[the Mentalist, Big Bang fan-fic] Tricking Stella- Accidentally Engaged part 6 and 7
Title:
Author:
little_firestar (aka LizFromItaly on fanfiction.net)
Artist:
dearthursday
Link to art: here
Word Count: +20.900
Rating: T
Summary: There's only one thing that, after so many years of celibacy, Jane hates more than dates- blind dates. Especially if arranged by a certain blonde truble-maker going by the name of Stella... but there's only one way to stop his opponent, and it's showing her that soon to be Mrs Jane has already entered into the picture. But when evidences will be needed, who will play the part? Easy- the one who always got his back, no matter what. Even if she'll have to sahre her life with him for a little while....
Disclaimer: sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?
Story's un-beated, so, all mistakes are mine. Many thanks to
dearthursday for providing such an amzing and fitting art!
Please note: this si another post season 3 fic; but, keep in mind, that for the sake of story, season 4 hasn't happened yet, and never will, since in this reality the man Jane killed was, indeed, Red John.
[Part 1] [Part 2-3] [Part 4-5]
Stella left their lives- Lisbon’s in particular - in the same way she had entered it, like an hurricane, leaving a trail of destruction and devastation at her back, just like only her brother could do, with just an hug, few tears (silent) and begging them to decide already on a date, because “Rick couldn’t allow to let a golden woman like Teresa escape, risking to see her ending up in some billionaire’s arms” (Lisbon laughed at this affirmation, both because it was funny being called, for once, the “golden girl”, while Jane was still nicknamed the “golden boy” by the whole CBI, especially higher-ups, and because of the face the man did at the mention of the billionaire, mouth and eyes wide open, pale, obviously thinking back to Teresa’s brief affair with Mashburn). They said goodbye that way, with Teresa explaining that goodbye weren’t really her thing, and that she preferred to stay at home, to put everything in order, cleaning being one of the few things able to sooth her soul, and soothing, she definitely needed, because Teresa knew that, just in a matter of days, she had gotten her poor heart broken once and for all. It was strange, but, just like she had done with her brother, Teresa had immediately been fond of the younger woman, immediately liked her. She hadn’t liked lying to Stella, and the thought that she was no longer going to have another woman in her life, not related to the job, and that didn’t see her like the surrogate mother in law, was making her suffer. Like she was suffering because, in just few hours’ time, she knew she had to leave, end the charade, her proof of extremely talented actress in the role of the girlfriend.
As soon as the siblings were out, she hugged herself, and slowly, very slowly, went inside the room she had shared with her consultant in the last few nights, and looked at it with a pain in her soul. She wasn’t ready to leave, didn’t want to, but knew she had no choice, no saying, and that postpone it any further was just going to make it worse. She just told herself she was cleaning up because, for her and Stella, Jane had put aside his place even too much, and keeping it order, or at lest like she had found it, was the least she could do. But she knew the truth, even if she didn’t want to admit it with herself first. She actually wanted to postpone. She wanted to wait for Jane to come back from the airport, hoping to get lost in him one last time, to burn in her memory everything, every sound he made, every movement, every centimeter of his naked skin moving on top of her naked body on the cold silky sheets of his bed while they made… while they had sex.
She skimmed every surface of the room, to imprint them in her memory as well, and to remember him in that environment, what he said and what he had done, him brushing her hair, undressing her, kissing her neck from behind while she was looking at herself in the vanity mirror in the mornings, getting ready to go the CBI. And then, when she reached his bedside table, she saw them, just under the chair close to his side of the bed, few coins, probably escaped the night before from his pockets when he undressed to go to sleep- actually, when he threw in an hurry his clothes on the pavement to join her naked self in bed for another round of passionate intercourse.
She smiled, fond of the memory, savoring it for the time being, and decided to open the drawer, hoping to find maybe a spare wallet or maybe a box or something else; the inside, covered with an old-looking fabric like the bedside table at her side, was clean and immaculate like everything that belonged to Jane alone, and almost empty, saving for one thing, a frame, quite heavy from the look of it, and big as well, in solid silver and a blue night velvet; it was turned upside down, so she couldn’t see who was in the picture, but, somehow, she knew, she knew even without the need to actually look at it. But, still, she did it anyway.
She lifted the frame, feeling its weigh on her hands, heavier than it was supposed to be, and she did, she looked at the image, and found out she had been right from the instant she had seen the object in question. It was a wedding picture, a 20 something years old Jane with his wife, Angela, him in one of his three pieces suits, nothing to do with the ones he could have once become rich, and her, dressed with a simple white and flowing dress, embraced, happy, on the verge of sharing a sweet kiss of love….Angela, his late wife. Beautiful, angelic, graceful and feminine, nothing to do with tomboy cop by the book Teresa Lisbon, definitely not the kind of woman who made heads spin when she walked along the streets.
He still loved her. After so many years, Jane was still in love with his late wife, and… she let herself fall on the bed, thinking about how she had traumatized him, how she had taken advantage of him… it had probably been terrible for him, having to share his bed with another woman, and knowing that he hadn’t been able to resist the call of lust… he had turned upside down the frame because he felt guilty, because he felt like he was cheating on his wife, it had to be that, there was no other explanation.
She bit her lips to suffocate the tears and the sobs, and she put the frame back where it belonged, only, thought, after having noticing something shining in the corner of the drawer… a small object, extremely common, every day occurrence when it come to Jane, something she had seen on him for so long it barely made sense he was no longer wearing it.
