A/N: *sniffles* I'm full of cold, boo. And very excited because the volunteering thing I want to do is getting ever closer. I have another course on it tomorrow - hooray!
Anyway, I'm not going to ramble too much - I should be getting on with other things. So, thanks go to: Divinia Serit, lisbon69, Ebony10, UnbreakBroken, mtm, MentalistLover, Frogster, yaba, Jadestar1981, ghostbeach, AlisonJane and bluedragon1836 for reviewing part six. Especially to those who have left anonymous reviews who I can't thank in review reply. The feedback is much appreciated. It honestly makes my day!
x tromana
Part Seven - Drowning
Lisbon once heard that dying of smoke inhalation is similar to drowning.
She's always been scared of drowning, ever since that time when one of her younger brothers had pushed her off a boat while playing on boating lake when she was seven. She'd spent five minutes flailing desperately, nearly going under several times, until eventually, a life guard had managed to haul her out, dripping wet. It was years until she'd managed to rebuild the confidence to go within ten meters of open expanses of water, never mind setting foot on a boat itself.
The idea of being engulfed in noxious fumes is little better than the concept being enveloped by murky waters.
Unfortunately, dying in a fire is looking quite realistic at the moment.
Unashamedly, she clings to Jane as Rigsby tears around the room, pulling down the scant soft furnishings and stripping out of his jacket. He instructs the others to do the same and dumbfounded, they all comply almost instantaneously. They trust him; he's an expert when it comes to this kind of thing and he knows exactly what he's doing. Despite all that, his carefully constructed blockage in front of the bedroom door is unlikely to hold out the smoke and flames for long, but it does buy them time.
Time for the fire service which Cho is urgently calling for to arrive and hopefully rescue them from this burning mass of bricks and mortar.
Though Jane's grief is obviously immense, it doesn't mean that he's completely unaware of the emotions running through others. As Lisbon buries her head into his chest, he places a quick kiss on the crown of her head, running his fingertips up and down her spine in what he hopes is a soothing fashion. Neither notice that Van Pelt is growing faint nor that Cho has positioned himself by the open window in the hope that fresh air will help him recover his senses.
Though accustomed to the flash of blue lights and the blaring sound of a siren, the one that is approaching has never felt more soothing or welcoming to all six occupants in the house.
Everything happens in such a blur that she still can't believe that she's actually safe and in one piece. And the solid ground beneath Lisbon's feet feels more reassuring than ever.
A paramedic fusses over her, tries to get her to sit down, do some breathing exercises and for her own health at the very least, please just take some oxygen for five minutes or so, will you?
Though she's still shaking violently, she has more important things to do. And at least Cho and Van Pelt, accompanied by Rigsby, are on their way to hospital now. They should be back on their feet within a couple of days, fingers crossed. And the coroner has already been picked up by her petrified boyfriend, heading home to calm down, no doubt.
It's a miracle that they've all got out of this relatively unscathed.
Right now, she doesn't care about all the evidence that is being destroyed before her very eyes. The fact that the people she cares about are safe is what matters.
What worries her though is that this is such a direct attack on her entire team - and that it has happened so soon after Bosco's passing.
Red John seems to be entering a similar kind of crazed frenzy as Jane himself. And that scares her no end.
The house is still encased in a golden glow and surrounded by smoke as the firemen desperately try and douse the fire. Jane watches, positively hypnotized by the crackle and hiss as one of the last links to his old life, before Red John, is being reduced to rubble.
When she's certain that there isn't anything else she can do and that the paramedics have gone and therefore, will stop pestering her, Lisbon sits beside Jane in silence. To be fair, she's simply at a loss as to what to say so has partially been avoiding the imminent confrontation.
She appreciated the comfort he had shown her a few hours beforehand; she'd never admitted to her terror of drowning or fires before and was relieved that he had managed to pick up on that despite everything that had happened of late. But now, as he watches the men at work, trying to salvage what they can, he seems to have slipped back into that unresponsive state and she just wishes that she can help.
He's drowning in emotions she doesn't understand. Ones that she doesn't want to understand.
What she does want is to pull him back to safety. Before it's too late.
Something's telling her that that is getting harder by the second. There's no sticking plaster big enough to cover up this kind of hurt, is there?
"Patrick?"
Lisbon's voice is tentative and she can't remember when she last sounded so nervous when speaking to him.
"Patrick."
She's desperate for a response and is thrilled when he pulls his eyes from the sight before him to glare at her, if only for a second. It's a response. It's better than nothing.
"It's getting cold," she mutters, having nothing else to say. "Shall we head back to mine?"
Jane's shivering and Lisbon is certain that he doesn't really know, never mind have the ability to care about it. She's exhausted. She just wants to get home, have a hot shower and crawl into bed but only so long as she knows that he's going to still be around in the morning. If the past couple of days have reminded her of anything, it's that there's no guarantees in life. It's a lesson she learned young and one which she didn't really want a refresher course in.
He shakes his head and his gaze falls back onto the burning pile of bricks and mortar.
"You'll get sick."
He shrugs his shoulders. She feels like she's trying to draw blood out of a stone.
"We need to get some rest," she tries.
Maybe trying to get blood out of a stone would be easier than trying to get a response out of Jane?
"It's just a houseā¦"
"It's the most important thing in my life right now."
"What? How can you say that? I have two agents in hospital suffering from smoke inhalation. Two!" she retorts, irate. "And you're worried about your house? Houses don't last forever."
"Neither do people."
"And what about me, Patrick? Just what am I to you right now?"
TBC...
