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The case had been a bad one. A wife and a daughter dead. Brutally. The husband’s affair to blame. It was his fault his wife and daughter were dead.
His fault.
When the scorned mistress had tried to kill the husband’s remaining daughter, Jane had saved her life, pushing her out of the way of the crazed lover’s speeding car. Jane had taken the impact that would’ve most certainly killed the little girl.
Miraculously, the blonde consultant had only suffered minor injuries. Some bumps and bruises to his head and a few sore ribs. Not even cracked, he’d assured Lisbon. The paramedics had concurred, which was the only reason Jane was currently asleep on his usual brown couch back at the office. Or at least, pretending to be.
Lisbon knew better though. She didn’t miss the sounds of creaking leather or the muffled groans of pain as Jane tried to shift into a comfortable position that would be conducive to sleep and not hurt his ribs. So far it seemed like he hadn’t been successful. Which was why she was still at the office “working” at almost 11 o clock at night. Save for her forcing him to come home with her, which she knew there was no way he would do, the only way to prevent a guilty conscience at leaving him alone was to make sure that he had at least settled into a good night’s sleep after the day’s events. And guilt aside, she cared. Despite wanting to punch Patrick Jane in the face multiple times a day, Teresa Lisbon had grown quite fond of the curly haired mentalist. He’d do the same for her or any other member of the team. Of that she was certain.
She typed out a few more sentences of her report before she took a break, leaning back in her chair, stretching and yawning, exhausted from the harrowing day herself. She glanced out at the couch, noting that Jane was finally still and she hadn’t heard any groans of pain or shifting in the last ten minutes or so. Hopefully that meant that her coworker and friend was finally getting some sleep.
Lisbon shut down her computer and then headed out to the couch, grabbing a blanket that was folded over the end that Jane hadn’t even bothered to use. He was buttoned up even more so than usual, both his suit jacket and vest still on. Normally, when he spent the night at the office, he’d at least take off his jacket and sometimes even the vest. But tonight he was tucked into himself, fully clothed, his arms wrapped tight around his chest. Extra security for bruised bones, she supposed.
And a bruised heart.
She resisted the urge to run a comforting hand through his curly hair, not wanting to wake him. “Night, Jane,” she said more to herself than out loud as she spread the blanket over him. Then she backed away, switching off the lights as she headed for the door.
That was when she heard it. A soft “no", Jane’s voice cracking. She’d never heard that tone in his voice before. The grief, the sorrow, the terror, the desperation. All in that one uttered word. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her gut curling as she realized he was having a nightmare.
“Jane, wake up,” she urged as she flipped the lights back on and then hurried back to the couch.
Jane’s face was twisted in agony as his body jerked back and forth, still captured in the thralls of the terror. “No, no, please,” he gasped, the words ending with a groan and a wince as the twisting and thrashing no doubt aggravated his bruised ribs.
Lisbon pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder, not wanting to startle him and cause more damage, but at the same time wanting his nightmare to end. “Come on, Jane, you’re dreaming. Wake up!”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Jane as a few tears slid out from closed eyes, rolling down his reddened cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Lisbon couldn’t bear it any longer. “Patrick, wake up,” she begged, giving him a violent shake.
He did. Jane quickly sat up and then cried out in pain, his arm wrapping tight around his injured ribs as he struggled to catch his breath. He was crying and trying to breathe, pulling in pathetic sounding hoarse whimpers.
Lisbon pulled him up straighter and ran a gentle hand up and down his back, trying to ground him. “You’re safe. It was a dream. It was dream.”
Jane only cried harder, shaking his head. “No,” he gasped. “Wasn’t…wasn’t a dream.” He hiccuped in pain. “They’re…still dead. My fault. It was my fault.”
His words broke her heart. “No,” she said firmly, pulling him into a hug, Jane still trembling against her. “It wasn’t your fault. They wouldn’t want this for you, Jane…Patrick. They just wouldn’t. You have to forgive yourself.”
Jane shuddered as he was finally able to catch his breath. He spent the next few minutes crying softly in her arms. Lisbon was surprised when he actually hugged her back. Something about letting himself be so vulnerable in front of her awakened something in her heart, making it pound a little harder and a little faster. She quickly dismissed the feeling and then ran a hand through his sweaty blonde curls, trying to comfort him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” he sniffled, finally pulling away from the hug.
She tried to ignore how empty it made her feel at the loss of contact. Again, she quickly dismissed it. Jane was a colleague and a friend, nothing more. She wouldn’t mistake the moment of emotional intimacy as anything other than that. It was just a moment among a million. It didn’t mean anything.
Jane wiped at his eyes, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“See what?” she said with a knowing grin.
She expected a snappy retort back. But instead he just looked at her, his blue eyes wide and unguarded with none of his usual bravado shining through. He’d dropped the veil and she realized that she was seeing Patrick Jane, the real man and not the one that he pretended so hard to be.
Jane blinked, glancing at his watch, the moment gone. “You should go. I'm sorry I kept you here so late. What will the neighbors think,” he said, his eyes regaining a hint of sparkle, his wall of charm rebuilding before her.
“Who says it was you? I was catching up on reports. You just happened to be here.”
“Lucky for me,” he said with a smile that almost reached his eyes.
“Lucky for you.” She stood up, grabbing the blanket, which had fallen on the floor in Jane’s anguish. “You should try and get back to sleep.”
“You should get some sleep too. You get grumpy when you don’t get at least six hours.”
“Do not.”
Jane laid back against the couch with a wince. “Do too, Lisbon.”
“Fine, I’ll go home and go to sleep. Only if you promise to do the same,” she said, spreading the blanket over him.
A small smile spread across Jane’s face as his eyes closed once again, an almost peaceful expression on his face “I’ll try.”
Lisbon nodded and then shut off the light, heading for the door.
“Teresa…”
She stopped, turning back to Jane, just able to make out the outline of his face in the dark “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
She felt herself blush and she was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see it. But knowing him, he probably knew. “Be rested and ready in the morning. More cases to solve. More people to save.”
“More people to save. Sounds good.”
“Good night, Jane.”
“Good night, Lisbon.”
That’s all Folks!