Being back at work was like a breath of fresh air. She had her routine back; her morning cup of coffee was so much more special when she had to savor it because she wouldn't get a chance to taste another cup for who knows how many hours. She actually got to pick through her wardrobe again instead of wearing the same three pairs of sweat pants in constant rotation.
She got to see Rigsby's dumb spiked hair every morning, and see Jane's silly magic tricks make the vein in Lisbon's forehead pop.
More than anything, she got to see the California countryside every time a case took them out to the sticks. Cho's apartment was without a doubt an improvement on her hotel room, but nothing beat the places they visited on the job.
Ronnie kicked a few stones away from her shoe and stretched her arms over her head. Picking her way through the backyard of the victim's wife, she swept her gaze back and forth, taking in everything from the deer tracks in the flower bed to the neighbor's cars parked on the other side of the fence.
Lisbon, Cho, and Van Pelt had forced their way into the woman's house after she hadn't responded to their knocking. Lisbon had merely suggested that their suspicion that the woman's life may be in danger would supersede the need for a warrant, and Cho had needed no further prompting to knock the entire door down.
Ronnie had found this to be just a touch invasive and had voted to keep an eye on the back door.
As she passed by what must have been the kitchen window, shouting suddenly sounded from within. Someone—an angry someone—was screaming from upstairs, words that Ronnie couldn't make out.
She heard Lisbon's soothing voice calling back, but the other woman's shouting didn't stop.
Hand on her sidearm, Ronnie turned on her heel to run into the house, but immediately ducked into a crouch when car doors slammed somewhere around the corner.
Running footsteps mingled with the sound of the woman's shouting, coming closer. Ronnie crawled towards the back door, peeking around the corner to see who was coming. A group of people, two men and a woman, bolted up the driveway and plowed straight through the back door, guns drawn.
Ronnie crept up beside them, and in seconds was posted in the doorway. As soon as she drew her own sidearm and levelled it with the woman's head, her brain caught up to her eyes and she read the words 'U.S. Marshal' written in bold yellow across the backs of their windbreakers. All of a sudden, pointing her gun at the backs of their heads didn't seem like the smartest move. "Heads up," She announced herself.
All four of the marshals' heads whipped around, stunned to find her drawn and ready on their heels.
Her eyes flashed to Lisbon, who stood using the wall as cover and had one hand pointing a weapon around the corner and the other pressing her phone to her ear. Across the foyer, Cho took cover behind the other wall, Grace carefully positioned behind him. Both of them had weapons drawn. Another marshal had come in through the front door, locked and loaded at Grace's head.
The man who had entered first, a tall, greying man with gaunt cheeks, stared from Ronnie, to Lisbon, to Cho. "Who are you people?"
Lisbon didn't bother putting the phone down. "We're with the California Bureau of Investigation. I'm Agent Lisbon, these are agents Cho, Van Pelt, and Masters."
Ronnie couldn't see the woman who had been screaming her head off, presumably on the other side of the wall that her colleagues were hiding behind. Cho hadn't removed his eyes from something in that direction, which Ronnie assumed was their irate person of interest, Mrs. Didrikson.
"We're U.S. Marshals." The Marshal returned sharply. Neither he nor his men lowered their weapons, so Lisbon and hers didn't either.
"Yeah, we can see that." Cho snapped, despite having still not turned his gaze from Mrs. Didrikson.
A moment passed. A rush of decisions passed through the minds of both the marshal and Lisbon before the man in the blue windbreaker made the first move. "Okay, fellas, stand down." He lowered his gun and stepped away from the corner wall he'd hidden behind. "Jenny?"
Still waiting for orders from Lisbon, Ronnie watched him look around for Mrs. Didrikson. "Jenny, it's us."
Lisbon nodded to her agents, who reluctantly holstered up and stood back to let the marshals attempt more successful contact.
The marshal rounded the corner and immediately jumped back. "Whoa, sweetheart, put the gun down. It's okay."
Ronnie's eyes jumped back to Cho.
"Alright." The marshal relaxed and turned to Lisbon. "Sorry, Agent. I didn't mean to scare you like that. You know, we hear the bell, we come running."
Cho finally relaxed, taking a step back. "That's alright. We weren't scared." He peered over one of the marshal's shoulders to find Ronnie, and then returned his petulant stare to the man who'd taken charge.
