The thin red line (Chapter 3)

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 3

How long has it been since I slept? I didn't know.

The next thing I knew there was a hard knock, voices, then someone who pushed a key into the lock and the opening of a door. I was still lying on that bed, my back towards the door and I couldn't move.

Someone said, "Thanks" and I heard the rustling of crispy bills.

Someone else said, "if he's going to die, then don't do it here. I hate it when that happens. Get him out of here before it's too late."

Someone else said ,"How considerate," her voice almost spitting out the words in pure contempt for the lack of sympathy coming from the desk clerk's voice.

Another voice came closer to the bed to stare at me. "Oh my god," she said. "is he - ?"

And another voice said, "No, but he's burning up. Jesus, what the hell happened?"

Two female voices, two male voices that I knew so well from all of our years of working together. They were all here. For me. I could have cried had I not been so sick.

I tried to open my eyes and look at them, never before so grateful for their presence, but I couldn't even do that. I just lay there, waiting for them to make a first move and help me.

"Get those blankets and sheets off him," a female voice instructed. "Cho, run a bath. Rigsby, help me get him up. We need to get that fever down before he has a seizure." That was Lisbon, beyond a doubt, forever the boss, always the one in charge who took all the decisions. I loved her for being so bossy.

"He needs a hospital, not a bath." That was Cho, rational and cool as ever.

"We'll deal with that later," Lisbon said. "First we have to get that fever done. It's spiking."

"In a hospital he'll be helped immediately," Rigsby objected, agreeing with Cho.

"We can't take him there. They'll find out immediately and arrest him." That was Van Pelt.

"Better to be arrested than to be dead," Rigsby argued.

"They won't find him if they don't know. He's going to die here if we don't take him to an ER immediately." Rigsby.

"And then he'll die rotting away in a jail cell," his wife replied. "Isn't that why he ran in the first place?"

"Stop it!" Lisbon almost yelled. "You're both right, but he wouldn't want us to take him to a hospital or he would have gone himself. He has a fake license in his wallet. "Let's deal with this argument later. First we need to get that fever down. And I need to think. So stop arguing."

"Sorry," Rigsby muttered. "You're right, boss."

I could almost hear Lisbon smile, knowing just much as her that she was no longer their boss.

Then Van Pelt said slowly, "I'll go run that bath."

I felt the sheets and blankets being taken away from me. I wanted to hold onto them but couldn't. It was so cold … but they were merciless. I was still lying there in my suit and even my shoes. I felt my body being turned aside.

Small, familiar hands were placed on my face, touching both cheeks and tapping them slightly. "Jane. Jane, it's us. Can you hear us?" Her voice, so gentle and so concerned. I could have wept out of pure happiness that I was no longer alone.

I managed to open my eyes for one brief moment, seeing a vague vision of all of them. "Hey guys," I said with a faint grin. "Thanks for coming."

Lisbon smiled, despite everything. "What happened? Where you shot? Did he hurt you? Are you injured somewhere?"

I shook my head slightly, my hand slowly touching my abdomen. "I'm sorry Lisbon … for not telling you."

"Sorry?" Lisbon didn't understand at first until Cho unbuttoned my shirt and they saw it, the black and purple bruises as a sign of internal bleeding. I had hidden it so well.

"Oh my god," Van Pelt said, returning from the bathroom. "When did that happen?"

"The bomb," I whispered. "Doctor called me later … X-Rays, small rupture in spleen. Guess I overdid it. Should have gone back … didn't."

"They said you were fine," Lisbon said, realization kicking in. "Just some bruising. I let you leave that hospital! You said you were fine…"

"Just some bruising," I smiled, despite the situation we were in. "Yep." The pain was unbearable when I moved even the slightest, watching Lisbon's face as she realized I had lied for days, concealing my injuries deliberately from her.

"Damn it," Lisbon muttered, knowing all too well that she had needed my help to catch that man. And she had ignored the signs because we didn't have time.

"It's not your fault," I whispered, grabbing her arm. "Lisbon, it was me."

She nodded quietly but I could see the emotions raging her face.

"Hospital it is then," Cho said. "We can't fix a rupture with some fever medication."

"No," I objected. "No hospital."

"You will die when you bleed like that. It could already be too late."

"Call someone on the black market. Get him here. He'll fix me up." I focused on Cho. "You know where to go. You have … names." I closed my eyes. Lisbon shook me slightly, bringing me back into perspective.

