Title: he always gets what he wants
Disclaimer: No.
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2: Payback (Pt. 1)
Monday
The rest of the weekend had been relatively boring in Van Pelt's honest opinion. Lisbon had wanted her researching their victim's (a local man, Adam Greene, who had drowned to death) background information and finances. Though nothing had immediately sent up a yellow flag of caution, she was optimistic.
(Usually, she wanted more field time, but Jane was always in the field, and in her opinion, the less contact they had after his bizarre brain malfunction, the better.)
So, once again came Monday, and with a warm cup of coffee-cart-bought coffee in her hands, she entered the bullpen with a bright smile on her face, ready to start the day.
"Good morning, Grace." Jane greeted from his leather couch, and she glanced at him before she focused on anything else. (Jane became a slightly scary individual if you ignored him.) "You look cheerful for such a dreary Monday morning."
It had been slightly sprinkling earlier, but nothing…and she meant nothing would ruin her good mood (even if Jane's early arrival was really out of character and made her somewhat weary of what he had done while she wasn't at her desk).
"I also see you've bought a coffee from the coffee cart." She nodded, and took an idle sip. "Hoping to avoid the gruesome threesome, I suppose?"
"Gossiping and coffee don't go together too well."
Not only that, but she wanted to avoid the three women in case Jane had let slip about him wanting to…date her. The last thing she wanted was to become the next gossip icon for the CBI.
Jane chuckled. "I think you might find them off elsewhere, this morning." She tilted her head slightly. "Agent Lisbon came in and frightened them off. Quite comical, if you ask me."
Van Pelt paled. "The boss is here?"
"She's been here all night." Jane replied. "Something she's been doing more often lately. I'd go visit her, but her blinds are drawn…and I very much value my life."
Or, though she didn't say it out loud, he was fearful of dealing with his ex-wife and her "anger issues" at eight in the morning.
"Did you give any thought to my serious question that I asked you about the other day?" He continued.
She blinked. He was serious? She hadn't even taken it (or him) as being serious. "No, I didn't. I've been hard at work."
"Maybe you should?" He offered brightly, and she grimaced again; her answer, whether his question (in her mind then) had been serious or not, was still no. "I always get what I want, Grace." He paused to offer her a flirtatious smile. "And, I want you."
His words, for some reason, made her shiver. Jane, without a flashlight (or even without being ignored) was still a scary person.
"Van Pelt!"
Lisbon's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced from Jane to find her boss standing in the doorway of her small office.
"Coming, boss!" Van Pelt quickly glanced back at Jane, who merely grinned while he settled back onto his couch to do whatever he usually did on said couch.
"We'll talk later, Grace. I'm sure."
Yeah, it wasn't as if they hadn't anything to discuss, she thought as she turned to head toward Lisbon's office to start her day.
Thirty minutes later, Van Pelt found herself back in the buzzing bullpen. Lisbon hadn't exactly wanted much, besides an update on all the background searches she had done. With a quick sweep of her co-workers, she noticed that Jane was stretched out on the couch (though she couldn't tell if his eyes were closed or not) and Cho plus Rigsby (who had both apparently come into the office while she was with the boss) were already settled in for the day at their respective desks.
She didn't feel comfortable enough to head back to her desk without Jane saying anything about his question, but if she remained in front of Lisbon's office, the woman would surely say something about it, and Lisbon (like Jane feared) was in a bad mood. Van Pelt pulled out her desk chair and then stared down at her desk in mute surprise.
Somebody (most likely Jane) had left a single pink rose on her desk. She merely lifted it and hurriedly stuffed it inside one of her desk drawers, before anyone (Rigsby or Lisbon, as she doubted Cho would say a word about the romance soap opera going on behind closed doors) could say a word. Seriously though, if he was going to continue to make her say yes, he had to be losing it! She didn't care how many flowers he'd send her—her answer was always going to be no, and she planned to tell him that later.
However, that plan didn't exactly work out as well as she thought.
Lisbon had wanted Jane with her all day while she was questioning suspects, and the two of them probably weren't going to be back till later. So, while Cho and Rigsby had gone out to lunch, and the bullpen was almost empty, she pulled out the rose again.
"He's an idiot if he thinks I'm going to agree to this." She muttered darkly as she examined the thorn-less flower.
