Summary: Teresa Lisbon finally breaks.
A/N: This is a short drabble, written by feelings of which I probably have no control. Damn you Jane and Lisbon. You break my heart.
A scene, a small conversation changes it all.
"You have to make a choice. I can't take this any longer."
A hoarse, broken question: "Why?"
"Because it hurts, Jane. I'm... I'm trying to be there for you, I have tried to be there for you for such a long time now. And... well, I just can't take it anymore."
She is in this world, she is breathing and learning and loving, and she is staring at him. He is in this world, but he is not, because a part of him (his heart, she thinks) is in another world, aimlessly searching. A part of him left him on that day ten years ago. He's caught between two worlds.
"I just..." he begins, "How?"
A harsh stare without compassion, because it's taken long enough and she can't afford compassion now.
"You forgive yourself, for God's sake. Damn it," she yells. Clenches her fists. Realizes she must be gentle.
"You..." her eyes close for three seconds, and reopen themselves, trying to look soft, "You have every right to hold on to your memories, Jane. That's not my problem. My problem is..." she trails off.
A ghost of curiosity flashes in his blue eyes.
"What, Lisbon?"
"My problem..." she pauses, "My problem? My damn fucking stupid problem? You seriously do not know what my problem is? Jane?"
"No, Teresa." He is lost. Lost. Gone. In another world. Trapped. Staring at a woman he has come to rely on. Who helps him through each day, as if she were the air he inhales.
He cannot love her now, not when this loss is raging inside of him. But will it ever stop?
He gives her a smile that will never reach his eyes and something inside of her snaps.
"My problem is that I love you and... you don't love me. Do you hear me? My problem is that for ten years now, I have been here, supporting you, loving you, yes Jane, don't tell me otherwise, and I don't know what to do anymore." Her palms are sweaty, her eyes glassy. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" Tears are forming in her eyes, no, wipe them away quickly, don't let him see them- "Forgive yourself, Jane. It's all right to let things go. Letting someone go doesn't mean you don't love them anymore. Letting someone go means you love yourself. Love yourself. Because there is so damn much to love in you, Jane, even though you don't see it. What happened ten years ago, it's over now. He's dead. What the hell did you expect?" Takes two steps closer to him. Intensity in her eyes. "I know you think of yourself as a bad person with your mind games and love for creating a mess, but... this feeling inside of you?" She lays a hand on his heart, an unexpected warmth against cold blood, "The feeling of loss? It's love. And it makes you a better man. Every day, you become an even better man than the day before because every damn day you repay them with your time. But, Jane? They're not part of time anymore. They're not temporal, for fuck's sake. Your time doesn't mean a damn thing, and don't look at me like that, you know how I feel about these things. It's you who doesn't believe in life after this."
The honesty and vulnerability in her eyes take his breath away, and the guilt intensifies a 100 times. Has he lost his capability of ever loving again? Did it die with them? He failed them. He is failing her. Every damn day, he fails.
"I'm sorry." It's a whisper from a hopeless man.
"Patrick," her voice turns warm and loving. "Look at me. I love you."
She pauses and steps forward, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, feeling his skin against the tip of her finger, cherishing the feel of it. Her mouth opens, a beg, a hope that maybe, maybe he loves me, maybe he has enough love left in him to love the dead and the alive:
"Let me love you."
His breath is on her forehead, warm yet cool, and she repeats the request, whispering, touching, loving, trying, trying, trying, failing, wondering, thinking, hoping- let me love you.
Don't hesitate to tell me what you think. Did you like it? Should I continue? Write more?