Prologue

Jane Rizzoli was standing in the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized herself. She had almost black rings under her eyes and it seemed like she lost even more weight during the last couple of weeks. She was quite aware of the fact that she needed a good sleep and some meals that had been cooked by her mother, but she couldn't find the strength to face overbearing Angela Rizzoli, and she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't rip her mother's head off even though she knew that Angela only meant it well. And she also knew that the matriarch had been just as worried as she had been when they got the news.

She also knew herself and that she'd try to defense herself and her decisions, even though Angela wouldn't question her any seconds, but the detective felt like she had to every time the older woman looked at her. And at the end, she'd end up yelling at her mother, though Angela was the last one she wanted to blame for anything. She had no reason to, the only one who deserved to be blamed was herself. That's what she was thinking.

Only a single call would have let her know that something was wrong, only taking a break and going downstairs would have alarmed her. Even a simple text message would've yelled at her to run downstairs because so many things had been off. Instead, she decided to follow a wrong lead and to not listening to the voices in her head.

She closed her eyes and took a sharp breath. The only one she was going to blame was herself. She had hoped that everyone would do the same, blaming her for not being quick enough, for not being smart enough. For letting everyone down.

She still saw his face and it made her sick that his smile burned into her mind, and into her heart. She felt anger rising and clenched her jaw, and fists. She had to fight the urge to slam her left one into the mirror and risking it to shatter, or any damage to her hand, that was something she didn't need at all.

She counted to ten while nodding to herself like she was trying to encourage herself to face what she almost lost, or did lose. She wasn't sure of that yet.

Jane opened her eyes again and stared once more into the mirror before she swallowed the lump in her throat and turned to leave the room. She quietly closed the door behind her and the sight in front of her broke her heart even more when she saw the picture in front of her. She decided not to say a word as she made it to the king-sized bed. The bedroom was illuminated by the soft light of the two bedside lamps and gave the impression of friendliness and comfort. Currently a fallacy.

The back of the woman, who was laying under the sheet, was turned to her and told Jane that she was indeed breathing by moving softly up and down. She wasn't sure if the other woman was still awake, and she didn't want to straddle her by touching her or calling out her name when she slipped underneath the sheet on her very own side of the bed. She had learned that she needed to give the other woman time, and that it would be irresponsible to press for information what had happened to her. Or in the worst case, that the woman would cloister herself once and for all, so she gave her all the time she needed instead of loosing her permanently.

Janeskidded a little closer and dared to place her left hand on the other woman's shoulder just to feel how she went ridge immediately. She wanted to squeeze her shoulder but didn't do so. Instead, she rested the hand on said shoulder. "Maura," she whispered hoarsely.

Dr. Maura Isles, the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and Jane's best friend, her confident, and her domestic partner, simply shrugged the hand off but didn't look at the Italian. "Don't touch me, Jane."

Jane stared at the back of the doctor's head and furrowed her eyebrows because she was about to place her hand back on Maura's shoulder, dropping it back onto the mattresse. She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. Being hated by her family or coworkers, or even herself is something she'd handle, but being hated by Maura was killing her slowly and painfully. It was a feeling she never wanted to feel. Like someone was slowly dragging a knife into her heart. Once, twice, thrice. And the more they did it, the slower she died.

A tear was rolling down Jane's cheek and she took her distance again. "I'm so sorry, Maura." She croaked before she turned her nightstand lamp off.

Maura was stating at the wall without blinking and she felt awful for treatening Jane the way she did, but only laying close to someone else in the bed was a huge step for her. She didn't blame Jane for what have happened to her, or Frankie, Korsak and Nina. She knew that they did their very best they could, and that Jane probably was punishing herself more than necessary. She wished she could tell that the Italian, but her mind didn't let her. For now!

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Hey, guys. This idea didn't let me go and because Fast Lane - End of the Line and Until My Dying Breath are almost done, ad gave up on A Single Decision, I've started this. The prologue isn't quite good, but I know where I want to go with this story. This one will be a little dark.

I won't write some parts too graphical because even I don't like such thing, but I hope you'll get the meaning. And the past I'll write in italic and perhaps in Jane's PoV, but I'll let you know.

Oh, I forgot. Further chapters will be longer!

Anyway, I hope you like the start.

T73