The third installment of my "Return of" series. Some of my readers requested different characters - the one with the most votes was Kristina Frye. I admit I found this extremely difficult and am not particularly happy with it but I decided to post. It ended up being longer than I'd planned, so this will be a two chapter story.
Hope you enjoy - and watch for the next story ... The Return of Virgil Manelli
He was laying the hardwood floor when the phone rang. He sighed, knowing he had to answer it but resenting the fact that he was being pulled from his work. His kid would be in high school by the time he finished the house. Still, he couldn't ignore his phone – not when Teresa was working and even more importantly, when she was getting near to her due date.
"Hello," he said, wiping one dusty hand on his work pants.
"I'm calling for Mr. Patrick Jane," the man's voice at the other end said.
"That's me," he answered. He frowned, for some reason getting a very bad feeling about this call. "What can I do for you?"
"My name is Dr. Dev Samrah – I'm the psychiatrist in residence at St. Joseph's."
"St. Joseph's?" he asked, sounding puzzled. He was pretty sure he'd never heard of the place.
"We're a long-term care facility."
"Oh, okay. Uh, what can I do for you?"
"Well, we have a patient here – she's been with us a few years now – and until yesterday she was – well, let's say she was not really aware of her surroundings."
He suddenly had a really bad feeling about this.
"Last evening she suddenly seemed to come out of – whatever was affecting her – and she immediately asked to speak to you. We had her under observation all night, but she insisted that we call you, so that's what I'm doing. She has no next of kin listed."
"Her name?" he asked faintly.
"Kristina Frye."
He tried calling Teresa, immediately after he disconnected, but her phone was off. When he next contacted Wylie, it was to be told that she and Cho were in a meeting with the District Attorney about a high profile case they'd been working on.
"Do you want me to interrupt?" the young agent had asked.
"No, just tell her I called," he answered. "I'll leave her a voice message too." He knew that the DA was a bit of a hard ass and he didn't want to make things uncomfortable for his wife. He called her phone again and left a quick message then slowly put his phone back in his pocket.
So now here he was, driving to St. Joseph's long-term care facility, to see a woman he hadn't thought of in a long time – which suddenly made him feel horribly guilty. She had no one and here they'd forgotten her, had gone on with their lives. He had felt badly about Kristina, for a long time after Red John had taken her. But unlike with his wife, he'd refused to take on the guilt for what had been done to her. It had been her choice to ignore his warnings and she ended up paying the consequences. If anything, he'd had trouble not feeling angry at her for doing what she'd done, although he recognized how ironic that was. He'd essentially done the same thing – but then he too had to spend the rest of his life living with the consequences of his actions.
But now it looked like she might be getting her life back and he had no idea how he fit in to that. He only wished she hadn't given them his name, a thought which made him feel even worse. He knew he was just being a coward – but that wasn't anything unusual.
The fact was, he didn't know quite what to think about the whole thing. Oh, he would be pleased for her if it were true – if she had returned to the living – but he really didn't want to get involved in her life. He had Teresa now – and a child on the way. He was happy, for the first time in years, and he didn't want or need a reminder of his life during his years searching for Red John.
And then, of course, there was the uncomfortable fact that he'd found her attractive and had gone on a date with her. She was the first person he had dated after his wife and it had been a strange experience. He thought back to his encounter with Erica Flynn, in Beirut, and wondered if he should tell Teresa. Not that he would have dated her a second time. He'd quickly realized he had been far from ready to move on. Still, it made the whole thing that much more uncomfortable.
He pulled into the parking lot of the facility, and turned off the engine. He sat staring out the window, not really seeing anything, for a long time but knowing he couldn't put it off forever, he eventually pulled the key out of the ignition and got out of the car. There was no point procrastinating any longer.
As he walked towards the entrance he realized that his hands were shaking and sweaty and he rubbed them off on the legs of his pants. He hated feeling nervous like this. It was rare for him to feel this uncomfortable about anything. After he'd lost Angela and Charlotte little things just didn't faze him anymore, mostly because he didn't care about anything. Things were different now, of course. He did care about something, about someone and he was beginning to realize that caring made it much more difficult to go through life unaffected by everyday things. And for some reason – which he didn't want to analyze – this situation made him very, very unsettled.