The colors of roses, she knew, had many different meanings; a quick Google search on her iPhone, as Lisbon probably monitored their computer site visits, yielded plenty of information—a pink rose meant appreciation, "thank you", Grace (she rolled her eyes), perfect happiness, admiration, gentleness, and "please believe me".
She rolled her eyes again.
Jane was absolutely insane! Flowers only held so much meaning, and if he really thought a single rose involving the message "please believe me" was going to change her mind…well, Lisbon clearly needed the flower more than her.
Normally, Van Pelt wouldn't dare step into the boss's office unless the woman was in there, but drastic times called for drastic measures.
She was going to slip the rose into Lisbon's office.
(Hopefully, once Lisbon saw it, she'd take Jane back, and he'd say yes. So really, she reasoned, the outcome of a happily ever after outweighed the various risks.)
X.X.X
"…Williams didn't do it, Lisbon." Jane cried as she glanced up from her computer and over her shoulder to glance at the both of them. "She's a…"
"Rather harmless annoyance?" Lisbon asked. "You can't base how innocent our suspects are based on how harmless they are."
"Says who?"
Van Pelt went back to her computer screen—she had learned from past happenings that it was best to let them argue without getting in the middle.
"Me?" Lisbon gave. "The law…"
"Meh, the rules are biased. She didn't do it, and you just want an open-and-shut case."
Lisbon grew silent. "No, Jane. I just want a person brought to justice. Forgive me for wanting to do so."
"You're forgiven." He cheekily replied, and Lisbon huffed. "Now, my job is done. I want tea and my couch."
"Your job isn't done until we catch the murderer, Jane."
"Until you catch the murderer." Jane returned. "I just point fingers; guilty is guilty, unless proven innocent."
She glanced over her shoulder at him again. "The saying is innocent till proven guilty."
He grinned. "To you, maybe…but to me, it's guilt before innocence." Lisbon, Van Pelt noticed, started toward her office, and she held her breath in hopes that the two would have some type of an A-HA moment. Jane continued to prattle on about the latest suspect (Brittany Williams), who was innocent due to her liking of tea.
"People who like tea can't be murders, Van Pelt." Jane informed, and she raised her eyebrow. "I don't count, as I was never convicted."
He had a point; no jury (even if the judge had put together the best jury in the state of California, which he had tried) could or would convict Patrick Jane.
She frowned. "I never said you were a murderer."
"Ah, but you thought it."
She opened her mouth to respond, when Lisbon's door shot open.
"Jane!" The boss hissed, and Jane glanced in her direction. "My office, now!"
"I haven't done anything worth lecturing yet, Lisbon!"
"Get your ass in my office, right now!"
Jane crept along, and Van Pelt felt guilty. She had probably pretty much just sentenced Jane to his death.
Cho glanced at her. "What'd he do?"
She shrugged, and Rigsby shook his head. "I'd hate to be Jane right now."
The three co-workers grew silent, and she continued to glance at the drawn blinds of the boss's office.
"Make up your mind." Cho commented. "One moment you want to be Jane, the next you don't."
"It's really difficult to decide, okay?"
"No, it isn't." Rigsby continued to defend himself to Cho, who wasn't having it. Any other day, she would have been trying to disguise her amusement at the easy-go relationship, but Lisbon's office was rather silent. The silence, in her opinion, was much scarier than the boss actually screaming at Jane.
"You don't think Jane's in danger, do you?" She asked, and both Cho and Rigsby glanced at her.
"From Lisbon or himself?" Rigsby questioned, with a soft chuckle.
"It's really quiet in her office."
Rigsby waved it off. "Jane's probably asking for forgiveness." Van Pelt doubted that, and she opened her mouth to tell him otherwise when Jane stepped from Lisbon's office, with an odd look on his face. "See, Grace? He's in one piece."
The more she stared at Jane, the more she doubted that—the man looked as if he had been sent through the wringer more than once.
"Grace," Jane addressed her, and she nodded cautiously. "Do you think you can make me a cup of tea?" He sounded confused, and somewhat lost.
"Sure, Jane."
She stood from her desk and left the bullpen, Jane traveling close behind her. She almost wanted to make an excuse at the last minute, but as they entered the kitchenette and he didn't immediately say anything, she felt relieved. She fluttered around the kitchen (with a light skip in her step) and had the tea kettle on the open flame before he addressed her.
