A/N: Oh my lovelies I am so sorry for my terrible neglect and vow to be more faithful with my updates.
Bit of a cliffie I think. Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Mentalist
Read and Review. It is the fuel inspiration runs on
The night had been a hard one for Jane. When he finally fell asleep, it was restless and full of nightmares of young women's violated bodies thrown by the river, their lifeless eyes imploring him, asking him why he abandoned them. Then the scene would shift to that night, the note, the face on the wall, the carnage, the sound of his mind shattering, his soul imploding. He shot up in the hospital bed panting, sweat trickling down his brow, and in pain. The violence of his awakening pulled at his stitches, he hissed placing his hand on his bandage. He sat there trying to shake off the images that refused to let him go. He was caught in their grip, paralyzed. He tried to talk himself down, to try to slow his breathing but he was unsuccessful. The rapid change in his heart rate, blood pressure, and respirations sent his nurse running into his room. He was embarrassed but he couldn't stop the freight train that was this panic attack. What she saw was a man at his breaking point, his hands gripping the rails of the bed trying to ground himself, to hang on. It wasn't going to happen, he just couldn't stop the pace of his breathing, the adrenalin pushing his heart rate into tachycardia. All these things were melding into unconsciousness. He looked at the nurse who was pushing the button for assistance, their eyes locked for one brief moment and he was gone. His young nurse had never witnessed someone having a full blown panic attack, complete with chest pain and unconsciousness, she was afraid of handling it incorrectly. But the thing that chilled her, was the look in his eyes, she had never seen such a mix of desperation and anger before.
Several hours later Patrick started waking up to voices in his room, he longed to fall back into the comforting darkness of oblivion, no dreams, no memories, no people, and most of all no Red John. However, whoever was chattering away would not shut up long enough for him to return.
"Patrick. Patrick, come on, you need to wake up now."
He refused, grasping onto the last tendrils of the velvet warmth he had been in. "Ow! Someone was doing that damn sternal rub. He opened his fury filled eyes and shouted "I wish you quacks would stop doing that to me, it hurts like hell!"
"Well good morning sunshine. I see we had an interesting night."
"Really? What'd you do ? Because my night left a lot to be desired, sleep for one."
Schein snorted his response.
"So you want to tell me what happened?"
"I assume it's in the chart, I mean that is what you people do right?"
"Yes, but I want to hear it from you, from the horse's mouth so to speak"
Schein laughed heartily at Jane's pun. Patrick you truly are a rare individual, now if I could just get you to trust me… Please let me help you.
Jane began to squirm uncomfortably as Schein's expression changed from mirth to that of genuine compassion.
"Seriously Patrick, these panic attacks are becoming more severe, I'm concerned about the toll they're taking on your body."
"There not so bad I've had worse…" Idiot! You just gave him tons of ammunition. Just keep your damn mouth shut."
"Do you mean you've had worse panic attacks or something else?"
"It doesn't matter, I don't want to talk about it."
"Of that I am certain, but I am here to have you do just that, so talk."
The man is relentless. "Let me rephrase that. I will not talk about it."
"That's not our agreement Patrick. If you don't want me to put you in the psych ward, you have to comply."
Bastard. "Okay dammit, yes I have had worse things happen."
Still too vague, he is such a sly one. " Well besides the obvious, what else has happened to you that falls
under the category of worse things, as you so evasively put it?"
Memories began flashing before his mind's eye, a litany of things best left undisturbed. Things had escaped from their well constructed boxes, and he was powerless to stop them, the pictures of the past. His psyche mocked him, laughed at his arrogant assumption that he had any control.
Shit, he's going to hyperventilate again. "Patrick, you are breathing awfully fast and your heart rate is climbing, you're going to have another attack if you can't calm down. If you are unable to do that then I'm afraid you can't go home in the morning, we'll need to monitor you."
"And by monitor you mean psych ward." He was nearly panting and his face was pale despite the acerbic tone, Schein could see the fear and pain in his expressive eyes.
Come on Jane, pull it together!
He started to breathe more slowly pausing between deep breaths he could feel his body beginning to respond. As he regained his composure he placed his mind on lock down, the walls slammed down with such force he swore it was audible. He sighed and looked at Schein with the cool demeanor of a man in control.
"There Schein, you got what you wanted, and I get to leave tomorrow."
Oh hell…that's exactly the opposite of what I want. He felt like they had lost ground, and he knew that Jane would be in his cocoon of aloofness and all of his responses would return to the glib ones of a man hiding.
"Jane you have to tell me something. Or else I'm going to assume that to be a breach of the contract."
Blah, blah, blah, contract shmontract. I've got it! He only wants to talk about my feeeeeeelings, and he thinks telling him the sordid details of my life will trigger them. Well I'll tell you, but I won't give you what you want.
Patrick shifted in the bed and turned to face Schein. His face was devoid of emotion, his eyes were cold and hard. Tom was hoping that he would at least try to open up, he didn't really want him to be admitted to the psych ward. Nevertheless, he made the threat and he would have to carry it out if Jane kept up his belligerence.
Jane looked in Schein's eyes blankly and began speaking in a low monotone. "You want stories? I have stories, but they don't mean anything. Everyone has messed up things in their past, I just seem to have a little more than some."
"Go on, it's okay."
Yeah everything is just " sunshine and roses". Ah, hell why did I have to go there? His brain had betrayed him by bringing up the very thing he was avoiding by using his father's stupid catch phrase.
The doctor could see the mask falter just for a second something had reminded him.
"Okay you want a story? I'll give you a story." His voice had a bitter edge to it.
Schein leaned forward to hear him better. Finally a chink in the stone wall.