Ronnie Masters | the MENTALIST (COMPLETE)

hotch and penelope

Half a dozen clunky plastic rings cluttered the hands of the flamboyantly dressed blonde woman who appeared at Ronnie's door the minute Jane excused himself to check on Cho.

"Hi," The woman greeted in a cautious whisper, fluttering one hand in a wave and shuffling forward on incredibly tall heels. "My name is Penelope. I'm with the FBI team who helped rescue you and I just can't believe what happened. How are you doing?"

Ronnie had no idea how to respond to the lady who appeared like a filled in page out of a complicated adult coloring book. "I'm happy to be out of there. Thanks—you and your team."

Penelope took her answer as encouragement and moved closer. "Of course. I'm so happy you're safe now. Is there anything I can get you? Water? Jello? Nurse?"

With a puzzled laugh, Ronnie shook her head. "A few months of deep sleep and I will be perfect."

"Oh, I feel ya." Penelope breathed, wide eyed. "How are you feeling right now? Can you take a few questions from some of the team?"

Ronnie worked herself up onto her pillow, sitting upright as best as she could. "Yeah, sure. Do you know if there's any way I can see my partner soon?"

Penelope lifted a hand abruptly with a small gasp, like she'd been granted the gift of a task. "I will do everything in my power to make that happen for you. Back in two shakes." And with that, golden curls flying around her shoulders, she turned and shuffled jauntily out of the room, a pink patent pleather tote bag clutched in one hand.

A soft knock sounded the moment she cleared the doorway, and Ronnie looked up into the watery blue eyes of Teresa Lisbon, followed closely behind by the tall, statuesque form of Aaron Hotchner.

Ronnie couldn't help gaping at him a little. "Mr. Hotchner. I didn't expect to see you." The tenacious prosecutor was the last person she thought she'd see in her hospital room, but the warm smile he gave her felt like friendship.

He stepped past Lisbon to extend a hand, holding hers firmly instead of just shaking it. "Please, Agent Masters, call me Hotch. I'm the lead agent of the FBI's BAU, and we were given your case a few weeks ago."

"Ronnie, please." The younger woman corrected. "I heard you'd left the legal field. I didn't know you'd transferred to criminal psychology."

He released her hand but kept smiling gently at her. "Much like yourself, I was struck by a motivating urge to get in front of some of the crime out there."

She couldn't argue that.

"Masters," Lisbon stepped up to Ronnie's bedside, staring down at her with a difficult expression. Her chin quivered at the sight of her youngest agent lying handicapped at the hands of one of her childhood predators. "Are you okay?" The boss asked softly.

Her caring tone all but brought tears to Ronnie's eyes, and she nodded quickly, swallowing the sudden thickness in her throat. "I'm okay."

Lisbon flashed a quick smile, but it was soon overcome by the pity in her eyes. "Anything you need, Ronnie," she said almost forcefully. "Just let us know, alright?"

Ronnie sniffled, emotion washing over her heavily, but she forced herself to collect her composure. Turning back to Hotch, she attempted a smile. "Penelope said there would be questions."

The older man nodded kindly. "A few, if you're up for it."

"Go for it. I don't know how helpful I'll be." Her invented memories made for an unreliable perspective of the transpired events, but that was to be expected of victims of such trauma, for one reason or another.

It wouldn't be much of an issue.

"We'll start with most recent events. Do you remember our arrival on the scene?"

Ronnie's mind flashed back to her conversation with Cho about fruit and popcorn seasoning.

The voice that shouted the arrival of the FBI—a voice she then realized belonged to Hotch.

Gunfire ensued, and she assumed the guards outside of the stall were dispatched of. "Was Arlov taken into custody?"

"Unfortunately, he wasn't at the scene at all. We are tracking his whereabouts as we speak."

The stall door had rocked open on its squeaky hinges, and three men entered, followed by two women. The women, one blonde and one brunette—

"Agents Jareau and Prentiss."

—had rushed towards Ronnie where she lay exposed on the table. Agent Jareau had peeled off her FBI jacket and covered Ronnie with it while Agent Prentiss had released her from her bindings.

Two of the men, one older with graying hair and one younger—

"Agents Rossi and Reid."

—made a beeline to Cho and worked quickly to free him. Hotch's voice could be heard calling for medical teams and assistance, but he hadn't entered the frame of Ronnie's visual memory yet.

Agent Jareau had called for a man named Morgan as she surveyed Ronnie's injuries as Agent Prentiss determined that they couldn't expect Ronnie to walk.

A man with dark skin and powerful build approached, wrapped Ronnie in a second jacket, and lifted her off the table to deposit her onto a stretcher.

"Agent Morgan," Hotch supplied, though she had guessed.

"My team was outside the building. Agent Lisbon rode in my ambulance. That's the last thing I remember."

Hotch seemed reassured by her recounting of events, as though the integrity of her mental faculty had been an object of concern. She spent the next half hour describing to him everything she accurately remembered of her time in Arlov's custody—leaving out the specifics of her mental hiding place.

By the time she finished, she'd lost the battle against her tears and came to let them drip from her jaw, down her throat, until Hotch passed her a tissue. "That's enough, Ronnie," he said carefully. "You've been more than helpful. You should rest now."

Wiping at her face, Ronnie nodded acquiescently and wished she could run home and hide in her bed until the whole nightmare faded. "Thank you. And your team. I thought he was going to kill my partner."

Hotch smiled again, and handed her another tissue. "You worked some pretty good leverage. We were lucky you bought us that time."

He and Lisbon had no sooner concluded their interview than Penelope came knocking on her door again. "I come bearing good news." She scooted past Hotch and grinned down at Ronnie. "Since you're both out of ICU, the nurses have agreed to let you and your partner share a room, if you'd like."

Ronnie's instinct to accept the offer immediately was dampened only by her memory of her last moments with Cho. He'd seen her naked, abused body. His eyes had viewed parts of her that she'd never let him see, in a situation that she'd never wanted him to witness.

Maybe he didn't want to share a room with her. Maybe he didn't want to be her partner. Maybe he wanted to separate himself from the forced intimacy of seeing his partner like that and start fresh with fully intact professional boundaries with someone else.

Maybe Rigsby.

"Only if Cho agrees. He's a loner, he probably wants his own room." Ronnie responded with an awkward laugh.

She caught Lisbon's sympathetic expression.

But Penelope's eyes were gleaming. "It was his idea."