Summary: The news that Jane has an 'evil twin' is spreading like wildfire throughout the building. Last she heard, some people are taking it as a sign that the apocalypse is imminent and have fled the city already. [Jane/Lisbon. Slightly crazy (and by that I of course mean 100% insane)]
Disclaimer: Don't own The Mentalist, blah blah blah
Author's Notes: Thank you so, so much for all your reviews/follows etc – I am way behind on replies, but I am getting there – slowly but surely!
An important note re: scenes in italics – I had a couple of reviews expressing confusion about whether Paul broke into Lisbon's house before or after he turned up at the CBI. Basically, all scenes in italics are flash-forwards, and have not yet happened. So present-day Lisbon has just had the nasty shock of meeting Paul Cohen for the second time. Meanwhile, at some point in the future, Cohen is going to break into Lisbon's house (as to why… you'll have to wait and see!)
Eagle-eyed readers may have noticed that I'm using Cohen's forthcoming trial to throw some clues in about the timing of these events. I'll continue to do this throughout the story.
In the meantime… on with chapter four!
This, she thinks, must be what a stroke feels like.
Maybe it isn't real, she consoles herself. Maybe she's been shot and this is a hallucination under anaesthetic. Yes, she thinks. That must be it. That must be why her vision is blurring at the edges and there's a weird urge building to swing her fist and wipe the smirk off Cohen's face. Vaguely, she notes his sharper attire – a crisp white shirt with the sleeves folded up and black neatly-pressed trousers. She knows it's Cohen, of course, but looking like this, it's only a matter of time before somebody in the building gets him confused with Jane.
She ignores his outstretched hand and turns to Elias. "What the hell is he talking about?"
Oh, good, at least she's retained the power of speech.
Elias winces, and steeples his fingers. She recognises that look – it's the same one she gets from her team right before they tell her that Jane has sneaked off to do mischief somewhere. "Lisbon," he begins, "you have to know that this wasn't my idea. I never agreed to anything. If I could, I'd throw this guy the hell out of the building."
Oh, she doesn't like the sound of this. Her gut twists unpleasantly as she shakes her head. "Come on, Elias, you have to be kidding me. This is a joke, okay – he's playing you! How the hell could he ever work here?" She casts a lethal glare in Cohen's direction. "He's due to stand trial in less than a month for massive fraud and larceny. I'm pretty sure that constitutes a conflict of interest at the very least." She turns the glare on Elias, who already looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else. "There's no reason he would ever be hired here, so somebody somewhere has made a colossal mistake."
The person who answers that question is neither Elias nor Cohen, as it turns out. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Agent Lisbon," says Nate Kowalski brusquely, "but may I respectfully suggest you suck it up and stop whining?"
Oh, shit, she thinks, gritting her teeth.
Nate Kowalski has been in the Director's position for nearly seven months, and it's become obvious to everyone that he hates Lisbon's guts. She supposes, looking at it from an outsider point of view, that she can sort of see why. Objectively, she's held a coveted unit leader position for years, yet hasn't had the skill or the will to control her team or the consultant leading them all astray. The fact that this all culminated in the death of a serial killer in very mysterious circumstances has only served to cement Kowalski's view that she's a liability.
He'd fired her, of course, the day he started.
The fact that Jane then caused all manner of hell (and it had been much worse than Bertram – a thousand times worse – because Kowalski had resisted Jane's machinations for several weeks) and ultimately forced Kowalski to bring her back has only strained their relationship almost to breaking point.
She turns stiffly towards the doorway. "Director," she greets him tightly, "I'm sorry, but I'm having difficulty understanding Cohen's… uh, role in the agency."
Kowalski gives a small sigh. "Well, that's ironic, Agent Lisbon, because he's about to do a similar type of job to his brother." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin, laminated rectangle. "Congratulations, Mr Cohen," he says, with an insincere smile. "You are officially a consultant with the California Bureau of Investigation."
Oh, she was wrong.
This is the real stroke.
