Author's notes:

Thank you as always to the great writer Sue Shay. Is there a better story-doctor in the business? Nope! Speaking of Sue, have you read the latest monitor-melting chapters of her "Ready or Not" project? Check them out!

I do not own the TV show The Mentalist and get no compensation from it. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only.

Notes on the chapter title follow the end of the chapter.

Chapter 11: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

Teresa sat on the side of her bed, dressed in her navy pants suit and her peach blouse. She fingered her crucifix as stress surged through her body. When she had asked Patrick over breakfast what she should wear, he had suggested that outfit. He told her it reflected her standard wardrobe at work.

After she dressed, she stood in front of the mirror for ten minutes, looking for any hint of familiarity. She found none. The image she saw was just Teresa Lisbon in business attire, nothing more, nothing less. The void in her mind overwhelmed her again, so much so that she sank down onto her bed.

A gentle rapping on the door startled her.

"My dear, are you ready to go?"

She dabbed the edges of her eyes with a tissue.

"Just a minute."

"I can hear the tension in your voice. What's wrong."

"Nothing."

"When your voice is cracking, that defeats the whole meaning of the word 'nothing.' Something is wrong. Let me come in."

"No, Patrick, I'm alright."

"Are you naked?"

Something about his propriety made her laugh.

"No. I'm dressed in the outfit you told me to wear. But go away."

I don't want him or anyone else seeing me like this.

"I'm coming in, Teresa."

The door swung open and Patrick, dressed in his usual three-piece suit, walked in.

"Remind me to lock the door to my bedroom next time." She sniffled.

"Wouldn't have made any difference. I know how to pick locks. You do too for what it's worth."

He sat down beside her on the bed.

"I suppose I learned that from you?" Why was I so foolish to tell Patrick to go away? Just having him near lifts my spirits.

"No, you picked that up somewhere else. By the way, I get the impression that I'm the only person you've ever shared that with, so don't broadcast that around the CBI building."

Mentioning the CBI building made her tense up again. Patrick noticed at once.

"What's wrong, Teresa?"

"It's all so daunting. I believe you about this outfit being what I would wear…and I realize I have to go back to CBI sometime…and…and I know Dr. Suchman told me to reacquaint myself with my life. But…what if I never get my memory back?

"Don't talk like that. Your memory will come back. I'm sure of it. We'll work through it together."

Her mind latched onto his words, one in particular. Together. That single word made Teresa smile and her tension ease. After taking a deep breath, she patted his wrist.

"I'm okay now. Let's go."

She started to get up, but Patrick grasped her arm to still her motion.

"Before we leave, I made something for you. It's in honor of your return to CBI."

"You didn't have to do anything for me."

But I'm so happy you did! When he said he had "made" something for her, that caused her heart to flutter.

From his jacket pocket he pulled out an object and placed it in her hands. Looking down, she saw a small origami figure. A frog. One colored with blue and orange inks.

"After I suggested the navy suit and peach blouse, I rummaged around for suitable marker pens. The closest I found were bright blue and orange. It's the thought that counts, right?"

"So I'm a frog in a business suit. Is that what you're trying to say?"

Teresa smiled when she flustered him.

"No, you're not a frog! That's not what I meant at all. Well, okay, now I can see how what I did might have caused you to think that…"

"Hush, Patrick!"

What he had done was so sweet, so caring, so lovely, she couldn't bear to see him twist himself in a knot, especially if it was one of her own design. She grabbed him into a tight hug.

"I meant it in fun, not offense. Please believe me, Teresa."

"I do. Thank you. You know I couldn't handle all this without you. You make this bearable." She reached over to place the frog on her bedside table. "This frog is going right here so I can look at it before I fall asleep and when I wake up."

The two of them stood.

"Shall we go to work, my dear? The Blue Turtle awaits us."

"Did you park it on an incline so we could get a running start?"

"Hush, Teresa!"

Their laughter echoed down the hallway as they exited the door. Once outside, a thought flitted through her mind.

What if I were a frog like in the fairy tale? A princess just waiting to be kissed by a handsome Patri…er…prince.

