Author's Note: This is meant to be read with the knowledge of the song "All I Want" by Kodaline. Listen to the song a couple of times, read the lyrics. It goes with the story. ( watch?v=mtf7hC17IBM) This will be a multi-chapter fic. I'm not too sure how many yet. Angst. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Oh, and italicized parts are flashbacks with the exception of the italicized words in [brackets]. Those are song lyrics to "All I Want."

Disclaimer: I don't own Rizzoli and Isles. This makes me terribly sad.

All I Want: Chapter One

"I can't do this anymore!"

"Goddamnit, Maura, you can't just—"

Exasperated, the medical examiner slammed her fists into the granite countertops. "Don't you dare goddamnit me, Jane!" Jane shot the other woman a look; it was a mix of trepidation and fury. Maura blinked back angry tears and released her fists, arms shaking.

"What are you trying to say?" Jane growled trying to comprehend all of this.

"I cannot keep pretending like this is okay," the blonde uttered, barely above a whisper. "Pretending like this is okay isn't fair. It's not honest. This is better for us. Trust me."

"I thought I did," remarked the detective, losing the edge in her voice and looking down to avoid Maura's stare.

"Jane…" The taller woman glanced up at the blonde's pleading voice. "I'm sorry."

Maura then picked up the bags that were settled by the door and took one glance back. "I'm sorry, Jane." With that, the door clicked shut behind her and all Jane could do is stare, hoping she'd return.

[When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside. I lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side.]

Weeks later and Jane still couldn't break the sadness; Maura had left home, had left work, hell, she may even had left Boston for all she knew. Her family took notice and occasionally Angela would send Frankie over to Jane's apartment to make sure she was still breathing. Most of the time, he'd find her in her bedroom, with the lights off, just sitting on the floor staring at nothing.

"Janie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Frankie."

Not believing it a lick, he pressed harder, "Please talk to me, Janie. Ma and Pop are really worried and—"

"I'm fine, Frankie" she reiterated. This being the third night this week he attempted to get Jane to move, he silently gave up and left her to brood in her own destruction. Hours later, she resorted to getting up and drinking yet another beer. After about the fifth one that evening, Jane wasn't the most coherent so she decided to sit back down in her dark bedroom and consider all the things that went wrong.

"I'm sorry, Maura." Jane sighed, "Pop won't understand. I can't just throw this on him."

Dejected, the medical examiner fiddled with her fingers, scraping an imaginary speck off one of her nails. "Okay."

"You know I'd take you if I could."

"I live with you, Jane. Your family knows that. I can't spend Christmas with you, why?"

Jane searched for the right way to phrase this. "It's always… the Rizzoli's at Christmas. It's important to Pop, y'know? To be a family and you're—"

Before Jane could finish, Maura said, "not part of the family. I get it." Maura looked up and Jane could feel her heartbreaking as she saw the hurt flooding from her girlfriend's eyes. The taller woman took the blonde in her arms and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, Maura. You know that."

"Yeah, I know."

[But if you loved me, why did you leave me? Take my body; take my body. All I want is, all I need is to find somebody.]

"Fuck," Jane mumbled the next morning as she woke up in a pool of spilled beer. She made a mental note to not sleep on the floor tonight. She said that every morning though; since Maura had left, Jane avoided actually laying in their bed. Well, her bed now. She hadn't touched it since the night before Maura chose to leave.

Jane had evaded the bed and Maura's spot on the couch; she hadn't even checked to closet to see if the blonde had left anything to return for. After weeks of not hearing from her, the detective gave up seeing her face again. Jane stripped off her soiled clothing and threw them in the corner; as she turned on the water for the shower, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Hair mussed, eyes dark and tired, and sadness pervaded her face. She stepped under the warm spray of water and sank to the tile floor. Head to her knees, the thin woman's body wracked with sobs.

"Please," she cried. "Maura, please."

That was the first time in weeks Jane had articulated the medical examiner's name. It stung her lips and caught in her throat, like a nasty medication she didn't want to take. For awhile, Jane just sat there, letting the water beat her back until the water grew cold and her body couldn't handle it. Retreating from the bathroom in clean clothes, she grabbed her gun off the dresser and slid down to the floor.

"Maura, please. I can't—"she choked out. "I can't do this without you." The gun clicked as she took the safety off and rested it in her hands, weighing the item—weighing the possibilities, the consequences.

[Take my body. Take my body.]

To be continued…