15AN: This is just a little scene we didn't see back in Season 1 at Lisbon's birthday. I loved Jane and Lisbon's friendship back then and the hints to the possibility of something more, so this is written in the same spirit, and I love thinking of how they appear to others, too, characters who don't know them. I hope you enjoy it. This was written back in January and is dedicated to the memory of a dear friend we've since lost. For E.M., you are so missed and so loved by so many. X
"So, let me be clear. You want this pony delivered. Delivered to the CBI's Head Office. And you're sure I have that down right?"
"You have it just right, that's it exactly." The voice rings clear, jolly on the other side, as though he, Mick, almost thirty years a delivery man, is silly to be double checking what sounds to the voice like it must be the most obvious thing in the world.
"Okay, good." Mick pauses. "And will the pony be, eh- residing there for long?"
"Oh I'd say a good half hour, give or take," the voice ponders sagely. "An hour at the most."
"I see. Alright. Well I've been asked to remind you that no one over the age of ten may be seated on the pony, but I'm doubting that's relevant here. C.B.I. - I presume then that you're not ordering the pony for your daughter, sir?"
"No." The man's voice is quieter suddenly. "No, I'm not."
"I suppose that's mostly the target audience," Mick says cheerfully, trying to cover his tracks. "Fathers ordering them for their little girls."
"Good," the voice says, slightly hollow now. "That's what I'm counting on."
"And after this hour," Mick begins carefully, readjusting his hold on the telephone receiver wedged between his shoulder and his chin, " – after this hour, give or take, what's the plan then, Mr. - Jane, is it?"
"That's it exactly," the man repeats, sounding more confident again. Mick begins to wonder whether he might be a little mad.
"Oh it's definitely mad - quite the trick," Mr. Jane says as if he has read Mick's mind, and he starts; "but it's my plan that the pony will have a new home with the lady for whom she has been acquired, if you will – or if she will, that is. That would be in an ideal world, you see. But if push comes to shove – which I daresay it might with a pony –" Mr. Jane seems to chuckle at his own joke as Mick comes to terms with the fact he's losing control of his customer – "then I'm sure we'll be able to find somewhere nice in the country for her."
"For the pony or the lady?" Mick asks, giving up wholly on sense and beginning to play along with this strange man.
"Touché, sir," says Mr. Jane brightly. "I couldn't possibly dare to answer that. For my own wellbeing, you understand."
"Of course, sir. May I ask what time would best suit your lady for her delivery?"
There is a pause, just a fraction break where Mick hears Mr. Jane inhale, slightly.
"My lady?" he repeats quietly, more demurely than Mick has heard him speak thus far in their short exchange.
"Jane! There you are. Where on earth have you been?" Mick hears this second voice, a woman's this time, call out before Mr. Jane has replied to him properly.
"Evidently I'm right here, Lisbon." Mick strains to hear Mr. Jane's reply without realising or considering why.
"Well I've been looking all over." The voice is somehow simultaneously both strong and weary and Mick tries to imagine the face it belongs to. "Van Pelt got back to me with the brother-in-law's address. We'll head there in ten, okay? Don't hold us up."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Lisbon."
Mick hears what must be this Lisbon's footsteps fade to nothing as he realises he has the phone pressed tightly to his ear. He withdraws it slightly.
"Sorry about that," Mr. Jane says, his voice becoming stronger once more as Mick imagines the phone being lifted back to his customer's ear. "The lady herself, see; couldn't be raising any suspicions, you know."
"Of course. So, time?"
"Well, we're heading out now as you heard. We should be away a while, I'll make sure of that. It would be great if she was here before we got back. Right into the office, okay? Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon is the name."
"Lisbon, comma, Teresa," Mick says, scribbling it down on the notepad. "Sounds good."
"Well that's what I said," Mr. Jane says.
"Huh?"
"Nothing, sorry. So when you get here, make sure and ask for the agents of the Serious Crimes Unit. Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt. They'll give you a hand and sort you out."
"And you're sure this isn't some kind of practical joke."
The man laughs. "I'm sure. Now these three agents. They might not be too happy, but just give them my name and remind them of a few lost bets over the years. They'll be more than happy to help you then, I'm sure."
Mick chuckles, listing the agents' names.
"Thanks very much, - sir," Mr. Jane says then.
"It's Mick. And no problem at all. We really do get all sorts."
"Oh, I'm sure-"
The woman's voice again. "Jane! Get a move on, will you please?!"
"Coming, dear. Don't you know good things come to those who wait?" he hears Mr. Jane call back. Then he's back to talking quietly to him. "And she really does have something coming, eh, Mick?"
"Indeed, she does, sir. If that's all?"
"That's all. Thanks, Mick. I'll be in touch."
Mick hangs up, and looks down at the scrawls on his notepad.
Mr Patrick Jane.
Delivery to C.B.I. Main Building – Pony complete with birthday greeting cloak x 1.
Agent Lisbon. Teresa.
SERIOUS CRIMES UNIT - Cho. Rigsby. Van Pelt.
He draws a line under the order and walks out to the horse trailer, loaded and waiting and already attached to the van. He rises up to the viewing panel and looks at his goods to be delivered. The pony's big brown eyes look back at him.
"A birthday pony," he says to himself, and the pony's ears perk up a little. "Well, I never."
