I DO NOT OWN THE MENTALIST!
Author's Note: Ha I updated so quickly, that chapter was basically a lengthened filler as this one seemed too long compared to the other chapters. Enjoy the twist.
"You used to write, we alone on the planet wrote to each other... You always used to beg to come home but I always refused, your grades were good right. I thought that was more important than your happiness, at the time anyway. You used to visit too, I did actually look forward to those visits Julian. I did.
Life carried on, I worked hard at my job which I still loved despite the team's new found dislike of me. Of course eventually they started to come around more, especially Cho and Rigsby, they didn't forgive me of course but they had to accept it. Van Pelt, not so much.
Think I should go call them? They have no idea that you or I are here... Seriously Julian, the second I got the call I went as fast to Colorado as I could. They probably think I abandoned them again... I don't want to leave you though, I am not going to leave you again.
It doesn't matter what I say does it? You aren't listening, you can't hear a single word that I'm saying, you just lie there mute, deaf, blind... the drawbacks of being unconscious... You're all but dead, a lone machine forces your heart to beat. WAKE UP JULIAN! It doesn't matter how loudly I scream does it? You still can't hear.
I swear Julian if you wake up we are going to go home to Sacramento, I swear I am never going to send you away again, I swear I am never going to abandon you again. I love you Julian and I promise if you wake up things are going to change, just please wake up..."
My voice trails off, I have the lost the will to speak anymore. Instead I grip his hand ever tighter and lay my head on the bed beside it. I'd give anything for him to wake up, my own life even. Just as my exhausted eyelids droop themselves closed, I become aware of a hand placing itself on my shoulder. Vaguely I wonder who it is but mostly I don't care, all that matters at the moment is Julian.
"Leave me alone, I want to be with my son," I say tiredly, not having the strength to snap at him or her.
"Teresa..." a voice says, a voice that has long since been lost to this world.
For a second I wonder if I am dreaming as I turn my head slowly around to see a striking pair of eyes looking at me sadly, a head of golden curls, a three piece suit...
"Patrick?" I question cautiously realizing this doesn't feel like a dream, a hallucination?
"Yes I really am alive, you're not dreaming, hallucinating, nor are you dead and I am not a ghost," he answers my unasked questions.
I stood up still slowly and we both stand for a second gazing at each other, I try to summon all the anger I held against him for so long but fail miserably. Instead I throw my arms around him and he hugs me tightly back, for a long while we stay locked in the embrace.
"How?" I ask finally admist silent streaming tears.
"I survived being stabbed... but they offered me a deal, the FBI. Basically fake my death, new life working for them or stay in jail until my inevitable death," he explains quietly.
"Why didn't you come back to me?"
"You hated me," he whispers, "because I killed Red John and ruined everything. I thought I was doing the most worthwhile thing I had ever done but after... I realized it was the worst possible thing I could have done. You hated me and I didn't deserve to make things right with the woman I love."
"I never hated you Patrick, when I heard you died..."
"I know I've been listening to you talking about it."
"How did you know we were here?"
"I know Julian... I was walking one day on the weekend and I saw him sitting in a tree, he looked lonely so I talked to him and quickly realized who he was but he didn't realize who I was. I made a getaway but went to the school and flashed my FBI badge, they promised to keep me informed about him but not tell anyone. CBI, FBI... all the same to them," I hear him force a laugh.
"Promise me your not going to leave or die or fake your death again... promise me Patrick, promise!"
"I promise," he agrees and I hug him tighter.
"Mo- Teresa?" croaks a weak voice I also know well.
Immediately we both pull away and glance at the bed where a pasty looking Julian struggles to sit up. I gasp as a smile forms on my face as I go back over to him and hold his hand again looking into his solemn eyes.
"Hey Julian, how you feeling?" I question gently.
"Alive," he mutters weakly, "I didn't think you'd be here."
"Of course, you're my son," I tell him feeling slightly surprised he thinks that, "I love you Julian and I'm sorry."
"For what?" he asks blinking away tears, "I'm the one that's not good enough for you, Grace didn't want me, my Dad didn't want me, you don't want me."
"No," Patrick says firmly behind me walking over to him, "your Dad does want you, he loves you."
"My Dad is dead," Julian informs him.
"No he isn't, Julian I'm Patrick Jane. I'm your Dad," Patrick tells him and Julian's eyes widen in shock.
"But you've been dead for a decade," Julian says looking completely bewildered, "am I dead?"
"No," I allow a nervous laugh, "you're alive, you have to stay alive okay? Promise me."
"I promise," he murmurs quietly, his eyelids already drooping shut.
"He just needs rest," announces a nurse suddenly seemingly from nowhere and I leap to my feet stunned.
"Is he going to be okay?" Patrick asks quickly holding his breath.
"He woke up, his chances are looking alot better," the nurse says kindly and I smile slightly reaching out to hold Patrick's hand.
Everything was going to be okay.