Title: The Song of Eternal Numbers
Author: Miss_Peg/RedFi
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the song.
Summary: A drabble collection involving Jane, Lisbon, Red John, Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby.
Notes: This was written for Lothiriel for the Paint It Red Stocking Swap Gift Exchange, it's a little random because the prompt was an unusual song called The Song of Eternal Numbers, but I hope you enjoy it. I've noted the line above each drabble from the song which relates to each piece (though there are longer parts of the song I've used for each number).
One is for the reaper
Death knows no bounds and Red John was as familiar with death as the average human was with reality television. He loved and hated the world in equal measure, found pain and suffering in even the happiest of places and sought out the destruction of his foes. The world he'd created allowed him the freedom to be who he wanted to be; a person without a face and yet the most recognised serial killer in history. He lived off the thrill of the chase, the fear of getting caught and the knowledge that in his lifetime, it would never happen.
And two the oxen
Life was made up of memories which Patrick Jane kept hidden away in his memory palace. Should it be a physical place, he imagined it to be made of glass, though not fragile. It was strong like an ox and showed no mercy at the hands of anyone's malevolence. He had tiny armed guards keeping watch, their bullet-less weapons powerful enough to keep the enemy at bay. His brain, the centre of his brains planetary system gave him the power he needed. Even Red John, with a mind as equally surreptitious, would never bring Jane's mind to ruin.
And three the parts
The world was a little smaller with others in it. Van Pelt disliked solitude as much as Jane disliked crowds. She longed for company, something which she lacked in school. Nobody wanted to be friends with the red haired, skinny girl with braces. Her momma always told her it was because they were jealous, that her hair was a gift from God. She didn't buy it. Kids were cruel, they learnt what they shouldn't from their parents and didn't care who got hurt. She knew better than most the need for good people surrounding her; it made her a happy.
And four is for the stones,
Cho was considered a war her; a veteran of defence. Haunted by a past he didn't want to remember. He purposefully kept it closed away, with other aspects of his life, in order to maintain the stoicism he was known for. Why shatter the illusion? Being a war hero wasn't as glamorous as people made it out to be. He'd killed people, he'd watched them die and he'd suffered losses that others dreaded. Why he chose a profession that put a gun in his hand, he didn't know. But damned if he was going to kill any more innocent souls.
Five is for the ages,
When Lisbon was a child she'd played Sneezy in a play about the Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. The memory played on her mind from time to time. It didn't help that her stature was limited. Some considered it a hindrance to her career; she saw it as the complete opposite. It defined her in ways others couldn't possibly imagine. Her strength and ability to defy the odds kept her colleagues guessing. Bets had been placed on her, most she'd won. Height mattered as little as her being a woman, but that was another issue in and of itself.
Six is for the herbs,
Rigsby took to fatherhood like a duck to water. He didn't think it'd be so easy, but with the love and support of Sarah, he'd managed to slip into the role with ease. Sometimes he'd sit by Ben's crib, just watching him sleep. It still amazed him that the boy was a product of his own genes, someone to be truly proud of. What he loved more than anything was to hear his son laugh. He had a wicked sense of humour, despite only being a year old, his cheeky grin already a perfect mimic of his dear old pop's.
And seven are the suns, And seven are the moons,
Red John lived his life in two halves; a man of day and night, of light and dark. He'd seen many people consumed by the tug of polar lives, unable to control the strain of cheating on one family with another. Some people were too weak to see power and beauty in a world split by colours. When he wanted to be, John could be the nicest neighbour you could meet. But he could also be your worst nightmare. So often, he started out as one and in time, his life shifted across the line into the darkest of nights.
Eight is for the fires,
June 1st; a day like no other in the calendar of Jane. Who could forget the day their first and only child was born? Whether she was there or not mattered little, he would always celebrate the arrival of his daughter into his world. The sun would rise like a ball of fire burning in the summer sky, resting amongst few clouds until the day was done. Jane would sit on a beach covered in sunscreen with a bottle of water by his side. He didn't move for anyone on that day, not even the blazing heat of the sun.
Nine is for the maidens,
Wedding season arrived but once a year and Cho loathed it. He would be forced to return home for wedding after wedding of various family members, friends, relatives he didn't even know existed. The weddings themselves were fair occasions which he would happily sit through; it was after he had issue with. Not only would he catch his mother eyeing up one of the few unattached young ladies, but so would his aunt, his grandmother and even his father's sister's best friend's cousin. He couldn't grasp the reason for such intense need to marry him off to the highest bidder.
Ten is for the galleons,
Van Pelt was a sucker for a man in uniform. She didn't like to admit it, working in the police, but she couldn't help biting her lip when a man came in suited and booted. It helped that she'd not been a uniformed officer for some time, but when a case put her in the vicinity of a man in blue she had to take a moment to compose herself. Then there was the military. Her high school boyfriend had joined up as soon as he'd turned eighteen, when he walked into her office one day, she couldn't help smiling.
Eleven for the young men,
Before he joined the arson squad Rigsby spent some time working with paroles. He considered it character building, something to remind him of all of the things he could have done had he not purposefully avoided following in his father's footsteps. It saddened him that most of the young men he met had equally angry, abusive fathers, that their chances were even lower than his had been. He did everything he could to help them enroll in junior college, or get work, but sometimes no matter what did, someone wouldn't want help. He hated those cases more than any other.
Twelve is for the signs, And twelve for time a'passing...
Another year had passed, another year older and Lisbon could see more lines on her face. She disliked the idea of growing older, not that she'd seek out younger looking skin or botox like some women her age. Despite the flaws in her years, she appreciated that every line told a story. And it didn't matter if she grew older because some people would always look at her in the same way. She was thankful for that every single morning when she saw his face, his soft blue eyes and his golden curls. Enough to make her feel eternally beautiful.