So...I know, I know, I've been away for... well, quite a long while. But, bear with me. life happened without me actually wanted it to, and then there was my two bigbangs fics for the Mentalist, that I really wanted to get over with before entering into brand new territory. (it also happened my pc getting a warm somewhere...or a virus... or soem kind of damn viral infection. you get it, right?) Anyway: here I am now. and this one? This story will end, I promise you (Like I promise you I'll eventually end my other Mentalist work.
Disclaimer:Uhm, No, I think I don't own them. I do have my job, though. But I don't think I could make enough money to convince Bruno to sell them to me, so...
note: a Mentalist version of CSI ep "Freaks and Geeks" (12.6). Because it was simply something that had to be done with Jane and the CBI...
There Is Simple Truth About Life: Every Living Female Always Feels The Compulsory Need To Flirt With Patrick Jane. No Matter Their Age.
It's almost four in the morning when Lisbon finally arrives at the crime scene, a small, quite secluded area covered in bright green grass, hidden from sight by few trees, not centuries old oaks but good enough. She knows the place, she realizes as she walks past a police car, a small area outside Sacramento that belongs to the State because it has some kind of flower who happens to be at risk of extinction. Just her luck, few meters, just few meters, and she means literally, and she'd not be here right now, she'd not be here trying to convince her hair to collaborate with her ponytail. She'd be in bed. Preferably, not alone. God, how much she hates her job when it interferes with things heating up and getting interesting…
She manages an half-smile when she spots Jane, waiting for her with his customary appearance (even at four in the morning) and with a cup of tea from Starbuck; her smile gets only bigger, approaching, despite the place, despite the events that brought her there, an honest to God laughter when she sees him grimacing, almost in pain, after just one sip of the hot beverage. Because there's only one thing Jane hates more than coffee, and it's Starbuck tea. She stops at his side, smiling, almost grinning, amused by the situation, but he doesn't say a word. He keeps looking at her, and then at their surroundings and back to her.
"Are you seeing something interesting?" her eyebrows almost reach her hairline, and she looks at him, quizzically. Jane, instead, keeps looking at her, amused, smiling with that grin, with a light in his eyes that says it all. And she can't help but blushes. Damn the man.
"Oh, you know, I was just appreciating the view…" he winks her way, and even if Lisbon though she couldn't get any redder, she does. And he laughs, shaking his head, not in disbelief but in amusement, pinching her cheek . "Oh, Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon… I was talking about the city! I've never seen Sacramento from here. It takes your breath away." He looks at his surroundings, the city, far away from them enough it seems a dream, and a rather pleasant one, even, lights shining bright, small, so small one could believe they were looking at some miniature, one of those village the electric trains used to go through in child games.
"Yeah, well, apparently, it took more of that from someone" she tries to recover, desperately, as she walks towards Cho, but, still, there's a shadow of crimson red on her face. She is flushed. It's not her fault. It's Jane's. Damn the man and his damn innuendos, and the moment her second lies eyes on her, she is gone, back again to bright and deep red. And the damn bastard giggles, actually giggles, like the damn bastard idiot he is. She should have fired him on day one. "Ehy, Cho, what do we got?"
"I just got here myself" he simply answers, indicating with a movement of his head Partridge, kneed on the soil busy taking pictures of something that seems like a carpet rolled, golden hair sticking from one of the extremities. She, though, looks at her second, in silence, eyes wide open, as red as a tomato, like waiting for something to explode. And Jane keeps grinning. "I didn't say anything" he deadpans, and that's when she knows. Oh, God, he knows. She just hopes it's because it's just Cho, and he is as almost observant as Jane himself, otherwise, if Rigsby sees it too, she is so dead… she can almost hear the rumors. No, wait- she does hear them, she knows them too well.
"So… what are we seeing?" she asks Partridge. She is just glad the kid is… well, a science nerd, incapable of seeing past his own eyes when it comes to living and breathing human beings. Jane's right, the kid's a ghoul. Same thing for the brand new coroner. Or medical examiner. Or whoever the guy in the dark blue coverall is.
