Chapter 4: Wild Card
A/N: Dialog marked with an asterisk ("*") is directly quoted from The Mentalist Fugue in Red episode.
The SCU team gathered in the bullpen to go over the Satterfield case. They were all shaken by Jane's near death, which was then magnified by the unexpected twist of memory loss. Lisbon broke the news that Jane would be working the case with them. As she expected, Van Pelt worried about what she should do to help, Cho reserved judgment, and Rigsby freaked. Their affection and sky high respect for Jane's abilities were evenly balanced by wariness of his unpredictable trickery. After Timothy Carter, can hardly blame them. Rigsby's the most insecure. ... 'Course Jane teases him unmercifully. The memory thing is a step too far for comfort.
Lisbon cut short the debate. "Jane needs something to hold on to and we're gonna give it to him.* He was injured in the line of duty. No different than if it was a gunshot wound or wracked up back." Said it but of course it's different. Still... Though she hadn't singled him out, Rigsby nodded and looked down.
They were a few minutes into their discussion when Officer McIlwain arrived with Jane in tow. McIlwain left once Lisbon authorized SacPD to bill the CBI for Jane's protective detail.
Jane swaggered in and took center stage. "Okay, I vote we skip the awkward introductions because you all know me, and in one sweeping glance, I know as much about each of you as the day I forgot you."* He remained standing.
"You gave us a scare yesterday,"* Van Pelt said uncertainly.
"Well, not my intention, I assure you,"* he said warmly, looking down at her.
Rigsby's gaze turned cold at their enfant terrible's too-warm attentiveness to Van Pelt. He said civilly, "Well, we're just glad you pulled through."*
"Thanks, Bigsby."*
"Rigsby. It's Wayne Rigsby."*
"Wayne,"* Jane repeated.
What's he pulling? Focus and stop baiting Rigsby. Lisbon wrenched the conversation to work. "We're just working the case so feel free to jump in anytime."*
Jane turned to a board displaying crime scene details. A masked ATM robber was caught on camera as he shot a security guard. "Okay. Your armed robber – desperate amateur. Why work alone? Because he doesn't know any other criminals. The lucha libre mask projects the correct attitude. But look, look at what he is wearing – khakis and a fitted sweater."*
Damn. He's performing. If I hadn't seen his uncertainty at the hospital, I'd think he's just screwing with us. "Jane–"* Lisbon tried to interrupt.
"–No wonder the guard tried to shoot him. The closest a man should ever come to touching a fitted sweater is helping a woman out of one!"* he announced with a flourish. Applause wouldn't have been out of place ... had not his whole riff been out of place.
More strongly, "Jane. Another team is handling the ATM lobby hit. We got the dead fireman."*
A bit taken aback, "Got it."*
Jane subsided as the agents went through case details and played a video of Satterfield rescuing a man from a home fire. The morning fire was the last one Satterfield fought before being murdered that night. Finally done with the preliminary evidence, Lisbon assigned tasks for the case.
Rigsby was outraged that Satterfield's partner was AWOL during Satterfield's dangerous rescue from the house fire. "I wanna know who let the victim into that death trap alone."*
"Go to the firehouse and find out. Take Jane."*
"Me?"* Jane asked, surprised.
"Whoever killed Satterfield tried to kill you."*
"Oh? You want to give him another try at that?"*
Despite the flip question, Lisbon read real fear. Can I blame him? "You'll be okay. Rigsby will be with you."*
Jane looked hard at Rigsby as he rose to leave, then reluctantly followed.
Lisbon gave Van Pelt and Cho their assignments, then strode away to her office. The door closed with a bang, harder than intended. She dropped into her chair and rubbed her forehead. Sheep dip. Thought the team might trigger his memories, provide support. Instead they're strangers and he's performing for us. How am I–
The phone interrupted her stewing. "Lisbon. ... Yes, sir. ... He is working the case. ... Doctor says he should be around familiar people and places. ... They're fine with it. ... We'll make sure we keep him out of danger. Shouldn't be any liability issues. ... Yes, sir." She let the handset drop as she closed her eyes and shook her head. Like I need Wainwright playing psychiatrist with Jane. Keep him and Bertram as far away from this as possible.
