Mentalist: Jane/Cho (Slash fic): Cho's Life (Jane's Death series)
Title: Cho's Life
Author: Kaytee
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Jane/Cho
Series: Jane's Death
Email: kaytee4ever@gmail.com
Fic LJ: http://slashsanctuary.livejournal.com
Disclaimer: Not mine; just having a bit of harmless fun. Will return them mostly unharmed. :-)
Jane's Death series
Part 2: Cho's Life
Summary: Cho's point of view on events from "Jane's Death"
Jane's comment for the "Jane's Death" series: "Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. There is death here, sure, but it's not fatal."
Notes: I am still in shock that the rabid Jane/Cho plot bunny from "Jane's Death" got to me so much that I actually wrote a story. My friend SB, in an attempt to out-evil me (not possible!), challenged me to write a sequel from Cho's pov or that she would. Ha! Joke's on her. I challenged her back to write it and I wrote a sequel anyway. :-p Hopefully we'll get two different versions of the sequel!
Update: SB wrote a great sequel! I wholeheartedly endorse it and support her. Even though she is a wicked, wicked SB, giving me plot bunnies for a Part 3 and perhaps a Part 4 in this series. I never meant to write even one fic, much less a series!
I'll update this post with a link to SB's version of what happened after Part 1: Jane's Death after she posts it.
It's not true that the only time a life passes before your eyes is during your own death; sometimes when a friend's life is threatened, his life and your time together flashes madly through your mind.
It's at that moment that you see all the missed chances and the things that had been staring you right in the face only you were too much a coward to acknowledge them.
The sound of a single gunshot brings instant clarity and sweeps away all the excuses, leaving you with the naked, shocking truth.
It was a seemingly routine call on a seemingly routine day to check up out a potential witness to a robbery-turned-murder at a convenience store three blocks away. The witness had seemed a low threat level by all reports; no guns registered, no problems with the law, not even so much as a parking ticket. Lisbon hadn't even bothered to tell Jane to stay in the car. In retrospect, I should have used three pairs of handcuffs and some rope to keep him inside the car and out of harm's way. Even Lisbon would approve me requisitioning that.
Too bad the team couldn't know that the witness' "missing and assumed dead" cousin made a miraculous recovery and had chosen that day to return after five years to settle some old family argument about who had the worst childhood. Or about who had lost whose favorite superhero action figure that's now worth five figures on ebay. Who knows.
Did I mention he'd brought a rifle along to convince his cousin about whatever beef he wanted to settle? Another relevant fact we would have been better off knowing.
I think Kevlar vests should just be routinely issued when we go out, especially when Jane is along.
As I wait in this cold, lifeless hospital room, my thoughts of the day are caught on an endless, horrifying loop, repeating over and over in my mind. I try to shove my unexpectedly painful, chaotic emotions back into their tightly locked box, but they kept bleeding out. A lot like Jane's wound. Bad analogy but apt.
* * * * *
I had been standing on the lawn with Jane, unofficially on "Jane duty" as the rest of the team headed to the house to talk to the witness. It was such a clear, sunny day; not a cloud in the sky. He was in full on "Jane" mode, spinning stories about his theories on the crime, his hands moving quickly, mesmerizingly, the sun catching his curls and turning them into pure spun gold.
I remember looking into those blue, blue eyes, my mouth quirking uncontrollably into a small smile at his antics. I enjoyed these moments with him and felt that familiar vague warmth in my chest when I got pulled into his world and away from boring mundane duties.
The sound of the gunshot was a splash of ice cold water, shocking me out of my trance.
Jane's eyes widened impossibly with shock and he began to fall. I felt my body automatically going into the routine, catching Jane before he fell then pulling him to me to keep him upright with one arm while reaching for my gun with the other, my eyes frantically scanning the scene before me for further threats.
"Man down! Call 911! Need EMT's NOW!" I hardly recognized my voice, full of fury and fear as I barked out the order.
The scene before me became havoc as people scrambled to take down the cousin and secure the scene and call for help. I left it to them to sort out and took Jane's pulse, already thready, and found the wound and pressed on it to slow the bleeding.
He was muttering something about wasps or bees and stinging and running. Babbling's good; babbling means he's alive. I willed the EMT's to arrive faster, to get here NOW.
All I could do is hold onto Jane's body and press on the gun wound, willing him to stay with me, to be okay. Some small voice whispered in my brain that I was holding onto him for myself as much as for Jane. I pushed it aside yet the stark fear remained.
I have never felt so helpless in my entire life.
* * * * *
After what felt like ages, I was pulled in to a flurry of movement as the EMT's arrived and took over Jane's care checking his vitals, assessing his injuries, strapping him on to a gurney and taking him to the ambulance.
I automatically started to climb in as well when a nagging sense of duty surfaced. I looked around to see Lisbon watching me with a strange, thoughtful expression. I jerked my head toward the ambulance, wordlessly conveying my desire to go with Jane. Lisbon raised her eyebrows but nodded and then turned back to the scene.
