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The Mentalist fic. Red John/Jane NC-17 (4/6)
Title: Aftermath (4/6)
Rating: NC-17 (Deals with non-con)
Warnings: Non-con, slight violence, swearing. If you have any questions about the nature of the fic before deciding to read it, I'm happy to answer them.
Pairing: Red John/Jane, team gen.
Notes: This is a sequel to the Red John/Jane fic I posted at the Mentalist kink meme here. That fic also deals with non-con. This will make more sense if you read that first. Also, if anyone has suggestions for a decent title, hit me. I suck at titles.
Summary: After Red John's holiday is over, Jane and his team pick up the pieces.
Previous Parts: One Two Three
Part Four is relatively short
Sometimes, Patrick hates being right. Most of the time it doesn’t matter. The awful, world shattering truths that he spins out of the air blow apart the lives of people he meets briefly and then walks away from. He is free to enjoy the artistry of his craft, of being right, with appropriately dramatic timing and flourishes. Next Part
Part Four is relatively short
Bosco’s door is shut, and Jane opens it without knocking.
“Bosco-” he begins, and then stops. Bosco isn’t alone. A petite, dark haired lady is with him, and she has dragged a chair round to the side of his desk so that they can sit with their shoulders brushing against one another.
There is a large salad on the desk between them, and they both hold forks. They look up simultaneously in surprise, body language speaking of an easy harmony.
Bosco’s wife. The domesticity of it all knifes through him unexpectedly, and his words all tumble away.
“…Jane?” Bosco says, and that’s his first clue that he must look terrible, because there’s no distrust in his tone, no alpha male territoriality. His second clue is the lady’s reaction, as she stands and crosses over to him.
“Patrick Jane?” She says, and he nods, wondering how many work related rants he has been the subject of in the Bosco household. But she is not treating him like an irritant, or a lunatic. “Did you want Sam to have that?” She asks, nodding her head to the parcel and settling a hand onto his arm.
He flinches, and bounces off the doorframe. “Don’t touch it,” he chokes, filled with the irrational fear that doing so will call Red John down on her head.
“No, of course not,” she says, easily. “Sam, I’m going to get us some juice.”
Patrick recognises the ‘be nice’ tone from his own marriage, and it scatters his thoughts all over again.
They are alone. Bosco stands slowly, hands up, palms out, and steps away from the desk.
“Red John?” He asks, and Jane nods, stumbling forwards.
“Yes.” He drops the suit on the desk.
“You want to sit down Jane?” He does, because he’s not sure how long he’ll stay standing.
“You need some, uh…tea? You like tea right?”
He starts laughing, and can’t stop.
Bosco doesn’t know what to do with him. Eventually, when Jane’s doubled over and fighting for breath, he picks up his phone. Probably to call Lisbon, but maybe Minelli, because if there was ever a convincing way to get Patrick Jane out of the CBI, it would be to testify to the fact that actually, he’s a complete and utter wreck, and loosing his ability to hide it.
But before he can discover the quality of Bosco’s mercy, Mrs Bosco reappears. She has orange juice, and she has a glass for Jane too.
“Thank you,” he says automatically, with his most charming smile. The sudden reappearance of his manners knocks the hysteria out of him.
“You’re welcome. It’s nice to meet you Patrick. I’m Sarah, by the way. Sam, I think I’ll go say hello to Virgil. You finish that salad.”
“Uh, I’ve got work to do. You take it.”
“It’s good for you, Sammy.” She kisses Bosco on the cheek, shakes Jane’s hand (her pulse is steady), and leaves quietly. He likes her. The feeling pulls the words out of him abruptly.
“Give me the case.”
Bosco frowns, but is careful with his body language, sitting back down so he isn’t towering over Jane.
“I thought we got past this. I’ll give you the report when it’s written up.”
“He’s watching me. Watching the CBI, and he considers me his property.” Jane nods at the card. “He thinks his case is my concern, and he’s only going to get more possessive. This will escalate. You don’t need to get caught in the middle.”
“Surprisingly, we don’t let serial killers dictate our case loads, Jane. And no offence, but you’re a bit nuts at the moment. More than usual.”
“Agreed. But practically, you’re giving the case to Lisbon. And she’s keeping a close eye on me. Everybody is.”
“No, Jane.” Bosco is trying to sound firm without sounding confrontational, something which doesn’t come naturally to him.
“You’ve got too much at stake, Sam.” He says, struggles for a moment, and then adds, “please.”
This time, he does pick up the phone.
“Teresa, I’ve got your consultant. You need to come pick him up.”
Sometimes, Patrick hates being right. Most of the time it doesn’t matter. The awful, world shattering truths that he spins out of the air blow apart the lives of people he meets briefly and then walks away from. He is free to enjoy the artistry of his craft, of being right, with appropriately dramatic timing and flourishes.
But he’d spun truths to Bosco. Granted, they were a little wild, more instinctive and less reasoned than his usual, but they were right enough. They close in on him earlier than he expected.
It begins with a text message at two in the morning, when Patrick is busy not sleeping, hiding in the spare room that he had dragged the television into.
Break in the case, it reads, come and see me when you get in tomorrow.
Texting doesn’t always work for him, so he hits dial. It takes Bosco a few rings to answer, and that should have been his first clue.
“…Jane.” Bosco says, voice quiet and flat. Jane puts that down to the hour and the probability that the break in the case is of a grisly kind. He shouldn’t have.
“Bosco. You’re in the office?”
“My office. Yeah.”
“Staying there?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be fifteen minutes.”
“Jane-” He hangs up.
He’s still dressed, so he just picks up his keys and goes.
Security throw a few questions at him on the way in, but when he convinces them that yes, this is business, and no, he’s not trying to sneak a night’s sleep on the couch again, they wave him in. Bosco’s is the only other car in the car park.
He wanders through the hallways of the CBI, which are dark and quiet.
The light from Bosco’s office spills into the corridor. He is seated at his desk, head on his chest, apparently asleep. Jane cannot see his hands, but they seem to be resting on the arms of the chair, under the desk. It is an odd position to sleep in, and that should have been his final clue. But he is unforgivably stupid, and steps into the office.
“Bosco.” He says, softly, eagerly. Bosco’s face contorts into a picture of misery. He isn’t asleep.
Then there is a knife at Jane’s throat, and a hand in his hair, tipping his head back.
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Jane mourning when he sees happily married people nearly kills me.
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Yeah, Jane's own team don't have those kind of long standing relationships in place for him to be exposed to, and the families they meet on cases are, predictably, not always the happiest. So I could see this interaction knocking him off balance when he's vulnerable.