Friday
Jane had been avoiding the morgue - and by proxy, Doctor Isles. She'd been focused on getting her gun back. But their next body was complicated - two bodies, really, tangled up together in the same grave. Small bodies. Children's bodies. Jane hated these cases. She stood over the shallow grave and waved Frost away when he started to head over. Frankie too. Doctor Isles nodded at her in understanding, her eyes sad for the first time Jane had known her.
"I hate when it's kids," Jane said, hand covering her mouth. "Any idea how long they've been here? I know you don't speculate, but months? Years?"
"The level of decomposition is indicative of - given the recent temperatures, and the depth of the grave - a few months at most. I can't be more precise without completing the autopsy." Jane knelt and looked at the bodies.
"I know, we don't need specifics, we need windows. One has short brown hair, the other long blonde. They look... How old would you say they are? It's so we can run it against Amber alerts, missing person reports. A range of 2-3 years would be fine." Jane's eyes slid down to where the long haired child had a hand wrapped around the other one's elbow. She couldn't see any obvious cause of death from here, but she was willing to bet the dried substance on the clothing was blood.
Doctor Isles looked up as though she was about to argue, then nodded.
"For their families," she conceded, sighing. "I hate doing this. The size of their femurs indicates prepubescence, between 9 and 12, which is consistent with their clothing. I can be more precise after the autopsy, but that should give you a time frame and a basic description."
"I appreciate that. Thank you, Doctor Isles. I know you're operating out of your usual comfort zone, but look at those poor babies." Jane looked down again, tears in her eyes. "They can't tell me anything, but you can." Jane wiped her nose with the back of her hand, blinked hard a few times. "Seems a shame to disturb them. At least they look peaceful."
"We have to do our job," Doctor Isles said. "There are tissues in my bag, if you need them."
"Nah, I'm fine," Jane said. "Just a sniffle. I'm allergic to bastards who kill kids." Jane typed a message to Frost, what to send out, the descriptions and ages and time underground preliminaries.
"Me too," Doctor Isles said quietly. A crime scene tech came over to take photos. "I can do that," Doctor Isles said, standing and taking the camera. He nodded gratefully, staggering off to throw up in a bush. Frost and Frankie flinched, both of them watching Jane and Doctor Isles with respect.
"Need me to move anything?" Jane asked.
"That marker to the hand, and the measure next to the long side of the grave." Jane nodded, moving them, pulling her hands back before the click of the camera could capture them. Doctor Isles circled the grave and put the camera down. "I've put the autofocus on, can you document while I separate them?"
"Aw geez, Doc," Jane said, her face screwing up. She swallowed sharply when Doctor Isles looked at her.
"You're the only one with the stomach for this," Doctor Isles pointed out. "Please, Detective Rizzoli," Doctor Isles asked. Jane sighed and picked up the camera, feeling the uncomfortable grip and weight in her hands.
"I don't think I can," Jane said, looking up in panic. "Physically. I haven't practiced... It's too..." Jane trailed off, putting the camera down carefully. Doctor Isles stood and pulled out the tripod, set it up and screwed the camera on top. Jane nodded and set herself up, glad the ME hadn't made a fuss about it, hadn't commented on her hands. She took the photos as directed, hands loose around the camera's grips.
The process of extracting the children was excruciating. The coroner tech was called in to assist, and things went faster after that. Jane's hands were shaking by the time they finished, and she let Doctor Isles disassemble the tripod from the camera, squeezing her hands.
"Do you need any assistance?" Doctor Isles asked as the bodies were wheeled away, watching them being loaded in the truck instead of the way Jane was rubbing her palms.
"Frost drove, I still don't have my car back. I'll be glad not to drive." Doctor Isles paused, licked her lips and hesitated.
"Do you need - your hands - I should have considered -"
"You made accommodations," Jane said, cutting her off. "That's enough."
"That's the bare minimum, legally, in the workplace. You made accommodations for your partner, even though you were clearly also affected by the bodies."
"He's still green, it'd ruin his whole weekend seeing that mess."
"You can't shield him forever," Doctor Isles warned. "Although it's sweet that you are shielding him."
"He's my partner." Jane shook her hands, tried to grab her phone and failed.
"I've been trying not to ask, because it's not my business - I don't doctor the living - but would you mind if I check your hands? They're shaking and your grip is clearly affected. I'd like to confirm that I haven't put you at any further disadvantage in your recovery."
