Author's notes:

In The Mentalist episode 4x10, "Fugue in Red," someone attacks Patrick Jane at a crime scene, Teresa Lisbon finds him, and once Jane revives she learns that he has suffered a memory loss and change in behavior. What if their roles in that episode had reversed? What if Lisbon became the victim of the attack?

Thank you to the great writer Sue Shay for her beta-reading, insight, and encouragement on this and other projects! I recommend all of Sue's stories including her current one, "Ready or Not." Sue's insight has enhanced this story in many ways that include adding punch and clarity.

The story title and chapter titles come from music, either a pop standard or a classical music work. In author's notes that follow each chapter, I describe the songs and related recordings. Some songs lend only their title to the chapter; others connect on a deeper level in tone and lyrics. I encourage readers to seek out these songs and listen for themselves.

Chapter 1: In The Still Of The Night

"Perfect, Jane," Teresa Lisbon mumbled to no one in particular. "Just perfect." They had arrived at the crime scene of a murdered firefighter mere minutes ago yet her consultant Patrick Jane had already wandered off to who knows where.

"Boss, our dead guy is a firefighter. Name's Paul Satterfield," said agent Kimball Cho as he walked up to Lisbon. "Where's Jane?"

"No idea, Cho. Why don't you coordinate with the techs, I'll track down Jane and see what he's been able to figure out."

"Will do, Boss."

Walking around the crime scene Lisbon found out that Jane had talked with the victim's friend then disappeared off into the woods. Maybe Jane had decided on taking a nature walk,it would be just like him to do that in the middle of a murder investigation. Since Cho had things under control, her presence wasn't immediately needed. Lisbon walked down a trail.

"For just once, can't you be the responsible one, Jane? I have to be that all the time, and I don't need your childish whims interrupting our work," Lisbon again mumbled to herself.

Responsibility. That word summed her life. Ever since her mother's death when Teresa was still a teenager, she had been the responsible one. First it was raising her brothers after the drunk driver killed her mother and cheap booze ruined her father. Following that it was ending her relationship with her fiance. After that it was starting her career in law enforcement. Next it was holding things together each day on her shift as a patrol officer at SFPD. Later it was finding justice for victims and families as a detective. Then it was joining and later leading her team at CBI. The least her consultant could do would be to focus on the matter at hand.

OK, that was harsh. If she had had some hard knocks along the way in life, at least she was building the career she'd strived for. The traumas of her life were still nothing to compare to Jane's - to coming home to find your spouse and child slain by a killer you had insulted in the media. How he held himself together as well as he did amazed her sometimes. She'd seen old video of Jane in his former days - the manipulator, the charlatan, the conman. That wasn't who he was now. Oh, the old behavior came through every now and then, and sometimes she had to admit it came in handy on a case. Still…

Jane had made it clear in his actions and words that he had loved his family and treated them well. Even at his worst, Jane held his family above whatever shenanigans he had involved himself in. Now the memory of his family drove him, and she and the CBI benefitted. Over the years Lisbon discovered that Jane did have values, even if they came in an odd mix. He could lie with a smooth voice, but he shared harsh truths about himself with her in an intimate way that no one else ever had. He could manipulate people to his own ends, but he lived like a pauper. He could flirt with skill, but he wore his wedding ring as testament to his dead wife and their vows.

Jane was Jane, and all his wandering around a crime scene usually bore fruit in an arrest. Lisbon had come to know his ways well, and she put up with him willingly. He was the only man she'd ever known who could make her want to wring his neck one moment then kiss him the next.

Kiss him? The thought jarred her out of her reflections. Best not to go there. That was a deep, dark corner of her mind where the wild things played. Still, the banter, the shared joys and laughs, the hours spent together on the road or in the office, the small kindnesses and the big displays (A pony! How did that get there?), the wavy hair, the scent of his aftershave, the eyes that looked into her soul, the smile that imprinted on her heart years ago - all had become a part of her life. A pleasant part, a thrilling part, a part she looked forward to each day.

Shaking her head to focus again on matters at hand, Lisbon found that the trail wound by a small lake. As she walked deeper into the forest, the random noises of the crime scene had given way to the still of the night. In the glow of the full moon the lakeside took on an other-worldly look. The sky was full of stars, looking like they could fall as tiny slivers of glass to the earth at any minute. Ripples gently lapped at the bank, and the aroma of the fallen leaves that covered the forest floor reached her nostrils. Shards of moonlight reflected up from the surface of the water, and wisps of mist gathered further out on the lake. Lisbon took a moment to stand still and drink in the beauty of the night. As she turned to leave, a splash at the edge of the lake caught the corner of her eye.

A hand reached out of the water to grab her leg. Her first reaction was shock, not action. The hand, covered in wet grass, jerked her forward. As her legs buckled, she hurtled into the water. In the corner of her eye she saw a man clad in dark clothing emerge from the water beside her.

Now her body slammed against the surface of the lake with a force that knocked the air out of her lungs. In the water she found no traction. She punched at the man without effect. Using his body to pin her under the water, her attacker closed his two hands around her neck in a grip that held her in place and squeezed precious air from her body.

Lisbon fought by instinct. Chocking, retching, gasping all merged into one horror. Every move she tried failed. She couldn't reach his face to get at his eyes. His body blocked access to her gun. The heaviness of the water kept her kicks at his torso from being anything more than light taps on his stomach. Lisbon was defeated. She knew it, but she wasn't going to give up. As the hands kept a steady pressure on her throat and the weight of his body kept her submerged, she thrashed.

With each second that passed, however; she thrashed less and less. Her strength dwindled. She seemed weighed down like a water-logged sack of refuse slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean. As she surrendered to a darkness growing around her, Lisbon's thoughts turned to the people in her life, the ones she would miss: her family, her team, her Jane.

Then she stopped thrashing, the darkness took over completely, and Lisbon felt at peace.

To be continued.

"I Remember You" is one of the songs where the title, lyrics, and a particular recording all relate to the story. Written by Johnny Mercer and Victor Schertzinger in 1941, there are many fine recordings of it including Ella Fitzgerald's two studio versions. My favorite for its wistful tone is Diana Krall's version on her 2001 album The Look of Love.

While the lyrics of "In The Still Of The Night," written by Cole Porter in 1937, only partly match the action of Chapter 1, the title and tone set the stage for the pivotal event of the story. Of the many recordings of "In The Still Of The Night," a favorite is Jane Monheit's which is included on her album, The Very Best of Jane Monheit.