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When Lisbon found Jane shut in his attic, he was yet again, in a full tonic-clonic seizure. Fear rushed through her system; just because she had seen him in such a state once before, it didn't make it any less terrifying. She cared deeply about him and loathed to see him suffering; the same applied to any of her team, but to him even more so. Carefully, she tipped him over onto his side in order to prevent him from choking on anything, especially his own vomit. Then, she called for an ambulance and waited impatiently for the paramedics to arrive. It didn't take long for her to notice the nondescript bag of loose leaf tea on the side. Naturally, she peered inside and wasn't entirely surprised by what she saw.
Belladonna.
"Oh, Jane," she muttered and glanced at her watch.
It had been three minutes since she had found him and she estimated that he had probably been suffering from the seizure for approximately five minutes. The cup of tea that lay on the side was still warm to the touch. And it hadn't been all that long since he had left her doing the paperwork in her office, either. It hadn't taken her long to finish up, and she was immediately relieved that she had chosen to come and say goodbye to Jane instead of just leaving. Otherwise, who knew what state he would have been in by the time he got much needed medical attention?
After what felt like a lifetime, he stopped convulsing and she moved him into the recovery position. Even so, it was like agony waiting for the ambulance to arrive. She almost hated him for doing this, but at the same time, she couldn't blame him for it. He had gotten one taste of what it would have been like to see his daughter all grown up. Stronger men would have crumbled under the temptation of such a thing. There had been times, when she was younger, when she would have done anything to see her parents once more. She had grown up since then, had realized that the past was history for a reason. But Jane? He was stuck in neutral, unable to move on from the tragedy. That was one of the many ways in which they differed.
Even so, she knew that she wouldn't be able to hold her tongue once he was conscious and lucid once more. Even though Lisbon knew precisely why he'd done it and understood his desires, it didn't stop it from being wholly irresponsible and totally stupid of him to behave in such a way. This was his health he was toying with for false pleasure and ghosts of the past. It wasn't constructive and it most certainly wouldn't help him in the long run. If anything, it encouraged him to remain stuck in that dark place where he wasn't actually living, but merely existing.
And it reaffirmed her belief that he was getting more and more foolhardy and reckless as the years went by. As they loaded him onto a gurney - something which was giving her a serious case of déjà vu - she offered him a silent prayer. Lisbon didn't care just how much he would hate it at that precise moment in time. If anything, it was more to give herself that slight comfort. She was going to save him one way or another, even if she had to drag him kicking and screaming back into reality.
xxx
Charlotte was standing in the room beside him. She looked so young, innocent and effortlessly beautiful. A smirk toyed across her features as she crossed her arms and strode over to him. She cocked her head to one side as she regarded him and in that instant, she looked so much like her mother that Jane's heart ached painfully.
"I thought I told you that I'm a grown woman now and I can do what I like?"
"Not quite yet," Jane mused out loud and she frowned. "You're only fifteen."
However much he wanted to, he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her. Jane knew that that would only serve to shatter the illusion and he'd be left alone. Charlotte tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and went to open her mouth. Instead of words coming out, she let out a strangled cry. Then, she fell to her the ground in a bloody pile. Jane called her name, tried to take a step forward, but he couldn't. Something - chains - were holding him to the spot. His eyes never left his little girl, who was clearly in agony and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Approaching footsteps made him reluctantly drag his eyes away from young Charlotte. He glared in the general direction he heard them in and wasn't surprised when a masked man walked out of the shadows. There was no need for introductions; this was Red John.
"It's been a while, Mr. Jane."
"Not long enough for my liking," Jane answered with a low growl.
He closed his eyes tightly. Images of Luther Wainwright's bloody corpse flashed before his eyes. Lorelei, who had been so close to him and yet, so far away. Jane had been so close to breaking her and then, Red John had slipped in and whisked her away. Every time he believed he was getting closer to the serial killer, it then became apparent that in actuality, he was much further away from him.
