Author's notes:

My special thanks as always go to beta reader/critique partner extraordinaire Sue Shay! As mentioned before, I would not have pursued this project without Sue's help and encouragement. Her time and expertise are invaluable, and I appreciate her willingness to share them with me. Sue has just updated her current project, "Ready or Not," and her latest three chapters (40 through 42) have been a joyous thrill ride for Jane and Lisbon as well as the reader. Check out the whole story!

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. Readers who have seen the park bench scene from episode 4x10, "Fugue in Red," will recognize aspects of it here.


Chapter 7: Accentuate The Positive


"So, tell me about Patrick Jane..."

"Boss, it's not a happy story," said Van Pelt.

What she told Teresa over the next half hour sent chills through her body. For someone to possess the evil that this Red John did to butcher an innocent woman and child, let alone all the others he had murdered, made her shudder. Even though she had asked Van Pelt to tell her, Teresa had not prepared for horror that she heard. Lurid images filled her mind about Mr. Jane coming home to find the slaughter, and nausea welled up in her stomach. After hearing the story, Teresa wanted to find him and wrap him in her arms. No wonder he had said little to her about his wife.

Van Pelt reached over to rub her shoulder.

"Boss, Jane's made progress over the years. He still swears vengeance against Red John, but he's gotten involved beyond that. He's helped the team get the highest close rate in all of CBI. Mostly he's one of us because of your influence. That's my view anyway."

"So I've gotten Jane to come out of his shell?" Teresa asked.

"You more than anyone, to the extent that he's gonna let anyone. Like I said before, you spend more time with him than anyone else," Van Pelt said.

"What about Jane's social life?"

"What social life? I mean, he has even less of one than you do."

Teresa laughed at Van Pelt's reaction to what had just come out of her mouth. Her whole face had reddened to match her hair.

"Um, Boss, um…"

Now it was Teresa's turn to comfort her new, or was it old?, friend. She patted Van Pelt's arm.

"That's okay. I don't mind what you said in the slightest. It sounds like I'm dedicated to my work and my team."

Van Pelt relaxed again.

"Thanks, Boss, I meant no offense."

"None taken."

Van Pelt stared at Teresa, enough that it got her attention.

"You're getting better, Boss."

"Huh?"

"You sound more like yourself again."

"Talking with you helps. When they revived me, I was terrified. All of this is still overwhelming." Teresa waved her hand at the hospital room equipment. "Thank you for your patience with me."

"For what it's worth, you're not the only one acting different."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never seen Jane so shaken up before."


While Teresa was still talking with Van Pelt, a nurse came in to check on her. When Van Pelt excused herself to meet with Cho and Rigsby, Teresa raised an issue with the nurse. She had remained in this room - the same room - for hours. Everybody came and went except her. The anxiety that she had tamped down came back stronger the longer she stayed cooped up in one place.

Wouldn't the old Teresa Lisbon have felt the same way?

"I want to go outside!" she said to the nurse.

Teresa was adamant. With Van Pelt gone she felt restless.

Enough of the four walls that imprisoned her! She wanted to see sunshine and breath fresh air.

"But Ms. Lisbon, you need rest. You're still on medication," replied the nurse.

"Isn't there some place here that's outside yet still on the hospital grounds? Please." Teresa hated to sound so needy, but she was desperate to go somewhere, anywhere for a few minutes.

The nurse nodded.

"Yes. There's the garden. I'll have someone take you down there. But not for long."

"I promise. I just want to be outside for a few minutes," Teresa said.

Soon enough the nurse got someone to take her to the hospital garden.


Since her talk with the nurse, Teresa had stretched a few minutes into an hour lost in thought sitting on a bench in the garden. Even the occasional siren faded into the background. The solitude gave her time to reflect on what she had found out about herself and the people in her life. The world still frightened her but she appreciated that there were good people around her: the medical staff, her "Three Musketeers," and Mr. Jane. The thought of her friends, one in particular, warmed her heart.

