Disclaimer: I'm sure intelligent people such as yourselves have figured out by now that I don't own anything, so I don't need to say it, right?
Rating: T
This chapter is mostly in Lisbon's POV but Jane will have his say as well. The POV shift will be labelled accordingly.
Thanks to all my reviewers, especially those who gave constructive criticism. Your input is much appreciated.
Lisbon POV
I try to hold my coffee steady as I squash myself into the elevator with the usual weekday-morning crowd. Since Serious Crimes is on one of the top floors I like to stand at the back of the elevator to save having to get out and in again at every floor.
Through the crush of black suits, I see a slight glimpse of blond curls. No one else at the bureau has hair like that. Sure enough, once I've shoved my way to the back, it is to find Jane leaning against the wall.
I make sure to brush against him as I stand beside him so he'll get the maximum effect from the perfume I so carefully applied this morning. The label promised that it would "draw any man into your web of seduction" or some nonsense like that, so I thought, 'what the hell? I'll give it a try.'
His eyes take on a slightly glazed look for a fraction of a second before going back to normal. Now I may be new at this whole 'seductress' thing but I'm pretty sure that's a good sign.
"Morning Jane,"
"Lisbon."
The elevator starts to ascend.
"That's nice perfume. Is it new?" he asks casually.
"Yes. It was a gift."
"From whom?"
"Just a guy I know."
It was a free sample from a magazine in truth, but I'm keeping that piece of information to myself. Let him think I've got some mysterious boyfriend somewhere buying me presents, that'll rile him up nicely.
Aha. He's got that gleam in his eyes that he had the other day when I was with McKay, and his jaw is set in the kind of way when he's trying to stop himself from saying something. This is a very good start.
The elevator grinds to a stop at the third floor. Some of the crowd gets out and two people get in. A man, with his nose buried in a case file and a woman. At the sight of the woman I suppress a groan.
Mia "Man-Eater" Tremaine has honey blonde hair and ice-blue eyes she inherited from her mother, which seems to have given her the idea that she is God's gift to men. Over the year she's been employed here she's set her sights on nearly every man in the building (other than those in the Fraud department where she works) which is how the CBI women came to coin the nickname "Man-Eater."
I never used to take much notice of Mia until last month when her man-hunting crosshairs got my consultant in their sights. Easily the best-looking man in the building, Jane is quite used to the admiring glances he gets from the women as he passes by, and he just can't resist flirting with her in the elevator a little on the way to work. Attention-seeking bastard.
"Good morning, Patrick," she purrs as I do my best not to roll my eyes.
"Hello Mia, how are you?" he asks pleasantly, smiling at her. But I notice that the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Being charming is just like an automatic reflex for him, like breathing or blinking.
"So how's life in Serious Crimes? Working on anything interesting?"
Oh for God's sake woman, stop batting your eyelashes like that, you look like you're having a seizure.
"Always," he responds. Strange, he's being very non-receptive to her this morning. I might be able to get all the way upstairs without feeling like projectile vomiting.
Mia looks at him in confusion, waiting for Jane's usual schmaltz about how nice her hair looks this morning or something, but to both of our amazement he turns to me instead.
"Any news on the case yet, Lisbon?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. We can get an update when everyone arrives."
"I've been thinking that we might have to delve a little further into the victim's world. See who her friends are and how well they all get along. I have an idea of how we can do that."
What kind of idea?" I ask warily.
He smiles, a real one this time. "It's devilishly clever and cunning. You'll see, it's going to be so much fun!" His eyes are shining with excitement and I can't help smiling back at him even though I'm worried about what horrors he has in store for me this time.
Mia tries in vain to recapture his attention but he says nothing more for the rest of the ride up, probably working on his plan. She looks so shocked I take an extra-large swig of coffee to keep myself from laughing; she's probably never been ignored like that in her life. I'm glad. She deserves to be taken down a branch or two. Or maybe just be thrown off the whole tree altogether. Either way.
Jane and I get off the elevator together and he opens the door to the office for me as usual. This chivalrous streak of his is certainly one of his better qualities. If he does those kinds of things for me, a colleague, I'll bet his wife was treated like a queen. I glance back over my shoulder just in time to see the elevator doors close on Mia's outraged face and can't suppress a smirk.
If she knows what's good for her, she'll take the hint and keep her greedy hands off him from now on. This little game is between Jane and me, and there's no room for anyone else.
A quarter of an hour later, once all my team have arrived (and I manage to pry Rigsby away from the fridge) we assemble for a progress check.