A lot of it only sinks in later.
Ardiles arrives just as Kowalski is leaving, and sees the look of horror and rage blossoming across her face. He instantly suggests that Elias take Cohen on a tour of the building – a suggestion that Elias doesn't seem all that happy to hear – and grabs Lisbon by the elbow, steering her determinedly up to the Serious Crimes Unit. He parks her in a chair in the kitchenette, and makes her a brutally strong coffee.
"Look, I'm sorry," he tells her, when she's inhaled at least half of it. "This is not my idea, Teresa, I swear."
"You're the second person to say that," she mutters hoarsely. "So whose idea was it?"
Ardiles plants his elbows on the table and massages his temples furiously. "That bastard is a lot smarter than anybody thought to mention. You remember I told you he was going for a plea bargain?"
"Uh-huh." She drains the coffee, not liking where this is going. "What about it?"
"Well, whatever happens, he's facing a custodial sentence. I mean, there's a whole heap of misdemeanour charges I'm sure he'd love to plead down to, but that's never going to happen – not in California or anywhere else." Ardiles takes the swizzle stick from her coffee and toys with it idly. "But he's probably going to pick some of the more 'sympathetic' crimes to see if we'll throw out the other charges."
She contemplates this, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. "What can he possibly have done that could be seen as 'sympathetic'?" she wonders aloud. "I've read his file. We're talking about somebody who went from basic credit card fraud to slick insurance scams complete with accomplices and burner phones. I mean, at least when he was a kid he could argue that he needed money to eat, but nobody's going to buy that now."
Ardiles nods slowly. "You're right, of course, but there are plenty of ways to manipulate a judge and jury. For example, three years ago Cohen was selling fake shares in a social media start-up. He got cosy with some rich socialite and worked his way into the family circle. He played that game for nearly a month before somebody thought to check it out – but by then he was long gone."
Lisbon gets to her feet, still feeling strangely disconnected from reality. There are pastries somewhere around here, she knows it. People always stash one or two away, usually in low places so Rigsby doesn't find them by accident. "So," she says, squatting to investigate the cupboards, "how exactly does that become sympathetic in a court?"
Ardiles is strangely silent behind her, but she hardly notices, she's so fixated on – ah, yes, there it is: a small white paper bag hidden behind all the Tupperware without a home. It's tricky to reach, but she snags a corner between two fingers and pulls it out, rocking back onto her heels. She makes a little hum of satisfaction as she inspects the contents and finds two cinnamon buns, still fragrant and plump. "Jackpot," she declares, returning to the table with her prize. "Eat up, Ardiles, or you'll waste away."
He's giving her an odd look, and there's a little more colour in his cheeks than before. "You okay?" she prompts, tearing the bag open and swiping one of the pastries.
He clears his throat. "Yeah, sure. Uh, anyway, it's not that his actions are sympathetic, so much as the family involved is unsympathetic. As in –"
"Rich assholes," she rejoins, mouth full of cinnamon bun. "Okay, I get that, but how does a consultant job here play a part?"
Osvaldo finally gives in and takes the second bun, but begins shredding it instead of eating it. "So, Cohen made a big deal of his 'earth-shattering discovery' of a twin brother – and the judge got a big kick out of it. As near as I can tell, Cohen is now trying to prove that he's changed his ways… all thanks to the example of his brother." Ardiles' expression tells her exactly what he thinks of that claim. "He's even following Jane's lead and trying to help the state's premier law enforcement agency fight crime by using insider tips and knowledge…"
She considers this, and realises what an accurate picture he's painting. Anybody who's never met him will be fair game to fall into his web of deceit… and that'll include the entire jury. If Ardiles isn't careful, he will appear to be relentlessly persecuting a man who is 'trying to turn his life around'.
To Lisbon, the solution seems obvious. "We can't let him work here," she tells Ardiles urgently. "Aside from currying favour with the judge, can you imagine the havoc he'll wreak? He's like an angrier, crazier version of Jane with even fewer inhibitions and basically no loyalty to anybody." She curls her fist against the table-top. "We have to do something about this, Osvaldo. It's a disaster waiting to happen."
