"What have you been up to this time Paddy?"
He was sitting at the table in the small trailer. He frowned, unsure why he was here, or even how he'd gotten here. He looked up at the woman standing beside him, her hands on her waist and a severe look on her face.
"Mom?" The word escaped his lips before he had time to even think.
"Don't you 'Mom' me, Patrick Alexander Jane. You can't get out of things that easily."
His confusion grew, especially when he realized the trailer he was sitting in wasn't the one in which he'd grown up. This was his Airstream, and with a quick glance down he assured himself that he was still an adult and hadn't reverted to being a ten year old boy.
"Uh -?"
"Cat got your tongue?" The woman sighed and turned towards the stove. "What will I do with you Paddy? You've always been too stubborn for your own good."
A moment later the woman, who both looked and sounded the way he remembered his mother, turned, a teacup and saucer in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other. She placed them both in front of Patrick and then sat down opposite him.
"Eat up! The tea is just the way you like it, with lots of milk and sugar."
He actually hadn't taken his tea that way in a long time – since he was eleven in fact. His father had told him that only sissies drank tea and only real sissies drank it with milk and sugar. He hadn't given up the tea, but he'd begun to drink it black.
"And I made your favorite cookies", she told him. "Chocolate Crinkles. I made sure to put extra powder sugar on them."
He felt a wave of nostalgia fall over him as he looked down at the chocolate cookies. That was another thing he'd given up, although that had been more because he didn't know how to make them, then because of his father. He reached out and slowly picked up a cookie.
He was almost afraid to take a bite, although he forced himself. It was as good as he remembered. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax into the scene. He must be dreaming so he might as well enjoy this.
"You're not dreaming Paddy", the woman said, as if reading his thoughts.
"No?" he said, raising his brows. "You're telling me this is real?"
"I'm not telling you anything. You know Paddy."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what this is, but you're not my mother. She's dead – she's been dead for a long, long time."
The woman sighed and reached across and laid her hand on his. "What happened Patrick? Why can't you remember?"
He snatched back his hand. "What is this? What do you want?"
She sighed again and clasped her hands in front of her. "It was your father, wasn't it." She shook her head. "He was a good man Patrick – but a weak one. I always knew it and I expect things changed when I was gone. Is that when you forgot?"
He shook his head and pushed his way out from behind the table. Standing up he glared at the woman still seated at the small table. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you are not my mother."
"Okay – have it your way but please sit down." She waited patiently until he'd taken a seat again. She once more reached out and took his hand. "I'm so sorry Paddy – sorry for all that happened to you." There were tears in the eyes that looked exactly like his. He shook his head, not wanting to hear the rest.
"No man should lose his wife and child like you did." She held on tight as he tried to pull his hand back. "No – listen to me. You went through something terrible, something no one should ever suffer – and it almost destroyed you. Yes – I know it did. But you survived Patrick and not only that, you've triumphed over the evil that happened. You have a new life and a woman who loves you. You have a child on the way, a child who will look up to you and love you. Don't let that go Patrick – please."
"I don't – what are you saying?" he tried again to pull his hand away, this time succeeding. "What are you talking about? Please – I don't – I don't know what this is."
"You do Patrick. You know what's happening. What I want to know is why you're so determined not to live."
He felt something strange wash over him and his breathing began to speed up. He didn't know what was happening, but it was frightening him. "What do you mean?" he whispered.
"It's very simple", she told him, "you can choose to live – and spend your life with Teresa and the children you will have with her, or you can choose to die. Which is it you want?"
"Want? I want – it doesn't matter", he cried. "It doesn't matter what I want. It matters what I deserve."
"What you deserve?" she frowned. "You think you deserve to die?" She sounded horrified. "How can you think that? Patrick, you're a good man, a good soul. You don't deserve to die."
"Yes I do! Don't you see – I didn't save Angela or Charlotte – I couldn't save them – in fact they died because of me. But this time – this time I saved Teresa and I saved the baby. I gave my life for theirs. Maybe now I'll be forgiven. Maybe now I've redeemed myself."
"Oh Patrick", she cried. She reached out to him but he pulled back, avoiding her touch. "My boy – you don't need to redeem yourself. You didn't do anything wrong and even if there was something, you've been forgiven a long, long time ago. Don't you understand my son – you deserve happiness – and life. You love and you are loved. Don't throw that away, please."
"No – I – this is the way it has to be."
She was silent for a moment, looking sad and defeated. "So – you will leave Teresa to spend the rest of her life alone, without the one man who fills the holes in her heart, the one man who completes her. And you will let your child grow up without a father. You do this because you are selfish, Patrick – something I thought I'd never see from my kind and generous boy?"
"Why are you saying these things", he cried. "I don't want to leave her – I – but she'll find someone else. She'll find a good man."
