Title: Far Away

Author: LogicBomb.32

Ships: This is a weird one because it is partly Maura/OC and Jane/Maura

Summary: "So you'd rather sit here, in so much pain, rather than risk it all?"

Authors Note: I can honestly say that I didn't intend to write a second (much less a third part) to this. However I did and here it is. It is due to the feedback of my amazing reviewers that this second chapter is here at all. I hope it gives you what you're looking for. Enjoy!

Thanks to: Kai-chan14 AND tki143 AND Seriesfreak AND Jits AND Interp86 AND M who all reviewed chapter one.

To M (Who gave an anonymous review to which I am going to reply here): I am so glad that you enjoyed the story, even if it did bring you to almost to almost tears, that was what I was aiming for. Also you got my Adele reference, which was the inspiration for this story in the first place so THANK YOU!

Also, to everyone who story alerted and favorited this one-shot turned something else, thank you.

Months Later-

I'm trying to move on.

Except moving on is a lot harder when it's your best friend, the single woman you care most about in the world, the person you would do anything for, the person you would give anything for. The person who brought you fancy Italian take-out in the middle of a hard case just to make sure that you eat something. It's not like being dumped, or getting out of a relationship, it's like having your life torn apart, your soul shredded and fed to rabid dogs.

I fucking hate it.

And the worst part, it's all my fault.

I came to that conclusion pretty quick. All I had to do was tell you, be honest with you like you always were with me. Tell you that I was so, so hopelessly in love with you that seeing you with someone else, let alone a man, tore me apart inside. Except I didn't.

I sat there, in my own kitchen, watching as you walked out of my apartment, not looking back. As you shoulders began to shake and the tear I couldn't see began to fall and I just sat there. Every fiber of my being told me to run after you, run after you like I hadn't done for anyone else. Run after you, stop you on the sidewalk and apologize, apologize for everything and tell you, tell you every honest to god word that ran through my mind.

I even know what I would say, I know every word that I would say as I spilled my guts to you.

Except it's too late now.

It's far too late for that, you'd gone, gone off and married the man of you dreams in a wedding that was 'the wedding of the year' or so it was dubbed. My family went, surprised as I was that you still extended them an invitation, not that I should have been, you were still Maura, courteous, polite, gorgeous, sexy, Maura.

The absolutely worst fuckin' part of the entire situation is that I can see the sadness in your eyes. Your wedding is supposed to be the best night of your life and even as I looked at the photo spread the Herald gave you, I could see the sadness, well hidden behind the dress and the make-up, the adrenaline and the camera (which you always looked so good in), but it was still there.

And that was the worst.

I had destroyed something, something that spread, like a disease. Until it destroyed everything about Boston for you, or at least that's what I told, and still tell, myself now. Now that you're in Los Angeles with some other job, with an amazing house on the beach and little Isles' running around dissecting dead animals, it's the only lie I can tell myself.

But what do I know?

I don't even know where you work, let alone if you have kids.

I'm in so much pain. So much pain caused by my own actions.

My ma is worried about me, I can tell because she hasn't come over to my apartment in weeks, she hardly even talks to me anymore, maybe because she doesn't know what to say.

No one does.

Because no one knows what happened.

I didn't say a word to anyone, not even when Frankie cornered me one night and begged me to tell him what had happened to his sister. I almost cracked right then, almost, but I didn't. I told him, I told him that I was fine.

He knew I was lying, but, but he didn't say anything. He let it go, they all did in the end.

They let me do my job, not asking me to join them when they go to the Dirty Robber, not when they go to the Sox's games or the Celtics if they can get tickets. Korsak has stopped trying to get me to adopt more of his little animals. Frost has even gotten over his sickness when it comes to dead bodies because I so rarely go down to the autopsy room.

Too many emotions, too many memories that have already torn me apart once before and will do it again if I give them the chance. I was down there, waiting for your replacement to come back from dinner to give me the lab results and I was just down there. Surrounded by empty space and dead people.

I thought about the time I gave you the chocolate with the gold flecks in it.