She doesn't voice her primary concern, of course, because it'll carry no weight with Ardiles. More than anything, she wants to protect Jane from Cohen. This isn't as simple as working with somebody he dislikes – there's something much bigger at stake here. Of course, she's damned if she knows what it is; Jane's relationship with his brother doesn't exactly need preserving, so why does she feel as though she's balancing on a knife-edge with the two of them in same building?
Osvaldo leans forward, looking solemn. "Teresa, we don't have a choice about this. I've already discussed it with Kowalski, and he's not budging."
"Why?!" she explodes, slamming her palm down and making her empty coffee cup jump – much like Ardiles does, in fact. "Why the hell does he want a criminal on bail working for the agency? I swear to god, that man makes no sense to me; there's something wired wrong in his brain –"
"Teresa," Osvaldo cuts across her, reaching out to grasp her arm, "Kowalski wants the guy about as much as we do. But the way I understand it, Cohen's lawyer used one key bargaining chip." He seems to brace himself before he speaks again. "He pointed out that the CBI has continued to employ Jane despite a less than perfect criminal record – and his implication in the much bigger crime of murder."
Her stomach twists, and she fights to control the sudden onset of nausea. She's very familiar with Jane's history – and she's one of the few people in the world who knows the truth about what happened to Red John. She's also the main reason Jane escaped a murder conviction (in fact, in the end, he was never charged); having said that, Ardiles never seemed eager to push the case, and she's always been grateful to him for that.
"Okay," she says slowly, "but just because somebody walks in off the street and asks for a job doesn't mean they get one. Why the hell did Kowalski cave?"
Osvaldo leans back, running a hand through his hair. "Hell if I know. He looked pissed off, so either the A.G. had a hand in it, or Cohen's attorney's got some kind of leverage beyond Jane. Look, if it's any consolation, he isn't attached to your team. He's not claiming to have Jane's skills – he says he just wants to share his knowledge of criminal tactics, so they're attaching him to the Fraud squad."
That's small comfort, but she'll take anything at this point.
"Thanks, Osvaldo," she mutters. "Bet you're wishing you took that job in Chicago right now, huh?"
He smiles wryly. "Yeah, well, what was I going to do with better pay anyway?"
She feels marginally better by the time Jane shows up, the same sharp look on his face that he always has when Osvaldo's around. It doesn't seem to matter how many times she points out that Ardiles could have dragged him all the way to the death penalty if he'd really put his mind to it, Jane seems unwilling to acknowledge any redeeming features.
The fact that he looks otherwise relaxed tells her that he hasn't heard the news – or seen Cohen around the building yet. Dread coils in her stomach as she realises it will fall to her to break this news.
As if to cement her fate, Osvaldo excuses himself without delay. Jane watches him go with obvious suspicion. "What's eating him?" he asks, stealing Osvaldo's seat and regarding the shredded cinnamon bun with some disgust. "Oh, poorly chosen words, I see. What did this defenceless little pastry do to deserve this fate, I wonder?"
"Jane," she says, in lieu of a reply, "let's go into my office."
His brows knot together with concern. "Everything okay, Lisbon?" he asks carefully.
Her shoulders sag, and she shakes her head. "Jane, I'm so sorry –" she begins. But even as she speaks, Jane's eyes are leaving hers, fixing on something behind her. His jaw drops open, and he seems to stop breathing.
"Hey, bro," she hears from behind her. Then – horror of horrors – she feels an arm slide around her shoulders. His voice – so, so like Jane's – slithers into her ear, and she fights a shudder. "Teresa tell you the good news? Looks like we're gonna be work-twins, too."
And then all hell breaks loose.
Jane, she discovers, doesn't really know how to throw a punch.
Not, of course, that he should be punching anyone. But if he is going to try it, he should know better than to use a closed fist, and he definitely shouldn't be reeling backwards with an angry shout with he swings – it's a dead giveaway.
