Authors Note: In honor of a new episode tonight I decided to post this chapter earlier than normal. That and I really have no interest in reading about the ethics of advertising on spring break. I would much rather be playing out side in the nice weather with my kids. As we only get like a month and a half on nice spring weather before summer hits in mid May, the fact that I have a major paper due the week after spring break is killing me. Sorry for rambling. Thanks to Ebony 10 for being my beta and to every one who reviews, especially those that review every chapter. It's nice to see all the reviews.
Disclaimer: If I owned them I would not be sitting in the library on campus right now, I would be out playing at the park with my kids.
It had been two weeks now since the accident that had put Patrick Jane in the hospital. Two weeks since Teresa Lisbon had found out that he had listed her as his next of kin. He was completely off the ventilator now, breathing on his own.
Lisbon wasn't at the hospital. Cho was there, reading him the second book in the series that his niece had given him. She was pretty sure, despite the ribbing he got for it from Rigsby, that he was enjoying reading more than Jane would even enjoy hearing him read. Rigsby and Van Pelt were supposed to be meeting him there later. They were going to be bringing dinner—Chinese food. Van Pelt had hoped that the smell might help him come out of it, but Lisbon doubted it.
She was standing outside a large house with floor to ceiling windows. She had never been to Jane's house before and was surprised at how big it was. He must have really done well as a TV psychic. The doctor had recommended that she bring him some pajamas to wear. He was now only hooked up to a few machines and they said he would probably be more comfortable in real pajamas instead of the gowns provided by the hospital.
She looked down at the ring of keys in her hand. She had gone to the salvage yard where they had taken his mangled car in order to retrieve them. She was almost afraid to go in, to disturb his house, but she did any way. It was oddly dark inside and it had an unused smell to it. The first thing she noticed when her eyes adjusted to the light was that there was practically no furniture—just a table by the door. She figured his bedroom would be up the stairs and slowly began to walk up them.
She felt like a trespasser in his house and kept having the feeling that someone was watching her. She wasn't sure what room would be his so she tried all of the doors. The first was a bathroom, the second his daughter's room. She suspected it looked the same as it did the day she died. The last door she tried was the one at the end of the hall. By process of elimination this must be the master bedroom and where his wife had died.
She paused with her hand on the knob. Why she was afraid to open the door, she didn't know. It was just a room, like any other. She had been to many crime scenes, even Red John ones. She opened the door and was shocked by what she saw. There on the wall was a smiley face drawn in blood.
She stared at it, not sure what to think. It was still on the wall, right above the bare mattress on the floor. Is this where he slept? No wonder he spent all his time at the CBI. If she had this on her wall, she wouldn't want to spend time at home either.
Lisbon took a deep breath and walked into the room. There was no other furniture, just the mattress. She walked over to what she figured was the closet. She opened the door and was tempted to grab one of the suits that were hanging up. He slept in them all the time. She'd never seen him in anything else.
She quickly grabbed pajamas out of the chest of drawers that was in the closet—they looked like they hadn't been worn in ages—and left the room. She was glad to be free of it.
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"He just doesn't look right." Van Pelt and Lisbon were standing at the end of Jane's bed looking at him. He was wearing the pajamas that Lisbon had brought him from home, blue and white stripes.
"I was going to bring something else, but couldn't see asking the nurse to put him in a three piece suit." Lisbon was smiling slightly. It seemed like the first time in days.
She had talked to the neurologist again this morning. There was apparently no medical reason that Jane shouldn't be awake. He just hadn't woken up yet. He was encouraging Lisbon to consider moving him to a different facility, not a hospital. She didn't want to move him yet. She was still holding out hope that he would wake up soon, maybe even today.
"I need to go. I'm meeting Rigsby for dinner. Call us if anything changes, ok?" Van Pelt turned to Lisbon as she spoke.
"Sure thing, have a nice dinner." She waved slightly as the younger woman left. The room Jane was in now didn't have a window, but it was a private room, which was nice. She sat down next to him and started talking. It was something she had started to do recently. She figured that when he was awake she was never able to get a word in edge wise.
"You should paint over it, you know." She didn't bother telling him what she was talking about. She knew he'd be able to figure it out. "It's no wonder you have a hard time sleeping." She paused again, not sure what to say. "You should have told us, Jane. You know so much about all of us and we don't know anything about you. You just need to let someone in."
She stopping talking again and picked up his hand. "I don't know what I'm going to do if you don't wake up, Jane. You've come to mean so much to me." She could feel her eyes welling up with tears again. She had cried more in the past two weeks than she had in the past two years. She stopped crying abruptly when she felt a slight pressure on her hand.
She looked down at her hand and saw his firmly grasping hers. She gasped. He was holding her hand! She had to let the nurses know. She pressed the call button and waited for the nurse to come in.
"He's squeezing my hand." She said excitedly when the nurse came in.
"That's great news. He's never done that before. Has he done anything else unusual?"
"No," she looked pack down at him and noticed that his eyes were looking back at him. "His eyes! His eyes are open!" She couldn't believe it. He was awake. Or at least he had opened his eyes. "Jane, can you hear me?"
The nurse also started talking to him. "Mr. Jane, can you hear me? Do you need anything?"
Jane looked around slowly. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He moved his hand to his mouth in the form of a cup. "Water? Do you want water?" the nurse asked.
Jane slowly nodded his head. Lisbon quickly grabbed an unopened bottle of water out of her bag and opened it for him. She held it up to his lips and slowly helped him take a drink. "Is that better?" she asked.
He nodded and then opened his mouth again. This time noise came out, but they still couldn't understand what he was saying. "I can't understand you, Jane. Just take your time. It's been a while." Lisbon told him, sitting back down next to him in the chair she had occupied every night since he had been in here.
He cleared his throat and motioned for more water. After he had taken another drink he cleared his throat again and opened his mouth to speak. This time they could understand the words.
Jane looked right at Lisbon and asked "Who are you?"