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asoulofstars · 4 years

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Familiarity (S5)

Here we have Riona and the CBI confronting the man who killed Riona’s little brother, Soll, back when Riona was 12 and Soll was 8. This case had been cold for 20+ years, and Jane made a promise to Riona that he would help her find closure. Neither of them expected it to be like this.

Massive trigger warnings for torture, death, knife injuries, mutilation, car accident, broken bones, etc. While I don’t actually go into detail of any of the events besides the death, all the other stuff is mentioned and the results of such things are observed.

Switches back and forth between Riona’s POV and Jane’s POV. Takes place between 5x04 and 5x06. This fanfic is almost 8,000 words, so please enjoy.

Spoilers for the Season 4 finale and pieces of early Season 5 are present.

Break

“Riona! Are you at home or at CBI?” Jane said into the phone.

“Home. I was sleeping. Jane, what time is it?” she asked, yawning.

“Does it matter, Riona? I have a name!” he replied. “I know who killed Soll!”

Riona sat bolt upright. “What?” Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she nearly dropped her phone.

Freyja meowed loudly at her as she threw the blankets aside and stumbled to her closet, putting on the first things she touched. Her wardrobe was fairly consistent, though, so it didn’t really matter what she grabbed.

“I’ll be at your place in five minutes. We’ll discuss more in person,” Jane told her.

“Okay. Okay, good. Patrick, thank you.” Riona nearly choked as it all overwhelmed her.

“Who better to assist than a man who’s been obsessed with his own serial killer for a decade?” He chuckled. “I’ll honk when I’m here.”

“Don’t bother; I’ll be in the driveway.” Riona hung up her phone, put on her coat, grabbed her purse, and headed out, locking up the door.

She had never been so happy when his Citroen pulled up into the drive, and she jumped into the passenger side. She looked at him, and he beamed.

“Warren Andrews,” he said. “Those six months that I was off having my breakdown was not just about fooling Red John. I did a lot of digging into your case.”

“You did?” Riona asked, turned towards him as much as the seatbelt allowed.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly be digging into Red John while making him think that I’d given up. So, when I wasn’t drinking or borrowing money and running from loan sharks, I was researching. You’d be amazed at what you can find out at a blackjack table.” He grinned. “There are a lot of cops who are willing to talk about their work, especially to a man with a high rate of closed cases. They want new leads, and I was able to get information from a lot of different jurisdictions that wouldn’t have shared leads if it hadn’t been for me.”

“How were you able to connect things?” Riona asked.

“A knife wound that damages the hyoid and cervical vertebrae, boys 7-9, dark hair, cold cases. Predators are particular. Soll was lucky he cried out for you.” He put a hand on her knee.

Riona wrapped her fingers up in his. She always assumed the worst. How could she not? Who else would kill an eight-year-old boy? He squeezed her hand tight.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course. I’ve got more information back at CBI. We can look at it together, narrow down his location. We can get the team together to figure everything out and bring him in.”

He came to a stop at a four-way intersection, and then he made his way forward. Just as they moved through, a car smashed into the driver’s side of the Citroen. Riona heard Jane’s arm snap with the same echo as a gunshot. The airbags went off, and Riona screamed.

“Ri, you okay?” Jane groaned.

“Your arm. You need a hospital.” She pulled her phone out and dialed 911.

Before she could say anything, she was yanked out of the car. She screamed, and she heard Jane yelling for her.

~*~

Jane grabbed the phone that had clattered to the floor, and he groaned.

“Sir, I heard yelling. What happened?” the dispatcher asked.

“We were in a car accident. Riona…Riona was taken. My arm is broken.” He groaned again; his head hurt.

He really needed to stop getting his head bashed around.

“Sir, officers were dispatched when I didn’t get a response. They’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. Okay. I…I think I’m going to pass out.” Jane leaned against the seat, and his eyes closed.

~*~

He woke up with Lisbon beside him. He swallowed hard, and he turned his head.

“Where’s Riona?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” she replied. “Van Pelt’s trying to get security footage—traffic cams…anything—to see what car took her and where they went.”

“It has to do with the man who killed her brother. His name is Warren Andrews. I did a lot of digging into him when I was pretending to have a breakdown. And I found him, Lisbon. And I finally got his name, and I went to pick her up, and he must have found us. You know I’m good at picking up a tail. You know how careful I am. But he found us. He found her. And, Lisbon, he’s going to hurt her.”

“We’ll find her. I promise, Jane.” Lisbon took his hand. “But you have to do as the doctor says. Your arm and a couple ribs are broken, and you have a concussion.”

“Lisbon, let me come back to CBI with you. I can’t just sit in here. I have to help.” He didn’t want to pull out words like please or using her first name, but he would if he had to. He wasn’t one to beg, but Andrews found her because of him.

“If your doctor says that you can leave, I’ll let you come back with me,” she said. “Otherwise, I’ll have Van Pelt come here with a laptop so that she can keep you in the loop while you rest.”

“I want out, Lisbon. I can’t stay here. I can’t think in a hospital room.” He pushed himself upright with his right arm.

“I’ll talk to the doctor,” she said. “Don’t move.”

“Okay.” He tried to breathe slowly, feeling his ribs stab at him.

He knew that he was pushing it with trying to get out of the hospital. He was surprised Lisbon hadn’t tried to order an MRI for him with as many times as he’d been concussed now. But he also knew that he would be of no use in a sterile, bright room with only his thoughts for company. Even if Grace came to sit with him, he’d go insane staying in the hospital.

“Mr. Jane, Agent Lisbon has asked that we release you.” His doctor stood with hands on her hips.

“I would appreciate that,” he replied. “I have things to do that I can’t do in a place like this. The walls are closing in on me. I will not do anything strenuous. I will take it easy. I promise. I just can’t stay here.”

“Alright, Mr. Jane. But if you have any problems at all, you have to come back immediately.”

“I promise. Thank you. Lisbon, can I have a moment to change?”

“Yes. I’ll be right outside.” She gave him a pointed look that told him not to do anything stupid.

As if he could do anything. His left arm was in a cast and a sling; his ribs were taped and moving at all hurt. But he couldn’t stay in the hospital. He had to be with the team, figuring things out. And he would be able to help them make sense of his research a whole lot better and faster in person.

~*~

“What have you got?” Lisbon asked as they walked in.

Jane was proud of himself for staying upright without Lisbon’s assistance, and he waved off Grace’s concern when her eyes widened in response to his arm. He moved to his couch, waiting with bated breath to hear what her security camera search had given them.

