Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to The Mentalist, The Little Prince, or The Jungle Book, just love and admiration for them all. And I'm not making a cent off this, which is why I have a full time job that interferes greatly with my writing time.

Author's Note: Bloodshot has always been one of my favorite episodes, so I was a little surprised I never wrote a tag for it. Until I tried writing this. It's all over the place and wouldn't go where I wanted, but I hope you'll find things to enjoy!

Lisbon tried to catch her breath and calm her pounding heart as she stared at the shattered window. Van Pelt was momentarily stunned, unable to say more than, "Oh thank God!"

Jane, in the driver's seat despite his blindness, was still oblivious to her presence, which was weird. His voice was ragged with desperation. "What? What happened? Did something good happen?"

"Didn't I say no excitement of any kind?" she demanded.

Jane's expression became one of profound relief, and he bowed his head, slumping over the steering wheel.

Van Pelt suddenly snapped out of her shock and pushed her door open. "Rigsby! Boss, uncuff me!"

Lisbon dug out her handcuff keys and released her, and Van Pelt took off running for the building. Jane remained where he was, not speaking. His hands were shaking even as they clutched at the wheel.

Crap. He'd had a head injury because of the explosion, and now he'd been in a series of car collisions, by the look of Van Pelt's Jeep. Lisbon pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911, reporting one suspect with a GSW and one agent injured. She couldn't tell if Hollenbeck was breathing, but right now she didn't care.

"Jane? You okay?" She went around to his side of the car, concerned that he wasn't trying to talk her out of making him go for another ambulance ride. Or talking at all. "Jane?"

"I'm okay," he tried to assure her, but his voice was unsteady.

She pulled open the door—with some difficulty as it was initially stuck—to get a better look at him. As her hand touched his shoulder, he turned and hugged her, hard.

Lisbon was taken aback, but she put her arms around him, worried about how his breathing hitched. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm...so...damn tired...of being...helpless!" he gasped in her ear.

"What happened to your superhero powers?" she teased. When he didn't respond, she added, "Hey. You aren't helpless. You made the best of a bad situation and stayed alive until help arrived. You did great." She couldn't wait to hear the whole story, but she knew getting in the car hadn't been Van Pelt's idea.

He huffed out a skeptical sound, so she knew he was listening. But he didn't talk again until they heard sirens approaching. "No hospital," he said, tightening his grip.

"Jane, you might have hit your head again."

"I didn't."

"And you're in no shape to diagnose yourself."

"I'm not going, Lisbon." There was a note of barely suppressed panic in his voice, and he let go of her and sat up straight. She could see him working to pull himself together, and while it was reassuring that he was enough himself to do that, she felt sorry that he felt he had to put his mask back on.

The first ambulance arrived, and she went to the other side of the car to direct them to Hollenbeck, who was still alive and beginning to come around. When she got back to Jane, he had gotten out of the car and was standing beside it. "I'm fine, Lisbon," he insisted in his normal voice.

"Let's go get an expert opinion on that," she said.

"I assure you, no one is more of an expert on me than I," he replied, managing to sound amused.

"Don't make me cuff you," she warned.

He reached out and took her wrist, apparently so he could monitor her movements. "You think I can't pick a pair of handcuffs?"

She bet he could under normal circumstances, but she had her doubts about his ability in his current state. Fortunately the second ambulance arrived, and a paramedic came over.

"He had a previous head injury and is temporarily blind," Lisbon told her. "Then he was in a series of low speed collisions."

The paramedic nodded. "Any pain, sir?"

"I'm right as rain. There's no need for this," Jane said calmly.

The paramedic gave Lisbon a sympathetic look. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that, hm?"

"Because you sound about 12 years old," Jane snapped, flinching away from her hand on his shoulder.

"Jane!" Lisbon hissed. "Behave!"

"There is absolutely no need for this. I'm sure there are others in more need of your attention. In fact, I know there are. Did you see Tommy the gate guard? He tried to help us, and I think he was shot."

"Crap," Lisbon said. "Jane, you stay here. Right here. I mean it. I'll be right back."

