So, hey. I'm Shadows. I've been writing fanfic for a few years, but I still get a bit nervous when I start writing for a new fandom. But this week I rewatched the first four seasons of R&I and then this little plot bunny sank its teeth in and there was really nothing that could be done. You know how it is.

This will only be a short fic - ten chapters in total, including the epilogue. I should also add some warnings: this is a dark fic; it deals with sensitive subjects and there are instances of violence, so read with caution. Note: this story is a bit AH. It starts before season one of the show, and the main difference to note is that Jane and Maura have never met. Other than that, everything else should become clear throughout the fic.

I've pre-written the story, so I can update as often as you guys want. I'm not sure how well this will be received, and I may have to up the rating to an M at some point, but let's just see how it goes for now. If you like this first chapter, please follow, favorite, and/or review. I'd love to hear what you think.

And without further ado, here we go...

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

6:52 pm.

The soft sound of classical music was Maura Isles' only companion on her drive home from work on Monday night. Although it wasn't late, the streets were all deserted, a fact that would make a more paranoid person suspicious. Even Maura was starting to get worried, her usually quiet mind swirling with uncertainty and anxiety. As the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts she prided herself on her ability to think clearly and rationally, but that very same ability meant that she was unable to quell her worries now. Her mind was full of statistics – the crime rate in Boston, the likelihood of a carjacking on such an empty street, the total victim tally for Boston's last serial killer – and not a single one provided her any kind of relief.

She was on the verge of calling her friend Frankie just to have his voice to keep her company when she noticed a figure up ahead. She slowed down, her foot hovering above the brake as she cruised past the late-night jogger, and a small smile slipped across her face. Two years ago the streets of Boston had been thrown into a frenzy in the wake of the serial killer who called himself The Surgeon – a name that suited him well given the clinical manner in which he tortured and eventually killed his victims. For months everyone had been too scared to even step foot outside of their homes after the sun went down, and now Maura found herself reminded of the fact that the chaos was over. Peace hadn't been restored so much as stumbled upon – since The Surgeon had never been caught and had simply stopped being active – but the citizens of Boston were no longer scared to be outside after dark.

Maura watched the jogger in the rear-view mirror, noting that the woman looked strangely dishevelled, the way Sergeant Korsak had looked during BPD's Wellness Week after being dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn to lead that day's morning jog. Just as she was about to turn her attention back to the road ahead of her, Maura watched as the woman stumbled, her foot getting caught on a crack in the sidewalk. In the space of a second the woman was on the ground, and in another second Maura had pulled her car over to the curb and was reaching for the door handle.

"Excuse me, miss?" Maura called as she approached, her keys in one hand and her phone in the other, ready to call 911 if her own expertise proved insufficient.

The other woman didn't look up until Maura was only a few feet away, and then Maura was startled by the intensity in the other woman's gaze. Then the stranger blinked, the intensity fading from her eyes and a sheepish grin playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Are you okay?" Maura asked, coming to a stop a few paces away and offering the woman what she hoped was a friendly smile. As Frankie was always telling her, Maura's people skills left a lot to be desired; more often than not her attempts to help would be mistaken for arrogance, and she'd learned the hard way that not everybody wanted her help.

"I'm fine," the woman said, her voice surprisingly low and slightly husky. The smile playing on her lips blossomed then, embarrassment plain on every inch of her face.

"Here," Maura said, tucking her phone and keys into the pocket of her jacket and then reaching out to help the stranger to her feet.

"Thanks." For a moment the other woman smiled at her, but then it turned into a grimace as her leg buckled beneath her.

Without thinking Maura reached out to catch her, steadying her just in time. "I'm a doctor," she offered, still holding onto the other woman for fear of letting her fall. "I could take a look at your leg, if you wanted."

The stranger hesitated for a second, and then winced as she tried to put weight on her injured leg. "I think it's my ankle," she admitted. "But it's probably just a sprain. I've had worse."

Maura bit her lip, torn between her desire to help this stranger and the knowledge that she was now almost running late to meet Frankie. The former won out and she smiled again, finding herself quickly warming up to the stranger; there was something strangely vulnerable about her, even though her entire manner was self-assured and confident.

"I've got a first aid kit in my car," Maura said, gesturing behind her. The stranger followed her gaze, glanced down at her own injured leg, and then shrugged.

"If you're sure it wouldn't be any trouble," she said. "I don't want to bother you."

"It's not a bother," Maura assured her, but the effect of her words was ruined slightly as she glanced at her watch. She looked back up at the stranger. "Just sit down on the sidewalk for a minute and I'll have a look at it."

Five minutes later Maura had bandaged up the stranger's ankle, which did only seem to be sprained.

"Are you going to be all right to get home?" Maura asked as she packed up her first aid kit, snapping the locks closed on the container.

The stranger laughed, a sound that caught Maura off-guard although she couldn't figure out why. "That's my house right there, actually," she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the house behind her.

"Oh." Maura chuckled, straightening up and tucking the first aid kit under her arm. "Well, in my professional opinion I think you can manage that."

They shared a laugh for a moment, and then the stranger gingerly put weight on her injured ankle. "Thank you so much for this," she said, gesturing to the bandage. She hesitated, and then asked, "Do you want to come in for tea or coffee? It's the least I could do."

Maura glanced at her watch again, and then at her car, and came to a decision. She would have to reschedule with Frankie; the offer of tea was far too enticing to pass up. "Tea would be lovely," she said, and the stranger smiled before leading the way inside.

