Now that I feel like I have recovered sufficiently from the 6.06 promo shock here's the next chapter. I'm not entirely sure about this one, but I hope, you'll enjoy it and not be disappointed...
Warning: Nothing graphic but the proverbal shit hits the fan...
And then suddenly everything happened incredibly fast. With a desperate shout of "NO!" and in a move so fast no one had time to react – not even Red John himself who was caught completely by surprise – Patrick Jane jumped up the stairs and threw himself at his nemesis. Joseph Earl stumbled backwards and to the side, losing his cover in the process.
Then several things occurred in such a short order, that later it would take a lot of effort from everyone present to sort out the ensuing pandemonium for the reports. There were some panic-fueled shouts and a few clearly arbitrary warning shots from Red John's minions, which made Jane's relatives all crouch down and take cover as much as was possible while being handcuffed on a staircase.
But no organized attack followed.
Lisbon's enhanced team on the other hand ran like clockwork and reacted to the new development immediately and with great precision and determination.
)R(J)R(I)P(
With hindsight it would become clear that though several of Red John's minions were members of law enforcement, no discernable plan of action had existed on their side. This strongly indicated that the whole scenario really had been Red John's last hurrah, his endgame, and a sloppily planned one at that, and that he had had no illusions about the outcome. Or that all his clever plans hadn't included a surprise attack on himself. Being too full of himself he might have never expected that anyone could ever touch his person. And his hiding behind the hostages and the presence of his armed minions might have led to his cocksure belief that nothing could happen to him. He might have thought that his opponents wouldn't dare to use their weapons in a room full of innocent hostages. And in his delusions of grandeur he'd probably even assumed that Jane would do his bidding after accepting Red John's superiority.
But also in retrospect this would all be left a mystery, because Joseph Earl, alias Gale Bertram, couldn't have possibly believed that a team of trained agents would stand by and watch him slaughter his hostages one by one. Even his surviving minions were unable to shed light on their master's plans. If he'd shared them with anyone, they either didn't come clean about it or were dead. No one would ever really know for sure, whether Red John had simply been tired of the game and had aimed for suicide by cop, or whether he'd lost himself in his delusions. But in the end these would remain to be the only explanations why well-nigh all of Lisbon's team and the hostages were still standing when all was said and done - for the most part unharmed apart from some scratches here and there. And still the word miracle would be used a lot in the aftermath considering that they'd been in a house filled with armed maniacs.
)R(J)R(I)P(
A multiplicity of shots fired by the CBI team could be heard next and then Lisbon shouted "Red-hot!", which caused a veritable firework to go off with Red John's confederates falling left and right. The huge panorama windows, which just moments before - had anyone paid attention - would have provided a beautiful view of the calm sea colored in yellow and orange by the rising sun, shattered around them noisily in the process. Lisbon, Rigsby, and Cho took out the minions still standing with Hightower and LaRoche using their weapons to cover for their colleagues.
Van Pelt was all set up for the chance to get a passably clear aim at the toppled Red John. When she saw it, she fired without any hesitation and shot him straight between the eyes hissing a furious "That's for Craig, you bastard, and for Jane."
The moment Joseph Earl went down for real a piercing scream could be heard and then suddenly an eerie silence fell over the place. It was interrupted again a few long seconds later by desperate panting. Lisbon jumped into action. She rushed up the stairs to confirm that the serial killer was really finally dead, but what she encountered were the fearful eyes of her groaning lover who held his stomach. With growing horror Teresa realized that a knife was stuck in Patrick's abdomen to the hilt with blood soaking his shirt and vest at an alarming rate.
"I need paramedics here right now," she ordered urgently, which seemed to break everybody on their side out of their momentary shock. A flurry of activity followed. Lisbon kneeled down by Jane's side and put his head in her lap, playing with his curls to keep him and herself calm. "You'll be fine, Patrick. Help is on the way."
"Paul? Is he alright?" Jane pressed out hoarsely.
