Puzzle Pieces

A Rizzoli and Isles Story

By Enginerd


Rizzoli & Isles were created by Tess Gerritsen and adapted for TV by Janet Tamaro. This story takes place in the beginning of season two and contains mature themes involving the love and its physical expression between two women.


When Jane gets injured on the job while Maura is out of town, she finds herself with an odd puzzle that needs to be solved.

Thanks to Trusty for proofing!


With their weapons drawn, Detectives Jane Rizzoli and Barry Frost stood at a third floor apartment door in what charitably could be called a seedy building. The walls were stained with bodily and other types of fluids and there was a stench that challenged even Jane's gag reflex.

Jane eyed her partner, who nodded before she knocked on the door. "Mr. Tucker? Boston PD, open up," she said firmly. Hearing a loud thud, Frost tried opening the door then stepped back and kicked it open.

They rushed in and found their suspect awkwardly going out the window onto the fire escape. "Freeze!" Jane shouted uselessly as the suspect continued to flee.

A quick glance revealed various photos of missing and murdered teens pinned up on his wall. He was their man . . . and that man was attempting to get away. "Get backup and cover the alley and streets," Jane barked, prompting Frost nod and bolt out of the door.

Jane growled with irritation as she carefully looked out of the window to see the suspect going up. She frowned as she climbed out of the third story window to pursue the suspect. As she got closer, she was thankful he was not very athletic and joined him on the roof. "Freeze, Tucker! You're gonna get caught today; you might as well . . . ," she shouted then stopped in disbelief as the man climbed out onto a wooden plank that connected his apartment building to the adjacent building.

"Oh come ON!" she blurted incredulously, knowing if she didn't follow, there was a chance he could get away and disappear on them. She was not about to let the murderer of four girls out of her sight. "FREEZE Damn it!" she called out again, only causing the suspect to turn a moment to see her and become more determined to flee. She really wished he had a gun and tried to shoot her. It would be over a lot quicker!

As she carefully started to cross the board, with her arms held out to steady herself and her gun still in her left hand, the suspect jumped down to the roof on the other side and ran to the far end. God, she hated heights!

Jane finally crossed the board and jumped onto the roof with a sigh of relief. When she ran after the suspect, her eyes widened in disbelief as he climbed over the edge and disappeared from view. Was he trying to commit suicide? She wondered, perhaps hoped, as she ran to the edge. Looking down, she blurted "Really?" with irritation when she saw him shimmying down the building's downspout. She quickly looked around for alternatives – anything - but found nothing.

"Fuck," she hissed before taking a fortifying breath as she climbed over the edge, five stories above the alley below.

Hugging the downspout as she shimmied down, the rust from the pipe smeared her white tee and caked her hands. She would definitely need a shower after this arrest, she considered as she looked down at the suspect who only had a few more feet to go. Her head snapped up in alarm when she heard something break. She frantically looked around when she felt the pipe drift away from the building before she heard another unnerving sound, the metal groaning just before it gave way, sending Jane plummeting three stories to the alley below.

Chapter 1 - Questions

"Jane?" Angela Rizzoli called softly to her daughter, seeing her slowly wake and look around, disoriented. "You're in the hospital, Janie," she explained. "Again," she added flatly. "But I suppose I should be thankful you didn't shoot yourself this time," she offered harshly yet tenderly brushed hair off of her daughter's brow. "Your got yourself a nasty bump on the head and a sprained ankle. Good thing you have such a hard head, huh?" she joked.

Angela noted Jane's perplexed face. "What? You gonna be sick?" she said with alarm, looking around the room and grabbed a trash can.

Jane shook her head gently.

"Oh," Angela said, putting the trash can down. "Hungry?" She guessed, not thinking that was it.

Jane shook her head gently and looked down thoughtfully. "What . . . happened?"

Angela looked at her with a frown. "The doctor said you might not remember the accident."


