Chapter 9: Tragedy

"No, thank you", she said firmly.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because I have no guarantee you won't use the situation to your advantage". The answer stormed out of her mouth.

He was speechless for a moment, prone to the unexpected hurt her words caused.

Unquestionably, she was presenting a fair point. Really, had he ever used hypnotism with pure intentions?

Had he ever wanted to use hypnotism with pure intentions?

He was vicious. He was raised a fraud. He played with people's most sacred feelings to rob them off their money. The moral aspect of his actions was something he had learnt to defy a long time ago.

He had no right to claim he was a man of honor now. Because he had never been one. Likewise, he had no right to wish she would think different of him. Or feel offended that she didn't.

So, he swallowed his dismay and focused on his answer.

"Well, in that case, you have to decide, Lisbon. Is your worry that I might fool you stronger than your desire to remember?" he asked her, his voice mystical.

He knew he had pushed the right button, because she didn't rush her answer this time. He could almost see with his mind's eye her brows tweak in indecision.

"I promise I'll behave", he promised, for whatever it was worth. He noted, at the same time, that he had used the same words from his memory.

This time, though, he really meant them.

He was holding his breath, his eyes frozen on the ceiling of the bed. Each second that added to her silence was a second he lived in torment. It really hurt him that her opinion of him could be so low.

"Will you come up here or do you want me to come down?" she asked then. Her voice was rough and edgy.

He tried to ignore how his heart fluttered. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

"What, now?" he asked with surprise.

"I need to know, Jane", she chirped. Her tone clarified that it was difficult for her to admit that. That she considered it a weakness.

He knew he wouldn't be able to hypnotize her in this state. She was too nervous and too aware of herself.

"I won't hypnotize you now, Teresa", he said in a low tone. He heard the vast pull of air; her relief and her disappointment. "Not while you won't let yourself calm", he added softly. "You had a long day. It's okay, tomorrow is going to wait for you. You can close your eyes and let yourself sleep now. You deserve some rest. Your thoughts are flooding your mind now, but they'll start to slow down. They'll come slower… and slower. Your mind will start emptying of them. You'll feel lighter… and lighter. Until there's nothing, but blank space".

His low, husky voice mixed with the serenity of the night like the symphony of a soft drizzle. Once he uttered the last few words, the world became still. And he could sense it, that he was the only one who could move in it.

He rose to a sitting position, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of the bed, his lips slightly parted in awe. He was humbled to the core of his existence. Like the explorer that had just managed to tame a wild creature, only to become exposed to its calm, tranquil beauty.

This was almost like fairytale magic. She was the purest, strongest woman he'd ever met. And she had just fallen asleep to the lull of his voice.

Slowly, he lowered his feet on the floor, always looking upwards. He put one foot in front of the other and pushed himself out of bed, turning toward her direction.

She was sitting on the edge of her mattress, her knees tucked in her arms. It was difficult to discern her features in the dark.

He turned around and walked to the ladder, built at the end of the bed. Keeping as calm as possible, he gripped at the sides and climbed up.

When he reached the top, he froze anew, trapped in her magnetism. His own will was lost in the web of her spell.

The mattress gave under the weight of his knees. He sat on his shanks and stayed like that for a moment, trying to slow down his heartbeat.

Up close, she was an ethereal beauty in the faint shimmer of the moonlight. Her chestnut hair fell in soft tendrils about her shoulders. Her features were smooth, relaxed. Thick lashes lined her cheeks; shadows sculptured her face. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she was tasting the air.

He wondered how it would feel to lean in her warmth and taste that same air around her mouth. Then, he shook that thought away.

Slowly, he placed his open palms on the surface of the bed and carefully slid to her side, away from the edge of the bed.

He exhaled to restore his calm. He was here for a reason.

His voice was clear of his inner anguish, when he spoke again.

"Okay, Teresa", he murmured. "I want you to listen close to my voice now. I want you to imagine that time is floating around you. Past and present are the same. You can travel into time as you can travel into space. Now, I want you to travel back to your last day at the CBI. Can you do that?" he said.

She nodded slightly.

"Very good", he praised her.

Her eyelashes fluttered with lethargy, as if she was caught in the wave of a memory.

"What do you see?" he enquired.


"Goodnight, Teresa", Bosco says.

"Goodnight", she chants, as she walks out of the office.