His wedding band.
She lifted it, and examined it, studied the artifact carefully, like it was a relic, but scared as well, weighing it in her palm, looking at it with dread in her eyes, like it could burn her finger, mark her skin of sinner and stealer of husbands any moment.
There was something written on the inside, in elegant, small letters. She had never thought there was something engraved in it. And it wasn’t just a date. It wasn’t just their monograms. It was a whole sentence. Forever yours. Forever mine. AR-PJ, 4/25/93.
She threw both frame and ring back into the drawer like they were burning, kind of evil, and she closed it with such a force that it actually cracked- she didn’t care, couldn’t care, though, didn’t have the strength to. She could no longer keep on with such a lie, couldn’t avoid crying any longer. Teresa Lisbon had been so silly and naïf to think she could avoid the awful truth, but the truth had decided to act first, biting her, slapping her, forcing her to face Jane’s inexistent feelings for his boss.
Jane… Jane was never going to love anyone, especially herself, like he had loved Angela, like he still loved his beautiful and sweet late wife, Lisbon knew she had to face it, accept this fact once and for all, stopping all her childish nonsense about the possibility of a relationship with her consultant. After all, Jane had, until that moment, kept all the promises he had made to his wife. He swore on her grave to kill the monster responsible for her and their child’s death, and he had done it, murdering Red John, and even going away with it. There was no reason to believe he could do otherwise with this one, that he was going to always be hers, of his wife, if not body, soul and heart at least.
This new found awareness crushed her, provoking a pain that was almost physical, an hole in her soul that she didn’t know if it was going to be filled ever again…. she knew it wasn’t going to, if she keep prolonging the lie. So, crying freely, sobbing to the verge of convulsing, she took away from the house everything that belonged to her, every sign of her presence, if only temporary, in that place. She hoped it could be enough, that, with time, she could try to move on, try to heal the wound. She needed to think that, with time, they were going to be both better, back to what they had been until she had allowed herself into his bed and into warm and sensual embrace. She needed to believe it, needed to think she could actually heal, come back to be just his friend, that, in time, she’d be able to move on, find a man worthy her and have a family with him. Two children, two cars in the garage, a cat and a dog with a white fence included.
She just had to leave before he could come back, otherwise, she knew, she’d be back at square one, back to allow him to take her, over and over, and she had suffered enough. She was suffering enough.
On her way home, she speeded over, maybe for the first time in years for something that wasn’t work-related, and run even through red lights, lights as red as her puffy eyes, teary. She just needed to be, for a short while, as far away as possible for him. She just thought about her pain. She didn’t consider, neither for a second, the chance that, once found her gone, he could be the one feeling betrayed and alone, cheated on by life itself.
Late at night, the silence of her quiet road broke only by the heavy rain outside, she was still cuddled on her couch, busy eating chocolate mint ice cream and looking at chick-films she had never bothered to really look at right until that moment, masochistically wearing the same jersey she had wore the first night she and Jane had ended up in bed together, in a tangle of limbs and lips and moans of pleasure and sheets; tears kept coming in rivulets, leaving a trail on her skin, mascara gone, staining her porcelain-like skin. She knew it wasn’t healthy, but as many tears as it caused, she couldn’t stop the images from running through her mind, repeating and rewinding themselves before her eyes again and again, like on autopilot, her “story” with Jane, something lasted just few days, but that she had dreamt and fantasized about longer than she cared to admit. Because she had been enamored with Jane for quite some time, being with him, really being with him, had just made her fall in love with him. Hard. And she had been that stupid, stubborn and naïf to believe that… that it could be possible. Because it had looked like that way, because that evening, in their… his kitchen, with Stella, she had allowed herself to actually think that he was being honest, that he could actually love her, dreaming of a future with blonde and green-eyed children alongside her.
Stupid. Naïf. Childish. Idiot.
Fists against the front door awoke her from her reverie, avoiding Lisbon from going through those painful memories furthermore; she froze for a second, hearing the thundering sound, hits so heavy and strong for a moment she thought the door could actually fell under the onslaught of the naked hands on the other side; she reached under the pillow, for the hidden gun she kept there just in case, and was already thinking about the best approach when she had to lower to weapon, because she heard it, and she had to rethink the whole scenario.
“Teresa… I know you are here…” his voice, not a scream, like the hits against the door could have suggested, but a low, desperate murmur, so low she could barely hear it. But his voice, Jane’s voice was unmistakable, just like everything about the man himself. “Please…” he added, begging, and she could feel them, the tears and the pain and rage and desperation. Was it possible that she had red it, him, all wrong, that there was more than it met the eyes behind their charade, that he was suffering because….
Maybe she hadn’t been stupid, naïf, childish and idiot, maybe, just maybe…
She heard an heavy thud against the door, this time, she thought, from his forehead colliding against the wood, and that was when she gave up keeping him at a distance. She couldn’t keep him outside any longer, had to allow him inside, just this once, because she needed to know, and because she still cared, and she needed to make sure he was alright. She had always been a sucker, with all things Jane. Probably because she had decided to be his savior at any cost a long time before.
When she opened the door, the breath died in her throat. He looked… destroyed, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, almost panicking. Few times she had seen him like that- he had allowed her to see him like that, but the other times… it looked like it was another life, it was another person, because Jane had already been desperate, had already been suffering, almost crazy, but only when his past, Red John and his family, had been concerned. And now… here he was, right before her, completely soaked from head to toes, desperate and suffering and almost crazy with pain. For her?
