Hey guys, I rewrote Six Years. :) If you read it before, read it again! It's much different than the last version.

Slight tw for talk of death! Feedback is always appreciated and as everyone always says, I don't own these ladies ;D

Hey Maur,

I don't remember the last thing I said to you, I don't remember what your hair smells like, and I keep playing the video from the Fourth of July picnic three years ago just to hear your voice. Do you remember that day? We arrived at 10 p.m., 3 hours late, because we got caught up in the moment watching Fireworks over the lake. The picnic was almost over and we waltzed in like a teenage couple on their first date. Frankie was stuck patrolling it, he was too busy cleaning up a drunken Rondo who had decided that the BBQ was a good place to light off some firecrackers. Ma was too busy yelling with Pop over who's turn it was to drive home during the post-picnic traffic. No one had even noticed our absence and we loved it. We sat on my jacket on top of the hill and I told you that you were beautiful for the first time while you cried and told me that not a single soul had ever said that to you before. You hair looked like strings of angelic gold in the soft summer moonlight. Your eyes were watery as you grabbed my hand to convey words that you didn't trust yourself to say. I understood though, I still do. I miss you Maura.

It's been a whole year, 365 days without you, that's how long I've kept this notebook. I feel like even though you aren't with me anymore, talking to this...collection of wide-ruled paper somehow makes you here again. People would think I was crazy if I spoke out loud to you, even though when I'm by myself in my room I talk like you're still there, and I occasionally refer to you in the present tense, making people glance at each other awkwardly. Oh well. This notebook, with it's navy blue cover, the same shade as your scrubs, and it's 180 pages have become my therapeutic outlet, my conversationalist of sorts. You know, kinda like you used to be? I don't even know if you're alive or dead, and I think that might be what hurts the most. I wish that I could just take a peek into the future just to know if this is all worth it. I won't give up until I know the whole truth, even if I might not want some of it. I don't know if I'll ever show you these letters. I have 51 so far, this makes 52 letters. One letter every week since you've been gone and I don't see myself stopping until i find you. I love you Maur, and I'll never stop telling you that.

-Jay

Jane set her pen down and rubbed her hands out of their cramped state. She had been writing for an hour and it hasn't gotten any easier to use her hands this long, even if she did it every day. She wrote reports, she wrote down facts, she wrote the numbers to the Sudoku in the paper, and lately she had found herself writing random phrases and psalms on the margin of her notepad. Writing seemed to be the only way she communicated with anyone anymore, even if she was talking to someone who didn't exist anymore. It was still nice to get her thoughts in order, if only for an hour or so every couple of days. She was tired of the constant reminders of her former happy life, so she stayed out of reality if she could. Writing was the passive aggressive way of saying things to people that wouldn't speak to her anymore. She didn't have to interrupt their busy lives to tell them things that they didn't even care about.

They probably did care way deep down inside, but they were tired of Jane being so sad and dismal. It's not her fault that the love of her life had been taken out from underneath her; she didn't ask for 365 days of pure heartbreak. This is what she told herself when she was having a particularly bad night that a 6 pack and a zombie movie couldn't fix.

With an audible sigh, Jane lifted herself off her couch, making Jo whimper at the loss of her heat source. Most of her apartment existed only to please her mother when she came to visit. Jane didn't care for the art on the walls, the useless throw pillows, the floral printed tea towels, or the egyptian artifacts, to make her cold apartment seem comfortable. She generally spent most of her home life on the couch. She remembered when she and Maura had looked at this couch, deciding that even though Jane was hard on things, the black leather was too smooth and chic to pass up. She had taken solace in one of the last things Maura and her had talked about and it just so happened to be this oversized piece of furniture. It was getting harder and harder to get up each day, when all she wanted to do was sleep and dream of the life she could be having. She dreamt of having a family, cooking for said family, coming home after a long day of work to hugs and helping with homework. She dreamt of long dates with little to no talking, and the ability to laugh at her adorable genius who had no idea how she was being funny. Those were the moments she reveled in, and those precious few moments before she fully woke were the happiest moments of her life, followed by some of the most gut wrenching pain one could even handle. Life just wasn't what it used to be.

