Title: In the Cards
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist.
Author's Note: Wow, thanks for all the great reviews of the last chapter! Guess I'm not the only one who'll never be able to look at diner pancakes the same way. :) Reminder: this is a Volker- and Kirkland-free zone. And to clarify, any case mentions in here aren't related to the show and won't turn into an actual case. I'm way too lazy to make one up for this fic. I figure they must solve a few boring ones we don't see, right? Just assume these are those. That said, I'm afraid I'm getting close to committing an actual plot here. Bear with me.
Chapter 6
Jane made sure he was first one into the office the next day, so he could observe Lisbon before she started working. He didn't know what frame of mind she'd be in, but he was pretty sure that even if she'd had the time of her life with Mancini, her good mood wouldn't extend to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd miscalculated so badly. Obviously he should not be allowed to do anything even remotely resembling dating. Had he always been this bad at it? He didn't think so, but it had been a really long time. And Angela had been a far more patient woman than Lisbon.
Which was all moot, because there was no way he should be spending his time thinking about this. Lisbon was better off with a nice normal guy like Mancini, assuming that's what he was. Hadn't he decided long ago to leave enough distance between them so Lisbon would survive whatever ending was in store for him? His weakness was that he kept sidling back up to her every time he made himself walk away. And last night his weakness had collided with her curiosity, almost resulting in disaster. He should be grateful to Mancini for interrupting before he could think of some plan to reverse his misstep. But he wasn't, probably because he was a selfish bastard.
He heard the elevator ding and sat up on his couch, focused on the hallway. But it was only Grace, who exchanged a cheerful good morning with him and got right to work. Cho was only a few minutes behind her, and Rigsby hurried in at five past nine. Still no Lisbon. Jane was beginning to spin ridiculous theories about what was keeping her, but he acknowledged that she was probably having trouble tearing herself away from Mancini rather than having been kidnapped by terrorists or tripping over her high heels, hitting her head on the pavement, and contracting amnesia. Though if she could just forget the last 24 hours, that might be a good thing.
Lisbon finally came in at nine-thirty, an hour and a half past her usual time. She went straight to her office rather than stopping in to say good morning to the team; after a few minutes, Cho went in to talk to her about the case. He returned a few minutes later and relayed instructions to Rigsby and Van Pelt.
Jane decided discretion really was the better part of valor in this case and stretched out on his couch to catch a nap. He hadn't slept well last night, no surprise. And he might as well be comfortable while he waited for Lisbon to approach him on her own terms.
He was woken about an hour later by a stir in the bullpen and opened his eyes just in time to see the vase of red roses being carried into Lisbon's office. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. At least he wasn't the only one making big mistakes with Lisbon these days. Mancini should have known that Lisbon wouldn't want a public announcement they were dating, and from Grace's whispered conversation with Sally from Accounting, it was obvious there'd been a card whose contents were now common knowledge. He might actually feel a little sorry for Mancini, except that now Lisbon was bound to be upset. She'd have more than enough ire to go around, too. Maybe he should take one for the team and let her vent some of it at him. He'd probably just have to look at her to get snapped at.
Well, he was awake now anyway. He might as well do something useful.
"Don't do it, man," Cho murmured as Jane passed his desk.
"Seriously," Rigsby agreed, swiveling his chair and giving him a concerned look. "Or at least wear some body armor."
"O ye of little faith," Jane said with false cheer. "What's the fun of getting flowers if nobody oohs and aahs over them?"
As he walked away, he heard Rigsby say, "Five bucks says she breaks the vase over his head."
"You're on," Cho said. "He runs faster than that."
Jane grinned briefly as he sauntered into Lisbon's office. "My condolences," he said with mock solemnity. "Do you need help disposing of the body? I have some theories I wouldn't mind testing."
"I may take you up on that," she muttered, not looking up from her computer screen. "Do you need something, Jane?"
Interesting. She didn't seem furious at all, at least not with him. He couldn't quite decipher her expression. Was it regret? It looked more like anxiety, but what could be making her anxious? Unless she'd found some kind of evidence to support the theory—all right, it was more like a supposition at this point—that Mancini was involved with Red John. He was suddenly concerned. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or would you rather I spend the morning guessing?"
"Do whatever you want, Jane, just don't do it in here. I'm busy."
