Note: I got a massive writer's block while writing this chapter, so sorry if it's bad and a little rushed. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.
Red blood was slowly falling on the white floor. Drop by drop.
Only after a minute did he notice that it was his own blood coming from his clenched fist.
Why hasn't she woken up yet?
He didn't even acknowledged a young doctor checking up on her. His eyes were watching closely her expressionless face, begging to see even the smallest tic. This situation was all too familiar and the only thing keeping him sane was the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the steady movements of her chest.
Red John's voice still didn't leave his mind. This chilling, creepy whisper that had made his heart stop and a cold sweat appear on his forehead. He couldn't get another person he loved killed because of him. He just wouldn't survive that. Remorse and worry had been keeping him by her bedside for the whole night, even though doctors and nurses looked strangely at him.
He hadn't managed to keep her safe, so watching over her was the least he could do now.
The piercing noise indicating her heartbeat quickened. She started moving in her bed, mumbling and frowning.
- No!… Please, don't… Stop it… No…
He moved even closer to her and took her cold hand. He tried to wake her up but she was too lost in the world of dreams.
Isn't the nightmare she's living enough? Do they need to haunt her even in her sleep?
Suddenly, she screamed and sat up on the bed. He quickly stopped her and she fell back on the pillows.
- You're safe, Teresa… You're with me now. - He comforted her and caressed her hair.
- They were dead… They were all dead. - She was looking around the room, frightened and still not fully woken up. - He killed them. I was alone. All by myself.
- What are you talking about? - He asked and put his hand on her shoulder. His calm voice and gentle touch brought her back to consciousness.
- Where am I? - Her weak voice and nearly transparent skin were like a kick in the stomach for him. Her fiercerful personality had made him forget how fragile she really was.
- You're in the hospital. You've been unconscious for the past couple of hours. - He tried to smile to calm her down but it came out more like a grimace.
- W-what happened? - She mumbled.
- We found you lying unconscious in an old house. You were unharmed, unlike Partridge.
- He's dead… Red John killed him. - She remembered, trying to wrap her head around all of this. - Why didn't he hurt me?
- I don't know. - Jane whispered and the possibility of Red John lying his hands on her made him sick to his stomach. The memory of a red smiley painted on her face was enough to make his bloody fist clench even tighter.
- What are you trying to hide from me? - She asked, looking at him suspiciously.
- He didn't exactly do nothing to you. - His gaze shifted to a speck of blood in her hairline that he had missed. - He painted a smiley on your face with Partridge's blood.
- Ok… - She subconsciously touched her cheek.
- Don't worry, I wiped it off. - He reassured her.
She put her heavy head on the pillow and sighed. Since Jane's return from Vegas, the situation with Red John had been getting progressively worse and more dangerous. She had no idea who to trust now - it seemed like anyone could be a Red John's accomplice. Despite her requests, Jane had been notoriously pushing her away and hiding his plans from her.
Lost in thoughts, she gazed at him and noticed blood on his hand.
- Stop it, Jane. - She said softly, took his fist and slowly opened it. She took a tissue from a bedside table and started to wipe the blood off of his skin.
There was something so intimate and caring in her gesture that made him wonder how their lives would look like if the situation was different. Would they have been happier if he had given up his revenge?
- Have you slept? - She asked and kept his hand on her lap, making little circles on his skin with her finger, this touch therapeutic for both of them.
- How could I? - Jane looked her in the eyes and she knew that for once he didn't put on any mask.
- Why are you doing this Jane? Why are you torturing yourself? It's not your fault, it's mine. I should've listened to you.
- I've never imagined that it would get so twisted. - He mumbled, ignoring her previous words. - You're the only person I can trust now and still, I've disappointed you. I'm sorry.
She looked him in the eyes and felt a lump in her throat. After all this time, her feelings for him hadn't changed. She knew it would only bring her heartbreak but it was too late to get cold feet.
- I know you have a tendency to make a martyr of yourself and take all the blame. - She said and felt a familiar heavy weight on her shoulders as she realized something. It seemed like she'd gotten used to this feeling. - This situation is both our faults. I should've listened to you but you shouldn't have tricked me so many times that I stopped listening.
- I already told you, I can't promise you anything. This is too important.
- More important than me? Than us? - She asked and words stuck in his mouth. - What if you had to choose between me and him?
- What do you mean?
- What if you had to choose between being with me and killing him? Who would you choose?
- I've already chosen. - He replied and his words cut through her heart like a cold sharp knife, even though she'd expected that. She let go of his hand and looked away.
- I'm tired of having this back-and-forth thing with you. - She sighed while covering her eyes with her hand. - Just do what you have to do. My only wish is for you to survive and for this son of a bitch to get what he deserves. I want to finally sleep well at night and stop pretending that I'm not scared, even if that's how I feel fifty percent of time.
- What about the remaining fifty?
- Thirty percent is being angry. - She hesitated under his intense gaze. - Y-you know what the last twenty is.
