If you think the current political climate wouldn't affect Jane and Lisbon...you probably shouldn't read this. For the sake of this story, I'm assuming season 7 of the show takes place in 2017.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.
Twilight comes and goes; dusk disappears too quickly. When darkness descends that evening, it feels heavier, more permanent. And yet, the feeling is unsettlingly familiar – time and time again, Lisbon thinks she's witnessed the worst of the world's catastrophes only to be proven wrong when the clock resets the next morning.
She steps out onto the roof, closing the glass door to the bullpen behind her, and walks to the balcony. The city is alive below, the hearts of strangers beating in time together. Somewhere, in the distance, the siren of an ambulance sounds, and Lisbon can't stop the initial panic that overcomes her.
Jane.
She closes her eyes, replaying the scenes in her mind like the news stations have been for the past several hours: the blast, the blood, the bodies.
Her team is there, assisting in the chaos of the aftermath. Even Jane, who spends most of his time away from the FBI these days, had volunteered to help.
He's fine.
Lisbon grips the railing, gets a grip on her panic.
He should be back any minute.
Lisbon hears the door open behind her, and she wonders for the umpteenth time if Jane actually is psychic.
He reaches for her just as she reaches for him, and she wraps her arms around the small of his back underneath his suit jacket. She lets her head fall to his chest, unafraid to show this bit of vulnerability.
He doesn't ask if she's okay.
"What's the final count?" she whispers.
She feels Jane tense. "Nineteen," he says gruffly, clearing his throat. "But I overheard some EMTs speaking about those who were transported to the hospital." He pauses. "It's likely that number will rise."
Lisbon begins to pray, and Jane holds her tighter.
They each take a deep breath, their movements in sync, and Lisbon looks up. "I'm tired of feeling helpless."
"Desk duty won't be forever, Lisbon – " Jane begins.
"That's not what I meant."
Jane sighs. "I know."
"Nineteen people were killed today," Lisbon says, and she can hardly believe the words as she says them. "For no reasons other than hate and fear. But this kind of hate, this kind of fear...it's not isolated. The world is so vicious, Jane. We're trying to fight a fire, and every time I think we've started to get the flames controlled, they escape our reach – and they grow higher." Lisbon holds his gaze. "This is not the world I want to raise our daughter in."
As it often does these days, her hand goes instinctively to cover her abdomen.
"Then let's do something about it," says Jane, and there's a spark in his eyes that makes her wary, that reminds her of plans inevitably gone awry.
Lisbon raises an eyebrow. "What more can we do?"
"Run," says Jane simply.
Lisbon looks at him incredulously. "That is not an option."
Jane shakes his head. "Not that kind of running, Lisbon. Not anymore. Not ever." He smiles at her. "No, what I meant is that you should run – for office."
She wonders if her look of disbelief will be permanently etched into the lines of her face – is this another of his schemes? If so, what is his end goal?
"Start small," says Jane. "Something local."
"You're not serious."
Jane looks solemn. "As a heart attack."
Lisbon's eyes narrow. "I'm no politician, Jane."
"And believe me, that is one of the things I love most about you."
"Jane, be serious."
"I am. Listen, Lisbon, you're a negotiator, you're a diplomat, and you have the best interests of everyone at heart. Those three things alone make you more qualified than the majority of candidates for any position." When Lisbon makes to protest again, Jane cuts her off. "You need further convincing? How about this? You know the law inside and out, and that means you know what needs to be done to improve the system. You claim you're not a politician, and I believe you, but you should hear yourself talk politics. Improvement of woman's rights, the rights of minorities – hell, you even have ideas on gun control measures that would give the most steadfast member of the NRA pause."
"Since when have you cared about politics?"
"I care about these issues because you care about them. Not to mention, I'd have to be a cold-hearted bastard to be apathetic about our current political climate."
Lisbon drops her arms to her sides and takes a step back. "You've thought about this before, haven't you? Me running for office?"
Jane doesn't dodge the question. "This was one of the careers I thought you might be interested in if we'd decided to leave the FBI."
"Why didn't you tell me about it?"
A slight breeze twists around them, messing with Lisbon's hair, and she tucks a stray strand behind her ear.
Jane shrugs. "You didn't want to leave the FBI. You're happy here. Though I'm not thrilled with the danger this job puts you in, I'm trying to deal with it."
Lisbon reaches for Jane's hand, squeezes it, then steps toward the railing again, resting her forearms against the concrete. Jane mirrors her posture, and they look out over the city.
"I'm not thrilled about that aspect of the job, either," Lisbon admits. She can't meet his eyes as she continues speaking. "I'm sorry I wasn't more empathetic when you brought this issue up before. I just – I just didn't understand what you were going through."
Jane covers her hand with his own. "I wouldn't want you to."
"I still should have been more sensitive."
"And I shouldn't have made you feel like you had to choose my feelings over your job. I fell in love with you because you're you – and being a cop comes with that. So does the danger."
"Your concerns were valid," Lisbon whispers. "They still are. But so are mine, and I had a hard time reconciling that. I just needed some distance and time to see it."
She feels Jane shift closer to her. "We should have talked about this earlier," he murmurs. "I'm sorry."
"Communication is not one of our strengths," agrees Lisbon.
"Let's work on it."
"Agreed." She pulls her palm from under his hand, choosing instead to wrap her arm around his. "Here's my proposal: no more high risk field work. We've got, what, forty or fifty years together if we're lucky? Let's make sure we get them all."
Jane leans over to brush his lips against hers, and the gesture is so tender she nearly melts. "That's all I've ever wanted," he whispers.
He pulls back, and they look at each other for a few seconds.
"Are you planning to hypnotize people to vote for me?" asks Lisbon.
He's grinning. "So, that's a yes? You want to run?"
Lisbon tries to glare at him, but she cannot hide her smile. "I didn't say that."
Jane looks amused. "You kind of did." Before she can protest further, he leans in to kiss her again.
"Did not," she says against his lips.
"Did so," he says, and she feels him grin.