A/n I wrote this when I couldn't sleep and felt low/weak. I didn't know if I was going to post it or not, but I decided why not. It isn't at all fluffy and is quite heavy so if that's not the kind of thing you want to read then I would leave now. Massively deviates from cannon and contains dark themes, be sure to check out the trigger warnings below.
I've rated this story as "Mature" purely because of the discussion of difficult themes.
TW – mentions of rape and abuse.
/
Checking out crime scenes may be one of the biggest aspects of the job, so much so that it becomes strangely normal, but sometimes there is a feeling in your gut, nauseating almost, that makes you want to hide. This is one of those crime scenes.
It is late, getting close to ten o'clock at night and it is never a pleasant time to have to work, especially because the team have only just closed a case. The victim is a forty-four-year-old David K. Leigh, who was found with two bullet wounds to the chest after a neighbour heard shots fired. His apartment is grim, messy, and plain dirty with a strong smell of alcohol intermixed with cigar smoke and also mint, most likely chewing gum. It brings a queasy feeling to Lisbon's stomach for reasons that she is still trying to grasp. "Can someone find where that music is coming from and kill it?" Cho requests while kneeling next to the body.
The music. She had barely registered it before but now he mentions it, she thinks it has been playing since they've been here, coming from another room. "I'm on it." Rigsby replies and then walks off in search of the guilty radio.
Lionel Richie's "All Night Long" is the offending song but realising that simply adds to her unease and she finds herself stepping back closer to the wall. "Lisbon?" Jane questions, having noticed her obvious apprehension. "Are you alright?"
"Fine." She clears her throat while straightening her figure, finding the power from somewhere to mask her inner most fears. "Van Pelt, what do we know about the victim?"
The redhead appears from the next room, precariously juggling her laptop. "Quite a bit, he is in the system." She mutters as she tries to navigate her way to the boss stepping around the corpse. The man's place was definitely on the smaller side when it comes to apartments in the area. "David K. Leigh, forty-four, originally from Littleton which is south of Denver, Colorado. Relocated to California at eighteen when he attended the University of San Francisco, became a youth councillor. At twenty-five he was convicted of statutory rape, got four years in prison."
Her heartbeat starts to hammer in her ears, and she is all too aware of her consultant taking a step closer to her, but he doesn't say anything about it and instead questions Van Pelt. "The kid he raped, was it someone he worked with? And what has he been up to since coming out of jail?"
"Yes, it was a minor who he was meant to be protecting. Sixteen-year-old, apparently they claimed to be in love." The disgust is dripping in her tone. "I will do some digging about what he has been doing for the past fifteen years."
The music in the background halts suddenly as it is presumed Rigsby found the radio and silenced it, the stopping of the noise causes her breathing to start again – but she never realised that she was holding her breath. Get a hold of yourself Teresa. She tells herself before issuing instructions. "Let the crime techs finish here and go home for the night. We will continue in the morning after some sleep."
There is a chorus of "yes boss" but she is quickly leaving, a perk of being the superior agent in this situation. If it weren't so late and if they haven't just wrapped up a case that included a lot of sleepless nights then they would persevere a bit longer, but she knows that her team needs rest, and she needs time to collect her thoughts.
Lisbon doesn't register that the mentalist is on her tail until she reaches her car, and he taps her on the shoulder. The action makes her jump, her heart pounding in her chest and a small shriek escapes her lips. "I'm sorry." He is quick to apologise. "I was saying your name, but you didn't seem to hear me?"
His facial features are displaying the definition of concern and she notes that he has taken a step back, to give her the personal space she evidently requires. "I'm just a bit tired." Jane doesn't buy the excuse for one second, his brain is working at a hundred miles per hour trying to understand what she needs.
No doubt that whatever has left her so spooked she will want to keep to herself, but he wants to help her. "My car is at CBI, how about I drop you home and then I will head back there?"