It took just a minute to find the guard, and the paramedic quickly focused on the gunshot wound to his shoulder. Lisbon left them to it and hurried back to Jane, who for once had done as told. He lifted his head as she approached and said, "Is Tommy okay?"

"He will be. But he's taking your seat in the ambulance."

"I'm fine, Lisbon. Really. If you'll just help me up to my couch, I'll sleep like a baby and be no trouble to anyone." He tried his winning smile, but oddly enough, it lost much of its power without his eyes twinkling above it.

"That would be a nice change," she grumbled. Obviously she wasn't going to persuade him. He was as stubborn as all three of her brothers combined sometimes.

She'd just have to trick him.

"Fine. Just don't die there. Minelli would have a fit." She took his arm and began guiding him away from all the activity. Then, as casually as she could manage, she added, "I'm starved. Have you had dinner?"

"No. I am hungry, actually," he replied, welcoming the change of subject.

"The diner down the street?" she suggested.

"Perfect. I could do with a nice cup of tea and a slice of cherry pie," he said.

He sounded like he was really looking forward to it. She almost hated to deprive him. "Okay. My car's right over here."

She helped him into the passenger seat of her car and closed the door, frowning as she went to get into the driver's side. It was a bad sign that Jane was taking her at face value instead of hearing her real intentions in her voice or the way she breathed or something. She was definitely doing the right thing.

In the end, it was easier than she imagined. Jane fell asleep a few blocks away, crashing as the adrenaline faded. He didn't wake up as she pulled into the emergency room parking lot and turned off the car; she had to gently shake his shoulder after opening the passenger side door. "Jane? We're here."

He woke with a yawn. "Hm?"

"Come on," she urged.

He let her help him climb out of the car and take his arm, but he balked almost immediately. "Where are we?"

"Just a quick stop on our way to the diner," she replied.

"Taking advantage of my handicap to lie to me is beneath you, Lisbon," he said, frowning in disapproval.

"Yes, it is. But you left me no choice. Now, just let them look you over, and then we can go get dinner."

"I'm not staying," he grumbled. But he kept moving, letting her lead him.

Lisbon decided not to argue, since she was getting what she wanted. "Just a little while. I'm starving."

mmm

Jane was sulky and uncooperative throughout the examination, but Lisbon expected that. What she didn't expect was the realization that beneath all the bluster and cutting remarks, he was frightened. If she was quiet for too long, he would turn his head, trying to hear her breathing. And when they started to wheel him down to X-Ray, he visibly paled, stuck out his hand, and said, "Lisbon."

He probably meant it as a summons, but she heard the plea in the way his voice cracked a little on the first syllable. She stepped forward and put her hand in his. "I'm right here, Jane."

"Ma'am, you can sit in the waiting room," the orderly said.

"No. I'm going with him."

"Not allowed. You can wait in the waiting room."

Lisbon pulled out her badge. "This man was attacked by a vicious killer tonight. I'm going with him, for his safety and yours." Which was all true, if not connected as she implied.

The orderly stared at her badge, then shrugged. Lisbon walked beside the gurney as it moved, keeping a close eye on Jane. He tried to sound like his normal self, saying, "That's right. I need my bodyguard at all times."

For a man who relied on his skill at observing people, being literally in the dark must be terrifying, she thought. He hated hospitals even on a good day, so she couldn't blame him for wanting her to act as his eyes.

If she hadn't left him earlier, he might not be here. Surely she could have stopped Hollenbeck without forcing Jane to drive blind.

Her sense of guilt helped her suppress her annoyance as Jane gave as much difficulty as possible to the radiologist.

"Relax," the radiologist told him firmly.

"Jane, please just cooperate. I'm hungry," Lisbon added.

With the implied promise of diner pie, Jane quieted down, and the rest of the visit went smoothly. He didn't have a new concussion or whiplash, and the doctor finally released him with instructions to go home and rest. Jane said "Okay" and "Fine" and "Sure" until Lisbon realized he wasn't actually listening.

