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Disclaimer: The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller.

Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Chapter 21 Heartache

Cho turned back towards the farm, which was now crawling with police and forensic techs, all gathering evidence to use against Katarina and the man they had captured in the house. Until Jane or Laila recovered and gave their testimony, if ever, then the physical evidence would have to be enough to convict the two criminals of kidnapping, assault, torture, intimidation and anything else the FBI could throw at them. Katarina would also be charged with the murder of Marta Kovac, a crime she had admitted in front of a roomful of FBI agents.

Cho sat in his SUV for privacy and pulled out his cell phone, dreading this call, knowing who was eagerly waiting for it on the other end of the line.

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Teresa was standing in the kitchen chatting with Sarah, the young female agent who had been assigned to watch over her. The young agent was tough, intelligent and dedicated to her job at the agency, but Teresa had seen the soft side of the woman this evening, as she spoke with Teresa and kept her spirits up. Sarah had the skills necessary to do the tough job of an agent, and the warm heart to care about the victims she encountered along the way. Teresa found herself drawn to this young woman, realizing that after all this was over, she just may have made a new friend. The cell phone on the coffee table sprang to life, ringing plaintively. Teresa stopped talking mid-sentence and rushed into the living room, closely followed by the other woman. Picking up on the third ring, Teresa was breathless when she answered, just one question on her tongue.

"Cho! Did you find him?"

Cho took a deep breath, and plunged in, holding nothing back.

"We found him Teresa. We have Katarina and one of her goons in custody, with another one of her men dead. We have Laila too, but she has been shot and is on her way to a hospital."

"Oh God Laila! And Patrick, is he OK then? Can I speak to him Cho?"

Cho paused, thinking how best to tell her the news.

"Teresa, listen to me OK? Is someone with you right now?" asked Cho carefully, knowing his next words could be too much for Lisbon to bear.

'Yes, I have a young woman from the FBI with me Cho - why? What is it? Cho you're scaring me…"

"Teresa, we found Patrick in Katarina's basement. She had been torturing him for days, and he is in bad shape. I won't lie to you Teresa, he might not make it."

Cho could hear Teresa's strangled gasp through the phone at the harrowing news, and knew she was going to suffer greatly, but he had to go on.

"We got him out of there and onto a chopper with a full trauma team onboard. They are on their way to a hospital right now, and he is receiving the best care possible."

"Is he… will he … die?" whispered Teresa shakily.

"Everything is being done to keep him alive Teresa."

"I need to come there, right now, tonight Cho! I need to be with Patrick!" she choked out.

"Teresa, I know you want to be with him, and I understand that, but you can't fly so close to the birth of your baby! I don't think any doctor would allow it…" he began, before Lisbon cut him off.

"Cho! I have to go to Patrick. … be with him until…... tell him I love him…. tell him to stay strong and come home to me and our baby… If he doesn't make it…...I need to be there…...

oh God!... to say goodbye….. Cho….. please…" she cried in anguish, her bodyguard embracing her in a hug as she wept.

Cho's mind was racing feverishly at this terrible dilemma. A solution was out there, he just needed to grab it.

"Listen Teresa, I will speak to the doctor at FBI headquarters in Austin. If he is able to accompany you on one of our jets, along with a nurse, then come and come fast. If you have any health issues, any at all, he will be instructed to tell the pilot to land and take you to the nearest hospital. Got that?"

"Yes, got it. Thank you Cho, thank you."

"Be ready when I call Lisbon, it won't be long. Talk to you when you get here."

Lisbon ended the call and slumped into the arms of her new friend, and let the tears finally pour out, pushed out by fear and heartache of the worst kind. She had to be there for whatever happened to her husband, and if it was her last chance to tell him she loved him… she couldn't bear the thought.

20 minutes later Teresa was on her way to the airport and the jet that would speed her to Cho and her husband, wherever he was.