Jane shook her head and attempted to clear her thoughts. She stood and stretched her aching muscles in a feline movement that made her look like a cougar ready to pounce. She walked slowly toward her bedroom that she never actually slept in anymore. She avoided this room whenever she could; Maura's scent had long faded from the bed and her dent in the pillow was just a hollow reminder of what had been the closest to perfection Jane could have ever imagined her life being. How could she sleep in a bed that felt so empty? She couldn't even bring herself to remove her alarm clock from her bedside table, even if it went off every day at 5:45a.m., the same time Maura had used to wake up. The curtains they had picked out together after hours of fighting at Target hung with no purpose, lifeless and drab, with no inkling of the joy and happiness that used to be in this room. Her walls looked bare, Jane had removed most of the pictures from their hanging spots; she couldn't sleep knowing that Maura's face was smiling at her. Maura's dresses still hung in her dark closet, untouched unless Jane had a particularly rough night and needed something to remind her that not everything in the world was evil. She would curl up into a ball on top of her sheets and pray to a God that she had lost all faith in. She would sob and plead until her cries waned and she drifted off into a frightful slumber. This is why she had taken to sleeping on the couch with a grey matter documentary looping in the background; she couldn't bear to remove Maura's only slot on on the DVR. It was silly, but it's how she eventually would fall asleep.

It would be rough; it was always rough, but today would be worse. The world kept turning, and life had moved on. The world seemed to accept this without any thought otherwise. Maura was gone, not a chance of her coming back even if deep down, Jane thought that she was alive somewhere, whisked away by the Feds no doubt, never to visit her life here again. It was an unpopular opinion, and it had cost Jane a lot of relationships.

There was a funeral, it was closed casket which made Jane really wonder. It's not like she was very lucid that anyways. The only memories that she kept of that day were sitting in the Prius and crying until she couldn't breathe. That and getting so drunk later that she didn't wake up for about 18 hours later. Jane had gone through the stages of mourning and then she got stuck on anger. Why was there never a body? She had seen it happen and there weren't any cosmetic injuries, and she had been forbidden to go anywhere near the morgue, like they didn't trust her or anything. What was she going to do down there? All she would have done is say goodbye her soul mate, the love of her life, her Maura. That's all.

The occasional thought made its way into her mind doubting what she was normally so sure of. She could see a conspiracy; she was a detective for a reason. It was almost insulting honestly. Someone was covering up some shit, and Jane could smell it from where she was at. Maura was a mobster's daughter; it's the kind of thing you would expect. Maura hadn't even indulged in her biological father's lifestyle but by proxy she was a Doyle.

Maura had been a target, everyone knew it but no one wanted to talk about it at the time. Paddy Doyle was coming around too often; they knew something was off, but no one wanted to ruin the relationship that left Maura feeling whole, and wanted as a daughter. Paddy had always been a careful man, that's how he had survived this long in a world of death and despair. Until recently, he had no visible weaknesses but then his lineage came to light, and suddenly everyone knew they had discovered the Achilles heel of the man that ruled the streets of Boston.

It physically sickened Jane to think that all it took was a dirty cop to ruin Maura Isles, a cop she had moved up the ranks with, who she had graduated with. The same cop to shake her hand when she was promoted, to even help her brother, Frankie, when he needed advice. It broke Jane's heart to think that the same force that had nurtured Jane into adulthood played a part in destroying the life of the one person on the planet who did nothing but help others, and was extremely happy to do so.

Maura had been shot at, whilst kneeling over a body they had been called out to investigate. It seemed like your standard drug deal gone awry: single shot to the head, laid out in an alley. Although the ME held nothing but contempt for guessing, she was even feeling a tad relieved that she could possibly have an evening off; she and Jane hadn't been on a date in weeks and they needed some time to themselves.

A "pop!" rang through the air, almost like someone had lit a firecracker, and Maura felt a liquid hot fire scorch throughout her entire side that quickly turned to ice cold pain running through her veins. She collapsed and the last thing she saw was the bright blue sky, a stark difference from dark that was slowly clouding her vision.

Sobbing could be heard off in the distance, and she felt warm lips on her forehead. She tried her hardest to open her eyes, but the darkness was trying to keep her and not give her back. Maura had tried to wade through the loud noises and bright lights to tell everyone that she was ok. The trajectory of the bullet had missed her heart and landed in the soft tissue next to it, based upon her difficulty to breathe. Eventually the darkness won and Maura has passed out.

Later that day the formal announcement was made that Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had be fatally slain in a gang related shooting. She had died during surgery and the city of Boston would mourn her loss terribly. Somewhere in that town laid a Detective Jane Rizzoli, sitting in the floor of interview room 1, crying so hard that she had broken blood vessels around her eyes. Her hair fell in disarray and she was clutching Maura's car keys so hard that the Toyota symbol was bruised into her palms.

It had been a year today since that happened; it had been a year since Maura "died". Jane still wrote to her every day, and she still believed that Maura was out there somewhere, buying Chanel and eating Hors d'oeuvres on the beach. She was out there somewhere. Somewhere.

