Maura stood in front of the courthouse steps, looking up at the windows reflecting blue sky. She'd been there over a hundred times, but never for family court. Today she would become a mother in the eyes of the law. She watched Jane ascend the steps, holding their daughter, then turn around to face Maura. "Are you coming?" Maura wanted to move, to follow. She smiled, but her legs wouldn't walk. She was short of breath.

Maura woke alarmed, but calmed after only a few seconds. The dream she thought indicated anxiety about the day's milestone had merged with her current physical state, being pinned to the bed by long legs and black curls. Jane lay half on top of her, one leg wrapped over both of Maura's, and her head resting on Maura's stomach. One of Jane's arms bent around her, her fingers tucked under Maura's T-shirt.

A few things had changed since the baby was born. They'd both become a little more ragged. Sloppy. Tired. Maura would sometimes forego her satin pajama set in favor of an old, worn BPD T-shirt of Jane's, knowing that at some point in the middle of the night, she was likely to be spit up on and have to change it anyway. Dry-clean only clothes were beginning to pile up and she more often favored the cottons that were soft to the baby's skin and could be tossed in her home washing machine.

Jane, too, had become more comfortable. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was something else, but her mind seemed to calm down. She stopped worrying about the distant future and addressed the problems in front of her: crying baby, dirty diaper. And she realized that no matter how run-down and haggard she was, and even if she looked and smelled like yesterday's dirty laundry, Maura would be there with open arms and a smile to make everything better.

About a week after they brought her home, Ellie woke up wailing while Jane was in the shower, even though she'd just been fed and changed. Panicking and without a backup milk supply, Maura tried offering her own breast and was relieved that the simple act of suckling comforted the infant. She fell in love all over again and took every opportunity she had to repeat the intimacy. After a few weeks, she even began producing a small amount of milk.

As soon as the physical trauma of labor had healed, Jane made every effort to get up off the couch. At first they'd take the baby for walks through the Common, then they started using the sport stroller, the one with the large multi-terrain tires, and jogged. To Maura's surprise, Jane didn't complain about running even once.

One night Maura woke to an empty bed, unusual because Ellie slept in a bassinet in their room so Jane could feed her there. Maura went looking and found them in Jane's workout room, the baby sound asleep in the crook of Jane's right arm, Jane's left hand beating out a steady rhythm on the speed bag. "I think it helps her sleep," Jane explained in a whisper.

At eight weeks, they began a nightly routine. After feeding, Jane would make faces and play peek-a-boo, then pass her over to Maura for a diaper change. She'd coo and hum, then settle down in the nursery rocking chair for a bedtime story. Sometimes Maura would read from books, but more often she would make up a story about a fair maiden and a brave detective who saved the world together.

The day the baby was two months old, Jane asked Angela to babysit while she and Maura had dinner at home. She'd ordered take-out from one of Maura's favorite upscale bistros. Angela was next door in the guest house in case anything happened, but it was peaceful and quiet. It was so quiet, in fact, that they both fell asleep in the cuddle chair before dessert. Maura's internal clock woke her just after eleven that night, Jane's head on her shoulder and both arms aching to hold their daughter. It wasn't until after they'd brought Ellie back and Jane was feeding her that Maura found the rose petals on the bed.

Through mutual agreement, Angela began babysitting one night a week. They'd almost lost track of the days, but Angela reminded them when it was her night with the baby. Her face would light up like the Citgo sign when those tiny fingers wiggled at her. She took the baby monitor base station and Jane and Maura would listen to them play while they ate their own dinner.

The third time Angela took the baby, they finished eating and Jane wiped down the counter while Maura started the dishwasher. "I could use a shower," Jane had said. Then, with a glint in her eye, "You want to join me?"

All the baby books said to put her down, in her own crib, when she was drowsy but not yet asleep, so she could learn to soothe herself. That first night, when she was three months old, she cried and cried and sixty seconds seemed to last a lifetime. Jane held both Maura's hands while they sat crosslegged outside the nursery door, watching the second hand of Maura's watch tick until they could go comfort her. A few more nights of listening to her cries over the soft classical music, of Jane tearfully insisting they were doing the right thing, and the baby began putting herself to sleep. Suddenly the absence of her noise, the evidence of her beginning to grow up and not need her mommies, was more painful than the cries had been.

But as she learned to sleep, so did Jane and Maura. Jane still woke in the middle of the night to feed her, but it was only once a night and she went easily back to sleep on her own. It occurred to Maura that she would eventually want to go back to work, at least for a half day. Both she and Jane had taken unpaid family leave, and though money was not an issue, their sanity was. They both loved their jobs and at some point, they would want to return to them and be among adults. Just not yet.