"That was a bitchy thing to do, Grace."
She turned toward him. "You're the one who said I should become more of a bitch." Years ago, of course—but the time didn't matter.
Jane chuckled. "Of all the times to become bitchy." He shook his head. "She found the rose, which I assume you snuck into her office?"
Van Pelt felt her cheeks grow hot. "Why didn't you tell Lisbon?"
"Leverage." He smiled, with a shrug. "Lisbon had already made up her mind, and now I'm completely free to date whomever I want."
"I thought you two were already divorced."
"In all but name, we were." He answered. "Today, she handed me the papers."
She was absolutely mortified. She was the reason for the rush in the divorce proceedings; Jane probably hated her, and he had a good reason to do so. However, the man must have sensed her thoughts, for he shook his head.
"You shouldn't blame yourself, Grace. You were only trying to be a good and helpful friend. You had no idea that Lisbon—in her mind, at least—has already moved on."
Jane wanted to move on because Lisbon had? The logic behind his sudden question was becoming more and more logical. It didn't mean she was going to say yes though.
"I'm sorry, Jane." The tea kettle whistled, and Jane hummed.
"It's really all right. I'm sure she'll be happier with her multi-billionaire boyfriend." She knew only one multi-billionaire who had an interest in Lisbon.
"Mashburn? Lisbon's dating Mashburn?" Jane didn't say anything in response to her exclamation. "If you're nodding, I can't see it."
"Yes, she is." Jane replied.
"Why would she date him?" This entire dating thing was confusing, and she wondered how the gossipers never got their share of headaches.
"You surely can't be that blind, Van Pelt." She didn't reply, but she frowned—why did everybody assume she was blind? "Our lovely Agent Lisbon had a little affair with Walter three years ago."
Van Pelt couldn't even begin to wrap her head around that one—not the affair, but the idea of Mashburn and Lisbon together (although, in the multi-billionaire's defense, she didn't see Jane and Lisbon together at first either).
"You really didn't notice, did you?"
"Forgive me for having other things to focus on." She sniped back in return. Jane grew quiet as she set his tea cup down in front of him. "Do your own dishes."
"I was insensitive; forgive me." Jane replied. "If it makes you feel any better, Cho and Rigsby have no idea."
"About your divorce or Lisbon's affair?"
"Cho knows about the divorce; he's been letting me stay in his apartment. Rigsby has no idea, although…it won't stay that way for long. As for the affair, all so many years ago, I doubt anybody knows." She didn't say anything, as he sipped at his tea. "I don't think I need to tell you this, Grace…but you owe me."
"I owe you?" Her voice grew in volume. "I owe you? How do I owe you?"
"You got me into trouble, and I want my payback." Jane apparently thought his methods were going to cause her to fall at his feet. They weren't. His methods were only making her angry.
"You put that rose on my desk in the first place!"
"Did you get the message?" He interrupted her building rant.
"I got it, loud and clear, Jane! It's not happening."
He grinned. "Oh, it will." He took another sip of his tea. "You owe me, and by Friday, you'll be mine. No worries."
If this had anybody but Jane, she would have taken the off-handed remark as harassment. It angered her that the man just assumed she owed him (even if she sort of did—if Lisbon found out the rose had been her fault, the desk would become a permanent fixture in her professional life).
"You're absolutely insane!" She declared, and he shrugged in response.
"Aren't we all just a little insane?"
His wide, swallow-you-whole smile made her wonder if this would be a good week to take some of those built up vacation days. Lisbon would understand her need for a sudden vacation—but what if he followed her? She eyed him warily. When Jane had something he wanted, he was damn near scary about it! And the last thing she wanted was to find the man camped out in the back of her car, waiting until they were miles out from Sacramento before he popped out at her.
On second thought, time off was an extremely bad idea!
"I'm going back to work now." She turned on her heels to leave the kitchenette when his voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Just keep this in mind, Grace." She didn't turn back around to face him. "Payback is a bitch, and you are merely its mistress."
In his world, she didn't doubt that.
Tuesday
Thankfully, Tuesday morning was much better—even if she had wanted to call in sick the night before. The bullpen was mostly empty, and she discreetly glanced at the couch (which was thankfully empty) and at the top of her desk, which held nothing out of place.
