Title: A Change of Plan
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with The Mentalist.
Author's Note: This was meant to be a one-shot but ideas keep coming, so I guess I'll see where it takes me. This is dedicated to all the people who took the time to review my first fic, Wanted. I hope it is a worthy thank-you!
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Chapter One: Just When You Thought It Was Safe...
Teresa Lisbon pulled her office door closed behind her and closed her eyes briefly against the headache that had formed during the lengthy and useless interrogation of Lorelei. She'd finally decided to let Cho field the smirks and innuendos for a while; he was seemingly impervious, and they weren't aimed at him anyway.
"Dammit, Jane," she muttered, casting an angry glance at the couch. Then she blinked, startled by the fact that the actual man was lying there instead of the mental image she had scolded and pleaded with off and on for six long months. She raised her voice. "What the hell was that?"
He opened his eyes and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then raised himself into a sitting position.
"And don't you dare lie to me," she snarled, interpreting his silence as a search for alternatives to the truth, whatever that might be. "You are supposed to tell me about any relationship you have with the suspect before we interrogate her. If you still worked for me I would kick your ass." She paused, her anger growing as she looked at him. The hurt and frustration of the last six months came back with startling clarity as she stalked over to stand in front of her desk. "In fact, I don't think I should let that stop me!"
"No," he mused, "you probably shouldn't. But hear me out first."
"Right." She folded her arms and leaned against her desk, still glaring. It felt good; he hadn't stayed in the church long enough for her to feel like she had gotten her say, and there hadn't been any opportunity while they were trying to trap Red John. Dammit, after six months she deserved a rant, didn't she?
He got up and started to pace, which took her aback. His nervous energy was a bad sign, reminding her of how tense he'd been during that unexpected hug, how his heart had raced, alerting her that it was more than just a way to confirm she was wearing her vest. His showing emotion was never a good sign. "I should have told you, yes. But we have bigger problems. I think I see what's really going on here, but I haven't had time to finish working it out, so this won't be the finely detailed, impeccable reasoning you've come to expect from me."
He glanced at her to see if she would take exception to his characterization, but she merely continued to glare at him. He rubbed at his face; his head probably still hurt after his latest beating, she realized, then wondered if he was doing that to elicit sympathy. It wasn't going to work, she promised herself.
"We have Lorelei because Red John planned for us to," he said. "He's never sloppy, and using Wainwright as his stand-in only makes sense if we were meant to discover it."
He paused, glancing at her again to see if she was following his logic. She frowned. "Okay," she said slowly. "If his plan was to snatch you, he wouldn't have had Lorelei stay so long where we knew you were."
"Exactly. So, he means for us to interrogate Lorelei. Why?"
"To give us false information? Throw us off the trail?"
"Why throw us off? We aren't on the trail," he said in frustration. "No, it's something more insidious." He paced a few more steps. "He told me he found out about the con when the FBI did. That means he had some time, but not much, to implement an alternative plan. So it's not something overly elaborate, which means it's also not something I might ordinarily have been looking for."
Her headache was beginning to fade as she concentrated on what he was saying. "So what's the goal of this alternative plan? He knows he can't turn you now."
"To punish me for rejecting him," he said flatly. "Lorelei is here to wreck any chance I have to returning to my real life, the one I chose instead of what he offered."
"First of all," she pointed out, "your chances of coming back to work here are slim to none, given the charges against you in Nevada, where, I remind you, the CBI has no jurisdiction."
"Meh. I've beaten worse raps."
"Second, I fail to see how Lorelei could achieve any such thing. Your sex life"—now there was a phrase she hadn't ever envisioned saying to him—"isn't a factor in this case, as long as I don't make the mistake of letting you back into the room with her."
He grinned at her and sat back down on the couch, apparently having finished the agitating part of this conversation, at least from his point of view. "Ah, Lisbon. You're not seeing the big picture. You've pointed out the obstacles between me and my job here, but you haven't given much thought to how they might be overcome."
"A ridiculous amount of paperwork that only extreme groveling on your part would tempt me to do," she retorted.
"Extreme groveling and the confidence that I'm still the person you thought I was. Six months is a long time, and any idiot could figure out that you're angry and hurt, and probably questioning what you thought you knew about me. Red John is not an idiot, and he's taking the opportunity to exploit the doubt I inadvertently put in your mind. Through Lorelei. Because that part of the con isn't something you've seen before, and I made the mistake of not warning you about it before she blindsided you. For which I am genuinely sorry."