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Laila was on the ground now and surrounded by a trauma team at a hospital close by. Word had come in to the agent in charge of her that she was no longer considered a suspect, but was in fact a victim. She had not awakened on the trip to the hospital but now was coming to, moaning and crying out in pain, the bullet burning in her upper back. The doctors were working quickly to stabilise her for x-rays, to determine if there were bullet fragments pressing on any vital structures. She had lost a lot of blood and now was being transfused and given fluids to help prevent shock. A portable x-ray unit was rolled into the ER room and quickly showed that the bullet had missed her spine by millimetres. There would be no paralysis! As her stats came up and she was prepped for surgery, she managed a terrified look at the room full of doctors with confused questions fighting to the surface of her mind. Where was she and how did she get here, and where was Mr. Jane? As she tried to voice her concerns, invisible hands added a sedative to her IV line and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, her questions a distant memory.

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The second chopper raced across the sky with Patrick strapped to a portable gurney. The trauma surgeon and his small team cut his clothes off him to determine the extent of his injuries. They had placed Jane's head in a cervical collar in case of spinal damage, and shone a bright light into his eyes, checking for concussion or worse. The poor ocular response to light told them that their patient did indeed suffer a brain injury and would have to be closely monitored. His face was covered with lacerations and contusions, his mouth and nose filled with dried blood. Patrick's jaw was swollen and out of place, most likely broken from a blow to the face. A large oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, forcing life giving air into his lungs. Checking his body, blue and purple bruises up and down the sides of his chest and across his abdomen indicated more blows to his midsection. Prodding gently with his fingers, the doctor detected movement in his ribs, suggesting some of them were broken as well. X-rays once they landed would show whether there were internal injuries in the belly. One of the nurses lifted Jane's arms up and checked for damage, noting the torn skin at the wrists, and new and old blood streaking up his arms towards the elbows. It looked as if the patient had been hung by his wrists for quite a long time…

Checking his body further, the doctor found Patrick's broken knee was horribly swollen, hot and red. They packed it in ice and placed it in a brace to immobilize it until an orthopedic surgeon could operate on it. Patrick was pale and clammy, his heart rate speeding up as time went by, but his blood pressure was dropping dangerously low. The doctor checked his mouth and pinched his skin. His mouth was as dry as cloth and when pinched, Patrick's skin retained the ridge where the doctor had grasped it. This was severe dehydration. An IV line was started and fluids were pumped into Jane to infuse him with the necessary salts and electrolytes that his dying body needed to fight back. Patrick was completely unresponsive and failing fast. The monitors attached to his chest beeped irregularly as his heart fought to keep pumping blood through his dry veins.

Ten minutes into the flight, Jane's heart stopped. A flurry of activity erupted around his still body, hands moving in a dance of life attaching leads, throwing switches and placing paddles against his chest, forcing electricity through his heart. The flat line on the cardiac monitor sputtered and changed … beep … beep … beep…the needle drawing the peaks and valleys of a sinus rhythm the doctor needed to see on the screen.

And then his heart stopped once more. The paddles came out again, placed under and above Jane's dead heart and another, stronger surge of electricity jolted him as his body lifted off the gurney in shock. All eyes turned to the monitor as the pattern of cardiac activity now showed up as a flat line, scrolling silently across the tiny screen.

"Dammit... " muttered the trauma surgeon as he worked to save this man who had so clearly been through hell. "Come back you sonofabitch!" he yelled at Jane's lifeless face. The nurse readied the paddles one more time and looked at the doctor for the approval to try one more time. The doctor would not give up until it was abundantly clear that his patient was beyond help. "Go!" he shouted and the paddles hit Patrick's chest one last time. The jolt was greater again and Patrick's chest lifted forcefully off the table, falling back with a thud. All eyes turned to the monitor, the medics praying and cursing in equal measure. The flat line sputtered and suddenly, started to form small waves, then sharper waves, then a high peak and a low valley, over and over again. Jane's heart was working again. The skin on his chest would soon show the signs of the desperate attempt to revive him, patterned with the scorch marks of life.

