A/N: Here's a new story for you to enjoy. I'll publish the first two chapters at the same time. I wanted to try and use a different style of writing, from a rather different POV. Hope you like it, please let me know.
Disclaimer: The story is mine, the characters I've kidnapped. I'm still negotiating the terms of their safe return. (Insert evil laugh here) :)
Locked in love
This royally sucks. In almost any other circumstance, you, CBI agent Teresa Lisbon, would know what to do. But the situation you're in right now is not one you could have ever predicted and it leaves you in doubt of your worthiness as a cop and in everything else in your life.
It's so hot in here, it impairs your thinking. And you need all your wits, not only to survive being locked up in a dark, stifling hot shipping crate parked only God knows where, without any food or water, but also to survive the company you're in.
Patrick Jane. Insufferable at any given time, but just way too much to deal with when your brains feel like they have been friend for the last hour. You're sweating like a pig, but you've already shed your jacket and there's no way in hell (and this is close enough to it) you'll undress any further, even though your black pants are sticking to your butt and your shirt is drenched.
Not to mention your hair is matted against your skull and you just know you must look as dreadful as you feel. Not that it matters, it never did much, but still…
And he! This intolerable, wretched man, this, this…ugh! How dare he look the way he does? Cool as a freaking cucumber! Sure, he too has discarded jacket and vest and yes, he has opened two or three extra buttons on his collar, but he's so in control, so infuriatingly superior, he doesn't show any signs of being even lukewarm. His armpits show no telltale stains and even though his curls are just a little damp, he still manages to look like he's just walked away from a deodorant commercial photo shoot. Speaking of shooting…
You honestly don't know why his relaxed appearance is so annoying. It's not like you're not used to it, but jeez…can't a lady get a break these days? Of all the people to get locked up with, did it really have to be him?
Well, of course Lisbon, he's the one who lured you to this place. All in your best interest, mind you. There was something very credible in his explanation and admit it, you did like the thought of him saving you. In your deepest heart of hearts, you are more inclined to play the part of damsel in distress than you're willing to tell. For all your big talk about being independent, you do enjoy male chivalry to some extent. And his more than others.
Oh, just admit it already! It's not just the heat outside that gets to you! It's the thought of being locked up with him that gets your blood boiling. But you can only hope he can't read your inner thoughts in the semi darkness, because you'll be screwed even more. He'll never let you hear the end of it.
His voice breaks through you musings.
"Lisbon, would you just sit down and relax? Your scurrying around makes me nervous."
Reluctantly, you do as he asks you, but you stay away from his as far as you can. A shooting pain through your head makes you dizzy and you moan softly as you wobble on your bare feet, shoes long since kicked off.
"Lisbon, you okay?"
He's with you in an instant, helping you sit down and drawing you closer, impossibly closer to his chest. You wriggle to get free, but he doesn't let go. A surprisingly cool hand finds its way to your forehead.
"Poor baby, you're so warm. Come lie down here in the shade. Use my jacket to sit on."
He's saving you again, and you let him. This heat makes you a little woozy. Maybe lying down is not such a bad plan. His jacket feels soft underneath your cheekbone and you repress a sigh of contentment as his smell fills your nostrils. Not the pungent smell of sweat, but just warm masculinity and a small hint of cologne.
"Jeez, you don't even sweat, do you?"
He grins, not in the least bit disturbed by your sudden outburst.
"Nope, I'm not prone to perspiration. Good thing, or we both would stink up the place."
"Oh, so now I stink?"
"You, my dear, could never stink to me, but I do advise a nice, long shower when we get out of here."
You nod in agreement, swallowing a little lump of foreboding. The little voice inside that mentions you might not get out of this damn crate in time to enjoy any other shower than the one on the autopsy table in the basement at the CBI HQ.
"We will get out of here. And we'll eat, drink, take a shower and be merry. Just think about it. So cool and relaxing…"
It sounds good and you feel yourself being drawn in by his voice. You have just a hint of an inkling that he might be hypnotizing you, but he can't be. He needs eye-contact for that. Right?
You decide to break his concentration by asking him another question, just in case…
"So why aren't you as hot as I am?"
"My my, Lisbon. I don't deny you're one hot mama, but a lady never flaunts her qualities. And I have you know that I think of myself as pretty hot too you know. Kind of hurts my ego to think you do not think of me as desirable."
Infuriating! Damn him to the deepest pits of hell! Oh wait…you're already there.
"That's not what I meant and you know it!"
"So you do think I'm hot? Why thanks, Lisbon. That's so sincere of you."
"Stop twisting my words around or I'll kill you."
"How am I twisting your words around, my dear? I was very innocently talking about a shower. How come I get blamed for your dirty little mind?"
