The week after the funeral, Jane didn't hear from Maura at all. It was agonizing. It seemed clear that Maura was going to continue pointedly avoiding her. When they did cross paths, Maura called her, Detective Rizzoli. Asked how she was doing- but never smiled. Never touched her. Never laughed, or lingered, or looked at her too closely.

She felt like a drone, going through the motions of her life without feeling.

Well, not entirely without feeling.

She still hurt.

Still ached.

She hadn't spoken to Casey yet, and the longer she put it off the more fear built in the pit of her stomach.

But the distance from Maura was making her cowardly. What if she lost Maura and Casey?

What if she ended up with no one?

The phone rang and Jane answered it distractedly, flipping through channels towards the Red Sox game.

"Hello?"

"Jane," Maura sobbed. "I know I'm not supposed to be talking to you right now. I know I said horrible things to you, and I know you're upset but I just…"

Maura's tears strangled her.

"I just need my best friend right now," she heaved a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm so upset and I… I need my best friend. Please. I don't have anyone else to turn to- I don't want anyone else."

"Maura," Jane rasped, clutching the phone almost desperately.

"Please," Maura begged. "I thought I could do this, I thought I was ok- but I'm not. I'm so hurt, Jane, and nothing seems to help."

"It takes time," Jane suggested. "Losing a-"

"It's been days," Maura argued, and Jane could tell she was trying to stem the flow of her tears. "And I hurt just as much as when I saw you. Maybe even worse than then. I can't live like this- how am I supposed to do this?"

Suddenly, Jane didn't think they were talking about Paddy Doyle.

Jane rubbed a hand over her forehead roughly, considered hanging up, considered driving to Maura's home, considered running away and never coming back.

"I don't know, Maura," she breathed. "This is new for me too. I didn't… it's new for me too."

"But you've done this before," Maura suggested. "You've experienced trauma and loss. You must know how to make it better. I don't know how Jane- I've never done this."

"Jesus, Maura," Jane felt the anger creeping in. "Neither have I. I don't know how to make it stop hurting- I wish I did, honestly, because if you feel even a little bit like I do, it's fucking miserable in a way that seems like it will never go away."

"But you're fine," Maura said, her confusion and hurt coming across the line clearly.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Jane seethed.

"You look healthy," Maura asserted softly. "You have no trouble talking to me at the precinct or seeing me at a scene. Other than the decrease in frequency and duration of our conversations, it's like nothing has changed for you."

Jane's harsh bark of laughter was mirthless, sharp.

"I feel like you turned me inside out, Maura," she growled. "I'm fucking miserable. My Ma won't leave me alone cause she thinks I'm gonna do something stupid, something crazy, and I dunno- maybe I will. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't stop running it through my mind over and over and over and over again like maybe I'll see something I could have done differently. Maybe if I just run every fuckin' detail over in my head, I'll figure out what the hell I should have done."

"But you said," Maura's tentative voice transmitted across the line. "You said it wasn't anyone's fault."

Had she said that?

She sure as hell didn't remember saying it, and she didn't believe it now.

It was her own fault. All of it.

If she'd been stronger.

Better.

Smarter.

She could have stopped two hearts from breaking.

Three hearts.

Her own should count for something too.

"I think we can be friends someday," Maura whispered, and the honest, unabashed hope in her voice made Jane's eyes water. "Do you think it will take a long time?"

Jane tried to form an answer but Maura's voice stopped her.

"To stop hurting, I mean," she clarified. "When will it stop hurting me to just look at you, to even be near you?"

A shuddering sigh escaped Jane, leaving her drained.

"I don't know, Maura," Jane replied. "I just… I don't know."

"I'm sorry," Maura told her.

"Me too," Jane whispered. "I'm so sorry, Maura."

Jane hung up without waiting for Maura to speak again. It was too much, too difficult.

She thrashed and twisted in the blankets that night, dreaming of blackness and despair.

Jane woke up when her alarm went off and rolled over onto her back in bed. She arranged the pillows behind herself and held her cell phone in a white-knuckled grip.

