Bloody Hell

2

"I'm not staying out here!" Lisbon barked. "I'm going in there with him!"

"Teresa! Teresa, don't go! Please!" Patrick cried, writhing weakly under the doctors' grips as they wheeled him away on the gurney.

"I'm sorry, ma'am but we can't allow you in there," the nurse said blandly, like she didn't even care.

"Like hell I can't!" She bellowed, moving to step around her but was blocked by the nurse.

"No, no, Teresa, please help!" She looked over the nurse's shoulder, right into Patrick's tear-filled eyes.

"I'll be right there, Patrick, it's okay." She assured, smiling gently. Her face was hard when she looked back at the nurse. She shoved her badge in the woman's face.

"You let me in there right now or I swear to God I will have this place crawling with CDC faster than you can grab a mop," she growled. The woman glanced up at her from her clipboard.

"You go right ahead and do that ma'am, but right now we need to take care of Mr. Jane." And she walked away.

"Teresa, plehease!" God, he looked so scared.

"It's okay, Patrick. It's alright. Everything's gonna be alright," She assured, wanting to barge through the throng of doctors to get to him, but it would only result in a call from security and more not needed chaos around Patrick.

He was still whimpering, crying and squirming when the doors closed behind them.

She collapsed in a chair, hitting the side table next to it with her fist. "DAMN IT!"

"He'll be okay, Boss," Rigsby said. Lisbon shook her head.

"He didn't say your name like that. He didn't beg for you to help him. You didn't just stand there and do nothing while they took him away," she said quietly.

No one said anything for a long time. Not until a doctor came out, looking grim and anxious.

"Patrick Jane?" He said. Lisbon and the others stood.

"Is everything okay? Is he alright?" Van Pelt asked, surprising them.

"There's something you all need to see," he said before turning down a hall toward the rooms.

Patrick was lying on his stomach, apparently sleeping. He didn't look peaceful. His eyes were closed, yes, but his face was screwed up in discomfort. He whimpered a little, soft, quiet, a noise the doctor didn't hear.

"Did he pass out?" Lisbon asked.

"No, we had to sedate him. Lisbon shut her eyes, trying not to imagine Patrick screaming and crying, so scared as they stuck that needle in his arm or his neck.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Cho demanded, voice raised, missing every ounce of its usual calm. The doctor was taken aback by the outburst.

"He was hysterical. He, he was fighting us and screaming bloody murder. We had-" Cho stepped closer to the man, right in his face, murderously angry.

"And do you not understand what's happened to him? Do you understand that if you stupid son of a bitches would've let her go with him that none of that would've happened?"

"Cho," Van Pelt put her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"What did you need to show us?" Rigsby asked anxiously. The doctor nodded, stepping away from Cho and going to Patrick. He pulled down the blanket, revealing Patrick's back. Van Pelt turned away, her hand over her mouth. Rigsby backed up, horrified. Cho ran his hand over his face, despaired.

Lisbon could only stare as tears welled in her eyes. A smiley face looked back at her. It had been whipped into his skin. It had been treated, but not yet covered.

"Oh my God," she breathed.

"That's why there was no face at the scene," Rigsby said quietly. Patrick whimpered, trembling at the sudden chill around him. Lisbon went to him, pulling up the chair that was next to the bed.

"Shh, Patrick, wake up. It's alright. It's okay, it's okay, shh…" She breathed, gently stroking his cheek. The doctor set to dressing the horrible face as Patrick cringed and whimpered, wondering what was causing him pain.

"It's the doctor, it's okay," Lisbon assured. He drew his arms underneath him, trembling.

"It's c-cold, L-Lisbon," he choked. Lisbon looked up at the doctor, who moved away nodding. She pulled the blankets over his shoulders, covering him up. He continued to shake, tears seeping down his cheeks and into the pillow.

"Shh, it's okay. It's alright. Don't cry, shh…" She soothed, wiping the tears from his face.

"I w-want to go h-home," he pleaded. "P-please. I w-wanna go-go home."

"You will. You will soon, it's alright." She wanted to hold him, to keep him close and make sure that no one was going to hurt him. But she couldn't when he was laying like this and with so many chords and monitors hooked up to him. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. It's okay. I'm sorry I left you. I didn't want to. I'm sorry if you were scared but-"

"Wh-why did they hurt me? Di-did I do something wrong?" He whimpered. Cho looked over at the doctor, his eyes daggers.

"No," Lisbon assured, shaking her head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong, okay? They were trying to help you."

"I d-don't wanna be h-here, T-Teresa…Please!" He was broken. God, he was so broken. She could see how deeply he was shattered by looking in his eyes. Those pools of blue that usually held light and mischief now held sadness, agony and a vulnerability that hurt her heart to exploit: innocence.

She winced at the sudden jab and stroked his hair back.

"When can he leave?" she asked, looking at the doctor again.

"Um, at minimum over night, for observation."

"I'll go get him some clothes," Cho said, knowing Patrick would be more comfortable in his own things than the hospital garb.

"We'll go too," Van Pelt said. Rigsby nodded.

"Thank you," Lisbon whispered. The three turned and left the room. The doctor left awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself.

Patrick looked so alone. So lost. So scared.

He grunted, grimacing and pushing himself up, trying not to cry at the rush of agony that jumped through him as he rolled over. He wanted to be able to see if something was coming for him. He didn't want someone to hurt him and take him by surprise.

"Patrick don't-" Lisbon warned, but the caution was too late. She watched his heart rate and blood pressure spike for a brief moment. She touched his face, looking those eyes again.

"It's okay, Patrick," she promised. His eyes watered again, shaking hands drawn to his chest.

"Patrick," she breathed, her eyes pained as she pulled him to her. He cried against her, wondering why the monitor didn't register that his heart was torn in pieces. His mind was mangled and haunted, his very soul was bleeding.

Red John had got him, again. He sobbed into Lisbon's chest, breath ragged, tears burning, wounds screaming. "Shh…it's okay, Patrick. Sleep, just sl-"

"Nohoh!" He yelped, shaking his head. Please don't' make me sleep, Lisbon. D-don't make me. Th-the nightmares I h-have are unbearable already. P-please…"

"Okay, okay, you don't have to sleep. It's okay. It's okay," she soothed, rubbing the back of his head, rocking him gently.

"M-make it stop," he whispered, begging no one. "Please make it g-go away."

"It'lll go away, Patrick. It'll be alright. Shh…"

"You know what you are, Patrick?" He had said so calmly he might have been tossing the whip at flies.

He whimpered, not wanting to look at that masked face again. The bullwhip tore his skin again. "You're an egg." Again. "Seems so hard and strong on the outside." Again. "But it just takes a little push." Again. "'Til all that mess comes out. 'Til it's broken beyond repair."

"No more…" A weak, hoarse whimper. "I c-can't- GAAAHN!"

Another stroke. "No, no, no, no…"

His mouth was next to his ear again. "Looks like I'm the push."

He hid his face away, away from everything. He couldn't help it. He couldn't stop crying.

"I miss them," he sobbed. "I miss them so much…"

"I know," Lisbon said, kissing his temple again. "I know you do. It's alright. Shh…"

Patrick didn't sleep all night. He couldn't. Not when those memories kept him awake. Not when that voice rang out in his ears along with that laugh.

He trembled, curling against himself as tight as he could.

Lisbon held him as he cried, knowing that he wouldn't be able to heal for a very long time. But right now she would hug him and soothe him and rock him, marveling at how small he felt. Like a child almost.

"Shh…it'll be okay soon. I promise."

"Make it stop…"

Tbc…

-More TLC soon!-