I needed to write that down, I can't believe that I wrote anything on the weekend before the premiere- please, consider that I'm totally CRAZY and eaten up by hysteria, so this might not be especially logical or good- I apologize. It's just something that popped up inside my head and needed to be jotted down, and since I haven't published anything in a while, I thought I'd share. It's silly! But i'm hysterical because of the season's premiere, so I'm not accountable for my actions!
Somehow, it has a slightly PWP-ish quality, so don't expect to find an elaborate plot here- there isn't any. I was inspired by the sneak peek.
A little warning: I HATE Loralei. But in this TOTALLY MADE-UP story, she's not a bad person. So if that thought deeply disturbs you and you want to see her die horribly in a puddle of blood, this is not really your story. I don't want to give you a stomach-ache, but for once, I found it interesting to play with the what-ifs, before maybe, the reality takes the chance away from me… forgive me. But who knows what will happen this season? That's my last chance to play!
I don't really know if this has spoilers, but it's set somewhere at the end of season five… it's my personal fantasy, nothing of much substance.
This story is M (I'm in DESPERATE need for M at the moment), a loud STRONG M!
I understand if you don't want to read smut- that's okay!
Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist", and I don't make money from fan fiction.
Reaching the Haven
Teresa Lisbon slid the safety back on and weighed the shiny black gun in her hand, ending the demonstration.
This was her. The thing that remained at the end of the day, that made her, defined her. Tomorrow would be business as usual, she just had to get through this day. That was all. Piece of cake.
She looked at Lorelei. Damn, the woman was beautiful. She had curves in all the right places, while Lisbon had always been a stick with breasts. And, okay… hips.
Lorelei Martins occupied her body like a ballet dancer, while Lisbon walked like a football player, having fought all her life to appear heavier than she actually was. She didn't own the other woman's grace, and she shouldn't wish she would. No competition here.
"I can't shoot," Lorelei shrugged.
Lisbon looked at her, swallowing the desperate sigh that climbed up her throat. She'd been sighing like a madwoman lately, time to suck it up, dammit.
"Believe me," she said, "when Red John shows up at your door, you CAN shoot."
"I know he will find me." Lorelei whispered, her voice surprisingly calm, matter-of-factly.
Lisbon shook her head.
"Not if we find him first. Believe me, Jane wouldn't let go until he has him, and you gave us a bunch of new data to work with. Trust him. He can do it, his mind can do magic."
She put the Glock into the case and zipped it into Lorelei's bag. The federal Marshals started to get anxious, she had to make fast.
"Any questions?" she asked briskly.
Lorelei came closer, and Lisbon felt a little surge of revulsion, mixed with a pain so deep she didn't dare to look at it too closely.
Lorelei's voice was sweet and deep.
"Why are you doing this, agent Lisbon? Why are you helping me?"
Lisbon shrugged, the gesture felt almost helpless to her, doomed.
"He loves you. I do it for him."
Lorelei's laugh was as crystal clear as the bite of her voice.
"You silly, foolish woman. He doesn't love me. He loves you."
Yeah. And zebras had two pink heads.
Patrick Jane had spent the past months trampling over Lisbon feelings, all for Lorelei. After Red John's ex-minion had given him everything she knew, he had fought like a lion to get her into witness protection, successfully so. Lorelei Martins hadn't committed any crimes on her own, just a few cases of petty theft when she was younger, so she was well entitled to a deal with the district attorney.
Just yesterday, Lisbon had entered the interrogation room without knocking first, and had found Jane and Lorelei sitting opposite each other, her hands in his. She still didn't like the way that had hurt. But she was no foolish little girl, no frilly princess waiting for her knight in shining armor.
"I bet you can't wait to see the back of me," Lorelei said, "but don't be a fool, agent Lisbon. Patrick is broken, and feelings scare him almost more than guns. But he loves you. Red John didn't choose me only for my nice boobs, I assure you. Don't be so stupid to let your man get away, just because you're so damn proud and stubborn and pig-headed. Both of you. It's sad to watch, dammit."