Casey called, like clockwork, and Jane answered with a sense of almost nauseating dread. She had debated not picking up. Debated avoiding, running.

But she knew what she had to do.

She had to talk to him.

To tell him.

To stop hiding.

So she answered, asked how he was doing. They talked casually for a few minutes before there was a pause and she sensed her chance.

"I need to talk to you," she broached the topic hesitantly.

"Ok," Casey's wariness made her gut clench.

"It's about Maura," Jane admitted softly.

"Is she ok?" Casey's concern was clear.

Jane gritted her teeth. He was a good man.

"She's fine," Jane said. "Well, as good as can be expected I guess."

Casey knew about Jane asking for a new M.E. He knew about Doyle.

"You admit that you're in love with her?" Casey asked softly.

"I uh," Jane felt fear choke her. "It's complicated."

"Of course it's fucking complicated," Casey growled, surprising her. "I asked if you're in love with her."

The line was silent for an interminable moment.

"Yes, I," Jane nearly vomited. "I'm in love with her."

More silence.

Then,

"I know."

There it was again.

I know.

Did everyone in the world fucking know?

Jane closed her eyes, allowed a few tears to escape.

"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed raggedly. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Me too," Casey breathed. "And I'm… I miss you, Jane."

Jane sobbed, couldn't help the desperate, needy sound that came tumbling out.

"I miss you too," she replied. "I wish I could… that there was something…"

"It's not your fault," Casey sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Leave me," Jane begged. "Please. Casey, I can't walk away from you."

"You'll have to," he gritted. "I can't do that, Jane. I thought I could do whatever you want but I… I can't leave you. If this is what you want, what you need, you've gotta be strong enough to take it."

"I can't," Jane cried. "I don't know how."

"You love her?" Casey asked, his voice a quagmire of grief and anguish and anger.

"Yes," Jane replied. It wasn't any easier than the first time. "I… I love her."

"Then this is up to you," Casey told her, an undeniable edge to his tone. "I'm not coming home. Not now, anyways."

"What?" Jane felt a fresh wave of tears choke her. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to extend," Casey admitted. "I already put the papers through. I can… I can see about giving you a div… about separating, if you want."

"Casey, no," Jane begged. "Please…"

"You can't have it both ways!" Casey yelled, shocking Jane into silence. "You can't fall in love with her and then expect me to what- stand around and pretend this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me? I love you, Jane. I promised to stay by your side for better or worse. But you can't ask me to keep that promise when you've already broken so many of yours. It's not fair. I was a good husband, wasn't I? I tried to be, I really did. This is more than I can… this is too much. Just let me go."

"I'm sorry," Jane said helplessly. "I'm so, so sorry, Casey. I lov-"

"Don't," Casey cut her off, a low, fierce rage coloring his voice. "Just don't."

Jane cried openly, unable to stop herself.

"I'll get some papers drawn up," Casey's voice was cooler, even. "And mail them to you."

"Ok," Jane said.

"I'll call you," he added. "Goodbye, Jane."

"Ok," Jane repeated.

Casey hung up before she could say anything else.

Tossing the phone aside, Jane dissolved into sorrow. She burrowed into her bed, curling into a ball.

Her whole body hurt, her mind was jumbled, her chest ached.

The sorrow was overwhelming.

The phone rang and she hoped it might be Casey so she reached for it. It was Angela, and Jane answered on a sobbing, ragged breath.

"Jane?" Angela's concern was immediate. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Casey," Jane rasped. "It's over."

"I'm coming over," Angela said. "Are you at home?"

"No please," Jane cried. She was in no mood to deal with other people. She just wanted to curl up in bed and die.

"Jane," her mother sounded helpless. "Please, let me come over."

"I just can't," Jane sobbed. "Please just leave me alone."

"I love you," her mother conceded. "I'm going to call again later to check on you."

"Ok," Jane agreed.

"I love you," Angela repeated. "So much."

"Ok," Jane whispered. "Bye, Ma."

Jane closed her eyes and her head swam. She wondered if it was a mistake to push Angela away.

