Jane sat in silence behind the wheel of her car. Her eyes were glazed over as splotches of blue and red lights invaded the darkness of her sight. The colored lights cast pulsating and oddly shaped shadows across her face which remained expressionless. Noise from the commotion outside had dropped so many octaves that Jane could hardly hear it – like her head had been submerged under water. Cold night air seeped into her car from outside, causing her to shiver slightly. Knotted and unruly hair reached down and tickled her nose. She didn't remember taking her ponytail out. Everything was moving so slowly, but her brain couldn't process a thing. All she knew was that she needed to escape.

In a fluid motion, Jane turned her keys in the ignition and slowly left the chaos behind. It was only a reflection in her rearview mirror as she physically distanced herself. She was already emotionally numbed and absent. Hitting a black radio dial on her dash, the sharp voice of a radio talk show host disappeared. The hum of the engine was soothing. The cold air numbed her body, which seemed to fit perfectly with her numb mind. She didn't bother turning on the heat. Her stomach growled. Jane was uncomfortably comfortable.

Eyes stared intently out of the windshield, knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. Usually she drove with just one hand; sometimes she even guided the car with her knees. Tonight, both hands were placed precisely at 10 and 2 on her steering wheel and her shoulders were hunched over as if carrying a massive weight.

Lights of the city became less frequent the longer Jane drove on, still leaning forward and tense. Eventually Jane had driven long enough that only every few miles there was a gas station with some sort of diner hitched to its side. She was completely clueless as to how long she had been moving forward. Or backwards. Direction was irrelevant as long as she got away. The sky was pitch black, covered by a thin layer of clouds so that no stars were visible. Without the cityscape, the world around her began to melt into the sky, darkness blurring the horizon the farther she drove. She no longer had to stare into pair after pair of intrusive headlights, or demanding street lights. Again, Jane's stomach made its emptiness known.

The very next building Jane drove past was standing alone, with the words 24 HOUR DINNER DINER casting a lonely red light across the almost empty parking lot. Jane didn't even glance at her menu once she was seated inside. It smelled of old people and grease.

"Uh, just a salad please." She told the waitress, then added as an afterthought, "And coffee. Yeah…a coffee." Jane's vocal chords had gone without use for a few hours - the longest amount of time she could ever remember not talking while she was still conscious. Because of this, her voice was much rougher; similar to early mornings before fresh brewed coffee warmed her throat.

As Jane waited for her food to arrive, she tried her best not to think. Fluorescent lights buzzed quietly above her head as Jane ran the palms of her hands along her thighs. She was shaking; jittery. Every single goddamned choice she had made that day had been wrong. Including the amount of coffee she had, and the fact that she just ordered more. But the distraction of her addiction to coffee wasn't working as her brain began to turn back to the horror of her day. Even as she told herself not to, Jane thought of the crime scene. Of the blood.

It only took a few minutes before she felt emotionally exhausted as her mind ran over the details. Jane closed her eyes and tried to simply breathe.

"Your coffee, ma'am." The clink of a ceramic mug landing on the table caused Jane to open her eyes; sure not even seconds had passed since she had closed them. "And your Salad."

"Thank you." She muttered, not looking up at the waitress. Jane sat still a moment before rummaging around for silverware. The empty seat across the table taunted her as Jane pushed a tomato across her plate. Salads were so much more expensive than what a pile of leaves deserved to be. Just as Jane had brought her mug of strong, black, diner coffee to her lips her phone rang loudly causing Jane to jump. Coffee sloshed over the edges of her mug, landing all over the table and her leafy greens.

"Rizzoli" Jane answered harshly as she moved her coffee back to its resting spot on the table. She frowned at her food, and pushed it across the table in order to clean up the ring of liquid that had gathered around the bottom of her plate.

"Jane…Where are you?" Jane stopped moving, her muscles tensed.

"Maura?" Jane's eyes blankly searched the empty chair in front of her for answers. There was a long silence. Then an exasperated breath. Then words.

"Yes Jane. It's me…" A pause again. Then, "It's almost 3 in the morning. Where could you possibly be right now?"

"Some 24 hour Diner. I spilled coffee on my salad…"

Maura sighed, her breath loud through the phone, and Jane could picture her hand rubbing exhausted eyes.

"Jane, go home. You have to work tomorrow."

"I'm calling in sick."

Another silence. Maura was never so quite. She was always talking, spewing words that only belonged in a dictionary.

"I am taking a week off. Maybe more… Go home Jane. Sleep. Good night Jane." Then Jane's phone line was dead.

"Maura…"

Jane stared at her phone. Call ended. Then the light went out and it was black. Her eyes next moved to her soupy salad and almost empty coffee mug. Nothing could have been more unappetizing. She ran her long fingers through her flattened hair, shaking the strands in frustration. Tossing a $20 on the table, Jane stood and left.

Over an hour of stoplights, glaring headlights, and echoing honks passed before Jane finally arrived home. Why had she driven so far out to begin with? The red numbers on her car clock flashed 4:27.

Jane held her breath when she eventually stood outside the front door to her apartment. Everyone was asleep. It was so quiet. Jane simply stood and listened to the silence.

Nothing unnerved Jane like silence. She was a loud and boisterous being, whose tendencies carried through every aspect of her life. When she was alone in her apartment, there was always some form on noise – be it the news or radio in the background, or Jane's bad habit of talking to herself or Jo Friday. Jane thrived in the sounds. Without some noise echoing off her walls, Jane felt as if she might disappear. The sounds were a reassurance of her existence – that she was in fact experiencing life.

