This is what I think the new episode, Bloodshot, will be a bit like. Nothing in here is really in the episode (not that I know of, at least) except for Jane not being able to see, and him calling, "Lisbon! I can't see!".
I do not own. But if Jimminy Cricket is right, and I wish upon a star… -stares up at night sky hopefully-
Jane hissed out a painful breath as he rolled off the hood of the car where he'd landed. He knew he hadn't been thrown far, but it still hurt. Rubbing a hand against his face, he felt the minor burns that would probably be healed in a day or two.
He removed his hand from his face to pull himself to his feet with the car's bumper. The moment he took his hand away, he knew something was wrong. It was too dark. He blinked furiously, but it didn't change. He could barely feel his eyelids closing and opening- he had to touch his eyes to see if they were open. To his horror, they were.
"Lisbon!" he called, fighting to keep his voice steady. Already, he was running through everything he knew about eyes and vision. Too many questions were clamoring to be answered. Blind or stunned? Permanent or temporary? Were his eyes bleeding, or burned, or just stunned from the flash?
"Jane? You okay?" Lisbon shouted back. He was more relieved that he should've been to hear that she was fine. Beating back the powerful emotions (fear for his sight, anger to the bomber, caring for Lisbon), he listened hard, trying to visualize the scene without his eyes.
He heard a rustling amid the hissing and spitting of the dying remains of the fire. He could picture her crawling out from under a car, or rolling out from under a bench that she'd taken cover under.
Imagining what he couldn't see wasn't helping him keep calm.
He waved a hand in front of his face again, just to check. Still couldn't see. He touched his eyes. Couldn't feel them- just the heat of his face from the fire, the bruises already forming on his back from when he'd landed.
"Jane?" Lisbon asked again, an edge of sharpness in her voice. He detected worry hidden under annoyance at his lack of an answer. He wished he could see her face. Another ginger brush of his fingers across his sightless eyes. Another pang of fear when he didn't see or feel it.
"Lisbon! I can't see!" he called, disliking the evident panic in his voice. He heard her walk (practically run) over to him.
"Don't lie to me, Jane. This isn't the time for jokes. Why didn't you take cover when you saw how low the count was on the bomb?" she said angrily. She was silent for a moment- he felt a bit of a breeze on his face, and was once again frustrated by his lack of sight. She sucked in a breath.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked. He concluded that she had been waving a hand in front of his open eyes.
"I don't know."
"Answer the question, Jane."
"I don't know! Um… four?"
"Oh, God," she moaned. He heard a dull thud, and pictured her slamming her palm against the car, or kicking a tire. "You swear you aren't lying to me?"
"I'm not lying, Lisbon," he told her, letting some of the fear leak into his voice to reinforce his claim.
"Damn. Damn, I'm going to call 9-1-1." He heard the rustling of fabric, and a phone snap open.
"No, don't. Just drive me wherever. I'm sure I'll be able to see in an hour or two. Just shock, or stunned retinas. Call Rigsby, get him over here to inspect the remains of the building," he interrupted before she could dial.
"Fine, but I'm driving you to the hospital." A flat tone sounded as she selected Rigsby's speed dial. He could faintly perceive it ringing.
"Lisbon-," he started, but she cut him off.
"Don't you 'Lisbon' me, I'm driving you there if I have to drag you. You're not in shock, and your retinas aren't- Rigsby?" she broke off as her call was answered.
"Yeah, you've gotta get over here… I'm fine… no, he-… no, he didn't do anything. No… no, we found the bomb, but it blew up just after we got to it. I said I'm fine. No, he's not seriously hurt. He can't see, though," she said, adding it in as if it was an afterthought.
"Tell him I'm fine," Jane requested. She ignored him.
"Right. I know. I'm going to drive him to the hospital. Yeah. Get the team over here to check out the remains, see if you can find anything. Yes. …Okay. I'll call you when we find out what's going on." She closed her phone with a snap. It sounded like she was rummaging in her pockets for her keys.
Jane was blinking slowly, still trying to clear his eyes. A dull ache had started just behind his eyes- he hoped it wasn't a bad sign. His head had started spinning, likely from a combination of adrenaline whiplash, smacking his head and back on a car hood when he landed, his brain freaking out at the lack of sight, and straining his ears to listen.
He reached out to steady himself against the car, but his hand missed completely, and he almost fell before he managed to grab the side mirror and balance himself.