Now he was definitely worried. Lisbon would never give him carte blanche like that if she were thinking clearly. Had she had too much to drink last night? He didn't think he'd ever seen her hung over. Maybe it looked like anxiety?
"Coffee?" he offered. If it was a hangover, the caffeine would help her headache. She definitely had one.
She finally looked up and met his gaze, and his heart ached a little for her. She looked miserable. "Yes," she said. "I'll come with you. We can get some for everybody."
They went into the bullpen and took orders. Grace said, "Do you want help, boss?"
"No need. I've got my pack mule," Lisbon said.
"Mule, Lisbon?" Jane exclaimed, offended.
"Yes. As in, stubborn as," she said, leading the way out of the bullpen.
"That makes us a pair of mules, then," Jane remarked. "Or is that a team? Hey, did you know that the collective noun for zombies is a murder?"
"I thought that was crows," Lisbon said.
"Correct. Someone made straight As in high school English," he teased. "And a lot of other subjects too, I'll bet. What was your weak subject?"
She was relaxing, he congratulated himself as they waited for the elevator. Good. He couldn't have her avoiding him because she was worried he might try to bring up last night.
"What? You don't know?" she scoffed.
"I know it wasn't phys ed or English. And you're pretty good at math. Chemistry? No, you liked the sciences, all that intellectual rigor. A foreign language?"
They got into the elevator, which was empty for its downward trip this time of day. Lisbon leaned against the back wall and folded her arms, which spoke of her discomfort, but she wasn't any further from him than usual, so he knew he wasn't the source of it.
"Typing," she said.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I hated it. We were one of the last classes to use actual typewriters, and I hated doing footnotes and learning to type business letters like I was going to be a secretary or something. But it was either that or Home Ec, and I would have ended up taking hostages if they'd made me take that."
He grinned, picturing young Lisbon turning up her adorable little nose at sewing and cooking. Both of which she'd almost certainly had to master years earlier, he realized, making his grin fade.
"So, it's your turn," she said as they got out on the ground floor and headed outside. "Worst subject."
"I told you I didn't go to high school," he reminded her.
"But you got a pretty good education somewhere along the way," she replied. "So what did you have the most trouble with? Differential calculus? Astrophysics? Mandarin?"
"I don't speak Mandarin," he chuckled. "But I'll confess to having trouble wrapping my head around the concept of limits in calculus."
She rolled her eyes at him as they walked away from the building.
"So," he said, as calmly as he could, "now that we won't be overheard, what did you want to tell me?"
"How freaked out should I be that Gabe is a William Blake fan?" she asked.
"That depends. He doesn't seem like the poetry type, but I suppose he could be. Any other books of poetry?"
"Not that I saw. But I didn't search the place thoroughly. I wasn't sure how long he'd sleep." She wasn't looking at him, but she seemed to realize what he was thinking. "I didn't sleep with him just to get into his apartment," she added testily.
No, he thought, you slept with him because I got you all heated up and then blew it. "I wasn't thinking that," he assured her. "But if you want to indulge in girl talk, I'm going to need something stronger than tea."
"It's just," she said slowly, "if he were involved with Red John and he knew I was coming over, wouldn't he have hidden it?"
"Unless he's taunting you. One book of poetry didn't get your antennae quivering," Jane said. "What else? Something he said, or something he did?" He'd better not have hurt her, Jane thought with a rush of anger before realizing how ridiculous he was being. If Mancini had gotten physically out of line, Lisbon would have broken his nose.
"It's hard to say exactly," she said. They reached the coffee cart and got in line, so the confidential part of their conversation was put on hold. When they got to the front of the line, Lisbon rattled off the orders like a barista. Jane found himself handed two steaming cups, while Lisbon took two more. Then they headed back.
"It might just be that he's so sure of himself, but sometimes, I get the feeling he's laughing at me," Lisbon said. "And...and I had the feeling he wasn't all that into it, last night. I mean, it was fine, but I felt like I was his homework or something." She paused. "Of course, that might have been my fault. He said I was distracted, and he might have been right."
Jane knew she'd been distracted, and that he was to blame. He should probably be ashamed of how pleased he was about that, but he wasn't. "Do you have any friends you could talk into a double date? Or should I crash the poker game?"
Lisbon made a strange choking sound. "No!"
