I would like to thank those who subscribed and favourited, you guys are awesome! Also it's wise that I apologize for having another late update. This was meant to be out some time ago, but life (and an injury) got in the way. Actually, half of this was written during my maths class a couple of days ago because I had close to an hour of nothing.
I also really feel the need to dedicate this chapter to a couple of friends – or roommates/airplane neighbours – who have had to deal with my constant re-playing of music in order to write out this chapter. If I were them, I would have clobbered the person playing music over and over again with a flat iron.
Mia66 – Thank you so much! That scene was really hard to write as I've never been pregnant and my cousin wouldn't answer my emails.
Blue – Thank you!
MentalistLover - Well in this one Jane does seem to have more of a reason to live. Thank you for reading!
Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Mentalist. I really wish I did, but I don't.
Chapter Five: I'll Make it Feel So Much Better
She nervously fingers the chain around her neck, her fingertips sliding against the cool metal. As she sits in the hard plastic chair given to her by slightly older man by orders of his wife, she ponders her thoughts on what she is about to do. Yesterday morning she would have never even thought to come this close to Jane again, but she had to know whether or not he was right. Most of all she wants to know whether or not he is being dishonest with her. If he had killed Red John in order to save her life, then he also deserves freedom. If killing the psychotic serial killer was more so done out of an act of love – and very minimal revenge – then he doesn't deserve to be imprisoned.
Sighing to herself, she stands slowly to her feet as one of the prison guards announces they are ready for them. Her heart flutters in her chest as she places one hand over her swollen belly and starts towards the once-locked doors. People step aside to let her pass first and follow. She looks over her shoulder and sees a woman – probably in her early forties – ushering two children forward. They happily exclaim their happiness to see their father and she smiles proudly, and also slightly with remorse. She feels a pang of sadness overcome her and the children gave her another reason as to why she has to do her very best to get Jane out. Lisbon did not want their child to have to come to the jail and tell Jane across a metal table their latest academic, athletic, and personal feats.
"But mommy! We went there last time!" Lisbon smiles hearing the frustrated little boy talk o his mother. Ever since they had entered the waiting area the family had been having a little discussion as to where they were going to lunch after this.
Reaching up and running her hands across the lapels of her jacket, she moves through the doors and towards the visitation room. Her hands fall at her sides in fists as she starts to mentally prepare herself for the day. This encounter can only go in two directions: good or bad. She sincerely hopes it is the former rather than the latter so she and Jane could possibly reconcile. Letting her hands release at her sides, Lisbon stops only slightly behind the guard as he calls out and a buzzing sound is heard. The guard grasps onto the barred door and pushes it open and walks through it. He holds it open and gestures for everyone to begin filing in and find themselves an adequate seat. As she passes through the door frame, she gives the guard a slight smile of uneasiness and starts towards an open table at the far end of the room – in a corner. Carefully she sits down, mentally cursing herself for not remembering her issue last week as this place wasn't designed for pregnant visitors.
"The inmates will be out shortly." Inmates is an awfully dreadful thing to call them all. 'Loved ones' or 'friends' would be more appropriate. Especially if there are small children in the room bouncing around as they wait for their father.
Sighing softly to herself, Lisbon looks down and busies herself with picking dryer lint off the black shirt she is wearing. How the lint ever makes its way onto her clothes is a true mystery, but at this time it can easily take her mind off of things and preoccupy herself. Picking up the last one she can see and flicking it away, she looks up just in time to see Jane coming towards her in handcuffs. The image stirs a sense of upset within her and she wants nothing more than to lash out at everyone – sans Jane for some reason – and have be released from this prison.
"Lisbon?" His eyes widen in shock. Obviously he had no expectations of seeing her again so soon. "What are you doing here?"
His words stung, but she refuses to let him know this, "Tell me again," she demands and crosses her arms over her swollen belly.
Jane sits down across from her, his eyes searching her own for any reasoning to help him deduce as to why she was even here. "What do you want me to say? I have already said it several times," he leans back and glances off to the side almost in a way to pretend that she isn't there.
"This time I want you to swear on the life of our child and look at me in the eyes," she says almost a little too bitterly.