The marshal had shrugged the comment off. "No hard feelings, right? Come on down, Jenny. It's all right."
The female marshal spoke up then, approaching Cho with a sassy smile. "Alright, so why are you here? What did Eddie do now?"
"He's dead." Lisbon returned simply.
The marshals stared back, stunned, as gasps sounded from Mrs. Didrikson, who was descending the staircase. Her sobs filled the luxurious house, filling Ronnie's stomach with dread. The keening cries of a sorrowful woman struck her on an instinctual level.
"Single gunshot wound to the forehead." Lisbon supplied. "We found him 15 miles down river."
The lead marshal shook his head. "Damn."
"I knew this would happen," Eddie's wife gasped, stumbling on the steps. Cho lurched forward, quick to offer her hand and help her down to the floor while Lisbon berated the marshals who had been assigned to the witness protection case that was meant to keep Eddie and Gina safe. The mourning widow turned her rage on them, wailing blame and grief until Grace moved in to comfort her and hold her back.
Cho joined Ronnie at the bottom of the steps as Jane burst into the room, glancing around curiously. "Wow. What'd I miss?"
the MENTALIST
While Grace sat Gina down to ask her some questions about her husband's murder and Lisbon and Jane went outside to talk to the lead marshal, Ronnie and Cho did a sweep of the house. It was decorated in vague, impersonal style, like a model house in a magazine. Their search yielded no answers to the case, and they quickly returned to the foyer to regroup.
Instead of finding Lisbon back inside, they found the female marshal, watching Grace work from a distance. She looked up as the two CBI agents approached, a coy smile curling her lips. "The guy was a mafioso, you know? Name used to be Eddie Russo."
Her comments were directed at Cho, unsurprisingly.
His eyebrows lowered fractionally. "No, I didn't know that."
"He had connections with the Battaglia family before the FBI found him and flipped him. Then they dumped him with us—no matter how much you try to tell these guys that they can't go back to their old lives, they eventually slip right back into it. It's no surprise he's gotten himself killed."
"The exact nature of his death is what we're here to determine." Ronnie interjected diplomatically. The victim's wife was mere yards away, and the marshal responsible for their safety was audibly dismissing Eddie's murder.
The marshal shot Ronnie a sour look. "You mean you're not here to crap all over a Witness Relocation assignment?"
Unimpressed by the woman's venom, Ronnie didn't answer.
"So," The marshal leaned in closer to Cho. "You work cases in this area a lot?"
Ronnie's inelegant snort yanked both their attention away from the question to glare at her. Shaking her head and backing away, Ronnie just rolled her eyes and laughed. "No, sorry, don't mind me. Get some, lady." She flashed her teeth in a sneering grin and stepped outside the house.
the MENTALIST
Sent by Lisbon back to the office to look up Sonny Battaglia and see if he had any noticeable connections to Eddie Didrikson, Ronnie and Cho settled in at their desks in the breezy air conditioning.
"Hey," Cho called.
Ronnie swiveled her chair to face him. "Yeah."
Her partner leaned forward, elbows on his desk, and peered at her past a lowered brow. "You okay?"
She paused a second to take stock and then frowned. "Yeah. Why?"
Cho's dark eyes stared harder. "You got weird with that marshal. What was that about?"
The amusement sparked back to life in Ronnie's chest as she remembered the woman's overt attempts at flirting with her partner. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be weird. It just made me laugh, that's all."
His prying expression shifted to confusion, which was barely visible to the naked eye but recognizable to those accustomed to his inarticulate facial features. "What made you laugh?"
Ronnie blinked. "The marshal. She was angling for a date with you."
He went silent. His mouth fell open and then clicked shut once more. "And that's funny to you?"
She picked up her Red Bull and took a swig, studying him carefully. Had he really not noticed that the officer had been hitting on him? "Someone wanting to go on a date with you is not a joke, Cho, I just found it funny that the woman lacked the social tact to go about it in a more subtle fashion." Though, clearly, she had been plenty subtle enough for Cho not to realize that she was trying to get him to ask her out.
He straightened, smoothing down the front of his blue and white striped shirt.
Ronnie loved that shirt. Almost as much as the brown striped one.
He fixed his eyes on the computer and pretended he couldn't see her anymore. "She's a beautiful woman. I'm considering it."
Surprised, his partner put down her drink. "You are? Did you get her number?" He was right, she supposed. She is a beautiful woman.