Lisbon almost smiled, biting her lip to cut it short.
"He doesn't love me, Ms. Martins. He hardly notices that I'm female. We are… friends…and…"
"Yes," Lorelei interrupted, "just friends. You wouldn't believe how often I've heard that sentence in my life. Be careful- it can get you pregnant faster than you can say 'huh?', you know?"
Lisbon chuckled.
"Time to go, Ms. Martins," the Marshal's deep voice cut in, "say your goodbyes."
Lorelei smiled and bowed slightly.
"Goodbye, agent Lisbon. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better. But don't worry: you will never see me again."
"Thank god," Lisbon said, but her smile was friendly.
She had no right to hate the other woman just because Jane had fallen for her. Her life had taught her not to fight things she just couldn't change. Tomorrow, Lorelei Martins would be anywhere, and Jane would still be a part of Lisbon's team, closing cases, hunting Red John.
She watched Lorelei saunter over to Jane's car. He leaned against it, watching her quietly.
A pang of hurt shot up in Lisbon's heart, and she turned away without hesitation, slowly walking over the airfield to the huge hangar.
There were things she didn't need to see.
Xxxxxxxxxx
Jane took Lorelei's hands in his and smiled.
"I hope I did good by you," he whispered, "your old life is over. Even if we catch Red John- you can never be sure that one of his minions won't find you."
"Don't worry," she smiled, "his organization will fall with him. But I'm going to stay in hiding. If witness-protection ends one day, I'm going to leave the country. I never liked the name Lorelei anyway. It's a whore's name."
Jane chuckled bitterly and felt a deep spread of pain race through his heart that made him lower his head.
"You haven't done anything bad, Patrick," she said, putting her finger beneath his chin to make him look at her, "there is a right and a wrong, and I'm glad that you taught me the difference again. I feel free. I'll do fine."
He nodded. He felt profoundly sad this morning, but also strangely excited, an anxious wildness racing through his core, like a tiger that had been caged for so long and now needed to run, roam the land until exhaustion took him.
It wasn't because she would leave today. He was glad that she had a new life in front of her, she was as much red John's victim as he and his family were, and he knew he had done all he could to give her this new chance. He felt some kind of kinship. What was most important: Red John had lost her, and it was a small victory he relished.
"I just had a hard bunch of months lately," he said.
And wasn't that true. He had done a few things he wasn't proud of, especially to agent Lisbon, he had lied and deceived and pretty much ignored her concern just to gain the information he needed. And he had. A short burst of elation filled his mind.
He would finally catch Red John. It might not happen tomorrow, but he could work with what he had, was closer now than he'd ever been before.
He could almost taste the shadow of his nemesis.
He would get him. Soon.
The thought brought a tentative smile back on his face.
"Goodbye, Lorelei. It was good to meet you."
Lorelei smiled, her sweet, seductive smile, and went on tiptoe, pulling him down to claim his lips in a kiss.
He didn't feel all that much, kept his mouth pressed into a firm line. The restlessness inside him increased until it almost hurt. He wanted to leave, get back into his car and drive as fast as he dared.
He was strangely fed up with kissing her, couldn't wait to become whole and real again, find an integrity only Lisbon cold give him. Scary how dependent he was when it came to her.
He had realized long ago that he wasn't in love with Lorelei, and had never been. It had been strangely tempting to get physically close to someone again, and in a way, she had seemed a lot safer than Lisbon was. In fact, he had avoided touching his best friend during the time he had spent with Lorelei. The resulting entanglements would have complicated everything. So he had carefully kept his distance.
Lorelei broke the kiss and smiled at him, her eyes saying clearly that she knew. Theirs had never been a love story.
He nodded and moved to climb into his car when suddenly her voice stopped him.
