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FIC: fool for you (1/1)
Title: fool for you
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Fighting against yourself is never a good thing.
Spoilers: Up to and including 2.23 Red Sky in the Morning
Notes: Written foryaba324 in the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mentalistprompt fic meme.
fool for you
You were the one to discover him, coated in saran wrap and bound to that chair. After patiently helping him from his bonds, you were also the one who sat and waited for the ambulance with him, stoically ignoring the two dead bodies. Batted off the questions from the poor kid somehow stuck in the middle of this sorry situation, trying to explain how he had to stay put because he had to give them evidence.
Wesley, like Jane, is now a Red John survivor. Somehow, that feels wrong. Poor kid is going to require years of psychiatric help now. He just doesn’t realize it yet.
He’s back with the others now, at the headquarters. Van Pelt, the most empathetic of the bunch, is probably diligently taking down notes and gently coercing the information out of him.
And you’re the one, sitting impatiently in a dingy room at the hospital, waiting desperately for the prognosis. It’s always been that way though.
He wanders off and makes some sort of a mess and you’re the one left to pick up the pieces. The proverbial knight in shining armor. Mother Teresa, in more ways than one.
(Always Mother Teresa. You’re the one saving other people, every. single. time. Nobody thinks you actually might need help anymore, not even your brothers. Or maybe it‘s a case of nobody else actually giving a damn?)
He appears to be relatively well. Or at least unhurt and a little bit shell-shocked, but that’s least you could expect. The doctor says he’s fine to be discharged and looks at you almost accusingly because you were the one to rush him to the emergency room just to get him checked over. But you stand by your decision. If something had happened to him because he hadn’t received the medical care he needed, you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself.
If something still does happen to him, you still won’t.
Not that he really seems to care.
But then again, since when has he ever?
----
“This tape.”
You slam it down in front of him and his eyes linger on it for but a second. Immediately, his attention returns to your face and he stares at you in that way. The one that makes it feel like his eyes are boring into your very soul. With Jane, that’s more a more accurate description than most. Given just half a minute’s appraisal, he has the uncanny ability to tell you more about yourself than you probably want to know.
“Why didn’t you tell me? That he spoke to you? What he actually said?”
He just shrugs and yet again, you feel like you’re banging your head against a brick wall.
You know why. Because he’d rather wallow in his inner turmoil than dare to think somebody else might just be idiotic enough to care about him.
---
It’s a week later now and you’re still trying to get him to talk.
A hapless task and you know that the rest of the team thinks you’re just wasting your time. Even if he knows something about Red John that you cannot glean from that tape which, uncharacteristically, the serial killer left behind. Which, of course, means he meant to leave it.
And it tells you very little you didn’t already know. Except for the murderer’s penchant for William Blake.
You’re sick and tired of the questions, the second guessing, constantly feeling wrong-footed.
And not just by Red John.
The other guilty party is staring at the kettle, seemingly wishing that it would hurry up and boil the water contents. You clear your throat slightly and he turns to offer you a small smile.
“Lisbon.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be better when I can have a cup of tea.”
“I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” he replies darkly.
You sigh. It is a bit soon for him to be talking about his experiences, but you can’t help but try. It’s better to talk than to bottle things up and explode later.
(Memories of a chair flying through a window, glass smashing all over the corridor. It was meant to be feigned, but a lot of what you said was the truth.)
“But…”
“You’re sweet, but I’m fine. Really.”
He tweaks your nose and walks off, just like that. It’s a little irrational, but you cannot help but be annoyed that he has just turned one of your phrases onto you. People saying their fine when they’re clearly not is surprisingly annoying when you’re on the receiving end for a change.
Maybe you should try and be more honest in the future?
Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen.
----
He’s shaking and shivering on the couch. Eyes tightly clenched shut and trapped in his imaginary world, completely at the mercy of his nightmares. You didn’t think he actually slept on that damn thing. Cynical old you always assumed that he was feigning simply to get out of doing some proper work.
Is it safe to wake him up?
Yes, it’s dangerous to disturb sleepwalkers apparently.
Tentatively, you shake his shoulders, calling his name. Of course, he stubbornly ignores you. Like he always does. Even when unconscious, he just has to defy your instructions, doesn’t he?
