Chapter Summary: Harry gets wrongly accused of murder. The pretty CBI consultant is not helping. (The Mentalist, Harry/Patrick Jane)
"Why am I here?" Harry asked, as he shuffled around in the metal chair that wasn't that comfortable. His hands weren't handcuffed to the table but he had seen that look in the agent's eyes, the one that said he wanted to handcuff him to the table.
"You were seen at three different crime scenes," Agent Rigsby remarked from where he was standing across from him, the table in between them. "And we have no details on you. None. It's a little…"
Harry's lips twitched up in small amusement even as the door opened. He could see the various agents of CBI, the California Bureau of Investigation pass by, and one of them stepped in, about as tall as Agent Rigsby, but with golden blond hair, curly and bright blue eyes. Bright eyes that had more than a little curiosity in them and perhaps a little mischief. Harry didn't see any hint of a gun on the guy as he sat down but he didn't think much of it as the guy reached a hand out. The badge that hang from the guy's neck said CBI consultant, not police officer.
"I would think you already know who I am," Harry offered, tilting his head curiously, in return. "Judging by the fact that you brought me in for questioning."
"I know who you are. Lisbon thinks you killed those people."
Harry lifted an eyebrow, going through the people he had come into contact with already. Lisbon… She might have been the agent in charge of this team. "And… you would be… who?"
"Jane. And yes, like the girl. I'm a consultant. Give me your hand."
"Well, alright," Harry said, snorting quietly. "Weird bit of foreplay there but okay."
Jane's lips twitched quietly in amusement, amusement that didn't make it to his eyes, and took his outstretched hand, holding it in his palm. Jane was wearing a suit vest over a long sleeved shirt, both well tailored to fit and slacks that rather gave off an air of armor. Harry had seen the guy looking over the three bodies at the crime scenes, charming the pants off of the local law enforcement officers. Charming and pulling all manner of information out of the multiple suspects that they had talked to. And annoying some of them too, with his bluntness. "British and attractive. So did you kill them?"
"No. I have killed a guy," Harry answered, shrugging and feeling Jane's thumb rub over his pulse point. He could feel his own heart beat steady and true and Jane's eyes flashed, as he continued to hold Harry's hand in his. There was something like interest in those blue eyes, not heat exactly, but something that made worry curl in the pit of his stomach.
"You killed Frank Smith?" Agent Rigsby asked, dropping his hand down to the cuffs at his belt. "Are you confessing?"
"No. I didn't kill him. I don't even know who that is. I wasn't even around for the murder," Harry said, meeting Jane's eyes as he grinned at the guy, slowly sliding his own thumb around and smoothing it over the man's warm skin. Jane's eyes widened at the move, as if holding someone's hand during an interrogation was normal, but having them turn the move around on him… "I killed someone when I was 17. I may have a side job that unfortunately gets me around more death than most but actually killing people? Not what I go in for."
"You're saying you killed someone when you were 17?" Rigsby asked, his eyes darkening. "What is your full name?"
"Harry James Potter. Here's a number you can call," Harry said, slowly reaching into a pocket and drawing out a card. Rigsby took it and looked it over, his eyes darkening at the information on the card. "The woman on the phone will answer your questions. Though she might be dealing with a couple assholes at the moment. It depends on what time it is."
"It's 5:30pm," Jane offered, looking him over, slow and stopping on his scar. "You're telling the truth. You did kill someone when you were 17."
"Kind of had to," Harry returned idly, laying his arms down on the table, sparing a glance to where Jane still had a hold of his hand. "I enjoyed being alive and so did hundreds of thousands of people. Is this the way you ask someone out because if so… yeah, I'll go out with you."
Jane snorted and Rigsby's eyes widened before he stepped over to the door. "Jane, leave the room for a moment, please."
"He didn't do it, Rigsby," Jane said, finally looking away from Harry. "I'm not asking you out."
"You sure?" Harry asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I'm not a stranger with death these days."
Rigsby muttered something under his breath as he looked between the two of them. "Jane, please don't flirt with the suspect."
"I'm not flirting with him!" Jane exclaimed, innocent but strangely smug smile on his face. "You would know when I'm flirting with someone, Rigsby. I flirted with you a little bit when we first met."
"Hey!" Rigsby glared at Jane.
Harry snorted at the way Rigsby looked, all offended and shocked. Definitely straight that one but Jane… Harry knew Jane was just charming him for the job, knew that he should have been flustered over the very attractive man holding his hand. But given why he was here...
