Title: In the Cards
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist. I also know nothing about California's gun laws, since I live on the other side of the country and am too lazy to research that.
Author's Note: Thanks for all the support during this story, which has gotten way beyond what I thought it would be. You guys are fantastic, as well as patient! Apparently I can write one-shots or novellas, but nothing in between. Also, this is another loooong chapter. Who knew sticking our heroes in a remote cabin could be so interesting? My muse apparently just wants them to play house. And I've learned not to argue with her!
Chapter 8
The sound of someone whispering his name penetrated, but he didn't quite wake up all the way. He'd been sleeping heavier than he was used to, and consciousness seemed like a steep hike to an unattractive destination.
"Jane, get up and go to Lisbon's room," Cho hissed from somewhere nearby.
Jane frowned. Was he dreaming? It seemed unlikely in the extreme that Cho had decided to play matchmaker. "Why?"
"She has a gun and you don't."
"You want her to shoot me?" Because even half-awake, Jane knew that was the most likely outcome of barging into Lisbon's room in the middle of the night.
"I want you not to get shot by whoever's creeping around outside," Cho corrected. "Get your ass in there and tell her I'm going outside. They're at the back, so I'm going out the front."
Awake now, Jane rolled off the couch and felt his way across the darkened room, relieved to find that Lisbon hadn't locked her door. As he opened it, he saw Cho ease the front door open and slip through it. His heart began to pound as he wondered whether it was Red John out there. But he had to make sure Lisbon was put on her guard before he could find out.
"Lisbon," he whispered.
She gave a little huff of annoyance in her sleep, which he would have found amusing at any other time. He crept closer to the bed, saw moonlight glinting off the gun on her nightstand, and carefully picked it up as a precaution. "Lisbon," he called again, a little louder. "Wake up."
She muttered something indistinct, so he reached out and gently shook her shoulder. She sprang awake, startled, and let out a gasp at his silhouette looming over her, one hand slapping at the empty nightstand.
"It's me," he hurried to assure her. "Cho's gone outside. Someone's out back. Here's your gun."
She sat up, snatching it out of his hand. "Stay here," she commanded. "Be quiet, and if you hear someone coming, hide!"
"Don't worry about me. Go!" he urged.
He waited until he heard the front door open before following her.
mmm
Lisbon wished she'd thought to put on shoes as she made her way around the outside of the house, pine needles scratching her bare feet. She also realized she should have woken Mancini. Maybe Jane would think to do it.
Red John wasn't careless enough to get caught sneaking around a house, she thought, but maybe he'd sent someone less capable. Or maybe this was someone else entirely. Or maybe this was a distraction and Red John was already in the house, waiting for them to leave Jane alone and defenseless.
She nearly turned around right then. But she couldn't leave Cho without backup when there was definitely someone out here. She could hear a strange rustling noise; whoever it was could use a few lessons in stealth. That meant it was probably wasn't Red John himself, although it might be an argument for the distraction theory.
Cho must have gone around the other side, she realized when she reached the back corner of the house. Good. They'd have whoever it was surrounded.
Were they digging through the trash? Why? It wasn't like they'd been here long enough to have to take it out, unless Jane had done so while he was cooking. And why would they be interested in that?
"Hands up!" Cho shouted.
"We have you surrounded," Lisbon added, for good measure.
The noises stopped for a moment, and then Lisbon sensed rather than saw movement. It was too dark to shoot, but a moment later Cho's flashlight illuminated the raccoon scurrying for the woods. Lisbon abandoned the cover of the house and went around to where Cho was surveying the trash can, its lid knocked to the ground.
"I'm still tempted to shoot," Cho grumbled.
"If you do, I'm not doing the paperwork," Lisbon warned him. "Let's get back inside."
"I'll get this squared away first. Damn, I hate the woods," Cho said.
Lisbon couldn't help agreeing with him; she was a city girl and always would be. She turned to head back to the front door just as the back door light came on. She changed course and went to that door instead, irritated but unsurprised that Jane hadn't followed her orders. As the door opened, surprise won out. "Gabe! Did we wake you?"