"Don't let her get away, Patrick. Don't push her away any longer. You will regret it for the rest of your life. It will grow, until it gets bigger than your feelings of guilt and self-loathing. Let her in. For both your sakes."
She turned and walked away, her hips swaying enticingly in her ingrained show of seduction.
Xxxxxxxxxx
"Tea?"
Lisbon startled violently, the file she'd been carrying slipping from her hands. She hadn't seen him, sitting on the couch in her dark office.
"Jane," she hissed, kneeling to retrieve the file, "one day you'll scare the living daylight out of me."
He chuckled and switched the lamp next to her couch on, bathing the room in a soft, cozy light.
"The only fun I have these days," he sighed before he started scrutinizing her closely.
Lisbon felt uncomfortable, his gaze made her feel things she didn't need at all, her skin felt raw all of a sudden, and her chest ached. She swallowed several times to get rid of the lump in her throat.
"You need sleep," he stated calmly.
Lisbon shook her head vigorously.
"I need to catch Anita McMorris' killer. It would be nice if you would help a little, Jane. We missed you while you were… busy."
She knew she didn't sound cool and aloof and professional, but right now, she just didn't care. Lorelei Martins was gone, and she felt torn between the urge to throw a crashing party and release all the tears she had pent up over the past months. She would do neither. Anita McMorris it was.
"I wanted to thank you again," he said, getting up to pour her a cup of tea, "for giving me free reins all these past months. For helping Lorelei to start a new life. Hell, you even showed her how to use a gun- can't have been easy."
Lisbon's stomach churned, and she realized that she hadn't eaten in quite a while. She felt hollow and lost, angrily biting back the tears. She just needed a good night's sleep, and everything would be fine.
"Will you miss her?" she whispered into the murky twilight, her breath catching in shock.
She had no idea where the question had come from. It hovered like a living entity between them, loud and demanding, and she regretted that she had spoken words that had been supposed to stay locked inside her mind. Forever.
Of course he would miss her. He had fallen in love with her.
"No," he answered with a shrug, "but I missed you."
Relief, surprise and shock fought a vicious battle inside her, she felt her eyes going round and huge, staring. She turned around, trying to escape his eyes. Hyper-aware of the sounds he made moving through the room.
"I was here all the time," she gasped.
He nodded.
"Yes, you were. You are always there for me, Teresa. But I wasn't. I'm sorry. Sorry for making your life hell, again. Sorry for watching you getting hurt without doing much to make it better. Do you know that it's a sin to put sugar into perfectly fine tea?"
She turned, facing him again, caching his short smile like a ray of sunshine.
He opened a small pack of sugar and poured the content into her cup before he stirred carefully, the spoon making a soft, clattering sound against the porcelain. Lisbon held on to that sound, let it fill her mind before the tremor inside her would become visible on the outside.
When he handed her the cup, his fingers brushed hers, and the sensation was like an electrical current between them. He had hardly touched her these past months, some reassuring taps on the shoulder, nothing more. Their hug in this very office, almost a year ago, seemed a figment of past times' dreams, she could hardly remember the feel of his body in her arms. The thought caused regret and more pain.
She took a tentative sip of tea, the scalding liquid providing a welcome sensation on her tongue.
Jane sat down on her couch and started to throw the pillows onto the floor.
"What are you doing?" Her voice sounded raw and hoarse, she coughed several times to clear it.
"You need sleep."
He extended his hand, an unspoken invitation, his eyes calm and warm, his face bathed in shadows.
She looked at his hand. She shouldn't take it. Should fight for more distance, not less, should put the flurry of emotions she had suffered these past months far behind her.
But before the thought was completed, she had put down her cup, the saucer rattling on the smooth table top, and her fingers wrapped around his on their own volition.
He pulled her down next to him, but a fraction of a second before her butt made impact he changed his position and lay down, twisting his body so that she ended up lying on his chest. Her heart almost stopped. Her breath became rapid and shallow, he wrapped his arms around her, and she felt the faint pressure of his lips on her hair.
