So…. Disclaimers first …. I claim complete deniability for any ownership infringement …. Anyway I own practically nothing !
I'm going to own up here to being one of those annoying people who starts fics and doesn't finish them and for that I'm really sorry, my only excuse is that it's hard to maintain motivation when only your friends review !
I promise to try harder.
I hope some of you like this story. It came into my head while trying to get off to sleep. It kept me awake all night and has done ever since.
There should be a bit of everything ….mostly Jane , but lots of Lisbon, RJ, the team, a good amount of angst, hurt, comfort, humour and a healthy dose of blossoming but tentative Jisbon.
So here goes …..enjoy and please tell me if you want me to continue!
Jane's whole body shook violently, recovering from the effort of hoisting himself onto the high stone sill. He paused to steady himself before swinging his wobbling legs over, very carefully, one at a time, to manoeuvre into position on the ledge without falling.
Clinging tightly to the frame with one white knuckled hand he searched for his cell phone, his hand quivering and uncertain and panic not helping his efficiency. At last he dragged the phone from it's usual pocket … the first place he should have gone to …and pressed the first number on his speed dial.
Before hearing an answer he took as deep a breath as he could and, between short painful gasps began his message.
"Lisbon … " he wheezed, "… need help… now! … medics and fire … quick… please !"
Theresa only caught the last half of the garbled message, wedging her phone casually to take the incoming call, between chin and shoulder, while shoving the last manila folder of the day into the open drawer of her filing cabinet. If this was another case she would gladly throttle the caller!
She slammed the drawer abruptly and hurriedly transferred the cell to her hand when she heard her consultant's unmistakable voice and realised it was not the tone she was expecting from him. Even when he was in trouble Jane usually managed to put up some kind of front.
Her knees turned immediately to jelly and back to solid again before she went back into calm cop mode.
This was real.
Jane was in a mess!
"Jane, calm down." She instructed. "Try to slow your breathing ( she was really saying this to the master of control? ). I can't understand you. Where are you ?" she kept her voice even, though her insides were not.
Lisbon was already picking up her keys and jacket, alarmed by the desperation in her consultant's usually silky tones and his obvious struggle to speak. She had no idea what was going on … but it was bad … very bad.
The elevator had already reached ground level before she had managed to decipher a clear message from the breathy wheezing and coughing which was punctuated by worrying periods of near silence, except for faint rustling, crackling and strange roaring sounds in the background.
Through the waves of nauseating dizziness fogging his brain, Jane blinked frantically in a vain attempt to clear his mind. He struggled to find the words to answer coherently.
"Where are you Jane?" Lisbon repeated, puffing as she charged across the lot to her car, wishing it was not parked in the furthest spot available, because she had unusually arrived late today …and, no, she hadn't told anybody why.
She vowed never to be late again!
"O…old …st…stone … house … big one…" she managed to make out from Jane's strangled words.
"Where Jane? What street ?" she tried her best to be patient, really she did, but she needed information. Quickly.
"Out past the …zoo… Lissss…" he panted even more faintly.
There was a scrabbling sound followed by a dull, distant thud and the signal abruptly cut out.
Silence.
Damn!
With the tenuous contact between them severed Lisbon's mind began to race immediately, not being able to hear her consultant breathing or even the tiniest sign of life, her fear for his safety choked her own breaths. If she could hear him she could believe he was OK. Or would be.
Her mind rushed in circles trying to interpret the significance of the sounds, but it was already blindingly obvious that she needed to act quickly and fearing that Jane was in immediate danger, she was already turning the key in the ignition and speed dialling Cho before buckling her seat belt.
"Pick up Cho! Now!" She yelled.
Foot instantly to the floor, cell in one hand, she was unafraid to push the powerful vehicle to it's limits using only her free hand to clutch the wheel. When a life was in danger, especially one of her own, and more especially Jane's, no one could match Theresa Lisbon for brave and skilful driving.
"Boss ?" the monotone answer soon came. "What's wrong?"
"Cho! Jane's in trouble." she yelled without thinking. "I'm on my way. Get Van Pelt to trace his phone and get EMTs and fire department there stat."
