Fic: Hunters [The Mentalist, PG-13]
Title: Hunters
Fandom: The Mentalist
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Jane, Lisbon, Rigsby, Cho, van Pelt. Implied Rigbsy/van Pelt.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue, this is just for entertainment.
Summary: written for a comment_fic prompt. The team as hunters, in the Supernatural sense of the word. (AU)
A/N: Um, this is more character-study/worldbuilding than anything else...
The van wasn't quite big enough to take five, or at least not comfortably, not with the weapons and
duffel bags of clothing and lorebooks as well. But they'd let Grace stick around anyway, because...
...well, Patrick claimed it was his idea, that he'd wanted her to stay. Wayne wouldn't admit it but he wanted her around as well, for his own reasons. Teresa had the final word, of course, the way she did about everything, and she agreed that Grace should stick around. Grace who was alone in the world, Grace who'd seen more than she should have to, Grace the last of the van Pelts.
Cho didn't say anything, just kept driving, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
And so the best hunters in California became a team of five.
~
Grace van Pelt, the youngest of a legendary family of hunters, was quiet, and kept to herself, and avoided confrontation. She hadn't had much training - her father had focused on his sons, leaving her to pick up what she could whenever possible.
The thought of leaving a member of a hunting family untrained made Teresa swear under her breath. Her own family were hunters too, though not so well known. Teresa decided then and there that she would train Grace herself if she had to, and that was good enough for the rest of them.
~
They all had their stories to tell. On the long drive to the next job, they told those stories, repeating their histories in low voices.
Teresa had been born to this. She'd gone on the road to escape her father. Wayne had successfully fended off a vampire that they were hunting; Teresa had been impressed and he stuck around. Cho had been in a gang over in Sacramento when he was younger. Then a couple of his friends died, attacked by a couple of werewolves, and he'd been pulled into the hunting world as he tried to find out what had happened.
Wayne whispered to Grace, later, that Cho had been angry back then. Grace stole a glance at the calm, apparently peaceful man driving the van, and found it hard to imagine.
Patrick's tale was the saddest. He seemed out of place in the van anyway, wearing a three-piece suit that seemed unnecessarily formal. He was psychic, he said, but not in the way most people thought. His power seemed to be limited to flashes of future events, and had manifested when he was a teenager. His family (travelling carnival folk) had not seen it as anything that could make money, and he'd found himself pretending to talk to dead people, handing out platitudes and vague sentiments to the bereaved.
One day, he'd been appearing on a talk show, and he made the greatest mistake of his life. He'd been helping the police catch a serial killer they were chasing, and Patrick's mistake was to talk about that killer on the TV.
The killer was called Red John, and he didn't like that. He got his revenge.
Patrick came home to a note on the door and a face painted in blood on the wall and a faint smell of sulphur.
Teresa, Wayne and Cho had shown up the next day, after the cops had come and gone. They found Patrick almost catatonic. When they saw the house, they knew that Red John, the killer, was a demon, and that made him something they could deal with.
Patrick wanted to help. He told them about his abilities, and said that he needed to. Teresa agreed, because she couldn't find it in her heart to tell him 'no'.
~
And so there were five of them, in an old van that was just a bit too small, surrounded by weapons and old books and Grace's laptop computer. They were together, a patched-together family of sorts, and they had a job to do.
Fandom: The Mentalist
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Jane, Lisbon, Rigsby, Cho, van Pelt. Implied Rigbsy/van Pelt.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue, this is just for entertainment.
Summary: written for a comment_fic prompt. The team as hunters, in the Supernatural sense of the word. (AU)
A/N: Um, this is more character-study/worldbuilding than anything else...
The van wasn't quite big enough to take five, or at least not comfortably, not with the weapons and
duffel bags of clothing and lorebooks as well. But they'd let Grace stick around anyway, because...
...well, Patrick claimed it was his idea, that he'd wanted her to stay. Wayne wouldn't admit it but he wanted her around as well, for his own reasons. Teresa had the final word, of course, the way she did about everything, and she agreed that Grace should stick around. Grace who was alone in the world, Grace who'd seen more than she should have to, Grace the last of the van Pelts.
Cho didn't say anything, just kept driving, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
And so the best hunters in California became a team of five.
~
Grace van Pelt, the youngest of a legendary family of hunters, was quiet, and kept to herself, and avoided confrontation. She hadn't had much training - her father had focused on his sons, leaving her to pick up what she could whenever possible.
The thought of leaving a member of a hunting family untrained made Teresa swear under her breath. Her own family were hunters too, though not so well known. Teresa decided then and there that she would train Grace herself if she had to, and that was good enough for the rest of them.
~
They all had their stories to tell. On the long drive to the next job, they told those stories, repeating their histories in low voices.
Teresa had been born to this. She'd gone on the road to escape her father. Wayne had successfully fended off a vampire that they were hunting; Teresa had been impressed and he stuck around. Cho had been in a gang over in Sacramento when he was younger. Then a couple of his friends died, attacked by a couple of werewolves, and he'd been pulled into the hunting world as he tried to find out what had happened.
Wayne whispered to Grace, later, that Cho had been angry back then. Grace stole a glance at the calm, apparently peaceful man driving the van, and found it hard to imagine.
Patrick's tale was the saddest. He seemed out of place in the van anyway, wearing a three-piece suit that seemed unnecessarily formal. He was psychic, he said, but not in the way most people thought. His power seemed to be limited to flashes of future events, and had manifested when he was a teenager. His family (travelling carnival folk) had not seen it as anything that could make money, and he'd found himself pretending to talk to dead people, handing out platitudes and vague sentiments to the bereaved.
One day, he'd been appearing on a talk show, and he made the greatest mistake of his life. He'd been helping the police catch a serial killer they were chasing, and Patrick's mistake was to talk about that killer on the TV.
The killer was called Red John, and he didn't like that. He got his revenge.
Patrick came home to a note on the door and a face painted in blood on the wall and a faint smell of sulphur.
Teresa, Wayne and Cho had shown up the next day, after the cops had come and gone. They found Patrick almost catatonic. When they saw the house, they knew that Red John, the killer, was a demon, and that made him something they could deal with.
Patrick wanted to help. He told them about his abilities, and said that he needed to. Teresa agreed, because she couldn't find it in her heart to tell him 'no'.
~
And so there were five of them, in an old van that was just a bit too small, surrounded by weapons and old books and Grace's laptop computer. They were together, a patched-together family of sorts, and they had a job to do.