“Not a lot. It’s a dark van, tinted windows, no plates. It starts off heading back towards Riona’s house, and then it vanishes.”

“Okay. Grace, upstairs in my loft, there’s a box under my bed. It just says SG on it; it’s not an evidence box as it’s not an official CBI case. Until now.” He gestured to his arm. “I would grab it, but.”

“No, I got it. You need to rest. You shouldn’t even be here.” She eyed him pointedly.

Sometimes the concern that radiated from Grace, the way that she looked at him, how she felt the need to protect him…all of it made him forget that he was at least ten years older than her. She cared, and it was a trait he admired her for. It was part of what made it easy to accept her, when it had taken him a while to warm up to others on the team.

“She’s family,” he said quietly.

He’d tried to deny it for so long. But somewhere in the years since he started at CBI, between late night discussions over tea and companionable silence while she worked in the morgue (and he had nothing better to do and was there anyways), things had turned into her inviting him to her place so that he could get some real sleep. She swore up and down he was magic when all he had to do was kneel down to Freyja before the cat purred at him and climbed into his arms. Even though he had weird dreams because the cat was at least twenty pounds and enjoyed sleeping on his chest, he always did sleep the best when he was over at her place. Even though she was optimistic and genuine where he was skeptical, cynical, and distant, she understood him in a way that no one else had ever been able to. Losing someone you love to a serial killer changed you as a person, and she knew that. She accepted that his methods were how he had to find his closure, to find his own sense of peace for Angela and Charlotte, and she refrained from judging him for his relentless hunt for Red John. Because she’d been quietly doing the same for years, just trying to find a name. He remembered the first time she told him about Soll, after she’d done Rebecca’s autopsy, and he was stunned. It had been clear as day to him that she faced tragedy when she was young, that she’d been abused, but he never realized how she actually did know all that time what he was going through. He asked why she kept it to herself, and she told him that he didn’t need to think about her closure on top of his. But what was the point of working at CBI and working on cases that weren’t Red John if he couldn’t help people like her? And if Warren Andrews killed her, if he wasn’t fast enough to save her, then it would all be for nothing.

“I have to be here,” he said simply.

Grace nodded, and he knew that she understood the way his chest felt like it was collapsing—and not just because he couldn’t take a full breath with his broken ribs. He could see the way that Grace’s fingers shook as she moved them over her keyboard, the way she stared at the screen for so long and only blinked when he assumed the information blurred together in an effort to keep herself from crying. Riona wasn’t even officially a part of this unit, this team, but she was a constant, a pulse for CBI.

“Can I help?” Grace asked, voice cracking, as she set the box by his feet.

“By all means,” he replied.

He watched as she dutifully sorted his notes and files, and how the rest of the team slowly came and joined her on the floor. Every so often, someone would get up to make a coffee run for the group, and Grace brought him some of his tea. He kept staring at the piles, hoping his brain would make some connection. The man had to be local; it had to be somewhere private. Moving back towards Riona’s house had to be a misdirect.

He swallowed hard. “Can you spread a map out?”

“Yeah.” Grace pulled out their Sacramento map.

Jane pointed to Riona’s street. “Here’s her house.” He found the intersection. “That’s where the crash happened.”

Grace marked the two points. Jane started scanning the map, trying to find the best way to where backtracking towards Riona’s house would then redirect to a location. He scanned the map, and he found CBI. He tapped his finger on it, and Grace put down another mark.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’m trying to figure out if he followed me, or if he was watching her.” Jane sighed and rubbed his eyes. “He had to be watching her; I just got there before he made his move. But that still doesn’t tell me if his location is closer to her house or closer to CBI; I don’t know if he was backtracking to throw us off his trail or if his location is actually in that direction. He knew we were heading back to CBI; he had to have followed her route between the two places, and I didn’t pick up a tail, because he already knew how to use side streets to get to that intersection at the same time as us.” He stared at the map again. “Let me just….” He trailed off, gesturing to the map with his good hand.

Grace put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get her back.”

He reached up and squeezed her hand. He flashed her a small smile, and he tried to lend her some of the comfort she was also trying to give him. Just because he was guilty didn’t mean he was the only one who cared about Riona or wanted her back. But he was now left with more questions than answers. If Andrews wasn’t tracking him to get to Riona, how did he know that they were close? His hand drifted to his pocket.

“Can someone drive me to Riona’s? I need to figure out how he knew she was there.” He looked around.

“Van Pelt, go with him,” Lisbon said. “Rigsby, Cho, keep looking into Warren Andrews and any known associates. Jane, is this all your research into the case?” She gestured to the box and piles now sorted over the floor.

Jane nodded.

“Good. I’ll go through this some more and see what I can get from the police you have reports from. Senior Special Agent will help with cooperation.”

Jane watched her eyes as she let out a slow breath through her nose. She was worried, and he didn’t like it when she worried.

“Be careful, and don’t give Van Pelt any trouble,” she warned.

“I promise,” he replied and turned to Grace. “After you.”

She wrapped her arm around his good one, and he couldn’t help the small smile that formed in response. He pressed into her, knowing that they both needed the contact. He took a breath and swallowed hard, and he let her lead the way to the car.

The ride there was quiet, and Jane watched Grace. She kept fidgeting with her fingers, and Jane watched as she focused on her right ring finger. The finger that Riona wore her Claddagh Ring on.

“How long have you had feelings for Riona?” he asked quietly.

“For years.” She shifted. “It took a long time to come to terms with it. My family was fairly conservative growing up. So it took a long time to accept that my feelings for her were more than platonic.” She swallowed. “I’ve looked at other women before, but I never gave it much thought. Looking at people is human nature, and to me looking doesn’t really mean anything. But having feelings means a lot. And, well, I know you don’t have romantic feelings for her, but there’s just something about Riona that makes it impossible to not have feelings of some kind for her.”

Jane nodded. “I know.”

“It was that day you took us both out to the racetrack. Craig and I had just started dating, and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I threw myself into my relationship with him. And we both know how that turned out.” She let out a deep breath. “Do I really have that bad of luck with my relationships?”

Jane shifted his jaw back and forth, thinking on all of Grace’s relationships since he’d met her. Dan, the sociopath who tried to kill them. Rigsby, who he wasn’t sure would ever get over Grace. Craig, who was working for Red John and she had to shoot and kill. And then there were her—what she thought were unrequited—feelings for Riona. And Jane knew that they were anything but; he’d been teasing Riona about her feelings for Grace when Grace was dating Rigsby.

“You can say it,” she said.

