Jane is out there. Her plus one. Totally out of her element and only here to be supportive. She has every right to come bursting in here, complaining about being left stranded out there in a dress she hates, with a bunch of stuffy strangers, at a function she has no interest in.

Fresh tears spill at the realization that she’ll have no emotional energy to deal with that. Maura had run into this bathroom like a scared little animal looking for a crevice to crawl into, and if Jane reaches a hand in after her, she doesn’t know what she might do except shut down, or maybe bite.

The hand dryer goes off, exposing the sharpness of her breathing to the echoing quiet. She covers her mouth, eyes stinging and lungs burning from trying to silence her sobs. Over by the sinks a couple of younger women laugh, and even though she knows it’s not about her, somehow it sounds like it is. 

Door hinges. Maura recognizes the new set of footsteps even in the dialect of heel clicks instead of their native boot stomps. Then there they are in the little gap under the door: the sage almond pumps she picked out with Jane forty hours earlier, just to match a dress she’ll never wear a second time.

She braces.

“Maura?”

"Hm,” is all she can say without revealing her state.

“You okay?” Jane sounds... gentle.

How nice lying must be. She could say yes and Jane would go away and this would be one step closer to being over.

“I jus-st need a minute.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, holding her breath, too close to having her little bubble breached.

“Okay.”

The shoes disappear. Somebody runs the dryer and she can breathe again.

A minute later, something wedges in the crack of the stall door. A piece of paper.

Unfolding reveals it as a torn off piece of the glossy program she was handed when she entered the event. Her tears slow as she tries to understand the words written on it.

If you want company but don’t want to say a word, text me 1.

Company but I don’t talk either - 2

Stand over here and keep the dryer running - 3

Immediate escort off the premises no questions asked - 4

You need to be alone - 5

Anything else - name it. I have your back.

She has to read it four times before absorbing it, but once she does, it’s like a light turns on. 

Panic told her she was all alone. It had her lumping Jane in with people.

There is some whining and teasing, yes. But when something serious is happening, there could be no one more ferociously on her side than Jane Rizzoli. She has it all. Cop authority. Friend comforts. Big sister powers. She’s her go-to for anything and everything.

Jane isn’t people. Jane is Jane.

She finds her phone in her purse.

1.  Send.

Feet reappear within fifteen seconds. There is no knock.

She unlatches the door, opening it to find a soft smile waiting. It makes her wonder how awful she must look.

Despite the premise of the text she just sent, the first thing she does is start rambling.

“I just don’t kn-now wh-   I don’t know! I don’t know.”

Giving up on expressing herself, she pushes into Jane’s arms instead, repeating herself uselessly.

Jane walks them a step into the stall and pushes the door shut with her elbow. “Okay,” she wraps her arms around Maura and leans a cheek on her head. “Okay.”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know who an-nyone is. I don’t-”

“You know me.”

Maura goes quiet, breathing hard. 

“Nobody’s here but you and me.” 

Jane's hand moves up and down her back. 

“You’re safe. I know it doesn’t feel okay, but it will be. We’ll just hang out here as long as it takes to feel more okay. And then we’ll go home. You don’t have to talk to a single person. Okay?”

Maura nods with a hiccupy sigh.

“Okay. Now just breathe with me.”

It takes time to realize that this isn’t a hug. It’s shaped like a hug, but a hug would’ve lasted just long enough to express sympathy, and this is not ending. This is a hold. And it makes her feel protected, and not alone. And it feels devastatingly good to just hide in and cry like there’s no time limit. Jane’s hands hold her securely, rubbing soft circles on her back. It helps calm her enough that when she opens her eyes again it’s almost a surprise to remember where they still are. If only it could continue this way, but at home instead of in a public bathroom stall.

She can’t tell how long they’ve been in there, but it’s probably been too long. Begrudgingly, she peels herself out of the embrace.

“Everything...  just..”

“Got cranked up to 11 all of a sudden?” Jane finishes quietly. “And all you wanna do is teleport home and curl up in a dark room and shut off.”

Maura heaves a sigh. “Yeah.”

"Let’s teleport.”

“Oh... I haven’t excused myself,” she realizes with a near-sob. “I didn’t say goodbye to our hosts.”

“I took care of it,” Jane shakes her head.

“What did you say?”

“I said something came up that required our attention and that you sent your appreciation and regrets and blah blah blah, it was fine. They think you left already. No one’s looking for you.”

Relief floods through her.

That’s why, come to think of it... Maura was in here for at least a few minutes on her own. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder why Jane hadn’t followed her immediately. She was out there smoothing over the situation, keeping anyone from following, making it less like a scene.

“Okay. Here’s the exit strategy: I’m gonna lead you out the door in full hockey gear. Anybody tries to talk to you, I body check them into the ice sculpture. It’ll be ladies screaming, monocles falling into champagne flutes-”

A laugh jumps from her throat, small but unexpected enough to come out sounding as much like a cough. Jane sounds pleased to have earned at least that.

Her actual suggestion is to bring the car around to the service exit, and then come back to escort her out.