I climbed in the ambulance and had just sat down when it took off, speeding urgently to the hospital. Jane was restless, fighting the EMT's and looking around, seemingly upset. He caught my eye and then reached out to grab my hand with a fierce grip despite his injuries. Almost involuntarily, my hand gripped back just as tight, the sound of the gunshot echoing endlessly in ears and the sight of Jane falling rising before me again. The unaccountable stark fear grew worse instead of better as I gripped his hand and looked into his eyes.
His eyes widened in surprise and I wondered what my face gave away. He gave a smile, a ghost of his usual sunny smile and something tight began to loosen in my chest, like releasing a long-held breath. That vague warmth I'd been feeling began to expand, taking the place of some of the fear. Looking into his eyes during this moment of unspoken communication, something began to feel very right. Like some missing puzzle pieces falling into place.
I'd just began to relax minutely when I heard a shout, "He's crashing!" and then Jane went very still.
* * * * *
The next few minutes, hours passed in one long blur. Jane being shocked back to life by the EMT's, arriving at the hospital, Jane being whisked off to surgery...then I found myself sitting in the waiting room....staring at a weary doctor who was trying to talk to me. I saw his mouth move, but I couldn't hear anything except a loud rushing noise. He frowned at Lisbon, who took me by the arm and led me to Jane's recovery room.
All I could see was Jane, laying there, his breathing soft and somewhat uneven.
I went to his bedside and took over the nearest chair, drawn like a moth to the flame. I sat and gripped his hand again, wishing he would open his eyes, smile and joke with me. This is all a horrible Jane joke, right? Any moment, he's going to wake up and say "gotcha!" It'd be worth any amount of ribbing from the team for falling for his trap if he'd just open his eyes now, please.
Around me, vague whispers made it to my ears past the rushing sound..."internal injuries"...."lost a lot of blood"...."touch and go"..."next few hours will tell...." I didn't even try to make sense of them until one of the machines suddenly began screaming.
Doctors and nurses rushed in, pushing me to the side, frantic voices calling out orders, working on Jane. I still didn't understand until I looked up at the screaming machine.
Jane had flatlined.
I was suddenly, painfully snapped back into time and space, the roar of voices loud. I watched them work on Jane, doing compressions and finally shocking him. I watched the clock, willing it to slow down, to let Jane catch up, painfully aware of every second ticking by. It went on for seven minutes until I heard the words I'd been dreading.
"Time of death. 9:49 pm."
The world went away again and in a haze, I found myself sitting again at his bedside, holding his hand and staring without seeing.
* * * * *
I try to drag my mind back to the present, but it's not working.
He can't be dead. He can't. My mind refuses to believe it even as the hand that I am gripping hard begins to cool slightly. No pulse. No breathing. Jane, for once, is completely, utterly still.
This is unthinkable; it's not supposed to happen, ever.
I'm never supposed to feel so utterly, unaccountably alone.
* * * * *
Lisbon whispered in my ear that she was giving me one more minute with Jane and then she would either send me home or have the nurses check me for shock. I jerked my head, acknowledging her words, never taking my eyes off Jane.
I vaguely heard the door closing behind her and tried not to think about other doors closing. I squashed the thought and returned my attention to Jane, soaking up my last moments on earth with him, imprinting this memory into my mind.
I was about to get up and say goodbye when I received a new shock. Jane opened his eyes and gasped, "Cho!"
I sat up sharply, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. I was exhausted and for a moment I couldn't take it in.
I'd refused to accept that he was gone and now he was back, looking at me with those blue, blue eyes, filled with concern. I felt my hand gripping and releasing his hand, unable to stop, unable to process that he was really there. Alive and warm and there.
It was only Jane frowning at me and reaching out to touch me that snapped me out of my thoughts.
I opened my mouth and found myself shouting "Here! In here! He's back!" I couldn't take eyes off him, could barely breathe.
Again, I found myself rudely pushed to the side as the doctors and nurses rushed in to check on Jane. I barely registered their shock at his return, too caught up in my own.
I didn't pay attention until Jane started arguing with them and pushing them away. I frowned, concerned when I heard "blood pressure is dangerously high" and "not going down, dammit, breathe, Mr. Jane, calm yourself."
Jane said sharply, all charm gone, "You're all idiots and I refuse to let you poke at me like a lab rat unless you stop pushing my friend around and let him come back. He's the only other person in the room with an ounce of wit!" He looked past them and fixed his eyes on mine, pleading. I could no more resist that plea than I could fly.
The doctors looked at each other, argued back and forth another moment, then shrugged and let me back to his bedside, Jane gripping my hand immediately. I gripped back just as tightly. I lost track of what was going on around us, staying in this moment with Jane, looking into his eyes so alive, feeling the living warmth in his hand warm, god so warm and trying to let go of the stark fear that still gripped me. Gone. He'd been gone. Gone forever. Then suddenly back. I couldn't take it in.
The sudden silence as they left got through to me. Jane was frowning at me, pulling at my hand, saying something. Oh. Asking what was wrong.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus, the same thoughts still churning. I opened my mouth to answer him but then I heard my chaotic thoughts tumbling out. "You were gone. Dead."
Jane shook his head in annoyance, "No, I wasn't! I was here, sleeping. Had the strangest dream."