“Well, I can’t include Riona in anything. You two will need to talk yourselves when we get her back.” He needed to be confident. If they lost her, it would be one more death on his hands, and one more serial killer he would have to hunt down.

“Thanks,” she replied.

Jane wanted to say more, but it was hard enough to focus on the current task. They pulled into Riona’s driveway, and Jane unlocked the door with his tool he kept in his pocket. He heard a loud mreow, and then Freyja was on her hind legs, paws at his hips.

“Hey, Pretty Kitty. I can’t really pick you up.” He gestured to his left arm.

She huffed at him, and she went over to Grace, winding her way around Grace’s legs. Jane watched as Grace knelt down and ran her fingers through Freyja’s fur.

“We should bring her back to CBI with us,” she said. “She’ll be upset and lonely.”

“Yeah,” Jane agreed. “She can stay in my loft.”

Jane looked around the house, watching the windows, the doors, the way the cat moved. He looked at the cat again. No, Freyja wasn’t allowed outside except when Riona was out, and Freyja was too loyal to stray from Riona’s side. Plus, Riona had gotten someone to build her a beautiful inside…kingdom…was the best way to describe it. Freyja was a spoiled cat. She got the stimulation that she needed without spending too much time outside. That cat never left Riona’s side. Freyja wasn’t the way in.

The windows and doors were all secure, besides the front door that he picked the lock on. No other signs of forced entry were present, and he couldn’t find any signs of cameras. Grace pulled out a laptop, and he watched as she did her own bug sweep. She shook her head, and he nodded.

“He’s old fashioned, personal. We need to check the yard, check her garden, see where he could have been watching her from.” Jane went to the back of the house, heading out the slider into her backyard.

Jane walked the garden, smiling at Riona’s flowers. Morning glories, galaxy petunias, roses; all of them had multiple colors. She had a vegetable garden and some berry bushes. He walked around, noting Riona’s footsteps in the dirt. The marks from her knees when she pressed into the dirt. He walked the property line. She had a bunch of trees lining her property, and he swallowed hard.

“What is it?” Grace asked, putting her hand on his arm.

“The trees. She’s got a fence line; the trees block the view of the fence in the back, so he could hop it without being noticed. Hiding in the trees, he learned everything he needed to about her patterns. She doesn’t have the same instinct to look for a tail, and he’s smart enough to not be following right behind her in some big truck like creepy guys, so he didn’t trigger that instinct that women have.” Jane pushed into the tree line. “Yep. Look at all these footprints.”

“So how did he know you were close? Why take her now?” Grace asked.

“I think he was always planning on taking her,” Jane replied. “She’s been digging. She went into law enforcement. That’s why he didn’t just kill me. He didn’t know I was involved. I just happened to be driving Riona the night he finally wanted to make his move, so he had to go through me.”

Grace nodded. “Okay, so where does that leave us?”

“That leaves us knowing that this is all about her. So, get me back to CBI, and I can really focus on the map.”

Grace wrapped her arm around his and leaned into him as they moved back inside. Freyja meowed at them, and Grace released his arm to pick up the cat.

“You want to go for a ride?” she asked. “Come on, Pretty Kitty. We’ll go play at CBI until Riona comes home.”

Grace let him get in the car first, and then she put Freyja in his lap. Freyja purred loudly at him and nuzzled his chest. Jane ran his fingers through the cat’s long fur, trying to let her warmth calm him and help him focus on the problem at hand.

~*~

When they got back, Jane watched Grace carry Freyja into the CBI office, and he settled back into his spot on the couch, and he accepted Freyja from Grace. The cat rubbed on him.

“Jane, why do you have a cat?” Lisbon asked.

“We couldn’t leave her there,” Grace replied before he could. “And she loves Jane, so he’ll look after her until we get Riona.”

“And I live here, so here she is,” Jane continued, stroking her fur. “This is Freyja. She’s going to help me focus.”

He pulled the map close to him as Lisbon held out a hand to Freyja. Freyja meowed at her, sniffed, and put her head closer to Lisbon’s hand. Jane smiled slightly as Lisbon ran her fingers through the cat’s fur. He groaned slightly as Freyja pushed off of him, but he couldn’t be mad as she trotted after Lisbon. Freyja seemed to realize, even without Riona here, that these were Riona’s people, and thus they were now her people.

“What does it being personal do for narrowing down the location?” Grace asked.

“It means that he’s going to stay close to Riona. This is about her. He wants his location to be close. No serial killer who is this determined and watches victims’ families for years is going to want to spend a lot of time traveling. You said that it was a black van, dark windows, no license plate. Which means that the neighborhood has to be private, probably an isolated house, big house.” Jane stared at the map. “Wait. Wait. A boat. The marina’s perfect. Even if he has someone with him, he could easily slip in and out. He’s been doing this for years.”

“Good, Jane!” Lisbon said. “But we can’t get a search warrant for the entire marina.”

“Not for the individual boats, but if we can get access to surveillance photos of the marina, we can do a profile of the boats, and we can figure out what one she is on.” Jane looked at Grace. “Can you get those photos?” he asked.

“Sure, okay.” Grace sat down at her computer and started typing.

~*~

Riona’s arms were spread straight out, old fashioned restraints used to keep her down. Her legs were secured, too, not that it mattered since he seemed to exclusively stand behind her as he was working. She was bleeding, exhausted, and she was barely holding on. Her left shoulder was in agony. She knew the knife he used was going to do lots of damage, but she really didn’t expect it to feel like this.

“Getting sleepy?” he asked.

“As if I could sleep with my shoulder,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“An unfortunate outcome, but you are right hand dominant, are you not? I could have done worse.” He twirled a knife around his fingers. “Who was that man who was with you in the car?”

Riona scoffed. “You’ve been stalking me. You knew where we were going, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to cut us off like that. You know who he is.”

“I know he’s a coworker of yours. But he isn’t a usual coworker, is he?”

“Oh, there’s nothing about him that’s usual,” Riona replied. “But why do you care?”

“Because you care about him. None of the rest of your coworkers come over like he does.” He stopped twirling his knife and rubbed his thumb along the flat side of the blade.

“The rest of my coworkers also actually sleep in their own beds,” Riona replied. “I feel better when he doesn’t sleep at CBI, even if he chooses my couch.”

She had a spare bedroom at her house, and she told him to use the bed, but he always ended up on the couch. But she’d learned to make his tea, so when she came downstairs in the mornings and found Freyja on his chest, she started a kettle of water on the stove, and she would wake him up. He’d spent the night only a couple times recently, having grown more reclusive over recent months. She knew he was afraid of showing Red John any kind of relationships and connections that he had with people, especially now that they had Lorelei.

