Rizzoli & Isles – I certainly don't own them. I give a lot of credit to the people that do and thank them for letting me mess about with them for a bit. I will lay claim to the general story and any random characters my brain comes up with.

Angst warning ahoy – this is my take on what could happen surrounding the baby at the end of 3x10. My goal is to stay as close to real life as I can, drawing off what personal experience I have in my own life. That said this could touch on some sensitive issues for people, please read with care. I do believe in happy endings.


By the time she hit Beacon Street her legs were burning and she slowed her stride to a walk and gave up, stopping, as the city traffic flowed past her. Gasping for breath Jane bent over, leaning against her knees. For a second the only thing she could feel was her pulse pounding in her ears.

"Fuck!" Jane struggled upright to look up and down the sidewalk in desperation but there wasn't as sign of blond curly hair. No flash of red taillights from a rusty tired car. Just nothing. It wasn't that she actually thought she'd catch up but the burst of activity made her feel that she tried and the burn was a welcome release. She looped an arm around the black iron fence surrounding the entrance to a brownstone and leaned against the cool metal thinking. What in the hell had Lydia been thinking? Shit like this didn't happen in real life. Mothers did not leave their day old infants on the front steps of somebody's home. Even if you thought the baby's relatives were on the other side of that door.

For a moment she didn't care who in the hell was watching and she slammed her fist down on the metal fence, yelping when the impact was more than she was expecting. Wincing she flexed her hand and shook out the throbbing left behind. Goddamn Lydia. Like the fucking day hadn't been traumatic enough.

"Hey lady, are you okay?"

Startled by the touch on her elbow, Jane whipped around. The first thing she noticed was the bizarre, squat, looking dog. The older man holding the dog's leash pulled his hand away and was looking at her with a mixture of concern and trepidation. Jane took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. "Yeah, I'm good."

He didn't look as if he believed her and Jane didn't blame him. "Are you sure? I could call someone if you want?"

Jane bit back the sudden urge to laugh. She wanted to tell the guy that he could phone up God himself and ask for a redo. "No really, I'm all set. Tough day is all." She looked at the dog again, it was snorting with each breath that it took. The thing looked like a rejected extra from a Star Wars movie. It was the perfectly odd touch to a perfectly odd day. A laugh escaped as she rubbed her sore hand. "I have to ask, what kind of dog is that?"

The guy was looking at her completely perplexed and Jane couldn't blame him. "He's a French Bulldog."

Jane simply nodded. The everyday response somehow calming. "He's interesting." She took a deep breath. "Thanks for asking, but really, I'm okay. I should get going now, but thank you again for stopping." She didn't wait for him to respond before she turned and walked back towards Maura's. Half a block in, where the streets started to narrow, Jane slowed down again. Sighing she pulled her phone off her belt, quickly scrolling and selecting a name. Thankfully the call was answered immediately. She cleared her throat. "Frankie, Ma call you yet?"

His voice was a combination of tired and annoyed as he negatively replied. Jane almost felt bad for adding more onto his day. Almost. If she was going to have to deal with this, so was he. "Well you're going to want to get your ass to Maura's pronto. Grab the new daddy dearest in the family while you're at it too." Jane waited for Frankie to finish rattling off questions. "You want answers? I'll see you at Maura's. Preferably with Tommy." She ended the call without saying goodbye and resumed walking, slowly, trying to think through all the facts.

Fact one, there was a baby in Maura's house that was related to her. It might be her half brother. It might be her nephew. Fact two, her mother was also in that house. The baby was either her first grandson or the illegitimate child of her ex-husband. Fact three, her best friend owned the house with the baby and her mother in it. That best friend had almost been killed tonight by a serial killer she'd brought back to life.

This kind of bullshit made for a good Lifetime Movie of the Week.

Jane rubbed her forehead. Who was she kidding? Even Lifetime wouldn't touch this level of insanity.

When she woke up this morning she'd been doing the homicide detective thing. Granted the case was a bit more interesting than the run of the mill gang killing in Dorchester. Serial killings were like that. This guy was particularly insane too. Nothing said unbalanced quite like entombing armless corpses in Venus de Milo statues. The press got involved because it made for fantastic sound bites. It was a ratings feast for the rabid 11 o'clock newscast race and front page headlines. This meant Brass got involved because the press was swallowing this whole. Jane got involved because it was her job.

Jane paused at the bottom of Maura's street, looking up the hill towards the other woman's home. Maura had been involved as well. Not in just in the Y-incision, weighing body organs and collecting forensic evidence, Chief Medical Examiner kind of way either. Oh no, this time Maura picked yet another winner of a man to add to her history of particularly bad relationship choices. For the umpteenth time Jane wished Maura had never been able to revive the asshole. Sometimes dead was a good thing. A very, very, good thing. But he'd survived and set his sights on Maura. Dennis Rockmond had been all bright white teeth and masculine appeal. He'd charmed Maura's pants off. Literally.

With a sudden flash of panic, Jane pulled her phone out again. "Frost, listen, I just had a thought. Can you figure out who has lead over at the Rockmond scene?" She paused as he rattled off a couple of names. They were good cops, good detectives. "Can you give Brown a heads-up that Maura posed nude for this prick and to try to keep a lid of any sketches or sculptures that might be lying around? I don't think she could take those leaking at the precinct." Frost's expletive filled response reassured her. Jane knew he'd take care of it. "Make sure the rumor-mill knows I'll make anybody's life a living hell if they cause Maura to feel uncomfortable for even a millisecond or if even one photo ends up on Facebook." She tried to take a deep breath and relax. Failing, she tried again. The last thing she wanted to do was walk in Maura's front door and add more tension to the night.

In her world, Maura had earned a bit of peace. Almost getting killed by the serial killer you were dating earned you that. With a long sigh, Jane turned up the street. This time Maura's stellar dating instincts had almost landed her on her own steel autopsy tables. Jane rubbed the scars along her palms as her stomach twisted hard trying to swallow the panic that was threatening again. Now was not the time to focus on that. But it was so hard. So god awful, gut twisting hard. They had stood right on the edge of losing Maura and the edge was razor sharp and left her bleeding mental what ifs. What if Maura had died tonight?

No more Maura rattling off random facts. No more Maura insulting her clothes. No more Maura making her go to yoga. No more Maura sweeping in at the end of a long day to make her smile. No more Maura to run to when she was too afraid to be alone. There just would be no more Maura, ever.

Tears bit at her throat and Jane swallowed hard. Losing Maura was incomprehensible.

Stopping at the stairs leading up to Maura's front door Jane took a moment to try pull herself together. She didn't have the luxury to think about any of this right now. No, now she needed to walk through that door and deal with approximately seven pounds of day old humanity, a traumatized best friend and her mother.