A/N: for all the hopeless romantic and Jisbon fan out there... I hope you'll like this little valentine day fic, and you'll let me know what you think about it!
The teenager looked at the young man sitting at his desk across the room, grinning, and slowly walked towards him. She had a plan- a plan she had every intention of fulfilling, because there was no way she was going to allow that disaster to happen. It just wasn't right, it wasn't like things were meant to be. Hell had to freeze before she was going to allow her aunt to marry that… idiot going by the name of Walter Mashburn.
Unfortunately, she needed help to do so, and since the only other person she thought could help was no longer an active part of her Aunt Reese's life, she had to use the next best thing- aka the easier con in the whole world, Wayne Rigsby, who happened to have a soft spot for her, and her aunt, as well.
"Hello Mr. Rigsby" Annie said, trying to look as the nicest girl in the world, and also innocent at the same time. She hoped it could work, even if she had her doubts- after all, she had already tricked more than enough times Rigsby since she had met him years prior.
"Whatever it is, Annie, the answer is no" he told her, without even looking at her. She shook her head, pouting, and sniffing at the same time. She hoped this at least could work on the man.
The resolve of the man never fell, so she had to use her last weapon, the only one she thought she never had to use in this unfortunate event- truth.
She joined him at his side of the desk, leaning towards the dark-haired agent, whispering him what she thought, crying out all her desperation. "You can't abandon me! That's not right… Aunt Reese shouldn't… marry that man!"
"Listen, Anna Beth... " She looked at him with fire in her eyes, ready to set him on fire, and he immediately corrected himself. "Annie, I know you wanted to see your aunt marrying Jane, but he doesn't work for the CBI any longer; besides, it's like they parted in such a good way…"
She pouted even more, crossing her arms; yes, she knew her aunt and Mr. Jane hadn't parted in the best way, and she even had a vague idea of the reason; no one had ever told her the complete story, still considering her a child, but snippets of conversations between the adults and half-admissions made her understand that it was all connected to the man who had murdered Jane's family a decade before (yes, she knew how Google was supposed to be used); apparently, in his desire to protect this surrogate family – the team - from the killer, Jane had kept some vital details from them, just to walk right into a trap, a trap where the team almost found its end, barely managing to making it out alive and even succeeding in ending the serial killer's career once and for all.
Lisbon, though, felt betrayed when she discovered what Jane had been up to, so, without too many preambles, she had suggested the blonde man to take a leave – a leave that, suggested not with words but looks and actions, wasn't supposed to end, not soon nor ever.
So, Patrick Jane, the man who infuriated her aunt like no other, charming and funny(and, oh, so sexy for an old man) man who made her smile like it hadn't happened in such a long time, vanished like he had appeared a long time before, in thin air- even if she doubted the man was doing anything to cover his tracks. It wasn't like his team-mates were going to start looking for him, after such a betrayal and dishonesty.
It wasn't that bad, though: of course, her aunt was grumpy and in a permanent bad mood, and she wasn't smiling any longer if not of a false smile, a mask to cover her true feelings and their deepness, but, as sad as it was, it was still bearable. After all, even if she was a kid, Annie knew that love come and went, and like her aunt had fallen once, it could happen again, maybe not to someone as perfect and fitting as Jane, but.,.. well, her aunt was still young and a beautiful woman (who kicked ass and hold a 9MM for a living!) so there was a good chance that, sooner rather than later, someone would cross her destiny and enter in her life in an explosion of fireworks.
Only, she hadn't considered the possibility of her aunt dating an ass- because she didn't have any other word to describe Walter Mashburn besides that. And, to add injury to the injured, she was the only one smart enough to notice it (and she was a teen, so it was saying enough).
Mashburn had been smart, she had to admit it. He had walked into her aunt's life right when she needed him the most, when she was fragile and was keeping her guard down due to her recently broken-heart (by Patrick Jane, of course), and he had played the card of the "friend and crying shoulder" for quite a long time, giving her time to getting accustomed to his presence; it was something small at first, casual drinks or just his presence, that turned in evening out at bars and then in casual dinners that become dates, and date after date, one day, her aunt had appeared suddenly in Chicago (in Chicago…) just to tell them that she had come to visit flying on her fiancé's private jet.
