Disclaimer for entire piece: I own no rights to The Mentalist (Bruno Heller does) and I'm not getting paid for this story. No copyright infringements intended.
A/N: I'm not all that happy with the other two new stories at the moment so, until the real passion returns, I'm going to play here. We'll see what happens. ~Calla
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Putting my car in park and turning the key in the ignition, I sit back in my seat and stare at the long line of elegant townhouses before me. Jane lives in 4B right over there. I'm sure his Citroen is parked in his garage as it always is. It's certainly not in his parking place in front of his unit. The parking place I didn't take because I don't want him to know I'm coming. Not too many people know he bought this place not all that long after he got out of jail for killing Timothy Carter. It's a very nice complex. Jane has a good eye and the disposable income to indulge it. It doesn't hurt that it's not that far from the office either.
Sliding out of my vehicle, I grab my brief case, shut the door, click the lock, and stride across the parking lot to number 4B purposefully. Rapping firmly on the door in front of me, I wait for my quarry to answer. Yes, I knock. I don't ring the door bell for a reason. Jane knows it's me when I do that because he recognizes the rhythm. Besides, if I did ring that bell, he'd think it is Francesca from 2B testing the waters again and he'd run for the hills. Actually, he'd head for the balcony until she goes away.
It only took one unwanted lip lock for Jane to decide his course of action and he's stuck to it ever since. He's definitely a creature of habit about certain things. Unfortunately, so is Francesca. She tries to worm her way inside his place at least once or twice a month; but, Jane won't let her. It took him an hour and a half to evict her the first time around and he doesn't want a repeat performance.
I should know. I walked in on the whole thing. Well, the tail end of it. The part when Jane said I was his boss and we had a case so she had to go. Arms still wound around his neck, Francesca had protested until I'd subtly shifted my jacket to show my hand cuffs and gun. Blue eyes wide, the platinum haired woman had beaten a path out of there as fast as her four inch heels would carry her. Evidently she'd seen an implied threat in my gesture when I meant no such thing. I was simply preparing to remove my jacket and get more comfortable. Jane and I had a file to discuss.
That had been eight months ago. I haven't stepped foot in his place since though I know Francesca has. I overheard him telling the team of her latest escapade. I haven't been here for several reasons. One of them is that he spent six of those eight months in Vegas running his long con while I was here wondering if he was dead or alive. Actually, going out of mind worrying about him is more accurate. There's no telling the kind of trouble Jane will get into when he's totally off the leash. It didn't help that no one knew what he was up to.
Though I'm not sure Jane knows it, I used the spare emergency key he left at my place to keep an eye on the townhouse in his absence. I cleaned out his refrigerator and watered his plants once I realized he was really gone. That he wasn't coming back any time soon. I hadn't been sure what he was up to when he turned down my offer to drop by his place before he left the CBI that day. I'd just known it wasn't good. I wasn't wrong.
Truthfully, I'd have been back long before now except for Lorelei. We haven't quite worked through that debacle satisfactorily for either of us. Personal feelings aside, it's more than the grief Jane's little indiscretion has caused the case and everyone working it. It's the harpy herself. She's nasty and she puts everyone on edge including Jane. It's been hard to put our personal and professional relationships back together with her smack in the middle of them. My guys hate interviewing the woman, Jane wants to beat the truth out of her, and I long to shoot her every time she calls him "lover" in my presence. Speaking of shooting someone, I'm about to pull my gun and break a door in if circumstances don't change here quickly.
Reaching my hand out to give that door one last pounding, I'm not surprised when it swings open instead.
"Get some clothes on, Jane." Well, that towel around his waist and little else explains the delay.
"I was taking a shower, Lisbon." He rolls his eyes at me as he holds the door open a little wider.
"Get some clothes on, Jane." I roll my eyes right back at him as I breeze by leaving him to throw the deadbolt and hike his towel a little higher. Personally, I'm doing my best to keep my eyes averted. A mostly naked Jane is not what I want to see at the moment. It's certainly not good for my blood pressure.
"Make yourself at home, Lisbon. You know where everything is. I'll be back in a minute." Yes, I know where everything is.
Though no one really knows it, Jane and I have done quite a bit of hanging out over the years. It started out with him sleeping on my couch when he was too frazzled to be alone. As our friendship progressed over time, we began just hanging out. It beats being alone. Who knew Jane likes chick flicks? The ones that make me want to throw up but he can discuss ad nauseum with Van Pelt. Oh, and he squeals like a girl when the bombs go boom in the action movies.
"Hey, Jane, you still have that last movie we watched somewhere around here? The one that made you squeal when the ship blew up." I yell as I poke through the DVDs on the shelf.
"Lisbon, I thought we agreed never to talk about that." It's my turn to jump as I haven't heard him come down the stairs behind me. I should know he'd try to pay me back for that comment. Jane's sneaky that way and he looks really nice in slacks and rolled up shirt sleeves.
"Maybe we did. It's been a long time since that happened." I gently remind him.
"Yeah, it has. Seven months, three weeks, two days, and seven hours give or take twenty-two minutes and so many seconds." Jane says as he meanders into the kitchen.
"I do not want to know how you do that." I say as I follow him.
"I'm not going to tell you. Hungry, Lisbon?" Jane smirks as he pulls two glasses down from his cabinet and reaches for a bottle of wine. If I don't know better, I'd think that's a second bottle of that Beckworth stash worth millions. It so better not be what I think.