Dream? He died and left me and he thought it was a damn dream?!! The roar was back in my ears, impossibly loud, and all the anger I'd been holding in suddenly rushed out. "No! You were dead. I was here and you flatlined. They worked on you for 7 minutes then gave up. They called it. You were Dead!" I felt like I'd been running a marathon, breathing hard. The emotions threatened to overwhelm me, swamp me. Rage. Fear. Loss.
I barely registered his confusion, so intent on letting him know the upset I'd been through today, because of him! Worse, he didn't believe me! Part of me wanted to yell at him and never stop but another part wanted to hold him tight to me and never let go.
I heard a noise, people rushing back in. I froze, unable to bear the thought of anyone else seeing me so out of control. I felt myself letting go of his hand and gripped the bedrail, so furious and conflicted that I couldn't speak.
I watched Jane try to tap dance his way around realizing that he'd actually died; he was fooling no one. He was in a heavy denial and they weren't getting through.
Lisbon, having had enough, snapped at him. "Jane! Listen to me," her voice softening somewhat. "You flatlined. You were dead for 7 minutes. You. Were. Dead."
Jane suddenly seemed to collapse, like he'd been struck and looked to me for reassurance. "Dead? But. You mean.... dead?"
I couldn't do this now; couldn't deal with the emotions churning in my head and chest, not in front of the team. I grit my teeth and with a superhuman effort, shoved as much of my chaotic emotions as possible back into their box. I forced myself to pull back from him, leaning back in the chair and crossing my arms to stop myself from reaching out to him. I reached for my interrogation persona and my thin thread of self-control. "As a doornail."
Jane shook his head. He suddenly looked very small and fragile. I fiercely squashed my impulse to take him into my arms, reassure him.
The nurse finally came in and gave him his pain meds. She was shooing the rest of the team out, but I lingered, unwilling and unable to lose the connection. I need to go, get home, and find some damn control. Then maybe I could be around him again.
I finally stood up, staring hard into those blue eyes that pierced me, seeing again the image of him flatlining, hearing the doctor pronouncing him dead. I stepped back, trying to hold it together to get out of there. A flicker of confusion in his eyes made me wonder if I said my thoughts aloud. That's the last thing I needed.
I suddenly felt so tired, all my energy gone. I turned around and walked away, not daring to look back.
* * * * *
Lisbon took one look at me when I walked out and sent me home, threatening to send me to the hospital if I came in to work before 9 the next morning. Van Pelt drove me home and Rigsby followed in my car so that I'd have it in the morning. They drove off together and I wondered if he'd finally stopped being a fool and made his move. I hoped so. Didn't today prove that life is too short to put things off?
The shower helped. I stayed till it turned cool, feeling the hot water pelting my back and shoulders, helping me let go of the emotions I'd been holding in all day. I let it all go and began to feel a strange sort of calm.
Now that I could think properly I was able to step back and come to some realizations about Jane's impact on me.
He frustrated me, interrupted my work, angered me, and was generally a pain in the ass much of the time. But he also challenged me, his way of seeing things rubbing off on me, helping me do my job better. He also amused me and brightened my day with his jokes and mischief and his ever-present sunny smile.
I needed him in my life, plain and simple. Not that anything about Jane was plain or simple; oh no, it was childlike and joyous or annoying and frustrating. Sometimes, all of that at once.
More to the point, I wanted him in my life. Messy confusion and mind games and all. Wanted to look into his eyes, touch his face, kiss his sunny smile, feel his body next to mine, hold him in my arms.
The question is am I brave enough to just put my cards on the table and see what happens? I don't know.
I tumbled into bed, exhausted. As I drifted off to sleep, the memory of Jane's smile and the way he'd reached out for me twice that day soothed me into sleep.
* * * * *
I was startled awake by my cell phone ringing loudly near my ear. Cursing, I reached for the phone and answered shortly, "Agent Cho."
A weary voice answered him. "Agent Cho, this is Dr. Mallory from Mercy Hospital. I do apologize for calling you so soon after you left, but we have a situation that we need help with."
I sat up, instantly awake. "Jane?"
"Yes, it's about Mr. Jane. He's being most, uh, uncooperative. He's on the highest dose of meds we can give him at the moment, but he's fighting it and won't rest. He keeps asking for you. I hate to ask, but would you please come back and calm the annoying man down so that he can heal?"
I was way ahead of him, already reaching for my clothes. "I can be there in ten."
* * * * *
I strode into Jane's room, keyed up. I wanted to be mad about not getting any sleep but Jane had asked for me. Me. And wouldn't rest until I arrived. I felt a tiny spark of hope.
I walked in and had to stop for a moment. Jane was acting like an ill, fussy half-awake five year old boy, pushing away the nurse and moving restlessly and whispering my name. It was somehow endearing.
I had no sooner sat down next to his bed than Jane had opened his eyes wide a moment, said, "Cho!" enthusiastically, smiled his sunny smile at me and took my hand, latching onto it like a favorite stuffed animal.
I looked down at his hand, holding mine so tight, and felt that vague warmth in my chest from earlier blazing stronger, burning through the fear and anger and confusion, expanding and filling me up.
I looked up at Jane and gave a small chuckle. He was already out like a light, clutching my hand closer, with a peaceful look on his face.
