A/N: Hello, here I am again! If you thought I would be gone during the holidays to be jolly with my family - you're wrong. I'm Dutch, and I therefore don't really celebrate Christmas as much as Americans do... we do that with Sinterklaas. We do have a dinner though, with the family, but that's about it. Oh, and Christmas decorations like a tree and stuff, but that's pretty much it.
Oh god, I'm wandering here again. Anyway. I'd written this a long time ago, like a week or something, and I'm pretty scared of posting this after the response I got for my previous one-shots, because they're not as much as others, but I guess I'll just have to try ^^
And, this story may look fluffy since it's written by me, but it's really not. Not super fluffy, anyway.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
'I will tell you'
Dear Teresa,
Jane wrote. Only God knew why he was writing this down. The chances of her actually reading this were slim to nil, and even if she would read it, she would probably personally call Sophie Miller and ask for him to be taken back into the insane asylum.
He swallowed.
She wouldn't believe him. Not after all that he'd done to her. He had hurt her too much, the damage was done, it was beyond repairing now.
He had screwed up.
I have wanted to say for a long that I love
No. No, this wasn't it.
He made frantic stripes through it, then started on a new line.
I want you to know how much
Jane groaned and clutched at his hair. Why was this so difficult? This wasn't even Lisbon!
He had to tell her, before it was too late. But he couldn't tell her, not yet. Not in person. It would hurt too much, it would be unfair towards her since he was still wearing his wedding band. He couldn't say it.
But god, how much he wanted to say it. Just to make sure she smiled again. Just to see that perfect, beautiful smile of hers. Just to make her blush, to make her her again.
Because that was something she wasn't anymore these days. She wasn't the Teresa Lisbon who used to pinch him in order for him to get his lazy ass of his couch. She wasn't the woman anymore who used to sit with him in the restaurant and eat ice cream. She… she wasn't her anymore. She was just a beautiful empty shell without a heart.
And all of that just to shield her heart from him. Just to make sure he wouldn't hurt her anymore.
Dammit, he shouldn't have fallen for her. She shouldn't have been that person that he so desperately wanted to please. He wanted to make a new start with her, but he'd screwed up.
Oh, how he hated himself.
New try.
I don't want to kill him anymore thanks to you.
Was that really true? Of course, there was a bit of truth in it, but would he really be satisfied by merely seeing Red John behind bars?
He wasn't sure. It would make him content for a few weeks, months even, if these months could be spend with her, but would it really chase all his fears away? His nightmares?
No, it wouldn't. It would make them worse. Red John was a smart man, Jane was sure one of his disciples could get him out any time – just like they had done with Lorelei.
No, the bastard had to be dead. Whether that was by his own hands or by Teresa Lisbon's gun – okay, no, she had to kill him. He would end up in prison and she would get suspended for a few weeks. He would keep her company in the meantime, and he knew exactly how – if she would just allow him, which she wouldn't, obviously.
Something different then. Something about trust. Because after all, she was the only one he trusted.
That sounded good.
You are the only one I really trust
No. That sounded cheesy. And anyway, she knew that. She knew he was cautious with letting people in. She knew that she was the only person he actually allowed close.
She always knew.
He saw tears falling down on the paper.
He had to tell her. Before it was too late. Before she lost faith in him and ran away with some guy. Before she became too disappointed in him and just abandoned her.
He angrily wiped at his eyes.
He wasn't some sorority girl crying over a lost lover. If only he could cry over that.
There had to be a way to make sure Lisbon would wait for him. That she would be there at the end of the road, waiting for him with open arms and her perfect smile. That when this was all over, when Red John had finally lost the game, that she would still be there. Loving him, like she'd always done.
He closed his eyes and put the pen on the paper, imagining her beautiful face in front of his mind's eye and shutting out every other thought. He started writing, and it felt strange not to actually know what he was writing down. It was the weirdest thing he had ever experienced.
When his hand stopped writing, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at what was written down.