“You took away your things…” he whispered, so low the rain was covering his voice. But still, she heard him, his words almost broken by quiet sobs dying in his throat, not an accusation but a mere fact. She thought she was seeing tears, but she couldn’t say for sure- rain was still coming, wetting him further more.
“I thought it was the best thing to do. And besides…” she clenched her teeth, eyes closed because traitorous tears were menacing to escape her eyes as well, and she couldn’t keep crying, not in front of him. She knew he could see the mascara, the make-up staining her face, but she could easily find excuses for those, but… she couldn’t allow Jane to see her crying, couldn’t let him know she was crying because of him. Unlike him, she couldn’t say it was the rain wetting her cheeks. “Besides, we always said it was going to last just until Stella was here. Now… now you are free. Just tell her that I got cold feet, and preferred to put my job before our relationship. She saw what a workaholic I can be, I’m sure she’ll understand.” She hugged herself, looking at her naked feet. She couldn’t face him, wasn’t able to, even if she was trying hard to put on her best act, to wear once again the mask of deception for him like she had done, and tried to, so many times since she had met him.
Though, pain and regret - not for what had happened, but for what she had lost - were unmistakable in her voice; there was no need to read her body language, and he didn’t need to be such a good mentalist to know what she was going through. There was no need, because he was feeling the same, exactly, and reading in her the same things he had kept hidden for way too long in his heart somehow made him stronger, more daring. Because, if she felt the same way he did about their abrupt ending, it meant she felt for him the same way he felt about her… maybe… she loved him as well, and not just like a friend, or a surrogate sibling like he had always assumed.
He got closer and closer, grinning like the cat that got the canary, like the Cheshire cat, and stopped only when he was right before her, their chests just a breath away. He leaned over her, his right hand lifting her chin, so that they could be eye in the eye. The moment the breath died in her throat, he felt it, like she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Even if he was soaking wet. She could just notice him, she didn’t see even the trail of drops he was leaving on her parquet. And, unlikely from her usual self, she didn’t care, couldn’t bring herself to, even if she had cleaned her place the whole time she had been there in the vain hope of feeling better, of clearing her mind.
“You know, I don’t think Stella will ever forgive us, if I’ll tell her we broke up when she was already planning our wedding in her head. She’ll be extremely disappointed…” he whispered, huskily, his lips almost touching her owns, shivers running along her spine. He was getting what he wanted, and she knew she was going to give up. With her, Jane always got what he wanted. Once upon a time it had been only on the job, now it appeared the statement was true also concerning her body - their bodies. “And… I have to admit, I’ll be as well. It’s been… a rather interesting week, and I’ve come to love our routine. I think it would be a waste renouncing what we got just because…” he stopped, and turned suddenly serious, but warm and hot nevertheless. Still, it gave her the chills. “Make me happy, Teresa. Come back.”
She looked at him, or rather, she focused on his lips, still confused, still unable to fully understand what he was trying to say, also because one moment he was grinning like he was joking, the next one he was dead serious. “I… What exactly it is that you want for me?”
“I’m talking about a relationship, Teresa. Maybe even a marriage.” His thumb walked across the skin of her face, trying to erase the smeared make-up, the tears, but still his hand was forcing her to lift her head. This, he couldn’t do with just words. He needed for her to see his eyes as well. It was all in the eyes, he once told her about a suspect, and he knew that the statement was true. Even for broken men like him, for a liar for business like he has always been. “I know it’s not the most romantic proposal I could have arranged, but you know how much I don’t like clichés. And besides…” he smiled, brightened by his own words, not noticing how stunned she was by his sentences- and not in a good way, not exactly “This way we’ll keep Stella quiet. She may be the little sister of the pack, but she may be very scary when she wants to be.”
“Yeah, really, what a great argument. Let’s get married to keep your sister quiet!” she jerked away from him, boiling with anger, and she almost threw him out, out of her place and out of her life as well. He would have deserved it, they both knew it, but he couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t live without her, without the one who had always been there for him, saving him when he didn’t even know he needed saving at all. He closed to door with a bang, immediately taking possession of the keys, just in case. That, though, just made her angrier and angrier, made her move further more away from him, and when she turned to face Jane once again, hands on her hips, she was mad, she was suffering, she was passionate. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen. All for him, all because of him. “And… what do you tell me about your wife? You don’t want me, Jane, you want… second best, if I’m second best at all! You don’t want me, be honest and face it, you want someone to share your life with, because you are lonely and because you want to get rid of Stella, and I’m the convenient idiot!” she was screaming, and sobbing. But it wasn’t just the pain. It was the rage, because he was so casual about their… relationship, lowering it to something he needed to have to keep up some façade instead of something he actually wanted to have.
“There are worst reasons than company and comfort for getting married!” he said, already regretting the words. He didn’t even know why he had said them. She had been the one to bring up the argument, but he should have let it fall, because security, company and comfort were the last things on his mind when he was with her, when it come to her.
