Teresa Lisbon loved her dad. Despite what he had done, she still loved him. He was her father, no matter what mistakes he'd made. She had few memories she held dear when it came to him. There'd been a time, once, when she tried to forget everything her father had said, but she realized wisdom could still come from flawed individuals. Jane was living proof of that.
One memory she had of her father was when Lisbon was eleven, just a year before everything had fallen apart. She'd been playing down the street at the park when twelve year old Isaac Hoffman had pulled her hair. Hard and completely oblivious to the pain he inflicted, as most little boys are. She'd run sobbing back to her father, pigtails crooked and hoping her father would teach the little boy a lesson.
Instead, her father had sat her down on his knee and told her something she never forgot.
"Teresa," he said. "Men aren't good with emotions. We're more physical than girls. When a boy likes you, he doesn't know how to show it in ways other than teasing. Pulling pigtails, believe it or not, is a way to show Isaac likes you."
Teresa snuffled, eyes puffy and a streak of dirt on her small face. "That's silly, daddy."
Her father chuckled and rubbed at the dirt with his thumb. "Men are silly, Teresa. I used to throw dead bees at your mother." He ignored her gaping. "Teasing is how a guy shows they like someone if they can't get the words out. Remember that."
It was one of the few pieces of advice she'd gotten that was useful even after he'd started drinking.
The recent case with Greg had gotten her thinking about him and her past. She hadn't been lying to keep Jane off her back. She had been young and had wised up just in time to break it off with him before making a mistake they'd both regret later down the road. Lisbon would've married him for all the wrong reasons, and she hadn't loved him like he did her. He didn't deserve that.
And, she knew it was silly, but a little voice in her head noted with all the wisdom of hindsight that Greg hadn't teased her even in light fun.
Jane, of course, had poked at the subject. Jane would poke a bear if he knew he could get away with it. And he did. The figurative (powerful political) bears he poked at he set on people who could handle it. Like Lisbon. Whether Lisbon liked it or not (and she rarely did), it didn't matter. Jane was irritating like that.
Jane had been unbearably (get it? unbearably?) curious throughout the case. He showed it in how he didn't ask. It was really quite brilliant. Lisbon couldn't stand to let him draw his own conclusions, however right they usually were, and so spilled the beans about Greg herself.
Busy with Greg. Right. And the moon was made of cheese.
Also, intense and particular? What kind of insult was that? She didn't need all her insecurities thrown in her face like that. She knew she didn't stick with men long. (Walter Mashburn, anyone?) She knew she was picky and hadn't made the best choices. (Flirting with the married Bosco for one.) "Issues with intimacy" and all. Who could blame her? Relationships seemed to fall apart left and right in her opinion. Why add her own to that list?
Intense and particular, Lisbon huffed. Like he's one to talk.
The office light made her fair skin look sickly white, so Lisbon was almost glad she was alone. Opening her laptop with one hand and picking up her coffee with the other, Lisbon shook the thoughts from her head and settled in to do paperwork for the night.
Or tried to, anyway.
"It's a good thing you didn't stick with him, Lisbon."
Coffee nearly spilled across her keyboard. She quickly put down the mug with a click. "Jane. Don't steak up on me." As an afterthought, "And I don't want to talk about it."
He emerged from the dark outside her office (hadn't she closed her office door?), holding a cup of tea in one hand and a saucer in the other.
"Yes, you do," Jane said, settling into the chair across her desk and crossing his legs. "You've got a lot of what ifs right now. It's better to let them out. I'll be your sounding board."
Jane as her sounding board? What a scary thought.
"What ifs get you nowhere," Lisbon stated. She moved her coffee a little farther away and didn't look at him.
Jane's eyes were burning into her forehead. There was only one light on and it felt suddenly like a spot light. The picture frame in on the right was adjusted.
She's straightening, Jane noted.
"It never hurts to wonder," Jane said.
"Sure it does. I could slip into a depression for all my missed chances and die."
Lisbon heard Jane take a sip of tea, and she avoided his raised eyebrow by signing into her CBI account. "A touch more morbid than usual, my dear," Jane said, unruffled. "You really need to vent. And," he added. "We all die eventually anyway."
"Now who's morbid?" Lisbon muttered.
"Spill."
Lisbon remained stony. Jane waited.
"I'm an insomniac," he reminded her. "I can wait all night."
Sometimes Lisbon hated Jane. (Ok, not really.) She sighed.
"What if - ?"
" - Greg was the One? He wasn't. You could never love a breeder."
"How do - ?"
" - I know because you are intense and particular and would hate, however untrue the sentiment would be, to feel like you were being used for your body."
"Will - ?"
" - you ever find a the One - ?"
