I don't own The Mentalist, and I am simply borrowing Mr. Heller and Co.'s characters for fun, not profit.

AN: It's Saturday and I'm trying to go about my business, waiting impatiently for tomorrow's 6.02, but the look on poor Jane's face at the end of Desert Rose is stuck in my head. My therapy is to write. I hope you enjoy this little snippet, or that it at least gives you something to do until the episode airs. This picks up near the end of Desert Rose, when Jane has just revealed the diner people to be the killers. Here's my version of the part we didn't get to see. The title is taken from this song:

"You always hurt the one you love

The one you shouldn't hurt at all

You always take the sweetest rose

And crush it till the petals fall

You always break the kindest heart

With a hasty word you can't recall, so

If I broke your heart last night

It's because I love you most of all"

-Roberts/Fisher

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You Always Hurt the One You Love – Partners - chapter 7

"Book 'em, guys."

Got that case wrapped up in a hurry. Piece of cake - never trust a fake psychic. Now it's time to go after Lisbon. I start out the door when it occurs to me that I don't have a ride. My partner drove me here. I turn back to Van Pelt.

"Grace, can I have your car? I need to catch up with Lisbon."

She looks at me with an expression of pure relief. "Sure!" she agrees eagerly. "I'll ride back with Wayne and Cho," she motions to the guys, who are already reading rights, and tosses her keys toward me in one smooth sweep of her arm.

"Thanks." I snatch the keys out of the air and head to the car. Adjusting the mirrors quickly, I crank up the engine - I'm anxious to get on my way. As I pull out onto the highway, another long westward bound train hurtles down the parallel tracks. Toot, toot! She wasn't amused by that, was she? Ah, well.

It's a long way to Sacramento and I settle down into my seat to get comfortable. I'll have plenty of time to think – no distractions. I should be happy about that, I suppose, but I'm not.

ZZZZZZZ

i'm an hour down the road, and the constant ka thump ka thump ka thump of the pavement has helped me think. Among other things, it's become painfully clear to me that I screwed up. I should never have questioned Teresa's decision in front of Van Pelt, even if I knew it was a bad one. But what did I do? Impulsively, I blew up the moment I saw Grace's conflicted face, because I was angry Lisbon had kept her decision from me.

I should have known she would involve the team. It's not like I've had any great ideas so far, and I know Lisbon is scared. She even said so, which in itself is telling. She must be really spooked, and the truth is, she should be scared. Her cop instincts told her to act, and she did. Now that the team knows, I'm relieved, in a way, except that it makes them targets as well. But most of all, I want Lisbon to be careful. We all need to be careful. Lisbon must be reminded that this son of a bitch will know exactly what she's doing and try to lead her – us – right where he wants us to go. My foot leans a little heavier on the gas pedal. I need to mend things between us and convince her to show some restraint, to act wisely.

I need for her to... Damn it. I need Lisbon. I need to talk to her, and not just about Red John. The drive back looms long in front of me and I miss her company. I miss the way she moves her shoulders from side to side every so often while she drives, keeping her neck limber. I miss the way she blinks her eyes when she's getting tired, and I know I should say something to keep her awake. Even when we drive in silence, long trips seem so much shorter when we travel as a team.

I should call. Apologize.

I pick up the phone and dial. "Hi Lisbon…um…call me." I sigh and then continue. "I'm sorry we argued. I just realized…um…just call me. We'll chat."

ZZZZZ

An hour later it's dark and she hasn't returned my call. She must be pretty ticked off. Why did I have to explode and run my mouth, and right there in front of Van Pelt? I'm an ass.

However, now that I've had more time to think, I'm an ass who finally has an idea, which I need to run by my partner. I've given more thought to how Red John knew my happy memory and I'm certain it can't be anything mystical. When I was in the hospital, when I had my…breakdown, (Why is that still so hard for me to admit?) there was a period of time when I was heavily medicated. When Dr. Miller first took me on as a patient, well, I can't remember much at all from those first couple of months.

That's a big chunk of time. Maybe I told Sophie Miller my happy memory of LeeLee Barlow, even though I don't remember telling her? I think I should look up the good doctor and ask her. It's the most plausible explanation I've come up with so far to explain how Red John knew. And if I can explain this much, maybe Lisbon won't be so spooked. I'm encouraged, and I want to tell her, if she'd just call. It's been long enough.

I pick up the phone and dial while I picture Teresa in my mind. Is she sitting there in her office, still steaming mad at me, with that pouty little look on her face? I smile at the image. She doesn't answer, and my call goes to voice mail again. "Where are you? Call me." She's really making me wait. If this is the silent treatment, it's working, and there's a bad feeling brewing somewhere in my gut.

It's late when I finally get to the CBI, and I make a beeline to her office, but there's no light on inside. Hardly anyone's around, and she is nowhere to be found. Ron walks by (what is he doing here so late?).

"Have you seen Lisbon?"

"Nope. Haven't seen her."

My phone buzzes and I flip it open, relieved that her name is on the caller ID. "Lisbon, finally…" I mutter. At this point, she's certainly punished me enough.

The voice I hear makes my blood run cold, stopping me in my tracks. "Hello, Patrick, Teresa can't come to the phone right now. Would you like to leave a message?"

There's a vice squeezing my chest as the world drops out from under me. I'm paralyzed - unable to speak.

"No? I'll tell her you called."

I find my voice and call out, desperate, "Wait..." but the phone goes dead. Dead.

Not again. Please. Not again. I knew he would lead you where he wanted! Lisbon, I told you!

No, no, I should never have told you. This is my fault. It's all my fault. I should have known better - should have kept my mouth shut.

What have I done? No, oh please, no, not my dear, precious Teresa.

What have I done...

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Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear your comments. I'm expecting spectacular things in 6.02.

Here's a Youtube link to one version of the song: /eWDUvECO7Do

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