The fourth chapter! Enjoy!
I have been crazy-busy, so this has been sitting on my computer for months - I'm sorry. I am so slack.
Please review, I will read every single one. Even if you just say 'I didn't like it.' or 'I liked it.', and then one reason why... or something! All feedback is helpful to me as a writer, so don't be shy, and don't hold back! :)
Ashlee-Rose :)
Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish I was the mastermind behind the Mentalist. But I'm not. I just get to (thoroughly) enjoy someone else's hard work. (Probably too much to be normal.) :)
4. Nightmares
Teresa
There was a thudding sound from somewhere near Teresa's head, waking her with a start. A loud whoosh of breath leaving someone's lungs alerted her to the fact it was a person. For a moment she lay there, refusing to look. Her body had switched off, and she felt drained, emotionless. But a small choking sound, like someone winded, made her jump. She opened an eye cautiously, and what she saw made her empty stomach lurch. The motionless face of Jane, inches from her own face. With a shocked gasp, she sat up, trying to ignore the rushing in her head.
"Jane?" No response. "Patrick!" His first name fell from her mouth in a panicked yell. She rolled him over and shook his shoulder, harder than she should have. But she was so terrified that he was dead. All her senses screamed out for him to wake up.
And then his eyelid flickered. A hand lifted, then dropped again. Teresa closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of his breathing. She almost wanted to smile.
"Ugh..." A small groan came from the back of his throat. His eyes groggily opened, then slowly focused on her face. His hand rose up to touch her arm lightly, and she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her at his touch. "Lisbon... You're okay." He croaked, eyes softening with relief as they landed on her.
Teresa couldn't help it. She threw her arms around him, gripping him tightly as if he was a lifeline. Tears began to leak from her eyes. Never had she been so glad to see him in her entire life. He sat up slightly, and his arms snaked around her waist in return.
"Woah, easy. You don't want to move your head around too much." He gently touched the swollen lump under her hair. Teresa could hear his heart beating, and knew it was the most wonderful sound in the world... Or maybe it was just the mixture of concussion, relief, and delusion talking.
"Shh, it's okay." He murmured in her ear. "Your fearless agents are out there. If I know Van Pelt, she would have parked around the corner to see if I got out okay. They shouldn't be lon-"
As if Jane had cued it, there was suddenly shouting from behind the door. Teresa pulled away from his comforting hands, listening anxiously. A scuffle, and another yell, this time female. Van Pelt. A moment of quiet. Then-
Bang. Bang.
Two gunshots rang out. And then there was silence.
Teresa's horror-filled eyes met Jane's, an unspoken question hanging between them. Our side or his?
There was a dull thud, like something heavy hitting the ground, then the sound of footsteps, heading towards the door. Jane scooted forward, putting Teresa behind him protectively, and wobbled to his feet. Teresa felt a rush of affection towards him. Jane, who normally cowered behind her, was protecting her. In her state of mind, it made her want to cry.
The door creaked open, and a cloud of dishevelled red hair flew towards them. "Boss!" Van Pelt's relieved voice rang through the room as Jane sighed in relief, dropping to the ground again. Cho took one look at Teresa and started dialing his cell phone, calling an ambulance, she presumed. Rigsby walked in last, a red-soaked towel clutched to his shoulder.
"Rigsby?" Teresa rasped, attempting to stand. Rigsby's hurt! Her brain was screaming at her as she tried to run to him. But her ankle twisted under her own weight, causing her to stumble. Rigsby dropped the towel and held out an arm, catching her.
"No big deal, boss. It's only a graze." He looked into her face, concerned. "Are you alright?" Teresa wanted to say yes, but the fact was, she couldn't even stay upright.
As soon as Rigsby's steadying hand left her arm, she stumbled backwards – into the waiting arms of Jane. He sighed dramatically, arms securely on each of her shoulders.
"This reminds me of our trust fall... Good times." Teresa couldn't think straight. She was vaguely aware that she was in shock. All she could think was 'Where is he? Where is he?' She half expected her kidnapper to enter at any moment, and kept her eyes on the door.
