Practicing Deception

Show: Rizzoli & Isles

Spoilers: Post 1x02 only

Length: A one-shot told in three parts.

Rating: T-Language, violence, death (It's a police procedural, remember?)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Characters belong to Tess and TNT. Ideas, and the manipulation of characters, are mine.

Synopsis: A simple prisoner transport gone wrong leaves Jane injured and incapacitated. Meanwhile, Maura looks after her and works with Frost to solve a case. No slash, folks.

A/N: I am most likely going to regret posting this as I am in the middle of writing two other stories, but oh, well. I can't handle the idea of it sitting in limbo on the hard drive. Please read and REVIEW! Any guesses/ideas about what's going on will be fun for me.

Part 1: Set 'em up and knock 'em down

Frost's voice had filled the phone. "Dr. Isles?"

"Yes, Detective Frost, what can I do for you?" Maura had pulled the blue Laytex gloves off, folding one into the other and discarding the pair before answering the phone. A fan chugged away overhead, reducing the smells that came with decomposition as the doctor stepped away from the body she had been preparing to examine.

A deep breath, then a long sigh on the other end.

"Detective Frost?" Maura prompted.

"She's okay, Dr. Isles. I want you to know that first," the man's voice was concerned.

"Who?" Maura asked, though she felt a slight tingle of fear. There weren't that many people she cared about…

"Jane, Dr. Isles. She was transporting a subject and she got hurt. But she's okay," Frost said again, trying to reassure himself as much as the woman on the other end of the line.

"Where is she?"

"Boston General. She's going to be released, the doctors told me, in about twenty minutes. You think you can be here by then?"

Maura cocked her head and thought. Yes, she could be there by then. "Didn't Jane's Mom want to come get her?"

"I didn't call her," Frost said simply.

"Why not?"

"Jane told me she'd shoot me if I did," came the chuckled reply. He disconnected then.

Maura looked at the phone in her hand and shook her head. She knew that was exactly what Jane had said.

Jane Rizzoli was trying to sit up when Maura walked into the hospital room. Frost was seated on a small couch in the room and looked as much relaxed as Jane did uncomfortable.

"It helps if you use the bed control," Frost offered, shooting Maura a small smile as the doctor entered. He sounded much calmer than he had on the phone when he spoke to her. That was good.

Maura's eyes surveyed the scene before her, looking at the IV that was stuck into Jane's left arm. It was probably a banana bag, but Maura wanted to make sure and deftly snagged Jane's medical chart. The doctor's eyes scanned over the chart, counting the brunette's injuries.

"Hey!" the brunette protested numbly and Maura could tell that her heart wasn't in it, which meant medication. The chart contained most everything Maura needed to know, except what, exactly, had happened to her best friend. Jane's left shoulder was dislocated, put back into place, and held tight to her body by a blue and white cloth sling. Stitches covered the area over her right eyebrow, disappearing into her scalp. Her right eye was black and swollen. According to the chart, there were also several injuries hiding beneath the scrubs the detective wore.

The trio looked up as the door opened again, admitting an older, heavy-set black man who introduced himself as Dr. Gray. He reached for his glasses, adjusting them as he looked at the newcomer.

He smiled at Maura and turned so that he included Detective Frost in the conversation. "Is this the Dr. Isles that I've heard so much about?" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he spoke.

Frost nodded, a smirk crossing his features. "Yeah, Doc," he turned his attention back to the blonde. "Jane's been telling him stories," he said with a wink. Jane rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath as Frost addressed Dr. Gray. "Maura's agreed to take Jane home and keep an eye on her, since she refuses to stay."

Maura frowned, looking at Jane. "You're refusing treatment against medical advice?"

Jane gazed back, her eyes unfocused. "I think so…" she murmured. Maura glanced at the chart again. Ah, there it was: concussion, combined with painkillers, a low dose of Oxycodone, an opiate that, while numbing the pain, and thus, doing its intended job, also made the user lethargic and sleepy.

