Sanguine Slumber
Chapter 3: Burgundy
"I've got a child molester with a meth habit."
"Hey, I've got a meth dealer with a child!"
"Not funny Jane."
"Come on, I'm drowning over here. Give me a break." The four sat around the table, systematically reading through the immense number of files. The task had only gotten harder when SFPD sent over their records, a whopping two extra boxes. For the last two hours they'd been sorting them into groups based on the likelihood of their guilt.
"Oh wait," Rigsby read further, "He overdosed last month. Guess he's innocent." He set it in the appropriate pile and reached for another. Cho shook his head at his file.
"Here's a traffic cop that Lisbon cited as negligent. What's this even doing in here?"
"Ugh," Grace groaned, "This guy beat his wife into a coma. He plead guilty to aggravated assault and only got three years."
"That has promise." Jane pointed out.
"Ooh, and it says here he tried to throw a punch at Lisbon when she came to arrest him." She threw it unceremoniously on the 'suspicious' stack. "There's a keeper."
"How many does that make now?"
"14 probables, 21 possibles, 9 unlikely, and 16 who are either dead or moved out of state." Cho counted.
"And how many left to do?
"Almost 30."
"I thought it was bad when it was Jane's enemies we were searching through." Rigsby grumbled. "You know, I'm still not sure if we should exclude the ones who moved."
"We've been over this Rigs," Jane explained, "It shows a willingness to put the past behind them and progress in life. They wouldn't just turn around and attack their arresting officer." He sighed, putting down his file and turning to the wall clock. "We've only got a few more hours of daylight. I say we take the 14 ones we have and run them down. We can sort more tomorrow." The three agents shared a glance and shrugged.
"Alright," Cho agreed, "We split them. Rigsby and I will take one half and you and Van Pelt take the others. We get their alibis and come back here." They all nodded.
Jane pulled his trusty Citroën over, parking it in front of a dilapidated one-story. He glanced over at Grace, who was jotting something in her notepad as she finished up a call.
"Got it," She addressed whomever was on the other line, "Thank you for your time. Have a good—" She cut herself off with a frustrated huff and hung up. Jane raised a brow. "The woman who poisoned her children is clean." She told him. "Believe it or not she was actually entertaining sick kids at the hospital."
"That's a relief." He remarked sarcastically. "What a load off my mind." Grace smiled weakly at his attempt at humor. She got out of the car, Jane following suit, and strode to the door.
"Who's this?" She asked as she knocked on the door, wiping the peeling paint flecks on her jeans with a grimace.
"Ah, this would be our last stop of the day, a Mr. Ricardo Guzman, or as he prefers to go by…" The door opened, revealing a brunette with atrocious amounts of lipstick squeezed into a far too short snakeskin skirt. "…Vermouth?" He inquired politely. She grinned beguilingly, twirling a finger in her long sleek wig.
"I go down smooth." She said in a suggestive voice (really, it was more obvious than a mere suggestion). "Whatchu here for?" Van Pelt displayed her badge and Vermouth dropped the act. "Oh, I get it. Catching up with the parolees, huh? Come on in." She twirled elegantly and lead them down the narrow hallway and into a cluttered living room. "As you can see, there is no whorehouse in here, just a chica trying to get by. I've been working as a waitress in this gay bar downtown, here's the brochure." She handed Jane a leaflet displaying beaming men with glistening pectorals. "Nothing shady, ask anyone." He put it in his pocket with a courteous nod.
"We're actually here on a more specific matter." Van Pelt cut in. Vermouth sat in a plush chair, openly curious.
"The agent who arrested you." Jane said seriously, watching her closely. "She's been attacked." Her eyes widened under the heavy eyeshadow.
"Lisbon?" She asked with what appeared to be genuine concern. "Someone hurt her? Is she okay?"
"Yes." Grace answered. "She's fine." Tension drained from Vermouth's countenance immediately. "Our records indicate that you made several threatening calls to Lisbon's work phone, is that correct." She bowed her head.
"Si, yes, I did." She said in shame.
"But things are different now." Jane stated for her. "Something changed." Vermouth gestured towards the couch.
