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Every time Jane opened his mouth, Grace could almost hear the click of the gun's safety, the pull of the trigger. He smiled that disarming grin of his after shooting, tasted the words like an artist admired his work, like a gunman breathed in the scent of powder in the air.
His eyes focused on his victim - his mark - so he didn't notice the tiny flinch of Lisbon's hands when she heard his tone. Grace would bet her favourite pen that the not so stealthy glance Rigsby sent her way went over Jane's head. She even dared to say Cho, who had no tells, shook his feet almost imperceptibly, as if preparing to jump into a fight.
Yes, Jane could bring his words into a shooting and step out as the last standing. Cocking his head and saying, almost singing,
“I must have gotten the address wrong”.
So maybe that was why she’d never thought Jane could use a weapon other than his tongue. Why she didn't even glance twice at the metal gleaming between Jane's fingers.
She really should stop underestimating Jane.
Johan Wadley was a charmer. He ended a handshake with a wink and a little smile, as faint as a secret. He held the door before you, smiled encouragingly and offered you the world. “If it’s in my hands”.
The moment he entered through the CBI glass doors, shiny auburn loafers marching down the interrogation hallway, hands flittingly unbuttoning his suit jacket, the whole Serious Crimes Unit was at his feet. They just didn’t know it yet.
Grace first met him on the backyard of the victim’s house. His gelled copper hair a bright candle among the blue uniforms and the metal of the forensic van, the trolley marching down the dried lane, a hand dripping red down the pristine stone path. He’d found her gaze, eyes painfully green, and smiled as if seeing an old friend.
She’d tried to keep to the protocol.
“What relationship did you have with Ms. O’Brien?”
A smile. “Just good friends from work”.
“What did you work on?”
A hand smoothing down his front pocket. “Sales, and big sales at that. She was spectacular, always had the buyers wrapped around her finger”.
Lowered head, bangs dancing with the breeze. “It won’t be the same without her, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep going”.
A hand to the neck, a moment of fragility. Eyes looking up, searching her eyes, searching for understanding, compassion.
Hook, line and sinker.
It wasn’t Lisbon’s fault really. Grace was young. Younger than her and Jane by a decade and fresh out of the academy, so really it wasn’t her fault for sometimes using it in their favour assigning her the younger suspects.
Grace smiles prettily and bats her lashes, leaning against the desk, the mirror looming behind her, and feigns boredom, rebellion.
“It must be hard, leading a company at your age.” She purses her lips and burrows her eyebrows.
“Sometimes”, he smiles cockily, leaning in with his arms spreading across the table. “But sometimes it’s even more gratifying to see the envy in my adversaries’ eyes, knowing that they know they couldn’t do what I do on a daily basis when they were my age. That I bested them in their own territory now.”
She follows his hands, moving wide and animatedly, like a toddler explaining his latest adventure.
“You would’ve had to step on many people’s feet to get where you are”.
He stops, eyes her for a moment before significantly looking at the mirror.
“It’s not easy to stand your place when everyone already knows each other, where your word is always questioned, right?”
She tries to keep her face impassive, Lisbon’s presence in the observation room feeling ten times heavier.
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
He smiles, she smiles in return.
Neither of them could have seen her age for what it was, could have foreseen the double-edged sword.
They should have.
“I don’t understand what the deal with that guy is”. Rigsby sits on his desk, a bag of peanuts clutched in his hands. “I mean, every person he talks to speaks wonders of him. They’ve known him for five minutes!”
Grace huffs, “Rigsby, not everyone is a bad person. Maybe if you deigned to talk to him instead of sulking and looking at his watch from here you’d like him too.”
He splutters “I’m not- his wa- see, he’s got you! Why are you defending him? He’s a prime suspect!” Rigsby throws his hands out, a peanut flying through the air until it lands on Cho’s laptop. Cho looks at the offending projectile, then casts Rigby his if-you-move-you-are-dead glare, which isn’t much different from his pass-me-a-peanut glare now that she thinks about it.
“You two stop bickering, the Boss wants updates when she comes out of Minelli’s office”.
“But this is important Cho! You must see it too, that guy is shady as hell and no one’s saying anything.”