A couple of things happen before all this, of course.
Jane leaps up from his seat so quickly that it topples backwards with a loud clatter. For once, he seems to be lost for words; he stares at Cohen with wild eyes, his face drained of colour. Then, just as she feared, he turns to her as if seeking an explanation. He looks lost and betrayed, and her heart twists painfully inside her chest.
"Lisbon," he begins hoarsely, "what is…? Why…?" His eyes fall to the laminated badge pinned to Cohen's shirt pocket. "This is a joke, right?"
She can hardly bring herself to speak, but as she's opening her mouth to try, Cohen's fingers tighten against her shoulder, reminding her of his proximity – and an anger she didn't know she could possess ignites in her veins. "Get off me, you son of a bitch," she hisses, twisting awkwardly in her chair to detach him.
"Oh, so harsh," he murmurs, undeterred. "You aren't exactly creating a supportive working environment for m –"
She doesn't know what comes over her. Before her brain has time to catch up with her poor decision-making, she's throwing her elbow backwards and jabbing him directly in the mouth.
He grunts with pain, withdrawing from her personal space immediately; she's out of her chair at the first opportunity, placing herself between Cohen and Jane. It doesn't feel like the wisest place to be right now, but neither of them can be trusted not to do something stupid.
Then again, evidently neither can she. But she figures she gains a few points by acknowledging it, which is more than anybody can say for the other two.
"He's trying to buy favour with the judge," she addresses Jane, but her eyes never leave Cohen's stunned face. "Trying to argue that he's seen the error of his ways, or some crap like that."
She knows she doesn't need to say any more than that. Jane will be quick enough to fill in the gaps… though whether he'll also believe that she knew nothing of it until now is another question.
Cohen is patting at his mouth. "I'm bleeding," he says, with some surprise, his fingers coming away streaked with red. "I'm bleeding, you bitch."
This is when Jane leaps past her and attempts to smash Cohen's head into the wall. She grabs at his arm but Cohen has already dodged easily, and Jane staggers forward under the power of his own momentum. She uses the opportunity to dart quickly between them again, in much closer quarters this time. "Jane, stop," she urges, looking up into his face. "Don't let him bait you like this – it's exactly what he wants."
She's very aware that the commotion has drawn an audience. She doesn't care what Cohen does, but she certainly doesn't want anybody to witness another outburst from Jane. "You okay, boss?" Cho asks from somewhere behind her.
For a minute, she actually thinks she might be able to answer that question with an affirmative.
Then, just to prove that the universe truly does hate her today, she hears, "He calls you boss?" Cohen sounds gleeful. "Fuckin' awesome. Is that a power thing? Does my brother…?"
And then she knows it's all going to hell, because Jane's face contorts with rage, and he launches himself towards Cohen, who seems only too happy to engage in battle. She plants a palm on each chest and uses all of her strength to part them; Cho and other agents surge forward to break things up once and for all, which of course – of course – would be exactly the moment that Nate Kowalski chooses to show up.
"What the hell is going on here?" he booms angrily over the cacophony. People immediately scatter, leaving only herself, the brothers, and her team – loyal as ever. She shoots them a look of gratitude. "Oh, Agent Lisbon," Kowalski sighs with exasperation, although she could swear there's a little glimmer of triumph in his eyes. "What a surprise to find you in the middle of this chaos."
He's loving this, of course, because it's just further ammunition in his arsenal against her. She's suspected for a while that Kowalski is just waiting for a reason to fire her again; what he plans to do about Jane in that scenario, she's not sure. Perhaps he doesn't care anymore. In any case, she won't gain anything by going up against him right here and now, so although the words taste foul in her mouth, she falls back on her standard words of apology. "Sir, I –"
She expects Jane to complain at her easy capitulation – he always does – but the real shock comes from the bizarre in-stereo effect she experiences not two seconds later. "Lisbon had nothing to do with this," she hears in one ear, contrasted with, "What the fuck are you talking about? 'Course she's in the middle, she's breaking up a fight, ain't she?"
