Firstly thanks again to all my reviewers …. love to get some feed back from non regulars too. Special thanks to Katrina, Mossi, Jul73 and HayseedSocrates for your continued support.
I'd hoped this chapter would be up sooner, but unfortunately during a spell when the words wouldn't flow and the updates here on TMfanfic were a little thin I started re reading Little Stars, an amazing ( as yet unfinished ) piece by Kourion.
It's very long and I couldn't stop …. so I let the writing slip.
Anyway it's done now. Hope you like….
Hospital routines are what they are. Set in stone, even in their inconvenience, and they are inevitable, inescapable. They don't care if you don't want to breakfast at some ungodly hour like seven, when you've been up half the night, being pestered by well meaning professionals waking you up to check that you're still alive.
Miraculously last night hadn't been like that, Jane had actually slept like the proverbial baby; a natural non assisted slumber born out of the honest, hard earned tiredness of work and the hopeful anticipation of escape into the familiar arms of Lisbon and the team.
How appropriate that phrase: for they truly were his only real family and he could almost feel the metaphorical strength of their collective arms supporting him.
Tiredness and his subconscious mind's unshakeable faith in Lisbon had ultimately won out over the doubt and paranoia that had been festering like sores and had always fuelled his insomnia and stoked the fires that raged in his nightmares. He blamed the recent almost unbearable intensity of his torture on the physical trauma of 'the accident', but such insecurities were merely symptoms of the torment he'd lived with for so many years.
The many and varied symptoms came and went, triggered by cases, birthdays, anniversaries, an odd misjudged comment here, a tune playing in a bar as he passed….. mostly he suppressed the overwhelming pangs of melancholy, the urge to cry out to some all seeing 'mister fix it' for damaged souls, the spooky feeling that someone on every street corner was poking at his guilt with a stick or laughing at the single minded blindness of his so far fruitless chase.
Usually he coped by shutting himself away or sticking on an appropriate smile and survived on catnaps and determination.
So a good night's trouble free sleep, albeit only four or five hours, was a blessing.
For a 'very light sleeper' the extra activity that accompanied the morning change from night staff to day was enough to break the spell and even before the door handle began to twist ever so gently and ever so quietly, Jane was rubbing the crustiness of last night's tears and tiredness from his eyes.
Carmina crept, as silently as she could, to his bedside and stood waiting while he blinked away the mist, swallowed a bit and dampened his night dried lips with his tongue.
When she was satisfied that he was sufficiently awake that her presence would not alarm him, she touched Jane's hand cautiously and smiled,
"Hello sleepy head," she greeted him quietly. "I hope I didn't wake you."
"Uhh ….no…." he mumbled groggily, through a stifled yawn, trying to politely cover his mouth and his confusion while simultaneously getting his bearings. "Always awake …."
"It's just that I know you're going home today and I wanted to say goodbye … wish you well."
Carmina withdrew her hand and watched as Jane struggled to push himself up on his elbows and take in the morning, looking around the room and sucking in a couple of deeper breaths before returning his attention to her and allowing a warm smile some space on his face.
"Yeah. Looking forward to it," he replied, adding mysteriously, "You have no idea how much."
"You ready to sit up?" she asked, moving to adjust the bed. "Or would you like to snatch a little more beauty sleep ….. although I have to say, it looks as if you had a good night. I mean you look much better this morning…. more colour."
"Sit up please," he croaked, reaching shakily to take a sip of water from the glass that Carmina had automatically offered him. It was just dawning on him how much more difficult it could be to drag yourself to full alertness after sleeping well and how heavily muddy his head felt.
He also felt a little uneasy and oddly still unable to function well, but put it down to his deeper sleep, so he let the nurse fuss around plumping pillows and fine tuning the position of his bed while he observed and composed himself.
"Is that OK?" she asked him, when she had finally smoothed the covers to her satisfaction. " Did you sleep well ? I popped in a couple of times to make sure you were alright. You were sleeping the sleep of the dead … and snoring ….. and I see you didn't need the pill. Well done!"