There was no need to explain how easily those idiots of the male members of her family (father included) fell into the man's trap; Mashburn was charming, she had to admit it, but was also manipulative (like Jane, even Jane had never manipulated her aunt for something so trivial or his own good, preferring being honest the majorities of the times, and being actually dishonest only when the lives of others were in danger, not his own): tickets for sport events, hanging out together at gentlemen's clubs, sojourns at his flashy mansion (and, once, at his castle) through his private jet , rides in his Ferraris, and soon they were won over, not even noticing that the man was just… showing off his money, and treating them like they were savages od idiots, boorish and bumpkins.
The females of the clam followed a similar path soon enough, but taking much less effort: restaurants and flowers (and his constant showing-off, added to an heavy dose of flirting their husbands somehow didn't mind, blinded by his money) soon made the women envious of the lady-cop they used to treat like dirt, suddenly turned into their best friend forever; even Annie's mother had fallen victim to the man's charm (not that it was so hard, her mother could be such a silly goose..); until that very moment, Anna Beth Lisbon had been the sole survivor of the epidemic plague called Walter Mashburn.
She had to give credit where credit was due, though: he had tried his best to win her over, her aunt's favorite niece, both trying to impress her though gifts (he had asked her if she wanted to see the boutique where he usually bought his most elegant clothes in occasion of her incoming prom) and an invitation to Disneyland (she was interested in chasing criminals through dark alleys and in guns, for God's sake, was he so dense…) and hoping that her mother (now proud possessor of a vintage Chanel)would somehow influence her daughter's opinion- which failed miserably, especially after the "kid" had seen the two of them making out one evening, when they were heavy drunk after a night out through Miami most famous clubs.
Her aunt deserved better, she knew it and Annie was almost sure that Teresa knew it as well, but didn't want to admit it, probably, knowing her aunt, thinking that either she didn't deserve something better, thinking she may have failed miserably in saving Patrick Jane from himself, or that, since she couldn't have the real deal because she had pushed him away (Jane, for the record) she was supposed to set for second best and next best thing- billionaire and jerk Walter Mashburn.
Like she had already told before, and kept telling everyone: when hell froze over.
"How do you know I was going to ask you about Mr. Jane?" Annie suddenly asked to Rigsby, wondering back to her main problem- the incoming wedding – and how the man had, somehow, red her mind- probably because, she was almost certain after having improved her detective skills, that the whole CBI Serious Crime Unit didn't like the recent turn in events.
"Kid…"
"Listen, I'm not asking you to tell me where he is, just… I think you could somehow set a research for his credit info, you know, for mistake, and then you may feel the need to get something to east, and I could happen to be around… I could casually sit at your desk just to unnerve you and I could somehow see the results of the search engine."
"Annie, forget it. I'm a dad, I can't risk losing my job!"
"I'm sure Mr. Cho wouldn't mind helping me out. He always liked Mr. Jane more than you did. And I bet that idiot bought you too!" She turned her back to him, sniffing, and, at her back, she could hear Wayne grunting something, just a moment before the keys on his computer was pressed and a "biip" could be heard after his footsteps moving in the distance, in direction of the kitchenette.
She smiled in triumph, immediately collecting herself, and immediately wrote down the results appeared in the search engine; she was suddenly glad of two three things: that she had her dad's credit card, that she had recently turned 16, allowing her to enter in possession of a beloved driving license soon after the faithful day, and that Patrick Jane had been right: Wayne Rigsby was an easy mark.
When he opened the door of his motel room, Jane didn't have any doubt about the identity of the girl at the other side; it was, sure, a couple of years since last time he had seen her, and the young woman was going through some kind of a dark/Goth period, but there was no way he could forget those eyes, green irises so similar to the ones of a woman who still held his heart; he didn't doubt for a second that it was Annie Lisbon knocking at his door.
He was quite surprised, though; he wondered if she had been told of the terrible things he had done to the team, hoping to get his revenge against Red John and keeping them safe at the same time, something that broken her aunt's heart (the heart of a saint); still, when, smiling, she effectively threw herself at him, her arms around his neck, he accepted the hug, and returned it, holding her like for dear life, doing his best to keep at bay the tears that had menaced to escape since the last moment he had seen Teresa months prior.
"You know, gossip magazines tell me you aunt is getting married in two days' time, on Valentine Day. Shouldn't you be somewhere trying your bridesmaid dress?" she scrolled her shoulders, chuckling and rolling her eyes at the same time.