Almost as if on cue when she thought of Patrick Jane, she saw the door open to the garden and Mr. Jane stride down the path toward her. He was still dressed in a three-piece suit, so out of place with the rest of her world. As he got closer, Teresa could tell he carried something under his arm.

"I heard you got folks riled up inside, that you demanded that they let you come out here for a while. That sounds like the Lisbon I know. Can't blame you. It's a beautiful autumn day, don't you think?"

Teresa inhaled the sweet fragrance of the fall foliage around them.

"It is," she said as she scooted to one end of the bench and patted the other end for Mr. Jane to join her. Sporting that smile of his that could thaw the coldest heart, he sat down next to her.

"I brought you something, one of your favorite things. Mine too," he said, lifting a bucket of strawberries from a sack. He held it in front of her face.

"Oh!" she cried out at the sight and scooped up one to taste. As soon as the berry juice squirted inside her mouth, Teresa let out a moan of pleasure. She looked over at Mr. Jane to find him studying her.

"You still like them. Good. I'd hate to think that you'd forgotten the joy of your favorite fruit," he said.

"I know I've forgotten a lot, but how could anyone forget the taste of strawberries. Have some, Mr. Jane."

He picked out one then set the bucket between them on the bench.

"This morning I learned some more from Van Pelt about you," said Teresa. His smile vanished.

"What did she say?"

"She told me the circumstances of how you came to work at CBI."

Jane took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"My wife and my daughter were my world. Red John took them from me."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jane."

A weak smile returned to his face.

"I remember them every day."

"You told me that's why you still wear this," said Teresa as she tapped the ring on Mr. Jane's left hand. She instantly regretted her words, she could see his face cloud over with discomfort. He sat in silence for a moment. Then his expression returned to its confident air.

"That, and also there's nothing better than a wedding ring to fend off women's advances."

"Did it work with me?" He looked away from her rather than speak. She wouldn't press matters. For now.

"What did you think of your team?" he asked.

Interesting…he changed the subject.

"They seem like a fine group of people."

"But nothing? No spark of recognition?"

"No, but I was able to sense some things about them. Rigsby never met a meal he didn't like, Van Pelt cares deeply about the people around her, and Cho…well, Cho's the reason the word 'stoic' was invented. My boss, that Luther Wainwright guy, also came by. He's full of himself."

The chuckle she produced from Mr. Jane delighted her.

"You're good at reading people."

"'Reading,' Mr. Jane?"

"You're good at observing people, sometimes almost as good as me. That's something about you that I've always admired, and we've used our combined skills to good effect over the years."

Teresa detected a whiff of conceit in Mr. Jane, something that did not set well with her.

"'Sometimes almost as good'? So you're better than me?"

"Well, yes, but you've improved so much since I came to work with you."

"Improved?"

"Yes, some of my skills have rubbed off on you. As a matter of fact, right now since you're unencumbered by any memories and therefore any responsibilities, it seems like your skill at observation has increased further. You may even give me a run for the money before this is over."

Jane patted her on the arm as if he thought that would make her feel better about what he just said.

Sheep dip to that! she thought. Wait a minute. Where did "sheep dip" come from?

"I'm curious. Do you often talk like that with me?" She didn't exactly say that as a question.

"Like what?"

"Mildly condescending."

"No, I don't." Teresa noted the higher pitch to his voice as he thrust his hands deep in his pockets. Soon she heard the nervous jangling of coins in his pocket.

"So it's not mildly condescending, it's just plain condescending?" she asked.

"Ur, ahm, wait a minute! I am not condescending toward you. Never. Rarely. Hardly ever. Look, I like to think that I've improved over the years, at least with you."

What Mr. Jane said troubled her, but Teresa found that she did enjoy messing with him. Did her old self enjoy that as well? If she didn't know any better, she'd believe that she had totally flustered him.

"'At least with me'? So you'll still talk down to other people even if you don't with me?" she said.

"Yes, ur, ahm, hold it! You're putting words in my mouth again!"

"Am I?"

Jane's shoulders slumped. Worry lines creased his face. He fell silent for a moment before he spoke.