"The tarp… because that is what it is, a tarp.. is pretty clean. It hasn't been rolled or dragged. I'd say carried, but I didn't find any footprints. That we could us, that it is. Kids pretty much messed up with our crime scene" he lifts his head, and indicates with a movements where, against the hood of a car, some red corvette, Rigsby is talking with a couple of shocked teenagers. The Senior Agent rolls her eyes. This guy is really something. And he keeps pretending he is one of them- an actual agent working in the field taking down criminals and risking his own life, at least, because, in a certain sense, he is one of them. And, once, she even thought he could be good. Until she understood he was just a sick kid getting all exited looking at gruesome murders.
He looks at her, amused, like to say: here I am, am I not a good student? Don't you lean to make me one of your own, ask always for my infallible advice? Lisbon, though, doesn't even dare to vocalize her own thoughts, and stops Jane from vocalizing his own ones (something in the line of what he told the crime scene investigator the first time they met few years prior, probably) making her best "don't you dare" impression and lifting one single finger right before his cerulean eyes - he steps back, one single step, and lifts his hands up in the air, in mock surrender. She sends a look to Partridge once again, silently ordering him to go on.
He doesn't get it, though. "Partridge? Could you…" she waves at the tarp. "Could you unroll it, please? I'd like to give a look at the body." She huffs, exasperated by this child who claims to be an investigator (and claims to be one with the girls, she just knows it. Jane told her so, and Jane… well, Jane is Jane) and, gloves on, she helps him to unroll the white linen, or whatever it is. And that's when she sees it, she sees her.
There's the body of a young woman in the tarp, probably not more than 35, blonde, her eyes closed with a peaceful expression gracing her features, a white tank top and matching shorts, arms crossed, each hand posed, open palmed, against the opposite shoulders, like a pharaoh. But that's what makes Lisbon's blood boil, not what makes her sick. It's the dozens of needles, long, sharp, planted in the woman's body in a way that seems geometric- and it's quite scary, thinking that maybe this could be some kind of ritual, that it could be another serial killer in the making, another serial killer come to life on the streets of California.
It doesn't even make it better having Jane kneeling at her side, sniffing the remains, close, too close, their bodies a whisper away. It's just the man's "Uhm" that makes it better, a bit. Because she knows that "Uhm". It's the "Uhm, I've got an idea" or "Uhm, I think I found something rather important you didn't see". She kinds of love it.
Well, maybe not exactly love, but, anyway…
"Care to share, Jane?"
"I think you'll prefer listen to Mister Medical Examiner. You've always been all about the evidences, after all, so I think you'll prefer hearing what he'll tell you. Me" he stands, and goes to Rigsby, strolling like some happy kid. She just rolls her eyes, her hand going to her gun on its own volition. One of these days, she'll give up to temptation of the murderous kind with the man.
"I'd say we are dealing with an expert here, Agent Lisbon" the young looking man says, bald, though, and a bit uneasy. He seems.. scared of Lisbon, for a second, she wonders what they told him when he joined the office of the medical examiner just few weeks prior. " the needles are thrust through and through, right under the cornified layers of epidermis."
"They are not post-mortem" Cho steps him, kneeling at her side where Jane has previously been. Just, a lot of more centimeters away.
The doctor shakes his head, no, without even bother to look up at Lisbon, he is completely engrossed in the mass of blond hair, taking in her appearance, thinking about who or maybe what she used to be.. "This way, he could minimize the hemorrhaging, while, at the same time, maximize the pain. And making her last."
"It wasn't about killing her. It was about watching her suffer. Slowly" Cho deadpans again.
They both rise, while the Doctor and Partridge stay on the soil busy examining and taking pictures. Lisbon takes a big breath, suddenly taken aback by the brutality, and yes, insanity, of this crime, than faces again Cho. She is no longer red, but… she is still embarrassed. And she hates it. This is the job. They are on the job. They should think about the job, and not her sexual life, or lack of. "All Right. Van Pelt is still at HQ; give her an image from this woman and tell her to cross-reference it with data in the missing person database. Maybe someone is looking for this woman. And Partridge, I want her fingertips ASAP, ok? I'll go having a chat with the kids who found her. That reminds me- we need their fingertips as well. I hope for them they didn't unrolled her, but if they did, I need to know."
