"What did she say?" Angela sips her coffee.
"She told me."
"The same story that she tells everyone? The about the cop that saved her life?"
"No, she told me the truth."
"She did?" Angela says in surprise.
"Yeah."
"She told you, about Michael?"
"She just said that she lost someone close to her."
"Oh, I've said too much, then."
"No you haven't. Tell me more."
"I can't. She would murder me."
"No, she wouldn't. Jane worships the ground that you walk on."
"She swore me to secrecy. I promised to take this to my grave. I would never betray her trust, like that."
"You tell embarrassing things about her, all of the time."
"This isn't embarrassing."
"Come on, Angela. Just tell me. Who was Michael?"
"I can't. And, don't tell her that I said anything."
"You didn't. I don't know who Michael is."
"But if you mention that name to her, she'll know that it had to come from me. No one else knows. She will automatically assume, that I told you, everything, and she'll hate me."
"No she won't."
"She will."
"It's not healthy to keep secrets."
"I agree, but some secrets, are better off, buried."
"What if this one isn't?"
"Maura, I assure you, it is. There is nothing you can do, or say to fix it, so just leave it alone."
"Ok," Maura agrees.
That night, Jane, and Maura end up at the Dirty Robber, again, for dinner. Jane is mid-sip, when Maura's curiosity, can be quieted no longer.
"Tell me."
"Tell you what? I already told you."
"About him."
"Who?"
"Michael."
Jane nearly drops the bottle, on the table. She swallows hard, and barely catches the bottle, as it slips from her fingers, and falls towards the table. She grabs it just in time, and places it on the table.
She gives Maura, a look that she has never seen before. Maura looks at Jane. Jane is frozen, and her eyes have gone cold. Maura can't decide whether Jane is staring at her, or looking through her.
"What did you just say?"
Maura breaks eye contact, "The wrong thing, apparently."
"You asked my mother? Unbelievable. I can't believe that she would tell you."
"She didn't."
"Then how did you know?" Jane answers.
Maura looks up, "I told her that you told me. She asked if you told me the story about the cop who saved your life. I explained that you told me the truth. She was surprised."
"So, she told you, everything?"
"No," Maura shakes her head, "Her response was, 'She told you about Michael?' When I told her no, she clammed up. She was afraid that she had said too much."
"She did."
"No she didn't. I don't know who he is."
"And, I'm not going to tell you, so don't ask."
"She said you would kill her, if she told me."
"Probably."
"And that she would take the secret to her grave."
"I hope that she does."
"Jane, whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
"No, you're right, it's worse."
"Just tell me," Maura begs.
"Maura, I swear, if you ask me, one more time, I will not hesitate to pull my gun out, in public, and shoot you, right here."
"Wouldn't you have to tell your secret, then?"
Jane pulls money out of her pocket, and tosses it on the table. She slides out of the booth.
"Where are you going?"
Jane runs out of the bar, without answering. She heads straight home. She tries to wash her troubles down the drain, with a warm shower.
When she gets out, and puts on pajamas, she just feels worse. Instead of going straight to bed, she goes into her closet. She crawls into the back of the closet, with the light off. She pushes aside some clothes, and reaches for the wall. She finds what she's looking for, in the form of an uneven patch of wall. She pushes it aside. Her fingers rest on the keypad, of a safe.
She hits the familiar numbers, ones that no one else would know. She jiggles the handle, and pulls the door open. She reaches inside, and pulls out a box. Before she can open the box, her phone starts to ring. Against her better judgment, she gets out of the closet, sans box.
She finds her phone, on the counter, in the kitchen. She doesn't look at the caller id, she just picks up the phone.
"Rizzoli," she answers, in a pissed tone.
"Jane, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"Maura, please, just let it go."
"I can't."
"Maura, you have to. I can't do this. Just leave it alone. Leave me alone, please."
"I'm at the door."
"Go home," Jane responds.
"Please let me in."
"Why?"
"Jane, I'm worried about you."
"I appreciate that, but I'm not going to spill my guts, because you are concerned about me."
"Ok, then, I'll just go."
Jane hangs up the phone.