A/N: From the response to that last chapter, I should have put a warning: Caution: LaRoche Love Scene! LOL. Hey, creepy CBI guys need love too! I have been trying to humanize him, because I want things to be a little in the gray area where Jane is concerned. If we simply hated LaRoche, that would be too easy, wouldn't it? So, if you had heretofore hated LaRoche (as did I) and now you are starting to like him, my devious plan is working. Thanks for the great feedback. Now, onward with…
Chapter 10
"Where the hell have you been?" roared Gale Bertram. LaRoche had arrived back at HQ, out of breath for the second time that day, but for much less pleasurable reasons. He glanced over at Jane, who sat on his damnable couch in the bullpen, a deceptively innocent smile on his face. LaRoche managed to shoot him a quick glance that clearly said: I'll deal with you later, asshole.
"Sorry, sir. I was in a place without cell phone reception. I came as soon as I could."
"Ha," said Jane. When everyone on the team looked his way, he waved them off with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Don't mind me."
"Well, next time a case arises, you damn well better stay within ear shot."
"Yes, sir," LaRoche replied tightly, the anger at a constant simmer just below the surface.
"Haskell was shot in the ransom drop,"Bertram continued, "but fortunately the bullet missed his heart and passed through his body with little damage. He's awake and demanding the Feds get on his daughter's kidnapping."
"Sir," said Lisbon from the conference table near the television. "Look at this."
It was a breaking news story, and cameras zoomed in on Senator Haskell, in bed in his hospital room. He was looking straight into the camera, pleading for the kidnappers not to harm his little girl, and for someone—anyone—to call in with any information about where they could find her. He'd offered a million dollar reward.
"Dammit!" Bertram exclaimed. "Who the hell authorized this?"
"I don't know sir. But maybe this could help…"Lisbon said, trying to look on the bright side.
"Hmmm," said Jane in concern, having joined them at the TV. "I'm afraid he's just killed his daughter."
"Why do you say that, Jane?" asked Bertram.
Jane shrugged, but inside, he was trembling with fear for the little girl who was being held somewhere in God only knew what kind of conditions. How frightened she must be. How she must wish her daddy were there to protect her from the bad people who took her away from her home. He looked at his de facto boss with a grimace.
"With a reward that high, her keeper will get desperate. Desperate people do desperate things. He—or she—may not think it's worth the risks now."
Bertam, never wanting to appear at fault for anything—especially in the media, turned on LaRoche. "If that girl dies, it's all on you, LaRoche!"
"What?" he said in shock.
"You weren't here to control your people. The way that ransom drop went down was atrocious. I've already had to suspend Rigsby for taking that idiotic shot and nearly killing the senator."
"What?" repeated LaRoche numbly, looking around the table at Lisbon and Van Pelt, who avoided eye contact, embarrassed for him to have received a dressing down in front of his team. Jane, however, met his eyes with a mixture of fear and loathing.
A cell phone buzzed, and Bertram's aid brought it to his ear. Everyone paused to see what bombshell would be dropped next.
"Sir," said Bertram's aid, after disconnecting the call. "The governor wants to see you, along with the Feds. They're at the Capitol building."
"Shit! LaRoche, you better make damn sure Cho is able to get information from the suspect, or there'll be hell to pay. I figure he has thirty minutes before the Feds get here and take over."
"Yes, sir. We're on it."
"And don't screw this up. Any more unprofessional behavior, like skipping out on a case or sucker-punching one of your team members, and you'll be spearing trash on the side of the freeway, you got me?"
"Yes sir."
With that, the director and his aid headed out of the bullpen and straight toward the elevator.
"How's Jessie?" Jane asked LaRoche, filling the shocked silence left in their wake.
LaRoche literally saw red, and it took both Lisbon and Van Pelt to hold back the big man. Jane retreated to his couch.
"Sir, please!" Lisbon grunted against his barrel chest. "Forget about him. We need to get to the interrogation room."
LaRoche abruptly came to his senses and made a heroic attempt to settle down. This violent reaction was totally out of character for him, and he knew if he didn't get hold of his emotions, his skyrocketing blood pressure would land him in the hospital right alongside Senator Haskins. He looked down at the two women and almost laughed at their valiant efforts to keep him from killing Jane. Of course, who knows what he might have done had they not stood in his way.
"You're quite correct, Agent Lisbon. Forgive me. That man—he brings out the worst in people."
All three were glaring at Jane who had the decency for once to keep the annoying grin off his face. LaRoche turned toward the hallway and Van Pelt followed after. Lisbon went over to her soon-to-be ex-lover.
"Hey," she said. "Could you take it down a notch, please? We're in the middle of a crisis here."
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I couldn't help myself."
"Well, you'd better." She rubbed her sore forearm, which she'd strained in the attempt to hold back Mount LaRoche. "What the hell did you do to him?"
Jane reached out to rub her arm, immediately feeling guilty that his plans had in any way hurt Lisbon. She gasped a little in pain, and he eased his ministrations until she sighed in relief, trying to ignore the tingle she felt whenever he touched her.