…whoa … 'the dead' …is that really appropriate…I mean …or am I being over sensitive
"I don't snore … do I?" he blurted out defensively, unable to quell the feeling that this was all getting a little too personal. A little beyond nurse and patient. He was surprised she didn't call him dear.
His burgeoning unease provoked an urgent need to steer the topic of conversation to something more reassuring. He yawned a long exaggerated yawn and stretched exotically despite being limited by his stiffness. It bought him some breathing space.
"Is it too early for a cuppa, Carmina, my dear?" he asked her pleasantly, pinning the woman with his full beam sunshine smile, laced with just a hint of 'I'm in charge here'.
He watched her patronising veneer melt under it's heat.
It was oh so easy to convey one message with words only to flick it off into another realm of understanding with a variant of the most powerful means of communication known to man; the simple smile.
"I'm parched, as usual …. can't converse before my first brew of the day," he crooned.
A slightly baffled Carmina stepped back and looked down to consult the neat nurses' fob watch that dangled from her tunic pocket.
"Look I have to be going now, but Cindy will be here any minute, I'll make sure she brings you one as soon as she can, you'll be first on her list if I know Cindy."
Soon regaining the momentary loss of her composure she took a step forward again and, softening once more, gave Jane's hand a warm squeeze, "I do hope your recovery goes well Mr Jane," she told him somewhat solemnly from under a half smile. "Take good care of yourself. I don't want to see you back in here."
Her formality made Jane feel at once vaguely creeped out but nevertheless touched. Actually he couldn't altogether figure this woman out.
That was worrying.
As she strode purposefully to the door, Carmina turned and caught Jane's eye, "Bye."
"Bye Carmina and thank you." he answered, adding, apparently as an afterthought. "Oh …say hello to your friend for me, wont you."
The nurse paused for a beat, her expression slightly bemused and her hand stilling on the door handle, but she said nothing and was quickly gone.
Jane wondered briefly if she had heard him before deciding that he was certain she had.
xxx
The nurses station is always the gossip hub of any large hospital, and shift changeover time the optimum opportunity to exchange those little nuggets of golden information, the tittle tattle, the juicy who's dating who or would like to be snippets and the downright dangerous Chinese whispers.
That morning was no exception, and the topic of the moment was the eye catching vase of enormous sunflowers dominating the wall end of the desk. There they sat, still enrobed in their scarlet cellophane and their blood red ribbon, but happily sucking up the water from a stylish glass vase.
It was a tall twenty something student nurse who was holding court, enthusiastically distributing information to anyone willing to listen. Abnormally thin and with lank dark brown hair streaming down her back, she waved her long arms about in dramatic gestures as she talked.
"…she said he's mad as a hatter, but very cute, all blond curls and pretty sea green eyes. Smashed his legs up horribly trying to jump out of some window."
"Why?" quizzed a quieter anonymous girl. "Why'd he jump?"
"Apparently half his family was killed in a grizzly murder, drove him mad. Yeah, the flowers arrived last night and he went crazy, wild eyed, …you know. Threw them across the room, but then demanded to keep the card … Random!" she paused briefly to refuel her lungs before continuing. "…hid it away in some tatty little black book he keeps like it's some kind of precious treasure. Won't let anyone near it. Honestly, you'd think it had spells in it. He's not quite right you know. They had to hold him down and drug him the other night…."she rambled on, completely unstoppable.
"Why would you do that … I mean, that is crazy," a serious middle aged woman with tortoise shell rimmed spectacles gestured toward the flowers, "They're beautiful… why wouldn't he want them?"
"I don't know. That's all I heard," the spindly girl answered, gathering her flowing brown hair into a band and turning to greet an attractive blonde who had rushed to join them.
"Hey Cindy," she cried, "You know that weird guy in 134 don't you? You know, the one who won't eat and throws a tantrum if he has to drink from a plastic cup."
"Oh! You mean Patrick," came the immediate answer from the blonde with the rosebud lips; his name emphasised, drawn out with mysterious relish.
Cindy laughed and threw her bag on the counter top, "No, Patrick's a pussy cat really," she told her colleagues with the smug certainty of her privileged position, her insight into the star of the morning's entertainment.