A muted shuffling sound came from inside Jane's apartment. Even as she told herself it was just Jo Friday, that she was being foolish, her heartbeat increased. Maura's face was all Jane could think of as she breathed out and pushed open her front door and flicked on the lights. Nothing. Of course she wasn't here. Of course Maura was in her own home, in her own bed. It was after 4 in the morning, after all.

And then there was the tiny detail that Jane had shot her father.

Jane had never felt so lost before. Maura was like her own personal North Star, a bright guiding light. Without that light Jane's nights were black and lonely. Jane stood in the doorway and quietly closed the door behind her. Jo Friday picked her scruffy little head off her paws and stared unblinkingly at Jane, then returned to sleeping position. Leaning against the door, Jane closed her eyes to avoid facing her empty apartment. It was so goddamn quiet – only the occasional roar of the heater had the courtesy to disrupt the silence. Sliding her back along the door, Jane sat on the floor. Her couch, which would have taken three steps to reach, seemed so far away. Everything seemed so far away. Her whole life seemed to have stopped and vanished. Jane slumped forward,
cradling her head in her hands, still fighting the vulnerability of emotions. Of thinking.

***

Jane's alarm rang through her apartment, finally reaching her ears. Why is it so far away? She sat up and looked at her surroundings, confused. Everything was familiar, yet she didn't understand where she was waking up. When she attempted to stretch her arms above her head, a hard wooden surface collided with her body. She realized she had fallen asleep against her front door. Her alarm still rang through the closed door to her bedroom. Unable, or unwilling, to stand, Jane crawled to her bedroom. She groaned as the noise became instantly louder the moment she opened the door. 6:00 AM. Hitting the off button, Jane simultaneously climbed onto her bed.

Jane began unbuttoning her pants with one hand, crawling under her comforter in her shirt and underpants. Just before slipping back into black unconsciousness, Jane wondered if she should visit Maura. Her question, however, remained unanswered. Jane quickly fell into a restless sleep.

***

The daylight was untelling as Jane tried to guess at how long she had slept. She imagined that her nap had lasted several hours longer than intended, but she didn't feel rested at all. A knot had developed between her shoulders from her quality time spent with the door, so she stood attempting to stretch out her back. Forgoing the effort of pants, Jane emerged from her bedroom in her underwear, a terribly wrinkled button up shirt, and her hair standing on end from static electricity. Tying her hair back, Jane walked automatically to the coffee machine. The machine was on a self timer to brew at 6:30 each morning, so Jane dumped the old, lukewarm coffee down the sink. There was a whole shelf dedicated to the multitude of unopened packages of gourmet coffee Maura had given to Jane. She pushed her usual brew aside, and searched for a more sophisticated flavor; a more Maura flavor.

Once the coffee began to brew, Jane remembered her lack of dinner. Or rather, her stomach reminded her through a painful twisting sensation as it echoed off her tile floor. Jane rubbed her eye with the back of her hand; not remembering she hadn't had time to remove her mascara as flaked of it fell down her face. Jane's eyelashes were naturally light and thin. Without the black paint they were invisible. Maura had shown Jane exactly what type of mascara would fit her eyes.

Eyes still blurry from sleep, Jane opened her refrigerator and squinted into the light. She didn't remember making a salad. Ever.

Jane pulled out a plate full of greens covered neatly in plastic wrap and stared at it skeptically. This was not something she would ever spend time making, as the different shades of green leaves were mixed precisely and little cucumber triangles were spread around the edge of the plate like a lace embellishment. Looking back at the shelf where this uncharacteristic entre had come from, Jane noticed a folded piece of lined paper with her name scrawled elegantly across it.

Putting the plate down on the counter without moving her eyes from the paper, Jane recognized the handwriting. Maura. Jane opened the note, unsure of what to expect. If Maura had taken the time to write her hatred down on a note, Jane knew it was real. That she couldn't do anything but wait and hope. If Maura had written down that she didn't want to see Jane again, she knew she could only nod in submission.

Sorry about your salad and coffee fiasco, but I approve of your healthy change in eating habits. I hope this will suffice for your ruined dinner.
-Maura

Jane stood, dumbfounded, in the middle of her kitchen. For a moment she didn't dare move, like she might break the fragile alternate universe she had woken up in, where Maura had been at Jane's house. Where Maura seemed to still care for her sad excuse of friendship. Even after...

Then all at once, Jane realized how late she had slept. She had glanced at the time on a few different occasions since she had awoken, but it never registered exactly how long she had slept.

"Goddamnit Jo! Its almost 2 in the afternoon!" Jane called as she ran from the kitchen.

Quickly changing out of yesterday's dirty and rank clothes, Jane threw on a pair of jeans and a black button up top. Normally she would wear just a ratty Baseball jersey, but for some reason that didn't feel appropriate. She wanted to visit Maura. To understand what her friend was thinking. To find out where their relationship stood. Jane didn't bother looking for socks, and just put her shoes on over her bare feet. A last minute glance in the mirror, however, stopped Jane in her tracks.

"Really?" Jane hunched her shoulders in exaggerated anguish and nearly stomped her foot in a temper tantrum.

Black smudges coated the skin beneath both of her eyes from yesterday's makeup and her hair looked as if it had been washed in the murky waters of the Everglades. Jane slammed her palm against the wall next to her mirror as she slowly began undressing again. She absolutely had to shower.