Red Conciliation
So I haven't written for a little while now… But here I am! This concept hit me this morning and I couldn't stop myself.
Disclaimer: Nope, still nothing. Trust me, I'd tell if I suddenly magically acquired owning rights to The Mentalist.
The attic of the CBI is dormant and dust-covered. Patrick Jane lies on his makeshift-bed; his arm folded behind his head.
Thinking.
Teresa Lisbon is leaving the CBI.
Leaving. Forever.
Why was this concept so unbelievably strange in his mind? So impossible? Surely somewhere in a corner in his mind-castle he must've known that sometime, someday, she'd have to leave?
Cops don't stay in one bureau, department, whatever forever. They moved around every once in a while.
Fresh start, new city, she said. California was getting tiresome.
She was going to work in the city, in New York. The other side of the country (neigh, continent).
And he was feeling a painfully familiar sense of loss.
Downstairs, he heard the abnormally loud conversations. Tonight was her going-away party. Just a small get-together in the conference room for the team and some other agents who feel like socializing over beer and (her last) case closed pizza. He came up here after about twenty minutes of listening to memorable moments of Lisbon's career in the CBI (the majority involving her getting him out of some ridiculous situation). It got too much for him.
Footsteps, outside his door. They're light and crisp: it's hers.
She knocks lightly, but doesn't wait for an answer before she opens the door. "Hey. You disappeared." It wasn't accusing, more of a simple statement. As if she was telling him that the sky is blue.
"Yeah." He said, looking up, but not making any move to go back downstairs.
"Why?"
"I don't like big parties."
She chuckled, amused. Gestured for him to sit up and scoot over on his little bed. "It's hardly a big party. It's pizza with the team…"
"And half the CBI."
"Jane, I'm leaving tonight."
He looked down, staring at a crack in the floor. "Yeah… I remember."
"So why don't you come and have a beer with us? For old time's sake. You can even have tea."
His turn to chuckle, as he looks to her. Her bright, green eyes are set straight in front of her, stubbornly ignoring his gaze. He's going to miss her eyes, he realizes. When they blaze green fire when she's yelling at him, or when they're shyly diverted downward as her cheeks tinge pink.
"I'm going to miss you, Lisbon." He says, his voice lament and soft.
And then she turns to catch his eye and smiles. "I'll miss you too."
Her smile is comforting and warm; like sunshine, glimmering over his dark, cold world.
A moment passes in which they don't break eye contact, just sit in comfortable, companionable silence.
Then she cracks another smile and pats his knee. "Now come on. I'll never forgive you if you miss this."
"If I miss this, will it make you stay?"
She doesn't answer, just keeps walking to the door and opens it; waves her hand to the doorway, as if to say 'After you'.
He sighs and gets up, his intention to have one slice and a cup of tea before retreating back to his thinking cage.
He stays downstairs the entire night – falling asleep on his leather couch after a few too many shots of tequila that appeared out of seemingly nowhere. And when he wakes up, the morning sunshine is already illuminating the bullpen.
And her office was empty.
Next chap will be a few years in the future, when he meets up with her again, promise! Please review, they're happiness-messages! :)
Much love, Zanny