Author's Note: This is just a little ditty, inspired by the prompt but also by the classic X-Files episode Bad Blood, though I'm afraid this isn't nearly as funny. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. And thanks to Leaf for organizing this anniversary celebration!
Rainy Day
Jane
Jane grimaced and rolled over to face the back of his couch, hoping the change would relax him enough to fall asleep. He hadn't been able to nap for several days, poring over the Red John files, and the lack of sleep was beginning to wear on him. Van Pelt was openly concerned, and Rigsby and Cho were making an effort to walk softly in the bullpen, voices pitched to carry only to each other. It was so quiet, he could hear the rain pattering against the windows.
Of course, that might not just be about him. Since Bosco's death and Minelli's departure, the entire CBI seemed to be on mute. The brisk steps in the hallways and friendly chatter were gone, replaced by somber nods between colleagues who were trying not to ask themselves if they were looking at another Red John mole. No wonder Jane couldn't sleep. It was too quiet, too tense.
Jane's jaw clenched as he thought that Red John had not only taken Bosco and his team, and caused Minelli's departure, but he'd taken the CBI Jane had known as well. For the second time, Jane felt homeless. Adrift.
With a groan, he rolled over and got to his feet, heading to the kitchen. If he couldn't sleep, he was going to need more tea.
The kitchen was empty, even though it was early afternoon, prime caffeinating time. Jane contemplated his changed environment as he dunked his teabag. This was not, he resolved, another thing he'd lost to Red John. The CBI wasn't dead, just wounded. He still had his team, sad and solemn, but still here. He still had Lisbon, bravely soldiering on despite her grief.
Taking a small sip of the steaming tea, Jane took a step into the hallway so he could see Lisbon's office. The blinds were partly closed, but he could see her at her desk, toiling away at paperwork. The light from the bullpen was shadowed by raindrops sliding down the windows, and for a moment Jane fancied it gave her face the impression of tears. It made his heart ache in a way that interfered with his breathing.
Thinking herself unobserved, she was looking off into the distance, eyes unfocused. There was a new stillness about her that disturbed him. Lisbon was usually so full of energy and wit; now she was listless and quiet. She had retreated into herself to mourn Bosco and Minelli, and he missed her.
Could he cheer her up? Even for a few minutes? It might be too early in her grieving, he thought, for more than a moment. It was too bad they didn't have a case at the moment; that would be the perfect distraction.
Well, he could try. He made sure to put confidence in his stride as he approached her office and pushed the door open. She startled at his entrance, but there was no anger in her expression, only a weary resignation that told him he was definitely doing the right thing. "Lisbon, you have been sitting at that desk for untold hours. You need to get up and move. Come for a walk."
She frowned. "It's pouring rain."
"So? You won't melt, I promise. We'll stop at the coffee cart."
The siren call of actual coffee instead of the cheap brew available in the office caught her attention, but she was still frowning. "Why do we both have to get wet? You're not busy; you go. You can pick up everybody's order."
"Not in my contract," he replied. "I'm a consultant, not an intern. Come along, Lisbon. You know you want to; you're just arguing for the sake of argument."
Her shoulders actually slumped. Yes, it was high time he intervened, he thought. He should have noticed earlier, but he'd been so intent on finding any clues inadvertently left by Bosco's team in the files that he'd been ignoring everything else.
"I could use some coffee," she muttered finally, getting up and shrugging into her jacket. She then opened a drawer and grabbed an umbrella. "You have an umbrella?"
"Don't need one," Jane replied, setting down his teacup on her desk and ushering her out the door. He concealed his impatience as Lisbon checked in with Cho, telling him to call her immediately if anything came up, as if he didn't already know to do that. Van Pelt sent him a quick smile, obviously approving of his plan to cheer up Lisbon.
As they headed out the building door, Jane fell back a step and swiftly borrowed a large umbrella from the stand nearby. It would be back before it was missed, no harm done. Lisbon failing to notice only proved that he was right to distract her for a bit so she could concentrate better.
The weather smiled on them, the rain fading to a light drizzle as they went to the coffee cart and pondered the menu. Jane wasn't a fan of their tea, but they did an acceptable hot chocolate, so he ordered that. After a glance at Lisbon's apathetic expression, he made it two. With whipped cream. And sprinkles.