"Yes. What's going on?" He was carrying his weapon, she saw.
"Cho tried to arrest a raccoon," she replied. "Where's Jane?"
"Here," Jane called from the living room, turning on the lights. "A raccoon, huh? Is Cho out there making himself a coonskin cap?"
"If he is, I don't want to know about it," Lisbon said. "Back to bed, everybody." She smiled at Mancini, and he smiled back before heading reluctantly off toward his room.
Jane came forward and handed her her robe. She was grateful she'd packed pajama shorts along with her jersey for this trip, in addition to the revealing nightie that hadn't left her suitcase. Oh, crap, she'd left Jane in her room—he'd probably already been through that, not to mention her toiletries bag.
"Why was your door unlocked?" Jane asked, sounding unhappy about it.
"Because a certain unarmed civilian insisted on remaining in the public spaces of the house," Lisbon retorted, "and I wanted him to be able to get help if he needed it. Go to bed in your room and lock your door, and I'll do the same."
"Fine," he grumbled, heading off in that direction. He left a trail of pine needles in his wake, and she realized there were some stuck to his socks.
"Jane, dammit!" she spat. "You went outside! What part of 'stay in here and hide' did you not understand?"
"I just had to make sure it wasn't Red John," he said, as if that was a reasonable explanation and not an inflammatory remark sure to make her head want to explode.
"And what were you going to do if it was?" she demanded.
"What I've always planned to do. I've never lied to you about that, Lisbon, or concealed my intentions," he pointed out.
"And how were you going to accomplish that unarmed?" Was he losing his mind? "Do you realize you could have put Cho and me in danger with your idiotic behavior?"
"But I didn't. You didn't even know I was there."
Lisbon gritted her teeth. "Go to bed," she ground out, "or so help me God I will knock you unconscious and drag you there." She hefted her weapon meaningfully.
Jane held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm going quietly. No need to pistol whip me." He went into his room and made as much noise as possible locking the door behind him.
Cho came in and closed the back door behind him. "You realize he's got a gun," he said quietly.
Oh, crap. That did explain it. She knew she should take it away from him, but if she did and something happened to him, she'd never forgive herself. "Yeah," she sighed.
Cho waited, possibly expecting her to issue relevant orders. She had none. If anyone was going to disarm Jane, it would be her. And she was inclined to get some more sleep before making that call.
"Okay," he said when it became clear she wasn't going to say anything more. "I've got this if you want to get some more sleep."
It seemed unlikely, at least until the adrenaline wore off, but she knew it was the smart thing to do. "Thanks. Hope the rest of your night is quiet."
"If the masked bandit returns, I'll run him off on my own," Cho said. "I'm leaving the light on so I'll be able to spot him easier." He sounded unhappy with himself, as he always did when he made a mistake.
"You have to watch those raccoons," she tried to joke. His expression remained stony, so she said, "See you in the morning. Jane's promised pancakes, and after this stunt, they'd better be damn good ones."
mmm
Jane didn't get much more sleep that night. He regretted giving Lisbon back her robe, but there was probably no way he was getting it back now. He was curious to see whether she'd guessed he was concealing a weapon (at least he'd gotten this one the legal way) and what she would do about it.
As the sun began to peer through the trees, he decided he might as well get up and get dressed. Cho would probably appreciate an early breakfast, and it would be amusing to tease him about his raccoon encounter.
He found his colleague on the couch, reading with the aid of a book light. Cho looked up as he approached and said, "There's a shower off the mud room. You won't wake anyone up if you use that."
"Thanks," Jane said.
"And if you're taking requests, I want blueberry."
"With or without whipped cream?" Jane asked, deciding to go with it, though he was curious as to why Lisbon had felt the need to advertise this morning's breakfast menu.
Cho grimaced. "I want breakfast, not dessert. You got maple syrup, right?"
"Yes, indeed. I don't suppose you'd put the kettle on for me while I freshen up?"
"Sure."