Most of the lights in the building have gone off, as all the workers seem to have returned to their homes. She's practically alone as she rounds the hallway, heading toward the elevator.

"Bosco's your boss?" asks the voice in her head.

Her heart skips a beat. It does that every time the voice sounds. She holds her breath in hopes that she'll hear it again. Then, she realizes it has made her a question.

"Yes, he is..." she answers. "I think he's in love with me", she adds after a while. She doesn't know why she said that.

"You do?"

She nods fervently.

It seems like the time she waits for a reply is endless.

"What else do you see?"

She breathes, relief washing through her body.

She focuses on her surroundings once again, eager to fulfil the voice's will.

The light in the bullpen is still open. This draws her attention. She swerves from her path and takes a few steps toward it.

When she makes it to the entrance, she finds the place completely empty. Her gaze flies around, taking in the forlorn desks, the piles of books and stacked papers, the brown couch at the far corner, the investigation board—she stops and pulls her gaze back again. She blinks. The couch is actually another desk. She is overcome by a moment of utter confusion.

"It's okay, you're doing good so far. Let's move on from there", the voice soothes her.

She flips the switch off and returns at the hallway.

Agent Hannigan is stepping out of the elevator, when she arrives. He holds the door for her. She slightly jolts back, as she notices his bruised knuckles. He doesn't seem to notice her reaction or her intense look. His polite smile is an unyielding feature on his face. She steps into the compartment and he finally removes his peculiar hand. She pushes the button and watches as the doors close in front of her.

"Hannigan?"

She briefly explains who he is and what he does.

"Okay, let's go a little forward. Where do you go next?"

She's flying through time again. She's surprised by how easy it seems to be. Just like the voice said.

"Home", she answers.

She's in her car, just outside her apartment. The roar of the engine under her becomes a soft purr until it fades completely. For a while, all she can hear is the lack of noise; all she can see is the common sight of the parking lot spreading in front of her flat.

She takes the key out of the ignition and opens her door.

The weather outside is dry, almost suffocating. She ambles through the cars and climbs the few stairs up to her place.

When she's finally inside, she drops the keys on the chest of drawers near the entrance and shakes off her jacket. The familiar wave of loneliness encompasses her, as the walls of her apartment rise around her once again. She shuffles toward her living room and turns on the TV to fill the place with sounds.

She heads to her bathroom.

There, she turns on the water and gets rid of her sticky work clothes. After that, she steps in the shower and lets the water numb her senses for the next half hour. When the tension in her joints wears off completely, she steps out and eases into the comfort of a thick white towel.

The noise of the TV floods her ears, when she returns to the open area of the living room. She glances over at the screen.

At first, she can only discern random shapes and voices. Slowly, though, the figures acquire a more defined status.

She can distinguish the exterior of a beautiful mansion and the red light of police sirens. There's a blond reporter speaking of a fresh tragedy in Malibu. Mother and child found brutally murdered in their own bedroom.

Her feet bring her closer to the screen, without her consent. The footage changes and the close-up of a man fills the camera.

"True demonic evil burns like fire. It—it burns with a terrible cold, dark flame…" says the voice in her ears.

A shiver runs through her spine. Because she realizes that the voice actually came from the man in the screen. The man that looks so familiar.

"What is it? What do you see, Teresa?"

"…I force myself to look into that flame, and I see an image of the evildoer".

He is everywhere.

"Teresa?"

"It's—it's you", she says breathlessly, not sure whom she's answering to. "The family murdered is yours".

The screen continues to change, switching among footages of the talk show, the mansion and a narrow hall with a door at the end.

"Teresa, can you see their names?" urges the voice.

She searches the titles on the bottom of the screen. Her sight blurs a little, like it usually does in dreams. She manages to dismiss the fog, though, and the letters finally read clearly in her vision. Her voice sounds drained when she proffers them.

"Angela Ruskin Jane and Charlotte Jane".

A/N: Thank you for the reviews and the very interesting predictions. I admit, it was difficult to keep my initial plans for the story with all the exciting ideas you provided. However, in the end, I had to keep my version. So, I hope this met with your expectations. I really want to know your thoughts :)

Also, the present tense is to give you the idea that Lisbon is talking to Jane all the while, not only when she thinks she answers.

Next Chapter: What is Jane's reaction going to be? Does he remember now?