"Yes, I think so. Madeleine is just taking care of him right here." She motioned with her head to her right. "It looks like it's just a cut. It'll need a few stitches, but I'm sure he'll be fine."
Only on the verge of her attention she noticed the other events going on around her - all the people entering the house now that it was safe to do so, her team and a bunch of other officers securing the scene, taking care of the hostages, and the paramedics swarming the place to help possible survivors of the shooting. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the crunching sound their shoes created walking over all the shards and debris and the residual smell of gunpowder and splintered plaster in the air. The rest of her attention was directed at her lover who looked paler and paler by the second.
"Is he… is he gone?" the injured man asked gingerly, pain clouding his features.
"He's dead, Patrick. Grace shot him. It's over." Teresa reassured him with a short glance up to the spot just above them on the stairs from where the corpse of Joseph Earl seemed to stare down at them with empty eyes.
"Good," he groaned, fighting to stay conscious. "Teresa," he whimpered with tears running down his face. "I love you. And I'm so sorry. I don't want to leave you." He coughed and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Then his eyes rolled back in his head.
"For goodness' sake! I need medical help. Now! Please!" Lisbon cried in utter panic. "Don't you dare to die on me, Patrick Alexander Jane. God, please! Help!" She slapped his cheek to bring him back to consciousness and sobbed with relief when he took a shuddering breath.
He was taken from her by the paramedics who'd finally managed to reach them. She stood and watched helplessly, flanked by her team, as the professionals fought for Patrick's life. He'd lost a lot of blood in a very short amount of time and it took them half an hour just to stabilize him enough for transport.
To his girlfriend, family, and friends it felt more like a year, though it went by in a rush. In the meantime another ambulance had taken care of Paul who was already on his way to the closest hospital accompanied by his parents, his grandmother, and his sister. Jonathan had decided to stay with his older grandson instead.
Finally the two doctors announced that Patrick was ready for transport and would be brought to a hospital in LA that specialized in cases like this one. The closer facilities were too small to handle such a serious injury. Teresa was allowed to ride with him in the ambulance. Assisted by Chief Goldman, Cho took over the handling of the scene for his boss so she could go with her boyfriend.
Minelli who'd come with them to Malibu but had stayed outside during the operation offered to deal with the rest of the official part together with LaRoche, ensuring that the others could follow their friend to the hospital.
Her help with the political repercussions of the showdown would turn out to be invaluable later in the game, but at that moment Hightower was too worried for the man she still felt deeply for to act in any professional capacity. She joined the others in the police cars that would get them to LA.
When they all arrived at the hospital they found Lisbon pacing in the waiting area outside of the emergency room. "Any news?" Jonathan Jane asked her anxiously.
"None so far, but he flat lined two times during the ride," she answered curtly, her eyes showing her desperation and strain.
The others sat down and they all waited with increasing impatience. A while later Matthew and Mary joined them, informing them that Paul had gotten ten stitches and was fine otherwise. But he would be kept at the local clinic for observation overnight because he had suffered a slight shock in addition to the cut. His mother and grandmother were allowed to stay with him.
Carefully Van Pelt asked Mary what had happened to her at the hands of Red John. The girl played nervously with a strand of her hair while she related to them how she had been kept a prisoner in Patrick's former bedroom. She was unharmed but deeply disturbed by the events of the day and the situation she'd found herself in. She'd spent hours looking at nothing but the ugly smiley face on the wall above her, which the sick bastard had informed her had been painted by him with the blood of her cousin's family – the crying eyes with blood from her second cousin Charlotte, who would've been her own age today.
She'd been in a constant state of worry not knowing what was going on with the rest of her family. To distract herself from the immediate situation she'd tried to imagine what it must have felt like for her newfound cousin to live with that constant, taunting reminder of his cruel past. After she'd been freed, she'd heard from her mum and a hysterical Paul that Patrick had saved her baby brother's life at the cost of fighting for his own now. As soon as she'd learned that her brother was going to be fine and was sleeping peacefully due to some potent medications, she'd urged her father to go and see how her cousin was doing.