And so began another lovely domestic day, Jane thought. He should enjoy it while it lasted, because he was pretty sure the rest of it was going to feature a quarrel with Lisbon, and that was a side of domestic life he'd just as soon skip.
The shower was refreshing, and he felt more himself once he was properly dressed and presentable. The kettle began to whistle just as he reached the kitchen, and he happily made himself a cup of tea before assembling his ingredients.
The knock on the front door startled him, but Cho seemed to be expecting it. "Double the recipe," Cho said. "That's Rigsby. Right on time."
But when he opened the door, Grace was on the other side. "Good morning," she said. "Ben's running a fever, so Rigsby wanted to stay in town."
"Welcome, Grace," Jane called out. "You're just in time. Blueberry, pecan, or plain?"
"Pancakes," Cho explained at her inquiring look.
"Jane cooks?" she asked.
"Yes." Cho settled back on the couch with his book, leaving Grace to wander into the kitchen.
"Your order, miss?" Jane said briskly, stirring the batter.
She grinned. "Plain is fine. So, how was last night?"
"Oh, it was lovely and quiet until Cho here decided to go coon huntin'," Jane said in his best yokel imitation. "The darn critter got away before he could make a hat out of it, though."
Grace looked like she didn't entirely believe this story, which amused him. He continued, "It'll be good to have a country girl up here who knows what a varmint looks like."
"There aren't a lot of woods in Iowa," she remarked. "Can I help with anything?"
Ah, Grace of the impeccable manners, he thought. "You could set the table, if you can't resign yourself to being waited on. Oh, and start some coffee for Lisbon."
"Sure." She headed for the coffeemaker first. Priorities, after all.
The siren song of the coffeemaker lured Mancini out first, but he appeared only briefly, heading directly into the bathroom across from his room. Cho and Grace were happily digging in to their pancakes before Lisbon emerged, putting the finishing touches on Jane's domestic bliss by appearing adorably tousled and rumpled. He particularly liked the mark on her cheek where she'd slept on a wrinkle in the pillowcase. God, he wanted to run his fingers through her hair and comb out the tangles, preferably while kissing her senseless.
Instead, he said, "Blueberry, pecan, or plain? No, wait. Your mind is much easier to read when it hasn't been marinated in coffee. Blueberry." He began mixing up a fresh bowl of batter.
"Bite me," she muttered as she passed him on her way to the coffeemaker.
"And whipped cream," he added, pushing his luck as usual. In the daylight, he could see that her robe was wine red and obviously expensive. A gift, then. From a brother, picked out by a sister-in-law? From the way she kept pushing at the slightly too long sleeves, he guessed she rarely if ever wore it. Apparently this was her stab at decorum while sharing a house with coworkers and a man she was supposedly dating but had no intention of sleeping with while said coworkers were within earshot.
"I only like whipped cream on my hot chocolate," she said, lifting her filled mug to her lips and taking a deep breath.
Or pie, he thought. But that was much too dangerous to think about here and now. "There might be some in the cupboard, but I'm afraid it would be the instant kind," he said. If someone made another trip to the store, he'd be sure to put cocoa on the list. And baker's chocolate for shavings.
"Never mind," she said, as if her cupboards never housed anything so mundane as powdered drinks, which he knew wasn't true. "Morning, Grace."
"Morning, boss," Grace replied after swallowing her mouthful of pancake. "Ben's sick, so Rigsby and I switched shifts."
"Nothing serious, I hope," Lisbon said, frowning a little. Oh, she was such a mother hen, Jane thought fondly.
"Something going around, I think," Grace replied. "He'll be at the office; he just didn't want to leave town until the fever came down. Jane, these are amazing."
"We should make him cook more often," Cho said.
Jane decided to nip this idea in the bud. "You never want to eat something the cook was forced to prepare," he warned. "It's the joy in the meal that makes the difference."
"Or the apology," Lisbon muttered.
"Yes, penitence can also be an effective seasoning. Sit down, Lisbon. Your pancakes will be ready momentarily."
"Who put you in charge?" she grumbled, not moving.