She walks to the red corvette, from at least 30 years prior, where Rigsby and Jane are standing, the cop facing the two teenagers- a blonde cheerleader that seems rather oblivious to the facts of life, and a dark haired kid, a nerd more than a quarterback, something that makes her smile a bit – the consultant the girl's side. He grins at her, the damn bastard, and she smiles, hiding herself like a shy baby. Here it is, another female who has fallen head over heels with the handsome devil. "Hey, Lisbon, Antony here was telling me that the kids nowadays call this place the Missile Base." The boy panics, and the girl actually looks at him with murder in her eyes. Apparently, she just decided that somehow her (former) boyfriend told something she didn't want to be said (or even known) out loud. Ever. "Ah, today's youngsters. Too many beers, too little romance, swept away by the passion of the moment, and here they are, girls losing their precious innocence to bad boys. But I do think they have their charm, the bad boys I mean, don't you think, Lisbon? "He does that again, the damn bastard, looking at her with that look that makes her… well, it's not important, because she is on the job now and she has to think about the job, not about… well, naughty Jane. Or whatever or whoever he thinks he is. "Well, it doesn't matter, Lizzie, Simon, you can go."
"What? No! you can't tell them to go! I still need to talk with them! And besides" she hisses, clenching her teeth, her hand, once again, at her hip on its own volition. "I'm the cop!"
He grins, looking at her with that smug face of his. She can almost hear him (really, she must be a psych. Or maybe Jane isn't as good as he thinks he is), on the verge of patting her on the head like she was a brat or a little child crying once again for the last toy in fashion. Something on the line of Hush, young lady, don't lose your time embarrassing yourself or making scenes, it's pointless because I'm right and you'll eventually see it so drop it right now, ok? Yep. She hates him. Well, maybe not really hate, but, well, almost (Does it mean that there is UST between them? Uhm, she doesn't think so, because, to have UST, there need for… No, no, no, she isn't going there. They are on the job).
"Detective Jane, if you or your men will need my help, this is my number… my private cell number". Underage "Lizzie" looks at Jane with those huge eyes of hers, as blue as the consultant's ones, flashing him her most seductive smile (and licking her lips, nevertheless) keeping blinking with those brows of hers… and, when she gives him her number, she even dares to let her hand in his own for longer that it's considered appropriated, Simon forgotten. She probably isn't the nice girl I thought her to be she thinks, as she bites her lips and tries as hard as possible to keep her hands away from her gun. She was probably dating the guy for some kind of bet. She is pissed at this girl, flirting this much with Jane, being all touchy-feely with him, and she is pissed as hell with Jane who's encouraging her. Well, maybe not encouraging, but he is definitely delighted. She just doesn't know if he is delighted because Lizzie is flirting with him or because she is pissed as hell because Lizzie is actually flirting with him.
Damn the man. He is messing with her head. One of these days, she'll kill him.
"Detective Jane… finding this woman…. Has been…. The most terrible experience I ever had in my whole life" Lizzie says, theatrically, an hand on her heart and managing to cry few tears (which makes only Lisbon snort- dating poor Simon has probably been more dramatic for Drama Queen Cheerleader) "may… can I call you if… if something happens? I'm… I'm so scared…. And…"
"Elizabeth Stevens, right? I see you've already met agent Rigsby and our civilian consultant, mister Patrick Jane. Who tell me Rigsby already took your statement, right?" she steps him, faking, as bad as possible, tenderness and gentleness- which shocks and infuriate without limits poor Drama queen cheerleader, a shock that gets bigger the moment Lisbon takes away from Jane the "precious" phone number, her private phone number, nevertheless. "Good. I'll make sure we'll get to you if we'll need your help. Now, in your shoes, I'd call a good shrink. Maybe your high school could help? You've been severely traumatized, after all, you'll need all the help you'll be able to get." But not from Patrick Jane, sweetheart.
Partridge makes a chalk of the corvette, just for precaution, he says, and then the two teenagers leave, quite in a hurry, both embarrassed, and Lizzie infuriated. Lisbon, instead, while they walk out into the night, she looks at the soil under her feet, mortified, while Jane keeps grinning like the smug idiot he is. The damn bastard, he did it on purpose. And know, even Rigsby… she awaits and awaits and awaits. And then, she has to give up. The soil isn't going to open up just for help. It would be too easy. Poor her. What did she do wrong in her life to deserve this? Oh, right. She keeps up with Jane.
