Author's notes:

Thank you as always to the great writer Sue Shay! Her guidance has helped shape order out of chaos. In particular, I appreciate her help with the church scene in this chapter. Among other things, she suggested the link of St. Michael and police officers. Speaking of Sue, be sure to check out the latest on her romance-and-family project "Ready or Not."

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

Readers who have seen episode 4x24, "The Crimson Hat," will recognize a role reversal of the church scene from that episode.

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

Chapter 12: 'S Wonderful

Teresa Lisbon sat alone on her sofa, staring at Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers as they cavorted on-screen in Follow the Fleet.

Oh how I wish Patrick were sitting beside me.

She wished that he and Cho hadn't sent her home after their encounter with Tom Wilcox in the hallway at CBI. If it had only been one of the two of them arguing with her she might have prevailed, but with both men making the case she gave up and let the agent du jour drive her home.

One lonely event followed another back at the condo. While she finished the daily chores, she missed the jests that she and Patrick traded back and forth. When she sat down at the dinner table to eat the warmed-over remnants of pesto primavera, she missed his exaggerated yet gallant gesture of holding out her chair for her. After dinner she missed the way they would brush against each other while cleaning off the table and loading the dishwasher.

Now that she had the big sofa all to herself, it engulfed her and made feel even more alone. Fred and Ginger provided some company, but it wasn't the same without Patrick. She clutched a pillow to her chest as one image on the television screen gave way to the next.

Scratch, scratch, scratch went a noise from the doorway.

Patrick, you're home!

She heard his key twist around in the lock. The door swung open to reveal a man clearly worn out: tufts of his hair stood out at odd angles, his shirt was askew underneath his jacket, and his back slumped at an angle. When she left CBI, Patrick and Cho had already begun to comb the records for anything about Tom Wilcox, calling out to each other as they found something.

No wonder he looks worn out. Doing that for hours had to have strained them both.

When Patrick saw her though, he transformed in a flash. His posture straightened and a big grin stretched across his face.

"You're still awake!"

Teresa scooted over on the couch to make room for him.

"How could I go to sleep when Fred and Ginger are on?"

"The movie's still on? I'd hoped I could catch at least some of it." He sprawled out on his end of the sofa after he patted her shoulder. "I'm exhausted. Not only did Cho and I go through the case files again at CBI, we also spent two hours at Wilcox' burnt-out house searching for clues."

Soon the big musical finale, "Let's Face the Music and Dance," came on. Fred sang the lyrics with a tinge of melancholy - the scene depicted two lonely people finding solace in each other as a harsh world swept them along. Of course they were dressed to the nines as the old saying goes. Ginger's character might be down-on-her-luck, but her evening gown was pure elegance! Energized by Patrick's arrival, Teresa let herself get wrapped up in the drama, music, and dance.

When she heard the word "moonlight" in the song, she glanced over at her own moonlight man. Too soon the movie ended, but at least now Patrick was with her.

"So, you made progress after I left?" she asked as she clicked off the television.

Patrick roused himself to an upright position before his reply.

"The more Cho and I looked at the situation, the more we agree with you about Wilcox being your attacker. I won't bore you with the details, but we've put together a circumstantial case that links him to your attack, the firefighter's murder, and a fatal ATM heist. What we need now is to get Wilcox to reveal the money he took from that last crime. Cho and I have a plan that we'll put into action tomorrow."

"Sounds like somehow you were able to get along without me."

Patrick sighed.

"I prefer to work with you on a case, but Cho is good. He's got a fine mind, and the three of us think very much alike. You've trained him well."

"Was that a compliment?"

"For both you and Cho. Teacher and student. But don't tell Cho, I wouldn't want it go to his head."

"You aren't afraid what you just said will go to my head?"

"Nah. Besides, you deserve every compliment I can give you."

With that thought, they walked down the hallway to their bedrooms and bid each other goodnight. Once her head hit the pillow, Teresa felt her whole body give way to sleep.