As that pleasant thought lingered in her mind, Patrick opened the door of the Blue Turtle for her.

Stop at the gate in the parking lot. Smile at the attendant who knew my name.

Move through security. Flash my badge to a pair of guards who called me "Agent."

Walk down a hallway in the CBI building. Nod to all the well-wishers who called me "Lisbon" or "Ma'am" or once even "Teresa."

Fight the panic boiling inside me.

Teresa ran the gauntlet at CBI headquarters. Just getting to her team's area of the building had strained her emotions. So many people stopped her and Patrick to talk, to express their concern for her, that her energy had drained away by the time he led her into an office - her office. As she sat down in a desk chair, the familiar faces of Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt - her Three Musketeers, appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, Boss! It's great to see you back here." Van Pelt's cheerful voice buoyed her spirits.

"It's good to be back, I guess. There's a lot to get familiar with again." Teresa stole a glance over to Patrick, and he nodded in return.

"Let's give her a little space. I'm gonna go make myself some tea," said Patrick. At his words, the Three Musketeers exited. Before turning to leave as well, he spoke once more using their personal familiarity. "Call me if you need me, Teresa. We'll go through some mugshots of suspects after you get settled in."

She scanned the area. It looked pretty normal to her for a work area: papers, office supplies, and a computer.

When Teresa opened her desk drawers, she began to find a few personal items. Mixed in with the paper clips and note pads were things like a sewing kit, a San Francisco Police Department refrigerator magnet…and a three-quarters-full bottle of whiskey with a pair of shot glasses. Humph. Teresa knew she wasn't an alcoholic because she hadn't had a drink since she came home from the hospital and hadn't even felt a craving for one. The bottle and glasses must have been there only for special occasions, not for daily intake. Still, it would be best to keep that knowledge to herself.

She continued to move quickly through the desk drawers until she got to the last one on the bottom left-hand corner.

"Gasp."

In a reflex movement, Teresa brought her hand up to cover her mouth. Lined up neatly in the drawer were three rows of origami frogs, just like the one that Patrick had presented to her that morning. Did he know about the secret stash that the old Lisbon had kept of his gifts? Lifting up one of the frogs as if it were made of the most delicate porcelain, she admired the tight creases and sharp angles of the creature.

Beautiful gifts from a fine man.

Teresa looked around her office for a while, yet nothing stirred her memory. From the bullpen she heard the voices of the Three Musketeers and Patrick. While she couldn't make out the exact words they said, the tone made it clear these people enjoyed a level of comfort with each other. Laughter accented the chatter, and she could sense the good spirits among the four of them. Wanting to get a better look at how the team dealt with each other, she moved unobserved to the edge of their area. What she saw brought a smile to her face.

Patrick, standing in the middle of the Three Musketeers' desks, was acting like a showman in front of an arena full of people. He had Rigsby and Van Pelt's attention riveted to him. In contrast, Cho sat in silence at his desk with a book in his hand.

Cho's pretending to read but he's taking in everything that's going on with Patrick and the other two.

With the voice of a master of ceremonies, Patrick addressed the other two agents.

"Rigsby and Van Pelt. I've written down a fetish for each of you, something that makes your heart go flutter, makes you weak at the knees…or makes your body do other things that shall remain nameless. I am sealing each piece of paper in its own envelope. Then I will hand them to you."

Okay, Patrick, you've got my attention too.

"Why seal them in an envelope, Jane? Why not just hand them to us? It's not that big a deal." Rigsby shook his head.

"Silence! Do not interrupt the master when he is at work."

That brought a snicker from Van Pelt.

"Silence to you too, Van Pelt! The two of you have no sense of theater."

"Or shame." Cho finally said something.

"Silence to you too, my stoic friend. May I remind you that you chose not to participate in this little exercise, so you forfeit your right to comment."

Cho grunted, never raising his eyes from the book.

Patrick turned his attention back to the other two. With an exaggerated swish of his arms, he handed one envelope to Van Pelt and the other to Rigsby.

