Warning: English is not my mother tongue, and this text is uncorrected, so I apologise in advance for the mistakes, errors, and the clumsiness into the narration or style. But I hope you'll read it despite its flaws!
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Here it is, my favourite place in the world. No, wait. My second favourite place in the world. The first being Teresas's bed.
I lay down on my old brown couch because I need to think of what happened yesterday.
« I don't have a plan for you. I think I know what feels right… I think we know what feels right, and I think that that should be our guide. »
I was honest and saw the flash of growing concern in her green eyes while I was sputtering my tirade. Of course, the ever sweet and accomodating Teresa agreed at the end. And of course I managed to duck the issue, for a moment, with a vintage 1930 Cadillac trick.
It doesn't stop the fact that this conversation with Mr Ex has brutally highlighted the fragility of what Teresa and I are trying to built.
This is distressing, and makes me feel insecure. I cross my hands beneath my head, stretch my legs and close my eyes. Do I really know what feels right for Teresa? For us? I need to think. Maybe I need some tea.
I exit the office's kitchen with my white cup in hand, full of the precious smoking infusion. A bad surprise is waiting for me while my eyes scan the bullpen, looking for Teresa. She should be back now.
She's not at her desk. Instead, she's standing in the hall, near the elevator. And she's talking to Pike. His face is full of anxiety. As for Lisbon's, I don't know, I can only see her back.
I have a sudden bad feeling, mixed with curiosity. I can't help but needing to know what's happening here. So, while I know I shoud stay here and lay on my couch, I put the cup onto the next desk and go up to them.
Marcus sees me and immediately glares at me. He clenches his fists. Oh oh. Interesting.
« Hey Pike » I say, stopping at Teresa's side. I keep the tone of my voice neutral, showing no sign of animosity. « Forgot something? »
In true kung fu style, Marcus' leg draws an elegant curve in the air and before a very puzzled Teresa, his foot hits my jaw full force. My head is violently thrown backwards and with a croaky groan, I collapse onto the cold floor of the FBI corridor.
Pike looks like a huge wave of relief is flooding him, while Teresa stands there, aghast.
I flip on my right side and lean my head towards the floor. I can't keep it: it hurts and I'm whining. My upper lip throbs painfully. With a grimace, I spit blood on the floor. Lots of blood.
When able, I say « Did you see that, Lisbon? See what this brute did to me? »
Teresa looks down at me but says nothing. I can taste metal in my mouth.
She slowly turns her face towards Marcus and he can see an appreciative glint in her eyes that makes him smile. Then she kneels down at my side, as I'm rubbing my painful cheek and lick my bloody lips.
« Be a big boy, Jane… », she says, gently patting the blond curls on top of my head. « Stop complaining. You know you deserved it, with all the trouble you caused to Marcus. »
I blink and realize that in my eyes, Marcus can read everything. That is, a total bewilderment mixed with a deep hurt. Must be nigh exhilarating for him… I feel so ashamed and humiliated.
But he is no sadist. He eventually relaxes his clenched fists and, bending, he reaches for Lisbon's arm.
« Come on sweetheart, leave him now. We got to go. »
Teresa stand up and turns to him in one smooth motion, a knowing smile on her lips, then heads towards the elevator with him without any hesitation. I can't believe what's happening.
When the elevator doors opens eventually, she suddenly turns back in my direction. I see the jolt of fear going through Pike's body. I forget to breathe.
« And Jane, cannollis are very overrated. I much prefer pancakes, sorry » Teresa adds with a small wave of the hand.
Pike glances as she follows him into the elevator and stands at his side. Her pale face seems carved in marble under the white artificial light, and like some antique statue, her expression is now indecipherable.
She is staring intensely towards the corridor, silent. Towards me. I'm shaking. Marcus softly utters her first name in her ear but Teresa doesn't move an inch, as if she was not aware he was there. Swallowing hard, he follows her gaze. Before the elevator's doors completely closed, he looks at me.
Me, lying on the floor next to my bloody spit that draws a strange red jellyfish on the white floor.