“So, he’s just a coworker, then? Sleeping on the couch.” He toyed with the tip of the blade against his fingertips.

“If you’ve been stalking me, you know who he is, and I don’t feel the need to discuss his life.” Riona would have shrugged if she could, but even if her arms weren’t bound, she would not be able to do it.

“Do you not have anyone in your life, Riona? No romantic relationships?” He was rubbing the side of the blade again.

“Nope,” Riona replied. “What can I say? I’m a workaholic.” She turned her head from side to side, trying to find something to help cut through her restraints, not that it would help while he was watching her so closely.

“And why is that?” he asked. His eyes bore into hers.

“Maybe because someone decided to murder my little brother, and I never got any closure for it, so I work tirelessly to make sure that other people don’t have to live not knowing!” Riona strained against the restraints, and then immediately collapsed against the table as her left shoulder gave out. She saw a flash of white against her eyes with the searing pain, and then she was unconscious.

~*~

“I think I’ve got her,” Jane said. “But how do we find the boat?”

He’d been pouring over the satellite photos from Grace for what felt like an eternity, looking at boats that had been in port and now weren’t. Boats weren’t like planes, though. They didn’t have to file any sort of travel plans. As long as they stayed out of foreign waters, nothing mattered. And he had a sickening feeling that by the time that boat returned, it would be too late.

“Well, it’s just him, right?” Grace asked. “He would have to anchor somewhere in order to do anything. I can see about getting satellite photos for the area. He wouldn’t have to go too far out to keep from attracting attention. It’ll just take a little bit, especially since it’s been dark.”

“Okay, good. Do that.” Jane gestured at her. “We need to find her soon, because if he starts heading back, she’s dead.”

~*~

When Riona came to, she was alone. She turned her head from side to side, and she noticed the tray of smaller knives and scalpels. On her right side. Her good side. She stretched as far as she could, and her fingers snagged the end of the tray. She pulled it, and the little table moved closer. It was enough for her to grab a scalpel to work on the restraints.

She just finished her left restraint when she heard a noise, and she tucked the scalpel into her shirt, put her arms back under the now useless restraints, and gently pushed the tray back. She blinked slowly at him as he reemerged.

“We heading back to the marina?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he replied. “When did you learn you were on a boat?” he asked in return.

“I can hear the water lapping. You couldn’t have expected me to be so quiet, so I imagine we’re actually out in the bay.”

“You are very smart.” He grinned and waved his knife at her.

Riona watched as he turned around. He just stood there, twirling his knife. Riona watched him throw it up in the air and catch it again. She pulled the scalpel out of her shirt, and she took a slow breath.

“You know, your brother surprised me. He wasn’t squirmy. But he shouted for you, and I had to get away before I was seen. It was a quick death.”

She clenched the scalpel in her right fist, knuckles white. “You claim you’re merciful for a quick death? Him and how many other boys with a knife wound so deep that it left marks on bone? That’s a quick death, but it’s painful.”

“But it’s a satisfying death. Watching someone’s blood drain from their body. Watching their eyes. The light leaves faster than the blood. The color drains from their face; the light fades away; the blood waterfalls down. It’s a rush.”

Tears welled up in Riona’s eyes for the first time since she’d been taken onto the boat, and in three strides, she was behind him, scalpel gliding over his throat.

~*~

He was between Grace and Cho in the backseat, having practically begged Lisbon to go with. Coast Guard had located Warren Andrews’ boat, and they were waiting for CBI before boarding. They went out on the Coast Guard boat, and he found Grace’s hand with his good one. There had been no response to Coast Guard’s attempts to contact the boat, and he was preparing himself for the worst.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Grace whispered.

He watched her reach up to her cross necklace with her other hand while squeezing his tighter. He wondered what kind of prayer she was saying. Whatever it was, he hoped Grace’s God or Riona’s stars or something was there to answer it, because his gut was tightening the closer that they got.

They found themselves on the boat, and he stayed back as the officers with guns went first. He hoped it wouldn’t come to a shootout. If it did, they would likely lose Riona in the process, if they hadn’t lost her already.

But there was no response to them as they descended. When he caught sight of the scene in the lower part of Warren Andrews’ boat, he knew what happened immediately, and his breath caught in his throat. He rushed to Riona’s side faster than a man with broken ribs should move, and his fingers shook as he wrapped them around her wrist. Her pulse was strong, and he let out a slow breath that caught multiple times. He closed his eyes to hold back the tears that burned, and he took a few deep breaths to compose himself.

“Riona!” Grace fell down next to him, and he felt her fingers over his.

He moved his hand aside so that Grace could feel Riona’s pulse for herself, and he took Riona in. She would need surgery for her left shoulder; he could tell that she was going to be dealing with the effects of that wound for the rest of her life. Andrews carved it open like it was a Thanksgiving turkey. Both her tattoos on her forearms were dissected, pieces of skin carved out carefully. He remembered a memory that felt like a lifetime ago now, sitting with her in the morgue long after she’d finished Rebecca Anderson’s autopsy, where she rolled up her sleeves to show him the tattoos for the first time, and she just simply said What do you see? An offering for him to do what he does best, to read her.

“Why isn’t she responding?” Grace asked. “Her eyes are open; her pulse is so strong.”

“She killed a man, Grace. Her brain and heart couldn’t reconcile it, so her brain put her in a catatonic state to shut down the emotional trauma. I can hypnotize her, get her to sleep, so then she can get to the hospital and be taken care of, and she’ll wake up when her body’s ready to let her be conscious during her healing.” He looked around at Grace, Lisbon, Cho, and Rigsby, who all hovered much closer than the Coast Guard.

“Do it,” Lisbon said.

He took Riona’s right hand and started twisting her Claddagh ring around her finger. “Riona, feel your ring spin. Feel how it moves. A circle, endless, flowing, no right or wrong. It just is. Float with it. The hands represent friendship. Your friends are here. Me, Grace, Cho, Rigsby, Lisbon. We’re right here. The crown represents loyalty. We all fought so hard because it was you. The heart represents love. You’re family, Riona. You have all of our love. We’re all here. We always will be. Just like the circle. Always going. When I stop twisting your ring, you’re going to go to sleep. And when you wake up, you will never panic about what you experienced. You will be able to say what you want to say about it. You will be able to move through this without shutting down. You will still have the emotions that you would carry from this, but you will never feel so boxed in by them that you turn off. Because you know that infinity goes in both directions. Because you know that energy is never destroyed nor created. You didn’t take this man’s life; you just changed the form of energy he is. So, now, you’ll go to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll be in the hospital, and you’ll be safe, and you’ll be able to heal.”

