Disclaimer : I do not own Rizzoli and Isles

AN : Thank you lovely readers. You make my day

Frankie had taken a walk to the park in a daze after leaving his sisters apartment. He had no idea how to let steam off when faced with a predicament like his own. He had imagined spending a few moments in Jane's apartment would have helped, but based on what happened there, it only made things worse. What's the worst that can happen in the park? He thought to himself as he took a seat on a nearby bench overlooking a small pond. The ducks looked so carefree and happy. For a brief moment he wished he was a duck too. The air was cold and a wind was starting to make him shiver. When he attempted to shove his hands in his pockets he then realized he was still clutching to the pieces of paper he had picked during his confrontation with Maura. Needless to say, he was feeling horrible for all he said to Maura. It just happened, he couldn't stop it and he sure as hell couldn't explain it. Thinking about it now, there are many words he said he couldn't quite remember. But he knew he would have to make it up to Maura big time.

It was only after reading the first piece of paper that understanding descended upon him. He made quick work of arranging the pages in order and began to read the letter coherently. If he thought what had happened was the worst, he stood corrected. He read it again, just to be entirely sure. Neatly folding the crumbed paper he was aware that his first course of action was to speak with Maura.

Amos was parked in a secluded area nearing Mexico. He had on occasion checked to make sure the detective was ok. Contact to his connections in Mexico had got a retired doctor to meet him soon to help with Jane. A few minutes of waiting, and a car was slowly approaching them. At this point Jane had been laid on the back seat of the vehicle so the doctor immediately set to work. Turns out she was going to fine. Drip in place, vitals checked (as best as they could in their circumstances), Jane was beginning to open her eyes. He was hoping to get her into Mexico before she became aware of her surroundings, it would make the job that much easier. They set about getting their disguises together then driving off the remaining miles to their destination.

With no problems, they made it into Mexico and Amos headed for a house he had there where they usually held men waiting to be smuggled into America. Jane was now fully awake but too weak to speak. The little level of intelligence she held in that moment told her she was better of saving her energy and assessing her surroundings. So she did just that, while Amos just watching her, possibly wondering what he was going to do with her.

In another state, word about the mysterious sudden death of Detective Jane Rizzoli had spread. The NYPD was doing all they could to search the rivers for her body, they had already found numerous dumped from years, months, and weeks ago. They were well aware that Ceelo and his guys had long fled the country and would never be found, so they just focused on their main aim, finding Jane's body.

It was now three days since Jane's 'death'. Angela had woken up and she was still having a hard time with the whole situation. Something was amiss to her, she wouldn't say it, but she knew it as a mother. Until they found Jane's body, Angela swore to herself she wouldn't entirely believe it. It would be like giving up on her daughter if she took things too far without tangible proof. Maybe it was a ploy to comfort herself? But whatever it was, Angela would hold on to that tiniest shred of hope known to mankind.

The media had somehow not blown things out of proportion and the situation of Jane was dealt with amicably, with no pictures leaked to the public – just an article on the front page of Boston Times. She had been told that morning that Korsak had been hurt and upon release she went to his house to see him, as suggested by Frankie.

''Just a minute'' Korsak yelled walking lackadaisically to the door. ''Angela, come in''.

''I hope I didn't come at a bad time. Frankie said to come and see you as soon as I could. I just got out of the hospital and I didn't really feel like heading home just yet''. Rambling was so out of character for Angela, but Korsak understood that the woman's world had just been turned upside down.

''You never have to apologize for coming here. I see Frankie dropped you, is he coming in?''

''No, I told him I would get a taxi home when I leave''. Korsak had motioned for her to come in and they were now sitting in his living room.

''Angela….''

''It's ok Korsak. I would rather not speak of it now'', the ordinarily strong woman was already in tears. ''What happened with your arm? Be honest with me Korsak, no one will tell''. Her voice was somehow teetering on admonition.

''You know, we don't have to talk about this today. When things settle down we can-''

He was cut off again, ''What happened to your arm? And why have I not seen Maura?''

''She shot me, and no one knows where she is''.

Silence filled the room, for what seemed like forever.

''Why'', she asked it as if she didn't want to know the answer. Truth be told, she didn't particularly WANT to know, she just HAD to.

''I don't know, it was an accident. And I think she feels terribly about it, that's why she left''. Korsak found himself sounding like Maura in that moment – dodging the point with half-truths. He didn't need to be a genius to know Maura loved Jane, and vice versa. It just wasn't his place to say anything. And the last part was just an intelligent guess. Angela was too confused and worn out to go through her trademark interrogation so she let it slide.

