A/N: Warning! Mentions of self harm in this chapter. Might be triggering for some readers, although nobody actually physically gets hurt.

Chapter 8

The day after the funeral Maura had gone back to work.

Something Jane would have done as well, if she wasn't currently on leave with no end in sight.

With nothing to really focus her attention on, the brunette got more and more depressed.

She didn't have much of an appetite, so she hardly ate. She didn't really sleep anymore, but on more than one occasion she had gotten drunk until she passed out.

Jane before the warehouse was already a tortured soul. On a daily basis she'd fight with her own personal demons. Many nights had her waking up screaming, gasping for air, when another nightmare had plagued her once again. The difference between before and after the warehouse, was Maura.

The doctor would always help her through the most difficult situations in her life, and Jane did the same for her. When Maura was troubled by something, or in pain, Jane would be there for her as well.

That's what made them work. As friends, and as lovers.

But now they were unable to be each other's support system.

And it left them alone, suffering and miserable.

Maura dealt with the hurt and loneliness by putting all her efforts into work, staying until the late hours of the night, and going back early in the morning.

Jane however dealt with her misery by trying to deaden it with alcohol. Then, when she felt numb, she would find something to do that would make her feel alive.

Like balancing on the edge of her roof, or walking through a bad part of Boston. She had even picked a few fights with strangers in random bars. One of those had gotten her quite the beating, and she was still sporting the bruises from the encounter on her torso and face.

And now Jane was home, sitting on the couch in her apartment.

In her hand she held one of the guns she owned privately. It was a 45. colt single action revolver. It was very old school, but one of her personal favorites.

She had several other guns as well; collecting them was a bit of a hobby for her. She liked to look at them, clean them, fire them.

But this one was her favorite; it had an 'interesting' story behind it.

The gun was unloaded; she never kept her guns loaded in the house. Except for two, her service gun, which she didn't even have at the moment, and one back up.

But not this one, not yet anyway. Or not ever, she hadn't really decided yet.

She just felt numb.

Her guilt was still overwhelming.

She had started on a bottle of vodka about fifteen minutes ago. Not even bothering with a glass today, she had already drunk enough of it for the pain to start dissipating.

Jane opened the cylinder of the gun and put a single bullet inside. Swirling it once, before closing it. A one in six chance to hit it's target.

She took off the safety, aimed it at the wall, and pulled the trigger.

CLICK

One down. It was a one in five chance now.

She flexed her finger on the trigger again.

CLICK

One if four.

When Doyle had fired his gun, it had been a one in two chance for her to die. So technically these were better odds.

It had been her or her partner. He had lost, Jane had won. Or was it the other way around?

She lowered the gun and reopened the cylinder, swirled it and closed it again.

Back to one in six odds.

Would she dare to do it, could she take those odds?

She got briefly interrupted in her thoughts by a knock on her door.

She ignored it, bringing her attention back to the game she was playing.

She had beaten worse odds than this, hadn't she?

She slowly lifted the gun, aiming it at her head, adrenaline rushing through her body, making her feel...alive.

She smiled to herself, finger itching on the trigger.

Another knock on the door. "Jane, open up, it's me."

The brunette looked at the door for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

"I'm going to keep knocking until you open up, kid."

Jane lowered the gun.

Still feeling the rush of the game, she finally got up off the couch, and walked to the door. She unlocked the chain, and deadbolt.

When she opened up, it revealed a concerned looking Sergeant detective Korsak, standing there with two cups of coffee, and a bag of pastries.

Without a word Jane walked back to the couch and sat down. She reopened the cylinder, swirled it and closed it again.

Aiming it back at the wall.

Korsak was alarmed by what he saw, but hid his reaction. "I brought you some coffee," he sat a cup on the table in front of his friend.

Jane glanced sideways to her mentor, then nodded her head.

"I remember you telling me that one had a neat history," Korsak pointed at the gun the brunette was still holding, "but you never told me what it was."

Jane opened the cylinder once again, but this time she removed the bullet before closing it. She knew better than to continue her game while her old partner was present. So she put the gun on the table.