His eyes snap back to her, "The last time we saw each other, you made it pretty clear that you wanted me out of your life." For the second time his words stung. Lisbon looks up towards the ceiling and swallows the tears that she feels pricking on the corner of her eyes. His tone is immensely harsh and she does her best to cover it up and feign indifference.
She almost chokes, but instead sums up the courage to look at him the best she can, "You told me that it was for my protection."
He laughs and shakes his head, eyes flickering down to the floor, "And yet you called that crap."
Lisbon shuts her eyes and feels a tear slip past her eyelashes. She remembers everything she said to him and now she wishes that she could have controlled her anger more efficiently. Instead she took out all of the misery and pain she has felt these past months out on him in an unfair manner. Starting with refusing him the confirmation that his child is growing in her womb.
"Teresa, I did this to protect you!"
"Don't you dare give me that crap again! You killed Red John for your own personal revenge without any second thought about the people around you!" her voice stays low as she refuses to make eye contact with him.
A couple more tears fall from her eyes and she reaches up with one of her hands and brushes them away quickly. The urge to sniffle grows, but she refuses to let it out. She did not want him to know that this new confrontation was causing her emotions to run wild and free.
"You also told me that you loved me as in that was in past tense." She looks up at him and her heart sinks at the sight of him still not making eye contact with her. "And after fourteen times, yes I kept track, of proclaiming my reasoning as to why I killed Red John, you just now decide you want to consider it. Unbelievable," he shakes his head and turns back towards the guard and summons him.
"I was lying if it was in past tense," she says softly, her eyes now looking at the metal table. He pauses, but does not turn around. His reaction gives her a small shred of hope that he is still listening to her and that he will remain here to listen to her. "I still do love you."
"How do I know that you're not lying right now?" he does not turn to look at her, instead he stands up and allows the guard to take him by the bicep and lead him out of the visitation room.
Lisbon does not know – nor will she ever – why that angers her. Her fingers curl into her palm and she stands up abruptly. Her blood is boiling and no doubt people are starting to stare at her – at them – and she doesn't care at all. She feels her temples throbbing and she takes one step forward.
"If you weren't such a coward then you would try to hear me out," her voice is low and challenging. Jane stops at the door and the guard also stops. His shoulders roll upwards and she can tell that he is pondering as to what he should say next, so she continues, "The Patrick Jane I know wouldn't give up after just one encounter."
He slowly turns to face her and curls his fingers into a fist. His eyes darken and she can almost say that she sees his pupils dilate. Jane is fighting an internal battle about whether he should say something or just remain mute. Over the past few months he has definitely been working up some unresolved tension he needs to voice outward, and she knows even now Jane can't and won't keep quiet for long.
"Unless this is all an act," she challenges again.
She watches him adjust his stance by placing his feet more firmly onto the ground beneath him. He draws his fisted hands closer to his body and he breathes in and out, "It's not an act, Lisbon," his eyes flicker to her and he turns back to move towards his exit.
Lisbon falters and looks down at her swollen belly. Slowly she moves back down to her seat and leans forward onto the table. She suddenly feels hurt – emotionally – and can sense her tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She blinks and a single drop of tear rolls out of one of her eyes and down her cheek. Closing her eyes and trying to keep herself from crying in public, she runs her hand over her belly to try and calm herself. Instead of feeling relief like she wishes, an overwhelming sense of guilt begins to come over her. She clutches onto the fabric and moves her free hand up to tangle into her dark locks. Now she knows that she does indeed look like a royal mess.
As she blinks and inhales the air around her, she feels more drops of water cascade down her cheeks and hit the metal table below. She moves her hand off of her belly and brings it up to tangle with her hair opposite of her other hand, but before she can place it down, a warm and slightly calloused hand stops her. Instinctively she freezes and begins to remove her other hand. She looks up and blinks away the last couple of tears in her eyes until she sees the face of Patrick Jane looking down at her.
