Author's Note: See, I told you this wouldn't be that long of a wait! I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that this chapter is a lot longer than what I'm posting today. Seriously. It's huge. And I don't want you all to get bored with it, so I'm breaking it up and posting it into manageable sections. The good news is that the second installment is pretty much done, so you won't have to wait long for it.
I want to thank each of you again who left me such encouraging reviews, guests and members equally. And to each of you who favorite or followed, thank you as well! Your kind words never fail to make me smile, and I cherish each one of you who took the time to leave them, and I will do my best to respond to each one.
The first thing Lisbon noticed was that her head was pounding. The second thing she noticed was that the concrete floor was awfully cold pressed into the side of her face. She pushed herself to a sitting position, swearing softly as the room tilted and swirled around her. With a shaking hand, she gingerly felt her head to identify the source of her headache, cringing when she felt the dried blood caked just inside her hairline. This was the second blow to her head in…how many days? She'd lost track. What was so wrong with using good, old-fashioned drugs to knock someone out?
Lost in thought, it took her a full minute to remember where she was, and then another minute to realize that her hands were no longer bound. She quickly lifted her pant leg, grimacing at the angry red welt encircling her ankle.
She used the wall next to her and slowly got to her feet. From what she could tell, she was still in the same room as before, though now, she was alone. The shackle that once held her to the floor was still there and the bindings from her wrists were lying in pieces next to it.
How long had she been missing? One consequence of prolonged unconsciousness was that the passage of time seemed to stutter through at rapid intervals. She felt like she had only been missing for a couple of hours, though she was sure it had been at least a day. Perhaps two. How long had Heather been gone? Heather. She said a short prayer for the younger officer. Had she made it home safe? Hopefully, she had some information that she could give to the people in charge of her case so that they could come and get her out of this godforsaken room.
The room. Now that she was a little more alert, Lisbon took a moment to observe the rest of her surroundings. There didn't appear to be any sort of modern lighting in the room, yet she could still see. A ha! There were two small windows located towards the ceiling. Judging by the brightness of the sunlight, she assumed it was around midday. Her hopes of escape through them were dashed almost as quickly as they had formed, however. The windows were much too high for her to reach without some form of assistance. Even if she were ten feet tall, she'd need to lose about fifty pounds before she'd be able to slide through them.
The only means of egress appeared to be the heavy metal door on the other side of the room. A door which appeared to have a piece of paper attached to it. She made her way over to the note, her hands trembling as she read the message it contained.
Dearest Teresa,
I'm sure you're wondering what's going on. Unfortunately, my inability to disperse my usual methods of disposal has forced me to improvise. It's not something I was really prepared for, so I hope you'll appreciate the manner in which I've chosen to let you go. This way will be peaceful, serene and calm, as opposed to violent and…bloody. Much less mess.
I wouldn't waste your energy trying to escape. You'll find it pointless. We both know you can't reach the windows, and this door is made of the strongest reinforced steel. That, and the deadbolt reaches a solid three inches into the frame, well beyond the Grade 1 requirements for industrial deadbolts. It may sound excessive, but I'm very particular as to what gets out…and what doesn't.
Screaming will also do you no good. Not only will it waste your energy, but on the very off chance that someone will hear you, let's just say you're not in a neighborhood where people will be rushing to call the police.
I would have made you that sandwich, but as this place lacks culinary facilities, I was unable to do so. I suppose you'll just have to…improvise.
All best,
She went cold as she got to the end of the note. He hadn't signed it, instead drawing a bastardized version of a smiley face. Not just any smiley face. The smile. Why would he do that? Was he hoping that when someone did eventually find her, they would think that murderous psychopath was still roaming the streets? Or was he hoping that Jane and her team would be the ones to discover her lifeless body next to that symbol?
They would know, of course, that it was a fake, but the psychological impact would be beyond damaging. She wasn't about to let that happen. Angrily, she tore the offensive symbol from the bottom of the page. What should she do with it? There was nothing to stuff it into, no drains, no cracks in the walls. Even if there were, the crime scene techs would tear apart every inch of this place.
