Memento Mori

A Selection of shorts and unrelated one-shots. Mostly stuff that comes to my head while watching the show or things I think should have happened. Things I would like to see. Jane Centric, but there will be shorts about the other characters as well.


I have been asked if I could write something about the team seeing Janes scars. A request from the lovely MSerrada. This one is pretty dark. So you have been warned. Hope you enjoy!


Little Slice of Hell

They had all noticed that ever since Jane had re-joined the team. She had been a completely different person. She was no longer the scared confused woman she was when they had first met her, she didn't look to them when she needed help or guidance, instead, she always chose to help herself. But they couldn't help but notice the little...habits she had developed.

When it was a particularly slow day, she would become restless, her leg would constantly shake as she sat at her desk, she would chew her fingers or bite her nails or tap on the hard wooden surface of her desk.

Borden had given her a sketchbook to keep her busy.

Whenever they had ordered food she would always order the hottest thing on the menu, then drown it in hot sauce. Tasha remembered reading somewhere that victims of electrical torture often lost their sense of taste. She always pushed the thought to the side as she collected the extra sachets of sauce and pushed them towards Jane, who had always accepted them with a short nod of gratitude.

Kurt had caught her stretching her fingers more than a few times, a slight grimace of pain tugging at her features as she would open and close her hands, four times each. It had become a ritual for her on the colder days. One day, Reade had caught her struggling to zip up her jacket and had offered to help. She had given him a look that would make even the hardest criminals fear for their lives.

It was one thing to witness the emotional toll Janes three month 'hiatus' had taken on her, it was another thing to see the evidence.

The first time Tasha had seen the damage was in the locker room. She had forgotten her phone in her locker and doubled back to get it. When she had entered the locker room, she knew Jane would still be there. She was always the last one to leave. Tasha had caught a glimpse of her legs as the tattooed woman stepped into her jeans. Large pink discolourations decorated the backs of her calf's and thighs, raised and jagged as it curled around her legs. Tasha bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't need anyone to tell her that they were electrical burns. Zapata stayed just long enough to watch as Jane took three painkillers, placing the almost empty bottle next to two identical bottles on the top shelf of her locker. Jane didn't notice her as she grabbed her phone and left.

Reade had seen the scars when he drove her to her safe house. They had grabbed a coffee on the way there, a pumpkin spiced latte for him and a four-shot black Americano for her. She had reached forward to grab the steaming hot cup of liquid and the sleeve of her shirt had moved up her arm. Reade couldn't help but spot the many red circular welts that crawled upwards towards her elbow. Two rows of perfectly spaced cigarette burns, all but destroying the intricate art of her tattoos.

She didn't seem to notice him staring at her as she gazed out of the window, watching as the raindrops racing down the cold glass.

When they had arrived at her safe house, she mumbled a thank you, got out of the car and headed towards her front door.

Reade watched until she was safely inside before turning on the engine and doubling back towards the town.

He needed a drink.

The first time Patterson see's the scars is when she has to take a closer look at a certain tattoo on Janes back. The dark-haired woman is reluctant to remove her shirt. She asks, timidly if the lab techs could wait outside. She bites her lip as she lifts the long sleeved shirt above her head, shaking slightly at the cold air that bites at her skin.

Patterson hides a gasp, her eyes falling to the angry long gashes that criss-cross Janes lower torso. The long, white marks raised and jagged as they sliced through the artwork of her back.

"Jane." She begins, but she does not know what to say. She can't find the words. She hears Jane's shuddering intake of breath.

"Can we just get this over with please?" She asks. Hiding her face behind a curtain of dark hair. Ashamed.

Patterson takes a deep breath, moving to inspect the tattoo in the centre of Janes back. She holds back tears.

When she is finished what she needed to do. Jane has her shirt on and is out the door in a matter of seconds. It's then that Patterson lets the tears fall.

The first time Kurt sees the damage is at the hospital. Jane had needed to get some stitches after a nasty fight had left her with a deep gash just below her left breast. He insists on staying with her as the doctor tended to her wound. She isn't in the mood to argue. When she lifts her shirt, his eyes are instantly drawn to the two large scars on either side of her ribs. Long thin lines put there by a very sharp knife. She avoids his gaze in any way she can. He leaves the room without a word, his hands shaking as he grabs the sides of the basin in the bathroom. He wants to be sick. He wants to punch the mirror over and over again until his hand comes back a mangled mess. He wants to take Jane into his arms and apologize for letting them take her, apologize for letting them hurt her in the most horrible of ways.

But he knows she would just push him away. After everything he has done to her, after everything he has said. He knows nothing can ever make it right. She didn't trust him. Not anymore.

When Kurt gets home. He drowns his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle of scotch.

When Jane arrives at her safe house, the first thing she does is take a shower, leaving her clothes in a messy pile beside the bathtub, she stands there until the water runs cold. She loosely wraps herself in a towel and slowly moves to the bedroom, stopping just in front of the tall mirror by the window. She allows the towel to fall to her feet as she stares unblinking, at the woman who stares back at her. She takes in every blemish, every scar, every inked bit of skin and wraps her arms tightly around herself, falling slowly to her knees as a painful sob pushes its way from her chest.

She makes it another night without sleep. Another night away from the horrors that plague her dreams. It's almost light outside when she gets dressed again and heads towards work, yet another day of pretending she's fine.

The team seemed to have warmed up to her lately. Reade had started asking her if she wanted something during the coffee run, Tasha had imported some chilli sauce from Mexico and left it in the top drawer of her desk...just for her, and Weller had bought her some thermal gloves for the winter time. She smiled at their kindness. It almost made her feel normal.

But she knew that it wouldn't last.

It never did.


Hope you enjoyed this one guy. I loved writing it. Next one up soon. I am gonna try and write a happy one. :) Please tell me what you thought and again. If you want to see anything. Just let me know. :)