Ricochet (10/25)
Chapter Ten
"I can't keep abusing your generosity like this, Teresa," Jane said with a sigh.
Lisbon scoffed at his comment; as far as she was concerned he was being ridiculous. Of course, she expected him to find his own place sooner or later - and preferably, an actual house as opposed to a dingy long stay motel like he had previously been living in. However, there was absolutely no hurry for him to do as such. Her spare bedroom was there for emergencies like this. She didn't have many friends and as for family, they were either estranged or dead. Besides, she quite liked Jane's company and having him stay provided her with the ideal opportunity to see another side of his very multi-faceted personality.
"Oh, please Jane. You've only been here for one night."
“It’s still not fair on you,” he said with a shrug. “As your boss and your friend, I should respect your need for privacy.
“It’s just a spare bedroom, nobody else needs to be using it and you’re not getting in my way. If I ever feel the need to escape at work, I can always tag along with one of the others,” she explained patiently but could tell that he disagreed with her. "You can stay with me for as long as you need to."
“But,” he started and Lisbon held up a hand to cut him off.
“Besides, I was the one who insisted you left that motel. It’s my fault you don’t have anywhere else to stay. Supplying you with a roof above your head and a comfortable bed until you find somewhere better to live is the very least I can do.”
As far as she was concerned, it was a relief to finally be home, where she felt safe and secure, in spite of the constant Red John threat. As it turned out, Van Pelt was just about fine and a little shaken up after her incident. The man who'd hit her had been extremely apologetic and hung around until he was sure that she was okay. But that hadn't been enough to stop Jane's panic mode from going into overdrive and him insisting upon her taking a trip to the E.R., just to be entirely sure. Only when she had gotten the all clear from a trained professional did he seem capable of relaxing properly. He couldn't help it, of course. Anything to do with car accidents triggered bad memories about his past. Just like whenever she had seen that blood red smiley face leering down at them in Jane's motel room...
She paused for a second. She couldn’t allow herself to go down that route again. Not now, not after they had just lost an important lead in the case.
At least Van Pelt's minor accident had just been one of those things and was entirely unrelated to the case, she told herself as she tried to drag her mindset back into a safer mode. She had been incredibly lucky; no broken bones, no head injuries, just a little shock and a few bruises. By morning she would be more than well enough to get straight back to work. Jane would see sense too once he had sorted his own head out. They were a right pair at the moment; both of them were toying with bad memories that they would have preferred to avoid. Even so, she suspected that it was far better that they spent the night in one another's company instead of wallowing alone. Jane just needed to stop feeling guilty for invading her private space too; after all, she had offered it up freely.
"Cup of tea?" she asked before Jane had even settled on her couch.
"I'll make it," he offered quickly and headed towards her kitchen before she even had a chance to protest. "It's the least I can do."
Soon enough they were settled in front of her television, with a plate of cookies between them and hot drinks in hand. The silence was companionable; they had managed to clear up any underlying issues between them earlier at work. It almost felt nice having somebody around the house again. As much as she liked having her own private space, sometimes it was just nice to share time with somebody else, especially when it was somebody she cared about. It made her feel more comfortable in a way. And Jane, who came from a large Catholic family (though he had long since renounced his own faith), was so used to being around people that he felt claustrophobic without them. Being in the motel meant he could constantly hear people around him, even if he barely knew their names and the acquaintances he shared were merely fleeting. But it was better than being alone for him, a sort of compromise, really. Even so, he still did occasionally punish himself with solitary confinement of sorts, especially if a case had gone wrong or he’d had issues with one of his younger brothers. Brooding in his little attic space at the CBI never helped. He claimed that it helped him clear his mind, to think about cases more clearly. However, Lisbon faintly suspected that he had survivor’s guilt. He questioned why he had lived and his mother had died on a daily basis, just like she pondered over why Red John had chosen to kill her family instead of her. And he knew that nothing would have changed the fallout of what happened after the accident, just like she knew Red John had killed her family because that did more damage to an individual than their own death ever did.
She could only hope that her comparatively recent inclusion in his life proved to be more beneficial than hearing strangers in the night. Lisbon hoped that he would feel less like he had let his family down and realize that he had saved so many people since then.
She was the one who had hurt people. She was the one who was trying to repay for her past sins, if she ever truly could. And she was the one who had let down her family to the extent that she couldn't even try and pick up the pieces. They were both gone, forever. And her father was missing, presumed dead. Lisbon had always managed to lose everyone she ever cared about, and that was what hurt the most. This game she was playing with Jane, whatever it was, was a dangerous business. She knew that, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself. Somehow, he had managed to get underneath her skin and she suspected that the feeling was entirely mutual. That was something that was never meant to happen. Bringing justice to the state of California was fine; an honorable way for her to spend her time. Fighting crime and putting murderers behind bars, that was a part of the day job.
