Chapter 3

'Some melodies are beautiful on their own. But sometimes, sometimes you find a melody that just fits in. that fills up the silence between the notes. What you have then is something bigger than just music.'

Again the beeping intruded on her awareness. Careful, measured sounds that echoed nearby. This time instead of sliding into the cocoon, it tore it open. As if the funeral shroud that had turned her veins to ice had finally been pulled away, like some strange magicians trick.

The pain was muted. Where before it had been a harsh cacophony of fireworks behind her eyes, now it was like colours in the rain. Present, but somehow not as vibrant as it had been. Her entire body ached, muscles complained in weary droves to her brain, but this was an ache she could manage. A pain that was, at least for now, bearable.

Her right hand was warm, almost too warm. It took a few moments for her to realise that. To sort the confused sensations of her body into tangible impressions. Beneath the fingertips of her left hand was a rough cotton weave, but whatever engulfed her right hand was warmer, smoother.

In the brief moments before, when she had surfaced, she had been connected to her body in the most direst of ways. Trapped inside a violent red haze, barely able to understand, let alone cope, but already this time was different. There was more of her now. More of her and less of the panicked creature she had been in the grips of agony. She could feel a prickling in her toes, a tingle in her fingertips.

The next step, she determined, was to affirm exactly where she was. If this was a desperate hallucination of a dying mind, it would be terribly depressing. She concentrated on opening her eyes. The task seeming almost herculean to her current state of weariness. But slowly, far more ponderously than she would have liked, they swept open.

She was indeed in a hospital. So that was good.

There was no mistaking those painstakingly bland white tiles above her head, or the rough cotton blanket she now realised that was tucked around her. What surprised her however, was Patrick Jane holding her hand. His head rested on the bed, next to where his hand engulfed hers. His face was drawn, lines of worry etched into his skin even as he slept.

Her heart swelled, an infinitely tender feeling welling up inside her. She would have missed this face. If there had been a her after she died, then she would have missed him terribly. Some movement of hers must have alerted him, stirring him from the shallow sleep. His eyes fluttered open, the startling colour of them in no way diminished by the sleepiness in his gaze.

"That has got to be the most uncomfortable position I have ever seen." The words tumble out of her, catching in her parched through and snagging on dry lips. But the effect they have on him is extraordinary. He snaps awake, no pointless meandering between the states here. His head jerks up, face still bearing the faint creases from the sheet, and he stares at her with wide eyes. AS if he wasn't quite sure she was real. The wonder and relief in his gaze are so potent that any smart remarks she could have made, vanish. He's never looked at her like that before. Without the careful mask stitched in place.

"You're awake." His voice is soft, reverent and just the slightest bit unsure.

"I wake up quite often, you know." The words are out of her before she can really think about them, a reflexive attempt to find something familiar. Though he does laugh, the sound is harsher than usual, pain splintering in his eyes.

"Well Rigsby owes me a drink." He deflects before she can comment, and she appreciates the slight acceptance of her attempt for familiarity.

"A drink? He bet that I wouldn't?" There is only the faintest hint of disbelief in her tone.

"No. He bet that you wouldn't wake up for a week. I knew better, of course." He mocks lightly, pretending for a moment to be his usual smug self. It makes her smile, which in turn steals a hint of pain from his eyes.

He lets go of her hand, before she can ask for a drink, and is already pouring her a small cup. He grabs a straw, and carefully brings the drink to her lips. She sips, and the relief of the cool water is immeasurable.

She signals that she's had enough, and he pulls back, she grins, "Know it all." She jests as he turns to place the cup on the side desk.

"Saint Teresa." He replies almost out of habit, but then his breath catches, his entire body tightens with unexpected tension as he grips the side table with a force she's surprised at. It's as if he's enduring a great agony, and for the life of her she doesn't understand.

"Jane?" she questions softly.

"You almost were." His voice is hard edged, pain thick and vibrant in his tone. Understanding infuses her in a rush. She had nearly died. His nickname wasn't exactly the best choice of terms after such an event.

"I…" she begins, but there isn't much she can say.

"Why didn't you tell me?" his voice is low, and he still can't seem to look at her, "Why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

This is probably the least opportune time to be having this talk. But she can't figure out a way to delay it. So she decides for honesty. She owes that much to him.

"Because I was dying."

"I know that!" he snaps.

She doesn't let it faze her, "I didn't want you to watch me. I didn't want you to think that if you'd been faster or if you'd figured it out sooner, then you could have saved me. I couldn't do that to you. It wasn't fair."

He turns to face her, an almost violent shudder running through him. He drags his gaze to hers for a brief moment, and the pain in them is so deep, so vast, it's as if she's cleaved him in two.

"Not fair? You were dying Lisbon. It was my fault." The words feel as if they've been torn from him, dripping with contempt and scorn and loathing, but none of it was for her. It was all directed at him. He believed that it truly was his fault.

She concentrates, lifting her leaden hand and reaching for his fingers. He drops his gaze as her fingers brush his, and helps her out by letting her take his hand. She squeezes as best she can, "It wasn't your fault."

His eyes slam closed, and she continues softly, "It wasn't. There was nothing you could have done."

Suddenly he moves, leaning over her and pressing his forehead against her own, free hand gently touching the back of her head, as if to hold her in place. For a moment his breath washes over her face, and part of her realises that he wants to hug her, but fears aggravating her injuries. The warmth of him radiates, and she lets out a trembling breath as her eyes fall closed.

"I can't lose you Lisbon." His voice is broken, choked, "Don't you understand? I can't lose you." Her heart gives a painful twist, and something warm falls onto her face. She flinches, only to realise that it was a tear.

"Jane."

He shudders, and she wants nothing more than to pull him into this bed and wrap her arms around him until this pain disappears. She brings the hand that he's engulfed up, using his strength to place it against his cheek.

"Patrick." This time he sighs. But she doesn't open her eyes, not yet, she needs to do something, say something to chase the pain away.

"I'm not going anywhere." She states, a familiar kind of confidence in her voice, "You're kind of stuck with me."

That makes him laugh, and he pulls back, prompting her eyes to open. Her fingers are curled against his cheek, the warmth she can feel through them drawing her firmly back into this world, stitching and cementing her place among the living, at least for the time being.

"Promise?" he questions, eyes serious.

It means so much more than the words imply. He's not just referring to work, she can sense that much. There is that invisible yet somehow tangible weight of forever pressing down around them. But the meaning doesn't frighten her like it used to. Around her other partners it had seemed like an ominous cloud, something she didn't dare face. But with him, she's not afraid of that weight. She's not afraid of him, of what they could be anymore.

"I promise."

Authors note: Hi guys! :D sorry about the delay, You would not believe the week i've had.

Anyway, this about wraps it up for this fic. I'm considering writing more for it, but for the moment this is it. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as i have writing it.

You guys have seriously made my day with all the reviews, made me smile on some really tough days, so thank you, again for reviewing.

(Of course i'd love some more, if you guys want to :D)

Ta ta for now,

~MadamRed