She stopped where she was, suddenly defeated, suddenly as sad and lost like he had never seen her before, not even when she had forgotten hours of her life and thought she had committed cold blood murder. She was suffering because she felt defeated. She was the shadow of the one she used to be, of the one she could be, because she had read the situation, and him, all wrong. She thought he wanted her for the wrong reasons. She thought he wasn’t hers to begin with. “There’s a part of me that’s tempted to say yes, but I cant, even if it’s you. I know that company and comfort are good enough reasons to get married for many people, but not for me… I know my father suffered when he lost my mother, but I remember the happier days, I remember when they were young and happy and in love, and… and even if in the end the better part of him died along with her… they were in love, and they were so happy and carefree…. and when I’ll get married… if I’ll get married… it will be because I love him as he loves me, because, Jane, I want that kind of love. Doing otherwise, getting married because it’s wise of a commodity… it wouldn’t be fair to me or to him, doing any different. Even if it’s you.” Especially if it’s you. Even if I love you. She though, but didn’t add, scared to get hurt more than she had been.
She got closer to him, and for a moment Jane thought she was going to give him a goodbye kiss, but, instead, she removed from her left hand the ring, the one he had given her, taking hours to choose it because she needed something worth her even if nothing was good enough for his Lisbon, and she slowly took it off, placing it in his palm, closing his fingers around the piece of metal, her hand on his bigger one, squeezing it gently, unable to look away.
“What if you could have everything you want and even more?” he asked, his features bright and happy, like sunshine, sweet like honey, voice warm like a caress, desperately trying to see her, through her, to find a hint of hope for a future together, of the love for him he now knew she held without doubt. “Listen, I know… I’ve been stupid, I should have told you everything right from the start… or even kept you out of this, but… I’ve always been selfish… and… despite the fact that I know you deserve better than me… and that I have nothing to offer you… it’s just that… I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to have a slice of heaven for myself for a little bit. Or maybe… I don’t know. Maybe I hoped that, being with you 24/7 was going to suddenly make vanish my… this crush I had for you.” He paused, and looked at her, right in her eyes, his heart on his sleeve, as honest as just few times before. And never for things of this kind, with anyone. “I’m too selfish, Lisbon, I can’t give you up, and frankly, I don’t want to. What I want, is wake up in the mornings with you cuddled against my chest, I want to come back in the evenings and prepare together dinner, or wait for you and kiss you welcome back as soon as you walk through the door. I want to move on, Lisbon, but only if it’s with you. You are not second best, because you are a completely different person like I’m not any longer that man, and there’s space enough for all of you in my heart. What you need to know it that you are the only one I want from now on, it’s you I love and that I want to love 50 years from now.”
She squeezed the soft fabric of the wet vest searching for his eyes, she needed to see them, it was the only way to make completely sure he wasn’t playing her. “But… Angela..”
“Aren’t you listening to what I’m telling you, woman? As painful as it is, she is gone, even if she’ll always be part of me, always have a piece of my soul. You, Teresa, I want you to be my future, I want you to have part of me as well, I want you to have the man you helped creating, if you’ll allow me to have you.” He skimmed with his thumb over her lips, feeling the soft texture, their round fullness. They were just like her - sensual, erotic, and passion incarnate. “So… now that you know how I feel, would you give me a different answer if I were to ask you again?” he started to nuzzle her neck, leaving a trail of soft and sensual kisses on his trail, slightly nipping the soft skin, enough to redden it, but not enough to mark her, branding her as his own in front of the world.
She didn’t even noticed that he had slipped back on her finger the ring, so caught up she was in his sensual heaven.
“Ask me again in a while and then we’ll see…” she told him, forcing him to part from her, her voice low and husky with desire. She smiled at him, and walked backwards toward her bedroom upstairs, grinning at him, a came-hitcher look clearly visible on her, one he didn’t mind to read, and didn’t have any problem seeing. Like he didn’t have any problem seeing the trail of clothes she left while she slowly and seductively walked towards her alcove, like a panther, or some mistress of seduction, a goddess that was undressing before him and for him alone. His, all his.
He howled in appreciation, grinning and licking his lips in anticipation.
“Stella’s an amazing wedding planner, you know? But she can be such a stressful creature…. We’ll need something to keep her… quiet…” he walked towards her, as slowly as Teresa, casually with hands in his pockets but grinning, eyes dark, dilated pupils; he slowly reached her, and while he strolled to the woman who got his heart, he got rid, once a time, of all articles of clothing, all still wet from the rain. It was a welcomed feeling, because the wet fabric was uncomfortable against his hot skin, and because he felt… constricted. He wanted, needed to be free from everything that was separating him from his only objective, loving Lisbon body and soul. “Maybe we could think about getting to work on a baby Jane, starting… now?”
“I think that a little bit of practice is in order, first…” Fully naked, she laughed, an honest, real and happy laughter, coming right from her very soul; she waited for him, and took the man for his ring-less left hand, still amazed by the soft texture of the clearer ring of skin, and looking with a smile at their joined hands, she ragged him inside her bedroom, closing the door at her back not exactly gently. She was in a hurry, and she was in need, in desperate need of tasting once again him inside and around her, him everywhere, in need of melting into Jane… into her Patrick.
As they stumbled towards the welcoming piece of furniture, they both knew it was a matter of minutes, if not seconds, before everything would end up in a tangle of sheets and limbs and lips and moans of pleasure. Only, they knew that whatever was going to happen between them was going to be different, and yet better, than what they had previously experienced, even if they had already been together more than few times; right now they weren’t merely having a slice of heaven, or taking whatever they could as long as they were able to; right now, from now on, they were getting it all, the whole package, both of them. And now, they both knew. Because they were going to experience it with a lighter heart, but a fuller one nevertheless. They were together. And now, it wasn’t pretended any longer. It was true, it was real. And it was forever and ever.
Their happily ever after.
