A/N: Wow, sorry for the delay! I've started a new job and it's eating all of my writing time. I need to get used to writing whenever I'm not working now, heh. Had a day off today so jumped at the opportunity to write a long-overdue update to this.
Thank you to MerriWyllow, livingandthriving, Jeda09, Miss Peg and scarletblusssh for reviewing part six.
We still don't have a UK start date. Woe. So I still don't know how terribly off the mark I am with this fic (and I still don't want to know either!) That being said, I hope people are still enjoying this (probably very) AU fic. I love hearing what people think.
x tromana
Part Seven
Jane laid back on the uncomfortable bed, laced his fingers together and stared up at the ceiling. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do with his time, but lay down and simply think. This place was too noisy, too uncomfortable, too foreign for him to even consider for a second even trying to sleep. When he'd been a free man, outside of jail, he hadn't even been able to rest, so what were the chances of him being able to do so now? Besides, his mind was too full, too busy for him to be able to slow down and get some rest.
He found it unsettling still, having an expanse of his memory completely missing. Though it had taken him years to hone his skills, Jane had taken it for granted that he knew everything he needed to and now had a memory palace that could rival eidetic memory. Now, he understood the confusion and apprehension that Lisbon had when she lost her memory thanks to being drugged. Jane even felt vaguely sorry for teasing Rigsby all those years ago about his memory loss under hypnotism. He made a mental note to talk to him about it, to ask whether or not he did end up remembering what he'd done under hypnosis. After all, if it was possible for his memory to come back, it could be useful. Especially as he had an impending case where he had to defend his innocence - or at least, claim for diminished capacity - coming up.
Then there was the riddle as to who he'd killed. Now, Jane didn't for an instant believe it was Red John. What would the point of hypnotizing him have been? Besides, Red John had a survival instinct that was second to none; the serial killer would never want to die, he would have much preferred to slip away unnoticed. As far as Jane was concerned, the man who had come to the mall must have been one of Red John's acolytes, somebody not dissimilar to Rebecca or the assassin who had jumped out of the balcony at the hotel. Someone who could convince him, Patrick Jane, that he was Red John and therefore playing on his desire to kill him. After all, you couldn't convince somebody under hypnosis to do something against their moral character and there was nobody that Jane was willing to kill excepting Red John. This man had to be willing to walk to his death for him and be a scapegoat. To blemish their own moral character and take claim for Red John's deeds and allow him to disappear as he pleased.
Having found out what he had done, he wasn't surprised that Lisbon had initially been so abrasive with him. She had believed he had genuinely killed a man in cold blood. That was something that she was determined to stop him from doing. In addition to that, she had probably been blaming herself for making the wrong decision about who should accompany him to the mall. Everyone had been somewhat surprised by her decision to join Hightower, instead of accompanying Jane. It was an established fact that she just about trusted Jane, but it had been unusual for her to not be with him at such an important juncture in a Red John case. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been hypnotized? Then again, she hadn't seemed to be under a trance when he had seen her, but it was entirely possible that Bertram had already had access to her and brought her out of it. He wished that the thought had crossed his mind sooner, that he'd have been able to ask her if she had any missing memories or the like.
Jane turned uncomfortably on the bed, to lay on his left arm. It was littered with bruises; he'd walked into the dining hall for breakfast, only to be attacked. That was the only reason he was back in his cell now, instead of out exercising with the rest of the inmates. A kindly nurse had patched him up and insisted that he rested. He let out a heavy sigh and pressed his eyes shut. Last time he'd been in jail, it had all been so easy. The other inmates had been easygoing and surprising accepting, given that he had worked with cops prior to his arrest. This time, however, it was akin to being locked in a cage with starved lions. They were unsurprisingly out for his blood, desperate to tear him limb from limb. These were men who knew how to kill and were more than happy to do it again. It didn't matter that Jane had never been the one to carry a badge and handcuffs; he was as good as a cop. In fact, there were a few housed in Pelican Bay whom he was partially responsible for the arrest of. It was little wonder they were particularly volatile with him. Their attitude had more than likely been passed onto the others.
Normally, he loathed the idea of solitary confinement. Ever since he was very small, Jane had hated being alone. As much as he pushed people away, tried to avoid allowing them to get close to him, he still needed somebody, anybody to bounce off of. He had never lost the childish need for attention, always needed someone to challenge him and keep him mentally stimulated. It didn't matter if he was manipulating people for his own needs or just entertaining them, without it, he felt at a loss. Even so, that loss of purpose was preferential to being beaten up on a daily basis.
He was trying to keep out of trouble; he knew that was what Lisbon was going to ask him to do when she'd seen his black eye. However, he couldn't even remember getting said injury. Jane had had to simply assume that was another war wound that had occurred when he'd still been hypnotized. He also assumed that he had probably been offered solitary when he'd first arrived, but rejected it once more. Then again, even if he had been completely himself, he would have come to the same decision.