Dr. Gray gestured to Maura. "Dr. Isles, do you think we could talk outside?" he asked. She nodded and followed him into the hallway.

Frost had explained to Jane, twice, where her clothes had gone before giving up the cause as lost. Clearly, Jane was not cognizant, and could not remember asking a question that had just been answered a minute before. He had taken her clothes, after the nurses had taken pity on the young detective, and had helped a confused Jane into scrubs. He had bagged the jeans, jacket and sweater, entering them into evidence. Then, his thoughts had turned to Jane herself. It was true that they hadn't been working together for very long, but he found himself taking a moment to grip the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror, fear palpable on his features. He was hidden in the bathroom adjoined to the hospital room and he allowed his walls down, only for a moment to consider that Jane had been very badly hurt. Dr. Gray had been straight with him, telling Frost just how close Jane had come to death. The head injury was bad, but could've been worse. It was going to affect her for a while. And, clearly, if Jane was unable to remember what had been asked and answered, she needed someone to keep an eye on her. She had told him before that if she ever got hurt on the job not to call her family, especially her mother. Frost knew that Jane considered Dr. Isles her best friend. She seemed like the best candidate for babysitter, so he had made the call.

Jane had fallen asleep in the car as Maura drove, keeping a cautious eye on the brunette. She had decided to take Jane to her house, rather than the brunette's apartment, primarily because she had more room, but also because she had medical supplies, should Jane's injuries need them. Plus, Jane's mother wouldn't know to look for her daughter there.

As the car came to a stop, Jane stirred, opening her eyes. In a haze, she saw Maura open her passenger side door and felt an arm wrap around her waist as they shuffled together, moving slowly on the icy sidewalk. Their breath rose in a plume. It was definitely winter in Boston. The doctor had to half walk, half carry Jane into the house, as the detective couldn't trust her own senses. The world dipped as Jane walked, her balance uncertain. Bass, the tortoise, sat in the kitchen, tucking his head into his shell as the two women clumsily made their way down the hall and into the guest room that Jane had stayed in before. Maura gently lowered the taller woman so that she was seated on the bed. The brunette's eyelids drooped and it took her a second to realize that Maura was talking to her. She looked at her best friend, unable to bring her into focus.

Maura stopped talking, kneeling on the floor instead, and worked on getting Jane's shoes off. She made quick work of the black ballet flats, glad the detective hadn't worn heels, before resuming the attempt at talking. Her eyes drifted over the stitches, moving to the black eye, and the dislocated shoulder, and she winced internally. Seeing Jane's injuries was still shocking. The face she presented to the brunette, however, was one of quiet stillness. She stood smoothly and sat beside Jane, away from her injured shoulder. Gently, she cupped Jane's chin, guiding the woman's face so that they were eye to eye.

"Jane, what happened?" Maura asked.

"It was an accident…" the brunette murmured, eyes closing, even as she spoke. Maura let go of her chin, knowing that the medication was going to prevent an answer. Clearly, Jane was slipping into sleep. Dr. Gray had told Maura to check on Jane, that the concussion was not serious enough to warrant waking the woman every hour. With that diagnosis in mind, the blonde helped Jane into bed, pulling the sheets over the lean form and turning off the light. She paused in the doorway, body turned towards the bed. She glanced once more at her best friend, a small smile on her face, as she saw that Jane was asleep.

The attempt was made to muffle the cries of pain coming from the guest bedroom. Heart pounding, Maura pushed into the room, fear overcoming manners, so that she didn't knock before she entered. She stopped short as she saw that Jane was in the process of changing clothes and stood, clad in the short-sleeve scrub top and panties, her left hip leaned against the oak wardrobe, dislocated shoulder doing nothing to help her balance. The scrub pants were on the floor, one foot trapped in the waistband, as Jane held up a pair of shorts she had gotten out of the wardrobe in her good hand. Hiding a smile, Maura wordlessly crossed the room, bending low and freeing the brunette's foot. Jane had the grace to look sheepish.