"Ssshhhh, don't tense up. The blinds are closed. We are all alone. Jim is playing chess with his colleague down in the basement, and he never comes up here before you have left the building, anyway. Relax. You need sleep, Teresa, I'm not kidding."
"The door is unlocked." She could smell his skin, clean and warm, underlined by the faint touch of his Eau de Cologne.
"It's not. I've locked it when I poured the tea." His warm breath slid into her hair, over her face, a flood of hot sweetness, like molten sugar. It made her mouth water in need.
"Let me check," she whispered desperately, urgently, searching for a way to get out of this mess.
Jane chuckled.
"Forget it. You would never come back here, but be out of that door before I could do anything. Just sleep, Teresa. Nothing bad is going to happen when you let down your guard from time to time."
"Pot calls kettle…"
"Sshhhhhhh. Sleep."
For a moment, everything was silent, and she was strangely aware of his hands moving on her body. They were surprisingly large, holding her firmly and surely, his grip comforting and reassuring.
"Why did you kiss her, again and again?" She sounded so small, and hated herself for it.
But she WAS tired and worn and exhausted, and in the protection of the near-darkness, her lips started to spill things she had wanted to keep inside.
"A myriad of reasons," he said, "but love wasn't one of them. Sleep, Teresa, or I'm going to hypnotize you."
His hands moved on her back, firm, rhythmic strokes that made her drowsy, she felt her eyelids drooping. For a second she fought like a diver struggling to reach the shimmering surface of the ocean, before she let the current pull her under and gave in to her bone-deep exhaustion.
Xxxxxxxxx
Patrick Jane concentrated on stroking Lisbon's hair. It was so soft, warm from his breath, he savored the silkiness beneath his fingertips, let her flowery scent fill his nostrils.
He hadn't felt this peaceful in eons. But at the same time, the doubts were screaming in his head.
If he did this now, he would never be able to go back. This would be his final decision in the matter, and when he said yes, he would never be free again. Never cold. Never alone.
He moved his head and kissed her forehead, the skin sweet and soft. He wanted to taste her lips. Wanted it more than his next breath. Imagined how she would open her mouth for him, let his tongue intrude.
He stirred inside his pants, violently, blood surging until he was full and hard, the arousal almost painful. He gasped and pushed her off his chest, gently, one inch at a time.
When she finally lay next to him, on her side, her small fist curled beneath her chin, she looked so young and innocent a pang of regret pierced his heart.
The hunt wasn't over. And if he became hers now, she would never be rid of it, would have to stick this out with him, right to the end. He couldn't live in peace until Red John was dead. If he did this now, the same would be true for her.
He scooted down until his face was on level with hers, his nose almost touching hers. Her breath washed over his skin, sweet, deliciously hot. He took a shuddering breath.
With a soft sigh she lifted her face, it was so open, right there for him, and he simply couldn't resist.
He wanted her.
Wanted her now, wanted to never let her go.
With a soft sigh he closed his eyes, slanting his head to press his lips to hers.
Xxxxxxxxxx
She woke up from the gentle pressure of Patrick Jane's mouth on hers.
For a second, she didn't have the slightest wish to stop him. His lips were so soft, the skin silken and hot, his pure sweetness invading her senses. But when he gently pushed his tongue into her mouth, she started to panic and broke the kiss on a harsh intake of breath.
"No." she said.
"Yes." He replied softly, and when he claimed her lips again, she didn't resist any longer.
The kiss became wild and hungry fast, all of a sudden she could think of nothing but devouring him, taking whatever he had to offer.
But she knew she wasn't a taker. When she opened up to him now, she would pour everything she had inside him. He would hold her soul like a gift.
She was defenseless. She loved him. The realization made her shudder every time, although she had long known it, had carried the truth of her feelings like a picture she never looked at. All the things she didn't dare to feel came crashing down on her, crushing her defenses.