"Not at a crime scene," Jane grizzled. "My team and my brother and right there. They already..."
"Already what? Know you were injured on the job? Already know that you need workplace accommodations?"
Jane hung her head, sticking her hands in her pockets. Doctor Isles sighed.
"Very well, but I expect to see you in my office sometime this afternoon." Doctor Isles closed her case with a snap.
Jane sheepishly poked her head around the door of Doctor Isles' office.
"Please, come in," Doctor Isles said, not looking up. Jane came in and sat at her desk, reaching her hands across the table. Doctor Isles reached for the box of gloves on her desk, then, watching Jane's face, drew her hand back. Jane was used to people examining her hands clinically, as though they were something that the doctors she saw felt their skin needed to be protected from. Doctor Isles would feel more comfortable with the gloves, to make the examination feel more professional, but she was aware of how reluctant Jane had been to let Doctor Isles examine her hands at all, aware of how Jane's knee was bouncing with anxiety. This was informal; Doctor Isles wasn't Jane's doctor. She wanted, she realised suddenly, she wanted Jane to trust her. She wanted to feel the way she felt when Jane unselfconsciously offered Doctor Isles her hand, open and willingly, baring parts of her previously unseen to Doctor Isles' knowing gaze. Maura reached her hands slowly forward, not going directly for the scars but working the fingers mechanically, noting how they curled in when she released them. "Would you say they sting? Or is it more of an ache?"
"They feel tight today. The way they used to when I first started PT and overdid it."
"I shouldn't have asked you to take the photos," Doctor Isles said, face tilted down as she worked her way towards Jane's palm. "I didn't think. I was just - you seemed fine with the bodies."
"Hey, I sent the uniforms back too. It's instinct to shield people from something like that."
"I was more worried he would contaminate the crime scene with vomit," Doctor Isles said.
"Was that a joke?" Jane asked, and Doctor Isles looked up, expression unreadable.
"No, it was an observation. Your surgeons must have been phenomenal," Doctor Isles said, turning Jane's hands. "The amount of function you have is astounding. The tendons feel tight because they're shorter than they used to be. I assume your PT includes grip strengthening?" Jane nodded. "Good. You have a fantastic prognosis, and I hear you got your gun certification renewed this week. It's probably overwork, but..." Doctor Isles dug her thumb into the skin closer to her wrist than her scar on one hand, gentle enough not to flare up the pain that constantly rested just beneath the surface, but hard enough that Jane felt a moment of relief from the pressure that curled her fingers. "Does that help?"
Jane stretched her fingers. "Yeah, a little." The thumb dug in again, then Doctor Isles switched hands. "Yeah, that helps."
"Good." Doctor Isles continued working on Jane's hands. "You can come down here if they feel tight, and I can give you an adjustment. Take some ibuprofen for the swelling, but make sure you eat something first. Can I expect you for the autopsies?"
Jane shrugged as well as she could with her hands in Doctors Isles'.
"You can watch through the glass, if you'd like," Doctor Isles offered, looking down at the open palm, skirting the jagged scar through it with her thumbs. She let one thumb brush over the painful-looking skin, heard Jane's sharp intake of breath. "We'll get the DNA samples done as fast as we can."
"No hits on the missing persons database from the faces yet, we'd appreciate that." Jane sighed. "Someone has to be missing them." Doctor Isles found her hand on top of Jane's, and she squeezed it gently, in a way she hoped was comforting.
"I know you'll find their families," Doctor Isles said, swallowing and releasing Jane's hand. "Make sure you speak to your occupational therapist about workplace restrictions," Doctor Isles said. "Get it documented."
When Doctor Isles looked up, Jane didn't duck, eyes fixed on the small bodies. When Jane met Doctor Isles' eyes, Doctor Isles nodded. Jane itched to go in and watch in person, to show the children that much respect, but Doctor Isles picked up her scalpel and Jane stepped back from the doors, surprised at how much she still felt at the sight of a scalpel. She saw Doctor Isles pause, then continue on, and Jane stepped forward again. She swallowed sharply and pushed at the door.
Notes:
If you've read 'Be My Guest' you'll know I dislocated a few fingers at the wrist a while ago; this is fairly common with atrophy.
So a lot of the stuff Jane can and can't do is based on experience, and that includes the ability to hold a DSLR camera.