Mend This Tear- chapter twelve
DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.
Patrick wished the CBI elevator went all the way to the roof instead of ending at the SCU floor. It would be very hard to pretend he was fine this day when he was practically decaying on the inside. He wanted to go straight to his perch without risking anyone seeing him.
But Jane decided it was just as well as he remembered that he needed to get something out of the way first.
Putting on his game face Jane walked into the bullpen. Cho and Grace were there and both looked at him in surprise.
"Aren't you supposed to be with Lisbon at the hospital?" the red head asked. Cho had apprised them of the situation.
"Well, she woke up and apparently an unconscious Lisbon is much better company than a conscious one," he told Grace conspiratorially.
"She kicked you out." Cho deadpanned, not bothering to look away from the novel he was reading.
"You could say that," Jane said, ruing the tiny hurt that made its way into his voice.
"You ok?" Grace asked, taking in his rumpled appearance.
"I'm fine," He took a calming breath before continuing, "She's going to need a ride in a couple of hours. I spoke to her doctor and he said he'll check her out around noon, but I doubt she'll stick around that long."
Jane didn't add that Sherman had given him a card to a psychologist he knew who specialized in couples' therapy. Somehow the man's assumption that he and Lisbon were involved didn't seem funny anymore.
"I'll go, don't worry about it," Cho, looking up at Jane, noting that his eyes looked disturbingly unfocused.
"Yeah," Jane replied, avoiding Cho's lingering stare. Van Pelt glanced back and forth between the two men. She was getting an odd vibe and she wasn't sure it was a good one. Finally the consultant gave out a long sigh and left, mumbling to no one in particular that he'll be upstairs.
"What was that about?" she asked.
"What was what about?" Cho said, flipping a page in his book.
Grace knew she'd get nothing else from him so didn't bother asking more questions.
By the time Jane made it to the roof, the sadness had dissipated and anger had taken over. He stomped into his attic, wanting to make as much noise as possible. He knew the urge was childish, irrational, but he couldn't help it.
The woman was infuriating, he thought, taking off his jacket to throw on his desk.
He knew what spurred this, of course. It was that ill fated revenge conversation they had in her car during the Keeley Farlow case. But while Patrick knew why, he couldn't understand how; could still hardly believe that she would say something so hurtful, even if she was being sincere.
"That's not good enough for me."
How selfish can a person be? Jane thought furiously, pacing the room.
He just wanted to help her. Couldn't she understand that? She'd saved him countless of times. He just wanted to repay some of his debt. Not that he thought he'd ever be able to but he was willing to try.
Why couldn't she see that he needed that?
Or maybe she could see that. The thought horrified Patrick. Maybe she could and that was why she was denying him.
The manipulative shrew, Jane thought wrathfully, incensed at the idea that Lisbon wouldn't accept his help without trying to string him into something more. Something she knew he'd never give.
The rational part of his brain argued that Lisbon couldn't possibly have orchestrated what had happened, that she hadn't known he'd offer to help her; that she'd just made use of an opportunity which presented itself to make a point.
Okay, so she's an opportunistic shrew, Jane thought, rebelliously. It's my fault for telling her I'd protect her.
What had made him say that anyway? Why did he feel the desire, the need, to gain her trust? Why did he still feel it?
And why did it hurt so much that he couldn't tell her what she needed to hear?
Since when did he care what anyone else thought? How his actions affected anyone else around him?
The answer came to Jane with ridiculous simplicity.
She mattered. Somehow she'd managed to insinuate herself into his miserable existence, has been there longer than he cared to admit, and become very important to him.
It was in how happy he felt when she was happy. It was in how he didn't think twice before he shot Hardy to save her. It was in how he felt a sense of belonging when he introduced her as his good friend and colleague; because she was his good friend. And when did he ever have that? The only true friend he ever had was his wife. She had been the only person who'd ever known him, who was able to care about him on more than a superficial level. She had loved him…
He was pretty sure that Lisbon cared about him. That she loved him, even. But more importantly, he'd thought that they'd come to an understanding of sorts; built trust between them.
Had she been pretending all this time?
She knew his goal. He'd shared it with her when he started seeing her as more than just a means to an end; when he'd started to genuinely care about her. And he'd trusted her enough to let her in on his plan, despite his suspicion that she wouldn't approve. He'd talked to her. Did that mean nothing to her?
Why couldn't she be content to just let things be? To take him as was and accept his friendship and care while she had it; while she could?
"That's not good enough for me."
Her words wouldn't stop replaying in his head.
Did Lisbon honestly think that she could make a statement like that and not have it affect their friendship? Have all the years they spent together meant nothing to her? She would throw it all away just because of what he'll do if he ever catches Red John?
Not if, Jane corrected resolutely, I will catch him. And then I will kill him.
