A/N: Oops, it's been a month. Sorry! Well, I'm gonna be honest and say that I'm kind of confused with whether you're still into this or not, because most of you that reviewed at first aren't reviewing anymore :/ Anyway, tell me if I should keep writing.
Chapter 9: Inn Of The Seventh Ray
The world waned to a sluggish pace, as he swam against the current of crushing bodies. He caught glimpses of pleasantly surprised smiles, enhanced by a shared note of enthusiasm as the show of fireworks took hold of the night—all a dull crackle of white noise in the back of his mind.
"Excuse me, where's the bathroom?" he would ask random people, who in return would glance down at his rude hand tugging at their elbow with an expression of startle and annoyance.
Finally, a guy from the staff raised a tentative finger toward his left, looking at him as if he were an active volcano.
His gaze flipped toward the direction of his hand with the force of a flung arrow.
There, near a darker section of the restaurant, he was able to discern the outsets of a staircase that twisted toward lower grounds.
His feet were in motion again. Most of the attending crowd had retreated toward the perch now, which granted him some freedom of space. He hurtled himself at the stairs; then, clutching the handrail to maintain a balance, he almost slid down.
Reaching the basement, he briefly hesitated at the face of two arched entrances, his eyes flickering between the fancy gender signs atop each of them.
"Lisbon?" he shouted in a hardly restrained voice, before launching into the archway distinguished by the feminine symbol.
The corridor turned left to a spacious room with series of bathroom stalls at the right and sinks across. Two women were standing before the mirrors, one washing her hands, the other applying lip gloss. Upon seeing his reflection, they both whirled around, startled.
"Hey, this is the ladies' restroom!" the one that was applying lip gloss said.
His eyes opened wide with discretion; he made no effort to hide his desperation, unlike his usual approach.
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm looking for someone", he said, voice trimmed with agony. "Did you see—?"
The sound of a flushing toilet interrupted him mid-sentence. His gaze snapped toward the direction of the sound, lungs awaiting the relief of breath.
The third door down the row of toilet booths pulled back with a thump.
….
Cho lowered his head and squinted into the empty chamber of Wylie and Vega's car, a tiny spring of dread chapping in his stomach.
He looked up and around, trying to see past the dark veil of the night.
The rustling of the tree leaves joined the soft murmur and cutlery sounds stemming from the restaurant for a moment; the two agents were nowhere in the near vicinity.
He shuffled restlessly; he was certain he had seen them exit the lobby only a few minutes ago, while he was on the phone, filling in Abbott. Unfortunately, he had been too engrossed in the conversation to notice the moment of their departure, so when he had finally finished with the call, it was like they had blinked to non-existence.
Now, with still no further clue as to where they had gone, he reached for his cell phone anew and gave the blond a call.
After a few dull beeps, he abandoned the effort and called Vega instead.
Same result.
The well of trepidation broke free; surges of worry started crawling up his blood vessels. Trying to keep the flow strictly inside his stomach, he took the long shadowy path that led to the entrance of the venue.
Beyond the gate lied a cozy, candlelit garden with round tables laid in white embroideries. Upon entering, he realized that what he'd thought for a murmur was actually the sound of rushing water that sprang from artificial waterfalls. Thick tree foliage provided a roof over the courtyard. The air was damp and it made Cho think of the numerous bugs and mosquitos thriving in the fresh grass and tree leaves. How people thought this was a romantic place to get married was a true mystery to him.
The gate keeper, dressed to match the restaurant's colors, saw him then and scurried to assist him.
"Can I help you, sir?" he asked.
Cho didn't bother flashing his badge, judging that the situation didn't yet require police interference. Instead he gave him Wylie and Vega's descriptions and asked if he'd seen them.
"Oh, you mean that sweet little couple", the man chanted. "Yes, they left several minutes ago", he prompted.
"You sure?"
"Yes", he said, a quizzical frown blinking on and off between his eyebrows.
"You didn't see them enter again", Cho clarified.
The man narrowed his eyes. "No. Except if they used the staff's entrance", he said. The last part was meant to be a joke, judging by the short piggy laugh the man's nose produced.
"Where's that?" Cho asked unaffected.
The assistant's face sobered at his stoic expression.
"Um…" he mumbled, pointing tentatively toward a direction, smiling awkwardly and mingling his eyebrows in doubt.
"Thank you", Cho said and casually walked past him.
The kitchen was the only actual building, unlike the tree house the rest of the restaurant was. Cho paused at the entrance, in expectance of someone to notice him.
When no one did, he eased inside, eyes darting around.
The hatch that was meant to facilitate the staff's way in and out was at the rear of the building, distinguished by a sign that read "Staff Only" in big red letters.
He pushed it with his shoulder, driven by the force of habit; then he thought the better of it and tried the handle.
The door retreated, revealing another path of shadows, lined by stylishly trimmed bushes at either side. A single step separated the floor of the kitchen from the ground.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change of luminosity. As the dark alley came in full display, hope became anxiety, courage fear.