Yet again, he turned over, trying desperately to get comfortable. The sooner this was over, the better. But then, he knew he could easily be trapped inside for years. Jane just hoped that, for now, he'd get a slight reprieve in the form of bail. At least then he would find it easier to try and build a case to defend himself. Then, he'd be able to see the team - and look after Lisbon. He wasn't the only one sporting injuries because of this latest debacle, after all.
xxx
"Boss!" Van Pelt cried, looking genuinely elated to see her.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" Cho added, somewhat more seriously.
Lisbon placed her purse down on Jane's vacant desk and looked at her team seriously. She had assumed that Van Pelt would have taken more than three days worth of leave in order to recover from recent events, but obviously she was wrong. Then again, she, too, was at work despite the fact she had had an operation relatively recently. However, unlike Van Pelt, she wasn't planning on staying. Though she was loathe to admit to it, she had limitations and knew that she couldn't push herself too hard. All she wanted to do was see how they were doing and tell them everything she'd found out when talking with Jane.
"Is this the best place to talk?"
"Probably not, Rigsby," she admitted.
As she sat down on the couch, she winced. The others watched her warily, partially because she was sitting on Jane's couch, but mostly because they were concerned about the evident pain. Lisbon noticed the unspoken glances they shared with one another; the ones that said she was pushing it, that it was too much, too soon, but she didn't care. Frankly, she was grateful that she had something to focus on, otherwise she knew she would drive herself stir crazy. Much like Jane probably was, being trapped in a prison cell.
"We need to be careful. If Jane was hypnotized by somebody…" Cho said as Van Pelt scurried off to fetch her a cup of coffee.
"I know."
"Next time, we'll see you at home."
"I want to come back to work soon, you know."
Cho muttered something indistinct and Lisbon was certain it was along the lines of being hardly surprised, but she let it drop. Mostly, because she was too tired to argue with her subordinates over something as petty as that. For a start, the journey back home had drained her a fair bit. Having returned using public transport, she was suddenly very grateful to Rigsby for taking the time to drive her to Pelican Bay in the first place. And besides, bickering with anyone other than Jane at work felt wrong. She wasn't expected to indulge in childish behavior, being the boss, but somehow, Jane had always been the exception to the rule. He knew how to press her buttons and in a way, she almost actively encouraged it.
She quickly accepted the coffee from Van Pelt and sipped at it. Though she hadn't been away from work for long at all, already it felt strange to be back. She knew why; it was because Jane wasn't there. And she was sitting on the couch. This was a piece of furniture she only ever used if he was on it too. Lisbon shook her head slightly. She was being ridiculous; it wasn't Jane's couch, it was the CBI's. It had been there for longer than he had. They all knew that and yet, they were treating the piece of furniture almost reverentially.
Still, she pushed the thoughts to one side. Jane had pretty much convinced her that Cho's hypnotism theory was probably correct and she swiftly informed them of that. There was a mixture of shock and sheer horror at the concept that Bertram had been the one to hypnotize Jane. Then again, even she didn't know that that was the case. All Jane had told her was that he had broken him out of it. That could quite easily have meant that a mystery hypnotist had told Bertram the trigger point and sent him to break Jane out of it. Or, it could simply have been luck and the CBI's director had simply given Jane an affectionate squeeze and accidentally broken the trance.
Equally, she knew it was entirely possible that Jane was lying. That he had indeed faked his confusion in order to plea to her maternal streak. He had wanted her to forgive him and had handed her an easy route to do so. Also, having her onside meant she would have become more willing to try and find a loophole in order to spring him from jail for a second time. Lies came to Jane like second nature, so it wouldn't have been entirely out of the question for him to do so.
The problem was they had to work out which of the scenarios was the correct one.
She knew that Jane lying would have been the least destructive resolution, but she also had a feeling it was the least likely. There had been something so broken, so lost about the look in his eyes when she had told him that he'd shot a man in close range. Lisbon had gotten to the stage where she could generally tell when Jane was lying to her and that most certainly was not one of those looks. It was a rare occurrence when she saw him looking so vulnerable and that wasn't an appearance that was easy to fake. Besides, she knew it would hurt, finding out he hadn't acted under diminished capacity. It would mean he believed she was a gullible fool and the damage to their trust would be irreparable.
Then again, if Bertram was in cahoots with Red John, then it meant the CBI was rotten to the very core. And that was something that would cause irreparable damage to the agency.
"How do we work out if Bertram was the hypnotist? And what if he wasn't?" Van Pelt queried.
"That's what you've got to find out," Lisbon said automatically as she stood.
"What are you going to do?"
"Re-read the Red John case files," she answered back, "there might be something we've missed in there."
"Okay, boss."
"Look after yourself, okay?" Van Pelt said, her voice laced with concern.
Lisbon looked at her critically. Her junior agent was being entirely hypocritical, but then again, she wasn't in a position to say otherwise. Instead, she simply hoped that somebody else would point out that Van Pelt clearly wasn't thinking straight for now. Then again, nobody in their right mind would if they had discovered their fiancé had never really loved them and had to shoot them to protect others. If she hadn't sought out help by the time she was officially back in her position, then maybe she would consider saying something.
"Oh and Rigsby, next time someone asks you if you need to talk to a person of interest in jail, say yes."
"Yes, boss. Sorry, boss," he replied meekly.
TBC…