"To which question?"
"Both! If you crash the poker game, I'll shoot you, and I mean it. And I wouldn't dare set you up with anyone. Except maybe someone I was annoyed with."
"Sally from Accounting was being awfully catty about your flowers," Jane remarked. "I could ask her out."
Lisbon burst into laughter. "Jane, only you would ask someone out as a punishment!"
"If it were anyone else, I could just bump into you at dinner and make you feel obligated to ask me to join you. But Mancini doesn't like me, so that won't work." He frowned in thought.
"It's so irrational of him. Most people enjoy being accused of being a serial killer's disciple in front of a judge," she remarked. "We're having dinner at his place tonight. Just show up if you want to get a read on him. Pretend to have a crisis or something. I won't let him throw you out until you get really obnoxious."
Jane chuckled. "Sounds like a fun evening. Eat fast—you won't want to miss the show."
mmm
Lisbon tried not to be obvious about hurrying through her dinner, which was delicious despite having been microwaved. Fortunately Mancini was busy telling her about how he had saved the day in a kidnapping case that afternoon. His self-absorption made her feel less guilty about whatever Jane was going to do, but she was still dreading it.
When the knock on the door came and Mancini got up to answer it, she reached for her glass of wine and drained it. She could handle this, she assured herself. Working with Jane had proved that she could not in fact die from embarrassment.
"Where's Lisbon?" The urgency in Jane's shout made her spring out of her chair and run for the door.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mancini demanded.
"Jane?" Lisbon said, not having to do much acting to sound surprised when she saw the glare he was giving Mancini.
"Teresa!" Jane's expression turned to relief, and he pushed past Mancini to wrap her in a suffocating hug.
Now she was well and truly shocked, not to mention alarmed. She'd been expecting charming, glib Jane, not manic Red John Jane. Oh, no, she thought. This was going to be even worse than she'd feared.
And why wasn't he letting her go? It was beginning to feel weird. Maybe because this was the first time they'd touched since she'd thought about having sex with him. And also because the man she'd actually had sex with instead was watching in annoyance.
Two days ago she'd thought her life was relatively under control, she reflected ruefully. She tried to loosen Jane's grip so she could bring her hands up to push him away, but he beat her to it, grabbing her shoulders and growling, "Why didn't you answer your damn phone?"
"I put it on silent. I'm off the clock. Jane, what's happened? If it's an emergency, why didn't you call Cho?" She was relieved to be able to say a line she'd actually rehearsed in her head.
He finally let her go, pulling a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "I found this under my windshield wiper."
She started to take it, then looked at Mancini. "Gloves?"
He dug in his pockets, then shook his head. Jane rolled his eyes and handed her his handkerchief. "There won't be any fingerprints but mine," he said impatiently.
It was Lisbon's turn to roll her eyes. "You don't know that," she chided. Though of course he did if he'd written this himself. Typed, rather, she corrected herself as she looked at it. She didn't have to fake her sickened expression as she read:
Dear Mr. Jane,
I am disappointed by the mess you are making of this new life I've given you. Your obsession with me is a clear sign that you have still not learned the lesson I attempted to teach you about arrogance. You have taken someone I value, which is not only arrogant, but also disrespectful. I see I must make my point again. I hope you enjoyed your little game last night with the charming Agent Lisbon, since it was your last.
The smiley face at the end was almost superfluous. The damn thing was all too believable. She handed the note to Mancini when he reached for it and looked at Jane, hoping he'd give her a sign if this was real. But he was watching Mancini now, of course.
"Jane, you need to calm down," she said. "I'm fine. This isn't the first time Red John has threatened me."
"He's coming for you, Lisbon." There was just the right note of desperation in his voice. "Because we took Lorelei." As if struck by a sudden idea, he turned to Mancini. "You could help. The FBI has her. If we set her free, he will leave Lisbon alone."
"What makes you think that?" Mancini frowned.
"Because he'll know we did it out of respect," Jane replied. He looked at Lisbon again, laying a hand on her shoulder. "And because he'll see it as a surrender. He's won. I won't give up Lisbon, even for him."
"What makes you think this is your call?" Lisbon demanded. "You can't just set Lorelei free. She was an accomplice in the death of our boss!"
