A/N: Chapter 6 was posted on 6/27. Please read that first.


Chapter 7: Changing His Mind

A/N: Dialog marked with an asterisk ("*") is directly quoted from The Mentalist Fugue in Red episode.

Tossing restlessly in his sleep, Patrick Jane rolled against the cool, tubular metal safety sides of the hospital bed. His hand unconsciously curled around the smooth steel rail.

The ride whisked them into the black sky. Carnival lights shone below. The cacophony of children's shouts and laughter, music from rides and attractions, and clanking gears softened to a murmur. Even the ubiquitous smell of cotton candy, popcorn, and fast food dispersed in the night breeze. Patrick held the side of the Ferris wheel gondola with his right hand. His left arm draped along the back, just above Angie's shoulders. She was barely visible in the darkness, her presence revealed more by warmth, laughter, and fragrance. Their car rocked and the metal safety bar caught – then gave way. He grabbed for her but clutched only air. She plunged a hundred feet to a terrifying rendezvous with death—

-Her screams ringing in his ears, Jane jerked upright, chest tight, covered in sweat, trembling. He gasped, disoriented, then lurched to his feet and into the bathroom. He heaved beer and greasy snacks and bile into the sink until his stomach was empty, then dry heaved some more. Spent, he weakly fell onto the closed toilet seat, still shaking. After a seeming eternity, he blew his nose, rose, rinsed the sink and splashed water on his face. He dried his face and shuffled back to the bed. Light seeped around the drawn blinds, bathing the hospital room in twilight. He pulled the covers over himself, chilled to his emotional core. Desperate efforts to not know were tissue against the razor of logic.

Wedding ring to get women. When have I needed a prop? The flash of pain when I mentioned Angie to Lisbon. Ten years after I was going to get Angie... Cho's, 'It's your family.' Divorce? Let it be divorce ... only then Cho wouldn't react that way. Car accident? No scars on me. Oh, god, 'Serious Crimes Unit.' What's more serious than murder? I don't have to know, own this. I'm young, young enough. Start over, start a – new – family. If I don't remember, it isn't part of me. Just let me be happy! Four years with cops, why four? Unless the murd– He slammed the mental door before that shattering thought fully formed. It bulged alarmingly, evil about to explode into his mind, powerful blows warping the surface, threatening to break free. C-o-w-a-r-d, his mind's voice mocked, joined by loathed memories of Alex, 'You're soft, boy, a mark. You can't afford to care'...

A hundred rivers, geologic time periods, levels of taxonomy, Shakespeare – no, too bloody, stick with facts. He summoned a relentless storm of dry data to distract and distance himself. Finally, nothingness claimed him on page 42 of a memorized phone directory.

Jane slept badly till morning. Breakfast was coffee and a slice of buttered cinnamon bread to settle his tender stomach. He found a bag with a fresh shirt and underwear that Teresa must have left the night before (Where the hell am I staying?), and dressed. He had promised to wrap up the investigation, and so waited for her to fetch him. Today would end his ill-conceived venture into law enforcement. The night had hardened his resolve. He could see no benefit to ever remembering what logic dictated must be true. It didn't have to be part of him. It won't be.

Teresa Lisbon was early, 7 a.m. She and Jane left with without delay. Jane was relieved to avoid Dr. Miller and his earnest proselytizing about what was best for him. His decision was made. They soon arrived at the CBI. Tommy waved them through the security gate. Teresa said, "Hi," Jane just nodded, distracted as he scanned the parking lot. A flash of blue caught his eye and he smiled. Ah! Favorite color. What're the odds cops would go for something classy, beautiful? Foreign make. Like I thought, my car was here when they hauled me to the hospital. He looked over his shoulder as they drove past. The Citroen now gleaming in the sun would be in shaded after noon, exactly as he would have planned.

Jane and Lisbon got off on the SCU floor. He went directly to the conference table while Lisbon detoured to her office. Gingersnaps glared. Rigsby conspicuously tossed the IOU on his desk. Cho stared inscrutably. Like I care what a bunch of cops think. He was still broke since they'd hustled him out of the bar before getting paid. If I'm feeling generous I'll mail Rigsby his sixty from Wilcox's ill-gotten gains. He'd have to launder the money first to avoid getting nabbed through serial numbers. Maybe a day at the casino.

