-because the late, great John Hughes' early work informed my teenage years. Hell, I'm old...-



Breakfast Club



Afterwards, he blames the pay-per-view. Insomnia, a small town motel, and a moment of startled nostalgia. He's tired enough to be drinking coffee for breakfast, and maybe this also contributes to his random thoughts...

"So, who were you in High School?"


Jane stretches his arms along the back of the seat.

"Well - the five of us here. At breakfast."

Lisbon gives a little crack of laughter.

"Van Pelt's probably too young to remember that movie."

"I know it." Van Pelt grins suddenly. "Coach's kid. I was the athlete."

She could have been the princess. Pretty, popular, could have been on the cheer-leading squad. If she wasn't already captain of half the teams.

"I'm the only one with a record." Cho reaches over for the coffee pot. "Guess I get to be the criminal."

Cho's parents had been very keen on him getting good grades, a lot of fights about him letting them down. So much pressure to conform. It had to have an outlet somewhere.

"I guess Rigsby was an athlete, too?"

Rigsby, mouthful of bacon, can't defend himself, rolls his eyes nervously.

"Brain." Jane says. "President of the chess club."

Rigsby's father would have been happier to see him win a few more of the fights he got into, kick back a little more.

"Well, you are definitely a basket-case." Lisbon tells him.

He grins, unabashed. She reaches up and musses him.

"Actually, with your hair, maybe you'd have been the princess."

"Leave off, woman..." Laughing. "So, who are you, then? Athlete, with all that scary tackling you do?"

Lisbon, hastily banishing the unbidden thought of rolling on a wrestling mat with him, finds a naughty grin.

"I did have a very, very unsuitable boyfriend with a motorbike..."

Jane now has a picture of Lisbon the biker chick in his head. That will not help his concentration today.

Rigsby's mind has defaulted back to the memory of Grace in her biking leathers. He couldn't have even dreamt of talking to a girl like her when he started High School. She wouldn't have hung out with a chess nerd. Of course, by the time Prom came round, he had cheerleaders hung off him like crappy letterman jackets...

"High School sucked." he says, his longer reach winning out as he makes a grab for the last pancake. "Life didn't get good until college."

"I never went to college." Jane says, cheerfully.

"Why? You're a smart guy." Rigsby blurts, then looks horrified. "Sorry."

But Jane just grins at Lisbon.

"I was, what did you call me, a surf-bum?" The memory of that conversation sparks between them.

"Seriously?" Cho grins, breaks the tension. "Man, I cannot imagine you doing that."

Lisbon can. Keeps very quiet, and buries her nose in her coffee cup.

Jane causes deep horror with his description of the gruesome beach shack, and the conversation drifts to dreadful places that they have all lived in, dorms and rentals and barracks. She thinks she's got away with it, until the time comes to leave.

"So," says a voice, rather too close to her ear. "You were the princess, huh?"

Actually, Lisbon thinks, she was more the basket case at school. Trying to keep everything together, and not let anyone know how bad things were getting at home.

She looks up at him.

Jane was definitely the bad boy. Hiding his weird home-life behind a mask of spiky charm. Always the new guy, having to find himself somewhere to fit.

"I was very popular in High School." Tweaks his earlobe. "But I don't think any of my earrings would suit you."

She slides out of the booth before he can frame a response, and he follows after, grinning.

Actually, he thinks, Lisbon would probably put a ring through his nose if she thought she could get away with it.

Mind you, if he could persuade her to wear those leather jeans she mentioned, he'd probably let her.