The place in between
A Mentalist Fanfiction
by
Judy Adams
A/N: This is my first Mentalist Fanfiction. So please let me know what you think :) Of course the characters don´t belong to me but to their respective owners. This is set at the end of Episode 4x10
Edit : Thanks for the feedback so far :) I´ve tried to edit it a bit - no offense taken. :)
It was funny. Sort of. The masks he hid behind, she liked to destroy with a simple flick of her wrist or a look in her had made it into his soul, somehow. Sneaky little thing that she was. If he ever had owned something close to a soul anyways.
He didn´t believe in something like that and if he ever had, it rested under a pair of headstones, chased away by the ghost of his memories. Patrick Jane turned, slowly on his heel, taking a deep breath, eyes fixed on Teresa Lisbon. A smile began to blossom on his features. Yes, she could see it in his face, in the slight twitching of his lips.
He could still hear the laughter of his only child through the hallways, see his wife play on the piano.
The only song she could play - Moonlight Sonata. Closing his eyes again he waited for the pain to wash away.
It wasn´t the same kind of pain he had felt eight years ago, wasn´t the same pain that had made him try to kill himself.
„I am sorry. So sorry Jane."
Naturally he could hear the tears in her voice, the raw emotion behind it all and the honesty. Yes, she was sorry. Sorry to drag him back to hell. Hell, that was a funny word he thought – because his hell consisted of cold empty rooms and the chase for a monster now nothing but a shadow in his life that tainted everything he did.
A Shadow had re-created him in a way he couldn´t look in a mirror any longer without feeling sick. So sick of everything he saw. The face of a liar, vain and cold when the need arose. His smile grew bigger but his eyes were cold when they opened, pricise.
„Lisbon, this is me you are talking to."
Calm, always so calm it made her skin crawl and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Turning around again his feet dragged the rest of his body towards the room with a bloody smile. Shaking his head softly, messing his unruly curls even more he let his fingers run over the dried blood on the wall.
„I know that."
She had very nearly lost him, for good. Just because he thought he could get away with it, had nothing left to lose but chasing monsters and shadows. She had known that he would remember, had expected him to cry, to break down and she herself would have gladly offered to help him find the ground again should he lose it.
She hadn´t expected him to stare straight ahead with a smile for all the world. Maybe Wainwright was right, maybe he had gone mad over the years. Maybe it was partly her fault, for she had so gladly followed him into hell, seen him in his darkest hour. The same applied to him of course, still there was something nagging at the back of her mind, a feeling she couldn´t shake off, even as he took her hand softly into his larger One, playing with her fingers.
„I am sure you know that. You are not the sinner here, after all. On this mad Carnival. You are the princess. Even without the tiara while I am just a clown, as far as I rekon."
Her eyes misted over and she wanted to say something to make that numbness go away. She loved to see him smile, but she had known that she would have to be the One to tell him. The brave One, even if that meant she would never see that smile on his face again.
That calm smile so strictly reserved for her, louder than words. Quite frankly, right now he started to scare her. A lot. He had only annoyed her as a cheap con, had disgusted her as thief that hadn´t anything in mind but himself. Not now. Now he was in a place even she couldn´t reach him.
„Jane, I think we should go. You make no sense, you are tired and probably shocked by everything you have been through."
Still, she didn´t pull her hands back. Her tumb brushed over his wrist, traced a faded scar that made her shudder. His head sank slowly onto her shoulder albeit only for a brief moment before he moved out of her reach, out of her world again, to go to that place. Memory Palace. It might have been a jail cell she thought darkly to herself, but didn´t say that out loud.
„Yes, my dear. You are quite right. We should go. I could use a nice cup of tea and a nap on my couch."
He smiled, the coldness in his eyes somewhat melted. Lisbon wanted to grab his hand, wanted to drag him out of the house she had dragged him into to bring him back into reality, bring him back to her. It was the right thing to do but it still made her feel so guilty that she offered him to let him drive back to Sacramento. Jane had to laugh out loud at that.
Furrowing her brow Lisbon looked at him oddly, climbing into the drivers seat
„What is so funny Jane?"
That felt better, familiar, of course it would take time getting back to normal. Their normal anyway. Any other person on the planet would probably think it was pure insanity.
„Oh, nothing."
He replied easily, not bothering to look back to the place that once was his home, his life. Her quiet voice interrupted the darkness of his thoughts sharp and clear.
„You are staying, then?"
Turning his head, he nodded once. It took her a moment to realise that he had turned on the radio. Probably so that he didn´t have to talk, could sort out the mess in his head.
His face looked peacefully as he softly sang along and it made her smile the saddest smile she had ever smiled in his company once she registered what song it was. Send in the Clowns. Her eyes rested on his face once they reached a red light. He simply looked at her.
„Jane, what it is?"
He smiled again.
„It just occured to me that a clown or an angry princess probably couldn´t kill a monster alone, but together."
Lisbon didn´t smile back at him, just stared at the glarinly red traffic light in front of them that illuminated his disturbingly calm face.
„Maybe. Or maybe they find another way – a place in between."
The light turned green and she stepped onto the gas pedal, not looking at him. He wasn´t going to change his mind but maybe she could. Someday.
End