Hey guys :) This is my first Mentalist FanFiction, and I've written it because I've always wanted to play on the Lisbon/Jane pairing and how she would react to him being threatened, and I have always wondered what would happen if the Season 4 Finale ended differently. Plus, I may be psychotic, but I have to admit I love a bit of Jane whump, not because I don't love Patrick, but because I feel that everytime Jane gets hurt, Lisbon's reaction and actions show her true feelings for him. So I hope you enjoy it, happy reading :)

The moment Red John spoke, he knew there would be pain. This was risk Patrick had taken, but the thought of what they could do to him still chilled him to the bone.

'Lorelei.' Red John spoke in his strange, high pitched voice casually, almost containing a caress in the way he pronounced his words. 'Cut off two of his fingers, you choose which. Then we should go.'

Patrick felt bile burn the back of his throat, fear rising in his chest before we even thought to react. Despite his bravado, he was terrified of pain, and things it could make men do. Before he could react, Red John's henchman had yanked open the door and grabbed him by the collar, none too gently, slamming Patrick onto the hood of the car. A strangled cry escaped Patrick's throat, surprising him. No, he would not cry out. He would not give Red John the satisfaction.

Lorelei's slender hands grasped the garden cutters reluctantly, and his teeth clenched imagining the blade slicing through his flesh like the tree branches they were designed for. She positioned them almost gently around his ring finger, brushing his wedding band. He felt the sharpened edge dig into his skin, blood welling from the small cut.

Patrick couldn't help it, he yelled in fear, causing a cloud of pity and regret to cross Lorelei's eyes. He had admired her eyes at first, the way they seemed to capture joy even when she wasn't smiling, but now they seemed frigid and determined.

'I'm sorry.'

A simple two miles away, Lisbon and Rigsby sped through the suburban streets to Patrick's location. Wayne had taken over the wheel after he saw how his boss was reacting to the audio that could only be lightly heard from Jane's earpiece. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth, which naturally curved downward at the edges was taught, when she talked, he could see how the inside of her cheek bled from her biting down on it.

Tears had escaped her eyes while they were detained by the FBI as she heard Patrick being beaten, which added to his theory that Lisbon was more attached to the cheeky consultant than she would admit. Now however, she seemed so wound up that she was afraid to speak. That's when they heard Patrick's cry, a soft exclamation of fear and desperation, it sounded so strained and involuntary that Rigsby's hands automatically tightened on the wheel.

'Faster!' Lisbon cried, tears welling in her eyes and her hands clasped around her cross. 'Christ Rigsby, move!'

He heard her praying as his foot slammed onto the pedal and the car spurred forward, if a corner came unexpectantly now, they were both dead. Suddenly, the speaker, which Lisbon had placed on the dashboard, exploded with sound. It was an inhuman scream, a noise he would once have doubted a man could make. The agony contained in it was enough for his hands to jerk on the wheel and the large car to swerve into a telephone pole to their right.

The second Patrick felt pressure exerted into the cutters, he jerked so suddenly that the sharp blade skimmed through the fleshy part in between his fingers and sliced a deep wound from his hand to the crook of his elbow. Lorelei was staring in horror at the garden tool embedded in his arm, blood gushing from the gash and the fresh white of bone visible where the valley of the wound passed over his hand.

The pain took a moment, to hit, but when it did, Patrick forgot all his earlier thoughts about staying silent. He heard an animalistic scream and as his throat burned, he realised he had made the noise. Lorelei had missed major arteries, the blood flow was minimal, but that didn't stop him crumpling to the ground, his cries unbearably loud and his face contorted.

He heard her before he saw her, and for a moment Patrick wondered if he had lost consciousness. Lisbon occupied his dreams so often that he had become accustomed to her face in his sleep, but when he dreamed she was not crying, running towards him, puffing from overexertion and being held back by a struggling Lorelei.

'Lisbon . . .' The words sounded slurred and clumsy, as he opened his eyes and realised what was happening. Lorelei had deftly hancuffed Lisbon to the car's door handle, and had kneed Rigsby in the groin, causing him to fall to the sand retching. She turned back to Patrick, fury in her eyes.

'You think you're so god damn clever.' She growled, her booted food colliding with his head so that ringing filled his ears and stars exploded before his eyes. Lorelei had lost it, her hair which Patrick had once seen as soft and beautiful was now plastered to her face with sweat, her eyes filled with hate.

The incredibly well built man who had frisked and beaten Patrick before he entered the vehicle relished in dragging the smaller, blond man up by his collar and smashing his head against the car hood. Lisbon screamed and lunged against her bindings. Tears were running down her face and her sobs tugged at his heart.

Red John's henchman dug his fist into Patrick's chest, where he had hit before, pulling a yell from his lips, before grabbing the bloodstained cutters from the sand and sinking them into the soft mass of Patrick's stomach.

Lisbon's world had slowed down, she could hear her screams as though someone else was yelling in her ear, and the pain in her wrists from her cuffs felt welcome. Patrick was propped up against the hood of the car, Lorelei was shrieking obsenities at Patrick while the man beat her consultant to the brink of conciousness. She could see the pain in his blue eyes, and with every blow, it was as if the man was hitting her and not her employee.

When the man stabbed Patrick, she stopped screaming. She saw Patrick's eyes widen in shock, before rolling back into his head as he slid down the car and onto the ground. She felt as if her soul had been ripped from her chest, sure, she had seen some pretty gruesome stuff, but Patrick, cheeky, endearing, infuriating Patrick was someone she relied on to stay safe.

She heard the sirens as though from a distance, and turned sluggishly to see the FBI vehicles shoot down the road and into the sandy scene. The black glazed window's obscured the agents, but the blaring alarms alerted Red John's desciple's of the threat. Before she lost conciousness, she saw Agent Darcy leap from the still moving car and race toward them, just as a gunshot rang out and Patrick lay still.

So there you go :) Don't worry, Patrick survives. Just for anyone confused, Lisbon faints from trauma/shock after seeing Patrick stabbed. Sorry this scene is a bit rushed, the story is based on Patrick's recovery after the ordeal and how Lisbon helps him through it. The story will be at a more normal pace in the next chapter. If you had time, feedback and reviews are much appreciated, I will never be offended by constructive critisism and I welcome your point of view. Hopefully I can upload another chapter sometime this week :) Thanks for reading!