[JMM] Success and rest don't sleep together

It was an old proverb, and an empty house, that keeps Claire at the station long after everyone else had gone home. She sits on the edge of her desk, her jacket thrown over her chair and her hair pinned up in a messy bun, until two o'clock in the morning almost every night before driving home and finding herself back in before seven-thirty. Staring at the white board makes her feel busy, even if she feels like she's chasing her own tail.

Something is missing. She is missing something.

The coffee in her cup is lukewarm, her blouse is wrinkled and she is bordering on frazzled. It is a hell of a case to cut her BPD teeth on.

Saints. Religious overtones. That damn size six...

Which reminds her of the boots she has sitting in a box in a bag under her desk for Morgan and she sighs. Hopping down off her desk, she props her hands on her hips and she stares at the white board again, before closing her eyes.

She's memorized it, sketched it, has it at home in a notebook. She doesn't need to be here. It's better than being at home alone. Being at home alone is better than being there with her mother.

Her mind has always wandered when she's exhausted and now is no different.

Damn Saints. "What am I missing?"

She leans down to grab the bag with the boots, then her jacket from the back of her chair, and leaves. She needs a shower and bed and four hours of sleep before doing it all over again.

Maybe in the morning she can concentrate. Maybe not.