Now she sat between her dad and her grandpa and wriggled nervously in her chair. She'd only ever met her cousin twice until today and he had barely known her little brother. Still he'd chosen to jump between him and a deranged serial killer with a deadly knife. In her teenaged eyes he had just reached the status of a tragic hero and her admiration knew no bounds. He'd been cool all along with his magic tricks and he'd treated her like the adult she saw herself as and she'd really come to like him. But that he would sacrifice himself for Paul was totally amazing. She hadn't stopped telling her dad so all throughout the cab ride to LA. Now she hoped with all her might that Patrick would pull through.
Fifteen agonizing minutes later a female doctor came into the waiting area. "You're here for Patrick Jane?" she asked.
Eager nods greeted her. "We're CBI agents and those are his grandfather and uncle, Jonathan and Matthew Jane," Van Pelt provided, seeing that her boss had a hard time keeping her composure.
"That's all nice and well, but I'm searching for a Teresa Lisbon. Do you know how to contact her? Mr. Jane's medical record names her as his next in kin and medical proxy," the doctor explained.
Teresa stepped over to her after she'd gotten over the initial shock of being named by Patrick as the person closest to him. All things considered it wasn't that surprising, but the news had caught her off guard nonetheless. "Me, that's me," she hurried to say. "How is he?" she asked anxiously.
"He's stable at the moment. It took us a while to stabilize him but he's ready to go into surgery soon. That's where I need your help, Miss Lisbon. Mr. Jane has lost a lot of blood. That's our main concern right now. His file doesn't say anything about his position regarding blood transfusions and such, and we might be forced to give him real blood during the surgery, not plasma as we would usually do and have in fact already done. It's because he has a very rare blood type and we're low on that specific group of blood plasma. We've asked the other nearby hospitals for additional supplies, but that might be too little too late. At the moment we're down to looking for live blood donators with his specific type amongst our staff."
"Let me guess? He's an A rhesus negative. Runs in the family," Matthew chimed in.
"That's right, sir."
"I can donate blood," Patrick's uncle offered immediately. "Please feel free to take as much as physically possible. It's the least I can do for him."
"I know I'm too old to donate, but as a last resort maybe? I'd want to do what I can as well," Jonathan added.
"Me too," Mary announced. "I'm also an A negative. Please, I wanna help."
"Well, Miss Lisbon, before we proceed we need your input. What do you think Mr. Jane would want?" the doctor asked gently, having realized how deeply affected the woman in front of her was.
"I think, he'd want to live," Teresa whispered brokenly. "Please, do whatever you have to do to save him."
The doctor patted her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Don't worry. Your friend is in the best hands with us. He is obviously a fighter or he wouldn't have made it this far. And he's fortunately in a very good physical shape. A strong heart. He just has to survive the surgery and the next 12 hours, then his chances aren't bad."
She saw that this only seemed to comfort Miss Lisbon marginally, but she was a trained doctor – she wouldn't make false promises. "We don't know the extent of the internal damage yet. First and foremost we have been busy reducing the bleeding. Now we'll have to remove the knife and repair the damage caused by it."
She addressed the Janes, "If you would follow me, we'll discuss the possible procedures for your donations." At the last moment before stepping through a door ahead of Matthew and Mary, the doctor turned around. "Not that he's in any shape to escape, but isn't it normal procedure in such cases to place an officer at the door to keep watch?" she asked carefully.
"What? Why?" Lisbon asked with indignation all over her face.
The doctor indicated Van Pelt and Rigsby. "Well, I just thought since those two are obviously agents and he's a dangerous criminal. Some gang business, I presume? We heard, there was some major shootout in Malibu."
Hightower stepped in at that point to prevent Lisbon from causing a scene. Madeleine was sure that an enormous outburst would happen the second Teresa really comprehended what the doctor had just implied and her fearful tension would express itself through anger. "Excuse me, Doctor, but there must be a tragic misunderstanding here. I'm Madeleine Hightower by the way. Law enforcement liaison at the State Department of Justice. The man you're currently treating is a member of the California Bureau of Investigation and certainly not a criminal. He was injured on duty while bringing down the most notorious serial killer this state has seen in decades."