I thought about the time Detective Leahy held a gun to your head and you stabbed him with a scalpel.

I thought about the time your father kidnapped you from the loading bay and my heart was racing, fear of finding you, dead, with an icepick in your skull the only thought on my mind. Maura, I was so, so scared. So much more so than I was ever when Hoyt was after me, okay maybe tied, but still, the thought of loosing you, I didn't think I would survive.

And now I know I can't.

There's a knock on my door.

I ignore it.

There's nothing going on that warrants someone coming to my apartment at, I check my watch, midnight. Everyone knows that if it's work related call me on my cell and I'll be there. If its family related, which it stopped begin a while ago, they know I won't answer my door.

I prefer to drown in my own misery.

It's a wonder I haven't drowned in the bottle instead.

Except I still like to work. Some part of me deep below the pain that resides there, is the same drive and motivation that pushes me to find the criminals of Boston, at least that hasn't changed.

Someone is still pounding on my door.

"Go away!" I shout, hoping it isn't my neighbor, she's still studying to be a lawyer, and if I remember correctly you takes the bar this weekend.

"No."

What the fuck?

I haven't heard that voice in, I check my watch, four months. Four months, it's such a short period of time but for me it has been eternity. Each day is harder than the next, each night the pull of my gun getting stronger, harder to resist. I'm still sitting there, not sure what to say, what to do even.

Then I hear a key turning in the lock and I realize that you still have the key I gave you, all those months ago, when life was good, when life was stable and happy, and we switched keys. You still have it.

You're horrified by the state of my apartment, I can tell because your mouth opens and closes quickly like you were going to say something but didn't. Instead you set your single, small bag down on the island, and turn to me "What happened?" you ask

"You left." I say "Why, why are you here?"

"Your mother called me." You admit "Your mother called me in tears Jane, tears, she's worried sick about you, everyone is."

"Gee, thanks, so good of you to come over and check up on poor old Jane." I say, unable to keep my pain that has been growing and growing over the past months spill out into my voice.

"That's not fair Jane." You say, and I know you're right "You're the one that shut me out, the one who wouldn't tell me what I did wrong, what happened between us. You did this, not me." You're on a roll now and there's nothing I can do to stop you "Jane, walking out of this apartment was the hardest thing I've ever done and every step I took I was hoping that you would come running after me. But you didn't. Instead my best friend wasn't at my wedding, she wouldn't even talk to me at work and" you say pointing at me, walking towards me and I stand up, lifting myself off of the couch.

"Do you know what the worst part is Jane? I don't know what happened?" You're shouting now "I don't what I did or what I didn't do that broke us apart life this. I have no clue and you wouldn't tell me. So I tried to move on, except I couldn't. I thought moving away would help, it doesn't."

I open my mouth to speak but you cut me off "No, Jane, I'm not done. I was in the middle of an autopsy when I get a phone call from your mother. She calls me, in hysterics, telling me that you've had it, she don't know what to do about you any more. She tells me that you've stopping talking, to anyone, that you seem depressed and everyone's worried that you're going to do something stupid. And, and I couldn't hang up the phone, I just couldn't. Aaron told me not to go, told me that I had moved on from that part of my life, that you had caused me so much pain already. And do you know what I told him?"

I shook my head, dumbfounded from the amount of fury, of anger that was pouring out of you the guilt that was swelling up in me.

"I told him that I my best friend needed me and I wasn't going to let her go and do something stupid without trying my best to help her. So this is me Jane, this is me here, trying to help you. So let me."

I don't know what to say.

I have no freaking clue.

I close my eyes, look up to a god that I don't necessarily believe in for various reasons and shoot the big guy a quick prayer, a prayer that I will have the strength to say what I need to, and that I don't fuck up the second chance I never expected.

Maura came back!

How many of you saw that coming?

How many thought that Jane was going to end up doing something stupid?

How many had no idea?

What will Jane say? How will Maura react? What's going to happen?

AND

Where is Jo Friday?

Thanks for reading,

Logicbomb.32