ebonyfeather (ebonyfeather) wrote,


Fandom   - The Mentalist
Pairing     - Patrick Jane / Wayne Rigsby
Rating      - R-15
Summary - Patrick is taken hostage by a fleeing suspect.
Notes       - This follows on loosely from Interesting times, though it's not necessary to read that first.




Patrick Jane looked up from his prone position on his couch as Rigsby came into the office and smiled to himself. The other man studiously avoided eye contact as he said hello to everyone, in an effort not to let the others guess the change in their relationship.


Swinging his feet off the couch he stood up, heading over to intercept Rigsby. The Agent looked surprised as Patrick approached, not saying a word as he discreetly herded him through the door to the kitchen, closing it behind them.


“What’s up?”


Patrick merely smiled. “Nothing; just saying good morning,” he replied, tugging on Rigsby’s tie until he was close enough to stealing a kiss.


They heard footsteps nearing the door moments before it opened and put some distance between them quickly.


“You two look as though you’re up to something.” Cho asked, stopping in the doorway and eyeing Patrick suspiciously. The last time he’d looked, Patrick had been laid out on his couch, looking to all the world as though he were asleep. Cho hadn’t even seen him move.


Patrick indicated to the mugs on the counter. “Making coffee,” he said innocently. “You want one?”


Cho frowned, and then nodded since that was what he’d come for in the first place, and wandered back out again. Rigsby sighed, leaning back against the counter.


“Are you sure you’re OK with keeping this between us a while longer?” he asked. “I just want a chance to tell them properly.”


Patrick smiled, assuring him that it was. “Actually, it’s kinda fun, all this sneaking about.” He slid two mugs along the counter. “Here. Now, go take Cho his coffee before he gets suspicious,” he told Rigsby, picking up his own mug to take back to his couch, giving Rigsby’s backside a discreet pinch on the way past.


As Rigsby jumped, Patrick grinned. “Don’t spill your drink,” he joked, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear.


Rigsby took Cho his mug, biting back a smile as he saw the suggestive grin on Patrick’s face as he sat back down on the couch.




Their suspect was hiding out in a ramshackle, wood-built house on the outskirts of town. Earlier this morning, Thomas Benton had walked into the offices where his girlfriend, Jessica Rosenberg, worked. Witnesses said that he had argued with Donnie Martinez, one of Jessica’s colleagues, before he pulled a shotgun out from his coat. Jessica had come into the office and he’d shot both Donnie and Jessica, whilst one other woman was injured in the chaos that followed. After shooting his two victims, he had simply walked out again and by the time that the police showed up, he was gone.


The local cops had handed the case to the CBI as both victims were federal employees; working for the IRS had afforded them a federal investigation. They had found this house from a conversation with Benton’s sister-in-law; she told them that Benton had a property that he was fixing up to sell on the edge of town. It was under his brother’s name since they had bought it together as a family project.


It was a good place to hide, Patrick thought, as they drove up the long driveway toward the place. For one, it was off the beaten track and for another, it looked abandoned. It wasn’t, however. There were tiny signs that someone had been here recently and so everyone had immediately suited up to go in.


Patrick got out of the car, ignoring Lisbon’s order to stay out of the way, and watched as the team split. Rigsby and Lisbon approached the front door, guns drawn and tac-vests on, leaving Cho and Van Pelt to cover the back of the house. Leaving them to do their thing, he wandered around until a barely-visible track through the wilderness that claimed to be a back yard caught his eye. It led to a wooden door that appeared to lead into the house. He thought about telling Cho or Van Pelt but the Agents were already half-way around to the garage door, gun in hand.


He heard Lisbon bang on the front door and then yells of, “CBI! Thomas Benton, put your hands on your head and come out slowly.”


There was a commotion in the house and two shots, a loud crash and then a large man came bursting out of the door and right at Patrick.




Rigsby ran through the house, a second behind Lisbon as they pursued the suspect, seeing him apparently corner himself in the utility room. Then he was gone, a door they hadn’t noticed swinging open. They followed him through.




Rigsby skidded to a halt as he saw their suspect, with Patrick.


“Anyone tries anything and he’s dead,” he said, indicating to the hunting knife he held against Patrick’s throat. “Toss your guns over here!”


To illustrate his point, Benton pressed the knife further into Patrick’s neck, piercing his skin. Rigsby felt his heart almost stop as he saw the bright red trickle of blood against Patrick’s pale throat.


“Mr Benton, let him go,” Lisbon called out calmly.


“No! Now I said put your guns down.” He waited until they all had. “Back up, back to the house. Me and blondie here are going to take a walk and you’re not going to follow, got it?”


Patrick tried to shift his stance slightly to stop the press of metal at his throat.


“You know they’ll never let you walk away, don’t you?”


The knife dug in more. “Shut up.”


“I’m just saying…” Patrick continued, hoping that his voice sounded calmer than he felt. “Look, I know you didn’t mean to kill Donnie; you just wanted to talk to him, right? When you found out that Jessica had been unfaithful with him.”


“Yeah.” Benton sounded a bit confused, as though thinking that this wasn’t the way it was meant to go. Hostages were meant to be terrified and quiet, weren’t they?


“I know if it was my wife who had cheated on me,” Patrick told him, “I’d want to at least be able to confront the guy.”