"I'm flirting with him," Harry argued, smirking at Rigsby and took a breath, inhaling and exhaling out, spelling a charm out wordlessly, switching just one aspect of his body. "You never know if a person's pulse will actually tell you the truth now."
Jane blinked and stared at him, letting his gaze drop to where Harry's hand was in his. At where Harry's pulse had just vanished, the man's heart beat suddenly stopping. Jane paused visibly and looked right at him, swallowing.
"Rigsby, I believe you need to call an ambulance for our suspect," Jane said.
"Jane?"
"His…"
"I'm fine," Harry offered, his thumb smoothing over Jane's skin, deeper, his other fingers curling lightly over Jane's wrist. "I don't need a loud and unnecessary ride to the hospital."
Jane's eyes widened and his cheeks reddened a little before he quickly slid his hand out of Harry's, like he had been shocked or hit by lightning. Harry glanced back at the agent behind him, built tall and broad like an American football quarterback.
Jane peered over at Rigsby, those blue eyes tight with something. "Rigsby, would you mind going to fetch us both some tea?"
"Jane…" Rigsby hesitated, looking between the both of them.
"I won't hypnotize him, I promise!" Jane said, holding out his pinky and winking at Rigsby. "Pinky swear! If it makes you feel better, you can leave Cho at the door."
"As if you would be able to hypnotize me," Harry muttered in amusement, grinning idly. "But then that implies you've hypnotized other suspects."
Rigsby swore under his breath before stepping out through the door and closing it behind him. Harry pulled some magic and spelled the door behind him, making sure no one would be able to enter the interrogation room.
"Who are you?" Jane asked wearily, brushing some of those curls away from his face.
"Well… you've been flirting with Death. I should think you would know by now," Harry remarked, leaning back in his chair and laying his hands in his lap. "Patrick Jane. I remember now. Hellbent on getting revenge for the murder of his wife and daughter. Red John…"
Jane blinked at him, his cheeks paling, his eyes darkening. "That's common knowledge. You going to say you can talk to my wife and daughter for me?"
"No. You won't believe me," Harry returned, looking Jane over slowly, wanting to curl his fingers into that blond hair and tug. Heat flickered in the pit of his stomach as his thoughts ventured downward into the gutter. "There's no such thing as physics, no such thing as magic, according to you."
"That's right. And that's not what we're here to talk about. Now I believe you when you say you didn't kill our victims. Do you know who did?"
"How the hell should I know?" Harry asked, standing up and leaning his hip against the table, peering down at Jane, who was still sitting. "You're the consultant that's working with CBI. The very pretty consultant."
"Why thank you."
Harry grinned slightly, seeing a little flicker of quiet mischief in Jane's eyes, before shaking his head. Jane smiled again, more smug than happy, as if he thought he was very definitely the smarter man in the room. As if Harry couldn't see the two ghosts in the room, one a woman with sad eyes and the other a girl who couldn't be older than ten. "I don't have the time to appear at every crime scene or death that you work but… do be careful, Jane. This path will lead to dark places."
Jane shivered visibly before his shoulders curled, a kind of dark determination entering his eyes. "I am taking down Red John if it's the last thing I do."
Harry stared at him, half sure that Jane would turn away from the eye contact a second later but he didn't. And then reached out, curling his fingers around Jane's chin, making sure the man couldn't move. Jane's eyes widened and his mouth opened, his tongue peeking out, and Harry smirked at him, even as he released his hold on his shields. Jane shivered in his hold, his blue eyes wide, with just a flicker of wildness.
The man before him was non magical but as his power slowly flooded the room, Jane shuddered, his cheeks paling even more. Shadows curled around him and he heard more than felt the presence of the wings that appeared whenever he shadow traveled. Jane's eyes widened even more and Harry felt him shiver, entirely sure that if he rolled up Jane's white sleeves now, he would see goosebumps.
"If you are so hellbent on killing Red John," Harry started, keeping his voice low, seeing Jane lick his lips. "Stop flirting with me. I might keep you."
Harry slowly released Jane and withdrew his fingers, holding those blue eyes before he pulled his magic back into himself. He stood up and walked over to the door, turning around to look at Jane, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
"It wasn't your fault," Harry offered finally, his eyes softening a little, pulling back on the shadows, on the shadow of his wings that he rarely showed these days. "Stop punishing yourself."
He dropped his gaze to pointedly look at the wedding ring on Jane's right hand and then disappeared through shadows of his making.