"Well, not really. YOU decided to chase a bad guy over the rooftops and YOU decided to follow him down a downspout. So that part wasn't really an accident," Angela said with a disapproving frown.

Jane blinked.

"Unfortunately, the downspout broke and you fell. Honestly, Jane, why couldn't you have just let Barry chase him?"

Before Jane could respond, Angela continued.

"Do you always have to be the hero? Do you always have to put yourself in danger like that? I mean Maura said you were fortunate not to have broken your neck given the height of the fall!"


"I almost didn't call her," Angela continued. "I knew she would want to drop everything to fly back to see how you were for herself. But she still has to give her lecture tomorrow and you know she how hard she had worked on it," she said, recalling how engrossed Maura was for the past month. Between her unfortunately busy job with those poor girls and the important lecture, there wasn't a lot of time to spare for family dinners, Angela considered with a frown. "I'm glad I could convince her to stay for at least her lecture. It wasn't easy, believe you me. But she deserves a break from the Rizzoli madness, don't you think?" Angela looked at her expectantly.

Jane nodded weakly as her gaze drifted to the door where a dark-haired, uniformed police officer stood. Male, late twenties, maybe early thirties . . . .

"Hey, Jane. How ya feeling?" Frankie said softly.

"Bout time you got here!" Angela scolded him as he entered the room.

"Well, Ma, while some of us were getting their beauty sleep . . . ," Frankie said with a smirk, looking at Jane. ". . . the rest of us had to collect the evidence and book the bad guy. We got him good, Jane," Frankie said with a grin.

"G . . . good," she said with a weak smile.

"You don't look so good, Jane," Frankie said, getting a slap on the arm from his mother.

"Ma!" he blurted, rubbing his arm.

"Your sister is in the hospital! What do you expect?" Angela said as the Doctor came in.

She was in her late forties and looked . . . elegant, Jane thought, her eyes drifting over her petite form. She was about five foot two, and greying slightly around the temples, enhancing her red mane, and looked fit, even under her white coat. No rings or jewelry except for a small gold chain around her slender neck….

"Angela, Frankie . . . you're not upsetting our patient, are you?" Doctor Redding gently scolded as she pulled out her penlight. Doctor Redding knew the Rizzolis, having tended to them for several years; she knew they could quickly get Jane's blood pressure up.

"Of course not, Janet. Right Jane?" Angela smiled and looked at her daughter, who glanced around the room as if looking for something. Angela frowned.

"Jane, if you don't mind looking at me for a moment?" Dr. Redding said gently, coaxing brown eyes to her.

"Don't mind at all, Doctor," Jane said with a small smile, making the doctor pause a moment before flashing the light in Jane's eyes, making her cringe a bit. "Sorry," Dr. Redding said softly. "But your pupils are responding normally, which is good."

"Now, follow my pen. All right?" the doctor said holding up the pen and moving it, observing Jane's eyes. "Good. Do you notice any problems with your vision?"

"No," Jane said and grew quiet.

"Good. And how are you feeling?" Dr. Redding asked with a smile as she returned the pen to her pocket.

"Confused," Jane whispered uneasily. Clearing her throat, she spoke with forced confidence. "Could we talk . . . in private?"

"Jane?" Angela said with concern. "What ever it is, you can tell your family."

Jane's gaze dropped as she frowned.

"Ma, let Jane talk with her doctor. We'll pry it out of her later, OK?" Frankie said good-naturedly. Jane looked at him with appreciation.

"Fine," Angela groused. "We'll discuss this later," she warned, led out of the room by her son.

"What's on your mind, Jane?" The doctor asked with a warm smile.

"I . . . don't remember," Jane said, causing the doctor to look at her curiously.

"You don't remember . . . what?" She asked gently.

"Them," Jane said weakly, motioning to the door. Looking at the doctor with worry, she added "Me. What happened . . . before waking up here," she added with a wince.

