Hello, everyone! A friend of me, after hearing of my addiction to cop dramas, mentioned I should check out the Mentalist. Well, long story short, I did, and here I am. :) I'm borderline obsessed with this show,(who couldn't be obsessed with Patrick Jane?) and I was enthralled by this scene in Red All Over. Anyway, this is my first Mentalist one shot, and I truly hope you enjoy reading it. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist.

SPOILER: Tag for 2x20, Red All Over.

And It Tasted of Fear:

He was somewhere in the murky gray between sleep and waking when his phone went off, an irritating pre-set ring tone that slammed into his dreaming consciousness and unceremoniously jerked him back to reality. After fumbling for a moment, he flipped open his sleek black phone.

"Hello?" He mumbled into the receiver, his voice still thick with sleep.

"It's me, I need your help." Lisbon's voice issued from the phone with no introduction. An involuntary smile crossed his face. It was so rare that Teresa Lisbon asked anybody for help, least of all from him.

"Lisbon, you need my help?" Eyes still closed, Jane pictured her in his mind, short, dark-haired, and beautiful, her green eyes sparkling with independence. She'd probably be furious with herself that she had to ask him outright for help. The thought made him grin.

"I need your help finding a bomb."

Jane's eyes flew open and the smile dropped off his face. He stared blankly at the ceiling. A bomb? It took him a moment to realize that Lisbon was speaking again.

"There's still time. I mean, you're good at this kind of thing!" He noted and filed away her compliment, allowing for time to dwell on it later. "If we can find the bomb inside, maybe we can still get rid of it."

"What, are you nuts? What do you want to do that for? It's a bomb. Just get out of there, the guy's got comprehensive home insurance, I'm sure." Please, Teresa. Jane begged silently. Just get out of there. For once, put aside that part of you that makes you want to save everyone and just save yourself.

"Come on, Jane, we've got two minutes. Alright, where did they put it? They said it was somewhere in the Grand Salon."

Damn. He should have known she wouldn't just leave. He began to picture the room in his mind, recalling every little detail. How did she get herself into these situations anyway? Forcing his mind away from what might happen if they didn't find the bomb in time, he pushed himself up on one arm and spoke into the receiver.

"Well, if they called it the Grand Salon, obviously they're insiders." His mind was whirling. If I were an insider, where would I plant a bomb?

"Good point." From her tone, it was obvious Lisbon hadn't thought of that. "Leaving us where?"

Jane bit his tongue lightly as he thought. For some reason, it was harder to concentrate. All he could see in his mind's eye was an explosion and Teresa, always Teresa. The thought stopped him. When had he started referring to her as Teresa, even if it was just in his mind? Sure it was a pretty name, and he'd always loved the way it sounded on his tongue, but… but nothing. None of this was helping him find that bomb. "Um, let me see, if I was familiar with that room, I would plant a bomb… Try under the sofa." Suddenly an image of a painting flashed into his mind, Dutch, a forgery. And next to it… a cabinet. Bingo. "No, no, no, no. Cupboard over by the Dutch forgery in the corner."

A pause. He could imagine the look on her face—a slight pinch to her nose, giving her an adorably surprised look. "Th-The painting? How do you know it's a forgery?"

"Eh, the brush work is all wrong; it's way too loose." Despite the danger, he smiled at Lisbon's surprise. She would have to learn to stop underestimating him.

"Oh my god. You're right."

Jane frowned slightly. Of course he was right. He knew his Dutch artwork. "Yeah, well, of course, the looser feeling didn't develop until much later on."

"No, the bomb! I found it!" Lisbon's voice was hushed, and he detected a slight tremor of fear and adrenaline lacing her tones. "One minute left." Relief pumped into his veins. Of course she'd been talking about the bomb. And now that she'd found it, she could escape, and he could stop worrying.

"Oh, good, time to leave. Get out of there." He bit hard on his lip to keep the urgency from slipping into his voice. "Lisbon, if you think I'm even going to engage in this game of Which Wire to Pull, I'm not interested. I don't wanna play that game." I might be wrong. Then… "Just get out of there, now. Run, ok?" Please, just listen to me.

A pause. "You're right. I'm outta here." His entire body slumped with relief.

"Thank you. Good." He fell back onto the couch, feeling his eyes begin to close again. He couldn't take much more of this. If Teresa was going to keep throwing herself into danger, he was going to have to chain her to him. He smirked at the thought.

Just as he was about to flip shut his phone and dream of a world where Teresa Lisbon was indeed chained to him, a tinny voice echoed from his phone that made his blood run cold.

"Where's Mommy?"

No, no, no, no. He shot upwards into a half sitting position, bringing the phone to his ear again. "Hang on."

Lisbon's voice was strained. "Ashley?" Jane swore internally. Lisbon was never going to leave now. Not without Ashley. And something told him that that little girl was not going to come quietly.

"Ashley, we have to leave now." Libson's voice got farther away, and Jane had to strain to hear what was going on. She must have put the phone down.

"Lisbon?"

"No!"

He could hear high-pitched shrieks in the background—Ashley was preparing to throw a full-fledged tantrum and the seconds on that bomb were ticking down.

"No! No! I want my Mommy!"

Jane was pressing the phone to his face so hard that it was sure to leave an imprint. Lisbon said something unintelligible, and Ashley screamed again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on there?" He asked, heart sinking. She wasn't going to hear him. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.

"Come on, you come out now, that's an order!"

"Libson, just pick up the girl and leave." Jane pleaded over the phone, tearing his eyes away from the second hand and focusing on a spot on the coffee table, devoting all his attention to listening. "Just pick her up and take her outside, you can do that, run away, now!" Images began to flash behind his eyes with frightening clarity—his wife's body, that damn red smiley face. His daughter, her dead eyes staring. Teresa, lying sprawled on her back, green eyes glassy. He swallowed hard as bile rushed into his throat.

"Oh, god, oh, god."

"Lisbon!"

A low moan echoed from the receiver. "Ah, screw it!"

"Lisbon!" Jane felt his heart constrict as he listened for something, anything. The silence was deafening. Ashley had stopped screaming and Lisbon—Lisbon had stopped talking. All he could hear was his own breathing, the only sound in the empty stretching silence. If she was gone… if she was dead…

"You are a very bad girl."

Never in his life had Jane ever been so glad to hear another person's voice. He let out his breath in a single woosh, feeling his limbs grow heavy with relief as adrenaline left his system. "You're a bad girl." He repeated, almost in a daze, his voice a choked half-whisper. She was alive. His Teresa was alive. He let out another sigh and fell back onto the couch, not even attempting to decipher why she was suddenly "his Teresa", just reveling in the fact that she was alive. Later, he was sure he'd have plenty of time to figure out just where these strangely familiar feelings were coming from and what they meant. For now, though… for now he was going to lie back down on his couch, close his eyes, and wait for his frantically beating heart to slow.

Please drop me a review and let me know what you thought! It would mean alot to me. :)

Thanks for reading!

xoxo

Allie