Van Pelt doubted Jane was going to actually listen to her, which meant secret-admirer-Jane would continue to leave her little trinkets of bribery. Carefully, she slipped off her handcuffs and gun before she opened the drawer where she usually kept her tools of the trade (when she wasn't out on the field).
To her surprise, the drawer had something inside besides the usual junk. A black, rectangular box, much like the one Jane had given the boss and herself (although it had been white) after hitting it big time at the casino. She lifted it from the drawer and glanced around; nobody was paying her any attention (and none of the unit was around, except for Lisbon, who was probably in her office). She placed the box on her desk, placing her fingers at the front of the box and opening the lid to find a gorgeous, sapphire tear drop pendant gleaming back at her against a background of black velvet.
Where in the world did he get the money? She wondered. The CBI wasn't exactly handing out money trees to its employees, and unless Jane won the lottery, hit up a casino, or robbed a bank (which they'd all know about—Lisbon would tear the man limb from limb for illegally using his skills to gamble or commit any type of non-boss-sanctioned crime), she doubted he had that much money on him.
It was beautiful, she decided with a frown, but she couldn't keep it. It'd give the man hope, and the last thing she wanted him believing was that he had a chance of her agreeing to this entire plan.
"Is that from the person who left a rose on your desk yesterday?" Rigsby asked, and she quickly closed the lid to the box.
"No." she lied. "Why would you ask that?" She spun to face him in her chair, and he shrugged.
"Jane said you had a secret admirer, and I thought he was pulling my leg…but I guess he wasn't." Van Pelt groaned silently; for a unit that didn't discuss personal issues within the team, why did everyone seem so nosy?
"Whether I have one or don't have one is none of your business." She answered; Rigsby could be just as intuitive to her as Jane was to Lisbon. She added this to yet another reason why she would never say yes to Jane. "Wayne." She continued with a sigh. "I have no feelings for whoever keeps giving me these gifts." She opened her top drawer again and hastily deposited the box inside. "It's nice, really. But no."
Rigsby smiled in satisfaction before he started to his desk, and she fumed.
Why did her entire career have to be marked by guys who had damned agendas? Dan Hollenbeck had wanted to kill Jane, Craig had been Red John's mole, and Jane wanted to use her to leverage himself back into Lisbon's life.
Some days really weren't worth the trouble of working at the CBI, she ultimately decided as she slipped the necklace box into Jane's couch.
She knew he'd find it eventually, anyway.
Wednesday
"You just keep slipping your secret admirer gifts into my life, Grace." Jane sat the box down in front of her as they both remained in the kitchenette. He sat down across from her, and she shook her head with a cup of coffee in her hands.
"I don't want that."
"Of course you do." He replied. "You're afraid of what Lisbon, or the team or even I might think if you took it."
"Once again," she reminded him, "I don't want it. You can have it."
He frowned. "This doesn't go very well with what I wear, Grace." She merely glanced at him; she wasn't in the best of moods. Lisbon had dumped a whole load of paperwork on her from the previous days, and Jane's mightier-than-you behavior was getting on her nerves. "I think it would look nice on you. Care to try it on?"
His coy smile only served to tell her everything she needed to know, and it frustrated her more.
"I don't think that would be a good idea, Jane. It might give certain individuals ideas of grandeur." Jane shifted in his spot, with a smile still. "Give it to somebody special." She slid it across the table, which he caught and immediately slid back.
"You are special to me, Grace."
"You don't stop, do you?" She raised her eyebrow toward him, and he chuckled.
"Not at all; persistence is the name of the game, my dear." She stood from her seat. "You should at least try it on."
"Lisbon wouldn't appreciate it, and neither would Rigsby."
Jane beamed. "Lisbon won't know it came from me."
Van Pelt doubted that one. Jane just thought he got away with everything, when really Lisbon noticed every single thing he did.
"I can't, Jane." She answered truthfully. "It's absolutely beautiful, but wearing flashy things is not exactly appropriate for work."
"You don't think suspects would steal it, do you?"
She continued to glance at him. "Obviously! This," she picked up the jewelry box to wave it at him, "wasn't bought at the dollar store."
He frowned again. "Me? Buy something for you at the dollar store?" His frown broke into a playful smile, as he laughed. "Don't be silly; I'm not cheap." He shook his head, as if the idea was truly ridiculous, before he spoke again. "If you stare long enough, I might actually do a trick for you."
