Spin
Jane was lying on the couch in Lisbon's office, while mentally congratulating himself on buying the comfy piece of furniture some years ago. It was much better than her previous one, and he'd be lying if he said he'd done it only for her sake.
He wanted her to be more comfortable, that was true; but he was the one who spent most hours on it, unobtrusively watching its rightful owner as she struggled with endless stacks of paperwork.
Lisbon was working late once again. He studied the way her hair shadowed her tired face, and wondered what would happen if he dared to tuck a strand of it behind her ear.
Then…
…he woke up in a dark basement, his heart pounding with a sense of foreboding.
And there he was, the man he'd chased for almost a decade now. Red John was standing right in front of him, his face half-hidden in shadows.
The serial killer gave him a creepy smile before stepping aside and revealing a very pale Teresa Lisbon bound to a chair a few feet away from him. A knife blade gleamed in the darkness, and blood gushed from the deep cut in her neck.
A piercing cry shattered the silence.
Jane struggled desperately, the rope cutting through his wrists and ankles. But he couldn't free himself, nor tear away his gaze as her body fell limply to the floor.
He screamed, and screamed, and then…
…he opened his eyes to find a warm body hugging him for dear life.
"It's okay, Patrick. It was just one of your nightmares."
Teresa smelled of cinnamon and sleep, and he reveled in the feeling of her hands running soothing circles on the small of his back.
A grey light filtered through the curtains of their bedroom window, as a token of the forthcoming dawn. Jane wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in the crook of her neck.
He still felt his head spinning, but right now he just didn't care. Whether that was reality or another of his dreams, he had no intentions of waking up this time.