The idea for this story popped into my mind while I was at work and I thought that I could give it a try, so I did. I don´t know if it is any good, and I can always delete it, but if there would be people, who would like me to continue, I gladly will. The first part takes place in Jane´s childhood, explaining why he might have such dislike for doctors and hospitals, as well as his way of becoming a mentalist -It´s not so elaborate like I am making it sound, but...well, I tried. The second part takes place some short time after Jane came back from Venezuela and the rest is there for you to read.

Reviews and feedback are appreciated, and I do hope you enjoy reading this, even just a little bit.

(I apologize for any mistakes.)

Thanks.

The antiseptics and white rooms always gave him the chills. His last visit in a place like this was not great, having a broken arm after falling down the stairs. At least that was his father story which he said to doctors. Of course, there are no stairs in Airstream, just steps - steps from which fall would´ve never resulted in a broken bone.

This hospital was different. All the faces around him wore the same helpless, desperate mask, the smell crept him out and he felt like the smallest person in the whole world. He was told to wait, so he waited, sitting on a plastic chair in the waiting room. Some of the people looked down on him, pity flashing in their eyes, as long as he could tell.

Perhaps it was the way he looked, with gray t-shirt which used to black, too big for his small frame, blue sneakers - too small this time and torn, old jeans. His hair was a nest of wild curls, something he couldn´t care less about. Violet, green and yellow bruises covered his hands. Some of them he managed to get on his own, being a curious kid, who liked to climb, run, jump and swim.

Some of them were there not by his making. Being a disobeying kid did not always paid off.

So he waited, despite how he felt.

His mom was taken away by the ambulance this morning and since then, the day became blurry. She was feeling bad for a long time but he´d been told that everything is just fine and mom is taking medicine which will help her.

So why couldn´t he see her?

Why did his father told him to wait and left him here, all alone?

And why did all the nurses walking around in a hurry always gave him a pitying look?

He might be young, but Patrick Jane was no ordinary child. His mind already worked on a different level. He couldn´t quite grasp the essence of cold reading yet, but he was getting there. Father had been training him and he sometimes performed with him, mainly when mom felt bad.

Sometimes, dad even let him do readings on his own.

Another nurse walked by and smiled at him, yet the smile never reached her eyes. Something awful was going on and he needed to know what. He left the chair despite what his father told him and run to catch up with the her.

"Um, Miss? Excuse me, miss?"

She turned around, annoyed and tired look on her face.

"What is it? Are you lost?" she asked and the look on her face softened a bit.

"No, but...can you tell me what is wrong with my mom - Anna Jane? "

The nurse, knowing nothing about the whereabouts this poor little´s boy mother, said the only thing that came to her mind quickly, "she´s fine sweetie, don´t worry. Go back to the waiting room, okay? Somebody will be there shortly looking for you, worrying sick for sure."

Patrick, feeling a bit relieved, ignored all the tell tale signs of a person lying. A giant stone fell of his little heart and he smiled at the nurse, nodding and saying his thanks.

He returned back to his waiting post, smiling a small smile. A nurse must´ve known what is going on, right? She wouldn´t lie to him, doctors can´t do that. He was sure of that. So, his mom is going to be fine. Maybe he would have to spent some days alone, just with his father, but then, mom will come home. It happened before, this is not the first time.

He took a book out of his small backpack which he hid under the chair and tried reading some more. Although he was just five, mom was teaching him to read, and he was getting quite good at that. Suddenly, he couldn´t wait to show her how good he have gotten.

"Don´t tell him," she whispered lying on the hospital bed, almost as white as the sheets underneath her. Alex cursed silently and his hands went to his ruffled hair. His wife had week, maybe two, left to live.

"Why the hell not?" he asked, desperate. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference...to...me," she whispered, her breath hitching as she spoke. "I can´t look him in the eyes and...I just can´t."

"So you´ll leave it all for me to deal with, huh? You die and bam, Paddy, well, we have all been lying to you, mommy is not going home after all...he´s not stupid you know?"

"No, he´s not, you know I know that," she said desperately and continued"but...let him be a child for a little bit more before...before I´m gone. Let me be a mother for a little bit more...," she breathed out.

