Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

Prompt #27: Illness - He had nobody. So Lisbon armed herself with chicken soup, medicine, and her best game face to drive him back to Malibu.

*Edited 9/4/12 for location changes.

Words: 977


It was obvious to everybody that Jane was not fit for duty. His eyes had dark smudges and bags beneath them, his face was unnaturally pale, and there was that little matter of what he dubbed a "pesky cough" making him choke up his own mucus every ten minutes. But being his usual stubborn self, he wouldn't leave in the middle of a case.

Looking at the mentalist as he knocked back his fifth cup of tea, Lisbon heaved an annoyed sigh and glanced at Cho. "Think you guys can hold down the fort for a while?" she asked in a low voice.

"You gonna shove him in your car and drive him home and strap him down until he gets better?" he asked in that deadpan way of his.

She nodded grimly. "Something along those lines."

"Good luck. He's parked pretty firmly on his couch." Cho joined her in watching Jane. "What makes you think he's going to willingly leave with you?"

"Who said anything about willingly?"

As they watched, Jane slowly put down his teacup, weakly called to Rigsby for another serving of tea...and promptly fell backwards on his couch and started snoring. Walking back from the kitchen with the pot, Rigsby halted at the entrance to the bullpen and slapped Van Pelt a high five with his free hand. "Told you the crushed sleeping pill would work."

Cho shot his boss a dry look. "You drugged him. How very Jane of you."

Lisbon shrugged. "Van Pelt, start checking background on the victim and his family." She pointed to the unconscious mentalist. "Rigsby, haul Jane's ass downstairs to my car."

"He's not going to be happy," Cho remarked.

"If you had another way to get him out of here, you should've spoken up," Lisbon said.

"No. Just mentioning the very Jane nature of that action."

"Shut up. I'm leaving you in charge."

"Right, Boss."


She only made one stop at the grocery store to pick up chicken soup, ginger ale, crackers, tea, and cold medicine before driving to Jane's hotel room. She borrowed his keys and went inside, pulled out another change of clothes and his pajamas. Locking up once more, she put everything in her backseat and headed for home.

Jane was just starting to come around when they pulled into her driveway. Lisbon managed to bully him to his feet and shuffle-walked him to her couch. Once there, he promptly conked out again. Lisbon paused for a chuckle before returning to the car for her groceries and Jane's things. Once everything was put away, she put the kettle on for tea and poured a can of soup into a pot.

The water was just boiling when Lisbon heard the sounds of a confused awakening sleeper. Taking the kettle off, she walked into her living room to see Jane trying to sit up on her couch, his bleary eyes blinking profusely in an attempt to clear his vision. The look of pure puzzlement on his face was priceless.

Brandishing the plastic spoon she was stirring the soup with, Lisbon put on her best Boss face and said, "You stay on that couch, mister, or so help me, I'll drug you again."

To her eternal surprise, Jane collapsed on the couch and muttered, "Yes, dear." He groaned once, groped for the blanket, and yanked it over his body before dozing off again. Feeling incredibly smug at this unexpected obedience from Jane, Lisbon did a little dance back to her stove.

When it was ready, she ladled hot chicken soup into a bowl and poured ginger ale into a tall glass. Both items went on a bed tray along with Jane's tea, prepared just how he liked it, with some honey on the side. Picking up the tray, Lisbon carefully crossed the room to her couch to set the tray down on her coffee table. "Jane, wake up," she said, shaking his shoulder gently. "Time to eat."

He slowly woke up, blinking in confusion. "Angela?" he mumbled, looking up at her face with sleep-clouded eyes.

The name of Jane's dead wife threw Lisbon for a good five seconds. Of course he'd assume Lisbon was her; he'd never been sick in all the time Lisbon had known him. Regaining her voice, she said, "No. Guess again."

His shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Oh...hello, Lisbon." He sat up slowly and looked around. "We're in your apartment."

"Brilliant deduction," she remarked without missing a beat. She picked up the teacup and saucer on the bed tray and asked, "Wanna take a stab at this?"

"Tea, milk added first, water truly boiling."

"Very good, Jane." Handing him the drink, Lisbon perched on the edge of her couch and watched him sip it carefully. "There's honey in case you want it."

He was halfway through his tea when Jane suddenly looked up at her. "How did I get in your apartment?" he asked.

Lisbon glanced away, then back at him. "You dozed off in the bullpen, so I drove you here."

"Liar." His blue eyes widened slightly. "You drugged me. You naughty girl."

"Technically Van Pelt drugged you."

"More lies." Now he seemed to peer through her soul. "Ah-ha. Rigsby. I knew there was a reason he kept willingly fetching me tea. I just couldn't focus long enough to think of it."

"Exactly why you're here and not working the case." Lisbon gestured to the cooling soup, ginger ale, and medicine. "This is the only thing you've got to look forward to until you recover. If you get better within the next few days, maybe I'll let you browse through the case file."

Jane frowned. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Oh, you have no idea."


So this was un-beta'd, and I give a thank-you to all the reviewers who pointed out that Jane was living in a hotel room, not his Malibu house.

Review please!