Chapter 19

The next morning, Jane woke up groggy, fragments of her dream still clinging to her mind. There were flashes—light, laughter, a song she now recognized from the engagement party. She could feel someone's warm hand in hers, Maura's, surely. But when she tried to turn and see her, the dream shifted, and everything faded. The hand she was holding slipped away, leaving her grasping at nothing. Rubbing her eyes, Jane let the remnants of the dream disappear.

In the shower, Jane's mind raced back to everything that had happened the day before. Anger, confusion, but mostly sadness lingered in her chest. Her life had been flipped upside down in just one day. The woman she had been getting to know, the one she was feeling drawn to, had been her fiancée. And her own mother had gone to extreme lengths to erase that part of her life.

After getting dressed and downing a quick cup of coffee, Jane drove to Angela's house. Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the conversation. She couldn't avoid it any longer. With a final exhale, she headed to the front door.

Angela opened it with a smile, but her expression quickly changed when she saw Jane's face. "Janie, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk, Ma," Jane said, stepping past her into the house.

Angela followed her into the living room, concern written across her face. "What's going on?"

Jane turned to face her, arms crossed. She decided to be extremely direct. "I know about Maura. I know we were engaged. And I know you tried to erase her from my life."

Angela's face fell. She sank onto the couch, avoiding Jane's eyes. "Oh, Janie…"

"Why?" Jane's voice sharpened. "Why would you keep that from me?"

"I was trying to protect you," Angela said, her voice shaky. "Maura shouldn't have left. That accident—it was her fault. I watched you fall apart after Frost died. You were so broken, and Maura wasn't there for you. She was caught up in her own problems. I couldn't let her hurt you again."

"First, it was an accident," Jane put strong emphasis on the last word, "I drove the car, not Maura."

"Second, it wasn't your decision to make," Jane snapped. "I asked you if there was someone in my life, and you lied to me. Worse, you made everyone else lie to me too."

Her voice had risen without her realizing it, hands balled into fists. The anger inside her was hard to contain.

"You have any idea what that was like for Maura when she came back here? She had no idea what happened to me. She was my fiancee, and I treated her like a stranger because I didn't know. Because of you!"

Taking a deep breath, Jane steadied herself. She was done. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this. I need time and space to figure it out."

Angela's eyes widened in shock. "You can't just shut me out, Jane. I did it for you!"

"No, Ma. You did it for yourself," Jane said, her voice calmer now. "I need space—from you, from your version of my life."

Angela's face fell further. "But I'm your mother."

"And I'm your daughter, but that doesn't mean I owe you forgiveness or that you get to control my life," Jane said, turning toward the door. Before leaving, she paused and added, "And stay away from Maura."

Jane walked out, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. Angela didn't seem to fully grasp the consequences of what she had done. This wasn't the first time her mother had crossed a line, even if she couldn't remember the other times. But one thing was clear: Jane needed to set boundaries. Her life, whatever it was now, had to be hers to figure out—without her mother's interference. That included her relationship with Maura, whatever that might become.

Driving away from her mother's house, Jane's mind was in chaos. The conversation had left her drained, and the anger was still close to the surface. She had said what needed to be said, but it wasn't over. There were more answers she needed.

Pulling into the parking lot at Boston PD, Jane headed straight for the basement, where the archives are. She didn't have to work today, but this couldn't wait.

After pulling the box labeled 'Whistler factory fires' from the shelf, Jane set it on the floor, her hands hovering over the lid. A part of her hesitated, as if opening it meant prying into someone else's life. But this was her life, her trauma, even if she couldn't remember it. She needed to know.

Opening the box, she sifted through the files. Her detective instincts kicked in as she read the reports, piecing together the details, one by one. But as she scanned the information, she was feeling more and more frustrated. There was nothing she recognized—no flicker of memory, no gut reaction that tied her to these events. The facts were there, but it felt like reading about someone else.

She found Maura's report, detailing how she had gone undercover, risking herself to help expose their suspect. But Paddy Doyle had been watching her movements, tracking her without her knowing. The realization of how much danger Maura had been in sent a feeling of something through Jane—something almost like recognition, but it quickly vanished.

Then, she saw her own report.

Her words stared back at her, detached, impersonal. Detective Barry Frost was fatally shot by Paddy Doyle during an undercover operation. Subject Doyle was neutralized by Detective Rizzoli shortly thereafter. Some more details about the aftermath. Cold, clinical facts.

She read the lines over and over again. The report was short. Too short. She should have said more, she should have acknowledged the devastation of losing her partner. But it was just facts. It didn't tell the whole story—what Frost meant to her, how it had shattered her to watch him fall.

No personal account of how she felt in the aftermath. She knew there wouldn't be, it was a police report after all. But she had hoped. A flicker of something, to help her remember, to fully grasp what happened that day. But there were only the facts. The same ones Maura had shared with her the night before.

Jane stared at the report, imagining herself there, seeing Frost go down, trying to imagine the guilt she must have felt in that moment. She closed her eyes, trying to summon any flicker of a memory, but it was just darkness. A blank.

She wondered briefly if she should be grateful she couldn't remember it—the pain of losing her partner. Maybe it was better this way, not having to relive it, not feeling the crushing weight of that loss. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she rejected it.

It was a cop-out, and she knew it. She wasn't a coward. Not anymore.

If I had remembered, Jane thought, I would've been devastated. He was my partner—my friend. I would have done anything to protect him. The guilt would have been unbearable. She could almost feel it now, simmering just below the surface, even without the memories to back it up.

Jane sat back, letting the reports slip through her fingers as she breathed slowly. She didn't remember the events of that day, but she had more of an understanding of it now. She could feel it in her gut—the anger, the guilt, the overwhelming grief of losing Frost and the strain it must have placed on her and Maura.

She had to confront it all.

She had to talk to Maura. But first, she needed to go somewhere else—to find some peace, some closure.

With a heavy heart, Jane stood up and closed the file. Putting everything back the way she had found it. She would never understand fully what happened that day. She would never have the real emotions that came with the memories she had lost. But at least she wasn't going to hide from it anymore.

Sending a quick text to Frankie, Jane grabbed her coat and headed for the cemetery. She didn't remember Frost, but she knew that going to his grave was the first step in making peace with the past.

The cemetery was quiet, rows of gravestones stretching out before her. As Jane walked toward where she knew Frost's grave would be, an odd sense of familiarity tugged at her. Her heart raced with each step, though the headstone was still too far to read. But she wasn't alone.

Jane slowed when she saw the figure standing by the grave. Maura.

Her shoulders were slightly hunched, her hands clasped in front of her. Though Maura's back was to her, there was something about the way she stood—so still, so fragile—that made Jane's heart ache. She stopped, frozen in place.