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SPOILERS: 2.15 Burning Down the House



Jane stared at the drops of condensation forming on the bottle of beer she held in her hands. The drops coalesced and merged together, and finally they fell, a mirror to the tears that fell down Jane's cheeks. Her heart felt as cold as the glass, perhaps even more so. She was broken inside, broken from the very core of her soul. If breathing wasn't a subconscious function of the body then she would have stopped by now. She would have stopped the moment Maura had looked at her over her father's body with the hate of betrayal. Jane shuddered.

She had tried to mourn Agent Dean's death but it was the loss of Maura in her life that truly caused her grief. It had been 3 weeks, 2 days, 11 hours and 23 minutes since Maura had spoken to her, and even then it was only a formal "Detective Rizzoli" at Dean's funeral. She should drink the beer before it got too warm.

She took a swig as she reached for the remote. TV had become a coping technique, with it's garbled nonsense helping to down out her self loathing remarks and the depressing comments that he inner voices tormented her with. Reruns of Friends? Too happy. The shopping channel? Retail therapy cannot help me. The music channel? No… wait… maybe… The acoustic melody of a guitar spilled from her TV and gripped her. She dropped the remote on the couch beside her and closed her eyes, taking another swig of her warming beer.

You're not the only one I ever ran to,

with my heart left dangerously open.

It's not the only time I've been rejected,

to lose and smother then recover by the day's demise.

You're not the only way of validation,

but you're the only kind of heartache that I long for.

It's not an easy time to be rejected,

when every weakness lying dormant comes alive.

I found it all in you,

where all my dreams and fears come true.

Maura was the one Jane ran to. She was the only one she opened up to. Time and time again, no matter how many guys she saw Maura 'date', or try to set her up with, she kept coming back. They both did. It seemed like no one and nothing could come between them. They were wrong.

'Cos I never wanted to be so cold without you here,

but it's all in the making of those who cry and for the fear.

She was cold, and she was crying, and she was more afraid than all but two other times in her life; when she nearly lost Frankie, and when Hoyt had the scalpel to Maura's throat. She wasn't afraid for their lives right now; she was afraid for hers, afraid of the nothingness that was her life without Maura.

You're not a villain, nor a manipulator;

you're just a try-it-on circus with a ransom.

And for the lonely time it'll be contested,

for now or never will I ever make a trade of mine.

I find it all you, the space to fail, the strength to lose. Yeah.

'Cos I never wanted to be so cold without you here,

but it's all in the making of those who cry and for the fear.

Ooohh, ooohh, ooohh, ooooohh, oh oh ooohhh oh.

Jane wept openly under the weight of the loss she felt. What am I without her? She hung her head and continued to hold the warm beer in her numb hands.

Time after time, it's the cold that's shaking.

Why, will I try? Now my world is breaking.

Time after time, it's the cold that's shaking.

Why, will I try? Now my world is breaking.

'Cos I never wanted to be so cold without you here. Oh ooohh.

But it's all in the making of those cry and for the fear.

Jane couldn't stand the cold. She had always hated winter; the snow got everywhere. And just as Jane couldn't stand the cold, she couldn't stand being without Maura, because it was the same thing. Maura was light. Maura was warmth. Maura was everything to her. She needed Maura.

Jane stood up and put the bottle on the table. She didn't even consider turning off the TV as she grabbed her jacket, keys, badge and gun. She didn't give herself time to second guess her decision. She closed and locked her door and purposefully jogged down the stairs to get to her car quicker than the elevator would have taken her. She was going to see Maura. She was sick of feeling the frozen numbness inside, she was sick of crying out her depleting stock of tears, and she was sick of waiting for her courage to return on its own.

Maura was the reason for her courage. Maura was her reason for being. And Maura was the reason the cold was going to go away.

The End

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