"The truth of it is, I'm an ass. And manipulater. And schemer. But mostly an ass. Somehow you've been able to look beyond that over the years, and I'm grateful to you for that, Lisbon."

There it was, a flicker behind his eyes that told Teresa that he meant what he had said. She decided to grant him a reprieve.

"I believe you, Mr. Jane."

He looked up, and his eyes pleaded with Teresa.

"I'd like to think we've always enjoyed a special relationship, and yes it's one that I have taken advantage of over the years. At times I've angered you and hurt you. You didn't deserve that. I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I treat you."

"Why?"

His hands began to tremble.

"Why? Because I saw you, my only real friend, the most important person in my world, floating lifeless in the water. You had gone looking for me when I had wandered off. I saw the EMTs try three times to revive you before your heart started beating again. I had given up hope," he said as his voice cracked. He drew in a deep breath.

Teresa took Mr. Jane's hands in her own, and she clasped them firmly to stifle their shaking.

"That's sweet, Mr. Jane."

"Sweet is not the word I'd use. I have a lot of guilt that I deal with, and your situation added to it."

"I can see that you're sincere. Must be those observational skills you taught me. I know my old self had to value our friendship, and I do now. Friends help each other out. We'll work through this together."

Patrick brightened as he squeezed her hands in return.

"Thank you, Lisbon."

"Now I want to talk about something else," she said.

"What?"

"My name. Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon,"

Teresa saw Jane's eyebrows knot into a perplexed look.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Lisbon is that other person, the person I'm supposed to be. I feel like I'm in her shadow."

"No, you're not."

"I am too. Everyone looks at me like I'm this fallen comrade, someone to feel sorry for, including you. Especially you."

"What? I can't believe you're even saying this," he said.

"It's like I'm supposed to snap out of whatever it is that's wrong with me. Then automatically I'll go back to being her. And me, who I am now, will be gone forever."

"No it won't. You're still you. There's plenty of the Lisbon I know in you now. It's just that there's no history to anchor you."

"That's it, Mr. Jane. No history. I can't conform to something I know nothing about."

"All this has gotten you upset, Lisbon."

Lisbon jerked her hands away from him, and Jane recoiled from the harsh action. She shook her finger at him, but the caustic words waiting on the edge of her tongue vanished, replaced by silence. Now she saw Mr. Jane's hands clasping and unclasping in a fit of nervous energy. Her shaking finger ceased its motion as the raw emotion between them twisted his face into a grimace. In a flash, she reached her hands back across the bench to his. He raised his eyes to meet hers.

"I'm sorry, Jane."

"I'm sorry too, Lisbon."

"You're my best friend too. I can tell that from how you treat me and how the others describe you and me. If the old me had any doubts, how you've stuck with me since I revived would banish them."

"Thank you, Lisbon."

While she continued to hold his hands in hers, she smiled at him. Jane answered with one of his own.

"I have a proposal to make," Teresa said.

"What's that?"

"While I'm me, I mean while I'm not Senior Agent Lisbon, why don't you call me 'Teresa'? I know you know how to pronounce it. You said it in the ambulance and again when you came to me in my room."

"I only rarely call you 'Teresa.' It's only been on special occasions."

"Is there any more special occasion than this? Than when your best friend has lost her mind?"

Her laugh floated across the garden, answered by Jane's own gentle chuckle.

"It's a deal, Teresa!" Jane turned his hand over to grasp hers in a handshake.

"And in turn I'll call you Patrick," Teresa said as she felt her smile morph into a grin.


To be continued.


Author's notes:

Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer wrote the song "Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive" (Accentuate the Positive) in 1944, and artists ranging from Aretha Franklin to Paul McCartney to Willie Nelson have recorded it. Due to the joyful, spirited approach that she takes, Ella Fitzgerald's version from her Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Harold Arlen Songbook album is my favorite. You can tell Ella was having fun recording it! The twin themes of the song, accentuating the positive and eliminating the negative, sum up how Jane and Lisbon approach their relationship by the end of this chapter.

Spoiler alert for upcoming chapter: Two words - "Blue Turtle."