A/n Your comments mean the world to me. Thank you.

/

7.

She isn't sure at what point her bizarre dreams turned into conscious thought, but it was the never-ending resounding school bell that gave it away. Her ears are still ringing. Everything feels stuffy, like she has been crammed into a small box, but she knows that this isn't the case. Not too dissimilar as to when a storm is brewing you can sense the atmosphere change as all becomes muggy, that is what's happening in her head. It is almost like her brain has expanded, and it's fighting with her skull to stay contained. Pushing, pulsing, hurting… it hurts so bad.

Maybe it is the effects of what she assumes was chloroform pressed against her nose and mouth or the head injury from behind she sustained that caused her to drop the large kitchen knife with a clatter. Even with all her training, there was nothing she could do to fight off three, well-built men. If she weren't so spaced out right now, then she would definitely be ashamed for letting herself get beat.

They must have got in, Clarkson and Seo-Jun, when she was vacuuming so she didn't hear them. She was taking a break, drinking her coffee in the kitchen when the pair surprised her making her drop the mug and quickly grab for the nearest knife. Despite having two guns pointed right at her she didn't surrender to them, knowing that she was no use to them dead, but she wasn't counting on Grady sneaking in through the open door that leads onto the veranda. He clubbed her with the handle of his own firearm causing her to drop her weapon and then he smothered her with a chemical covered cloth.

Breathing became painful, it was terrifying, and even now when her lungs inflate and deflate, they roar in agony. Blinking a few times, Lisbon manages to finally regain some clear vision and it is only now that she realises that she is lying on the concrete floor. It is cold against her skin. Her arms are uncomfortably bound behind her back with rope and when she tries to move her legs, she understands that they're also tied. With all the strength she can muster she tries to pull apart her limbs, but they don't shift, and it is only now she notices how tight the rope is wound, chafing at her wrists and ankles, the burn is so extreme that tears prickle at her eyes and she lets out a muffled shriek – muffled because of a rag wrapped loosely around her mouth.

She is trapped and there is nothing that she can do. "She really put up a fight." She hears as a pair of footsteps approach and suddenly she is pretending to still be out of it because that seems the safest thing to do. "Much more than the others." Grady sounds excited by this, strangely so, the man is one hundred percent a sociopath, but she supposes they all must be for doing this.

"Hm, it is almost like she has some sort of training." Seo-Jun muses and she's listening with bated breath, hoping that he doesn't jump to the correct conclusion. "Unlikely though. Gold-digging bitch probably just has a nasty side." At first, she is relieved that he hasn't worked out that she's undercover, but that quickly turns into annoyance about the assumption he has made about her. If she wasn't so anxious and suffering then she would definitely dwell on that further, but in this moment she can't. "Has Adrian contacted the psychic?"

"He is about to I think." Is the reply and she releases a quiet sigh of relief. "Then again, if he really is psychic, he should know what the score is." They both laugh at the terrible joke, and she begins to wonder if this group are closer than they previously thought. Was Jane wrong? She is finally regaining functioning thought but it is just creating more questions than giving her answers. There is CCTV at the property that Wylie is monitoring, did he get sloppy, or did they get around it another way? Is Jane okay? How long will it take the team to make the trip to him, so he isn't alone? And where is Clarkson?

"Wake the bitch up." Oh, there is Clarkson. His harsh tone travels around the… small warehouse. Echoing, grating her ears. Lisbon's heart starts to pound in preparation for what she is about to endure and first it is water being thrown over her, the shock and sudden force of it causes her to splutter. The loose rag falls from its place and instead hangs around her neck. "Good evening princess." He greets her with a sadistic grin whilst his comrades roughly pull her to her feet.

They clumsily drag her tied form to a chair which they drop her on and she tries her best not to look afraid but even the finest of agents would be frightened in this situation. However, she needs to remain sharp, as sharp as her muddled mind allows. "Where am I?" She demands but they all just smile, like they're finding this all hilarious.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that your husband is going to bring us the half a million." Oh phew, she is thankful that they haven't worked out their cover. If she gives away that she is an FBI agent, then they are sure to shoot her dead. "That's if he actually loves you."