Red John leaned over Charlotte, as if to observe the damage he had already done. Though he was wearing a mask, Jane could easily imagine the leering grin that it was covering up. The serial killer - his daughter's murderer - ran a gentle gloved hand up and down her body and Jane could see her shuddering in revulsion. He tried desperately to fight against the bonds that held him, but if anything, they only served to hold him tighter. A guttural growl escaped from his throat due to sheer frustration and Red John chose that moment to look back up at him.
"You really believed she was safe from me because she was already dead?" Red John enquired with a note of amusement in his voice. "This time, I'm going to enjoy this. After all, I have a worthy audience..."
Jane tried to screw his eyes tightly shut as Red John carried out the deed. However morbid curiosity and the sound of her screams led to him taking nervous glances. When she took the last heaving breath, Jane muttered something akin to a prayer quietly. He staunchly did not believe there was a god, but he felt the need to cling onto something in order to honor Charlotte. And if nothing else, it made him feel marginally better about the situation he found himself in.
"Resorting to prayer, Mr. Jane?" Red John stated, surprised. "It's a little late for that."
"Why?"
"Your daughter was so like you. It's only fair you share the same fate."
"Lisbon will stop you. She'll be here."
"Oh?"
It was at that moment when he started screaming her name. "Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon!"
xxx
"I'm here, Jane. You're going to be okay."
"Lisbon," he repeated, with a weak smile. "You saved me."
"Saved you from what?"
She let out a shaky sigh of relief. The doctors had been as furious with Jane as she was, and she couldn't blame them for that. He'd had to have his stomach pumped for the second time within the space of just the one week. It was the same cause and the same result. They likened it to drug use, and considering the knowledge that Cho had shared with her, Lisbon privately agreed. She had to stop him from getting addicted to it, somehow. The problem was how? There didn't seem to be anything she could do; he clearly hadn't learned from his first stay in hospital.
"Damn it, Jane. Belladonna. Again?"
"I took a controlled dose."
She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. "It's a drug, Jane, a toxin. You could have killed yourself!"
"I just wanted to see her one last time…"
"I know," she breathed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know. But you couldn't guarantee the same reaction twice. Did you see her again? Charlotte?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Lisbon couldn't help but instinctively wonder if that meant he was going to fall into this trap time and time again. If he would resort to that weakness every so often just to see what Charlotte looked like now, how he thought she would behave and how he believed she would grow up. Just because she was a figment of his imagination and essentially, just a construct from his own mind, it didn't stop it from feeling any less real. That was the power of hallucinations.
And yet, Lisbon knew there were worrisome statistics associated with drug use and with seizures. A surprising number of people died every year due to unexpected seizures. And then, there was the whole list of accidents that could occur in such a state. When she added in all the complications from the belladonna, it made for uneasy thinking. As far as she was concerned, Jane was playing a very dangerous game and the doctor who had now treated him, twice, had confirmed those beliefs.
Without even being prompted, Jane shared with her exactly what he'd seen. How Charlotte had appeared in the attic, looking as beautiful as he remembered. How Red John had had him bound as he slaughtered her for a second time. She listened and remained wordless. What was she meant to say to a man who had effectively seen his daughter killed by the same man twice?
"I think I've learned my lesson now. No more funky tea for me."
"Good," she answered shortly.
"Lisbon?"
"Yes, Jane?"
"My tongue hurts."
She let out a weak laugh. "You bit it during the seizure. I tried to stop you."
"I think I need to sleep now."
Lisbon nodded in response; she wasn't surprised that he was tired. It was an energetically demanding state to be in; even looking at it was tiring. She took to her feet and started to head towards the door. Jane hadn't yet closed his eyes, but he did look exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Time was going to be the best healer of them all, she firmly believed that. And considering what he had just seen while he was tripping, she was beginning to feel more confident that he wouldn't risk taking belladonna for a third time.
"Teresa?"
"Yes?" she asked again, not flinching at the use of her forename.
"Thank you."