Cho remains completely still for a moment. Looking at Rigsby, he says “Yes" before going back to his laptop.
Grace jumps on her seat, furiously looking at the two. “You too have no compassion. That man has just lost his right hand and is trying to maintain his business up while he mourns”.
She huffs again, shaking her head and returning to her own computer. “This job kills the soul”.
“Now Grace, we are aware of our soullessness, but I must agree with Cho and Rigsby on this one. That guy over there is fooling the whole precinct.”
Grace whirls around, eyes going round as she stares at the incorporated form of Jane in the sofa. A tea having magically appeared in his hands.
Rigsby jumps in his chair, more peanuts falling to the floor, and smiles a big boyish smile. “Yes! Jane and Cho are with me! You can’t refuse now.”
She tightens her lips, looking between the two of them. “Jane, when did you wake up?” She assesses him suspiciously, “What do you mean fooling the precinct, he’s not-”
“Excuse me?”
They all turn around to find the recipient of their argument standing in the bullpen’s entry, one hand balancing on the glass wall and the other bashfully scratching his neck.
Grace fumbles in her desk, hiding her blush behind her hair.
“You are excused”. She rolls her eyes at Jane’s words, muttered loud enough to be heard by them only and holds his eyes in a furious glare she hopes the psychic can read.
“Did you need anything Mister Wadley?” She stands up as she talks, consciously blocking Wadley’s view of Jane.
He grins, a hand smoothing his hair back. “No, thank you agent Van Pelt. I’ve been released to go home and I just wanted to say thank you for all the work you guys are doing. It- it really shakes you up, the death and-” his voice breaks. He looks away, a sun beam hitting his eyes and momentarily turning them into sapphires.
"Just-" he reaches out, like he is looking for something, anything, to tie him to the ground and Grace feels her legs moving, her hand clasping his fingers as if her grip alone could keep a man from drowning.
He looks deeply at her eyes, looking at her like the first time they met. Like they were alone and they weren’t cop and suspect.
"Thank you".
Her lips curve on their own and she finds herself speaking the truth.
"You're welcome".
He tightens their grip, still lost on her eyes, until a sigh escapes his lips.
"I should get going, though I don't know how I'll- her things are still..."
A cough breaks their little bubble and she turns to look at Rigsby, his eyes shifting as he settles at a point above Wadley's shoulder.
"I'm sorry man. Maybe ask for someone from the office to...erm, move...her things and, well, everything." He finally looks at Wadley’s face, softening his expression. “Many witnesses find it easier to revive memories after some time has passed, so give it… time?”
His rumbling ends in a question and a grimace but Grace appreciates the effort. She smiles warmly in his direction. Her smile is still on her face when she turns back to Wadley, his hand held in hers. He doesn't let go yet.
"Yeah, if you need help with the office I wouldn't mind passing by sometime."
"Really?" He looks hopeful, youthful. His fingertips caress the inside of her palm almost absentmindedly. "I'd love it, we could grab lunch maybe?"
He tilts his head but doesn't take his eyes off her. She blushes, laughing under her breath to cover how her heart lurches at those words.
"Yes, okay."
She gives a final squeeze to his hand before starting to turn around, ignoring Rigsby’s frown while she focuses on quietening the pounding on her ears.
Maybe if she hadn't been blinded by him, by his sparkling eyes, his stunning grin, his tingling hands, she would have noticed the tension in the room.
As it was, it took her completely by surprise when another voice rose up, this time no sympathy in its words.
"Mister Wadley, I'd appreciated it if you turned yourself in right now, quietly and without a ruckus. I know who you are and what you do and I'm sure you know me, therefore, it would save us all great time and resources if you just confessed now."
"Jane!"
Cho's hand roots her to the floor, right next to his desk before she can take another step. With his eyes, he asks her to keep quiet and as indignant as she is she isn’t about to go against her superiors.
Jane stands there, one hand in his suit pocket and the other tapping an innocuous rhythm in his leg. She wouldn't be surprised if he was counting Wadley's breaths or the heartbeat on his temple from where he stood in front of the sofa.