Putting more lives at risk because they were seemingly incapable of arresting Red John? That most certainly wasn’t something she had signed up for. She didn’t like the idea of Jane, or the rest of the team for that matter, being hurt because of her. But it was a distinct possibility, she knew. It wouldn’t have been the first time he targeted somebody she cared deeply about, after all.
Maybe it would be better once she could reclaim some distance from him? Jane seemed keen to give her back her own personal space. Now, as her thoughts led her to uneasy territory during this silence, she could only hope he wouldn’t take long. Not for her sake, of course. Lisbon would never be that selfish; her father had never allowed her to be, nor had her daughter after her arrival. She hoped for Jane’s sake that he’d find somewhere new; that was all there was to it. It didn’t matter that his job was already technically dangerous; there was no need for them to run the additional risk. Lisbon had a feeling that Red John didn’t want her to be happy after her family’s death. He didn’t want her to truly gain closure after the incident, not that she would ever dream of forgetting what had happened to them. Still, he wanted her to constantly remember the wrongs she had done, and find herself unable to repay for them each and every day that went by. She would always be haunted by the past, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t box her family away, if only Red John wasn’t a constant presence in her life too.
In the end, she just excused herself from the situation. Her psychiatrist had once told her that if she wanted to truly live again, then she had to stop living in fear of what might happen. Her imagination was the one thing that had done the most damage to her in the months after her husband and daughter had been killed. Even now, she still found herself toying with macabre thoughts of what could happen, especially as the team had slowly but surely drawn her into their fold. Regardless, Lisbon had always known that Sophie Miller was speaking the truth. In fact, she had said the exact same words to clients herself in the past, when doing psychic readings. It was the only way to remind them that they couldn’t cling onto the ghosts of their loved ones. They may have moved onto another life, but they wouldn’t have wanted their relatives to remain stuck in the past during this one. However, that didn't necessarily mean that it was easy to apply to real life situations. Lisbon couldn’t help but note the hypocrisy in her actions and mindset, but sometimes, she couldn’t help it. After everything that had happened today, she had found herself in a very pensive mood. Now, she couldn’t help but think in the ‘negative’ ways that she’d been told not to do so. But it was only natural, or so she believed. Anyone would have done the same; she knew that Jane was, as he watched terrible movies on her TV downstairs. As she clambered into bed, her bones ached but her mind was still whirring away with the thoughts of 'what if?', 'how come?' and 'why?’ Of course, the more she tried not to think of them, the more that she actually did. And she didn't have answers to any of those questions, and never would. Regardless, she could already tell that she was destined to have another very bad night's sleep.
When she awoke, feeling like sleep had done her more harm than good, Lisbon made her way downstairs with bleary eyes and a fuzzy head. A feeling of dread had already enveloped her. During her sleepless night, she had remembered something Jane had said prior to him reluctantly accepting her spare bedroom. And he was right; Red John could track them down anywhere, if and when he chose to do so. He probably already knew that Jane had taken refuge in her home. Therefore, she had put them both in immediate danger. But then, she told herself firmly, that was no different to usual. The murder in Jane's old motel room had been a precise sign that Red John was watching their every move. Meanwhile, Van Pelt's accident yesterday afternoon indicated that anything could happen to any one of them and that Red John was never the only monster lingering in the shadows. Especially not when she considered what their day job generally entailed.
Jane was in a cheerful mood, almost too cheerful for her liking, given how early it was. To add insult to injury, she wasn’t sure if he’d even tried to sleep the night before, whereas she had and felt all the worse for it. The smell of eggs had filled her kitchen and he was humming gently as he cooked the breakfast. She hadn't asked him to do such a thing, but he probably felt compelled to do so. Besides, she sincerely doubted he had much else to do at that specific moment in time. With the case, for example, they couldn’t get much farther until they interviewed Dr. Mortimer. He turned around, spatula in hand as she approached him. The smile on his face was warm and genuine, and she couldn’t help but reciprocate it. Unlike her, he looked comparatively well rested, even if he hadn’t been able to rest. As she took a seat at her table, she decided that it was good that at least one of them was feeling like that.
"I hope eggs is okay; I raided your cupboards and had to make do with limited options."
She nodded; it was too late to complain anyway as he was already dishing up. Soon enough, a plateful of scrambled eggs was placed in front of her. Jane hovered, refusing to take a seat until he had heard her verdict on the food. Slowly, Lisbon picked up her fork and took a reluctant mouthful. When she placed it back down again, he was still looking at her hopefully.
"This is lovely, Jane. Thank you."
In truth, she wasn't quite sure how she was going to eat it all. Usually, the most she had for breakfast was a piece of fruit, a banana or an apple, which she grabbed without much thought before she rushed into work. Lisbon prided herself with making a good impression on her colleagues; she was often first to arrive and last to leave. She worked as hard as any cop on the paper trails, believing that she might just be able to see something they missed. It was also her way of proving how deadly serious she was about the job; often consultants were seen merely as time-wasters and people looking for an ego boost. She wasn't like that; she genuinely cared about justice.
