Author's Notes: And we're back!

This is another story idea I've kind of had kicking around for a while. I haven't written that far ahead on this one, so I can't promise the updates will be as frequent as they have been in the past. But I do have the whole thing plotted out pretty thoroughly, so I got that going for me. Which is nice.

My thing with this story is that I kind of feel like Maura got the short end of the stick in the last season. The idea for this fic popped in to my head the minute I saw the scene where she films her part of the video with Kent, and then afterwards she smiles and says, "I'm really sad." That just about killed me. And then later we see her look at the morgue and cry and shut the lights. Like, really you guys? They're gonna do my girl Maura like that? So not fair. I can't help feeling like she deserved a happier ending.

Anyway. I'll shut up about that. Enjoy the story!

Chapter One

On her first day back at work, there was a strange, unidentified feeling in the pit of Maura's stomach right from the start.

There were many feelings there, but most of them were easily identifiable. Stress over her impending inevitable busy day was foremost among the common emotions. Though she had every faith in Kent and knew he would be able to run the office of the medical examiner in her absence, there would undoubtedly still be things that would require her attention immediately. And these things, if they were important enough to require the Chief Medical Examiner herself, would undoubtedly be stressful cases in and of themselves. High profile cases with public and resounding implications.

Then there was relief swelling within Maura. Though she'd had a wonderful time in Paris, coming home was comfortable and relaxing. She'd missed her house, her own bed, the clothes she'd left behind, and above all, her bathtub. As soon as she got home from work she ran herself a bubble bath and settled in with a glass of chilled white wine for a soak.

While she reclined in the tub, she let herself acknowledge the deepest of her current feelings: Pain.

She missed Jane.

Exactly one week earlier, Jane had hugged her family and Maura goodbye outside her former townhouse, climbed in to her U-Haul, and driven off towards Quantico, Virginia. Maura's chest had tightened curiously the farther away the truck got, and she had hugged herself around her stomach and struggled to breathe. That was when the pain had started, and it had been with her ever since. She wasn't having trouble drawing oxygen in to her lungs any more, not unless she thought too hard about the fact that Jane was gone for good, because then the tightness returned and Maura was left gasping.

As of today, this was officially the longest they'd ever gone without seeing each other. It felt so completely wrong after the month of day-and-night companionship they'd just shared in France. Maura kept waking in the middle of the night, expecting to see Jane's messy black hair and slender form on the other side of her bed, but instead there was no one, and it left Maura reeling and lonely.

Loneliness wasn't something she was particularly accustomed to. She was used to being alone, but she'd never been lonely before. That was new.

Her cell phone vibrated and she reached over to pick it up and answer without opening her eyes. "Isles," she said.

"Rizzoli," was the husky reply, and Maura smiled.

"It's backwards. You're supposed to be first."

"That's not true. Sometimes they call you first."

"They call me first every time now," replied Maura. "It would be a gross violation of procedure to call a federal agent to a Boston Homicide crime scene before calling the legitimate officers of the BPD."

"How dare you. You're a gross violation of procedure," shot back Jane, feigning offence.

Laughing but otherwise choosing to ignore this, Maura asked, "How was your first day?"

In her apartment in Virginia, Jane lounged back on her couch and put her feet up on her coffee table, taking a swig of her beer. "It went well, I think. They seem like a decent batch of recruits. Lots of young, strapping, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed kids who somehow all managed to make me feel old."

"No misogynists this time around?"

"I didn't say that. But no one tried to force me to perform the bend-and-snap, so that's good."

Having been tricked by Jane in to watching Legally Blonde some time ago, Maura understood the reference. Jane had somehow managed to talk Maura in to believing that it was a stirring legal drama about a woman falsely imprisoned for a crime she didn't commit. Maura had been annoyed that Jane had lied, but she had to admit the movie was amusing. "That is promising, but the real question is: Did anyone perform it on you?"

"Nah. Wore the wrong suit, I guess," quipped Jane. "I did have lunch with Cameron, but he didn't try to seduce me."

"Really?" asked Maura curiously, sitting up a little straighter in the tub. "Why not?"

There was a pause, and then Jane said, "I told him I wanted to slow it down. Get to know each other a little better. You know."

"Why did you tell him that? I thought you liked him."

"I did. I do. But I'm here in this new city and this new job, and I kind of feel like I want to establish myself in my own right without everyone thinking I got here because Agent Davies did me a favor."

Maura found this to be an excellent answer. She glowed with pride for Jane as she answered, "I think that's a very good idea, Jane."

She heard Jane give a sigh of relief. "You do?"

"I do. Agent Davies might have gotten you the interview, but you got yourself that job."