Wadley freezes, no expression going through his face. Then, as if coming to a decision none of them can see, he turns his body slightly, one foot pointing to the door, the other to Jane. His hands come down slowly, fingers moving with the grace of a magician.
She feels a chill run down her spine. She can already smell the powder in the air.
Jane and Wadley stay quiet, their eyes locked on each other and, for the first time in a while, Grace believes mind reading exists. Because she is witnessing it first-hand.
Wadley smiles at the same time Jane frowns.
“Now Mr. Jane, I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m sure we can clear it easily.”
Jane’s frown disappears, his posture almost relaxing. But Grace knows him, has seen him attack before, and she recognizes the play for what it is. He’s charging the gun.
“Just a few questions then, here if you prefer it that way.”
“Of course”. They both smile now, and the resemblance sends another chill through her body.
“Perfect,” Jane takes a step, his leg maneuvering around the table without a glance. “Tell me, Mr Wadley, when did you learn about Ms. O’Brien’s betrayal? Or…” Here he stops, his body just an arm away from Wadley’s fuming form. “should I call her your partner in crime? Do you prefer to be Bonnie or Clyde?”
Wadley reigns in his emotions, hands still loose. “You’re spouting nonsense sir, and unless you have proof I’d like for this to end.”
Jane leans even closer, fangs shining. From her right she sees Rigsby slowly getting up, hands muffling his rolling chair. She looks at Cho, who keeps her gaze and then nods, his hand releasing her arm.
“Well, I’m sure we could come to an understanding if we just took a look at the safe in your house, right Mr. Wadley?”
Wadley’s eyes widen, his feet taking a step back in the exit’s direction.
Jane follows him step for step, eyes taking in every move, every gesture. “Oh yes, I’m also sure we’ll find your latest client’s savings. Along with agent Williams lost wallet, the silver bracelet from dear Alice from reception and, among other things, Ms. O’Brien’s earrings.”
Jane stops, an air of finality surrounding him. “You couldn’t resist taking something from her after she took your alliance and broke it. Which was it that brought you to kill her? Her disregard for years of hard work conning the same merchants who took all your parent’s money? The fact that she was smarter than you? That you didn’t see past her act of pretty lady in distress?”
He smirks, and Grace sees the moment he pulls the trigger.
“Or was it when she didn’t say ‘I love you’ back?”
For the next two weeks Grace would replay what happened after Jane uttered those words in the bull pen time and time again. Looking for any other outcome, for anything she could have done to prevent it. Because after they shut the case, after they put the handcuffs on Wadley’s thieving hands and called for a closed-case pizza, none of them could see Jane in the same light again.
And she didn’t know if it was for better or worse.
“Mr Wadley what are you-”. Lisbon’s voice breaks the spell of the words. At the same time she enters the bullpen, a folder tucked under her armpit, chaos breaks loose.
Wadley surges toward the door, knocking the papers from Lisbon and pushing her out of the way. Rigsby shouts “Freeze!” but his foot catches on his desk’s leg, hands failing to catch anything to brake his fall. Cho runs past her, handcuffs already on his hands, but one of Lisbon’s papers hits him in the eye and he flinches, hand going to his eye as he dodges to the left, colliding with Lisbon. She steadies them, steering their course from crushing with the board on their back.
Through it all, Grace stands there, hand on her holster and eyes focused on the disappearing form of Johan Wadley, his suit lapping behind him like the cape of a wizard. Maybe if she hadn’t been enraptured by the crumbling image of Wadley in her mind, if she hadn’t tried to look one more time into those green eyes, searched for a trace of the farce behind them, maybe she would have stopped him herself.
But as Grace’s foot moves forward, as Rigsby stands from the ground and Lisbon and Cho untangle, as they all see Wadley reaching the corner of the corridor, a knife goes hurling through the air, burying itself in Wadley’s shoulder and tearing open his suit.
Wadley shouts, head going back as he stumbles and loses his footing. Before he can take a step another knife goes sailing past them and stabs Wadley on his calf, sending him careening down the corridor.
