Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. The Mentalist does not belong to me, nor do any of the characters in this story.
Red Faces
There is an art to appearing blissfully oblivious while observing every movement, passing glance, telltale gesture. It was an art Patrick Jane perfected while lying on his worn brown leather couch, reading a novel. Admittedly, the novel's storyline was weak, but he wasn't paying much attention anyway. Things in the office were far more interesting.
The mystery he was reading had been fairly simple to solve—by page 19. Now pages 141-147 consisted of surreptitiously watching Rigsby watch Van Pelt. By page 147, Van Pelt, who was pretending to be engrossed in her work, finally decided to give the tall agent a glare… make that a loving glare… Pages 149-150 consisted of Cho typing—no doubt an email to Rigsby, telling him to cool it… no, to take it elsewhere. Page 156… Page 156—Enter Teresa Lisbon.
Turning another page in the book, Jane pretended to not care, all the while taking in the details. She was wearing a face of bemusement, with a touch of annoyance. Her quick glance at Van Pelt and Rigsby was telling. In her hand… Now, how could he have missed that?!
Slamming the book closed, the consultant jumped off the couch, putting himself between Lisbon and her two agents.
"Let me do it," he said with a lopsided grin, winking at her.
She rolled her eyes and made a half-hearted attempt to get by him. She still wondered at his uncanny ability to decipher what was going on, but as curious as she was about his methods, she feigned indifference, shrugging her shoulders.
"You know it'll be better this way," he said, blocking her.
"Oh fine, do it your way," Lisbon acquiesced, shoving the contents of her hand into his vest clad chest.
He gave her a hurt look, causing her to shrug her shoulders as if to say, 'I'm giving you your way. Don't push it.'
This caused Jane to grin once more, and he slipped what she had given him into the breast pocket of his suit jacket before he turned to face the others. "Everyone, could I please have your attention?" His voice rang with the timbres of a master showman.
Cho looked up from his computer, and although his blank mien said nothing, Jane could tell he was interested. His reaction time was far too quick.
Van Pelt, struggling to be a professional, had slowly turned in his direction, forsaking her clandestine appraisal of Rigsby to give the consultant her attention. Jane noted with amusement that she seemed slightly annoyed by his interruption.
Rigsby was slightly slower; perhaps because he was so engrossed in examining every nuance of a certain red-headed agent without his coworkers noticing, albeit unsuccessfully.
Pausing as if to think—or to let his silence build anticipation, Jane finally said, "Grace, could you let me borrow the Bible you keep in the upper right hand drawer of your desk?"
He saw the look cross her face, 'What for?' It was quickly replaced by the 'Who knows, he does this sorta thing all the time. Better just to go with it,' expression, followed by a retrieval of the Bible and it being placed in his hands.
"Cho, can you please come here for a moment?" he next asked, a look of delight settling on his face.
Jane, impressed that Cho didn't even blink, showed the agent where he wanted him to stand.
"Now, Teresa, could you stand about four feet to Cho's left and face me? That would be my right. Right there. That'll do nicely."
She shook her head at his antics, but he could tell from her smiling eyes that she was slightly amused.
"Wayne, don't look so nervous. Just come and stand beside Cho."
Looking utterly confused, Rigsby stood up and tentatively took his place beside his fellow agent.
"Now come a smidge closer to me. Yes, that's lovely. Very nice. Thank you."
Now, standing in front of them, he opened the Bible and began looking for a scripture. Still keeping his head down, he peered out over the pages at them. "Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. Grace." Crooking two fingers at her, he motioned her to come forward. He gestured to a spot on the floor beside Rigsby, and Van Pelt hesitantly took it.
Jane watched with half a grin as they looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Then as they realized they were looking at each other at the same time, both agents snapped face forward.
He glanced at Lisbon, who looked at him as if he were crazy, now that she had figured out his stunt. His impish grin grew considerably.
But it was Cho's forever frozen expression that caused him to beam.
"Dearly beloved seems too cliché, don't you think?" he said, holding up the Bible with one hand. "How about we just skip to the good part?"
Van Pelt and Rigsby were giving each other incredulous glances. Jane decided to move quickly before they could get over the shock. He handed the Bible to Cho, who took it without batting an eyelash. Reaching into his pocket, he produced the two ring boxes Lisbon had unceremoniously given to him earlier.
"Do you?" he asked Rigsby, moving in close to watch his reaction.
"Erhm, uh, I mean… Uh?"
"To have to hold, richer or poorer, sickness and health, till death do you part…" the consultant rattled off rapidly, trying to clue poor, confused Rigby in on what was going on.
"Um… er… hmm… erhm…" Jane leaned forward, as if to scrutinize the incomprehensible syllabic language coming from Rigsby's mouth.
"That means, 'Yes, I'm madly in love with her and while this is massively uncomfortable, I really do wish Jane was a justice of the peace… so and so forth—there were a few things about how beautiful you are, Van Pelt," Jane translated, looking at the young woman, who was blushing furiously. "But ultimately, I do." This caused her to turn a deeper shade of pink.
She stared—first at Rigsby, then at the mischievous blond in front of her.
"Your turn," he said with a grin.
"I um…"
"Sure you do. We understand." Patrick said, cutting her off and waving and hand of dismissal at her look of protest. "But you're more of an ordained minister kinda girl, not a justice of the peace. Keep that in mind, Wayne," he added as an afterthought. "Here." He thrust the ring boxes in their unsuspected hands.
They opened them almost tentatively, both sneaking questioning glances at their boss.
"May I present Mr. and Mrs. Wayne Rigsby… Oh do exchange rings. It completes the effect. Don't ruin my first wedding service."
Trying to suppress her laughter at the confused and guilty looks on her agents' faces, Lisbon decided to explain. "Undercover, people. It's an undercover." She rolled her eyes in the direction of her theatrical consultant.
Both Van Pelt and Rigsby let out sighs of relief.
"You forgot to kiss the bride," Cho interjected—inflection flat, no smile.
Jane pointed at him, "My man."