"No." Cho returned flatly. "She was too embarrassed by you telling her to 'get some.'" He still didn't look at her. "But Lisbon has their contact info. I can ask for it."
"Oh, come on, Cho, it's a common enough turn of phrase. And, you know, if you're planning on getting some, I can clear out of the apartment for the night." She bobbed her eyebrows at him. "It's about time you went on a date."
His expression didn't move even a fraction of an inch. "What makes you think I haven't been dating?"
That silenced her for a good minute. Of course he hadn't been dating. She saw him every day. When did he have time to date? She'd lived with him for the past three months and he had never brought a date home—not even once. "You haven't been."
"I've been dating." He returned simply. His flat tone carried a trace of smugness as he realized he was getting the upper hand in the awkward conversation, but still his face gave nothing away. "You're the one who's chosen a life of celibacy."
Ronnie was dumbfounded. Chosen celibacy wasn't exactly how she would have put it. "I don't have time to date—you don't have time to date, either. You have so not been dating."
"Where would you even go?"
"What?"
Cho finally looked away from the computer, looking her dead in the eyes. "Where will you go when you clear out of the apartment tonight?"
Her heart thudded in her chest as she realized he was hanging the proverbial sock on the doorknob. "Oh." She whirled her chair back to face her own desk and booted up her computer with an easygoing shrug. "I'll stay with Jane. I'm sure he'll understand the woes of living with a roommate who puts out on the first date."
A wadded up piece of paper hit the back of her head and her cackling laughter filled the silence that followed.
the MENTALIST
While Jane snuck off to Palm Desert to speak to Sonny Battaglia, Lisbon invited the marshals back to her office. She invited the lead marshal, Exley, and the woman, Knox, into her office where Ronnie and Cho already sat to witness the conversation.
"I won't beat around the bush," Lisbon started cautiously. "Two weeks ago, did you get Eddie Russo off the hook for a drug bust?"
Both marshals' eyes instantly went to each other, and then the ceiling, looking very much like two teenagers caught in a lie.
Nevertheless, Exley clicked his tongue. "No, we did not."
Knox said nothing.
Lisbon was unimpressed. "Somebody did; and it made his accomplice very angry at him."
"Why would we do that?" Knox demanded.
"Maybe you had a deal with Russo." Lisbon guessed. "He gets to deal drugs, and you look the other way or maybe even help him, as long as he keeps helping the feds.
Exley's face had turned red, seething anger coming out in hissed tones as he said, "Let me explain the real world to you, Teresa."
Ronnie tensed.
Cho glanced at Lisbon before returning his watchful eyes to the marshal.
The man's sudden anger was beginning to look volatile.
He continued; "Russo's been squeezed dry of testimony. Federal prosecutors don't need him. They don't care what happens, and neither do we. He gets busted, that's his problem. And it's less work for us." Exley got to his feet. "So, either the local cops were in business with Eddie, or, my guess, you're just as misinformed as you are disrespectful and dumb."
Lisbon's eyebrows merely rose at the insult, but Ronnie's blood was boiling. It took everything in her to hold her tongue as both marshals took their leave of the office.
Marshal Knox cast a regretful glance back at Cho, but his expression was hard as he sardonically called, "Bye now." He got up from the couch and moved to sit where Exley had been, right in front of Lisbon.
"Seems dirty, doesn't he?" She commented.
"Yep."
"Bet you don't want to ask her out now, do you?" Ronnie quipped.
"Shut up, Masters."
Lisbon glanced between them for a second and then went on. "Why don't you check with IA about him and his partner. See if anything pops."
Cho nodded agreeably and headed for the door.
"Where's Jane?" Lisbon complained, searching the bullpen with visible irritation.
Freezing, Cho took a breath and turned back, purposefully avoiding Ronnie's gleeful eyes. "Don't get mad, but I have a feeling he went down to talk to Battaglia."
Lisbon swore.
"Should one of us head down to Palm Desert, just in case?" He wondered hopefully. He'd jump at even the slightest chance to avoid having to visit IA.
The boss scoffed and waved the idea away. "He made his bed."
Relenting, Cho nodded once more and left the office with Ronnie on his heels. "And where are you going?" He snapped.
Recoiling laughingly at his amplified grouchiness, she veered away from him and headed for the bullpen, far out of reach of his clenched fists. "Don't worry, I'm still hangin' with Jane tonight. I won't be there to rub your face in your romantic failures."