"He'll die if we bring some butcher here." Van Pelt.

"No, he won't. I have someone in mind. Might have an idea." Cho.

"And have him operate on him here?" Van Pelt almost shouted. "In this room?"

"Like I said, I have an idea. Let me make some phone calls. Alright boss?"

Despite the silence I could almost hear Lisbon nod. "Do it."

Cho walked outside immediately, using the disposable phone I had given him to make untraced phone calls.

Then Lisbon's voice came, stressed and at the same time as calm as I had ever heard her. "Jane knew that he would be taking risks the moment he killed that man. He's a man on the run now and they will capture him and lock him up." I felt her hand on my cheek. "Jane, are you sure you want this?"

I nodded.

"Okay then," she sighed. "Rigsby, Van Pelt, help me."

With that, I felt that I was being lifted. My head slumped forward and every single move cut through me like a knife but I was too tired to care or even to wince. Grace and Lisbon held me up while Rigsby undressed me. I was embarrassed, yet couldn't care less. It was as if the women didn't even notice that I was naked as the three of them lifted me up and then placed me gently into the cooling bath. It felt oh so good, even if my body was cringing from cold sweat and fevers.

Van Pelt, considerate as ever, had even poured some shower soap in so that my lower body was covered in bubbles. I almost laughed at their discretion.

My head leaned against the cold edge. Grace sponged my forehead while Lisbon paced the room restlessly, biting her nails, a habit of hers she only performed under strong stress. I had seen her bite her nails after the bomb too, as she waited impatiently for me to get dressed then.

"Don't bite your nails," I whispered.

She looked at me. "You're dying. I can bite whatever the hell I want."

"I'm not dying."

She made a face, both of us knowing that wasn't true. Her common sense was fighting her emotions. She knew she should bring me to a hospital no matter what. We both knew that. But she also knew that I wouldn't be able to talk myself out of this one. I had killed that man with my bare hands. Bullets, I could have explained. Self-defense and all. But strangulation? That went beyond anything. It was revenge, pure and simple. No regrets.

"How have you guys been?" I asked.

The three of them stared at me as if I had gone crazy.

"Erm – fine, I guess," Grace finally muttered. "Out of a job, out of the CBI, but fine."

"I'm sorry about that," I replied. "If only Bertram hadn't been one of them."

"The FBI would have shut us down anyway," Lisbon interrupted me. "It was just a matter of time. They hated our guts for a long time. Jobs are just jobs, we'll find something else."

I almost laughed at that. "Time for a new beginning."

"Not a bad prospect," Lisbon reacted.

My lungs had trouble taking in enough air. I felt like I was choking. The fevers that ran through my veins were so high that I knew nothing would save me except for a decent surgeon and the right medication. I closed my eyes, forcing to ignore the pain.

"Let's get him out," Van Pelt said, "This isn't helping."

Lisbon felt my forehead. "He's cooled down a little. Where the hell is Cho?"

The three of them looked at me lying in that bathtub. I hesitated. Even during the worst hours of my life, my brain, my work tool, my income, was still functioning in some ways. It was Lisbon that finally brought me over the edge.

"He'll be fine," she kept on muttering while biting down on her nails as if she was reassuring herself and us. "He has to be fine."

And I remembered then how concerned she had been in the hospital, when I woke up after the bomb. She had saved my life, not even knowing it at that moment. If she hadn't walked in when Bertram was there, I wouldn't even be here right now. That man would still be alive and I would be gone. And she would been the one forever haunted by the 'what if's' that I have asked myself every single day after that fateful night that I acted like the arrogant bastard that I was.

I knew I had put her through hell. That alone was enough for me to hold on to life. If I died now , her life would be destroyed. She would forever be questioning whether she did the right thing. I couldn't do that to her.

"Take me to a hospital," I said, caving in. "You are right. I'll die here. To hell with the Feds."

They looked at me and nodded. Rigsby was the one who took the towels and started to dry me off while the two women walked into the bedroom. He looked at me as he helped me get dressed in my boxershorts, trousers and dirty shirt. Then he nodded slowly. "You are going to make it. Like hell we'll let you die."

I smiled wearily, despite everything. "Thanks Wayne."

I could barely stand or sit up straight while he dressed me. And then I felt myself sliding into his arms, him holding me before I struck my head on the edge of the bath.

I could hear him say, "I need help! He's not breathing!"

And then I was no more.