"You better sit, it's a long story." They obliged, watching her with interest. "I worked as a hooker." She began brazenly. "Well, more of a madame, I guess. Drag queens primarily, you know, as a connection to men with big appetites. My operation was busted by Agent Lisbon when one of my girls killed a client in self defense. She pushed for the highest sentence. I was…" Her face screwed up as she remembered it, "…furious. I let it out with angry calls, as many as I could afford, mostly to my loca familia but also to Lisbon." She blinked rapidly. "I wasn't allowed to dress up in prison or wear my make up or nothing. But everyone knew who I was, what I did. This guard, he was awful. He'd insult me, take away privileges for no reason, whatever he could do to make my life suck. One day he actually grabbed me and I reacted. I called Lisbon from the infirmary, yelling about how she'd locked me up with bigots and assholes and psychos and how this guy was going to kill me and it'd be all her fault. I didn't expect nothing, but she showed up the next day. She saw the bruises he gave me and demanded his badge number." Jane couldn't help smiling. That was his Lisbon. "She got all these prisoners he'd harassed, mostly the gay ones, to speak up. She made a real case against him and got him fired for abuse of power." Vermouth wiped at her eyes, the mascara tainting her tears. "I got nothing but love for Lisbon. She didn't have to do that, but she did anyway. No one, especially not a cop, has ever done that for me. I hope you find that scumbag and give him a kick in the cojones from me."
"Wasn't that was uplifting?" Jane said as they were leaving. He looked over his shoulder to see Vermouth giving them a friendly wave goodbye. He returned it with a wide grin.
"Yeah, at least we can cross this one off the list." Grace replied listlessly, getting in his car. Jane circled around and sat down as well, but did not start the engine.
"You can't still be discouraged." He told her, noting her persisting morose expression. "Not after that heartwarming story."
"That's just it, Jane." She sighed, covering her eyes with her hand. "Lisbon… she's such a good person. On so many levels. A-and someone… someone's trying to hurt her. Why? How could anyone…?" Her arm fell and her gaze lowered to her lap. Jane reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder, capturing her attention.
"I know." He said softly, utilizing a mildly hypnotic inflection. "This is very difficult for you. You're a naturally empathetic person. You admire her. You care about her deeply."
"Not like you." She blurted out. Her eyes widened. Jane, shocked, leaned a little away. "I'm sorry." She apologized quickly. "I shouldn't have said that."
"No, it's…" He cleared his throat. "It's fine." There was a period of awkward silence. "Er, but, uh…" He stammered, trying to return to his original point. "It's going to be okay. We're going to catch whoever did this. Lisbon is strong, she'll be alright."
"Of course, you're right." Grace agreed, blinking away the moisture from her eyes. Jane buckled up and put the car into gear. "So," She continued as they pulled out, "I better run down Ver—I mean, Guzman's alibi. I know it's a waste of time but it doesn't hurt. We should be back to HQ by 7."
"Yeah." Jane muttered absentmindedly. "Hey, do you mind if I make a stop first?"
"You talked to Vermouth?" Lisbon repeated incredulously, holding back surprised laughter. "I could have told you he wasn't involved."
"Yes, well," Jane grumbled, spearing a forkful of curry, "Due diligence and all that."
"How is he by the way?" She asked, spooning some of her dinner into her mouth.
"She's doing quite well. Recommended an excellent bar, if I was so inclined."
"No," She snickered around her thai food, "She did not."
"Oh I assure you she did." He said, pulling out the leaflet Vermouth had given him. Lisbon swallowed then giggled at the sight.
"That's hysterical!" She grabbed it and examined it more closely. He was amused to see her pupils dilate at the scantily clad men. After a couple minutes, however, he grew less amused, and Jane cleared his throat pointedly. She glanced up guiltily. "Sorry, they're just very… well groomed."
"Uh huh." He hummed skeptically. Her gaze turned, as he'd found it often did, to the window. It still held that strangely suspicious quality to it. Jane was worried that she was routinely checking for snipers. As he'd done throughout their meal, he tried to distract her. "So what exactly did you do today?" She refocused on him.
"Well you know I slept for a while. When I woke up I ate lunch." She sent him a grateful glance. "Then I took myself to the shooting range. That was nice. Actually I spent a few hours there. They let me rent a submachine gun." Jane looked on fondly as she smiled at the memory. Her unavoidable self-consciousness kicked in and she covered the moment by taking a big bite. "I came back, grabbed my laptop and headed up here. Sent some emails. That's about it."
