhere to be, no reason to go home. Even Korsak had punched out already; had to feed his menagerie. So Frost was here with his computer. Doing nothing useful. Maybe he should go out for a drink. Try to meet a nice girl.

Who was he kidding? Nice girls don't hang out at bars on Mondays. But he was never going to meet a girl if he stayed at the precinct all night. Korsak was proof enough of that. Oh, man, Frost didn't want to end up like Korsak, with his three ex-wives and his 20 cats and 15 dogs and who knows what else to keep him company. Or like Jane, working day and night, putting her life on the line on a daily basis, and for what? A little medal of honor that she didn't even want? Maybe she gets a promotion, more money, which she won't even spend on herself.

Jane seemed to be happy, though. Especially lately. She wasn't exactly bubbly, but she was definitely less moody than she had been when Casey had been around. Frost knew from the beginning that the guy wasn't right for her. He couldn't put his finger on the problem, but there was something wrong with that whole situation.

These days, though, she walked around like she didn't have a care in the world. Somebody—must have been her mom—had started packing her healthy lunches, things like carrots and tuna salad and sandwiches on whole wheat bread. Stuff Jane would have complained about a couple months ago, but these days she'd look at that plate full of vegetables like it had just told her it loved her.

The more Frost thought about it, the more he thought something was different about Jane, even compared to before Casey. And then he remembered that night last week, when she was all, 'I need a couple minutes alone with Maura,' and what was that about, anyway? What was so urgent that the Doc was waiting here to talk to Jane so late at night?

Well, there was one lead in this 'case' that he hadn't investigated. He had convinced Korsak that night that they should mind their own business and Jane would tell them whatever information they needed, when they needed it. But she hadn't volunteered anything, and now that he was alone with his wandering thoughts, Frost was beginning to worry. He could put any worries to rest, he rationalized, by finding whatever was on that computer screen when they were talking.

Looking around the room once again to confirm he was alone, Frost scooted over to Jane's desk and woke the computer. His first move in searching someone's computer was always to go through their default browser's history. People tend to spend most of their time on the internet, and he could get a good idea of someone's train of thought from this one avenue of investigation. Jane's browser history from the night in question—shopping for baby clothes too small to be for TJ—led Frost to a clear conclusion.

He whispered it to himself, slack-jawed, "The Doc is pregnant."

Tuesday, 6:34 am. Maura's kitchen.

Angela had always loved cooking breakfast. It was where she shined as a mother. Like most mothers, she knew that breakfast was the most important meal of the day; if she could get her husband and children off to a good start in the morning, they would be happy and ready to face whatever challenges might come along. To Angela, cooking someone breakfast was like telling them 'I love you.' So even as her children grew older and moved out, she continued to dote. She wasn't too shy to let herself into their homes before they woke and give them her morning 'I love you' to help them start the day.

Of course, the last time Angela had come to cook breakfast at Jane's place, she found the apartment empty. It was a mess, but nobody was there, except for Joe Friday and a pile of dirty laundry. Since then Angela noticed that Jane had been spending a lot of nights at Maura's. She knew Jane must be hurting from her recent breakup with Casey, but as far as Angela was concerned, it was good riddance to him. On first glance, the young man was handsome and kind, and Jane had wanted so much for their relationship to work. But after a while it seemed like Jane was the only one making an effort in their relationship. She had compromised so much of that spunk and attitude that Angela secretly loved about her daughter. So good riddance, Angela thought. It was good to have her Jane back, or at least on the way to being herself again. And if Janie needed some quality time with her best friend to heal that wound, Angela wasn't going to judge.

No, Angela wasn't that kind of mother. She prided herself on loving her children for who they were, even if they insisted on making her worry by putting themselves into danger every day. But Angela wouldn't complain, no. Sure, she would suggest once in a while that they might want to start thinking about their futures, having a family. But that wasn't being pushy. That was looking out for your children, making sure they're taken care of once you're gone.

