Title: he always gets what he wants
Disclaimer: Not mine!
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9: Sickness
"You look much better than you did two hours ago," Jane told her, as he remained seated by her hospital bedside. Van Pelt merely rolled her eyes—two hours ago, she hadn't even been awake. "Of course, two hours ago you were poisoned and we didn't know it…but still."
"Thanks…I think?" She offered, as she shifted in the hospital bed—it had been many years since the last time she had been in a hospital bed, but she remembered the thing just the same: completely uncomfortable.
Jane chuckled before he spoke. "It's a compliment."
"Why are you laughing?" She asked, and he grinned.
"If I had known we'd spend our third month anniversary in the hospital, I would have gotten you real food as a gift."
Her stomach tensed at the idea of food, and he frowned. "Do you need to throw up again?"
She shook her head. "The last thing on my mind is anything edible, especially after everything they did to me."
He nodded sympathetically—the drugs given to her to reverse the effects of the poison hadn't been merciful on her stomach, at all.
"It's not often that I'll admit I'm wrong, but Lisbon was right." She glanced at him in question. "We should have taken you to the hospital, but like I told Lisbon, the poisoning happened after the kidnapping and Rigsby saved the day!" Jane paused with a smile. "He's even angrier with me now, which I didn't even think was possible."
"He blames you?" She asked, and Jane nodded.
In her opinion, it was odd to blame Jane for this. Of course, if Rigsby wanted to blame Jane for the sexual harassment and the rumors going around the office—he could blame all he wanted—but not toward this. It wasn't like the man could read minds or could prevent bad things like this from happening.
"He blames me, albeit silently for, taking you away, getting you getting kidnapped, harming you, and later on, poisoning you."
She frowned, and Jane continued on. "Grace, he just cares for you like I care for Lisbon. If Lisbon got hurt, I'd blame Mashburn because he's supposed to protect her."
Van Pelt wanted to argue, but she decided against it—she wasn't male, so she had no idea if what Jane was referencing was a male thing or not.
"Can I ask a question?" He nodded. "I was told I was poisoned with cyanide—that mostly likely somebody had slipped something into my drink, but nobody quite told me how Wayne knew I had been poisoned."
"Almonds," Jane gave, and she gave him a dirty glare.
"I don't see what almonds have to do with anything, Jane," she explained. "Wayne went on and on about how my breath smelt like almonds, but he never said why."
"According to Rigsby," Jane explained, "The largest indicator of cyanide poisonings is the smell of bitter almond on the breath." He shrugged. "I wouldn't know the difference between the smell of normal almond compared to bitter almond, so I'm very happy he came to check on you." Jane didn't need to tell her what would have happened if Rigsby hadn't seen the signs, mainly due to the fact that doctors were cynical enough to tell her that she could have died.
"How'd he know that though?" The last time she checked (which was practically never), cyanide poisoning wasn't that common anymore—so unless he had Googled it, she doubted he could have just rattled that off the top of his head.
"When he worked cases with arson, once upon a time, he learned all about cyanide poisoning," Jane explained, before he winked. "I think you'd appreciate the short version, more than the two hour version he gave us."
"Two hours?" Van Pelt was amused. "Is there really that much to learn about cyanide poisoning?"
Jane shrugged with a smile, before there was a knock at the door. "They wouldn't let anybody in, but me." He glanced at the door. "You can come in!" The door opened to reveal Lisbon, who immediately entered the room to shut the door behind her.
"How are you feeling?" The boss asked, as she came to rest on the other side of her hospital bed.
"Nauseated."
Lisbon frowned. "I would rather you feel like that, than feel nothing at all." Jane grinned at her comment.
"See Grace," Jane chimed in from his seat, "Lisbon missed you." The grimace on the woman's face told her otherwise, but she didn't say a word as Jane changed subjects. "How goes the investigation against our kidnapping, poison-giving serial killer person?"
Lisbon sighed, and she leaned forward in the hospital chair. "Not well."
"Why not boss?" She asked, as Lisbon glanced at her.
"With you having been poisoned, while our number one suspect was in custody? The DA doesn't have enough proof to open a case against Conway."
Jane kept his eyes on Lisbon. "There's more?"
Lisbon nodded. "The DA heard the issue involving Albright, Conway and, Peter." Jane frowned. "Even with the testimonies from me, Cho and Rigsby…the DA is probably going to try with Aubrey's killing herself as an admission of guilt."
"So, you're saying that the DA is just going to ignore all the evidence? What about the pictures?" Lisbon shook her head.