Alex´s eyes, usually sparking bright, were filled with tears. "What I am going to do without you?" He asked, as the realization finally hit him. His wife smiled a small, tired smile. She found his hand with hers and squeezed is as tightly as she could. "We knew this day will come...we talked about it, so many times Alex, so you know what I need you to do, right?" she said and he gave a her a beaten look. "Raise him good. Train him, he has so much potential. Don´t...don´t drown in the sorrow too much, for too long...he will need you. Please...promise me you´ll take good care of him."

"I...I...don´t know if I am up for such a task..." he whispered back, knowing exactly he was never a good father material, just like his father wasn´t.

"Promise me Alex..." she pleaded.

He led out a long sigh. "I promise that I´ll try, that´s all I can do."

Patrick was led out of mother´s room, shaken to the core. She looked really bad. She could barely speak and fell asleep in the middle of a sentence, twice, before they were ushered out by another nurse. Father told him it´s the medicine she´s taking and it will take some time before she gets better.

That made sense.

Father looking like he´s been crying didn´t. Why would he cry if she´s getting better? Perhaps he just hated to see her like this, Patrick mused. He sure did. His own eyes were a bit misty when he sat in the old rusty truck, which belonged to the carnival.

"When can we see her again, dad?" he asked after a while.

"Stop asking questions Paddy, I´m driving. And when we get home, get ready for tonight show, understand?"

"Yes, dad," he said, his voice lacking the childish enthusiasm. His mom usually helped him to get ready. Not today, he thought.

Patrick was left alone in the trailer after the show. Dad said something about being back soon. It caused no problems for him, little Patrick was used to it. He brushed his teeth, put away his clothes, nicely, like his mom always told him to and went to bed, holding an old book which his mother used to read to him. The night was calm and quite hot, he could hear crickets and people´s laughter through the open window, could see stars shinning bright.

Yet sleep never come easy to him. His mind worked through the night, analyzing every sound he could hear, the thoughts always keeping him awake. It was usually after midnight when his body refused to go any more and he was finally able to get some sleep. This night was no exception. Something was bothering him and he couldn´t quite put his finger on it.

After all, he was only five.

Shuddering, he lied down on his belly and opened the book right where his mom left off. No need for bookmark, he always remembered the number of the page she read last. Soon, he got lost in the story, while his father was still absent.

"Another one?" Pete asked, pouring Alex another shot of vodka.

Wordlessly, Alex took the tiny glass and gulped the liquid down in one go. "Thanks," he muttered and Pete only nodded, staring at him. He couldn´t imagine what was the man going through. Losing a wife like that..."So, there´s nothing they could do?"

"No...just make her comfortable, until..."

This time, Pete nods, "How´s Paddy?" he asked, genuinely worried about the little lad. He´s a good boy, he thought. Sometimes he get on the nerves, but which kid doesn´t? And he´s talented. He sure has a future around here and he hated to think what is this all doing to him.

"He has no clue. Or maybe he does, I sure as hell don´t know...anyways, she begged me not to tell him. Not yet."

"Poor little lad..." Pete muttered under his breath after Alex sighed loudly. "You know that we will help you anyway we can Alex, I can watch the boy anytime, teach him a few things on the way."

Alex nodded, his eyes red, maybe from tears, maybe from the vodka. Perhaps from both. "Thanks, I appreciate that but I really should be going, I´ll promised her to be a better father...might as well start doing that."

"Good promise," Pete said and nodded in approval. It was a shame that Alex couldn´t keep up with it.

Patrick couldn´t take it anymore. He run to the surrounding forest, eyes burning from all the unshed tears. How could this happen? Everyone lied to him! The nurses! The doctors! His father! Even mom...his dear mom. All of them told him she will be back...

None of them told him she will be back in a coffin!

"Liars"! he yelled as he run thought the bushes, not minding the stings he felt as some of them have ripped his skin.

"You all lied to me!" he yelled some more.

Somewhere, behind him, people were calling his name. He couldn´t care less, all he wanted to do was get away, as far as possible. Away from all the lying people, away from his dead mother, away from the absolute sorrow and desperation he felt. He ran, the voices yelling his name getting lost somewhere behind him. They won´t find him, he vowed. He won´t go to his mother´s funeral because she can´t be dead! She can´t. How could she? The medicine...it worked, right? She told him...she...

