PSL for neednewthrill

[bettercop]

The last twenty-four hours had been a steadily increasing onslaught of chaos, and adding a gunshot on top of everything else made it harder to focus than she liked. Lisbon wanted--needed--to be in the thick of things, organizing her team, trying to figure out just what the hell Jane had done. She needed to be directly involved, not just on the

Comments

[neednewthrill]

Walter was working in his home office, finalizing the details of a counter-offer on a deal he'd spent more than month negotiating. He didn't mind the time involved, though. It was the kind of thing he loved, a chess game of acquisitions and market shares and stock offerings...and he loved positioning all his pieces just right to make a killing.

He knew Teresa was busy. He'd barely talked to her in the last few days, although that was as much due to his schedule as hers. Still, he was hoping she'd get free for the evening so he was trying to wrap up his own work as quickly as possible.

He was just double-checking some figures when his phone rang. He knew by the ringtone it was Teresa so he just pressed the phone to his ear as he punched in a couple more numbers.

"How's my favorite CBI agent this evening?" he said, smiling to himself. "You're not still at the office, are you?"

[bettercop]

She paused before just blurting it out, attempting to deliver the news in a way that wouldn't worry him too much. It was nothing to take lightly, but in her mind, there were far worse injuries to have, far worse places to have been shot, and her instinct was to shrug it off as something minor and insist she was fine.

"Hey, Walter," she started, clearing her throat a little. "Not at the office right now. We've been busy the last few days, caught a case that led us to Red John. He's dead." There was a weird flicker of emotion deep down inside whenever she acknowledged that truth, but it was something she didn't want to think about too much right now.

"I was wounded, but trust me, I'm fine."

[neednewthrill]

Normally, Walter would've been all over the news about Red John but it was the second bit of information that claimed all his attention. He'd known someday he might get a call like this, or worse, and intellectually he'd been prepared.

Well, screw intellectual preparedness because he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He'd spent too much time with Teresa, gotten too close to ever respond to news like this objectively.

"What do you mean--wounded? How badly? How.... Where are you?" His words were rushed but he managed to keep his voice relatively calm.

[bettercop]

"It's not bad," she declared immediately, "Through-and-through in my shoulder, I'll be outta here by tomorrow."

Not that getting shot was anything to take lightly, and objectively, she understood that a few inches to the right would've made things much more grave. But in her mind, it wasn't bad, she could handle it.

"I'm at Sutter Hospital. Room 216."