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Jane picks Maura up early so they can make the 7:45am appointment Maura arranged with one of the best OBGYNs in the city, in the country, on extremely short notice.
Jane picks up Maura, who is holding two to-go lattes, Jane’s decaf but otherwise exactly the way she likes it, and with her mother nowhere in sight, exactly the way they planned.
They’re silent during the quick ride, with the exception of their satisfied sips, even though Jane knows Maura is holding back a million facts about the nascent fall foliage they pass in the seven minutes it takes for Jane to pull into the parking lot.
They’re silent in the waiting room too; Jane’s feet uncharacteristically finding frantic comfort in each other, and neither of them acknowledging it, until thankfully the receptionist leads them into a room and shoves a clipboard and gown Jane’s way.
Jane hands the clipboard to Maura before the receptionist finishes her instructions and promptly exits.
Maura dutifully turns around as Jane gets undressed but starts on her clinical run down of the form before Jane can even undo her belt.
The first questions are easy. Name. Age. Sex. Address. Occupation.
The checklist of ailments starts just as Jane is shimmying out of her tight brown corduroys and she's regretting this entire endeavor by the time she’s sitting - gown on - on the uncomfortable exam table.
Her feet are flitting, the same way they were in the waiting room. And her left thumb is nervously mapping her right hand. These are all ticks she immediately clocks in a perp. These are all ticks she’d usually refrain from, not just in front of the criminals she constantly pursues, but also the male colleagues that have never given a girl from Southie the benefit of the doubt.
She notices but doesn’t police any of these behaviors in herself. She still always notices her body language when she's alone - and she’s long considered with Maura to be ‘alone’ - but there’s no reason to hold herself back when she’s physically safe.
She notices that Maura unthinkingly sat on the doctor’s wheeled-stool and not the partner/friend/family member chair, and that image is enough to coast them through the As and Bs until Maura gets to chlamydia and Jane balks, and then depression and she snarks.
Maura puts the chart aside and Jane knows that means she’s in for the type of sincere talk she usually despises. But in the vulnerable state she’s in, she doesn’t hesitate. In fact, the contentious topic stills her hands and her feet and she doesn’t consider any of that before Maura is asking,
“Are you having second thoughts about not marrying Casey?”
And of this, she’s sure.
“No, I mean, I love Casey, and I know that he loves me, but we decided that marriage isn’t right for us now”
“”Are you worried he won’t understand?”
Maura, as usual, is able to cut to the heart of the matter in a dozen words or less, but Jane, unlike usual, has no desire to deflect her efficient verbal attack.
It doesn’t hurt that Maura’s hands, now free, have likely inadvertently found their way to Jane’s thigh, her right thumb rubbing a well-worn path back and forth, to the tune of Jane’s resting heart rate.
It calms her, despite her myriad anxieties, as her body instinctively tries to keep tune.
“Yeah, I don’t want to hurt him.”
Jane is terrified of a million things in this moment. Casey and his mom and her mom and her family and Maura and this baby that may or may not be viable, but she thinks this statement is a pretty good rationale to provide in this moment, even though she knows Maura, like always, will instinctually absorb all of the subtext that bleeds through.
“You just need to talk to him, and speak from the heart”
“Yeah. Well, until I get it figured out, the only person that I trust knowing about this pregnancy is you. You and this complete stranger who will now be my OBGYN.”
Maura’s hands don’t leave Jane, but the rest of her does.
“Uh, I –
“Otherwise I just – I just want to keep it a secret.”
There's a gentle knock on the door and before either of them can physically register it, the doctor peaks her head in.
Jane is caught up in the absence of Maura’s hands before she can process the following statement and then the complete removal of Maura herself.
“Your mom knows you're pregnant. I’ll wait in the car!”
Jane’s doctor looks at her politely, content but a little unsure, as Jane bellows “Maura!”
It’s something Jane has shouted more times than she can count, and she knows it probably stops Maura in her tracks. And because she’s feeling vulnerable enough to ask for exactly what she wants, she follows up with “get in here!”
Maura comes back sheepish and unsure, and Jane knows she needs to be steadier than she feels when she commands, “we’ll talk about the rest of it later, but you’ll stay for all the medical stuff like you said, right?”
