The Scenic Route (1/7)
Title: The Scenic Route
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: The shortest distance between two points is by no means the most interesting. Who knew how long Jane and Lisbon's attraction has lasted for and just how long it's taken them to give into it?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Season Four
Notes: Written for the Paint It Red Monthly Challenge. Prompt: Saving the World.
The Scenic Route
Part One
17th October 2012
There was a crisp chill in the air; atypical of a late fall morning. Teresa Lisbon shivered slightly as she pulled her jacket around herself just that little bit tighter. Just because she had been born and raised in Chicago, it didn't mean she liked winters in California any more than back home. So, the wind wasn't quite as biting and there wasn't the hazard of snow, but it didn't mean there wasn't a noticeable difference between the seasons.
Still, she soldiered on. She had a job to do; why else would she be stuck in the middle of nowhere at five a.m.? And right now, her job entailed taking in the sight of a dead body and assessing the damage done to the poor soul.
Van Pelt offered her a wan smile as she approached. The younger woman suddenly yawned expansively, before turning away to hide the blush coloring her cheeks. They were used to early mornings and besides, it was obvious that she didn't like to show the chinks in her armor, especially when the boss was present.
"What do we got?" Lisbon enquired as she crouched beside the body, taking into account the impressive head wound. That was probably what had finished the man off.
"Zachary De Souza, 32, from Stockton," Cho immediately offered up, as keen as Lisbon to get out of the wind. "Died of blunt force-"
"Say that again," Lisbon demanded, much to the surprise of her coworkers.
"He died of-"
"No, no," she interrupted once more. "His name. Age."
"Zachary De Souza, aged 32?" Cho said once more, the questioning tone only noticeable to those who knew him well.
Lisbon shrugged off their looks of concern and especially, Jane's of sheer intrigue. Instead, she studied the man's features intently. From the moment she had seen the body of Zachary de Souza, she had thought he was familiar. Her heart sank a little; already, she could tell that this was going to be one of those cases that she loathed.
"You alright, boss?"
"Fine," she answered back, her tone clipped. "Anything else I need to know?"
As she listened attentively to the details, Lisbon became increasingly aware of Jane slowly but surely invading her personal space. It irritated her a little, but she also didn't bother to make a big deal out of it. After all, it was just Jane being Jane. He'd probably noticed the hint of familiarity in her eyes and thus, wanted to needle her about it. Still, he'd have to wait. They had a job to do and besides, she wasn't really in the mood to open up about her past with Jane right now. It was bad enough when he caught her off guard and got underneath her skin, but right now she was cold, tired and more than a little bit sad.
She was quietly pleased when Jane left it until they were alone together in her SUV before picking up the conversation she had been dreading. Van Pelt and Cho had drifted off to go and question De Souza's employer, while Rigsby had been sent back to the headquarters to make a start on the paper trails. Lisbon was determined to close this case as soon as feasibly possible. Then, she could go back to compartmentalizing those memories and getting on with life as per usual.
"You know him?" Jane asked quietly as she pulled away sedately.
"Knew, Jane," she corrected automatically. "He's dead."
"I know that. So?"
"So?" she echoed.
"He wasn't an ex-boyfriend, a bit young and a bit too pretty for that. This definitely isn't another William McTeer," he said with a smirk and Lisbon scowled. "A friend of your brother's, maybe?"
Automatically, Lisbon flinched just as Jane hit the nail on the head. Then, she cursed at herself for making her tells so blindingly obvious once again. She had known Jane for far too long to be like this; she should have trained herself to behave differently by now. Well, for the most part, she had, but seeing Tommy's childhood best friend lying dead, with a gaping wound to the back of his head had left her feeling a little shaken. It was more than forgivable for her to be acting in such a way. Still, all it did was provide Jane with more fuel for the fire. He was never going to leave this alone now.
"I thought as much."
"I last saw him twenty five years ago," she said, trailing off slightly.