You’re on the verge of dumping a glass of water over his head when his eyes spring open.
He doesn’t say anything but the gratitude in his eyes is enough.
----
The first priority with the Red John case is now finding the whereabouts of Kristina Frye.
Though it’s officially been handing over to Missing Persons, because there are still the obvious connections with the case, it means you have to work together.
And nobody likes to play nice with your team. Not anymore.
“It’s obvious,” Jane declares in front of two suited officials representing the other unit. “If Red John doesn’t want her found, she won’t be found. You’re wasting your time.”
Sometimes, you wonder why you even bother to tolerate him, the patronizing bastard. But you know why; you’ve always known. It’s just not something you like to think about, to consider. Patrick Jane has far too much sway over you and you know it.
If you could change the balance somehow, you probably would.
But is it even possible now?
----
He lashes out against a relative of a victim, a husband who cheated on his wife shortly before her death. The change in character is completely unexpected and you’re the one to peel him off the floor. Well, there was little point in changing the habit of a lifetime. Besides, Jane is much more worse off than the other man, who is already being dragged away by an ever-reliable Cho.
You’ll be trying desperately to persuade that man, however much a scumbag he actually is, not to press charges later.
Jane may not be ‘quite right in the head’, but he is who he is and nothing can change that. For now, you just need an explanation. A reason why he attempted to resort to fists in order to resolve a discussion, of sorts.
“I cheated on my wife once,” he whispers in a strained sort of voice later, when you‘re shut alone in your office with him. “She never forgave me.”
Ah. That’d do it then.
----
On the anniversary of Bosco’s death, he’s the only one who remembers.
The rest of the team are all caught up in the current case and you can’t fault them for that. They’re good workers and that’s the main thing. Besides, you’re the one who prevented the talk of personal lives in office. The boundaries are useful most of the time, but on days like today, you just wish you had somebody who would listen to you.
You see these people day in, day out and you barely know a single thing about them outside of the working environment.
Apart from Jane, of course. He has a knack of getting things out of you and in return, he occasionally gives you little snippets about his life. Just little things, to try and buy your trust with. It’s all he has to barter with, really.
Over a glass of wine, you remember Bosco, remember everything he did for you. Somehow, you manage to pour your heart out to a seemingly unsuspecting Jane but he hangs onto your every word.
Regardless of what he thinks of himself, Jane is a decent human being.
And with a charm and charisma like his, it’s only natural that you grow just a little bit attached to him.
----
Jane is right. Kristina isn’t found.
The case lands up disappearing beneath others and a layer of dust before it is eventually declared a cold case.
He wears his smug, know it all grin during the announcement and you just wish you could punch him in the face.
But you can’t, because he’s Jane and regardless of how much he irritates you, you can’t help but care for the damn fool.
(Always falling for the wrong men, aren’t you? The ones that are completely out of bounds. Remember Bosco?)
Or rather, more fool you.
----
When Red John strikes once more, Jane falls apart again.
It always happens, you expect it now. That reaction is as regular as clockwork.
You just wish you could do more for him. Not that you don’t already do a lot for him.
(Some say too much, but that’s another matter entirely.)
It breaks your heart, seeing him like this. The world is unfair, cruel. It keeps tossing him a bone and then taking it back as quickly as it was offered. Jane needs closure and thus, you need it too.
But would apprehending Red John be enough? The serial killer’s demise would never bring his family back.
His life would be so different if his ego hadn’t gotten the better of him.
The idea of a happy, whole Jane seems so bizarre. Half of you wishes you knew him, back then. The other half, not so much. He is very keen to make sure you know he wasn’t a nice person back then. That he’s changed significantly and learned his lesson.
Mainly, you wish that one day, things could be different. That Red John would stop slipping through your fingers as he does every single fucking time. The man’s not superhuman, he has to make a mistake sooner or later and preferably, sooner. This has already gone on for far too long.
(You also wish that you could trust Jane enough to love him properly, like you want to and that he could do the same to you.)
For some reason, it doesn’t feel like that day will ever come.
----
But I’m in so deep
You know I’m such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger?
