A/N: Even wearing a vest, a bullet hurts. The results can be totally unpredictable. A follow up to "When you are the target".
Bad day at UC Davis Medical Center
The Morning After
Patrick Jane hurt. Mostly his head, but his right side was on fire, too. He groaned, and opened his eyes, realizing that his vision was fuzzy and every thing seemed white. Oh, the white was the ceiling, he realized. He squinted. It didn't help much. His head still hurt and the ceiling was still fuzzy. "Where am I," he said faintly aloud, "and why do I hurt?"
He felt a cool hand on his forehead. "You're in the hospital. Even though you were wearing the vest, and only got a broken rib, there, you had a concussion. When we got back to the office, you passed out and hit your head again!"
He shifted so he could almost focus on the dare haired lady, with her very comforting hand on his forehead. He looked confused. "Yes, a vest." He paused. "I think I always wear a vest. It sort of finishes an outfit, don't you think?"
Lisbon looked at him and frowned. "No, I mean your bullet proof vest, Jane. The one that kept you alive."
Patrick stared at her, blankly, for a few moments. "May I ask you a personal question?"
Lisbon gave a crooked grin. "You never needed permission before, so go for it."
He looked up at her. "Who are you?" He glanced down at his well taped ribs. "And why was I wearing a bullet proof vest?"
He relaxed, seemingly exhausted from the effort of asking the questions.
Lisbon's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened, concern showing in her entire demeanor. She was well versed in trauma injuries and immediately realized that Patrick was suffering from some sort of amnesia. The two blows to the head had taken their toll, and maybe even the psychological impact of being shot was contributing to a PTSD type suppression reaction. For all this man had gone through, it would not be a wonder.
They mutely stared at each other for a few moments when Patrick broke the silence. "If you're my wife, I'm sorry that I don't remember your name, but honestly, I don't remember my name either." He frowned. I know some things, but I really can't remember anything before waking up, here. Does that make sense?"
Lisbon gave a weak grin. "No, I'm not your wife, though sometimes, I..." she took a deep breath, not realizing that a tear had just trickled down her cheek. "And that does make sense. I'm guessing that you have traumatic amnesia, and that usually resolves itself in a short time. Odds are you'll be the old Patrick Jane in no time, but let's get a doctor in here to make sure."
She started to turn to go to the nurse's station, but Patrick grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Would you mind staying for a bit. My health isn't going to change, and I don't feel like being alone."
She turned and realized that he more resembled a lost puppy than anyone she'd ever seen. The so usually confident Patrick Jane couldn't' even remember his own name and he was obviously distressed by the situation. She hesitated.
"Please," he said.
"Odd," she thought, "Patrick Jane saying please." She put her palm on his cheek. "I guess you're right. No big rush." She glanced at her watch. "The office is quiet today. I can take some time off."
He smiled, closed his eyes, and put his hand over hers, squeezing it gently. His breathing pattern slowed and he relaxed. She pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. She took his relaxed hand, put it on his chest and covered it with her own. She leaned forward and put her head on his chest. He was surprisingly muscular. He had been working out. She drifted for sometime and then sat up, carefully removing his hand from the nape of her neck, yawning.
She grimaced, wondering if he really was going to have a quick recovery. He slammed his head twice, and that couldn't be good. "He thought I might be his wife," she mused, and smiled. "I guess there could be worse things. He does have his charm."
Her face softened and she smiled. "Worse things could happen." She shook her head. "I'm glad he can't read minds. He'd never let me live this down." She realized his eyes were open and he'd been staring at her face, almost studying it. She felt a twinge of apprehension. "No," she told herself, he cannot read minds." She wondered how much time had passed. She'd totally lost track of time.
"How are you doing," she asked, glancing at her watch. "I think we dozed off. Two hours have passed."
"I'm doing OK. I was just wishing that I could read minds. Your face was a study of emotions." He smiled. "Fascinating!"