After what seemed like hours, he fell down on his four, breathless from all the running, his skin burning just as his eyes did and suddenly, the images of all people telling lies flashed in front of his eyes.

"They all lied," he whispered, suddenly realizing it. He could see it...yet he chose not to.

"They...they all did..." he whispered and sat down, holding his knees, rocking back and forth.

"Oh, mommy..." he whispered and sobbed violently.

Alex carried his bruised and scratched son home in silence and surrounding darkness. The only sound except the sounds of forest were Patrick´s little sobs. "Stop sobbing, son," he said, he himself fighting the urge to cry knowing that he can´t. Not in front of him at least.

"No!" Patrick yipped, "you lied! Mom´s dead..."

Alex sighed. He was never good with talking to his son, only when it came to scolding him, trying to get some sense into the stubborn head of his. His mother was the one who cared for him and loved him. She would´ve known what to say. She would comfort him, wipe his tears away...make everything all right again.

Nevertheless, she´s gone. All the kid is left with is him. And there is only one things Alexander Jane is good at - it ain´t sugarcoating.

"Listen here Paddy, people lie all the time. They lie to you for different reasons, some of them are good, some of them are bad. But the point stands. We all lie. All the time."

Young Patrick rubbed at his eyes, trying to stop those tears flowing." "Even you?" He asks, desperation and accusation filling his voice, the childlike attitude slowly slipping away from him, as it had been fading away since his mother been admitted to hospital.

Alex Jane looks down on his son, his own eyes kind of misty, face worn down. "Especially me son. It´s the only thing I´m good at."

Patrick nodded in silence, not really understanding his father´s words.

"Is she really gone?" he whispers, mostly to himself.

Alex nodded this time." I am sorry son. It´s just you and me now. Better get used to it, huh?"

He didn´t even bother trying to stop those giant tears falling down his cheeks this time and his father picked him up again, carrying him back to the circus.

On the way back, Patrick made a choice.

A choice that would mark his future forever.

He vowed, wordlessly, just in his mind, to never let anyone lie to him, ever again.

Many years later

Cho walked up and down in the Seton Medical Center waiting area, trying hard not to think about the last forty eight minutes of his life. They belonged, by far, to the most horrific minutes he had lived through. He was still dressed in the blood soaked clothes, his mind going crazy with impatience. Lisbon was hurried right into the surgery with two gunshot wounds to her chest, literally drowning in her own blood.

He felt like a failure. He sure have failed Lisbon. He should saw it coming, do something to prevent it. Only person who felt worse than him, besides Lisbon, was Jane sitting on the white plastic chair wearing a blank face. He was almost as white as the wall behind him, his leg was twitching like crazy and he had not said a word since he sat down. Abbott was still at the scene with Fischer, wrapping up the mess they made. The prime suspect in their latest case, the one who shot Lisbon, was taken down by the SWAT team that arrived at the scene after Cho called for backup and ambulance.

The paramedics had to wait until the scene was clear, before approaching him and Lisbon. Cho couldn´t keep the look on her face off his mind. She was terrified, dizzy, hardly breathing. Yet she tried to ask him to tell something important to Jane.

"Stay calm, you will tell him yourself," he said to her only half an hour earlier and she couched again, her eyes widening in horror when she tasted blood on her tongue.

"Please Cho...I need him to know that...I..." and that was it. She lost consciousness, probably due to low blood pressure.

Cho shivered and shook his head, trying to deal with the guilt he felt.

"It wasn´t your fault Cho. If anything, you saved her life," Jane said all of sudden, stopping himself before he could add "for now" to the sentence, his voice lacking any kind of emotion.

"I should´ve seen it coming," Cho replied, anger filling his voice but Jane didn´t deliver any response. So they kept silent and waited, both lost in their own personal hells.

Soon, Abbott and Fisher appeared, both asking for news yet not getting any. No one had updated them on Lisbon´s condition so they joined their colleagues in the waiting room, dread filling every cell in their bodies.

