Disclaimer: I own tea like Patrick Jane but I sadly do not own him nor any other member of The Mentalist.
Thank you to my followers and reviewers. I have been a member of FanFiction for awhile, but this is my fist published story. Ah, well… On with the story.
Cho lays the covers across his lap then glances back at the other two occupants. His boss seems horrified, but Jane seems more bewildered than afraid. Cho now looks down and observes the attire thrown about. A brief flicker of the past forty-eight hours flashes through his mind.
Jane was playing casino games in a pricey hotel bar. He was dressed far snazzier than usual, with a formal navy suit and black suede shoes. He was hauling around a martini that he never even sipped, only stirred. Van Pelt sat at a table, dressed to the finest, snacking on discarded olives. She wore a forest green dress that resembled Marge Simpson's apparel and astonishing silver jewelry. Cho, himself, was chatting with a woman he had just met. She was taller than he is and she constantly fanned herself with a hand of cards. Blackjack.
Cho sighs and shakes his heavy, remorseful head. He stares at the room as a distance barrier. It is completely bare, save the bed and a small bookcase in the corner. He moves his right hand freely. He is only attached to Jane. He pulls on his left a bit, causing the pair to look over with concern.
"What the hell happened?"
Jane offers a matter-of-factly shrug as Lisbon continues to search the pale room. Cho deeply groans and pushes the remaining covers off the bed. Lisbon's eyes dart over to the skirt and Jane's eyes are glued to his own boxers somehow clutched to the petite woman. As she leans up, he observes the safety pin holding them in place. Cho and Jane share a short glance before emerging from their faraway delight.
They drag their feet off the bed and creep to the edge. Wordlessly, Jane takes Lisbon's hand while he and Cho grip each other's arms. The trio pulls themselves together. They start to walk, challenging their minds.
Cho opens the door and lets go of Jane. Jane lets his right arm drop but continues to grasp Lisbon's hand, interloping their fingers. They walk into a fully white corridor. There is nothing on the walls. The carpeting is ivory. Jane shudders as it reminds him of the time he spent in a mental asylum. Lisbon feels him tense and decides to comfort him by slowly running her free hand up and down his arm. Jane falls against the tender touch. He looks down at Lisbon and stops for a split second to kiss her forehead. Jane then continues walking with Cho. Lisbon tags along, heart melting. Cho reaches another door at the end of the hall. Reluctantly, he pushes it open.
A bright multicolor disco ball shines bright as the sun and Jane flinches in response. Once their eyes finally adjust to the room, the trio discovers pizza stuck on the ceiling, cards flown in all directions and most importantly: broken shot glasses. An intoxicating aroma of cinnamon and axe body spray filters the air. Jane suddenly clutches his head, falling to the floor and pulling the unsuspecting agents down with him. He regains a piece of his memory.
A man in a hood slips a pair of cuffs around Lisbon's wrist. She is giggling like a schoolgirl, drinking so much, she nearly falls out of her chair. Jane, himself, is wearing a bride's veil and proceeds to pickpocket several men dressed like valets. He then turns to a solemn Cho, staring at a beautiful woman in a skin-tight green dress. Jane shows Cho a stunning pocket watch he owns. Jane keeps his eyes trained on Cho's as he watches the glimmer of the timepiece. A short flash later, Cho is dancing on a bar table taking shots. Hightower is there. She is also drinking and laughing at the poor agent's misconduct. Another flash. The other side of Lisbon's cuffs is now wrapped around Jane's wrist. Lisbon's shirt is missing. Jane looks down. He is wearing tighty whiteys, wondering where his boxers have disappeared. He also does not have a shirt. Hightower is now dancing with Cho. He does a slight strip tease, removing his top half of clothes. Hightower can only eliminate her jacket before she passes out. Noting all the boozehound stares to his gorgeous Teresa, Jane pulls Lisbon close. He twirls her around and they kiss. Hard.
"Jane?…Jane?" Lisbon whispers, slightly shaking the blond man. "Patrick? Are you okay?"
He slowly opens his eyes as they twinkle. Lisbon is massaging his temples. Jane reaches for her hand. He pulls it to his heart, then his mouth. Realizing Cho is on the other side, he sweetly kisses Lisbon's fingers – one by one – then offers help on either side to stand.
Cho helps him up then turns to face the room. A small light is flickering in the corner, beneath the mounds of case files and candy bar wrappers. It a laptop. Lisbon gingerly picks it up and they walk over to the kitchen isle in the conjoined room. A message is flashing on the screen: 'New Mail, Dude!' Jane reaches with his clasped left hand to hit the button. Another message appears.
"Hey, Partridge! Wicked party, hombre." Lisbon reads aloud. " I caught that whole deal with the Serious Crimes Unit on my cell but I think I left it at your place. The pizza still stuck on the roof? Catch ya later. – Virge."
Lisbon finishes the letter, if you can call it that, and shares a knowing glance with the other two. Cho groans loudly.
"So," Jane finally speaks. "This is that ghoul's house."