"You should be," she said, but her tone was softening despite her resolve not to let him off the hook with a mere apology.
"As for the groveling," he mused, "and the charges, that can all be avoided once I produce the undercover operation paperwork that Wainwright signed off on."
"He did no such thing!"
"Well, he's not here to point that out, is he?"
Her headache returned with a vengeance, and she rubbed at her forehead and let out a long sigh. "You know what? For once I do not want to know." Aagh, the easy way was wrong but so tempting, she thought. "But I am not giving you back pay no matter what paperwork you forge!"
"Fair enough. But you see my original point: the best way Red John can keep me from getting my life back is to turn you against me. It would particularly appeal to him since he made you a condition of the life he offered me, and I chose you over him. He knows the only way he could ever turn me is if you weren't here."
"Then why doesn't he just kill me?" she asked, finally voicing a question she knew they had both thought about over the years.
"Because that ends the game, and that's not what he wants. He's not through with me yet."
"How does that end the game?" she asked, surprised. "I always thought it would just give you one more reason to get him."
He gave a rueful smile, shaking his head. "No, Lisbon. He took my family away from me once; I don't have enough in me to go through that again. I'd be dead or insane or both, but either way the game is over. He wins, but he doesn't get to play anymore." He hunched over, leaning his elbows on his knees, and looked at his clasped hands. "Even if by some miracle I survived intact, nobody in the CBI would ever want anything to do with me again. Nor any other law enforcement agency, I suspect. I'd have very little chance to present a serious challenge to him, even if I were still able to care about doing so."
She let her anger slide out of her in a long sigh and went to sit beside him on the couch. "Okay. So he sent Lorelei to play mind games with me and convince me to kick your ass to the curb. Which wouldn't surprise anybody, since you more than deserve it. But you know I'm not actually going to do it, so what's your stupid plan?"
His smile took her breath away. "Lisbon, you are my secret weapon. Red John can't even envision a person as thoroughly good, as unselfish, as you are. He thinks you're like the rest of us mere mortals, driven by anger or greed or jealousy."
"Don't flatter yourself," she snorted.
"Lisbon, it's not like you to be so unobservant. Vegas is full of beautiful women of all shapes and sizes, but who does he send to lure me into his plan? An intense little brunette who happens to use your shampoo."
She blinked at him, not sure she'd heard correctly. "Shampoo?" she echoed, puzzled.
"Yes. All designed originally to make it easier for me to trust her, subconsciously. And now tailor made to offend you."
Her expression twisted in disgust. "He knows how I smell?"
"Apparently. I double-checked just now to make sure I was remembering correctly."
Okay, she thought, that explained his perplexing exit from the interrogation room. But oh God, she was totally creeped out now. She vowed to throw away her shampoo when she got home and try something new. Preferably something with a downright obnoxious scent.
Jane glanced at her, but he apparently decided he'd made his point. "We don't have much time," he said. "We need to appear to be having a serious fight, not calmly discussing our options."
"So I take it you want him to think he's succeeding."
"Yes. If he thinks Lorelei is having the desired effect, he'll let her live, at least for a while. It will give you time to break her. Try turning the con back on her, Lisbon. Red John must have told her about you when he was giving her instructions. I wouldn't be surprised if she is a little jealous of you. You can use that."
"Okay." This was not going to be fun, she thought.
Jane was giving her that look she hated, the one that said he didn't think she could handle everything and was choosing which pieces to leave out. Well hell, she thought, if she was supposed to be hating him, she might as well relieve some of her frustrations.
Her punch to his upper arm actually shifted him over a bit, and his yelp of pain was genuine—and obviously loud enough to be heard in the bullpen, where they heard scattered applause. Jane's expression went from wounded to amused—he always loved an audience. "Nicely done," he murmured, "but would you like to tell me what that was for?"
"You deserved it," she retorted. "The whole truth, Jane, and I mean it. So help me, if you start hiding things from me because you're afraid Red John's stupid plan will actually work, I will beat you black and blue. And then I'll let the team line up for their turns."
His grin only lasted a moment, possibly fleeing the idea of Cho taking a serious swing at him. "I hope it won't come to that. I was just going to point out that he's drawn the wrong conclusions about your motivations, but for the plan to work you'll need to validate them."
"Great. So what are my motivations?"
"Since he can't grasp that you're driven by a sense of justice and compassion, he obviously thinks you're in love with me."
"God, and I thought my life couldn't get worse," she groaned.
He grinned. "Right. Although," he added, sobering, "I'd be very unhappy if I thought I were causing you that particular pain."
