Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything else related to the show.

"And here's your room, Mrs Rizzoli." The male nurse says. I'm not one to judge someone for working in a field that is dominated by the gender opposite of his or her own, seeing that I used to do the same as a homicide detective, but this guy doesn't really seem interested in anyone's mental health. He had been not-so-subtly checking out my (to be honest not very impressive) boobs for the past 10 minutes.

"Thanks." I mumble before pushing past him. He says a few more things about getting settled in and being able to pick up a schedule the next day before he walks away, leaving me to explore my room. Thank god I don't have a roommate and the single bed suggested that I won't have one in the future either. I look around the room. The bed is against the wall on your right when you enter the room. Besides the bed there's a dresser and a bookshelf, a little nightstand with an alarm-clock on it and a door to the tiny little bathroom.

"Seems okay." I mumble to myself. And it does. It seems okay. It does not seem like a place where I want to spend the next few months of my life, but then again, there's no place on earth that really does. But I can't think like that. For now, I just have to focus on rebuilding my walls and getting the hell out of here.

XXXXXXXXX

Tiny cars and tiny people and tiny buildings all part of this tiny town that I am no longer a part of. I think that was one of the hardest things to accept when I was admitted here. Not the fact that people thought that I had an altered mental state. Not that I wouldn't see my dog for a couple of months or that I would be stuck with no one but crazy people all day every day. It wasn't any of that. It was that I was no longer a part of the city. I was no longer a well-functioning member of society. I look down at a few people driving by.

"Being exposed to cold temperatures like this for an extended period of time can cause hypothermia, frostbite or other damages to your tissue." The soft voice makes my head snap up. Doctor Isles is standing in front of me, looking just as beautiful as she did the first time. I look at her for a few seconds before moving my gaze back to the people on the streets beneath me. I can see doctor Isles walking towards me out of the corner from my eye. I see her hesitating to sit down, so I put my jacket on the ground without watching.

"Why didn't you come to your appointment with me 20 minutes ago?" She asks without any accusation in her voice and I'm just sitting there thinking that she must be an angel because she came to find me. And if she came to find me does that mean that she can help me find myself, too? But I don't tell her this. I don't tell her that she's the first person I've met since I'm in here with who I feel the urge to tell her what had happened to me. She's the first person I want to ask what the hell is wrong with me and why the hell am I feeling this way. But I don't say any of those things.

"What do you care?" Is what I say. And I know that it's wrong from the almost wounded look on her face. And even though it only takes about 4 seconds for her to school her features back into the professional mask she normally sported, it still leaves a deep ball of guilt in my chest. I hate you. I whisper to myself inside my head.

"I'm your therapist. I'm supposed to improve your mental health, Jane." It's the first time she says my name and I already know that no matter what happens, my name will never sound as beautiful as it does with her voice wrapped around it.

"Yeah, well there's nothing wrong with my mental health." Liar. I whisper to myself inside my head. You're sick and twisted and messed up and broken. I add.

"Why are you still in here then?" doctor Isles asks calmly. I shrug.

"It's okay to not be okay. It's my job to talk to you about this." She says. I look up at her. I avert my gaze and look up at the sky.

"I was a homicide detective, you know." I say. I don't even know where this is coming from. My mouth is saying things that my mind hasn't even approved of yet. And still I feel better than I have in a long time. Doctor Isles just nods, urging me to keep talking. So I do.

"I was pretty good, actually. High closing rate. But then there was this case…" I stop and just stare at the clouds above us. It isn't like I was planning on telling doctor Isles about Hoyt, but it seems like I don't really have a choice.

"The MO was horrible. He targeted happy couples. He would tie the man up and rape the woman before his eyes. And then he killed them both." Doctor Isles seems sympathetic, but not surprised or disgusted.

"He was obsessed with me. I don't know why. It was probably the chase or something. But anyway, he kidnapped this girl and left enough clues for me to find out where he was. And he knew that I was too stubborn and impatient to wait for back-up. So I went in on my own. And I saw her lying there and I was so sure that I had saved her." I can feel the empty hole of emotion burning in my chest. It's the first time I am telling this to anyone.

"And then he came from behind me and hit me over the head with a 2x4. I woke up some time later." Doctor Isles put a hand on my arm for a second before retreating it again. It felt like the hole in my chest was filled and like my heart was trying to beat through my chest.

"I tried to get up. But Hoyt was watching me from the shadows and he launched himself at me and pinned me down. He drove scalpels through my hands." I say it like it's not a big deal. Like what he did isn't the worst thing anyone ever did to me. My voice doesn't even waver and my eyes don't even water. I don't even feel like I am talking about myself anymore. But I keep going. I hold up my hand and point to the scar.

"My partner came in just before-" My voice stops. It's not like I have to cry or anything. It just stops. I try again.

"Just before Hoyt-" I stop again. I look at doctor Isles helplessly. She finished my sentence for me.

"Before he could kill you" I nod. She puts her hand back on my arm and starts moving it up and down and I feel like I'm not as broken. I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can be okay again.

"Thank you." I rasp. She just nods and smiles.

"Will you be attending our next appointment?" I look up at her and I'm sure my face must be the image of surprise.

"Of course." I smile at her. Her face softens. Like she was afraid I'd say no. I don't think I could have.

"Good." She says. She stands up and walks away, smiling back at me once more before disappearing back into the building. Maybe I'm not lost. Maybe I can be found again.

A/N: Hope you liked it!