After making the best of her face, Maura follows Jane out, letting herself be led by the hand. She feels like a small child being helped to cross a street, but somehow in this context it’s reassuring instead of condescending. 

She pushes through half a set of double doors, holding it open for her. 

The voice is immediate, and male. 

“Excuse me, ladies, but this area-”

“Boston police,” Jane barks without slowing or even altering their course, even though he is directly ahead of them. “Clear the exit.”

In her peripheral vision Maura can see the man - kitchen staff maybe - stepping aside, showing his palms in disinterested surrender. Not paid enough to stand in the way and be bulldozed. She notices how Jane is angling herself to block her from view as much as is casually possible as they move past.

She focuses on Jane’s shoulder blades, visible thanks to her updo and the low-ish back of the dress she’d talked her into. Imagining her instead in hockey gear almost brings a smile to Maura’s face.

Something about the safety of the car makes her start crying again, and to her relief, Jane simply lets her.

- - -

The next time she looks at the clock, it reads 12:41. 

She must have fallen asleep. She wants nothing more than to fall back asleep, but something is nagging at her... besides the fact that she’s fallen asleep in her makeup. 

It’s Jane. Jane protected her and drove her home, but she doesn’t recall saying a single word to her since they left that bathroom. No effort to be appreciative or even hospitable. Her only goal upon arriving home was tearing off that dress so she could finally breathe and crashing in bed just long enough to catch her breath.

Her eyes move across her bedroom, dimly lit by the light of her closet filtering through its slatted door.

Her dressing table. Her nightstand. Legs on the bed. 

Legs on the bed?

Jane is lying on the bed next to her.  Propped up halfway on pillows, and with hands folded neatly over her stomach, she looks more like she’s waiting than sleeping.

“Hey,” she says, and Maura jumps slightly even though her presence is not a surprise. Her nerves feel shredded.

“Sorry,” Jane adds quickly. “It’s just me. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone.”

Maura rubs her eyes. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Nah, that’s exactly what you needed.”

She feels more settled now, though exhausted and embarrassed... however with Jane here to look out for her, it’s not so terrible. Being that vulnerable in front of someone she trusts feels nice, in a way.

“Do you? Want to be alone?”

Apologetically excusing Jane is her first instinct, but she pauses. Going back to sleep sounds nice, but having Jane there sounds even nicer. Her presence is so calming.

“No.”

"’kay.” Jane sits up and pats a little folded pile on the foot of the bed. “I grabbed some pajamas for you.”

“I’m alread- oh,” glancing down, she realizes she was in such a hurry to get out of that dress that she never put anything else on, and is still just in underwear. Hopefully she was the one who pulled the bed sheet over herself. 

That’s what makes her check to see what Jane is wearing, if not still her dress from the benefit. She’s found one of the old tees and sweats of her own that are always stashed in Maura’s drawers.

"Let me go get you a glass of water,” Jane smirks.

Getting ready for bed gives Maura her second wind. That little crash helped recharge her at least to the point where she can think again - not necessarily a good thing - and now she doesn’t feel like trying to go directly to sleep.

They end up in their go-to place for processing: the couch. Side by side, they just sit in silence for a little while.

Earlier it was all just a tornado of raw data, but now she’s starting to be able to organize it and analyze what had happened. 

“I feel so ridiculous.” Her voice still sounds congested.

“You aren’t.”

“But there was no real threat at all. Am I that afraid of a dead man?”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

Jane doesn’t talk about Hoyt that much, but Maura knows that’s what she means.

Neither of them really fear dead men. What they fear is that those men weren’t unique. There are more of them in the world - it’s a statistical certainty. There’s just no way of knowing which they are. 

That’s where she’d lost it at the benefit tonight. All those smiling faces, each one Schrödinger’s acquaintance. Simultaneously a pleasant conversationalist and potential catastrophic threat to her safety, her sanity, her life. 

“I keep doing the math. The number of new people I tend to encounter in an average work week - the prevalence of violent crime and psychopathy and-”

“Hey,” Jane says, shushing softly. “I know, but we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Maura allows herself to lean to the side when pulled, and Jane shifts enough to put her chin on top of Maura’s head. It feels warm and safe and reassuring, like the way puppies must feel when they sleep all together in a pile.

“You’re home. You’re safe. You don’t have to think about anything else.”

She closes her eyes, but something is keeping her from totally relaxing. Jane must think she’s much worse off than she is, and to not correct her feels kind of deceptive.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“I know you don’t like hugging people. I’m not in danger. I’m not in distress anymore... I just like the company.”

She feels a little breath come out of Jane’s chest, like that had been amusing.

“You’re not people.”

Well... in that case, maybe it’s okay to wrap her other arm around Jane’s waist and relax against her. She does, and Jane retaliates with what she’s at least ninety-six percent sure was a kiss on the top of her head.

It gives her a thousand additional questions, but those can be answered later. Right now the important thing is that everything feels safe. And this hug - no, hold - is lasting so long that the only way she can even tell Jane’s awake is the little intermittent back-and-forth thumb near her shoulder.

She's falling asleep on the couch. On Jane.