"The pictures only showed Van Pelt, and as for us seeing Red Calla—the DA feels that Taylor had a reasonable enough excuse for wandering around a public area with a knife in her hand." Jane continued to glace at Lisbon, and she sighed. "I know it isn't fair, but this is the blind justice system for you."
Jane looked as if he were about to say something insulting, which she quickly put an end to by speaking.
"Boss, how sure are you that Red Calla is Taylor?" Lisbon glanced at her in surprise, before she narrowed her eyes.
"I think I'd remember the bitch that stood over you with a knife, Van Pelt!" Lisbon snapped, and Van Pelt recoiled.
"Lisbon!" Jane chided, before he turned to glance exclusively at her. "What's wrong, Grace? What has gotten you so spooked?"
"I don't know," she lied in a whisper, and Jane grew thoughtful.
"I know that look, Jane," Lisbon commented. "You know exactly what caused Van Pelt to act as if I was just about to hit her."
Van Pelt stared at her boss—realistically, she knew Lisbon would never raise a hand toward her in a violent manner, but the recoil at the tone in the woman's voice had been like a second reflex—something she had never had before, really.
"She wasn't hypnotized," Jane spoke, brightly. "She was drugged, however—but I think the drug was only supposed to be a light form of that white stuff you knock people out with in movies…?"
"Chloroform?" Van Pelt asked, and Jane nodded. "The doctors also found no sign of head trauma, so there goes that theory."
"Fair enough," Jane replied. "What about external injuries?" Lisbon glanced at her, and she bit her lip.
"Van Pelt," Lisbon addressed. "Did you let the doctors look at you?"
Sheepishly, she shook her head and Lisbon opened her mouth when Jane stood from his chair. "Lisbon, can I see you for a second?" Lisbon nodded, and stood from her chair—the both of them found a spot far enough away from her to hold a private conversation, but she watched them having what seemed to be a heated argument.
She glanced back down at her hospital bracelet.
I probably should have allowed them to look me over, she thought; her body was sore all over, especially her abdomen and lower legs. When Jane and Lisbon finally returned to her, she kept her eyes firmly on her hospital bracelet.
"Van Pelt?" Lisbon addressed, again and she didn't look up. "Look at me." She glanced up to meet Lisbon's eyes. "You need to get looked at, because if you don't—we will never catch the person who did this to you."
She nodded in understanding.
"Please, do this," Jane pleaded, and she bit her lip in thought; something felt off with getting looked at, but she nodded again.
"After that," Jane continued, "we have something else to do."
"Mr. Jane said you wanted to be examined, Agent Van Pelt?" Dr. Cecilia Thomas greeted, as she strolled into the hospital room. "Don't look so nervous—this is a painless procedure, I promise you!" Van Pelt nodded. "I need you to take off your shirt, but there's really no need for moving from the bed though." She nodded again, and carefully slipped off her semi-dirty shirt and left her bra, but she refused to glance down at her abdomen. "I can see that somebody has already taken care of whatever is behind these bandages."
Van Pelt glanced at the doctor, before she glanced down at the white bandages that cocooned her abdomen.
"Doctor," she spoke, her voice rising in pure panic. "I've never seen that particular bandage before." Dr. Thomas moved closer, and carefully undid the white bandage to find a rather large laceration, which had been neatly stitched up. "I've never seen this before either! This wasn't here yesterday!"
"Calm down, Agent," Dr. Thomas tried to soothe. "I will inquire around the hospital and see if any of the other doctors catered to your wound, but for now, I'm going to place another bandage over it, all right?" She nodded, and the doctor did so in silence. "Can you lean forward for me?"
"I think so." She leaned forward, so the doctor could inspect her back for any injury, she supposed. "Your back seems perfectly fine."
"Can I pull back on my shirt now?"
"Of course, but let me get you one." The doctor went over to one of the many cabinets within the room, and pulled out a hospital top. "Here, you go." Van Pelt pulled the greenish-blue shirt on, before the doctor spoke again. "Are there any other parts on your body that currently ache?"
"I keep feeling these sharp pains in my legs." The doctor nodded.
"Remove your dress pants, if you can." She said nothing, as she unbuckled her pants and slid them completely off—she didn't even glance down at her legs. "Agent!" Dr. Thomas exclaimed in alarm. "How did you get these injuries? Better yet! How did you even manage to stand on your own without collapsing in pain?"
