A Mentalist fanfiction (Patrick Jane)

Unexpected Greetings - A Mentalist fanfiction (Patrick Jane)

CHARLOTTE'S P.O.V

"You're nervous," he murmured, watchful, sea-green eyes never leaving my face. I had heard of this guy, this Patrick Jane with his supposed mind powers. I slumped back in my uncomfortable chair and shrugged, trying to keep my face clear.

"I'm getting questioned about a murder, is it wrong for me to be nervous?" His lips quirked up into a small smile and he shook his head, sandy blond curls glinting in the dim light.

"No, it's not. Where were you the night before last during 8 to 10pm?" His voice was constantly soft yet calculating, and as I stretched my arms forward wearily he captured one of my hands in their warm grip. I shivered.

"In my house. I watched a movie and was asleep by around 9:30."

"Can I anyone verify that?" Agent Cho asked, deadpan as ever, and I shifted my gaze to his stone cold one. Jane's golden skin was trained lightly against mine.

"Other than my dog?" I muttered, which earned a chuckle from Jane and I smiled briefly.

"So in other words you don't have an alibi." I glanced back to Jane before dropping my gaze to the metal table in front of me.

"No I don't," I whispered, blinking back tears, "But I didn't do it! I swear!" I smacked the table suddenly, unable to help the rising panic in my chest, and Jane snagged that hand too, his fingertips pressed lightly to my wrist. "I didn't kill my sister okay? I hadn't even talked to her in years, what reason would I have?"

"Greed, love, jealousy... We'll think of something." I scowled at Agent Cho and finally pulled my hands from Jane's grip, sending him a glare too.

"Stop trying to read my pulse, dammit!" I noted Jane's impressed expression at my knowledge of what he was doing. "If you want to read something, read my lips; I'm. Innocent."

"Defensive," Cho observed, and I resisted the urge to bare my teeth at him or cry out in frustration. I doubted that would help my case anyway.

"But not our killer, just like she says," Jane declared confidently, pushing up from his chair. "You're free to go now." He squeezed my shoulder as he passed me and I tried to ignore the slither of calm his touch gave me. I hardly knew this man.

"Don't move," Cho commanded me as he followed Jane out the door with an irritated expression. I sighed and stared at the mirror, wondering who was talking about what on the other side of it. Most probably my death sentence, whoever it was.

I lent forward and rested my head in my hands, still unable to believe my situation. My sister, Danny Norwell, whom I hadn't talked to in over 5 years had been brutally murdered and dumped in a sidewalk gutter. And I was a top suspect.

I heard the door click quietly as someone entered the room and ignored it, blinking fiercely so as to not cry.

"Danny was a good person. Mislead, perhaps, but good. I'd heard she was into drugs, you know, the hard stuff, that's why I called her the night... the night of her death. No other reason. I just wanted to meet up the next day, to help her." My voice broke and I bit my lip, wondering if somehow I could have saved my sister. Fingers touched my chin and tilted my head firmly up, thumb lightly brushing at the single tear that had trickled down to the corner of my mouth.

"I believe you," Jane whispered, green eyes gazing sincerely at me, and I frowned.

"Why?" He smiled, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other, and I felt the remains of his warm touch leave my face.

"Because I have a hunch about you, Charlotte, and my hunches are usually right." Jane's voice soothed my hectic feelings slightly more and I felt myself begin to relax with this odd man.

"My condolences for your sister," he continued softly, and I gave a small smile.

"I've always preferred that saying over 'I'm sorry for your loss'," I muttered ruefully and Jane shrugged at my unspoken questioned of 'how did you know?', an almost child-like, bashful expression crossing his features.

He stared at me thoughtfully for a moment, palms pressed together and resting just below his chin before raising one finger and smiling.

"My guess? You like the second one because the first makes you feel as if their pity is degrading in some way, as if their apology is said only to make you name yourself the culprit more than you already do." I opened my mouth, not entirely sure what I was planning to say, but Jane continued. "However, you also know that both logically and rationally your two assumptions are incorrect and you can only convince yourself that its your anxiety disorder that creates the problem. Air go, my condolences Charlotte." One of his warm hands came to rest upon mine and I eyed him wearily, not bothering to deny anything because we both knew it was all true. I was impressed though, and a little put out at being read so easily.

"You're quite extraordinary, Mr. Jane," I murmured, feeling his fingers flex lightly above mine. They were both soft and rough, cool and warm, and I wondered how he had achieved that. He grinned a pleased smile and waved his other hand.

"I try. And do call me Jane." The underlying chuckle was adamant in his voice and I found myself inexplicably drawn in by it.

"How," I began asking without being able to stop myself, "How is it that you draw such elaborate and accurate conclusions merely by observing my demeanor?" Jane grinned and I could tell he was enjoying our conversation.

"It's all about being able to correctly interpret what I observe..." He paused. "But you knew that already didn't you? You're smarter than you first show Charlotte, I'll give you that." I smiled dryly at him and tentatively brought my thumb up to stroke across his gently. Jane's sweet smile grew. 

I suddenly remembered why I was even in this interrogation room with this, admittedly beautiful, man, and my relaxation dropped from my shoulders instantly.

"How am I looking for this? You know," I jutted my chin towards the two-way mirror, "According to them?" Jane thought for a moment, eyes watching out hands, before answering.

"They like you for it." My heart sank. "But frankly, I will do whatever it takes to prove your innocence. I will not see you go to jail Charlotte." Jane's intensity was steel in his eyes and I nodded mutely, my hair falling in my face. He watched me a moment longer, curls glowing with a muted shine, before a ringtone interrupted the silence. Jane held up one finger and fished the phone out of his vest pocket.

"Lisbon," he greeted happily, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" There was the hum of a distant voice and Jane made a soft, interested sound in the back of his throat.

"I see... Well I'm busy here," he sent me a wink, "So we'll have to make it quick, but yes. I'd love to help." I heard a sharp, irritated reply from the other end of the phone call and Jane grinned.

"Come now Lisbon, you know I'm never to busy for you," he purred into the receiver and I laughed, shaking my head. He absently brushed a wisp of electric blue hair from my cheek and I stiffened against my immediate reaction to relax, not entirely sure why. There was the angry buzz of a voice from his phone and I managed to make out the sentence '... don't need your help, jerk!' Jane smiled even wider, delighted.

"Great, I'll see you there." He snapped his phone shut with a chuckle, tucking it away in his chest pocket as he rose from his seat.

"I have business to attend to, as you no doubt just heard, but I shall return soon," Jane explained as he strode around the table and took one of my hands in his.

"I will get you out of this," he promised, holding my eyes with his own as his lips made the lightest on contact with my knuckles. I froze, trying to force air through my suddenly tight throat and unsuccessfully ignoring the shot of warmth that enveloped my arm. 

Jane spun around and retreated to the door, turning to face me again as he opened it with one hand, one finger raised and a warm smile in his eyes.

"Just one more thing." I raised an eyebrow. "What movie did you watch the night of the murder?" I hesitated a beat at the unexpected question, then smiled lightly with a confused chuckle.

"Forrest Gump," I answered, and a grin crinkled the skin at the corner of Jane's eyes.

"Great choice."

"Thank you."