A/N: Back at it again with a Rizzles story?

This is one of many possible AUs I have in my head, but right now it's my favourite one. I feel like this will end up being around 50k, but I thought that for The Scientific Method, too, and that ended at about 80k, so who TF knows at this point. Please let me know if this is interesting enough for me to continue. It's all from Jane's POV. She's 20 in this AU and so is Maura.

I'd always loved the movement of my body while I danced; a fact I would never, ever let my brothers know. I hadn't planned on continuing with it, but when some rich lady offered to train me professionally and told me I had what it took to compete and make money, I couldn't refuse. Not when my Ma was struggling so much.

I hated the idea of dancing in front of a crowd, but upon the stage, the lights were so bright that I couldn't see that I had an audience. I could focus on how the movement made me feel graceful and free. So very free. My toes killed me, but I felt powerful despite it, or maybe because of it. I felt strong with every leap and beautiful with every fouette. Not a lot of things in this world could make me feel beautiful, but ballet was something that could. Another secret I was determined to take to the grave; I liked to feel beautiful.

I always had to pick an upbeat song because when I danced, I smiled. Coach hated it, but I couldn't help how much fun I had. The controlled competition addicted me immediately. As much as I loved field hockey or basketball, I loved that ballet had rules for a proper form that made success even more of a challenge. Any numbskull could throw a ball, Tommy was evidence enough for that, but ballet took a level of dedication I never knew I had until I started to train in earnest. I fumbled when I danced, but I made up for it with my expressionism and passion, as the coach said. I didn't panic when I stumbled slightly, or at my slightly incorrect foot placement as my routine came to an end. The audience that I had previously been able to drown out roared will applause as I stood in my final position, sweaty and panting mid-stage.

I waited for the judges to score me and grinned at the high marks. With nothing less than an 8.5, I was in first place. I gaped slightly at the 9.4; it was the highest score I'd ever gotten. The Ice Queen still hadn't completed her set yet, though, so I knew better than to get my hopes up. I swore that girl was built to dance, and that her circuits had been hardwired to move exclusively with grace. I'd won competitions before, but never against her. There was a 1000 dollar cash prize riding on the competition, though, so I wanted to win. My Ma needed the money. The speakers announced my score and a short assessment of me to the audience. I always hated how nervous it made me and I blushed when I heard my family cheering for me way too loudly. They would never learn how to act like the civilized, high-class families that filled the rest of the theatre and I loved them for it. Rizzoli's were themselves no matter who was around. I bowed after being dismissed.

I walked into the wings and nodded at an assistant when they threw me my sweater and a water bottle. I zipped the garment over my stupid, pink leotard and I smiled at the next performer. "Good luck, Isles," I said it to her every time we competed, and she always nodded at me with the hint of a smile. I could never decide if she was shy or condescending, so I decided to keep wishing her good luck until I could figure it out. In the entire year that I had been in the same performance class as her, I'd mostly heard her say three words. "Yes," or "sorry, Madame" to the Coach. I tried to invite her along with the rest of the dancers and me on the occasions where we went out after practice, but she declined every time. The other dancers called her The Ice Queen, and sometimes I could see why, but I knew she didn't deserve it. She never said a bad word to or about anyone, and I'd seen her be needlessly kind on several occasions. Like when she offered her lunch money so some scrubby kid who stared at the vending machine for too long, or how she helped the assistants clean up the studio whenever she could. Ice Queens don't care about that kind of stuff, but Maura did, no matter how quiet she was. I was determined to thaw her. I shook my head as she walked confidently to the center stage and waited for her music to start.