She morphs from sure to vulnerable, until her voice breaks on the last syllable against her will, and Maura knows it.
Maura’s rushing to Jane’s side before either of them can even acknowledge it, and Maura’s non-dominant hand is caught in the death grip of Jane’s dominant hand as her right is threading through Jane’s curls before the doctor can even introduce herself.
The doctor does introduce herself, and while she’s perfectly nice, she is unfamiliar to Jane, which means her shackles are up.
There is a long questionnaire - worse than the one on the clipboard now in her doctor's hand, and Maura answers most of the more intense questions, including the ins and outs of Jane’s shooting and surgery.
They get to the meat of their visit. The rapid results of Jane’s blood and urine tests. An explanation of the results they’ll all have to wait 48 hours for.
There is a breast exam and a pelvic exam and Maura dutifully looks away, rarely taking her eyes off Jane’s face, even when Jane’s own eyes stray in embarrassment and discomfort.
And then there is a trans-vaginal wand that Jane is ignoring like she has the rest of her discomfort, although Maura can register through Jane’s grip strength when it’s inserted and all of her attention moves from Jane to the screen.
The wand finds its target, with Dr. Berkman making a satisfied sigh as her left hand begins to click away on her keyboard.
Maura’s eyes are glued to the screen. Cataloging every single measurement along with the doctor.
Jane's attention is still uncharacteristically frantic, moving rhythmically from her doctor to the screen to Maura and back.
Until Dr. Berkman hits the key Maura has been waiting for, and a steady rapid staccato fills the room.
“Is that?”Jane asks in awe.
“Yes, that’s your baby’s heartbeat”, Dr. Berkman answers calmly and assuredly, as she continues to diligently document Jane’s baby’s vitals.
“Maura.”
Jane’s voice breaks between syllables. Maura instinctively moves her right hand to the crown of Jane’s head. She has the stray thought that she’s never touched this part of Jane. She’s held Jane and she’s steadied Jane, and she’s frantically held Jane’s guts tight to her abdomen on a scorching Boston pavement, but she’s never had the privilege of resting her palm, without resistance, over the top of Jane’s head.
The gesture feels distinctly maternal. She can conjure up at least 3 times she’s seen Angela touch Jane like this. She imagines a thousand instances in which Jane will cradle her own child like this.
She isn’t audacious enough to ever consider she’ll get the privilege of doing the same, even though an ache she’s never before felt has been ignited inside her chest at the moment the steady drumbeat on the monitor announced its presence.
She doesn’t let herself imagine her hand on this soon-to-be child’s head as she scolds them for wading too far out into the Boston harbor, even surrounded by the safety of their mother and uncle, as her other hand presents them with a towel. She doesn’t let herself imagine her hand guiding this soon-to-be child, gently, by their crown, into the back seat of her town car after a long day at preschool.
She certainly doesn’t imagine her right hand cradling the top of Jane’s head, just like this, as her left hand leaves Jane’s grasp in search of this child’s chest. So that she can finally feel the heartbeat she is now hearing for herself.
Jane’s quiet “ oh ” brings her back to reality, just before she can fully lose herself to this all-to-pleasant daydream.
She instinctively pulls both of her hands away, and Jane’s cop-instincts catch her. They catch Matua’s hands and hold her steady.
She’s looking panicked at Maura.
‘
And Maura has spent her entire life becoming well-versed in telling whatever truth is available, despite the chaos and half-truths working to encroach their way into any situation. She’s grateful for this now, as she grips Jane’s hands tight and sincerely says “they’re beautiful, Jane.”
Jane’s hands relax just enough so that they no longer hurt as her gaze is drawn back to the screen and she exhales “yeah”.
It’s a statement. It’s objectively a statement. And in 7 billion plus people, Maura would read it as such.
Except that this is Jane. And when calculated by hours, nobody, no body, has ever incurred as intense scrutiny by Maura Isles than Jane Rizzoli. And Maura knows what she’s asking.
“Yes, Jane. Right, doctor?”
Maura pulled a few strings to get Jane his appointment, and while she knows Doctor Berkman, they’ve never been introduced. She has no idea if Dr. Berkman knows who she is.
