Author's Note: So this was just something I wanted to get down after re-watching episode 1x08. I might possibly continue with it if there's enough interest and if I feel like it could go further. Let me know what you guys think.

I lie in the dark just waiting. Waiting for my heartbeat to slow down. Waiting for my thoughts to stop racing. Waiting for the image of Hoyt to stop running through my mind, the way he looks—so satisfied—as he pins me down, as he—

I bolt upright in bed. I can't do this. I can't sleep. I know Maura has gone through a lot of trouble to make sure I can, but it's this not keeping busy, just lying down and being alone with my thoughts that is killing me and I simply can't sleep. I don't know how to explain this. I would never even try to explain it to anyone…except maybe Maura.

Yes, Maura.

And as if I conjured her out of thin air simply by the way my heart races when I think about her—but in a different way than before, in a good way-she appears in the doorway.

I would feign sleep, but that's pretty hard to do when I'm sitting up awake. And maybe it would be good to explain, to finally tell someone how scared I really am.

"Jane," she whispers, and I can see her tilt her head in that endearing way she does sometimes when she doesn't understand something. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I say, looking down at my hands. Even though it's dark I am sure I can see the scars burning bright white. I can definitely feel them.

"Yeah, I just…I can't sleep." I sigh.

I prepare to bear a rant about how it isn't that difficult to sleep, that I should be able to after how many hours I've been up—something Ma would say, or logical Maura.

But Maura simply crawls onto my bed and sits next to me. She gently places a hand on my back and instead of stiffening like I normally do when anyone else touches me, I feel my muscles relax against her palm.

"Lie back," she whispers gently and I obey, falling against the pillow. She lies down next to me, but she doesn't stare at me, study me like everyone else seems to lately. We just both stare at the ceiling, lying next to each other in silence and this is the most relaxed I've felt lying down in weeks it feels like. Then suddenly I want to talk, I want to release all of this fear swirling around inside of me.

"I'm scared, Maura," I whisper into the dark. My voice cracks. Normally, I would hate this. But this is real, this is how I know I'm really letting my emotions take control for the moment and it's an oddly pleasant feeling, like a release. Maura gently takes my hand in hers. I relish the contact. I'm always wound so tightly, trying to hide and suppress everything and now it just needs to come out. It needs to.

"I'm scared," I continue, "that he's just going to keep coming after me. It clearly doesn't matter that he's behind bars. He will always find some way to control me…frighten me." I hesitate to say the last part."He'll…he'll kill me. In the end."

At this I feel Maura stiffen beside me, her hand clench tighter around mine.

"Jane," her voice is low and I can't really understand what is beneath it.

"Jane, look at me."

I wouldn't dare deny her.

I turn over to face her. It's hard to make out her other features clearly in the dark, but I could get lost in those eyes of hers—they almost glow, and I can see the pain in them, but also something else, something stronger.

She grasps my other hand now and we are joined together like this, a complete, comforting circle that no one can break through.

"He is not going to kill you. Ever."

I shiver at her words, the seriousness of her tone. She clasps my hands tighter.

"He is not going to ever kill you. Because…it's just not possible. You are the strongest, most resilient person I know. Most people would have been dead long ago. And I don't mean just literally…also dead inside."

I shake my head, but keep my eyes on her, in awe of how certain she is, the intensity of her eyes.

"It's true, Jane. It's true. I know he won't ever kill you. Also, I'm here. And as long as I'm around, there's just no way in hell. No goddamn way he'll be able to take you away."

Maura hardly ever curses so that could be what makes me speechless, steals the air from my lungs, tightens my throat. But I'd have to guess that there is more to it than that. That it's the words, what she's truly saying. That it's the way her eyes are on fire when she says it. That it's the way she tightens her grip on my hands, as if she's hanging on for dear life. As if I'm hanging off of a building and she's grabbed hold of my hands to bring me up over the edge, to save my life.

I can't say anything, but I bury my face into her neck and feel the hot tears come, tears that have been stored up inside of me for so long. It's like a dam opening and now it's all streaming, all pouring out and it feels so magnificent. My left hand wraps around her hair and I'm holding onto it—it is my anchor. I'm holding on and breathing in the scent of Maura, and acting as though I can bury myself in it, hide myself away in her goodness, in her beauty, in the stronghold of her heart and the grip of her arms that encase me and make sure I'm not falling away. Ever.

When I find my voice, all I seem to be able to say is her name over and over, as if it is the only word I know, the only way to communicate, the only name in the universe. In the safety of Maura's arms there is no such name as Charles Hoyt. No such person exists.