The stark contrast of our performances was so jarring I had to wonder if someone was trying to sabotage her. My selection was so upbeat and cheerful, but she always chose something somber and classical. She was beautiful and her performance was perfect, but after having riled the audience up with my upbeat performance, hers would seem depressing in comparison. It was an unfair lineup. Even with that in mind, I couldn't take my eyes off of her and I was sure, just as they always were, that audience was captivated by the melancholic beauty of her movements. Her face was an impenetrable mask that bore no emotion whatsoever. I couldn't tear my eyes away. Did she know I watched her performances when we competed together? It was kind of an odd thing to do and we weren't technically allowed. Would she think it was weird? I didn't care enough about that to stop. She didn't fumble, she paced it all with perfection, but I had no idea if she liked what she was doing. Aside from the sweat that shined on her forehead and the heavy breathing of her chest when her performance came to a stop, there was no indication that she felt anything at all, except for maybe a little tired.

She froze up at the judges but I couldn't see what her scores were. I could tell that she was shocked, so her score must be high enough. I tried to stifle my sigh of disappointment at losing the money and I tore the elastic band out of my curls because if I was going to be a loser, I might as well be a comfortable one. Her first three scores are all between 8.8 and 9.6 but her last score made my jaw drop and I wondered if the judge had eyes at all. 8.0. Maura Isles was not an 8.0. I quickly added her total up and compared it to my own and my jaw dropped again. We'd scored the same total, but I didn't know what that meant. It had never happened to me before. She bowed to the audience and walked back to where I was still standing with my mouth open like an idiot, and she politely smiled at me.

"Congratulations, Jane," she said. The assistant handed her water and a sweater and I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that Maura Freaking Isles just scored an 8.0. I realized as she began to walk away, that I hadn't responded and that I was being an ass, so I yelled the first thing that came to my mind as I followed her to the locker room for performers.

"You are so much more than that score. What fucking moron gave you an 8.0? Were they even watching?" I kind of yelled at her and she stared at me in shock. "Seriously, who was it?"

"It was Gaston," she said and my confusion skyrocketed. Gaston was a harsh critiquer, yes, but he gave me a 9.4 and I stumbled twice. Maura's movements were almost robotically flawless. Watching her dance was like watching someone paint. She was art in action. She was the most beautiful girl I ever saw, but when she danced it was hard for me to breathe.

"He had to have messed up!"

"I've heard the colloquialism of a sore loser, but it had never occurred to me that someone might be so averse to winning," she said and smiled again as we walked together. It struck me as odd that she didn't seem too unhappy about not quite winning either.

"I mean, technically we're tied, right? So what happens with that?" I opened the door to the holding tank, as I liked to call it, and waved her inside ahead of me.

"I'm not quite sure, I've never tied before. I've never lost. I've never seen anyone tie before," she said before a gaggle of ballerinas surrounded us and started squealing. Maura easily escaped because nobody talked to her, and I wondered if her Ice Queen demeanor was purposeful. I was a bit envious of her ability to brush them all off.

"Jane! You're tied for first! Only Stella and Bethany are left and they suck!" Brittany, a girl almost as tall as me, excitedly informed me. Poor Stella and Beth. These girls were so mean to each other, it was nuts.

"Hey, they might surprise us," I defended and Maura threw me an amused look over everyone's heads.

"In their dreams. They don't even come to all of the meets!" another girl quipped. I tried to brush off their questions and their comments as I walked over to my bag, which was beside Maura's, and I pulled sweatpants over my stockings. They continued to chat animatedly for the next two performances and squealed even louder when the last performer got a low score. I had tied for first. Their attitudes completely changed from winning to sympathetic when Bethany walked into the room and I rolled my eyes.

"Why are you all so happy for me, anyway? Shouldn't you be shunning me or giving me the cold shoulder like you normally do with the winner?" I asked the room at large and Tiffany, a real piece of work, snorted before she tactlessly answered me.

"We all want to see the Ice Queen lose." Tiffany didn't even look up from her nails as she spoke and I was surprised to see that Maura didn't respond at all either. I knew she'd been in ballet for a long time, but even the best of the best shouldn't have been able to brush off insults that easily. It occurred to me that there might be a reason why.

