Author Note: I know, this one was very quick. I'm impatient. So close to the end now! I've already written most of the final chapter, though it could do with some amendments since the story changed a little over time. Thank you so much to you lovely people who have commented, followed, favourited, read and enjoyed the last chapter. There's just 2 chapters left after this one, so I hope you enjoy it.


Hibernation made sense. Jane had been in bed for nearly three days, aside from the occasional bathroom, beer and snacks breaks, she hadn't moved. Her phone was under her pillow, several books sat on her bedside cabinet and she was safely tucked up under her bed sheets. Sometimes Jane considered what it was like to be an animal, and this, she was fairly certain, was it. Humans put too much emphasis on the need to go outside and do things. Jane flicked through the book on top of her pile. She didn't read much, especially not for pleasure, but she had to do something to fight off the occasional bouts of boredom. The rest of the time she slept, dozed, closed her eyes, or thought about life under various scenarios.

What would her life be like if she was a man? She'd probably be more than a detective by now. Sergeant? Maybe even Lieutenant.

What would life be like if aliens invaded the Earth? She'd probably be dead, or in a laboratory being fed peanut brittle to test her reactions.

What would it be like if she'd joined the family business instead of becoming a cop? First female plumber to be jailed for hitting some sexist pig on the head with a pipe.

What if she took her place at BCU? Maybe she would have met Maura earlier. Maybe she would have found a place as Queen of the Bitches and treated Maura like the geeky pre-med student she would have been.

What if she hadn't met Maura at all? Lonely. She'd be lonely, probably in the exact same place she was then - hibernating.

What if she had been confused about her sexuality at sixteen? Her first thought, before she could stop herself was, gay. Definitely gay. Which only unsettled her further. Would it really have worked out that way?

Looking back made her question every moment of every relationship she'd ever had. In high school she was exploring who she was, after losing her best friend to big boobs she stayed away from the world of bitchiness and found solace in sports, male friends and trying to ward off the impending loom of her eyebrows. She was mocked, taunted and teased, but unlike others in her class she stood up to anyone who dared mess with her.

She didn't once question who she was. Then again, growing up she was surrounded only by straight people. Her family didn't know anybody who was gay, her school claimed to tolerate everybody for who they were but there was a stark reminder by whoever was 'in charge' that difference was dangerous. The only person who ever came out was beaten up the next day and never returned to the school.

Jane's perception of being gay didn't exactly gain full support from anyone she knew. Her father came across as homophobic, leading to a few altercations with paying customers who wanted the taps changed on their bathroom sinks but instead got a scathing lecture about putting certain kinds of people in their place.

Growing up surrounded by all of that meant that Jane just didn't see any other side. Her father talked frequently about the man she would one day marry, her mother cooed over weddings and babies, begging her and her brothers for as many grandkids as they could manage between them.

Being gay was never really an option.

Now Jane couldn't understand why she'd never noticed the signs before. Her first boyfriend was gained under duress from friends. He liked her, she liked baseball, and she enjoyed his company. Kissing was just one of those things she did to make him happy to be around her. Besides, she enjoyed kissing, and the physical contact that followed in later relationships.

She liked sex.

She usually had to help herself along a bit to make it worth her while but the few magazines she read that talked about sex claimed most women weren't satisfied by their man, anyway. It was considered normal.

Jane had brushed aside the night she spent at a party in tenth grade when she became a little too attached to a friend. They only really saw each other occasionally, hung out at parties or group social events, and Jane liked her. Maybe the friendship she envisaged with her was something more significant than she realised. They never talked about it. Their only kiss was perfectly innocent during a game of spin the bottle. But Jane spent a week in bed when she moved away.

Then there was the dream she'd had about the counsellor at the day camp she attended in the summer when her mother worked full time. They needed some extra money so she took a job working nine to five in an office and Jane and her brothers spent their days with other kids from the neighbourhood playing softball, making friendship bracelets and eating s'mores.

She was twelve. The counsellor was in college. In the dream she let the counsellor brush her hair and out of nowhere she kissed her on the lips. She went to the day camp the next day and gave her a friendship bracelet before running off to play softball with the boys. She always passed it off as something of nothing.

Now she wondered if her whole life had been a lie.

Even her most recent relationships didn't go anywhere. Sometimes she wondered if the only reason her and Casey didn't work out was because they were better off as friends. Back in high school they'd been good friends before anything else happened. When she saw him again it was his friendship she missed the most.

Neither of her recent relationships were something she really pursued. She enjoyed the intimacy of being with someone but if it hadn't happened, Jane didn't think she would have been that disappointed.

Then there was Tess. People sometimes assumed that she was gay based on ridiculous stereotypes. She laughed it off, mostly, and made jokes but deep down it always bothered her.

Now she questioned why. Maybe her vibes were telling her something.

A loud bang and the sound of splintered wood made her jump. She reached into her bedside cabinet and pulled out her gun, slipping out from under the covers and opening the bedroom door slowly. When she saw her mother stood on the other side her heart leapt in her chest and she lowered her gun to the floor.

"Ma, what the hell?"

The door hung awkwardly on its hinges, the lock busted, and bits of wood scattered the carpet. A uniformed officer stood behind her. Jane rolled her eyes and returned to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"You can't stay in there forever, Janie," said Angela, but she sure wanted to try.