For now, Angela was happy to do her motherly duties, starting with a hearty 'I love you' breakfast, complete with bacon, scrambled eggs, and bunny pancakes. She was just pouring the bunny ears when she heard her girls coming downstairs.

"I'm gonna need some new clothes soon, Maura. I'm gettin' fat."

Angela could hear Maura chuckle, "You're not fat, Jane, you're—" Jane had stopped so abruptly in the kitchen doorway that Maura ran right into her backside. "Just right," she finished, awkwardly. Trying to recover, she added, "Good morning, Angela. Breakfast smells wonderful."

Jane tried to mask her surprise by kissing Angela on the cheek, then started loading up her plate. "Morning, Ma."

Now that Jane had mentioned it, Angela did see a little paunch on her daughter's otherwise thin frame. "Good morning, girls. Maybe lay off the bacon today, Janie."

Wednesday, 10:22 am. Officer's lounge.

Somebody had left a plate of brownies in the break room, and Frankie wasn't too shy to partake. After shoving one small square in his mouth, he picked up a paper napkin and grabbed two more for the road. He'd made a pit stop and filled up on coffee, and now he had just eight minutes left before he had to be back on patrol.

At least he was on the day shift this week. Night shifts were bad news. When Frankie was younger he could stay up all night long, no problem. But these days, unless there was something exciting going on to keep his energy up, he was afraid he'd just fall asleep in the passenger seat of the cruiser. What made it worse was that he was living all the way out in Quincy, just because the rent was cheaper there. But the commute was hardly worth it.

Frankie popped the entirety of the second brownie into his mouth and ambled over to the bulletin board. People sometimes put announcements and flyers up there, and sure enough, there was an ad for an apartment sublet. Sounded good, too: a one-bedroom on the second floor of a brownstone right in Jane's neighborhood. They could carpool! The price wasn't bad, either. He folded the last brownie into the paper napkin and slipped it into his shirt pocket for later. Then he tore off the phone number for the sublet.

"Way a minnid," he mumbled, his mouth still full of chocolatey goodness. Frankie looked at the phone number again. He did a double-take on the address. "Das Jane's apardmen!"

Frankie yanked the whole flyer off the board, accidentally letting the pin drop and roll across the floor. "Shht." He had to get down on hands and knees to find the thing, and when he finally did, he realized he wouldn't have time to go upstairs to confront Jane. But he did plan to confront her. She should know better than to hide something like this. If she was so strapped for cash that she had to sublet her apartment, she should have said something. Frankie didn't have a lot of savings, but he had some. He could have helped. They could figure something out.

Standing again, Frankie swallowed and licked his lips. He stuck the pin back into the bulletin board and folded the flyer (now smudged with chocolate) into uneven quarters. He went to tuck it into his shirt pocket and found that last brownie. Hmm. Better save that for later. He picked one more off the plate and ate it on his way back outside.

Thursday, 2:12 pm. Medical Examiner's forensic laboratory.

Susie Chang loved her job. She loved science. She loved the attention to detail it required, and she especially loved the routine. Science in general, and forensics in particular, meant doing the same thing repeatedly, trying to be as consistent as possible in one's protocol, to ensure that the result of an experiment is not skewed by human error. She enjoyed baking for the same reason: if you can be consistent in sticking to your recipe, you get perfect brownies every time. And if there was one thing Susie was good at, it was consistency. She always arrived at the BPD fifteen minutes early to give herself time to plan which tests she would run when. This planning was a delicate exercise: she had to consider not only the time needed for each test, but also the availability of equipment, and especially the urgency with which the results were needed.

This morning, as she often did, she started with the DNA test because that protocol meant 35 minutes of work in the sterile hood, then a three-hour PCR run, during which she could work on other things. Next came 20 minutes of bench work to set up the agarose gel that would need to run for two hours. During the waiting periods, she conducted various toxicology screens, ran her samples of trace evidence through the mass-spec, ate a quick lunch, and summarized her results.