"Oh, please! Mr. Billionaire took me the tickets for the premiere of "The brief second life of Bree Tanner"… Like I'm the type of girl who actually reads Twilight… I bet he never listened to me when I used to compliment Aunt Reese's gun. "
"So, Annie, what brings you here, at the door of this humble motel room in the shadow of Walnut California?" his eyes fell for a second on the car parked just outside his room, a brand new Volkswagen Beetle Turbo Black, and he couldn't help but ask her, leaning against the doorframe, cheeky smile and all. For a while, Annie forgot why she was there, and thought she was back in Sacramento, over two years before, when she had first met him and had learnt from the same man how to pick pockets. "I'd say Rigsby. I've been the one telling you he was an easy mark, after all."
Biting her lips in a "guilty as charged" gesture, she rolled her eyes- a gesture Jane smiled to, because it seemed it was written all over the Lisbon DNA – and forced her way into the hotel room, not even bothering to ask him if he was allowing her or not; she collapsed on the bed, and threw a soft pillows on her own eyes, trying to protect them from the sunlight that was quickly taking over -another Lisbon trait, Jane noticed, still smiling while closing the door and sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed, looking at the young girl, who, he was sure, had to be exhausted.
"Let me guess, you got lost and arrived later than you thought, and, since you didn't know what you were up to because your super-modern rented car isn't accessorized with a GPS, you panicked. Tell me, how long did it take you to get here? I'd say, three to four hours against the average one…."
"God, I forgot why Aunt Reese hated you so much…" She smiled under the pillow, but immediately tensed, the silence told her many things and she didn't need to look to know that she had hurt Jane, and a lot, even if that was her last intention. "Oh, God, Patrick, I'm so sorry, I didn't mind to…"
He shook his head, stopping her from moving furthermore in her excuses. He didn't need them, because, frankly, she was right. Teresa –Lisbon, he corrected himself, because he had never gained the right to call her Teresa – hated him, and with every right. He had betrayed her, made her suffer, and this was his penitence. He deserved all the pain her was going through, had endured his whole life. And maybe, even more. "No, no, there's no need to, Annie. I think you may be right, actually. I did make your aunt's life a living hell. I'm not sure she had told you as much, but…"
"She did!" she creamed, jumping to stay on her feet, eyes teary, and Jane was taken aback for a while. He had never assumed that Lisbon could actually talk about him with others about, considered that she had always tried to keep work and private life two separated entities, and that she couldn't help but reprimand him about all the damage you always caused her. "She always talked about you. Dad says she didn't use to, but then, after you joined, she started to share things it's wasn't just "you know, work" any longer. She always talked with them about things. It was always, Jane did this, Jane did that, we and Jane solved the case…"
She paused, sniffing, the words dying in her throat. "Now she never talks with us. She just… she tells us what we expects her to say, and nothing more. And, her smiles, it never reaches her eyes."
"Annie, your aunt IS happy. I know it. I saw her and Mashburn together, in the past, and they are a very nice couple and…."
"They may be nice, but they aren't perfect! She isn't happy! She was just happy with you, and I thought, I thought…." She all but collapsed into tears, falling into his warm embrace, the fabric of his vest rough against her soft skin, the same shade of her aunt's.
He patted her back, drawing invisibles patterns. "Oh, sweetheart…."
"Aunt Reese should be marring you! I wanted for you to be my uncle! You make her happy while he cheats on her!"
He put some space between himself and the young woman, keeping her by the shoulders and carefully studying her: Annie wasn't lying. He wasn't completely surprised- Walt was a womanizer, but he had never thought that he could actually cheat on Teresa, the woman he claimed to love for real, the one that he had tried to get for years. But, then, had it been just that, the fascination of the chase?
"Last Christmas he comes over to Miami to visit me. I was there with mum and Trey, but her last boyfriend was somewhere having fun with his pals… and… I know it was just a kiss, but a kiss is never just a kiss, and he was such a flirt and a tease and Aunt Reese doesn't deserve someone like that, because like he goes around kissing right and left, he could sleep around right and left and…. And you know what the worst thing is? She knows! She knows he is a bastard and she is still going to marry him, and on Valentine 's Day, for God's sake!"
She struggled, trying to break free, an hard feat because Jane was doing his best to keep her steady, dying to try to explain her it wasn't always so easy, that the world wasn't all roses and flowers, that sometimes you couldn't have what you wanted, as much as you wished for it to be there, as close as you could get to it, somehow, it was always going to be out of reach - and that was his life with Lisbon, a life he never had the chance of having, but still desired for a long time.