It doesn’t matter when the doctor confirms “Yes, Jane. They’re perfectly healthy. All of the measurements look great and the heartbeat is strong and steady.”
She turns the monitor off before she continues, “to continue a healthy pregnancy, I recommend…”
And Jane, without the draw of her baby, is once again looking at Maura, and her grip is lessened once she is assured everything is fine, but it’s almost immediately uncomfortably tight again. Not because she’s listening to the doctor, because the doctor is only reiterating everything Maura’s already told her, and because even if she wasn’t, Jane defaults to Maura’s expertise anyway.
Jane is looking at her, eyes bright and shining - Maura aches to brush away her tears, but Jane’s death grip won’t let her - imploring. Asking far more questions than Maura can answer.
But Maura loves Jane. And Maura loves this baby. And Maura will do whatever it takes to ensure they’re both happy and healthy.
There are a million things she wants to read in Jane's eyes. There has been since they met. But she, as usual, is willing to answer only the questions Jane is nonverbally asking.
She holds tight and nods.
She indulges herself as she pulls her right hand free and runs it through Jane’s hair as she ensures the doctor they’re following all necessary best-practice protocols, and then ensures Jane she’ll keep them both as healthy as she can.
The doctor leaves, promising pictures for the both of them at the front desk, and Jane gets dressed, stunned.
Maura knows better than to pry when Jane is silently processing, so she just revels in the opportunity to watch Jane as she processes, and glows.
She is fastening the gun and badge Maura gently hands her from the unceremonious black chair positioned just behind Maura they both decided - several life-shattering revelations ago - was safest, as she deflates and plops back onto her clinical seat.
“I’m having a baby, Maura”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I mean, I’m having a baby Maura. Like a baby. I’m having a baby , Maura!”
She’s frantic. And instinctually Maura braces Jane’s legs by settling a gentle palm against the outer edge of her thighs as she makes eye contact and says “yes, you are.”
Maura came to this conclusion in Jane’s apartment several nights ago when she saw the several positive tests and heard Jane’s adamant refusal to get an abortion.
She knew there was a likelihood of a non-viable pregnancy, had patiently explained the alternatives to Jane.
She’d breathed a sigh of relief seeing the fetus and hearing the heartbeat. She’s imaginged a thousand lifetimes for the three of them in the milliseconds after those first few thrums. She’ll work to repress the knowledge that that is a normal response for parents, and partners, but not best friends later, so that she can be everything Jane deserves.
But she’s realizing that Jane was not coming into this appointment with the same odds-based approach she was. She is realizing Jane was, ever a cop, entering this appointment with a binary lens - baby; no baby - leaning towards the latter.
She realizes Jane walked into this appointment with hope, but even she didn’t know what that meant. What side of this tortured repressed Catholic binary her situation would fall onto.
Jane is looking at her with a confusing mixture of yearning and uncertainty Maura has never seen before, even when Maura held Jane’s life in her hands.
“You’re having a baby, Jane. And their growth is right on track with the parameters of…”
Jane gives her a “shut up, Maura” look, but it’s fond. Fonder than usual.
“I got all the millimeters and centimeters already, Maur.”
She rolls her eyes and Maura lets out a watery laugh.
“It’s good though? All the…” her voice breaks again and Maura squeezes tight to Jane’s dominant hand that seeks out her own. Squeezes Jane's right knee in her left.
“It’s perfect Jane. They’re perfect. You did good. Everything’s really good.”
“So it’s…I…we’re having a baby?”
Maura runs through all the scenarios she let her brain imagine during the ultrasound. She still holds steady to the cognitive barrier she’s actively been fortifying against the myriad scenarios her frontal cortex couldn’t help but imagine the night she held Jane as Jane cried herself to sleep against Maura’s chest after 6 positive tests.
And the week of days since.
She can’t help but protect herself, in the way she’s always protected herself, against the cascade of ‘what ifs’ that have always defined her life.
But still, neither her brain or her body can deny Jane as she automatically replies, hands squeezing Jane’s own, upon her thighs, in support,
“Yes, Jane. We’re having a baby.”