"I set him up in a love nest with Jessie. I was doing him a favor, really. No phones. No cares of the outside world to interfere…"
"No emergency calls from the CBI…He didn't look too happy to me," she said.
Jane smiled. "Oh, he was not long ago, trust me. Didn't you see how his pants were halfway unzipped and his tie was askew? That man just emerged from some major afternoon delight. He should be thanking me."
Lisbon smirked and headed out of the bullpen, Jane at her side. "I'm sure after the reaming out he just got from Bertram, you won't be getting a thank you card anytime soon. Just stay out of his way, will ya? For a little while? For my sake as well as the sake of that poor little girl?"
Jane sobered at once. "You're right, Lisbon. Maybe I can help Cho to get that monster in there to crack. You wouldn't be opposed to a little hypnotism for a good cause, would ya?"
"I thought you said it was over for her."
"Not if I can help it," said Jane, with new determination. It was like he'd finally woken up. Whenever he was in revenge mode, he tended to be blinded to the rest of the world. She considered him a moment, then gave him a brief nod.
"Do what you gotta do."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Two hours later, and the CBI, along with the FBI Hostage Rescue Team, gathered outside an old farmhouse in the middle of a peach orchard. The house was dark, save for a small glimmer of candlelight from somewhere on the second floor. The two teams had moved in stealthily and surrounded the house, while Jane stayed a safe distance away behind a tree, enjoying the scent of peach blossoms in the evening spring air. Turns out, he hadn't had to use hypnosis after all. The million dollar reward offer had netted a tip that a man and a little girl fitting the Haskell girl's description were holed up in this house. Cho had "encouraged" the suspect to confirm the location, threatening all manner of prison scenarios if he didn't cooperate.
As if to make up for his recent lapse, LaRoche had decided to join the strike team. He wore a bullet-proof vest specially made for his large frame, a gas mask pulled back on his bald head. It had been awhile since he'd done much field work, and there was a dogged look in his eyes now because he knew he had something to prove. He drew his weapon and mentally prepared for the assault.
Rigsby had shown up at the scene, but due to his suspension wasn't allowed to join his teammates. He couldn't stay away, however, but stood with Jane beneath the tree.
"Don't feel bad, Wayne," Jane whispered. "I think you did the right thing. Betram was just pissed off because it led to the Feds' involvement."
"It wasn't a clean shot," said Rigsby. "It was too risky. I should have known better."
"Meh. Sometimes you've gotta take risks, you know that. Besides, as soon as the girl's rescued, you'll be back eating your way through the break room fridge in no time." Jane's grin flashed in the dim light.
"Gee, thanks for the encouragement."
Just then, the popping sound of launched tear gas grenades filled the air, along with the subsequent breaking of glass as they crashed through the upstairs windows. The strike teams pulled down their gas masks, battered open the door, and went inside.
Jane and Rigsby squinted through the darkness, hearing the sudden shouts, a child's scream, and the staccato sound of gunfire, then…silence. They waited, holding their breath.
A sudden shout ripped harshly through the stillness: "Man down! Man down!"
Jane and Rigsby looked at each other. The women they cared about were in there, and while Rigsby didn't know the extent of Jane's feelings for one of them in particular, they both shared in the worry equally. Jane's heart pounded loudly in his chest, and even though he'd seen Lisbon in dangerous situations many times before, interject love into the equation, and for Jane it equaled gut wrenching terror.
Then, from out of the smoke filled house emerged Van Pelt, carrying the squalling child, whose eyes were streaming from the tear gas. Rigsby smiled his relief as Van Pelt called for medical assistance, violating orders by rushing to her aid. Jane hung back, waiting for another word of what was going on inside the house. A Fed came out, ripping off his mask and yelling into a cell phone.
"We need an ambulance. CBI member down, shot in the femoral artery. We're trying to get the bleeding to stop, but you should get here asap before we have a bleed out…"
Jane couldn't listen anymore. Now that the kidnapping victim was rescued, he ignored any residual danger and walked quickly through the orchard to the house. A body was brought out—the bullet ridden corpse of the kidnapper. Jane looked upon him in immense satisfaction, but his mind still flitted to Lisbon.
"Where's Agent Lisbon?" he asked one of the Feds. The man jerked his head toward the house. "She's still in there. We can't do much until the ambulance comes."
"Who was hit?" he asked, realizing he needed to be more direct. He knew now that it could only be Lisbon, Cho or LaRoche in there, possibly bleeding to death from the large artery in their leg.
"Big guy. He got caught in the crossfire. Agent LaRoche, I think his name is."
"Yeah," muttered Jane, and the agent went about his business. Jane was relieved it wasn't Lisbon or Cho, of course, but he suddenly had some very mixed feelings about it being LaRoche.
Twenty minutes later, the ambulance arrived from Sacramento, and the EMT's went inside the house with borrowed gas masks on. A few more minutes later, and LaRoche had been loaded onto a gurney and the paramedics were rolling him to the back of the ambulance. Lisbon and Cho followed behind, their hands stained with LaRoche's blood.