"How, exactly, were you going to get these on with one hand?" the blonde asked, allowing a smirk to cross her features as Jane placed her good hand on the other woman's shoulder, using her for balance, as she stepped into the shorts. She let go of Maura's shoulder, pulling the shorts into place.

Jane snorted derisively. "I'm more than capable of changing my damn clothes, Maura. I would've figured it out," she said with a shrug. The shrug was a mistake, she realized two seconds too late, as pain laced through the shoulder that had only recently been fixed. She hissed, cursing creatively under her breath as Maura winced sympathetically. The smaller woman waited a moment, letting the pain pass, before she allowed her eyes to drift to Jane's knee. It was dark, discolored an ugly purple, and had previously been hidden by the pants. She turned her attention back to Jane's face.

"Did you take the medication Dr. Gray prescribed?" Maura asked, casting a knowing look at the stubborn woman.

"No," Jane grumbled, her eyes on her bare feet. "You know I don't like taking medicine. It had me talking waaaay too much, much to the amusement of Frost and Dr. Gray. Which reminds me, I need to find out what he drinks so I can bribe him not to talk about what I apparently told him," she joked. Then the humor left her and she swallowed. "Besides, I don't like the way it makes me feel."

The blonde cocked an eyebrow. "Oh and how you feel right now with a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, a concussion and various other cuts and bruises is just right? Perhaps you'd like to try shrugging again?" The hint of sarcasm belied the extent of the blonde's serious concern.

"It's better than falling asleep when someone's talking to you!" Jane protested, glancing up. Seeing the look on Maura's face, Jane continued. "Yeah, I remember falling asleep both when you were talking to me and when Frost was, in the hospital. It was bad enough they got me to take that crap there."

In response, Maura disappeared briefly. When she returned, she held her hands out. In one, she held a prescription bottle. In the other, a glass of water. "Take. The. Medicine, Rizzoli," she all but growled at the brunette.

Jane arched an eyebrow, staring her down. They had a quick but silent battle of wills. Finally, the brunette sighed defeat, extending her hand and taking the pills. She made a face as she swallowed. Then, she stuck her tongue out at Maura. Knowing it wasn't long until the narcotics sucked her under again, she settled back against the pillows, and leaned against the headboard, her eyes on the doctor. The comforter had fallen to the ground and the sheets were kicked to the end of the bed. For a second, Maura's thoughts were colored with amusement. How was it that, even in a drug induced state, Jane still managed to make a mess? As she looked at her friend, her thoughts turned serious. The doctor hated seeing Jane like this. A frown darkened her expression.

"Maura?" Jane asked, voice low with concern. "You alright?"

She blinked. She was staring, wasn't she? For the brunette's sake, the doctor forced a smile. "Yes, Jane, I'm fine." She sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, her shoulder touching Jane's uninjured one, trying to quietly lend her strength.

"Jane…what happened to you?"

Jane sighed, the sound loud in the quiet room, mournful. "I don't remember a lot," she began. "Frost and I kinda talked about it, before you got there. I know I was transporting a prisoner. I remember hitting a patch of black ice. It was like being back in the academy, with the skid car. I did everything right," the brunette said, voice rising, anger coloring it. Jane took a breath. "I controlled the cruiser," she said simply. "I remember looking to my right, where the guy was seated, and buckled in, joking about the ride." Her face twisted in pain and confusion. "Then…it…it gets jumbled…" she sighed deeply, frustrated, her brow furrowed. She winced and wrapped her good arm around her abdomen. She hated breaking ribs. They took so long to fix and there really was nothing to be done, except to wrap them. She set her jaw and was lost in the pain, breathing shallowly, until the moment passed. She didn't realize just how closely Maura was watching her.

For a moment, the blonde forgot how to breathe. How was it that her best friend, this woman who had to be one of the toughest people she knew, could be made so vulnerable? She had seen the brunette with her walls down before, when Hoyt had come after her, and, in other moments, when Jane had expressed fear, self-doubt, or sadness. But that was different…Jane had wanted to tell her. Rarely did the cop's physical exterior relay this much information, show how human she was, capable of being injured she was. She was Wonder Woman, wasn't she? And now, this forced…exposure…made her...vulnerable. Fragile. That's what Jane looked now: fragile. What was it like, she wondered silently, to not be able to trust your mind? To have blankness where memories should be?