"So… ok. Rigsby, I want you to canvass the area. Take few agents with you. The area isn't densely populated, maybe someone saw something. Cho, you are with him. Jane" she says, turning at closed, exasperated eyes towards the man, who keeps grinning (does he own just one facial expression, she wonders?) "we go back to HQ. We should have preliminary results in few hours, we'll go on from there." She pauses, and takes a big breath, almost scared. "You drive"
Her agents nod, and she simply walks away, walking in direction of her living nightmare- Jane's car. She can't believe she has been that… insensate, out of her own freaking mind. Couldn't she drive in her own car, instead of a company one? Oh, wait, right- she let her own car at HQ the previous evening.
"C'mon Lisbon, you know you secretly love my driving skills!" like the perfect gentleman, he opens her the door of the passenger side, and closes it once she is inside. He barely resists the urge to put in place the security belt, because he knows that, as little, fragile and precious as she is, she can't stand admitting it. "Uhm. Let me guess. He had a name like Tony or Mickey, you were… 16? Oh, Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon, what a naughty girl! I think, from the way you looked at put poor Lizzie, that he was a quarterback, bad boy but got away with everything because he was oh so popular and made scores and you, track team superstar, you felt like you were in the shadows, and when he approached you, told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, you took your chance on him. Because you loved being wanted. And because you love bad boys. That's something I know for a fact, so don't try to deny it, my naughty agent."
Now, that they are alone in the security, and solitude, of his car, now that they are driving away, alone, the atmosphere changes, suddenly, and she can allow herself to be… to be something else from Agent Lisbon, something… more. Someone lighter, happier. And yes… a woman who's probably in love. Or, at least, has serious lust issues with her consultant.
"Oh, well, you know the old saying, Jane… it takes two to tango. And last time I checked, I never raped anyone. So if I'm naughty, the other party involved is as bad as me." She languidly looks at him, and suddenly, images of the previous night (more images of the previous night) fill her mind, in the same moment he takes her hand in his own – the right, the one who's always been ring-less. "seriously, though, you should just stop with the innuendos…"
"It's not my fault if you are a little dirty girl with a perverted mind. Because the innuendos are not in the voice of the ones who speak, but in the ears of the ones who hear." He pauses, looking at her with dark eyes. "even if, right now, there are certain kinks I'd like to indulge into with you… I know you are not usually the motel kind of gal, but do you think we could make an exception for once? I'd really love to." His hands leaves her own, and travels, travels, travels, all the way until it reaches the point where, under her jeans, her femininity is pulsating with want and desire. She closes her eyes, her mouth a firm, perfect line. She hates him. She really does. One of these days…
"First, we are on the job, and just few hours ago we said that, when on the job, we'll not allow ourselves to indulge into this kind of cravings. Second. I said we were going back to HQ, and it means we'll go back to HQ. now, move your hand away from me and drive back to the CBI, or I swear to God…"
"…and third, you hate to experience coitus interruptus as much as I do, so I think that for our good we should…"
"Jane…" she hisses his name, and he doesn't know how he can resist her right now. Because anger isn't the only emotion that makes her hiss his name. and having her hissing her name while he moves on top of her, and she is gripping him for the shoulders, marking his back with her own hands, that's such a turn on…
He lifts his hand in fake surrender, and grins, quite amused by the power he has on her. It's not only about the job any longer. It's something more, something more than, maybe, what she actually dares to name, to define, more than mere trust, or maybe it is trust, utter, complete and unconditioned. He doesn't know if she is aware yet, but it looks like they are in love, he knows it, actually. And he is planning to make her admit at loud (at least to him) as soon as possible. Because he isn't ashamed of the feelings who have blossomed for her, and he wants, and needs, to make her know it's real, for real, the real deal.
Because it's forever. And he needs for Lisbon to know it. Because she is his, and nobody's else. He needs for her to know it. And he needs the world to know it. She is his. His alone.
Reviews, pretty please with Cherry on top? And I'll be good, I'll try to update as soon as possible!