She heard him muttering obscenities as he stalked away to speak with Internal Affairs.
the MENTALIST
Ronnie stepped out of Jane's little blue Citroen at the front door of his modest low-rent apartment, suddenly reminded very much of the apartment she'd had before her mother came busting through the doors. "I can't believe I've never seen where you live before."
He shrugged and tossed his suit jacket over one arm, bouncing his keys in his hand. "It's nothing much, but there is a guest room."
She followed him inside and dropped her grocery bags on the bed that he indicated would be hers. "Thanks for running me by the store. Cho was grumpy enough being at the office with me without being reminded that I'm the reason he can't sleep peacefully in his own bed."
Jane merely gave a little grin and shook his head. "It was no trouble. All I have in the fridge is cream and eggs, anyway; not much in the way of hosting a guest."
"I'm just here to sleep and go back to work. I swear I won't be in your way."
"Sweetheart, please, I'm very happy to have you here. Do as you please. Guest bath is right over here, and towels are in the cupboard. Feel free to shower. You're not bothering me." He ruffled a hand through her hair and gave her a smile, his sweet crows feet crinkling at her.
Moments later, dressed in brand new Walmart sweat-shorts and tank top, with a towel turban containing her dripping locks, Ronnie wandered into the living room and found Jane in the armchair with a weathered book in his hands. She couldn't help but notice that his home life seemed so peaceful. Despite being sparsely decorated and mostly barren of character, his apartment was so utterly him that she felt instantly at home.
Kitchen cabinets with tea cups and saucers, pantry filled with various teas, coat closet with three neatly pressed suit jackets and matching vests, a small bookcase with old books near his chair—it was Patrick Jane's apartment, and no one else's.
Her heart ached for the fullness of the life that had been stolen from him.
Without his blood soaked history, he might have been inviting her into an actual house; big and spacious in the way that so many California homes were, the house would have been alive with energy. A little girl's room down the hall, maybe a baby boy's room, too. The closed door of the master bedroom where he and his wife comfortably spent their nights, pretty dishes in the cabinets.
Ronnie sank down on the couch and crossed her legs. She leaned back and stared into the fire he'd built, wondering how to address the fact that her heart was broken over a family that he'd lost so long ago.
She shouldn't address it. No, she shouldn't say anything.
Ronnie hugged her knees to her chest. "I like your apartment."
He hummed softly, smiling down at his book. "It isn't much, but I call it home."
A few minutes passed in silence, and then he put the novel down and met her eyes. "You teased Cho about Marshal Knox." He surmised simply.
Unsurprised by his ability to glean information that he hadn't been privy to merely from circumstantial evidence, Ronnie huffed a laugh. "She was hitting on him, I commented on it—I'm in the proverbial doghouse."
"Ah." Jane nodded understandingly. "He kicked you out after insisting that you live with him for your own safety?"
"He didn't kick me out; I offered to clear out of the apartment tonight so his date could happen without any kind of awkward roommate interruption, but then the case started pointing to the marshals and he couldn't exactly ask her out. I think he got embarrassed about the whole thing so I elected to just keep to the original plan and give him his space."
Her explanation didn't seem to be news to the consultant. "Yes, Cho is the type to need a little space on the regular."
Ronnie nodded. "He is, yeah. I am too, though. We've worked out a pretty good system for living together."
"And yet, here you are."
She paused, blinking into the firelight. "Yeah."
"It was nice of you to encourage him to take some personal time; go on a date; enjoy himself."
"Yeah, well, he deserves it." Ronnie couldn't think of any reason not to be a good wingman for her best friend, except for the the stinging feeling she had over the fact that she was suddenly banished to Jane's apartment. "He's a good guy, but he needs a little womanly affection to soften those edges."
Jane laughed with her, and then sipped from his teacup. "Well, you're softening his edges, aren't you?"
Her scoff was purely reflexive. "Does he seem soft to you?"
"You're sleeping in his bed."
Ronnie fell silent.
A moment ticked by, and then the suggestive tone vanished from Jane's voice like it was never there. "You guys really are such great friends."
She got up from the couch. "Why don't I go make us some dinner?"
the MENTALIST
When Jane and Ronnie arrived at work the next day, the rest of the team was already in the bullpen. Ronnie shuffled in in a pair of Walmart jeans that were just a bit too tight around the thighs and hips and perched herself on the edge of her desk.