Author:
little_firestar (aka LizFromItaly on fanfiction.net)
Artist:
dearthursday
Link to art: here
Word Count: +20.900
Rating: T
Summary: There's only one thing that, after so many years of celibacy, Jane hates more than dates- blind dates. Especially if arranged by a certain blonde truble-maker going by the name of Stella... but there's only one way to stop his opponent, and it's showing her that soon to be Mrs Jane has already entered into the picture. But when evidences will be needed, who will play the part? Easy- the one who always got his back, no matter what. Even if she'll have to sahre her life with him for a little while....
Disclaimer: sadly, it's not mine. But my brother forgot to buy me a Christmas gift, and told me he would make it better in a couple of months fro my birthday... hey, a girl gotta dream, right?
Story's un-beated, so, all mistakes are mine. Many thanks to
dearthursday for providing such an amzing and fitting art!
Please note: this si another post season 3 fic; but, keep in mind, that for the sake of story, season 4 hasn't happened yet, and never will, since in this reality the man Jane killed was, indeed, Red John.
[Part 1] [Part 2-3] [Part 4-5]
Stella left their lives- Lisbon’s in particular - in the same way she had entered it, like an hurricane, leaving a trail of destruction and devastation at her back, just like only her brother could do, with just an hug, few tears (silent) and begging them to decide already on a date, because “Rick couldn’t allow to let a golden woman like Teresa escape, risking to see her ending up in some billionaire’s arms” (Lisbon laughed at this affirmation, both because it was funny being called, for once, the “golden girl”, while Jane was still nicknamed the “golden boy” by the whole CBI, especially higher-ups, and because of the face the man did at the mention of the billionaire, mouth and eyes wide open, pale, obviously thinking back to Teresa’s brief affair with Mashburn). They said goodbye that way, with Teresa explaining that goodbye weren’t really her thing, and that she preferred to stay at home, to put everything in order, cleaning being one of the few things able to sooth her soul, and soothing, she definitely needed, because Teresa knew that, just in a matter of days, she had gotten her poor heart broken once and for all. It was strange, but, just like she had done with her brother, Teresa had immediately been fond of the younger woman, immediately liked her. She hadn’t liked lying to Stella, and the thought that she was no longer going to have another woman in her life, not related to the job, and that didn’t see her like the surrogate mother in law, was making her suffer. Like she was suffering because, in just few hours’ time, she knew she had to leave, end the charade, her proof of extremely talented actress in the role of the girlfriend.
As soon as the siblings were out, she hugged herself, and slowly, very slowly, went inside the room she had shared with her consultant in the last few nights, and looked at it with a pain in her soul. She wasn’t ready to leave, didn’t want to, but knew she had no choice, no saying, and that postpone it any further was just going to make it worse. She just told herself she was cleaning up because, for her and Stella, Jane had put aside his place even too much, and keeping it order, or at lest like she had found it, was the least she could do. But she knew the truth, even if she didn’t want to admit it with herself first. She actually wanted to postpone. She wanted to wait for Jane to come back from the airport, hoping to get lost in him one last time, to burn in her memory everything, every sound he made, every movement, every centimeter of his naked skin moving on top of her naked body on the cold silky sheets of his bed while they made… while they had sex.
She skimmed every surface of the room, to imprint them in her memory as well, and to remember him in that environment, what he said and what he had done, him brushing her hair, undressing her, kissing her neck from behind while she was looking at herself in the vanity mirror in the mornings, getting ready to go the CBI. And then, when she reached his bedside table, she saw them, just under the chair close to his side of the bed, few coins, probably escaped the night before from his pockets when he undressed to go to sleep- actually, when he threw in an hurry his clothes on the pavement to join her naked self in bed for another round of passionate intercourse.
She smiled, fond of the memory, savoring it for the time being, and decided to open the drawer, hoping to find maybe a spare wallet or maybe a box or something else; the inside, covered with an old-looking fabric like the bedside table at her side, was clean and immaculate like everything that belonged to Jane alone, and almost empty, saving for one thing, a frame, quite heavy from the look of it, and big as well, in solid silver and a blue night velvet; it was turned upside down, so she couldn’t see who was in the picture, but, somehow, she knew, she knew even without the need to actually look at it. But, still, she did it anyway.
She lifted the frame, feeling its weigh on her hands, heavier than it was supposed to be, and she did, she looked at the image, and found out she had been right from the instant she had seen the object in question. It was a wedding picture, a 20 something years old Jane with his wife, Angela, him in one of his three pieces suits, nothing to do with the ones he could have once become rich, and her, dressed with a simple white and flowing dress, embraced, happy, on the verge of sharing a sweet kiss of love….Angela, his late wife. Beautiful, angelic, graceful and feminine, nothing to do with tomboy cop by the book Teresa Lisbon, definitely not the kind of woman who made heads spin when she walked along the streets.
He still loved her. After so many years, Jane was still in love with his late wife, and… she let herself fall on the bed, thinking about how she had traumatized him, how she had taken advantage of him… it had probably been terrible for him, having to share his bed with another woman, and knowing that he hadn’t been able to resist the call of lust… he had turned upside down the frame because he felt guilty, because he felt like he was cheating on his wife, it had to be that, there was no other explanation.
She bit her lips to suffocate the tears and the sobs, and she put the frame back where it belonged, only, thought, after having noticing something shining in the corner of the drawer… a small object, extremely common, every day occurrence when it come to Jane, something she had seen on him for so long it barely made sense he was no longer wearing it.