-Linger, The Cranberries
Author:
tromana Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Fighting against yourself is never a good thing.
Spoilers: Up to and including 2.23 Red Sky in the Morning
Notes: Written for
yaba324 in the mentalistprompt fic meme.fool for you
You were the one to discover him, coated in saran wrap and bound to that chair. After patiently helping him from his bonds, you were also the one who sat and waited for the ambulance with him, stoically ignoring the two dead bodies. Batted off the questions from the poor kid somehow stuck in the middle of this sorry situation, trying to explain how he had to stay put because he had to give them evidence.
Wesley, like Jane, is now a Red John survivor. Somehow, that feels wrong. Poor kid is going to require years of psychiatric help now. He just doesn’t realize it yet.
He’s back with the others now, at the headquarters. Van Pelt, the most empathetic of the bunch, is probably diligently taking down notes and gently coercing the information out of him.
And you’re the one, sitting impatiently in a dingy room at the hospital, waiting desperately for the prognosis. It’s always been that way though.
He wanders off and makes some sort of a mess and you’re the one left to pick up the pieces. The proverbial knight in shining armor. Mother Teresa, in more ways than one.
(Always Mother Teresa. You’re the one saving other people, every. single. time. Nobody thinks you actually might need help anymore, not even your brothers. Or maybe it‘s a case of nobody else actually giving a damn?)
He appears to be relatively well. Or at least unhurt and a little bit shell-shocked, but that’s least you could expect. The doctor says he’s fine to be discharged and looks at you almost accusingly because you were the one to rush him to the emergency room just to get him checked over. But you stand by your decision. If something had happened to him because he hadn’t received the medical care he needed, you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself.
If something still does happen to him, you still won’t.
Not that he really seems to care.
But then again, since when has he ever?
----
“This tape.”
You slam it down in front of him and his eyes linger on it for but a second. Immediately, his attention returns to your face and he stares at you in that way. The one that makes it feel like his eyes are boring into your very soul. With Jane, that’s more a more accurate description than most. Given just half a minute’s appraisal, he has the uncanny ability to tell you more about yourself than you probably want to know.
“Why didn’t you tell me? That he spoke to you? What he actually said?”
He just shrugs and yet again, you feel like you’re banging your head against a brick wall.
You know why. Because he’d rather wallow in his inner turmoil than dare to think somebody else might just be idiotic enough to care about him.
---
It’s a week later now and you’re still trying to get him to talk.
A hapless task and you know that the rest of the team thinks you’re just wasting your time. Even if he knows something about Red John that you cannot glean from that tape which, uncharacteristically, the serial killer left behind. Which, of course, means he meant to leave it.
And it tells you very little you didn’t already know. Except for the murderer’s penchant for William Blake.
You’re sick and tired of the questions, the second guessing, constantly feeling wrong-footed.
And not just by Red John.
The other guilty party is staring at the kettle, seemingly wishing that it would hurry up and boil the water contents. You clear your throat slightly and he turns to offer you a small smile.
“Lisbon.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be better when I can have a cup of tea.”
“I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” he replies darkly.
You sigh. It is a bit soon for him to be talking about his experiences, but you can’t help but try. It’s better to talk than to bottle things up and explode later.
(Memories of a chair flying through a window, glass smashing all over the corridor. It was meant to be feigned, but a lot of what you said was the truth.)
“But…”
“You’re sweet, but I’m fine. Really.”
He tweaks your nose and walks off, just like that. It’s a little irrational, but you cannot help but be annoyed that he has just turned one of your phrases onto you. People saying their fine when they’re clearly not is surprisingly annoying when you’re on the receiving end for a change.
Maybe you should try and be more honest in the future?
Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen.
----
He’s shaking and shivering on the couch. Eyes tightly clenched shut and trapped in his imaginary world, completely at the mercy of his nightmares. You didn’t think he actually slept on that damn thing. Cynical old you always assumed that he was feigning simply to get out of doing some proper work.
Is it safe to wake him up?
Yes, it’s dangerous to disturb sleepwalkers apparently.
Tentatively, you shake his shoulders, calling his name. Of course, he stubbornly ignores you. Like he always does. Even when unconscious, he just has to defy your instructions, doesn’t he?
