A/N: Howdy there! Before we do anything more, I want to say that this fic is just an EXPERIMENT. I was listening to the soundtrack of RENT (the musical, not the movie) and thought, and there might have been an old fashioned light bulb, 'Hey, why not write a fic with RENT in the back of my mind for The Mentalist?'. I started with writing the first chapter (and I have to admit that the first chapter sucks, kinda. And I know that the first chapter is supposed to be the most thrilling one since you have to catch an audience with it, but yeah, you try to make a fic out of a musical in which they only sing) and kinda liked it... then the second chapter came and I was hooked with writing, but I hope that you can also tag along with reading!
I can't deny having a true obsession with AUs, sorry. And this chapter may even be kinda OOC at times, for some characters, but you be the judge on that, okay? :D
Anyways, since this is just an experiment, I'm not really likely to continue it, unless people are desperate to read more. I can live on a few reviews less than I normally have, because this story is just kinda strange and all... If I have a few reviews, though, and a few follows, I will continue, no matter what you think of it :D.
If I'm going to continue, though, it will be M-rated in later chapters. For now, only one chapter, but who knows? (I advise you to listen to 'Contact' from the musical if you want to know what kind of M-rated... Both sexual graphic scenes and character death... Yeah, that's what RENT is: contradicting xD)
And for the people that know RENT, I put a list of characters at the beginning of this chapter, so you can see who's who :D. If you know it, though, you already know how it's gonna end... So I'd rather that you don't know it xD. And yes, Lisbon is Mimi (a night club dancer) and Summer is Angel (a drag queen). Sorry, I love both characters, in both The Mentalist and RENT, so I just had to put them in these positions :D. Summer is not a drag queen in this story, though :D.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist, boohoo. And if I owned RENT, I was dead by now (Jonathan Larson *all hail* died a few years ago... Thanks, Jonathan, for creating the best musical ever). Would be cool if I owned both, but nope.
No day but today
'Prologue'
Mark Cohen = Wayne Rigsby
Roger Davis = Patrick Jane
Mimi Márquez = Teresa Lisbon
Tom Collins = Kimball Cho
Angel Dumott Schunard = Summer Edgecombe
Maureen Johnson = Grace van Pelt
Joanne Jefferson = Sarah Harrington
Benjamin "Benny" Coffin III = Walter Mashburn
"We begin on Christmas Eve, with me, Wayne Rigsby, and my roommate, Patrick Jane."
Rigsby turned the camera slightly, and sighed. He looked at Jane, sprawled lazily on the couch, arms crossed over his chest. Jane's hair looked disheveled, and his suit looked almost torn. Jane looked far more different than he had looked like two years ago, before it had happened.
"You could help, you know."
Jane shrugged. "It's not my wish to make a documentary out of my life."
"My life is boring enough without you laying on the couch without any true purpose."
"I'm only in your life because you're too good for this world. You could also throw me out of here, it's not like you'll miss me."
Rigsby sighed, turned towards the camera, and picked it up.
"We live in an industrial loft on the corner of 11th street and Avenue B. It's the top floor of what was once a music publishing factory."
He turned the camera around, putting on display their humble living space.
"On the walls are-"
"Don't you dare," Jane interjected. Rigsby shot him a look.
"On the wall are old posters of Jane – they used to promote his show on the TV. It was a psychic show – he tricked people into believing he could talk with their relatives. Which Jane admits, thankfully."
"There is no such thing as psychics, after all-"
"You hush," Rigsby told him. "There, in the middle of our undersized living room, is an illegal wood burning stove. It was the best we could get," Rigsby said. Looking at Jane, he added with a sigh, "Jane says it's already too much for him, since he isn't supposed to deserve anything."
Rigsby sprinted to the cheap TV, which was so worn out that it was falling apart out of pure misery. He pointed at it.
"All of our electrical appliances are plugged into one thick extension cord which snakes its way out a window."
"Is that really interesting-"
"Either shut up or say something that really matters," Rigsby snapped, and Jane shrugged.
"Or else?"
"Outside," Rigsby continued, not wanting to argue now with Jane, and walked over to the big windows at the south side of the building. He had never really liked these windows, they hardly had any privacy with them, but he figured it was still nice since they had a great view on the city from here, "a small tent city has sprung up in the lot next to our building. They are protesting the rights of 'us' – whoever these 'us' are. Inside, it's freezing because we have no heat."
Rigsby turned the camera towards himself.
"Close up: Wayne Rigsby. Twenty-seven. Stupid, naïve man who still believes in true love."
Rigsby then spun the camera to Jane, who immediately covered up his face by his hands.
"Smile!" Rigsby said. Jane groaned.
"Just go away, and leave me here to die," Jane murmured.
"Tell the folks at home what you're doing there, Jane."
"I'm drowning in my misery, that's what I'm doing."
"And why are you-"
"You know I don't want to discuss that. Especially not with you and your stupid camera."
"You know-"
Rigsby was cut off by the phone ringing. Jane smiled an innocent smiled, and removed his hands. "Saved."
Rigsby sighed, and focused the camera on his face. "We screen. We both are too lazy to talk with people so we let them leave a message on the answering machine."
The camera focused on the phone now, and after a chorused Speak! of Jane and Rigsby on the device, a familiar voice sounded and Rigsby already groaned.
"Wayne, are you there? It's your mother. I don't know when you will hear this, but we just wanted to tell you that we love you, and that we will miss you this Christmas. Stacey is here with the kids, and they love you too. Just don't burn down the loft while you're cooking – and keep an eye on Patrick, yes? The poor fellow... Oh, and Wayne, we're sorry about Grace, darling. But then again, she had all right to dump you. Not that she should have dumped you, but she is... different. Let her be a lesbian, for God's sake! It's not because of you, darling. And there are other fishies in the sea for you to catch. Love, Mom."