"Uh, I'm here to see Kristina Frye," he told the lady behind the reception desk. She scowled at him and gave an impatient sigh before looking at the book in front of her.
"Name?"
"Who, mine?" He decided he didn't like this woman and so decided to give her a bit of a hard time.
"Yes of course yours! We don't let just anyone in to see our residents."
"My name's not 'just anyone' so you should be fine to let me in," he told her.
The woman – Edith, the tag on her dress said, looked terribly confused. "I need your name."
Jane rolled his eyes but answered, knowing he was just putting things off again by trying to irritate this woman. "Jane."
"Now, you're just being ridiculous," she snapped. "Your name is not Jane. Unless you want me to call security, you will give me your proper name!"
Jane raised one eyebrow and then reached into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out his license and handed it to her.
With another sigh she took it and looked at it – and immediately turned bright red. "I'm sorry Mr. Jane. I – uh – who did you say you were here to see?"
"Kristina Frye. Dr. Samrah called me this morning and asked me to come by."
"Oh, why didn't you say so," she smiled, suddenly acting totally differently. "I'll just call him for you."
Obviously Dr. Samrah was a person of importance – either that or Edith had a crush on him. He looked at her closely and wanted to shake his head. She definitely was in love with the doctor.
It was only a few seconds before he saw a man come through a door behind the reception desk. He was a man in his forties, well dressed and immaculately groomed. He focused his attention directly on Patrick and walked towards him, a pleasant expression on his face. Yup, this was Dr. Samrah.
"Doctor," he said, holding out his hand.
"Mr. Jane. Thank you for coming. If you'll follow me I'd like to go over a few things with you before taking you to see Kristina."
"Of course."
He followed the man down a long corridor into a generic meeting room. There was a small, oval table surrounded by office chairs. On the wall was a dry erase board and there was a conference phone in the middle of the table. Other than that the room was bare.
"Here, have a seat," Dr. Samrah indicated one of the chairs. "So tell me," he said after Patrick was seated. "How do you know Kristina?"
"We worked together a few times," he said, not elaborating. "How is she?"
The doctor smiled, and Jane immediately recognized it as a psychiatrist's trick – a way to make the patient feel better, without actually committing to – or even saying – anything. But then he spoke.
"She's fine – physically at least," he was told. "It's her mental state that we're worried about."
"I thought you said she came out of her – the whatever she was in?"
"Were you aware of how she was found?"
"Yes," he answered, again without saying anything more.
"I see. Well yes, she did. And I admit it was a surprise to all of us. She hasn't shown any change since she was brought here. What do you know about her condition?" the doctor suddenly asked.
"That she was kidnapped and somehow made to believe she was dead," he said, not going into any further detail.
"Mm hm," he nodded. "It was very strange – I've never seen anything like it, and neither have any of the colleagues I've approached about her case. She would come out of the trance for brief periods, but only when we performed what she thought was a séance. I guess someone figured that out, although I've never been able to discover who that was."
Jane nodded, but didn't admit to being that person. Instead he simply commented. "She thought she was "communing with the living" so was able to answer questions."
"Yes, that's right, although she only seemed to be able to say a limited number of things before she shut down again. It was all very sad. From what I heard she was a lovely person before this happened."
"She was," Patrick nodded. "She was also reckless, and thought she knew better than anyone else" he said bluntly. "She taunted a serial killer, even when she was warned not to, and this was the result."
The doctor looked taken aback at his harsh words, and Patrick was sure Samrah thought he was a jerk. "Uh – there was no way she could have known that this man was going to kidnap her for that," he said gently.
"Yes – she did. He'd done it before and I warned her repeatedly not to do it but she wouldn't listen."
"You warned her?"
Patrick stopped and tried to calm himself down. This was all much more distressing than he'd expected – even though he had known it wasn't going to be pleasant as soon as he heard she was "back". He hated himself at that moment. He should be happy for Kristina, so why did he feel so resentful.
"Yes. I - spoke from personal experience."
"Personal experience?" the doctor questioned.
"He killed my family," was all Jane said.
"Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry," Samrah said, looking distressed. "I had no idea. This must all be very painful for you."