Jane gently pressed two fingers of his right hand to her forearm. She smiled weakly in response; the gentle gesture said more than words could ever do, even out of a master like Patrick Jane. Part of her realized that this was one of the hazards of the job. Sooner or later, you were going to end up coming across a body you were familiar with. Still, it didn't make the hurt any less. When the information was no longer considered as 'classified', she knew it was going to be hell to tell Tommy what had happened. Her brother was more than likely going to be devastated.
He fell into a restive silence and Lisbon was equally relieved and worried. A quiet Jane was always something to worry about; who knew what he was ruminating about if he wasn't talking? At least if he was making a noise, she knew what havoc he was wreaking. However, at least he wasn't pushing her and knew that this was a moment to just leave her alone, to let her say goodbye to De Souza in peace. She allowed her hand to leave the steering wheel briefly, to gently stroke the cross pendant hanging around her neck and utter a silent prayer of forgiveness and hope. De Souza had been a good kid, and she could have imagined him being a great man now that he was older. The strange thing was, she hadn't even realized he had moved to California. It was funny how these things happened.
"This isn't your fault, you know."
"Of course I know that," she answered back.
"You can't save everyone."
"No, you can't," she agreed, though however much she heard and even repeated that statement to herself, it never ridded her of the lingering 'what if'.
What ifs were almost the bane of her life. What if her dad hadn't killed himself, what if her mom hadn't died so young. What if, what if, what if. She tried not to spend too much time thinking about them; it wasn't healthy and it certainly didn't help. But ignoring them didn't eradicate them either. And that was entirely the problem.
"Tell me about him," Jane said, breaking her from her reverie.
"Jane…"
"It might help," he protested. "Knowing what he was like might help us catch the killer."
Her shoulders dropped a little as she considered his logic. Already, she could feel herself giving in. But he was right. And besides, a problem shared was a problem halved. That, and even if her knowledge of a young Zachary De Souza didn't help catch his killer, it would at least make her feel a little better.
"You know, the last time I saw him, I took him and my brothers to the carnival. I would never have thought that his life would end like this."
Jane opened his mouth to respond and shot Lisbon one of his penetrating gazes at the same time. In response to his actions, Lisbon quirked a questioning eyebrow as she wondered what was going on in his mind. If only she could read minds. If only the mind was a simple thing to access. She swore Jane would make so much more sense to her, if she had access to his innermost thoughts.
But of course, mind reading, remained a mere fantasy. And it didn't help them discover who De Souza's killer was any quicker either.
xxx
14th July 1986
Patrick Jane perched comfortably on the barrel; it was an action he had done time and time again. He rested his chin gently on his bended left knee; his right leg dangling down. Contemplatively, he took a bite out of his red delicious apple. 'Delicious' was probably exaggerating somewhat; the piece of fruit was definitely past its best, though still edible. Still, he finished it off, only throwing the core in the general direction of the horses. It wouldn't hurt them to eat it and besides, he had a fondness for the old beasts.
This was one of his favorite stops on the carnival circuit. It was the furthest East they traveled and the most Northerly location too. Summers here were always more pleasantly cool than elsewhere; the breeze taking away the bite of the blazing sunshine. Yes, being in Chicago in mid-July definitely had its perks. There were, of course, other reasons he was so fond of Chicago and that was exactly why he was sitting here, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. It was why he was waiting patiently, in the vain hope that a certain family would actually turn up. They did every year, so as far as he was concerned, there was no reason that this one should be any different.
A gentle touch of a feminine hand made him jump and Patrick almost fell off of his barrel. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure before he turned around to scowl at the person who'd disturbed him. A flurry of blonde curls and a wide grin made him bite back the sharp retort that had been brewing on his tongue. Angela Ruskin's beam merely widened especially as she knew full well that she was one of very few people to get special treatment from Patrick Jane, The Boy Wonder, who was slowly but surely growing out of his nickname.
"Angela," Patrick eventually said, still scowling. "You scared the crap out of me."
"Don't exaggerate," she chided, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "What are you doing?"
"Sitting, what does it look like?"
"Oh yeah," she answered back, sarcasm almost dripping out of her voice. "The girl you like lives here, doesn't she?"
