Just watch the episode with Bosco ;( So sad :(
Anyway, onwards :) While writing this, there's one song that I seem to play constantly. It kind of fits the Jane/Maddy relationship, and I really like it. Go search for Never Say Never by The Fray. Its great :)
I now have a beta :D Three cheers for Sarcasm- The Lowest Form Of Wit. Thankyou!
Disclaimer: The Mentalist and its characters belong to CBS. Maddy Clark belongs to me
Chapter 2 - Bloodshot Eyes
Last Chapter...
"So, what you're saying..." I turned around and became suddenly aware of our close proximity. His face was right beside mine, and I could see every detail, the golden hair, the mouth curled in a slight smile, those blue eyes...I felt myself blushing and tried to compose myself, failing. "So what y-your saying is that our victim is not Kevin's brother?"
He smile broadly "Exactly,"
"Then we have a problem," I stated, standing up and unpinning a photo from the wall. "Where is Jimmy Walker?"
"Now pick a card. Don't show me, just pick it in your mind," Jane instructed, and I focused my thoughts on the Queen of Hearts in his left hand.
"Right, I've picked," I told him, eager to prove him wrong. He started to grin.
"Queen of hearts," He stated, dropping his hands, his cocky smile growing at the scowl on my face.
"Right again. How are you doing it?" I asked, sitting back on the leather seat. This was how we'd been passing the last ten minutes in the car. Card games and tricks. Jane seemed to keep a pack in his pocket at all times.
"Can't tell you. You don't want me to be hunted down and killed by the magic circle do you?" He gave a sly smirk.
"Fine, I'll work it out myself," I took the two different coloured cards from him, turning them over and looking closely for any distinguishing features. Nothing. Not a mark of a fold. I gave up that idea, and began to think. "Well, you didn't read my mind,"
"What makes you say that?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, you always claim that there's no such thing as physics, so that rules that out,"
"Good reasoning," He mused, nodding.
I stopped. "If I guess, and you don't specifically tell me how to do it, will you tell me I got it right?"
"Mmmm..." He closed one eye, considering my proposal "Maybe,"
I rolled my eyes "Well, it has to be something to do with human reactions. Or suggestion. Did you suggest it and I didn't notice? Or did I unconsciously give it away?"
He considered it for a moment, "You're getting closer,"
"Unconscious gestures? Glances, hand movement. That's it isn't it!" I asked excitedly, and he nodded.
"Got it. Anyone can do it, they just have to be confident enough for the person to trust them, not notice what they're doing,"
"So I could do it?" I asked, picking the cards back up
"Well, you could try. It's all about observation," he replied doubtfully
"Oi! I was a CSI for six years, observation is my middle name!" I replied confidently, and he laughed.
"We'll see about that,"
I held up the cards, "Pick a card and focus on it,"
Jane nodded, not looking at either off them, but instead, staring straight ahead at me, unblinking. A small, lazy smile was playing across his features, and it was quite clear that he wasn't going to play fair. Plus, the staring was beginning to make me blush, so I focused my attention on his arms. But they were sitting lightly on his knees, again, not moving. I frowned, furrowing my brow and focused. He ginned even more.
"Oh I give up! Spoil-sport!" I chucked the cards back on his knee and she laughed, scooping them up.
"You two are easily amused" came Cho's dry voice from the front, book propped up against the steering wheel. Rigsby sat in the passenger seat, stuffing his face with a sandwich. His third since we'd arrived.
Why were we sitting trying to pass the time in the car? We were waiting. Waiting outside the little run down house that belonged to our missing person's newest friend. His brother had told us about the new guy, a suspicious boy who never seemed to say much, but made up for that in atmosphere he projected. He seemed to be a no-nonsense, dangerous boy. A bit of a rebel. And Jimmy followed him like a sheep.
The house was in a run down area of the city, one window boarded up and the others dirty and cracked. The fence was splintered, the pain chipping and the grass was overgrown, weeds sprouting between the garden slabs.
"Wait, here we go," Rigsby pointed out, a figure walking towards the gait, having just excited the house. The two men in the front of the car opened their doors, hands at their belts, getting out cautiously.
"Kurt Lamburt? CBI!" And the boy darted away from the car, running down the street.
Cho and Rigbsy slammed the doors shut, sprinting out from the car after him. I hung back, unsure how to react. My job was to make sure Jane didn't do anything stupid. And I was sure the guys could take care of this themselves. Never the less, I opened my door, putting one foot out of the car and peered over the roof. Cho was closest to the boy, who had now looped back, hopping over the garden fences, coming back towards the house. Rigsby was picking himself back up off the ground, where numerous trash cans lay, contents scattered, having been used to trip him up. He looked unharmed, but severely annoyed.
And then Kurt jumped over the garden fence closest to the car. I spun around, spotting the wasteland behind the houses behind us, his obvious destination. And he was coming closer, and it didn't look like he'd spotted me. I made my decision, jumped back into the car and lunged across Jane, grabbing his door handle and flinging it open. There was a dull thunk, a grunt of pain, and the sound of someone falling onto the ground. More footsteps approached and I heard Rigsby's aggravated voice.