The doctor nodded slowly, trying not to show her concern with this unexpected complication. "Memory loss is not uncommon with concussions, especially memories of the accident. However, yours appears to be more severe than typical. I will have a neurologist examine you to determine the scope of this loss and discuss with you what to expect."

"Thank you," Jane whispered, feeling lost.

"Jane, I'll be with you every step of the way," Dr. Redding said, squeezing her hand.


Dr. Redding found the Detective's family in the cafeteria and joined them at a table to discuss the situation.

"So, what are you saying, Doctor? Janie doesn't remember her own family?" Angela blurted in disbelief.

"Jane suffered severe memory loss. She doesn't even know who she is," Dr. Redding offered with sympathy.

"Right," Angela scoffed.

"Ma, Jane wouldn't lie about something like this. Didn't she seem a bit . . . off to you?"

"No more than usual," Angela said defensively, realizing she had not really given Jane a chance to say much.

"So . . . is it, like, permanent?" Frankie asked uncomfortably.

"Oh GOD," Angela blurted with worry as the situation finally sank in.

"It's too soon to tell. There is a good chance this is just temporary and Jane will get most if not all of her memories back," Dr. Redding said, trying to be optimistic. "But I'm not a neurologist. I have a specialist coming in to see her tomorrow and we should get a better understanding of what had happened and what to expect."

"Thank you, Janet," Angela said absently to her long-time friend.

"We will do everything we can to help Jane through this, Angela," Dr. Redding offered.

"Thanks, Doc," Frankie said, getting a small smile from the woman before she left them in the cafeteria.


"Detective, time for your vitals," a buxom nurse came in Jane's room in the morning.

Jane smiled as she came to the side of the bed. "Well, my pulse just shot up, nurse…" she reported, looking over the woman with appreciation and stopped and focused on her name tag. "Sandy."

"Behave, Detective. I'm taken," she said, though smiling with amusement as she put the blood pressure cuff on Jane.

"Just my luck, I get a beautiful woman to finally come to my bed and I find she's unavailable," Jane bemoaned dramatically, causing the nurse to chuckle.

"I doubt you have any difficulties in that department, Detective," she said. "But I could get you another nurse whose unattached?" she teased.

"But if you got me another, unattached nurse, isn't there still a rule about not going out with a patient or something?" Jane asked with a smirk.

"Well, rules were made to be broken," Sandy said slyly.

"No. No," Jane said magnanimously. "I'll just deal with my unrequited love and stay with you," Jane said dramatically, making Sandy chuckle.

"Now shush while I get your vitals."

"I like bossy women," Jane said with a grin.



There was knocking at the door to her room, though the door was wide open. Jane glanced up from her magazine and saw a young black man in his late twenties dressed in a tailored suit. There was a gold shimmer off his belt – a badge.

"Hey, Jane? Uh, do you mind a visitor?" he asked hesitantly.

"Come on in . . . detective," she said with a smile, putting down her magazine.

"Did . . . did you remember that?" He asked with hope.

"No. The badge and suit kind of gave it away," Jane said with a shrug.

"So you really don't remember me?" he said with disappointment in his eyes.

She hated seeing that and sighed, shaking her head no.

"Well, uh, I'm Barry Frost, your partner," he said, awkwardly holding out his hand, which she shook with a small smile.

"So I fell, huh?" she asked.

Barry took in a long breath. "Yeah. You were chasing after the perp and he took to the roof. I didn't think he would go up, you know?" Frost said apologetically.

"That's probably why he went up," she said with a smirk and shrug.

He relaxed a bit and added "He tried to climb down the drain spout and you followed him and . . . it broke," he said with a cringe.

"But you did get him; so that's one for the good guys, right?" Jane asked, wanting to encourage the younger detective.

"Yeah," he said, feeling a bit better. "His apartment was where he planned everything – he had pictures and maps all over – just like you thought he would." Seeing confusion on her face, he added "he killed four girls and was targeting more."

"Man, I'm really glad you got him," Jane said softly, causing the man to nod in agreement.