The ambulance arrived quickly, and Teresa was placed securely onto a stretcher. She was told that she had a serious concussion, caused by a blunt blow to the head, and a bruised tailbone. She was also slightly delirious from lack of food and water. Jane was given ice to apply to the egg-shaped lump swelling on his head, and Rigsby's bullet-grazed arm was bandaged. All Teresa could think was that someone could have easily died. Especially her.
As they carried Teresa out, her eyes were drawn to a white sheet on the floor. There was a person-shaped lump under it. And suddenly she knew where the second gunshot had gone.
Patrick
Patrick was staring at the wall. He physically couldn't stop. He could not believe what he was seeing. Hundreds of photos plastered to the wall. All of Bosco, Lisbon, and White. And him.
A photo of Patrick entering the CBI, bag of Maree's doughnuts grasped in his hand. Patrick buying lunch with Lisbon at the cafe outside the CBI. Another taken through a window, showing Patrick in his car, leaving work. And many, many more.
Ernie Highton had been obsessed with all of them. He had been stalking them for months, biding his time. And none of them had any idea.
Behind Patrick, Cho ruffled through some desk drawers. The EMTs had just taken Lisbon and Rigsby to hospital, and after being assured they would both be fine, Cho and Patrick had searched the house. Patrick had quickly discovered the small room, hidden behind a clunky wardrobe.
From behind him, Patrick heard an intake of breath, and turned to see Cho, frozen, staring at a tri-folded sheet of paper. Wordlessly, he handed it to Patrick, who began to read.
'Highton,
Introductions are a waste of time in this case, as we have met before. I believe you know who I am.
I know of your dilemma. You want revenge on those police for the killing of your friend. You want Agents Bosco, Lisbon, and White to pay for what they did. Do not ask me how I know these things. I am well connected.
I also have personal reasons to want Samuel Bosco dead. So I will make you a deal, a deal that will benefit us both.
I will take care of Agent Bosco. This is not a problem. You can do what you want with White. But in the case of Agent Lisbon, I believe that she can be extremely useful to me. So here is my offer, and I will only make it once:
Kidnap, do not kill, Agent Lisbon. From my observations, I expect she will put up a fight, so plan wisely. You can have your way with her, if you so wish, but do not kill her.
I have strong reason to believe that Patrick Jane can be lured to you by her kidnap. You do not know this man, but I know him very well.
My proposition is that you hold Agent Lisbon, and wait for Patrick Jane to come to you. If you kidnap Jane too, I want him. Mr. Jane and I are old friends, and I would love to talk with him again. Once I have him, you may do as you wish with the woman. She is nothing to me.
I will wait for your reply, Highton. Do not keep me waiting.'
And it was signed with a hand-drawn, red smiley face.
Patrick stared at the note, not breathing. Red John? He's behind all this? Patrick's hands trembled, and the paper fluttered from his hands. It had been a trap all along. A trap, devised by Red John to torture Jane, and get Highton what he wanted too.
Red John was even more cunning than Patrick had first thought.
Cho sighed, frustration on his face. "Damn," he swore under his breath.
Suddenly, the fax machine in the corner began whirring, spitting out a single piece of paper. Numbly, Patrick pulled it out, reading it once before closing his eyes.
'Mr. Jane,
You are a lucky man. But then again, Highton was rather incompetent.
We will meet again, sometime soon. I have no doubts about that.
I'll be watching – You, and the lovely Agent Lisbon. She does have some qualities shared by your late wife, you know. Both fiery, both not to be underestimated. But I did, and still do, like a challenge.
Red John.'
One Week Later
Teresa
Highton stands above me, looking down at me menacingly. I try to move, to skitter out of his way, but I am frozen in place. In slow motion, I see him raise his arm high, bringing it down to smash against my skull. Hands are reaching for me, coming out of the darkness... Patrick Jane lies beside me, face lifeless, eyes blank and staring. A red smiley face is drawn on the wall with my blood. And beside it is a second smiley face, painted with what I know to be Jane's blood.
