A/N: Wow…I honestly can't believe how nice the reviews I got for this are! I got so excited when I logged onto my email account and saw loads of alerts for reviews and favourites…THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO READ THE LAST CHAPTER! Hopefully, the next chapter will start to have a bit more Jisbon in it, as I am a hopeless romantic and dedicated Jisbon shipper at heart! :D Many, many, many thanks to xxmentalistxxspooksxx yet again for being sooo supportive and for being a fantastic new friend. (A virtual hug to you, lol!)
Phew…Ok, without further ado, here is the next chapter. Fuelled with a nice bit of chocolate cake (Yummeh! :D) and a very optimistic feeling about this story, here I go…
Disclaimer: As I said before, I in no way own The Mentalist or any of the characters in it. Even if I had a small chance of it happening, it won't be very soon, as my birthday has just gone and Christmas is still months away… :(
Jane's heart rate went wild as he sprinted along the labyrinth of corridors. Every turn he made, there always seemed to be more endless mildew covered walls spread tauntingly before him. He panted heavily as the panic in his chest began to consume his body. By the time he had reached the end of the hall, his hands were shaking violently and his legs felt like jelly.
On and on into the inky, black darkness of the house he went, having totally forgotten the way he came. Finally, after what felt like forever, his shoes came into contact with solid marble instead of dull, spongy velvet. Looking up, he saw the front entrance, a grand, old, oak door that looked too heavy to move. Searching frantically around the room, he spotted a small door in the corner. It sat inconspicuously in the shadows, obviously the way to the basement. He ran over to it, readying his voice to shout Lisbon's name, when out of nowhere, the door swung open with a blood curdling screech and a tall burly man stepped out into the dim light.
Patrick immediately sprang into action, leaping sideways to conceal himself behind an old mahogany bookshelf. The man wore dirty clothes, caked in mud evidently from the surrounding woods. His Steel tipped boots hinted that he was some sort of factory worker that required a large amount of safety equipment. His face was veiled by a black hood, but a few tufts of tousled, brown hair stuck through some of the holes that had been worn into it. Through two tiny peep holes, Patrick saw the man's eyes. Black and thoroughly evil-looking, they were killer's eyes. He should know. Many times before now, Jane had seen that exact same posture and look of uncontrollable anger, majorly directed inwardly. That same slight look of guilt, but undeniable rage sent fear through every bone in his body. Big, broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms cast an eerily intimidating shadow over Jane as he cowered in silence in the tangible wrath of this unknown person.
He staggered across the room towards the front door and threw it open, the heavy boots making loud echoing noises reverberate through the house. Silvery moonlight flooded the room instantly. Reaching a hand up, the assailant ripped off his hood and grunted in annoyance. Jane took in the man's appearance, committing it to memory for future reference. Then, the door was slammed shut again, and Jane was once more plunged into darkness.
He took a few seconds to calm down, and then he was off again. He pounded down the steps, slipping once or twice on the accumulating ice that had formed on the floor.
The feeling was almost instant. His body was struck by unstoppable shivers that quickly changed into convulsions. His breath came out in thick clouds in the cold and his jacket suddenly seemed completely ineffective.
"Lisbon? Are you here?" he whispered loudly. "Lisbon?" The steady hum of the generator supplying the coldness rang in his ears. "Lisbon?" he said louder, hoping he would get an answer. But it didn't come.
Instead, as he rounded the corner, his heart dropped right down to his feet and he felt a massive wave of nausea crash down on him. Teresa Lisbon was there all right. But she was curled up in the corner, her hair a messy dark, brown tangle resting limply against her back. Her eyes were shut and her clothes were dotted with blood. Bruises were forming around her pale neck and there was a pained expression etched into her features.
"Teresa!" he shouted. His voice wobbled as he knelt down next to her and gently pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Lisbon…" The first tear slowly trickled down his face, but he scrubbed it away angrily and ripped off his jacket to wrap it around her frail shoulders.
He wrapped his arms around her small body and hugged her close, placing one finger against her neck where he would find her pulse. She was cold and lifeless and he feared the worst until he felt a tiny bit of movement underneath his fingertips. Jane breathed a sigh of relief, but his shimmer of hope was short lived when he heard a booming voice behind him.
DUN DUN DUNN! Sorry about another cliff hanger…I thought that this would be a good place to stop for now. I will update VERY soon, don't worry about that! (I love this job! XD) Much love to anyone who reviews! :D