Lisbon joined them and they began. Jane laid out his theory that it was Wilcox. He was a little surprised, a little gratified when they took him seriously, believed him. Yesterday on his way to the fire station, Jane had bought a lucha libre mask which sported the same colors as the ATM robber's mask. It would be easy to scam Wilcox. He needed to avoid having the cops overhear their conversation and then hide the cash till it was off his person. It was embarrassingly easy. Were they that naive? Gingersnaps and Rigsby, maybe. Teresa and Cho, certainly not. Trust? He snorted softly, Talk about misplaced. His stomach roiled uncomfortably.

As with all well-planned scams, the actual execution was a let-down. It unfolded seamlessly. Backing away from Wilcox's van, Jane watched in delight as the four agents surrounded and arrested Wilcox. He caught sight of the stricken, confused faces of the wife and daughter. Grimly, That's on him. Two time – almost three-time – murderer. Fool loses everything by adding murder to robbery. He did his best to shrug off the disaster Wilcox had visited upon the innocent woman and child. The three agents took Wilcox in one SUV while Jane rode back with Teresa.

Cho and Rigsby took Wilcox to an interrogation room, Teresa disappeared in her office, and Gingersnaps left with Wilcox's handkerchief for the bloodhounds. Do they really use bloodhounds? Jane shrugged, rose, and casually walked toward the men's room. Once out of sight he took the elevator down and strolled to the Citroen, grinning when the car key from his pocket unlocked the doors. Trunk lid up, he was well-hidden from passers-by. Now, if I haven't gotten lazy and sloppy in my old age – yes! He found the nearly invisible seam where the interior fabric lining had been cut and re-fastened with Velcro. He gently parted the fabric and unloaded the eight inch-thick bundles of twenties – $37,000 plus – into the narrow cavity in the sheet metal frame near the wheel well. He took a quick look around the car. An over-night bag had a mix of fresh and used clothing, neatly segregated in plastic bags. He glanced at the vial of prescription sleeping pills but avoided thinking about why he might need them. The glove box revealed a rent receipt for a no-name, extended-stay motel. Need to get my stuff – at least the suits – before leaving Sacramento. Better get back upstairs before someone notices.

Jane joined Lisbon in the observation room as Cho and Rigsby started their interrogation. Jane had really wanted to see Cho work this. As expected. Mr. Inscrutable has Wilcox quaking in his boots. He huffed in amusement. 'Hardened criminal' – not! Guy's near bawling. He turned to Lisbon.

"Wrapped up with a bow, my parting gift." Out-witted the perp, nailed the guy who tried drowning me ... showed Teresa and the three Musketeers. Why doesn't this feel better?

"You need to go back to the hospital."

Oh, please, give it up! "Why?"

"Get Dr. Miller to release you. You'll need a 'responsible adult.'"

To hell with that. "And I care if Miller releases me because?"

"He'll have the PD initiate a search if he thinks you're a danger to yourself."

Crap. Don't want attention with the stolen money! "You're kidding."

"Out of my hands. Do you want every PD in the country looking for you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. Better take care of this. Call and see which party girl will come with me. "Okay." He turned.

"Wait." He paused. "Stop by after. Paychecks are delivered Friday afternoon."

More delay. Cripes. "Can't it be electronically deposited?"

"After you set it up. Takes a trip to HR and a couple weeks' lead time."

Boxed again if I want the money. His curiosity got the better of him, wondering just how much solving cases was worth. Guess an encore isn't the end of the world. He sighed. "I'll stop by after Miller." Why am I relieved I'll see Teresa again? Make up your mind, Paddy.

Back in the bullpen Jane pulled the wad of scrawled phone numbers and names from his pants pocket. He called Emily, Brandii and Caitlynn before finding that Tamara was available because she worked nights at a bar. He strove to brush away the beer haze from his recollection – Why did I drink so much? – and finally brought up a mental image linked to the name. He smiled slightly, relieved she was attractive. There would be no pain in spending time with her. She agreed to pose as a distant cousin to loosen the medical coils and he had every intention of demonstrating his gratitude with a good time, perhaps by spending the weekend in Reno together.