"You okay?" Lisbon asked, trying to hide the concern by being curt.
"Great. Just peachy," he muttered wearily, wanting her to just drive him to the hospital already. His fatigue had wiped away his resistance to her orders. Two footsteps, then he felt her put his arm over her shoulders and her arm around his waist to support him.
"C'mon. The SUV is over here," she told him. He didn't give her a retort for telling him what he already knew- he was too tired. He just wanted to lie down and sleep, then wake up with full sight and stamina.
She carefully steered him over to the vehicle, helpfully warning him about the step up on the curb. She even opened the door for him, but he buckled up himself, rather gracefully for someone who couldn't see. Then he ruined the effect by painfully stubbing his fingers as he reached to grab the door and close it.
Lisbon drove quickly, deciding against turning on her flashing lights so she could get there faster. Jane sat in silence, growing steadily more frustrated as he tried to see past the black.
"How long?" Van Pelt said. Jane could practically feel the surprised, concerned look she was probably giving him.
"About a week. Maybe less," he informed her casually from his normal position on the couch. Well, not quite normal. The black glasses and white bandages poking out from the sides marred the just-another-day-at-the-CBI appearance he was trying to give them.
"That sucks," Rigsby mumbled through a mouthful of chips.
"Oh, gross. Sharing has its limits, Rigsby. I don't want to see your chewed food," Cho complained. There was a moment of quiet, which was broken when Cho groaned in disgust. Jane imagined Rigsby had just shared another view.
"Lucky you can't see, Jane," Cho said. Jane smirked.
"I actually think this will be an enlightening experience. My body has responded to my lack of sight by intensifying all other senses. I'll be no different from when I could see," he told him, pushing himself up from the couch.
"Where're you going?" Van Pelt asked.
"To get a drink. Want anything?" he replied, walking smartly to the doorway as if he could see it.
"Um… no thanks," she said, surprised at how well he was managing without being able to see.
"Okay." Jane made his way to the kitchen. He felt around inside until he found a bottle of water, and nonchalantly went back to the other agents, a cocky grin on his face.
"I can manage just-," he broke off as he tripped over something and almost crashed to the floor, barely keeping his balance. Rigsby and Cho roared with laughter while Van Pelt jumped to her feet.
"Are you okay?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding the sightless consultant to the couch.
"I'm perfectly fine," he said with as much dignity as he could muster, which only made the other agents laugh harder. Just as he'd wanted, he'd helped to take their minds off the injury, turning their concern into humor. Anything was better than the pity, really. Too bad there wasn't anything he could do about Van Pelt.
He heard a ping (a computer receiving e-mail, or finishing searching, or updating, or something of that sort), and Van Pelt left his side to go click her mouse a few times.
"Cho, go get Lisbon. I've got an update on the bomber," she instructed him. He got up and crossed the room to her office. Elephants, Jane decided silently as the agent seemed to stomp to the door, making the floor vibrate slightly. I work with a herd of elephants.
He returned with Lisbon following close behind, eager for any news on the case.
"What've you got?" she asked the newbie agent.
"Seems like the debris we sent into forensics had a rare chemical explosive in it. Whoever did the bombing has or had access to the military," she informed them. Jane sat up, thinking.
"The bomber wasn't in the military," he told them.
"How do you know that?" Rigsby said.
"Soldiers learn what their explosives have in them. If it was a rare chemical, then they wouldn't have used it, knowing it would be traced back to them. The explosives were stolen to set someone up."
"Or they really were used, and the killer knows we'd think it was a set up," Lisbon argued.
"That too. But I think my theory is right. Bring in the wife, and Jackson."
"Jane, look," Lisbon started. The consultant gasped theatrically, putting a hand to his collarbone.
"Are you mocking my blindness? 'Look'? Don't be mean to the disabled," he exclaimed dramatically. Rigsby coughed to hide a snigger.
"Very funny, Jane." He could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
"So are you going to bring them in?" he asserted, as if he didn't already know what she would answer.
She sighed. "Fine. But you're taking the fall for this, if you're wrong. Minelli wants all the teams to cut back on the people they bring it, and I'm not getting in trouble for you again."
"I'm sure you won't," Jane grinned, speaking the exact opposite of what he was thinking. He didn't see the pillow she stole from his couch and threw at him. Didn't even notice it until it smacked him in the face.