You’re on the verge of dumping a glass of water over his head when his eyes spring open.
He doesn’t say anything but the gratitude in his eyes is enough.
----
The first priority with the Red John case is now finding the whereabouts of Kristina Frye.
Though it’s officially been handing over to Missing Persons, because there are still the obvious connections with the case, it means you have to work together.
And nobody likes to play nice with your team. Not anymore.
“It’s obvious,” Jane declares in front of two suited officials representing the other unit. “If Red John doesn’t want her found, she won’t be found. You’re wasting your time.”
Sometimes, you wonder why you even bother to tolerate him, the patronizing bastard. But you know why; you’ve always known. It’s just not something you like to think about, to consider. Patrick Jane has far too much sway over you and you know it.
If you could change the balance somehow, you probably would.
But is it even possible now?
----
He lashes out against a relative of a victim, a husband who cheated on his wife shortly before her death. The change in character is completely unexpected and you’re the one to peel him off the floor. Well, there was little point in changing the habit of a lifetime. Besides, Jane is much more worse off than the other man, who is already being dragged away by an ever-reliable Cho.
You’ll be trying desperately to persuade that man, however much a scumbag he actually is, not to press charges later.
Jane may not be ‘quite right in the head’, but he is who he is and nothing can change that. For now, you just need an explanation. A reason why he attempted to resort to fists in order to resolve a discussion, of sorts.
“I cheated on my wife once,” he whispers in a strained sort of voice later, when you‘re shut alone in your office with him. “She never forgave me.”
Ah. That’d do it then.
----
On the anniversary of Bosco’s death, he’s the only one who remembers.
The rest of the team are all caught up in the current case and you can’t fault them for that. They’re good workers and that’s the main thing. Besides, you’re the one who prevented the talk of personal lives in office. The boundaries are useful most of the time, but on days like today, you just wish you had somebody who would listen to you.
You see these people day in, day out and you barely know a single thing about them outside of the working environment.
Apart from Jane, of course. He has a knack of getting things out of you and in return, he occasionally gives you little snippets about his life. Just little things, to try and buy your trust with. It’s all he has to barter with, really.
Over a glass of wine, you remember Bosco, remember everything he did for you. Somehow, you manage to pour your heart out to a seemingly unsuspecting Jane but he hangs onto your every word.
Regardless of what he thinks of himself, Jane is a decent human being.
And with a charm and charisma like his, it’s only natural that you grow just a little bit attached to him.
----
Jane is right. Kristina isn’t found.
The case lands up disappearing beneath others and a layer of dust before it is eventually declared a cold case.
He wears his smug, know it all grin during the announcement and you just wish you could punch him in the face.
But you can’t, because he’s Jane and regardless of how much he irritates you, you can’t help but care for the damn fool.
(Always falling for the wrong men, aren’t you? The ones that are completely out of bounds. Remember Bosco?)
Or rather, more fool you.
----
When Red John strikes once more, Jane falls apart again.
It always happens, you expect it now. That reaction is as regular as clockwork.
You just wish you could do more for him. Not that you don’t already do a lot for him.
(Some say too much, but that’s another matter entirely.)
It breaks your heart, seeing him like this. The world is unfair, cruel. It keeps tossing him a bone and then taking it back as quickly as it was offered. Jane needs closure and thus, you need it too.
But would apprehending Red John be enough? The serial killer’s demise would never bring his family back.
His life would be so different if his ego hadn’t gotten the better of him.
The idea of a happy, whole Jane seems so bizarre. Half of you wishes you knew him, back then. The other half, not so much. He is very keen to make sure you know he wasn’t a nice person back then. That he’s changed significantly and learned his lesson.
Mainly, you wish that one day, things could be different. That Red John would stop slipping through your fingers as he does every single fucking time. The man’s not superhuman, he has to make a mistake sooner or later and preferably, sooner. This has already gone on for far too long.
(You also wish that you could trust Jane enough to love him properly, like you want to and that he could do the same to you.)
For some reason, it doesn’t feel like that day will ever come.
----
But I’m in so deep
You know I’m such a fool for you
You got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger?
-Linger, The Cranberries