Another long pause. "Thanks for saying that," Jane mumbled quietly. "I was starting to think maybe people woulda been right."

"Nonsense," clipped Maura. "You're a strong, confident woman, and you don't need no man."

The sound of Jane snorting with laughter was music to Maura's ears. She could imagine Jane wiping the bit of beer she'd accidentally spit out away from her lips. "I miss you, Maur," said Jane, a carefully contained heaviness in her voice.

"I miss you, too," replied Maura, managing to hide the catch in her throat. The tightness was firmer than ever, and she reached up to wipe a bit of moisture from the corner of her eye.

"What about you?" asked Jane, desperate to steer the conversation away from feelings. "How bad did Kent mess up your lab?"

"Badly," corrected Maura automatically.

"Do I need to come back and slap him around a little?" teased Jane.

Yes, you need to come back, thought Maura, and then she scolded herself for thinking it. "The lab is fine, Jane. I was correcting your grammar. And I think he'd probably like it if you slapped him around, anyway."

"He probably would, the creep."

"He is very strange," agreed Maura casually, as though she were confirming a simple scientific fact. "But he did well with the work while I was gone. The closure rate for the last month was only marginally lower than it has been during my tenure at the helm."

"Any interesting cases come through while we were gallivanting across the pond?"

"Yes, actually…" began Maura, and then she launched in to a description of a case that looked as though it would end up being related to multiple unsolved cold cases from thirty years prior.

Jane closed her eyes as she listened to Maura talk, chiming in occasionally with questions and observations but mostly enjoying what she was hearing. She loved the way Maura put her sentences together. She often unintentionally substituted common words for four-syllable ones simply because that was the way she spoke. It was as if Maura was so smart that she was speaking a different kind of English than everyone else, and Jane found it charming and endearing. A lot of people couldn't follow it, either because they couldn't understand or because they didn't feel like making an effort to do so, but Jane hung on every word with practiced ease. Listening to Maura made Jane feel smarter herself, and it was one of the many reasons she valued Maura's friendship so strongly.

When Maura had finished, she realized she'd been speaking almost non-stop for over ten minutes. "Am I boring you?" she asked timidly. "It's so hard to tell without you here to roll your eyes."

"You're telling me about a grisly murder, Maur. How could I possibly be bored with that? Were the ribs really spread all the way open?"

"If they were any wider, the victim would have been reminiscent of a pancake," said Maura.

"Gnarly." Jane sighed longingly. "I wish I could be there to see it."

You could be here to see it if you wanted to, thought Maura.

At that moment, she understood the feeling that had been eluding her all day. It was anger.

When she finally hung up with Jane and got out of the tub, she was angry that her fingers were all pruney. Why couldn't Jane have called when she was out? When she woke in the middle of the night to her empty bed, she was angry that Jane had been such an easy person to sleep beside. When she got up and made coffee in the morning, she was angry that Jane wasn't there to finish the second cup she'd accidently brewed due to force of habit. At work she was angry that Jane wasn't there to push the elevator button for her. Then she was angry that Jane didn't stop by her office to chat or eat lunch. She was angry that she had to hand her lab results to Frankie instead of Jane. She was angry that she had to drive home and have dinner alone. She was angry that there were four unopened beers in her fridge, and she was angry that there were strands of long black hair in the drain of the shower in her guest room.

She was angry that Jane had abandoned her.

A few days later Maura was in the Division One café, putting soy milk and stevia in her coffee and thinking about how it had been Jane's turn to pay when she left. Someone behind her said her name, and she turned to find Nina smiling at her. "I feel like I haven't seen you at all since you got back. How are you?" Nina asked kindly.

"I miss Jane," blurted Maura without thinking, and then she snapped her mouth shut and blushed furiously. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Nina was completely taken aback. Unsure what to say, she gestured at an empty table nearby. "Do you have time to sit for a minute?"

Since she did have a minute, Maura answered "Yes" truthfully, even though she wasn't entirely sure whether or not she really felt like sitting. Not after what she'd just said. But they sat at a table in the corner and sipped their coffee together.

"Frankie misses her, too," Nina said. "He tries to be all macho and hide it, but I can tell. He's always staring at her desk."

Unable to resist, Maura continued to speak uncomfortable truths. "It's not the same. Frankie has other people in his life. He's got you, and Angela, and the rest of the department. I, on the other hand, have no one."

"What the hell are you talking about, Maura? You have all of us, too!"

Shifting in her seat, Maura looked away from Nina and watched people come and go from the precinct. "I'm saying this all wrong. What I mean is… Jane was—is—a huge part of my life. And being here without her… Everything feels hollow."