"I declared this kitchen my domain last night, remember? You're trespassing. I allowed it because only someone in search of a painful death would come between you and your morning coffee. But now that you have that, you should go take a seat and stay out of my way."
She went, but she accidentally-on-purpose bumped into him as she did. He was tempted to swat her cute little butt with his spatula, but he was pretty sure she really would kill him, if only to save face in front of her team.
He derived great amusement from watching her sit down at the table, drink her coffee, and gradually realize she was the only person in the room who didn't look like she was at work. He surmised that she was particularly chagrined to compare herself to Grace, who had not a hair out of place and looked her usual stunning self. If this really were the domestic fantasy he was constructing in his head, he would reassure Lisbon that no woman in the world could hold a candle to her fresh from her bed. Of course, in that fantasy he was the one who'd messed up her hair and put that faint color in her cheeks. He wondered briefly if her robe smelled a little like him this morning. He hoped so.
Jane was just setting a stack of pancakes in front of Lisbon when Mancini emerged from the bathroom, looking like he was walking into a management meeting. Middle management, Jane amended. "Good morning, everyone."
"Hi," Grace said. "I don't think we've met. Grace Van Pelt."
"Gabe Mancini," he responded. "You're one of Teresa's people?"
"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you. We're so grateful for your help."
Mancini smiled at her. "It's the least I could do for Teresa." He turned his smile Lisbon's way, and she'd had enough coffee now to return it.
"Would you like some pancakes?" Lisbon offered. "They're really good."
"Thanks, I would," he replied, taking the seat beside her at the table. "I'm sorry I'm not going to see what our chef has planned for lunch. But it looks like you've got it covered here, so unless you think I should stay, I'll get back to the office. You have a way to call for help if you need to, don't you?"
"Burner phone," Cho said.
"I really appreciate all your help," Lisbon said. "And of course I won't keep you here doing nothing when you could be out rescuing kidnap victims."
He looked pleased that she mentioned it, and Jane thought it was no wonder Lisbon had offered to let him cut their dinner at his place short if all Mancini talked about was work. Didn't the man realize she had basically the same job and got enough of it at the office? But Jane was so pleased to be rid of him that he abandoned his plan to become distracted and burn Mancini's pancakes.
mmm
Half an hour later, Jane was alone in the kitchen, cleaning up. Cho had offered to stay now that Mancini was leaving, but Lisbon had told him to stick to the plan. Grace was out familiarizing herself with the immediate vicinity after she realized that, manners aside, Jane truly was feeling territorial about the kitchen and didn't want help cleaning up. That just left Mancini, and then he was sure Lisbon would tackle him about last night. Damn those pine needles anyway. He should have stopped to put on his shoes, and then he could have kicked them off again before she saw anything.
But meanwhile, there was drama going on in the living room, and Jane kept a close ear and occasional eye on it while taking a ridiculous amount of time loading (and unloading, and reloading) the dishwasher so they wouldn't think he was observing them. Lisbon was doing her best to live up to Mancini's passive-aggressive expectations of her, Jane thought. Despite the fact that she regularly rode roughshod over anyone who got in her way, there was a side of her that wanted to please people she cared about. He wondered if that difference was related to her professional versus personal roles. She'd probably had a lot of training in appeasement with her father, he guessed. She was certainly very good at soothing ruffled feathers when she needed to. And he knew because usually he was the one ruffling them.
Ah, finally, the good-bye kiss. That was worth observing. Mancini was being too aggressive; Lisbon didn't like to feel constrained, and she liked to be in control. Mancini wasn't the man to let her have it, though. That relationship was going nowhere; it didn't need interference to kill it. In fact, Jane thought, he might have artificially extended its life by giving Mancini the opportunity to offer this cabin as their safehouse. Lisbon wouldn't kick him to the curb while she felt indebted to him.
He'd sometimes wondered why none of the men who pursued Lisbon had ever asked him for tips. He certainly had enough of them to give, if he chose. Not that he would, necessarily. And of course all it would take to doom a prospective boyfriend would be to mention to Lisbon that said man had consulted him. He grinned a little, picturing her anger and indignation. That would be a good trick to use if it became necessary—the other man's denial would mean nothing if Jane were convincing enough. It wouldn't work with Mancini, but maybe with the next man who thought he could handle Teresa Lisbon. None of them could, of course. She was much deeper and more complex than any of them ever guessed, and she didn't give many clues.