Now that she had, Jane realized she was desperate for comfort, for warmth, for touch.

When she heard the front door open half an hour later, she was relieved more than annoyed.

Shuffling footsteps made their way to her door and then paused. It was open and she didn't look up.

But then she caught a waft of subtle scent and her heart stopped beating.

She'd know that smell anywhere.

"Jane?" Maura's soft voice reached her ears.

Jane squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

This was a nightmare, a fantasy, an illusion.

If she didn't move, didn't breathe, it would go away.

Stop haunting her.

"Jane," Maura repeated, her footsteps resuming.

Jane sensed her friend at the edge of the bed.

"Please talk to me," Maura coaxed.

"Just go," Jane blurted.

"I don't think I should," Maura replied. "You're still my best friend. I just want to help."

"You can't help," Jane hissed. "This is your fault."

Maura shifted, sitting on the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I don't think you mean that. How can I help?"

"By leaving," Jane pleaded. "Just leave me alone."

"I can't do that," Maura responded, an undercurrent of certainty lingering.

"Why?" Jane practically begged.

"Because I love you," Maura said. "And you're hurting. I said I would still be there for you when you really needed me. I want to make you feel better."

And that was what Jane was afraid of.

She didn't deserve to feel better. To have Maura comfort her.

Maura placed a tender hand against Jane's head, lightly stroking through her wild hair.

A shudder wracked Jane's frame. She clenched her teeth against the almost unbearable torrent of emotions that shot through her.

She wanted to roll over and pull Maura into her arms. To burrow into the other woman and never come out.

Maura shifted and before Jane could open her eyes to look, before she could ask what Maura was doing, she was lying pressed up against Jane's back.

Maura wrapped an arm around Jane's torso and nestled up behind her.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.

Powerless to stop herself, Jane threaded her fingers through Maura's. Maura clutched her hand tightly.

Jane couldn't stop her body from shaking.

She felt like she was coming apart. Splintering.

It hurt.

She'd failed. Screwed up. Ruined her marriage.

Fallen in love with her best friend.

Everyone should hate her, be disgusted with her.

But…

But here Maura was, offering comfort in Jane's time of need.

Here Maura was, wrapping her lithe frame around Jane as if to protect her from the world.

Jane feared even breathing too deeply, lest Maura disappear as a sorrow induced delusion.

They remained immobile for long minutes. Maura's body pressed tightly to Jane's back, her arm cradling, comforting, as well as offering strength, protection.

The dichotomy was stark, striking.

Jane never imagined Maura as her defender, her savior. But it seemed so unbelievably clear in that moment.

Clutching Maura's hand tightly against her abdomen, Jane tried to process every sound, every scent, every sensation.

Maura was here.

In her bed.

Touching her, holding her.

It was too good to be true.

"It's over," Jane whispered, breaking the silence.

Maura tensed against her.

"I'm sorry," she replied evenly.

"Are you?" Jane challenged, surprised. It wasn't the answer she had expected.

"Yes," Maura responded. "It's hurting you, and I hate that."

"I'm not…" Jane hesitated. "I'm not as sorry as I should be."

There was a long silence as they both considered the statement.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what it sounds like," Jane said. "I'm sorry, because I loved my husband. But I'm not… I'm not in love with him anymore."

It was a cowardly confession but she couldn't bring herself to verbalize the full truth of it.

It wasn't just that she wasn't in love with him. It was that she was helplessly, hopelessly in love with Maura.

"I'm sure you can fix things with Casey," Maura finally said.

Jane's heart stopped. Her hand reflexively tightened around Maura's.

As if holding onto her physically could prevent her from falling apart.

"I don't want to fix things," she admitted, realizing the truth of it for herself.

"He's your husband," Maura replied. "I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"I don't want him to forgive me. I don't want to be with him," Jane repeated, her voice escalating as anger temporarily displaced her sorrow. "Are you serious right now?"

"Marriage is," Maura paused, her body moving incrementally away from the warm, safe haven of Jane's back. "Breaking up a marriage is a very big deal."