She made sure she understood what he needed, dealt with the paperwork, and walked beside his wheelchair as a different orderly pushed it to the door. "Watch him. He's sneaky," she warned as she left to get her car.

She hurried, afraid he would disappear before she could get back. But when she pulled up, he was still in the wheelchair, chatting with the orderly like they were old friends.

The orderly helped Jane into the passenger seat cheerfully. "You take care now, Patrick," he said as he fastened the seat belt.

"You too, Jerry. Now go take that wife of yours some flowers and tell her you're sorry," Jane replied. "A good apology is better than jewelry. Trust me."

"Thanks, Patrick. I'll give it a try," Jerry assured him, patting him on the shoulder before closing the door.

"Marriage counseling?" Lisbon teased as she drove off.

"Meh. Just some friendly advice. If I stay blind, maybe I can write an advice column," he used.

"You're not going to stay blind," she said firmly.

"Of course not. Because those frauds in white coats always know what they're doing," Jane grumbled. Then he leaned his head back against the seat and let out a long sigh. "I'm so tired."

"Would you rather skip dinner?" It was going on ten o'clock at night, after all. She could eat cereal for dinner. Again.

"No," Jane said. "I'm starved. I need pie."

"Good."

"Of course," he remarked after a moment, "the way my evening is going, you're probably taking me to a lecture on bureaucratic efficiency or some other torture."

"No. Pie," she promised. "And tea."

He hummed in contentment and fell silent for a few minutes. Then he said, "That was a very timely rescue tonight, Lisbon. I haven't said thank you. So thank you. Very much."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner." She was even more sorry she'd sent Cho home; he was a better long-distance shot and could have taken care of the situation more quickly.

"Of course," Jane continued, "Van Pelt didn't thank you either. She wasted her thanks on God. I'll have to remind her to redirect her gratitude more appropriately tomorrow."

"There's no need. Oh, she texted me while you were getting your head examined. Rigsby's beat up, but he's okay."

"Good." Jane frowned. "So he was there then? Hollenbeck must have taken him out before Van Pelt woke me up."

"I guess so."

"How did you know something was wrong?" He sounded curious.

"I didn't. Just figured I should check on you and send Rigsby and Van Pelt home before it got too late."

"Saved by your sense of responsibility," he mused. "Fitting."

She pulled into the diner parking lot, turned off the car engine, and got out to help Jane stand.

He sniffed the air suspiciously, then relaxed, taking her arm. "You know what I think of when I think of you, Lisbon?"

"I'm afraid to ask," she muttered.

"'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.' The King James Version is so poetical."

"You, quoting the Bible?" she teased.

"I read everything I could get my hands on, growing up. Plus, the religious angle helped with the con, especially in the Midwest," he replied.

"Ah. But you didn't learn anything from it."

"On the contrary. I learned from the Old Testament that life has always been unfair and mostly tragic, and from the New Testament I learned that people have always mostly been hypocrites and liars. Jesus was quite the astute psychologist, you know. He called them as he saw them. And got crucified for it."

It occurred to Lisbon that he was seeing a parallel there, but it felt blasphemous to think too much about that. "But you like the psalms."

"Some of them. David was a bit of a drama king at times. The Song of Solomon is my favorite. Who knew the Bible had porn?"

"It's not porn," she objected.

"There's an awful lot of talk of breasts," he chuckled.

They reached the diner door, and Lisbon opened it, ushering Jane through in a reversal of their usual roles. She guided him to a booth, then gave their order to the hovering waitress.

Once he'd had a sip of tea, Jane visibly relaxed. "Darkness has always been used as a metaphor, for evil or despair, or just lack of clarity. But you have to be blind to really recognize the literal truth of that. I feel very cut off from the world like this. Unless you're speaking to me, I am alone with my demons."

"Then I'll talk as long as I can," she said, sipping at her coffee. It was shaping up to be a long night.

Jane gave a short chuckle. "Thy gun and thy badge, they comfort me."

"You shouldn't compare me to God."

"Meh. It's a metaphor. I'll take a good woman with a gun over some imaginary deity any day."