Lisbon's phone rang. She grimaced and answered it, "Lisbon." She listened. "Yes, I fell asleep. As long as everything is quiet, I'm going to stay here." She nodded at the response. "He's doing fine, but clearly some rest is in order. That crack on the head must have addled his brains." She smiled as the response. "OK, Rigsby, you've got the helm. I'll see you guys, tomorrow." She listened, and then said, "Hold on." Turning to Jane, she asked, "Do you feel like company?"
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I really do hurt, and like this, I wouldn't know them. Frankly, I don't want to be seen this way, so I'll pass, if that's OK."
"No, he's not really up for it, now, but he appreciates the offer," Lisbon replied. Smiling, she said, "Ok. Tomorrow," and flipped the phone shut.
Patrick smiled. "Thank for the out, T... T... You know you never did tell me your name," he said.
Lisbon leaned forward, staring into his eyes. "You almost had it, Jane. You almost had it." She paused, watching is pupils dilate. "I could fall into those eyes, if I'm not careful," she thought. She straightened. "My name is Teresa."
"Teresa," he smiled. "Teresa. It's like a melody. Suits you. And as I was saying, thanks for the out. I really don't feel like company." He stopped and smiled, gazing into her eyes. "Except for you, of course."
Lisbon put her cell phone back into her pocket and sat, heavily, down into the chair. Her knees felt week and her breathing was heavier and deeper. Putting on a smile she said, "Well, unless they kick me out of here, you're more or less stuck with me. Since I have the day off, now, I'm all yours." Her breath caught. "I hope he doesn't take that the wrong way," she thought with a twinge of panic.
Patrick grinned his old infectious grin. "I think I can live with that. I've never had anyone that was all mine, I don't think." He smiled. Lisbon felt a rush if irritation, but then he continued, "Actually, I'm not sure if I've had anyone before. When I try to remember, it's like a cold, dark room."
She felt a rush of overwhelming sadness. She knew that when he remembered, what he'd have to remember. Maybe forgetting all that pain would be better than remembering it. If he knew how cold and dark that room really was, he might agree.
"What got into you, all of a sudden," he asked. "You look like you're about to cry."
Lisbon wiped her eyes. "Just something in my eye," she lied.
Jane's expression showed he did not believe her, but he said nothing. "We work together?"
Lisbon nodded, glad for the change in subject. "Yes, we do." She paused, wondering what to say next.
"I see," he said. "What do we do that I go around wearing bullet proof vests and getting shot."
Lisbon felt relief. That one she could answer. "You're a consultant for CBI." At the look of confusion on his face, she elucidated, "California Bureau of Investigation. There are times, like today," she smiled, "when it can get a little dicey."
He nodded, careful to not move too fast. "So, if I'm a consultant, what's your position.?"
"I'm the section head," she said. "I try to keep you from getting killed and smoothing all the feathers your ruffle."
"I guess that makes you my boss, then." He winked. "I work under you?"
Lisbon's lack of sleep and the tension conspired to allow the suggested image to form in her mind. She tried to suppress the risque image that formed, but the half smile formed before she realized it. Jane squeezed her hand. "It you got the same image I did, we're both going to hell," he quipped.
Lisbon stuck out her tongue, just a bit, at him and then replied, "At least I'll have company."
"I told you that when I try to remember, it's like looking into a cold, dark room. What I didn't say was that in that cold, dark room there is a spot of warm light." He smiled. "I think that warm light is you, Teresa." He said her name like he was trying it on. Sort of trying it on to see if it fit.
Lisbon sighed and leaned forward, in the chair, to kiss him on the forehead. With a deft move of his left hand he redirected her trajectory an leaned up, so that their lips met. The electricity that she felt almost paralyzed her, then she gladly returned the kiss.
"Ah," she heard a voice say, "I'd tell you two to get a room, but you're already in one." They broke the kiss and Lisbon turned to face a smiling doctor, looking every bit as flustered and disheveled as she felt. The doctor winked at her and turned to Jane. "How's the headache, today?
oOOo
Comment: What do you guys think? Worth continuing?