I never have, currently don't and never will own The Mentalist characters. I'm not making nuthin' off these writings I'm posting.

It was a cloud blacker than a garbage fire and with a stench worse than Los Angeles smog. Lightning flashed through it, striking her left breast. Electricity shot through her body, tightened it into a frozen ball. She tried to swing her fist but her arms remained locked at her sides, not even capable of softening her fall as she toppled like a tree.

Her fingers tingled as the electricity faded and her arms were lifted over her head. She was sliding along the ground, the friction pulling her robe down at her shoulders. Her wrists slapped together and something tightened around them. Her entire body was cold, like her blood had been turned to ice. Something tore. Fabric? Skin? Her soul?

Boogey man… beast… monster…the Devil…

She choked on her own fluids as bile rose in her throat and fell back down the wrong pipe.

Momma's little girl. A mature woman's voice whispered the familiar endearment. Her mother called to her. Reesie, don't let the boys fight. Someone will get hurt.

Guilt seized her. She'd tried to keep the boys from fighting. Her little brothers. Her fiancé Greg and her gay friend Steven. Patrick and… and…

God, please save him! she prayed. I love him. Don't let him get hurt! I would rather die than…

A deep, evil laugh filled the air, and confusion spiked through her memories. She knew Patrick was going to die, not her. She'd have to live the rest of her life, knowing he gave his for hers.

No, Patrick! No!

Then her arms were back at her side and soft pink light filled her vision. Her core felt warm again. Loving arms surrounded her and she felt safe once more.

..**..**..

Grace entered the room, carefully watching the tray of food she'd carried from the hospital cafeteria. The soup looked watery and the dinner roll was stale but at least they had the blueberry muffin that Patrick had asked for as he had settled into his newly installed bed. The only tea available was an off-brand, but she brought it for him anyway.

"Patrick, they had…" she started to say.

"Shhhh, my love. It's okay."

Grace wasn't sure who he was talking to but she was certain it wasn't her. That left Cho. She looked up as she entered the room proper. Cho wasn't in the room and Patrick was in the boss's bed. He was lying at an angle under her upper body, with her back on his chest and her head on his shoulder. Somehow he had intertwined himself under her, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her lightly. Despite the equipment she was hooked up to, he managed to slip under it all. avoiding every tube and wire leading off her left side. Teresa's face was tight, her brow drawn, although it was relaxing even as he spoke.

"I'm here, my dear," he said in soft, emotionless tones that Grace only heard when he was hypnotizing someone. "No one will hurt you. We're both safe now."

He repeated it, his voice softer with each sentence, and as he did, Teresa relaxed more until she was again at peace. As he carefully slipped from behind her, easing her onto the mattress once more, Grace winced and urged him to watch out every time there seemed to be a tug on the leads and wires and tubes. She set down the tray and placed herself nearby in case he needed help. After he was clear of her, he turned to lean against his bed, wincing and holding his side lightly.

"What happened?" Grace asked, helping him onto his bed.

"She's coming out of sedation," he said between clenched teeth. "I saw her going into R.E.M. sleep. I knew…" He heaved a sigh as he settled back into his pillow. His voice cracked. "God, I knew…"

Unsure about what else to do, Grace helped him climb under his bedding and then tucked him in.

"Was she having a nightmare?" she asked.

"The first of many to come."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

Patrick stared at her. She wondered why the question was so significant. Then she realized.

All this time, she assumed he was just an insomniac because his memories kept him from going to sleep in the first place. Occasionally she'd even wondered if his suffering was partially self-imposed because he assumed guilt that wasn't truly his. It never occurred to her what he had gone through on so many levels of his life.

"S-sorry," she stammered.

He gestured with his hand as he closed his eyes. "There's no reason that you should know. Teresa was my only confidant about it."

"I-I know you've been close for a long time," she said. "I just didn't know…"

"There's no reason that you should know," he said, repeating himself, "because there was nothing to know." He opened his eyes to once again stare at her. "Until a week ago Saturday, we'd been only friends."