Her nose crinkled in surprise at her first sip, but she quickly took a second one. "Thanks," she said in a grudging tone. "I guess the fresh air helps, even if it's wet."
"Nature, Lisbon. There's nothing more calming. Come on, I know just the place to sit and sip."
"We should get back."
"Cho will call if we're needed. Just like you told him to."
Hoist on her own petard, she had to give in, falling in step beside him as he walked east toward a little park with a sheltered bench. As he'd guessed, only its edge was damp, and he'd grabbed extra napkins to deal with that. "Sit," he urged her once he was finished.
Lisbon made a face but sat, taking another sip of her hot chocolate. She was obviously prepared to wait him out.
Jane wedged his large umbrella into the back of the bench to provide extra cover for them both, and Lisbon folded hers up and leaned back, sighing a little as she sipped.
"There's nothing like the smell of fresh rain," he observed. In California's dry climate, it was something to be especially appreciated. "There's so much in it: air cleaned of particulates, the scent of wet soil. Just breathe it in."
She took a deep breath. After a moment, she said, "The smell of dirt makes me think of graves."
Something squeezed painfully in his chest. He really had been ignoring her grief too long. "I've told you I grew up on the Midwest carnival circuit, right? Well, the smell of fresh earth makes me think of waving grain and tall stalks of corn. In a good crop year, we made more money, so everybody was happy. For farmers, rain is essential to success. To life."
"Not much different than the Central Valley, I imagine," she said.
"Exactly the same." He paused to sip his hot chocolate. "Perspective is also essential to life."
"Yeah?" She looked directly at him for the first time since he'd entered her office.
"Yes. It's important to remember that life goes on all around us, no matter what happens to us."
Lisbon snorted. "You're a fine one to lecture me on perspective. How many hours have you spent with those files since the funeral?"
"I'm here now, aren't I?"
"True." She blinked, then seemed to relax. "I take it you didn't find anything, or you'd be off concocting some harebrained scheme."
"My schemes are not harebrained," he protested. "But no, there's nothing new in the files. Red John won't be caught by normal methods. He knows too much about how we work."
Lisbon scowled. "I can't believe a disciple was right under our noses."
Jane grimaced. "Thereby proving I can't actually read minds. I was focused on Bosco, so I didn't pay enough attention to the people around him. I won't make that mistake again."
"Tell me you're not going to go around the building hypnotizing people," Lisbon said, sounding alarmed.
"Only the suspicious ones," he joked.
"No, Jane."
He could never decide whether to be annoyed or amused when she spoke to him like a naughty puppy, as if that would ever work. But he didn't want to argue with her at the moment, so a change of subject was called for. "Look at the few hardy souls scurrying to their destinations, trying to avoid the rain. Why does no one ever stop to appreciate it? None of us could exist without it."
Lisbon let out a huff, signaling she was well aware he hadn't agreed to abide by her command but was willing to let it pass for the moment. "Only you could get philosophical about the rain. For most of us, it's just a nuisance. Who likes to get all wet with their clothes on? I've never understood why in all those cheesy movies, the big love scene is always in the rain. Who'd want to be with anybody too stupid to come in where it's dry?"
Feeling vaguely offended, Jane said, "Film makers are prone to metaphor. The rain/sex one is a bit heavy-handed, but then most people don't go to the movies to think."
"How would you know? When was the last time you were at a movie?" she scoffed.
"Probably around the same time you were," he retorted. That question had hit a bit close to home. His normal life was barely remembered by now, like a wonderful dream he'd had one night. At least he had his quest to explain his asceticism; what was her excuse?
There was silence for a while. Jane tried to refocus himself on the wonders of nature all around him, the gentle patter of rain on the umbrella, and the richness of the hot chocolate. A stray memory came to him from long ago: he and Angela sneaking into the drive-in movies, huddled in the rain under an umbrella. What was the last movie they'd seen together? Something they'd taken Charlotte to, perhaps? He couldn't remember, and he hated himself for that.
"Do you think about a normal life?" Lisbon asked softly. "After this is over? Or maybe even if it's not. Just...walk away and start again."
"No," he replied, insulted. Then he relented. "It's not in my nature to give up. Even if it were, I'm not sure he would let me walk away at this point."
She grimaced a little.
"What about you? Ever think about a nice normal life, where you go to dinner and a movie every Friday and never get woken up at 4 am to go to a crime scene?"
"How boring would that be?" She shrugged.