"He does." She replies quickly, too quickly, as if this is the truth, and she has to check herself. That panic doesn't last long because Lisbon suddenly understands that this is what must have happened to the others. They backed out of the deal so one of the couple were kidnapped, the other was told to get the money together presumably without getting the police involved, and then they brought the money to the trio before they were killed.

If she is right about this then she likes her chances, the team will save her. They must.

xxx

We have Teresa. If you want to see her alive again then bring the half a million to 29°51'04.8"N 98°30'06.4"W at midnight. No cops or she dies. We are watching.

He has read the text over and over, but it doesn't become any easier to digest. "The coordinates are for what looks to be a layby in Guadalupe River State Park." Jane hears Wylie's voice from her laptop which is open on the coffee table whilst he sits on the couch, trying not to defeatedly rest his head in his hands. "About twenty miles north of your location. It will take over thirty minutes to get there." His eyes pick out the flowers he bought just yesterday, and he remembers how flustered she became when he presented them to her. It was adorable… and today he was finally ready to tell her his feelings. "Abbott and co are on their way to you now."

"Wylie no." He assertively states. "They can't come here. They will kill her. They will know. They said no police."

"Jane." He is bewildered to hear Fischer's voice. "We are the police, so is she, we are just a souped-up version. We will not come to your address, but we need to be in the area, ready. Agent Wylie continue to try and determine how they managed to bypass the security. Jane, we will see you later. Hold tight. For her." And then her voice is gone.

On noticing the consultant's baffled expression, the young agent decides to clarify. "She was still on the call from the car." Ah, the wonders of technology. "I need to get on with this but sit tight."

"Hold tight, sit tight… I can't just sit around and do nothing!" He exclaims, his evident frustration blooming. "There must be something I can do!"

"Do what you usually do, make a plan." Wylie shrugs with clear concern etched into his features. "Abbott will contact you when they are in San Antonio. Things will work out."

"Yeah." And then Jane is alone again.

It isn't an impossible situation, he knows that. He will go to the meet with a bag full of… something. He doubts money. The team will be nearby to take the trio down. This is what will happen… but it will be dark in a place which certainly will not be lit. What if there is a fire fight? What if she gets hurt? What if they all end up dead? No. He cannot let himself start to spiral not when her life is at stake. He needs to keep his cool like he has done on so many other difficult occasions… but she wasn't in harm's way then.

Struggling to stay seated, he practically leaps to his feet and heads into the kitchen to clean up some of the devastation. He already took photos, as requested, to send to the rest of the team and just seeing the scene makes nausea overwhelm him. He can almost see what went down, in his head. How she valiantly tried her hardest to fend them off, but they were probably locked and loaded. There was nothing she could have done… but she should have been better protected.

He leans down to pick the knife up off the floor, using a tissue so he is not to disturb any potential prints even though he knows that she was most likely the one to hold it. It almost humours him that he decides to follow procedure now of all times.

When he is near to the tiles however it is then he notices something for the first time, the smallest splatter of blood. He becomes light-headed. She is hurt, and he didn't spot this before! His mind isn't as together as it needs to be so he can do the best for her. He needs to do better. For her.

xxx

She has no idea how long it has been since she was taken. Time is a mystery in this shell of a warehouse that has no windows, and its only source of light is from harsh fluorescent bulbs scattered in the ceiling, most of them blown. "You're from California?" Lisbon is still sat on the chair; she's spent the last how long trying to get as comfortable as she can despite being tied up and sore. Seo-Jun's question is the first time anyone has addressed her in a while, the other two are sat at the other side of the room with their eyes glued to laptop screens.

"Chicago originally." She mutters, her throat dry making her voice gravelly. "Moved to the west coast for college." She isn't sure why she is bothering answering his tedious questions, perhaps she hopes to build some kind of rapport with him, but she knows that is unlikely.

"I grew up in California." He looks heavenwards when he speaks, as if he is reminiscing. "What did you study in college?"

"I majored in history." He hums at this. "I hate to ask but could I have some water. Please." Teresa never thought she would beg for anything in her life, not since the time she begged her father to keep his hands off her brother after he didn't finish his dinner. Now though she is prepared to beg, she doesn't think she has ever been so parched.