The nurse watched with wide eyes and then turned to me, relieved. "Thank you," she whispered and handed me a blanket and pillow.
I watched Jane sleeping peacefully and settled in for many hours of sitting in an uncomfortable chair rather than sleeping in my comfortable bed at home.
Somehow, I didn't even mind.
* * * * *
Around 6 am, Jane finally started to show signs of stirring.
"About time you woke up, sleeping beauty," I said, amused even though I was exhausted.
It took a few moments but Jane finally opened his eyes. "Cho. You're here." Jane said softly, smiling at me, his expression open and unguarded.
I was surprised at what a change it made to his face, being so open and trusting. He looked younger, less haunted. I'd give a lot to see that expression on his face again. Deciphering the emotions, I read affection and happiness in his eyes and something else I couldn't define. Or more to the point, was still reluctant to define.
"Of course, I'm here. You wouldn't rest until I came back." I know I was being a bit smug; I could feel it and hear it in my voice. Well, who could blame me?
"Huh?" Jane said in confusion then looked down at our joined hands. Jane's face took on his "inventory" look that he had when he was observing and adding things up, drawing conclusions.
Jane squeezed my fingers a bit and I gave a gentle squeeze back. He looked back up then at me, warmth filling his eyes and face. He suddenly seemed to think of something and tried to sit up, wincing at the unexpected pain. "Oh!" He let me settle him back down on the bed before he continued. "There's something I have to tell you."
"What's that?" I smiled, feeling indulgent, allowing myself to stroke my thumb up and down the back of his hand, enjoying the sensation and the look on Jane's face.
I did some cataloging of my own, watching his reaction to my touch and the emotions moving across his face. Jane looked deep into my eyes and I looked back, letting some of what I am feeling come through.
Finally, I remembered he was going to say something. Right. I gripped his hand a bit tighter and raised an eyebrow. "Something you wanted to tell me, Jane?"
"Well," Jane started and then grinned and looked away and then back at me. "It's going to sound silly."
I quirked an eyebrow, amused and intrigued. "As silly as the reason I got called back up here after a half hour of sleep?"
Jane blinked. "You. What?"
I did smile this time, a real smile that I don't use often, knowing it had to be tinged by a bit of smugness but not bringing myself to care. "You were in distress, fighting sleep and the meds, calling my name. The docs finally called me and asked me to 'please come and calm the annoying man down so that he can heal.' So, I dragged myself out of bed and came up here, where you promptly latched onto my hand like it was a favorite teddy bear and finally slept. Not that I got much rest." I chuckled a bit, suddenly feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
"Erm. Sorry?" Jane tried for a casual tone but failed, looking a bit shocked, falling back into his "inventory" mode and watching my face.
"Eh, we'll talk payback later," I said, amused. I thought of some wicked ways he could pay me back and smiled, making plans.
Jane stared at me like he was caught; he didn't seem to be able to look away from me. The warmth in his face, the light in his eyes expanding, getting brighter as I watched. I wanted to just bask in it and soak up that sunshine.
Then he said something that snapped me out of that happy place. "My wife and child told me to stop being an idiot."
'What the hell? Did I read him wrong?' I angrily thought to myself, pulling back protectively and raising an eyebrow. "Go on."
Jane tugged on my hand until I relented and leaned forward again. "In that dream. It had to be a dream. I don't believe in an afterlife." He paused and his voice turned wistful, "It was nice, though."
"Jane," I said in a low growl, feeling aggravated, not wanting Jane to play his games or jerk me around any more.
Jane shook his head. "Right, sorry. This is for your ears only; definitely do not tell Grace or I'll never hear the end of it!"
I nodded slightly in agreement, my lips quirking into a small smile at the shared joke. I tried to find my center again, taking a slow deep breath.
"They told me that I was being an idiot and missing something right in front of me," Jane slowly raised his free hand and lightly stroked my face, a bare whisper of a touch. "They told me that I was loved. That I did love, despite myself. That I needed and was needed. That I had someone to make it worth hanging around, even after Red John..." His voice trailed off, with that hard, angry look on his face that only Red John could bring.
My breath was caught, needing to know, staring hard at Jane's mouth and wanting to ravish him. Claim that mouth. "Who?" I whispered softly.
Jane smiled faintly, "Agent Cho, for an investigator, you make a lousy detective." I growled inwardly, fighting to keep my temper, but some of that must have shown in my face. He shrugged and surrendered. "It's you," he whispered.
I closed my eyes, feeling so many emotions, fear, longing, hope, love... I let it show in my face, not bothering to try to hide this time. Time to be honest; put my cards on the table. I leaned forward, pressing my cheek against Jane's. "It's about time you saw it. Idiot."
"Hey--" I lightly kissed his lips, stopping his mock protests. The kiss slowly deepened as I stroked his face lightly, reverently. I couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe he felt this way. The warmth inside my chest had turned into a roaring fire, burning away all the doubts, fears, and anger I'd been holding onto, leaving me with the love and wanting and being wanted and loved. If I'm lucky, maybe even happiness.
Jane broke the kiss, shifted around in the bed and tugged on my hand. "C'mere." I very gently climbed onto the bed, lying along him, wrapping my arms around him with care.