She sucked on his tongue, felt him shudder, his big body covering hers, bringing her beneath him. She welcomed his weight. He was surprisingly strong, his flesh firm, muscles rippling. His erection pressed into her abdomen, hard as steel, she welcomed the friction, grinding her body against his.
He groaned sharply, she felt the growing urgency in his kiss, hot, fevered. There was a wildness directly beneath the surface she had never felt in him before, and it made her dizzy with want, almost more than she could bear. Her skin tingled as if it had woken up from a deep slumber, a numbness receding that had been close to replace what she had been. She felt the blood rush through her body. She was alive, the heat burned the cold into nothingness.
Getting rid of their clothing was awful, took too long, and she thought about leaving most of it where it was, only pushing out of her way what absolutely needed to go, but whenever she revealed naked skin, she wanted more, wanted to feel all of him, so she undressed him, one piece after the other, hungry, relentless.
He struggled a little with her skin-tight jeans, and she cursed the clingy fabric, sighing in relief when finally they were stark naked, nothing remaining between them but hot skin and the touch of their breaths.
He kissed her more, his lips wild and greedy, his tongue sliding against hers, needing to get closer, pushing, pressing.
His erection throbbed against her stomach, and she pushed her hand between their bodies, touching the satiny skin taut over the steel of his length. He was big, far bigger than she had thought, she had no idea why or when she had pondered that at all, but desperate elation gripped her core, a deep gratitude for this moment, this little space in time and reality that gained her the right to touch him, dig her fingers into his flesh. He was hers. She would keep him forever, like a treasure nobody could take from her.
She spread her legs when he pushed his hips against hers, and he slid between them, his cock nudging the entrance to her body. She was wet, so wet for him, but the sensation was almost more than she could tolerate, breath fluttering in her lungs, time trembling, suspended between them for a moment.
He looked at her, and in his eyes she saw how hard this was for him, how deep his decision reached. With her, he gave up an ages-long ache, and she saw the walls crumbling, saw his self being formed once more, renewed and yet the same.
She heard his breath catch in his throat when he slid inside her.
It had been a while for her, and he felt incredibly huge inside her, stretching her to the limit, her sheath struggling to accommodate him. It felt wonderful, like walking on the edge, adrenaline coursing through her body while he pushed deeper, deeper, and every time she thought there was no place where he wasn't already, he went deeper, until it seemed as if he pierced her heart. She felt full beyond of what was comfortable, but she loved it, needed the soft touch of pleasure-pain, blowing her mind with every tiny movement he made.
His breath was rough inside her ear, panting, every inhale a demand for more. Sweat broke out on his back, her fingertips sliding through the thin sheen of moisture.
She pushed her hips against his to urge him to thrust, and with a gut-wrenching groan he gave in, pulling out almost completely before he slammed into her so hard he pushed her up on the couch, her head bumping against the window pane.
He murmured an apology and pulled her back down, gripping her hips with both hands to hold her still. She didn't care, it had felt earth-shattering, she wanted more, harder, faster, wanted him to be rough and brutal, just more, more, do it again, please…
When he rammed inside her again, every coherent thought fled her mind. She cried out, arched her body against his, and Jane pushed up, supporting his torso on his outstretched arms before he set a fierce rhythm, harsh and fast, his cock pounding into her so hard she saw stars.
"Yes," she hissed, "god, yesss…"
His hands above her shoulders kept her in place, and there was nothing she could do but take him, nothing she wanted but that, her eyes fluttering shut with pleasure every time he surged into her, so deep she could almost taste him. He filled her completely, again, again, chasing away all the sadness, replacing it with the sharp ache for him, the desperate need for more.
Her fingers dug into his back but he didn't even flinch, even as she raked her fingernails over his skin he kept his merciless rhythm, his teeth gritted, his face contorted with ecstasy.
She angled her hips, and he thrust deeper, her whole body shaking with the force of his strokes.
