In an effort to prevent her blood pressure from rising to stroke level Maura shifts the focus to Jane, who sits before her in utter silence.

"What happened to agent Davies?"

Jane's eyes stop short of Maura's glance. She offers a heavy exhalation, "I'm not prepared to discuss it yet."

Maura waits a beat before she continues, "So why did you really come home?"

Jane meets her glance this time, "The absence of my support people has been painful."

Maura rises from her seat, and envelopes her best friend in a warm embrace. "Jane, we missed you too."

Jane wriggles from her grasp, "Maura, I have to go back to D.C. soon. I have an eight a.m. debriefing on Monday morning."

As Maura survey's Jane's face she can't help but feel that she seems more fragile, and weary than she remembers. "Jane, no matter what you're going through you can always come home."

She furrows her brow, and shakes her head, "I have a home."

"Physical location has nothing to do with whether somewhere is considered home, or not. Home is a feeling more than a place. You've taught me that."

Sunday evening she pulls into the driveway of a home in Alexandria. She kills the engine, and sits in the solace of her black SUV. Dread grips her like a familiar bedfellow as she climbs out of the car. As she wheels her luggage down the sidewalk of the cookie-cutter house in suburbia her mind can't help but chastise herself for ever dreaming of this.

Inside the three bedroom home she flips on the light, and tosses the mail on the table sitting next to the door. Instinctively she locks the door before stepping any further into the home. The silence drives her to the brink. Walls the color of bacterial laden snot threaten to close into her as she transfers herself to the living room. Every detail is left unchanged from the last time she was present. A shattered picture frame lies on the coffee table.

The image of herself, and Cameron in informal wedding attire on a beach in Greece mocks her. Her entire being is bathed in anger as she exits the room. She doesn't bother to move her suitcase from the doorway. She climbs the stairs to the master bedroom.

The heavy wooden door slams as she begins to shed the mask that functions to contain all of her broken pieces. Less than an hour later she is clad in navy blue silk pajamas. As she climbs into bed a pair of wedding rings offer moral injury from her bedside stand. Her internal dialogue reminds her that she has omitted so many details to the people who love, and care about her the most that she is little more than a liar.

As the lamp flips off there is no doubt that sleep will evade her. She nestles beneath the heavy charcoal down comforter and applies all of her effort to not feeling anything. Her vicious mind is interrupted by the sound of her storm door opening. She retrieves the firearm from the bedside just as the doorbell offers a shrill cadence.

The 9 mm is tucked into the small of her back as she pulls the door open. She's utterly speechless as she pulls open the door. A familiar face stands on her porch offering her a smile. Jane shakes her head in confusion. She furrows her brow as she motions for the visitor to enter. As the door closes behind them Jane breaks the silence.

"Nina, what are you doing here?"

"Meddling in your life."

"You have skills you probably could have succeeded in that from the safety and comfort of your couch."

"I know that you're not okay. My skills have offered me at least part of the reason that you are not okay."

"You shouldn't have come, Nina. I'm a lost cause."

"Even you don't truly believe that, Jane. You never would have come home if you did."

Jane leads her to the breakfast nook where they both take a seat.

"Maybe it was a mistake to come here. It's late, and obviously you don't want to talk about any of this."

Jane hangs her head in shame, "But it isn't as if I was sleeping, anyway."

"I didn't tell anyone else what I learned. I know that agent Davies was killed in the line of duty. I also know that the two of you eloped six months prior to his death. That is a lot to unpack."

Jane places her weapon on the table, and clears the bullet from the chamber. Her sister-in-law doesn't even bat an eye.

"I am really worried about you. You know I wouldn't be here if that weren't true."

"You could have called."

Nina shakes her head, "We both know the toll losing someone we care about to the job take on a person. Everyone copes differently, but most choose maladaptive coping skills."

"There is no need to worry about me. I simply stew in a pit of despair, and self-loathing."

"It would be easy to have one to take off the edge turn into one too many."

Jane gesticulates to the kitchen behind her, "Feel free to investigate. I haven't been drinking. There isn't even any alcohol here."

"Someone let slip that you have an important debriefing tomorrow."

"Regardless of the outcome I will be resigning my position."

"I noticed the pile of boxes in the entryway. What are your plans?"

Jane shrugs as she rubs the back of her hands, "That remains to be seen."

"I have to ask, because I will hate myself if I don't, have you been contemplating suicide?"

She squirms in her chair, "It doesn't matter. Thoughts go nowhere without action."

Nina furrows her brow, "I'm not seeing a host of protective factors around here."

"I've seen the toll it takes. I would never do that."

Nina shakes her head, "And I have had this conversation with false assurances before. I was inexperienced, and I took my fellow cop at their word," she swallows hard. "He didn't live to see his next birthday."

Jane rises from her seat, and rifles around in her junk drawer. When she locates the item she is looking for she returns to the table. She hands the item to Nina. Her jaw stiffens.

"And no matter how deep the depths of my despair are entrenched in my mind, a flicker of hope prevents me from making a permanent decision that I cannot reverse."