author's note: I know I know, I need to update not that crazy and I am working on the next chapter now, but I paused to do a reply or two on my indie rp blog, and this drabble came out of a meme someone sent me. if you don't know what any of that means, don't worry... lol basically I got a prompt and wrote a very tiny thing that I thought I'd share. it's set in the CBI days some time, idk... it's very smol like I said but. enjoy? review if you enjoyed it :p oh, and it's in present tense because I tend to write things for that blog in that tense, whereas here, I tend to do past, but this story didn't flow that way, so I left it in.
.M.M.M.M.M.
Lisbon walks briskly down the hall, dark hair bouncing past her shoulders. People she passes try and say hello, or catch her gaze, but she ignores them. She doesn't have the time for pleasantries or grabbing coffee with the Missing Persons Unit. She's just been informed, by Rigbsy, that Jane is planning something- just like always. It's something stupid that could get him killed. Her gaze is locked on her phone screen as her thumbs tap out an important message to the director of the bureau; she needs assistance from the big guns and she needs it now. And she doesn't have time to wait for them to answer a phone call. She's just hitting send when the screen changes and the phone starts ringing; she pushes the answer key with more force than she needs to. "Hey Jane," she says, in a voice that's a half-octave too high and baked in the annoyance she feels for her errant consultant.
By now she's reached the elevator, and she pushes the call button multiple times, her expression both neutral and grumpy- not a good sign. "Oh, no, of course not," she says into the phone, causing another couple waiting for the elevator to cast a concerned glance her way. "No, don't tell me what you're going to do. Just do whatever you want and get me suspended. That's what you're gonna do anyway." Her words drip sarcasm and hold back a hint of anger that she wants to control, for the sake of professionalism, but she pulls the phone away from her ear and jams the end call button, snapping it shut and shoving it into her pocket without looking. Instead, her gaze darts to the ceiling in a half-prayer, half-eye-roll. "Jerk," she mutters to herself.
When the elevator finally arrives, she marches in with forceful steps, never noticing the couple who tries and fails to get on, looking annoyed with her. However annoyed they are, she's feeling far, far worse. Dammit, Jane! Why do you always do this to me? She shouldn't be surprised. It's just like always. He's secretive, and controlling, and he does this crap to amuse himself and she's getting sick of it. She really is. It shouldn't upset her. She shouldn't feel betrayal or hurt. It's just another day on the job with Patrick Jane.
It's not even about her possible suspension, or termination. Not really. Of course, that would upset her a lot, because her job has always been the thing that matters most to her. She's a cop. That's just who she is, that's her identity. Without her badge, she's no one. But she could go back to SFPD, she could join a private firm. She could maybe get into the FBI. She could do something. No, the problem is Jane. Why doesn't he trust her? All he needs to do is let her in on the plan. Even some of the plan. Maybe just wait for her to arrive before doing something stupid. But no, oh no, he can't do that. Bastard.
She's worried about him. She's worried sick. He's gonna get himself killed taunting murderers like this. Why couldn't he work with the fraud department? Fraudulent people wouldn't murder a consultant, would they? But she knows why he works with homicide. Red John. That's even worse. That is gonna get him killed, or get him life. Both are just as bad to her, but he doesn't seem to care. She remembers her words to him in the basement of that old cabin, after arresting one of their first Red John leads together. She told him he was gonna get himself killed, and he said it didn't matter. 'You don't mean that,' she'd told him. 'you're being stupid, and selfish, and I want you to stop. Can't you see there's people who care about you, who need you?' But he couldn't see, and he didn't believe it, and if he got himself killed because of that she was going to lose her mind, and it was going to be his fault, and no one else's.
She hurries to her car, pulling the door open and dropping inside with urgency that's not usually hidden inside her normal haste. Damn him, she thinks, as she pulls onto the street. Damn him. This man is dangerous, possibly the killer of multiple people. Even if he's not, he's rich, powerful, and has anger management issues. Jane is irked by him, so of course he wants to wind him up, but a man like that won't last long with a man like Jane before something bad happens. She releases a long, slow breath, counting to five in her head, forcing herself to focus on the road before her. She was going to go try and save him, and it wasn't going to work. They would be called into the boss' office and she'd lie through her teeth to protect him, while he tried valiantly to take the blame for her and she stepped in front of him, like she always does. She'd get a reprimand, maybe a punishment, like she always does. And he'll be safe, and that's what matters. He'll be safe.
She'll yell at him, and she'll let all of her anger out, maybe even throw her stapler at him. He'll make some witty comment and smirk his way out of her office door, and in the morning, he'll bring her coffee and a bear claw or leave origami animals on her desk, and she'll forgive him.
Just like always.
Damn him.