Author's Note: I have no idea how far apart Lisbon and her brothers are in age, nor what her third brother's name is, or even anything about her third brother. So you'll have to bear with me as I make it up as I go along.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist and would not be foolish enough to claim to.
The bell rang to signify the end school, but Jane took his time collecting his things and heading out into the hall. His mind was occupied, and had been all afternoon, bound in a loop with only one central point- a small girl with long dark hair and an air of mystery that was driving his curiosity mad.
The after-school press was more chaotic then even lunch had been as he passed outside. He tried not to make a face. So many students trying to get out of the buildings all at once made him feel more claustrophobic than sunset at a packed carnival. He dodged out of the way of a rushing classmate and ended up on the sidewalk near the school's fenced in playing fields. It wasn't exactly the way he had intended to go, but it would take him away from the crowd. After all, he had a bit of a walk in front of him and a little detour wouldn't hurt.
He shifted his pack and started walking, taking his time, only noticing the sports teams training after school on the other side of the fence when a whistle blew loudly.
The football team was running drills. Back and forth they moved, trying to be quick with a mass of armor-like padding on. He watched the way that they switched and spun, only thinking how much it must hurt to be tackled by one of them. Rigsby was in the midst of hulking figures, slightly distracted from what he was trying to do and slipping up on the slick grass.
All Jane had to do was follow the jocks eyes and a slow smirk tilted the edge of his mouth.
Standing next to the red clay track encircling the edges of the field was the red-head, Van Pelt, stretching out her calf muscles and not noticing the attention at all. She was clad in running shorts and a jersey tee with her name in bold letters across the back just like Rigsby's. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail, making her dimpled smile all the more blazing.
Looking back at Rigsby, Jane saw him stumble yet again. The coach, a man with the name Bertram on his back, had noticed though, and taken to yelling at him to get a move on.
Jane almost tsked aloud.
He had it bad, poor kid.
By this time, Jane's slower steps had carried him to the gap in the fencing that allowed entry into the field beyond. There, he froze.
A girl stood next to the risers, leaning forward over her bent knee, tying her shoe with her foot braced against the bench of the lowest seat.
He would recognize that figure anywhere.
It was her. The girl that had taken to haunting his thoughts, the one who avoided looking into his- or really anyone's- eyes. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck now but because she was turned away from him, he still couldn't see her eyes. She had traded her old, hole-ridden jeans for a pair of running shorts- her tight, white tee exchanged for one exactly like Van Pelt's, only with a different name printed across her shoulder-blades.
LISBON
Slowly, Jane took a few steps into the field, not taking his eyes off her while still trying to be discreet.
So- he had discovered the connection between Lisbon and Van Pelt. They were both on the track team. With a start, Jane realized it was the first time he'd seen or heard the girl's name too. It made him stop staring and instead turn his thoughts inward to wonder why he hadn't really needed her name till now, hadn't sought it out, and was shocked to find he had been able to recognize her merely by the way she moved, by the way she breathed. He hadn't needed a name. She was... Her. The girl with the concealing dark hair and a fierceness he could feel a mile away tracing a chill up his spine.
Thoughtfully, he shook his head at himself. Who had it bad?
Suddenly a young boy, maybe nine or ten years old, bounded across the bleachers toward her and showed her a piece of paper. By the flourished pen in his hand, he had just put something across the page and was trying to show off.
And then Lisbon was smiling, ruffling the kid's matching dark scruff of hair.
Jane tilted his head.
The kid was obviously her little brother and Lisbon was happy, smiling, but almost... frantically so. Like she was still hiding, just without the use of her hair. Her gaze was only meeting the boys for a few scattered seconds without latching on, obviously trying to keep the younger boy oblivious and smiling.
He made a face. Did she hide from everyone?
Lisbon sent the kid back to his seat in the bleachers with a gentle push and started jogging toward the rest of her teammates to warm up.
Jane watched the way she moved, entranced. It was different, with her arms curled close to her chest, but adorable. So it took all his considerable concentration to pull his eyes away and seize the opportunity presented to him. As stealthily as possible, he darted to the bleachers and looked over.
The boy was sitting on one of the benches half-way up, paper against a book pressed to his knees and backpack beside him. He was drawing again and tuned out to the rest of the world, so Jane spoke up before he could startle him.
"Hi."
The kid looked up and peered at him uncertainly. "Hello."
"I'm Patrick. What's your name?"
Squinting against the pale sun, the boy looked him up and down and then said in a quiet voice. "Tommy."
"Nice name." Jane hauled himself up on the bleachers and sat far enough away that he wouldn't make the boy uncomfortable. "So, you know her?" He nodded toward Lisbon.
Tommy glanced the way he had indicated, where his sister was stretching out. He then looked back at Jane. "Ye-ah." He said it questioningly.
"I'm betting she's your big sister, isn't she?"
The kid nodded reluctantly.
Jane decided honesty would get him farther than any lie. "Would you mind if I asked you something about her?" He was careful to keep his tone light.
Making a face, Tommy looked back at his sister. Then he did a little double-take and grinned mischievously. "You like her, don't you?"
"Me?" Jane shot back with mock incredulity. For flair he put his hand over his heart like he'd been mortally wounded.
The kid laughed at him. "You're kind of goofy, you know that? Why don't you just ask her?"
Jane shrugged. "I get the feeling your big sister is the kind of person you have to approach carefully. I don't want to make a horrible first impression."
Tommy looked pensive for a moment and then offered up a tidbit. "She loves jazz. And sports. Would that help you?"
Jazz? Huh. Grinning, Jane nodded. "It might." Then he looked around. "Your sister always pick you up and bring you here?"
"Just when she has practice." The kid returned to his drawing. "My school's just around the corner. She says if she left me alone, Andrew and I would tear the house apart."
"Andrew, is he your brother?"
"One of them." Tommy suddenly looked back at Jane with narrowed eyes. "You're gonna be nice to her right?"
Another protector. Jane smiled, wide and genuine. "I'd never do anything to hurt her."
After a moment of study, Tommy returned to his drawing again, seeming satisfied.
Off in the distance of the field, Jane could see the teacher from earlier in the day, Minnelli, ordering Lisbon and her team to break up for a run at the track. Time for his exit. "Well." He stood, brushed off his clothes and gave a little wave to Tommy. "It was a pleasure meeting you. Thanks for the pointers."
"Bye." The kid smiled.
Just as Jane got back down to the ground, he heard another whistle. He looked back just in time to see a blur sprinting by he barely even recognized as the girl he had been staring at. Geez, she was fast! Limbs spread out, lithe form eating up the ground like it was nothing at all, she moved in a completely different way from when she was jogging earlier. Like she had let go of everything, every care in the world she'd ever had and was free falling. She sped with fluid movement, fast as a high gale wind- It was awe-inspiring. When she got half-way down the track she slowed to a stop, chest heaving as she breathed hard and deep to catch her breath. Those she had run against were congratulating and praising her.
It took all he had to pull himself away and keep walking the path that he had been on. Every part of him wanted to stay, to watch her, to chance getting to see her eyes for once. But he had somewhere that he needed to be and not a lot of time now to get there. Instead, he just had to draw what consolation he could from the blesses easing of his prickly curiosity.
Because she liked jazz and sports. Because now he had a name to go with her fleeting image.
And because now he was more determined than ever that Miss Lisbon was going to look him in the eyes, one way or another.