"I know breaking up a marriage is a big deal," Jane rolled away from Maura, standing furiously next to the bed. "But so is staying married to someone you don't love with your whole heart. I thought you of all people would understand."

Maura sat up, her legs dangling over the side of the bed, her back to Jane.

"Jane," Maura placated, turning to look at her.

"Get out," Jane shook her head, tears welling rapidly. "Just go."

"Jane," Maura tried again. "Please just listen to me."

"I don't want to listen to you tell me that I should get back together with Casey," Jane shook her head. "I'm not in love with him. I don't want to be with him. It's not fair to either of us. If you don't want what I want… if you don't love…"

She couldn't even bear to voice the idea.

If Maura didn't love her…

"Just go, Maura."

Maura slowly stood.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me," Jane exhaled raggedly. "To us."

"There is no us," Maura breathed. Her voice was eerily calm. "You're married, you're my friend, we work together. That's all there is to it."

Jane felt a tear escape. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She was disintegrating all over again, in an entirely different way.

She wanted to look at Maura. Wanted to meet her gaze and see the lie she knew must be lurking in those eyes. But she couldn't bring herself to, for fear that Maura was telling the truth.

"Go, please," she repeated.

She closed her eyes and kept them sealed until she heard the click of the front door.

Jane didn't sleep a wink that night and found herself out of bed before the sun rose.

With nowhere else to go, and needing desperately to distract herself, she headed to the precinct. After a punishing work-out on the treadmill she showered and set about the paperwork she'd been neglecting.

By the time Frost arrived at nine, Jane had been hard at work for hours. He appraised her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She pointedly avoided looking at him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," Jane groused. "Just couldn't sleep."

"If you need to talk," Frost let the offer hang.

She did look up then, meeting his gaze and nodding.

No further words were exchanged as they set about their day. By quitting time, Jane was exhausted.

At the elevators, Jane leaned heavily against the wall. She would be home soon and she could fall apart. Less than an hour and she'd be in bed in the dark, disintegrating in private.

She just had to hold it together for a little while longer.

When the elevator arrived with a, ding, she moved forward without looking, colliding head-on with Maura.

"Oh!" Maura exclaimed.

"Shit," Jane cursed. "Sorry."

She stepped back to give herself space. It was difficult to think with Maura's warmth and scent pulling at her like a lover's hands, tugging her ever closer and leaving an indelible mark.

"It's fine," Maura replied, smoothing her dress. "Are you alright?"

The look in her eyes made it clear she meant far more than any possible damage from their collision.

"Fine," Jane gritted. "I'll see you later."

She slipped around Maura into the elevator and closed the doors before the other woman could say anything more.

But she didn't miss the look of hurt in her best friend's eyes.

Frost chased after her, stopped her by her car.

"Hey, Jane," he called. "Wait."

She turned, on the verge of disintegration. She just needed to go home. She needed to go home or she might fall apart there on the sidewalk outside the precinct and she'd never recover because the pieces would scatter all over the place and…

"I'm not really-" she began.

"I just think you should know," he interrupted. Jane's gut clenched at the way he avoided her gaze. "She's um, she's seeing someone."

Jane felt the world spin and realized she was clutching her car to keep herself upright. She knew that if she let go she would collapse.

"What?" she croaked, her voice barely audible over the world around them.

"It's been going on for a few weeks," he added. "And I didn't want you to find out… I just wanted you to be aware. So you don't, I don't know, make any rash decisions."

"Rash decisions?" Jane laughed humorlessly. "Like what? Show up at her house naked under my coat? We're not even friends anymore. What she does on her own time is her business. She can fuck whoever she wants."

Even saying it in the hypothetical cut Jane to the quick. She felt tears well behind her eyelids. Her entire body was shaking.

Her vision swam. Her temples throbbed. Her heart pounded.

This must be what a panic attack felt like. Hyperventilating. The world shrinking in around her.

"Is he a," she swallowed harshly. She'd always been a glutton for punishment. "Is he a good guy?"

"It's," Frost looked worryingly apologetic. His voice was a pained whisper. "It's a woman, Jane."