Sitting on his own desk, Cho leaned over and extended a paper coffee cup from their regular cart.
Jane watched her accept it with a relieved smile on her face and went back to stirring his tea with a roll of his eyes.
"You played golf with Sonny Battaglia?" Rigsby demanded.
Jane humbly confirmed the rumor and tried not to let his pride show through his false display of meekness.
Already tired of his attitude, Lisbon stuffed her hands in her pockets and set her shoulders. "And what'd you learn?"
"He didn't kill Russo. And golf is, oddly, very easy."
"And you're sure of this?"
"Mm. I'm very sure. It's all about rhythm. Anyone could do it."
Lisbon smiled tersely.
Cho smirked at the mentalist's cheek.
Jane hastened to redeem himself before Lisbon shot him. "Yeah, Sonny Battaglia's clean. At least, I think. It's hard to say with a sociopath. That doesn't mean some other mafioso didn't do it, of course. Sonny thinks it was an ex-lover." His eyes flashed to Ronnie. "Crazy what a lovers' quarrel can lead to."
"The key is who sprung Eddie." Cho interrupted. "I'm betting it's those marshals."
"Shame." Ronnie sighed. "It's always the pretty ones."
Jane's eyebrows lifted.
"Which means we're gonna have to accuse the Sierra Vista P.D. of double-dealing." Rigsby complained. "That should be fun."
"Well, we found Russo's car parked outside the House of Games, which means somebody must have picked him up." Lisbon sighed. She gestured to Ronnie and Cho. "You two go find out if the arcade security cameras have a picture of who it was."
As they filed out of the bullpen, Jane got up tiredly. "Yeah, you guys go find out. I'll find the couch. Oh, there it is." He paused and turned to catch the two agents before they made it out the door. "Oh, and Ronnie, last night was really special to me. We should do it again some time."
Cho's head snapped around and his eyes landed on Ronnie, expression horrified.
the MENTALIST
"We need to look at your security tapes." Cho announced, staring down at the seated form of the man who owned the arcade where Russo had left his car after work.
"Tapes?" The owner scoffed. "I have no tapes."
"You have cameras." Ronnie shot back flatly.
"Of course. But only the little red light works. That's all you need."
Cho sighed. Typical.
"What are you guys looking for, anyhow? Nothing happened here."
"We need to know who picked up Didrikson," Ronnie supplied.
The owner shrugged. "I can tell you that. His wife picked him up. I saw her in the parking lot."
Attention caught, Cho looked up sharply. "His wife?" He met Ronnie's eyes. "You sure it was her?"
The other man nodded. "Sure. Yeah, I mean, I assume it was her. She's picked him up a couple times before."
"Brunette, slim, maybe 5'4"?" Cho wondered.
"No." The owner gave a confused laugh. "A pretty black lady, about 5'10"."
Ronnie's lips pursed. She glanced up to find a flush of frustrated color in Cho's cheeks.
They thanked the owner and made their exit. As soon as they'd crossed the threshold, Cho held up a hand. "Not a word, Masters."
She mimed zipping her lips, and then gripped the sleeve of his blue plaid-striped jacket in earnest. "I swear, Cho, I wasn't gonna say a thing about you having a thing for the bad girls."
He grumbled and whipped out his phone to call Lisbon.
the MENTALIST
When Marshal Knox was found nearly dead that night of apparent suicide, Ronnie didn't say a word. When the news was broken to Cho and he processed it with gritted teeth, she reached over and took a handful of his sleeve, being a comfort in her own way.
When he sat down at the conference table, elbows on the surface, she sat next to him and held her tongue.
That's how they were when Lisbon updated Marshal Exley on the state of his partner. When Jane suggested that the Marshals were in bed together, that Exley had found out that Knox had been sneaking around with Russo as well and killed him, Exley blew his top. When Ronnie uttered an unbelieving laugh at the gross display of unbridled rage at a mere insinuation, Exley lunged at her.
Cho stood up like a steel wall sliding into place between the enraged marshal and his partner. Wordlessly staring down the older man, physically backing him off when he hurled insult at Ronnie and Jane, Cho forced Exley back and shoved him out of the bullpen.
Ronnie didn't tease him about Marshal Knox any more.
[end of episode twenty]
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