"I was saving it for a special occasion." Jane hands me a glass of wine. "I think your first visit since Lorelei qualifies."
"I'd say so." I agree as we clink glasses in that silly cliché. Who am I kidding? I can't beat him so I might as well join him. The bottle's open anyway. It isn't as though it's not already ruined.
"That is why you're here isn't it, Lisbon? Lorelei?" Jane asks as he takes a sip of wine.
"Indirectly. LaRoche was looking for you when you didn't come back to the office this afternoon after visiting the penitentiary. He wants to know if you got anything useful. I told him you'd have come back to the office if you had." I don't need to see that haunted look in Jane's eyes to know I'm right. "Oh, and Minelli wanted me to swing by and update you on our latest case. The one hitting my desk this afternoon while you were nowhere to be found." Taking a sip of my wine, I decide it isn't half bad. It definitely tastes better in a real wine glass than it had at the office in those plastic cups.
As for LaRoche, he's back at the CBI doing goodness only knew what and terrorizing people again. Well, everyone but my team. He seems to leave us pretty much alone in all the bad ways. Strangely enough, he and Jane appear to be getting along particularly well which is a creepy thought. It makes me wonder what my consultant has on him. Or what he has on Jane. Those two resemble a couple of sharks smiling at each other through the open waters every now and then. I really don't want to know.
Minelli is back in his old position sitting where Luther sat. That was totally unexpected. I think Jane had something to do with it. Both with getting him reconsidered for the job and with getting him to accept the offer. Mae might have had something to do with it too. I think Jane had something to do with those two getting together as well. I haven't quite gotten the full story out of Virgil; but I will.
"Hey, Lisbon, are you hungry?" Jane caught my attention as he took the file I'd just removed from my briefcase out of my hand.
"Are you cooking?" I straddled one of the bar stools.
"Not hardly; but, I've got leftover lasagna Francesca left on my front doorstep as a peace offering." I watched Jane pull a monster pan from his refrigerator.
"You'd actually eat something that woman left on your front doorstep?" I can't believe my ears. It may be poisoned. A woman scorned and all that.
"Yeah, Lisbon, I would. It's delicious. Oh, and Francesca has a new boyfriend, Pablo. He moved into 3G two weeks ago. He's quite the looker about ten years younger than her and his Daddy's rich. Franny's pretty happy with her new title from what I can see and she's quite a good cook." Jane said as he stuck the pan in the oven to heat.
"What title is that, Jane?" I'm not sure I really want to know.
"Cougar of the Complex." I can't resist throwing the abandoned oven mitt at him. That isn't even funny.
"Hey, I didn't coin it. Old Lady Hennessey in 4D did." Jane tosses the oven mitt back on the counter.
"You get around entirely too much, Jane." The man is an unrepentant flirt.
"No, Lisbon, I really don't. I go to work and come home exactly as I always have." Jane sits at the bar beside me.
"Except when you stop by the jail to try to verbally beat some truth out of Lorelei." I remind him.
"Yes, Lisbon, except when I do that." Jane agrees.
"What did you really come by to talk about and don't give me some garbage about Virgil and a new case. I saw that file before I left. We'll have the whole thing solved in three days tops. The stepdaughter's boyfriend did it." Jane says as he reaches out to twist a lock of my hair around his finger. He is sitting much too close; but, that isn't anything new. It's classic Jane.
"What do you think?" I ask as I sit perfectly still resisting the urge to yank my hair out of his grip.
"Lorelei and the trouble she's causing all of us." Jane doesn't pretend not to get it. "The good news is we've worked out whatever issues the prosecutors have with my actions in Vegas as we always do. The bad news is the team is still unhappy with me about the whole incident and hurting you. I know that Lisbon. I'll make it up to them. I'll make it up to you. It had to be done." I've heard that argument several times before and I'm not sure I agree with it. I know the team doesn't. Not completely. Not given how little we've gotten from Lorelei.
To be honest, Van Pelt is still disgusted, Rigsby thinks Jane just wanted to get laid, and Cho thinks he should have found another way. Me, I haven't exactly put it behind me either. I'm not sure any of us are right. I'm not sure Jane didn't do what he had to do; but, that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at him for letting me find out that way. Or that I don't feel hurt, betrayed, and angry. We can't keep avoiding the subject. We've got to talk it out some day. Our work is suffering for it and our friendship is all but gone. I miss Jane. I miss what we had. I miss those familiar stupid girlie screams at the most inappropriate moments. And I miss smacking the snot out of him when he tries to steal the last of my popcorn. He can darn well get his own.
"Put it on hold until after dinner, Lisbon. We'll talk then. I promise." Jane pats my hand before he rises to his feet to walk to the cabinet. Taking down a couple of plates and setting them on the countertop, he opens the oven and removes the lasagna. Getting a whiff of the succulent aroma, I decide Jane may be right. It certainly smells like Francesca is a marvelous cook.
"Yeah, Jane, I believe we will." Rising to my feet, I root through the refrigerator for the premade salad Jane always has on hand.
The man must have been a rabbit in another life. Setting the bowl and Ranch Dressing on the counter, I dish up a couple of servings of spring greens and colorful chopped vegetables adding croutons and freshly crumbled bacon. I silently carry the bowls to the table knowing Jane is following with the plates of lasagna. He's already brought our topped off glasses of wine over. With any luck we'll enjoy a pleasant meal and some gentle ribbing before we get down to more serious business.
Sliding into my chair, I wait expectantly for Jane to join me.