He smiled a little and sipped his hot chocolate to cover it. "So it looks like we're stuck."
"I guess so," she agreed.
There was no one he'd rather be stuck with, he thought.
They sat in companionable silence until they both finished their drinks. Then Jane held out his hand for Lisbon's cup, which she gave him, and got up to walk to the nearby trash can. The misty rain was trying to muster its strength again, and after he accomplished his errand, he stood for a moment, turning his face up to the sky and closing his eyes to appreciate the gentle spray of nature's shower.
When he opened his eyes, he caught a quick glimpse of Lisbon looking at him with an expression of only mildly exasperated fondness. It warmed and pleased him in equal measures.
It was good to take breaks from his quest, now and then. Emotional nourishment was necessary to everyone, after all. He was no exception, and neither was Lisbon.
He went back to her, lifting the umbrella from the bench carefully to keep her from getting wet. "Ready?"
"Past ready," she replied. "It wasn't my idea to sit in the rain."
"Don't fret, Lisbon," he said cheerfully. "Enjoying nature will come to you in time. You're a fast learner."
She elbowed him playfully, but she didn't step away to put up her own umbrella. They walked back to the CBI under the stolen umbrella, shoulders bumping occasionally. He found it inexpressibly comforting.
When they reached the entrance, he folded up the umbrella and slipped it back into the stand, no harm done. Lisbon slanted an amused glance at him that told him she'd been on to him the whole time, and he grinned at her, delighted.
It was nice to be back to normal, even for a little while.
Lisbon
Lisbon finished typing her report and sat back, leaning her head back and rolling her shoulders to ease the ache she hadn't noticed while she was concentrating. It was still raining, she noticed. There hadn't been a new case today, which was good because, first, no one was getting murdered, and second, she was able to make a dent in her paperwork backlog. Quite a dent, actually. She was in imminent danger of catching up, and then what would she do? Clean out her files, perhaps.
She needed to work. If she didn't, she would fall apart. The CBI was a quietly unhappy place right now, and she missed Minelli. She missed Bosco. Damn it, she even missed Jane.
What was it with the men in her life?
As if summoned, Jane barged into her office, startling her. "Lisbon, you have been sitting at that desk for untold hours. You need to get up and move. Come for a walk."
"It's pouring rain," she pointed out sensibly.
"So? You won't melt, I promise. We'll stop at the coffee cart."
Seriously? He thought she could be bribed with coffee? Although actually, a shot of good caffeine might help her mood. It would at least keep her from curling up on her couch once her paperwork was finished. Still, she had no desire to go out into the rain. "Why do we both have to get wet? You're not busy; you go. You can pick up everybody's order."
"Not in my contract. I'm a consultant, not an intern. Come along, Lisbon. You know you want to; you're just arguing for the sake of argument."
Now he was just being obnoxious. But above his manic grin, his eyes had the hopeful glint of a neglected puppy. Maybe she wasn't the only one wishing for the old normal.
"I could use some coffee," she said, getting up and grabbing her jacket. She then dug her umbrella out of her desk drawer. "You have an umbrella?"
"Don't need one."
What was he going to do, hypnotize the rain? She shook her head a little as she stopped by Cho's desk to make sure he knew where she was. With a serial killer on the loose, with proven access to the CBI, they couldn't be too careful. And though she was confident she could take care of herself, being responsible for Jane's safety often required backup.
On their way out of the building, she pretended not to notice as Jane blatantly stole someone's umbrella. Maybe it would turn out to belong to someone who would punch him in the nose.
The weather grew marginally less miserable as they went to the cart. The guy who ran it looked equally surprised and pleased to see them, and he smiled for the first time in Lisbon's memory. Hm. She usually ordered something quick because there was a long line behind her, but today she didn't have to worry. She could have something complicated if she wanted. Turning her attention to the menu, she pondered options.
Of course Jane couldn't be bothered to let her choose her own drink, handing her a steaming cup just as she had narrowed her choices to two. She stifled a sigh and raised the cup to her lips, surprised when she tasted chocolate instead of coffee. A second sip confirmed that this was one of the best hot chocolates she'd ever had.
"Thanks," she said, despite the smug expression on Jane's face. "I guess the fresh air helps, even if it's wet."
"Nature, Lisbon. There's nothing more calming. Come on, I know just the place to sit and sip."
