Author's Note: For those who have previously been reading my fic Flashbacks, I promise you that this will be nothing like that. Purely Jisbon, with a few twists.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
CHAPTER 1: ANYTHING
He looked out the window to the cloudless night sky. The twinkling stars flickered and danced. They painted a dazzling, sparkling picture. He traced the Big Dipper in the air with his finger, dropping his hand to his side and leaning against the back of his chair, sighing. He glanced at the clock on the hospital room wall. 10:25 PM. Then, he gazed at the unconscious, dark-haired woman lying in the hospital bed, tubes shoved down her delicate throat and machines beeping all around her. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to her.
How she had managed to fall - jump, as he shuddered to remember - twenty feet, broken a leg, four ribs, an arm, shattered her hips and had a very serious head injury and miraculously survived was a mystery to him. It's a wonder she hadn't broken her neck. It had been pure luck. She was now in a heavy coma, her body fighting its way back to consciousness. She was a fighter. She was lucky.
What made him sick was that she hadn't wanted to be this lucky.
That note, the suicide note that they had found in the pocket of her jeans she was wearing that day, would haunt him for the rest of his screwed-up life. He fished it out of his pocket, glowering down at it. He unfolded it, wondering to himself why on Earth he was reading this again. He glanced at her clumsy scrawl, eyes scanning the page under the light of the full moon that was streaming into the window of the dark hospital room.
To my team: It has been an honor working with you all. You are a great portion of the reason I love my job so much. You are amazing agents, an amazing consultant in Jane's case, and I know that you will do something incredible with your lives.
To my brothers: I love you three more than you could possibly imagine. I have no regrets when it comes to taking care of you years ago. Please, make peace with each other. It's my final wish, as I knew it always would be when this day would come.
I love you all. Take care of yourselves. I hope you can forgive me someday.
Jane's blood was boiling beneath his skin. His cheeks grew hot, and his breathing accelerated, as it had the last time he'd read it, and the time before that, and the three times before that. He looked over at her again, at the cuts and bruises on her face. At the cast on her arm. At the bandage wrapped tightly around her petite head. At the tubes and machines that were keeping her alive. This was all so surreal.
When the nurse had sent the team and the Lisbon brothers away, claiming visiting hours were over, Jane had stuck around, arguing with the nurse and firmly assuring her that he wasn't going anywhere. Are you the husband? she had asked. He had shaken his head. Just the best friend, he had replied. It probably would have been an easier fight if he had claimed to be her husband. After arguing with the nurse for several more minutes, she had just huffed, turning on her heel and stalking out of the room in frustration. A faint smile whispered across Jane's lips, a feeling of sweet victory, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come when he glanced at his comatose boss.
Jane folded Lisbon's note and shoved it back into his pocket. He stood from his seat next to the window and retreated to the rolling chair next to Lisbon's bed. He leaned forward, pressing his lips together as he watched her. She had been in this coma for over a week now. Her ivory skin was stark-white. Her hands and fingers were much too relaxed, as he was used to seeing them balled up into tense fists. Her perfectly-pink lips were chapped. Her pretty face looked stressed, and in pain. This was not his Lisbon. He wanted his Lisbon back, and he wanted her back now.
"You should try speaking to her."
Jane glanced over his shoulder. Lisbon's nurse was standing in the doorway, smiling sympathetically at him. She was about Lisbon's height with light brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes. She had introduced herself earlier, though he hadn't bothered to remember her name. He had more important things to worry about.
"Something tells me she isn't going to respond," he quipped, suddenly irritated.
The nurse took another step into the room. "When I was sixteen, my best friend Jamie was in a terrible car accident. She was in a coma for weeks. The doctors didn't think she would make it." She glanced at Lisbon, her patient, then looked back at Patrick. "Her doctor told me that I should talk to her. Of course, I thought he was crazy, but I was desperate. I wanted her back. So, I took the doctor's advice, and I told her about everything that was happening at school, and what was going on with me. When she miraculously woke up a few days later, she could tell me some of the things I told her about." The nurse shrugged. "Not a lot. Just bits and pieces. It amazed me."
"Thank you. I will try it," he lied, wanting her to just get out.
The nurse, (Caroline was her name, he now remembered) nodded, as a way to say you're welcome. "Your friend is a fighter," she told him.
"I know," he replied curtly, eyes flicking to hers for just a split second to silently let her know that he wanted to be alone with the patient.
She gave him one last nod, before turning and disappearing, shutting the door behind her. He breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to Lisbon. Of course, she hadn't moved.
She looked so helpless, so weak. He knew that she hated it when she showed any sign of weakness, not that she could help it now. He suddenly realized that he would do anything, anything, just to see her smile one last time. He'd do anything to see her green eyes light up at the sight of a miniature pony waiting in her office or an origami frog leaping through the air, catching her by surprise. He'd do anything to hear the sweet chime of her laugh when he would successfully charm her. He'd do anything to see the adorable dimple that would appear when she smiled one of her little half-smiles.
Despite the fact that he was angry with her, he'd do anything to get her back.
"Lisbon," he croaked, deciding against his previous argument. He didn't give a damn if this was silly, or if he knew that she wouldn't reply. He just needed to speak to her. He needed to tell her everything what has been on his mind since the day they found her, crumpled and broken at the bottom of that cliff. "I don't know why you did it," he whispered, hand covering hers. "But I need you to know that every single day for the rest of my life, I will be hopelessly wishing that I had been there that day, at the bottom of that rock, to catch you." Patrick Jane swallowed hard, biting the inside of his cheek. "I broke my promise to you, Lisbon. I promised you that I'd always save you. I broke my promise, and I am so, so sorry."
He could feel the uncomfortable lump in his throat swelling, growing larger as he stood from the chair and gently pressed a light kiss to Lisbon's temple. His eyes were closed, squeezed shut to be more precise, as he let his lips linger on her cold skin for longer than he probably should have. He pulled back slightly, just to breathe in her scent, which surprisingly still smelled faintly of cinnamon and french vanilla. Jane opened his eyes, straightened up, and walked back to chair next to the window and plopped down into it. He pulled his knees up to his chest and glanced out the window, where he had a clear view of the night sky again.
A shooting star flashed across the horizon, and he instantly made a wish that anyone could easily figure out. With that, he slowly dropped his head between his knees and allowed himself to release the emotion that had been building up for eight long, miserable days.
Author's Note: It's very dark, I know. I hope it isn't too dark for your taste. Should I continue? I'd love to hear feedback.