On the run (Mentalist Fanfiction)

Chapter five: Reunited but Fainting

What's up guys! How are you doing today? I'm doing great, thanks for asking. Lol no just kidding. Good news. A friend of mine didn't like the Mentalist at the first sight but I've persuaded her to watch it, and now she's completely in love with Patrick Jane. YEAS. I can finally talk with someone in real-life about how amazing Patrick Jane/Simon Baker is. Okay. enough about me. I want to dedicate this chapter to the amazing Katvercueil because you make me smile every time you upload a new chapter of your amazing Jisbon fanfiction! :) 

 Lisbon gasped as she checked the person who was lying on his stomach, he had bruises on his neck which meant he was strangled but didn't die. He had cut wounds and bruises all over his arms. She couldn't quite get a glimpse of his face because there was a plastic bag around it. Lisbon kneeled down at the person's body and checked for a pulse. Luckily, she found one which meant he was just knocked out. She rolled the person over so that he was lying on his back and she checked his body for more injuries. Then she took the plastic bag off of his face, revealing a dear friend of her. He had blood in his blonde curls and his blue eyes were closed. "Jane.." Lisbon gasped, a tear streaming down on her face.. She hugged him instantly, holding him close so he would never leave her again. 

[ 5 hours earlier] 

Jane woke up in the  luggage compartment of a truck which was riding. He tried to move but his wrists were tied up behind his back wherefore he couldn't move his arms. His feet were free though, so he tried to kick against the walls which were surrounded around him. A piece of tape was covering his mouth, substituting him from talking or screaming. Great, he was kidnapped and he wouldn't be able to save Lisbon now.. He didn't want her to die since he would never forgive himself. Besides, she would probably never forgive him. Would she? Jane was thinking about his previous experiences as a kidnappee. As a kidnappee, your job is to get out alive. Get yourself un-kidnapped. Save yourself, regardless if that takes hours,  months or nine years. The problem is, while half of your brain thrashes inside your skull, trying to understand and plan and figure out, the other half thinks it better to shut down, go on autopilot, and treat this whole thing like a clock-punching kind of gig. Both sides are trying to get you through safely, except their definitions of "safe" don't match. Jane's brains weren't normally working like this though. He just wanted to get out safely by manipulating the kidnappers or by reading their minds. Jane actually didn't need to think of a plan when he was kidnapped.He was often saved by the helping hand of his apprehensive colleague and partner Lisbon, who would always shoot the bad guy, put the bad guy into handcuffs and get hìm out of the situation safely. She would often say something sarcastically to him, chuckling slightly and then walking away proudly, letting the other agents do the rest of the job. She presumably wanted to humiliate Jane a little bit, trying to tell him he shouldn't act so pigheaded and opinionated. Jane would chuckle and say something adroit back, which made Lisbon roll her eyes. She would always smile as she looked at him after such a thrilling event. Lisbon always saved him. Except for this time, it was his turn to save her right now. But how would he do that on his own?

He noticed the truck had stopped moving, which meant they had arrived the place his kidnapper, or kidnappers were bringing him. He heard footsteps and waited until someone opened the trunk. A bald, mad-looking man opened the trunk while pointing a gun at him. He gestured him to get out of the trunk, which Jane happily did. The trunk was really narrow and his legs needed some movement as he was lying folded in the trunk. Jane took a good look of his kidnapper. The man was pretty tall, surely much taller than him. Jane wondered how many jokes and comments about his stature he gets daily, jibes about "the air being thin up there." The man was wearing a black v-lined t-shirt which showed off his muscular arms and shoulders and he was wearing dark green, slobby army pants underneath it. His eyes were brown and he hadn't had any facial or head hair. The cold look reflected on his face gave him shudders. His hands were tightly closed around the cold surface of the metallic grey colored revolver. He seemed to have no sense of humanity, according to Jane. The man pushed the gun against his back, forcing him to move. Jane moved his rigid legs and noticed the two of them were standing in a big, dark room. He couldn't see anything properly actually and questioned where the kidnapper would take him to. He walked for a while in the dark room, and didn't feel the pushing feeling of the kidnapper's gun against his back. Jane hesitated, but turned around inquisitively and noticed the kidnapper was gone. He tried to make forms of some things in the dark but couldn't quite place it all, so he kept walking until he saw the familiar bloody smiley on the wall which made his breathing and heart rate accelerate. Festering guilt rendered his mind ineffective, his short term memory shot. He imagined Lisbon, dead. Killed by the inhumane Red John. A tear slid down on his cheek, his blue eyes started to fill up with tears as he imagined Lisbon's dead, pale, bloody body which was lying on the cold, hard, brick ground. Again, he started to think what would happen to him if she would be dead. He was literally only living because of her, her smile,  the friendship and warmth she had given him during his now uselessly search for Red John. He didn't want to live if she would die. He would do anything to make her happy, to save her. Even if it meant he would die himself.