The next thing she knew, it was 7:30am on her bedside clock.

7:30am!

Raising herself up, she sniffed the air for the aroma of bacon. It was there but much, much fainter this morning. As she twisted her body around on the bed, a rustling noise on top of her blanket got her attention. She spied a piece of paper pinned to the top of it.

Teresa - You were sleeping so peacefully and I needed to get in early so I didn't wake you. Your breakfast is in the microwave, just warm it up. I'll miss us eating together, but Cho and I must set up the sting against Wilcox. See you soon. Call if you need me. - Patrick.

Patrick sat with the rest of the team and Luther Wainwright around the big table at the edge of the bullpen.

Why does Wainwright think he needs to be here? The team and I can handle this just fine without him. Cho's not Teresa but he's still a good team leader.

Patrick and Cho outlined their plan for getting evidence on Tom Wilcox.

"…so I called Wilcox an hour ago to set up a meeting in the park for this time tomorrow. I identified myself as Patrick Jane and stated that I was acting on behalf of Teresa Lisbon."

"Jane threatened to expose Wilcox unless they met to work out a deal - split the proceeds." Cho spoke up when he finished. "We want Wilcox to retrieve the money from the ATM robbery. That should give us enough evidence to put him away. Once he finishes his meeting with Jane, we'll put a tail on him. We can catch him when he makes his move for the money."

Patrick looked over at Wainwright, busy texting on his phone. Without looking up, he spoke.

"Why Jane? Why get him to do this?"

"Why not? I can handle it. With Lisbon out of commission…" Patrick spoke before Cho could answer.

"Is she out of commission? I mean, she came in yesterday to the building." Wainwright didn't raise his head from his texting while he spoke.

Leave Teresa out of this, you ass!

"But she's still not herself. Her memory hasn't returned."

Wainwright grunted. He looked Patrick in the eye.

"But you're not an agent."

"I've done this kind of thing before. I'll be okay."

"But did you sell Wilcox on the idea that Lisbon told you to do this?"

"He didn't believe me at first, but I convinced him."

"I'm skeptical. If I were Wilcox, I'd be suspicious."

"We can handle this, sir. Jane will be wired and the team will be on hand if any trouble comes up," said Cho.

Wainwright's phone dinged with an incoming message. When he heard it, he dropped his eyes to read what was on the screen. His body language changed in an instant; he started eying the elevator while he thumped his fingers on the desk.

Wainwright's lost interest us. Good! Maybe he'll leave us to our work.

Raising his eyes first to Patrick then to Cho, Wainwright spoke.

"So you two are convinced of your plan?"

Both men nodded.

"In that case, go ahead. I leave it in your capable hands, Agent Cho."

Moving in a fast shuffle, Wainwright departed the bullpen. Four sighs erupted once he was out of earshot.

"I'll go over to the park to sketch out where we should position ourselves," said Rigsby.

"And I'll coordinate with the techies about getting us wired-up tomorrow," said Van Pelt.

"Good. Sounds like we've got a plan. Now we just need Jane to put on one of his best acting performances."

"You can go ahead and start polishing that Emmy for me, Cho. I'll be ready."

Out of the corner of his eye Patrick saw one of the rookie agents hurry into the bullpen area. Fear filled the young man's face.

He's on Teresa's security detail. He's supposed to be on duty now. Something's wrong!

"What is it, Agent?" Cho asked.

"It's Agent Lisbon, sir. She's gone."

Patrick stared at the series of text messages running between Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and himself.

Negative on hospital.

Nothing at the condo complex.

Dr. Suchman hasn't seen her.

The bottom line? No one had turned up anything on Teresa.