"I know you normally don't eat much, but if you're going to be kind enough to lend me your spare room, then I'm going to look after you while I’m here," he said firmly
"Really, there's no need," she protested.
"If I don't, then who will?"
"I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself," she retorted, a hint of anger seeping into her voice.
"Teresa, I've seen the state of your cupboards. I know that isn't entirely true."
"Jane..."
"Come on, eat up. I've got mine here too."
She pursed her lips but obeyed instructions. In spite of her tiredness and her lack of hunger, she wasn't willing to let good food go to waste. Worse, she didn't want to offend Jane. Everything he’d done, he’d only done with good intentions. Besides, he was her boss; he was the one whose opinion meant the most when it came to her job. And then, despite all efforts, despite her jumbled thoughts, they seemed to be getting inexplicably closer. She had a feeling that the harder she tried to fight it, the more inevitable it seemed to become.
But it still seemed wrong. She was meant to be mourning the death of her beloved family and seeking justice for them by working with the CBI. Instead, she seemed to be forming emotional connections with people she simply didn't expect to do so. When she’d joined the CBI, she had made a firm belief to remain aloof and focus purely on the job. They, and especially Minelli and Jane, had made that virtually impossible. At this moment in time, she refused to label her relationship with Jane as anything specific; that was far too risky. She knew that he was sending her mixed messages, and that she was doing entirely the same. Perhaps, if their situations were different and they had moved on from their respective paths, then something could have happened between them. For now, they were doomed to this endless dance, with no end in sight. And precisely how it would end, she couldn't say. All she could do was pray that, whatever it was, it wouldn't be some sort of disaster.
xxx
They didn’t go straight to the headquarters this morning; instead, Jane updated the rest of his team on what he wanted them to do via cellphone. Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho had a lot of consolidating to do on minor leads they’d picked up while canvassing the neighborhood and doing the paper chains. Afterwards, he expected all three of them to focus their energies on working out who killed their lead to Red John. But for now, he and Lisbon had a pressing engagement with a certain Dr. Addison Mortimer. Jane was relieved that the man had been able to ‘squeeze them’ into his incredibly busy schedule. However, at the same time, he found it a little irksome. Of course, he respected that the doctor’s patients were vitally important, but they also had an important job to do. Just because he saved the living, it didn’t mean that honoring the dead needed to be disregarded.
But then, most doctors treated homicide detectives with that same kind of disdain. They often had a superiority complex because they were the ones who kept people alive, whereas he was knee-deep in dead bodies. Jane had always found a certain pleasure in dealing justice out, but medics tended to see it as being a fruitless task. They didn’t save lives, they didn’t offer hope. If anything, they dealt out more misery. However, if one doctor could see just how many people had thanked him for the job he did, then maybe their perspective on fighting crime would have altered a little. No, he couldn’t physically save somebody’s life, but he could stop people from getting killed by getting murderers off the streets. And he could also offer a strange mix, a certain brand of justice and closure for people close to the victim. That always helped and he could see it in the eyes of the people he dealt with. Jane was proud of the job he did, and he also took a certain level of satisfaction in his methodology too. He liked the fact that he had turned crime fighting up on its head. It certainly made his unit a lot more effective than his peers, too.
Lisbon was very pensive during the journey. The same reluctance to talk that she’d had the night before had clearly lingered. That worried him more than he cared to admit, but out of a begrudging respect for her and her brilliance, he kept quiet. As much as he’d changed the way they fought crime, she had that little extra finesse that he lacked. Not that he’d ever dare admit it to her, mind. Even he knew that his ego wouldn’t be able to admit to the fact he actually thought she was better at solving crimes than he was. Still, she was a little more hesitant when it came to getting that final bit of evidence to close it, that little more cautious about the methods he chose. But he couldn’t blame her for that. She knew what could happen when somebody chose to push things too far.
All too soon, they arrived at the hospital. With the assistance of his badge, they were quickly whisked to a waiting room and told to take a seat. The prim receptionist promised that Dr. Mortimer would be there as soon as he could; he was currently held up in a staff meeting. Jane couldn’t stifle the smirk; even doctors were subject to the terribly mundane (and time-wasting) meetings that he, too, had to endure. He still swore blind that, when it came down to it, the professions weren’t all that different. They all came under the umbrella term of emergency services. However, the rivalries between medicine, law enforcement, and firefighting were ancient and nothing was going to change that.