"Once you know how to handle him he's a pushover," she crowed. "Wants his tea in a china cup like he's something special and you have to flirt with him, make him feel important, but that's all. He just gets a bit stressed, moody …. depressed."
She glanced knowingly over at the sunflowers, "But if you can make him smile. My god, it's worth listening to any amount of his misery if he gives you one of those smiles."
"That's enough gossiping girls!" boomed the voice of authority from a grey head suddenly protruding around the door adjacent to the nurses station, "On with the day. Chop! Chop!"
The crowd dispersed hurriedly in ones and twos, still whispering and plainly feeding the rumour mill with their speculations, while Cindy pivoted and glared at the skinny student,
"Frankie, you'd better tie that hair up, not just back, and neatly too, before you go on duty," she instructed coldly. Then more conspiratorially, "So, what's he been up to then, you've got five minutes to spill the beans before we start."
xxx
They say time flies when you're having fun.
There was no denying that the time did fly that morning, but Jane didn't think he would classify that particular morning as 'fun time'. It wasn't that it was overly 'unfun' either, more busy and not exactly relaxed.
He was tense, as he knew he would be. Fretting about looking his best, his mind constantly darting back to the sorry state of his memory palace, and forward to how he would be able to cope at Lisbon's place.
He knew there would be practical problems, but they'd had to be pushed aside in order to get his own way. To get 'home'.
The trouble was he hadn't considered whether Lisbon was aware of said problems.
… ah well Jane …love will find a way…that's what they say…
He'd hardly had time to draw breath before Cindy waltzed in with a cup of tea and an inscrutable smile which she wore all morning. He wondered if you had to be oriental to be inscrutable. Cho was definitely inscrutable.
Jane barely managed to scoop up his book from where Carmina had placed it some time during the night and stow it safely away between his pillows, but to be honest for once it wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts, hiding the book had become a reflexive action, as so many of his actions were.
After a breakfast of eggs, toast and fruit juice, which he had made sure to polish off enthusiastically, leaving a gleaming plate, Cindy asked politely if he'd visited the bathroom yet and offered to help him.
"I'd really appreciate that Cindy," he beamed. "I'm kinda stiff this morning. Slept too well I guess."
"That's to be expected Patrick," she consoled him as she helped him swing his legs out onto the extensions that stuck out from the chair while he shuffled his bottom onto the seat.
Jane smiled sweetly up at her, "I don't suppose you have a comb I could borrow," he asked, tugging at an errant lock to illustrate his point. "Oh, don't worry, my hair's clean. You washed it yourself. Remember? It's just it gets so unruly. I'd like to tidy it up a bit."
"Yeah! …and you're such a mess," she smirked. "Is Ms Lisbon coming in?"
If he'd been a fool he might have thought he detected the merest hint of the green eyed monster in her tone. But it was the whole idea that she thought he felt the need to preen himself for his boss's arrival that made him feel unjustifiably uncomfortable … even if it was true. In fact, more so because it was true.
"Well, now that you mention it she …" he felt the colour begin to rise in his cheeks, "… but that's not the only…"
Cindy seemed to relish his embarrassment as much as the poor man wished he could control it the way he controlled pretty much every thing else.
"Oh, I understand," she told him with a knowing smile, as she reached over his legs to hold the bathroom door open while he pushed himself into the room. She left behind her a lingering and somewhat cloying haze of sweetly floral scent, which stirred the nervous energy already swirling in his stomach into a sudden surge of sickly nausea.
"You do what you have to do and park yourself by the mirror and I'll go find one."
Five minutes later Jane was carefully titivating his crowning glory with a small, lilac coloured, nylon bristled, ladies hairbrush. He gently directed the wayward curls, as best he could with no gel or mousse, wetting the brush first and being cautious around the sight of his injury, feeling with his fingers first because he couldn't get himself into a position to view the back of his head, seated as he was by necessity, sideways on to the mirror.