"You have nothing to worry about," she said firmly, making sure to hold eye contact.
"Good." He kept his scrutinizing look short, leaning back onto the couch in a deceptively relaxed posture that she knew was designed to make her feel less uncomfortable. "So he's expecting an element of possessiveness in your reaction. Romantic love is the easiest to transform into hate, after all. And that's what he's trying to do here. So keep in mind that you're supposed to be heroically restraining yourself from scratching Lorelei's eyes out."
"I think I can manage that."
"So that's the essence of the plan, Lisbon: just be furious with me, and don't pull your punches. Have me tossed out, make whatever threats you like. It'll be cathartic. Have some fun with it."
"And then what?"
"And then I'm going to pester you relentlessly, wanting back in to interrogate Lorelei. I'll wheedle and beg and try every angle I can think of, no matter how nasty you are to me. You should pretend to misinterpret my desperation as obsession with Lorelei."
"And what's the point of all this, besides keeping Lorelei alive a little longer?"
"When Red John decides to move to the next part of his plan, it'll be based on false assumptions. He'll think I'm isolated and vulnerable. He'll think there's nobody coming to my rescue this time. And as long as everything seems to be going his way, he won't be thinking up something worse to do." He frowned. "Although there must be something else coming. Lorelei's taunts alone wouldn't be enough to make you give up on me after all these years."
"I'll never give up on you," she promised softly, glancing at him to make sure he saw she was telling the truth. "No matter what."
He smiled at her. "I know. You have no idea what a gift that is. I don't think I'd be able to take the risk of playing this out if I thought it had a chance of succeeding." He tilted his head slightly and asked, "Out of curiosity, is there anything I could do that you'd find unforgivable?"
"Dying," she replied impulsively. Then she cleared her throat, looking away. "Although I'm sure I could make a longer list if I had time to think about it."
"You do that."
They looked at each other for a moment, aware that time was running out. They'd been too quiet for too long already. Neither had expected this reunion to be so short, with no time to relax or rebuild.
"If you disappear again, I will hunt you down this time and hurt you, I swear to God," she said fiercely.
"I'll fill up your voicemail on a regular basis," he promised. He reached for her hand and looked soberly at her. "Trust what you know, Lisbon. You know me. Don't doubt that. No matter what."
"I won't."
He gave her hand a squeeze and stood, drawing her up with him. "And if you could avoid hitting me in the nose or the ribs, I'd appreciate it."
"Isn't a slap the traditional weapon of a jealous woman?"
"Only if she hasn't been trained to take down criminals twice her size."
"Short jokes. Thanks for helping put me in the right frame of mind," she said wryly. "It's too bad Cho's in with Lorelei; I think he'd like throwing you out of the building."
"Literally, no doubt. Whose day are you going to make, Rigsby's or Van Pelt's?"
"Rigsby's. I'm afraid Van Pelt might really hurt you," she said.
"Ah. Well, comforting to know that's not on the agenda today. I still have enough bruises that you can probably just poke me to make me yell." He sounded hopeful.
She considered her next move just long enough to make him look nervous, then took a swing at him in earnest, pulling her punch at the last second when he was already wincing. She probably wouldn't even bruise him, but the yelp he let out was both satisfying and guilt-inducing. Grabbing his arm, she threw her office door open, noting with grim amusement the way people suddenly scrambled to look busy, and shoved him out into the hallway ahead of her.
"That's it!" she shouted. "I've had it, Jane. Get out!"
"Lisbon," he said in his most condescending tone, "you're being childish—ow!"
That punch had been for real, and he rubbed at his shoulder with a real wince. Lisbon shouted, "Rigsby!"
"Yes, boss?" Rigsby said, springing from his chair as if ejected.
"Escort this sorry excuse for an ex-consultant out of the building. And make sure security knows not to let him back in, no matter what he says or does."
"Sure, boss," Rigsby responded. He reached for Jane's arm to escort him, but Jane skipped out of his reach.
"Lisbon, really," Jane protested. "Don't you think this is an overreaction?"
"It's an under-reaction. Get out of here. Now!" Lisbon growled. Then she stalked back into her office, pulling the door closed hard enough to make the blinds vibrate.
Rigsby gave Jane a push toward the elevators, not gently but not hard enough to knock him off balance. "Stop digging, man," he muttered.
"All right, fine. Call me when you get stuck on a case," Jane called after Lisbon. Then he walked toward the elevators as if leaving had been his idea, Rigsby taking two long strides to catch up.