It was all Jane could do not to run up to her and take Lisbon into his arms. It was the first real danger she'd been in since they'd become lovers, and he didn't like that feeling of helplessness. No, not one bit. He settled for putting a friendly hand on her arm, for now.
"You okay?" he asked softly. She could tell he had been worried by the deepened creases around his eyes, and she longed to hold him and put his mind at ease. It had been an intense few minutes, their main worry being not to hit the child.
"Yeah. Not sure about LaRoche though." She looked over at their boss, who was unconscious and breathing into an oxygen mask.
Van Pelt approached them. "I called Jessie. She's meeting us at the hospital. She sounded hysterical."
"Yeah, and I'd better call Bertram," Lisbon sighed. "At least we got the girl out safely, but he's not gonna be too thrilled that someone else got shot."
"Maybe Haskell will put in a good word for us with the media," said Cho dryly. They all smirked—that wouldn't be likely. The Feds would get all the credit for this one. The ambulance roared away, and Van Pelt offered to follow LaRoche and meet Jessie at the hospital.
When Lisbon had finished her call to the big boss, the two teams went into action again, cordoning off the crime scene with the familiar yellow tape, searching the house for evidence to be used at trial. Senator Haskell's wife arrived in a sheriff's car, and mother and daughter were reunited. Jane and Lisbon stood by watching, enjoying the happy ending that so rarely came with their work.
"Hey," said Jane to Lisbon in a low voice. "Come with me for a minute."
She looked at him suspiciously. "Where?"
"Just come on. Trust me." That earned a skeptical eyebrow. Jane chuckled and grabbed her by the hand, leading her away from the crime scene to a quiet grove of blossoming peach trees. Before she could protest, he had her pushed against a tree, kissing her for all he was worth. Warmth pooled in his stomach when she kissed him back in the gathering darkness, allowing him to express with his mouth and hands the relief and love he was feeling that she was okay.
If she were totally honest with herself, Lisbon would admit that she'd been afraid too, while the bullets ripped through the air around them, that she might die without ever holding Jane again. This was why she'd never allowed herself to get so deeply involved with anyone. Her job wasn't conducive to a lasting relationship, and her relationships weren't conducive to being a good state agent.
"Don't do that to me again," Jane was saying, a rasp in his voice.
"Do what? My job?"
He smiled against her lips. "I know. You and the CBI are a package deal. I don't have to like it." And he swallowed her reply with his mouth.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jane hated hospitals. There was nothing natural about them-not the smell, not the sounds, not the colors. He'd much rather be in the middle of a peach orchard on a cool spring evening, kissing Teresa. Instead, he was watching J.J. LaRoche through the window of the ICU, as Jessie Lynch held his hand and kissed his pasty white cheek. He would survive, but it would take a lot of physical therapy for him to ever walk well again. Lisbon joined Jane's solemn vigil.
"I guess you just might get what you want after all," she said. "LaRoche will be out of commission for a long time over this."
Jane's eyes didn't leave Jessie, and he imagined that was him in there, holding Lisbon's cold hand. He shuddered a little and shut his eyes briefly. "I might have wished him dead, Lisbon, but not seriously injured like this."
"Oh…I fail to see the logic in that, but hey, it's your revenge plot."
He shrugged, not insulted at all. "I hate to see any creature suffer, Lisbon. And I admit, I feel a little sorry for the guy. But mostly, I find myself feeling bad for Jessie. I dragged her back into his life, after all."
Lisbon looked over at him, assessing his sincerity. It was good for him to notice the consequences of his games. He was feeling uncharacteristically guilty for his part in this, so she purposefully twisted the knife a little. "And don't forget, LaRoche wouldn't have gone in with the strike team if he hadn't wanted to make things up to Bertram, a situation that you created."
"True," he agreed simply. They stood together in silence, watching Jessie's obvious fear and love for LaRoche. "I don't know, Lisbon," he said finally. "maybe I went about this all wrong."
"Oh, really? So, you're gonna give up now on trying to get him out?"
Jane thought about how LaRoche had invaded his privacy in the attic, then kicked him out of it. He thought of the way the man mercilessly interrogated his friends, temporarily demoted Lisbon, not to mention the rift all of this had caused in his relationship with Lisbon. But then he saw the tears in Jessie's eyes, as she lay her head on her lover's shoulder. So, did he want to give up? There was only one obvious answer for Patrick Jane:
"No way in hell."
A/N: Please forgive any poetic license I took with FBI/CBI kidnapping cases or medical crises. My only claim of knowledge is that I watch a lot of TV, lol. I didn't intend this to be a case fic, so forgive also the sketchy way I presented that. It was just a blatant plot device, I admit. And don't worry—I haven't forgotten that Jane and Lisbon still need to work on the matter of his many secrets. I'll deal with that in the next chapter.
If you haven't reviewed in awhile, I'd love to know how you think I'm doing…