As he stood amid the hustle and bustle of Marie's after another futile inquiry, Patrick closed his eyes to concentrate. Where else could she be? He thought back over the past few days then it hit him. Church. She had that long conversation with Father McIlwee at the hospital, and his visit had done a world of good for her spirits. After the emotional roller-coaster of coming home and going back to CBI, maybe she needed a bigger spiritual boost than merely fingering her crucifix. Elbowing his way through the crowd, Jane sprinted to his Blue Turtle and drove over to St. Michael's church.

When he entered the front door of St. Michael's, the only sounds he heard were from a pair of nuns exiting through a door beneath the choir loft. Moving along the aisle, Jane took a seat half-way down in an old, ornately-carved pew. Even with his concern, a stray thought made him smile.

St. Michaels. The patron saint of police officers. What an appropriate name for Teresa's church!

As he sat, Patrick became ever more convinced that Teresa would show up here. If all the other logical places turned up empty, this was all that was left. The alternative, that someone had abducted her, was too horrid to think about.

The quiet of the church began to soothe him. Away from the hustle and bustle outside, he let his mind drift. The stress he had been under the last few days had worn him down. Now he needed to focus on keeping his fear for Teresa from building further. He closed his eyes to soak in the solitude that surrounded him. Slowly he forced his mind to clear itself of all cares, all worries, all…

"Paaaaatrick Jaaaaane. What are yooooooou doing here?"

He jerked his head around to meet a familiar pair of emerald eyes complemented by a mischievous grin. For once, he couldn't smile back. Not yet anyway.

"What am I doing here? I'm sitting here worried sick about you, Teresa. That's what I'm doing here. You wouldn't answer my phone calls, my text messages. Shame on you!" He felt like he was scolding an errant teenager.

"I was alright, Patrick. I just wanted to get out of the apartment for a little while, run some errands, go to the bank. I also felt the need to come by here. I wanted to talk to Father McIlwee," She placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Talk, huh."

"Yes. I've had some…thoughts…lately that I didn't know quite how to deal with."

"Do you feel better now, Teresa?"

"I do. Father McIlwee and I went for a walk while I talked through some things. And when we got back here I looked across the pews and what should I see but the handsome head of hair of Patrick Jane. That was too good a chance to have some fun to let it pass by. So I crawled all the way down here on my hands and knees so you wouldn't see me." She waved her hand toward the far aisle. "It was worth it to see the surprise on your face."

"Ha, ha, very funny, Teresa. Good for you. You snuck up on me. Now maybe you should go find the confession booth. You have something new to talk about - getting your friends all concerned about your safety. I tried to reach you a dozen times. But not a word, not a reply. Nothing."

He noticed that the levity slowly drained from her face, replaced by a contrite look. The smile on her lips drooped into a pout.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you fret about me."

"It wasn't just me. It was Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt too. Your whole team. But yeah, it was especially me."

Teresa's smile reappeared.

"Why do you say you in particular?"

"Because I feel that I'm responsible for you. Since your attack our roles are reversed. You've always been the responsible one of the two of us, and now I have to be. It's hard after all these years. I care about you, Teresa."

The hand that rested on his shoulder began to rub his upper arm.

"I know you care and I appreciate that. Tell you what. Let me buy you dinner."

"Buy me dinner?"

"When I went by the bank, I found out I don't spend a lot of money. Kinda like you. Say that you'll let me treat you. Please?"

The hand on his arm tugged his jacket while she leaned over so that they looked at each other face-to-face. She batted her lashes at him.

I should still be mad at her. But I can't be.

"I was at Marie's before I came here. It smelled good. They were just taking some bread out of the oven."

"Why don't we go there? That sounds yummy."

"You're paying?"

"Get anything you want. I've got it covered."

Patrick contacted the team to call off the search and set up for the agent du jour to meet them at Marie's.

As they relaxed in their booth at Marie's after eating, Patrick looked out the window over to the shopping mall across the street. Hearing Teresa say that she had run some errands reminded him of something he hadn't done.

"Before we go home, let's go over to Bracey's department store in the mall." Patrick said.