Van Pelt's digging has uncovered nothing amiss in Justine and Mark's finances. Rigsby has spoken to the boutique manager who confirmed Emily's alibi for the murder and Cho got nothing useful from the myriad of tip-off calls, so it's time to pursue some new leads.
"Sausalito P.D sent over a list of names to check," I tell them all, handing out photocopies. "Seems like our girl ticked off a lot of people."
I hold one out to Jane, who looks at it like a committed vegan being offered a ticket to an all-you-can-eat buffet at a steakhouse.
"And what do you propose I do with this, my dear? Make a friend for your little jumping frog?"
"Funny. Read it, and see if anything jumps out at you."
"From a list of names?" he whines. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not actually psychic?"
"About as many times as I have to tell you not to interrupt interviews, undermine me in front of suspects, hypnotize people…"
"Is this about getting me to read the list, or point-scoring?" he counters, flashing me that knee-buckling grin, and I have another one of those moments when I don't know if I'd rather grab him and kiss him senseless, or grab him and snap his neck.
"Luckily for you, I'm powerless before your wishes," he continues, whipping the piece of paper out of my hand.
Oh if only we could be alone right now, then he might find out about another wish I have… concerning me and him and my desk. Or his couch. Or the elevator. Or the backseat of my car. Or…
Steady, Teresa. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves.
He carries the form over to his couch and sits down to read it. I'm so pleased; I can't help smiling at him. Maybe there's hope for him after all.
"Boss? Are you OK?" Van Pelt sounds concerned for my mental health as I realize I have been staring at Jane for over a minute.
"I'm OK," I say hastily.
"Jane doing paperwork," says Cho blankly. "It's one for the history books."
"Maybe we should get a plaque or something," suggests Rigsby. "To commemorate this momentous day." Van Pelt giggles at this, and he beams at her.
"Or maybe," I interject." You three could follow his lead and get started on this list." I tap it with the pencil I'm holding. "Divide it up amongst yourselves and work out who's most likely to have done something like this. Cross-check criminal records and see if anything doesn't add up. Get to it."
"Yes boss," they chorus, like schoolchildren greeting their teacher at the beginning of the day.
They file out of my office, giving me an unobscured view of Jane, deeply absorbed in the list with a slight frown of concentration on his face. Sometimes I wonder what he's thinking about when he goes quiet like this. Then I usually decide I probably don't want to know.
Jane POV
Good God this is so boring. This is why I always avoid paperwork when I can. I read the twelve names over and over again but no great flash of inspiration comes to mind.
Over the top of the sheet I can see Lisbon in her office, tapping away at her computer. The little cross necklace she always wears sparkles in the sunlight as she leans back in her chair, stretching her arms towards the ceiling.
I throw the paper down in irritation. She could at least have the decency to shut the door. As if I could be interested in some words and numbers when I could be watching the fascinating way she twirls a pencil in her fingers when she can't think of what to write. Whether she knows it or not, she's incredibly distracting.
At least from over here I'm out of reach of that tantalizing perfume. It's one of the most alluring scents I've ever experienced, but if I'm being honest, it doesn't smell like her. I prefer the clean, simple scents she normally uses like musk or vanilla, or cinnamon of course. This floral concoction she's got on today is fussy and flighty, not like her at all.
Whoever bought it for her is an idiot. Probably some jerk she dated for a while who tried to bribe her into staying with him by buying her the most expensive perfume he could find, not even knowing or caring that the one he chose didn't suit her in the slightest.
Whoever he is, he's obviously not good enough even to know my Lisbon, let alone be with her.
She's on the phone now, smiling. God I love that smile. I could look at it all day.
Suddenly, stupidly, I feel envious of whoever is on the other end of the phone. Her attention should be on her work, or on me and nowhere else. What makes this person so special?
Her voice floats through the open door. "Thanks again, Brandon. I really appreciate your help."
It's McKay. Ugh.
"If there's anything we can do for you in return, just let us know," she goes on, and then promptly hangs up and returns to her computer.
Without turning away from the screen, she calls out to me.
"Take a picture, Jane. It'll last longer."
Oh, I've so got her now.
"I already did. Remember?"
She freezes, hands poised over the keys. Though I can't see it, I picture that endearing blush that's probably just creeping up over her cheeks right now.
Didn't see that one coming did you, sweetheart?
Lisbon POV
OK I admit I set myself up for that one. As usual my attempt to humiliate him was swiftly turned around back on me within a microsecond.
Why do I even bother?
Oh thank goodness, here comes Rigsby, looking pleased with himself.