They had found out that Donnie was the reason that Jessica had left Benton days earlier; Benton’s sister-in-law had been very helpful, informing them of Jessica’s infidelity as well. Patrick could tell he was on the right track as Benton’s grip relaxed slightly.


“So it was an accident,” Patrick told him. Guys like this actually believed that they were in the right; it may disgust him but he could use that to keep Benton talking. He could see Cho edging around behind them, slowly, as their suspect’s attention was on Patrick. “And if you didn’t mean it, then you can tell them that,” Patrick said. “At the moment, that’s all it is, an accident. If you hurt me, however, they’ll charge you with kidnapping and assault on a federal agent. Well, a federal agency’s consultant-”


Patrick sensed movement and then the knife was yanked away and he was knocked to the ground. He turned in time to see Cho twist Benton’s knife-hand back to the sound of a crunch of bone. Benton howled in pain, his thumb at an odd angle, but no one paid it any attention until he was laid in the dirt, face down, with his hands cuffed behind his back. Now that it was over, the adrenalin gone, Patrick had to force himself to take deep breaths to calm himself. Noticing his hand shaking slightly, he clenched his fist a couple of times until it stopped.




Rigsby came hurrying over without bothering to even collect his gun off the ground first, helping Patrick as he began to get up. He fished through his pockets until he found a tissue to gently dab away the blood on Patrick’s throat, checking to see how bad the wound was now that he could see it.


“Are you OK? It’s still bleeding- we should take you to the emergency room…”


“Rigsby. Wayne.” At the use of his name, Rigsby stopped fussing. “I’m fine, honestly. It’s not a deep cut; he just nicked me.”


The tension seemed to drain from Rigsby at that point and he heaved a sigh of relief, pulling Patrick to him in a tight embrace.


“Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried,” he said. He closed his lips over Patrick’s and kissed him, all of the emotion he’d felt over the past few minutes- had it only been minutes? he thought- pouring into that kiss. Moving back, looked into Patrick’s eyes.


“I hated not being able to help you.”


Patrick happened to glance past Rigsby’s shoulder.


“Um, Wayne, I think you just outed yourself,” he said softly.


Rigsby turned sharply, his cheeks heating up as he saw the rest of the team staring at him and Patrick with identical ‘what the hell?’ expressions on their faces. He quickly looked away, focussing back on Patrick.


“I don’t care,” he said, not sounding quite as certain as he would have liked. “All I care about is that you’re OK.”




After Patrick had been checked out at the hospital, Rigsby drove him back to the CBI. He had wanted to take Patrick straight home but they had statements to make and reports to complete. Patrick didn’t seem to mind, insisting that he had been right the first time and that the hospital had confirmed that he was alright. When they arrived and walked into the offices, the conversation at Cho’s desk stopped abruptly, he and Van Pelt watching as they walked through to Lisbon’s office.


“They’re staring,” Rigsby murmured.


Patrick touched his hand reassuringly as they finally got to the office and let themselves in. No matter how surprised she was, she at least checked on how Patrick was before she started the lecture they both knew was coming.


“So,” she began eventually, leaning back in her chair and eyeing them both across the desk. “Were you ever going to tell me? You know the rules-”


Rigsby nodded. “That two agents can’t become involved, yes,” he finished. “Patrick isn’t an agent.”


“It’s still the same; the rules are there for a reason, for situations like today.”


Patrick frowned at her. “With all due respect, my relationship with Wayne hasn’t interfered with our jobs. He was a professional today.”


“With the exception of that little display, I agree,” she said. “As you say, Jane is not an agent but that doesn’t stop my concerns. Can you guarantee that this will not cause a problem?”




They could see that she still wasn’t completely convinced but she nodded. “Very well.” Her stern expression melted away. “Right, lecture over,” she said, smiling. “I have to admit that you surprised me, Rigsby. When did this happen, anyway?”


“Few weeks ago,” he told her, slightly nervous. “Do you think maybe we could call Grace and Cho in? I’d really prefer to only have this conversation once.”




“See, that wasn’t as bad as you expected, was it?” Patrick asked as he let Rigsby into his house. 


Rigsby shook his head. “Actually, no. It’s not that I’m ashamed of the fact I’m bi,” he insisted. “I just get tired of the labels and the questions. I am glad that our friends know; now we don’t have to hide anymore.”


Patrick carefully hung his jacket on a hanger in his closet and took his shoes off. “Come on. It’s late and all I want to do right now is go to bed.”


Under the covers, curled up together, it felt safe, just the two of them, but it was a while before Rigsby could fall asleep. He kept looking at the white bandage on Patrick’s neck, thinking that if things had gone differently, he could have lost the person who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time.


Patrick turned over and cuddled in until his face was pressed into the curve of Rigsby’s neck.


“Go to sleep, would you?” Patrick murmured, breath hot against his skin with each word.


“If you promise me you’ll keep out of trouble next time.”


Patrick opened his eyes at that. “I’ll try. It’s not my fault if the trouble comes looking for me, is it?”


It was the best he was going to get, Rigsby knew. Telling Patrick to keep out of trouble was like telling the ocean to stay dry.


“Just don’t get yourself hurt again,” he amended.


Patrick leaned over to kiss him. “Deal.”








Tags: fiction: slash, patrick jane / wayne rigsby, tv: the mentalist

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