A small smile graced her lips. Well, she thought, there is one place they probably won't check.
With that, she shoved the scrap into her mouth, her face contorting at its bitterness. She used what little saliva she had to make the paper go down as smoothly as possible, though it seemed to stick to her throat as it slowly made its way down to her stomach. She yanked on the door handle, just because she had to check. As she suspected, it wouldn't budge.
Slowly, she made her way back to the wall, slid down its cool surface and closed her eyes. How the hell was she going to get out of here?
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Once again, Jane found himself in the hospital's waiting room. After Heather's revelation that she couldn't remember the events surrounding her abduction, her blood pressure had started to climb, and he and Abbott were ordered out of the room until further notice.
He felt like he was back at square one. Lisbon had been missing for nearly forty-eight hours, and they were no closer to finding her now than they were during that first briefing.
He jumped a bit as his phone vibrated in his pocket. The number was only vaguely familiar to him and he grimaced as the text message flashed on his screen.
Not trying to sound desperate, but I really enjoyed our evening and I haven't heard anything from you. Did I have spinach in my teeth?
Krystal. He'd completely forgotten she existed. He probably should answer her, but at this moment, he didn't have the energy or the desire to handle anything not related to finding Lisbon. Still, he knew she wouldn't quit trying to contact him, so he typed back a quick reply.
Sorry. Very important case. Free time will be non-existent for the foreseeable future. Will contact you when I can.
The reply was almost instantaneous. Hope to talk to you soon and that everything is ok.
Jane was just about to power down his phone when, seemingly of its own accord, his thumb pressed and held down Lisbon's speed dial number. He didn't complete the call; he just wanted to see her face.
It was one of his favorite pictures of her. He'd taken it years ago, during one of their stops on the way back from some crime scene in the middle of nowhere. They'd been taking the more scenic route back to Sacramento when Lisbon had unexpectedly pulled into a roadside farmer's market.
"Jane!" She'd pointed excitedly at the hand-written side on the side of the road. "They have Honeycrisp apples!"
Humored, he'd followed her out of the suburban, his shoes kicking up little puffs of dirt as he'd walked quickly after her. "What's so great about Honeycrisp apples?"
She'd looked at him like he'd grown another head. "Seriously? Be prepared—you're about to find out."
He'd smiled as she'd purchased an entire bag full of the reddish-yellow fruit. Triumphantly, she'd returned to the vehicle and held one out to him. They leaned on the side of the SUV, companionable in their silence.
Before she took her first bite, she'd looked at him out of the corner of her eye, then returned her gaze to the scenery in front of her. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "When I was younger, after everything had fallen apart, but before I joined the Academy, I took my brothers on a little vacation. We'd received quite a bit from my parent's life insurance policies, and I'd managed to put away a little bit of money from my job.
I wanted us to get out of Chicago for a little while. So, we took a train to Michigan. It was the only transportation I could afford for all four of us. We ended up in Grand Rapids and spent an entire day just wandering around the city. They had this little fruit market there with these apples. I'd never heard of them before, but the guy there was really nice and gave us each one to try. My brothers went nuts over them. It was the first time I'd seen them get collectively excited over something healthy, so I bought as many as I could. We ate apples and wandered and it was the first time in a while that I'd seen them relax and just be kids."
She'd shrugged one shoulder and looked at him, slightly uncomfortable at revealing more than she'd meant to. "Anyway, I've only been able to find them a handful of times over the years, and this is the first time I've seen them in California! What are you waiting for? Take a bite!"
With that, she'd bitten enthusiastically into the crisp fruit, her eyes closing in pleasure as she chewed. He'd been unable to look away, his other hand reaching discreetly for the phone in his pocket. She'd just finished swallowing and caught him staring. "You gonna eat that, or are you gonna stand there and watch me? Because that wouldn't be weird at all."
Instead of answering, he'd just grinned widely at her. She couldn't help but smile back at him, and it was in that moment that he'd taken the picture. Instantly, her eyes had gone wide and she made a grab for his phone. "Give me that!" she'd demanded, a threatening gleam in her eye.
