"In the beginning," Maura whispered, "there were the stars. The brightest among them was Spica, shimmering blue-white from 260 light-years away and anchoring the constellation Virgo. There were the planets: Venus, inhospitably hot and named for the goddess of love and beauty; and Saturn, its icy rings slightly off-axis from the solar system's plane. There was the moon, waxing gibbous, almost full. There was the Boston skyline. There was Jane and there was Maura. There was love."

Maura lay on her stomach sideways across the bed, her chin only inches from Jane's belly, propped up by her elbows. She watched Jane's belly rise and fall with her breaths, even and slow in sleep during the early morning hours. Maura had begun to write a new creation myth, one that told how Echo came to be, made from the union of her mommies under the stars.

It was scientifically inaccurate, Maura admitted to herself. At the very least, it was irresponsible to teach a child that she was created from a first kiss between two women, rather than the meeting of sperm and egg during sexual intercourse, regardless of how much Maura wanted to ignore that such an act ever happened. But, she told herself, that was why it was called a myth. It wasn't meant to be true. I was meant to inspire and to entertain. They'd teach Echo the truth of how babies are made when the time came. For now, Maura preferred the myth.

"Jane was a beautiful badass detective, and Maura was an awkward but brilliant medical examiner. They had been orbiting each other for years, and although they were both happy and whole (because a husband and family are not essential to a woman's life, don't let anyone tell you otherwise) ...although they were happy, there was room for more happiness.

"So on that night, surrounded by the stars and the planets and the moon and the skyline, Jane and Maura kissed. It was the most beautiful kiss, little one. It was tender and sweet and, well, I could tell Jane was nervous, but she touched my cheek and ran her thumb over my lips, so gently..." Maura's eyes closed, remembering it, "I kissed her thumb, and then," Maura shivered and opened her eyes, "she pulled me toward her and," she sighed and smiled, "we made you."

"If that's how babies are made, not even your Isles foundation will be able to support all the kids we're going to have." Jane's morning voice startled Maura, who blushed, speechless. "It'll be like a hundred and one dalmatians, but with babies instead of puppies." At Maura's blank look, Jane added, "Oh, wow. We're renting that tonight." Jane touched her thumb to Maura's forehead, along her hairline. "C'mere. Let me love you."

Maura began counting kisses. She wanted to remember each one. After the one that made Echo, there was another little one before they could part and bask in the warmth of each other. Then when they got home there were two more in bed: one before Maura paid tribute to Jane's neck and clavicle, one after. The next morning held three kisses, interspersed between conversation and cuddling. It occurred to Maura that their kisses were following the Fibonacci series, and she wondered how long they could keep that up. She therefore secured five more during the course of the day, and eight more that night.

The workday presented a particular challenge to Maura's Fibonacci numbers, but if she counted the entire day and night, thirteen, then twenty-one, and even thirty-four weren't so difficult. She'd sneak them in the elevator or the women's washroom when she could snag Jane for a few minutes. She'd make good use of their time at home, especially morning and night, when Jane was content and relaxed.

Wednesday evening, Maura was working her way up to fifty-five when the kisses began to run together. She was losing track and it really didn't matter. What mattered was how good Jane tasted, and how soft her lips were, especially that part of her upper lip that usually rested against her teeth. Maura ran her tongue along it and considered that forty-one.

They were sitting, facing each other on the couch, Maura's legs were neatly crossed toward Jane, one of Jane's knees was bent up between them. They were ostensibly watching something on TV, but it had gone to commercial and Maura couldn't remember what it was, even if she tried. Jane's hand was tugging at the waist of Maura's henley—she had changed into more casual clothes after work in anticipation of this activity—and Maura wished she would just pull it up over her head. Instead, Jane's fingers worked their way underneath and lightly scratched, while Jane sucked on Maura's lower lip and let it go with a tiny 'pop'. (Forty-two.)

As if encouraged by this sound, Jane pulled Maura closer and leaned back toward the arm of the sofa. Maura had no choice (she rationalized) but to fall face first into Jane's chest, slightly off-center so as to avoid putting undue pressure on Echo. She cleverly used this opportunity to kiss from Jane's suprasternal notch down as far as her tank top would allow, stopping at that alluring mole between her breasts. Jane's chest heaved accordingly.

Maura went up for more kisses while Jane's hands crept up her back, sliding under her bra strap but not going so far as to try to unclasp it. Maura mentally urged Jane to take that step and momentarily lost track of her kisses. She pulled back for a moment, pausing to calculate, while Jane's thumbs slipped around to the side of Maura's ribs. She stared at Jane's lips for a moment, thinking, then decided on forty-six, and bent over again for more.

But Jane's hands stopped her. "What was that?"

"Hmm?" Maura didn't realize she'd spoken. "What was what?"

"You said, 'forty-six.' What's forty-six?"