His wedding band.
She lifted it, and examined it, studied the artifact carefully, like it was a relic, but scared as well, weighing it in her palm, looking at it with dread in her eyes, like it could burn her finger, mark her skin of sinner and stealer of husbands any moment.
There was something written on the inside, in elegant, small letters. She had never thought there was something engraved in it. And it wasn’t just a date. It wasn’t just their monograms. It was a whole sentence. Forever yours. Forever mine. AR-PJ, 4/25/93.
She threw both frame and ring back into the drawer like they were burning, kind of evil, and she closed it with such a force that it actually cracked- she didn’t care, couldn’t care, though, didn’t have the strength to. She could no longer keep on with such a lie, couldn’t avoid crying any longer. Teresa Lisbon had been so silly and naïf to think she could avoid the awful truth, but the truth had decided to act first, biting her, slapping her, forcing her to face Jane’s inexistent feelings for his boss.
Jane… Jane was never going to love anyone, especially herself, like he had loved Angela, like he still loved his beautiful and sweet late wife, Lisbon knew she had to face it, accept this fact once and for all, stopping all her childish nonsense about the possibility of a relationship with her consultant. After all, Jane had, until that moment, kept all the promises he had made to his wife. He swore on her grave to kill the monster responsible for her and their child’s death, and he had done it, murdering Red John, and even going away with it. There was no reason to believe he could do otherwise with this one, that he was going to always be hers, of his wife, if not body, soul and heart at least.
This new found awareness crushed her, provoking a pain that was almost physical, an hole in her soul that she didn’t know if it was going to be filled ever again…. she knew it wasn’t going to, if she keep prolonging the lie. So, crying freely, sobbing to the verge of convulsing, she took away from the house everything that belonged to her, every sign of her presence, if only temporary, in that place. She hoped it could be enough, that, with time, she could try to move on, try to heal the wound. She needed to think that, with time, they were going to be both better, back to what they had been until she had allowed herself into his bed and into warm and sensual embrace. She needed to believe it, needed to think she could actually heal, come back to be just his friend, that, in time, she’d be able to move on, find a man worthy her and have a family with him. Two children, two cars in the garage, a cat and a dog with a white fence included.
She just had to leave before he could come back, otherwise, she knew, she’d be back at square one, back to allow him to take her, over and over, and she had suffered enough. She was suffering enough.
On her way home, she speeded over, maybe for the first time in years for something that wasn’t work-related, and run even through red lights, lights as red as her puffy eyes, teary. She just needed to be, for a short while, as far away as possible for him. She just thought about her pain. She didn’t consider, neither for a second, the chance that, once found her gone, he could be the one feeling betrayed and alone, cheated on by life itself.
Late at night, the silence of her quiet road broke only by the heavy rain outside, she was still cuddled on her couch, busy eating chocolate mint ice cream and looking at chick-films she had never bothered to really look at right until that moment, masochistically wearing the same jersey she had wore the first night she and Jane had ended up in bed together, in a tangle of limbs and lips and moans of pleasure and sheets; tears kept coming in rivulets, leaving a trail on her skin, mascara gone, staining her porcelain-like skin. She knew it wasn’t healthy, but as many tears as it caused, she couldn’t stop the images from running through her mind, repeating and rewinding themselves before her eyes again and again, like on autopilot, her “story” with Jane, something lasted just few days, but that she had dreamt and fantasized about longer than she cared to admit. Because she had been enamored with Jane for quite some time, being with him, really being with him, had just made her fall in love with him. Hard. And she had been that stupid, stubborn and naïf to believe that… that it could be possible. Because it had looked like that way, because that evening, in their… his kitchen, with Stella, she had allowed herself to actually think that he was being honest, that he could actually love her, dreaming of a future with blonde and green-eyed children alongside her.
Stupid. Naïf. Childish. Idiot.
Fists against the front door awoke her from her reverie, avoiding Lisbon from going through those painful memories furthermore; she froze for a second, hearing the thundering sound, hits so heavy and strong for a moment she thought the door could actually fell under the onslaught of the naked hands on the other side; she reached under the pillow, for the hidden gun she kept there just in case, and was already thinking about the best approach when she had to lower to weapon, because she heard it, and she had to rethink the whole scenario.
“Teresa… I know you are here…” his voice, not a scream, like the hits against the door could have suggested, but a low, desperate murmur, so low she could barely hear it. But his voice, Jane’s voice was unmistakable, just like everything about the man himself. “Please…” he added, begging, and she could feel them, the tears and the pain and rage and desperation. Was it possible that she had red it, him, all wrong, that there was more than it met the eyes behind their charade, that he was suffering because….
Maybe she hadn’t been stupid, naïf, childish and idiot, maybe, just maybe…
She heard an heavy thud against the door, this time, she thought, from his forehead colliding against the wood, and that was when she gave up keeping him at a distance. She couldn’t keep him outside any longer, had to allow him inside, just this once, because she needed to know, and because she still cared, and she needed to make sure he was alright. She had always been a sucker, with all things Jane. Probably because she had decided to be his savior at any cost a long time before.
When she opened the door, the breath died in her throat. He looked… destroyed, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, almost panicking. Few times she had seen him like that- he had allowed her to see him like that, but the other times… it looked like it was another life, it was another person, because Jane had already been desperate, had already been suffering, almost crazy, but only when his past, Red John and his family, had been concerned. And now… here he was, right before her, completely soaked from head to toes, desperate and suffering and almost crazy with pain. For her?
