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"That doesn't make any sense," Cho said.
Lisbon nodded at him. "You're right. We need to find-"
Lisbon broke off, startled, as Jane practically launched out of his chair and half-ran, half-stumbled away, knocking down the chair in the process. Lisbon stared after him in shock, before looking back to the TV, to the talk show that had captured his attention right before his flash of panic. Cho and Rigsby followed her gaze, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as understanding washed over them.
Lisbon nodded to the others, getting up to follow him. "Find Grady Shipp," she called over her shoulder as she hurried out the door.
mentalist
She tailed the speeding blue Citroën for a few minutes before she worked out where he was going, and then she did the safe thing and doubled back to go the other way to the pretty young psychic's house. He wouldn't want her there when he confronted Kristina, but she wasn't planning on giving him much of a choice.
The drive to the psychic's dual-purpose home-office took her all of seven minutes. She screeched to a halt on the curb in record time and flung the car door open, jumping out of the car before realising her consultant's car was nowhere in sight. Cursing, she got back in her own car to wait him out, confident that he would, eventually, turn up. Maybe he just needed to get a few of those 'props' of his first, she thought, smirking despite herself.
She waited a couple of minutes before her phone rang shrilly, making her jump in her tensed up state. Geez, Teresa, calm down, she told herself sternly, looking around to make sure no one had seen. She flipped the phone open, answering with a curt, "Lisbon."
It was Hightower. "Lisbon, I just called Jane. I've got Kristina here, and I'm not sure if you've been near a television recently, but-"
"I know about it," Lisbon told her quickly, wanting to cut to the chase. "Where's Jane? Is he alright?"
"He's heading to my office right now."
"Okay, I'm on my way."
With that, she hung up, gunning up the car and propelling away.
mentalist
She arrived, breathing in short gasps from adrenalin, ten minutes later. She'd turned on the lights and sirens and dodged and weaved her way through the heavy lunchtime traffic. She scrambled out of her car for the second time, not bothering to lock it, and jogged to the gates.
Jane would be livid. He might do something stupid. She needed to be there.
Forgoing the elevator, she took the stairs two at a time. One flight to the top, she tripped and fell, banging her knee hard on the way down. "Ffff..."
She cut herself off, reminding herself where she was, and settled instead for pounding the dusty carpet with her fist, once, twice, and squeezing her eyes closed in frustration. This is ridiculous. She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. The world won't end if I'm five seconds behind schedule, she told herself firmly. Wincing, she used the handrail to lever herself up, and limped, at an excruciatingly slow pace, up the final flight of stairs. It hurt like all hell. "Damn it, Jane," she muttered, blinking away the tears of pain that sprang into her eyes.
She turned into the corridor that housed Hightower's office at the end of it, and could hear Jane's voice as he demanded angrily, "Are you blind? You've done exactly what I did!"
Increasing her pace, Lisbon made it to the window, but faltered when she saw the look on his face. She'd never seen him wear that expression before, not even in his earliest days at CBI. Even then he'd been gripped by a grim determination, an unfaltering, burning desire for revenge. Now he just looked... broken. Scared. Small. She didn't like it one bit.
"I went on television and talked about him as though I knew him, and he killed my wife and child." His face contorted and his voice broke slightly. Lisbon could tell he was struggling to get himself under control. She felt her chest constrict at the sight, tears threatening again, but she swallowed them away fiercely. Not your turn to be upset. She wanted to move towards him, to comfort him in some way, but she found herself glued to the spot.
"Patrick, he was punishing you because you lied about him," Kristina explained, in the slow, patient voice one might use when talking to a five year old. Lisbon's fists clenched as the psychic continued. "I was telling the truth. He won't take offense with me. He might even listen to what I said. In fact, I... I believe he will." Even Lisbon, outside the office and without Jane's knack for reading people, could hear that the bravado was fake, that the pretty redhead was desperately trying to convince herself. Kristina brushed past her on the way out, saying, "Oh, hi, Lisbon," and causing Jane to turn and catch her eye through the blinds. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, and he held her gaze for a moment, seeming to draw strength from it, before he took a deep, slightly shaky breath and turned to Hightower.
"She needs 24 hour protection," he muttered, voice unsteady. Then he turned and went out the door, past Lisbon and down the corridor, pausing halfway down when he saw Lisbon hadn't followed. Instead, she motioned for him to stay put and ducked her head into her boss's office.
"Lisbon," the CBI Chief greeted her before she could open her mouth to speak. "I take it you overheard all that from your spot at my office window?" She nodded guiltily, and Hightower's voice softened. "He's had a rough day."
Lisbon nodded, taking her cue to leave gratefully. "I'll look after him," she promised quietly.
Hightower nodded once. "I'll come by your office later for a case update."
Lisbon nodded again, exiting the office and turning back around to face Jane. But he wasn't there. Cursing her wayward consultant for the second time in less than ten minutes, she limped hurriedly down the corridor to find him.
mentalist
She found him in his attic, reading over his Red John case file.
"Hey," she said softly, sitting beside him on the bed. It dipped slightly under her weight.
"Hey," he murmured, not looking up.
They lapsed into silence as she struggled to find the right words to express what she wanted to say to him. In the end, she just asked uselessly, "Any new revelations?"
She knew that there weren't, and he knew that she knew. He gave her a long, searching look. "Just that psychics are stupid."
Her lips curved upwards. "I wouldn't call that a new revelation."
He smiled faintly in response, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. It sent a jolt of pain through her, and she asked, "Jane?"
"Mmm?"
"Are you okay?"
He glanced at her, and then asked pointedly, "What did you do to your knee?"
"Tripped and fell on the staircase. Answer the question."
"Just then? Coming up here?"
She sighed, wanting to get this conversation over and done with so they could get back to the real issue at hand – his wellbeing. "No, before, when I was coming to Hightower's office." He looked at her quizzically. "What?"
"Why didn't you just take the elevator?"
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "Too slow," she mumbled. I was frantic, was what he undoubtedly heard. She heard him let out a slow breath, and finally dared to look back at him. "Jane, answer my question."
Now it was his turn to look away. "You need to stop worrying about me, Lisbon. Worrying all the time isn't healthy. You'll get an ulcer."
"I've already got about ten ulcers, and they've all got your name written on them!"
He looked at her in surprise. "Really?"
She met his eyes levelly, and then couldn't help but break into a grin at the genuine shock on her consultant's face. "No."
He let out a relieved chuckle, though whether it was because of her lack of ulcers or because she'd dropped the topic, she couldn't tell. Regardless, it was the first happy sound she had heard from him in weeks, and it made her smile too. "What can I do to help?"