Time felt as though it was beginning to slow down. Out of boredom, he picked up one of the trashy magazines that had been left on the occasional table and flicked through it. Of course, there was nothing of interest in it and he was soon bored stiff once again. Then, he took to watching Lisbon. There was nobody else in the waiting room for him to turn his attention to and even if there was, there would have been nobody else he’d have found quite as fascinating as her. It took her half a minute to notice; previously, she had been sitting with her arms crossed defensively as she stared stubbornly at the clock on the opposite wall. He couldn’t help her for that; if he could, he would have willed time to move faster too. Or at least, he would have hurried it up to the time their person of interest arrived in his office, at any rate.
“What are you doing?” she asked, a touch self-consciously.
“Watching you?”
“Why?”
It was an unusual question, especially for a one-time minor celebrity such as herself. Theoretically, she should have been more than used to attention being lavished upon her. Especially so, when he considered the fact that a part of her job description almost relied upon mutual attention. It was always far easier to get a read of somebody who was actually paying as much attention to you as you were of them. But then, it probably reminded her of uncomfortable times, when she had been forced to do something she hated, just to make her father happy. She had confessed as much to him shortly after she had started working with the CBI, and he had appreciated her frankness at the time. However, she was a complicated creature, full of contradictions, and he knew he still had a lot left to learn about Ms. Teresa Lisbon.
He was about to answer her back when somebody entered the room. Initially, Jane believed it would merely be Mortimer’s first patient of the day, especially when he took a precursory glance at the time, but he was pleasantly surprised to see the doctor himself. He apologized swiftly for the day, before ushering them both into his office. Jane took the opportunity to introduce them both, but Mortimer looked less than impressed by the fact the CBI had taken to hiring a consultant. It only took a second or so for him to actually say as such.
“So, the CBI is hiring civilians to do police work now? Times really must be tough. Aren’t your standards slipping as a consequence?”
“I’m good at my job,” Lisbon replied, glowering slightly.
“She is amongst the best crime fighters I know,” Jane confirmed, with a decisive nod. “And besides, the Serious Crimes Unit’s closed case record has never been better.”
“Hmm,” Mortimer replied skeptically, but he didn’t elaborate.
“But let’s move onto more pressing matters, shall we?” Lisbon asked and it was clear that she didn’t want the battle of egos to go too far.
And she was right, of course. However, that didn’t necessarily mean Jane approved of a single word that the doctor said to them. He was very good at evading questions, and didn’t much like it when Lisbon politely pointed it out to him. Jane wasn’t sure, but he thought he was trying to hide something. The question was whether or not it was murder, or something unrelated to his jurisdiction. Of course, part of Jane almost hoped that it was murder, because he knew he would take great joy in bringing this man back down to size. He had quickly got to the stage where he didn’t even care how many lives Dr. Addison Mortimer had saved throughout his career, how much money he had raised for various charities, or what qualifications he’d achieved in his illustrious career. Doctors always liked to feel they were the cleverest person in the room, but as far as Jane was concerned, Mortimer wasn’t, not by a long shot.
Soon enough, they bid the man farewell; they had spent less time in his office than they had done actually waiting for him. Jane was still very irritated and thought very little of the man. He remained in a stubborn silence until they reached his precious blue Citroen. At least they were back out of the hospital; he loathed those places. And now, he was very pleased that he had the opportunity to pick Lisbon’s thoughts on Mortimer without the risk of any prying eyes or ears.
Before he had the chance to do so, however, Cho rang him. Grumbling slightly, Jane answered the call. Cho was as quick to the point as ever. He’d spent the morning back at the church, consolidating leads and looking through the victim’s office. The forensics guys had also been in contact with him. As it turned out, the man’s source of Earl Grey tea had been poisoned. Stefan Benton was the only person to drink said tea, and kept his stash in a drawer in his office. Jane quickly thanked him, said goodbye and then he turned to face Lisbon. Finally, he could actually hear her thoughts on Dr. Addison Mortimer.
“So, what did you think?”
“You didn’t like him, did you?” Lisbon replied lightly.
“That’s evasion, my dear. Something you chastised the ‘good doctor’ for during the interview.” He made air quotes over the words good doctor, just to prove his point.
“You really didn’t like him,” she continued and she smirked back at him.
“Teresa…”
“Don’t worry, Jane. He may be clever, but he’s not that clever.”
“You think he’s guilty?”
“This is a man who spends his life cutting up people’s bodies as a career. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows his drugs and poisons too.”
Jane thought over this remark for a second. Knowing that kind of thing didn’t necessarily make him a guilty man. It was the kind of thing that was almost common knowledge amongst doctors of a certain level. If they didn’t know that sort of thing, then they wouldn’t have been physically capable of doing their jobs properly. He was about to open his mouth to retort, when Lisbon cut in smoothly once more.
“Oh, and he has a penchant for Leonardo Da Vinci. Please tell me you didn’t miss the postcards of the Mona Lisa and the Vitruvian Man on his bookcase?”