"Arrrgh!" Teresa shot up in bed, screaming aloud. The clock on her bedside table showed that it was one o' clock in the morning. A small river of sweat was working it's way down her forehead, and her hair was plastered to her skull. She could still see the red smiles, leering at her from the wall.
Teresa released her death grip on the sheets, leaning back with a choked gasp. Every night since she had been released from hospital, she had been having horrible, twisted nightmares. But this had been the worst so far... The first time her brain had added Red John.
Jane had shown her the letter and explained everything, but it still all seemed surreal. Red John was no longer just watching Jane... He was watching her too. The thought made her glance at the dark window, all promises of sleep disappearing. The only reason she'd been able to get to sleep in the first place was the sleeping pills she'd taken earlier.
Teresa sat in her bed, staring at the window, her imagination overreacting to every tiny sound, every flicker of a shadow. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. She needed sleep to function. And there was only one thing she hadn't tried.
Picking up her phone, she dialled the first number her fingers flew to. It rang for a few seconds.
Please, please pick up, Teresa thought, getting more scared by the minute. But then-
"Hello?" The deep, surprisingly awake-sounding voice drowned a bit of Teresa's fear, and she clutched it to her ear. "Jane? I need you to come over. Can you sleep on my sofa for a night?" She fumbled over the words, pushing them out of her mouth quickly. There was a moment of silence.
"I'll be there in five minutes."
Patrick
Patrick knocked on the door of Lisbon's apartment. He didn't know why she needed him, but all he knew was, it didn't matter. She needed him, and that was that. After a few moments, the door cracked open, and Lisbon's white face peeked through. When she saw it was him, she opened it wide, her expression half-scared, half-embarrassed. She was tugging on the hem of her oversized 'Lisbon' football jersey, a sign she was self-concious about something. Patrick instantly noticed the huge bags under her slightly red eyes.
"Hey, Jane. I'm sorry." She gave a small humourless smile. "I didn't wake you up, right?" Patrick shook his head, stepping in and closing the door behind him. He noticed Lisbon locked it as soon as it was shut.
"Do you want some tea?" She asked distractedly. Instead of answering, Patrick turned to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him, surprised, and her pale face gained a slight flush.
"Teresa, what's wrong?" Patrick asked her softly, looking into her scared eyes. She pulled away, looking at the ground, and sat on the sofa with a deep breath. Her fingers toyed with the corner of a throw pillow, and she didn't make eye contact as she spoke.
"I've been having nightmares. Really awful, twisted ones. And I can barely sleep at night, because of the fact that Red John is watching me. A serial killer is watching me! Is this why you never sleep? I feel so childish." She burst out, looking embarrassed to reveal her emotions. She normally kept them closely hidden away, Patrick knew.
He felt a rush of sudden, overpowering hatred for what Red John had done to her. She used to laugh in the face of murderers, and now she was cowering from nightmares? It just wasn't right. He sat down beside her, staring intently into her eyes.
"Teresa, listen to me. This is how Red John operates. He creates fear in people, and then he lives off that fear. You can't let him get to you." He reached out and placed a hand over hers. "As long as I am around to protect you, Red John can not hurt you. Do you understand? I will keep you safe."
The fear in Lisbon's eyes had been dimming through Patrick's words, and now she just sat there, watching him. He could see gratitude in her eyes, along with... Something else. Something almost like... Lust? Her gaze flickered down to his mouth, and then back to his eyes.
But then the moment was gone, and she was standing up, pulling a quilt out of a closet. Patrick let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in. Lisbon placed it in his hands, her fingers lingering on his.
"Thank you for this, Jane. It means a lot." Her emerald green eyes bored into his, sincere thankfulness clear in them. Patrick nodded, smiling slightly, and began to set up his quilt on the couch.
"Night, Lisbon." He called out to her gently as she started up the stairs. "Night." She replied, glancing back at him. She looked so small and fragile in that moment that Patrick wanted to rush to her and protect her from everything. But then she turned out the light, and was gone.