She shifted on the couch, and grabbed the coffee her friend had brought her.

"You know in a few months, I'll have been on the force for thirty-five years?" Korsak asked.

The brunette shook her head, then took a sip from her cup.

"Thirty-five years. You know how many partners I had in all those years?"

Jane thought for a moment, "two?" she only knew about herself and Mike, Korsak's partner before her, who had retired.

"Three actually. You, Mike, and my first partner Will, or Bill as most people called him. Bill Canaghan." The older detective looked lost in thought for a moment, before he continued his story. "I was partnered with Bill fresh out of the academy. I was a rookie, ready for action. I was eager to move up the ranks. But not Bill. He had been on the force for a few years, but was happy being a patrol cop, never really wanted to be anything more."

Jane tilted her head slightly, the only real indication she was listening.

"Anyway," Korsak continued, "one day, we had been working together for about six months at this point, we answered a call about a domestic dispute. We drove to the scene, and Bill had a feeling about it. That it wasn't quite right. He'd get those sometimes. He wanted to call for more backup, but I was young, and arrogant. I convinced him we should just check it out first, that we could handle it. He gave in."

At this point the older detective was lost in his memories, replaying the events of that day back in his mind. "He went first up the stairs to the house, I was right behind him. We heard yelling coming from inside. A woman screamed, then a gun fired. Bill kicked in the door, and we went inside. He asked me to cover him, but there was a noise coming from the room to the side of me, and I looked away for just a brief moment. I lost focus for just a few seconds. I recovered just in time to see my partner get shot down by the perp that had come rushing at us from the other side. I killed the bastard, but it didn't matter, Bill was already dead. I didn't have his back."

Jane was just staring at Korsak at this point, her eyes glassy, "w…why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to know, you are not alone feeling like this, Jane. I've been there. And even though it will always stay with you, in time it gets better."

The brunette just shrugged her shoulders.

They stayed silent for a moment until they were interrupted by the ringing from Jane's phone coming from the other room.

"Shouldn't you get that?" Korsak said when Jane didn't make any indication of going to check who was calling, "maybe it's important."

Jane narrowed her eyes at her old partner, wondering why he cared so much, but then she got up and walked into her bedroom. She really wasn't all that surprised when she saw the blinking light of one missed call from a detective Vince Korsak.

And neither was she surprised when she returned to the living room, to find not only Korsak gone, but also her gun.

She smirked, the old bastard had tricked her.

It was okay, she didn't feel like playing the game anymore anyway.

When detective Korsak walked back into the bullpen of BPD he immediately went to his boss's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," he heard the rough voice of Lieutenant Cavanaugh say.

He pushed the door open, "can we talk?" When the Lieutenant nodded, Korsak walked further inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"What can I do for you, Vince?"

Korsak came straight to the point, "It's about Jane, we need to do something."

Cavanaugh sat up a little straighter in his chair, and motioned for Korsak to continue.

After he was done with his talk with Cavanaugh, Korsak made his way downstairs and to the morgue.

Maura was just finishing up with an autopsy when she heard the sliding doors open, and saw the older detective stepping inside.

"What can I do for you detective Korsak?" Maura said, while continuing to close the Y incision in front of her.

"I know this is probably not my place, but when is the last time you've seen Jane?" Korsak's voice was calm and friendly.

The doctor stopped mid stitch, a little surprised at the blunt question "Not since the day of the funeral," she finally admitted a little embarrassed.

"She's not doing well, doc," the older detective visibly looked uncomfortable with the conversation, but he wanted to help his friends.

For a few long moments it looked like Maura wasn't going to respond; she just continued stitching the skin in front of her. When she finished, she covered the body, before taking off her gloves.

"Lets go to my office," she finally said, then walked out off the morgue, detective Korsak close behind her.

The M.E. took a seat on one of the chairs, and motioned for the detective to do the same, "how is she?"

"She's drowning," Vince said. "I mean figuratively," he added quickly, when he noticed the doctor's startled response. "Look, doc. Jane…she's like my family, and I'm worried about her. I went to visit her this morning, and she's…well…not doing good. Maybe you can try and talk to her."