Rigsby hit his forehead with one hand, while Jane tried his best not to laugh out loud.
"Shut up," Rigsby hissed, and Jane shook his head.
"Your mom's right, though. It was not your fault that Grace became a lesbian all of sudden," Jane chuckled.
"Tell the folks at home what you're doing, Jane-"
"Planning my death."
There was a short silence, in which Jane acted as if nothing had happened and Rigsby's jaw had almost hit the floor. After a while, Rigsby caught himself again.
"Okay... The phone rings again," he said, in an attempt to save both of them from this sticky situation, and looked at the phone.
Speak!
"Chestnuts roasting..." they heard, and both of them jumped up, Rigsby picking up the phone from the answering machine.
"Cho!" Rigsby and Jane exclaimed in unison.
"I'm downstairs," he deadpanned, and Rigsby put down the camera and ran to the window. Cho was looking up, cell phone against his ear.
"Hey!"
"Jane picked up the phone?" Cho asked, and the two knew he was being sincere, though it didn't sound like it in his voice.
"No, it's me."
"Okay. Throw down the key."
Rigsby pulled the small leather pouch from his belt, opened the window and threw it out. He watched as Cho caught it and put it in his pocket. Then, Rigsby suddenly saw that Cho looked around him and the man came across as almost... scared. No, it couldn't be. Cho was never scared.
"It may take a little longer," Cho said simply, and broke the connection. Rigsby frowned at Jane, who just shrugged.
"What does he mean?"
When the phone rang again, Rigsby was immediately on it.
"What do you mean, it can take a little longer?"
There was a pause at the other end, and Rigsby grew slightly worried over his friend.
"I have no freaking idea what you mean," Mashburn said, and Rigsby cursed.
"Shit. Walter," Rigsby said when he held a hand over the phone, and Jane mimicked Rigsby, running a hand through his blonde curls.
"Gentlemen, I'm on my way," Mashburn said, in his usual mocking tone.
"Great."
"And have the rent ready, please. It's Christmas Eve, I'd rather be with Catherine than fetch money from poor people. So we'll make it fast, okay?"
"What rent?" Rigsby asked.
"Past year's rent which I let slide."
"Let slide? You said we were 'golden'," Rigsby said, putting too much emphasis on 'golden'. Jane came to stand beside Rigsby.
"You're not making any sense, Mashburn," Jane complained. "You told us we didn't have to pay any rent because you gave us an exemption. It was your building, and because we were roommates..."
"Remember? You lived here!" Rigsby added. They heard Mashburn laughing.
"How can I forget? You, me, Cho and Grace. Speaking of which – how's the drama queen?"
Jane looked at Rigsby, a teasing smile on his lips. Jane might hate Mashburn, but he liked this tricking side of him – maybe because Jane was just like Mashburn once.
"She's performing tonight," Rigsby said simply.
"Oh, I know, believe me. You still dating?"
Jane chuckled.
"No, she dumped me."
"She's in love!" Jane sing-sang, and Rigsby was about to hit Jane in the face, when Mashburn interrupted again.
"She got a new man?"
"Well, no," Rigsby said. Jane nudged Rigsby in his side, laughing. Which was quite a strange look since Jane hadn't smiled for a few weeks now – okay, except for the moment where he found out Grace had turned lesbian.
"What's his name?" Mashburn asked.
Rigsby rolled his eyes when Jane looked more than happy to tell Mashburn.
"Sarah," they said in unison, and heard Mashburn laughing at the other side of the phone.
"Sucker," he teased, and Rigsby sighed. "Anyways, I'm on my way, I'd like to get your rent, and don't dare to give me any more excuses like the last time. I don't care how you get the money, I need it."
And with that, he hung up.
Rigsby and Jane looked at each other.
"Now what?"
The phone rang again.
"We've never been so popular before," Jane teased, and walked back to the – his – couch.
Rigsby picked up the phone, and cringed as he saw the number.
"Hey, Grace. Your equipment won't work? Can't you ask Sarah for tha- Oh, okay. Yes, I'm on my way."
"So we both agree on the fact that we'll kill Mashburn and hide his body in a closet?" Jane asked, and Rigsby rolled his eyes.
"It's time to get some of your money from your bank account, Jane."
Jane shook his head. "No, I'm saving that for an emergency-"
"And this isn't one? Mashburn will kill us."
"At least I want to die. You should try that for once," Jane said, and laid back down on his couch.
Rigsby sighed, and lifted his eyes to the ceiling, praying for some god he did not quite believe in to come and help him with this depressed, suicidal man.
A/N: And? What do you think? It starts a bit weird with this chapter, but in the musical, this are actually a lot of songs in one ('Opening Monologue', 'Tune Up #1', 'Voice Mail #1', 'Tune Up #2' and 'Rent'), which are not all really songs, so... Yeah, I think I did a great job in both 'transcribing' it into a good story, as well as keeping it The Mentalist-ish... Especially Jane, I dunno. I get the scary feeling that this is really IC for him... Poor Jane.
Anyways! Follow it if you're interested in the rest, and I'll send you a PM if I'm not going to continue with it!
Next chapter: Meet Summer! *yay*
Leave a REVIEW, please! (Although follows are appreciated as well ;D) Yet I completely understand if you don't want to leave a review (I do?), and just follow, or not follow at all or something... I dunno what I'm saying anymore, but just let me know what you think in any way you deem appropriate :D.