"Really?" she asked. "How about returning this as a trick." She set the box back down.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to accept gifts without argument, Van Pelt?"
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to buy expensive gifts for women who have absolutely no romantic interest in you?" She shot back, and he chuckled.
"Well played, Grace! You've managed to amuse me." She hesitantly rolled her eyes; Jane wasn't exactly stoic when it came to amusement, but she didn't want him to compare Lisbon and her again. It was just plain creepy. "However, your secret admirer has more interest in you than I do, alas."
Van Pelt grimaced. "Could you stop telling people I have one? Rigsby cornered me about it this morning."
"Why would I do that, Grace? You clearly have a secret admirer, who continues to show his or her affections for you. I'd milk it for what it's worth." He answered, with a large grin across his face.
"You're obviously kidding." She replied, and he leaned back in his chair to glance at her. "Milk my secret admirer? That sounds so…"
He continued to smile. "Dirty? Wrong?"
"Well, yes." She frowned. "It also sounds as if it falls on borderline sexual harassment." Jane shrugged.
"I'm just a partisan, giving advice to a damsel-in-distress."
She bit her lip—he did have a point, even if he had just technically insulted her again! If he wanted her to say yes so badly, he would listen and obey her every whimsical command.
"Jane, I can't do that." She informed him, and he glanced back down at his turquoise teacup.
"Of course you can!" He cheerfully answered. "It was you who snuck into Lisbon's office, after all!" She threw him a dark glare. "So," he continued after a lull in the conversation. "You can do this."
She opened her mouth to argue with him, when he continued. "Besides, today isn't over and your secret admirer has yet to strike!" He winked, and she grimaced again. "Oh, come on, Grace. Most people would kill to be in your position."
"If the person likes bizarre love triangles and soap opera plots, then sure!" She informed him, as he continued to smile.
(Personally, she enjoyed soap operas—she was a sucker for romance, after all—but she didn't want her life or career to become one via the hands of Patrick Jane.)
"No, thank you, and you can once again tell my admirer that." She pulled back from the table, when Jane slid something across the table to her.
It was a rather large manila envelope.
"Please tell me you aren't trying to blackmail me into anything." She snatched the envelope off the table, and he frowned.
"Why does everybody think I resort to blackmail?"
She paused in opening the envelope to glance at him. "You blackmailed Rigsby, while he and I were dating!"
Jane waved it off. "Meh, semantics. I wouldn't dare blackmail you, Grace. Rigsby, on the other hand, is fun to mess with."
She ignored him as she slid out whatever Jane had stuffed in the large envelope. It was obviously a thick stack of papers, but it had nothing to do with her or Rigsby. In fact, as she inspected the words closer, she noticed that it was the divorce papers—signed by both Jane and Lisbon. "Jane?" He made a slight 'hm', and she continued. "Why did you give me your divorce papers?"
"Why would I give you my divorce papers?"
He was either toying with her or being dead serious, but the look on his face told her it was the former.
"Oh, I don't know." She responded, dryly. "To show me that you are truly single now or you are hoping that I will burn them."
"I had no idea you were such a pyromaniac, Van Pelt." Jane responded. "I'm sure that the papers would make for an excellent s'more."
She groaned silently. "I didn't need, nor did I want, to see your divorce papers, Jane—because they aren't going to change my mind."
"Maybe I gave them to you to prove a different point." He answered, and she raised her eyebrow in suspicion. "Or maybe," he chuckled. "I gave them to you to burn—you are a natural redhead, after all, so it's only natural that you enjoy fire and burning things down."
"Firstly, I'm not going to burn your divorce papers! I've never been divorced before, but I'm sure you're going to need them for something else! And secondly, Jane, just because I'm a 'natural' redhead, does not mean that I like to 'burn things down'." She scoffed. "Where do you get this logic?"
He shrugged. "I've never been divorced either, so no hard feelings! However, I have a feeling that good ole' Walter is probably having everything expedited…as he knows everything there is to know about being divorced."
And just like that, their conversation went from slightly normal to completely awkward. Van Pelt could see the man was suffering—she just knew he hated losing her to Mashburn—but she couldn't bring herself to offer any additional sympathy, besides a simple smile and one sentence.
"Give it a month, and if you still feel like burning these papers, we will."
Jane didn't reply, but the smile on his face told her everything and more.
"But my answer is still no."