Patrick shrugged. "I'm happy if Kristina is better," he said. "She was a good person and no one deserved what he did to her - and I'll do what I can to help but –this – it brings back memories."
"I'm sure it must," the psychiatrist said gently. "So let's get this over with as quickly as possible." He took a breath and then opened the file he'd placed on the table in front of him. "As I said, she hadn't shown any significant change since she was brought here – almost eight years ago now. Then last night one of the orderlies brought her her dinner – strangely she always seemed able to eat, even though she considered herself to be – uh – dead. Anyway, she looked directly at the orderly and thanked him for the meal. I guess he practically dropped the plate on the floor. Next she asked what time it was and then said she wanted to speak with you. In fact, it was just about the only thing she would say after that."
"Does she know how much time has passed since she's been here?"
"No, and we haven't wanted to tell her. We're worried that her emotional state may be rather – precarious. We don't know what really sent her into the state she was in, nor what brought her out of it. We felt that keeping things as stress free as possible, at this time, was best."
Jane nodded. "Where is she now?"
"They're bringing her right now to one of our observation rooms. She's been very calm and is cooperating with staff but she still insists that she needs to speak with you."
"Okay then – I guess I'd better talk to her."
"Mr. Jane, I would ask that you go carefully with her. It's probably best not to bring up how many years have passed. Instead just calmly try and get her to tell you as much as she can about how she's feeling, what's she's thinking, etc. I'll be watching and listening and we'll take it from there."
"Okay," he said, although his plan was to play it by ear with Kristina. He certainly wasn't about to lie to her.
He followed the Psychiatrist down a long corridor until they reached the residents' wing. He was slightly disturbed to see that the doors were locked, opened only with Samrah's security pass. "Is this a secure facility?"
"It is," the doctor answered. "We have Alzheimer's patients here and others suffering various mental illnesses. Some of them are in danger of wandering off so we have to be careful."
A short time later they came to a non-descript door – like all the others in the hallway. They walked in to a small entrance room with a one way mirror on the wall. Jane looked through it and could see Kristina sitting in the other room. He waited while Samrah knocked on the connecting door. After a faint 'hello' from inside the doctor opened it.
"Kristina, I've brought you a visitor." He stepped back and opened the door wide to allow Patrick to enter.
Kristina smiled – her big, joyful looking smile – and stood up with her hands held out. "Patrick! It's so good to see you."
Patrick stepped into the room, his eyes on the woman in front of him. He said a brief 'thanks' to the doctor but walked forward and took Kristina's hands. It definitely was Kristina Frye, although she looked noticeably older and thinner than the last time he'd seen her. Her face was pale – she probably didn't get out in the sunlight too often – and her hair hung limply by her face. He felt a pang of sorrow, remembering the attractive and vibrant woman she'd been. Now she just looked – old and worn.
"It's good to see you too Kristina. How are you?" While waiting for her answer he heard the soft 'click' of the door and realized that the doctor had left, although Jane knew he was observing through the one-way mirror.
"I'm fine Patrick," Kristina said, still smiling and still holding his hands. She regarded him closely for a moment, until her smile started to fade. "You're looking -"
He tipped his head to the side. "I'm looking -?" He knew she would have noticed that he looked different than the last time she'd seen him, but wouldn't be able to consciously understand it was the passage of time that had changed his looks.
"Uh – I don't know," she said, looking confused. She dropped his hands and backed away although a second later she smiled again. "It must be the light in here. Please, have a seat."
Jane carefully pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He waited for Kristina to do the same, and then calmly looked at her across the table.
"So, how are you doing?" she asked gently.
"I'm fine Kristina – doing very well," he answered. "How about you?"
She tilted her head in a way that he remembered. "I'm good Patrick. You see, you were worried for nothing."
"Pardon me?" he replied, confused at her comment.
"You were worried that Red John would do something to hurt me, but I'm fine. I knew if I reached out to him that he would listen to me and stop hurting people."
Jane didn't quite know what to say – an unusual occurrence for him. "Kristina -"
"Patrick", she reached across and took one of his hands. "I want to get out of this place. I know you think you're protecting me by leaving me here, but I told you, I'm fine. Why don't we go somewhere and get something to eat and we can talk. I know you were angry at me for doing the TV interview, but it all worked out."