Maura placed a gentle hand on Jane's right arm, avoiding the bruised areas. "I talked to Dr. Gray about that. He thinks that the memory loss is a result of your head injury." She was quiet, watching Jane's reflection in the mirror across the room. Emotions rolled through the brunette, distorted by the damage to Jane's face. Still, Maura could read her, knew that she was afraid. But of what?

"Maura…," Jane paused, her body tensing, eyes narrowing. "Did I…Was I…" she swallowed, mouth dry. Maura slipped her hand from Jane's arm to her hand and squeezed it. Jane held on, her best friend her lifeline in that moment. "Was I…raped?" the last word came out in a whisper. Her grip on Maura's hand tightened until it was painful.

"No, and there were no signs of sexual assault," Maura said quietly, waiting, watching Jane's face in the mirror. The brunette closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. The tension slowly left her lean frame. She opened her eyes, her good eye focusing on Maura's eyes in the mirror. "Will I remember…?"

The doctor nodded. "Both Dr. Gray and I think you will, in time. The concussion did not help, nor did the trauma you evidently went through," Maura gestured with her right hand to include Jane's injuries, her left still captured by the other woman's. She watched the brunette, noticing the way that Jane was slumping against the pillows. Now that the fear and surge of adrenaline had run through her system, the pills were doing their part to put the exhausted woman to sleep. Gently, Maura untangled her hand from her friend's, giving it one last squeeze before separating. She got up, noting that Jane barely opened her eyes as the mattress shifted, and walked to the other side of the bed.

"Did you get too warm?" Maura asked, pausing as she bent to pick up the comforter from the floor. "Is that why you changed into shorts and kicked my goose down comforter to the floor?" she asked, voice light, teasing.

"Mmmhmmm," Jane responded, eyes shut. She opened her eyes for a minute, a look of confusion on her face. "Goose down? No wonder I was hot," she muttered, allowing her eyes to drift close. Maura smiled and let the comforter fall back to the floor. "You know," Maura continued, "Not all down comforters have goose down in them. The tag must read 'goose down'; otherwise, it could be down from a mallard," she explained, knowing Jane wasn't listening. She paused, reached for the sheet instead, pulling it over the brunette's form. The doctor stopped, head tilted, as she looked at Jane's knee again. Her brow creased in concentration. The damaged ribs, the head injury, even, possibly, maybe, the dislocated shoulder could be related to a car crash. Wasn't that what Jane had said: that it was an accident? But the other injuries, the stitches, the black eye, the intense bruise on her knee…none of them were consistent with the type of crash that would've resulted in the other injuries. So…either, there had been two separate incidents, or Jane hadn't been involved in a car crash. Eyes narrowed, Maura settled the sheet over the brunette and went into her home office to make a phone call.

"Detective Frost, are you following what I've said?" Maura asked the man seated across from her. Based on his puzzled expression, he was not. Maura sighed. "I think that this is the part of the explanation in which Jane would say 'English'…so let's try this a different way." She turned away from him for a moment, touching a computer program on the tablet in front of her. The program opened, displaying a remodel of Jane's unmarked Crown Victoria. Maura tapped the "play" icon and the rendered image proceeded to go through five different types of crashes, with the detective as the driver.

When the models had finished playing, Maura held up a file with "Rizzoli, Jane" written across the top tab in neat cursive. "I also got Jane's medical file faxed to me by Dr. Gray." To counter Frost's raised eyebrows, the blonde explained, "Jane listed me as her emergency contact when she was released." She turned her attention back to the crash models. "I fed into the program the data you supplied me with from the crash team," Maura explained. "In all of the models, the only way that Jane's injuries make sense…is this one." She tapped another button and the model played, this time with Jane in the passenger seat. Frost's eyes widened.