He examined himself anxiously, showing a wide toothy smile to check he'd polished his teeth to gleaming perfection, then readdressed the curls, adjusting one of the tighter ones that adorned his temples and persuaded it to sit beguilingly on it's own like a tempting little kiss.
…narcissistic…moi? …necessary, dear boy …means to an end, as always…
Staring back at the man in the mirror he frowned at the ugly graze that he could do nothing about and was now skirted by the various colours of a very murky rainbow as the bruising began to flourish. But disfiguring as it was, it was great for garnering sympathy and hopefully would heal without a trace.
Dumping his toilet bag in his lap, Jane struggled his way back to bed to nervously await the expected stream of visitors that would precede and enable his escape.
He sat, chest puffed out like some proud peacock displaying his perfect plumage, ready to switch on his internal fairy lights to welcome the first and most eagerly awaited arrival.
Jane knew that Lisbon thought he was vain, most people did, but it wasn't vanity it was self preservation and he was sure that on some level she understood that.
When everything had been taken from you all you had was yourself, the body you carried your fragile heart around in all day and the 'self' that made you tick. And if you didn't make the most of yourself, make the best of a bad job, massage your own ego, well honestly, who else would.
He wasn't so much vain and egotistical …. just surviving ….. getting by … holding on … in the only way he knew.
Putting on the act.
He knew that Teresa had seen him numerous times when the varnish had worn thin, the act all but dropped, when he'd stumbled around, unwashed, unshaven, crumpled and hopeless, snarky and uncontrolled.
But even for her he still put on the act and applied the make up of a clown.
xxx
Lisbon had breezed in and breezed out, but that wasn't to say the brevity of her visit had been disappointing. In fact he would have to call it 'short and sweet', because it was.
Very sweet.
She had seemed hurried and preoccupied, but the sheer intensity of the cheery grin he'd greeted her with soon washed away the slightly worried aura surrounding her and she'd been unable to resist grasping his hand warmly and planting a quick peck on his unblemished cheek.
"My god." she teased, "Have you been to a beauty parlour?"
"All my own work, Teresa. All my own work."
"You should charge," she told him, mock seriously. "But you look like a different man this morning. What happened?"
"I found a way to sleep."
"That's great Jane. Really. Great." she smiled proudly and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze, and it was, very encouraging, quite the most encouraging thing she'd seen or heard from her favourite insomniac lately.
"Jane, I'm afraid I can't stay," she continued giving him an apologetic, almost sad look and throwing a small bag onto his legs.
He was glad that she looked sad, although it wasn't so much unhappy sad as wistful, which was silly really because he wanted her to be happy. Didn't he? But it made him feel wanted anyway. Like it meant she didn't want to leave him. And that was what he needed.
She found herself a space to sit on the bed facing him, motioning him to shove over a bit.
"I just have time to give you these, then I have to get back to tie up some loose ends at the office before I do some last minute shopping and get my place ready for you. You'll have to make do with Rigsby's cast offs just for the journey home, I forgot to take your keys last night so I haven't been able to get anything else from your place. Can I take them now? The keys I mean."
Jane watched, transfixed. He hadn't seen her this relaxed since he'd woken after the accident. He'd always had faith in the magic of his charismatic smiles ( and he did sometimes feel guilty for using it, telling himself if you don't use it you lose it ) but he couldn't have been more happy that the genuinely 'pleased to see you' grin that had leapt to the fore this morning had worked.
There was a lot to be said for unguarded reactions he had to admit. He had been 'pleased to see her'.
No.
Make that 'thrilled'.
"Wasn't that my wash bag then? And underwear?"
"No. I didn't want to leave you when you came in and I've been busy since. So I got some stuff from the nearest place," she admitted, suddenly aware of her consultant's renowned pickiness, which after all hadn't seemed so very important at the time, "Did I do a bad thing?"
Jane laughed a little too heartily and his hand darted to his sore ribs when they reminded him to be more careful, "Ouch , gonna have to remember to stay calm," he remarked to himself. "I must be in a sorry state then. Didn't even notice!"
"Just as well," she teased him, "I bought the cheapest."