The man was infuriating. Sit? In the rain? Was this some kind of bizarre test to see how ridiculously he could make her behave? "We should get back." She could enjoy her hot chocolate, finish her paperwork, and maybe throw some cold case files at Jane to keep him out of trouble.
"Cho will call if we're needed. Just like you told him to," Jane said in his best patronizing tone. It made her want to hit him, but she was afraid she'd spill her hot chocolate.
He set off, assuming she'd follow. For a moment she considered surprising him and going back to the office, but her curiosity got the better of her. After all, nothing at the office was urgent. She might as well see what Jane thought was so great about rainy days.
She only had to hurry a little to catch up; he'd obviously slowed down when he realized she wasn't with him, though he was pretending not to notice.
Was this some kind of scam? Or was he just lonely and wanting company? Impossible to tell, she thought. But if she was honest with herself, she was lonely. Nothing felt right about her life, not since Bosco was shot. It was natural to want a moment of normalcy in all the uncertainty and loss.
Though she had to admit, there wasn't much normal in watching Patrick Jane take a wad of paper napkins out of his pocket and carefully blot the edge of the wooden bench tucked under a broad, leafy tree, then wedge his umbrella (well, the umbrella he was carrying, which did not at all belong to him) into the slats on the back. Then he turned to her, beaming like a little boy about to present her with his prized clay ashtray or macaroni portrait. "Sit."
Great, a damp bench that probably has splinters. Just what I wanted, she thought but didn't say. But it was easier to sit than to argue with him. It wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought, and another sip of hot chocolate helped her give in to her fate. She could sit here and enjoy her drink and let Jane natter on about whatever struck his fancy.
That felt normal.
She folded up her umbrella and leaned back, savoring another mouthful of rich chocolate. It took only a minute or so for Jane to break the silence.
"There's nothing like the smell of fresh rain. There's so much in it: air cleaned of particulates, the scent of wet soil. Just breathe it in."
She did, closing her eyes. Then she opened them again, blinking hard to clear the sudden flash of memory that made her throat close with grief.
Maybe she hated rain for a reason.
"The smell of dirt makes me think of graves," she blurted out.
Jane didn't react for a moment. Then he took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and said, "I've told you I grew up on the Midwest carnival circuit, right? Well, the smell of fresh earth makes me think of waving grain and tall stalks of corn. In a good crop year, we made more money, so everybody was happy. For farmers, rain is essential to success. To life."
She wasn't sure whether to be grateful for or insulted at his lack of interest in her train of thought. "Not much different than the Central Valley, I imagine," she said.
"Exactly the same." He paused to sip his hot chocolate, humming a little in pleasure. "Perspective is also essential to life."
She glanced at him, noticing how deep the lines on his face were. He somehow looked much older than the last time she'd really looked at him. "Yeah?"
"Yes. It's important to remember that life goes on all around us, no matter what happens to us."
Ah ha, so they weren't ignoring her train of thought after all. Arrogant bastard. How dare he advise her on how to deal with grief? He'd been running from his all these years, using his hunt for Red John to keep it at arm's length no matter what it cost him and those around him.
No, she had to calm down. Red John's actions weren't Jane's fault. Bosco's death, Minelli's retirement—those couldn't be laid at Jane's feet.
Still, he was being a hypocrite, and she wasn't going to let him get away with it. "You're a fine one to lecture me on perspective. How many hours have you spent with those files since the funeral?"
"I'm here now, aren't I?" Impossible to tell whether his wounded tone was real or just a manipulation.
"True." Though she wasn't sure why. Had he given up? Or found something he needed to think through? Oh God, was he hatching some crazy scheme? No. He was too still; he lacked the manic energy she had come to associate with an imminent crazy con. "I take it you didn't find anything, or you'd be off concocting some harebrained scheme."
"My schemes are not harebrained. But no, there's nothing new in the files. Red John won't be caught by normal methods. He knows too much about how we work." Jane could have been discussing the weather, except for the way he tapped a finger against his paper cup. Fidgeting was a bad sign. Guilt, maybe? He seemed to specialize in it, after all.
Well, he didn't have a monopoly on that. "I can't believe a disciple was right under our noses," she grumbled. Her team were highly trained, and they'd all missed Rebecca. How?
Jane winced. "Thereby proving I can't actually read minds. I was focused on Bosco, so I didn't pay enough attention to the people around him. I won't make that mistake again."
