Author's Note: Still brewing up the last chapter of 'Judge, Jury & Executioner', and before I dive back into the extended angst of 'Sins Of The Fathers', I wanted to do something a bit (ok...a lot) lighter. The humor in the show is one of the greatest draws for me, though you wouldn't know it from the fanfic I've written to date.

This one will be four, maybe five chapters, and takes place in season 2, somewhere between 'Rebel Without A Pause' and 'Remember Me'. Universe-wise, like 'Crossing Lines', this one can be considered head-canon for any stories I write that take place later in the series timeline.

"C'mon, Maur!" Detective Jane Rizzoli followed Chief Medical Examiner Maura Isles to her office, allowing the wheedling note in her voice that usually worked on her friend like a charm. "You gotta tell me something!"

Usually, but not today, evidently. Maura simply glanced back at her with an expression of mild exasperation, saying, "I already told you, Jane, I don't need anything."

"But it's your birthday!" the detective protested as the doctor picked up a file and began to peruse the contents...or pretended to. Jane Rizzoli knew a dodge when she saw it. "Bad enough that I had to have Frost hack the HR database to find out that it's next freaking week!"

"And it was ridiculous of you and Barry to take such a risk to discover something so trivial," Maura countered, ever the voice of reason, but Jane could see the mix of puzzlement and pleasure that the stern expression was meant to hide. She still wasn't used to people doing things for her just because...which was one of the reasons that Jane liked doing them. "If you got caught, you could have gotten into trouble!"

"Yeah, well, speaking of trouble," Jane said, dismissing the whole notion of Barry Frost getting caught by the lamebrains in HR. Besides, he hadn't exactly hacked...just distracted the clerk, who had the hots for him, while Jane sneaked a look at Maura's file on the computer, but it sounded cooler the other way. "You really ought to get that Indecent Exposure thing expunged from your record."

"What? I've never had a -" Maura's head came up, mortified disbelief etching her features until she caught sight of Jane's cheerful grin. Hazel eyes narrowed into the good doctor's best, 'Was that really necessary?' expression, and the grin only widened. Oh, yes it was.

"Gotcha."

"I ought to report you myself," she grumbled, setting the file aside. She wouldn't, and they both knew it. "It was my privacy you violated."

"By looking up your birthday? Really, Maura?" Jane cocked her head skeptically. "Everybody has them, so I assumed that you did, too, and since you wouldn't just tell me..."

"Because it's just another day," Maura replied with a shrug, "and that is the way I prefer to treat it."

Jane watched her as she spoke: the slight tightness of her mouth and eyes, the set of her shoulders, the way she wouldn't quite meet her friend's gaze, all told a different story, and one that Jane was pretty sure she could guess. "Because that's the way your parents always treated it?" she asked quietly, keeping any hint of censure from her voice.

The stricken look that she received was all the confirmation she needed. "They tried," she answered defensively, moving to her desk and sitting in her chair, taking refuge in the bulwark of her office, her title. "They had friends over for dinner every year -"

"Their friends." Because Maura hadn't had any.

"And after I went to boarding school, they always sent presents, cards -"

But never came to visit. Jane thought it, but didn't say the words aloud. Tact was not a skill that came naturally to her, but there were certain wounds that you just didn't rub salt into. Mentally, she added it to the list of things to take up with Constance the next time she decided to drop in. Shit, no real birthdays? Were these people even from this planet?

"Well, you're part of the Rizzoli family now, and we do birthdays," she informed her friend. "Big time. Cake from Gino's bakery, big tub of Neapolitan ice cream. Balloons. Pinata. The works, so if you're gonna have the party, you might as well tell me what you want." What the hell did you get a woman who wore Jimmy Choos, looked like a fashion model at crime scenes and whose house belonged in a magazine spread? Who damn near literally had everything?

"I don't need anything, Jane," Maura protested again, "and what I want -" She broke off, shaking her head and looking away. "Is impossible," she said softly.

Sensing an opening, Jane edged around the desk and into her field of vision. "Tell me," she urged.

Maura was silent for a moment, watching her solemnly. "Do you know how lucky you were, growing up the way you did? A real house, with parents who were there to do things like throw birthday parties, and brothers and cousins and friends to play with? Playing." She shook her head bemusedly. "I barely remember playing when I was a child. I don't regret it," she said quickly. Too quickly. "It's made me who I am, but I wonder sometimes, what it would have been like, not always feeling as though I had to try to be worthy of my parents having adopted me. To just be. Play. Be a child." She shrugged with a sad little smile. "But I can't change the past, so what I want is to not have a big fuss made about what really is just another day. Please?"

Without waiting for a response, she stood and stepped around Jane and out of the office, leaving the detective staring speculatively after her, the first glimmerings of an idea simmering in her brain.

What did you get a woman who had almost everything?

What she didn't have, what else?

Maura's birthday fell on a Friday this year which, while not as desirable as being buried in the middle of the work week would have been, was still preferable to having it during a weekend. In years past, she had worked Saturdays or Sundays...sometimes both, to avoid being at home alone with whatever present her parents had sent her.

This year, at least that had been a pleasant surprise. A first edition set of Elements of Medical Jurisprudence, by Dr. Theodric Beck, had been delivered yesterday with a handwritten note from her mother. Generally, her gifts tended to be artwork that, while always tasteful and exquisitely crafted, tended to reflect her own tastes, rather than those of her daughter. It was one of the first acknowledgments of Maura's interests and accomplishments; Jane would be pleased to know that her pointed lecture (Maura still hadn't been able to bring herself to ask for details) had evidently had some effect...even if she would likely have little interest in the two-hundred year old books themselves.