- Yes, I do.
They remained silent for a while, their eyes locked. Once again, there were so many indescribable feelings in their hearts, so many mixed signals, understatements and misunderstandings. He wished he could be honest with her in this moment, just like he'd been that one night at the rooftop – the only time they'd been brutally honest with each other, not hiding anything, and the last time they could've pretended that everything was fine.
- If you still have some feelings for me left... - She murmured shyly. - Could you hold me like you did that one weekend? One last time?
Without any hesitation he stood up and laid down on one side of the bed. She instinctively put her head in the crook of his neck and held onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her alive. He tightly wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her smell. All the memories they had created flew through his mind and got mixed up with his thoughts.
In every love story there are some things that keep the couple away. It happened that he and Lisbon couldn't be together, because Devil himself decided to wander the Earth in the form of Red John. He created this story which they'd gotten so twisted up in that a Gordian knot seemed to be a simple bow.
They had done things – dangerous and illegal things – that they had never thought would even come to their minds. They had lost people's trust, they'd been betrayed and the worst of all – they had underestimated Red John, just like he'd done a couple of years ago, when all of this had started.
There were no rules in this game anymore - just him fighting his own demons.
His revenge on Red John was motivated not only by his anger, but also his conscience. He'd known very well that his wife and daughter's deaths had been his fault. By playing with Red John, he'd practically killed them himself. And to live with their blood on his hands was impossible. What's more, he had been a terrible person his whole life. He'd used hundreds of miserable people and had even taken advantage of those close to him. That's why he knew he couldn't just let everything go and start a new life - with her. He had to make amends for all the things that he'd done.
After a long time of planning and rethinking all of the possible outcomes, he'd come to one conclusion - if hurting Lisbon and killing Red John were the only things keeping him away from his final redemption, then he was willing to commit them. These two horrible things, in his situation, were benevolences. Even though he would hate himself for the rest of his life for breaking her heart.
- Tell me everything's gonna be alright. - Lisbon's weak voice brought his focus back to the hospital room. He looked down at her and saw a shining line down her pale cheek.
He'd been on the right track. He'd been so focused on his quest, so cold and distant, but somewhere along the way she'd started to poke a hole through his thick shell and reminded him how to be human. How to love and be loved. How to make the demons scream a little quieter.
If it weren't for the Red John's case, would they ever develop this unique relationship? Would they even meet? And at the end of the day – was there really any hope for them?
- You know I'm not a psychic. - He smiled bitterly, trying to cheer her up a bit.
- Then pretend. Lie to me. Mislead me. Trick me. - Her voice cracked at the last words and she cleared her throat. He could hear how desperate and lost she was. - After all, you're really good at it.
If he still hadn't broken her heart, he was going to do that soon. His actions had already hurt her countless times. He felt that, at the same time, their love was the best and the worst thing that could've happened in their position. They had helped each other along the way, but at the finish line, they were both going to get tragically hurt.
There was no going back, so the only thing he could do now was to do what she wished – lie to her. Mislead her. Trick her. And then leave her and hope that someday she'd be happy with someone else. That someday she'd forgive him.
- Everything's gonna be alright, Teresa. Everything's gonna be just fine. - He whispered, his voice warm and calm, though with every word his migraine got worse and worse. - This time in two years we'll be lying in bed just like that one Sunday morning, but this time, it'll be raining and the sky will be gray. The bedroom will be warm and cozy, I'll be watching how you slowly wake up and smile at me. We'll talk about the present and the future, leaving the past behind. I'll tell you how much I love you and you'll say that you know, because I tell you that every morning. We'll be honest with each other and no one will stand in our way. We'll have our own house with a small garden, where we'll eat breakfast in the morning and drink wine in the night. Where we'll grow our own orange trees.
- Like in my dream?
- Just like in your dream. - He softly kissed her hair. The room became blurred out as tears appeared in his eyes. Why does it have to be so difficult?
- Do you remember that elderly couple in the park? - Her eyes got heavier and heavier as his touch slowly put her to sleep. - Could it ever be us?
- Of course.
- You're so good at lying, you could make a living out of it. - She chuckled bitterly.
- I'll think about it. - He smiled faintly through tears. After a minute, she was sleeping peacefully in his arms, her warm and steady breath on his neck.
Even though he wanted to stay like this forever and pretend like the world outside this room didn't exist, he found himself falling asleep and he couldn't allow himself to do that. He needed to protect her while he still could. And they weren't safe even in the hospital.
He gently freed himself out of her embrace and sat back in his chair.
When Rigsby and Cho came to change him, he refused to even move from his place. After a couple of minutes of arguing, they finally gave up, left him some food and came back to the CBI.
When she got sent home the next morning, he had already remembered every feature of her face, the rhythm of her breathing while she'd slept and the way she'd looked at him when she had finally woken up and found him once again at her side.
He promised himself to never forget that look.