Jane,

I know that I'll never actually send this letter, I. But, I feel like when I write out my feelings to you, it hurts less than speaking them. I cannot even imagine how you are coping right now; I know that I'm not. I have avoided the pain and I know that eventually it will overtake me. I use people now Jane, I use them to feel. That's not something that Maura Isles does; mostly because I'm not Maura Isles, I'm Amelia Harris. I wish they would have let me choose my own name, I would have picked Leonore Beauregard, and it's much more romantic than...Amelia. Regardless, I'm not Maura. I write to you nearly every day, in this journal that I hide under my mattress. The only reason I even bought this thing was because its navy blue cover reminded me of the time you spoke to the crowd in your blues. Well, it's about 4 a.m. and I haven't slept yet, I've obtained a fairly regular bedmate and he snores quite loudly. Alas, he is a body though; I do miss sleeping next to you. I especially miss waking up to you; I pray that someday I can do it just once more. I would give it all up, well I have given it all up, just to see you once more.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep

"Babe...Babe, could you turn off your goddamned alarm." said a sleep-ridden voice too close to Maura's ear. His voice was too low, too gravelly; it's not what she wanted to hear in the morning. Eric was good man, he really was, but he was cocky and uncouth. Arrogance did not wear well on him, and well...he was good in bed. That was his redeeming quality, sad to say. He was a terrible listener and misogynistic to boot. This is not how Maura liked her mornings to start.

"Eric, you know perfectly well that I hate it when you call me that; it's condescending and just rude. I wake up every morning at 5:45 a.m. and you complain every single time it goes off. Using deductive reasoning, and a fair bit of common sense, you could ascertain that every single night you insist on sleeping over, it's going to go off at the same time the next morning" Amelia huffed, turning over to glare at her bedmate in the rosy dawn light. Today was not the day to try her already dissipating patience.

Eric rolled his dark brown eyes and rolled back over to catch what precious moments of sleep he could before his pager would ring, signaling the start of his workday. Eric loved Amelia, well he acted like he did. Her little grammatical quips and slight oddities we just wearing his patience down to the quick, he was not equipped to emotionally deal with someone in relationship. He found that the more she talked, especially when she went off on her stupid tangents about thing not a single soul cared about, the more he just wanted to call it quits and go back to being a bachelor in Denver. She was a beauty though, and he would be lucky if he ever found someone as sexy as her, and boy was she great in bed. She even understood the erratic hours of being a surgeon, and never once complained when his pager went off at all hours of the night when he did end up staying over.

Maura got up with an apathetic gaze. She used to love morning, cherish the quiet peace and nature before real life got in the way. Now that she was in Denver, she hadn't been able to appreciate the mornings like she used to, it was probably the lack of good company. Shivering with the pre-dawn chill, Maura padded her way into the master bathroom and shut the door, leaving Eric snoring in her bed. Taking the plunge, she flipped on the light and flinched; she never had gotten used to how bright it was in Colorado. There were no large buildings blocking her windows, only trees and mountains for miles. She looked in the mirror and frowned at her brown hair, and sullen expression. She hated that she couldn't recognize herself anymore. She knew that was the point, but she still felt like she was in an ugly shell. Her gaze went to her chest, and the slight scar above her heart. Normally she would just look over it; scars were just a place where broken skin met back up. But, this scar, on this day, was important. It has been a year today. a year since a .22 had been lodged into what the public thought was her heart, when in all reality, it had missed just a bit. But, that little bit is what had kept her "alive"

She still got pains in her chest when she was particularly stressed or overexerted, a reminder that she should keep herself out of the spotlight when possible. Slowly tracing over the puckered skin, Maura couldn't help but wonder what she would be doing today. Would she be thinking about her, or what they had? Had she forgotten about her and moved on, no doubt with someone new? Jane was not a consolation prize to be had, she was first place, and Maura had been the lucky winner. Jane thought she was dead; maybe she would take flowers to her grave?

With a tiny sniffle and a nod of courage, Maura smiled into the mirror to try and see if she could fool her facial muscles into thinking she would be okay today. She just needed to calm down and breathe. Perhaps a shower would help calm her down. She stepped into the shower and turned the hot water all the way up, immediately disappearing into a cloud of steam. Her knees were shaking even in the scalding spray and she felt lightheaded. She leaned against a wall and took deep breaths.

