A/n This is the penultimate chapter of this fic. Thank you for the continued support, I am so glad that people have been enjoying it.
/
8.
When they ate burritos from a Mexican joint down the road in front of her she felt her stomach churn. They didn't offer her any but perhaps that is best considering the never-ending queasiness she has been experiencing since she woke in this hellhole – and Lisbon thinks that it is only going to get worse. It does.
She is roughly dragged with her shoes scuffing on the concrete floor and then thrown into the back of a van. The bruises she is going to have will be an impressive mix of purples and blues that will be sure to make her life difficult over the next few weeks, assuming she makes it until then. However, her biggest growing problem is the rope cutting into her wrists and ankles. It is like having a blister but a million times worse and even when she is stationary, they are stinging angrily.
This isn't the first time she has been injured in action. She has been assaulted multiple times, shot, and even once stabbed back in her SFPD days but she doesn't remember ever being in such agony. If Jane was here, he would probably tell her that this isn't the case, and it is her mind covering up her past pain. She finds herself smiling at the thought. Even the mentalist in her head is comforting in times of great anxiety. She hopes that he is okay, and that he is coping with all this.
She has seen him on many occasions not cope with pressured situations. He would always try to persuade her that he is fine, and he isn't skating on a thin line but the more they worked together the more she could see that this was fiction. It was usually Red John missions that got him all messed up and erratic, which she guesses is understandable, but she hoped that now the infamous serial killer has gone that he wouldn't get in such states again. Lisbon dreads to think what is going through his mind.
Shaking her head that she is thinking of him and not herself right now, she realises where her own mind is at and where it has been for quite some time. It is always him. She used to be annoyed at this because it was generally after he's been a pain in the ass and she's having to clear up his mess. Recently though she is smiling more than frowning at any memories regarding him and she understands that this is perhaps dangerous.
However, it is no more dangerous than being tied up and held hostage by a bunch of criminal maniacs.
xxx
Jane arrives at the meeting place first giving him time to not only compose himself but to search around for his hidden colleagues, making sure that they can't be easily spotted. He cannot find any of them and it does give him a feeling of being truly alone, isolated, and he definitely knows what that is like.
He's leaning on the hood of the Mercedes with the large duffle bag at his feet hoping that this all goes smoothly and that he gets to walk away tonight, with her, and with three criminals handcuffed and taken off the streets. He believes he is ready for this but when a hum of a car engine travels in the soft breeze his heart begins to pound so loudly that it is like it's in his ears instead of his chest. He's had showdowns with serial killers and psychopaths but this, whatever is about to go down right here, seems mammoth compared to that because it is her life on the line. Not just his.
It is a clapped-out van that pulls up and the first thing he notices is Clarkson's sadistic grin. Even in the dark it is clear. The dusty layby is only being lit by the headlights of the two vehicles creating a much more daunting atmosphere than he so desperately requires. If they survive this, he is sure that his usual nightmares will take a backseat whilst new ones, involving this eerie scenario will take their place. "You got our money, Patrick?!" The group leader immediately calls as he gets out of the van with Seo-Jun close behind, the third criminal he assumes is in the back with hopefully an alive and well Teresa Lisbon.
"Right here!" Jane is almost surprised that his voice comes out without a single tremor because his hands are beginning to quake. He confidently hides them behind his back. "Where is Teresa?!"
The silence which follows is deafening and he waits as patiently as he can for the man to respond. It feels like an age until he does but realistically it probably is only a few seconds. "Grady! Bring the bitch!" Bitch. If the mentalist gets the opportunity to punch this guy's lights out, then he will be doing so. How dare he speak of her in this way?
The sound of the van door being slid open is like a knife in the atmosphere and the relief he feels when he sees his partner being dragged out of the vehicle relatively unharmed is inexplicable. He wants to run up to her, hold her in his arms, try and rid the fear from her face but he knows that this isn't wise. Not yet. Things could still so easily go pear shaped.
Seo-Jun retrieves the brunette from his younger associate and awkwardly pulls her towards the fake psychic, the action being made difficult by her tightly bound ankles, so she drags her feet through the sandy floor. The other two men use this moment to draw their weapons, pointing them at their newest marks, ready to take the shot whilst completely unaware that they have eyes on them from all around. "Here you go." The man utters before pushing his captive towards the curly-haired man, who quickly wraps his arms around her to prevent her from falling as the bag near them is lugged away.
"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" He urgently asks her, almost completely forgetting that this isn't over.
"I'm fine." She claims and she finds the poise to stand up straight beside him, staring right back at the criminal trio who are presently preoccupied with the big bag of cash, grins having overtaken their features.
Their guard is down. They've lost focussed. This is their chance. "Now!" The consultant shouts out and the chaos that ensues is madness. Agents and officers seem to appear from nowhere, from behind trees and over the hills, rapidly shifting with guns and flashlights. There are lots of cries of "FBI" and "get down", which takes their suspects by surprise. Two of them look spooked before they fall to ground along with their weapons but the third… his ego gets in the way. He will not be beaten.
And it all happens so quickly.
The sound of a gunshot echoes through the trees, almost in slow motion, as flashlight beams swing sporadically trying to locate the shooter and more importantly the unlucky victim.
Abbott spots Grady with his arm raised and when the felon moves his aim towards someone else, he doesn't hesitate in shooting him down. Only a few seconds pass between the shots followed by the noise of two bodies hitting the floor. "I need some help over here!" Lisbon shrieks before dropping to her knees, her arms still uncomfortably bound behind her back, so she is unable to assist her partner who splayed on the floor, heavily breathing, with a bloody injury to his abdomen. "Jane. Deep breaths, everything is going to be fine." She attempts to persuade but the tears pooling in her eyes say otherwise.
Cho is immediately at his side, putting pressure on the wound, calling for medical assistance but neither the injured consultant nor the brunette can hear him. From the moment their gazes met, they've not been able to concentrate on anything but each other. "Deep breaths." She repeats, wishing that she weren't tied up so she could hold him, reassure him. "We've got plans, right? We said once this mission was done that we would hang out more, didn't we?"
"We did." He manages to croak, still trying to take deep breaths, knowing that it will slow him bleeding out and give him the best chance he has of survival. The pain is so bad though, only accentuated by his friend's force on his body, but he knows that this is best. Being in pain means he is alive. "Pain is nothing. Pain means he's still alive." He remembers saying this to Lisbon when Sam Bosco was hospitalised and in a terrible state. It was cruel of him to act that way with her when she was hurting, she needed support not another problem. Even now as he tumbles onto the brink of death, he wants to quell her pain. "P-pocket." He mumbles, his blue eyes finally leaving her green ones so he can indicate to his inside jacket pocket.
Her arms spring free after Fischer timely cuts the rope from her wrists, they burn in relief, but their fragility doesn't stop her from seeking what he obviously wants her to find. The thin chain feels delicate in her fingertips and her hand is shaking when she pulls it away from him, studying the cross that he knew she would need. Jane is not a man of faith, but he is respectful of hers and she even manages to smile through her flowing tears.
It is a dragged-out groan from him that makes her attention shift, and she is panicking once more. His breaths have become dangerously shallow, he's not being able to find the power to do much more than that. "Don't you dare die on me. Not now." With one hand she takes his, giving it a squeeze hoping he reciprocates the action. He doesn't. The other is clinging firmly onto her mother's cross. "Everything is going to be okay. You're going to be fine." But his parted lips and growing vacant expression doesn't make his prognosis look good. "The medics are coming." Her voice becomes fainter, and his eyes begin to flutter shut and she is shouting once more. "Jane. Jane!"