To Chapter Eleven
"I can't keep abusing your generosity like this, Teresa," Jane said with a sigh.
Lisbon scoffed at his comment; as far as she was concerned he was being ridiculous. Of course, she expected him to find his own place sooner or later - and preferably, an actual house as opposed to a dingy long stay motel like he had previously been living in. However, there was absolutely no hurry for him to do as such. Her spare bedroom was there for emergencies like this. She didn't have many friends and as for family, they were either estranged or dead. Besides, she quite liked Jane's company and having him stay provided her with the ideal opportunity to see another side of his very multi-faceted personality.
"Oh, please Jane. You've only been here for one night."
“It’s still not fair on you,” he said with a shrug. “As your boss and your friend, I should respect your need for privacy.
“It’s just a spare bedroom, nobody else needs to be using it and you’re not getting in my way. If I ever feel the need to escape at work, I can always tag along with one of the others,” she explained patiently but could tell that he disagreed with her. "You can stay with me for as long as you need to."
“But,” he started and Lisbon held up a hand to cut him off.
“Besides, I was the one who insisted you left that motel. It’s my fault you don’t have anywhere else to stay. Supplying you with a roof above your head and a comfortable bed until you find somewhere better to live is the very least I can do.”
As far as she was concerned, it was a relief to finally be home, where she felt safe and secure, in spite of the constant Red John threat. As it turned out, Van Pelt was just about fine and a little shaken up after her incident. The man who'd hit her had been extremely apologetic and hung around until he was sure that she was okay. But that hadn't been enough to stop Jane's panic mode from going into overdrive and him insisting upon her taking a trip to the E.R., just to be entirely sure. Only when she had gotten the all clear from a trained professional did he seem capable of relaxing properly. He couldn't help it, of course. Anything to do with car accidents triggered bad memories about his past. Just like whenever she had seen that blood red smiley face leering down at them in Jane's motel room...
She paused for a second. She couldn’t allow herself to go down that route again. Not now, not after they had just lost an important lead in the case.
At least Van Pelt's minor accident had just been one of those things and was entirely unrelated to the case, she told herself as she tried to drag her mindset back into a safer mode. She had been incredibly lucky; no broken bones, no head injuries, just a little shock and a few bruises. By morning she would be more than well enough to get straight back to work. Jane would see sense too once he had sorted his own head out. They were a right pair at the moment; both of them were toying with bad memories that they would have preferred to avoid. Even so, she suspected that it was far better that they spent the night in one another's company instead of wallowing alone. Jane just needed to stop feeling guilty for invading her private space too; after all, she had offered it up freely.
"Cup of tea?" she asked before Jane had even settled on her couch.
"I'll make it," he offered quickly and headed towards her kitchen before she even had a chance to protest. "It's the least I can do."
Soon enough they were settled in front of her television, with a plate of cookies between them and hot drinks in hand. The silence was companionable; they had managed to clear up any underlying issues between them earlier at work. It almost felt nice having somebody around the house again. As much as she liked having her own private space, sometimes it was just nice to share time with somebody else, especially when it was somebody she cared about. It made her feel more comfortable in a way. And Jane, who came from a large Catholic family (though he had long since renounced his own faith), was so used to being around people that he felt claustrophobic without them. Being in the motel meant he could constantly hear people around him, even if he barely knew their names and the acquaintances he shared were merely fleeting. But it was better than being alone for him, a sort of compromise, really. Even so, he still did occasionally punish himself with solitary confinement of sorts, especially if a case had gone wrong or he’d had issues with one of his younger brothers. Brooding in his little attic space at the CBI never helped. He claimed that it helped him clear his mind, to think about cases more clearly. However, Lisbon faintly suspected that he had survivor’s guilt. He questioned why he had lived and his mother had died on a daily basis, just like she pondered over why Red John had chosen to kill her family instead of her. And he knew that nothing would have changed the fallout of what happened after the accident, just like she knew Red John had killed her family because that did more damage to an individual than their own death ever did.
She could only hope that her comparatively recent inclusion in his life proved to be more beneficial than hearing strangers in the night. Lisbon hoped that he would feel less like he had let his family down and realize that he had saved so many people since then.
She was the one who had hurt people. She was the one who was trying to repay for her past sins, if she ever truly could. And she was the one who had let down her family to the extent that she couldn't even try and pick up the pieces. They were both gone, forever. And her father was missing, presumed dead. Lisbon had always managed to lose everyone she ever cared about, and that was what hurt the most. This game she was playing with Jane, whatever it was, was a dangerous business. She knew that, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself. Somehow, he had managed to get underneath her skin and she suspected that the feeling was entirely mutual. That was something that was never meant to happen. Bringing justice to the state of California was fine; an honorable way for her to spend her time. Fighting crime and putting murderers behind bars, that was a part of the day job.