I wake up to the sensation of unease and muted anguish in my stomach. I take a deep breath to try to suppress these embarrassing feelings, staring at the ceiling for lengthy seconds. The dream is still fresh in my mind, and I feel uncomfortable.
It's annoying, because this morning, Paddy was feeling happy.
I had kissed Teresa and she had left for the Austin Courhouse. On my way to the FBI headquarters, driving the black Chevy, I had thought about the last weeks of my life and the emotional roller coaster I had been through, from frustration to bliss.
It had all started with Lisbon dating Pike, six weeks ago. At first, it had been an irksome occurence. But to convince myself I was ok with it and happy for her had only made me head straight for disaster.
Self persuasion had drained most of my mental energy, and when Cho had bluntly opened my eyes with the news of Lisbon's pending departure, I had felt so impotent and devastated, the gnawing realisation had almost knocked me down.
After that, the Blue Bird Inn fiasco has been a crushing defeat. My fault entirely.
There was so much at stake that I had pulled out all the stops. And screwed up majestically. What the hell was I thinking? The infallible plan, the breathtaking magic trick, the great FBI Swindle? Boy Wonder is back!
How could I believe for one minute I would win Teresa's heart by buying her fancy dresses, misleading her, deceiving her (again), betraying her trust (the trust that I had already tried my hardest to undermine and shake countless times before)?
She was right. I had forgotten how to behave like a decent human being. What a jerk. She was so damn right.
It's too late… she had said. Oh, the dagger in my heart. The great Patrick Jane, always two steps ahead. Now he was one Pike late. Pitiful.
Then Teresa came back - and I kissed her in that TSA room. It had been a tremendous relief, but it was short-lived. I had desperately wanted to stay close to her, but had to spend the whole night alone on a small and squeaky bed in an uncomfortable detention cell, while a sumptuous en-suite room was waiting for us on Islamorada.
The next morning though, Abbott had returned with Lisbon and rescued me from the Airport Security clutches. Frankly, I didn't even considered to ask how Dennis managed to do it. I must have been serioulsy distracted.
The Abbott's Punishment had been a two weeks suspension without pay for my little stunt at the airport, and a future disciplinary hearing. Sweet.
All in all, it didn't turn out to be so bad. And I have been ready to sacrifice many other of my ankles if it meant Lisbon staying in Austin. Staying in Austin with me. Waking up beside me, like she did this very morning and for the last two weeks.
Lisbon urged me to behave as if nothing had changed between us, and I had kindly accepted to do that, keen on avoiding to embarrass her or upset her. Because I'm happy, and I would do anything to please her.
But as good as our relationship is doing, there are many adjustments to cope with, especially for me.
Through the blinding haze of dopamine and endorphins my own little hormonal storm threw me into, the conversation with Pike and that silly dream made me realize how big the challenge is.
If I don't want Teresa to give up on us, I have to drop my old self-protection mechanisms, I have to give up years of secrecy for honesty and openness, and leave the old Patrick Jane's mask behind. And it's frightening to be so naked. As frightening as the idea of screwing the whole thing up.
Through the last twelve years, I have knitted my own net of insecurities, and now it has reached the size of Texas. The only human being who have tried to pull on the thread is Teresa Lisbon, and I know I have to finish the job, slowly unknit the meshes and wind the thread up into a ball.
A big ball of fears, guilt, self-loathing, self-hatred, traumas and other disgusting things that I would gladly throw into the ocean, or bury in the Chihuahuan desert.
The task is herculean. But I do not want to end like Marcus Pike, do not want to see her slipping out of my life, to hear her telling she'll be happy with another man. Damn it. She's my drug. But she's no toxic, no, she is the opposite of that. She is hope. She is life. I got her in my blood, under my skin. I can't get rid of her, and I don't want to. So Hercule I will be.
I may not have planned a future fo her, not even planned to plan. But what's between us, I just want to do everything I can to make it work.
Yes, from now on, it's me and her. And I'm going to make that damn cup of tea.