Maura was on speakerphone with her mother when the baby rolled over for the first time. They had a court date and Constance wanted to be there to help celebrate. "Three weeks. Thursday the 23rd, at four. Then we'll come back here for—" Maura gasped. "Oh my— Mom! She turned over! All by herself!" She bent over and let the baby grab onto her hands, smiling and offering words of encouragement. Constance was still on the line eight minutes later when she remembered the phone call.

And now the big day had arrived. As Maura lay in bed, Jane's head compressing her diaphragm, she surveyed herself. No hyperventilation, no anxiety. Harold had assured her that the court proceedings were a formality. There were no objections to the adoption, it was just a matter of taking an oath, answering a few questions, and signing some papers. It wouldn't change anything in their day-to-day lives, but it would be official. Maura would be a mother. She felt anticipation. She reached for a tantalizing curl and wound it around her finger.

Jane stirred, first stretching her limbs, then turned and lifted her head to look between Maura's breasts with one eye cracked open. "Morning, Beautiful." She smiled. Her chin rested sharply on Maura's sternum. "She up yet?" Her head tilted toward the baby monitor.

Maura listened for a moment, hearing only silence. "I don't think so."

"Good, then we have time." Jane lifted her torso on forearms and centered herself over Maura, instead of rolling onto her own side of the bed, as Maura had expected.

"Time for—?" Jane dragged her body up so she could press her lips to Maura's. "Oh."

But then she stopped. She looked Maura in the eye and licked her lips. Maura detected a whit of nervous hesitation before she spoke. "I was thinking." She rolled to the side, no longer trapping Maura beneath her, and propped her head up on an elbow. "About what today means, for you and for Ellie." She found and traced Maura's left hand, from her wrist to the tip of her ring finger. "You're becoming her mother, legally." She wove their fingers together. "She will know that forever, she'll be your daughter. You'll be legally bound. As family."

Maura smiled. It was the day she had been waiting for, for almost a year.

"And I realized I was jealous. Of her. She gets to be yours, and you hers." Jane reached inside her pillowcase and pulled out a small box.

"Jane, you know I'm yours."

"I know. And I'm yours. And I want everyone else to know." She opened the box, revealing two identical bands, sparkling but not gaudy. The only difference was their size.

Maura looked at the rings, and picked one up, trying it on. It wouldn't be the finest piece of jewelry she'd ever worn. But it would be the most meaningful.

"So… Whaddaya say, Maur? Will you marry me?"

Maura's voice came out in a whisper. "Yes."

"Today?"

"What?"

"I know you hate surprises, and we can do a big fancy wedding later, if you want. But I thought… I asked Judge Reynolds if she could meet with us a little early, just in case."

Maura's mouth gaped as her brain reconstructed its expectations for the afternoon. She had planned to wear a midnight blue von Furstenberg, but maybe now she should choose something white. Did she have anything appropriate in white? And they'd need to get to the courthouse earlier, which meant moving back all the other activities for the day. Would Angela be able to finish cooking before they left? She felt her breathing grow rapid. They might need to cut naptime short, unless they could get Ellie to sleep in the car seat. She didn't want the baby to get fussy at her adoption. Or their wedding. Their wedding. Her eyes widened.

"Maur?"

Maura refocused on Jane's hopeful brown eyes. She smiled. Everything would work out. Of course she said yes.

Maura sat on a bench outside the judge's chambers while Jane paced. She crossed her legs at the ankles and glanced down the hall to where the rest of the family waited, her mother watching over a sleeping Ellie. The judge was already ten minutes late, and her clerk had just informed them it would be at least another ten minutes.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Maura? We could wait, do it right. So it's not rushed."

"Are you having cold feet?" Maura smiled, amused. She wasn't at all worried. Whether they married today or later, she knew they would be together always.

Jane's mouth gaped. "Nooo. Why, are you?"

"No. I love you. I want to marry you." Maura folded her hands in her lap but wiggled her fingers in Jane's direction.

Jane sat abruptly, her knees bumping Maura's and her hand covering the wiggling fingers in her lap. "You wanted a volcano."

"A dormant volcano."

"You wanted a fancy wedding dress and a cake."

Maura shrugged. "You wanted Fenway Park."

"I want you to be happy."

Maura squeezed Jane's hand and smiled. So many times, she had insisted that she was happy, and somehow Jane still didn't believe her. Maura decided to try a different set of words. She reached into her purse for a folded piece of paper. Opening it, she read her own copperplate handwriting, "Jane Clementine Rizzoli. Before we met, I thought I was smart. I thought I was strong. I thought I had everything the world could offer. As we became friends, and then lovers, you showed me what I was missing." Maura looked up at Jane and added, "What I was missing was you."