'Home.' I thought to myself. 'I'm home.'
The End
Author: Kaytee
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Jane/Cho
Series: Jane's Death
Email: kaytee4ever@gmail.com
Fic LJ: http://slashsanctuary.livejournal.com
Disclaimer: Not mine; just having a bit of harmless fun. Will return them mostly unharmed. :-)
Jane's Death series
Part 2: Cho's Life
Summary: Cho's point of view on events from "Jane's Death"
Jane's comment for the "Jane's Death" series: "Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. There is death here, sure, but it's not fatal."
Notes: I am still in shock that the rabid Jane/Cho plot bunny from "Jane's Death" got to me so much that I actually wrote a story. My friend SB, in an attempt to out-evil me (not possible!), challenged me to write a sequel from Cho's pov or that she would. Ha! Joke's on her. I challenged her back to write it and I wrote a sequel anyway. :-p Hopefully we'll get two different versions of the sequel!
Update: SB wrote a great sequel! I wholeheartedly endorse it and support her. Even though she is a wicked, wicked SB, giving me plot bunnies for a Part 3 and perhaps a Part 4 in this series. I never meant to write even one fic, much less a series!
I'll update this post with a link to SB's version of what happened after Part 1: Jane's Death after she posts it.
It's not true that the only time a life passes before your eyes is during your own death; sometimes when a friend's life is threatened, his life and your time together flashes madly through your mind.
It's at that moment that you see all the missed chances and the things that had been staring you right in the face only you were too much a coward to acknowledge them.
The sound of a single gunshot brings instant clarity and sweeps away all the excuses, leaving you with the naked, shocking truth.
It was a seemingly routine call on a seemingly routine day to check up out a potential witness to a robbery-turned-murder at a convenience store three blocks away. The witness had seemed a low threat level by all reports; no guns registered, no problems with the law, not even so much as a parking ticket. Lisbon hadn't even bothered to tell Jane to stay in the car. In retrospect, I should have used three pairs of handcuffs and some rope to keep him inside the car and out of harm's way. Even Lisbon would approve me requisitioning that.
Too bad the team couldn't know that the witness' "missing and assumed dead" cousin made a miraculous recovery and had chosen that day to return after five years to settle some old family argument about who had the worst childhood. Or about who had lost whose favorite superhero action figure that's now worth five figures on ebay. Who knows.
Did I mention he'd brought a rifle along to convince his cousin about whatever beef he wanted to settle? Another relevant fact we would have been better off knowing.
I think Kevlar vests should just be routinely issued when we go out, especially when Jane is along.
As I wait in this cold, lifeless hospital room, my thoughts of the day are caught on an endless, horrifying loop, repeating over and over in my mind. I try to shove my unexpectedly painful, chaotic emotions back into their tightly locked box, but they kept bleeding out. A lot like Jane's wound. Bad analogy but apt.
* * * * *
I had been standing on the lawn with Jane, unofficially on "Jane duty" as the rest of the team headed to the house to talk to the witness. It was such a clear, sunny day; not a cloud in the sky. He was in full on "Jane" mode, spinning stories about his theories on the crime, his hands moving quickly, mesmerizingly, the sun catching his curls and turning them into pure spun gold.
I remember looking into those blue, blue eyes, my mouth quirking uncontrollably into a small smile at his antics. I enjoyed these moments with him and felt that familiar vague warmth in my chest when I got pulled into his world and away from boring mundane duties.
The sound of the gunshot was a splash of ice cold water, shocking me out of my trance.
Jane's eyes widened impossibly with shock and he began to fall. I felt my body automatically going into the routine, catching Jane before he fell then pulling him to me to keep him upright with one arm while reaching for my gun with the other, my eyes frantically scanning the scene before me for further threats.
"Man down! Call 911! Need EMT's NOW!" I hardly recognized my voice, full of fury and fear as I barked out the order.
The scene before me became havoc as people scrambled to take down the cousin and secure the scene and call for help. I left it to them to sort out and took Jane's pulse, already thready, and found the wound and pressed on it to slow the bleeding.
He was muttering something about wasps or bees and stinging and running. Babbling's good; babbling means he's alive. I willed the EMT's to arrive faster, to get here NOW.
All I could do is hold onto Jane's body and press on the gun wound, willing him to stay with me, to be okay. Some small voice whispered in my brain that I was holding onto him for myself as much as for Jane. I pushed it aside yet the stark fear remained.
I have never felt so helpless in my entire life.
* * * * *
After what felt like ages, I was pulled in to a flurry of movement as the EMT's arrived and took over Jane's care checking his vitals, assessing his injuries, strapping him on to a gurney and taking him to the ambulance.
I automatically started to climb in as well when a nagging sense of duty surfaced. I looked around to see Lisbon watching me with a strange, thoughtful expression. I jerked my head toward the ambulance, wordlessly conveying my desire to go with Jane. Lisbon raised her eyebrows but nodded and then turned back to the scene.
I climbed in the ambulance and had just sat down when it took off, speeding urgently to the hospital. Jane was restless, fighting the EMT's and looking around, seemingly upset. He caught my eye and then reached out to grab my hand with a fierce grip despite his injuries. Almost involuntarily, my hand gripped back just as tight, the sound of the gunshot echoing endlessly in ears and the sight of Jane falling rising before me again. The unaccountable stark fear grew worse instead of better as I gripped his hand and looked into his eyes.