"Not for the reporter," he reminded her bitterly, and then could have kicked himself for his insensitivity.
She blanched at his words and he felt even worse. She'd paid for that mistake with years of her life wasted. He should be trying to make her feel better. He forced himself to calm down, still feeling on edge about this whole thing.
"I'm so sorry about that," she commented after a few seconds. "You were right, and I'll never forgive myself for that."
Jane didn't comment, just nodded. "I – think maybe you need to stay here for a while longer – just to make sure you're okay."
"Of course I'm okay," she laughed softly. "I feel fine."
"Kristina, what do you remember?"
"About what?"
"I mean – before - here, what is the last thing you remember?"
"Oh, that's easy. I was at my house – Grace, she's such a lovely young woman – she was staying with me, protecting me. I went to bed to take a nap." She stopped abruptly, her eyes losing their focus, as if she was trying to remember something. "Uh – I don't exactly remember what happened after that. I must have been tired when they brought me here. Then last night, at dinner I woke up and I knew I had to have them call you." She frowned, and suddenly looked lost. "What did happen? Who brought me here?" She put her hand up to her forehead and closed her eyes. "I can't remember."
Patrick glanced at the mirror, wondering what the doctor was thinking and also wondering what he should be saying. It was clear that she had no notion that she had been here for years and he really didn't want to be the one to tell her.
"Patrick, I sense something – different about you." Kristina's voice interrupted his internal debate. She seemed to have lost interest in the fact that she couldn't remember how she'd gotten here and instead was focusing on him. "You seem – disturbed by something, but underneath that you're – happier, more settled. I don't sense the anger or the guilt you've carried around for so long. What happened?" She looked around at that, for the first time seeming to realize that it was just the two of them in the sparse room. "Where are we?"
"Kristina – look, they didn't want me to say anything to you. They're worried you'll have a setback or something but -"
"But what?" she asked, now starting to look slightly worried. "What are you hiding from me?"
"I'm not hiding anything," he said, although he wondered if that was exactly true. "The doctors just want to make sure you're going to be okay."
"Doctors? Why do I need a doctor? I'm fine."
"You weren't," he finally told her, glancing briefly at the mirror. "Red John put you in some kind of a trance."
"Don't be ridiculous Patrick. I understand your obsession with him, I really do. What happened to you – to your family – was horrible. But that doesn't mean he's out to get me. I'm fine."
"Kristina, he's dead," he said softly.
"Dead?" she looked startled. "But – what happened? When? How did you find him? I don't understand."
Just then the door opened, and Dr. Samrah walked in. "I think this is enough for now," he said carefully. "Mr. Jane, maybe you should come back some other time."
"No," Kristina said sharply. "Something is going on and I need to know what it is. I don't want to be here anymore. Patrick, will you take me out of here, please?"
He looked at the doctor, who shrugged. "Legally we can't keep her, but I strongly recommend she stay. Ms. Frye, you may not understand how – sick – you really were."
"Sick?" she muttered and stood up slowly, looking between the doctor and Jane. "I don't understand what's going on here – but I think you're trying to trick me for some reason. I want to leave now!"
Samrah sighed. "You need to hear everything, before you go," he told her.
"Doctor, let me tell her," Jane said softly, his eyes on Kristina. "It'll be better coming from someone she knows."
"Alright – but I'll be in the other room. Kristina, I'm here to help you – even if you don't see that yet." With that the doctor stood up and made his way out of the room.
Kristina ignored him as he left, instead she kept her focus on Jane. "What aren't you telling me Patrick? How did Red John die? And if he's dead why am I in here?"
He swallowed and took a deep breath. "Sit down Kristina. This is going to be difficult for you to hear but you need to remember that you're okay – everything is okay now."
"Just tell me," she whispered.
"You've told me you remember being in your house, and that Grace was there guarding you. Do you also remember that I got mad, and left?"
"Yes, you wouldn't believe me when I told you I'd be okay, that Red John wasn't going to come after me."
He nodded. "Later I felt badly about leaving – because I knew Red John wasn't going to let what you'd done go. You see, I knew him, or I knew what he was like. So I called Grace, just to make sure you were okay. When she went to look for you, you were gone."
Two lines appeared in Kristina's forehead. "What? I was gone? Where? Where did I go?"