''I have some things to give you''. Korsak walked to his bedroom and emerged an exact minute later with an A4 sized folder. ''Maybe you should take a look at it later when you are home. Can I get you something to eat or drink?''

''NO thank you, I think I will just call for a taxi and head home. I am starting to feel rather exhausted. Tommy and Frankie are there and probably have something ready to eat. Thanks again. For everything. I will talk to you soon.''

She was already heading for the door. The folder had piqued her interest and she in no way wanted to wait a second longer before going through its contents. When the taxi left her at the Beacon Hill home she headed for the guest house where Tommy and Frankie were preparing something to eat. Before they got a chance to say anything Angela told them she needed to just relax a little bit alone in her room. Neither argued. When she settled on her bed she opened the folder containing much more paper work than she expected.

The first thing to arouse her interest was the small handwritten note in Maura's neat script. If it was possible, her heart broke into even smaller pieces. Maybe she could call it ''shredded''. The note seemed rather ambiguous to an extent. Sorry for what I what I wanted to do to myself? Maura was normally one for clarity, but her writing seemed to throw Angela off a little. So she sat down the note and moved on to the title of Maura's car left in her name. Under that was a typed out letter from a Mr Perkins, Maura's attorney she soon realized. He explained all the house selling proceedings in great deal and all that just left Angela light headed. The mother of three (two now), lay herself in a foetal position on her bed and began the waterworks again. She couldn't understand why all that was happening to her.

By this time Maura was now just arriving in her hotel room. Her flight had been long, to say the least, with two stop overs. She spent the majority of the time sleeping, watching people or listening to music. Fully checked into the gorgeous hotel on the nice country side of New Zealand, she went to take her first proper bath in three days. It was nearing the end of the afternoon and she thought it wouldn't hurt to assess her surroundings and the local town before she called it a night. Tomorrow was another day.

In the little town she saw the most amazing bookstore she had ever seen. It wasn't luscious in any way, very modest and colourful. They sold all sorts of calendars, diaries, and stationary. They even had a corner where they had a ''make your own anything'' they called it. She took her time perusing through the exquisite items in the shop, occasionally picking items and placing them back on the shelf.

Just as she was about to head out, something caught her eye. It was a large spiral bound book. When she picked it up she noticed it was written Sally at the top, decorated with hearts and butterflies.

''Sorry, that one is waiting for collection'', a lady with an obviously weird accent hollered from behind Maura.

''Oh I'm sorry, I was just looking. It's marvellous''. Her eyes never left the book.

''American huh. What brings you to the outskirts of the world here?''

''Just''. Did she just do a Jane thing there? What a way to answer a question she thought to herself.

''You can make your own. Design it however you want and put someone's name on it. People usually get them as gifts to others''

''I would love that actually''

''Great, come with me''

Maura followed the woman to the corner where people did their personalizations. It was simple for Maura; she picked a deep red rough plain cover, with the name JANE inscribed in white. All things Jane would have approved of. With that she went back to her room feeling rather satisfied.

It finally dawned on her when she sat on the couch revelling in the lit fire that she was in possession of nothing from her past. She had up and gone, leaving absolutely everything behind. It only took her a few minutes to convince herself that she didn't need any of that stuff anyway. If she hoped for a clean slate, this was the best way forward.

So she picked up her newly acquired book and wrote the date neatly at the top.

November 4th 2004

She wrote just as if she was talking to Jane, only beginning from the moment she stepped out of the airport in the foreign land. She explained the sights, the people, the hotel, and how she had come into possession of the book. It became harder when she wanted to write about how she was feeling. She hadn't allowed herself the time to think about it as it was. So she sat the book down, and finally, after all the time that had passed, she indulged herself. But then thought better of it, instead of just thinking about it, she wrote it down. How she had taken the news, her stupid attempt at suicide, how she hurt Korsak, the things Frankie had said to her, the way she had let Angela down and how she had eventually fled the country.

That was going to be her form of therapy she thought, writing to a non-existent Jane. For how long, she wasn't sure. With 3pages already used up she sat the book down and headed to bed. Tomorrow she would begin the process of sorting her new life out. But tonight, she would not be able to stop the tears that burned her face as she remembered the woman she loved to no end…..

AN : I hope this isn't too sad. It only makes the good times that much better (I hope)