Putting more lives at risk because they were seemingly incapable of arresting Red John? That most certainly wasn’t something she had signed up for. She didn’t like the idea of Jane, or the rest of the team for that matter, being hurt because of her. But it was a distinct possibility, she knew. It wouldn’t have been the first time he targeted somebody she cared deeply about, after all.
Maybe it would be better once she could reclaim some distance from him? Jane seemed keen to give her back her own personal space. Now, as her thoughts led her to uneasy territory during this silence, she could only hope he wouldn’t take long. Not for her sake, of course. Lisbon would never be that selfish; her father had never allowed her to be, nor had her daughter after her arrival. She hoped for Jane’s sake that he’d find somewhere new; that was all there was to it. It didn’t matter that his job was already technically dangerous; there was no need for them to run the additional risk. Lisbon had a feeling that Red John didn’t want her to be happy after her family’s death. He didn’t want her to truly gain closure after the incident, not that she would ever dream of forgetting what had happened to them. Still, he wanted her to constantly remember the wrongs she had done, and find herself unable to repay for them each and every day that went by. She would always be haunted by the past, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t box her family away, if only Red John wasn’t a constant presence in her life too.
In the end, she just excused herself from the situation. Her psychiatrist had once told her that if she wanted to truly live again, then she had to stop living in fear of what might happen. Her imagination was the one thing that had done the most damage to her in the months after her husband and daughter had been killed. Even now, she still found herself toying with macabre thoughts of what could happen, especially as the team had slowly but surely drawn her into their fold. Regardless, Lisbon had always known that Sophie Miller was speaking the truth. In fact, she had said the exact same words to clients herself in the past, when doing psychic readings. It was the only way to remind them that they couldn’t cling onto the ghosts of their loved ones. They may have moved onto another life, but they wouldn’t have wanted their relatives to remain stuck in the past during this one. However, that didn't necessarily mean that it was easy to apply to real life situations. Lisbon couldn’t help but note the hypocrisy in her actions and mindset, but sometimes, she couldn’t help it. After everything that had happened today, she had found herself in a very pensive mood. Now, she couldn’t help but think in the ‘negative’ ways that she’d been told not to do so. But it was only natural, or so she believed. Anyone would have done the same; she knew that Jane was, as he watched terrible movies on her TV downstairs. As she clambered into bed, her bones ached but her mind was still whirring away with the thoughts of 'what if?', 'how come?' and 'why?’ Of course, the more she tried not to think of them, the more that she actually did. And she didn't have answers to any of those questions, and never would. Regardless, she could already tell that she was destined to have another very bad night's sleep.
When she awoke, feeling like sleep had done her more harm than good, Lisbon made her way downstairs with bleary eyes and a fuzzy head. A feeling of dread had already enveloped her. During her sleepless night, she had remembered something Jane had said prior to him reluctantly accepting her spare bedroom. And he was right; Red John could track them down anywhere, if and when he chose to do so. He probably already knew that Jane had taken refuge in her home. Therefore, she had put them both in immediate danger. But then, she told herself firmly, that was no different to usual. The murder in Jane's old motel room had been a precise sign that Red John was watching their every move. Meanwhile, Van Pelt's accident yesterday afternoon indicated that anything could happen to any one of them and that Red John was never the only monster lingering in the shadows. Especially not when she considered what their day job generally entailed.
Jane was in a cheerful mood, almost too cheerful for her liking, given how early it was. To add insult to injury, she wasn’t sure if he’d even tried to sleep the night before, whereas she had and felt all the worse for it. The smell of eggs had filled her kitchen and he was humming gently as he cooked the breakfast. She hadn't asked him to do such a thing, but he probably felt compelled to do so. Besides, she sincerely doubted he had much else to do at that specific moment in time. With the case, for example, they couldn’t get much farther until they interviewed Dr. Mortimer. He turned around, spatula in hand as she approached him. The smile on his face was warm and genuine, and she couldn’t help but reciprocate it. Unlike her, he looked comparatively well rested, even if he hadn’t been able to rest. As she took a seat at her table, she decided that it was good that at least one of them was feeling like that.
"I hope eggs is okay; I raided your cupboards and had to make do with limited options."
She nodded; it was too late to complain anyway as he was already dishing up. Soon enough, a plateful of scrambled eggs was placed in front of her. Jane hovered, refusing to take a seat until he had heard her verdict on the food. Slowly, Lisbon picked up her fork and took a reluctant mouthful. When she placed it back down again, he was still looking at her hopefully.
"This is lovely, Jane. Thank you."
In truth, she wasn't quite sure how she was going to eat it all. Usually, the most she had for breakfast was a piece of fruit, a banana or an apple, which she grabbed without much thought before she rushed into work. Lisbon prided herself with making a good impression on her colleagues; she was often first to arrive and last to leave. She worked as hard as any cop on the paper trails, believing that she might just be able to see something they missed. It was also her way of proving how deadly serious she was about the job; often consultants were seen merely as time-wasters and people looking for an ego boost. She wasn't like that; she genuinely cared about justice.
