Her heels drag across the ground. She can feel her heartbeat rise to a loud pounding in her chest. Her screams are muffled by the glove tight against her mouth. The phone blinks. Jane. Please. Please, help. Her thoughts flick to Jane and the hand, Jane and the figure, Jane and her broken heel. She is hauled off the ground and the thrown into a trunk. A yelp escapes her mouth as she comes into contact with something sharp. She searches for what it is with her hand as the trunk lid closes over her, engulfing her world in darkness. It was probably just the base of the trunk. The momentarily sharp pain quickly dulls to a throb nagging her, but her attention is dragged away from it when a woozy feeling settles over her. And then there is nothing.

LATER

She wakes up on a bed with a thin metal frame and a bare mattress. Her clothes replaced with a navy blue jumpsuit, her feet bare. On the far end of the room is a urinal, but the room is so small she could reach it with her foot sitting on the bed if she stuck it out far enough. The walls, the floor and the ceiling are all painted a grayish shade of cream, the only spot that stand out is a dark trapdoor on the ceiling with a rope ladder tied to it. A basement, she deduces, but there is nothing else to tell her where she is, or how long it has been. But if her estimations are correct based on the administration of the chloroform and the amount of time it would take to wear off, it has been only a few hours. Perhaps the sun has risen. She will known soon enough, Jane is probably on her way already.

1 SLEEP AFTER

She assess the structure of the walls. She lifts the mattress to find the bed isn't sound at all. It is why her back hurts. She is used to softer, more comfortable beds and mattresses. She can't wait to get back. Time is difficult to tell, but she relies on her body and mind. They will know when she is tired and that will tell her it is night.

She moves the bed and tries to reach for the trapdoor, but like all her attempts so far, she fails. It is too high. Only this time she notices something that has escaped her before, a camera. It is small and painted the color of the walls to camouflage into them, but it is there. Her heart jumps a beat. Every time she uses the urinal, there is someone watching. Every time her desperation leaks through, someone is watching. She takes a deep breath. Everything will be fine. Jane will have some solid leads by now. She is the best detective Maura has ever known. She will find her. There is nothing to worry about. Except the growling at the pit of her stomach. But people can survive quite a while without food. She will survive.

2 SLEEPS AFTER

It takes a long time for the next sleep to come. Her method of measuring time through her sleeping pattern may be flawed, she finally admits to herself. But at least it establishes some measure of time, it is all the order that she needs. Except the terror that was calmly gathering itself in her gut is now churning, wild and alive. It roots itself inside her chest and floods every inch of her insides from there. She knows it is only her brain telling her body how to react to the situation. It isn't as bad as it feels.

She alternates between sitting on the bed, the floor and pacing back and forth in the small space that is her holding cell. Her stomach turns over. She needs water at least, if not food. Water is more important. Her throat is dry, partly from the thirst, but mostly from trying to hold in the tears her terror would otherwise have her unleash. She refuses to give the camera that satisfaction.

She places the mattress onto the floor and drags the bed trying to get it to stand on its end so it is higher, perhaps she can then reach the trapdoor. It takes her a few attempts, but the bed is standing. She smiles proudly at her handiwork then steps over the urinal and tries to gain footing high enough on the bed to reach the door. The frame clatters against the ground and one of its legs scrapes her left arm in the process. For a second nothing happens and then blood gushes down the torn skin. She flinches as she attempts to asses the degree of the damage. It is deep. The leg may have been rusted. The wound could be infected. All these variable and no definitive finally tear her down. Maura presses her arm onto her clothes trying to block the bleed. She bites down her lip to hold back the sob trying to escape her chest, but it does anyway.

"This will keep bleeding," she yells at the camera holding out her arm. The pain shooting through it makes her wince. "I will pass out from the blood loss and then I will die. You are enjoying this, you don't want me to die. I need stitches now!" It is a command, not a request. It makes her feel a little bit more like Dr. Maura Isles, a bit more in control.

3 SLEEPS AFTER

Jane is still not here. Her faith in her best friend is showing cracks. But she has now met her kidnapper. She does not know him. Perhaps she did not work on that case with Jane. He said this is all because of her, because he is trying to get back at her. But he cannot convince Maura to blame Jane, this is all on him. She told him as much when he handed her the cleaning and stitching up supplies for the wound and she got to work.

Now that she looks down at the stitches she cannot help but smile at her handiwork. They aren't the best work she has done, but considering the angle she was working with and the state she is in, she would give it a decent grade.