"Read it and weep. Or be amazed. Or something like that. Regardless, I'll be able to tell by the expressions on your faces whether I'm right or not."

Rigsby glanced up at Jane before tearing open his envelope. Turning hers over, Van Pelt took a more precise approach to pulling off the seal from hers. All the while Patrick stood between their desks, his face filled with confidence as he rocked back-and-forth on his feet.

Patrick is in his element right now, and I don't have to have any memory to tell that.

Van Pelt was the first to react. She let her piece of paper fall to the desk as she covered her mouth with both hands. Her face began to color to the same shade as her hair.

Rigsby's hand started to shake when he read his piece of paper while his jaw dropped open like a fish. Quickly he crumpled his piece of paper and shoved it in his pocket. Seeing his action, Van Pelt did likewise with hers.

"How did you know?" asked Rigsby with wide eyes.

"Yeah, how did you?" Van Pelt's voice was cracking.

"I just know."

"Okay, Jane. What's your fetish?" asked Rigsby.

"Yeah, 'fess up, Jane." Van Pelt chimed in.

"Nope. Never question the master, acolytes."

"But that's not fair. You know something very private about the two of us."

"Fair has nothing to do with it, Van Pelt. I know and you don't. Case closed."

Jane resumed rocking back-and-forth on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back, smug satisfaction etched across his face.

"I've had enough of this. Let's go get some coffee, Van Pelt."

"I'm with you, Rigs. The air's gotten stuffy in here all of a sudden."

Does Patrick do this all the time?

Rigsby and Van Pelt gave Jane a wide berth as they moved out of the bullpen. On their way to the break room they passed by Teresa. Van Pelt gave her a weak smile.

Teresa turned her attention back to Patrick and Cho when she heard their voices.

"Strapless dresses."

"What?"

What?

"Your fetish, Jane. Strapless dresses. Or maybe I should say women's bare shoulders."

Still undetected by the two men, Teresa almost broke out in laughter when she saw the stunned expression on Patrick Jane's face.

I don't need to be a mind reader to see that Cho scored a direct hit with that observation.

"I…I…I…"

"Save the denial. You and I both know it's true."

"How did you know?"

Cho kept his eyes on his book.

"So 'the master' demands an explanation?"

"Well, yeah."

"I saw the way you acted that time you saw Lisbon in the bridesmaid's dress. I think the term 'gob smacked' would fit," Cho said.

Patrick's shoulders slumped.

"Well, my friend, you got me."

"Yeah, it was the bare shoulders. And also the fact that it was Lisbon."

Patrick's shoulders slumped further as a grunt was the only thing to come out of his mouth.

"I got another observation for you, Jane."

"What's that?"

"You've got it bad. Real bad."

Now it was Teresa's turn to be gob smacked.

At lunch, Patrick took Teresa to a place called Marie's. He told her it was one of her favorites, and she soon understood why. Smells of fresh baked goods wafted around the booth where they sat, and stress that had built up during the morning melted away. All that remained was the two of them sharing a meal and conversation. That suited her just fine.

Later back at CBI, Patrick spread out three dozen photos on a table in front of Teresa. He had grabbed an empty interrogation room so she could go through pictures of suspects in her attack in peace. While she sifted through them, she could feel Patrick's eyes on her, looking for any hint of recognition.

She was now on her second pass through the photos. There were all sorts of people in the pictures - men, women, young, old, formal clothes, casual attire, work uniforms. The only common theme she could see was that many wore firefighter uniforms. That made sense because Patrick had told her that the attack occurred behind a firehouse.

"Anything?" Patrick asked as Teresa placed the last photo in a stack in front of her.

"Nothing."

He reached into the stack to pull out two of the photos. One was a man who looked to be in his thirties, the other was a teenage girl.

"What about these, Teresa? Take a good look."

Again she stared at the two photos. Lifting her gaze from the photos to Patrick, she shook her head.

He sighed, and she saw his shoulders slump just like when Cho had "outed" him on his fetish.

Something's not right. Patrick wanted me to recognize these two.

"Who are these people?" she asked. "There's something more about these two than you're telling me."