Patrick quickly decided that the best course of action was to maintain his deniability. He quickly moderated his expression, ensuring that it remained as impassive as possible. Then again, he also knew that there was very little point in that. Angela, much to his irritation, knew all of his secrets. The fact was hardly surprising, considering she was his only confidant on the carnival circuit. But still, he didn't feel like talking about it, not right now.
But she was right, of course. The girl he liked did live here, in Chicago. It was yet another reason why he was so fond of this place. Deftly, he hopped off of his perch and turned to face Angela. There was a slight hint of sadness in her eyes, something which he didn't bother to comment on. He'd long known about the candle she held for him, but there was no reason to tease her about it. After all, he treasured his friendship with her and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. The carnival was slowly but surely growing intolerable and she often felt like his only ally. He had to keep her onside, if only because they kept one another sane.
"I have no idea what you mean," Patrick answered back soberly.
Angela let out a dry bark of a laugh. It didn't take a psychic (fake or otherwise) to work out that she considered that to be the carnival's worst kept secret. Even Patrick Jane couldn't keep everything about himself hidden. And besides, for weeks he had been going on about just how much he had been looking forward to this specific stop. That and she had watched him behave here in exactly the same way year in, year out, for the past nine years.
As it was, Angela was the first to spot exactly who Patrick was looking for. Like him, she had an excellent memory and a good eye for detail. They were characteristics practically bred into children like them; necessary to survive their lifestyle. With a heavy sigh, Angela pointed out into the crowd mingling in front of them and Patrick cocked his head slightly to one side.
"Oh come on, Patrick, everyone knows what you think of her," she answered back, her smile not quite meeting the corner of her eyes. "There she is. I'll see you later, okay?"
His eyes roamed the crowd in the general direction that Angela had indicated. True to her word, there she was. Two young boys were holding tentatively onto their father's hand; the one on his left, the youngest of the three boys, was also clinging hold of an unfamiliar boy, probably just a friend. Meanwhile, the eldest brother was enthusiastically dragging their mother towards Pete's House of Mirrors. The raven haired girl - her long hair shorter than he remembered; she'd probably had it cut recently - walking solemnly behind. It didn't take long for him to catch her green eyes.
And he smiled. It was about time.
TBC…
To Part Two
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: The shortest distance between two points is by no means the most interesting. Who knew how long Jane and Lisbon's attraction has lasted for and just how long it's taken them to give into it?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Season Four
Notes: Written for the Paint It Red Monthly Challenge. Prompt: Saving the World.
The Scenic Route
Part One
17th October 2012
There was a crisp chill in the air; atypical of a late fall morning. Teresa Lisbon shivered slightly as she pulled her jacket around herself just that little bit tighter. Just because she had been born and raised in Chicago, it didn't mean she liked winters in California any more than back home. So, the wind wasn't quite as biting and there wasn't the hazard of snow, but it didn't mean there wasn't a noticeable difference between the seasons.
Still, she soldiered on. She had a job to do; why else would she be stuck in the middle of nowhere at five a.m.? And right now, her job entailed taking in the sight of a dead body and assessing the damage done to the poor soul.
Van Pelt offered her a wan smile as she approached. The younger woman suddenly yawned expansively, before turning away to hide the blush coloring her cheeks. They were used to early mornings and besides, it was obvious that she didn't like to show the chinks in her armor, especially when the boss was present.
"What do we got?" Lisbon enquired as she crouched beside the body, taking into account the impressive head wound. That was probably what had finished the man off.
"Zachary De Souza, 32, from Stockton," Cho immediately offered up, as keen as Lisbon to get out of the wind. "Died of blunt force-"
"Say that again," Lisbon demanded, much to the surprise of her coworkers.
"He died of-"
"No, no," she interrupted once more. "His name. Age."
"Zachary De Souza, aged 32?" Cho said once more, the questioning tone only noticeable to those who knew him well.
Lisbon shrugged off their looks of concern and especially, Jane's of sheer intrigue. Instead, she studied the man's features intently. From the moment she had seen the body of Zachary de Souza, she had thought he was familiar. Her heart sank a little; already, she could tell that this was going to be one of those cases that she loathed.
"You alright, boss?"
"Fine," she answered back, her tone clipped. "Anything else I need to know?"