"We didn't know. A suitcase and clothes were missing but we didn't know if you had left voluntarily or if Red John had taken you. Later on – he spoke to me and seemed to indicate that he had taken you."
"But if he had, I would remember it," she said. "I know he didn't take me."
"How do you know?" he asked bluntly.
"I told you, I would remember it."
"No Kristina – you don't remember it. You were taken by Red John – and he held you for months before they found you."
"No! No, that's not true," she said, her voice getting louder. "I've never met him. You're lying to me."
"No, I'm not lying," he told her gently. "We found you, but you were in some kind of – hypnotic state. We don't know what Red John did to you, but you were completely comatose when we found you."
"I don't – believe you," she sobbed quietly.
"I was only able to get through to you by staging a séance. You talked to me then."
"I don't remember," she said again, clutching her head.
"You told me you were dead," he informed her bluntly. "He made you believe that you were dead and the only way you could communicate was during a séance."
"No, no. You have to be kidding. This is crazy!"
"I'm not kidding you Kristina," he reached across and took her hand. "Look at me. You can tell if I'm lying, I know you can. This is all true. You were held by Red John, and he did something to convince you that you were dead. You told me it was peaceful, where you were. But then you went back into the – trance, or whatever it was and you wouldn't communicate with anyone when you were in that state. Eventually they brought you here, to this place, to look after you."
"NO!" she pulled her hand away and stood up, knocking the chair over. "I don't know why you're doing this Patrick. Is this pay back for me going on television? Are you so determined to hate me because I'm psychic? Do you resent me for that – for denying your own gifts and refusing to see mine?"
"Kristina!" he said urgently, "that's not it at all. Everything I've told you is true – you can ask Dr. Samrah." He looked toward the mirror and a moment later the doctor entered the room.
"I think we'd better take over from here, Mr. Jane. Kristina, please, calm down."
"No, no," she cried, backing away until she was up against the wall. "You're lying to me! Stop it Patrick, just stop it."
"I was worried this would happen," the doctor murmured. "Kristina, we're going to take you back to your room so you can calm down. Just relax and we can talk about this. Mr. Jane is leaving now – you don't have to speak with him anymore. Come now – let's just sit down here and you can relax. Would you like a glass of water?"
Jane stood up slowly, knowing that there was nothing he could do right now. "I'll go," he said quietly. "Call me if -"
"We will," the doctor nodded, his eyes still on Kristina. "And don't blame yourself for this. It's a natural reaction and we'll get her calmed down. And thank you for coming."
Jane didn't answer, he simply made his way to the door and quietly let himself out, with one last look at Kristina Frye.
He slowly headed towards the front, determined to get out of this place and away from the memories and the growing feeling of guilt. He knew that logically the doctor was right, but for whatever reason he felt as if her reaction had been his fault, as if he'd somehow been responsible for sending her to this place.
She'd lost eight years of her life – and he hated that she was going to be even more upset when she found out. He rubbed his neck, fighting off a tension headache, and wished that he'd never gotten the call that morning.
Before he made it to the doorway into the front of the building, it opened and in walked –
"Teresa?"
"Jane, are you okay?"
He knew he had to be strong – that she didn't need stress right now, not when she was so close to giving birth. But at this moment he needed her – and so he simply looked at her and didn't try to hide his distress. She opened her arms and suddenly she was holding him close to her. He could feel her love and her care for him and he felt himself relax into her embrace.
She didn't say anything at all for quite a few seconds, but finally she pulled back slightly. "What's wrong?"
He gave her a rather sheepish smile and kissed her on the nose. "Sorry about that. It's been a rather stressful morning."
"Kristina Frye?"
"Yes. She came out of it last night."
"She's back?"
"Mmm," he nodded. "Come on, let's get out of here. Did you drive?"
"No, Cho dropped me off. I saw your car and thought I'd get a ride back with you," she smiled at him and took her arm in his. They walked quietly to the car. She seemed to realize that he needed some time to get his thoughts together.
They got in the car, but he sat for a moment before starting it.
"Let's go home," she finally said, reaching out and covering his hand, which lay on the steering wheel, with hers.
With a grateful smile he turned to her and smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."