"There's no way," Mancini said. "The FBI doesn't work like that." He looked at Lisbon, frowning a little at Jane's hand resting possessively on her shoulder. "You'll have to go into protective custody. I can set something up."
"No," Jane said. "Red John has a friend in the FBI. He told me so himself."
Mancini sneered at him. "The CBI doesn't have a great track record in that department either."
"Stop it, both of you," Lisbon snapped. "I'm not going to run scared because of some note that can't even be authenticated." She shrugged off Jane's hand and turned to Mancini. "Gabe, I'm really sorry to run out on you two nights in a row, but I need to look into this."
"Of course you do," he said. "Just call me later, okay, and let me know if I can help."
"I will," she promised, stepping close and giving him a quick kiss. "And I'll see you at the game Friday if not before."
"Lisbon," Jane protested.
"Enough, Jane," she said firmly. "Let's go."
When they reached the curb outside Mancini's apartment, Lisbon muttered, "Nice multitasking."
"I thought so," Jane said, very pleased with himself. "More than you realize, even."
"Really? I counted three games you were playing in there: seeing how he reacted to the mention of Red John, the threat to me, and you being all touchy-feely. So what are your conclusions, O mastermind?" She couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of her voice.
"You needn't be grumpy because I'm concerned about whether he's good enough for you, Lisbon," he said airily.
"Concerned or jealous?" she shot back, then immediately wished she hadn't.
She'd surprised him as well as herself, she realized when he hesitated. But she was even more surprised when he answered honestly, "Both, of course. I wasn't the one who chose how last night ended, remember."
"You said it had to be my call," she reminded him, confused.
"Yes. And I still mean that." He put his hands in his pockets and looked down for a second, then met her eyes. "I meant everything I said to you last night."
Ask me. For anything.
She blinked at him, swallowing hard. She couldn't get into that now, she decided. Not when this might be an actual problem. "You wrote that note, didn't you?"
He gave her a look that said he was disappointed in her lack of courage. "Of course. It sounded authentic, though, didn't it."
"And if Gabe really is a mole, how do you think Red John will feel about that?"
"Like teaching me a lesson. Which is why we are going to meet Cho at the office and then you, my dear, are going to agree to whatever protective measures he thinks appropriate."
"God, I hate you sometimes," she said through clenched teeth.
He smiled at her and then laid a hand on her back, giving her a gentle push toward her car. "To answer your earlier question, I found his reactions highly suspicious. If my girlfriend was being threatened by a serial killer, I wouldn't just tell her to call me later and let her leave with someone I thought was unreliable at best and crazy at worst."
"I'm not his girlfriend," Lisbon grumbled. "What I am is an idiot for letting you get me into this mess."
"It's only a mess if he's the mole. Besides, I've always gotten you back out of my messes." He looked at her soberly.
She sighed, knowing she couldn't really argue with that. "I'll see you at the office."
"No, I'm coming with you."
"What about your car?" she asked, surprised.
"I'll pick it up later," he replied as he slid into the passenger seat. "It would hardly be realistic for me to let you out of my sight when Red John is after you."
She scowled as she got into the driver's seat. "Don't think for a minute that I'm going to stay cooped up with you in some safe house," she told him.
Jane grinned. "Don't worry, Lisbon. I promise not to seduce you, no matter where we end up."
"That assumes you could," she scoffed.
"And you won't be able to dare me into it, either," he chuckled. "I know perfectly well that you know I could. I've done it a hundred times in my head."
"You have?" She hated that it came out as a sort of breathless squeak.
Jane had the self-preservation to look out the window while he smirked. "Mostly as an intellectual exercise, with no thought of any real-world application, in the beginning. As the years have passed, that's become less satisfying, however. I admit there have been times, especially recently, when the temptation has been almost irresistible. But I won't take the risk of alienating you by pushing you into something you'll regret. It has to be your choice." He paused, then added, "I will simply remind you that it's better to regret something you did than something you didn't do."
"Says you."
"Yes. And I have enough regrets, of both kinds, to know."
She glanced at him as she started the car, wondering what memories were playing in his head. Whatever they were, she decided not to disturb them. She had some thinking of her own to do.
Author's Note: This ended up going to kind of a weird place. I'm not sure Jane would really take this kind of risk, although in this season, who knows? But this is where the muse led me, so here we are. Hopefully not for long!