It is probably wise that she doesn't drive. Her mind isn't fully focussed and there is a real risk of her causing an accident on the highway, so she finds herself agreeing before chucking him the keys. He is surprised that she gives in so easily, it makes him stop for a moment in shock, but he manages to compose himself before getting inside the vehicle.
The crime scene is a half hour drive from her home, and they make the journey in silence. He glances at her every so often to see her gazing out of the window, her eyes misted over like she has zoned out. He wishes that he knew what she was thinking. When they pull up outside her place, he switches off the engine and asks, "Is it okay if I use your bathroom?" He doesn't really need to go, he is just finding an excuse to go into her home with her, hoping that she opens up. It is a poor plan really.
"Yeah, sure."
xxx
Jane follows his needing the toilet ruse once they're inside, giving her time to settle on the couch but when he remerges and spots the look of trepidation on her face, he decides not to skirt around whatever the sensitive subject is anymore. "Tell me." Her eyes find his, and her usual response of closing up and hiding away her emotions, she cannot bring herself to do.
Lisbon pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs her legs closely whilst indicating with a nod of her head for him to sit at the other end of the couch, as she sinks further into the cushions. Slowly, almost like he is worried that if he moves any faster then she will be spooked, he takes a seat but leaves a good distance between them. An unsettling silence falls. "Did you… did you know the victim?"
"What?" She looks baffled, like for a moment she forgot how they got to here. "Oh, no. I did not." The sound of car driving past her condo, forces her to look in the direction of the window and he thinks that she jumps slightly at the noise. It is very unusual for Agent Teresa Lisbon to be skittish, in fact he struggles to think up many other incidents that she has been, so seeing her in this way is… worrying. "Something I have tried to block out, I suddenly was made to think about. I don't know what triggered it…" She shakes her head and shifts to face him once more. "It doesn't matter."
"It does." Whatever it is, he is sure that it does matter. The mentalist may be a selfish egotist at times but whenever she has a problem, he wants to be able to make things better. It doesn't matter if that problem is tiny or big, and he has a feeling that this one is pretty massive.
The brunette doesn't know whether the reason she wants to hide it is because of the fear to face her emotions or shame. "Well…"
Times were tough when she was younger, having to look after three brothers whilst staying on top of her potential future plans was incredibly difficult. In her final year of school before college, she worked her ass off, both in her studies so she could go to her university of choice but also at her various jobs. She needed money, both to take with her when she leaves for the West Coast but also for her brothers to live on in her absence. So when she wasn't studying or looking after them, she was either waitressing at a local restaurant or babysitting.
It was no secret – especially amongst her colleagues at the restaurant – that she had a financial goal. It wasn't massive, but big enough so she wouldn't struggle at college until she could find employment there and so her brothers could survive without having to rely on their deadbeat of a father. It was a week before she was due to leave and she was still half a grand off her total, mainly because of facing unexpected expenses when organising her travel out of Chicago. She knew that providing for her siblings shouldn't have been her burden but there was this guilt hanging over her, about her running away that meant she had to do this.
"I was eighteen, so an adult and it wasn't rape. I was consenting, I guess." Her story is a mismatch, there was no mention of sex or rape before her last statement, but it makes his blood run cold. The anticipation of what is to come is not at all pleasant. "I don't know if it was the smell of Leigh's apartment or the music or whatever… but it all came rushing back."
"What did?" Jane's question may sound pressing but the way he says it is anything but. His voice is small, delicate, like there is a risk if he says it any louder that she will break.
"Sometimes I wish you were actually psychic."
"Sorry." He half laughs which she mirrors before her face twists in pain. "You know you can trust me, right?" It is a fair enough question because it was only a few years ago when she told him under no certain terms that she didn't, but she nods, and he feels the relief wash over him.
"M-my manager called me into his office, it was my last shift and I assumed he was just giving me my pay, and he was but… it was more than that." He made her an offer that she felt like she couldn't refuse, especially after checking her envelope to see how much she made in the past month. It wasn't enough. Not to her anyway. "In hindsight, the additional money wasn't worth it. Not really."