"I've tried," Maura replied sadly, "when I call, she doesn't answer her phone. When I show up at her door, she doesn't open up. She's made it clear she doesn't want to see me."

"You have to try harder, doc." Korsak shook his head, he didn't want to tell Maura what he thought Jane had been doing that afternoon, but maybe he didn't have a choice. "I'm afraid she's going to hurt herself."

The blonde doctor couldn't hide the shock on her face, "what do you mean? You think she's …suicidal. Jane would never…"

"No, I don't think she would do it deliberately." The older detective stared at the floor for a moment. "Jane, she's playing with fire. I don't know why. But she's going to get burned." Detective Korsak finally filled Maura in on what he had seen in Jane's apartment that afternoon.

After talking with detective Korsak, Maura finished up a few things in the lab then left work early.

She drove straight over to Jane's apartment, intent on making the brunette talk to her.

She knocked on the door, and waited for a few moments. Intently listening for any sounds inside; which there were none.

After knocking again with no answer, Maura pulled out her key and inserted it in the knob, turning it, hoping that it would give way. When it did, she stepped inside.

The room was dark, and empty, with no Jane in sight.

But Maura wasn't going to leave.

She looked around the apartment, quickly noticing, but not surprised, that the place was a mess.

She knew that it probably wouldn't be appreciated, except with nothing else to do but wait for Jane to show up, she started to clean up.

It was almost an hour later when there was a noise at the door, followed by a defeated looking woman walking inside.

It really only took a split second for the look of defeat to be replaced by confusion, then realization, and finally anger.

"What are you doing here?" she sharply asked Maura.

"I came to talk to you," the blonde took a few steps closer to Jane.

"Great," Jane mumbled, walking into the kitchen and dropping her grocery bags on the counter. "I don't really want to talk to you, Maura."

"Then you can listen," under the brighter lights of the kitchen, Maura finally got a chance to really take in Jane's appearance. She immediately noticed how pale and skinny the detective was, with dark circles evident under her eyes. Her hair and clothes were a mess, and she looked like she hadn't seen a bed in days. She also had what appeared to be several bruises on her face.

"What happened to your face?" Maura asked, taking another few steps closer. She could see the muscles in Jane's neck tense up at her approach.

"Nothing," Jane slurred her words a little, she was definitely not sober. "It was just a little …scuffle," Jane actually smiled at the memory; yes, she'd gotten a little beat up, but she'd won in the end.

"A scuffle? You mean a fight? With whom?" The M.E. ignored Jane's obvious body language telling her to keep her distance, and put her hands on her face. Delicate fingers tracing the still healing abrasions.

For a brief moment, Jane leaned into the touch, letting herself enjoy the caress, but then she snapped out of it. "Don't," she warned, pushing the prodding hands away; she didn't deserve Maura's care.

Maura dropped her hands, and took a step back, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Jane walked over to the fridge, swaying slightly. She opened it and tried to pull out a beer, but it slipped out of her hand and shattered on the floor. She looked at it for a moment, slightly confused, then bent down to pick up the pieces of glass, cutting her finger as she did so.

"You cut yourself," Maura reached out her hand, wanting to help, but the brunette pulled back. "I'm fine," she said.

Maura sighed, "why do you keep doing these things to yourself, Jane?"

"What things, Maura? You have to be more specific here," she said sarcastically, putting her bloody finger in her mouth, after throwing the glass in the sink.

"Things that can get you hurt, or killed." For a brief moment Maura noticed the surprise flitter over Jane's face, before it was replaced with her usual mask of deviance.

"You know nothing," the detective walked over to the couch and sat down.

Maura followed Jane into the living room, not that easily deterred, "I know a lot. Balancing on the roof, drinking, fighting, playing Russian roulette? What I don't understand is why? Why would you do these things to yourself? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Korsak I assume?" Jane smirked, "it was just a game, Maura. Sjeez."