There was no sight of Vega and Wylie.
He was ready to step outside and keep on the search, but as he lowered his gaze to adjust his footing, he caught a glimpse of black hue in the overall white pattern of the pavement.
At first, he thought it was a spider. As the quiver of disgust withdrew itself, though, he was able to discern the true nature of the object.
Vega's wire, he thought dreadfully, no longer capable of withholding the frost in the pit of his stomach.
….
The sight of her unscathed, delicate frame; her evening, short-hemmed, blue dress; the familiar explosion of ebony on her head and the more than familiar look of puzzlement in her green eyes, as she saw him, had him running toward her. He pulled her in a forceful, hopeless embrace, locking his arms around her, not sure if he'd ever be able to let her go.
He knew that he was probably embarrassing her, hugging her like that in front of people; she was a private woman, thus public displays of affection made her feel awkward—it was a wonder she still hadn't scolded him for that ridiculous airplane love confession. Yet, he couldn't find the strength to pull back.
She was probably going to push him back, a part of him considered. But he would revel in the sensation of having her safe in his arms even for the very few seconds it took her to react.
She didn't. Push him back, that is.
Instead, after the first few moments of her initial shock, her arms slid gently around his waist, as she buried herself further into his embrace. His body relaxed under her touch, as if every tense muscle flattened at a brush of her finger. He pushed out his head and rested his chin against the soft flesh of her shoulder blade. She smelled of gardenia and cinnamon and that very special scent that he recognized as solely hers. He realized, with another spread of warmth in his chest, that her fingers were doing that sweet soothing movement of hers, rubbing flat the remaining bulks of unrest.
"Get a room", someone muttered. Little did he care. The whole world seemed to be waning in interest in that very moment.
He didn't know how long they had been hugging. At some point, though, he realized they were left alone.
Slowly, blindly, he turned his face, cheeks and breaths brushing with each other, lips parted, feeling for hers. He found the soft skin between her nose and upper lip instead. He paused and breathed her in, mouth open with desire. Then, he nudged her up with his nose and chin. She responded immediately, fetching her mouth directly under his. A brief moment, in which they took in each other's scent and maybe even measured desire.
Finally, he pushed out his lower lip in an act of devouring her mouth.
Kissing Teresa was always like dipping in freezing water: the first encounter of their lips would be a total abandon of breath and raise of heartbeat. Eventually, their breathing would acquire a rhythm, their bodies would adjust to the temperature, but the touch would still retain the initial tingling sensation. Or maybe the right way to describe it was a reverse heart attack, as in his heart would skip a few beats at first, before starting to throb like a maniac in his chest and then slowly find its pace.
It was no different now, as he tasted her again and again, deepening the kiss with each single encounter, until all other sensation faded, but the circling of their tongues and the joint fight for control over the kiss. At one desperate moment, Teresa moved one hand from his waist to his cheek, so as to guide his mouth further into hers. He moaned in response.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly, when their lips separated, eyes shining.
He nodded, smiling with soft-heartedness.
"What happened?" came the inevitable question.
"I'll explain later. Are you ready to leave?" he asked, rubbing her arm with his hand.
"Yeah, just let me take my jacket", she answered.
His hand found its way on the small of her back. Side by side, they returned to the first floor. Luckily, the people of the restaurant were still very preoccupied with the fireworks' show to notice them both walking out of the bathroom.
Lisbon's phone was chanting when they reached her jacket. He watched the transformation in her pose as she went from girlfriend to working woman. By the time she picked up the phone, it had stopped ringing. Her gaze locked on the screen, a frown marking her expression.
"Three missed calls from Abbott?" she said worriedly, raising an eyebrow.
Jane stood silent as she pressed redial and drew the cell phone on her ear.
"Boss?" she asked.
The dent between her eyebrows gradually deepened.
"I'll be there as soon as I can", she said, then, drawing her gaze up at him, added, "Yes, I'll tell him".
….
The precinct of Topanga's local police force was more of a makeshift office punched in the bowels of a ramshackle hut.
Still, they'd needed the green light from the LA Sheriff's Department to be granted the place for an overnight investigation.
With that, Jane had abandoned all effort to grasp the essence of tedious, formal procedures and bureaucracy. He would never understand how Lisbon stood on her belief that they should honor every single rule.
As if they weren't all part of a universal mission against evil.
As if the fact that two very good people had been kidnapped with strong chances of being found murdered wasn't enough to open doors.
They congregated in a room that bore the size of a pothole, with barely enough space in the middle to fit an obsolete desk and three rusty, unmatched chairs. Jane doubted if it had ever been used for an actual investigation; such was the quiet nature of this city. In fact, he doubted it had ever been used for anything—the layers of dust were so thick, he could read their footpaths in it: Lisbon's narrow pace, Abbott's opened stride, Cho's… snickers.
They all framed the single desk in the middle, he himself choosing to lean against a shadowy corner instead.
