A/N: So, I'm back. Sorry this took so long but I had to finish law school and now I'm articling. Articling is pretty much a 24/7 gig. I appreciate how much people like this story, but please people, no more nasty emails or reviews about how I'm the scum of the earth for not updating. I have only a few hours of free time a week these days. I write because it makes me happy, and the awesome part is it seems to make you readers happy too. But, if not writing and going and doing something else would make me happier during my brief moments of respite I'm going to go do the other thing. I will try to update in a more timely fashion, but I can't apologize for my life being too busy at times to write fanfic. We ain't getting paid here folks. And related to that…

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Mentalist or Criminal Minds.

I must've died and gone to heaven
Cos it was a quarter past eleven
On a Saturday in 1999
Right across from where I'm standing
On the dance floor she was landing
It was clear that she was from another time
Like some baby Barbarella
With the stars as her umbrella
She asked me if I'd like to magnetise
Do I have to go star-trekking
Cos it's you I should be checking
So she lazer beamed me with her cosmic eyes

She's just a cosmic girl
From another galaxy
My heart's at zero gravity
She's from a cosmic world
Putting me in ecstasy
Transmitting on my frequency
She's cosmic

-Jamiroquai "Cosmic Girl"

EL SCORCHO

Chapter 7: Cosmic Girl

September 2012…the Neurological Rehab Center in St. John's Hospital, Santa Monica

"Hello. Grace. How. Are. You?"

Grace Van Pelt smiled at the blonde man in the hospital bed. Grace knew Patrick Jane couldn't see her smile, but he seemed to be able to guess her every move and reaction, so she assumed he knew she was beaming.

"I'm fine," Grace answered. "And you need to stop playing with that thing," she pointed at the speak- and-spell toy in his hands. "You haven't needed it for months".

Jane smiled in her general direction before returning to the machine in his hands. "I know but it's just so much fun. It makes me sound like Stephen Hawking. I pretend he's saying all the things people assume a genius would never say. Listen."

Jane began to type furiously on the speak-and-spell. Grace watched with arched eyebrows.

"I-am-role-ing-with-my-home-ies. Lit-ter-al-ly-role-ing."

"Big-wheels-in-the-hiz-ouse."

"Jane! That's awful! You're making fun of the disabled! And Stephen Hawking would never say any of those things!" Grace made for his bedside to retrieve the speak-and-spell.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jane chided, while using his body to protect his toy. Grace had given up trying to figure out how this man could so easily predict her thoughts and actions. "First, I'm disabled so it doesn't count as making fun. Second, I know for a fact Dr. Stephen Hawking, renowned physicist, frequents a swingers sex club in Devore, California. So, he's definitely said some of those things…or something like it."

Grace felt like her whole reality was falling apart. "Stephen Hawking doesn't go to sex clubs. Take it back!"

She was now gripping the rail on left side of Jane's bed and staring furiously into his useless eyes. She'd always believed you could spot a lie in a person's eyes. Of course, Jane was the first blind person Grace had ever known so she wasn't sure the rule still applied this case.

Jane shrugged in a non-committal way. "Hey, all I'm saying is I've got a lot of friends in low-I mean low-places, and word from the gutter is the good doctor is pretty kinky. Sorry Girl Genius."

Grace rolled her eyes at Jane's nickname for her.

"Don't do that," Jane said. "Don't roll your eyes at me."

"How did you know? I mean, I didn't!"

"Yes you did. I can hear your eyeballs rolling from here."

"I rolled my eyes because I'm not a genius. You just made that up."

"No I didn't. Know how I know? It takes one to know one."

Grace was brilliant, just not in the same way Patrick was. Grace was as good with computers and technology as Patrick was bad with computers and technology. So, Grace was really, really, really, good with computers. She'd taught herself Linux at 13, and left Utah at 18 to major in computer science at the University of California, Berkeley.

Things at Berkeley had been great until Grace entered her final year of university. The lapsed Mormon in her got tired of being a nerdy virgin, and Grace decided to let her hair down, literally. She'd combed out her French braid, bought some stylish clothes (the kind her mother had always called "tarty"), and learned how to apply eyeliner. Grace found out that with very little effort she was able to pass as one of the beautiful people.

The boys on campus flocked to her, and she was very receptive to their attentions. However, while she enjoyed their physical company, none of them touched her heart until she met Craig O'Laughlin. Craig was a graduate student in computer science, and also a hacker extraordinaire. He ran a rag tag band of followers that included fellow computer science students, and people all over the world he had never met in person, but had done some serious hacking with. The hackers called themselves Red John.

Craig was a legend in the computer science faculty at Berkeley and Grace was incredibly flattered when he started to pay her particular attention. Craig in turn decided he would be the first to hack the beautiful red head's heart. It wasn't a difficult job and young Craig also became the first to hack her virginity.

Craig knew Grace was a genius with a computer, but he also sensed an untapped need for adventure in her. He decided to tell Grace about Red John and recruit her into the club. Grace was hesitant at first, but quickly rose to the challenge. Craig promised it was just harmless fun. Red John didn't want to do any damage, the members just wanted to test their abilities. They didn't harm networks and databases they broke into. The thrill lay entirely in jumping the online fences, not messing up the yard.