"Nope," he'd responded, taking a big bite of his apple. "You're right, Lisbon," he'd said around a mouthful of the fruit. "These are delicious!"
Off her infuriated glare, he'd smiled at her again and went around to the passenger side to climb in. She'd just shaken her head at him and climbed behind the wheel, stepping on the gas with a little more force than necessary as she'd turned back towards Sacramento.
Now, all these years later, that same image smiled back at him. His thumb brushed gently across her face, and he had the irrational thought that wherever she was, she could feel his touch. He chastised himself for his moment of fancy and shoved the device back into his pocket.
His back groaned in protest as he once more separated himself from the waiting room chair. He made his way back to Abbott, who was standing outside Heather's room talking to one of the officers. "We need to hypnotize her."
"Excuse me," Abbott's tone was apologetic as he addressed the officer. He turned to Jane, his tone disapproving. "Have you lost your mind?"
"No." Jane looked at him in confusion. "I've done this hundreds of times. It's the only way we're going to be able to unlock those memories. The only way we're going to get Lisbon back."
"What makes you think that Officer Belding is going to agree to this?"
"You saw her. She wants to help and is truly frustrated that her memory is gone. I think she'd be willing to do just about anything to—"
The door to Heather's room opened suddenly, a man in his late thirties stepping out and closing it behind him. He was agitated as he faced the two men. "What is going on out here? My wife is trying to get some rest, and you are making it extremely difficult."
"We're very sorry, Mr. Belding," Abbott conceded. Jane watched in slight fascination as he instantly transformed from irritated supervisor to sympathetic ally. "Of course we didn't mean to disrupt Officer Belding's recovery. My colleague, Mr. Jane, was just running some potential investigative avenues by me—"
"I want to hypnotize your wife," Jane interrupted, ignoring Abbott's eye roll.
"Hypnotize my wife? Are you out of your mind?"
"No. Why is everyone asking me that? Look, it's perfectly safe. She will be in no danger and it might help us to—"
"No. Absolutely not! I can't even believe you're suggesting this!"
"Mr. Belding," Jane couldn't quite muster Abbott's soothing tone, but found he just didn't have the energy. "Heather has no physical trauma. She hasn't been drugged, which means that her subconscious is what's blocking everything. I can put her in a light trance, giving those memories a chance to come to the forefront."
He dug his phone back out of his pocket, showing the other man Lisbon's smiling face. "I know you're scared. She's scared, too. And unlike your wife, she's still out there."
The younger man looked at Lisbon's picture for a split second before his gaze fell to the floor. "Look, I'm sorry, but the answer is no. I'm not letting you put Heather through that again." He looked back up at Jane, his jaw firm and his tone final. "You stay away from my wife." With that, he turned and went back into the darkened room, closing the door softly behind him.
Jane barely resisted the urge to scream and kick something. Instead, he turned to Abbott with a tight smile. "Well, that went about as good as I expected."
"You expected this?"
"To be honest, I was hoping he'd cave once he saw Lisbon's picture. I underestimated his determination. Unluckily for him, his is no match for mine." He turned to walk away, but was stopped when Abbott quietly said his name.
"Yes?"
Abbott paused a moment, considering his next words. "I…" He shook his head, seeming to change his mind about what he was going to say. "Whatever you need to do, you have my support. Just get her back."
"Doing exactly that is the only thing that matters to me." He headed down the hallway, taking out his phone as he walked. "Hey," he said to the person at the other end of the line. "I need you to meet me outside of the hospital in five minutes."
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Dehydration was a bitch. The hunger pangs were a close second, but dehydration was the clear winner in this contest. Everything about her felt dry. Her lips and tongue felt like sandpaper, her eyes ached, and she was pretty sure her skin was going to start flaking off any minute.
Now I know how a piece of jerky feels, she thought wryly, then swore at herself as her stomach rumbled to life at the mere thought of food.
What was that survival rule she'd learned eons ago? Right-"Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food." Shit.
By her estimates, she had been here roughly two days. That should, by all accounts, give her one more day until she really started to be effected by the lack of fluids. The only problem was that her anxiety over Jane's date had caused her to forgo most of her eating and drinking routine the day she'd been abducted. Her stomach had been in knots since he'd announced his plans, so much so that even her normally steady intake of coffee had tasted bitter and unsatisfying.