He kept his voice soft and measured and strong the whole time, even though he wanted to cry in relief. He stopped twisting her ring with the last word, and he watched her eyes slip shut. He squeezed her hand, and he then leaned into Grace. Grace put her arms around him and held him tight, watching as the Coast Guard got her set up for an immediate transfer to an ambulance when they got back to shore.

~*~

Jane was grateful for his ability to sleep on couches and also for the fact that Lisbon didn’t want him out in the field until he was mostly healed up. His ribs were more of a concern than his arm to her, mostly due to the amount of times he had to run away from a problem he caused. So, he’d made himself a spot in Riona’s hospital room, watching over her. She would wake up eventually, and he didn’t want her to be alone. He had gotten the doctors to let him keep Freyja with him, too, and the cat often just laid on the foot of Riona’s bed, watching the nurses and doctors, and occasionally jumping up on the couch with him for love. Grace had been half working out of the hospital, using a laptop to do the work Lisbon asked of her.

He found it funny that no one questioned why Grace was hovering as much as he was, waiting to see when Riona would wake up. It wasn’t like they even worked with Riona every case—or even every other. He’d bonded with Riona, because there were just so many late nights where the two of them were both there, and then when she finally told him about Soll and things clicked into place, but the rest of the team barely saw her.

But he knew that Grace stayed later than everyone else, especially after what happened with Craig. He knew that Riona had reached out to Grace, knew that Riona had gotten Grace to start gardening with her, knew that they were friends and not just colleagues in passing.

“How is she?” Grace asked, handing him a cup of tea and scratching Freya’s ears.

“The same. They’ve been lessening the drugs, so she should be waking up any day. They’re keeping her pain medication dosage pretty high, though. Her shoulder’s a mess.” He looked over his friend, bandages wrapped around both of her forearms, left arm in the worst looking contraption to keep her shoulder in place. “But you’ll be able to actually have that conversation you need to have.” He grinned at Grace.

“I don’t even know if she feels the same way,” Grace said. “It should wait until she’s further in recovery.”

Jane just chuckled. He wouldn’t reveal Riona’s secret—which he was amazed was still a secret, but that’s what happened when she didn’t work with them often. Riona was the easiest person to read; she didn’t have a subtle bone in her body, nor did she know how to lie. She was as clear as glass.

“Why are you laughing at me?” she asked.

Jane snorted. “I’m not laughing at you,” he replied. “I just think that it’s funny that you would want to wait. She very nearly died.” He took a sip of the tea. “Mmm. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, setting up her laptop. “I’m glad you’re staying with her.”

“Me, too. I just don’t want her to be alone.” He looked at Riona again.

She looked so small. It was disconcerting to him. She was a passionate woman, always full of life. Even the first time that he met her, when he’d been fresh out of the inpatient facility, she was just so vibrant.

“How’d you convince the hospital staff to let you keep Freyja here?” Grace asked.

“I clean up after her; Riona’s in her own room, and they’ll be sterilizing it when Riona leaves. Freyja isn’t one to wander. She guards Riona or lays with me. When the nurses or doctors come in, she stays out of the way and just watches. They agreed to try it for a day, and Freyja was a model cat, so she got to stay.”

Grace reached out for the cat, who purred and put her head in Grace’s hand. He smiled as Grace scratched Freyja’s chin.

“You know, it’s a good sign that Freyja likes you so much. It means that she accepts you as part of the family.” He took another sip of tea.

“Oh, really?” Grace sat down beside him, and she pulled her laptop close.

Freyja meowed, and the cat jumped up into Grace’s lap, settling against her. He grinned. The cat liked proving his points. He reached over with his good hand and rubbed the top of the cat’s head.

“I just want her to wake up,” Grace said quietly.

“I know,” he replied, leaning against her and resting his head on her shoulder.

~*~

He was resting. He was in the chair beside Riona’s bed, leaning back, and he held her right hand in his own right hand. Only one more week in his sling, and then he’d be free of it. He opened his eyes when he felt her shift, when her fingers clasped his.

“Riona?”

“Mmm. Patrick Jane, is that you?” She blinked over and over again, words slurred and hoarse, voice scratchy.

“Yeah,” he replied, laughing.

“Mreow!” Freyja walked up the bed and nosed at Riona’s hand.

“Kitty! Pretty Kitty!” Riona dropped his hand and cooed at Freyja.

Freyja nuzzled Riona and purred loudly.

“How about I get you some water?” he asked.

Riona nodded, rubbing Freyja’s ears. He handed Riona a cup with a little straw and sat back down. She took little sips, and she smiled at him.

“I love you,” she told him.

He smiled. “I know you do.” He caught Grace’s red hair through the window, and he beamed. “But who do you love more?”

“Grace!” she exclaimed. “Grace is passionate and dedicated and kind and warm and beautiful, and I love her so much! Is Grace coming? Do I get to see her? Oh, I hope that she’s coming. When she’s here, everything is just better.”

He watched Grace turn bright red as she overheard Riona’s grand declarations, and he snickered. Yes, he was going to have fun with a heavily medicated Riona. He winked at Grace, and she just narrowed her eyes at him.

“Riona, are you feeling okay?” she asked.

“I’m great,” Riona replied. “So much better now that you’re here, Grace! Oh, you just light up the whole room. What day is it?”

“It’s Tuesday. You’ve been in the hospital for two weeks,” he told her gently. “What do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember all of it,” Riona said, waving her good hand around. “The boat, the knives, the death. There was a lot happening. I don’t like serial killers.”

He and Grace both laughed, and he got up and offered his chair to Grace. Grace sat down beside Riona, and he settled on the couch.

“They should make a constellation for you,” Riona said. “Croi de Grace. Something that emphasizes your heart.”

“You’re sweet,” Grace replied.

“It’s true,” Riona insisted. “You should be immortalized in the stars.”

“Riona, you are truly something when drugged,” he told her.

“Well, whatever they’re giving me is fantastic.” Riona giggled. “Patrick! Patrick, come here!”

He moved over to her side and looked at her with a half-smile. “Yes, Riona?”

“Thank you. You promised me a few years ago you’d help me get my closure for Soll. You did.”

“You’re welcome.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m going to get some tea. Grace, you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” she answered.