Jane slid into the Citroen, curious about why he had chosen this particular car, especially since it was old. Should I say 'classic'? Have to look up what it goes for. He grinned as he drove. It was a sports car after all and handled nimbly. A little experimenting revealed some intriguingly advanced technology. He first stopped at the extended stay motel. The parking lot and outside were in good repair, but utterly unadorned, utilitarian. Drab. What the hell? Judging by my suit, I've been making good money. Why would I stay here? The inside of his apartment – room, really – was more disappointment. It was small and functional and impersonal. He shook his head in confusion, then set about gathering his things. He packed the limited selection of clothes – all I wear is these three-piece jobs, now? - toiletries and a few dozen books. He snorted at the tea kettle and left it.

The unappealing motel scuttled his first impulse, which was to bring Tamara back to his place so they could get to know each other. He decided the good time would wait till Reno. He stopped at a jewelry store and bought a diamond bracelet for cash. It would be both a "thank you" for bailing him out and a promise of the weekend to come. He had over a grand left from the one bundle of twenties, which would be enough for dinner, the trip to Reno and a really nice hotel room. Then he could hit the tables and make the remaining hot money legit.

Jane picked her up from a decent but inexpensive part of town. He glanced around her apartment while she finished her make-up. Romance novels, pop music, celebrity magazines, family pictures. Not a lot in common, but no matter for a few days. She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and clung to his arm as she slipped one three-inch heel on and then the other.

"All ready," she said with a smile. Before he turned away she surprised him with a kiss to his cheek. "I'm thrilled you called. You were so good last night helping all those women. –Oh, and one guy."

"Thanks." His smile seemed to be reply enough.

In the car he ran over the bare details of his missing memory, careful not to reveal how many years were missing.

She noticed his wedding ring. "Were you married?"

"I, uh, I think so. But no one came to the hospital when I almost drowned. Must have broken up a long time ago," he said with the right amount of pathos.

"You poor man. Patrick, I'm so sorry."

Sympathy when he didn't even remember the – the loss was a step too far. "It's okay, Tamara–"

"–Tamara," she said firmly, correcting the accented syllable.

"Ah, sorry. I truly don't remember. –But that's why I need you to help me at the hospital. I need you to be my 'responsible adult.' Pretend I'm a distant cousin and we recently reconnected."

She frowned, "I'm not gonna have to be, like, really responsible or anything? I mean once you're done with the hospital."

"No, nothing like that. In fact, if you're free, I'd like you to come to Reno with me for the weekend. Nice hotel, gambling, a few shows, whatever."

"I'd love that!" was punctuated with another kiss.

They arrived and took the elevator to the neurology floor. When Tamara kissed Jane's cheek in the elevator Jane rolled his eyes. "Remember you're my cousin! No PDA's among family members. Just follow my lead and play along."

Tamara giggled, "Sorry, I forgot. You're hard to resist."

Jane chose to smile as the least disruptive response he could manage. Upset her and it'll make it worse. Com'on, kitten, you can do this. ... Teresa or Gingersnaps wouldn't need coaching. Oh well.

Dr. Miller seated them in his office. Eyebrows raised, "Agent Lisbon isn't joining us?" Jane shook his head. Tamara looked confused. Miller took a breath and began. "Mr. Jane, it's important you fully understand your situation before making plans." He glanced at Tamara. "You are willing to share your medical details with Ms. – Ms.–"

She smiled and answered, "Tamara Schneider."

Hearing her last name for the first time, Jane hid a mental wince – what were her parents thinking? He said smoothly, "Yes. Tamara's a distant cousin. We recently reconnected and she'll be my 'responsible adult.'"

Miller looked over Schneider obviously noting the sexy dress, heels, and utter lack of family resemblance. Dryly, "I see. Mr. Jane, choices you make before regaining your memories likely will differ markedly from what you would choose if fully informed. If it's an issue, you can work with any physician of your choice–"

"No. I just want to get on with my life."

"I'll gladly provide recommendations for psychiatrists in Sacramento."

"Thank you, no."

"Will you be continuing with the CBI? You seem to have a close working relationship with Agent Lisbon."

A fleeting hint of uncertainty crossed his face before he evened out his expression to bland confidence. "I've determined the CBI is not a good fit."

Miller leaned back and considered him, eyes narrowed.

Uh oh, here comes the hard sell.

Quietly, "How can you possibly know without remembering? I understand you have been a CBI consultant for four years. That sounds like a successful relationship-" Damn, really hard sell. Hitting below the belt, doc? "–the loss of which you may regret later."

Sharply, coldly, "I am convinced my future does not lie with law enforcement."