His gaze flickered among the three agents, as the conversation thrived. The emotional charge was a palpable entity in the room. He could separately sense Cho's disappointment in himself, Abbott's underlying worry and Lisbon's… guilt.
Abbott was entertaining the theory that the killer hadn't planned to kidnap Wylie, but had done so out of need, as Wylie had "witnessed" too much.
Jane tried to focus, tune in the whispers of his mind, let the train of thought take its course.
For some reason, he couldn't stop thinking of butterflies. At first, he'd blamed it on the smooth silk of Lisbon's dress. But now, with her beige raincoat muffling every inch of the fine cloth, he couldn't help, but reconsider his initial assumption.
What did he know about butterflies?
There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly.
Never touch a butterfly's wing with your finger.
Try to chase a butterfly and it will fly away from you. Stay calm and it will eventually come to you.
It will eventually come to you.
He realized he was staring at the swirl of foot patterns on the floor, how different trails of footprints mixed with each other, but also stood out on their own.
He almost felt the switch flip in his head, as everything suddenly fell into place.
"He has an accomplice", he realized, interrupting whatever Cho was saying.
All three faces whirled toward his direction.
After a few moments of shocked silence, Cho finally spoke.
"How do you know?"
"Vega was hypnotized. That's how he entices his victims. He doesn't chase after them. He lets them come to him. That's how none of the victims' lovers suspected the place. He hypnotizes the girls and then when night falls, they return to him alone".
"How does that say that he has an accomplice?" Lisbon asked.
"Well, you see, the problem with hypnotism is that you can't be hypnotized by someone if you don't feel secure in their presence. Judging by the strength it would take someone to lift those compartments and that photo we found glued on the column, we can assume the killer is a tall man somewhere near his forties. Now what normal teenage girl would trust a forty-year old man? Ergo, the killer has an accomplice. He's probably one of the waiters that work in the restaurant", Jane deduced.
"Why not a random customer?" Abbott wondered.
"Because waiters are part of the background. You never really see them, you don't consider them as real people. And that's exactly why it is so easy to trust them".
"Okay, but how will we know which of the waiters it is? There are probably dozens of them. We don't even know who was working there today", Lisbon said.
Abbott sighed. "I guess, this is the point where we usually turn to Wylie", he said gloomily.
Jane tapped his index finger on his lips, plotting.
"Abbott, do you think you can find Hygiene Supervisors' uniforms?" he asked suddenly.
Abbott narrowed his eyes. "Jane, what do you have in mind?"
"You'll see. Oh, we'll also need a set of cameras installed in the restaurant and a young woman or man to play the waiter", he said, one step out the door.
"Wait, where are you going?" he asked him.
"There's someone that owes me a little favor", he said playfully and vanished through the door.
….
Virgil Minelli was losing his fifth poker game that night and it didn't seem as though the wheel of fortune would change course.
With a sigh of surrender, he laid his cards open on the green wool. The player sitting opposite from him smiled winningly and spread his hands on the table to gather his spoils.
He'd hardly touched a mark though, when someone started shouting.
"Uh uh uh! This man cheated! I saw him fetch the card out of his sleeve!"
Minelli turned slightly to his right, the familiarity of the voice making his stomach flip. It was an automatic reaction, propelled by the years and years he'd spent dealing with the craziness of the man standing next to him. However, this time he was also relieved to see him there. Thrilled, even.
Patrick Jane was pointing his finger at the man that had just defeated him, looking at him with childish accusation. Almost everyone in the casino had now turned their attention on him.
Minelli whirled around to pierce the man with his eyes, mirroring Jane's expression.
"No, I didn't", said he, his face turning almost red.
"Oh please, if you really didn't, why don't you lift up your sleeve to show us your wrist?" Jane claimed, fixing his gaze firmly on the man.
The latter pressed his lips together with indignation.
"And no tricks! I will know", added Jane.
Eyes drawn away, the man slowly placed one hand on his sleeve and pulled it up.
The tip of the seven of spades protruded out of his sleeve.
Minelli's eyes opened wide with disbelief.
Upon seeing proof of cheating, the dealer granted him the victory. Jane smirked, as the man slung his shoulders and turned his back at them.
"Thank you, Jane", he said, as soon as he was out of earshot. "May I ask what the source of your business is here? I mean, I suppose you didn't just come because you missed me".
"Virgil, you hurt my feelings", Jane feigned hurt.
Virgil kept a straight face.
After a moment, Jane dropped the act, smiling genuinely. "Well, I did came because I missed you and also because I have a great play in act and I think you're really going to enjoy it".
Minelli mentally checked all the words that presaged trouble, his expression filling with weariness. "Does Lisbon know of this plan?" he asked warily.
"Of course".
Check.
A/N: So, did you like it? If you did, please don't forget to leave your review. (Really, I feed on reviews!). If not, well, thank you for following this journey up to this chapter :)
Next Chapter: Prepare to enjoy some Jane/Lisbon undercover business. I can promise that Minelli won't disappoint you. Also, a little surprise coming! (Can you guess?)