WARNING: Serious suicide trigger. Read at your own risk. This is pretty dark, not going to lie.

Oftentimes, I wish I had the words to describe Jane to other people. When people ask about her, which seems to be a lot lately, I just freeze up. I don't even know why people even keep asking me. Well I suppose I could figure it out. To me, the name Jane Rizzoli signifies protection, honor, bravery and love. I look from my couch to her coat hanging at my front door. The same coat that has been idle, untouched, for a week already. I really miss that woman. My Jane Rizzoli.

I get myself up, now and head for bed, as I can't think of anything else to do, really. Like every other night this week, I put on one of her shirts, and I lay on her side. I know it's silly but it makes me feel better and for the time being, It's good enough. Though, her scent nearly kills me. Everytime. As I lay here, the anticipation of reuniting with her brings me to tears, for I do not think I can make it through fifty more years. I fall asleep.

Once I wake up, I immediately know that it's my first day back at work and it takes every bit of energy I have left to get up. I take a shower, and put on my clothes and get ready. I am about to leave, when I pick up the keys. But they remind me of where I am going, and I try to forget. Just for a little while. The memory of being with Jane again carries me to the precinct.

I walk through the doors, and its all different than before. It looks the same, and has similar people, it's just that nobody will look me in the eye. Except for Detective Frost, I return his somber gaze. Beside him stands whom I assume is his new partner. I pay her no regard as he says to me, "We all miss her and want her back, Doctor. You aren't alone." I try my best to smile at him, and then the elevator doors close, and I am alone again.

I am standing in front of the morgue doors, and I can't help but think about the memories I have of my wife, sitting on the tables, or barging through the doors. At the times, I wished that she would be quieter, but now I'd give anything to hear her come through the doors again. I just miss her so much. I finally bring myself to walk through the doors, and make it to my office.

I sigh, sitting into my chair. Jane still on my mind, like always. I loved that woman more than life itself, really. Wherever I would have gone, she would have gone too. It was just like that. Wherever I went. I need to focus on breathing, as the thought of her overwhelms me. I close my eyes and just breathe. After a few minutes of self struggle, I get up, get my black scrubs on, and go back into the morgue.

There's a new body waiting for me, and everything is set up. If only I was doing this for Jane. If only she could come through the doors asking me if I am done yet. I would do anything for Jane, and she did the same for me. That is my constant reminder that if she could be here, she would. I'm staring at the scalpel, as I pick it up. At it all comes crashign down on me.

I think about the Y-incision, and how easily the scalpel penetrates the skin of the body. I remember how skilled I am with it too. Before, I would look at scalpels as tools to help me do my job, and speak for the dead. But now, now it's my key to being with Jane again. With the scalpel in my hand, I could join Jane, soon. No waiting fifty- or sixty years. I can't hold back the tears, and I can't let go of the scalpel. I run to my office. In my office I grab my purse and take out of it a medium sized box.

I open it, and there, is the shiny golden shield that bears her name. I hold it to my heart and stare at my other hand, wielding the scalpel, and I do something crazy. "Jane? Honey? It's me, your wife. I love you, so much, and I am coming to see you, so soon. So please be waiting for me, so I can catch up to you. Wherever you will go Jane. Lots of love, Maura." I feel like she can hear me, and that's good enough to me.

I hold the scalpel to my carotid artery, and I clutch her badge to my heart. My breathing is almost to a point where it's stopped but it doesn't matter anymore. Only Jane matters now. I suddenly don't care about the people I'm letting down, by choosing to leave this world. I know Jane wouldn't want this, but I don't care. I just want her to hold me. One last time, it would make life worth it.

I don't want to wait any longer to be with you, my life. I apply pressure with the scalpel as I smoothly slide the blade across my neck. Finally, Jane's wild black hair fades into view, and my office fades out. Her warmth wraps around me, and everything else fades away. She pulls me in closer, not saying a word. I don't think I've ever held her tighter than now. She rests her head on my shoulder, then presses her forehead to mine. She's looking at me with tears in her eyes. Only, she smiles at me, and suddenly I am happy that I payed the price to see her smile one more time, and forever. This is not how we planned our lives to go, but it's the way it is.

Her lips brush mine, and we both fade away.

Erm... please don't kill me (that word choice is not the best with this writing).

I mean, you all are welcome to tell me what you thought, and thanks for reading this if you're this far. I understand that this is really dark. I apologize for the mental strain that may or may not have come from this.