I always cried easily, because I couldn't lie. I couldn't hide. I felt better, anyway, after releasing my tension.

But then I met her, and I suppose you could say I went to 'the dark side'- It's okay if you say that. She would too.

I wasn't capable of lying to myself.

Then she… she broke my honest streak. I'm crooked.

I'm lying to her, to myself, to everyone.

Mostly to her.

Look? I can't even think in full sentences anymore. What's wrong with me?

She's the only right thing. The only constant thing. The center of all my warm and fuzzy feelings.

There I go, thinking in half sentences again. What's wrong with me?

I am justifying my actions, but that really just means I'm lying to myself, for myself.

I say it's for her, for our friendship- a friendship that she relies on, too. Because she needs us too, right?

Anyway, my logic has gone wrong somewhere. I'm not exactly sure where, although I should be. I usually am.

Perhaps this is just… a phase.

Maybe it's because we spend all our time together.

I haven't had the chance to meet anyone or release any tension.

Damn it! There I go again. Justifying myself, making excuses. When I know the real reasons. The reasons I've been running from, ever since I met her.

I am incapable of running away from her, thought, no matter how much I try to.

There is no reason for me not to love her.

I love her, more then a friend.

I'm scared she doesn't love me back.

So instead of lying, hiding, and holding back this time, I decide to runaway. She is too much to face and too much to lose. I can't bare it anymore, but she still can't know.

She's straight. She's my friend. It wouldn't just be awkward- it would be the end of something that is just too perfect to destroy with foolish feelings.

I make it to the bathroom quickly, and scramble to wash off my black strained cheek, and the imperfect eyeliner on my face.

The water is cold.

A door closes, and I know that it's her.

I look around for a way out, and notice that we are alone.

I refuse to look her in the eyes.

"I'm washing up." I try to keep my voice light, but I am unsuccessful.

"I can see that." She says, slightly amused, "Maura, whatever it is this time… I'm sure that it's not worth crying over and"-

I cut her off, daring to look at her and show her my torn eyes, "You know, instead of calling me a cry baby you could just leave."

She's hurt, but so am I.

"I wasn't trying to"- Instead of finishing her sentence she just throws her hands up in defeat, "You know, what? Whatever. If you don't know when someone is looking out for you, then whatever. Damn it, Maura. I was only trying to help!"

"Well, I don't need your charity, Detective. I don't need you to look out for me. I just want you to leave."

"I don't understand, Maur," Jane whispers softly, showing her true feelings were hurt ones, "Why can't you just let me help you? It's… it's never been a problem before."

"Before what, Jane? B-before the… kiss?"