Hello there!
Just in case you haven't read any of my stories before, i am Katie and i thank you very much for taking the time to read what i so love to write :)

This will be a little different from what i normally write, as i very much like stories with lots of chapters, but after friday i won't have a spare minute for writing :'( But, before school & work swallow me up, i thought a little two or three chapter story was called for.

It is set after the season three finale, but is pure fiction from then on.
Also, it is based upon one of my favourite songs of the minute; Samson, by Regina Spektor ..so please, if you are able to, have a listen as you read. It will still make sense if you cannot though.

That's enough from me now! I hope you enjoy..

Disclaimer: The Mentalist belongs to it's rightful owners, as do all of the beautiful characters who are a part of the show.
Regina Spektor owns her music & lyrics, i am merely a little in love with them.

The Yellow Light
Chapter One

A week ago Teresa Lisbon had been stood in exactly the same spot as she was right now. Had looked into the same room. Had smelt the same night sky, through same the damp walls. Had been illuminated by the same moon that shone through the same wood laden windows. And yet, not a single thing of this night was the same as it were a week ago. Seven days had seemingly changed the course of history, or perhaps they had simply gotten it back on track. Seven days that were singularly not of great importance, but together, they had managed to right the wrongs of the world. Seven days. One hundred and sixty eight hours. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. A short time in the grand scheme of things. And yet, Teresa Lisbon was certain that the past week was perhaps the most important time of her life. Seven days ago the world had been bleak and her life was slowly becoming unbearable. Nothing could lift the darkness that had fallen. Nothing could have saved her. Today that had all changed. The light had truly flooded her senses, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful. It was as if she had been living under a mask her whole life, and only now was she allowed to feel the warmth that the world could bring. The room might have been exactly the same, but there was one unmistakable and heart warming difference. A difference that came in the shape of Patrick Jane. His suite was a little too crumpled. His hair had grown too long. His complexion far too pale. But none of that mattered; at least not right now. Because he was here, and he was free. Patrick Jane was back where he belonged.

Patrick Jane was a free man. A murder he so publicly committed had been wiped from his name. A guilt he should have been made to feel had been lifted from his mind. He wasn't sure how, and he wasn't sure why, but he was indeed a free man. He was certain that it had something to do with the beautiful senior agent currently stood in the door frame to the attic. He was certain she had saved him. Teresa Lisbon, who so adamantly fought for what was good; for what was right, had saved his murderous soul. And for that, he would be eternally grateful. She had always told him that he had a choice; that he didn't have to become the man that Red John was daring him to be. He had always told her the truth; that nothing could change his mind about killing the bastard that stole the lives of his beloved wife and child. They had danced around the subject for years. Neither willing to give into the other. Neither strong enough to convince the other that they were right. She had vowed to stop him. He had known she never could. Patrick Jane would kill Red John. Teresa Lisbon would be there to pick up the pieces after it was done. It was their own unspoken compromise. Jane doubted he would ever know the extent of what she had done for him; what of herself she had compromised to set him free. Lisbon would never allow the truth to be revealed.

He had felt the air change as she appeared in the door frame some minutes ago. The dampness in the air was replaced by her warn scent; a scent that held a deep and beautiful quality that could never be quite described. His breath hitched as he felt her forest eyes searching his entire being. He knew she would notice the little changes in him; his appearance was wrong, but it was so slight that he was sure she would be the only one to really see it. Lisbon was far more observant than she was given credit for, especially when it came to her team. And it was that precise reason that he knew that she was aware that he was, as always, only pretending to be asleep.

'Your hair is long.' The statement seemed to shake her whole body. The mere act of talking was too much. This night was too much. Never had she been so pleased to see a man lying on a settee in her whole life. Just to know that he was here; that he was safe, it was too much for her shattered heart to take. The bullet had stopped Red John's heart from beating. It had ripped through his skin, and his muscles, and his veins. It had cracked his bones. It had torn every last breath from his lungs. It had left his body an empty shell. It had killed him. But it had destroyed Lisbon too. It had shattered her heart into a million unfixable pieces. It had made it all real. The promise of vengeance. The need for revenge. It all centred around a 9mm chunk of metal. Knowing what it meant for Jane. Knowing what the future now held. It had done far worse that kill a man. And for that, she had never been so angry in her whole life. She felt betrayed. Left behind. Forgotten. So angry, but at the same time so relieved to see him. She didn't trust herself to speak anymore. He head and heart were seemingly screaming different things, and she wasn't sure which would find their way to her tongue first.

'They wouldn't let me cut it.' Jane wasn't sure why they were talking about his hair. There were so many things that he needed to say to her; needed to tell her, and yet they were talking about his hair. But then, what had he expected? In all honesty, he had no idea. He had spent hours upon hours contemplating what Lisbon's reaction to seeing him would be, and had never been able to figure out an answer. She was an enigma. Infuriatingly impossible to read, and seemingly immune to his skills of observation. In the cold reality they now found themselves, his hair was a perfectly reasonable topic of conversation.

They had remained in an odd sort of stalemate for what seemed like centuries; neither one brave enough to risk pulling down the dam that was so precariously stitched together, and sure to crumble at their feet if the spoke what needed to be said. The flood that followed would consume them within seconds, and both feared that their shattered hearts wouldn't survive the fall. To open your heart to someone; to share your deepest sentiments with them, that takes the greatest faith of all. Something which neither was sure they had anymore.
But then Jane stood up from the old worn out settee, and cerulean eyes searched out emerald orbs across the darkness. The look they shared saying more than any words would ever be able to. Each was battling an internal monologue of fear and desperation. Of needing to tell the other how they felt. Of wanting to protect themselves from more pain. And so they were stuck; two people who used to share the whole world, couldn't find a single thing to say to each other. The moon and stars battled against the street lamps below. The air grew thick with anticipation. The wind grew cold and wild against the heat radiating from their damaged hearts. The whole world seemed to be waiting for them to speak. For one man. For one woman. And for the inevitable earth shattering events that were destined to occur as soon as the next word was breathlessly uttered.

To be continued..

Please let me know what you thought? Good or bad.
Thank you ever so much for reading & i shall see you all soon, Katie x