“You took away your things…” he whispered, so low the rain was covering his voice. But still, she heard him, his words almost broken by quiet sobs dying in his throat, not an accusation but a mere fact. She thought she was seeing tears, but she couldn’t say for sure- rain was still coming, wetting him further more.
“I thought it was the best thing to do. And besides…” she clenched her teeth, eyes closed because traitorous tears were menacing to escape her eyes as well, and she couldn’t keep crying, not in front of him. She knew he could see the mascara, the make-up staining her face, but she could easily find excuses for those, but… she couldn’t allow Jane to see her crying, couldn’t let him know she was crying because of him. Unlike him, she couldn’t say it was the rain wetting her cheeks. “Besides, we always said it was going to last just until Stella was here. Now… now you are free. Just tell her that I got cold feet, and preferred to put my job before our relationship. She saw what a workaholic I can be, I’m sure she’ll understand.” She hugged herself, looking at her naked feet. She couldn’t face him, wasn’t able to, even if she was trying hard to put on her best act, to wear once again the mask of deception for him like she had done, and tried to, so many times since she had met him.
Though, pain and regret - not for what had happened, but for what she had lost - were unmistakable in her voice; there was no need to read her body language, and he didn’t need to be such a good mentalist to know what she was going through. There was no need, because he was feeling the same, exactly, and reading in her the same things he had kept hidden for way too long in his heart somehow made him stronger, more daring. Because, if she felt the same way he did about their abrupt ending, it meant she felt for him the same way he felt about her… maybe… she loved him as well, and not just like a friend, or a surrogate sibling like he had always assumed.
He got closer and closer, grinning like the cat that got the canary, like the Cheshire cat, and stopped only when he was right before her, their chests just a breath away. He leaned over her, his right hand lifting her chin, so that they could be eye in the eye. The moment the breath died in her throat, he felt it, like she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Even if he was soaking wet. She could just notice him, she didn’t see even the trail of drops he was leaving on her parquet. And, unlikely from her usual self, she didn’t care, couldn’t bring herself to, even if she had cleaned her place the whole time she had been there in the vain hope of feeling better, of clearing her mind.
“You know, I don’t think Stella will ever forgive us, if I’ll tell her we broke up when she was already planning our wedding in her head. She’ll be extremely disappointed…” he whispered, huskily, his lips almost touching her owns, shivers running along her spine. He was getting what he wanted, and she knew she was going to give up. With her, Jane always got what he wanted. Once upon a time it had been only on the job, now it appeared the statement was true also concerning her body - their bodies. “And… I have to admit, I’ll be as well. It’s been… a rather interesting week, and I’ve come to love our routine. I think it would be a waste renouncing what we got just because…” he stopped, and turned suddenly serious, but warm and hot nevertheless. Still, it gave her the chills. “Make me happy, Teresa. Come back.”
She looked at him, or rather, she focused on his lips, still confused, still unable to fully understand what he was trying to say, also because one moment he was grinning like he was joking, the next one he was dead serious. “I… What exactly it is that you want for me?”
“I’m talking about a relationship, Teresa. Maybe even a marriage.” His thumb walked across the skin of her face, trying to erase the smeared make-up, the tears, but still his hand was forcing her to lift her head. This, he couldn’t do with just words. He needed for her to see his eyes as well. It was all in the eyes, he once told her about a suspect, and he knew that the statement was true. Even for broken men like him, for a liar for business like he has always been. “I know it’s not the most romantic proposal I could have arranged, but you know how much I don’t like clichés. And besides…” he smiled, brightened by his own words, not noticing how stunned she was by his sentences- and not in a good way, not exactly “This way we’ll keep Stella quiet. She may be the little sister of the pack, but she may be very scary when she wants to be.”
“Yeah, really, what a great argument. Let’s get married to keep your sister quiet!” she jerked away from him, boiling with anger, and she almost threw him out, out of her place and out of her life as well. He would have deserved it, they both knew it, but he couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t live without her, without the one who had always been there for him, saving him when he didn’t even know he needed saving at all. He closed to door with a bang, immediately taking possession of the keys, just in case. That, though, just made her angrier and angrier, made her move further more away from him, and when she turned to face Jane once again, hands on her hips, she was mad, she was suffering, she was passionate. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen. All for him, all because of him. “And… what do you tell me about your wife? You don’t want me, Jane, you want… second best, if I’m second best at all! You don’t want me, be honest and face it, you want someone to share your life with, because you are lonely and because you want to get rid of Stella, and I’m the convenient idiot!” she was screaming, and sobbing. But it wasn’t just the pain. It was the rage, because he was so casual about their… relationship, lowering it to something he needed to have to keep up some façade instead of something he actually wanted to have.
“There are worst reasons than company and comfort for getting married!” he said, already regretting the words. He didn’t even know why he had said them. She had been the one to bring up the argument, but he should have let it fall, because security, company and comfort were the last things on his mind when he was with her, when it come to her.