He's so dead!
"I do not have a dirty mind and even if I had, you would not be in it!"
"Sure. If that's what you want to tell yourself."
Blissful silence. Time to put your head down again. You should have known it was too good to be true.
You are in mine you know."
You so not needed to know that. Though in a way, it's flattering, it's also very dangerous. You try your hardest to keep your infatuation with him under control and it's hard enough on any given day. And today is hardly a normal day. There's no doubt in your mind that he's known about it for quite some time, though, but so far, he's never called your bluff and you're grateful for that.
This love being one-sided was both your biggest pain and your means of escape. The knowledge that he would never reciprocate made it somewhat easier to maintain a professional distance between the two of you.
But knowing that he thinks of you not only as his boss and possibly his friend, but also as a woman, a desirable one on top of that…let's just say that the temperature inside this contraption just went up another ten degrees.
Not knowing how to answer, if anything at all, you keep your mouth shut. He'll fill in the blanks by himself, he always does.
And indeed…
"What, surprised? Teresa, just because I have been celibate for quite some time, doesn't mean I'm a saint. I can and do still enjoy looking at beautiful women and I happen to think you're one of them."
"Thanks."
"That doesn't sound very sincere."
"Well, what did you expect?"
"Normally, when a man compliments a woman on her beauty, she appreciates it."
"Being the subject of your sordid dreams hardly feels like a compliment."
However did you get yourself into this conversation? And how the hell can you get out?
"So…I guess you don't wanna hear any details?"
No, no you don't. This little revelation, whether true or not, has upended your last reason to stay in control. For if he does return these feelings, if he too picks up on the sizzling in the air, then how the hell are you supposed to keep your guards up?
So you beg him, with your eyes, your body, with every hold you think you have over him, to just drop the subject.
He seems to get it, for he touches your shoulder in a hesitant, apologetic way.
"Lisbon…I'm sorry. I was just yanking your chain and I pushed the subject too far. I should have realized it would make you feel uncomfortable."
"Thanks. Apology accepted."
"Good. But I won't take back calling you beautiful."
You smile, despite of yourself.
"That's okay. You don't have to."
He smiles too now. Silence again rules the small space and your heart rate finally slows down to just above normal. With the sun setting, the worst of the heat evaporates. The sheen of perspiration on your arms now cooling down actually makes you feel a little chilly and you can't suppress a shiver. Of course he notices and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders. You grin at him.
"Not so hot anymore huh?"
"No…but perhaps even more gorgeous."
It's nothing but a whisper, with him pressing you with your back against his chest. Your heart rate immediately picks up speed again and really flies overboard when he presses a barely there kiss in your neck, before letting go.
Now moisture of another kind makes its way out of your body. You're in serious danger of dehydrating yourself, but you can't stop the tears from flowing. Too late, you break loose from his embrace and turn away. He's already seen it.
His voice is plaintive as he addresses you.
"Teresa, please share your pain. Tell me what frightens you. If I can help, I will. Just remember what I told you: I'll always save you."
That's when the elephant in the room explodes. Years of pent-up love for this man, months of frustration about his self-chosen path of destruction, combined with the added stress of being locked up with no way out all together make a powerful fuse. And he just lit it.
"You can't save me Jane! You can't, because you won't even save yourself. We might be stuck in this container for hours, but you've been stuck in your heart for years! By vengeance! If vengeance was a lady, you would have married her years ago! How dare you lure me into this little game of innuendo, feed me mental images of something you know I want, something I can never have!"
"I never said you can't have me. I'm not immune to the attraction between us."
"Bullshit! Attraction, my ass! We're not animals in heat, Jane. I can't just…just…have sex with you and move on. God knows I wish I could, God knows I wish it would be enough, but no, stupid little Teresa Lisbon had to fall head over heels in love with the one man whose entire life revolves around destruction."
"You know why I…"
You rudely interrupt him.
"No I don't! For no matter how much pain I've had in my life, no matter how many times I've cursed my fate, cursed the man who killed my mom, cursed my dad for the path he chose to forget, I would never stoop as low as them, finish them off like one would do a rat and then dare to call that justice. And foremost, I would never trample over the hearts of people who love me, like you do, and then offer to save them. Not when it's you I need to be saved from most!"
He's gone pale as a ghost while you lash out at him. With the light of the sun almost gone, you can hardly see him anymore, but he's close enough for you to see the shocked look in his eyes.
Hiding his own tears, he quickly steps away from you, almost like you're carrying some highly contagious disease. You feel sick to your stomach, sorry for the pain you had to inflict, but you can't take back the words and perhaps you shouldn't.
"Well, that's clear. I'll just keep my mouth shut then."