Maura pulled her lips between her teeth and sat up, embarrassed to have been caught. Lying was out of the question, and Jane would see right through any attempt at deflection, so she attempted the most enjoyable tactic: distraction. Turning back to Jane, she batted her eyelashes and leaned in to kiss Jane's neck.

Jane let out a small moan. It was working. Maura groped around for Jane's hand and, finding it, put it back on her waist. "I love you," she whispered in Jane's ear, for good measure.

Jane's fingers dug into Maura's back and she let out another small moan. "I love you, too, forty-six."

Maura froze for a second, then resumed her kisses with increased fervor. She pressed Jane back to lean against the armrest again, and gave her a passionate kiss on the mouth. When it ended, she slowly opened her eyes, lifting her head just enough to look into Jane's eyes and measure her success at distraction.

Jane smiled languidly, then kissed Maura again, only briefly. Her voice was scratchy when she said again, "Forty-six."

Maura narrowed her eyes and sighed. "Forty-eight."

Jane pulled her in for another kiss, then Maura added, "Forty-nine."

Jane grinned, understanding. "Oh my God, you are such a nerd!"

Maura tucked her face into Jane's armpit, blushing, and Jane put her hand in Maura's hair.

Still laughing, Jane clarified, "You're saying we've kissed forty-nine times?"

Maura's voice was muffled, but Jane heard her whimper, "Today."

Jane threw her head back and gasped in delight. "Forty-nine times today." Maura nodded. "And how many times yesterday?"

"Thirty-four."

Jane kissed Maura's hair, gently urging her to look up. When she caught Maura's eyes, she asked, "Why are you counting?"

Maura sighed and rested her head on Jane's shoulder. "They're easier to remember that way."

"Really?" Jane wiggled a little bit, getting comfortable in their new positions. "Do you remember them all?" She felt Maura nod against her chest. "What was number thirteen yesterday?"

"Twelve through eighteen were in my office just before we went home." Maura's fingers traced the curve of Jane's belly.

"How many the day before?" Jane's fingers entwined Maura's hair.

"Twenty-one."

"Which was your favorite?"

"The first one." Maura's fingers stopped. "The last one." Her eyes closed. "All of them."

Jane smiled and squeezed. "Me too." After a moment, Jane shook her head. "I can't believe you're keeping track."

Maura lifted her head, the embarrassment having dissipated. "It's not that difficult, they're Fibonacci numbers, one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, fifty-five." Her head tilted and her eyes were bright while she explained. "Each number in the sequence is produced by combining the two preceding numbers."

"Oh my God. Ok, so what's today's number?"

"Fifty-five."

"And what if we go over fifty-five?"

Maura shrugged. "We exceed the golden ratio."

"Is that bad?"

"No."

"Good. Because I'm going to kiss you at least seven more times tonight."

A few days and approximately three hundred kisses later (Maura had lost count), Jane pulled into the precinct parking garage, cut the engine, and took a deep breath. When Maura squeezed her hand, still on the gearshift, she looked over and smiled hesitantly.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn't have to be today."

"Yeah, it's time. And there's no reason to make a big deal of it. It doesn't affect anyone else."

"Ok."

"Ok." Jane returned the squeeze and nodded, then leaned over and kissed Maura. "Let's go."

After they got out of the car, Jane took Maura's hand and they walked together into the precinct without letting go. Through the lobby and to the elevators, Jane pushed the up arrow and they waited. Inside the elevator, they stood close. Jane kissed Maura's forehead. Into the homicide bullpen, they stopped at Jane's desk and waited a moment.

Frost, sitting directly in front of Jane's desk, was the first to notice their clasped hands. He did a double-take as he looked up, but recovered quickly and said only, "Good morning, Jane, Doctor Isles. You both look chipper today." He flashed his million-dollar smile as he said it.

"Good Morning, Detective Frost. It's lovely to see you," Maura hummed.

Frankie was there, too, but took the hint from Frost and said only, "Morning, Janie, Maura." Then, as he walked away, "Frost, you owe me a drink."

Korsak finally found his voice next, as he looked between the two women, "Jane? Doctor Isles? Are you two—?"

"Korsak!" Frost cut him off. "Yeah, man, let it go."

"Hey," Korsak smiled at them, "that's great. All the best, really."

A few other detectives noticed and nodded, then Jane and Maura returned to the elevator bay. Jane tried (but failed) to hide a proud smile. "So I'll see you for lunch, then?"

"If not sooner," Maura beamed. They kissed.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing Sister Winifred. "I suggest you both get to work before I cite you for inappropriate public displays of affection." She maneuvered around them and walked away, leaving them to giggle.

Finally, Maura stepped onto the elevator and pushed the down button. Jane winked as the door closed, and turned back to the bullpen to a round of applause. At her desk, she turned around in a full circle to see everyone, her arms outstretched. "Aww, don't you guys have murders to solve?" She put her jacket on the back of her chair, sat down, and propped her feet up on her desk. She pretended to be put-out, but she was grinning the whole time.