"Jane, I'd like you to meet . . . ," Dr. Redding came in with the neurologist, stopping with embarrassment. "Oh. Sorry, to interrupt."

Jane smiled. "It's all right, Barry was just filling me in on what happened when I fell."

"I'm gonna go back to the station. Call me if you need anything, ok?" he said, then remembered she didn't know his number. He grinned sheepishly as he pulled out his card from his breast pocket and handed it to her.

"Sure. Thanks," she said as he started to leave. "Nice card!" Jane blurted with a smile looking over the snazzy card with a smirk, prompting his grin before he left.

"This is Doctor Samantha Engels, one of the best neurologists on the East Coast," Dr. Redding said, smiling at the shorthaired blonde.

"One of the best?" she joked.

"Humble too," Dr. Redding offered, looking at Dr. Engels warmly and touching her arm. Jane's brow rose with interest. Likely seeing each other, she concluded from the familiarity and touch. All the good ones were taken, she considered with mild disappointment.

"So Doc, you don't happen to have a pill or something I could take to get my memory back, do you?" Jane said. "Cause this really sucks," she joked but there was truth behind the words. Dr. Redding winced sympathetically.

"No pill, sorry."


"Wait and see?" Angela scoffed as she drove Jane and Frankie. After the neurologist examined her and found no complications beyond memory loss, Jane had been released from the hospital. "What kind of advice is that?" she grumbled. "And she was supposed to be the expert?"

"Ma!" Frankie said with great frustration, looking at her pointedly from the passenger's side.


"It is what it is. Complaining about it isn't going to make it any better," Frankie said sagely as she drove up to Maura's home.

"Whoa, is this where I live?" Jane finally spoke, inspecting the impressive house.

"Nah. This is Maura's house. Ma's staying at the guest house out back," Frankie supplied.

Jane was about to ask but noticed the look of alarm on Frankie's face and slight shake of his head no. Jane frowned and asked instead "Where do I live?"

"You just got out of the hospital!" Angela blurted with alarm.

"With no complications - so I can go home," Jane offered reasonably.

"Who's going to take care of you if you're all alone at your apartment?" Angela said incredulously.

"Besides no complications . . . ," Jane repeated firmly. ". . . the doctor said if I am exposed to familiar surroundings, that might help jog my memory," Jane countered calmly, hoping logic would derail the determined woman's idea. Frankie was rather impressed Jane was still calm with her mother.

"You practically live here, Jane. It's about as familiar a place as your gonna get," Angela argued, getting out of the car.

"Is she my sister?" Jane asked as Angela opened Jane's door, trying to piece together why she would practically live somewhere other than her own home and why her mother would live so close to this woman Maura.

"Maura?" Angela barked out a laugh. "She's your best friend, Jane. And she's always been there when you needed help. You couldn't ask for a nicer friend."

"I can't just impose like that. Best friend or not," Jane said firmly, not budging from the back seat. "Frankie could you please call me a cab . . . I . . . I'm uncomfortable here. I want to go to my apartment and stay there - alone. Please?" She looked at him.

"Jane, Maura would want you to stay here. Come on," Angela whined with frustration.

"Let me talk with her, OK?" Frankie said quietly to Jane and got out of the car.

Jane tuned out the argument and looked at the house, wondering how a "best friend" would end up giving her mother a place to stay, and why her mother needed a place to stay. The why's kept piling up to the point of overwhelming her; she believed she needed to just be alone to collect her thoughts . . . as Angela poked her head in the door. "I'll be right back," she said flatly.

Jane looked at Frankie curiously as he got back in the car. "She's not happy but she's gonna drive you back to your place."

"Thank you, Frankie. I really appreciate your support," Jane said sincerely then asked curiously "is she always like that?"

Frankie snorted. Loudly.

"Attractive," she said with a laugh, causing him to chuckle.

"It's even better with milk," he offered with a smirk.