The team worked steadily on Jane as the chopper sliced through the night, landing 30 minutes later at a major trauma centre with the staff waiting on the roof ready to receive their patient. In a matter of moments after the helicopter doors slid open, Jane and his medical team were racing into the hospital and down an elevator to a larger team waiting, ready to save this life. Patrick was ushered into an examining room and hooked up to more and larger monitors as cardiac and internal medicine specialists took over his care. A neurologist was on his way to assess his brain injury and if need be, operate. X-rays were ordered and more IV solutions flooded his veins in an attempt to undo the damage severe dehydration and starvation had wrought on his body. The x-rays did indeed show fractured and broken ribs, the pain of which would have been intolerable if the patient was hanging by his arms. The doctor shook his head at the inhumanity of this man's torment. The brain scan also showed a significant concussion, probably a day old but exacerbated by a more recent beating about the head. The knee injury needed surgery, but they did not dare put Jane under anaesthetic at the moment unless absolutely necessary. He was not strong enough to survive the trauma of surgery and so the knee would have to wait. After doing as much as they could, Jane was sent to the ICU, in critical condition. Any one of his many injuries could push him over the edge, but all of them together left him no wiggle room for further setbacks. The next 24-48 hours would determine if he pulled through and thrived, or succumbed to his injuries.

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Lisbon arrived at the small airport close to the city centre where the hospital was located. Jane had been at the hospital for hours now and the time spent flying to him had been the worst hours of Teresa's life. The doctor on board had kept a close eye on her and her blood pressure, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, but still following Cho's orders to stop the flight if necessary. Sarah, the bodyguard, also came with Teresa and held her hand all the way there. Once the jet was on the ground Cho ran up the steps and escorted Teresa and her guard to a waiting SUV. The trip to the hospital was mercifully short and finally, finally, Teresa was taken to her husband in the ICU. She wanted to run into his room immediately, but the doctor on duty stopped her, knowing that she would need to be prepared for what she would see.

Taking Teresa aside, he spoke to her calmly but firmly, needing her to focus on his words. Cho stood nearby, ready to help if need be. The doctor began gently.

"Mrs. Jane, I'm Dr. Potter, and I am taking care of your husband tonight. He has sustained significant injuries and is in critical condition."

Teresa nodded numbly, hoping to hear something good.

"I want you to be prepared for what you will see in there. Your husband will not look like the man you know. His face is swollen, he is bruised all over and heavily sedated. He will not know you are there, but speak to him anyway, as if he could hear you. Your husband has broken ribs, a broken jaw and knee, multiple bruises and contusions to his entire body, a severe concussion and is suffering from dehydration and starvation. He suffered 2 cardiac arrests on his way to the hospital, so we are also watching his heart for further complications."

Teresa was overwhelmed by this litany of injuries, her breath stopping in her throat when she heard the words 'cardiac arrest'. She gripped Cho's hand and felt weak in the knees.

"Will he survive?" she asked softly. The only thing that mattered was hearing a simple "yes".

The doctor took her elbow and guided her into Patrick's room, and whispered his answer.

"That's my plan Ma'am…" he smiled kindly before he left her with her husband.

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Cho hovered by the door, as worried about his friend Teresa as he was for Jane. Teresa walked quietly up to the still form in the bed, cautious around all of the wires, IV lines dripping lifesaving fluids and medicine into her husband's body, monitors and tubing. Most of Patrick was covered by a loose white sheet, but his arms were outside of it, resting on top of the mattress. She realized that he had lost a lot of weight in a very short time. His cheeks were sunken in his face, the outline of his cheekbones much sharper than usual. Teresa gently picked up Patrick's hand and noticed that both of his arms were heavily wrapped in gauze from just below his thumbs, to half way up to his elbows. What on earth? she wondered. Teresa leaned close and kissed Patrick softly on his forehead, the only spot on his face not covered in bandages or a large oxygen mask.

"I'm here Patrick. I'm OK and the baby is OK. I want you to rest and get well so we can go home together" Teresa said soothingly to him.

Teresa gazed into his face and saw no flicker of awareness, no understanding that he was finally safe and with his wife. His eyes were firmly shut, no movement taking place behind those heavy eyelids.