"She won't Patrick – she won't because she has given her heart to you. She gave it to you many years ago and no matter what you did, she continued to love you. Do you really think that dying will change the way she feels? No – instead she will just die with you."
"Please, stop this, stop it. I can't – I don't want to listen to you anymore."
"Now that's definitely not the Patrick I know. You always listened to me – don't you remember? Don't you remember the many, many hours we talked – and laughed? You do remember, I know you do. Now listen to me again. You have a reason to live Patrick, two reasons. Don't give up on them. They need you – they love you. Don't make the mistake you're about to make. Go back to them and love them – and live. Come on", she reached out once more and took his hand. "Be the brave little Paddy I loved so much."
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"Grace!" Suddenly her friend was here – here when she needed her. Teresa ran to her and threw her arms around her. "Oh God Grace – they've taken him back to surgery. They don't think he's going to make it."
Grace hugged Teresa tightly, her eyes catching the somber ones of her husband and of Cho, who were both standing silently by. "Shhh Teresa – if he's in surgery there's hope. Come on, let's sit down." She drew her friend over to the nearest sofa and sat with her, holding her tightly.
Cho spoke quietly with Wayne, updating him on all that had occurred. The two of them had caught the earliest plane they could, knowing that whatever happened, they needed to be there for Teresa, and hopefully for Jane as well.
"Did you speak with the doctor?" Wayne asked softly.
"No – but one of the nurses spoke to me. Teresa's right – it's not looking good. If he makes it through surgery he has a chance."
"Why surgery again?"
"I guess he was pretty torn up inside. They must have missed something when they did the original operation. It's been bad Rigsby."
"How's she been holding up", Wayne gave a short nod in Teresa's direction.
"It's been hard for her, but she was able to sleep for a few hours. The staff here have been great but – until he's out of danger -" he left he rest of the thought unfinished.
"So what exactly happened?"
Cho explained, in as much detail as he could, about Eckert and the shooting. "He was going to kill Lisbon", he explained, "In order to exact revenge on Jane. But just as he shot Jane pushed her out of the way and managed to catch the bullet instead."
"Jane? You're telling me Jane jumped in front of a bullet?" Rigsby said, sounding astonished. "Cowardly, run as far from violence as he can Jane?"
"Mmm hmm. You haven't seen him in a few months. Jane is – a changed man in many ways. He'd do absolutely anything for her."
"Wow – I never thought I'd see the day!"
"Me either", Cho laughed. "He's got it bad – but so does Lisbon. They're quite a pair."
The four friends sat quietly, waiting for word back on their friend. The nurses didn't know anything but assured Teresa that no news was definitely good at this point. It was almost two hours from the time he was taken to surgery when they heard noises in the hallway and looked up in time to see Jane being wheeled back into the ICU.
"Hell!" Rigsby uttered when he saw the pale and lifeless face of the consultant. "He looks -"
"I know", Kimball whispered, his eyes not leaving Jane's face. "He doesn't look like he's going to make it, does he?"
"Mrs. Jane." The surgeon – a different man this time – approached her. "The bleed was not as bad as we feared. We were able to fix it rather quickly and he's stable again. We're going to watch him closely, and he's not out of the woods yet, but things are looking up."
"Thank you", Teresa whispered. "Can I see him?"
The doctor looked toward the ICU. "Just give it about 2 minutes and then you can go in. And take care of yourself. Your husband is going to need you."
This time it was Grace who accompanied her. In fact her friend kept her arm around her the whole time, making sure to offer her both physical and emotional support.
"He looks so alone", Teresa whispered. "He can't die Grace."
"I know", her friend nodded. "The doctor sounded positive Teresa. Just don't give up hope."
"Actually, he is doing better", the nurse approached and smiled. "His vitals are up substantially and he's doing quite well, considering."
"Really?" Lisbon clutched Grace's hand convulsively. You're sure?"
"Mmm hmm", she smiled. "Can't you see his color is better than it was before? He was still bleeding internally before but they managed to fix that – and so everything is looking better."
It was true, Lisbon realized. His skin had lost that horrible gray pallor, although it was still white, much too white.
"His oxygen saturation is better and his pressure is up. He's not out of the woods yet, but he is doing much, much better."
That, of course, was Teresa's cue to burst into tears. Fortunately she felt less embarrassed crying all over Grace than she had with Cho. "I'm sorry", she croaked.
"Don't you dare!" Grace shot back. "You are not going to feel guilty about any of this. Crying on friends shoulders is a requisite and we're all glad to be here for you."
"I'm making you soggy", Lisbon hiccupped.
"So what's a soggy shoulder between friends? Now come on – come with me to the cafeteria so I can get something to eat. I'm starving."
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Jane looked defiantly across the table. "Fine! I am going to live." He spoke to her in a 'so there' kind of voice.