She took a long draught from her mug and sat back. Ditch the wishful thinking and start dealing with reality. His reality. Jane's physically fine, thank God, but he's missing around ten years of memories. He doesn't know any of this, any of us. So. Feral Jane, before he got used to law enforcement. Her brow furrowed and her lips twitched in irritation. Damned if I know why he's acting like an out of control adolescent. Geez, it's like I'm back with my teenage brothers.
About to take another sip, she set her mug down abruptly. Oh, hell. Ten years or so. Mentally, emotionally he's in his early 20's. After leaving the carnival but before settling down with Angela. My God, he must have been a handful. Full of himself, finally free of his bastard father, hustling to make it. And this is before he rubbed shoulders with rich, educated, sophisticated clients and made himself fit in. Jane's not just self-made, he's self-designed. Early 20's? A little rough, a little callow, a little randy. This will be a disaster unless I get a handle on it quick.
She shoved the case file to the side and started making a list of what she needed to find out. She browsed the web and read anything she found on dissociative fugue. She sighed and gulped a couple extra-strength analgesics in hopes of heading off a headache. Then she walked over to Van Pelt's desk and asked her to find a phone number.
"This takes precedence over the Satterfield case?"
"Yes. Let me know soon as you get that number."
"Yes, ma'am."
Lisbon returned to her office and placed a call to Jane's doctor at SacGeneral. She put it on speaker so she could take notes.
"Doctor, I need more information about Patrick Jane's condition and prognosis."
"I'm happy to meet in person if that would be easier."
"Thank you, but I'm in the middle of a murder investigation. May we handle it by phone if I keep it brief?"
"Go ahead then."
She started hesitantly, "I gather the hope is the patient spontaneously recovers his memories. What if he doesn't for a long time – weeks or months?"
"If the fugue state persists that long, we recommend psychiatric counseling to work through the source of trauma."
"The attack and drowning?" Like Jane's gonna buy into a shrink.
"No, that was just the trigger. The more significant one – his family's murder."
Her stomach dropped. Who would I even trust to tackle that? "And if he refuses counseling?"
"Then our hands are tied. Short of being a danger to himself or others, people cannot be forced into treatment."
"I read 'fugue' means 'flight.' What happens to people during the fugue state?"
"Flight is a very real risk. In fact, it is a key indicator of a fugue state. Some travel thousands of miles, establish whole new identities. There are instances where the condition lasted for years. The practical implications can be serious..."
Doctor, you have no idea! She shook her head to clear the deluge of imagined complications and refocused on the conversation.
"-unwittingly marries again. With memories of his former life gone for a significant period, the disruption is correspondingly significant."
"You said it's best if his memories come back on their own. What if they don't? Or what if he established a new life and suddenly something triggers his memories?"
"It's a dual risk. The memory loss can cause confusion, leave the patient unable to deal with normal life. If deemed to be a danger to themselves, patients have been involuntarily committed under the Baker Act."
Involuntary commitment reverberated in her skull. "And if he suddenly recovers his memories in a new place, around people who didn't know about the past trauma, what then?"
"Patients who have just recovered their memories are often angry and confused. They typically do not remember what happened during the fugue state. If the fugue was prolonged, the disruption and dislocation are magnified."
Throat dry, "Is the memory loss ever permanent? Could he start a new life, kind of a fresh start?" Her heart pounded. Which answer is worse?
"This is not a brain injury. There's no physical reason the memory loss would be permanent. Sooner or later, I expect he will regain those missing memories."
"What do you recommend?"
"I cannot tell you what to do, Agent, and of course I need to determine Mr. Jane's wishes. But I think it's in his best interests if he remains in contact with friends or relatives who know him and his history, who will look out for him. If the fugue persists, he should seek psychiatric counseling."