"A game? Frost didn't give his life for you, so you could throw it away," Maura replied firmly, hoping it would shake some sense into Jane. "He wouldn't want this, he wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"Don't! Don't you talk about him." Jane warned. She knew that with the alcohol in her system, her filter was all but gone, and in her anger, if pushed, she could say things that she wouldn't be able to take back.

"Why not, he was my friend too." Maura continued, not at all heeding the warning in Jane's voice.

"Your friend?" the detective let out a short laugh, devoid of any humor. "It's funny how when you were trying to save 'daddy' dearest's life you didn't remember who your friends were, did you?" Jane knew she was being harsh; she couldn't believe she had just said that out loud.

"Jane…" Maura was having a hard time keeping her voice steady, "I'm sorry for what happened. I would change it if I could, but I can't. I made a mistake. We have to get passed this."

"Get passed it?" Jane paused. She briefly wondered what would have happened if she hadn't hesitated; if she had just shot Doyle and killed him. Would Maura have gotten passed it, would she have forgiven her then? "Let me ask you this Maura. If Frost hadn't died that day. If I would have shot and killed your father before he got a shot off. Would you have gotten passed this?"

Maura, a little taken back, hesitated only briefly. "I probably would have been angry, Jane. But I love you, I would have gotten passed it. I could never stop loving you."

Jane bit her lip, and glanced at Maura. Her thoughts were hazy; from the alcohol, the emotions, the lack of sleep. She was confused, fighting her conflicting feelings. Her will to forget, to lean forward and wrap her arms around the woman she still loved, whom she had missed every moment they were apart. But then there was her anger, the self loathing, the feeling that she would never recover from this, this darkness that had taken a hold of her.

She glanced at the hazel eyes in front of her, they were so sad. Jane couldn't stand seeing them so sad. She was hurting Maura, and she knew she would end up hurting her, over and over again until she was either able to deal with things, or there was nothing left of them. Maybe Maura would be better of without her, at least there would be less pain for her in the long run. And in that drunken confusion, Jane made up her mind. She'd have to push Maura away; it was for her own good.

...

"I can't do this anymore," Jane finally said, trying to keep her voice devoid of emotion.

"What do you mean?" Maura asked, her voice was shaking.

"This, I can't do this anymore." Jane motioned with her hands between them.

"You mean us?" Maura's voice broke. "You don't want to fight for us?"

"I...don't," Jane almost flinched when she said the words.

"You don't…?" Maura felt like her biggest fear was coming true. She had always expected Jane to leave at some point. Because that's what everyone always did. Sooner or later they grew tired of her and left. Either that or she'd do something stupid that pushed them away. She had just hoped that this time it would be different. Surely Jane didn't really mean it. Except, hadn't Jane left her engagement ring behind weeks ago? Had it already been over then?

"Look at me Jane," Maura begged. "Look at me!"

Jane finally raised her head, chocolate brown meeting hazel eyes.

Maura was afraid to ask the next question, afraid of what the answer would be, but she had to know. "Do you still love me?"

Jane knew she'd have to be convincing, Maura would never leave her if she wasn't. And if she didn't leave, Maura would end up broken too. So she had to be strong.

...

Jane took a deep breath, then shook her head, "No," she said, "I don't love you." Her left eyebrow twitched, and she was almost hoping that Maura would notice; call her out on the obvious lie. She wanted Maura to stay and fight, slap it out of her if she had to.

But Maura didn't do any of those things. She had just put both of her hands in front of her mouth to stifle a sob, and she just sat there, frozen.

Jane wanted to take her words back. To say she didn't mean it, and she might have said it too, if Maura hadn't already grabbed her bag and bolted for the door.

A/N: I know you probably all hate me; or Jane. Someone needs to slap some sense into her. Trust me, I'm on it. Major twist coming up in the next few chapters.

If you can't stand the drama, just repeat after me: Happy ending, happy ending, happy ending! Okay? I wouldn't put you through this without giving you a real happy end; I promise.

In other news, I am going to Europe for a few weeks. I'll have an internet connection for part of the time, so I will try to keep my updates twice weekly, like I have been. But the days might vary.

Any thoughts you'd like to share with me? *points covertly to review button*.