A one-shot based on the novel The Mephisto Club. In the novel, Rizzoli and Isles sort of fall out towards the end of the novel because of Maura's relationship with Father Brophy, and they never really make up. Maybe they do in the next novel, but I doubt it. So here is my own little story about it.

Title comes from a quote by Groucho Marx, by the way: "Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it."

Probably not very much in character considering it's incredibly hard to copy Tess Gerritsen's characters, but I tried... Now enjoy!

The ride back to Boston was silent. Both women were tired from the day's revelations, and Maura felt the aftereffects of the sedative Edwina had slipped into their drinks. Thank God Jane doesn't like wine, she thought with a shudder. She didn't want to think what would have happened if Jane hadn't woken up and discovered Lily and Edwina, fighting.

She stared out the dark windows. She didn't want to dwell on the case; she didn't want to remember Lily's haunted eyes, Sansone's stories of Nephilim and Watchers. She simply wanted to forget about The Mephisto Club and all it stood for. Let them do their work, she thought, And I'll do mine. Both of them fighting evil in their own way.

But weren't they all? She glanced at Jane. They hadn't spoken much, but the lingering tension between them was still present. She still disapproves. Would she ever accept that Maura had fallen for someone unattainable, for a man who was, in a way, married and would always be? She had a hard time picturing Jane in a situation such as hers, almost a slave to her emotions. Jane was always in control – the only time when Maura had seen Jane crack was in the early days of her pregnancy, when Maura had been so worried about Jane's dizzy spells and pale face, and she was sure Jane would just as easily blame her hormones for that temporary lack of control.

"What's the matter, Doc?" Jane's voice cut through the silence and she sounded as tired as Maura felt.

She shook her head, unable to voice her thoughts in a constructive way. Jane shrugged and moved her attention back to the road, but from the corner of her eye Maura could see the woman glance her way every once in a while.

"I'm sorry for blowing up on you about Father Brophy like that," Jane said as they entered Massachusetts. Maura looked at her in surprise, but Jane's eyes were still steadily on the road.

"Maybe I overreacted," Maura said as her own apology. "The case didn't make it any easier to deal with." To accept her sin.

"I just want to say… I mean, maybe I don't understand but you're a grown woman and you're free to do whatever you wanna do." Jane gave a sudden, barking laugh as she said that final sentence. "Look at me, giving you permission like some kind of mom."

"Well, you are a mom," Maura said reasonably. She was silent for a moment. "Speaking of which, how are your parents doing?"

"Don't remind me," Jane groaned. "My mom's behaving like a fifty-year old teenager and my dad like he's her keeper." She removed one hand from the steering wheel and massages her temple. "They're hopeless."

"They just need a change," Maura said. "Every marriage has its up and downs."

"I know," Jane sighed. "I just never expected my parents' marriage to be one of those."

Was any couple truly destined to be happy? Maura thought. On the few occasions she'd met Jane's parents, she'd been impressed by their steadfast marriage. Now even that was breaking apart. Jane was happy with Agent Dean, but Maura still remembered those early days in their relationship, how reluctant Jane was to share the news of her pregnancy with the FBI agent.

And what about herself? A failed marriage, and now she had something impossible with a priest. Her own life wasn't exactly an ad for lasting happiness, either. She wondered for a moment where she would be in thirty years. Still alone, a lonely woman of seventy with a lifetime of failure and regrets?

Jane's phone broke the silence and she answered it. From the tone of her voice, Maura gathered it was Agent Dean on the other side of the line, and she listened in silence to the conversation.

Gabriel and Jane were happy. Maybe they wouldn't be in thirty years; maybe they wouldn't even survive the first ten. But they were happy now, and that, Maura realizes, was the important thing.

She would never be able to have that kind of marital bliss with Daniel. He wouldn't leave the Church and she didn't expect him to, but as she listened to Jane's laughter and the faint sounds of a babbling infant on the background, she wished she hadn't fallen for him. That she'd still have a shot at a happily ever after.

Wasn't that what every woman hoped for?