Susie took great pride in her reports; they were her contribution to solving a murder, her way of making the world a better place. She always presented her results with the utmost professionalism: her reports used a standard, easily readable format and font. Dr. Isles would need to access the information as quickly and easily as possible in order to decide what steps would be taken next.

Susie had learned this approach from her boss. Dr. Isles was an excellent teacher: kind and approachable. Despite the urgency of their work, she would always explain what she was doing and why. And most of the time, she wouldn't bring her personal life into the office. At least, she didn't discuss her personal life with Susie. But Susie wasn't blind. She saw the way Dr. Isles smiled when Detective Rizzoli walked into the morgue. She didn't smile like that for any of the other detectives. And none of the other detectives visited nearly as often.

Susie was a professional, though, and she would never say anything to imply she knew what was going on between them. They were obviously trying to keep their relationship a secret, and Susie just happened to be in the right place at the right time. At several of the right times. But it wasn't her place to comment. She simply straightened her lab coat, picked up her report from the lab printer and tucked it into a manila folder, and mentally prepared herself to interrupt whatever was going on in the M.E.'s office.

As expected, Detective Rizzoli was there, sitting with her arms splayed along the back of the sofa. Her back was to the door and she couldn't see Susie approach. The detective spoke to what looked like an empty room, "Anything?"

Dr. Isles suddenly appeared on the sofa, lifting her head from... Detective Rizzoli's lap? "No. It's too early, anyway. Maybe if I used my stethoscope..."

Susie cleared her throat and announced her presence, "Dr. Isles, the test results are in."

Friday, 4:28 pm. Interrogation.

Detective Korsak watched Frost lean back in his chair and cross his arms, looking down his nose at their suspect. He had just finished his 'good cop' schtick, and it was now Jane's turn to play 'bad cop.' It was an act she had perfected over the last few years and he was proud of her for it. Jane had always been tough, but since Hoyt she had become more confident, more sure of herself. She had gotten better at grilling a suspect, making him believe he had no hope of escape, and getting the confession.

Jane leaned forward toward the suspect, but looked back over her shoulder at Frost. She was ready. Korsak could see it in her eyes. And he knew what would come next. He'd seen it a hundred times. He grinned, knowing the perp couldn't see him through the glass. This guy was going down.

Jane stood up nice and calm, and walked over to the one-way mirror. She paused there, looking like she could see through it to where Korsak and Cavanaugh were watching. Her eyes smirked at them. One hand went up to the wall above her head and she leaned against it. The other hand went to her protruding hip, brushing her jacket out of the way to expose her weapon. She sighed and shook her head in disgust. The suspect started to breathe harder. His eyes were on that piece. It was working.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low, quiet. "I'm gettin' real tired of your shit, Simmons." She turned around slowly and, both hands on her hips now, she sauntered to his side of the table and stopped directly in front of him, forcing him to look up at her. "I got a dead guy downstairs and I know you put him there. It's just a matter of time before my M.E. can prove it."

The guy was visibly shaking now. He swallowed and broke eye contact, looking instead at her gun. That wasn't gonna help him out, for sure.

"But ya know what, Simmons?" Her voice grew louder and dripped with malice. "I don't give a flying fuck about that dead guy. Justice?" Her hand flew through the air like she was swatting a fly, "Pffft."

The suspect's eyebrows crinkled and he looked down in confusion. She paused a second more, glancing up at the glass. Here it comes.

Jane's fist pounded the table, rattling the soda can and making the guy practically jump out of his seat. She had his attention now. "It's you I'm after," she growled, bending over to look him right in the eye and baring her teeth like a pitbull.

After several seconds, the guy blinked and shrunk down in his chair.

"Why don't you take a break, Rizzoli, while I chat with Simmons," Frost spoke his line like a pro.

She snarled at him once more, then stood up straight. That was when Korsak noticed her pause. It was almost nothing; she covered it well. But there was a tiny wobble, like she had lost her balance, before she left the room, slamming the door for emphasis.

Frost would close for sure, and Korsak left Cavanaugh to watch. He found Jane in the hallway, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.

"Nice job in there, Rizzoli. Lemme buy you a drink."

