A/N: An epilogue because I love baseball and I wanted to bring everything full circle. Thank you for all your support.

A few months later...

"C'mon Janie! Whack one to right and we can all go home!" Frankie Jr. called out to his sister at home plate. He danced around the second base bag, feet light and tricky. His footwork and the blistering midday sun overwhelmed Vice's second baseman Vinny Pestano; his sweat more of nervousness than of exertion, though there was plenty of both.

Jane heard her little brother loud and clear, but her body language never wavered. She ran through all her ticks at the plate: a half-swing for each one-one-thousand in her head that the pitcher didn't throw, three glances at her batting gloves for each ball outside. The pitch she was waiting for, the best pitch she was going to get all at-bat, came to her then, and she made sure to make it count. She ripped a double down the right field line at Teddy Ebersol Field, and was on her horse.

Frankie Jr. whooped and hollered all the way home, looking more like a bear rounding the bases than a man. He was slow and big, but slid across home in one thundering swipe.

"Yeah!" Jane yelled, clapping wildly at second – she had tied the score at three. A home run was what they both had wanted, but she would take a tie, because a tie with a runner on came with a chance.

And with their secret weapon coming up to bat, Homicide liked their chances. Maura Isles, usually flawless, coordinated, had once stunk up the softball field, especially in games against the drug unit. Months of practice had led up to this moment when she stepped into the box and dug in. She gripped her bat tight, took a few practice swings before really settling, and made sure that she felt comfortable in the swish of her Boston Homicide jersey. Perfect form, symmetrical rotation of the hips, adequate bat speed and control. These were the components of her mantra until a gruff voice broke through it all.

"Let's go, Maura! Bring me home! Make us winners!" Jane coached from second. She took great care not to skip around the bag for fear of being tagged out, but stayed still two feet away. Maura looked out to her when she heard her voice, and nodded.

Martinez was pitching and she knew he would not hesitate to try and make her look like a fool. He was not a malicious man, but he was a proud one and a jokester, and he still liked Jane. This made Maura stick out like a sore thumb, but she also knew something that he didn't: she had been training for this moment for a long-ass time. So, when she settled in, and he looked to his catcher, Parnell, for signs, she inhaled a calming breath and hoped for a ball she could control.

And whack! As soon as it came, she hit it with all the force only muscle memory could provide, intentionally out of the reach of the third baseman and with strength. The ball bounced out into the grass beyond the diamond, and she booked it to first. However, she was easily safe. The play developing was the one at the plate.

Jane steamrolled past third base, practically knocking McDonald, the shortstop, clear over. Her long and lean legs carried her fast to her destination, but there was so little distance between where the ball had been fielded and home, that Maura's internal calculations spelled only one thing: collision at the plate.

The ball whirred through the air, and the catcher squared up, preparing for its arrival. It was beating Jane there on its current trajectory, flying, flying, until…

It flew wide left and the detective slid in safely, foot first. As soon as she snapped back up she fist-pumped and hollered, running to first base where Maura still stood, stunned. "You did it, god dammit! You did it, Maura!" she yelled, and then nearly bowled her over in a hug.

"I did it!" Maura yelled back, when she saw the rest of homicide running toward them. She feared for their safety, but was elated at the chance to contribute.

"I told you those fat bastards wouldn't have a chance, didn't I? I told you they wouldn't stand a chance," Jane whispered into a kiss. Maura surmised that maybe listening to Jane's expertise wasn't so ill-advised after all.