Still, jumping the fences could amount to a federal crime and unbeknownst to Craig and Grace they were being watched. Three weeks before graduation the FBI stormed the warehouse Craig and the other Berkeley students had been using to operate Red John. Grace was arrested in the raid and found herself handcuffed to a desk in the FBI's San Francisco field office.

Grace had been sitting in the small beige office trying to figure out how her life had gone so spectacularly off the rails when she heard a soft knock on the door. A federal agent stepped in and introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Grace gave Agent Hotchner the once over and decided that the man was born to be a federal agent of some sort. From his regulation G-man haircut, to his wing tips Aaron Hotchner screamed secret agent man. His brown eyes looked kind however, and Grace could tell she'd met a twin compassionate soul. It didn't make her any less afraid to be shackled in an FBI office, but it did make her hopeful that her life wasn't over just yet.

"Hello Ms. Van Pelt," Agent Hotchner said as he took a seat across from her. "May I call you Grace?"

"Yes sir," Grace replied while looking down at the table.

"Agent Hotchner is fine. Grace, do you know why you're here today?"

"Yes, sir…I mean Agent Hotchner," Grace said without raising her eyes.

"Can you tell me a bit about it?" Agent Hotchner asked while pulling a file folder from his brief case.

Grace looked up at the Agent, her face full of remorse. "I, we, I mean, all of us in Red John are hackers."

Agent Hotchner skimmed some of the documents in the file before looking back at her. "Grace you were a model student at Berkeley. You have a full scholarship, and you're just one semester away from graduation. What possessed you to become involved with Red John?"

"Craig asked me to, and he said it wasn't that bad. I mean, I know hacking is technically wrong, but we didn't want to damage anything we just wanted to see if we could get through different networks' defences. We weren't going to do anything with our knowledge or give it to bad people. We're all students. We just wanted to see what we could do."

Grace let out a long sigh after she finished spilling her guts to Agent Hotchner.

"I just wanted to see how good I was? Do you understand?"

Agent Hotchner nodded and closed the file folder. "I understand alright Grace. I understand that you're a smart girl with computers, but you're not so smart at life. Craig didn't tell you about all of Red John's activities did he?"

"What do you mean?" Grace asked.

"Craig and his buddies have been hacking FBI databases and identifying agents deep undercover. He's been selling his burn list to mobsters, drug lords, and terrorists."

"What? No, he wouldn't! That's not the point of Red John! We're like Anonymous! We help!"

"You help?" Agent Hotchner asked. "How do you help?"

Grace knew saying anything further could get her in more trouble, but what this man was accusing Craig of was unfathomable. "Last week we hacked a pedophile ring in the Dark Net. They're selling kids online, and making kiddie porn! They're regular people hiding in broad daylight that do awful things on parts of the Net you probably don't even know exist. Red John found them. We want to help you."

Aaron Hotchner cringed internally and resisted the urge to run a hand through his short brown hair. It wouldn't do to drop his poker face now. Still, he sincerely felt bad for Grace Van Pelt. She was clearly unaware of her lover's true nature, and she'd just implicated herself in a federal crime.

"Grace, you didn't hack a pedophile ring last week. You hacked a fake ring created by the FBI. Believe it or not we have staff who are pretty good with computers, and they're well versed in the Dark Net. I'm part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit at the FBI. We hunt serial killers. The ring you infiltrated was part of a sting to capture a man we believe is a sadistic pedophile who has murdered 14 children across America."

"Oh my God!" Grace wanted to throw up.

"Craig didn't want to help us Grace," Agent Hotchner said. "He wanted to identify our code signature so that he could market it to the people we are chasing. That way they will know when they're talking to us in the Dark Net and not another sicko."

Grace started to cry. She couldn't help it, and she hated it. Tears always threatened to fall when she got overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed out. "I didn't know, I didn't know."

"I believe you Grace. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do for you besides recommend to the federal prosecutor that he go easy on you. I believe you meant no harm, and that you were ignorant of Craig's real plans, but you still hacked into protected government computers. Craig is facing up to thirty-five years in prison."

Grace let out a howl. Thirty-five years in prison? She couldn't do a day in prison let alone thirty-five years.

Agent Hotchner reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and drew it out. "Grace? May I?" he asked while indicating towards her face.

"Mmmmhmmm," Grace managed through her tears.

Once Agent Hotchner had cleaned her up sufficiently, and helped her blow her nose like she was two he was ready to chat again.

"Grace, I think I can help you."

"How?"

"We need to know how Red John hacked us. Craig isn't talking. Or rather, he's insisting on a deal for the information. Can you show us how the hack was done, and how to prevent it in the future?"

"You wanna give me Craig's deal?" Grace asked.

"Craig doesn't have a deal. Craig wants a deal. There's a difference. The federal prosecutor would rather be run over than give Craig a deal. But, I think he could be persuaded in your case."

"You'd do that for me?"

"If you're capable of helping us?"

"I am, I can, I will!"

"Alright, let me go talk with the prosecutor. In the meantime how about I get someone in here to remove those handcuffs and maybe bring you some tea and tissues?"

