Author's notes:

Thank you to the great writer Sue Shay for her beta-reading, insight, and encouragement on this and other projects! Want to read a Jane-and-Lisbon story in what I call the hybrid category of "light romance" - at the border of friendship and romance? Then check out Sue Shay's story, "Addicted to Law." And of course check out her current "Ready or Not!"

I do not own the TV show The Mentalist and get no compensation from it. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only.

Notes on the chapter title follow the end of the chapter.

Chapter 4: Where Or When

Jane held Lisbon's hand the rest of the way to the hospital. He had greeted her wink with joy. To him it signaled the welcome return of her feistiness. How badly hurt could she be if she had summoned up a response like that? Yet doubt clouded Jane's mind as he wondered about what had happened in those minutes when her breathing had stopped.

Jane was shaken out of his thoughts, but not by a pothole. Restless, Lisbon tugged against her restraints. If he had thought that the new mask would settle her down, he was mistaken.

"Hey! It's OK. We're in the ambulance going to the hospital. Just relax," said Jane as he shifted so his face was right over Lisbon. Bringing his free hand to her face, he brushed aside the matted hair that had plastered against her forehead. In response Jane heard a deep sigh, like the gentle purr of a cat. The tautness on her restraints eased, and the tension etched across her brow disappeared.

As soon as they arrived at the hospital though, a whirlwind of action engulfed them. Someone must have alerted the hospital that an injured law enforcement officer was coming in; a half-dozen doctors and nurses met the ambulance outside the emergency room. When the rear door opened with a whoosh, a blast of cold air flooded the cabin that made Jane shiver. A host of hands grasped the gurney to pull it out. At the first movement of the gurney away from Jane, he saw Lisbon's eyes cloud over with what? Uncertainty? Fear? Her head jerked back and forth, her body tensed again, and her hand clutched Jane's with a strength that took him by surprise. Her eyes met his and he smiled down at her.

"It's OK. We're here at the hospital now. The doctors need to check out how you're doing," said Jane.

In response, Lisbon thrashed more against the restraints that held her down. The pressure of her grip increased if that were possible, and her eyes pleaded with him. As he gazed at her, Jane searched for something to say that would calm her down.

"It's okay, it's okay. You've had a nasty dip in a lake. Sometime for a swim, huh? At night, in late fall. The doctors just need to see if you're still water-logged." Jane plastered a nervous smile across his face.

Lisbon continued to squirm. Jane waved to the team of people tugging on the gurney to hold up for a moment. Bringing his face alongside hers, he spoke in a tone that belied the unease that lurked behind his words.

"Let these people look you over. Please don't worry. I'll be here waiting for you, I promise, Teresa."

Without thinking, Jane squeezed three times on Lisbon's index finger and smiled. Her thrashing stopped, and he stroked her hair. Her eyes relaxed.

"That's my girl. I'll be waiting for you," he said as he kissed her forehead.

With a nod from Jane, the emergency room team extracted the gurney and its wheels clattered across the pavement to the building. A lone remaining nurse motioned for Jane to come with him. Clutching his blanket around himself, Jane hopped out of the ambulance to follow.

Inside, Jane was surprised to find the nurse direct him into a side examining room.

"We need to check you too, sir," the nurse said. "You seemed to have taken a dip in the water yourself. Here's a hospital gown." With a sigh, Jane did as he was told.

Shiver before, shiver now Jane thought as he sat in the thin gown. Looking just beyond his heap of soggy clothing on the examining room table, he spied a hot-air hand dryer by the sink.

Might as well do something useful while I wait…

Methodically, Jane took each piece of his clothing and held it under the dryer. Pants, shirt, jacket, socks. How long did it take to go through them all? He had lost track of time. Eventually a doctor came by to tell him what he already knew - he'd taken a full-body dip in cold water but wouldn't have any ill effects.

Thanks a lot.

"Where can I go to see Teresa Lisbon, the agent I came in with?"

"They treated her here in the ER, then sent her for a neurological eval. You can talk to the doctor who worked with her down here. There's also a police forensics team here as well collecting evidence."

As Jane tucked his shirt into his pants, a stray thought froze him in place.

I squeezed Lisbon's finger three times. The only other person I ever did that with was Angela.

Squeezing Angela's finger had been a private message between Jane and his wife. With it he conveyed his support for, his commitment to Angela. Each of the three squeezes represented its own word. When the circumstances allowed, Jane backed up each squeeze with a whisper of the word in her ear.

Jane shook out of those thoughts and finished redressing.

The most descriptive term in the English language was "waiting room." How long had he been sitting alone inside the four beige walls of this prison with a soda machine? After talking with Lisbon's first doctor, he had been led - led! - there by a nurse to await word from the neurologist. His lack of control chaffed at him. All he wanted now was to see Lisbon, to find out how she was. Instead, he sat shunted off in a far corner of the hospital, left alone with his mixed feelings of concern and guilt.

As Jane's body fidgeted back and forth across the vinyl upholstery of the fifth seat on the third row of chairs it seemed as if his skill at tamping down his emotions had taken a permanent vacation. He felt spasms of tension course through his stomach, and he realized that his hand continuously ran through his hair. Despite his recognition of these physical tics, he couldn't control them.