"So…wait…you're saying that Rizolli wasn't driving?" he asked, voice incredulous.

Maura nodded and tapped another program. "In deference to your…sensitive stomach, please view these images."

Frost gulped and looked at the pictures of bodies with horrible, death-inducing injuries. His dark face paled slightly. "This is you being sensitive?"

"Of course," Maura said. "Jane and I would've viewed these bodies in person."

Frost nodded shakily. "I bet you would've. So what is the point of showing me this…?"

"The point, Detective Frost, is that if Jane had been involved in the type of crash your reconstruction team believes she was in, she would not be sleeping in my guest room. She would be…" her voice lowered, softened as the implications sank in. "She would be in the morgue, like these people were." Her face was tight as she forced the idea from her head. Jane wasn't dead. She would be fine.

"There was ice…" he offered. "That prevented us from collecting certain types of evidence we usually would've…but the crash team doesn't make mistakes like that. Scientific formulas and equations are used to understand the crash, to recreate it," Frost protested. "Science, Maura. You trust science!"

"I do trust the science," the doctor conceded, continuing, "I'm not saying the crash team did make a mistake," Maura said, raising a hand in a calming motion. "What I'm saying is that something else happened to Jane. She wasn't driving the vehicle when the Crown Victoria wrecked. She may have been in an accident," Maura allowed. "But I think she was put in the driver's seat after the fact. Also…we have a body somewhere else."

As Frost's eyes gazed back over the photos, Maura continued. "Whoever drove Jane's car is dead."

Frost still seemed unconvinced. "When we got to the accident, Rizzoli was in the driver's seat. The airbag deployed and the onboard computer, which was downloaded shortly after she was released from the hospital, confirms that the vehicle was being driven at speed and operated in a way that would've contributed to the crash."

Maura tilted her head and looked at him. "Okay. Let me ask you this: have you ever seen Jane drive in an unsafe manner when she had a prisoner in the car?"

Frost's lips twisted as he thought. "No…" he admitted. "I always think she's going to kill me when she drives, but she is beyond careful when she has a civilian passenger or is performing prisoner transport."

Maura frowned. "Why was Jane transporting a prisoner? Don't you usually have patrol take care of that?"

Frost nodded. "This was a special case. This guy was willing to talk to us about the Jones murder, but Jane had built a rapport with him and he only wanted to talk to her. So, we plotted out her route, which is how I knew where to look for her. When she didn't check into the station on time, and Dispatch couldn't raise her, I knew something was wrong."

"Does Jane remember what happened?"

Maura closed her eyes briefly. "Unfortunately, no."

They were both quiet, lost in thought. Frost chewed on his bottom lip. "So…ultimately, what do we think happened?"

Maura sighed. "That would require guessing." She fixed him with a look. "You know how I feel about guessing."

Frost nodded. "Then don't guess, Maura. Hypothesize."

"That's guessing, with a scientific name."

Frost smiled at the doctor's stubbornness. "You've broken that rule before, with Rizzoli." He pushed his chair back so that there was space between the computer, the medical file and Maura. "Break that rule to help Rizzoli. What happened?" He had his hands up, encapsulating the desk and its contents. "What does the science say?"

Maura sighed again, her face conflicted. She did so hate guessing. "Alright," she muttered, brow furrowed in concentration. "The science says that Jane wasn't driving the vehicle." She opened the medical file, glancing through its contents, though she had the data stored already in her mind. "Her injuries are not consistent with those the driver would've suffered. Her injuries may be consistent with those a passenger, specifically the front right passenger, may have suffered." Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting, as she looked at the medical document. "I missed something…" she murmured. She looked up at Frost, eyes wide, stunned. "The injuries are only consistent if Jane was unconscious and in the passenger seat when the accident occurred. Frost, I need to-"

The doctor's words stopped as she was interrupted by screams coming from the guest bedroom. For a beat, both she and Frost were still, frozen in their seats, then, as one, they launched themselves towards Jane.

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