Holiday Fic, Day 6: The living proof of what they're calling love
Title: The Living Proof of What They're Calling Love
Author: miss_peg
Rating: PG
Summary: He loved her. Not that he'd admit it.
Notes: More holiday fics! A reminder that whilst many people did them in December I had lots going on (and quite frankly it was a good idea not to do it then as I was highly unmotivated) so I'm doing it in January along with tromana.
Today's story is for alternaterocker's prompt The living proof of what they're calling love about the characters Jane and Lisbon from The Mentalist.
He loved her. Not that he’d admit it.
Love didn’t come naturally to him, not since, well, since he lost the only love he’d ever truly known. Love had always been part of him and he’d found a way, as a boy, of loving each and every person and thing in his life. Whether that was the goldfish that he’d had for a week before the bowl smashed and they’d been unable to save it, or the little girl he grew up alongside, on the Carnival circuit, who would one day become his wife. Sharing the love he felt for her with their daughter had been the single biggest pleasure he’d ever known. It surpassed the power he felt in his days as a psychic and the adoration he’d gained from being in the public eye.
Losing them had been a fate worse than death and something he’d come so close to being unable to bear.
Until, he met Teresa Lisbon.
She was the complete opposite of his wife who had been blonde, tall and affectionate. Lisbon was short and feisty and sometimes, even though he’d never admit it, he was a little scared of her. He adored her in ways he never knew it possible to care for a woman and he found himself in awe of the strength she carried with her daily.
The loss he’d faced may have been more severe but her loss wasn’t much better.
That was the thing; really, they were united not by their hobbies or interests, but by an understanding that loss could suffocate the owner beyond the grace period. They were both victims of their loss and yet, survivors who fought every single day to keep their heads above water.
Sometimes it felt like he was drowning. Then he would go into her office and lie on her couch, anything to annoy her, because it reminded him just how much he wasn’t alone. Not really.
Author: miss_peg
Rating: PG
Summary: He loved her. Not that he'd admit it.
Notes: More holiday fics! A reminder that whilst many people did them in December I had lots going on (and quite frankly it was a good idea not to do it then as I was highly unmotivated) so I'm doing it in January along with tromana.
Today's story is for alternaterocker's prompt The living proof of what they're calling love about the characters Jane and Lisbon from The Mentalist.
He loved her. Not that he’d admit it.
Love didn’t come naturally to him, not since, well, since he lost the only love he’d ever truly known. Love had always been part of him and he’d found a way, as a boy, of loving each and every person and thing in his life. Whether that was the goldfish that he’d had for a week before the bowl smashed and they’d been unable to save it, or the little girl he grew up alongside, on the Carnival circuit, who would one day become his wife. Sharing the love he felt for her with their daughter had been the single biggest pleasure he’d ever known. It surpassed the power he felt in his days as a psychic and the adoration he’d gained from being in the public eye.
Losing them had been a fate worse than death and something he’d come so close to being unable to bear.
Until, he met Teresa Lisbon.
She was the complete opposite of his wife who had been blonde, tall and affectionate. Lisbon was short and feisty and sometimes, even though he’d never admit it, he was a little scared of her. He adored her in ways he never knew it possible to care for a woman and he found himself in awe of the strength she carried with her daily.
The loss he’d faced may have been more severe but her loss wasn’t much better.
That was the thing; really, they were united not by their hobbies or interests, but by an understanding that loss could suffocate the owner beyond the grace period. They were both victims of their loss and yet, survivors who fought every single day to keep their heads above water.
Sometimes it felt like he was drowning. Then he would go into her office and lie on her couch, anything to annoy her, because it reminded him just how much he wasn’t alone. Not really.