His eyes widened in surprise and I wondered what my face gave away. He gave a smile, a ghost of his usual sunny smile and something tight began to loosen in my chest, like releasing a long-held breath. That vague warmth I'd been feeling began to expand, taking the place of some of the fear. Looking into his eyes during this moment of unspoken communication, something began to feel very right. Like some missing puzzle pieces falling into place.
I'd just began to relax minutely when I heard a shout, "He's crashing!" and then Jane went very still.
* * * * *
The next few minutes, hours passed in one long blur. Jane being shocked back to life by the EMT's, arriving at the hospital, Jane being whisked off to surgery...then I found myself sitting in the waiting room....staring at a weary doctor who was trying to talk to me. I saw his mouth move, but I couldn't hear anything except a loud rushing noise. He frowned at Lisbon, who took me by the arm and led me to Jane's recovery room.
All I could see was Jane, laying there, his breathing soft and somewhat uneven.
I went to his bedside and took over the nearest chair, drawn like a moth to the flame. I sat and gripped his hand again, wishing he would open his eyes, smile and joke with me. This is all a horrible Jane joke, right? Any moment, he's going to wake up and say "gotcha!" It'd be worth any amount of ribbing from the team for falling for his trap if he'd just open his eyes now, please.
Around me, vague whispers made it to my ears past the rushing sound..."internal injuries"...."lost a lot of blood"...."touch and go"..."next few hours will tell...." I didn't even try to make sense of them until one of the machines suddenly began screaming.
Doctors and nurses rushed in, pushing me to the side, frantic voices calling out orders, working on Jane. I still didn't understand until I looked up at the screaming machine.
Jane had flatlined.
I was suddenly, painfully snapped back into time and space, the roar of voices loud. I watched them work on Jane, doing compressions and finally shocking him. I watched the clock, willing it to slow down, to let Jane catch up, painfully aware of every second ticking by. It went on for seven minutes until I heard the words I'd been dreading.
"Time of death. 9:49 pm."
The world went away again and in a haze, I found myself sitting again at his bedside, holding his hand and staring without seeing.
* * * * *
I try to drag my mind back to the present, but it's not working.
He can't be dead. He can't. My mind refuses to believe it even as the hand that I am gripping hard begins to cool slightly. No pulse. No breathing. Jane, for once, is completely, utterly still.
This is unthinkable; it's not supposed to happen, ever.
I'm never supposed to feel so utterly, unaccountably alone.
* * * * *
Lisbon whispered in my ear that she was giving me one more minute with Jane and then she would either send me home or have the nurses check me for shock. I jerked my head, acknowledging her words, never taking my eyes off Jane.
I vaguely heard the door closing behind her and tried not to think about other doors closing. I squashed the thought and returned my attention to Jane, soaking up my last moments on earth with him, imprinting this memory into my mind.
I was about to get up and say goodbye when I received a new shock. Jane opened his eyes and gasped, "Cho!"
I sat up sharply, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. I was exhausted and for a moment I couldn't take it in.
I'd refused to accept that he was gone and now he was back, looking at me with those blue, blue eyes, filled with concern. I felt my hand gripping and releasing his hand, unable to stop, unable to process that he was really there. Alive and warm and there.
It was only Jane frowning at me and reaching out to touch me that snapped me out of my thoughts.
I opened my mouth and found myself shouting "Here! In here! He's back!" I couldn't take eyes off him, could barely breathe.
Again, I found myself rudely pushed to the side as the doctors and nurses rushed in to check on Jane. I barely registered their shock at his return, too caught up in my own.
I didn't pay attention until Jane started arguing with them and pushing them away. I frowned, concerned when I heard "blood pressure is dangerously high" and "not going down, dammit, breathe, Mr. Jane, calm yourself."
Jane said sharply, all charm gone, "You're all idiots and I refuse to let you poke at me like a lab rat unless you stop pushing my friend around and let him come back. He's the only other person in the room with an ounce of wit!" He looked past them and fixed his eyes on mine, pleading. I could no more resist that plea than I could fly.
The doctors looked at each other, argued back and forth another moment, then shrugged and let me back to his bedside, Jane gripping my hand immediately. I gripped back just as tightly. I lost track of what was going on around us, staying in this moment with Jane, looking into his eyes so alive, feeling the living warmth in his hand warm, god so warm and trying to let go of the stark fear that still gripped me. Gone. He'd been gone. Gone forever. Then suddenly back. I couldn't take it in.
The sudden silence as they left got through to me. Jane was frowning at me, pulling at my hand, saying something. Oh. Asking what was wrong.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus, the same thoughts still churning. I opened my mouth to answer him but then I heard my chaotic thoughts tumbling out. "You were gone. Dead."
Jane shook his head in annoyance, "No, I wasn't! I was here, sleeping. Had the strangest dream."
