Nightmare Scenario
Rating: M (for violence, themes, language)
Summary: Patrick Jane's nightmare scenario. Oneshot.
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon.
Other notes: Sorry for any typos or changes in tense. I tried to keep it all the same, but didn't have this beta-read before posting, so it's possible I missed some. Just a warning.
He opens his eyes and sees nothing. Nothing but darkness. The ties around his wrists bind him to the chair on which he sits. Same with his ankles. Feeling these, he figures speaking isn't the best thing to do at that moment.
"Patrick!"
He hears her calling him, yet can't bring himself to respond.
"Patrick!"
It's been a few minutes since he regained consciousness. Maybe I should try to pull a MacGyver to get out of here. He wiggles a bit in his chair, judging by the creaking that it's made of wood, and slowly slides back until he feels it hit something. Hoping that object is a wall or something else sturdy, he slams against it as hard as possible.
No luck.
One more time, then another, then another. He slams into the wall five times before anything on the chair breaks, but even then, it's just enough to get one hand free. One hand is better than no appendages, he reminds himself. He shuffles his feet and runs his hand along the wall until he comes to what appears to be a tool chest. Digging through it, he manages to find a boxcutter, which he uses to cut his restraints, then slips into his pocket. A gun would be preferable, but this may have to do.
"Daddy!" calls out another voice.
"I hear you," he calls back, fumbling to get free, "and I'm on my way."
Jane feels his way along the wall until he comes to a door. Opening it, he finds a wall with what appears to be a lamp casting light upon all-too-familiar image. Seeing that bloody smiling face, Jane freezes.
"Jane!"
He runs through the rooms now, finding room after room after room with this face, hearing his name being called by the three people who mean the most to him in this world. It's only when he comes to the end of a corridor to find two doors next to each other that he realizes what is happening.
"Dear friend," calls out a familiar voice, "you have a choice to make. In one room, you shall find your wife and daughter. In the other, your dear Teresa Lisbon. All of them have been made aware of your presence. You may have heard them calling out to you."
Despite trying to keep his emotions in check, Jane begins to feel them bubble over. "You son of a bitch. I am so going to-"
"Going to what, Mr. Jane? Kill me? You'd have to find me, first. I can't help but feel as though you have a more pressing issue at the moment, anyway. Now, let me finish. Are you ready to listen?"
"Yes," Jane responds, tired of being treated like a child. I am also ready to find you and gut you like the fish you are!
"Very well. As I said before, you have a choice. You can only go into one room and save that room's occupant or occupants. There is no way to save them all. If you really want to test this, remember that I have many friends, and there are friends in each room. And now, Mr. Jane, you have approximately thirty seconds to make your decision. Your wife and child, or the other, for whom you abandoned the former?"
"I never abandoned them," he growls. "How DARE you say that?"
"Your emotions appear to be running high, my friend. Perhaps now is the time for you to decide, not focus on language. And I thought you were so logical!"
Jane is now faced with an impossible choice.
"Patrick!"
"Daddy!"
"Jane!"
"Time is ticking, Mr. Jane. Decision time draws near."
He hears them all calling after him, and it's just too much. I can't do this. I just can't. This is the impossible situation. "What if I don't choose?"
"Then they all will be disposed of."
"How do I know who is in which room?"
"Ahh, there's the rub. You don't. And now, my friend, your time is up. But since I am feeling so generous, I will give you one more chance: which room do you choose?"
I hear them, but it can't BE them. They've been gone for so long. They're the whole reason I'm working with Lisbon now. Their voices would sound different by now, anyway.
"And your answer, Mr. Jane? I am growing impatient."
"Neither!" Jane yells. I need to end this, once and for all. "You can't have them. You can't have any of them. I will never let you have that chance again."
Jane walks up to the wall between the doors, hearing muffled cries, and then a few thuds. As he reaches the wall, he realizes that all sound has stopped. Everything is perfectly quiet. Stunned, he slumps to the floor. A moment later, he hears slow footsteps and even slower applause, which causes him to look up and around in confusion.
"Wonderful job, my friend. I honestly never thought you had it in you. Glad to see I was right. You've figured it out, haven't you? I'm not one man, or one woman, or one person at all. You will never truly be rid of me. I'm an idea, and you can never truly be rid of an idea. It's too bad, really."
Slowly, Jane rises and pulls the boxcutter out of his pocket even more slowly.