"Oh," the doctor uttered nonplussed. "We just assumed with a knife wound like that and all the law enforcement officers around… I'm sorry." With renewed fervor she motioned for the two Janes to follow her and they all disappeared through a door with Mary eagerly chattering the whole time, explaining to the good doctor in detail that they were treating her cousin who was a real hero and had saved her little brother's life.
A nurse came to them a few minutes later and showed them to the waiting area closest to the operating room. News had obviously spread like wildfire that there was a bunch of important officers and government representatives present and that their comrade had been injured during a major and very crucial police operation. In lieu thereof they were treated with the utmost respect and offered coffee and other refreshments by the staff. Both Rigsby and Van Pelt, who'd sustained some scratches from all the splintering glass, were looked after by eager nurses and also Jonathan's rather superficial injuries were treated with infinite care and he got an ice pack for his black eye.
It didn't help much with the tension. No one had ever seen Teresa Lisbon in a state even close to her current one. She was alternating between praying, pacing, and falling eerily silent. Van Pelt and Jonathan tried to offer comfort and support but she had shut herself away, dealing with the situation her usual way when Jane wasn't around to call her out on it: on her own.
A while later – no one really knew or cared how much time had passed – Minelli, Cho, and LaRoche joined them and offered some well-received diversion. They brought them up-to-date on the case, told them that the media had caught onto it already and were besieging the parking lot of the hospital hoping for news and statements from the people involved in the operation of bringing down Red John. Even the governor himself had been informed and had expressed his sincere gratitude.
"You should prepare yourselves for a lot of recommendations and distinctions coming your way soon," Virgil said. "And you all deserve it."
"I couldn't care less," Lisbon muttered. "And I won't accept anything without Jane by my side," she added, shamefully wiping away the tears running down her cheeks.
Minelli nodded and put an arm around her shoulders. "I understand, Teresa. Let's hope, the sly fox pulls through. But you know he's a tough one." He pulled her into a one-armed hug and said quietly, "You should probably know that someone has leaked to the press what he did in that house. I know, he'll hate it, but they've already turned him into the tragic hero of this story." She gasped in horror and he looked at her with sorrow.
He continued, "Yes, unfortunately. You know, the bereaved husband and father who made it his goal in life to bring to justice the serial killer who destroyed his family." He took a breath and pulled her even closer, "Who sacrificed himself in the end in order to save a boy he hardly knows. Who took on a dangerous killer – unarmed – to prevent another father from losing his child. As you can imagine they're soaking it up like a sponge."
He searched her eyes and looked at her with a serious expression. "And well… To be honest, they don't have it entirely wrong. What Patrick did was an act of selfless courage and it was his spunky action that allowed for the rest of the operation to play out as successfully as it did. We have no casualties on our side apart from the officers on guard duty at the Janes'. Red John is dead and gone for good as are eight of his followers, four are wounded and will stand trial eventually. The hostages are safe and sound apart from a minor cut and a black eye. It's basically a miracle how well this all went."
"Not for Patrick though," Lisbon replied quietly. "He doesn't deserve this. Why must he pay the prize again? Hasn't he suffered enough?" She couldn't quell a sob. "And he didn't have a Kevlar vest. Apart from the hostages he was the only one of us inside there without protection. I let him down, Director Minelli. I'm the one responsible for him. I should've made sure, he was safe."
Minelli released her, so he could take hold of her chin and force her to look him in the eyes. "No, Teresa. I won't allow you to go there. I admit, it wasn't very smart that he had no protection. But Red John could've gotten to him even if he'd worn one. A Kevlar vest doesn't protect the whole body after all. And he was supposed to stay behind. Please, Agent Lisbon, no guilt trips," he implored. When he saw at least a bit of acceptance in her eyes he went on, "And no one could've predicted that scenario. To be honest, I would've never expected Jane to act that way. I know he's not, well, exactly a coward, but considering the circumstances that was one of the single most courageous feats I've ever encountered."