Dream? He died and left me and he thought it was a damn dream?!! The roar was back in my ears, impossibly loud, and all the anger I'd been holding in suddenly rushed out. "No! You were dead. I was here and you flatlined. They worked on you for 7 minutes then gave up. They called it. You were Dead!" I felt like I'd been running a marathon, breathing hard. The emotions threatened to overwhelm me, swamp me. Rage. Fear. Loss.
I barely registered his confusion, so intent on letting him know the upset I'd been through today, because of him! Worse, he didn't believe me! Part of me wanted to yell at him and never stop but another part wanted to hold him tight to me and never let go.
I heard a noise, people rushing back in. I froze, unable to bear the thought of anyone else seeing me so out of control. I felt myself letting go of his hand and gripped the bedrail, so furious and conflicted that I couldn't speak.
I watched Jane try to tap dance his way around realizing that he'd actually died; he was fooling no one. He was in a heavy denial and they weren't getting through.
Lisbon, having had enough, snapped at him. "Jane! Listen to me," her voice softening somewhat. "You flatlined. You were dead for 7 minutes. You. Were. Dead."
Jane suddenly seemed to collapse, like he'd been struck and looked to me for reassurance. "Dead? But. You mean.... dead?"
I couldn't do this now; couldn't deal with the emotions churning in my head and chest, not in front of the team. I grit my teeth and with a superhuman effort, shoved as much of my chaotic emotions as possible back into their box. I forced myself to pull back from him, leaning back in the chair and crossing my arms to stop myself from reaching out to him. I reached for my interrogation persona and my thin thread of self-control. "As a doornail."
Jane shook his head. He suddenly looked very small and fragile. I fiercely squashed my impulse to take him into my arms, reassure him.
The nurse finally came in and gave him his pain meds. She was shooing the rest of the team out, but I lingered, unwilling and unable to lose the connection. I need to go, get home, and find some damn control. Then maybe I could be around him again.
I finally stood up, staring hard into those blue eyes that pierced me, seeing again the image of him flatlining, hearing the doctor pronouncing him dead. I stepped back, trying to hold it together to get out of there. A flicker of confusion in his eyes made me wonder if I said my thoughts aloud. That's the last thing I needed.
I suddenly felt so tired, all my energy gone. I turned around and walked away, not daring to look back.
* * * * *
Lisbon took one look at me when I walked out and sent me home, threatening to send me to the hospital if I came in to work before 9 the next morning. Van Pelt drove me home and Rigsby followed in my car so that I'd have it in the morning. They drove off together and I wondered if he'd finally stopped being a fool and made his move. I hoped so. Didn't today prove that life is too short to put things off?
The shower helped. I stayed till it turned cool, feeling the hot water pelting my back and shoulders, helping me let go of the emotions I'd been holding in all day. I let it all go and began to feel a strange sort of calm.
Now that I could think properly I was able to step back and come to some realizations about Jane's impact on me.
He frustrated me, interrupted my work, angered me, and was generally a pain in the ass much of the time. But he also challenged me, his way of seeing things rubbing off on me, helping me do my job better. He also amused me and brightened my day with his jokes and mischief and his ever-present sunny smile.
I needed him in my life, plain and simple. Not that anything about Jane was plain or simple; oh no, it was childlike and joyous or annoying and frustrating. Sometimes, all of that at once.
More to the point, I wanted him in my life. Messy confusion and mind games and all. Wanted to look into his eyes, touch his face, kiss his sunny smile, feel his body next to mine, hold him in my arms.
The question is am I brave enough to just put my cards on the table and see what happens? I don't know.
I tumbled into bed, exhausted. As I drifted off to sleep, the memory of Jane's smile and the way he'd reached out for me twice that day soothed me into sleep.
* * * * *
I was startled awake by my cell phone ringing loudly near my ear. Cursing, I reached for the phone and answered shortly, "Agent Cho."
A weary voice answered him. "Agent Cho, this is Dr. Mallory from Mercy Hospital. I do apologize for calling you so soon after you left, but we have a situation that we need help with."
I sat up, instantly awake. "Jane?"
"Yes, it's about Mr. Jane. He's being most, uh, uncooperative. He's on the highest dose of meds we can give him at the moment, but he's fighting it and won't rest. He keeps asking for you. I hate to ask, but would you please come back and calm the annoying man down so that he can heal?"
I was way ahead of him, already reaching for my clothes. "I can be there in ten."
* * * * *
I strode into Jane's room, keyed up. I wanted to be mad about not getting any sleep but Jane had asked for me. Me. And wouldn't rest until I arrived. I felt a tiny spark of hope.
I walked in and had to stop for a moment. Jane was acting like an ill, fussy half-awake five year old boy, pushing away the nurse and moving restlessly and whispering my name. It was somehow endearing.
I had no sooner sat down next to his bed than Jane had opened his eyes wide a moment, said, "Cho!" enthusiastically, smiled his sunny smile at me and took my hand, latching onto it like a favorite stuffed animal.
I looked down at his hand, holding mine so tight, and felt that vague warmth in my chest from earlier blazing stronger, burning through the fear and anger and confusion, expanding and filling me up.
I looked up at Jane and gave a small chuckle. He was already out like a light, clutching my hand closer, with a peaceful look on his face.
The nurse watched with wide eyes and then turned to me, relieved. "Thank you," she whispered and handed me a blanket and pillow.