"That would be nice," Grace said and sniffed.

"What kind of tea?" Agent Hotchner asked.

"I have a choice?"

"You have a choice of whatever Starbucks offers. I have a junior agent by the name of Spencer that will take any excuse for a coffee run."

"Peppermint, please."

"Peppermint it is," Agent Hotchner replied as he went for the door.

In the end Grace had gotten away with three years' probation, community service, and a massive fine. The fine was so massive that it ate up the remainder of her scholarship once she'd paid it off in full. This meant she couldn't finish school. Luckily, as part of her community service she'd gotten a job at St. John's helping patients use their adaptive and assistive technology for rehabilitation. It had started as a volunteer position, but she'd been there ten years now and had made it to payroll.

Sometimes Grace regretted not finishing university. She wondered if she had squandered all her potential. But, she enjoyed the work she did helping patients like Patrick, and she doubted anyone in Silicon Valley would have employed her after her conviction even if she had graduated.

"Well, Mr. Genius," Grace said to Jane. "Are you ready to do what this fellow genius says and get on with your rehab work for the day?"

"I am," Jane replied. "But, first there's something I want to discuss with you. It's kind of private. Come a little closer okay?"

"Oh. Okay." Grace bent her body of Patrick's bed so he could whisper in her ear.

"Have you noticed anything weird going on around the rehab and palliative unit?" Patrick asked.

"Not really," Grace replied. "Have you?"

"Definitely. There's a lot of people dying don't you think?"

Grace leaned back and made a face. "Patrick this is the rehab and palliative unit. The people that come in for palliative care come in to die."

"Yeah, but I think a number of them are going before their time."

"What do you mean?" Grace asked. "How can you tell?"

"I've got a lot of time on my hands in here Grace, and an overactive brain-

"An overactive brain that's only running on seventy-five percent." She countered.

"Me at seventy-five percent is better than nine-tenths the world on a hundred percent Grace."

Jane indicated to her to come closer again. "I'm telling you Grace, even without my sight I see patterns, I know people, and I'm telling you there's an angel of death on this unit."

Grace's eyes became saucers. "You think one of the doctor's is killing patients?"

"Doctor, nurse, orderly, someone off the street, I don't know that detail yet, but I know it's happening."

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes, but I need help. I need data. You'll have to get it for me. I've made a list in my head of possible victims and I need you to get their records."

"Jane I don't have access to that kind of stuff! I'm just a rehab assistant."

Jane smiled a crooked smile that Grace had learned meant he was already two steps ahead of her.

"Liar!" he crowed. "I may not know how to do all the fancy things you can with a computer Girl Genius, but I know how to Google."

This much was true. Grace had outfitted Jane with an IPad that was specially adapted for the sight impaired. He could surf the Net just like anyone else, except his IPad read to him.

"I know who you are Grace, and I know what you did," Jane said.

Grace's face became thunder. "Then you know how risky it would be for me to hack into the hospital data banks. I could lose my job and my freedom Patrick."

"Grace, people are being murdered! Think of this as your way of making up for the past!"

"Daddy!"

Patrick and Grace's argument was cut short by the appearance of Charlotte Jane at the door to her father's room.

"Sweet pea!" Jane called to his fourteen year old daughter.

"Are you done with Grace yet?" Charlotte asked. She hung back by the door. "I don't want to interrupt your rehab stuff."

Grace saw her escape route. "That's okay Char-bear," she said walking towards the teen. "We never really got started today anyway. You spend some time with your dad."

Grace picked up her knapsack. "See you tomorrow Patrick."

"Don't forget what I said Grace! This is your chance!" Jane called from his bed.

Her chance indeed, Grace scoffed at the thought. It was more like a chance to maybe wind up in a federal prison. Besides, how could Patrick possibly know that people were being murdered in the hospital? He was probably just imagining it.

Yes, imagining it.

But then, he had recovered from a catastrophic brain injury so quickly it mystified his doctors, and he seemed to have a sixth sense. He'd made his living as a fake psychic after all. Would someone like Patrick really get it so wrong?

Grace warred with herself for the entire walk back to her office. She couldn't get involved in Patrick's crazy witch hunt, but she couldn't ignore it either. If something untoward was going on it wasn't Patrick's job to investigate it. That was a job for the police. Grace sat at her desk and opened up her browser. Patrick wasn't the only one who could Google, and in a few seconds she had the number she needed.

"Hello, Los Angeles Police Department Homicide Unit," a voice drawled down the line at Grace. "How can I direct your call?"

"Um, I'm not sure, it's just I need to report a murder, maybe more than one murder."

"Maybe more than one murder? Ma'am is this some kind of joke?"

"No, no, I don't know what's happened for certain, but it's not a joke. I would never joke about people dying."

"Alright then, hold on, I'll get a detective for you," the receptionist said and put her on hold.

Grace waited anxiously as the line clicked intermittently to indicate she was still on hold. Suddenly, she heard a voice.

"Detective Wayne Rigsby here. How can I help you Ma'am?"

Grace hesitated for only a beat. "Detective Rigsby, I think I have to report some murders."