"Jane, you have to wait before we go in" Lisbon told Patrick who had bolted from the car and up towards the house which he was wooden and dilapidated.
"No Lisbon. I don't" Patrick replied as he smashed the front door down. He had seen multiple houses and at each one he had waited, but now he was done. As soon as he was inside the house he felt sick with the smell he endured. He noted that the downstairs was all open planned and no one was home. All that was left was a cup of steaming tea. Someone had left in a rush. Patrick took the stairs two at a time, and then once in the hallway he kicked the door to his right open. Bathroom. The next door was a closet and the next a bedroom. The last door he noted was locked and bolted. He knew she was in there. He could almost sense it. Patrick hurriedly unbolted the door and stormed into the room.
"Lucy...oh God..." Patrick gasped. His daughter was laid on a bed with blood soaking into the shirt she was wearing and the bed covers. Patrick removed the jacket he was wearing and screwed it up into a ball before pressing it against the wound.
"We need an ambulance! Now!" Lisbon yelled from the doorway to Rigsby who complied immediately. Lisbon fell to the floor next to a sobbing Jane.
"She's not breathing...Lisbon...she's not breathing..." Patrick yelled his voice filled with panic.
"Keep pressing on the wound...try talking to her" Lisbon told Jane as she examined the rest of Lucy's body, looking for anymore wounds.
"And say what?" Patrick shouted.
"Anything! Do it Jane...she needs to know you're here!" Lisbon yelled and she felt Lucy's broken arm.
"Lucy...darling...it's me...your dad" Patrick sobbed and then sniffed "Lucy, you have to stay with me okay? You're strong Lucy...you can do it...I know you can...come on darling...please"
"Ambulance are on their way!" Cho yelled and Patrick wiped his brow.
"We need to take her downstairs...they would never fit a trolley up the small staircase" Lisbon said and Patrick nodded.
"Lisbon...keep pressing on the wound" Jane told her and she took his bloody jacket from him and held it to Lucy as Patrick carried her limp body. The effort to get down the staircase was difficult as Jane manoeuvred his body to stop Lucy hitting the wall. Once he had her laid on the sofa time seemed to drag. The ambulance never seemed to arrive and when it did it seemed as though the paramedics were going slow. He watched as his daughter was bandaged and given air and laid on a trolley. He went into the ambulance with her and held her hand, begging for her to breathe.
...
"She's weak...there is no denying it...but we have managed to stop the bleeding internally. The next twenty four hours are crucial" Patrick was told as he stood outside of Lucy's room in the ICU. He nodded and went back into the room to sit with Lucy was breathing on a ventilator. Her arm was in a cast and her hair was matted. She was pale but she looked so peaceful. Lisbon watched as Patrick picked up her hand again and held it closely to him. She had no idea what to say to him. How do you comfort a man who could lose the only family he had? She didn't know. The next twenty four hours were the longest of Patrick's life. He remained sat in the chair and holding onto his daughter. He had no idea what he could do. He couldn't even begin to imagine the worst case scenario...if she did...die...then he would be alone. He would have no one. And worst of all was the fact that she would die because he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut. Red John had already murdered his wife and tried to kill his daughter and now some psycho had almost succeeded in murdering his daughter. All because of a TV interview which he did many years ago.
...
He had heard she was in ICU. But he was annoyed. Annoyed because she was supposed to be in the morgue where no one else could have her. Instead she had managed to survive, but not for long he hoped. Hopefully he had caused enough damage for her to die. But he decided to leave Patrick, figuring that the man wouldn't actually mind death after all these years. He wanted Patrick to live with the guilt of seeing his wife and daughter dead. Guilt would eat him up, and death would just be an easy escape.