"We found something, Lisbon."
Excellent. Work. I can deal with work.
"What do you got?"
"Two possibilities. Mackenzie Watson and Amanda Seine. Our victim pressed charges against both of them over the past year."
"For what?"
"Watson was Mark Ackerman's ex-girlfriend. He left her for Justine and she couldn't deal with it. Started following her around, sending threatening messages, stuff like that."
"Any violence?"
"No, but she did break into their house and stole some jewellery and cash. Justine took out an AVO against her."
"And Seine?"
"They got into an argument at a party one night. Things got heated, a lot of champagne was consumed and Seine ended up slapping her in the face. And the next day Justine slapped her with an assault charge."
"Justine and Mark's lawyer could retire at forty with the money he was making off all these lawsuits," I comment. I knew I should've gone to law school. "What do you think?" I ask.
"I think Watson's the most likely. Why don't we invite her down here for a little chat?"
"All right. Set it up."
"Yes, boss."
Once Rigsby is gone I can see Jane, still on his couch. I call him in; he shuts the door behind him and takes his usual seat, waiting expectantly for me to begin.
"Mackenzie Watson and Amanda Seine. Any thoughts?"
He shrugs. "Mackenzie's a modern name while Amanda is a slightly more traditional one…"
"Can it, smartass. Any relevant thoughts?"
"What do you expect me to say, Lisbon? I can't just stare at a sheet of paper and try and map out a picture of a living person. I need to talk with them, see them. Connect."
"Connect huh? What do you mean by that?"
"You know, try and be one with them, find out what makes them tick."
"Oh, you mean find out how to press their buttons. Manipulate them into doing what you want."
"In a manner of speaking."
"I see. Mind if I try?"
He grins again. "Be my guest."
"How to connect with Patrick Jane?" I wonder aloud.
"Many have tried and failed."
I drum my fingers on the desk, thinking hard. There has to be some way to get under his skin.
"Well yelling at you doesn't seem to help, so I don't think just verbal connection is enough for you. I'd be going for a more direct approach."
"OK Dr. Freud," he teases, eyes sparkling with laughter. "Show me how it's done."
"Well first I'd have to throw you off your game by getting into your personal space like this."
Before he knows what's happening I've circled around the desk and am standing as close behind him as I dare, my face a breath away from his. I can see the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
He swallows. "And then?''
"Well by now you would be theoretically very uncomfortable so I would try to calm your nerves a little like this."
I lay my hand ever so lightly on his shoulder allowing my fingers to trail down his arm just the tiniest bit. He jolts like I've just given him an electric shock.
He nods, apparently having lost the capacity to speak.
"Sometimes when people get very upset I have to try and comfort them just so we can get what we need. In that case, I'd probably do this."
I slide my hand slowly down his arm and take his hand in mine. Our fingers interlock automatically.
I lean down to whisper in his ear.
"Everything's going to be all right."
Abruptly, he turns his face towards mine. "Lisbon…" he breathes. He leans towards me, as if in slow motion. His eyes close. The gap between us is shortening, shortening, the moment so close now I can almost taste it…
At the very last second I jerk my head away and stand up straight again. It takes him a second or two to work out what has happened and his features are a mixture of confusion and disappointment.
This is exactly what I was hoping for. See Jane? It isn't nice to toy with people's emotions.
"Hmmm, I think I'm starting to see how this whole 'connection' thing works," I say off-handedly, leaning across the desk for the case file. "Maybe I'll give it a go sometime."
Jane says nothing, speechless for once in his life.
"Well come on," I instruct him, giving him a hard prod in the arm. "Let's go see if Rigsby has managed to track down Watson's home address yet."
Jane nods once, obediently rises from his chair and lumbers after me, zombie-like, out of my office.
This seduction stuff is fun, not to mention easier then I thought. I should've done this ages ago.
Cho and Van Pelt are standing by Rigsby who is on the phone so they don't notice us enter.
There's a light tap on my shoulder.
"I made you a friend for your frog after all," he says in a hoarse voice appropriate to having been lost in a desert.
He hands something to me, made out of the list of names he was supposed to be studying. A bird of some kind, but not a crane.
"A swan for a swan," he explains.
"Thanks." I slip it into my pocket. "Now let's get some actual work done, yes?"
He nods and glances over at where Rigsby is apparently on hold.
I think it's safe to say I won this round. Game, set and match to me.
And victory is oh-so-sweet.
As always, I eagerly await hearing from you. Was Lisbon too forward? Did Jane not respond in a way you thought was appropriate? Please review!!