~*~

It was another week after she first woke up, and Riona was decidedly less drugged. She didn’t really remember much of what happened. It was mostly a blur, just knowledge that Jane and Grace had been there most of the time, and that she had a very happy cat. She still wasn’t sure how Jane had conned the hospital staff into letting Freyja stay with her, but she was glad he did.

Grace came in, and Riona smiled.

“Hey,” Riona said. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

Grace smiled at her. “Well, since Jane’s back in the field, I thought I could do some work from here. And, I…I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?” Riona asked. “Did I say something really embarrassing?” She wracked her brain, trying to remember what she could have said, but the last week was so disorienting to her.

“Um, it’s only embarrassing for me if you didn’t mean it,” Grace replied.

Riona’s eyes widened as she vaguely recalled Jane asking who she loved more than him. Heat burned her face.

“You remember?” Grace asked softly.

“Very vaguely. Jane has known how I’ve felt forever. He finally brought it up to me when he sat with me after I did Rebecca’s autopsy.” Riona let out a small laugh. “I was never going to say anything; it’s hard to tell when I come across other women if they’re just friendly or if they’re actually interested in women.” She chewed her bottom lip. “But I do love you; that wasn’t just the drugs.”

“Good. That’s really good. Because I’ve spent so long trying to figure out how to tell you that I have feelings for you. That day Jane took us riding at the racetrack. That was when I started looking at you differently. I’ve always seen you as an attractive woman, but I grew up in a conservative Christian home, and I’m lucky that since coming here, I’ve figured out how to reconcile my religion with my sexuality. But it was a long, private process, and then Craig happened, and I had no idea if you would ever feel the same way, so I just kept my feelings buried, but then you were just saying all these things, and—”

“Will you just kiss me?” Riona asked, finding Grace adorable when flustered.

“Yes,” Grace replied.

Riona leaned into Grace’s hands as the other woman cupped her face, and she closed her eyes when Grace’s lips brushed hers. Grace kept it short and gentle, but it was enough. Especially for while Riona was hooked up to a bunch of machines, especially the one that was monitoring her heart rate.

“I love you, Grace,” Riona said.

“I love you, too, Riona.” Grace kissed her forehead.

“Stay?” she asked.

“Of course,” Grace replied. “I brought some crime scene photos if you want to help.” Grace pulled the file out of her bag.

“Oh, you are wonderful,” Riona mused.

~*~

Riona watched the window as she saw the CBI team coming in. They had boxes of pizza with them.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Case closed pizza,” Grace answered. “We cleared it with your doctors, and you actually noticed stuff off those photos that the forensics unit missed, so you get to share it with us.”

Riona beamed. “Thank you!”

“Thank you,” Lisbon said. “Although I miss having you at crime scenes to make Jane behave himself.”

Jane just shrugged and handed Riona a plate with some veggie pizza on it. “Extra mushrooms for you.”

“You know, Grace can find my prodding tool. You’re welcome to use it while I’m gone.” Riona took a bite of pizza. “Mmm. Thank you.”

A knock on the door interrupted Jane’s protest to being prodded, and a nurse came in with an envelope.

“Someone dropped this off for you, Dr. Gallagher,” she said.

Riona gestured to Jane, pizza still in hand. “Since my good hand is otherwise occupied, can you hand it to him?” she asked.

The nurse nodded and handed it to Jane. Riona was curious.

“Who delivered it?” she asked.

“No one knows. It just appeared at the nurse’s station. We checked the cameras already, but no one has been able to figure out when it arrived.”

Riona’s chest tightened. That sounded bad, and she knew all the agents in the room agreed, as they’d all stopped eating. The nurse left without another word, and Riona just gestured for Jane to open it up.

He did, and he immediately dropped it. Grace grabbed the paper off the bed.

“Dr. Riona Gallagher, my sincerest gratitude for your help in ridding the world of Mr. Andrews. He was not a rival, more of a friend, but he did know who I am. I would have had to do the work myself one of these days, but I had not realized that Mr. Jane dug so close to Mr. Andrews. Best wishes for your recovery.”

Riona dropped her pizza when Grace turned the letter around to reveal the Red John smiley drawn onto the otherwise typed letter in red pen.

“Get that to forensics,” Lisbon ordered. “Cho, Rigsby, go double check the cameras. Grace, stay with Riona. Jane and I need to go talk to the other nurses.”

For the first time since Riona cut Warren Andrews’ throat, she began to cry.

#written in the stars (my writing)#v: to the morgue i got it (the mentalist)#otp: see the good

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wellmeaningshutin · 7 years

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Short Story #78: Soda.

Written: 3/27/2017

An actress stands on a set that is supposed to look like a kitchen, but is missing one of the walls and makes her feel like she is a doll house. This has been her first acting job, which she only decided to take up after she needed money for rent, and a casting scout had approached her in the supermarket, talking rapidly about how inspiring it was to see her take detergent off of the shelf. As she is standing at the kitchen counter, dolled up as some sort of 50’s house wife, with a can of soda in front of her, a director gives her instructions.

“Alright, now try to hold the soda up in your right hand, no wait, your left hand. That’s it, now move it up and down. No, keep going, we need to do this to calibrate the camera. Okay now hold it up like its on display, like your some girl on a game show displaying the cash prize that the contestants just won. Now pretend like you’re drinking it, but act like you’re really downing it, as if you were at a party and there was a really drunk chick that you wanted to sleep with, and she was super willing, so you had to make sure that you were drunk enough for it to become ethical, but not drunk enough to become impotent. Okay, now crush it against your head. Wait, that’s right, its not empty. Shit. Sorry, you’re acting is just very top notch, I was completely invested in your performance and I completely forgot that the can was full.” Then he paused to clip and light a semi-flattened cigar that he had kept in his back pocket.

The actress was unsure if this was actually for a commercial, or some sort of practical joke television show, but in the end she didn’t care either way if she got paid.

Smelling the tobacco smoke, the camera man tells the director, “Woah woah woah. You can’t smoke in here, do you know how flammable film is?”

Holding up the cigar and staring at the camera man, “Isn’t that a digital camera?”

“My bad.”