For what it's worth, the tea did taste lovely – but it was the last thing Maura remembered before she slipped into absolute blackness.

X.X.X.X.X

7:19 pm.

It was after seven, and that meant that Maura Isles, queen of punctuality, was officially late. Frankie stood up and glanced around the room, although he wasn't expecting it to give him any answers. He'd let himself in twenty minutes ago, having promised Maura that he'd help her set up her new table tonight, and there had been no sign of the Medical Examiner. The only other living thing in the house was Bass, her tortoise, who was as companionable as an un-caffeinated Sergeant Korsak.

"Come on, Maura," Frankie muttered, dialling her number for the third time. "Where are you?"

There was no answer, but by this point Frankie wasn't expecting one. He started running through the day in his mind, tracking every interaction he'd had with Maura. He'd only spoken to her a couple of times, since they weren't working on any active cases together and she'd been down in the morgue for most of the day, but he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary about her. Although Frankie had only been a detective for a few months he was still one of the best and brightest, and he liked to think that he would have noticed if one of his colleagues was acting suspiciously at all.

And since she hadn't been acting strangely at work, it meant that something must have come up between then and now. Maura was never late for anything, and Frankie shuddered to think what would have come up that would mean she couldn't even answer her phone. From previous experience he knew that there was no sense in worrying about someone being late… unless they didn't answer their phone. Then there was cause for concern.

As he was deciding what his next move should be, Frankie's cell went off. The noise seemed too loud in the empty house and he snatched it up, trying not to notice that his hand was shaking. "Hey Korsak," he said, starting to walk around the house, not sure what he was looking for but knowing he needed to find some indication as to why Maura wouldn't be here now. "How's it going?"

"Have you heard from Dr Isles recently?" Korsak asked without preamble, completely ignoring Frankie's question. Somehow he didn't mind.

"Not since this afternoon," Frankie replied, coming to a stop in the kitchen. There was a pile of unread mail on the counter, but none of it looked suspicious; it was all bills and letters from penpals and copies of articles from scientific journals. "Why? What's going on?"

"I haven't been able to get a hold of her," Korsak said, and Frankie was alarmed to hear a note of unease in his voice. It wasn't often that Korsak let anything slip through his calm exterior, and it worried Frankie that there was something slipping through the cracks now.

"How long's she been MIA?" Frankie asked, trying to switch his mind into detective mode. It was always harder to do so when someone he knew was involved, but if he let his emotions get the better of him he'd be no help to Korsak – or to Maura.

"She left work at six. I tried to call her at seven, and there was no response. I've tried to call her since then, and so has Frost. She hasn't answered."

Frankie ran a hand through his hair, hating the thoughts that were going through his mind. But he didn't have to say what he was thinking; his silence said it all.

"It's not him, Frankie," Korsak said, a rare note of gentleness in his tone.

"We don't know that," Frankie countered, knowing he was playing devil's advocate but also knowing that somebody had to. "We never caught him, remember? For all we know he's still out there, and after what he did to -"

"It's not the same," Korsak interrupted, the gentleness replaced by firmness now. "I know what happened to Jane was… it was hard on all of us. But this isn't the same. We don't know that Maura's even in trouble. And if she is, we'll find out what it is, and we'll deal with it." He paused, his silence laden with meaning, and then he said, "We'll get her back, Frankie."

As much as Frankie wanted to believe his words, he couldn't. Because Sergeant Korsak had said the same thing two years ago about a different girl, and they never did get her back.

X.X.X.X.X

7:26 pm.

Maura's senses came back in bits and pieces. First she was aware of a vague pressure around her wrists and ankles, and then of a dull pain behind her eyes, and finally of a dim dripping sound behind her. When she finally forced herself to open her eyes she did a double-take, not understanding where she was or how she got here. It seemed to be some kind of basement, and once that fact registered, two other realizations came to her in quick succession. The first was that she was tied to a chair, and the second was that she wasn't alone.

The stranger she'd stopped to help was across from her, sitting backwards on a chair with her arms resting on the back. She looked absurdly casual given the situation, and that more than anything made Maura uneasy. She'd dealt with desperate criminals before, with ordinary people driven to do awful things, but this stranger wasn't like that. She wasn't desperate; she was calculating. She was watching Maura like she was assessing her for weaknesses, like she was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Maura had seen this look in people's eyes before, and it was usually as they were being sentenced to life in prison for murder.

"Who are you?" Maura asked, her voice croaky and her throat dry. She swallowed, not taking her eyes off the stranger, trying to steady her heart.

The other woman didn't answer. Instead she stood up, tapped her palm against the back of the chair a couple of times, and then said, "Doctor Maura Isles. Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Daughter of Paddy Doyle and Hope Martin." She paused here, crossed her arms, and then continued. "I know who you are, Dr Isles. I know what you've done. I know where you live, and what you eat for breakfast, and where you take your tortoise to the vet. I've been watching you."

Maura swallowed again, her heart pounding against her chest like a bird trapped in a cage. She'd never been this terrified, but some part of her mind wouldn't let her fall completely into panic. She needed to stay calm or she wouldn't have a chance. "I seem to be at a disadvantage then," she said slowly, hoping her fear wasn't coloring her voice. "You know everything about me, but I don't even know your name, Mrs…"

The stranger smirked, shoving the chair out of the way and taking a step toward Maura. The smirk turned into a smile, but there was nothing warm or friendly about it. That was the smile of a predator moving in for the kill. "Actually," the stranger said smoothly, "it's Detective."

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I'll see you all next time, whenever that may be.

#ShadowsOut