"Maura, you don't have to—"

"You are my best friend, my first, and my only. You saw my idiosyncrasies and you loved them. You showed me the value of family and you gave me yours. You taught me to love." Maura paused to tuck a stray lock behind Jane's ear. "By loving me."

Jane caught her hand and held it in her own, kissing her fingers and then resting both hands in her lap. Her thumb slid over the bumps of each knuckle, loving them.

"Jane, I promise that wherever life takes us, I will be with you. I promise to listen when you need to talk, and to sit in silence when you need meditation. We will celebrate our joys together and comfort each other in sorrow. I promise to cherish every piece of you that you give to me. And to give equally to you of myself."

Maura refolded the paper and tucked it away, still holding onto Jane with her other hand. "I'd like to take you to Santorini someday. It's beautiful. When we get there, you can tell me how much you love me and that you promise to continue to love me for the rest of our lives." Maura squeezed Jane's hand. "I'm ready to make that promise now. Are you?"

Jane's eyes lifted to meet Maura's. They narrowed and the corner of her mouth lifted. "Are you daring me to marry you?"

Maura raised her eyebrows in challenge, but linked her fingers tightly with Jane's. "If that's what it takes."

Jane chuckled. "I didn't know we were writing our own vows."

"This was your idea. You should be able to think of something."

Jane laughed again, then looked away, thinking. It only took a moment. "Maura Dorothea Isles." She stressed Maura's middle name in jest, but quickly grew serious and looked down at their linked hands. "I am flawed. I have scars that most people wouldn't understand, but you do. You love them. You love me. You know me better than I know myself. And because of that, and because I trust you, I believe—I know—" Jane's voice cracked, "that I am worthy of your love."

Jane looked up again to see Maura smile and nod. She used her wrist to wipe away a tear. "Through your eyes, and with your love, I am a better person. You make me stronger than lifting weights. You make me smarter than school. More powerful than any weapon. You make me a good mother and a tender wife. You know me for who I am and you make me who I am."

Jane looked back at the rest of their family, chatting out of earshot. Ellie had woken up and was holding onto Frankie's pinky finger while he made silly faces. Jane felt a tug at her heart. She squeezed Maura's hand then let go, and went to get the baby.

Settling her on both their laps, she continued. "I know you think I gave you our daughter. You see her as a gift." Maura nodded. "And I know you think there's an absolute truth. But sometimes there's a gray area. Reality is what you make it." Jane's finger lightly grazed a wisp of Ellie's dark hair. "My reality is that you gave her to me. You made our family what it is today. You made it possible. I want you to know that. I want to marry you because that's what people do. When they want to show the world who is most important to them."

Jane put her arm around Ellie as she leaned forward and kissed the corner of Maura's eye, tasting salt. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat and recited the words that had echoed through her head for months. "Maura, you are my partner in every sense of the word. I promise to love you when we're together and when we're apart. I promise to put you and our daughter first, always. I promise to listen to what you say, but also to listen for what you don't say, so I can be as understanding and supportive to you as you are to me. I promise to love you the best that I can, and to let you love me back. To trust you."

There were moments since Ellie was born when Jane doubted. When she'd come home to a quiet house and for just a moment, wondered if that was it, they were gone for good, the dream was over. The feeling didn't last long and she'd always find a note, We've gone to the park, or, Out of eggs, I have E. Those moments had grown fewer and farther between, and someday Jane expected to wake up and realize her doubt had disappeared completely. Even after that happened, Jane knew she would continue to hold onto Maura every chance she got. To wrap her arm around her waist while they slept. To welcome the tickle of Maura's hair on her nose. To cross one leg over Maura's, pinning her down so she wouldn't float back up to the heavens.

To Jane's surprise, Maura never pushed her away. She never squirmed, she never said, "Not now." She never needed space. She always welcomed Jane's needy touch. She relished it, melted into it, closed her eyes and sighed, wiggling like she wanted to identify every point of contact. Like she was making up for lost time and lost touch. This only made Jane love her more, that she could be so unabashed about enjoying Jane's affections.

Bereft of any more words, Jane licked her lips and leaned toward Maura again. Maura's eyes dropped to her lap, demure. Cheek to cheek, Jane whispered, "I love you, Maura. I promise to love you for the rest of my life." Maura let out a soft whimper and pressed her nose into Jane's neck, kissing the sensitive skin there.

Ellie spoke up then, a happy gurgle accompanying flailing arms. The women broke apart only far enough to give the baby her due attention. They giggled and cooed and patted and kissed and by the end of the day, the family they'd formed months ago was legally recognized. There was nothing left to do but enjoy each other.