She stopped where she was, suddenly defeated, suddenly as sad and lost like he had never seen her before, not even when she had forgotten hours of her life and thought she had committed cold blood murder. She was suffering because she felt defeated. She was the shadow of the one she used to be, of the one she could be, because she had read the situation, and him, all wrong. She thought he wanted her for the wrong reasons. She thought he wasn’t hers to begin with. “There’s a part of me that’s tempted to say yes, but I cant, even if it’s you. I know that company and comfort are good enough reasons to get married for many people, but not for me… I know my father suffered when he lost my mother, but I remember the happier days, I remember when they were young and happy and in love, and… and even if in the end the better part of him died along with her… they were in love, and they were so happy and carefree…. and when I’ll get married… if I’ll get married… it will be because I love him as he loves me, because, Jane, I want that kind of love. Doing otherwise, getting married because it’s wise of a commodity… it wouldn’t be fair to me or to him, doing any different. Even if it’s you.” Especially if it’s you. Even if I love you. She though, but didn’t add, scared to get hurt more than she had been.
She got closer to him, and for a moment Jane thought she was going to give him a goodbye kiss, but, instead, she removed from her left hand the ring, the one he had given her, taking hours to choose it because she needed something worth her even if nothing was good enough for his Lisbon, and she slowly took it off, placing it in his palm, closing his fingers around the piece of metal, her hand on his bigger one, squeezing it gently, unable to look away.
“What if you could have everything you want and even more?” he asked, his features bright and happy, like sunshine, sweet like honey, voice warm like a caress, desperately trying to see her, through her, to find a hint of hope for a future together, of the love for him he now knew she held without doubt. “Listen, I know… I’ve been stupid, I should have told you everything right from the start… or even kept you out of this, but… I’ve always been selfish… and… despite the fact that I know you deserve better than me… and that I have nothing to offer you… it’s just that… I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to have a slice of heaven for myself for a little bit. Or maybe… I don’t know. Maybe I hoped that, being with you 24/7 was going to suddenly make vanish my… this crush I had for you.” He paused, and looked at her, right in her eyes, his heart on his sleeve, as honest as just few times before. And never for things of this kind, with anyone. “I’m too selfish, Lisbon, I can’t give you up, and frankly, I don’t want to. What I want, is wake up in the mornings with you cuddled against my chest, I want to come back in the evenings and prepare together dinner, or wait for you and kiss you welcome back as soon as you walk through the door. I want to move on, Lisbon, but only if it’s with you. You are not second best, because you are a completely different person like I’m not any longer that man, and there’s space enough for all of you in my heart. What you need to know it that you are the only one I want from now on, it’s you I love and that I want to love 50 years from now.”
She squeezed the soft fabric of the wet vest searching for his eyes, she needed to see them, it was the only way to make completely sure he wasn’t playing her. “But… Angela..”
“Aren’t you listening to what I’m telling you, woman? As painful as it is, she is gone, even if she’ll always be part of me, always have a piece of my soul. You, Teresa, I want you to be my future, I want you to have part of me as well, I want you to have the man you helped creating, if you’ll allow me to have you.” He skimmed with his thumb over her lips, feeling the soft texture, their round fullness. They were just like her - sensual, erotic, and passion incarnate. “So… now that you know how I feel, would you give me a different answer if I were to ask you again?” he started to nuzzle her neck, leaving a trail of soft and sensual kisses on his trail, slightly nipping the soft skin, enough to redden it, but not enough to mark her, branding her as his own in front of the world.
She didn’t even noticed that he had slipped back on her finger the ring, so caught up she was in his sensual heaven.
“Ask me again in a while and then we’ll see…” she told him, forcing him to part from her, her voice low and husky with desire. She smiled at him, and walked backwards toward her bedroom upstairs, grinning at him, a came-hitcher look clearly visible on her, one he didn’t mind to read, and didn’t have any problem seeing. Like he didn’t have any problem seeing the trail of clothes she left while she slowly and seductively walked towards her alcove, like a panther, or some mistress of seduction, a goddess that was undressing before him and for him alone. His, all his.
He howled in appreciation, grinning and licking his lips in anticipation.
“Stella’s an amazing wedding planner, you know? But she can be such a stressful creature…. We’ll need something to keep her… quiet…” he walked towards her, as slowly as Teresa, casually with hands in his pockets but grinning, eyes dark, dilated pupils; he slowly reached her, and while he strolled to the woman who got his heart, he got rid, once a time, of all articles of clothing, all still wet from the rain. It was a welcomed feeling, because the wet fabric was uncomfortable against his hot skin, and because he felt… constricted. He wanted, needed to be free from everything that was separating him from his only objective, loving Lisbon body and soul. “Maybe we could think about getting to work on a baby Jane, starting… now?”
“I think that a little bit of practice is in order, first…” Fully naked, she laughed, an honest, real and happy laughter, coming right from her very soul; she waited for him, and took the man for his ring-less left hand, still amazed by the soft texture of the clearer ring of skin, and looking with a smile at their joined hands, she ragged him inside her bedroom, closing the door at her back not exactly gently. She was in a hurry, and she was in need, in desperate need of tasting once again him inside and around her, him everywhere, in need of melting into Jane… into her Patrick.
As they stumbled towards the welcoming piece of furniture, they both knew it was a matter of minutes, if not seconds, before everything would end up in a tangle of sheets and limbs and lips and moans of pleasure. Only, they knew that whatever was going to happen between them was going to be different, and yet better, than what they had previously experienced, even if they had already been together more than few times; right now they weren’t merely having a slice of heaven, or taking whatever they could as long as they were able to; right now, from now on, they were getting it all, the whole package, both of them. And now, they both knew. Because they were going to experience it with a lighter heart, but a fuller one nevertheless. They were together. And now, it wasn’t pretended any longer. It was true, it was real. And it was forever and ever.
Their happily ever after.