J. J. LaRoche had overheard their talk and chimed in at that point, "I agree with the Director. I mean, we should maybe always expect the unexpected when it comes to that man, but after my experiences with Patrick in the past and considering his state of mind during the last days, I'd have never seen this one coming." He continued in his usual neutral tone, "The best I hoped for was that he would manage to keep his head. And I had my serious doubts about it to be honest. Now I stand corrected. He's certainly of a tougher stock than I ever thought possible. You should be very proud of him, Agent Lisbon."
"I am," Teresa whispered. "But I want him to be okay much more."
"As we all do, Agent," LaRoche replied with surprising warmth in his normally uninflected voice.
Thirty minutes later the two Janes came back and could tell that Patrick was nearly out of surgery, had at least pulled through the most dangerous part of it. "I got to donate blood for him as well," Mary said with pride. "Though I'm technically too young. But they made an exception 'cause dad told them to."
"Yes," Matthew confirmed a bit abashed. "Well, he needed it and…" He swallowed. "I have no words to express how I felt when that monster started to cut into my boy. It was the most horrible moment of my life. And then Patrick, he just… and after the way I treated him…" Matt swallowed heavily again and cleared his throat. "He's a good man and he's family. It's the least we could do, and they said it wasn't really dangerous for Mary. She just has to drink and eat a lot and take it easy during the next days."
"Yeah, just like dad, 'cause he gave more than strictly advisable, as the doc put it," Mary explained eagerly, obviously proud of her father's deed as well.
"Thank you. Thanks for doing this for him," Teresa said sincerely, eyes full of gratitude.
Matt stepped closer to her. "Please, Teresa. There's no need to thank us. Absolutely none. He saved my baby and I'll always be in his debt for it."
Lisbon snorted. "Yeah right. Just prepare for Patrick telling you that it was entirely his fault you all got into that situation in the first place. I bet, he'll blame himself for it as soon as he's well enough to do so."
"Then we'll all be there to set the boy straight," Jonathan Jane announced. "From what we've learned that sick monster would've found out about our existence anyway – sooner or later, if he didn't do so already. And that would've put us in danger in any case considering the enormous grudge Red John held against the whole Jane family. He never stopped pointing that out to us while he held us captive."
Another tense hour was spent in near silence before a doctor approached them, looking tired put not too grave. "You're here for Mr. Jane?" He received nine eager nods. "Well, I can set your minds at rest for the moment. It was a bit touch-and-go there for a while, but he's pulled through so far. We'll keep him sedated for the time being to give his organs a chance to heal in peace." He eyed the people in front of him warily. "But before I go into detail about his state – are you all immediate family? I can't reveal confidential information to just about anyone. I've been informed that the media has a strong interest in this case as well, so…"
"I'm senior agent Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane's medical proxy and I assure you that he won't have a problem with these people hearing the facts. We'll do everything in our power to prevent the press from getting wind of his condition," Lisbon declared with newfound hope and strength, now that she knew her lover had survived the surgery.
"Alright. It's your call, Agent. Well, the knife perforated the duodenum and pierced his pancreas. Fortunately in ways that were relatively easy to repair for us. The most dangerous part was the damage to the arteria pancreaticoduodenalis inferior. It's one of the most important abdominal arteries. It caused the immense blood loss and gave us a bit of a scare. But we were able to fix it in the end, because it had only been, well, grazed might be an adequate none medical description. Your friend is going to be very weak for a while, but we're rather optimistic that he'll pull through. At this point however it's hard to promise that he'll make a full recovery, I'm afraid. He collapsed several times before and during surgery and though we're quite confident that his brain didn't suffer any permanent damage due to oxygen deficiency, we can't be sure until he's conscious again."
"Can I see him?" Lisbon asked anxiously.