"Annie, Annie, listen to me, she is going to marry him anyway because she loves him, because she is happy with him and because she knows she'll be able to change at least him!" he didn't need to vocalize the last part of the sentence, differently from me, and, while crying, Annie wondered if he had ever realized how wrong that statement was, because, for what she had heard – and seen - in the past, her aunt had been able to break all of Jane's walls, saving him from himself and finding a place in his heart, the same thing he had done with her.
"No, she is not, you dumb idiot! She just thinks she doesn't deserve love and shouldn't wait for it any longer since she thinks you've never been interested in her! She gave up on love because she thinks you never loved her, that you… that you used her! But she loves you, I know! She still thinks of you, and… and she is hoping that you'll be back! I know she'll never admit it, but she does!"
"Annie, it's too late for me to apologize, I can't come back, not on her wedding day! I know what you think but you are just a child, and one day, you'll understand us, and…" He didn't got to end his sentence, for Annie broke free, and with tears in her eyes, run away, back to her car, speeding away in the light of the Californian winter. He just heard her last words. That he was a coward and that she hated him.
He closed the door and collapsed on the floor, wondering what went wrong in his life, and, moreover, if what Annie had told him was true, and, in that case, what to do about it, because, maybe, there was always a place for a second shot at happiness in his life. He hadn't killed Red John- even if he had kept few info about the killer from the team – so, maybe, it could count for something, right?
Lisbon was supposed to wed on Valentine 's Day, in a modern and enormous white church covered in glass, something Jane grinned to, chuckling internally – he was betting it all been arranged by either Mashburn or a wedding planner, for it wasn't Teresa's style, definitely.
He bet her dress was long, white, and like some sort of Meringa, the last things he could want to wear on her wedding day…. And he could already see Van Pelt, wearing a pink dress that the planner promised to be just an "every day kind of attire" while it was just going to be a blaze of ugliness. Or maybe it was all Lisbon's idea, because the woman could be vengeful when she wanted to, and still hated the redhead for the "angry princess without her stolen tiara" dress of few years prior.
The event was supposed to be low-profile (as much as low-profile a Mashburn thing could be), and even if he wasn't on the list, Jane still managed to snick his way inside the ceremony, entering in the church ready to oppose as soon as the father was going to utter the words, hoping that Lisbon wouldn't go on with that sort of charade, hoping it really was a charade, and that Annie was right -which she usually was, if things were like they sued to be.
Speaking of Anna Beth Lisbon…. it didn't take the mentalist long to spot her, sitting all alone and on her own in the last row, crossed arms, clearly annoyed for a lot of factors: where she was (that monstrosity of a church) , what she was supposed to do (being the flower girl at the age of 16), whom she was supposed to do it for (her aunt and Mashburn) and, moreover, what she was wearing …. Another thing Little Annie had in common with her aunt: the dislike for dresses of any kind, even if, like with her aunt, they were just plain magnificent on her, like that one, a pale pink, strapless knee-long soft dress.
Smiling, he tapped on the girl's shoulder with a single finger, and smiled delighted when she shrieked, taken aback from the sudden foray; it took her just a second, though, to do as he was signaling her, giggling like a delighted little girl in complete silence.
Annie looked carefully at her surroundings for a sec, studying the logistic, careful to not being noticed by anyone that could potentially sent "her" brilliant plan into backfiring, and, taken Jane for a sleeve of the old pinstriped suite (one, he knew, Lisbon appreciated particularly, especially when combined with the light blue monogrammed shirt – only his shoes are new, shiny black instead of old, ruined brown ones) she bran him into the most secluded angle she can find, practically jumping on the spot while clapping her hands out of happiness- a real girl, for once, a girl of her own age, instead of the though as a nail soon-to- be cop she tried to seem too often.
She soon jumped in his arms, embracing the man she had always liked, and had hoped could eventually turn into more than a family acquaintance, and only when she came back on the ground, a modicum of space between them, she finally found the courage to really look at him, the eyes of both a bit teary and sad. "Oh, God, Jane, I'm so sorry, I should have never said those awful words!" she pouted a bit, knowing too well that her aunt had probably done so in the past as well, using her expression to manipulate the man. "I'm glad you changed your mind…."