With his handcuffed hands, he pulls her around on her seat and he kneels before her. He looks at her with sorrow-filled eyes as he glances from her face down to her swollen abdomen. He sighs softly and lets his fingers run down the side of her face and down to her belly. Jane glances up one last time as if to ask her if it is all right if he touches her again. She nods as a confirmation and he places his hands on her. He stiffens as he runs his hands over the swell and she could see the tears begin to form in his eyes.
"I never stop loving you," he whispers, "Nor do I stop thinking about you."
She shuts her eyes and stiffens, "Please tell me."
He nods and moves his cuffed hands from her belly and grasps onto her hands. Jane takes a deep breath. "I had gotten a letter from Red John, and it said he wanted to kill you. He wanted to kill you slowly until you repeatedly screamed. The letter was in so much detail that all I could think about was killing him before he got to you."
Jane picks up the balled up piece of paper and unfolds it. He readjusts it in his hand and silently curses when the corner slices into the side of his index finger. Looking down at his cut finger, he shakes it quickly and brings it up to his lips. The salty taste is so bitter and combines with the stinging sensation.
With his finger still between his lips, Jane looks back down at the paper and glances over it.
"Dear mister Jane,
It's been a long time hasn't it? I just wanted to tell you what I planned to do with your lovely friend Agent Lisbon. Over these past few months I have noticed how close the two of you have become, and I want you to know that I desire her blood. I want to feel her blood between my fingers as I stick my blade into her abdomen until the hilt reaches her soft flesh. I want the crimson blood to stain my hands red and watch her eyes grow wide with panic, fear, and pain. I want to run the knife over those soft feminine curves and leave a trail behind and to break her. Her screams would be my lullaby as I sleep and her face will forever be in my mind. She will die before and by my hand, and most of all you cannot do anything to stop it."
His finger has been long gone from his mouth and he feels rage bubbling up inside of him. It was no or never, and he knew he had to act fast soon. Red John still has not stopped nor will he ever until he said that the game was over. The game where people lost their lives, sanity, and loved ones. He had to kill Red John.
"I killed him to save a precious life, and that is now two. Instead of an award I get a jail cell for seven years," he says the last bit bitterly.
Lisbon shuts her eyes. She remembers Hightower having to work her ass off just to get seven years when the judge wanted ten. The argument was always that a mad serial killer that had haunted California for many years was now dead, but the fact that a civilian killed him meant that aforementioned person had to face consequences.
She opens her eyes and looks at Jane. She smiles softly, "I love you, Patrick."
Jane moves back into his prison cell, he feels lighter in a sense. It is a good feeling and he wants to hold onto it for as long as possible. Turning back towards the guard and holding his hands out, he smiles at the man who unlocks his handcuffs.
"Thank you," he says and turns back to face his cellmate.
Norman, who stands a few metres away from him, quirks an eyebrow up, "Did you have a better visit this go-round?"
Jane nods and moves towards his bed. Sitting down and leaning back, he sighs, "And she still loves me."
Norman smiles and moves to climb up to his bed, "Sounded like it. You two talked for awhile, I mean the guards had to take you two away from each other. My wife only left because the kids started getting hungry for their lunch," Jane is pretty sure that Norman had a nice visit with his family. Apparently the man only had a few rocky encounters with his wife for the first few months until she began to warm up to him again.
"How are the kids?" the smile has not left his face yet.
"Oh they're great. Chris received a one hundred on his spelling test and Casey finally learned how to ride a bike without training wheels," there is a sense of sorrow in Norman's voice, and it surprisingly takes Jane a few moments to realize why.
Norman is here – with him in jail – and has not been able to see his wife and children every day of his life. He misses out on academic achievements and milestones, and this thought makes Jane sober up from his feelings of happiness and come notice that he too will miss out on watching his child grow up. He will only see a handful of moments in the visiting areas for probably six years.
He leans into his cot and feels a tear unconsciously roll down the side of his cheek. His child will grow up not knowing that their father did a bad thing and cannot be seen regularly because of it. His child will not know what it is like to have a father on every birthday or every holiday for the first six years of life.
Another tear comes down.
Hmm…where is the team in all of this and what ever shall they do? ;)
Also: I purposely didn't let Baby Jane show his/her (I know the gender, 'tis a secret) presence by kicking. That would have been too cliché.