Placing the cigar in his mouth, and talking in a muffled sort of way, “Alright, actress, now I need you to, actually. You,” pointing to the child who was sitting on a cooler, and the actress was unsure if they were somebody’s kid, or if this was just their job, “Bring her a soda, but bring her one of the name brand ones. Yeah, that looks nice. Okay, now, actress, pretend like you’re drinking the name brand, that’s good, wait, no you ruined it. Don’t pretend like it is good, you have to be disgusted by it. Name brand is disgusting, it is carbonated spit, it is what smokers, who have lost their sense of taste, dink just so that they can get the effects of the caffeine that is hidden inside, like a diamond ring in toiled full of piss. And when I say piss, I mean the kind that is incredibly dark, like so dark you either should call a doctor, or drink some fucking water so that it can clear up.” Taking a break to puff on his cigar, which is now burning unevenly, “Okay, yeah, yeah I can believe you think its disgusting. It’s like you are actually drinking that name brand bullshit. You got talent kid.”

The camera man walks away from his camera and goes to get a drink from the child’s cooler.

“Okay, now I need you to throw down that soda in disgust, like you just drank a can of sea water and are revolted by it, so revolted that you have to break the can, that you have to watch it become obliterated so that nobody will have to make the mistake of drinking it like you did.”

“Where do I throw it?”

The child will not let the camera man get one of the drinks, he claims, “Its against regulations.” Taking a puff from his cigar, as he contemplates the actress’s question, the director accidentally inhales too much and gets into a coughing fit, and the girl just stands there, holding up the can, patiently waiting. The camera man lifts the child off of the cooler, ignoring the cries of, “I’m being harassed by a disgruntled employee! This is a hostile work environment!” Taking all of this in, the actress wonders if she got high and forgot about it. Sometimes when she smokes pot, weird shit happens around her and she just has to kind of deal with it.

“Okay,” finally catching his breath, the director continues, “Okay, sorry about that. Throw it at the counter, right across from you.” She lobs it, but it only bounces off of the counter, lands on the floor, and the only difference in the can is the now bulging top. “Hm, that’s probably good enough, we could probably fix that in editing.” Waving his cigar in circles, dropping ashes into his lap, “Maybe we could add in some sort of explosion, or like a laser beam or something coming out of it, and then.. Maybe the.. Yeah this is it.” Leaning in close,”Okay, so put the off brand soda in its place, and after the can of what-tastes-like-gasoline explodes into a ray of lasers and light, the off brand, the nectar of the divine, will magically appear in its place, as if it was an act of God. A miracle. Do you believe in miracles?”

“No,” the actress replied, “I don’t think I do.”

Fishing out a name brand soda from the cooler, while extending his left arm to keep the child at bay, the camera man pitched in, “You really ought to believe in miracles, there are plenty of things in this world that are still amazing. Like, for example, the sunset, sun rise, morning dew, that new car smell.”

“He has a point,” Said the director.

“What is his point supposed to be? How are any of those miracles?” Questioned the actress.

“If you don’t want to open your eyes to the magic in the world, I wont do it for you. Now, pretend like you are somebody who is somewhat happy, who isn’t some sort of jaded, deadbeat hipster who thinks its cool to be so detached that she can’t understand the magic and the glory of a fucking sunrise. Look at the can in awe, as if it was your dead childhood dog who had come back to life, with a check for a million dollars in its mouth. No, you don’t look in awe enough, you have to.. Okay, pretend that its your old high school crush, and he came back to see you, still young as he was when you loved him, and he takes his pants off and his man hood goes all the way down to the floor.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Now sitting on the thrashing and screaming child, to keep him from intervening, the camera man opens his can of name brand and drinks it back, almost in one go, tilting his head back and enjoying every last drop. When he takes a break to catch his breath, he lets out a satisfied, “Ahhh.”

Noticing this, the director becomes livid and chucks his cigar at the camera man, “What the fuck are you doing? Tommy, why did you let him get a name brand soda?” Whatever the child is trying to say, it is impossible to understand, but it sure is angry. “God damn it, I pay you more than anyone here, and this is how you fucking treat me? You’re just going to turn around and bite my hand, let him know that name brand is the actual amazing brand of soda? The brand that tastes like what Scarlett Johansen’s sweat must taste like? God damn it, if you let people know that then whats the point of these commercials?” The actress still stands there, confused. “Alright, Louie, get off of him. Tommy I want you to get on the set right now, you have to be punished.”

“But,” the kid said defiantly, “I don’t want to!”

“Its in your contract you little shit, and if you don’t do that then I don’t have to pay you, then next thing you know you’re going to go back to making shoes until you grow blind. Yeah, that’s right, nothing to say now, is there? Alright, pretend girl,” pointing with his cigar, “I need you to, wait, first, Tommy, pick up the name brand soda, that’s good. Okay, girl, I need you to ball your pretty little hand into a fist, and I need you to punch that kid so hard that his nose goes into his skull.”

“What,” said the actress, as she placed her hands on her hips, a habit she had when she was livid, “Why the hell would you want me to hit a kid?” Tommy closed his eyes, anticipating the blow.

“Well, in the context of the commercial you catch him drinking that soda, what is probably what Danny DeVito’s sweat tastes like, and you have to punish him for committing an obscene act. For ruining American values by drinking that stuff, it tastes so bad that it might as well have been made in a communist country, massed produced for people who live in dirt floors and-”

“I’m not going to fucking hit a kid!”

“Don’t worry, its not real, this is all acting.”

“So I should pretend to hit him?”

“No, I want you to really knock his lights out. Give him the ol’ one-two, enough force to make sure that he has brain damage.”

“Then how is it just acting?”

“It just is! Fucking new actors think they have everything all figured out, you know what, if you won’t kill this kid then I can find somebody else who can! This city is full of doe eyed girls, just like you, who would jump at the chance to kill a child with their bare hands, just for the chance to be famous. Shit, nowadays its either that or snuff films, and I’ve worked on enough of those to know that their fame never lasts for long, and god damn government regulations-” Without waiting to hear the rest of what he had to say, not saying a word herself, the actress just walked right off of the set, out of the studio, not wanting to have anything to do with that man.

When she got in her car, still in the stereotypical house wife get up, she decided that it would be best to call the police about the whole ordeal, worried that somebody really was going to kill that kid, or that the director really had been responsible for other deaths. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hey, I just did this commercial for some weird off brand soda, and the people there insinuated that they wanted me to kill a child, and there mentions of sweatshops and-”

“Hold on one second, don’t move, we will be right there.”

“Wait, how do you-”

“Do not be afraid. We are on our way.” Click. Unsure if this was how it was supposed to go, mainly since she had never had to call 911 before, she questioned if she should wait for the police to arrive so that she could tell them everything, or if she should be gone by the time they showed up, just so she wouldn’t have to deal with the film crew again. After gawking at her hairdo in the rear view mirror, interested in how it looked since she never got a chance to see, she noticed a black sedan, with fully tinted windows, pull up behind her. Two men in black turtlenecks and jeans got out of the car, as if they were cartoon badguys that somehow stumbled into the real world, and they approached her car.