A horrible premonition made her sit up straight. "Tell me you're not going to go around the building hypnotizing people."
His grin was anything but reassuring. "Only the suspicious ones."
"No, Jane." He was probably teasing her, but she wasn't taking any chances.
He ignored her, as usual, and blatantly changed the subject. "Look at the few hardy souls scurrying to their destinations, trying to avoid the rain. Why does no one ever stop to appreciate it? None of us could exist without it."
She was going to have to watch him like a hawk. He wasn't just feeling guilty; his pride was wounded. Nothing was more dangerous.
But for the moment, she was calling BS. "Only you could get philosophical about the rain. For most of us, it's just a nuisance. Who likes to get all wet with their clothes on? I've never understood why in all those cheesy movies, the big love scene is always in the rain. Who'd want to be with anybody too stupid to come in where it's dry?"
"Film makers are prone to metaphor. The rain/sex one is a bit heavy-handed, but then most people don't go to the movies to think."
No shit, Sherlock, she thought. She hated it when he sounded like a snooty professor. "How would you know? When was the last time you were at a movie?"
"Probably around the same time you were," he snapped.
Oops. She'd hit a nerve there, hadn't she? Maybe movies were something he'd done with his family. She had no sense of what their life had been like, except for the big house on the beach that looked like a vacation fantasy to her. Had they done normal things like the movies? Probably. Did he miss that? How could he not?
She was sorry she'd hit a sore spot. Should she apologize? She had no idea how to do that without it being awkward. Maybe he wanted to talk about it but didn't know how to begin? Sometimes, though she'd rather die than admit it, talking to him about her problems did help.
"Do you think about a normal life? After this is over? Or maybe even if it's not. Just...walk away and start again." She'd tried to tell him, back when they'd met, but she'd known even then it was useless.
"No," he snapped. Then he sighed a little. "It's not in my nature to give up. Even if it were, I'm not sure he would let me walk away at this point."
That was probably true. Red John had killed Bosco's team to get Jane back on the case; who would he kill to lure Jane back if he walked away? One of the team? It didn't bear thinking about.
Jane obviously felt the same, because he promptly changed the subject. "What about you? Ever think about a nice normal life, where you go to dinner and a movie every Friday and never get woken up at 4 am to go to a crime scene?"
Every. Damn. Day. But somehow, she couldn't imagine being anything but a cop. It was her calling, what she was here on this Earth to do. "How boring would that be?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the corner of Jane's mouth tug upward before he lifted the cup to sip. "So it looks like we're stuck."
Aw. It was sweet, in a weird, Jane kind of way, that he liked having her in the same boat with him. Even though the boat might be sinking, and there might be piranhas in the water.
"I guess so," she said, trying to sound put out about it rather than okay with it.
There was no one she'd rather be stuck with, she had to admit.
They sat together without talking until they both finished their drinks. Then Jane held out his hand, and she gave him her cup. To her surprise, after he threw the cups away, he just stood there for a minute, eyes closed, letting the rain sprinkle his face.
He was such a child sometimes, she thought. It was hard to remember that when he was being a jerk, or a pompous ass, or any of the many other things he could be. But moments like this were what she missed when he went off on his own.
He opened his eyes, gave her a little smile that made her heart skip a beat, and strolled back over, not at all bothered that his suit jacket was getting wet. He didn't duck under the umbrella again, instead extracting it from the bench and holding it over her. "Ready?"
"Past ready," she said. "It wasn't my idea to sit in the rain."
"Don't fret, Lisbon. Enjoying nature will come to you in time. You're a fast learner."
And just like that, he was back to being annoying. She elbowed him in the ribs, but not too hard, because although he was trying to get under her skin, he was still holding the umbrella.
She decided to let him hold it over her all the way back rather than getting her own wet again. It was nice to fall into step together, as they had so many times before. It reminded her that her life was still possible, if diminished by her losses. In time, she might even enjoy it again, at least for little moments, like Jane did.
They reached the CBI, and Jane collapsed the big umbrella after they were under the building's overhang. Once inside, he slid it back into the umbrella stand as if it were perfectly normal to steal people's umbrellas. Or borrow, she supposed, since he had returned it.
He met her accusing gaze with a grin, totally unrepentant. Well, she expected nothing less.
It was nice to be back to normal, even for a little while.