"He paid you to…"
"Yes." She is quick to say, hoping that once it was out there then she wouldn't feel so embarrassed, but sadly the embarrassment doesn't disappear. "I don't blame you if you think less of me."
Patrick doesn't think there is anything that she could possibly say about herself that would make him think less of her. He is the problematic one in this partnership, not her. "I think you were in a desperate situation." His childhood was hardly perfect but when he compares it to Lisbon's then there really is no competition. "You sounded unsure when you said it was consensual."
"I struggle to remember if he… if we had sex and then he gave me money or if he offered to give me the extra cash if I slept with him. Sometimes I wonder if it was a pay off."
"I could-"
"No, no." She is quick to interrupt, "No hypnotism. I don't need to remember. I don't want to."
"I understand."
It was the combination of smells and the music at Leigh's apartment which took her back to that night. Her manager's office stunk of booze, smoke, and mint, and he was spinning a Lionel Richie record on his deck. She wasn't in there long, he had bent her over his desk and took her from behind, and then added the cash to her pay envelope while she redressed herself. "Sensory information can trigger flashbacks." Jane comments and she hums.
A silence falls between them and he experiences the discomfort of it, but she is too tired to notice. What she needs right now is sleep but the potential nightmares put her off trying. The truth is that Lisbon doesn't want to be alone and definitely does not want her consultant to leave, but she is too awkward to ask otherwise. "I've been through some shit, as you know but… I don't think I have felt as scared or as small as that night."
The curly-haired man finds his fist clenched at her omission. There is no one that he wishes to protect anyone more than her and the fact her past trauma still haunts her to this day hurts him dearly. She doesn't deserve this, but then again no-one does yet it happens all too regularly. "When I got home, my brothers were already in bed but my father was on the couch, nursing a bottle of whiskey and he took one look at me and asked if I was okay. I think that was the first time in years he asked about my welfare and looked like he genuinely cared."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him I was fine." She shrugs, "I didn't want him knowing what I had just did because if he didn't beat me for it, he probably would have killed the guy."
He does not understand how a parent can harm their child and the fact she believes that she could have been beaten for being put in a disgustingly uncomfortable situation is awful. If his own daughter came home from being put through that, he would do anything possible to make it right, to make her feel better.
Focussing back on the woman sat on the other end of the couch, he contemplates how Teresa Lisbon continues to amaze him. Not only did she fight adversity to get where she is today, but she had to cope with a problematic and distressing childhood first, and he is one of the only people who knows the full extent of that. They've come a long way from her not trusting him it appears. "Were you ever tempted… to report the guy?"
As soon as the question leaves his mouth, she is shaking her head. "When I first became a detective, I ran the manager's name through the database just to see if anything came up. Nothing. No record, nothing… I was kind of hoping there would be something, you know?" He hums. "Besides, reporting something like that as a woman would have made me undesirable to employ." It is a harsh reality, but the truth. Especially back when she was first looking to get a job in law enforcement. "But it is something I don't think I have ever quite got over; I mean tonight proved that."
"Thank you for telling me." He wants to say more than that, he wants to tell her how amazing he thinks she is and that he is there for her anytime, but this is a level their relationship currently does not allow. "And if you ever feel like having a taste of revenge, I am kind of an expert in that department." It is meant to lighten the mood, but she is quickly scowling at him, but he isn't surprised, she has made her thoughts on his revenge mission very clear. "It was a joke."
"It is difficult to tell with you." He begins to detect the smile hiding behind her faux glare and it makes him chuckle. "You didn't actually need the toilet, did you? You just wanted to find out was is wrong…"
"Maybe."
"Thank you."
A/n Another author's note but after proofing this I feel like I need to add one. Trauma is complicated and how people cope with it is individual to each victim. Like some people won't agree with what I've written, which is fine, but that is just personal opinion. Talking appears the best thing to do but it is also important to understand why people struggle to.