One knocked on the driver’s side window with a gun, she asked, “What’s going on?”

“We are just responding to your call,” said the man, “Please get in the car with us, let’s not make this worse than it has to be.”

Inside the sedan, waiting for her, was a man in a suit who handed her a business card that revealed he was a part of a conglomerate that was comprised of many different off brand soda companies. “Please don’t say anything until I’ve said what I had to say,” he said, “Us off brand soda folk don’t like it when women speak out of line, we like to do things the good ol’ American way. Now, you’re probably wondering why this is happening, but the answer is pretty clear.” The car started to drive, heading somewhere unspecified, “You see, we have more power than you think we do. Do you really think that off brand is just a bunch of cheap soda companies that try to make generic tasting drinks, just to cash in on the diabetic market? No, we are all working for the same people, all working together, and we have more power than it may seem. We even have control over the police.”

“Now, one of the cornerstones of a free market economy, of this capitalism that you Americans seem to love so much, is the fact that customers get to choose what succeeds and what fails. In a way, it is stronger than your voting system, because there is no electoral college to get in the way of things, its all by popular vote. Sure, it has the flaw that those with large amounts of money could tip the scales, could choose to allow business, that should have failed, to keep moving on, but that is another flaw of your voting system, it is the same ideas behind super PACs. Are you able to understand this? I’m just wondering, because I know you’re brain has a smaller capacity for thought than us men do.”

“Fuck you,” She said.

“Well, don’t get all ornery at me, that’s just facts. Don’t tell me you’re angry at the truth, that’s just the way things are. But your anger at the real world, your choosing to live in your bubble where you believe that men and women are equal, that children have rights, that gays don’t have a mental illness that is worse than schizophrenia, it all relates no my next point: advertising. See, advertising lets us tip the scales in our favor, it lets us steer the herds of consumers, so that businesses will do better to thrive. In a way, it undermines the whole system, it dissolves the popular vote, and that’s what we plan to do. Americans love to live in false realities, they like to think that the outside world is different than it actually is, and would rather believe a load of entertaining bullshit, than solid facts.”

“You may be wondering, how does this all tie together? What the hell is this guy talking about? Why is this turning me on so much right now? Well, first off, its my cologne, my deep, manly voice, and my beautiful head of hair. But on terms of tying all of this together, I’ll make it easy for you to swallow. See, we’re not from these parts, but we’ve been able to slowly establish ourselves, to worm our way in, and our goal is to delegitimize the whole free market system. We want to show America that its worse than it thinks it is, we want to show it that its just as bad as where we come from, so then our countries system, which is unfairly rigged, can go without criticism. What we aim to do is take down all of the name brand soda companies, convince the consumers that its no good, construct a false reality and a bubble, through the use of a thorough advertising campaign that makes use not only of commercials, but also sponsored content, and even some fake news, some misinformation, and we will let the consumers think we want them to think.”

“They will start to purchase our off brand sodas, and the name brand stocks will plummet until they all go out of business. When that happens, our companies will rise, but we will all be under the same umbrella, forming a monopoly, destroying the free market in this area, its just our first step on tearing down western capitalism. When everyone wakes up in the morning, and realizes that all soda is very mediocre, and that there are no alternatives, they will go to their politicians, and demand that they get rid of the free market, and instead have the government control the market, so that-”

“This is the dumbest fucking plan that I’ve ever heard.” Said the girl, “There’s no way you could talk down to me, while trying to go through with some plan to peddle shitty soft drinks in an attempt to destroy capitalism. What the fuck is-”

Pointing at her, “YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND BECAUSE YOUR BRAIN CAN NOT HANDLE THE INFORMATION!” The car stopped, the turtlenecked men got out of the car, “Your brain only thinks its dumb because you cannot understand it, you just are insecure about yourself so you project it onto others, you stupid fucking woman. Now, step out of the car.”

At first she didn’t move, but one of the men grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her from the car, and when she was finally outside she realized that they were in a landfill. The goons were aiming pistols at her, so she decided to just stand there.

“You see this massive landfill? This is our main factory,” goons began to laugh, “This is where we get our main ingredient from off brand soda. We dig up this garbage that is soaked in garbage, rotting on top of more garbage soaked garbage, and so on and so on. We mash this into a liquid, carbonate it, and pump it out en mass. And you know why we do this?”

She only looked at her feet.

“Its because the masses don’t understand quality, they only understand what we tell them. They like to have people point their fingers and say ‘this is good’ and ‘that is bad’, and before you try to argue, think about why religion is so popular? Hm? Its because people love to be told what to do, but let me tell you, religion is very real too, but its easy to lead the lambs astray. Do you know that there is a war going on? The rapture is happening any moment now, and the only way that we could allow it to happen, to unleash our lord, Satan, upon the Earth, is to destroy Western capitalism, the true holy land. So when we get rid of the righteous name brands, we get rid of everything that is preventing hell from coming to Earth.”

“Satan will rise up and enslave everyone, and people will think, ‘Oh no, who could have seen this coming? What could anyone have done to prevent this? How did this happen?’ And they’ll never realize it was all of their faults, it was because they listened to what we wanted them to listen to, they were too fucking stupid to realize that they were drinking carbonated garbage while they only wanted to fit in with everyone else. If they really wanted to be cool, if they really wanted the only type of quality soda, then they would have stuck with the delicious name brands, but its already too late, the gears are already turning, stocks and sales are already plummeting, and there’s no way that we could be stopped.”

“Wait,” she said, “If any of this nonsense is true, then why the hell are you telling me this?”

“Well, we’re very secretive, it gets really lonely, you know? Like, we’re just a bunch of losers who have nobody to talk to, so I figured that before you blew the whistle on this whole thing, and I had to kidnap you before you did that anyways, I could just get all of this off of my chest. I really needed this, its nice for met to hear all of this out loud. Alright, I’ve said my part, boys,” pointing to the gunmen, “blow her brains out.”

Before she could resist, one of the men had stepped on her back knee, which forced her to drop to the ground. As she tried to get up, the other man hit her across the head with his gun, knocking out one of her canines, and when she reeled in pain the other man put the barrel of his pistol to her temple, said a simple, “Hail Satan”, and then pulled the trigger, covering the man in the suit in her blood, brains, and skull fragments.

DON’T KILL AMERICA, DON’T SUPPORT SMALL BUSINESSES, DRINK PEPSI.

#Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #Advertising #Capitalism

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