The sensations were indescribable, but the sharpness of her climax took her by surprise. She had never come like this, in a rush of feelings as deep as a drowning flood, her whole body contracting with the power of her release. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, felt her muscles convulse around his cock, he thrust all through her orgasm, the rough strokes he gave her almost painful now that her nerves were so raw. She didn't care, spread her legs impossibly wider, pressing her sex against his to increase the already unbearable friction.
Sweat dripped from his nose onto her face, it made her go crazy, she wanted him to come inside her, come until he couldn't move. She tightened her lower muscles as forceful as she could, felt his rhythm get erratic, and the first wash of his seed triggered another climax that almost rendered her unconscious.
Jane went completely rigid, he felt the force of his release in the sheer hardness of his muscles, in his shoulders, his back, all over. She felt every spurt of his essence deep inside her, the sensation heady, addictive, she growled like an animal.
He spent inside her with desperate little cries, his head thrown back, she could see his stomach muscles clench with the power of every new stream of semen he released.
Delicious aftershocks raced through her system, making her shudder beneath him, and it took forever for both of them to come down.
He collapsed on top of her, his breath loud and wheezing, his hair damp from exertion. His weight felt wonderful, pressing her into the couch, and she buried her face against his shoulder, wanting to sink into him for some precious moments, forget everything but this new reality they had just created.
She was almost sad when he pulled back and lay down next to her, although breathing instantly became easier. She wanted to be crushed by him some more, wanted to feel his body warm and alive, bearing down on her.
He gathered her into his arms, and she pressed his lips against his damp skin, warm, wet kisses, making him moan softly.
She looked at him, his eyes were almost bottomless, the sparse light reflecting in their depths like a myriad of stars.
What had they done? Changed their lives forever. She felt as if their hearts beat in sync. They could never undo this, it was definite. A surge of fear and contentment filled her to the brim, the emotions at war with each other, it made her eyes water.
He gave her a shaky smile and kissed her nose. Damn, his lips were soft. She closed her eyes with a little purr, snuggling up against him. She'd never been the cuddly type, but he had changed everything, had turned her world upside down ever since he'd entered her life.
"So that's what it feels like," he whispered," I had almost forgotten."
She snorted.
"It's not been that long for you, hasn't it?"
He chuckled.
"Not the sex," he said, "the love."
She was speechless for a few minutes.
"I love you, you know?" she whispered into the silence when her voice returned, small and shivery.
There, she'd said it. She'd never felt like this before. The bone-deep exhaustion after the endless months of worries and pain and longing, of fighting and supporting him, battling with her own conscience, trying to do what was best but never quite succeeding, the fear, her lonely realization that what she felt for him was love, the struggle, the doubts… nothing more but a background hum. She felt at peace.
She realized that everything she had experienced before, the few times she had believed to be in love, paled against this. This hurt so good. This was scary and beautiful and would demand everything she had. She was here. She was willing. She would take this one damn step at a time.
"Yes," he replied, "I know. Let's sleep, love. Only some hours until we have to tackle the next case."
She smiled against his skin, it was almost calming that everyday life seemed right around the corner, gun and paperwork, the fief she knew by heart. They would learn this love slowly, one breath after the other. Damn, she was scared. She couldn't wait.
He covered them both with the fluffy blanket she had put over the backrest.
"I love you, Teresa," he whispered softly, just when she was about to fall asleep, "don't worry any more. We will catch him. And then, a new day begins."
THE END
Yeah, I know, this is just a fantasy, but what can I do against my stupid brain? This isn't necessarily what I want to happen regarding Loralei, but for once I found it interesting to play with this scenario: what if he indeed turns her? What could happen afterwards?
Hope you liked it a little bit, I know, nothing much, but my personal premiere… I never wrote ANYTHING in the week before the season's premiere, so I'm surprised myself. Tell me what you think!
Anybody else as excited as I am? TOMORROW is MENTALIST-DAY!
SEE YOU SOON!