" - you let me talk?" Lisbon finished angrily. Jane took a sip of his tea.
The clock ticked on the wall. Lisbon ears practically steamed. Jane continued to sip his tea. Jane, of course, timed his next words perfectly and spoke softly, just as Lisbon's anger was leaking away.
"You're wondering if you'll ever find someone," he said softly. "And if you let the only chance by already."
"Suddenly, I don't want to talk about it anymore." But some of the fight had left her. Yes, Jane sometimes threw back at her the tidbits she'd shared. But always in teasing, never to be cruel and never in front of people to embarrass her. Always with the - however twisted - reason to help her.
Lisbon settled into her paper work and, Lisbon oblivious, Jane mentally started counting backward in his head from twenty.
Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…
Lisbon filled in the correct boxes, signed her signature and started the next page, feeling ridiculously like a true cog in the machine. As she filled in each space with the appropriate apologies (Jane Apology Reports/Letters she had practically memorized) she could hear nothing but the ticking of the clock, the growing restlessness of her mind (despite outward calm) and Jane's relaxed tea drinking.
Finally she paused in writing, staring at her partly written signature on the form. She went completely still.
…one.
It worked like a charm, exactly like before when he'd gotten info out of Lisbon about Greg.
"Jane, I've been a cop for many years." She looked up and her eyes snagged his. She didn't look away, wasn't sure she could. "I've seen terrible things done in the name of revenge and hate and lust - " She looked away a moment. " - and love. Whoever I'm interested in will have to chase me hard because, Jane, I don't see happiness coming easily anywhere. I'm not entirely sure it's completely worth it if you come out of the battle scarred and different."
Jane couldn't help himself, thinking of Angela. "Being in a relationship will have it's sadness too, but that's part of relationships."
"But the love and happiness have to far outweigh it for it to work." Lisbon smiled tiredly, and Jane kept his expression schooled. "And you have to reach a level of trust to even reach a level of love that will outweigh the sadness and bad and enable you to stick it out, "through sickness and health," you know?"
Lisbon looked down at her page again and decisively signed the second part of her name on the sheet. Her tone was business like when she next spoke. "I guess whoever falls for me will have to know my baggage, but love me so much that he'll chase me anyway until I know deep down that he won't leave and won't hurt me or any family we have, even in light of tragedy. But I'm not honestly worth it, so…"
Because even though she loved her dad, and even though he was gone, he'd still left a mark on her. Her father, who had loved her. But there are many kinds of love.
Jane set his cup on her desk, pulling Lisbon from her thoughts. "Lisbon," he said, with a level of intensity she rarely saw. "If working with the CBI has taught me anything, it's taught me all life is precious as it is fleeting. All lives, even yours. And I for one think you're 'worth it.' And so does the team. I don't think I've seen dedication or caring to a unit leader like I have in the SCU. You're a logical woman, Teresa. Look at the people in your life. They support you, and laugh with you. They've followed you into dangerous situations. They'd die for you. If that's not proof of your worth, I don't know what is."
Some had even killed for her, and that's what scared her the most. Life was precious. And the fact that Jane had killed for her shook her to her core even today. That was a kind of - a kind of friendship that defied description. How would it be if she found someone who love loved her like that?
Lisbon mouth twisted into a frown. She pulled her mug of cold coffee to her but didn't pick it up.
"And you know what? If a person like me can care for you, with all your intensity and particularness, it's only a matter of time before someone else will see what I see right here. I may be rude and a headache to you, but I'm a superb judge of character."
"That was an interesting - compliment, was it? It complimented you and I think it was a backhanded compliment for me."
Lisbon's sarcastic response did not change Jane's focus on her like it was supposed to.
"Lisbon, I'm your friend. Trust me when I say you're worth it. And love is too."
"Jane, I didn't ask for you to - "
"Listen, you can either go through life trying to avoid love and therefore never truly living, or you can keep yourself open to the possibility and maybe find happiness. You only have one life, so use it carefully - just don't waste it by avoiding it. There's no guarantee for true happiness. But life is sadness and joy. Try to avoid everything and you waste your life and don't realize until it's too late. So either hide or step outside."
Lisbon squinted at Jane. His eyes were blue and serious, tired with circles under his eyes. His hair was mussed from lying on the couch and his coat jacket pushed back while he leaned towards her. Lisbon's lips quirked into a smile.
"Gee, Jane," she drawled, "if I knew all I had to do to get you to turn into Dr. Phil was have a 'what if' scenario, I would've done it for laughs long ago."