The woman laughed. "Don't make it sound so terrible", she told him. "It's actually a very happy thing and you're going to love your life."
"Okay – so why am I still here?" Jane liked his Airstream – he'd enjoyed being able to drive it to different places – but right now he was desperate to get out of here. Why he didn't just stand up and walk away confused him terribly. Nothing was restraining him – at least nothing physical, but for some reason he couldn't leave.
The woman across from him took a deep breath and looked unutterably sad. "I think it's because you want to remember, but you refuse to let yourself."
"Remember? Remember what?"
"I can't tell you that Paddy. But it's in your heart – you know. Don't let what happened after I died keep you from yourself." She smiled at him. "It was good to see you again. You've grown into a fine man – I'm so proud of you. And don't you dare go naming any daughter of yours Beatrice!"
That was his mother's name and suddenly, without warning, he wanted to cry. He missed her so much – had missed her for so many years, at least until he'd met Angela and had fallen in love. Why she had returned – in his dreams at least – he had no idea. He also had no idea what he was supposed to remember.
"Patrick?"
"Hmm?" he looked at her, his head tilted slightly, his emotions still raw. "What?"
"Can you – I know it's silly – but can you just call me Mom – just once more."
He swallowed convulsively, wanting to shout at her, to refuse, to tell her to stop, to go away, but again something stopped him. He swallowed again and looked at her – looked her in the eye and saw all the love he'd seen as a child, but this time it was accompanied by a terrible longing and sadness.
"I – don't think I can", he whispered, afraid, and suddenly he felt like he'd lost something precious.
The tears sprang from her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. "It's okay", she whispered. "At least you're going to live and to be happy. What more could a mother want?"
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"He's doing quite a bit better Mrs. Jane", Dr. Bardhan smiled at her. "We might be able to take out the respirator later today if his oxygen stats remain up. I must admit I doubted he'd make it, when he was first brought in, but he's actually recovering faster than we thought possible. He's still very ill, and it's going to take some time for him to recover, but barring complications he should be fine."
"Oh thank God", she said, closing her eyes and swaying slightly. It had been three days of hell and she couldn't believe that it looked like it was finally over.
"Are you okay Teresa?" Grace asked, her arm around her friend.
"Yes", Teresa laughed. "I'm fine – now that I know he'll be okay. Oh Grace." She turned and put her arms around the younger woman and gave her a fierce hug. "I thought I was going to lose him."
"Nah", Grace replied, on the verge of tears. "Jane is like a bad penny – you can never lose him!"
Teresa gurgled and then leaned back, a smile on her face for the first time in days. She faced the Doctor, who had a pleased look on his face. "Thank you Dr. Bardhan", she held out her hand. "I owe you – everything!"
"I'd like to take full credit", he answered, smiling. "But I'm afraid the nurses – and your husband – are due as much if not more credit. And I also expect you deserve a lot of it yourself. Patrick has a strong will to live – and I'm certain that's because of you – and that baby."
Teresa couldn't stop grinning. She asked Grace to let the others know and then headed towards the ICU. For once they told her she could stay as long as she liked – or at least until they had to check Patrick over – at which time she could step into the hall for a few minutes.
He still looked dreadful, but compared to a few days ago she thought he was beautiful. His skin was still pale, and he looked as if he'd lost a surprising amount of weight in just three days – but he was alive! She sat down beside the bed and took his hand, the one not attached to the IV.
"So Jane – another fine pickle!" she said softly. "You really have to stop getting yourself into trouble – I can't survive much more of this." She smiled and gently caressed his hand. "You're going to be okay love", she told him. "You're going to be weak for a while, but that's good. It just means that I get to boss you around. But you are going to make a full recovery." She stopped talking and just watched him breath for a long, long time. It was such an amazing sight.
"You scared me Jane. Please don't ever do that again. I can't stand the thought of losing you so promise me you'll run and hide the next time someone pulls a gun. I much prefer that to these – heroics of yours."
She put her left hand up and moved the lock of hair that was falling onto his forehead. She then continued to stroke his head. "I love you, you idiot, and I will be furious if you go off and get yourself killed."
It took her a moment to realize that Jane was watching her. His eyes were only slightly open – blue slits in his paper-white face. For a while he simply stared, but she could sense the moment when he began to panic.
They had told her it could happen if he woke up while the ventilator was still in. They had explained that it was a strange feeling and patients often fought it, feeling like they couldn't breathe. She immediately rang for the nurse, and then bent over him, trying to calm him as the monitors starting going off and he struggled to lift his arms and do something about whatever was down his throat.
"Jane. Jane. Listen to me." She reached out and held his head in both hands. "You have a ventilator in. Just relax and let it do the work."
