I had to create a new account, so I'm re-uploading this one-shot. Every review, favorite, and follow is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles or any of the characters.

Her feet hit the floor hard as she stood up and moved to the middle of the room, needing away from her bed, from the constricting sheets, from where he held her hostage in her dreams. Dark, teary eyes fleeted over the room, scanning every shadow and crevice for any signs of an intruder, finally falling to a stop on her phone resting on the bedside table. She could call her, she had said she could, anytime she needed something she was told to call, no matter what time, and she had promised that no matter how busy she was she would always have time for her. But it was one a.m. Strangers didn't call each other in the middle of the night looking for someone to save them.

She shivered, skin prickling as a car backfired outside, a small scream escaping from her already fear-battered throat. Picking up her phone, she slid down the wall, curling up in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she rocked gently. She had to call. She didn't have a choice. Here was someone offering to help her, offering to put a stranger's needs before her own, so she might as well take the offer before it was withdrawn.

They'd met only two weeks ago on the train bringing her home from a gruesome case down in Philadelphia she'd volunteered to assist on. They had each talked about their line of work and their families, two different backgrounds but two jobs that seemed to work hand in hand: a homicide detective and a medical examiner. As they went to go their separate ways, the honey-blonde had grabbed onto her hand, slipping a business card between her fingers, telling her to call if she ever needed anything or if she just wanted to chat, her smile friendly as she planted a soft kiss on her hand before walking away.

She was going to take that beautiful woman up on her offer. Shaking hands clutched tightly onto her phone as she held it against her ear. Frightened, wayward eyes tracked across the dark space in front of her, checking the shadows again for what she knew wouldn't be there. She held her breath as the phone's ringing punctuated into her ears, hope dying with each new ring. Finally, on the fourth ring she heard a click and an exhale of breath before a crisp voice broke through her fogged thoughts.

"Isles."

"Uhmm... Maura, it's, it's me. Jane. I-," she sighed, head shooting up as her skin tickled with the sensation that someone was there, but it was only her mind playing tricks on her again, something he had taught it to do.

"Jane, what's wrong?" The medical examiner's voice was quieter, her professional tone lost in her concern.

Jane immediately regretted making the call, Maura sounded worn and exhausted, but it was too late now. She sighed, bringing her free hand up to rub her at her forehead where a tiny ache had started to form; a stress headache, the last thing she needed right now. "I'm... I'm sorry, Maura. It-It's late, and I-I shouldn't have called you."

"Jane, hey, it's alright. Don't worry about that. Tell me what's wrong." Maura could hear the choked sobs through the phone and it broke her heart. Strangers or not, this woman was hurting. She'd seen it in her eyes that day on the train; there was something broken hidden amongst the happiness that seemed to radiate from her. Even then, she'd felt like most of the detective's giddiness had been exaggerated, stunted by something deeper and darker that affected every aspect of her life.

"I... I can't tell you, Maura. I can't."

"Alright," she soothed, "it's okay, Jane. Listen to me, I'll come to New York right now. I'll get on the next train or drive, whichever is faster."

"No," she whispered hoarsely, voice breaking as her watery sniffles turned into a rapid river of tears. Maura was a stranger, yet she was offering to travel hundreds of miles just to make her feel better. No one had ever done anything like that for her. "I can't let you do that. Can- can I come to you, to Boston? It'll be better that way, easier. You have to work tomorrow, don't you?"

"Of course you can come, and it doesn't matter what I have to do. All that matters right now is you and what you need."

"Can... Can you stay on the phone, until- until I get there?"

"Yes, Jane. Whatever you need."

Four hours, six cups of coffee, and one very long phone call later, Jane pulled into Maura's driveway. Raking a hand through her mussed curls, she slipped out of her car and shut the door quietly, snaking her way up to the front door. Maura smiled softly at her, looking as stunning in her designer pajamas as she had that day on the train. Once inside, Jane turned to face her, evidence of her recent tears still streaked down her cheeks. "I- I'm sorry, Maura. I'm so-."

Maura pressed a delicate finger to the detective's lips, cutting off her apologies. Apologies would get them no where. They wouldn't help this wounded woman feel better, and she didn't mind being woken up in the middle of the night. It was comforting, in a way, to know that someone needed her like she needed the bodies in her morgue for her to feel like she had a purpose in life. "What would you like to do, Jane? What do you need to do? We can do anything- talk, eat, watch a movie, sleep. Whatever it is you need."

Jane looked up into the eyes of the woman in front of her, tortured brown meeting soft and caring hazel. There was no pity for her, or annoyance for her late night tactics hidden amongst her features. She only seemed to show concern for the disheveled woman in front of her, the woman with the strange scars on her hands.

"I-I would like to sleep."

Maura nodded, gripping onto Jane's hand with her own, unflinching as their rough centers brushed against her palms. "Then let's go to bed."

