She's sitting in the middle of the living room floor, folding laundry, on a rare day off. The new house, is still not completely unpacked. It's rather quiet. Abbie is with Barry, at the grocery store. August sits in a pile of mismatched socks, as she folds. She turns, reaching for the remote, to turn the TV on. It's behind her, on the couch. When she turns around, she finds that August is on all fours. She furrows her brow, and looks at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Da da da."

"Is that your answer for everything?"

"Da da da," he giggles.

"What about ma, ma, ma? Would it kill you to try that one?"

He looks at her, and then turns his attention to Abbie's bright blue wiffle ball, that lays in the corner of the room, abandoned. She flips on the TV. She turns her attention to the mountain of laundry in front of her. She fills the basket, to her right. She looks up, and August has left his spot. She finds him across the room, sitting in the corner, holding the wiffle ball, in his hands. He lifts it to his mouth.

She slowly hoists herself from a sitting position. She stands up, and makes it across the room. She squats down, next to the chubby dark haired boy.

"What are you doing?" she asks, "And how did you get over here? Did you scoot all the way over here?"

He smiles at her, as he drools on the wiffle ball. She lifts him off the floor, with some effort. Her large, round stomach gets in her way. She carries him back to his laundry pile. She sits him in the pile of socks, once again. He is not content, as his ball is still in the corner of the room. He looks at Jane, and then makes his decision. She looks over at him, and finds him crawling away.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He squeals. She gets off the floor, once again, and makes her way across the room. She scoops up the baby, and the ball. Instead of putting him back in his pile of socks, she takes a seat on the couch, with him. He takes the ball from her.

"When did you decide that you're going to crawl?" she questions.

"Da da da," he replies, rhythmically.

"I'm in trouble, huh? What are we going to do, when there are three more babies, just like you?"

He slobbers on the ball, and ignores her. She carries him into the kitchen, and gets a bottle for him. He falls asleep, before he's finished. She carries him into his crib, and sets him inside. She returns to the living room. She takes a seat on the couch. She stares at her round stomach.

"I would really appreciate if the three of you would stop dancing on my bladder."

By the time Barry, and Abbie return, Jane is sound asleep, on the couch. Abbie runs into the house. Barry follows behind her, with bags.

"Shh! Your mom is sleeping," he warns.

"But..."

"Help me put the groceries away, quietly," he insists.

"Can I go outside, instead?"

He looks out the door, to the backyard. He nods. She runs out the door, slamming it behind her. She runs towards the swingset, that is illuminated by the sunshine. The slamming door wakes August. Frost closes the refrigerator door, and runs to his room. He scoops up the screaming baby.

"It's alright buddy," he carries him back into the kitchen.

He sits him on the floor, with a toy truck. He proceeds to put the groceries away. When he's finished he puts the bags away. He walks past the island, where he's left August. He finds the truck, sitting there, abandoned. He looks in the kitchen, and finds no sign of August. He makes his way into the living room.

He finds the baby moving towards the couch. He comes to a halt, when he finds Jane. He starts to squeal. Her eyes pop open.

"What are you doing?"

He reaches for her. She scoops him up. She looks up, and finds Frost.

"Sorry," he apologizes.

She looks at the clock on the wall, "That's ok, I got twenty minutes."

"I got groceries."

"Where is Abbie?"

"She's outside playing."

Before she can respond her phone is ringing. She grabs it out of her pocket. She pulls it to her ear. After a few seconds she hangs up. She looks at Frost.

"We have a crime scene to go to," she tells him.

"Jane, when do you think you're going to stop going to crime scenes?" he questions.

"I am a cop, so probably never."

"You're a cop who is six months pregnant, with three babies."

"I'm fine," she argues.

"Jane..."

"You are not my mother," she adds.

"No, but we should probably call your mother."

"You're so bossy."

"I'm the bossy one? I don't think so," he argues.

"Really?"

"I told you we should get married, and you told me no."

"Barry, I am six months pregnant, I am not getting in a wedding dress."

"In a few months this house is going to be full."

"I am not having this discussion, again."

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to marry me, because you feel obligated."

"That is not why I want to marry you."

"I don't believe you."

"Jane we live together. We're going to have three babies, in three months. We should get married."

"I don't want to get married."

"Now, or ever?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"Jane, do you want this, or not?"

"I need to get him ready to go. Can you go get Abbie?"

He shakes his head.

"No. Why can't you talk to me? I understand that this is hard for you. Your entire life has done a one eighty in less than a year. I know you never imagined to have this. I know you didn't picture a house, in the suburbs, with a swing-set in the backyard, with two kids, and three more in the way. No one envisions that, but I am in it for the long haul."

"Can we just go to work?"

"Jane, I'm not going to keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"If you don't want me here, then maybe I shouldn't be," he answers.