The moments of silence that follow allow Lisbon to glance at Cho with a question in her eyes: did that just happen? His minute shrug suggests he's just as baffled by their apparent transition to the twilight zone. She tries to jolt herself back to reality – she's giving Cohen way too much credit if she thinks he was genuinely defending her. He's just messing with them to entertain himself. Still, hearing him share a wavelength with Jane is disturbing. Based on that brief experience, she's not sure she wants them to get along after all.
Kowalski looks faintly nauseous. "Mr Cohen," he says, ignoring Jane, "if you're going to be working here, you'd better get used to the status quo. Agent Lisbon is Mr Jane's immediate supervisor. He is her responsibility – a fact she knows all too well. What he does comes back to her. Agent Elias finds himself in the same position with regards to you. So may I suggest you stay out of your brother's way as far as possible?" His thin-lipped smile is aimed at Lisbon alone. "We wouldn't want any nasty consequences to arise, would we?"
He turns on his heel and walks away, but Cohen doesn't even wait until he's out of earshot to say, "What the actual fuck is wrong with that guy?"
Lisbon makes violent slashing motions, her arms stiffening reflexively with tension, and spins around to thump Cohen soundly on the arm. "Jesus," she hisses, "Can't you shut up for one minute?"
He raises his hands defensively. "Why are you getting pissed off at me? I'm in your corner. Hell, I'm just saying what everybody else here is thinking – why do you put up with that guy's shit?"
"Because he's my boss, you asshole." She can't believe how he's looking at her – like she must be crazy or stupid or both. "You've been your own boss since you were a kid, so maybe you don't get it – some of us have to actually work to keep our jobs, we don't just pick bigger targets –"
He shakes his head ruefully. "Oh, well, excuse me for trying to help you out, evidently you've got this all under control –"
"Don't give me that crap, you were stirring shit up because that's exactly what you came here to do, in addition to saving your own sorry ass –"
He grits his teeth, glaring at her. "Fuck that," he spits, "I came here for my own reasons, not the ones you've invented, okay? And for the record, I didn't back you up for fun, I did it because you looked like you could use it." He glances at his feet. "And I didn't mean to call you a bitch… you know, before."
She blinks. (She's pretty sure she hears the whole team do a collective blink, in fact.) "What?"
He rolls his eyes. "You seriously want me to say it again?"
She's considering making him do just that, but Jack Elias comes hurtling out of the elevators at speed, skidding to a halt by the kitchenette. "Lisbon," he pants, "I just ran into Kowalski – I'm really sorry, I thought this guy was in Human Resources." The glare he tosses in Cohen's direction loses some of its effect when he pauses to bend over and cough up a lung. "I'll take him back down," he wheezes.
Cohen glances at Jane. "Be seeing you, brother."
To Lisbon's surprise, Jane looks considerably calmer than before; in fact, she wonders if she can see a lightness to his eyes as he nods at Cohen. "Let's talk," he offers. "Soon."
Cohen's shrug would seem to indicate agreement. To Lisbon, he gives a lazy salute. "See you later, boss," he murmurs, walking back to the exhausted Elias.
Lisbon attempts to reflect on the events of the last hour or two and finds that her brain has stalled. Paul Cohen is a temporary consultant to the Fraud squad, it seems. And Jane is… sort of okay with that. For now.
She's starting to think she needs to revisit the aliens idea.
Oh, and get an urgent MRI.
Author's Note: In my opinion, Lisbon really shouldn't be complaining if her biggest problem is 'too many hot men in immediate vicinity'. This is basically the opposite of my real life problem. (That, and I insist on trapping myself within fictional realms and not fulfilling my actual responsibilities despite apparently being a grown-up.)
Next time - Paul Cohen 'settles in' at the CBI... in the same way that the Ebola virus makes itself at home within a human host. Fun for all involved. In the meantime, I humbly await your thoughts on chapter four...