"Will we still get home in time for our movie date?"

Patrick chuckled.

"We should have plenty of time, my dear."

"Shall We Dance? is on tonight. It's the all-Gershwin musical. I'm looking forward to us seeing it."

He noticed the emphasis she put on the word "us."

"I'm impressed that you looked it up."

"What can I say? You got me hooked that first night. I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be than watching Fred and Ginger with you. A darkened room, the flicker of a black-and-white movie on the TV screen, and us stretched out on the sofa."

And I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be than with Teresa, whether the old version or the new one.

"I'll be quick. I just want to get a new shirt to replace that old gray one."

Teresa smiled in an odd way as she brought her eyes up to meet his.

"Let's go."

They walked across the street to Bracey's. Once in the men's department, Patrick rifled through the dress shirts in his size. Teresa busied herself looking as well.

"What color did you want to get?"

"White. That's the most versatile," he replied.

"Here you go, Patrick. This is what you need."

Teresa lifted a packaged shirt up for him to look at.

"It's nice. Really nice."

"The label says it's a wrinkle-free shirt. That would fit with your…ahm…lifestyle, wouldn't you say?"

How is it she can make me laugh at the most mundane things?

He took the shirt from her hands to look at it more closely.

"But it's a little more money than I normally spend nowadays."

In a sudden motion, Teresa snatched the shirt out of his hands.

"You're getting this shirt, but you're not paying for it. I'm buying it."

"But…"

"No 'buts' from you. It's the least I do to say 'thank you' for all you've done for me."

"But…"

She reached out to place her finger over his lips.

"What did I say?"

Why do I feel this overpowering urge to kiss that finger?

"You said 'no buts.' You win. Thank you, Teresa."

"Good. Now we're gonna get a couple more items too."

Teresa walked over to a table filled with ties. She ran her hand across several rows of them until she lifted up a bright red one. Walking back to him, she held the tie under his chin. She hummed in satisfaction.

"Perfect."

"But normally I don't wear a tie."

"You said 'but,' Patrick. What did I say?"

"You said no 'buts.'"

"Good. At least your memory is working right!"

The mirth in her eyes made him chuckle.

"Thank you again, Teresa."

"I'm not saying that you should wear a tie every day, you just need one for special occasions and that one looks lovely on you. Speaking of something for special occasions…"

She looked down at his feet. He knew in an instant what she was thinking.

"These shoes feel good. I've spent years breaking them in. I get them resoled every year."

"Oh, Patrick, please. I'll bet you were wearing them the night you pulled me out of the lake."

"So? They're dry now. Mostly."

"I want to get you a pair of black shoes. Just like the tie. For special occasions."

Patrick held up his hands in resignation.

Once Teresa picked out a pair of black dress shoes for him, they hurried home for the movie.

"I forgot to wash my Chicago Bears jersey today. Oh well, I'll just improvise tonight."

Why is she smiling like that?

"See you in a few minutes, Patrick."

With that she disappeared into her bedroom. He went into his room to change into his pajamas and bathrobe.

Getting back to the living room before Teresa, Patrick switched the television to the old movie channel.

Good. The movie's just about ready to start.

Hearing Teresa's footsteps coming down the hallway, he raised his eyes to a sight just as surprising as the time she showed up in a towel.

She was wearing his gray shirt with the frayed collar.

When she plopped down on the sofa next to him, Patrick reached over to finger its material. The gentle tinkle of Teresa's laugh, one that she saved only for her moments alone with him, reached his ears.

"YOU may have thought this was worn out, but it suits me just fine." Teresa had gotten that mischievous glint in her eye again.

Teresa felt bad when she realized the worry that she had caused Patrick and the others with her disappearance.

Especially Patrick.

She saw the pain in his eyes when they met up at church. At that point she realized something about the two of them. First he had felt guilt for the attack on her; now she felt guilt for her absence, an absence that had etched lines of worry across his face.