For a moment, it looked as if he wasn't going to laugh, as if he wanted to continue driving his point home. All Lisbon could do was beg - please please please - to let it go. There was only so much her heart could take. It was fluttering with hope now, and she didn't know whether or not she wanted to crush it before someone else did or if she wanted to nourish it. She needed to think later at home. Jane had poked this bear long enough.
"I'm no Dr. Phil. He doesn't look nearly as good as me," he remarked calmly. He took his tea and leaned back into the chair again. "And he's a conman that hasn't been outed yet."
"I think people watch him for laughs now. He's certainly a reference we use that's not necessarily respectful."
"Respectful? He doesn't need respect. He's had his own private laugh. Now he can stop selling false hope with his trite solutions."
"You tell 'em, Jane."
"Your patronizing isn't appreciated, just so you know."
"Me? Patronize?"
"The sarcasm isn't either."
The bickering didn't make it all better, of course, but it lightened the dark room in ways the artificial light couldn't. The paperwork went slower, but right then, if Lisbon was honest, she didn't want to be alone. And Jane… Jane was Jane. He knew her. They were friends. Yup. They were close friends. Who flirted, bickered like a married couple, supported each other, tried to lighten one another... And teased.
Nothing more.
"Which is exactly what I'm saying," Lisbon insisted twenty one minutes later, pushing aside her last report. "Tea is all very good, but in the present day we don't drink for the flavor. We don't drink to savor, we drink to stay awake. Which is why coffee is getting more 'bells and whistles' as you put it. Because who ever said a caffeine hit couldn't look pretty, sound exciting and be loaded with sugar?"
"Exactly my point," Jane shot back. "You jam it with so much cavity and sugar rush inducing bells and whistles that you no long can savor the original flavor of coffee!"
"I thought you didn't like the original - "
"I don't like the original flavor of coffee! And clearly no one else does judging by all the creamer and whip cream and frapa-crapa-whatever coffees are out there."
Frapa-crapa-whatever? She wasn't going to touch that.
"You add milk to your tea, Jane. Don't even try the purist act."
"To some teas, yes," he admitted. "But milk is far different than sugar and spice and everything cavity inducing and original flavor covering."
Lisbon shut her laptop with a snap, wondering how on earth they'd gotten to the old tea and coffee debate. "This is ridiculous," she said. "The general population will all agree with me."
"That doesn't mean the people are right." They stood up together, Jane gathering his tea cup and Lisbon's mug. She smiled her thanks and he nodded.
"It doesn't mean they're wrong either." She put a pen in the pen holder and started tiding up her desk. "Goodnight, Jane."
"Goodnight, Lisbon," he mocked. "You know I'm right. See you tomorrow."
Lisbon didn't look up from the paper she was putting in her brief case. "See you."
And then there was one. Lisbon sighed and stacked some papers in the corner for tomorrow, and a letter to mail on Tuesday next to it.
Lisbon jumped and her hand went for her gun when Jane poked his blond head in. He ignored the motion. "Just so you know, Lisbon," he said, while Lisbon searched for a stamp. "Greg truly wasn't right for you. But there's a guy out there who will really appreciate you and all your intenseness and particularness, I'm sure of it. He could be right under your nose for all you know. He just might not be ready yet."
Lisbon found a stamp for the envelope and distractedly placed it on top of the letter. Because now she couldn't find form 102. Where was that stupid thing?
"I don't want to talk about my love life," she said absently. "Goodnight, Jane."
"Goodnight, Lisbon."
Before any of you say Lisbon was OOC in this, my take of it is that she's a woman and just as insecure as any other woman. She just hides it better. Plus, she has a lot of scars and a lot of baggage. From what we see in The Mentalist, she also doesn't seem to get out much - her life focuses on the job and team, so I don't think she gets to rant to a close friend about certain things like we do. I figure after everything they've been through up to this point, love would be an eggshell subject but one they might talk about sometime.
Also, I just realized Jane's pep talk is a bit strange in this. I figure he probably believes life is precious (or at least tries to make Lisbon see how much she means to everyone - and him without actually saying so), seeing how much he loves his family even after their death and what I gather by watching the show. Which to me shows just how much he cares about the team and how much he hates Red John. Whatever. I could ramble about his mindset for quite a while.
And finally: the advice Lisbon's father gives her actually was inspired by one of the few pieces of advice my dad gave me when it came to the opposite sex. (My dad also said he threw bees at the girl he had a crush on when he was little, but I digress.) So Jane's flirting and teasing always make me smile. :P
Ok, that's about all. This is the first Mentalist fix I've written, so critiques are appreciated. If you see any glaring mistakes that I got wrong when it comes to the Mentalist world, please point them out. If you don't agree with my take, you can say so. Just please explain why. ^_^ Hope you like it! Review please!
-SS