The sound of the door closing pulled him back into the present, but not fast enough. He'd been caught staring, but all Lisbon did was roll her eyes at him as she headed to her room, then came immediately back out with an armful of clothes and went into the bathroom. She was obviously not going to confront him until she had donned her professional garb. Well, he admitted, he'd have a hard time taking her seriously if he was distracted by how cute she was in that slightly too-big robe with her finger-combed hair. And besides, that robe held symbolic meaning for him now. Every time he looked at it he remembered how warm and comforting it was and how he had felt when she spread it over him. He wouldn't be able to process her anger and irritation while part of his mind was still in that moment.
He decided to do a little reading while waiting for his lecture, but he was no sooner settled on the couch than Grace came in, smiling. "It's gorgeous out there," she told him. "It's too bad we have to stay cooped up inside. It's a perfect day for a picnic."
"Maybe we could picnic in the yard," Jane said, thinking about whether he could manage a pasta salad from the contents of the refrigerator.
Grace shook her head regretfully. "There's too much cover in all those trees. The house is where we're safest." She sat down in the chair set at a right angle to the couch. "Do you really think Red John will come here because you wrote a stupid note?"
"Maybe," he said. "That wasn't my intent, but he is probably looking for some way to punish me for rejecting his offer in Vegas. He might take advantage of the situation."
"You really think Mancini might be working for Red John?"
She looked prepared to accept it, as incredible as it might seem to anyone else. He wondered if she ever blamed him for not spotting O'Loughlin, but asking her would only provoke a denial. She would never say anything hurtful to him unless she was too angry to stop herself. She was a kind and credulous person, and in his former life he would have regarded her as a gift from the gods. He still did, but for her loyalty rather than how easy it was to fool her. Though he allowed himself a little fun with the latter from time to time.
"I think we can't really be sure of anyone," Jane said. "So we have to look very closely at anyone who makes an effort to get close to one of us."
He watched as Grace tried to find some way to say "I don't want Lisbon to get hurt the way I did" that he could not take as an accusation. He wished he had something to tell her that would make her feel less terrible about that whole engaged-to-a-serial-killer's-disciple episode. He could try, he supposed. "I can't always spot them. I suppose he knows me too well, knows the kind of people I'm interested in and the ones I dismiss as uninteresting. Rebecca and O'Loughlin fell into the latter category. So I'm trying to pay more attention to everyone, but that's difficult. I initially pegged Mancini as someone I could easily manipulate, but maybe that's part of his cover. I'm not usually interested in people I know I can outwit."
"But that's pretty much everyone, at least sometimes," she remarked. "Isn't that...doesn't that make you feel lonely? Lonelier than you need to be?"
"Maybe." He shrugged. He wasn't interested in discussing his emotions with Van Pelt, or anyone really. Except, sometimes, Lisbon. "But I have these coworkers who don't believe a word I say and refuse to play poker with me, so it's not like I'm alone in the world."
She shook her head, smiling. "I'm glad you know that. So. What do you guys do all day up here?"
"I did a lot of reading yesterday. Today, though, since there are fewer of us, I might indulge in some of my other pastimes."
"Driving Lisbon crazy?" she guessed.
"That is one of your favorite spectator sports, isn't it?" He watched, grinning, as her instinct to deny it warred with her inherent truthfulness.
"Only from a safe distance," was the answer she finally came up with.
He mentally applauded her, noting that the shower had stopped. He wondered if he should warn Grace to be looking for that safe distance, but then the blow dryer came on and he knew he had a few more minutes. "You're in for a treat today, then. I got caught in an unauthorized activity last night, and she hasn't had the chance to explain to me in detail all the reasons I was being an idiot. I have no intention of altering my behavior, so it may get a bit loud."
Grace's look of horrified amusement—or amused horror?—was a familiar one. "What did you do? Wasn't it a raccoon causing the trouble?"
