Sinking

A Mentalist Story

By Brown Eyes Parker

Disclaimer:

I own nothing. If I did, I don't even want to think about what the Mentalist would look like.

Author's Note:

This story will be about six or seven parts, with the middle one from Jane's POV. I was inspired to do this when Donnamour1969 mentioned something about the missing six months in her fabulous tag to the fabulous season 4 finale of the Mentalist. I wasn't going to write it, but then I was listening to music while I brushed my teeth the night after the finale and "Possibility" by Lykke Li, and I knew I had to write something. . . even though to my immense shame – all I could see was Lisbon in a very Bella-like position (you know, the scene where she's depressed after Edward left, I'm not a Twilight fan, but that scene has always gotten to me, especially because it's so beautifully filmed.)

Anyways, this is mostly from Lisbon's POV because as a fellow woman, I felt like I could write her introspective more than Jane's. I know how I would feel if a man I cared about left me for six months without a word of how he was or what he was doing. I mean, I felt like I could feel what she felt in that church scene.

One more thing, each part is based on a song. The first one is, of course, "Possibility" because it's what inspired this whole story in the first place. The second one is Diana Krall's version of "Accustomed to His Face" (note, the male version will make an appearance in a future series of stories), number 3 is "Without You" by the Cranberries.

Now, onto the story.

P.S

The title comes from "Without You" by the Cranberries.

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Chapter 1 Possibility

Tell me when you hear me falling

There's a possibility it wouldn't show

He's gone, he's gone, he's gone. . .

The words were stuck in Teresa Lisbon's head like the first few lyrics of an annoying pop song. She sighed and stared out the window at the impending thunderstorm. She wrapped her fingers around her mug and took a sip of tea before spitting it back into the cup, it had grown cold while she had sat on the couch and looked into space. She had lost her best friend and her heart all in one afternoon, and the feeling of emptiness was shattering her to pieces.

Lisbon took a deep breath and rubbed her cold hand on her thigh, twisting the gray sweatpants in a knot as she tried to imagine what life without Patrick Jane would be like. All she could see was countless unclosed cases and a void that was so large, she didn't think anybody else would be able to fill it. Not for a long while anyways.

She paused a beat before putting her mug on the coffee table and grabbing her cell phone from the ottoman; she punched in Jane's speed dial number and waited for his soothing, assuring voice to come over the line while she listened to the long shrill of the ring. It rang three times before going to voicemail.

She sighed into the phone. "Hey. . . it's me again. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. Call me back if you are or, you know, if you aren't. If you'd let me help, we could get through this together. I'm here for you Patrick; I just wish that you would realize that. Anyways. . . call me."

The first clap of thunder filled the air just as she clicked off; it was followed by lighting that illuminated her whole living room, and a torrential downpour. Lisbon swung her legs over the couch and pulled her throw blanket down, pulling it over her head to block out the lights and the sounds as she fell into a restless sleep.

That night she dreamed about Jane, every single time she got close enough to say something to him. . . to touch him, he would run away, leaving her to chase after him again as she called out his name desperately, begging him to let her help him.

It wasn't until she realized that she was running in circles that she stopped running, falling to her knees and clutching her chest as she broke down into hopeless tears, feeling completely and utterly lost.

.

Lisbon woke up with a start, it was still pouring buckets outside and she was tangled up in her blanket, her clothes and hair sticking to her because she was so sweaty. She threw the cover off and lifted her t-shirt, a blast of air hitting her bare stomach and causing little goose prickles to raise on her skin.

She lifted her hair off her neck and closed her eyes again, trying to relax and shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

But it all came rushing back to her in a five cruel seconds, Jane had left and he was ignoring her. She turned on her stomach, ignoring the ache in her back and the crick in her neck as she buried her face into the armrest and closed her eyes. She decided that she would stay this way forever, letting the seconds and the minutes turn into hours until she forgot everything, including who she was and who Patrick Jane was.

She knew this wasn't who she really was, that she was acting completely out of character, but for that brief moment, she didn't care. Even strong woman were allowed to mourn and feel the loss of somebody dear to them.

There was a knock on her door, she buried her face deeper into the armrest, determined to ignore the person when the knock came again, a little more persistent this time. A thought occurred to her that her unexpected visitor could be Jane. With that in mind, she sat up and slid off the couch, padding to the door as quickly as possible.

She didn't care that she probably looked completely unpresentable, all that mattered to her was that Jane was there and willing to talk to her. She flung the door open and pasted on the smile she reserved just for him, deflating quickly when she saw who was on the other side of it.

"Oh. . . it's you Van Pelt," she said, trying hard to mask her disappointment. "Come in, you're getting soaked."

"Hi!" The redhead said cheerfully, smiling as she followed Lisbon into the apartment as she pushed her wet hair from her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't things be okay?" Lisbon asked, going into the kitchen and pulling out a bag of coffee down from her cabinet.

"I'm fine," Van Pelt replied.

"You didn't answer my question," Lisbon said as she filled her coffee pot with water.

"Well, it is Friday afternoon and you aren't at work yet," Van Pelt replied, shrugging slightly. "And I'm sorry, but you don't look so good today."

"I had a rough night," Lisbon answered. "I'll be ready in ten minutes, I just need to shower and have some coffee."

"I'll make your coffee if you want to go and take a shower," Van Pelt offered. "Or if you don't feel up to it, I'll just tell the team and Wainwright that you aren't feeling well and you can take the day off."

The idea sounded tempting, actually it sounded incredibly tempting. But Lisbon wasn't the type of woman to hide away from the world, it didn't matter how she wanted to do it, or how bad she felt.

She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll be ready to go in a few minutes, okay?"

Van Pelt looked like she wanted to protest, but she nodded slowly and went over to her boss, taking the coffee pot from her hands.

"Okay," she said. "If it's what you really want, but I'm going to make your coffee while you take a relaxing shower. I'll call Rigsby and have him tell Wainwright that we'll be in as soon as possible."

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Lisbon made it to her bed that night, but she didn't sleep a wink. Instead she spent eight hours staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain outside her window as she sent text messages to Jane, and prayed that wherever he was that he was safe and warm.

TBC. . .

Author's Note II:

Well, there's chapter one, I really hope that you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a review. I should be updating every Wednesday until this story is finished. I'm just worried that this story is a little irrelevant since it's been about two months since the finale aired. Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter.

Until next time.

Love,

Holly, 7/11/2012_