"These pants were clean on!"
I gave a slight chuckle and then stopped. I was still lying on top of Jane, hand reached out to the door. I looked up, to find him with a look of slight shock on his face which was slowly turning to a grin, cards in his hands. I coughed, embarrassed, and slid back onto my seat, closing my own door and brushing myself down. Throughout the rest of the journey, my eyes didn't leave the window.
The sun was nearly set, and with it, my happy mood was evaporating. The night was setting in, with hours of torture ahead. I knew I'd get little sleep tonight. The dreams were enough to keep me awake.
I entered the house, hanging my keys up in the hall when I realised that I wasn't the first home. Grace was wandering about around whistling to herself, sorting her hair and grabbing a quick bite to eat. I'd been sharing the flat with Grace since I'd come out of hospital, having found it impossible to go back into my old flat. Grace had offered me a room, and I'd accepted gratefully. We'd grown to be close friends since then, although I often felt guilty. My nightmares could become vocal, and I was worried that I'd wake her. But Grace had been nothing but welcoming. The arrangement worked.
"Off out again?" I asked, taking my coat off and hanging it up
"I've got a date" Grace replied happily
"Anyone I know?" I asked with a small smile
"No, no you don't know him," Grace replied quickly. Too quickly. My smile grew slightly.
"Well, have fun. Say hi to Rigsby for me," I told her, heading towards my room
"I w- hey! It's not Rigsby! There's nothing between us!" She protested, cheeks flushing red.
"Okay, okay, nothing going on. I won't tell," I grinned, running out of reach, the pillow she had just chucked hitting my door as I closed it, laughing.
I heard the front door shut and Grace shout a goodbye, and my grin slowly faded. I was alone again, with my thoughts, the same ones that tormented me. When I closed my eyes I could see today's body, the stabbed victim, the nameless boy. And the image changed, my old flat, my mother, the blood, the smiley face on the wall in her blood. My eyes shot open again. It was going to be a long night.
With a sigh, I dragged the duvet off my bed, heading for the living room. I chucked it onto the sofa, flicking the TV on and headed for the fridge inside sat the giant tub of ice cream which I had bought for this very occasion. The "make me feel better" ice cream. Chocolate fudge brownie. Yum.
And there I sat, for around three hours, gradually getting closer to sleep, watching any random rubbish that was on. Well, when I say any, that does not include horror. I can't stand the stuff. So I settled with an old movie, The Time-Machine by H.G. Wells, the old 1960 adaption. But my attention wasn't quite on it. It was drifting, and I kept having to shake myself awake. But it didn't work.
The rope was tight around my wrists, and my mouth was dry. His laugh sent a shiver down my spine, and Gary's cold stare was boring into me. And then I felt the pain of the knife on my cheek, and he disappeared, and the image of my mother flickered through my mind. It was replaced by Gary, gun pointed, sweating, shouting noiseless words, and the gun went off with a bang...
I awoke, shaking, the scream about to escape my lips. I managed to silence it, but the bang echoed again, and I sat up straight, looking around the room, wide eyed. Again, the bang rang throughout the room, and I realised that there was someone at the door. I hurried off the chair, my balance slightly off, knocking into the coffee table, and peered through the peep-hole. It was Patrick Jane.
"Oh crap!" I muttered, looking around the room. It was a mess. Not to mention the fact that I was a mess. I gritted my teeth and opened the door.
"Hey," He smiled, holding up what he was carrying. It was a bottle of red wine. "I thought you might be up late so I thought I'd stop by with this,"
"Oh thanks," I smiled, letting him in. "You really shouldn't have," He looked over to the sofa, duvet tumbled onto the floor and the old ice cream tub empty on the table.
"Lets see, duvet, empty ice cream carton, blood-shot eyes...another sleepless night?" He asked, and I frowned. I hated how he could read me like a book.
My silence answered him, and with a sigh, he began to open the cupboard doors in the kitchen, searching. With a satisfied "Aha!", he pulled out two wine glasses, uncorking the bottle and filling them up. He handed one over, and I accepted with a slight smile.
"The Time Machine" was still on as I moved the duvet to let us sit down on the sofa. Jane was looking content, sipping at his wine, eyes focused on the screen. My mind was wandering back to my dream, my breathing picking up slightly as I found myself running my fingers down the length of the scar on my cheek, unblinking, my other hand clutching tightly at the wine glass. I jumped slightly at the gentle touch on my hand, pulling it away from my face. Jane squeezed my fingers and I clung back as if life itself depended on it.
Taking a deep breath, I curled my feet up onto the chair, leaning against his shoulder. He shifted slightly, getting comfortable, sipping his wine. And it was there that I slowly drifted off to sleep, still clutching his hand lightly. My first night of dreamless sleep.
Yup, I think I've gotten the whole American lingo down. I think. Correct me if I'm wrong :P
Angst + Fluff = Maddy/Patrick :P
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