"You know how they say rest is for the wicked? Well that can't really be true, can it? You've been plenty wicked, and yet you don't rest," the approaching person points out.
Just when Jane is ready to pull out the blade and attack this person, he hears his name being called again.
"Jane!"
That can't be. He said he'd get rid of her. He lifts his head, only to see his own face grinning at him, right as that body draws its own weapon, firing right as Jane pulls out his blade. As he feels his life flowing away, the other him speaks again. "Maybe now you'll have your time to rest."
"Jane!"
He clings to that voice. She must be nearby. She must be. Hearing his name called one more time, he looks up, only to see the other him raise the gun, and doesn't even try to move when it is fired. It's time.
"JANE!"
"WHAT?" he yells, suddenly sitting bolt upright.
"Jane," Lisbon continues, "you were having some sort of nightmare. I saw you twitching a bit in your sleep when I got here, but you were screaming just now."
"Well," he says as he applies that well-known grin, "that's a bit embarrassing. Sorry about that, all."
Van Pelt looks at him sideways, concern and confusion obvious on her face. "Are you okay, Jane?"
"Of course I am, dear Grace. Do you have a case ready, or did you all just gather here to watch me sleep?"
Rigsby is not so easily convinced. "Jane. Honestly. Are you okay? If you need any kind of psy-"
"He said he's okay," Cho interrupts. "To answer your question, Jane, we do have a new case. The boss put me in charge."
Interested and already knowing the answer, Jane turns to Lisbon. "Is this true?" I just need to hear her speak. Then I'll be okay.
Lisbon sighs, and then goes into some long-winded explanation about how her boss decided to have Cho lead on this case, concluding with "so, in short, you don't answer to me. Today, you answer to Cho."
"Don't seem so upset, Lisbon!" Jane retorts with his best fake grin. Lisbon only responds with a questioning look, and he knows she sees right through him. When he mouths the word "later" to her, she slightly nods her head in understanding.
"Alright, team," Cho says, "let's get going."
Fourteen hours later, an exhausted, reinstated Lisbon enters the now-empty squad room, expecting to find Jane in his usual spot on his couch so that she can deliver this cup of tea to him. Instead, she finds a note with only the word "office" scrawled upon it. Fine, I'll play his game.
"Jane?" she asks, entering the room. "What are you doing?"
"As you can see, my dear Teresa, I have been waiting for you."
"I do see that. You are in my chair. I have been gone no longer than two minutes and you've already stolen my chair? How did you do that?"
"That is a trick for another day," he replies, getting up and heading toward her.
Already confused by Jane's use of her first name, Lisbon is caught totally off-guard when he wraps her in the tightest embrace she's felt in a long while. She is tense at first, but then loosens up quickly and returns his embrace for a few moments before pulling away. "What's going on, Jane? Why are you acting this way?"
"If I promise to tell you later, will you do me a favor?"
"It depends on what that favor is. If you want me to make up another alibi or something for you, you're S.O.L., pal. I have-"
"A job and responsibilities, and blah, blah, blah. I know. That wasn't it. Before I ask you the favor, is anyone expecting you home tonight?"
Squinting her eyes, Lisbon replies, "I don't see how that's any of your business, but no."
"Good. I would like to make you a proposal: if you come home with me tonight, I will tell you everything."
"Just talking and sleeping?"
"Just talking and sleeping. I swear. I will swear it on anything," he responds. I just can't be alone right now.
He sees in her eyes that she understands. She knows. And so, when he hears her next words, he is both unsurprised and astonished: "Let's worry about that later, and just get you home."
The ride there is quiet. Neither person speaks, the radio is silent, and no-one seems to be out in the streets. The two of them are silent until they look at each other in Jane's kitchen and speak at the same time.
"Would you like a drink?"
"So where is the bedroom?"
They each pause. Well, I'll take that as a "no." She certainly cuts to the chase, doesn't she? "Right down this way," Jane says, leading her into a room. As soon as Lisbon steps inside, Jane spills everything. Not all at once, but slowly. Lisbon just listens, taking it all in as it is explained to her.
After a while, Jane stops talking. Looking at him, Lisbon sees that he's fallen asleep.
"I've got you, Patrick," she quietly says as she climbs onto the bed next to him. "Everything will be alright." It may not be now, but it will be. We'll make it be alright.