"It was, but I decided to go see for myself instead of cowering in the closet, which I gather is what I was supposed to be doing."
Her eyes widened. "You can't go wandering around in what could turn out to be a crossfire, Jane!"
"Oh please. Give me credit for more intelligence than that. Anyway, save your breath. Lisbon will give me the same lecture much less politely." He waved a dismissive hand.
Grace rolled her eyes. "Fine, be that way. I'll leave you to it."
She was just opening the back door when Lisbon came into the room. "Just a minute, Grace."
"Yes, Boss?" Grace shut the door and took a few steps back into the room. Not very many, Jane noted.
"You should be aware that Jane is concealing a weapon," Lisbon said bluntly. "Don't assume he's harmless at your back."
Jane bristled at the implication. "I'm not a careless shot, Lisbon."
"You'd better not be. If you hurt any of my team in your insane vigilante mission, I'll shove that gun straight up your ass. I should take it away from you, but given that we might be facing a serial killer, I'll overlook your illegal possession of a firearm."
"You have no grounds," Jane said, unable to contain his victorious smirk. "I actually did everything the right way this time. I have a concealed carry permit and everything."
Lisbon held out her hand, so Jane pulled out his wallet and handed the permit to her. "Lisbon," he said reasonably, "you don't expect me to draw Red John's attention to you and then not do everything I can think of to protect you, do you?"
She handed the permit back to him and closed her eyes. "No, Jane," she sighed. "I expect you to do pretty much just what you did. But what I wish you would do is behave like a member of the team and tell us these things so we can allocate our resources most effectively."
He smirked at her sudden descent into management-speak, which usually meant she was worried about being reprimanded for his actions. "And if you'd known I was armed, what would you have done differently?"
"Locked you in a closet," she muttered.
Jane chuckled. "You need to work on your ideas of incentives for proper behavior," he advised.
"I've given up on getting you to behave properly, Jane. Now I just want everybody to stay alive," she replied.
He had the unsettling feeling that was more true than even she knew.
"And don't tell me you did all this for my sake," she continued. "It takes more than a day to buy a gun and get a permit. You didn't learn a damn thing from the Timothy Carter mess, did you?"
This was beginning to remind him uncomfortably of arguments he'd had with Angela. And she had, in retrospect, been entirely right. "I won't make that mistake again. Lisbon, things have changed. He tried to make me give up by making me think I'd killed him. Then I tried to make him think I'd given up, and he reached out to me. The theme here is that he's tired of the old game. Notice how quiet he's been lately?"
"Don't jinx us," she murmured.
"When he comes back for another round, he'll want to make sure it's the last one." He hated saying this to her, but maybe if she understood, she really would be safer.
"Which is why you can't be wandering around in the dark by yourself. If I'd known you were armed, I would have taken you with me," she admitted. "Instead of being distracted by worrying that this was some kind of trick to get us to leave you alone."
"He doesn't want to kill me, Lisbon. He wants to make sure I know he's won. He wants me to live with that knowledge." Her fixation on his safety annoyed him. Why couldn't she see the obvious? Then it hit him: she was obsessed with her worst fear, which was losing him. He'd be touched if the stakes weren't so high. "I know who he's coming for. I thought we might gain an advantage by handing him an opportunity he couldn't resist, where he might have to improvise a little. But you need to stop worrying about me and stay on your guard. No more sleeping with your door unlocked and your gun on the nightstand where anybody could take it."
Lisbon stared at him in disbelief. "You're going to lecture me about safety precautions?"
Grace apparently decided it was safer outside, slipping through the door as quietly as she could. Jane couldn't blame her; Lisbon looked like she was fantasizing about which of his body parts she'd like to chop off first. Or possibly rip off with her bare hands.
In the end, she did neither, of course. But it looked like a close call from where he was sitting.
"Screw you," she hissed, and went into her room, slamming the door.
Ah. He'd forgotten about this side of domestic life. And he was pretty sure it was going to take more than a good meal or two to get out of the doghouse this time.