"Uh, no thanks, I-"

"At the machine. Whadda ya want, a Coke? Orange juice?"

"Yeah, juice is good."

He handed her the bottle and watched her take a sip. When she seemed to have regained her composure, he patted her on the back. "Take it easy this weekend, Jane. You deserve it." Then he walked away, muttering under his breath, "I hope it's not the flu."

Saturday, 7:35 pm. The Dirty Robber.

It had been a good week for Giovanni. He'd had time to put new custom rims on Giulietta, he'd had a bangin' date with the hot chick, Sophia, from the pizza shop on Boylston, and the Red Sox had beaten the Yankees twice. He'd come to The Robber to watch the third game of the series, but just as Pedroia was going up to bat, Giovanni noticed his two favorite lady-lovin'-ladies walk in and slide into a booth.

Giovanni was happy for them, for two hot-looking ladies to be so happy together, but he still sometimes thought about what they must be like when they were alone. There would always be a little part of him that hoped to see that someday. It was probably double hot. He took a sip of his beer while he thought about that image for a moment.

Pedroia grounded to second. Next time Giovanni looked over at the ladies, Maura had moved next to Jane, and she had her hand on Jane's lower back, under her jacket. Jane was squirming around like a dog getting scratched behind his ears. Giovanni wondered if Sophia would ever do that for him.

Next up, Ortiz hit a fly ball into left field, caught by Wells, making the third out and ending the first inning. It seemed like a good time to say hello. Giovanni brought his beer and sat, uninvited, across from the ladies, who both seemed surprised to see him. "Jane, lookin' hawt," he lifted his beer bottle in greeting, "ah yah boobs biggah?" Giovanni knew women liked it when he noticed positive changes in their appearance.

"G." Jane motioned toward Maura, "C'mon."

"Oh, sorry, Maura. You look hawt too."

"Thank you, Giovanni. And yes, they are."

Jane looked at Maura funny, and Maura shrugged, "What? I've noticed."

"That must be nice for you, eh, Maura?" He smiled and raised his eyebrows, looking for agreement. Maura smiled and nodded. Jane kind of shrunk back in her seat, put her hand to her forehead, and rounded her shoulders.

When Maura saw this, she wrapped her arms around Jane, kissed her on the cheek, and said, 'There's no reason to be shy, sweetheart, I love your breasts." Giovanni thought that was sweet. Jane turned bright red. Both ladies kind of giggled until the waitress interrupted them to take their drink orders. Maura ordered a white wine. Giovanni watched what happened next like it was a tennis match.

Jane ordered a Coke.

Maura made a noise and scrunched up her face. "Caffeine."

Jane made a disappointed 'tsk' sound.

Maura looked up at her. "Have milk instead. You need protein."

Jane made a face and suggested, "Milkshake?"

Maura seemed to approve of that, so Jane ordered a chocolate milkshake.

When the waitress had gone, Giovanni leaned back in the booth and smiled at his luck to be sitting here with two lovely ladies in front of him. The more he looked, he thought something was changed. "Seriously, Jane, I dunno what you done diffrent, but it's workin'. Eh, Maura?"

"Yes, one might say she's 'glowing.'" There was a scuffle under the table and they both giggled again. There was obviously something funny going on between them, but he wasn't sure what. He looked between them once more, soaking in their happiness, then excused himself, leaving them to be alone with each other.

Sunday, 6:19 pm. Maura's driveway.

A stack of diapers, butt wipes, butt cream, two pacifiers, three changes of clothes, baby formula and two frozen containers of boob milk, teething rings, Ellie the elephant, and a blanket. Tommy was pretty sure he had everything, and he was only twenty minutes late for Sunday dinner. Sometimes, these days, it seemed like Tommy's whole life revolved around this surprise baby. Everything took longer when he had TJ, and he was always weighed down with piles of baby stuff. Plus the baby! And there was always some new thing he needed. He had finally started to get the hang of the clasps on the car seat when TJ outgrew it and needed a toddler seat. So here he was, struggling with the new toddler seat buckles, while TJ waved his chubby little baby arms around in Tommy's face, making those cute gurgly baby noises and talking words in some baby language that Tommy didn't understand.