The doctor nodded. "I'll have a nurse come and fetch you when we've installed him in his room in intensive care. It might be a while still, so be patient. But just one visitor, please. And fair warning: with Mr. Jane being in a so called artificial coma he's attached to quite a few machines and such. It can be a frightening sight at first, especially the respirator. And he's extremely pallid due to the blood loss. Please excuse me now." With an encouraging nod the white-clad man left.
The moment the doctor was out of sight, Teresa broke down into relieved sobs, unable to keep her composure any longer with most of the tension leaving her body. "Oh thank God," she choked out repeatedly between sobs. She even pulled a completely surprised Van Pelt into a bear hug, which the younger woman was only too happy to return.
Nearly a half hour later Lisbon had regained her poise and cleaned up a bit in the lady's room, so she was relatively calm when the nurse finally came to fetch her.
Even though the doctor's words of warning were still fresh in her mind, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the almost corpse like figure of the love of her life in that intensive care unit. Deeply shocked Lisbon jerked to a halt in the doorway. The nurse was very understanding and sensed her distress. Resolutely she led Teresa over to the bed, took hold of her hand and placed it on Patrick's bare chest. With new tears running down Teresa's face she could feel his strong heartbeat beneath her fingers.
"Your husband will be fine," the white-clad woman reassured her. "He's a real fighter. I know, it's a shocking sight with all those tubes attached. But he's only deeply sedated because we're trying to give his system a better chance to recover from the shock of the blood loss. The body reacts extensively to such trauma, mostly with a massive release of adrenaline. That wouldn't be beneficial to him at this point. The doctors are optimistic, they'll be able to start raising him from this state already tomorrow morning. He should be allowed to breathe on his own by that time."
She patted Lisbon's shoulder gently. "Why don't you take a seat? You look very shaken, which is understandable of course." She pulled a chair closer to the bedside so the other woman would be able to maintain the physical contact and motioned for Teresa to sit down. "Yes, that's much better. I'll leave you alone with your husband now, but don't hesitate to ask for help," she added and pointed to the call button attached to Patrick's bed.
"He's not really my husband." Lisbon felt the need to clarify.
"But close enough from the looks of it," the nurse stated matter-of-factly. "That's what counts. Love is love. Who cares for the details." With that parting shot she left.
"Who indeed?" Teresa mumbled to herself and caressed Patrick's chest with the utmost gentleness.
She stayed with him the whole night and she was still present when he took his first independent breath around noon the next day. Only then could she be convinced to leave for a little while to take a shower and change into her spare clothes in a hotel room that had been booked for her nearby. And it was only then that she noticed her clothes were stained with Patrick's precious blood. When she stood in the shower she even had to wash a few traces from her stomach, where it had soaked through her shirt. She did so with shaky hands and tears of relief running down her face. By the time she'd finished in the bathroom she was a lot more composed and bore a relatively happy, honest little smile.
With a lot of effort Cho managed to persuade her to join her team for a decent meal as well, but only because Jonathan promised to sit with his grandson the whole time and would guard him with his life if necessary - which wasn't an entirely baseless concept considering that dozens of media folks were besieging the hospital like vultures. Several reporters and photographers had already been caught and thrown out after trying to sneak into the intensive care unit. And no one could be sure about the possiblity of one of Red John's remaining minions trying something either, maybe even posing as a nosy reporter.
Lisbon only learned about the magnitude of the media attention when she tried to leave the hospital and had to be guarded to her hotel room by several uniforms. And it fully hit her first when she switched on the TV while changing, that especially Patrick but also the rest of her team seemed to be federal heroes. Every channel she zapped through had special broadcasts about the fall of California's most notorious serial killer. They were focusing Patrick's life and tragedy and in a space of only fifteen minutes she had to watch that fateful TV appearance of his from ten years ago at least three times.
The final confrontation and his heroic actions were also lauded and expatiated upon while his current condition was described as still critical. They talked about his career before and with the CBI and showed live interviews with people they'd worked with both at the DA's office and in law enforcement in general and to her utter disgust she could identify several amongst them who'd filed complaints against Jane or on occasion even sued him in the past. Now of course they were falling all over themselves to express how wonderful and nice they'd always found him. How they'd all known what a great man he was and how grateful they were to know him personally.