Silence reigns as they all hold their breath. Grace doesn’t look away from the blood leaking down Wadley’s suit, staining the floor. She feels more than sees Jane moving on her left, slowly approaching Wadley’s writhing form. He stops right before his shoes touch the forming puddle of blood.
He peers down at him, magnanimous, sentencing. He raises his hand, the light reflecting off his ring, palm empty.
“You know Johan, I normally avoid using force, much prefer to leave it to my big and scary team mates. But you made two mistakes coming here. One was thinking you could trick me. And two-” his hand comes down, a knife appearing out of thin air and embedding itself on the floor, right next to Wadley’s hand where it had been trying to reach its jacket pocket. “you tried to con my friends”.
Wadley looks up, his eyes terrified, and Grace can almost feel his fear as Jane crouches down, hand tugging at Wadley’s jacket. “Like recognizes like Johan, never forget it.” He sighs. His hand comes out of the jacket and they can all see the gold medal wrapped around his fingers, a small saint dangling in the air.
Grace gasps, hand going to her neck and grabbing empty air. Jane tilts his head in her direction but never lets Wadley out of his sight. “If you’d only been stupid enough to come in here praying your innocence to the world I might have let you go. In fact, I would have enjoyed the pursuit. But you made the mistake of taking something from Van Pelt, something with the unconditional value only a present from a grandmother gifted at your eighteenth birthday could have. So, really, you made me do this.” He stands up, the necklace still delicately held on his fingers. “We would have caught you before you turned the street, but I couldn’t risk you losing it on the run.”
He turns around. Grace notices he doesn’t look at any of them in the eye. Right as the spell breaks and they can finally move, he says above his shoulder “You’ll be incarcerated for the rest of your life with any luck, but if you ever get out…” Then he looks at her, blue eyes almost shinning, and she holds her breath. “Remember how it feels like to lose everything, then you’ll be able to see inside everyone’s hearts.” She feels a tear escape her eye and she closes them, taking a breath and leaning against Cho’s desk.
Lisbon is the first to recover. She whispers “For God’s sake…”, looks at Wadley, sprawled on the floor, and then at Jane, still looking at Grace. She closes her eyes for a second. Taking a deep breath she opens them and starts moving, hands signalling at the speed of light. “Rigsby immobilize Wadley, Cho call an ambulance and get the first-aid kit. Jane!” He finally breaks their standstill, turning toward Lisbon and smiling his big, disarming smile. Lisbon frowns, half annoyed and half relaxing, like seeing Jane’s usual blinding smile calms something that’d been churning inside her since she entered the bullpen. “Stay. Right. Here.”
Cho and Rigsby move together. Rigsby kneels behind Wadley, who whimpers when Rigsby moves his arm to handcuff him. Cho disappears to come back after a second with the first-aid kit. He stoops down next to Risgby and between the two of them manage to stop the bleeding. While they incorporate the sluggish form of Wadley Lisbon approaches Grace and Jane, her phone already on her hand. “You two stay here. Van Pelt, make sure Jane doesn’t disappear.”
Grace nods numbly. Lisbon looks at her for a moment before glancing at Jane. He nods, holding her gaze and smiling, this time softly. “Don’t worry Lisbon, I won’t go making porcupines out of our suspects anymore.” He winks, “I’ll even let you pat me down.”
Lisbon’s ears go red and she looks away, huffing. “Don’t think you’ll get away with this so easily Jane, you used a knife against a disarmed suspect and you-”
“Ah, ah, ah Lisbon, you’ll find it really interesting what a suit can hide behind its wool.” Just as Jane finishes talking Cho’s voice comes from the corridor.
“Boss! We found a gun on Wadley, looks smuggled.” Jane smirks, walking backwards with a Told you so look. He brushes past Grace and stops right before the sofa. Without looking back he drops down, taking his tea from the coffee table and hiding his smirk behind it. “It’s a miracle isn’t it Lisbon? What would have happened if I hadn’t seen him reach for a gun while running?”
He sighs, taking a seep and reclining on the backrest. “Really, someone could have been grievously hurt.” He rests his head back, his teacup resting on his leg and Grace watches as tension she hadn’t realised was there leaved his body. “Have fun with the report Lisbon”
Grace sees Lisbon open her mouth, but she must’ve noticed the strain on his shoulders too because she just shakes her head and goes back to where Rigsby and Cho are talking with an EMT, Wadley passed out on a gurney next to them.
