I stare at the gun I've laid out carefully on the island in front of me, sitting on a bar stool in my kitchen. She's tired. She's grown so tired of my bullshit, that she couldn't take it anymore. Gave me one last second chance to say something, anything to make her stay, to prove to her I could be better. I didn't say a word. And somewhere between then and now I've come to the realization it'd be a lot easier to swallow my gun then my pride.

I couldn't stop my way of flying by the seat of my pants, not caring about the consequences of my actions in the field. Having someone to come home to could have changed that…should have changed that. Because even if this apartment is a piece of shit, it didn't stop her from moving her stuff in. It didn't stop her from waiting up for my key to open the lock or the knock on the door that would mean I wasn't coming home again.

After the last scare we fought. Oh how hard she fought. To save a love she's tried to keep strong for so many months. The tears of frustration and hurt rolling down her face, the angry push of her hands against my chest, the words that she begged for me to say but didn't. When she walked away, when she closed the door without the slam it meant she was gone. That she was truly gone.

"I can't love a ghost!"

Those five words made me realize that saying anything at all would be unfair to her. Because as much as I love her, as consuming as the feeling is I won't change. And lying to her would only postpone the inevitable. So I keep my distance. I see her at crime scenes and keep it civil. When I get hurt I don't tell anyone at work (including my brother) because word will get back and I know it would hurt her even more.

The gun I've been staring at for the past three hours would be counterproductive in a sense, especially when this is all she's been worried about. My wellbeing, my safety. But in the back of my mind I know that if I was gone she would be able to stop worrying. I've taken too many chances and my guardian angel is gonna have to take a break one of these days. If it doesn't happen tonight, it'll happen at the hands of a suspect eventually.

Picking up the handgun in front of me I make sure it's loaded. If I'm gonna do this, might as well get it right the first time. Do at least one thing right, since all I've done lately is do it all wrong. Another cop suicide, they'll blame it on the job or maybe on Hoyt. I struggle to hold back the tears that want to fall as I put the muzzle to the side of my head. I know the exact place to shoot; I've seen enough suicides in my line of work. And every cop knows that there's always one case that makes you look up the best way to end your life on Google.

Google.

Googlemouth.

Maura.

The tears fall now and I expected my hand to at least be shaking but it's not. I take a deep breath and move my finger to the trigger when I feel her standing at the door. She can see me, see me with the gun in my hand ready to end it all. End all her pain and suffering.

"Jane," Her voice cracks when she says my name and I look up to lock eyes with her. Not moving the gun from where it's positioned.

"Go." And my voice comes out a lot harsher than I've ever heard. She notices and winces when I speak.

"I can't love a ghost Jane." She's sobbing now and as much as I want to embrace her I know it's not an option.

"Exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm ending all your pain. You can't love a ghost. After tonight you won't be able to love me." And if I thought she was sobbing before then there are no words to describe what she's doing now. She keeps walking closer and I know that if she doesn't stop crying soon she'll began to hyperventilate.

"I need you."

"No. You don't, I only hurt you Maura."

"And if you do this tonight you might as well make sure there's enough bullets for me too. I can't live a life without you in it and I won't."

"Don't say that."

"I love you." She's almost at my seat now and I know that her intention is talking me down from the situation we've found ourselves in.

"Stop."

"I love you."

"Maura just close the door."

"I love you." Her hand is on mine and I know that she's begging me to put the gun down, to drop it on the floor and embrace her.

"I love you too. That's why I have to do this." I whisper and when she shakes her head I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I love you. Don't leave me here all alone." When I really stare into her eyes, I know. I lower the gun slowly and she unloads it quickly before moving it away from us. She kisses my face all over. Her tears mixing in with mine. When I wrap my arms around her one thought dominates my mind.

My guardian angel will never take a break.