At that point she had to switch off the TV to stop herself from exploding. What a bunch of liars and hypocrites, she thought angrily. Maybe it was a bit of a blessing in disguise that Patrick was oblivious to it all. She knew he would hate every second of it.
A few hours later after an invigorating meal and talk with her teammates she was back at Patrick's bedside in time to watch him regaining his consciousness. The moment he opened his eyes and immediately seemed to search the room for her was probably the happiest of her life so far. Teresa was bent over him to ensure she'd be the first thing he saw upon awakening. She'd been warned he might be disorientated at first, maybe even hallucinate, but when a small smile graced his lips and he croaked "T'resa", she knew he would be fine and she cried with relief.
He fell asleep right afterwards, the one word had obviously exhausted him. But at that point it was a natural sleep at least.
The next time he woke up was in the middle of the night. He seemed to have a bit more energy but unfortunately he was rather disoriented now. Not knowing where he was and what had happened he panicked and tried to pull out the needles and tubes attached to him and lashed about wildly, muttering "No, no, no."
Teresa who'd kept up her vigil at his bedside was raised from a light snooze by his frantic actions. In a matter of seconds she was up and had pushed the call button as well as taken hold of his hands so he couldn't hurt himself any further. She talked soothingly to him, telling him he was safe and at a hospital, that she was there with him and would make sure nothing bad happened to him. She kept up her talking like a mantra and by the time two doctors and three nurses rushed in, he was already more or less docile again and only looked at her with wide, fearful, but trusting eyes.
The medical staff checked him over and left again after they'd made certain he wasn't any worse for wear, hadn't reopened his stab wound/abdominal incision or managed to disconnect any of the necessary equipment and seemed to be relatively coherent. One of the doctors advised Lisbon to try and explain the situation to the patient but warned her it was likely, Jane would fall asleep again very soon. He was still extremely weak and would be for quite a while after such a massive blood loss.
When she was alone with him again he stared at her with wide eyes. She sent him a warm smile, bent over and pecked him on the mouth. She sat down on the edge of his bed and cupped one of his cheeks with her hand, her thumb starting to caress his face. "Do you remember what happened, Patrick?" she finally asked carefully.
She wasn't sure whether he'd fallen asleep again at first. He'd closed his eyes and breathed evenly for at least five minutes. But then his eyes opened again and he gave a curt nod. "Red John," he croaked.
With her free hand she got a glass of water with a straw from his bedside table. She held it in place so he could reach the straw with his mouth and in a strict voice she asked him to only take very small sips. He obeyed for once. "What exactly do you remember?" she inquired gently while she put the glass back to where it came from.
"Paul," he replied with sudden agitation, voice a bit stronger than before. "Is Paul alright?"
She turned slightly so he could see her face easily and reassure himself that she was telling the truth. "He's fine, Patrick. Just a cut. He's already back on his feet and eager to see you. If you feel up to it, he'll be by to visit in the morning."
Patrick breathed out deeply in relief, but furrowed his brow in pain afterwards. He cast an askance look at her and then motioned down his body with a movement of his head. "You were stabbed in the stomach, love. And they had to operate on you to repair the damage to your abdomen," Teresa explained, fighting tears of remembrance. "And you lost a lot of blood because the knife nicked an artery. It was touch-and-go for a while, but you're stable now and given time you'll make a full recovery," she explained patiently, still stroking his face reassuringly.
His eyes drooped and he appeared completely exhausted, but in a whisper he asked, "Is he dead? Red John, is he dead?"
"Yes, Patrick. He's dead."
A small smile crept onto his lips and on the verge of sleep he murmured "Good."
TBC
He's finally gone - woo-hoo!
A/N: I have no medical knowledge. What I came up with here is the result of some research on the internet. I hope, it's not too inaccurate and that my mistakes don't offend anyone with a real medical background.