As she listened attentively to the details, Lisbon became increasingly aware of Jane slowly but surely invading her personal space. It irritated her a little, but she also didn't bother to make a big deal out of it. After all, it was just Jane being Jane. He'd probably noticed the hint of familiarity in her eyes and thus, wanted to needle her about it. Still, he'd have to wait. They had a job to do and besides, she wasn't really in the mood to open up about her past with Jane right now. It was bad enough when he caught her off guard and got underneath her skin, but right now she was cold, tired and more than a little bit sad.
She was quietly pleased when Jane left it until they were alone together in her SUV before picking up the conversation she had been dreading. Van Pelt and Cho had drifted off to go and question De Souza's employer, while Rigsby had been sent back to the headquarters to make a start on the paper trails. Lisbon was determined to close this case as soon as feasibly possible. Then, she could go back to compartmentalizing those memories and getting on with life as per usual.
"You know him?" Jane asked quietly as she pulled away sedately.
"Knew, Jane," she corrected automatically. "He's dead."
"I know that. So?"
"So?" she echoed.
"He wasn't an ex-boyfriend, a bit young and a bit too pretty for that. This definitely isn't another William McTeer," he said with a smirk and Lisbon scowled. "A friend of your brother's, maybe?"
Automatically, Lisbon flinched just as Jane hit the nail on the head. Then, she cursed at herself for making her tells so blindingly obvious once again. She had known Jane for far too long to be like this; she should have trained herself to behave differently by now. Well, for the most part, she had, but seeing Tommy's childhood best friend lying dead, with a gaping wound to the back of his head had left her feeling a little shaken. It was more than forgivable for her to be acting in such a way. Still, all it did was provide Jane with more fuel for the fire. He was never going to leave this alone now.
"I thought as much."
"I last saw him twenty five years ago," she said, trailing off slightly.
Jane gently pressed two fingers of his right hand to her forearm. She smiled weakly in response; the gentle gesture said more than words could ever do, even out of a master like Patrick Jane. Part of her realized that this was one of the hazards of the job. Sooner or later, you were going to end up coming across a body you were familiar with. Still, it didn't make the hurt any less. When the information was no longer considered as 'classified', she knew it was going to be hell to tell Tommy what had happened. Her brother was more than likely going to be devastated.
He fell into a restive silence and Lisbon was equally relieved and worried. A quiet Jane was always something to worry about; who knew what he was ruminating about if he wasn't talking? At least if he was making a noise, she knew what havoc he was wreaking. However, at least he wasn't pushing her and knew that this was a moment to just leave her alone, to let her say goodbye to De Souza in peace. She allowed her hand to leave the steering wheel briefly, to gently stroke the cross pendant hanging around her neck and utter a silent prayer of forgiveness and hope. De Souza had been a good kid, and she could have imagined him being a great man now that he was older. The strange thing was, she hadn't even realized he had moved to California. It was funny how these things happened.
"This isn't your fault, you know."
"Of course I know that," she answered back.
"You can't save everyone."
"No, you can't," she agreed, though however much she heard and even repeated that statement to herself, it never ridded her of the lingering 'what if'.
What ifs were almost the bane of her life. What if her dad hadn't killed himself, what if her mom hadn't died so young. What if, what if, what if. She tried not to spend too much time thinking about them; it wasn't healthy and it certainly didn't help. But ignoring them didn't eradicate them either. And that was entirely the problem.
"Tell me about him," Jane said, breaking her from her reverie.
"Jane…"
"It might help," he protested. "Knowing what he was like might help us catch the killer."
Her shoulders dropped a little as she considered his logic. Already, she could feel herself giving in. But he was right. And besides, a problem shared was a problem halved. That, and even if her knowledge of a young Zachary De Souza didn't help catch his killer, it would at least make her feel a little better.
"You know, the last time I saw him, I took him and my brothers to the carnival. I would never have thought that his life would end like this."
Jane opened his mouth to respond and shot Lisbon one of his penetrating gazes at the same time. In response to his actions, Lisbon quirked a questioning eyebrow as she wondered what was going on in his mind. If only she could read minds. If only the mind was a simple thing to access. She swore Jane would make so much more sense to her, if she had access to his innermost thoughts.
