The thin red line (Chapter 2)
Welcome to my very first The Mentalist fanfic! I haven't written fanfiction in years, but the Red John-storyline and solution of it, got me back in the saddle.
This story is basically a fill-in-the-blanks for the events occurring right after RJ's death and Jane's flight. I couldn't accept the fact that the CBI-gang didn't see each other anymore right after these events and felt an urgent sense to fill in some of the questions lingering about.
So basically, this is my take on the first days after Jane's run and what might have happened afterwards. There are spoilers for:
6x07: The Great Red Dragon
6x08: Red John
Type of story: Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Written from Jane's POV
Characters: Jane, Lisbon, Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho – in other words, all those that we love and care about.
Feedback is very much appreciated. This story is complete so I will be posting a new chapter on a very regular basis.
Thanks for paying attention!
Thanks for the lovely feedback I've received so far! I promise to post one chapter every day :-)
Chapter 2
It was the sun that woke me as it shone through the open curtains, blinding me as I lay on the ground. My head kept on pounding and I was barely able to move, my body in full collapse. I knew this was not good. I had never experienced anything like this before.
There was a banging on the door, someone continued to knock constantly in a steady rhythm. Then a voice said, "Cleaning! Can I come in?"
It took me a while to realize that I was in that sleazy motel with the clean bed lying on the dirty carpet. It must have been after noon of the next day or they wouldn't be knocking on the door like this. I had to do something or they would find me lying on the ground and would call a doctor or an ambulance. Beyond any human strength I crawled up and managed somehow to reach the door, standing wavering on my legs but able to unlock the door.
"Cleaning," the woman repeated when she saw me open the door a little. Her plucked eyebrows frowned. "What's going on?"
"I'm sorry," I whispered with hoarse voice, not even faking my illness, "I'm sick. I need to stay one more day. Can you tell the desk clerk that I'll be staying longer?"
She looked at me suspicious, then saw my pale face and tired expression and nodded. "You need to pay upfront in cash."
"Oh. Hang on." I looked behind me, searching for my jacket, only to realize I was still wearing it, and dug out sixty bucks. "Keep the rest," I said hoarsely.
She nodded slowly, a sly grin dancing on her face. "Do you need a doctor?"
"No." I slightly shook my head. "Just a bout of the flu. I'll be fine."
"Okay. If you need anything, press 0 on the phone. "Then she added suspiciously. "You're not on drugs, are you?"
Despite my predicament I smiled. "No."
"And you're not dying?"
"Of course not."
"Good. The boss doesn't like a mess in here. Just call us if you would be dying." She laughed. "Then Jack can drop you off at an ER before you croak."
"That's comforting." I almost grinned. "Thanks."
I slowly shut the door and managed to close the curtains, leaving the too bright sunlight out. Then I sunk back onto the bed and felt my entire body burn. I was running a fever; there was no doubt about that. And it was not a slight fever either. My hands roamed my abdomen, instantly locating the area of bruising. It was swollen and hot to the touch. This was not good. I guess there was no doubt about that small rupture now.
I had never felt so alone. Even though I knew that running would now be a part of my life and I would have to do it without my friends, I couldn't bear to think of a life without them now. I felt tears escape my eyes, crying for the first time in years. Self-pity combined with pain is not a good combination for a man like me. I didn't do self-pity.
I sunk my head into the pillows and tried to find a good position. I'll get medication, I reassured myself. Nothing some painkillers and fever meds won't cure. I mentally forced my body to heal itself. But I was no doctor and even though my brain registered so much, this, it could not fix.
Sleep came mercifully.
My eyes fought to open themselves. It was very dark in the room, the only light coming in peeped through the curtains. It was a very early sunrise that came in. Another afternoon and night had passed and I was a wreck.
I could barely lift my head. My body shook with fever as it had never done before. This really was not good. I would die in this sleazy motel and they would find my corpse in a few days, already stinking of death. I did not want to die, not after all of this!
I stared at the motel's phone standing on the table. I'd die just to crawl over there to dial for help. My body could not move another inch. I had never felt so helpless in my life. That hospital bed looked very inviting right now. Even a nice comfortable FBI holding cell seemed appealing.
The cell phone. Let it still have battery.
It was still stuffed in my coat pocket. I had slept for two days in my entire suit and I couldn't care less. Cho was my lifeline. He was my only chance now.
The battery was running on empty. I didn't have much time. I tried to recall where I had left the cable, feeling for it in my pants' pocket. It was still there. But I couldn't even plug it in.
I tried to remember where I was … the road, sleazy Night Motel or something. That's all I knew. The number 20 crept into my mind. My room number?
Cho's number was the only one stored in the phone's register. He picked up after two tones. "Where are you?" he simply said, efficient and strong as ever.
I had to fight to find my voice. I heard someone spell out the address and the number. And that person also said that I was dying. It was my own voice, I knew, but it could have been someone else's. I just knew that I needed help and that he was the only one who could save me.
"I'm coming," was all he said and I knew he would drive like crazy, ignoring all signs, to get here as fast as he could. And doing that, I also knew that he would be able to shake off the Feds in the meantime, if they even bothered to follow him, that is.
I dropped the phone on the bed and tried to ignore the pain, the sickness, the trembling. Somehow I managed to crawl under the sheets and roll myself into a fetal position, waiting, panting, chilling yet sweating and heaving. For how long, I didn't know. Darkness came and I let it.
To be continued