A/N: 1) This story is AU in which Maura is a famous actress and Jane gets hired as one of her bodyguards. 2) This can be set pretty much anytime, but I imagine it to be after the pilot, except that Jane killed Hoyt instead of just shooting his hands. 3) It's rated M for a reason! 4) The backstory for each character is only slightly changed. (These differences will be revealed as the story unfolds.) It is important to remember, however, that these characters will be somewhat different, strictly due to the fact that they don't have each other in their lives yet. 5) I own nothing, I make no money, I just like having fun with these characters to get my creative juices flowing!

Jane rolled over in bed as her phone rang. She knew it was her mother, again. She didn't want to talk, but she also knew that her always-concerned mother would eventually show up if she continued to ignore her calls. She leaned up on one elbow and brought the phone to her ear.

"Yes, mother?" Jane heard the sleepy raspiness in her voice, though it sounded somewhat distant.

"Are you still in bed, Jane?"

"Did you really call just to ask me that?" she deflected, irritation creeping into her tone.

"No, I called to see if you wanted to have lunch with your mother, but since it's past noon and you're still in bed, I'm guessing the answer is no."

Jane sighed, and Angela took the opportunity to continue her motherly rant.

"I'm worried about you, Jane! You don't want to do anything anymore. You don't want to spend time with your family, you don't go anywhere or see anyone, you don't even want to go back to work!"

"Ma, why are you complaining about that? You hated it when I was a detective."

"Yes, I did. But I hate this even worse. You're depressed, Jane."

"I'm not depressed," Jane lied, "I'm just… figuring some things out."

"I'm your mother, and I know you. It's not like you to act this way."

Jane sighed, knowing her mother was right. The truth was, she had been trying to figure things out. Like why she was so angry, and why she had been so angry for so long. Like why she couldn't admit to herself that killing Hoyt had, in fact, been a choice. But then it always became too much for her, and she'd end up trying to drown her anger and confusion with alcohol, until there was nothing left to do but sleep. Her mother had every right to be worried, so she thought of a compromise.

"Okay Ma, how about I come over tomorrow and you can make me dinner?"

"Oh Janie, I would love that! I could call Frankie and make it a family dinner?"

"Whatever you want, Ma. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Okay, honey. Come over around five. I love you."

"Love you too, Ma." Jane ended the call and threw the phone onto the nightstand, where it slid through a pile of clutter and fell to the floor, taking a few of the items with it. She sighed and looked around her room. "This place is a mess," she realized aloud. She slid off the bed and picked up her phone, stopping to analyze the items it had taken down on its fall: a few receipts, a bar napkin with some guy's number on it, a couple wadded up dollar bills- mostly trash that she had dumped out of her pockets after a few late nights at the bar, back when she was still attempting to inhabit the land of the living. One thing, however, caught her eye. It was a business card from an old police academy friend she had run into at the Dirty Robber. He was running some sort of security company out in California, and had offered Jane a job in "executive protection" as he'd called it. The card was bright blue and shiny, like something fresh and new, something far better than the fog she had been living in.

Jane considered the possibility as she stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to wash her body clean. A fresh start. A place free of the ghosts of her past. But could she really pick up and move across the whole damn country? Start all over, as if nothing ever happened? Be a different, happier person? The idea was nearly overwhelming, but it was also the first glimmer of hope she'd seen in weeks, and she held onto it like a life preserver. Energized, she got out of the shower and cleaned her entire apartment from top to bottom, popped a frozen lasagna in the the oven, and opened a beer. Sitting down at the kitchen table with just her beer and the business card, she dialed the phone.

"Hello, Paul?" she swallowed. "It's Jane Rizzoli. I was wondering if that job offer still stands?"

"So we're going to do the west coast first. Jimmy Kimmel, Ellen, The Tonight Show…"

Her agent, James, was rattling off a list of stops on the press tour for her newest movie, but Maura wasn't really listening. This was, after all, the third part of her series, and mostly a repeat of the first two. She could do it in her sleep by now. It was the same everywhere: show up, let them make you up, go on stage, say what you're supposed to say, and be sure to smile pretty. She loved acting, but the publicity side of the business often bothered her. Today she wasn't feeling particularly interested in the details.

"I'll have Dave bring some outfits by your house tomorrow- Maura are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" Her head shot up, shocked out of her reverie by the mention of her name. "Oh, uh sorry. Dave. Outfits. Tomorrow. Got it." She offered a fake smile as assurance.

"Okay. You ready for this?"

"Piece of cake."

"Alright. I'm going to make sure you get some extra security for the tour, of course. This third installment is likely to bring out some additional crazies. Also, don't forget about the dinner I told you about."

"Oh yeah, with the guy from what's-it-called-"

"I'll send you the details when we get a date pinned down…"

He kept talking, but Maura still wasn't listening. Instead, she stared through the window behind his desk at the sprawling city of Los Angeles, the place she'd called home for many years now. She remembered when she'd first moved here, a bright-eyed college freshman, so full of hope for her future. Of course, that girl never would have imagined the things that were to come, never would have dreamed her life would turn out this way. She wondered what the eighteen-year-old Maura would say if she could have a glimpse into this moment. Would she be surprised at the change in her own path? Would she be proud of her success? Or would she the loss in her eyes and run the other way? Looking out at the crowded streets, Maura wondered if the younger, less jaded version of herself would know how to fill the emptiness she felt inside.