Jane knew all three of his colleagues were glancing at him from time to time, trying to decipher or better, prevent any kind of mental breakdown he could be having. The truth was, he felt hollow. Numb. Empty. No emotion could play on his face because simply, he felt nothing.

it was an easy equation. If she´s gone, he´s done. He never told her that but she was the reason for which he stayed alive after killing McAllister. Without her, without the thought of Lisbon finding his lifeless body side by side with the man who murdered his family, he would have probably blow his head off right there in that park.

Everybody has a breaking point. He got a hold on himself after what happened to Angie and Charlotte for a simple reason. Revenge. It kept him going, but along the way, Lisbon added her petite stubborn and most of all caring self to the mixture of aspects which kept him alive.

He felt too old. Too weak to do this again. He already lost the people whom he admired and loved the most, too soon in his life. Patrick Jane was sure of one thing. He can´t do this, not again. If she´s gone, that will be his ultimate breaking point.

And he simply couldn´t see any reason to be pulling himself back together.

Not without her, anyway.

Later

"Agent Lisbon," A tired looking doctor stepped into the waiting room, looking indeed drained, yet satisfied. Jane caught that glimpse of satisfaction on her face and a giant stone fell of his chest.

"That´s us," Abbott said beating everyone to it. The doctor eyes them all and nodded.

"The surgery went well. We were able to remove two bullets from the left lung and repair the damage they caused. We had to place an endotracheal tube into Ms. Lisbon lungs to help with the breathing and, -"

"Can we see her?" Jane asked abruptly, his impatience reaching its peak.

Sitting near Lisbon´s hospital bed, listening to all those machines she was hooked to beeping and buzzing, Jane thought about how many strings had had Abbott pulled to make this work. He somehow managed to wiggle Jane´s way into Lisbon´s room, making it possible for him to stay in there as long as he likes granted he would not get in the way and in a time of emergency, he will listen to the hospital staff and do as he´s been told. Jane gladly obliged.

They gave him a mask, white coat and gloves to wear, just in case. He looked like a giant rubber man. Yet, Lisbon looked way worse. Her face was hardly recognizable under the machinery that was keeping her alive and monitoring her vitals. Doctor Black stayed with him there for a while, explaining everything he wanted to know and despite his hostility towards doctors and hospitals in general, he was truly grateful now for every information he could get.

Evidently, all things considered, Lisbon would be fine as according to doctor Black, people are not as easily killed by guns as it´s widely spread. There were some possible complications in the way, yet Jane chose not to think about them right now. One thing at a time, he thought. So far, his kept his sanity with the thought of Lisbon being alive, if not so well.

He was not allowed to touch her. All he could do was look at her.

And talk to her.

"Hey," he whispered, lowering his face just a little bit closer to hers. There was a slight chance, or in other words, no chance, that she could hear him. She was completely off. "It´s me, Jane," he continued, nevertheless. "The biggest pain in your posterior... I am here Lisbon, but as it seems, this hospital has some sort of no touch policy...If that´s wasn´t the deal, I would hold your hand now. I swear," he rambled on, trying to hold back his tears, his only answer being beeps and buzz from the machines. "Still, I´ll wait until you wake up, and they unhook you from all this unflattering machinery. Till then, we are restricted to talking only I´m afraid...Well, I am. You are restricted to listening only...I hope you don´t mind because frankly, I have some interesting stories that I would gladly share with you. As a matter of fact ,there is a lot of things I would like to share with you Teresa. Tons of things. You know what? If you wake up, and smile that dimple showing smile of yours, I´ll do more than that, not just share things with you. I...I will drink coffee instead of tea for a month - or even longer - I am not sure about stopping drinking tea at all but I might try - that much you mean to me. I will bring you bear claws and case closed pizzas without even solving a case. I would take care of you, to an extend in which you let me and then push it so far that you´ll punch me, repeatedly. I will ask you out, take you on a proper romantic date you always pretended to hate, yet, secretly wanted to experience. I´ll do all of this and much more, or my name is not Patrick Jane. Because Teresa Lisbon...I...I love you, had loved you for so many years. And honestly, I can´t bear to lose you. I simply can´t. Not you, too," he whispered, this time mostly to himself, "Not you too. "

"Please not you too."

Jane lowered his head into his hands, breathing in and out, in a vain attempt to calm himself down. He sobbed, quietly, hoping, praying even, just as Lisbon used to do for him too.

Long night was ahead of him.

Thanks for reading :)