Jane made no comment but the relaxed way he leant back on his pillows and the way his features had fallen into a sort of non expression told her he was having a dip.
"You OK?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he assured her with a slow but warm smile.
And, all things considered, for the time being, he was.
Lisbon decided it was perhaps the right time to leave.
"Look Jane. I have to go. I'll take your things, then you'll have less stuff to worry about when you leave. After lunch isn't it?"
"Yup, always assuming the doctor signs me off, but I've no reason to think he won't. I'm prepared."
"I'll be ready for you then, after lunch. My place."
"Are you sure?" he asked warily, but she couldn't figure whether he meant was the apartment sorted or was she actually ready for the challenge she had taken on.
"Yes, it'll be fine," she told him.
…which ever way…
…we'll be fine …
xxx
Jane's performance for Dr Brownloe was a masterclass in physical control, charm and compliance and the man quickly signed the required papers after casting a cursory glance over his chart and a doing routine examination.
The man then spent ten minutes giving his patient strict and detailed instructions for his recovery.
"…plenty of rest …no stress …keep those legs elevated as much as possible … take a good look at your diet, a man of your age shouldn't be anaemic …try to get some fresh air and breath deeply … and on no account are you to put any weight on my expert metal work, I don't want any mishaps…
and if your toes don't look or feel right or if the headaches don't settle call immediately…keep taking the pills, finish the course and the iron … pain killers as required …"
Jane smiled sweetly throughout, nodding occasionally and asking appropriate questions in all the right places until at last the man had finished.
"Right Mr Jane, I think that's it. Congratulations. You can go home, or whatever you choose to call it, I'm sure your friend will take good care of you."
He gave Jane a sly wink and Jane immediately stuck up a mental post it note to find out who might have spilled the beans. Then he remembered that Brownloe had reminded Lisbon of Virgil Minelli and wondered just who was in control of the plot for his early release and who had been talking to whom.
He didn't mind relinquishing that control at all for a change. It made him chuckle to himself and he felt the warmth that came from the knowledge that he was far from alone.
The two men exchanged a glance that acknowledged their mutual understanding of the situation, and their common admiration for the woman they were both thinking about.
xxx
The whole of Jane's morning seemed to resemble a runaway rollercoaster ride. Never before had he received visits from so many different members of the nursing staff.
A tall thin and obviously inexperienced girl with dark hair tied up in a neat topknot, accompanied by her middle aged, bespectacled supervisor came in to remove his IV line and scribble on his chart. He had been puzzled by their over familiar use of his Christian name and their unsuccessful attempts to exchange secret glances.
Another stranger dropped by to stare, delivering a pharmacy bag containing his meds and quite unnecessarily lingered to take him through the instructions so clearly written on the labelled bottles.
Then there was the social worker with more final papers to sign, probably absolving the hospital from any liability for releasing him into the world prematurely.
By the time lunch was served by another curious stranger, Jane was beginning to wonder why he had suddenly become worthy of so much attention so late in his stay. He was used to attention under his own terms but this was weird, he was like the 'bird in a gilded cage'. Unable to escape attention. And being constantly in the spotlight he was beginning to wilt rapidly behind his façade.
In fact he hadn't even had a private moment to check his book and it's precious cargo, sitting tucked away between the pillows since before breakfast.
When at last Cindy appeared after his half eaten lunch had been cleared away by yet another willing member of staff, he was feeling jittery and pressurised. The sight of the fair haired angel, even with her disquieting undertones of something darker, was a welcome relief.
He brought down the curtain on his act and met her entrance with a weak and weary smile.
xxx
Jane cringed when Cindy tipped his going home outfit out of the plastic Walmart bag.
Since Lisbon had revealed the identity of the donor he hadn't dared to peek, what ever was in the bag could only be tasteless and way too big.
He was not wrong.
He could scarcely contain the grimace and the pained groan that teased a mocking snort from Cindy when he saw the slightly shiny mid blue loose fit (for extra comfort) joggers and the cheaply branded sweatshirt.
"What! Too proud for polyester?" she giggled.