Miller looked at him with frustration and sympathy, "When you regain your memory you will need the support of people who care about you." His gaze flicked to Schneider and dismissed her. "The human mind does not lightly protect itself with a fugue interlude. The tragedy you are blocking is significant for you. And, yes, you will eventually remember." He faintly emphasized "tragedy" and Jane realized Miller had done research, somehow learned more about him. Dammit all to hell, I hate everyone knowing more about me than I do!

Schneider sweetly piped up, "I'll help him. He's a super special guy."

Miller's look was frosty but not unkind. "Will you really, Ms. Schneider? You have experience helping people who have suffered great loss? You'd know how to respond to anger, confusion and depression?" Mouth slightly open, she looked scared. Kindly, "You don't need to answer. Rhetorical questions." He looked piercingly at Jane, his real target.

Jane said precisely, "I have considered my situation. I believe my plans are best for me. My cousin Tamara satisfies your requirement for a 'responsible adult' and I choose to sever our patient-physician relationship. Is there anything more you need?"

Miller looked distressed rather than angry. "Once I get Ms. Schneider's signature, neither I nor Sacramento General will pursue any further connection. I strongly recommend you seek therapy. I strongly advise against making major changes till you regain your memories." He slid a release form to Schneider. After she signed he stood and extended his hand, first to Schneider and then to Jane.

Warmer now, "Thank you, Dr. Miller. I'll be fine."

Miller held his hand a second longer than normal and said simply, "Good luck, Mr. Jane."

Jane and Schneider left the hospital. Jane guided her to a bench under some trees at the entrance and sat down.

Confused, "Patrick, why are we sitting here?"

He smiled, "I have something for you."

"A surprise! I love surprises."

"Well, I hope you like this one. –What's your favorite kind of jewelry?" Obvious from the rhinestone earrings.

Coyly, "They always say diamonds are a girl's best friend."

"Yeah, I heard that somewhere." He was sure the irony was lost on her. "Here–" he said, handing her a flocked jewelry box. "Think you'll like this."

She squealed as diamond facets reflected dazzling flashes of sunlight. "It's beautiful! I love it!" She pulled him close, hugging and kissing him.

Gently disentangling himself, "Here, let me put it on." He draped the heavy bracelet over her wrist and fastened the safety clasp.

"It even looks real!"

"It is real," he smiled, enjoying her infectious excitement. It had been a while since expensive toys evoked that much pleasure for him. But he did enjoy the reaction of others. It didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes. She cuddled up. Jane shifted so she was nearly sitting on his lap, enjoying her soft, warm curves, her body plastered to his. Eyes closed, he found himself imagining Teresa's lithe body against him, her lips– They jumped apart at the noisy roar of mowers and leaf blowers as landscapers began their work. They shared a grin. Sheepishly, Jane wordlessly shepherded her back to the Citroen.

Jane explained he needed to make a quick stop at the CBI. Tamara was excited to learn he used his psychic abilities to catch criminals – a stark contrast with Teresa's reaction. Teresa actually sees me, doesn't buy the illusion. Tamara subsided, more interested in finding a pop music station on his radio. She rattled on about her favorite groups and songs and TV shows, which reinforced his sense of dislocation. He hadn't heard of any of them. Their conversation absorbed a small fraction of his attention while practicalities loomed large. What the hell am I doing? Should be putting miles between them and me. Not a chance Wilcox didn't tell them about the money. They passed through the security gate. Huh. Maybe showing up will undermine Wilcox's story since it makes no sense to be here if I'm guilty. 'Sides, I need a clean break, show them I'll be fine without any straight-edge cop nannies. Show them I have everything a man could want. He squeezed Tamara's hand.

The CBI security guard eyed Jane curiously as he got a visitor's pass for Tamara. Jane sensed the guard's gaze as they walked to the elevator and enjoyed the familiar feeling of other men's envy.

Jane and Tamara got off the elevator and he escorted her to the bullpen, arm in arm.

The couch in a corner tugged at him somehow. "I've always wanted a couch like that."* They paused near the SCU's cluster of desks where all four members were working. Everyone eyed the 20-something woman gracing his arm. Arm candy or more?

"Hi, who's this?"* Teresa asked as they approached, looking his companion up and down.

Somehow, Teresa's skeptical once over embarrassed him a little for the youthful girl, all surface, no substance. "Oh, this is my 'responsible adult' – Tamara."*

The girl corrected him, "Ta'-mara,"* and hung on his arm looking cute.

