A/N: I suppose apologies are necessary! Apologies for the hiatus, I intend to continue writing this fic, but have been incredibly busy. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me. A big thank you to Hecate for the encouragement. As for "guest" we shall have to see... wink

Disclaimer: The Mentalist is the sole property of CBS and their affiliates. I do not claim any ownership of its material, cast, plot, etc. This is solely intended for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. Patrick is only mine in my dreams...till the alarm goes off.

Part 10:

He knew he had only a matter of minutes before Lisbon would be at his door, his left eye twitched as he scanned the room, swallowing down the guilt that threatened to overcome him as his mind thought through what he would have to say to Lisbon. He knew what was necessary, and quickly sprung from the chair, dashing about the room and violently upending anything that wasn't bolted down. He tossed the bed, threw open the door of the mini-bar, grabbed a bottle a couple of cans of "Edited on the Beach" and a beer for good measure, and continued to dishevel the room, pounding the liquor as he went. He had to make it believable, he thought, like he'd gone off the deep end, needed to get out, was a risk to the CBI and her.

When he was satisfied with the state of the room he undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and all of those on his vest, and flumped on the bed, leaving the door just slightly ajar. He stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, his brain awash with the overindulgence of alcohol on an otherwise empty stomach. Oh, he was still capable of rational thought, for sure, but this made it easier. His thoughts drifted like a low tide, swirling in and out until he heard a hesitant knock at the door. He lay his head to the side, nuzzling the disheveled linens and called "Come in, i's open." He let out an exasperated sigh, conveying his aggravation without words.

Theresa stopped outside the room, her hand caressing the brass numbers of the door before she pressed her hand to the wood surface, pushing it open just a crack further. She paused, and thought it best to knock, that was polite, right? And so she rapped softly, calling his name into the silence of the room. His voice startled her, something about the tone, or was it the slur of 'it's', whatever it was she stiffened her spine as she crossed the threshold, slowly pushing open the door.

Almost instantly she nearly tripped over one of the pillows, part of its cover had been torn where it was grabbed and thrown. Her face fell in a frown, her eyes flicking over to Jane's sprawled form atop the queen size bed. She watched her step and strode to him, seizing his vest by the edge and pulling him up to come eye to eye. Her nostrils flared as she took in the concoction of fruity drinks and beer. "Are you drunk?" She nearly stammered, unable to hide the disgust in her voice.

"A bit, maybe. Possibly." He inclined his head, the sudden motion causing his head to loll slightly, the world suddenly spinning round him. He tried to pin down a single Lisbon, as he stilled the ocean in his skull. "Hello Lisbon." He smiled, drawing his legs up beneath him. His eye caught on the letter still perfectly centered in the middle of the table, then slowly came round to fix on her hazel orbs, alight with an anger he couldn't recall having seen before.

Lisbon whipped around, releasing her hold on his jacket, her eyes following his to land on the letter. She looked back at him, her hand outstretched, ready to snatch it up, watching him intently, reading his body language. It didn't get past her that it was the only thing untouched by the tornado that seemed to have consumed the remainder of the room. "What's this?" She spat at him vehemently.

"Nothing Lisbon, jus' give it here, please," He bowed his head and outstretched his hand, unable to keep a plea from escaping his lips. It occurred to him that this was not part of the plan, she wasn't supposed to know this, never, he was supposed to leave, to draw him away, to concede, and move on. His mind raged with the frustration of having forgotten to hide it. Stupid! He thought, and then moved to scramble off the bed, his legs refusing to cooperate. One too many beers! His thoughts mocked him as he collided with the floor. Pressing his hand atop the mattress to once again struggle towards her before she could unfold the letter.

But it was too late, Lisbon was carefully unfolding the sheet, lost in the anticipation of it's contents to notice that Jane was now crawling towards her feet pitifully. Her jaw went slack as she read it through, kicking aside Jane's hand as it wrapped around her ankle. "Jesus, Jane." She shook her head, closing her eyes. She looked down upon him, a smirk playing on her lips a moment before her face went blank. "He's got the case files. All of them." She folded the sheet of paper and slapped it down upon the table, pressing it flat beneath her palm. She stepped to the window and pressed her forehead against the glass, heaving a heavy sigh.

"Lisbon," Jane cried, using the chair beside the table to pull himself upright. He wobbled a moment, and then inelegantly collapsed into the chair, inching it up to sit beside where Lisbon stood. "I have to go Lisbon. Leave." He spoke softly, never looking up to her, choosing instead to fixate his eyes on the peeling paint of the deck as rain pattered against it.

"Go where Jane?" Lisbon spoke to the glass, her eyes fixated on the grey-blue skies beyond.

"I don't know, but somewhere not here. Away from you, and the team, and the CBI." He paused, thinking a moment. "It'll be easy for the team now, They'll probably be grateful." He sniffed. "This needs to end Lisbon, and the only way its going to happen is if I leave." He folded his hands in his lap and watched the rain, falling silent.

"If that's what you want Jane, then fine. You've ruined enough already, and frankly, I don't want to be in the middle of this any longer. Goodbye Jane" She turned round on her heel and strode out of the room, stepping over the pillows and closing the door behind her, leaving Jane to watch as she left. His eyes traced her features so as to recall them later, a sort of small recording of the last time he would see her. He shoved it back deep in his thoughts and focused his eyes outside once more.