"Maybe you should work harder next time then, and at least try to be half as good as she is," I snapped at Tiffany and several eyes flashed toward me. It was kind of my thing that I was not a snippy girl, and I was known for not talking shit about anyone. I'd be damned if I'd just stand by and let some scrawny bitch needlessly insult someone who didn't deserve it.

Before anyone could respond, our families started to flood into the room and they all plastered smiles on their faces. I remained annoyed and Maura sat beside me looking even more shocked than she did when she saw her score.

"Janie! You looked so beautiful, baby!" Ma gushed before she threw her arms around me.

"Good job, Princess," Frankie ruffled my hair and I scowled at him over Ma's shoulder.

"Okay, Ma. You can let go, geez. Tommy!" I yelled as I noticed him lean up against the wall next to Maura. "You so much as look at one of these girls and I'll kick your ass so hard you'll be picking my toenails from your teeth."

"You ruin it every time!" Frankie complained before he pulled a pouting Tommy out of the room.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli! You do not swear and you do not threaten your baby brother!" Ma scolded me and I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, wow! Why do you have to announce to the world that my middle name is Clementine? Tommy is fifteen, Ma, he's not a baby and if he's being a horndog I'm going to call him out on it no matter what it takes. Someone's gotta do it," I sassed her and she put her hands on her hips.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked.

"Hey, let's just focus on how I almost won, huh?" I distracted her to save face in front of the judgemental eyes of the families glancing at us. I didn't want everyone here to know my business. They already thought I was a tragic case. "Tied for first's not so bad."

"It doesn't matter, honey. I know you wanted to win but we're proud no matter what place you come in," Ma said and I let her hug me again because she was still so proud, even if I might not have gotten the money this time. I started to walk away but Madame Fontaine entered the room and pointed her cane at me.

"Rizzoli and Isles, you will stay put until all other families have left." Without another word, she hobbled off again and I turned to roll my eyes toward Maura who giggled.

"Wanna wait for me in the lobby, Ma? Try to keep those two numbskulls under control?" I asked and she agreed before she left.

The smile fell from Maura and she suddenly stood rigidly. Her mother, a glamourous woman who could likely make the Queen feel inadequate, walked with her chin raised toward us. I turned away to be polite but I couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"I cannot believe you scored anything less than an 8.8," Mrs. Isles stated. "I will not accept this again."

"Yes, Mother." Maura's voice was stilted, and, much like her performance, had no emotion.

"I did not send you to Beardeau's or hire Monsieur Laroque for you to be anything but the best. You will win next time," Mrs. Isles commanded.

"Yes, Mother."

I turned around to catch the utter disappointment Mrs. Isles had in Maura before Mrs. Isles sent me a scathing look. I squared my shoulders and glared down at her. I didn't care if she was older or if she came from money. A bully is a bully. She tsked at me and walked out of the room. Did that just happen? My chest hurt for how Maura's mother had treated her and I felt like an ass for having my mother fawn over me and hug me twice in less than a minute right in front of her. The stark contrast was so jarring that I was wordless in my inability to believe a mother could treat her kid like that. Maura sat back on the bench and stared forward, her eyes fixed on the door her mother had just stormed out of, and although she showed no outward emotion, my heart felt like a shard of glass tore through it when a single tear rolled quickly down her cheek. She blinked once, and it was as if it had never been there. I simultaneously wondered how many tears she had shed, and worse, how many she hadn't been able to.

"Listen, it's kind of shit that your program was right after mine, and objectively speaking, you should have gotten at least-"

"Don't," she interrupted me as she continued to stare at the door.

"You should have won, Maura!" I argued and she finally looked at me, but her eyes made my blood run cold.

"But I didn't and that's not your fault or your problem, so stop. I came here to dance, not to make friends. If you're interested in that, then you shouldn't snap at the other girls, especially not on my account. They all clearly hate me, it's fine if you do too. Be friends with someone who needs them," Maura said in a good imitation of her mother, but I saw the tear, and I could see Maura right under the surface of the words.