"Thank you, doctor."
"You're welcome."
There was a knock moments after she hung up.
"Boss, got a minute?"
"Yeah, Cho." She waved him in and looked at him expectantly.
"About Jane."
"What?"
"Talked to Rigs. Didn't go well." She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. "Jane pulled a prank, p.o.'d the EMT who saved his life and most of the rest. Got a lead that might help"
"Pretty ordinary."
Cho's eyebrow twitched. "Except Rigs says everything is 'off.' You saw it this morning."
Bluntly, "It's awkward. So?"
Deliberately, "Don't care about awkward. Dangerous if he's even more unpredictable at crime scenes and with suspects." Lisbon looked down at her desk. After a moment, "Boss?"
She exhaled in frustration. "I poked around the internet. 'Fugue" means 'flight.' Not good having a wild card on cases. But if we don't hang on to him, he might disappear."
"How long?"
"Days, months, years. Some start completely new lives, form new identities."
Cho actually frowned. Slowly, "Jane could come out ahead with a new life. But not if he can't even recognize the perps he's put away. And, there's always–"
"–Red John," they said in unison.
She could see her 2IC stiffen with the same tension she felt. "What are you going to do?"
"I need to make a call. You tell Rigs to stay with Jane till I collect him for lunch. After lunch, you'll take Jane to that burned out house. Don't lose him."
"Will do."
Van Pelt stepped in when Cho opened the door to leave.
"Boss, found that phone number." The young woman handed it to Lisbon.
"Thanks, Van Pelt." The redhead turned to leave.
"Wait. Get Cho back here." Lisbon waited until both were in her office.
"I have something more for each of you. Van Pelt, find a padlock and lock Jane's attic room. No way in hell do I want him stumbling on Red John material. Make sure there's nothing about Red John by his desk or couch."
Van Pelt hunched her shoulders uncomfortably, "Jane hates people going through his stuff."
"Too bad. For his own good. Cho–"
"-What about his motel room?" They spoke over each other.
She nodded. "Here. This is his emergency key. I don't know when he'll be back there, but I don't want him finding out about Red John alone in that crappy room. Put anything in a box and store it somewhere Jane won't find it."
"My place?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Cho." She turned.
"Boss?" hazarded Van Pelt. Lisbon paused. "What happens the next time we get a Red John or, or copycat case?" remembering that Red John was supposed to be dead ... except Lisbon and Jane weren't acting like it and Panzer's murder was eerily authentic. "Or someone outside the team mentions something?"
Lisbon slumped just a fraction. "We take this one step at a time. No matter what, Jane shouldn't find out about Red John and his family when he's alone." Both nodded. "It's gotta be better to control the situation than have it happen accidentally." They left. Lisbon took the moment to visit the women's room and get fresh coffee. She closed the door and sat behind her desk. She had another call to make. Tension pulled her ramrod straight.
She took a deep breath and placed the call, again on speaker so she could take notes.
It answered on the second ring. "This is Dr. Sophie Miller's office. If you have a life-threatening emergency, please hang up and call 9-1-1. Otherwise, leave your name, phone number and a brief message after the beep. Be well."
"This is CBI Agent Teresa Lisbon, number 916-555-1311. It's important I speak with you about Patrick Jane as soon as possible. If I miss your call, I will be back in the office after 2:30 this afternoon." She hesitated a beat too long then added, "Thank you" before hanging up. She knew Miller would pick up on that. And hated it.
Her phone rang fifteen minutes later. "Lisbon."
"This is Dr. Miller," a familiar, cool voice responded.
Relieved but apprehensive, "Thank you for calling back quickly. Dr. Miller, I need advice about Jane that you are uniquely qualified to provide."
"You should know I am required to hold patient information confidential." She added, pro forma, "Indeed, I can neither confirm nor deny that Patrick was a patient of mine."
"Dr. Miller, please. I think we share an interest in helping Jane. That's why I'm calling."
"Is he all right? And does he know you're calling me?"