And speaking of Jane, she was late. Maura checked the time with a slight frown. They had to be at work in less than two hours; much later, and they wouldn't have time to go for their run and get showered up afterward, which shouldn't really bother her. They had missed their morning runs before, but -

But it's my birthday. She immediately chastised the protest of that inner voice for such silliness. She had told Jane specifically that she did not want a fuss made of her birthday, and the detective had complied, saying nothing of the matter since they'd had their discussion last week.

But just because it was her birthday, she had no intention of hiding out. She would keep to her normal daily routine, and if Jane had run into a delay, she could just run by herself. Satisfied with that decision, she began her stretches, and was interrupted by the tone of an IM arriving on her phone.

- Change in plans. Not running. Wear your bathing suit under old jeans and a t-shirt. Be there in 10.

She read the message and re-read it. Bathing suit, old jeans and a t-shirt? She checked the sender: yes it was from Jane. She debated calling back to ask what was going on, but she suspected that it would be a waste of time, and...and she didn't want to ruin whatever surprise Jane had in mind. She should have known that her friend would not give up on her birthday, and the realization that she hadn't kindled a spark of anticipation that she attempted to quell. She was thirty-seven years old, for heaven's sake, but she still almost ran up the stairs to change clothes, spending most of the ten minutes in an agony of indecision before texting two words:

- Which suit?

- Something simple.

Simple...that left out most of the swimwear she owned; the beauty was in the design, after all, but she finally settled on a one-piece by Melissa Odabash that seemed to fit the bill, dragging the rest of her clothes on as she heard the door open downstairs.

"Those are old jeans?" Jane eyed her dubiously.

"The oldest I had," she apologized, glancing down at the Antik flare cuts worriedly. "I usually donate my older things to charity at the end of each season -"

"Got it. They'll do." Jane peered at the cuffs, then nodded. "They'll roll up, anyway." The detective was wearing faded jeans with no label and a red t-shirt, her dark hair tied back, no makeup and hints of a mischievous grin dancing at the corners of her mouth and gleaming in her eyes. "Put these on."

Maura accepted the navy canvas and rubber shoes, glancing down at the red pair on Jane's feet. "Jane, these have absolutely nothing in the way of arch support! What is wrong with my -"

"Do you trust me?"

The question did not even require thought. "Of course."

"Then put them on. They're exactly what you need to be wearing for this."

"For what?" she asked as she bent to slip the shoes on and tie them. 'Keds', read the label on the completely inadequate insoles, and that sounded vaguely familiar...

"A Rizzoli family childhood," Jane announced briskly. "Abbreviated version, but that means you miss the spankings, the groundings and Uncle Don's bad John Wayne impersonations at family dinners." She was speaking quickly, trying to be flippant, but not quite covering the nervousness.

"What?" She stared up at her friend, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "Jane -"

"Look, just go with it. If you hate it, we can cut out at lunch and I'll take you to a matinee of Magic Mike or something, okay?"

"I don't even know what 'it' is," she exclaimed with a trace of exasperation, despite the persistent sense of anticipation.

"Show, not tell," Jane replied, tossing her purse onto the couch, tucking a few folded bills into one of her white crew socks, and tying the key to Maura's house into the laces of her Keds. "You, too. No purse."

Maura stopped, staring at her as if she had suggested they go outside naked. "No purse?"

Jane gave her a wicked grin, knowing exactly what she was asking. "That's right. No purse. No makeup. No wallet or credit cards. You won't need it anyway." She patted the sock she'd stashed the bills in. "Your birthday, my treat."

"But – but how am I going to drive without my keys, my license?"

"We're taking the bus," Jane explained with a roll of her eyes. "I got us all day passes, and there's a stop about half a mile up the street. We used to go all over the city that way." She passed Maura one armband, fastened the other around her left wrist.

"You're not even taking your gun?" This was surely proof that she had fallen into an alternate dimension, if such things were actually possible.

"Nope." The detective didn't seem overly concerned. "If we get mugged, we'll just have to rely on my kickass hand-to-hand skills. Besides," she spread her arms, looking down at herself, "do we look like we've got anything worth stealing? Once you take off the Cartier watch, I mean."

"Jane, we're supposed to be at work in two hours!"

"Nope. Already cleared it with Cavanaugh, and Pike's on duty today. We're both free until Monday."

"Your idea of a birthday present is making me spend two days clearing up Dr. Pike's mistakes when I get back?" Maura eyed her skeptically, but she was already opening the clasp on her watch, slipping it over her wrist and setting it on the coffee table.

Jane shrugged, unconcerned. "You can do that in your sleep. Now change your shoes, and let's get going."

Maura sat on the couch, untying her running shoes, which would, in her opinion, be perfectly suited to a day of wandering Boston. The Keds, on the other hand - "Jane, these shoes aren't even practical!" She wasn't even going to address their fashion deficiencies.

"Kids aren't practical, Maur," Jane countered. "Besides that, they're great for climbing trees."

"Climbing trees?"

I've got a few scenarios in mind, but I'd be interested in hearing from anyone else who remembers growing up in the days before cable TV, the internet & Nintendo/Xbox/Wii regarding childhood experiences that Jane can drag Maura through. Appropriate credit/thanks will be given, with bonus points if it's something specific to the Boston area.