Her stomach is more settled now that it is filled with the water and food her brought. The water in the plastic cup was cool, but the food was awful. She had to force it down her throat. She did not know when the next time would be. If her body didn't get nutrients she would suffer its side affects. She needed her mind to stay sharp. He stood there the entire time watching her intently. About six feet, clean shaved, brown hair, brown eyes. Everything about him seemed average, Maura thought. She tried to probe him with questions, but he gave her no answers.

Where is Jane?

~MORE SLEEPS AFTER

Jane is still not here. It has at least been a few weeks. Maura is losing hope. Her body has grown weaker, frail. She can see the bones become more prominent, her hair lose it's shine. Maybe Jane won't come. She wonders what she is doing right now. Is she awake? Sleeping? Is it night? Day? She wonders if Jane ate today. She hasn't eaten in a while. Her stomach doesn't complain as much anymore. Maybe it understands, the food will come when it comes and it will taste like grease scraped off a burnt oven anyway. Maybe it doesn't want grease so it stays quite, not begging her to feed it like it did the first few days... or weeks.

The cut on her arm has mostly healed. The scar has dried, but is still prominent. Time doesn't really mean much anymore. She sleeps more, so the sleeps all merge together leaving her no way to tell when the day ends or begins. But it is better this way. At least when she closes her eyes Jane is there.

Jane has saved her. She came charging and took up Maura in her arms and

they went home and Maura lay in her own bed with Jane next to her, holding her close. And then one day they were having breakfast in her kitchen and Jane kissed her and Maura was surprised, but it felt so easy and natural that she leaned into it without any effort. Maura cannot wait to go back and see where Jane will take her for their first date. So she closes her eyes and lets the sleep take over and this nightmare wash away.

2 dates after

Jane took her to a fancy jazz place for their first date and earned an instant nod of approval from Maura. She wore dress and everything. The second one was a bit more low-key, a pizza place. It wasn't the best place, but it was one of the best dates she has ever been on. The night ended her with Jane holding her in her arms on the couch in her living room. The place may as well be their house since Jane rarely ever left. Jane smiles at her and they fall asleep there on the couch, something her body is not going to appreciate in the morning.

And then she is returned to her nightmare. Only this time she is not alone on that bed. The trapdoor is open and the rope ladder is hanging loose. Before she can find him he finds her.

"My wife is dead!" He yells.

Maura flinches. This is too loud for a dream. "I am sorry," she meets the eye of the apparition. Why is this figment intent on haunting all her dreams?

"She killed herself," His rage is alarming. Maura closes her eyes trying to wake up. She does not like these dreams. They are always so difficult to wake up from.

He steps into her space and she holds her breath. Not closer, she thinks, but there are no words leaving her lips. He pushes her. Tugs at her clothes. Holds her hands down. And then he is on her. Her forehead creases waiting for it to come, but he stops. Instead a hand strikes her face. It is heavy and hard and the surprised yelp that leaves her mouth does not express the relief flooding her chest. Her gets off and she crumples into a heap.

Later

She doesn't know how to escape these nightmares. Sometimes they stretch on for impossible times, other times they are shorter. They are hard to wake up from. But Jane is always waiting on the other end. Everything inside her head is confused. Maura should know better than this. Her mind is brilliant. It should be able to tell. It should know. But reality has merged into the dream and she cannot really tell which is which anymore. They both seem too real, yet they both seem concocted. The logic nagging her knows though, it knows where she needs to be, it knows where she needs to escape from and that makes things easier to decide.

She doesn't want to leave this hole anymore. A part of her will always be stuck here. She does not want to face the light with all these stains on her, she does not know if she can. It is better here. The outside will remember her as something else. No one will ever know what she became here. No one ever has to know this person. Jane will remember the woman on their first date, except they never had one, or did they, she will remember her as something other than this.

She run a finger over the bruise over the left side of her face. She knows what she has to do now. She knows where to find Jane. Everything will be okay.

Later

She smiles when she notices the end of the rope hanging loose. He was clumsy in his rage. This works for her. The rope seems sturdy enough. She pulls apart the ladder and fashions it into a noose. The piece of Dr. Isles inside her thrives on the thrill of doing something that makes sense, that she can perform step by step with only one conclusive end. She then moves to setup everything wondering how long it will take for him to look at the camera and notice a body hanging in the middle of the room.

A gasp escapes her throat as the rope closes around it. Soon. It will be over so very soon. Her eyes close.

Later

And her eyes open. She looks around confused. No. She was with Jane. She saw her. Jane told her everything would be fine. She told her she would keep her safe. But her hands and feet are bound and she is still inside that room again. She stumbles off the bed, tears rolling down her face.

"No please," She looks into the camera, "Please. Please let me go, I need to see Jane. Let me wake up."

And she does. It takes a while, but she sees Jane again. And she is away from the nightmare.

Thoughts?