He ruffled her hair, smiling as he did so, remembering when he had done so for his own daughter- a memory that gifted him with a sad smile, and not an expression of pure pain like it had happened so many times in the past. "Annie, I'm not promising you anything. I'm just here to talk with your aunt. She is the one who's supposed to pick a side here, not me. Don't expect too much."
She nodded, biting her won lips, carefully studying the man in front of her with a quizzically look, her eyebrows reaching her hairline, just like her aunt. "Just, for the record, how did you manage to break in? Security was supposed to guard the place in order to avoid crazy former girlfriends from trying to kill Aunt Reese…"
He smiled, chuckling- the girl was definitely like her own aunt, and scrolled his shoulders. "Meh. Security took for good my old CBI badge. And besides, old Carl at the front gates is easily impressionable; just a touch on his wrist and he was a goner." She smiled, proud and satisfied, like everything had just been a plan set in motion by her and her alone and he was simply following instructions. "Now, tell me, Annie, how can I get to your aunt, alone? I need to have a private conversation with her, if I'm to say what I want to."
She stood for a while, thinking, biting a fingernail while she reflected. "Right now, Aunt Reese is in a room with mum, Aunt Jess and Aunt Maureen, and probably with that bitch of a bimbo wedding planner as well" she paused, huffing as he watched her, like to say, watch your language, young lady. "The men should arrive in a while. Dad's supposed to give her away, and should be somewhere lost in thought, thinking about how he so definitely doesn't want to give her to…you know, him." She grinned. "He would rather prefer you like a brother in law"
He crossed his arms, thinking, something that it didn't take him long, considered that he had already mastered part of the plan on his way there. "Ok, so… your mother, she wants to be at the center of the attention, so, if you'll put a tantrum because you don't want to be a flower girl, she'll follow you everywhere you'll go just to convince you of the opposite…."
"We'll need to convince someone to walk inside the room and tell that there's a fight going on, involved my uncles and someone from his side, because of some inopportune comments about Aunt Reese. My aunts will feel obliged to check on their husbands!"
He shook his head, not completely convinced. "No, no, it has to be real, otherwise, it could get suspicious. Minelli hasn't been formally introduced to anyone, right? I think I could need his help to go undercover between the enemy lines to spread the words that the bride tricked the groom into wedding due to a fake pregnancy… Simon, Walter's best man, will feel compelled to comment on that. He is still a bit out, some street drug I think."
"But what about the wedding planner, she'll still be there…"
"Meh, don't worry. I know wedding planners. She'll immediately run to the rescue of the brigade and order Teresa to stay inside the room, not wanting for her to be seen by the groom before the ceremony."
"You know, I'm not sure if you are terrible or magnificent.." she commented, smiling, putting immediately her best poker face on, trying to look as mad as never before, walking resolutely in direction of her aunt's room.
When she reached the changing room, Annie didn't knock, just stormed in, throwing the bouquet and the basket of matching flowers on the ground, looking at her mother in the eyes while she undid the bun of dark hair. "If you think I'm going to accept to behave like you little princess, mum, you are wrong! I'm not going to fulfill your childish fantasies of primadonna by being your proxy, not even for Aunt Reese!" and saying so, she stormed out of the room like she had entered, slamming the door shout, immediately followed by her mother- a small smile of victory graced her lips while she walked quickly outside the church, getting as far away from there as possible.
"Oh, mother of God, that child is impossible, just like her parents. I swear, the only reason I allowed you to make them part of this bloody circus is that they are good-looking…and because it looks like you have no friends at all, or a life, for what t it matters." Nancy, the wedding planner – a blonde, fake bimbo, just like Annie had described, who was too full of herself for her won good - was polishing her nail, huffing out of exasperation, while Lisbon was studying her reflex in the mirror, like without a care in the world.
"Be good, Nancy, they are my family. And besides, I know Annie. She kicks a lot, but she always comes around in the end. She'll do this, even just because it's me."
"Yeah, yeah, sure, if you say so…" she huffed again, rolling her eyes like to say, be grateful that I'm here or I can't believe I've already done so much for you and it's not over yet. "I'm just saying, your family is exasperating, and I think they are just plain crazy… and I swear, I don't know why Walt allowed them to be part of this… I mean, they are so…different from him!"