Jane pulled her hand from Maura's, causing the honey-blonde to turn, fear lingering deep in her eyes, afraid she'd done something wrong. Maybe her hands were forbidden territory.

"No, Maura," Jane whispered, fresh tears gathering in her eyes before spilling over their boundaries down flesh still stained from their last appearance, from so many recent appearances. "You- you don't understand. I- I want to sleep, but, but I can't."

She ran her fingers over the mottled skin on the backs of her hands, attempting to get her breathing more under control. She was about to admit a childish fear, one that a homicide detective shouldn't even be fighting, and Maura was probably going to laugh a her.

"I have nightmares," she admitted quietly, eyes flicking away from the ground to study the ME in front of her, looking for the slightest change in her features, but they only softened.

"It's alright, Jane," she assured, taking her hand again. "Shh, it's alright. Just come with me." She led the detective up the stairs to her room, gently urging her to sit on the edge of the bed while she removed her shoes and socks for her before slipping onto the duvet beside her. "Just lay with me," she said, carefully pulling Jane back against the pillows as she covered them with the sheets. "It's alright. When was the last time you had a full night's sleep?"

Jane bit her lip, gripping onto the free hand in front of her while the ME's other hand rubbed up and down her arm reassuringly. "It's- I..." she swallowed hard, giving in and admitting the truth. "Three years."

Maura only nodded, but the detective choked on a sob, trying to push the cries back down her throat before it was too late and she ended up embarrassing herself even more. The hand on her arm stilled, wrapping around her back as Maura scooted closer and pressed Jane's face into her chest. "It's alright, Jane. It's okay. Let me help you. Whatever it is that's bothering you, you can tell me."

"I-" she paused, sucking on the inside of her jaw, unsure she wanted to tell her about him for fear that she'd lose the only comforting embrace she could come running to. This woman didn't know anything about her, didn't know anything about him like everyone else she knew. They'd all deserted her, not wanting a target on their own backsides.

"It's alright," Maura reassured her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Whatever it is, it's going to be okay. You can tell me."

Jane closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the warm chest, bringing her hands up to grip fiercely onto the woman's nightshirt. "What do you know about Charles Hoyt?"

"Not much," she said, unsure of where the conversation was going. "He's a serial killer, that's about all I know."

"He's," she hesitated, this was the moment that was going to make or break her friendship with Maura Isles, this was the moment that could have her shoved from the house in a matter of seconds. "He's after me. I don't- I don't know why. He wants to kill me, Maura, but he wants to torture me first and he's doing a heck of a good job doing it. I'm scared out of my mind. I don't know where he is or when he's coming. I can't sleep, I can't eat, and I don't want to have to live like this anymore. I shouldn't have to." She slid one hand out from under the blankets, finally meeting Maura's eyes. "He- he snuck up behind me while I was trying to rescue a woman, hit me over the head with a board and pinned me to the floor with scalpels. I don't- I don't usually let people touch my hands."

"But you let me," Maura smiled softly, glad that Jane trusted her. She could see the fear in her dark eyes as she brushed away the detective's tears with the pads of her thumbs. "It's alright, Jane. He can't haunt you forever, I promise. He can't hurt you here, Jane. You're safe."

"I just- I just need a break. I spend every waking moment thinking about him, worrying about what he's going to do next, and then when I try to sleep, he comes after me in my dreams. He has my own body working against me." Jane hid her head against the doctor's chest, and Maura tightened her hold.

"Shh, Jane, it's okay. Listen to me. Everything you're feeling is normal. It's nothing to be ashamed about, and your body isn't working against you, it's responding to the trauma of what you went through, alright? I promise, everything you're feeling right now is normal, and once you deal with Hoyt, once you take over your life again, it will all get better, and I'm going to help you, okay? I'm going to be right here with you."

"But, Maura, you can't- we don't-."

Maura pressed another finger to the detective's lips, sliding down in the bed so that their eyes were even, but her arms never released their hold on Jane. "Shh. Don't worry about any of that right now, Jane. We'll figure something out. For now, you need to sleep."

Jane shook her head, yawning even as she did so. Crying always seemed to drain her energy. "I can't, Maura, I can't."

"Hey, hey, shh," Maura soothed, kissing her on the forehead. "It'll be okay. For all you know, Hoyt is still in New York right now and you're hundreds of miles away. He's not going to get you tonight, Jane. I'll be here, right here."

Jane reaffirmed her hold on Maura's nightshirt, wiggling closer as her eyes slipped closed. The hand on her back was comforting and Maura's arms felt so safe. No matter how hard she tried, she knew she'd be fighting a losing battle when it came to sleep. She was already so exhausted. So as the sun peeked over the horizon, awakening the world with its presence, the detective gave in to her slumber, wrapped in the protective arms of the medical examiner.