Of course when the situation required calm, training was a wonderful thing, and Cho's businesslike timbre was always a leveller.
At the sound of his voice Lisbon clicked automatically back into work mode; this was just another call to just another crime scene for the purposes of the conversation. Calm efficiency was the only way to go. She could panic later. She would not let herself fall pray to stereotypical feminine weakness just because it was her best friend who had been on the other end of that dreadful call.
"OK Boss," her loyal second in command continued in his usual unflustered manner. "You want me and Rigs there?"
"Yeah. Please," she told him. "You come but don't worry Rigsby, its late. Oh, and let me know the location as soon as you have it. It's somewhere out beyond the zoo, but he was gabbling, sounded confused… I have a bad feeling Cho…"
Her voice tailed off, worry welling up once again at the recollection of the mangled sound of Jane's words, punctuated as they were by an agonizing wheezy cough and laden with a fear so strong that it had fairly oozed from her cell and chilled her to the marrow.
"Thanks Kimball" she said quietly.
"Don't worry Boss. We'll get there as soon as we can. He'll be fine."
Cho wasn't so sure, but he wasn't as insensitive as he appeared and Lisbon was, as Jane had to keep reminding her, no award winning actress. She couldn't hide her dread from Cho anymore than she could beat Jane at poker.
Slightly reassured she threw the phone down on the seat beside her and pushed her body closer to the wheel as if to impel the vehicle forward more quickly, fuelled by determination, hope and the thought of life without Jane.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jane's phone slipped from his trembling grasp and he watched open mouthed and helpless as it landed beneath him, the sound of it's landing barely audible above the crackling of the roaring flames at his back.
He lurched forward precariously, instinctively grabbing at the thin air of a grey October day, in an attempt to retrieve his lifeline to safety as it plummeted. He was met with swirling images of the ground, which he knew to be solid, sweeping up to meet his startled face like the dark waves of an angry green sea.
Finding strength which he ( and the team ) hadn't known he possessed, Jane managed to regain enough balance to hang on to the cold, hard granite of the window surround and halt his premature descent.
He knew that descent was inevitable, but when it came, it would have to be controlled.
He also knew it had to be very soon.
Acrid black smoke was now swirling past him into the fast approaching dusk, making sure to fill his lungs with it's suffocating poison on it's way out to turn the sky a shade darker.
The heat from the advancing flames scorched his back, even through his jacket and vest and he felt sure he could detect the distinctive odour of singed hair … his hair!
He had to do it now.
Now or never.
Or never …
and
death…
But his throbbing head spun like a top and he couldn't be sure what was real … how near was the ground… was it grass or concrete… what floor was he on…
... was the whole place really bucking and swaying like that … or was it him …?
...and he couldn't breathe...
... couldn't think...
Shuffling his butt to the edge of the icy sill, strangely icy given the circumstances, it's stoney surface scraping painfully through the seat of his pants, he tried to suck in a breath full of courage and think positive.
A childhood rhyme flitted into his confusion. A distraction. A subconscious delaying tactic …
The boy stood on the burning bridge … no… deck… no...
Oh, just do it Jane ! Man up!
… bend the knees to cushion the impact …tuck your head in …one shoulder under first …right one, since you're right handed,
…and roll…
... like in the movies…
... a stuntman!
… Geronimooooooooooooooo ... !
He slipped his behind off the sill and prayed to St. Teresa.
The ground seemed closer than he had expected.
It arrived sooner than he thought.
It was harder.
Very much harder.
His ankles buckled.
He heard the cracks.
He bent his knees, but he still heard the snaps.
He tried to roll … but the ground was too fast for him.
Much too fast.
Or he was too slow?
It came up to meet him before he had a chance.
The impact surged up through his body in one huge jolt and emerged as a primeval scream that pierced the night sky and carried right on up to the heavens, reverberating his pain, making the world aware of his agony.
Red hot needles shot through his limbs and just kept coming, over and over and over until his body pitched forward and slammed his face into the cold, gravely earth and he was delivered into the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness.
It took all of two seconds.
Then silence.
Blessed silence.