A/N: I still don't own anything... yet. I mean, those Team Jane and Team Maura shirts look pretty epic. So I might own those someday, but nothing else.

After working a grueling 72-hour straight shift, Jane Rizzoli tried to rub the sleep out of her overtired eyes, before lifting her chin and peering over her computer monitor to see Maura Isles standing patiently by the exit.

A coat was draped carefully over her bent arm—one that was clearly a few sizes too large for the M.E.—and there was a gentle smile curving her lips. The detective's dark brown eyes couldn't help but follow the blonde's profile lower. She took a moment to appreciate her calves and those expensive but completely necessary heels on her feet, before letting out a deep exhale and pushing back from her desk.

Jane couldn't feel her feet, but soon they were moving of their own accord, somehow still maintaining some sort of swagger in her step…

Well, maybe it was more of a precarious sway, but hey.

Maura didn't say a word. Not when she draped the coat over Jane's slightly slumped shoulders that had been carrying the weight of the world all day, nor when her hand slipped perfectly into the other and they entwined their fingers.

There was a comfortable silence between them as they flagged down a taxi, both far too exhausted to drive.

Then Jane felt her cellphone vibrating in her pocket, mumbling incoherently as she pulled it out to look at the screen. There were four missed calls from Ma that she didn't plan on answering until she could form full sentences. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a minute…

Maura mirrored her actions, checking her own phone but finding nothing that needed immediate attention. That might also have something to do with her inbox being 60 percent full with texts from Jane. Most of them were short and only required minor research on modern day acronyms, but they were preferable to twitter.

See, Maura could not fathom how someone could honestly answer a question in less than 150 characters. It was limiting and almost like just an excuse to constantly cut responses short. And as much as she disliked guessing, she knew that she would only end up telling what Jane had once referred to as 'a little white lie.'

"Son of a—"

Jane's dark eyes flashed open at the cab driver's obscenities, turning her head to see the disapproving wrinkles forming on the bridge of the medical examiner's nose. She chuckled despite herself, even when the driver got off to check the tires, knowing that this wasn't a funny situation. But she was so passed tired that Jane couldn't really find it in herself to behave.

Maura quirked a brow towards the detective, though her lips betrayed her faux sternness when they curved into a gentle smile. There was just something about seeing Jane happy that made her feel good. She could try to pinpoint exactly why that was or over-analyze it to death (now there's a concept), but her mind was blank and all she could see was Jane…

Overtired, chuckling Jane, who was about 24 hours from starting to see delusions.

"I love these shoes," the blonde offered with a lippy pout, knowing that walking all the way home would ruin them, even if they weren't that far away.

"C'mon," Jane said gently as she got out of the cab, going around to the front to pay the driver their fee for the trip so far, before opening Maura's door and extending her hand.

The sun was just starting to descend in the sky, hiding behind skyscrapers and the lush vegetation that Jo Friday enjoyed so much. Well, a little too much, if you asked a pair of Jane's old running shoes. Under the veil of dusk, Jane's dark tresses framed her face in such a way that she looked absolutely radiant.

"Are you going to proceed by carrying me all the way there, detective?"

Jane chuckled again, satisfying Maura's hidden agenda to lift her spirits, before shaking her head a little in mock disbelief as they took to the sidewalk. It was unclear who was leaning on whom by this point, but they managed to fall into step. It was almost like two people had become one.

They both lifted their gaze to look towards a graveyard, a solemn look crossing each of their faces. Working with homicide meant that there was always a casualty. Death was always the beginning of their day and they had to work backwards in order to find out what happened.

So there was never a chance of saving the victim lying on Maura's observation table, but they could hope to find them justice in their memory.

The M.E. felt more than saw Jane flinch internally as she pulled her hand away, rubbing at her palms subconsciously while she created distance between them. Maura knew that she could easily close the physical gap that had just formed, but she still wouldn't reach Jane now. No, the brunette was somewhere that she couldn't follow and all she could do was wait…

Well, maybe there was one more thing.

Maura moved to stand in front of Jane, blocking her view from the tombstones and the withering flowers dropping petals on the soil.

Emerald green met dark brown and spoke volumes, a slight head tilt signaling the words resting on the tip of her tongue as she waited patiently for a sign to release them into the world where they shared the same air. Breaths mingled and heartbeats fell back into sync. A simple nod from Jane granted her entrance to this private moment.

"Guilt: the subjective feeling of having committed an error, offense, or sin."

As grim as the subject was, Jane dealt with macabre events everyday. And when she did go home to catch a few winks of sleep in between shifts, reminders were usually plastered all over the papers and the television. Even her mother would talk about the dangers of it in great detail, using the same recycled arguments to try to get her out of her career.

So Maura's statement wasn't as left field as it seemed. The fact that it was so distinctly Maura just further proved her theory that the honey blonde was the most stable, unchanging factor in her life and that's exactly what she needed. Someone who knew exactly what she was feeling without being told. Someone that she didn't have to hide the facts of her gruesome cases from, even when they hit close to home. Someone who just understood.

Without preamble, Jane slipped her hand back into Maura's and gave it a gentle squeeze, before they were on their way again.