And just like that Jane understood Lisbon's predicament; the intensity of his vow provided him with immediate clarity.
He'd exact his revenge, and then what?
Jane shook his head. It didn't matter what happened afterwards. But now that his brain processed the thought, it wouldn't let it go. After all, this was why Lisbon had said what she had.
It all came down to the two of them and Red John.
Now that he'd thought about it, he supposed that the situation they found themselves in now was probably long overdue. That they could have had this conversation the first time he told her he'd protect her. Patrick realized belatedly that despite how sincere he had been when he told her he'd be there for her, Lisbon must have only taken his words at face value.
He didn't know why it surprised him. While he'd hoped the trust fall would have a positive impact on their relationship, it was obvious that Lisbon had only agreed to do it for his benefit.
He had been absolutely shocked when she'd stated that she didn't trust him.
Now he knew why.
Why had he told her of his plans in the first place? Jane lamented. Why had he complicated matters?
Once more, the answer had come to him unbidden, so obvious it was insulting.
She mattered. She mattered. He'd told her so she wouldn't be shocked when the time came, to give her time to get used to the idea, . Forewarned, forearmed.
Yes, she's certainly armed herself against me, Jane thought bitterly.
Lisbon had enough issues as it was; he knew that she'd built a lot of defenses over the years. And he, in a rare moment of honestly, had given Lisbon enough bricks to make her walls thicker and higher than those of the Great Wall of China…
No good deed goes unpunished, Jane thought bitterly, rubbing his face in agitation.
Feeling like a puppet whose strings were cut, his stomping lost its steam as he tiredly lay on his bed. He'd been awake the better part of two days, but more than being fatigued, he wished sleep would claim him because then he wouldn't have to think.
Right, because wishing for something makes it happen.
Rigsby entered the bullpen, back from a snack run.
"Hey, guys, isn't Jane supposed to be with Lisbon? I saw his car outside," he addressed his colleagues as he placed his purchases into his desk drawer, happy to see it once more full with goodies.
"He's upstairs. He didn't look too good," Van Pelt said.
"Something wrong? He sick or something," Rigsby ask, brows furrowing with concern.
"No, but it seems like boss asked him to leave," Grace said in a low tone, nodding towards Cho who was on the phone. Wayne understood that to mean that Cho had more information about the situation but wouldn't share.
Kimball was talking to Elise. Not something he usually did at work but it was a slow day and she'd called for an update on Lisbon.
"Hang on," he told her, when he saw Rigsby stroll up towards him. "What?" he asked, not bothering to cover the mouthpiece.
"What's up with Jane?"
"Lisbon kicked him out of the hospital and he's sulking upstairs," Cho said blandly.
"Is he okay?"
"He's not the first guy she's blown off and he won't be the last," Cho said matter of factly, shocking Wayne, before bringing the phone back closer to his ear.
"Wait, what? You mean he…"Rigsby's voice trailed off. He was so shocked he didn't realize that he'd reached over to put his hand over the mouthpiece of Cho's phone.
"I couldn't say," Cho shrugged, uninterested in the conversation. But the arson specialist didn't get the hint.
"You think I'm right?" he said in a whisper, referring to his theory that Jane was in love with Lisbon.
"It was bound to happen sometime," Cho deadpanned, before he turned his chair deliberately away from Rigsby.
Wayne wasn't sure if Cho was referring to Jane falling for Lisbon, or his being right.
But the possibility gave him all the impetus he needed to consider braving Jane's attic.
"Kimball?" Elise's voice emitted from the phone's earpiece.
"Yeah I'm here. It's just Rigsby freaking out over Jane."
"I heard. Is he okay? Is she okay?"
"Don't worry, she's fine, Kimball reassured her, "just Jane figuring out he's not as irresistible as he thinks," he added, not bothering to keep his voice low. Clandestine, he observed Rigsby's reaction. If he was a cartoon character his ears would be twitching by now.
"Think you should talk to him?" Elise asked worried.
"It's already covered," Cho said, a rare fond expression on his face as he watched his tall friend walk out of the bullpen.
Author's note: Hello kind readers, I have good news. I just wrote the last chapter. It still needs editing, but it's done. The ones in between need more work though. It looks like 15 chapters will be as far as this one goes; maybe followed by an epilogue. I'd like to thank anonymous reviewers MentalistLover, and Blue. MeltedChoccobutton: Jane's said 'duly noted' in one of the episodes; I rewatch my dvd's for inspiration . I know it's been a bit sad but I do promise it'll get better. Meanwhile, cheer yourself up by reading Little Menders fluffy St. Patrick's Day fic When Irish Eyes Are Smiling or The Kindly Light. You can find it in my favorites. Finally, I cannot thank you guys enough for all your reviews. They were especially useful in the writing of this chapter and I'm sure a few of you recognized your input here :)