Soon they were back at their house. It was getting close to being finished, he just had a few more finishing touched. They'd moved in a couple of months before and he'd promised himself he'd have it all done by the time the baby arrived.
He took a deep breath and felt himself relax the moment he walked into the front door. This was his life now. Teresa, his soon to arrive child and the close friends he had made at the CBI and now at the FBI. These were the things he lived for – not for hatred, or anger or revenge. And Kristina Frye brought back all those memories.
"So, what is it?" Teresa asked, leading him to the couch in the living room. "Sit down Patrick, and tell me."
He spent the next few minutes telling her about his conversation with the doctor and then with Kristina herself.
"She doesn't believe that Red John got her. She doesn't remember anything about him," he said, sounding disturbed. "And she had no idea how long she's been there. She thinks she was just at home, with Grace their guarding her."
"Oh God," Teresa said, leaning back against the couch. "Did you tell her?"
"No. I tried to explain about Red John, but she got too upset. The doctor took over at that point. I don't know if he's going to tell her or not." He leaned over and put his head on Teresa's shoulder, one arm around her, and sat there, breathing her in. Her touch, her fragrance, her presence continued to calm him down.
"I – don't know if I can tell her," he admitted. "How do you tell someone they've lost that many years of their life?"
"I think you should leave it to the doctors," his wife whispered, hugging him fiercely. "You shouldn't be the one to tell her Patrick. And what about family? Doesn't she have anyone? Why were you the one who was called?"
He sat up at her words, and took his arm from around her. This was the part he'd been hating.
"There's no one she's really close to – as far as family is concerned," he told her.
"Did the doctor tell you that?"
"No, she did. Before," he said, when Teresa looked puzzled. "We – went out on a date and she told me a little about her family."
"A date?" Teresa asked, sounding calm, although he could detect a certain – caution – in her voice. "I didn't know. I didn't think you liked her."
He sighed. "I didn't like that she pretended to be a psychic, but I admit I found her – attractive," he said. "But it didn't amount to anything."
"That's what you said about Erica," she reminded him.
"Yes, but in this case it's true. We went on one date – the most awkward date I've ever been on in my life." At his wife's inquiring look he grimaced. "My fault," he admitted. "I – wasn't ready to date, not then. In fact I felt guilty as hell for even thinking I could go out someone. It didn't go beyond a dinner together – which ended when I was called to that case of the film students. And I knew part way through the date that it wasn't going to go anywhere, that I didn't want it to. We didn't even kiss."
"Okay," she gave a gentle smile and snuggled up to him again. "I'm sorry that it was awkward," she told him.
"You are?"
"No, not really," she grinned. They sat companionably for the next few minutes, but then Teresa thought of something. "I bet that's why she called you," she murmured.
"What?"
"I think she liked you – I think she liked you a lot," she said. "I remember thinking that at the time. And she's looking to you now to come in and help her."
"I told you, it was just one awkward dinner. I'm pretty sure she figured out that it wasn't going anywhere."
"I think you underestimate your charms," she told him bluntly. "Why else would she contact you?"
"Because didn't know so much time had elapsed and thought we were still protecting her from Red John. Of course she contacted me."
"Maybe," she said, sounding unconvinced. "But it would have been more logical to get in touch with Hightower, or with me. I have a feeling that subconsciously she knows that Red John had her, that a lot of time has elapsed. I think she feels some kind of connection to you and needed to see you."
"I don't know why she contacted me, Teresa, but I can assure you that it wasn't because of some – relationship – we were supposedly having."
She knew that what he was saying was true, at least from his perspective. She had her doubts about Kristina, pretty sure the woman had been much more attracted to Jane than he suspected. He was an incredibly appealing man, on many levels, and had things in common with Kristina. It would have been a surprise if she hadn't been attracted to him.
She just hoped that when the female psychic learned the truth, that she wouldn't contact Patrick again. "Okay love, I know," she kissed him on the cheek. "I think we should go to bed and forget about this. We need to let her doctors handle this from now on."
That night he lay, spooned up behind her, his hand on her belly. When he felt their child move he smiled. He had promised himself, when he married Teresa, that he would look only forward, never back. He snuggled into her, and was soon sound asleep, hoping that he no longer had to think about Kristina Frye.