"That's all I'm trying to do right now," I murmured to her so that the last of the people who left the room wouldn't hear. She closed her eyes and turned her head slightly away from me as she breathed deeply. It was weird for me to watch someone be so composed when they obviously needed to break down. I wondered how she'd look at my house, with everyone else's emotions always on the surface. With a final exhale she looked back at me.

"No. I will win next time." Before I could respond, Madame Fontaine walked back into the room and limped over to us.

"Sure, make the cripple walk across the room," she complained and I grinned at her.

"Last time I tried to be polite about your cane, you hit me with it, so hobble away, Coach," I complained and she winked at me. I think she liked that I called her Coach instead of Madame like the rest of the girls did. It just kind of slipped out. She was way scarier than all my sports coaches put together, so I deemed her worthy of the title.

"The amount of poise you lack never ceases to amaze me," Madame Fontaine dished it out way more than she got.

"What will happen now?" Maura interrupted our banter.

"And you have way too much poise, Ms. Isles," Madame Fontaine commented and Maura almost imperceptibly frowned. I wasn't sure if she felt insulted, or upset at being called the way her mother was.

"Hey, an 8.0? Really? Her entrechat was flawless!" I argued and Madame Fontaine whacked my thigh with her cane. I winced and rubbed the muscle.

"Do not question Gaston! He needs to see passion! He needs to see desire!-"

"Ew," I muttered but was ignored.

"-He needs to see the need to dance. I'm afraid his score is fair in that regard. For both of you." I wanted to know what kind of drugs Gaston and Madame Fontaine must have shared before they arrived, and then I wanted to get my cop buddies to bust them for it. "I have a plan in place to improve you both. You will each need to prepare another performance for three months from now, it is a lot of work and as my top two dancers -don't tell the others I said that- you will both do well. The issue is that I believe the results will be the same. Jane, you will get high scores for your passion, for the raw emotion you evoke in the audience when you dance." I blushed at her words. Why did she have to make everything sound so sexual? "Meanwhile, Maura, you'll get high scores for your accuracy and dedication. You are both very good, but I believe that together, you could be great."

"Excuse me?" I sassed.

"Do not interrupt me again. You are on a tight rope as it is, Jane. Perhaps Maura's entrechat was perfect, but you shouldn't know that. You're not allowed to watch from the wings, so how would you know?" Madame Fontaine raised an eyebrow at me and I wearily eyed her cane, always on the lookout for the next time she'd whip me with it. "On top of your independent routine for your tie-breaker competition, I expect both of you to meet once a week and create a partnered routine. You will enter the duet competition in two months from now."

"What? That's an insane amount of work! I've got midterms coming up!" I complained.

"Your course load isn't half as hefty as Maura's is and I don't hear any complaints from her. Do you find the terms agreeable, Maura?"

"Yes, Madame."

"The prize for the duet competition is three times as much as the prize for singles." Madame enticed me and I quickly did the math. I would get 1500 dollars. I couldn't pass up that amount of money so I nodded. "There you have it. Stop being so crass and learn from Maura, she has much to teach you. You must learn to control your passion, Jane. Maura will help you reign it in. Your fire is beautiful, but I'm afraid you'll set the stage ablaze with your lack of control. And Maura? You have just as much to learn from Jane." Madame Fontaine only lightly tapped Maura on the thigh with the cane and I grumbled. Maybe she was scared Maura's mother might sue her. I got more and more red as she continued to speak to Maura. "Let Jane show you the evocative emotion of the dance. Let her teach you how to move your body with her passion. Once a week, ladies!" she called over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

"I swear she tries to make it sound sexual on purpose just to make me feel uncomfortable. Good Lord!" I complained after her.

To my surprise, Maura pulled a business card out of her bag and handed it to me. "Text the number listed there with your schedule and we can agree on a weekly time and date," was all she said before she walked out of the room. I snorted at the card which was hard to take seriously because even though it looked classy, it titled Maura Isles as 'President of the Equestrian Team of BCU' which made me want to roll my eyes so hard that they'd get stuck. I hauled my bag over my shoulder before I ambled out of the room and found Ma in the lobby, failing completely to control the two idiots I had as siblings.