She sat on the floor behind the door, her bedsheets tucked around her in an attempt to stop her mother from entering the room. She could hear her pottering about the apartment; making a drink, opening the fridge, cleaning the dishes. Eventually she heard her on the other side of the door.

"Janie," she whispered.

Jane's shoulders sunk and she let out a sigh. "What, Ma?"

"I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine," she said, though the brief visit out of her bedroom and the movement of the sheets must have disrupted the air. Several times a day Jo Friday ran into her room looking for scraps, stopping at the door and running out again. Now she knew why.

"I talked to Maura."

"Don't."

"Jane, we have to talk about this. You can't stay in there forever."

"I can try."

A silence fell between them for a moment. Jane knew exactly what her mother was doing. They did it enough times when she was growing up. Instead of facing her wrath or seeking her comfort, Jane would run into her bedroom and pile up everything she could behind the door to stop her from coming in. Then she'd sit on top of it to add extra weight. They'd play the same game, each sitting on either side of the door. Eventually Angela would start talking and Jane would reply, until she stopped talking in the middle of the conversation forcing Jane to speak.

"You broke my door," she said, unable to resist the urge to hold out longer.

"I broke your door," Angela repeated.

"It's okay," said Jane. "I hated that door, the lock was already busted."

"I had to take Maura to the Emergency Room."

A lump settled in the back of Jane's throat. That was another one of her tricks, feign something serious to goad her out, but it never worked. Jane didn't come out when she told her Frankie had broken her favourite softball mitt aged nine, or when she told her that Tommy had broken his ankle jumping out of their treehouse when she was thirteen. Neither had happened.

"Don't start that again, Ma," she said, closing her eyes and listening for her response.

"I'm not lying. She told Susie she had a migraine coming on so she could go home and got the hives. But she was too upset after talking to you that she accidentally smashed the bottle calamine lotion and cut her hand open."

"Jeez, Ma," said Jane, her heart flipped in her chest. Somehow she knew that her mother was telling her the truth but the thought of Maura hurting herself, because of her, was too difficult to process. "You have a real imagination."

"She's doing fine," said Angela. "They stitched her up. She's back at work."

"I'm not coming out."

"And I'm not going anywhere."

"I really messed up," Jane said, eventually, giving in to her mother's silent demands.

"I know you did," she said.

"I didn't mean to hurt her, I just don't know why, I can't, I don't want her to be with someone who isn't good for her, Ma."

"She isn't, Janie."

"She isn't?"

"No." Angela paused. "She's just been a little confused is all. She's not seen Lucy in days. Apparently she's meant to be in town for a few more days but Maura's not seen her. Nor does she really want to."

"You're not making that up?"

"Why would I make any of it up?"

Jane turned around, letting the sheets fall from her shoulders as she reached up and pulled on the door handle. She inched forwards and sat back down. The door moved a little further, pushing her forwards until her mother could slip through the gap.

"Always the same," she said, sitting down on the floor and wrapping her arms around Jane's shoulders.

"I'm sorry if I worried you."

"You worry me even when there's nothing to worry about," she said, kissing the side of her head and scrunching up her nose. "You need a shower."

"I know," said Jane, trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry."

After a long, hot shower Jane felt a little brighter. Hibernation didn't suit every mood, and coming out of it actually felt a lot better than Jane expected. Her mother placed a plate of ravioli and tomato sauce on the counter and made her eat every bite.

"Done," said Jane, pushing the empty plate towards her mother with a stupid grin on her face. She felt like she was five again. She put on a childish voice. "What's for dessert?"

"Now she wants dessert," said Angela, taking a bowl of ice cream out of the freezer.

"I love you, Mommy," said Jane. She didn't care how pathetic it looked, sometimes all she needed was to feel like a child again being taken care of by her mother.

"What are you going to do about Maura?" asked Angela, sitting opposite with her own bowl of ice cream.

"What can I do about Maura?" Jane shrugged.

"Here's an idea, try talking to her."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Tried that. Called her Saint Maura and made it worse."

"Try again."

"But Ma," said Jane.

"No buts, Janie. You need to make this right. You know you do."

"I know. I just don't know what to say to her."

"I think when you see her, you'll know what you need to say," said Angela.

She pictured Maura standing opposite her, her beautiful smile spread wide across her face. She thought of what she'd say first, how she'd explain that she didn't mean to hurt her. She'd apologise, she'd tell her how much she loved her. Not how much. She'd tell her she loved her, in a platonic kind of way, she'd fix their friendship because that was all that mattered. Jane shook her head, her mother stared at her.

"I don't think I can do this," she said, lowering her head into her hands.

"You can do this Jane Clementine Rizzoli," said Angela. "Or I'll give you a whooping. This has gone on long enough."

She had to do it. No matter how difficult it was, Jane had to fix things with Maura. She placed her spoon into the empty bowl and stood up.

"Thanks, Ma," she whispered, kissing her on the cheek and rushing out the door with her car keys.

"Good luck," Angela shouted after her, but Jane was already halfway down the staircase.


Author Note: Are you liking Jane again yet? I don't like that I made so many people dislike Jane, though she was kind of bitchy. Still. Please love Jane again. And the usual spiel about comments, etc. being appreciated, I'm sure you've heard it all before. (There was supposed to be a heart here, but FFnet doesn't seem to like the pointy bracket.)