If her head didn't hurt so much already, she would have banged it against the wall for her stupidity. Then again, it's not like she could have seen this coming. For the umpteenth time, she checked her pants pockets. She was really hoping that this time she would find a magical Snickers bar. No such luck.
Another wave of dizziness swept over her and she leaned heavily against the wall. She held her hand out in front of her, trying to gauge how bad off she was by its shaking.
Wait. Wait a minute. Was she wearing a ring? Where had that come from? Startled, she looked up from her hand, her eyes going wide. Gone were the cold, gray walls of the concrete room. In their place were giant windows, yielding spectacular views of the California coastline. The hard floor she had been sitting on was now a soft, white leather couch, accented with pillows of vibrant jade and cerulean blue. Even her clothes were different. Her torn and dirty FBI issued gear had transformed into a white silk sundress, flowing weightlessly over her suddenly tanner complexion.
This couldn't be real. She had to be hallucinating. Her other hand reached up to touch the sparkling diamond and emerald bridal set adorning her ring finger, before trailing down the back of the couch. This couldn't be real. But, it certainly felt real.
"Teresa? You out here?"
Her heart started to beat uncontrollably fast in her chest, as she heard a voice she thought she would never hear again. And then suddenly, there he was, golden curls gleaming in the sunlight as he beamed at her from the doorway. He walked over to her, his left hand cradling her face as he leaned down and pressed soft lips to hers.
She was too startled to pull away, and after a moment, she decided she didn't want to. If this was how her subconscious decided she was going to go, she would welcome it.
On second thought, no she wouldn't. She wanted to be around to experience this for real! Not some hallucinogenic imitation!
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, his beautiful turquoise eyes. "This isn't real," she whispered. "None of this is real."
Jane looked at her in concern. "Of course this is real, Teresa. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to lie down?"
She got up from the couch and backed up a few steps, gesturing to the room around her. "I don't need to lie down. This. Is. Not. Real. This house, this dress, this ring…" She broke off as she looked at the companion band encircling his finger. "And you," she whispered, voice filled with pain and eyes with tears, "you don't belong to me. You never have. This, all of this, is my brain trying to make this easier on my body as it shuts down."
"Teresa, you're scaring me." Jane moved closer to her, his eyes pleading. "Let me take you upstairs. If you don't feel better after you've rested a bit, I'm going to call the doctor. You haven't quite been yourself since you hit your head chasing after Samantha on the beach last week."
"Samantha?"
"Yes, Samantha." He took her arm and brought her closer the window. "You were chasing her down on the beach when you tripped and hit your head on a rock buried just underneath the sand. You don't remember?"
"I…" It was then that a little girl bounded into the room, and Lisbon was sure that her heart stopped beating. She was the most stunning child Lisbon had ever seen, with unruly curls just like Jane's, only in her hair color. The wide eyes that looked back at her were the same shade as her own, but her smile…she'd only ever seen that smile on one other face, and it made her weak in the knees every time.
Which was exactly how she felt right now. She leaned into Jane and his arms went around her automatically. "Go upstairs and play, Samantha," Jane said affectionately to the girl. "Mommy isn't feeling well, so she's going to take a little nap. Then, we'll all go out for ice cream, okay?"
"Okay!" Lisbon heard the scampering of tiny feet racing away from her, and she couldn't hold back her tears any longer as she buried her face in Jane's neck. His cologne smelled so real. His heartbeat against hers felt so real. Why was this happening? She needed it to stop, was desperate to make it stop. The pain was almost unbearable.
"Patrick," she whispered, "I think you're right. I just need to rest for a bit. I don't need to go upstairs, though. Right here is good. On the couch."
He nodded his assent, and helped her lower herself onto the couch. At the last second, the emerald pillow transformed back into cold concrete, its gritty surface soaking up the precious liquid leaking from her eyes.
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As always, I'd love your feedback. Their real reunion is getting closer—hang in there with me!