Lisbon clenched her teeth, closing her eyes, ready to face-palm, wondering if really Nancy considered the others idiot- since she was the one calling them in such a way right before their faces. Besides, the woman was calling her family idiots. And she was one of them. And if she considered her family made if idiots… "Nancy, I'd like to remember you I'm the one getting married to Walt. We asked them to join us because this is our wedding." And not yours
She pinched the bridge of her nose, asking to an higher power to send that witch away, just even for a while, because it was really getting too much; between the woman, Walt, and her family… she wasn't even surprised that Annie was stressed. Hell, everyone was stressed, and her more than the others.
"LISBON!" just like Annie, Minelli stormed into the room, with disheveled clothes, out of breath and definitely red in the face. Teresa, as soon as she saw him, sniffed, already foretasting what was going to happen. She didn't know what was going to be, but she knew it was going to be bad. It was just what she needed, something more to make that day a living hell, the sort of things you definitely don't want to tell your grandkids. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry Lisbon, you're not ready yet but…."
"Virgil, what's wrong?" she asked, joining him, lifting her dress with both hands, slightly scared; he, instead, turned to face Nancy and Teresa's sisters-in-law.
"I think we may have a situation. I don't know the particulars, but it seems that Stevenson, Walter's best man, made a comment to James about the wedding, and he didn't appreciate… like he didn't appreciate that Stevenson and his pals showed up at the wedding half passed away."
Without making any questions, the dark-haired cop tried to quickly move towards the door, only to be stopped abruptly the wedding planner, who immediately put her back in her place like she was a child who didn't comprehend some basic info or fact about life. "Don't you dare!"
"Teresa, no, we'll think about it! You are not to leave this room until you'll hear the wedding march!"
"Maura is right, Teresa" Nancy said, with venom, calling Maureen with the wrong name on purpose, and underlining the thing with a single look. "Besides, we don't want Walter dear to see before you'll be given away to him at the aisle, right? I'm sure you'll not spoil this beautiful tradition…"
"No, no, you are right. Of course not" she told with a small voice, looking at her joined hands on her belly and her feet.
"Good, there's at least someone with a little bit of scene here. Now, you two, please" she said the words like she was talking with children barely able to understand the words "You" she said, pointing a finger to the two women, with a bit of disgust, mixed with an inner feeling of innate superiority "will think about the savages, while I'll deal with Walt's friends. THIS wedding will be perfect, and I'm not going to allow anyone to ruin it!" And saying so, she went away, pushing both the other women out of the room without even bothering try to hear them out.
Hidden outside, Jane waited for the right moment to strike, and as soon as the trio and Minelli were out of the door, he turned the handle, and let himself in, and, as soon as he saw her, the breath died in his throat, because, even if that dress wasn't Lisbon, she still was a beautiful bride-to-be nevertheless.
Lisbon was looking at herself in the full-length mirror, smoothing the silky, white fabric of her long, Meringa-like dress with trembling hands, an enormous- and vulgar and pompous – ring full of giant diamonds adorning her left ring-finger. Something, though, was odd, wasn't right, and he could see that even from his semi-hidden position.
Lisbon had always wished to have what her parents had shared long before tragedy touched their lives, he knew that, had knew from a long time, and that was one of the reasons that had kept him from reveling her the truth about his own feelings and just run away without even bothering with a goodbye after the whole Red John fiasco. It didn't matter that he regretted that choice every single day. It still was the right thing to do. Because Lisbon needed- and deserved – a man who was whole, intelligent, smart, nice, good, trusty and trust-worthy and caring… and Mashburn was all of that, and even more. Letting her go, and allow her to build a life for her own should be the reasonable thing to do. But it didn't mean that it was the right one.
It wasn't any longer, at least, that's why he looked at her with longing and despair, trying to suppress the drops that were menacing to escape his eyes, making them glassy and teary. He could see her answering to his inner turmoil, trying to decipher it, probably unable to. After all, for years fear and despair had been a constant of his life connected to just a man, an obsession: Red John.
He slowly walked towards her, and stopped when he saw his reflection joining hers in the mirror; she was surprised, gasped, even if she covered it up pretty quickly with a mask of indifference- he didn't blame her for that, he had been the one who never bothered saying goodbye to her, after all, vanishing in thin air like he had never been there to begin with.
She turned and faced him, still smoothing the fabric of the dress, her long, dark hair arranged into a complicated hair-style and ringlets, definitely not her, because her hair were so soft and glowing, it deserved to be free.
