A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Coke Cam because every time I don't update I think of her (and all the others) who hate starting unfinished fics but do so with hope that the authors will not be assholes like me. Not entirely thrilled with how this chapter turned out, but I'm glad to be writing again. Planning on making the next chapter the last one, just so you are aware.

I think we need a 'Previously On Rooftops': Jane and Maura have just attended one of Constance's art shows, and Constance has alluded to Maura choosing Johns Hopkins for med school. This, of course, leaves Jane feeling hurt and fearful about the status of their relationship. Maura is not as sympathetic to the matter as Jane would have hoped, and they part with much angst. And so continues the angst…


(I don't want to talk about the part where I cry, so we're skipping that.)

The hallway is quiet as I leave the coatroom. It's not like I'm expecting Maura to wait for me or anything. As I'm just about to reach the door, I hear the sharp click of heels coming from the direction of the bathrooms.

For a moment, I am pitifully hopeful.

"Jane, dear?" It's Constance, a surprise, but not the one I am hoping for. "I thought you were inside with Maura."

My lips shift, a small vibration rumbling in my throat, and then suddenly it all spills out from me. "It's not fair! It's so unfair that you're making these decisions for her already. Don't you know how much she means to me? I love her, you know. I love her, and I'm sick of always losing her. I gave up BCU, you know. I gave it all up, and I'll tell you what, I am so sick of being the one who always has to make the sacrifices!"

I've left her floored. "Jane, I—"

But I leave before the conversation can become something, before Constance can begin to make sense of anything I've said. My head reels, and my boots shuffle across the sidewalk blindly. I've fucked everything up today.

I wander aimlessly for a little while, until the tightness in my chest unravels enough for me to breathe properly again. And then I begin to think of my options. They are as follows: Walk to apartment (much too far), take a cab (money I do not want to spend), return to the museum (absolutely not), or go the station and harass Frost into driving me home (yes).

Though it is Saturday and the station is almost empty, I find Frost upstairs, poring over police reports and other files. He is in the process of becoming a homicide detective, and I'm dripping with envy.

"Hey, Rizzoli," he swivels around in his chair, looking somewhat relieved to have a distraction from his work. "What brings you here on this fine Saturday?"

I shrug, feeling suddenly bashful. I always feel better about asking for favors if I make the other person believe that it was their idea. I sit up on the edge of his desk, eyeing the box of donut hole by his computer.

"You want one?" He doesn't miss a thing. He hands me the box, and I shove a two into my mouth. (Crying always works up my appetite).

"Okay," he lets out a sigh, snapping the file shut, "what's wrong?"

"Why are you assuming something is wrong?" I accidentally spew a few crumbs across the desk.

"Well, my keen detective skills have let me to deduce as much, based on the following clues. One, you are here on a Saturday with no actual purpose. And two you have not made even one dessert or weather related joke in reference to my last name, while you are eating a frosted donut, nonetheless. All evidence leads to 'Jane needs something but is pretending to be too polite to ask'."

"Busted," I sigh, dramatically, before promptly fitting two more donut holes into my mouth. "I kind of need a ride home." It comes out in a muffled jumble because I have not bothered to swallow.

I feel guilty for putting him out. I feel ashamed that I am suddenly so needy, so helplessly dependent. But he lets me take the donuts on the car ride home, which lowers the need for extraneous conversation and I'm left with a small moment of reprieve. I have him deliver me to my mother's home, on some outlandish whim, and the familiarity and comfort of entering my childhood home leaves my chest aching with nostalgia.

"Frankie?" Ma's voice comes from the kitchen, the scent of freshly baked cannoli.

I shuffle into the doorway of the kitchen, feeling unbearably small.

"Mommy."

I call my mother 'Mommy' approximately never, but the word slides out, a small helpless plea. It's a seamless transition, as she rises from the kitchen table and engulfs me in her arms.

"Shh, baby, tell me what's wrong?" She smoothes my hair away from my face.

I cling to her, taking in small, gasping breaths, because I am not about to cry again. "Nothing in my life is turning out the way it's supposed to."

She holds my shoulders, finding my eyes and speaking with the confidence that only a mother can. "Listen to me, Janie. I know that there are always difficult days, but you've got yourself a great job and a place of your own. You're doing great, I promise you."

I shrug her hands away from my shoulders, finding a spot at the kitchen table. She frets over me for a moment, providing me with a plate of warm cannoli and a cup of hot chocolate. "Why does everyone measure success that way? You know, the career, the independence, how fast you manage to get out your parents home and start your own life...I mean, they're all great things, but why should any of them matter if the people who matter most aren't around to be there for it?" I take a sip of hot chocolate, scalding my throat momentarily.

"Your family will always be here for you," Ma assures me, taking a seat opposite me. "And Maura-"

"Maura's moving to Maryland for medical school. Also, we're dating." Apparently I have lost all my tact today. I fit an entire cannoli into my mouth and quickly douse it in a sip of my steaming beverage. I struggle to swallow.

"What?" Ma's voice is sharp, shocked. I avoid eye contact.

"Yep. That's right. I'm gay." I dare to take a peak at her, but she's looking at her hands.

I want to rewind to this morning, to the safety beneath Maura's tent of sheets, to warm kisses, to blissful ignorance.

"Jane." I refuse to look up, feeling achingly vulnerable. "Jane, I'm happy you told me." Her voice is calm, more collected than I expected it to be. I finally find her eyes, and they're welling with tears, and not the bad kind.

I take in a quivering breath, emotionally overwhelmed, drained and exhausted, searching for just one bit of hope to grasp onto. "What am I supposed to do?"


A/N: I never know how appropriate it is to casually include Frost in fics anymore, so I hope that I didn't upset anyone by the way that I included him so briefly here.

Feedback is so greatly appreciated. I hope there are people out there still interested in reading this :)