"I know you normally don't eat much, but if you're going to be kind enough to lend me your spare room, then I'm going to look after you while I’m here," he said firmly
"Really, there's no need," she protested.
"If I don't, then who will?"
"I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself," she retorted, a hint of anger seeping into her voice.
"Teresa, I've seen the state of your cupboards. I know that isn't entirely true."
"Jane..."
"Come on, eat up. I've got mine here too."
She pursed her lips but obeyed instructions. In spite of her tiredness and her lack of hunger, she wasn't willing to let good food go to waste. Worse, she didn't want to offend Jane. Everything he’d done, he’d only done with good intentions. Besides, he was her boss; he was the one whose opinion meant the most when it came to her job. And then, despite all efforts, despite her jumbled thoughts, they seemed to be getting inexplicably closer. She had a feeling that the harder she tried to fight it, the more inevitable it seemed to become.
But it still seemed wrong. She was meant to be mourning the death of her beloved family and seeking justice for them by working with the CBI. Instead, she seemed to be forming emotional connections with people she simply didn't expect to do so. When she’d joined the CBI, she had made a firm belief to remain aloof and focus purely on the job. They, and especially Minelli and Jane, had made that virtually impossible. At this moment in time, she refused to label her relationship with Jane as anything specific; that was far too risky. She knew that he was sending her mixed messages, and that she was doing entirely the same. Perhaps, if their situations were different and they had moved on from their respective paths, then something could have happened between them. For now, they were doomed to this endless dance, with no end in sight. And precisely how it would end, she couldn't say. All she could do was pray that, whatever it was, it wouldn't be some sort of disaster.
xxx
They didn’t go straight to the headquarters this morning; instead, Jane updated the rest of his team on what he wanted them to do via cellphone. Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho had a lot of consolidating to do on minor leads they’d picked up while canvassing the neighborhood and doing the paper chains. Afterwards, he expected all three of them to focus their energies on working out who killed their lead to Red John. But for now, he and Lisbon had a pressing engagement with a certain Dr. Addison Mortimer. Jane was relieved that the man had been able to ‘squeeze them’ into his incredibly busy schedule. However, at the same time, he found it a little irksome. Of course, he respected that the doctor’s patients were vitally important, but they also had an important job to do. Just because he saved the living, it didn’t mean that honoring the dead needed to be disregarded.
But then, most doctors treated homicide detectives with that same kind of disdain. They often had a superiority complex because they were the ones who kept people alive, whereas he was knee-deep in dead bodies. Jane had always found a certain pleasure in dealing justice out, but medics tended to see it as being a fruitless task. They didn’t save lives, they didn’t offer hope. If anything, they dealt out more misery. However, if one doctor could see just how many people had thanked him for the job he did, then maybe their perspective on fighting crime would have altered a little. No, he couldn’t physically save somebody’s life, but he could stop people from getting killed by getting murderers off the streets. And he could also offer a strange mix, a certain brand of justice and closure for people close to the victim. That always helped and he could see it in the eyes of the people he dealt with. Jane was proud of the job he did, and he also took a certain level of satisfaction in his methodology too. He liked the fact that he had turned crime fighting up on its head. It certainly made his unit a lot more effective than his peers, too.
Lisbon was very pensive during the journey. The same reluctance to talk that she’d had the night before had clearly lingered. That worried him more than he cared to admit, but out of a begrudging respect for her and her brilliance, he kept quiet. As much as he’d changed the way they fought crime, she had that little extra finesse that he lacked. Not that he’d ever dare admit it to her, mind. Even he knew that his ego wouldn’t be able to admit to the fact he actually thought she was better at solving crimes than he was. Still, she was a little more hesitant when it came to getting that final bit of evidence to close it, that little more cautious about the methods he chose. But he couldn’t blame her for that. She knew what could happen when somebody chose to push things too far.
All too soon, they arrived at the hospital. With the assistance of his badge, they were quickly whisked to a waiting room and told to take a seat. The prim receptionist promised that Dr. Mortimer would be there as soon as he could; he was currently held up in a staff meeting. Jane couldn’t stifle the smirk; even doctors were subject to the terribly mundane (and time-wasting) meetings that he, too, had to endure. He still swore blind that, when it came down to it, the professions weren’t all that different. They all came under the umbrella term of emergency services. However, the rivalries between medicine, law enforcement, and firefighting were ancient and nothing was going to change that.