"Hey" He whispered, clenching and unclenching the fist at his sides.
She grunted, not so lady-like, but definitely Lisbon. "Oh, here you are. I actually thought you were dead, since nobody called me to save you sorry ass for more than a year…." She crossed her arms while she talked, her words escaping her dark red lips like venom, far more cynical than she intended them to, betraying, though, her true feelings, how deep they run for the man standing opposite to her; her voice had just that note, that trembling, indicating her innermost fear, losing him, to death or an obsession.
Green met blue, and he saw it, her marvelous gems were teary; he didn't said another word, and without procrastinating, he moved for the kill, not thinking that maybe he could be reading her wrong, that maybe it was just a reflection of his own feelings. He didn't care. And so, with the agility and quickness of a feline looking for a prey, he suddenly had her pressed against the wall, his hands were everywhere, first thing freeing her cascade of dark curls and running through them, and his lips explored with hunger the new-found territory, every inch of her exposed porcelain skin; Lisbon, instead, stayed motionless for few, interminable seconds, until, like it was the most natural thing in the world, without even second-guessing what she was about to do, she allowed her hands to run through the rough fabric of his clothes feeling every inch of him, until she reached his shoulders, and one hand stayed there, holding him for dear life, while the other took a fistful of blonde curls, maneuvering his head to give them both better access.
Still, even with all that passion, Jane could feel her innermost battle, he felt her feeling that it was completely all right, just perfect, but knowing too well that she was wearing a wedding dress, meant for another man, a man who was all she had always wanted and more, and not Jane, Jane who was kissing her like there was no tomorrow, Jane who had lied and manipulated her, Jane who had run away from them- from her- an year before, without bothering to say goodbye. He wasn't supposed to show up like that, couldn't, not after everything she had been through, not behaving like nothing it was nothing, not a big deal.
Her fist collided with his nose, smears of blood falling everywhere, her dress included, as the man almost fell on the ground because of the shock and kept keeping an hand on his bloody nose. She takes another few steps back, until her back is against the cool material of the mirror; slowly, Jane stood, his right sleeve cleaning a bit the mess caused to his nose, and cornered her, his lips mere inches apart from her own, so close they could kiss each other again; she closed her eyes, feeling lost and alone and yes, scared as well, but when she felt his fingertips lightly touching her naked shoulders, she had to look at him, and what she saw, it scared her… or maybe, it was simply something she wasn't expecting to see.
"Just…tell me I'm not wrong. Tell me you want me too. "
He was keeping his eyes low, like fearing that eye-contact could reveal a truth he wasn't ready to accept yet, maybe never; he wasn't even stating the obvious, like he had done so many times before, he honestly didn't know, he was just pleading her to tell him the truth, because he didn't know, wasn't aware of it, because he had told her once before: she wasn't transparent, she was translucent, and it was a whole other thing.
"Oh, Jane…" she whispers, her hand reaching for his face.
"Just… I know I shouldn't be here. I know I shouldn't ask you to… but… I have this…. Need… and… want for you…. And I've been miserable, but I wanted to be strong but I don't deserve you, but… Annie… she said you… you love me and… that he isn't worthy you, so maybe… I could… be the lesser of two evils?" She caressed him, their eyes till not meeting. "It's ok, I guess, I know there was a chance I could be late and…"
He couldn't end the sentence.
Her kiss wasn't all about passion and need, it was mostly a thing of love, slow and tender, and she was there the whole time, just thinking how right it felt and how right it actually was, the only thing in the world that could make a bit of sense. She didn't think about Walter, not even for half a second, not this time, at least.
He remained speechless as they parted, and all she could do was smiling. Everything was good and right. She was finally free and happy, at last.
He slowly opened his eyes, like he was scared it was just a dream, a fragment of his imagination, but her giggles told him otherwise, and, for the first time in over a year, both their smiles reached their eyes as they interlaced their fingers, as he led her through the backdoor away from the wedding, stealing the bride away from the usurper, just to run into the sunset with her on his Citroen- a perfect choice for a wedding car, he considered for future reference.
It's just when they've consummated their passion, finally, after more than a decade of hidden love, while he was cuddling her to sleep in the core of the night, of their first Valentine's night together, on a peaceful and lonely beach, fingers skimming her whole naked being, that he remembered that Lisbon hadn't answered his question, hadn't actually told him how she felt about him.
But, maybe, just maybe, actions were more than words.