He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Sometimes it scared him how much he loved TJ. How he'd rather play paddy-cake than go out for a beer or watch the game. But you really couldn't blame him; the kid was fun. And the kid was always so happy to see him. He didn't know how much of a screw-up Tommy had always been. He wasn't embarrassed to be Tommy's kid. It was like getting a second chance at being the good guy. Tommy was determined not to mess up this time.

Finally the seat buckles gave way and Tommy lifted TJ onto his hip, then hefted the ginormous baby supply bag onto the opposite shoulder. He closed the car door with his butt and headed up the driveway, where his ma had just opened the door, yelling something about him being late and depriving her of quality time with her grandson.

Better start off on the right foot, "Sorry, Ma." She seemed to forgive him immediately, and took the baby from him, cooing and making faces.

Inside, Tommy felt right at home, his ma's cooking flavoring the air, Frankie handing him a cold one, and Maura saying a quiet greeting and relieving him of the baby bag. Detectives Frost and Korsak were there too, saying how good the food smelled. Tommy relaxed onto the couch and just watched as everyone seemed to start talking at once.

Jane came into the kitchen in jeans, a tank top, and socks, like she lived there and had just woken up from a nap. Tommy didn't usually notice his sister's boobs, but they were kinda out there today. When Maura saw Jane, she smiled big and went over to whisper something. They sure did stand close together.

Jane took TJ from Ma and brought him over to the sofa, but she was walking funny, holding the baby with her left arm and supporting her back with her right hand, like it ached. Maybe it was just the way she was standing, but it looked like she was getting a pot belly. She sat TJ down facing her on her lap while she blew out her cheeks and crossed her eyes. TJ loved stuff like that. And he was in a good mood today because he had taken a long nap. (Tommy was proud of himself for knowing how important naps are to babies.)

Jane leaned in closer and gave TJ a raspberry on his round belly. He giggled and squirmed and reached his fingers toward her, asking for another. Tommy watched as they repeated this a couple times. Each time TJ got more and more excited, until he was so wiggly he was almost kicking her and she kind of freaked out. She picked him up and held him far enough away while he kicked that all he got was air.

"Whoa there, buddy! Settle down." He was still happy, but a little calmer when she sat him back down, this time sitting sideways across her lap. She leaned in and spoke quietly to the baby, probably thinking Tommy couldn't hear or wasn't paying attention. "Gotta be gentle with my tummy, ok, T'j?" She pressed his tiny hand to her belly button. "I got something special in there."

Tommy's eyebrows wrinkled for a moment before it hit him. But when it did, he was so floored, he couldn't help but ask, "Janie, are you pregnant?"

The room was suddenly quiet, except for TJ's babble. Jane looked around at her family like she was trying to figure out if she could deny it, then looked at Maura, who everyone knew couldn't lie. All she did was smile sheepishly. Everyone crowded around and TJ thought he was the center of attention, and they were asking her all sorts of questions, and Maura was just standing in the background holding a hand towel and grinning. Everyone was talking at once, but Tommy got the gist of it: the baby had been Casey's, but now it was Maura's, and they weren't lesbians but they were going to both be moms. It didn't seem that complicated.

A/N: I want to interject here to thank you all for the lovely reviews. I'm thrilled that you've enjoyed this so far and I plan to keep going as long as I have ideas. Again, I don't have a concept for a whole story arc besides, y'know, pregnancy. If you have ideas or things you'd like to see, hit me up and I'll see what I can do. (And don't say 'Rizzles' because it'll probably happen, but I'm not going to force it. Give it time.)

This chapter was tough because of the length/format and also because I tried to present so many different perspectives. I probably won't do that often. Maura and Jane are my sweethearts, and they'll stay the focus of this fic. I hope you got enough of them through the eyes of others to make at least a little squee.