"Jane is fine physically. He doesn't know I'm calling."
"I'm listening."
Lisbon hoped the phone wouldn't pick up noise from grinding her teeth. She took a deep breath and plunged in. "Jane was at a murder scene last night. He went searching for a murder weapon, was attacked, and nearly drowned."
Sharply, "Drowned?"
"He was revived. Fortunately he is okay–"
"-Can you possibly be precise?"
Lisbon choked back her temper. "He suffered no neurological or other physical injury."
"But–?"
"Nearly dying triggered dissociative fugue. The SacGeneral neurologist believes the fugue is protecting him from the earlier trauma of his family's murder."
"How long?"
"How long wha– Ten years. He doesn't remember being married to Angela, his daughter Charlotte, their murder, Red John, the CBI, or anything else till now."
Miller was quiet for 15 seconds. "How is he taking it?"
"Jane's putting up a good front. But he is uncertain, wary, vulnerable, confused."
The question was rapid fire. "Mentally confused or confused about his situation?"
"The situation. The SacGeneral doctor–"
"–does he have a name?"
Lisbon near strangled the phone handset but managed to answer evenly. "Dr. Jason Miller. He says it's best Jane regains his memories on his own. And that being surrounded by familiar people and places might help."
"And you're calling because it's not going well."
Icy in return, "I'm calling because I think there's a real risk Jane will disappear. Without his memories, he is vulnerable to every violent criminal he helped put away. And Red John."
"Is this a real or merely theoretical concern? And I thought Red John, alias Timothy Carter, was killed six months ago. Patrick did a masterful job with the jury from what I saw on the news."
Lisbon ground out, "It is a very real concern. A few years ago the daughter of someone he helped catch abducted and almost killed him. There have been others, Dr. Miller."
Curiosity bled through the superior attitude for the first time, "And Red John is still alive?"
Carefully, "There is a difference of opinion on that. The San Joaquin Killer who murdered several girls was killed with the same MO after talking about Red John on a news program."
"What does – did – Patrick think?"
"I'm sorry, I really cannot say more since it involves several on-going investigations."
Brusquely, "What do you need from me?"
"Information. You know Jane, his history. He might leave, start a ... different life somewhere else. What happens if Jane learns about a new Red John murder or reads about past Red John crimes? How bad is it if there's no one around who knows about all this?"
"Hypothetically, if I had a patient with the background you describe ... it would be very serious. Destabilizing. Especially if the patient had never resolved his role in the murders."
"Do fugue victims always recover their memories?"
"To my knowledge, yes. Regardless, it would be incredibly risky to assume he would never recover those memories."
"Risky how?"
"While the fugue state persists, victims feel vulnerable, paranoid, detached. Anger or clinical depression sometimes results. Victims randomly experience strong emotion connected to the forgotten tragedy, which destabilizes their current lives. Depending on the degree of dysfunction, they may not be able to cope and could be institutionalized."
"That would be devastating?"
"Yes. –Hypothetically. And it would be worse to then recover those memories while imagining he had abandoned some duty to his murdered family."
"Dr. Jason Miller said psychiatric counseling sometimes helps if the fugue continues a long time."
Sophie Miller snorted, "With willing, cooperative patients. In regards to your hypothetical patient, he wouldn't remember the psychiatrist who treated him after the tragedy, would he?"
Wrung out, not even caring about Miller's cold disdain, she asked quietly, "What's your best advice?"
"Don't let him go. I cannot speak to the law-enforcement dangers. But nothing good will come of coping alone when his memories return. And they will."
"Thank you, Dr. Miller."
"I'm glad you called." With the barest hint of warmth she added, "Be well. Both of you."
Lisbon gently placed the handset in the cradle and slumped in her chair. No way out. She swallowed a mouthful of coffee past the lump in her throat. Unless he gets his memory back soon, it's grim or grimmer. Damn.
She glanced at her watch, then grabbed her things and left for the fire station. Maybe he's remembered something. Maybe I can give him a nudge.