"I don't like this," Angela protested once again.

"We know, Ma," Frankie said wearily as they headed to Jane's door.

"Call me if you need anything," she said, eyeing Jane pointedly. "My number is speed dial #2," she said, pointing to her phone in the kitchen.

"Who's #1?" Jane had to ask.

"Maura," Angela and Frankie said in unison, then chuckled in unison. As Jane pondered that, they both said "Jinx."

After an awkward hug from Angela and Frankie, Jane was left alone in her apartment. Taking a look around to survey the area, she noticed a note on the kitchen counter. Using her crutch, she went over to see what it said.

Jane, I'm looking after Jo Friday. Let me know when you feel up to getting her back. There's no rush, I enjoy her company – take care of yourself, Rizzoli – Vince.

Jane frowned, wondering who Jo Friday was and not quiet sure she liked the idea of people having access to her apartment, friends or not. She glanced at the front door, which had several dead bolts, guessing she had always felt the need to ensure she was safe. A knocking jolted her out of her thoughts. She made her way over to the door and took a look through the peephole to see an attractive brunette, in her late-twenties.

She opened the door. "Hi," she said with a smile at the pretty woman.

"Jane, I heard about you on the news. Are you all right?" The young woman asked with genuine concern.

"Well, that's to be determined," Jane said, her eyes dropping with frustration at another person that knew her, but she didn't know. "Do you want to come in?" she said politely, getting a smile.

"You broke your foot?" The woman asked as she entered, looking down at Jane's foot in a brace.

"Sprained ankle," Jane corrected and motioned to the couch. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No thanks," she said, sitting down. "Did you really chase a murderer across the rooftops? The news said that Detective Rizzoli, who was honored for her heroic deeds earlier this year, had fallen several stories while in pursuit of a child killer," Marissa said, mimicking the tone of the newscaster.

Jane shrugged. "That's what they tell me. Uh, what heroic deeds?" Jane asked.

Marissa looked at her curiously. "When you shot yourself?"

Jane absently placed her hand over her stomach where the scar was. "Why was that heroic?"

"Jane?" Marissa looked at her worriedly.

"I'm having a bit of a memory problem," Jane admitted uneasily. "Got a nasty concussion when I fell."

"Oh," Marissa said with concern. "So you don't remember being held hostage by a bad cop . . . or taking his gun and shooting him through yourself?"

Jane shook her head no with a wince. "That sounds crazy."

"It was heroic, Jane. You didn't know if your brother would make it and did what you could to resolve the situation quickly," Marissa countered firmly, getting Jane to frown. "Do you remember me?" she asked, biting her lip.

"I, no," Jane said with a cringe, hating to see disappointment in the younger woman's eyes.

"I bet that's kinda of scary," she said sympathetically, getting a nod. "I'm your neighbor, Marissa. Law school student and caffeine addict," she said, holding out her hand.

Jane chuckled and shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"If you need anything, Jane, I'm in Apartment 2B," Marissa said, placing a hand on Jane's thigh.

"Thanks. It's good to know I have a few...friends," Jane said, glancing down at Marissa's hand curiously. "Just how friendly are we?" Jane asked curiously.

"Uh, not that friendly," Marissa said with embarrassment, retracting her hand awkwardly. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. That question was inappropriate," Jane said uncomfortably.

"No. No it wasn't. I wouldn't mind if we were - friendly - that way," Marissa offered with a shy smile. "But I never thought I'd have a shot with you."

"Why? You're certainly attractive and intelligent, and a caffeine addict," she said with a smile, prompting a chuckle. "You definitely seem my type," Jane said with a grin, unable to help herself.

"I'm not Dr. Isles," Marissa said with a sad smile, then saw the confusion on Jane's face. "Oh, Jane. You don't remember her either?"

Jane frowned, shaking her head.

"I'm sure you'll memory will come back. Familiar surroundings and people should help," she offered with a small smile.

"Thanks," Jane said.