Teresa acknowledged her existence, "Hi,"* then ignored her. "Well, you did it. You caught a killer, and we got back most of the stolen cash."*

"Most?"* he asked with fake consternation.

"Wilcox was missing some of the money. He said you took it, but we didn't believe it."*

Jane ignored the painful pang and advised smoothly, "I'd look for an accomplice. That's a big job to pull off alone."*

Disbelief saturating her voice, "We'll do that."* She pulled a folded paper from her jeans and handed it to him. "Oh, by the way, your last paycheck."*

Jane unfolded it. "That's my payment?!"* Chump change. Not worth my time.

Dryly, "You weren't exactly in it for the money."*

He ignored the flashing neon unvoiced question - Why was I in it then? "Well, I'll confess to a vague satisfaction in taking down someone that thought they were smarter than me. But not enough to wanna stick around here."* He waved the check for emphasis, "Certainly not for this,"* not caring he probably insulted every person in the room.

"All right. Well, let me know if you change your mind, or – you know – get it back,"* Teresa said, snarking, reminding him of his loss.

How much did I lose? His reply brooked no doubt, "Some doors are best left shut."* He raised his voice, "Uh, everyone else, I – I'd just like to say thank you. I'm sure we've shared some great times together. I'm not presently qualified to comment, so I'm just gonna make like a rock and roll. Bye."* He moved to lead Tamara toward the elevator.

Gingersnaps frowned, spying the bracelet. "Wait! That looks real."*

Lisbon glanced too, "Sure does."*

Tamara burbled happily, "You weren't lying!" She pressed against Jane's chest and kissed him on the lips.

Gingersnaps, stunned and upset, "You took it. Wilcox wasn't lying. You really took it."*

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. I – I'm late for my new life."*

Cho challenged him, "Okay, when did you grab the cash?"* disappointment bleeding through deadpan.

Rigsby's open face showed regret and dashed admiration.

Jane's eyes flicked among the SCU agents. He blustered, "Oh, please, does it really matter? I mean, you people are the highway robbers. Look at this paycheck!"* He avoided everyone's eyes. This wasn't the sneering disdain of dislike and superiority he expected from cops. Instead, it was the hurt and disappointment of betrayed ... friends. Jesus, could they really be friends? His gut tightened at the thought he was leaving his only connection to anything.

Gingersnaps took another go at him, "We could have you arrested for grand theft,"* her tone a blend of outrage at the crime and fear of the risks he'd stupidly courted.

Clinging to his indifference, "There's not a jury in the world that would convict me. I'm out of my mind,"* he mugged. "Ask my doctor!"*

Teresa's quiet statement stopped him cold. "You're running away."* He dared to look at her. The challenge didn't quite mask hurt and empathy.

"What are you talking about?"* he asked with a sinking feeling that he was found out. The people he'd written off as contemptuous cops might really see him, know him ... care about him?

"You're starting to feel something inside and you don't know what to do with it,"* she pressed, following up her advantage.

"That's nonsense,"* glib explanations deserting him.

"Prove it. Take a ride with me. If you still want to leave after that, you can."*

The trap snapped shut. He was no longer sure what he wanted, had misjudged this team of cops, had knowingly put himself at risk by coming back. Astonished, he realized, The last thing I want is to walk away from Teresa. Tamara tugged his arm impatiently as the SCU team closed ranks around him, not against him.

"Patrick, are we going?"

Jane shook his head, coming back to the present. Distractedly, "I'm sorry, Tamara. I, I need to resolve this with Teresa." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and handed it to her without counting. "Here, take a cab."

Frowning, she asked, "What about Reno? Call me later?"

Jane just shook his head. "No. Thank you for coming to the hospital with me," and turned his back.

Van Pelt grimaced at his rudeness, cutting in its complete indifference. "I'll help you catch a cab," she offered, guiding Tamara to the elevator by her elbow.

Jane stood there, total attention on Teresa, all control relinquished to her.

"I'll get my stuff. It's a long drive." Lisbon looked at Cho and Rigsby, unspoken instructions plain that they were to make sure Jane went nowhere. As she brushed past she told Cho, "Tell Wainwright I'm taking personal time. –Wrap up the Satterfield case."

Relieved that she was tackling the mess with Jane, "Will do, boss."

"Thanks. Wish me luck."

They were en route five minutes later.