Patrick exhaled heavily as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"They aren't suspects. These two are your brother Tommy and your niece Annie. They were here a few weeks ago. You had me take their pictures. Here's another one that I removed from your office before you went in there this morning."

Patrick handed Teresa a framed photo of her standing arm-in-arm with her brother and niece. She was in the middle of the picture, smiling as she pulled Tommy and Annie to her in a hug. Looking at it, she saw a big sister, proud to be with her brother and his daughter. The sight of the happy trio caused her breath to catch.

"This hurts. It hurts so bad. I look at me in that picture, someone with a whole life that's gone now."

I hate being this vulnerable. I may not have my memory, but this is not the real me.

Without thinking, she had raised her arms toward Patrick. He jumped up from his chair to circle around the table to her. She rose and they met in a tight embrace. Against her will, the tears flowed - yet again - down her cheeks.

"We'll keep working on it. We will." Patrick patted her on her back as she buried her face on his shoulder. She let the spasms of sobs play out but stayed in their embrace even when her tears stopped. After a few moments, silence took over as the two of them gently swayed back and forth.

"Boss, I thought I'd bring in the report from the crime scene so you could have a…" Van Pelt froze once she took two steps into the room. She gaped at the scene before her, the two of them with their arms around each other. Teresa smiled weakly at Van Pelt while Patrick turned his face to look at her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll just leave these folders on the…"

"Van Pelt. I'm glad you're here. I need you to do a favor for me. Please take Teresa to the cafe for a break while I brief Cho."

"Okay, Jane." Van Pelt looked back and forth between the two of them.

Teresa looked at Patrick. Please say you'll meet me there as soon as possible.

He understood immediately.

"I'll be along as quickly as I can, Teresa."

In response she nodded and walked out with Van Pelt.

As she sat with Van Pelt at a cafe table, Teresa relaxed. There was nothing new to her situation, it hadn't gotten worse. All that had happened at CBI merely confirmed her memory loss. Still, it upset her.

A motion from Van Pelt prompted Teresa to look at her. Van Pelt tapped Teresa's hand to focus her attention.

"Jeff from Narcotics is here."

"Who?"

"The guy I told you about. The one you were dating."

Out of the corner of her eye, Teresa saw the guy. He didn't look bad, as a matter of fact most people would consider him handsome. Dressed in the standard CBI male uniform of a coat and tie, Jeff was rubbing one hand on his pants leg and carrying something in the other. All the while he talked to two other men. Their conversation broke up and he turned to leave. Looking over their way, he saw Teresa.

"He's coming over this way, Van Pelt. Are you sure you don't know what the status of our relationship is?"

"I don't other than an impression."

"And that impression was that we weren't serious?"

"Right. You may not even be seeing him now."

When Jeff got within a few feet of the table, Teresa spied Patrick walk into the area. Seeing Jeff, Patrick reversed course away from Teresa and headed to the cafe counter.

"Teresa! Good seeing you out and about again," Jeff said as he reached out to pat her on the shoulder. She noted that it was the same hand that a few moments before had been rubbing his pants leg.

"It's good to get out again."

Much to Teresa's displeasure, Van Pelt greeted Jeff, said goodbye to Teresa, and left the table. As she passed behind Jeff, Van Pelt gave a shrug of her shoulders. Jeff's speaking pulled Teresa's attention back to him.

"Listen, I wanted to come by the hospital but we had a case in San Diego that we had to scramble down there to handle. Maybe you saw it on the news? It's our biggest bust so far this year!" She heard the pride bordering on arrogance in the tone of his voice.

"No, I've missed out on a lot of things since my…situation…came up."

Jeff sat down where Van Pelt had been sitting.

"Care for one of these?" Jeff asked as he held the bag he was carrying aloft.

Chracker Drips! A shudder vibrated from the top of Teresa's head to the tips of her toes.

"No thanks."

If she thought that's the worst she would see from Jeff, she was mistaken. He reached his hand to his lips, then sucked his fingers. After that he bit down on one of his nails. Teresa cringed.

