Ronnie Masters | the MENTALIST (COMPLETE)

BLOODSHOT : pt III

Edited.

"The guard from the prison still isn't making any waves. No movement from his bank account and no hits on his passport or ID." Van Pelt announced from her desk some time that evening, shooting Ronnie a sympathetic look. They'd hoped to have some kind of clue by now. "Still no leads on where he might be."

Lisbon nodded to Cho. "Cho and I will take the warrant and go to his last known address, see if we see anything. Rigsby, Van Pelt, stay here and make sure Jane and Masters don't do anything stupid." She rose to her feet, snatching up her jacket and headed for the parking lot.

Jane had spent the afternoon griping about his condition, being as irritating as humanly possible and then tossing out half hearted apologies and claiming that the blindness was making him mean. Lisbon was more than ready to spend some time away from him.

Cho glanced down at Ronnie, who still lay curled up Jane's couch. Her head was trapped between the cushions of the arm and the back, where she'd claimed that the pressure on either side made the pounding stop. Her knees were raised, legs folded to make room on the sofa for Jane.

Jane, who was sitting on the far end with one hand clutching his walking stick and the other resting on the tops of Ronnie's socked feet. Every so often the girl kicked his hand off, only for it to come back to rest petulantly right where it had been.

Eyes closed, Ronnie reached out a hand and let it hang emptily in the air. She regretted leaving the hospital more and more with every passing second, wallowing in the absence of ready painkillers and consistent hydration. At least while she was there she could have nurses at her side instantly and all the jello she wanted. "Cho."

If she begged him to drop her by the hospital on his way through town, would he?

Honestly, it was a wonder he hadn't dragged her back there already.

He grabbed her wrist before she could smack his hip unintentionally. "You need anything before I go?" His eyes traveled her weary form once. There was no blood showing through her shirt, so he was confident that the stitches in her shoulder were holding up, and she hadn't puked or anything, so she seemed relatively fine.

Apart from appearing a little green, that is.

"That's such a sweet offer, Cho." The mentalist butted in suddenly. "You're so doting."

He shot a quick look at Jane and found the blind man smirking with great amusement at the latest episode of the Cho and Ronnie Show.

Ronnie paid the older man no mind. "Can you bring me a pack of Gatorade and one of those microwaveable heating pads? I don't have anything for this headache at my hotel and I'm not allowed to drive myself to the store." She pried one eye open, squinting against the overhead lights, and shot him a pouting look. "I'll give you cash for it." She'd also be asking him to drive her back to her hotel at the end of the night, since she couldn't drive herself there, either.

That favor would come later.

She'd learned from experience that he didn't like feeling like the errand boy, so she was better served by making her requests gradually over a long stretch of time.

"No problem." Cho let her hand go and tugged his jacket on. "Keep your money. We'll be back in a few hours."

She threw up a thumbs-up and let her eyes shut again, vaguely hearing Jane ask someone to make him a cup of tea as Cho followed after Lisbon. There was something routinely wrong with Cho being sent out on an assignment without her. She always went with him, no matter what the task was—up to and including pretending to be his wife at a luxurious country club.