"Just sleep and rest my love and I will wait for you as long as it takes", she whispered, brushing a strand of limp muddy hair off of his forehead. Teresa moved her eyes farther down his body and watched his chest rise and fall steadily, assisted by the whissh whissh whissh of the air pushing into his lungs through his oxygen mask. Running her fingertips across his shoulder, she let them trail carefully across his chest, avoiding the leads that had been stuck on his chest around his heart, recording his every heartbeat. His entire body was black and blue, as if someone had used him for a punching bag… which they had…

Teresa was suddenly overcome with grief at the realization that each day that he was missing, Patrick had suffered mightily. The enormity of his suffering crushed her and broke her stoic resolve. Tears that she had withheld for so many days now cascaded from her eyes, a river of sadness and fear that she could not hold back another second. She put her head down on his shoulder and cried out, a deep guttural moan of anguish. She couldn't let him die. She needed him, had always needed him, long before he walked through her door so many years ago. She had thought that all obstacles and people opposed to their happiness had been removed, imprisoned or killed. And now, Patrick lay uncomprehendingly still, physically in her world, but dangerously close to being pulled over into another more eternal world, alone again.

Cho heard the unmistakeable sounds of Lisbon crying, so he dared to step into the room and quietly advanced, putting his hands around her shaking shoulders. She stayed where she was, but leaned into his strong arms for support, desperately needing his friendship at this moment. Cho looked past her at his friend Jane, and was disgusted at what he saw. The damage done to Jane was even more apparent now than it had been in that semi-dark basement. How that Nemic woman could have planned for this torture, imagined it even, and worse yet, have it carried out, made his skin crawl. If she was sane, he hoped she would suffer the fullest punishment the law would allow. If she was in fact insane, as her brother insisted, then he hoped she would be locked away so securely no power in this world would ever be able to set her free again. Cho said nothing as he stood behind Lisbon, his emotions too raw to let his voice give him away, so he stayed with her as she wept over her husband's frail body. Both of them prayed silently in their own ways, begging God to let Jane to stay with them and not follow the siren call of Death.

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Katarina Nemic had been taken kicking and screaming to the local FBI office and immediately placed in a holding cell for the night. At times wailing like a caged animal, and at other times gracious and regal in her dealings with the watching agents, she prowled her tiny cell as if it was a hotel room not quite up to her standards. She would be interviewed in the morning, hopefully by Cho if he had a say in it. At that time it would be decided if she was fit to be charged with a laundry list of crimes. If not, she would eventually be confined to an institution for the criminally insane. Her brother Jan just might get his wish. All the way to the holding cell, Katarina hurled abuse at her captors in the back of the SWAT van, clearly not able to comprehend her downfall and inability to issue orders to her minions anymore. She babbled on at length about her many grey men, out there carrying out her orders, even as she spoke, doing her dirty work. The SWAT team had no way of knowing how many men she did in fact have in her employ, so they contacted Cho and let him know that Laila, Teresa and Patrick might still be in danger. A guard was posted outside the room in the ICU where Jane lay, and another was downstairs at the entrance of the hospital, checking for anyone suspicious with no reason to be in the hospital. The same scenario was being repeated at the hospital across town where Laila was currently in surgery. She would also be guarded, just in case.

Cho had made all of the arrangements after he left Patrick's room and stood in the hall, keeping a watchful eye on Teresa in case she fell apart again. Fortunately Sarah, the female bodyguard, had come with Teresa on the jet, and so was re-tasked with guarding the upset mother-to-be. Eventually a nurse gently prodded Teresa to leave Patrick to rest, as it looked as if Teresa was on the point of collapse herself. Cho escorted her out of the ICU to the waiting FBI agent, and Sarah guided Teresa out of the hospital to take her to a safe house close to the hospital. Teresa sat in silence all the way to her hideaway, deep in thought. She clutched her cross and Patrick's old wedding ring in her hands, rubbing them for strength and comfort. She looked forward to being alone in her bedroom, where she would spend much needed time on her knees, praying for her husband to wake up.

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