I watched Jane sleeping peacefully and settled in for many hours of sitting in an uncomfortable chair rather than sleeping in my comfortable bed at home.
Somehow, I didn't even mind.
* * * * *
Around 6 am, Jane finally started to show signs of stirring.
"About time you woke up, sleeping beauty," I said, amused even though I was exhausted.
It took a few moments but Jane finally opened his eyes. "Cho. You're here." Jane said softly, smiling at me, his expression open and unguarded.
I was surprised at what a change it made to his face, being so open and trusting. He looked younger, less haunted. I'd give a lot to see that expression on his face again. Deciphering the emotions, I read affection and happiness in his eyes and something else I couldn't define. Or more to the point, was still reluctant to define.
"Of course, I'm here. You wouldn't rest until I came back." I know I was being a bit smug; I could feel it and hear it in my voice. Well, who could blame me?
"Huh?" Jane said in confusion then looked down at our joined hands. Jane's face took on his "inventory" look that he had when he was observing and adding things up, drawing conclusions.
Jane squeezed my fingers a bit and I gave a gentle squeeze back. He looked back up then at me, warmth filling his eyes and face. He suddenly seemed to think of something and tried to sit up, wincing at the unexpected pain. "Oh!" He let me settle him back down on the bed before he continued. "There's something I have to tell you."
"What's that?" I smiled, feeling indulgent, allowing myself to stroke my thumb up and down the back of his hand, enjoying the sensation and the look on Jane's face.
I did some cataloging of my own, watching his reaction to my touch and the emotions moving across his face. Jane looked deep into my eyes and I looked back, letting some of what I am feeling come through.
Finally, I remembered he was going to say something. Right. I gripped his hand a bit tighter and raised an eyebrow. "Something you wanted to tell me, Jane?"
"Well," Jane started and then grinned and looked away and then back at me. "It's going to sound silly."
I quirked an eyebrow, amused and intrigued. "As silly as the reason I got called back up here after a half hour of sleep?"
Jane blinked. "You. What?"
I did smile this time, a real smile that I don't use often, knowing it had to be tinged by a bit of smugness but not bringing myself to care. "You were in distress, fighting sleep and the meds, calling my name. The docs finally called me and asked me to 'please come and calm the annoying man down so that he can heal.' So, I dragged myself out of bed and came up here, where you promptly latched onto my hand like it was a favorite teddy bear and finally slept. Not that I got much rest." I chuckled a bit, suddenly feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
"Erm. Sorry?" Jane tried for a casual tone but failed, looking a bit shocked, falling back into his "inventory" mode and watching my face.
"Eh, we'll talk payback later," I said, amused. I thought of some wicked ways he could pay me back and smiled, making plans.
Jane stared at me like he was caught; he didn't seem to be able to look away from me. The warmth in his face, the light in his eyes expanding, getting brighter as I watched. I wanted to just bask in it and soak up that sunshine.
Then he said something that snapped me out of that happy place. "My wife and child told me to stop being an idiot."
'What the hell? Did I read him wrong?' I angrily thought to myself, pulling back protectively and raising an eyebrow. "Go on."
Jane tugged on my hand until I relented and leaned forward again. "In that dream. It had to be a dream. I don't believe in an afterlife." He paused and his voice turned wistful, "It was nice, though."
"Jane," I said in a low growl, feeling aggravated, not wanting Jane to play his games or jerk me around any more.
Jane shook his head. "Right, sorry. This is for your ears only; definitely do not tell Grace or I'll never hear the end of it!"
I nodded slightly in agreement, my lips quirking into a small smile at the shared joke. I tried to find my center again, taking a slow deep breath.
"They told me that I was being an idiot and missing something right in front of me," Jane slowly raised his free hand and lightly stroked my face, a bare whisper of a touch. "They told me that I was loved. That I did love, despite myself. That I needed and was needed. That I had someone to make it worth hanging around, even after Red John..." His voice trailed off, with that hard, angry look on his face that only Red John could bring.
My breath was caught, needing to know, staring hard at Jane's mouth and wanting to ravish him. Claim that mouth. "Who?" I whispered softly.
Jane smiled faintly, "Agent Cho, for an investigator, you make a lousy detective." I growled inwardly, fighting to keep my temper, but some of that must have shown in my face. He shrugged and surrendered. "It's you," he whispered.
I closed my eyes, feeling so many emotions, fear, longing, hope, love... I let it show in my face, not bothering to try to hide this time. Time to be honest; put my cards on the table. I leaned forward, pressing my cheek against Jane's. "It's about time you saw it. Idiot."
"Hey--" I lightly kissed his lips, stopping his mock protests. The kiss slowly deepened as I stroked his face lightly, reverently. I couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe he felt this way. The warmth inside my chest had turned into a roaring fire, burning away all the doubts, fears, and anger I'd been holding onto, leaving me with the love and wanting and being wanted and loved. If I'm lucky, maybe even happiness.
Jane broke the kiss, shifted around in the bed and tugged on my hand. "C'mere." I very gently climbed onto the bed, lying along him, wrapping my arms around him with care.
'Home.' I thought to myself. 'I'm home.'
The End