Was that intensely disgusting? Or was it particularly disgusting?

Finished with his hand fixation, Jeff hummed and hawed for a moment.

"Teresa, I'm sorry that we quit seeing each other. We had some good times together, at least I felt that way and hoped you did too. I know you've turned me down lately, but I'm still interested in us getting back together if you're ever willing."

There it was. They had been going out but had stopped. And it was she, Teresa, who had put a stop to it. Now Jeff had opened the door to them getting back together. She took a good look at him. No doubt he was a good catch…for someone else.

"Well, ahm, Jeff, you're a great guy…" Teresa sifted around in her thoughts for some words to say but something captured her attention.

Patrick from over at the cafe counter waved to her. First he held aloft an ice cream sundae, next he held aloft one spoon then two spoons with an inquisitive look. The two of them did indeed have a special bond because she knew at once the message he was sending. She held up two fingers.

Seeing her hand gesture, Jeff turned around in his chair and saw Patrick as well. In response, Patrick grinned at Jeff and tapped the two spoons on the lip of the sundae glass. Jeff turned back to Teresa.

"You don't have to say anything, Teresa. It's not like I didn't suspect."

"Jeff…"

Jeff waved for her to be quiet.

"We had some fun, but when we were together I could tell your head and your heart were somewhere else. You're a great gal, Teresa, I hope he knows that."

"Thank you, Jeff."

"Looks like there's a lucky guy over there who gets to share a sundae with you. I'll be on my way now."

With a wave to Patrick, Jeff got up from the table and exited. In what seemed like a micro-second, Patrick crossed the floor to slip into the chair that Jeff had vacated.

"Was I interrupting something, Teresa?"

Ha! He knew exactly what he was doing!

"No, just chatting with Jeff from Narcotics. It's hard to meet, or should I say re-meet, people when there's nothing to anchor your mind. He seems like a nice guy."

Patrick grunted in response.

Well! That grunt tells me what Patrick thinks of Jeff.

With a smile, he handed her a spoon and the two of them commenced eating the sundae.

"This is so good!" she said.

"Strawberry sundaes. It's what you live for," replied Patrick.

"This tastes so good, it makes up for the lack of progress we made this afternoon."

"Well, it wasn't a total loss. We do know one thing more now," said Patrick. Teresa couldn't make out the expression on his face.

"What's that?"

"We know where the Chracker Drips in your condo came from."

After they finished their sundae, Teresa and Patrick headed back to the team's area to talk with Cho. Meeting him along the way, the three of them walked back together. As they made their way down the narrow hallway, they met Rigsby escorting out a man wearing a visitor's badge. Rigsby barely glanced at them, but the visitor was a different story.

The visitor had been carrying on a lively conversation with Rigsby, but he stopped mid-sentence when he saw Teresa. His eyes widened, the color drained from his cheeks, and he moved as close to the far wall as he could while they passed. Once past Teresa, she noticed that he turned his head back to stare at her. Of course she was staring at him too.

If she had upset the man, his reaction had upset her. As soon as Rigsby and the other man were out of sight, Teresa grabbed Cho and Patrick's sleeves each with one hand. She tugged the two of them with her into an empty office area.

"Did you see how that visitor acted when he saw me?" she asked.

Both men nodded.

"Did you recognize him?" asked Patrick.

"No, I didn't."

Patrick turned to Cho to ask him a question.

"Who was that man?"

"Tom Wilcox. Paul Satterfield, the murder victim, saved Wilcox from a home fire the same day that he was killed," Cho said as he glanced at the notes on a clipboard he was carrying.

"I couldn't recognize him, but I just know something's not right about him. I have a feeling he may be the one who attacked me." Teresa rubbed her crucifix with nervous energy.

"I agree." Both Patrick and Cho replied at the same time.

To be continued.

Author's notes:

"Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" is a song written by Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart in 1940. Numerous singers have recorded the song, and my favorite is Ella Fitzgerald's version for her album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Rodgers & Hart Songbook. The reader can decide whom the title applies to most, Teresa Lisbon or Patrick Jane or both.

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