Title: One For Sorrow
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Cho
Summary: A dedication to Cho and some idiosyncrasies he may or may not have on this Friday the 13th.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Written for the Paint It Red Monthly Challenge. Prompt: only fools carry on.
One For Sorrow
Smashing a mirror means seven years bad luck.
Don't even think about walking underneath an open ladder.
Never cross somebody when walking up or downstairs.
If it's raining, don't open the umbrella inside.
A black cat crosses your path? Depends what direction it's crossing in. Could be bad luck, could be very good.
Unless you're a gambler, which Kimball Cho is most certainly not.
But that doesn't stop him from being superstitious.
Every work day, he behaves in exactly the same way prior to heading into the office. Wakes up at precisely six a.m. on the dot. Into the shower for five minutes, then cleans his teeth and flosses. Breakfast of toast, fruit and yoghurt, washed down with a cop of hot coffee. Back upstairs to select a freshly pressed suit from out of his closet and he changes as quickly as possible.
He always ensures that he arrives at least thirty minutes early and starts working as soon as he arrives at his desk, only taking a break to greet Lisbon when she emerges from her office, having probably arrived fifteen minutes before him.
This has been his routine since the interview where he secured his job with the CBI.
He still thanks his lucky stars that Lisbon and Minelli were happy to take a chance on him. So many others had promptly turned him away when they realized his history as a gang banger and the stint in juvenile hall. His past may have been knocked out of him by the military, but that usually hadn't been enough for most. Only Lisbon had been able to see his potential and persuade Minelli to take the risk.
Even now, he feels like he owes her. She gave him that second chance and he's not going to let her down.
This morning, when he settles in front of his computer, the first thing he does is look at the date.
And his heart sinks.
Friday the thirteenth. Cho hates it whenever the thirteenth day of the month lands on a Friday. As far as he's concerned, it's an omen for bad luck. It'll be the kind of day where the criminal slips through their fingers, Jane causes more trouble than usual, Rigsby and Van Pelt argue like school kids and everything that can go wrong inevitably does.
Cho tries to dispel the concerns. He hadn't realized what the date was until just this very minute. When he hadn't been able to regulate the water in his shower, he'd assumed that it was just because the boiler had been playing up and made a mental note to remind his landlord. His coffee machine breaking down had simply been because it was old and needed replacing soon. As for running out of toothpaste? It's his own damn fault for not picking some up after work yesterday.
However, the date makes him think again. Maybe they hadn't been coincidence, maybe it had been because of something else.
Because today is an unlucky day.
Automatically, he slips his hand into his pocket and searches out his for his car keys. When he is able to squeeze the key ring reassuringly, he smiles. It's his lucky charm, his four leaf clover. He's had it as long as he can remember; his dad had brought it for him on St. Patrick's Day, as a kid and he'd loved it. Taken it to all of his baseball games, kept it close to him during his days with the Avon Park Playboys, and it had even gone on tour with him when he'd served in far flung conflicts.
Never had it failed to bring him good luck.
Of course, it's only natural that it's been with him every step of the way during his career as an officer of the law.
As far as he's concerned, his innocuous four leaf clover key ring is a hell of a lot more acceptable than something as stupid as lucky pants.
He doesn't believe that the others know just how ingrained his superstitions are and it's something he intends to keep a secret. It doesn't embarrass him, per se, but he just doesn't want people paying attention to his idiosyncrasies. Without asking, he knows Lisbon is too logical to have any cause for superstition. Van Pelt would probably understand his concerns. Rigsby may well tease him about it, and that would never do.
And Jane, he'd use it against him.
Jane.
Cho stares wildly in the direction of the couch and breathes a sigh of relief. If anybody knows about this, then Jane would be the one to do so. He knows how Jane's mind works; he seeks out weaknesses to use against other people. And if his beliefs in the supernatural aren't a weakness, he doesn't know what is.
Jane's probably known for an age. Since that case, years ago, the one with the witch. Cho still has that jar of ashes buried in the depths of his drawer, just in case.
Carefully, he releases his cast iron grip on his key chain and tries to relax. It's a good job too, because Jane and the others have just arrived.
Slowly, he lets out a measured breath and reminds himself that it's just a normal day. He already knows what he's meant to be doing: working on cold cases and finalizing details for his next appearances in court. Sometimes, people think being a cop is thrilling and exciting. They seem to forget that he, too, has to endure the daily grind.
Still, it could be worse…
"We're up," Lisbon says, disturbing the silence.
They've been working on old cases for a couple of hours now, but the boredom has been beginning to set in. Then again, that's how Cho likes his Friday the thirteenths. Dull, average, nothing of any interest happening. There's less of a chance for something to go wrong, then.
However, the rest of the team doesn't care about the date and cabin fever is slowly but surely sinking in.
"Van Pelt, I need you to organize flights-" Lisbon continues and Cho doesn't even need to look at her to know that Van Pelt is already moving into action.
"Where are we going?" Cho asks.
"Malibu, why?"
"Shouldn't travel on a Friday," he says before he can stop himself.
Lisbon cocks her head quizzically and Jane just grins. Already, Cho can feel himself groaning. He'd handed Jane his greatest secret on a silver platter and that's a rookie error when it comes to dealing with him. The look on the blond's face says all he needs to know: he's going to milk this revelation for all its worth. This case, which is resulting in a trip to Malibu, is going to be some kind of hell for him.
Just his luck.
"Why not?" Lisbon asks, curious.
"Supposedly, it's bad luck," Jane answers for him, before turning to face Cho. "You do know that superstitions are a belief in the false conception that two entirely unrelated events can have an effect on one another?"
Yes, it's definitely Friday, the thirteenth. This is precisely what he didn't want to happen; he knows that on some level, each of the team may judge him, even if they say they don't.
"Yes. Of course," he states.
It's not enough to stop him from knocking twice on wood to dispel bad luck, or from having a lucky horseshoe in his bedroom, however.
end