Time felt as though it was beginning to slow down. Out of boredom, he picked up one of the trashy magazines that had been left on the occasional table and flicked through it. Of course, there was nothing of interest in it and he was soon bored stiff once again. Then, he took to watching Lisbon. There was nobody else in the waiting room for him to turn his attention to and even if there was, there would have been nobody else he’d have found quite as fascinating as her. It took her half a minute to notice; previously, she had been sitting with her arms crossed defensively as she stared stubbornly at the clock on the opposite wall. He couldn’t help her for that; if he could, he would have willed time to move faster too. Or at least, he would have hurried it up to the time their person of interest arrived in his office, at any rate.
“What are you doing?” she asked, a touch self-consciously.
“Watching you?”
“Why?”
It was an unusual question, especially for a one-time minor celebrity such as herself. Theoretically, she should have been more than used to attention being lavished upon her. Especially so, when he considered the fact that a part of her job description almost relied upon mutual attention. It was always far easier to get a read of somebody who was actually paying as much attention to you as you were of them. But then, it probably reminded her of uncomfortable times, when she had been forced to do something she hated, just to make her father happy. She had confessed as much to him shortly after she had started working with the CBI, and he had appreciated her frankness at the time. However, she was a complicated creature, full of contradictions, and he knew he still had a lot left to learn about Ms. Teresa Lisbon.
He was about to answer her back when somebody entered the room. Initially, Jane believed it would merely be Mortimer’s first patient of the day, especially when he took a precursory glance at the time, but he was pleasantly surprised to see the doctor himself. He apologized swiftly for the day, before ushering them both into his office. Jane took the opportunity to introduce them both, but Mortimer looked less than impressed by the fact the CBI had taken to hiring a consultant. It only took a second or so for him to actually say as such.
“So, the CBI is hiring civilians to do police work now? Times really must be tough. Aren’t your standards slipping as a consequence?”
“I’m good at my job,” Lisbon replied, glowering slightly.
“She is amongst the best crime fighters I know,” Jane confirmed, with a decisive nod. “And besides, the Serious Crimes Unit’s closed case record has never been better.”
“Hmm,” Mortimer replied skeptically, but he didn’t elaborate.
“But let’s move onto more pressing matters, shall we?” Lisbon asked and it was clear that she didn’t want the battle of egos to go too far.
And she was right, of course. However, that didn’t necessarily mean Jane approved of a single word that the doctor said to them. He was very good at evading questions, and didn’t much like it when Lisbon politely pointed it out to him. Jane wasn’t sure, but he thought he was trying to hide something. The question was whether or not it was murder, or something unrelated to his jurisdiction. Of course, part of Jane almost hoped that it was murder, because he knew he would take great joy in bringing this man back down to size. He had quickly got to the stage where he didn’t even care how many lives Dr. Addison Mortimer had saved throughout his career, how much money he had raised for various charities, or what qualifications he’d achieved in his illustrious career. Doctors always liked to feel they were the cleverest person in the room, but as far as Jane was concerned, Mortimer wasn’t, not by a long shot.
Soon enough, they bid the man farewell; they had spent less time in his office than they had done actually waiting for him. Jane was still very irritated and thought very little of the man. He remained in a stubborn silence until they reached his precious blue Citroen. At least they were back out of the hospital; he loathed those places. And now, he was very pleased that he had the opportunity to pick Lisbon’s thoughts on Mortimer without the risk of any prying eyes or ears.
Before he had the chance to do so, however, Cho rang him. Grumbling slightly, Jane answered the call. Cho was as quick to the point as ever. He’d spent the morning back at the church, consolidating leads and looking through the victim’s office. The forensics guys had also been in contact with him. As it turned out, the man’s source of Earl Grey tea had been poisoned. Stefan Benton was the only person to drink said tea, and kept his stash in a drawer in his office. Jane quickly thanked him, said goodbye and then he turned to face Lisbon. Finally, he could actually hear her thoughts on Dr. Addison Mortimer.
“So, what did you think?”
“You didn’t like him, did you?” Lisbon replied lightly.
“That’s evasion, my dear. Something you chastised the ‘good doctor’ for during the interview.” He made air quotes over the words good doctor, just to prove his point.
“You really didn’t like him,” she continued and she smirked back at him.
“Teresa…”
“Don’t worry, Jane. He may be clever, but he’s not that clever.”
“You think he’s guilty?”
“This is a man who spends his life cutting up people’s bodies as a career. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows his drugs and poisons too.”
Jane thought over this remark for a second. Knowing that kind of thing didn’t necessarily make him a guilty man. It was the kind of thing that was almost common knowledge amongst doctors of a certain level. If they didn’t know that sort of thing, then they wouldn’t have been physically capable of doing their jobs properly. He was about to open his mouth to retort, when Lisbon cut in smoothly once more.
“Oh, and he has a penchant for Leonardo Da Vinci. Please tell me you didn’t miss the postcards of the Mona Lisa and the Vitruvian Man on his bookcase?”
To Chapter Eleven