But of course, mind reading, remained a mere fantasy. And it didn't help them discover who De Souza's killer was any quicker either.
xxx
14th July 1986
Patrick Jane perched comfortably on the barrel; it was an action he had done time and time again. He rested his chin gently on his bended left knee; his right leg dangling down. Contemplatively, he took a bite out of his red delicious apple. 'Delicious' was probably exaggerating somewhat; the piece of fruit was definitely past its best, though still edible. Still, he finished it off, only throwing the core in the general direction of the horses. It wouldn't hurt them to eat it and besides, he had a fondness for the old beasts.
This was one of his favorite stops on the carnival circuit. It was the furthest East they traveled and the most Northerly location too. Summers here were always more pleasantly cool than elsewhere; the breeze taking away the bite of the blazing sunshine. Yes, being in Chicago in mid-July definitely had its perks. There were, of course, other reasons he was so fond of Chicago and that was exactly why he was sitting here, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. It was why he was waiting patiently, in the vain hope that a certain family would actually turn up. They did every year, so as far as he was concerned, there was no reason that this one should be any different.
A gentle touch of a feminine hand made him jump and Patrick almost fell off of his barrel. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure before he turned around to scowl at the person who'd disturbed him. A flurry of blonde curls and a wide grin made him bite back the sharp retort that had been brewing on his tongue. Angela Ruskin's beam merely widened especially as she knew full well that she was one of very few people to get special treatment from Patrick Jane, The Boy Wonder, who was slowly but surely growing out of his nickname.
"Angela," Patrick eventually said, still scowling. "You scared the crap out of me."
"Don't exaggerate," she chided, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "What are you doing?"
"Sitting, what does it look like?"
"Oh yeah," she answered back, sarcasm almost dripping out of her voice. "The girl you like lives here, doesn't she?"
Patrick quickly decided that the best course of action was to maintain his deniability. He quickly moderated his expression, ensuring that it remained as impassive as possible. Then again, he also knew that there was very little point in that. Angela, much to his irritation, knew all of his secrets. The fact was hardly surprising, considering she was his only confidant on the carnival circuit. But still, he didn't feel like talking about it, not right now.
But she was right, of course. The girl he liked did live here, in Chicago. It was yet another reason why he was so fond of this place. Deftly, he hopped off of his perch and turned to face Angela. There was a slight hint of sadness in her eyes, something which he didn't bother to comment on. He'd long known about the candle she held for him, but there was no reason to tease her about it. After all, he treasured his friendship with her and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. The carnival was slowly but surely growing intolerable and she often felt like his only ally. He had to keep her onside, if only because they kept one another sane.
"I have no idea what you mean," Patrick answered back soberly.
Angela let out a dry bark of a laugh. It didn't take a psychic (fake or otherwise) to work out that she considered that to be the carnival's worst kept secret. Even Patrick Jane couldn't keep everything about himself hidden. And besides, for weeks he had been going on about just how much he had been looking forward to this specific stop. That and she had watched him behave here in exactly the same way year in, year out, for the past nine years.
As it was, Angela was the first to spot exactly who Patrick was looking for. Like him, she had an excellent memory and a good eye for detail. They were characteristics practically bred into children like them; necessary to survive their lifestyle. With a heavy sigh, Angela pointed out into the crowd mingling in front of them and Patrick cocked his head slightly to one side.
"Oh come on, Patrick, everyone knows what you think of her," she answered back, her smile not quite meeting the corner of her eyes. "There she is. I'll see you later, okay?"
His eyes roamed the crowd in the general direction that Angela had indicated. True to her word, there she was. Two young boys were holding tentatively onto their father's hand; the one on his left, the youngest of the three boys, was also clinging hold of an unfamiliar boy, probably just a friend. Meanwhile, the eldest brother was enthusiastically dragging their mother towards Pete's House of Mirrors. The raven haired girl - her long hair shorter than he remembered; she'd probably had it cut recently - walking solemnly behind. It didn't take long for him to catch her green eyes.
And he smiled. It was about time.
TBC…
To Part Two