My first Mentalist fanfiction effort. I think I got the rating right, but I'd still like to know how to give it more than two categories, (i.e. angst/tragedy/friendship). And I'm still ironing out how to divvy up the chapters.

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The Call that Changes Everything

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The Mentalist

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"How is she? Has she woken up yet?" the red-head asked anxiously as she reentered the office, damp dish-towel in hand. She quickly handed it to the tense blonde man sitting at an angle on the large white couch.

"No," Jane answered grimly, shaking his head. Releasing his grip on Lisbon's wrist only long enough to gratefully take the wetted-down cotton from her, he folded it length-wise a few times into a roll, then leaned forward and carefully placed it over the forehead of the unconscious brunette lying on the couch. As he leaned back, his fingers reclaimed their firm, but gentle grip on her wrist, retaking their place below the fingers of his other hand, which remained snugly interlaced with hers.

"How long has she been out?" Grace asked quietly, her voice shaking slightly despite her efforts to stay calm. The entire situation was just too…unnerving, frightening.

Jane angled his head to check the clock on Lisbon's desk.

"Mmm, ten minutes or so," he replied, his own voice deceptively even. He noticed the slight tremor in Van Pelt's voice just now, and silently applauded the rookie agent's strength in ability to control her fear. He, of course, had no such difficulty: to Grace's eyes, he was the picture of calm, if certainly concerned, composure.

However, were she to look too closely into his eyes, eyes which were at that moment fixed on the still-pale Lisbon, she might just catch a glimpse of what was really going on inside his head.

Van Pelt exhaled deeply. "Well," she began, placing the palms of her suddenly-twitchy hands on her hips to still them. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance? Or at least have Security bring some oxygen?"

No answer. "Jane?"

For a long moment Jane was silent, his blue eyes remained locked on Lisbon's face, his hands still holding her limp one in his lap. Grace started to wonder if he'd forgotten she was even there. Finally he spoke.

"No," he replied simply.

"No?" she echoed.

"Yes, 'no'," he repeated, causing Van Pelt to frown and shake her head in confusion. "There's no need to call an ambulance. The situation is hardly that severe, and you really don't want to drag poor George all the way up here, lugging an oxygen tank, do you, Grace? The poor guy's gout is flaring up again."

"Really?" she asked sympathetically. Jane nodded. "Wait a minute," she blinked. "How did you know George has gout?"

Jane shrugged. "It's obvious; he's been limping the last two days, plus he's been wearing those special sho-"

"Nev-never mind!" she snapped, cutting him off. "How can you say 'the situation is hardly that severe'?" she demanded, gesturing at the woman lying on the couch. "Boss is unconscious!"

Jane resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the young woman's need to point out, and over-dramatize, the obvious. Instead, he disentangled his and Lisbon's fingers and reached for the towel.

"Yes, I know," he replied calmly, moving the cloth from her forehead to press it gently against her cheek, then down to her neck. "If you'll recall, Grace, I was in here when it happened. It was I who called you for help."

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Ten minutes earlier….

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"…not only the deputy mayor, and the deputy sheriff, but also two state representatives, and," she paused for emphasis, "let's not forget the possible lawsuits from the twenty-seven elderly people at the retirement home who you had convinced had contracted food poisoning!" she railed at Jane, her voice rising in irritation.

"Meh," Jane dismissed without missing a beat. "The sheriff was a pompous, obnoxious little man with an over-inflated sense of his own importance. Not my fault I guessed correctly that his wife was cheating on him," he stated. Their back-and-forth continued as they walked down the hall toward her office.

"Maybe," Lisbon said. "But you certainly didn't have to rub it in his face like that. That was just mean!"

"Tact is for the socially-considerate conscious, Lisbon," he stated. She frowned slightly, trying to recall the source of that quote.

"Who said that?"

He turned his head to look at her. "I did, Lisbon, just now," he replied, matter-of-factly, his face straight, but she could see the twinkle in his clear eyes. "Weren't you paying attention?" he scolded, holding her door open for her. She rolled her eyes as she stepped inside. Just then her phone rang.

"And don't worry, my dear," he continued, walking straight to her couch. "There will be no lawsuits. Not from old people nor their overly-litigious yet easily-placated relatives. They were just as happy to be alive as I know you once were once there was no longer a threat of poisoned pudding to spoil their afternoon bingo."

He dropped casually onto the couch, facing away from her desk, stretched out and made himself comfy, lacing his fingers across his stomach.

"Ugghh," she groaned, both at his cavalier attitude, and upon remembering the time he had her convinced she had only hours to live. She pulled her ringing phone from her jacket pocket.

"Lisbon," she answered, sliding an arm out of one sleeve. "Yes, this is Teresa Lisbon," she stated after a brief pause. Through his doze, Jane's ears twitched and his brow puckered slightly at the subtle change in her voice, but he didn't move.

"Yes, I am," she continued to reply to her caller. She then held the phone to her other ear to slide her jacket off her other arm, draping it over the back of her chair, which was pulled away from her desk, then moved the phone back to the other ear.

"What?" she whispered hoarsely. "Are you sure? I-I mean, are you pos-" her breath caught, and there was another brief pause. "Oh, my god," she exhaled. "Oh my god, no…not…oh no. Please, no…not To…" she wheezed, the phone slipping from her grasp.

Jane finally opened his eyes and lifted his head from its pillow when he heard Lisbon's phone clatter to the floor. The muffled thud of a body hitting the floor a second later brought him to full alertness.

He sat up fully and swung around, but Lisbon was no longer standing there.