BREAK
Patrick woke with a start, arms flailing in the darkness. For a split second, he didn't know what had woken him- But then there was another terrified scream. In a heartbeat, he was up. He wrestled with the twisted quilt for a few moments before shooting up the stairs. He didn't even think. All he knew was that Lisbon was in trouble.
Within ten seconds of the scream, Patrick stood in the doorway of Lisbon's bedroom, adreneline pumping through his body. Once he saw she was asleep, and not being murdered by Red John, he slumped against the doorframe with relief. She was thrashing around, face screwed up in terror, small whimpers coming from her throat. Patrick moved to her side, reaching out a hand.
"Hey, Lisbon, shh. Wake up, come on." He murmured soothingly to her, and gently shook her shoulder. But then- Wham.
Her fist came out of nowhere, slamming into the side of his face. Patrick blinked, groaning, and rubbed the throbbing spot on his head. Damn. Even in her sleep, the woman can throw a freakishly-good punch.
Lisbon's eyes flew open, flashing around wildly, before coming to rest on his face. She sat up, panting, with sweat running down her forehead. Then she realised why Patrick was clutching his face. Her hand went to her mouth.
"Oh God, Jane! Did I just hit you?" Patrick nodded, wincing. "Yeah, kind of. But don't worry, I've taken your punches before." Lisbon gave a slightly guilty smile, but it disapeared after a few seconds. There was a moment of silence.
Patrick suddenly felt slightly awkward sitting on the edge of her bed, and he stood, running a hand through his sleep-messed hair. "Are you alright?" He asked, gazing into her eyes, searching them. He saw fear still flickering through them, but there was something else there too, something warmer...
She nodded, deliberately breaking his gaze. As Patrick turned to leave, he saw her climb out of bed and walk to the window.
"Jane, wait!" He froze, foot on the top stair. Turning, he saw Lisbon looking at him. Her face was a pitiful mixture of humiliated pleading and terror. She looked so scared, Patrick felt a rush of tenderness for her. "Please don't leave me alone." She said, and tears began silently pouring down her cheeks.
In three strides, Patrick was holding her in his arms. He didn't know who was more surprised. Lisbon hiccoughed in shock, but then gave in to the embrace, leaning her head against his chest, soaking his shirt with tears. Patrick closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the emotions surging through him. This is Lisbon, he thought firmly. You enjoy flirting and bantering with her occasionally, but that's it. She just needs some comforting, that's all. But somehow, he didn't buy it. One of his hands unconciously reached up and began to stroke her long smooth hair, and the other held her waist securely against him.
They stood there for a long time, until Patrick's legs were stiff from supporting Lisbon. But he stayed holding her until her sobs got less, and she finally pulled away slightly.
"Crap, I'm sorry, Jane." She whispered, looking at the huge dark patch of tears on the front of his shirt. He shook his head, smiling humorlessly. "People who keep their emotions in check so fiercely lose hold on them sometimes. It's a fact." Lisbon gave a weak chuckle before resting her head on his chest again. A small whiff of a cinnamon-y, lilac-y smell floated up from her hair.
A warm feeling started in Patrick's chest, and slowly filled his whole body. He put his hand back on her hair, and closed his eyes. His heart was pounding, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he never wanted to let go of Lisbon.
But she pulled away, finally, and he let her. Grabbing a blanket and pillow from the unused side of Lisbon's bed, Patrick curled up in the large, cozy armchair beside the window. Across the room, Lisbon climbed back into bed, and her eyes met his for a moment before the light was turned out. As Patrick made himself comfortable in the surprisingly roomy chair, he could have sworn he heard a tiny "Thank you" from the other end of the room.
-Sigh- I love writing Jisbon moments. It's my favorite part of writing Mentalist FanFics, along with evil cliffhangers. :) What can I say? I'm a fluffy marshmallow. And knowing me, there will be more. Along with maybe a few more cliffhangers...? -Evil chuckle-
- Ashlee-Rose :)