Nina's jaw dropped. She'd never heard Maura open up this way before, and it terrified her. The only reason this could possibly be happening was because Maura was at the end of her proverbial rope. Hesitantly, she reached out and placed a gentle hand on Maura's, hoping she wasn't crossing a line. "Hey," she said softly. "It's not like she's dead, right? She's just in Virginia. I'm sure you guys will stay friends."

"I can't believe she left," choked out Maura. "I can't believe she just… left." She felt tears prickling her eyes and stood abruptly from the table. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking like this. I'll let you get back to work." And she gathered her things and left so quickly that Nina couldn't be sure that Maura had even heard her placations.

It isn't fair, thought Maura as she stood in the doorway between her office and the morgue, looking out at all the pristine, shiny steel. Jane had left Boston for the job opportunity of a lifetime, the thrill of a new challenge, and the possibility of a romance that could last. And what did Maura get? She got to return to her same old life, the same job, the same house, the same routine. Except now she was alone. Now her world was in black-and-white, because Jane had taken all the color with her.

When she got home she opened a bottle of wine and sat on her sofa, the same end she always sat on when she and Jane would sit here and talk late in to the night. She sipped from her glass without tasting it, feeling the warmth of the alcohol like a soothing balm in her soul, thinking about Jane and about all she had lost. She'd lost laughter, and light, and the best part of every day. What did she even have left?

When Angela opened the back door quietly, Maura didn't notice. She simply continued to sit there with her legs folded against her, her hand curled over her mouth, her eyes distant and distracted. "Maura?" Angela asked, and Maura finally looked up.

"Oh, hello Angela," said Maura, quickly reaching up to wipe away her tears. "How are you?"

Instead of answering, Angela sat down next to Maura on the sofa and took her hand. Then she stared hard at Maura, almost accusatorily.

Sighing, Maura said: "Nina called you."

"You are not alone, Maura," said Angela firmly. "You got that?"

Maura could feel brutal honestly bubbling within her again, clawing at her throat to get out. "I know I should be happy for her. I know I should want her to have the best life possible. I know it makes me a terrible friend to feel this way. But… It's Jane. How am I supposed to survive without Jane?"

The floodgates broke, and suddenly she was gathered in Angela's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. All the things she'd been trying not to think about ever since Jane had told her she was taking the job in Virginia came roaring to the surface, and Maura felt her heart, so strained for so long, finally shatter in her chest. She was crying so hard that she was drawing shuddering breaths, her shoulders shaking, her skin hot and her head aching. When Angela began speaking, she could barely hear it.

"I know, Maura, sweetie, I know. Don't worry, my darling. Everything will be okay."

They were meaningless words. Maura couldn't see how it would possibly be okay. But she let herself sink in to Angela's comfort, because that was helpful. It helped Maura to remember that Nina was right.

Jane might be gone, but that didn't mean that Maura was alone.

In the morning Maura accidentally made two cups of coffee again, and the hollowness in her chest sent an ache through her. But she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to remember how it had felt to have Angela consoling her.

At work she heard the sound of feminine boots clomping in the hallway and for a moment her heart leapt, but then she saw it was one of the female detectives in the drug unit. To comfort herself, she personally delivered some lab results to Frankie upstairs, explaining them to him just as she would have done for Jane. Afterwards he smiled, thanked her, and invited her to dinner at his apartment with Nina, and Maura accepted.

When lunch came, Kent popped his head in to the morgue and asked if she wanted to grab a bite, and she accepted that, too. They went to the Dirty Robber and ate at the bar, where Korsak spent almost the entire time leaning on the counter swapping stories with Kent that had Maura laughing despite the ever-present ache.

After dinner she talked to Jane on the phone, and the ache went away for a while as they lapsed in to easy conversation, the type of conversation Maura had never been able to have with anyone else. And afterwards, when the ache returned full-force, it was missing that edge of anger that had been present before.

She could do this. This was manageable.

And that was how she lived her life. Not one day at a time, but one moment at a time. She focused every minute on how to get by without concentrating too hard on the fact that she couldn't see color any more. She didn't think about how she couldn't taste her food any more. She didn't dwell on how she didn't feel that victorious rush when a case was closed. She took melatonin to keep from waking in the night and remembering the way Jane looked bathed in Parisian morning sunlight, the light dappling her sleepy smile and her hair that was messy and ruffled from her pillow.

No, Maura didn't think about any of those things. She simply moved through her life, allowing herself to lean on the people she loved in Boston. And all the while she was pathetically grateful for what little she still had of Jane Rizzoli.

And though her internal monologue was a constant stream of I miss Jane I miss Jane I miss Jane I miss Jane, she taught herself to never say it out loud again.