The man stares at her for a few seconds, his dark eyes piercing, like he can look into her soul. She can almost hear the cogs turning in his head but thankfully he comes to conclusion she desires, and she watches as he leans down to grab a bottle of water which he twists the cap off with ease. She doesn't enjoy the movement of him tipping it against her lips, so she is able to quench her thirst, but she is too relieved to overthink it. "The husband is leaving the house." Grady's punitive drawl breaks through her thoughts as Seo-Jun leaves her to join his cohorts.

"Where is he going?" Clarkson urgently asks, getting a look of the CCTV feed and seeing the mentalist depart the lush property in the Mercedes.

"To get our money hopefully."

"Follow him." The leader demands and immediately the younger man is departing their company to do just that. She observes Clarkson callously grin once more, but this time in her direction before he sneers. "If he talks to the police then you are dead." And she believes him.

xxx

Jane can almost hear his heart beating as he sits in the car in some carpark just out of town, waiting for his boss who he hopes comes incognito to this meeting. He knows he is being watched, he can sense it, but he also knows that searching for that person or people could just increase suspicions. He has got to keep it together despite being on the brink of falling apart.

He thought he could kill time until this point by packing up their stuff at the house. He assumes that Lisbon would be annoyed at him for rifling through her things but with this mission ending today it surely would be smart to get things ready for their return to Austin. That will be his defence if she grills him – he hopes that she has the opportunity to grill him.

It was strange though, packing up her stuff. You can learn a lot from seeing what someone packs for a short trip. It was mainly all practical items, no surprise really considering who she is, but there were a few things that she packed for comfort. The photo of her brothers caught his eye in particular because she doesn't really talk about them, yet she decided to bring a picture of them with her on a mission. He deduces that she misses them, a lot, and he can tell from the age of the photo – with the three boys in it being teenagers – that she hasn't spent a lot of time with them, all three of them, since she left Chicago. It is sad really. Jane wasn't fortunate enough to have siblings, so it is an area that he has little understanding in, but he believes that family is important.

The well-loved copy of Alcott's Little Women brought a smile to his face, especially when he opened the tatty cover to not see her name, but her mother's written slightly messily on the first page followed by what he assumes is a class number. He had no idea that his partner was this sentimental. To not only keep this book belonging to her deceased mother but to bring it with her here. It almost made him swoon. He then found the cross that usually hangs around her neck and frowned because she doesn't have it with her in her time of need. He put it in the inside pocket of his jacket to give to her when they reunite. If they get that chance…

There was a blanket which also got his attention, mainly because of its scent. He didn't have to take a pointed sniff to know that it smells of her; woodsy with a healthy helping of cinnamon. To smell it was at first comforting but then it twisted into a grave anxiety as he contemplated all the things that could be happening to her in his absence. What if they have already killed her? He then started to feel tears prickle at his eyes, and he did something completely unexpected to himself.

He let himself cry. There was no-one else there after all.

The knock on the window makes him jump and it is Abbott stood there with his brow furrowed wearing a t-shirt and some jeans in attempt to try and lose the "cop look". It works, Jane ponders, before he opens the car door to join the man outside in the oddly desolate carpark. "Are you alright?" His superior immediately questions with obvious worry.

"I guess." He shrugs and is quickly pointing at the duffle bag sat at the other man's feet. "Is this it?"

"Yeah. Half a million dollars." Jane raises an eyebrow at this while leaning down to unzip the large bag and he is unable to mask his shock when it is actually full of money. "H-how?" He murmurs.

"Inspect it." On another look he comprehends what the team has done, an old money trick that grifters use – cut up newspaper sandwiched in between genuine notes – with a couple of real stacks of cash sat at the top of the load. "We don't plan for them to get close enough to check it out but if they do, this should buy some time." The consultant re-zips the bag shut and inelegantly lifts it up, throwing the strap over his shoulder. "We've got ten agents here and local officers on standby." Abbott whispers.

"And medics?" His boss presses his lips into a thin line, wanting to say that he hopes it doesn't come to that, but instead he just curtly nods.

In a few hours either they will three dangerous men in custody, or they could have a massacre on their hands. They hope, they pray, that it is the former.