"Jane!"

It was a sign of the state that he had fallen into that the sound of Grace Van Pelt's voice startled him. Turning his head and rising from his chair at the same time, Jane saw her dash down the hallway towards him.

"Van Pelt. Good to see you," he replied as she came into the room.

As befitted her nature, she grabbed Jane into a tight hug.

"What's the word on Lisbon?" she asked as she moved back from their embrace.

"She's getting a neurological evaluation right now."

"What about physically?"

"The emergency room doctor that treated her told me that apart from some bruising around her neck, he saw no other issues."

"There wasn't a…?"

Jane knew what Van Pelt was getting at and saved her from having to speak the words he knew she dreaded saying aloud.

"No, there was no sexual assault." This was greeted by a sigh of relief from Van Pelt. "Most likely Lisbon came across the murderer of the firefighter and he got the jump on her."

"Cho and Rigsby will be here as soon as they wrap up at the crime scene. So what do we do now?"

Jane waved his hand around the room.

"Wait. And wait and wait."

The two of them sat down, and despite Van Pelt's presence his nervousness returned. He hoped she didn't notice.

"You found her."

"What?" Jane asked.

"You found Lisbon. Cho told me. That had to be rough for you."

Now Jane found that his lack of control extended to his tongue as well.

"I'll never be able to describe - or forget - the feeling when I saw Lisbon floating in that lake. Part of me died again tonight."

That last part of what he said Jane wished he could take back as soon as the words left his mouth. "Again" - just like with Angela and Charlotte. Van Pelt patted him on the shoulder.

"It's hard. I know the two of you are close."

"Thanks, Grace."

Jane stared at the far wall, and the pastel tone embedded in his mind. All his thoughts focused on Lisbon, trying by force of will to make her whole again. The seconds slipped into minutes and the minutes into hours.

"Mr. Jane? Mr. Jane?"

Lost in thought about Lisbon, it took a moment to focus on the voice calling him. Standing over him and Van Pelt was a middle-aged woman in scrubs, one with an air of authority. Jane shifted in his chair to fully look at her.

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Dr. Betty Suchman, Ms. Lisbon's neurologist. Can we talk?"

Van Pelt nodded for Jane to go ahead while she remained behind.

Jane followed the doctor down a hallway to a small conference room. Once inside, Dr. Suchman dropped a folder on the table and motioned for Jane to take a seat.

"When will I be able to see Agent Lisbon?" Patrick asked.

"When we finish talking, but I wanted to speak with you first, Mr. Jane. It's about her condition."

The tone of the word "condition" set off alarm bells in Jane's mind.

"But she was alert on the ride into the hospital. Quite animated at a couple of points."

"Indeed she is, Mr. Jane. That's not the issue."

"Then what is, Dr. Suchman?"

"Ms. Lisbon's physical injuries from her attack will heal quickly. It's her mental condition that merits the most concern right now."

"Mental condition?"

"While she's alert and responsive to questions, she is suffering from memory issues. Am I to understand that you are a friend of hers, Mr. Jane?"

"I am."

"What I'd like for you to do is meet with Ms. Lisbon, and then you and I will talk after that."

"Of course, Dr. Suchman. I've been waiting to see her since we came in."

"Good. Just keep in mind that your friend may act differently."

Taking a deep breath to control his swirl of emotions, Jane opened the door and walked into Lisbon's hospital room. The smell of antiseptic, the beeping of monitors, the raised temperature all confronted his senses at once, but he dismissed the surroundings when he saw her small figure curled up in a ball sitting on the bed. With one hand Lisbon clutched her legs tight to her chest, and with the other she fingered her crucifix. Her brow furrowed as she rocked back and forth.

A sense of shared pain roiled through Jane as he watched her, but then Lisbon looked up. Seeing him, she broke into a beautiful smile that gladdened his heart. Her body unballed in an instant. Seized by an urge to be as close to her as possible, Jane moved past the guest chair to sit down on the side of the bed.

The two sat in silence as a wave of relief washed over Jane. His Teresa would be OK! She was breathing, conscious, alert. She had survived. If he had believed in a deity he would have given thanks.

"Hey, there. You gave us quite a scare."

Lisbon's finger beckoned him to move closer. Jane scooted over until his left hip tapped against her thigh, and Lisbon fully sat up. If possible, her smile brightened even more. Again seized by an urge that welled up from somewhere deep inside, Jane grasped her hands in his.

"Do you remember anything about tonight?" he asked.

Lisbon seemed preoccupied with something.

"Teresa, do you remember anything from earlier this evening?"

In a sudden motion, Lisbon lifted up Jane's left hand to inspect it. She stared at it as she rubbed the wedding band on his finger. Raising her eyes up to meet his, Lisbon grinned.

"Are you my husband?"

To be continued.

Author's notes:

Thank you for reading, following, and reviewing the story.

"Where Or When" is a song written by Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart in 1937. Numerous singers and musicians have recorded the song, and my favorite is Ella Fitzgerald's version for her album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Rodgers & Hart Songbook. The lyrics of the song describe a situation of fleeting, vague memory shared between two people.