Grace worries her lip for a second, looking at them, before coming to a decision. She sits down on the vacant seat on the couch.
“It wasn’t your fault” She looks away at his words, another tear running down her cheek before she can brush it away. Her hand reaches unconsciously for her necklace and she startles when her fingers curl around warm metal, her fingertips ghosting over the engraving of St. Michel, the saint of protection and strength.
“I didn’t notice, Rigsby and Cho saw it but I…I was fooled by his good looks.” She spats the last word as if burned. “I’m a cop, how did I not see it”.
She feels him moving. A hand taps her leg and she turns. He smiles, small, soft, real. “Grace, a good cop is made of many things: good intuition, good reflexes, intelligence, patience, but above all…a kind heart.” Her eyes widen. He takes her hand away and holds it, looking at the Saint shining from her neck. “Some have more patience than others, like Cho. Some have really good intuition like Lisbon. Rigsby is a great example of reflexes and brute force. But you Grace,” He looks up, his smile crinkling his eyes “You have a heart of gold, and that isn’t a trait to be ashamed of within the Force.”
She can’t help the smile that escapes her. She still feels awfully guilty, but maybe she can live with that guilt, knowing that someday a real victim will need her compassion more than her suspicion. She won’t forget this incident. She will need more than this conversation to forget how real Wadley’s words had felt. She’ll probably find it difficult to trust so blindly again.
But maybe that was alright too. She won’t let her mistakes be for nothing. She’ll learn, she’ll look for the clues next time, but she won’t lose her kindness. She’ll bring compassion to the team. And next time she’ll be the one to notice the con.
“There you go. That’s the fierce and kind cop I know.” She laughs and keeps laughing as Jane slides down the couch to rest his head on her lap, eyes sliding shut. His teacup dangles precariously from the table’s edge. She smiles fondly at him, blonde curls smoothing down as she strokes his head. She feels his weight dropping, his breaths evening out and for the first time that evening she wonders where he got those knives from.
She laughs, imagining one hundred tiny knives strapped to his suit, but sobers up when she realises he might have one hundred knives stored there. She eyes his folded hands on top of his jacket. The one thing she understands after this is how deadly Jane is, could be if he wanted to.
It shouldn’t surprise her really. He came to the CBI to kill a killer. He announced he was going to kill a person. But she is still shaken from actually seeing Jane using something other than his words to hurt someone. It wasn’t right. Jane was pure, all smiles and big words and all short of convoluted plans to bring down bad guys. But he wasn’t violent. It was something Grace knew from the moment they exchanged greetings. Jane wasn’t made for violence and nothing, not even witnessing him stabbing a person twenty feet away, will change Grace’s mind.
Because even after gathering two knives from a body, Cho didn’t shake his feet to prepare for a fight when Jane moved his hand. When he gestured animatedly about his latest discovery Lisbon didn’t flinch. If he grabbed a suspect to check a theory Rigsby didn’t look at her alarmed.
And Grace felt safe sitting there, his head on her lap and her hands in his hair. Yes, Jane knew how to throw knives, probably had every major artery memorized and knows plenty of ways to stop someone from breathing with his bare hands. But Jane wasn’t made for it. The world put those knives in that jacket, put those fingers around their handle.
Out of all of them, Jane was the only one who had brought life, and not death to this world. And while she sits on the couch, thinking of a younger and happier Jane than the one sleeping soundly on her legs holding a little girl with golden curls on his arms, she promises to herself that she’ll do everything in her power to keep this Jane as pure as possible. She’ll handle herself the next time someone tries to deceive them. She’ll learn to read people, hold her suspicions while she offers compassion at the same time.
It won’t be easy. She’ll make more mistakes and she’ll feel guilty every time. But she won’t stand frozen while Jane defends the CBI, the team, from every monster hidden behind a mask. She won’t see those knives on his fingers again if she can help it.
After all, she’d never told him where she'd gotten that necklace.