Van Pelt inhaled sharply, before she glanced down at her legs with a gasp—a rare mess covered her legs, indeed! Every square inch of her skin had been painted with black and blue, while red welts decorated her ankles and forelegs. "I was kidnapped," she stated in a whisper to herself, "Somebody did this to me." She paused. "They really weren't lying."
(The poisoning hadn't proven anything, but the marks on her legs and the stab mark on her abdomen, proved that something extremely bad had happened to her.)
Dr. Thomas frowned. "We need to take pictures." Van Pelt opened her mouth to argue—she didn't want anybody seeing those pictures, when Dr. Thomas shook her head. "That wasn't a request, Agent. I am, by law, required to report any major injury that I see to an officer of the law by using documentation."
The brunette doctor turned to another cabinet to find whatever she was looking for. "After I take these pictures, we'll go ahead and start the healing process on your legs—I will also ask about the bandage on your abdomen." The woman turned to face her with a camera. "Try not to move, all right?"
She nodded, and let the doctor go on with her work.
"That wasn't so bad now was it, Grace?" Jane asked her, with a giant smile on his face as she remained in an upright position, with the covers piled against her abdomen.
"Where's Lisbon?" She didn't even acknowledge his question.
"Talking with Dr. Thomas." Jane informed her. "She'll be along shortly, I presume."
"Did Dr. Thomas show you the…" She trailed off, while Jane shook his head.
"Lisbon didn't think it was right, and believe it or not, I actually agreed. Besides," he whispered, "I have a question for you."
Van Pelt nearly groaned. Jane's questions never meant anything good toward her sanity. Besides, she had never gotten the chance to ask him hers yet.
"Would you like to know what happened to you?"
"How?" she asked. "I thought I blocked the memory."
Jane nodded. "Oh, you did," he explained. "The mind can only take so many traumas before it begins to defend itself. I don't know if you ever took a psychology course in college or not…"
"I did," she replied. "It was mandatory."
"Good, then you know why the mind is such a mighty fortress."
She did know. "Jane, the term for that is a defense mechanism."
He nodded again. "Yes, you set up your own defense mechanism to forget things, but no worries!" he brightly exclaimed. "With or without your permission, I'd like to try hypnotism…"
"No!" she cried without hesitation. "Absolutely not! And what do you mean with or without my permission?" She narrowed her eyes. "If you, so much as try to hypnotize me, I will punch you in the face."
Jane smirked, "…and you said you haven't changed."
"I'm serious, Jane," she repeated. "No hypnotism."
"Don't you want to get revenge on Red Calla?" Jane asked, seriously. "She's hurt you, Grace! It wasn't like she just gave you the knife, and made you hurt yourself." She glanced down at the blanket in thought; Jane's idea of revenge had been three bullets, but her idea of revenge was justice. "If you're not going to avenge yourself, then at least avenge for the five lives the killer did take."
The door to the room opened, and Lisbon entered.
"We'll catch her, Van Pelt," Lisbon promised. "You don't need to resort to hypnotism, just so you know." The boss glared at Jane.
So, Lisbon was against the idea of using hypnotism. She briefly wondered why.
"Don't listen to Lisbon, Grace," Jane answered. "You trust me, right?"
"No."
Lisbon laughed. "Smart girl."
Jane pouted. "We're dating, and you don't trust me. Now Grace, there is something wrong with that picture." She shook her head, and Jane continued on. "I'm assuming Lisbon can only keep Conway in holding for so long." Lisbon nodded. "If we don't get her, Grace. She'll slip from lady justice's fingers, and kill again."
"Forty-eight hours is the longest we can legally sit on her, though," Lisbon explained. "It's your choice, Van Pelt. I'm not going to tell you yes or no. However, if you do this—I will stay with a tape recorder to make sure Jane doesn't try anything funny." The boss threw another glare at him.
"I just asked you about the Spice Girls. Don't get your panties in a bunch, Lisbon."
While they continued to argue over Jane's fleeting innocence, she debated over the idea of letting him hypnotize her.
They needed to catch a serial killer, but what if the hypnotism was painful? What if the hypnotism had some profound effect? Was all of it really worth catching a serial killer, before she became the next Red John?
Yes, she thought, it was.
"…keep telling yourself that, Jane—when pigs fly, you'll be innocent."
Van Pelt cleared her throat. "I'll do it."
Jane grinned, as he turned from Lisbon to clap his hands together. "You won't feel a thing, Grace."
The words sent a shiver down her spine, but she ignored the feeling to nod.
Lisbon nodded. "It's painless, trust me."
She had to trust them, didn't she? After all, they were the ones to help her get her memory back.