His eyes travelled back and forth, unable to hold still for any length of time. The nurse had, by this time, arrived and had injected something into his IV.
"This will calm him down", she explained. "I've also called for the doctor."
"What?" Teresa looked up, suddenly worried.
"It's okay", the nurse explained calmly. "Since Mr. Jane is awake, I figured we should see if we can get rid of the ventilator. He'll be more comfortable."
"And it's not dangerous?" A movement from Jane had her focusing on him again. She could tell from his eyes that he was still afraid and didn't know what was happening to him. "It's okay Jane – relax."
"To take it out?" the nurse replied. "Not if his oxygen numbers remain strong. We'll have equipment on hand if they drop and we might need to re-intubate but it doesn't happen often. Don't worry, we'll watch carefully."
"Hi doctor" the efficient nurse turned towards the door. "Mr. Jane is fighting the respirator. I've given him a mild sedative and he's calmed down somewhat. I wondered if you thought it would be time to try and take out his respirator."
The doctor took the patient's chart and studied it carefully.
"You're okay Jane", Teresa crooned softly. He still looked distressed, although as long as his eyes were trained on her he seemed to be able to handle things. The sedative had also obviously taken effect.
He nodded slightly, although then he looked down at the tube, a confused look on his face.
"It's been helping you breathe, but they're going to take it out now. Everything is okay love. You're okay, just relax."
"Hello Mr. Jane. It's nice to see you back with us." The doctor approached his patient calmly, glancing over at the monitors. "We're going to try and take this tube out now – you'll be much more comfortable." He spoke briefly to the nurse and then turned back around. "Now, I want you to breathe out when we remove it, okay?" He waited for the man in the bed to give a small nod, even though he still looked confused.
"It's going to be a bit uncomfortable, but just try and relax. Nurse Sobell here has some ice and she'll give it to you right away since your throat is going to be a bit sore. Okay, here we go."
The moment the tube came out Jane felt like he wanted to gag – but the ice immediately soothed his mouth and throat. After a second in which he got control of his breathing, he closed his eyes and simply allowed himself to enjoy the cold pleasure of the ice.
What had happened? He couldn't remember anything, although he had a vague memory of tea and cookies. He frowned slightly – he thought they were the chocolate ones his mother used to make, but he hadn't had one of those since he was a child.
He felt a hand holding his and slowly opened his eyes again. He felt so tired, so lethargic and really couldn't muster up the courage to worry about anything right now – although the thought of tea did kind of appeal.
"Tea?" he whispered to Lisbon.
She laughed, although the tears sprung instantly to her eyes. That did worry him. What was wrong? That's not the usual way she reacted to a request for tea.
"I'm afraid no tea for you yet young man", an older, gray haired woman told him sternly. She was fiddling with something by his bed and he blinked, trying to figure out why there were bags hanging on poles beside him.
"What?" he asked. Where was he?
"You're in the hospital Patrick", Teresa told him softly. "You were hurt but you're going to be okay. You just need to rest – and when you're a bit better I'll bring you a big cup of tea, okay?"
"Kay", he nodded, his eyes drifting closed. "With – milk and – sugar", he sighed. A moment later he was sound asleep.
She glanced at the nurse, who smiled. "He'll be a little out of it for the first few days, although he's actually doing really well. Now you", the woman gave her a stern glance, "had better get some rest. You have to think of that baby!"
Teresa nodded, knowing she did need to sleep – and to shower – but she couldn't leave him yet, not yet.
She smiled when she thought of him asking for tea. Only he would do something like that after just about dying! She wondered briefly at the milk and sugar – she'd never seen him drink it like that before.
She leaned back in the chair, his hand still held in hers, and smiled. He was going to be okay.
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"No Teresa, you're not staying here. Grace is driving you home and you're going to eat, shower and then sleep. Cho and I will sit with him and we'll explain."
"But Wayne", she looked at the tall man who was like a brother. "What if he wakes up and wonders where I am."
"Then we'll tell him. Come on – you need to rest because soon he's going to be awake a lot more and you know what he'll be like then."
She couldn't help the small giggle that escaped. The hospital staff had no idea what they were in for.
"Okay – but promise you'll explain it to him?"
"Of course. Now go home."
"It's because I smell, isn't it?" she asked Grace a few minutes later, as they walked to the parking garage.
"Well – I didn't want to say anything boss -!"
Teresa laughed out loud at that. "First, I'm not your boss and haven't been for a long time – and – thanks!" she said the last sincerely and turned towards one of her best friends. She reached out and gave her a hug. "I don't know what I would have done without all of you."
"We're glad to be here" Grace hugged her back. "Although we're leaving the minute Jane is fully conscious and starts giving the staff hell. Then he's all yours."
Teresa smiled broadly as they continued on their way. Yes he was. He was hers and she couldn't be happier.