Despite his well-deserved reproof of her, the evening had turned into a beautiful one, one she treasured. Once home, she and Patrick reclined on the sofa, watching Fred and Ginger dance through another lovely story. Only by the end of the movie, she wasn't so much reclining on the sofa as she was leaning on his shoulder. In turn, his chin rested on top of her head.

"So which musical number did you like the most in tonight's movie?" Patrick asked as they stood up and stretched while the final credits rolled. "'They Can't Take That Away From Me'?"

"Oh, that was good, but if you listen closely there's a bit of sadness to it. My favorite was 'Let's Call the Whole Thing Off." So playful, so fun. And you can't beat Fred and Ginger on roller skates."

Patrick flashed that joyful glance that made her melt each time she saw it.

"You say EEEEEither and I say eIIIIIther."

His exaggeration of the words made her laugh.

"Tell me something. Did you and the old Lisbon disagree a lot?"

"We'd always talk like we were at odds, and sometimes we really were. But you and I connected on a deeper level, something the rest of world didn't see."

Teresa smiled. Just like yesterday in the cafe with the sundae.

"We still do, Patrick."

The noise of footsteps in the hallway awakened Teresa. Looking at her clock beside the bed, she saw 4:30am. Again.

Where is Patrick going at this hour?

This time she wouldn't go back to sleep. Putting on a pair of sandals and a jacket, she slipped out of her room just as she heard the front door close behind him. Slowly she twisted the knob and swung open the door so as not to make any noise. Outside, she looked around until she spotted an overcoat-clad man moving in and out of the shadows cast by the street lamps. Still dark, just a hint of pinkness edged along the eastern horizon. Patrick had headed to the main part of the condo complex. Moving with as much stealth as she could muster, Teresa trailed along at a distance.

The clatter of a heavy door opening and closing sounded ahead of her. When she got to the place where she heard the noise, she found the entrance to the fitness complex. Patrick had been right about her lock-picking skills! It seemed second nature to her, and in a moment she was inside. Darkness shrouded the hallway except for the bright red exit signs. Pulling out her phone, she used it to illuminate the floor in front of her as she tip-toed along.

On either side of the hallway were workout rooms. Some had weight machines, others had ellipticals and tread mills. As she passed by the pathway that led to the swimming pool, shards of light from the street lamps reflected off the water and flitted across the walls.

Wait a minute. The water should be calm, not moving.

Teresa walked toward the pool until a sight stopped her in her tracks. She gasped. Alone in the pool, there was her moonlight man. He was swimming the backstroke in one of the lanes. Moving from one end of the pool to the other, his steady, powerful strokes propelled him through the water. The sight transfixed Teresa as she moved closer. Without thinking she pressed her fingers across her mouth in wonder.

When he came again to the near end of the pool he stopped, lifted himself out with his arms, and ran his hand through his hair. The sight of Patrick had so engrossed her that Teresa forgot to stay in the shadows. Now he walked over to her, water cascading down the muscles of his chest and arms and dripping from his Speedos onto the pool deck. Standing in a circle of light cast by one of the street lamps, he placed his hands on his hips.

"Something on your mind, Teresa?"

To be continued.

Author's notes:

George and Ira Gershwin wrote "'S Wonderful" in 1927, and the song has since become a jazz standard recorded by many artists. May I suggest two favorites? Ella Fitzgerald recorded "'S Wonderful" on her album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Songbook, and Diana Krall included the song on her album The Look Of Love. The Gershwins also wrote "They Can't Take That Away From Me" and "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" in 1937. For "They Can't Take That Away From Me," I suggest Frank Sinatra's version on his album Classic Sinatra. For "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off," I suggest Ella's version on her album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Songbook.

Composed by Irving Berlin in 1936, "Let's Face the Music and Dance" is the title of a later chapter in this story. One of my two favorite versions is by Diana Krall for her album When I Look In Your Eyes.

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