"Who would have guessed that your coping mechanism involves excessive firepower." He said, warmth in his eyes as he watched her. Lisbon bowed her head, letting her hair hide her face.
"I don't see you coming up with anything better." She murmured. That seemed a sensitive statement. His head tilted and he dropped his smile.
"What does that mean?" She didn't respond for a while and returned her attention out the window. He waited, outwardly patient while inwardly pensive.
"If something were to happen to me," She began slowly, "Would you be okay?"
"Nothing's going to happen to you." He replied immediately. Her head shook at the darkening sky.
"It's a hypothetical question."
"Is it?" He asked. She met his eyes, her expression intended to be neutral. It spoke volumes to him.
"Yes." She lied. Fine. If Lisbon wanted to lie, he would give her the honest truth.
"Of course not." He said easily. Her mouth fell open a little in dismay.
"What, no, don't say that!" She sputtered. "What do you mean?" He took his time answering, eating some more of his curry while affecting a contemplative air. He liked the furrow in her brow that told of her increasing concern. Finally he straightened.
"Why should I be okay if something happened to you?" He explained. "You're my friend, that much is undeniable. It's a short list too, all the more reason it would have a significant impact on me. You'll forgive my sentiment, but I think we both know that I have trouble losing people." His implication was clear to her. She drew a shaky breath in. The fragility of it captivated him. She pushed away her plate.
"I'm a cop, Jane." She said softly and sadly. "I put my life at risk on a daily basis. You can't have that attitude. I could die any—"
"You're not going to die." He countered doggedly. "I'm not going to let you. Not this time." Her face fell into a mixture of despair and sympathy.
"Please Patrick…" He blinked at the use of his given name, so rare from her tongue. Almost as rare as hearing Lisbon beg.
"Why is this so important to you?" Jane asked, leaning forward so their shared gaze became all the more intense. "So I'd be…" He resisted against the urge to skirt around the emotion. "…devastated," He continued doggedly, "If you were… if something happened to you. So would the rest of the team. So would so many people. Do you really not see that?" She was staring out the damn window again. "Teresa." He said firmly, and her head whipped around. "Do you get that?" He repeated unwaveringly. Despite a somewhat vacant expression, she nodded. "Alright." He sighed, satisfied, and leaned back again. He resumed eating, still keeping an eye on her. Lisbon sat looking at her hands where they lay in her lap. It was a heavy silence they were absorbed in. She mumbled something indistinguishable. "What?" Jane asked.
"I said," She whispered a little louder, "I feel the same way." Not quite understanding, he minutely shook his head. She caught the movement and looked up. Her eyes, while not moist, were mournful. "About you." Lisbon clarified. "If you died, I'd be devastated too." The corners of his mouth pulled upwards gently.
"Then we're in agreement." He said, only marginally teasing. "We both won't die." Her gaze dropped away, to his disappointment.
"We don't always have control over that, Jane." She told him seriously.
"Then we'll do our best." He replied, and raised his cup of cheap wine. She did the same, smiling slightly in return, but it was enough to make him grin.
My mom loves thai food.
I love Vermouth. She was so fun to write. I hope no one's offended. She isn't meant to be a caricature. She's loosely based on a real drag queen in a book I read about the Stonewall riots. Though she used to be a hooker, she's really just an honest person trying to get out of a bad situation and make something of herself. I created her to set Lisbon apart from other cops, in that her sense of justice is applied to everyone, despite whatever her personal feelings are.
I also love Grace. She's a sweet person thrust into a rough world. Lisbon is my favorite character, but I identify with Grace the most. But then all of the team hold a special place in my heart.
On an unrelated note, in that episode last night, Jane was an asshole. I was cursing him out so much. But I love him. It's complicated. Literally, I was screaming, "You psychotic son of a bitch, you're such an asshole, I love you!" I do. I can't help it. I love him. And so does Lisbon ;)
On an even more removed note, the Mentalist returns on my Birthday. It'll be the best present ever.
I have an addiction: reviews. Please be my enabler.
Laury the Latrator.
PS: Sorry for the super long and rambling author's note.