Briefly he looked away. "Well…more than friends… but not lovers. We were both unsure what we needed, although we were pretty sure that what we wanted wasn't each other." Then he smiled broadly at Grace, mischievous amusement dancing in his eyes. "Unlike you and Wayne who have been stubbornly positive of what you want despite all obstacles."

Heat rushed to her face. She thought she'd gotten good at not allowing herself to be unguarded around Jane but once again he proved himself the able marksman. She pursed her lips and smacked his arm lightly.

"We are talking about you, Patrick, and I suspect you're lying about how long this has been going on anyway."

"Well, you can believe what you wish, my friend."

His neutral expression was infuriating. She grabbed his left hand and shook it by his ring finger. "I'm pretty sure you weren't wearing this cheap piece of crap when I saw you on Friday. And I'm certain Boss didn't have one to match. Faked marriage or not, the least you could have done was put out for a better ring."

He lifted his hand away from her and laughed as he looked at the wedding band. "It's awful, isn't it? Kimball accused me of getting it from a gumball machine."

Grace laughed as well. "I'm confused, anyway. I just don't know what to believe. Are you really married or not? I mean, I saw the license but you've been known to forge paperwork before. And people like you and Lisbon don't decide in a week to get married."

"You're absolutely right, Grace—"

"I knew it!"

"We decided an hour before we went."

"What? Oh, come on…"

"I swear on this cheap and ugly, goldish ring, Grace." His face was as earnest as the portrait of George Washington on the one dollar bill.

Still she stared at him, not sure what the truth was. That Saturday a couple of months before, when he drove to L.A. to help her with her class, she thought their friendship had risen above having him regard her as a mark. There had been respect in his demeanor during his tutoring session, and even when he teased her about something, it was harmless, non-confrontational stuff.

And he had sincerely helped her. The class went more smoothly once she learned some of his techniques. Yes, she would have passed the class anyway, but with his help, she actually excelled. So why would he screw around with her now? The whole thing sounded so suspicious, but she really wanted to believe him.

"You two both impulsively decided on Saturday evening to get married," she said skeptically. "Just like that."

"Well…no… I'm sure it had a lot to do with the wonderful dinner I'd cooked for –"

A small whimper came from Teresa. Grace jumped out of Patrick's way as he scrambled out of bed.

"No! God…" Teresa sighed softly. Once again her face tightened and turned red.

Patrick gingerly lifted her and Grace moved forward to help hold her up as he resumed the same position as before. Teresa's arm flailed, hitting him in the thigh twice, and when Grace grabbed it, Teresa became more agitated, fighting the restraint and whimpering louder.

"Let her go, Grace," Patrick said quickly. "It's fine."

Teresa hit him even harder until he began to speak in her ear. Grace watched the rapid eye movements under Boss's lids as her face released from her pained squint. The darting slowed, her thrashing reduced, her panting seemed to be helping her catch her breath again. "Love…" she said softly.

"I love you too, Teresa." A tear escaped his eye as he rested his cheek against her head. "Relax. I'll be here always."

He slid his hand under her fist on his leg and she immediately grabbed it.

"Patrick!" Her eyes fluttered and Grace thought she was waking up.

"Go back to sleep, my dear," he said. "Right now, you just want to sleep."

"Mawr…awh… safe?"

Even Grace had to smile at that. Patrick chuckled.

"Yes, we're safe here and it's nice and warm. Fireplace. Warmth. Soft music. A glass of wine. Comfortable. Relaxed."

"Ex?"

Patrick glanced at Grace but looked away immediately.

"Later, my dear. In the morning. I'm sleepy right now and so are you. Back to sleep now."

Grace clamped her lips between her teeth and turned away as she struggled not to laugh with embarrassment. Boss just asked him for sex! Oh my God…

She didn't turn back until his voice dropped to a whisper and then went silent. After helping him settle Teresa back on her pillow, she assisted him into his bed again. Then she excused herself and left for the main women's restroom near the nurses' station where she locked the door and released full belly laughs into her bunched up jacket.

Oh, she couldn't wait to tell Wayne!

To be continued...