Maura steadied herself in the shower; not wanting to explain to the man in the next room over if would have collapsed while bathing. Maura let her demeanor fall. She needed to be weak for a moment and cry. She cried hard for the future she had so desperately wanted, but would never get. She was about to turn the shower off, realizing that she would never wash away this sense of loneliness, when she felt the curtain open. Whipping her head around, she saw Eric step in and start washing himself, without even a glance in her direction.

"You know, I do have a guest bathroom, if you'd rather some privacy" the brunette said, gingerly stepping out and wrapped her shivering form with a plush towel off the rack next to her.

"Yeah babe, I know. I just love seeing you naked and wet in front of me whenever I can" Eric purred, gesturing for her to come back into the shower, swinging his hips in an almost wretched motion towards her lithe form. Maura had no intention of having relations in the shower, especially today. The shower is where she had made love to Jane and that was not a memory she was going to forsake, especially with someone she had no connection with. She loved sex, but every time she slept with someone else, she lost a piece of herself, her real self, not this shit imagery the Federal Government had her disguised as.

Maura shook her head, clearing her muddled thoughts, and walked back into the bedroom. She fell back into her bed, wet hair and all, showing how much she really had changed in this year she'd been Amelia. She did not want to face the harsh world today; she thought she could handle it, but she just couldn't muster the courage to act like everything was okay. Grieving for her future was not something she had done yet, who had the time? She was a busy woman, even living a fake life. She had a job, and a boyfriend, if that's what you could call him. There were better words for their relationship, but deep down she was still an Isles at heart, and she couldn't bear to tarnish that name. She really disliked when Eric stayed over but she felt herself unable to say no when he asked. He wasn't a bad guy, he just knew that he was attractive, and he was very judgmental, which is something Maura did not tolerate. She had learned a lot while on this journey, including what she had coveted in Boston.

Maura mulled over the fact that she had no motivation to live, no desire to do anything other than survive. She could not handle dealing with someone else's issues at the hospital she worked at, when she had so many of her own to deal with today; it just wasn't fair to the patients. She needed today to heal as many as her open emotional wounds that she could. Tomorrow would be a different day.

Grabbing her phone, she sent a quick text to her colleague to let her know that she would be taking a well-deserved personal day today and she should not be contacted, less it be dire. Uncharacteristically she flung her duvet back over her head, and hid in the darkness. She needed to stop this destructive behavior; sleeping with a man she didn't love, and calling off of work for a personal day. None of these behaviors were something that Maura would have done. Maybe tomorrow, she would start focusing on work, and taking pride in what she did every day, a Pediatrician at Rocky Mountain Children's hospital in Denver, Colorado. She loved her job; children were so full of innocence, energy, and life. Those were the three very things she was missing in her life. She loved her job, because children believed everything you said and looked at you as if you were saving the entire world for fixing their coughs. They believed in magic, and fairy dust, and miracles, and Candyland. Their little eyes and big dreams were what kept Maura sane. Even if she was Dr. Harris at the hospital, she still loved these kids and couldn't imagine not helping them. There were some days where it could be too much, a blatant reminder that there were dangers still in this world. Maybe someday she would ponder the thought of children...maybe.

With the blanket still over her eyes, Maura figured that if she played her cards right, she would be asleep by the time Eric left for work, and for the rest of the day she could be free to do as she pleased without any interruption, even if only in the sanctuary of her small, 2 bedroom house in the suburbs of Denver. It was a tiny townhouse, a stark contrast from her lavish home on Beacon Hill. She no longer cared about the thread count of sheets, or how many of her dress were in production. She had taken it all for granted, and life had taken it back. The lesson had been learned, and Maura felt more relaxed in jeans and t shirt than she did in full get up nowadays.

She favored the little things now: the warm sunlight on her face, the smell of daisies in bloom. She loved to just walk around and watch people being happy, even if life humans still scared her a little bit. She loved warm bread in the patisserie down the street, and she loved to eat food out of the food trucks during the art walk she went to every Friday. Maura was living the most right now, and it was with no one she knew. She was living as Amelia Harris, but at least she was alive.

She dozed on and off for the rest of the day, dreaming of the memories she had made with Jane. She remembered her first date, the first "I love you", the first kiss, and all the firsts they had. It was enough to make the pain in her heart dull down a bit. She stayed like that all day, only rising to make a peanut butter and fluff sandwich, and feed Bass. Bass had come with her, she would not have negotiated that when she was moved. He was too important to her, and he had been through enough with moving around. He was her anchor at times, keeping her from flying off the handle.

Maura walked back into her bedroom and lay back on her bed; Eric had left hours ago, and she just wanted to sleep until tomorrow. She would deal with everything tomorrow.