A/N: Well, here it is-the end. I'm happy that I finished such a long story that I really put a lot of effort into...but I'm pretty sad, as well. I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have writing it. A special thanks for those who stuck around since pretty much the beginning. Also, to those of you who almost always gave reviews. You really gave me motivation to keep writing!

If you were wondering, I have in fact had a sketch of this ending in mind for a very long time. I really hope you like it

2024

I find Mommy in the kitchen. I run straight into her legs and wrap myself around her. She promised me she'd make my birthday cake for my party tomorrow and she did.

When I crash into her she is writing my name across the cake.

"Lee!" she cries, trying to fix the letter she messed up.

I look up at her face to see if she's mad. She's not. It takes a lot to make Mommy mad. Even then, she usually only presses her lips together and acts disappointed. Like the time that I pulled down her nice dresses off their hangers to make a fort.

I've only ever seen her really mad at Mama-but the kind of mad that comes from being worried about someone. And when I came down to get a glass of water that night Mommy was really anger, well, Mama was lying asleep on the couch with her head resting on Mommy's lap. And Mommy was running her fingers through Mama's hair. And I knew they were okay.

Now, Mommy smiles at me and picks me up when I reach my arms out to her. This way I'm high enough to see my name across the chocolate cake: Happy Birthday Ellie!

"I love it, Mommy!"

I scramble down from her arms when she gives me a kiss on the cheek, but I'll tell you a secret. I like it when Mommy kisses me. I know it makes her happy to give kisses.

She is also happy when she reads to me. I love books and she does too. Mommy has really, really big books she sometimes reads on Sundays and Mama laughs at her and calls her a nerd. But Mommy reads me the books on my shelf and helps me sound out words. She says I'll be one of the best readers in my class if I work hard!

Mama reads to me sometimes, but she mostly tells me stories. The good guys always win against the guys who do bad things. Mama makes sure the bad guys get really long time-outs.

Some days I get to chase Mama around the backyard and she pretends to be the bad guy. I give her a time-out in my tree house.

No one makes me laugh as much as Mama does. She pulls the best silly-faces. Sometimes we make faces at each other when Mommy's busy taking care of baby Tyler or when she's making dinner.

I like drawing. Mama gives me high-fives when I'm done and Mommy hangs my pictures on the fridge.

Sometimes there are scary things that come.

Mommy knows why there are big booms and flashes of light some nights. She sits me on her lap and talks and talks about the clouds. I don't really get it, but that's okay because when she tells me how things work everything is better.

On the nights when I see the monsters in my dreams and in the closet, Mama curls up next to me in my bed, snuggles me close to her.

"You're okay, pumpkin. Nothing will hurt you. I'm here now," she whispers.

And I'm safe.

I just want to see how fast I can run down the driveway. But my shoelaces are almost never tied right when I do them myself.

Now, they come undone and I trip.

The pain in my hands and knees is sudden, feels hot and sharp.

"Mommy!"

I try to stand up, but it hurts. I bite my lip, as tears fill my eyes. I swipe at the stupid tears.

I see Mommy rushing towards me. She looks funny running with her heels on, but it hurts too much to laugh.

"Oh, Ellie, let me see," she says, kneeling next to me.

I bite my lip again because Mommy looks worried, but I hold up my hands and stretch out my legs for her to see.

"Okay, baby, I know it hurts, but you'll be fine."

She picks me up and I wipe my hot tears on her purple shirt.

"Let's go inside and I'll get my doctor kit."

She rubs my back and I already feel better. She puts me down on a kitchen chair and runs to get her doctor kit. I love that bag, even though I don't like when anyone gets hurt. But Mommy is so serious and smart when that bag is out and I want to be as smart as her when I grow up and fix things like she does.

I hear Mama tell Mommy that she just put Tyler down for a nap. Then she comes to me and rubs a hand through my curls.

"Aw, kiddo, busted those knees up again?"

I shrug. But I smile when Mama swings me into her lap.

"Mommy will take care of it, don't you worry, Lee," she says, as Mommy comes back into the room with her kit.

"Okay, is my patient ready?" Mommy says to me and I nod my head.

I lean back into Mama and things are okay now because I can feel her strength.

She is strong.

So, is my Mommy that fixes me up good as new.

And so am I.

Because I'm a Rizzoli-Isles.

The End

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