It was simply impossible to resist the urge to rise to her bait. "Can you give me one good reason for wearing polyester?" he moaned, "Synthetics are sweaty and bad for the environment."
"Well actually Patrick I can think of many reasons," she told him coolly, "The most important of which are the fact that you can't go home naked and being slippery they'll slide on easily over your casts and see the legs have draw strings at the bottoms."
"Snakes are slippery," he mumbled.
"Are you stalling Patrick? Scared to go home?
"No Cindy." He backtracked quickly. "I'm very much looking forward to getting out of here. Those remarks were unconsidered …. I'm obviously not at my best. I'm sorry. I should be grateful for man made fibres."
He leaned forward slightly and fumbled uselessly behind his back to find the ties on the hospital gown with it's generic hospital gown print. "Let's get on with getting me ready then, shall we? No time to lose. Places to go. People to see. Time waits for no man. Tempus fugit ….. all that sort of stuff…."
After several moments of fruitless and energy sapping scrabbling he gave up and threw his hands down to his lap in frustration.
"Look Cind, if you want to get rid of me you're going to have to help and I'm sure as hell not going out in public in this hospital garb. It's going to be embarrassing enough being seen in pre owned eighties work out gear."
He didn't know why the girl insisted in making him wait for those few extra excruciating moments, seemed to delight in turning the screw ….but maybe he did know or maybe it was his imagination … he was getting very tired.
Cindy laughed. "Oh Patrick you're so funny. So old fashioned. I'm going to miss you, you know."
Jane gave her a quizzical stare.
…. If my gut didn't know better I'd believe you Angel…
xxx
Within half an hour Jane was sitting like a prince in his chair, the Walmart bag now containing his few belongings cradled securely in his lap, waiting for the tailgate to rise and lift him into the transport to take him from this short painful chapter of his life and on to the next.
A small gaggle of staff were gathered nearby, ostensibly taking a cigarette break, but the waves of voyeuristic delight and buzzing whispers made him feel sick.
He wished the ground would just swallow him up, let him dissolve into anonymity, something he knew he had given up the moment he had become Patrick Jane …Wonder Boy ….Fake Psychic …. Tragic Widower …. Murderer …Victim …. Hunter …
Cindy stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his.
He couldn't help but flinch, the plastic of his bag rustling a warning as he crushed it's contents protectively to his chest.
"Good luck Patrick," she oozed a syrupy smile, her piercing blue eyes penetrating the tiny cracks in his thin mask. "It's been an experience, getting to know you. Who knows maybe our paths will cross again."
Jane held her with an answering stare, watching and waiting, until the hydraulic tail gate began to lift him to safety.
"You never know Cindy, do you?" he suddenly flashed her a warm honey flavoured smile of his own … straight from the hive … pure and sweet … with a nasty sting in the tail.
"Goodbye," he called " and tell your friend I said hello."
She stood and gazed her inscrutable gaze until he disappeared from view.
He smiled his own honeyed smile until she had disappeared, then he pushed all thoughts of Cindy and her colleague Carmina ( he couldn't decide if they were friends or rivals, so settled on colleague) from his thoughts and felt the tension drain away.
He was on his way.
Home to his friends.
To Lisbon.
He was physically and emotionally exhausted, couldn't wait for a relaxing cup of tea and Lisbon's couch. In fact he thought it was quite likely that he would doze off in the warmth of the stuffy vehicle but thankfully it was only a short drive, just enough time to have a quick glance at his list and read Red John's message to keep himself awake.
He hadn't had the time nor felt the desire to look at it again, but the small cream card held little fear for him now that he was so close to 'home' and his chance of a proper talk with Lisbon.
He opened the bag and took the book out carefully. He turned to the page that contained the names of those suspects who were members of Visualize.
He found nothing.
Nothing nestled safely between the pages.
So…. there you have it!
Sorry for the delay …. I feel this chapter's a bit disjointed but there was a lot to get in, even though I've still not succeeded in bringing Jane 'home'…. quite!
Tell me what you think and I promise a long heart to heart with Lisbon next time and some fun with Rigsby.