"So, what did they say? Do you win?" Frankie asked and I rolled my eyes.

"I have to come up with a whole new routine for a redo three months from now and have to compete in the duet comp two months from now," I complained as we started to walk toward the doors. "I'm sorry, Ma. I won't be able to help out at the café as much. I could win 1500 bucks though."

"Hey, it's not your job to worry about money, sweetheart. You just do your best and do what makes you happy, don't worry about the money," she responded and pulled me into her side to kiss my temple. I smiled at her and another pang of guilt expanded in my chest as I noticed Maura standing at the curb. I blushed and wondered if she'd heard anything about how broke we were.

"I can help out at the café! I'm applying to the academy, just like Jane, so it's basically an investment in my future," Frankie offered.

"Yeah right. Like she's gonna let you hear all that cop talk. You're not old enough!" Tommy sassed.

"I'm almost eighteen. Besides, if Ma needs help, someone's gotta offer. That's what family does," Frankie said and Tommy rolled his eyes.

"You're such a good boy, Frankie," Ma pulled him in and kissed both of his cheeks. He glanced over at Maura and blushed, but he wasn't as red as I was.

"A good mama's boy, maybe," Tommy muttered and I grinned at him.

"I'm serious, Ma. I was gonna start looking for an after school job, anyway, so I might as well cover for Jane while she's off… anti-cat dancing or whatever?" Frankie snarked and I snorted.

"Pas de Chat is a move I will not explain again, you uncultured shit head," I sassed him back.

"Be nice to your brother! He's filling in for you!" Ma smacked the back of my head and I glared at her but she only had eyes for Frankie.

"I am?" He asked and when Ma nodded he pumped his fist and turned to discreetly stick his tongue out at Tommy.

"Not fair! What am I supposed to do after school?" Tommy complained.

"Try homework," I scoffed before we were interrupted by two vehicles. I never felt such a class difference in my life when a Rolls Royce pulled up at the same time as our cab did, and some man jumped out of the driver's seat to open the door for Maura. She didn't move at all until the door was open, so she was used to that kind of treatment. I scoffed at the ridiculousness of it as my mother argued with the cabbie over the fee for using the trunk. "I'll get the trunk fee, Ma, it's fine," I said and I gave one final glance to Maura before he popped the trunk. She looked over at me as well and I steeled my features and turned away from her before I could shield my face with the hood of the trunk. I took a deep breath before I closed my bag inside and squished into the back seat with my brothers.

I wasn't embarrassed about where I came from. I loved my family and every value my Ma had taught me, and I didn't care what anyone thought of the fact that we were so broke, but I was still bitter about it. If any one person deserved to have an easy, comfortable life, it was my Ma. Even broke, she offered what she could and expected nothing in return. Any kid on the block knew to go to the Rizzoli house if they didn't have a meal to eat that day, and my Ma busted her ass to keep it that way. It wasn't fair that she had to, though, and I couldn't help the clench in my jaw as we rolled passed the Rolls Royce and drove away from the theatre. How come Maura's mother, a woman who seemed nothing more than cruel, had all the money in the world, yet my mother had to struggle every single day just to make ends meet.

If my father ever showed his face in my house again, I would ballet leg kick him in the face for how he left us.

a/n: I always loved that Jane and Maura both did ballet as kids, so I decided to write a steamy story about their (sexual tension-filled) competition with each other. I think this bad boy is gonna be steamy. Let me know what you think.

Oh, and I've had a lot of people ask if The Scientific Method is truly done. I'm sad to say that it is, but incredibly pleased that you all love it so much. Your desire for more means everything to me, but that story has run its course and I feel adding more to it would ruin what it is with unnecessary drivel. So here's a sexy dance competition AU instead. ;)