"I'll make sure not to stand too close. You're bound to be struck by lightning or plagues or something if you keep talking like that."

"Or blindness?"

"That was an accident. Because you didn't listen to me when I told you to run. If you're going to take a lesson from this, make it that you should listen to me more often."

"Yes, ma'am."

The waitress brought Jane's pie and Lisbon's cheeseburger and fries, and they dug in. After a minute, he said, "You sound like you're devouring an antelope over there."

"I'm starving, thanks to you," she grumbled. "Don't complain about my table manners."

"You know, being blind makes it easier to perceive essential truths, without being distracted by appearances. 'What is essential is invisible to the eye.'"

"Is that from the Bible?" Lisbon frowned, trying to place the quote.

"No. Antoine de Saint-Exupery."

"Oh, The Little Prince." Now that she thought about it, the character reminded her of Jane.

"Exactly." Jane sounded pleased. "And without my eyes to distract me, I can see you all as your essences, instead of your human forms. Rigsby, for instance, is a Labrador retriever. Big, friendly, willing to fetch anything you throw for him. He just wants to be loved."

Lisbon munched on a fry. She had to admit he wasn't off target there. "What's Cho?"

"Ah, my friend Cho. Wise and inscrutable. Comes and goes in his own time, swooping to devour unwary prey. He is a great horned owl."

She grinned. "I could see that. Van Pelt?"

"A wolf trying to pass as a domesticated dog."

"Really?"

"Really. There's something wild and deadly under that socialized and lovely exterior. Which is why she became a cop instead of a model or actress."

"Hm. Minelli?" They could play this game all night if it kept him happy. Now that her stomach wasn't growling and she had some coffee in her, she was good for several more hours.

"A big black bear. Amiable when things are going well, but terrifying in defense of his cubs." Jane grinned. "You needn't be afraid to find out yours, Lisbon. It's nothing unflattering."

"Doberman pinscher?" she guessed.

"No, something far more rare and magnificent. A black panther, all sable fur and big green eyes, stalking silently through the jungle in search of wrongs to right and innocents to protect."

She thought panthers usually had gold eyes and weren't exactly protectors, but she let that pass. "A big pussycat?"

"A fierce and precise hunter," he corrected. "We're almost like The Jungle Book, you know. I'm Mowgli, of course, the man-cub who doesn't belong. And you're Bagheera, the wise guardian trying to keep him safe from Shere Khan, the predator."

No need to ask who that was, she thought. "So we're a Disney movie?"

Jane looked pained. "Kipling, Lisbon. Rudyard Kipling? A classic tale. You should really read it sometime."

"Who's the orangutan?"

He snorted. "I didn't say it was a perfect metaphor." He scooped up the last bite of cherry filling and vanilla ice cream, and after swallowing, said, "I just have this image of me stumbling through the jungle unable to see all the dangers around me, while you walk beside me on alert, occasionally bumping against my leg to let me know I'm not alone."

"That better not be a stealthy short joke," she warned.

"Take the compliment, woman," he sighed.

She tapped his foot with hers. "Okay. Thanks."

Jane tried and failed to stifle a yawn, making her yawn in response. "Let's go," she said. "You're welcome to crash on my couch."

He shook his head. "I really just want to go back to my couch in the bullpen."

"I hate when you spend the night there. Minelli does too."

"I feel safest there."

She sighed. "Okay, fine. Come on."

They were mostly silent on the drive back to CBI, and Jane was half asleep by the time Lisbon helped him lie down on his couch. "Goodnight, little prince," she whispered.

She turned to go, thinking he hadn't heard her. But two steps away, she heard him murmur, "Night, Bagheera."

Lisbon smiled as she left. He'd be okay here now that the threat was over. And she'd make sure to get here early in the morning so they could get some breakfast.

A/N: For my first birthday, my parents got me a kitten. My dad read The Jungle Book as a boy and loved it, so he named my kitten Bagheera. He was my first friend, and though he died when I was 15, he will always hold one of the oldest places in my heart. So this is dedicated to him. Thanks for all the purrs, Bagee. I'll see you at the Rainbow Bridge.