I love you, Teresa
I just love you
Another tear left his eyes and he slowly traced the letters with his index finger.
He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell her, not even to save her life.
But he wanted to.
Without giving it second thought, he tore the paper out of his notebook, got up and walked downstairs, not into the bullpen but heading straight to her office.
She smiled sweetly as she saw him in her door opening, and his heart clenched painfully.
With a few firm strides, he was next to her, pulling her up from her chair – wow, this woman really was petite – and into his arms. She startled a bit, before wrapping her arms around his neck almost painfully, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
His arms had the same painful grip on her waist, which was so small he could almost touch his armpits. He had told himself not to let the hug get carried away – for as much as he had done some talking to himself, since he really hadn't thought this hug through at all – but he already found himself placing sweet kisses in her neck.
"Thank you, Teresa," he whispered, and she shuddered.
"For what?"
"For loving me," he replied, and he could feel her swallowing. "You are the only person I really care about, the only person that I would die for without hesitating. You deserve a better friend than me but you won't look further for any new friends, you're just too stubborn. I can't thank you enough for that, Teresa. You're all I ever needed, and more. What I wanted, even though I denied this for a greater part of our friendship." He pulled away, and much to his dismay saw that her eyes were filled with unshed tears. He internally slapped himself. "Don't cry, Teresa. Please, don't cry. Not for anybody, and especially not for me. I will be here, by your side. Whether you like it or not. I can't promise you the world, but I can try."
She was about to say something, but he shook his head. He held up his hand and gave her the paper from the notebook. It was almost torn apart due to him angrily scratching through what he'd written, but it was still obvious what was written on it.
He saw that the breath caught in her throat, and when their eyes met, he saw hers were full of uncensored hope.
He almost hated himself again.
"I can't say it just now, Teresa. I want it, I want to be your Prince Charming, but I can't say it. I will hurt your feelings, more than I ever did before. I know I don't have a right in asking it of you, but will you wait for me?"
She was silent for a few moments, moving her eyes from his face to the note and to his face again. Then, she swallowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, will you still be there when I'm ready? When I'm ready to be your Prince Charming, with all the hearts and flowers that that should entail? When this red blur is gone in front of my eyes, will you still be there? Will you give me a chance?"
Again, she was silent, and he could see the inner turmoil she was having right now.
Then, she lowered his arm and intertwined one of his hands with hers.
"Of course I'll be there, Patrick," she whispered, and his heart made tiny somersaults in his chest at hearing her call him by his first name. "I'll always be there. Because whatever you think, whatever thoughts are attacking your mind, I'm just as damaged as you are. I'm just… better at coping with it. But in the end, I need you. We need each other."
He swallowed.
"I will tell you one day, Teresa," he whispered, but she shook her head.
"You don't have to say it," she said, on a whisper, still not trusting her own voice, and when he was about to say something back, she squeezed his hand. "I already know without you telling. Don't be so hard on yourself, Patrick. I will follow you wherever you go."
Finding no other words to make her realize that he wasn't the right person for her, that she shouldn't be such a good person since he was nothing but sorry excuse for a man, he bowed down and gently placed a kiss on her cheek, making the sweet gesture linger a little bit too long. Just so she knew that this wasn't all he wanted, that he wanted more than just an innocent kiss on the cheek.
When he pulled away, he stared at his lovely pixie, and brushed her cheek with his free hand. Then, requiring all the mental strength he had in him, he pulled away from her entirely, admiring her a few seconds more before nodding and placing the note on her desk.
"You should get back to making paperwork," he said, and she just nodded.
"Don't drown in your thoughts, Patrick. Please. You can lay on my couch if you want, so that you can talk to me."
He smiled, feeling tears coming up and all he wanted to do right now was exactly what she offered right now – lay on her couch and inhale her scent for the rest of the day, until the couch didn't smell like her anymore and he would have to invite her over to sit next to him so that it smelled like her again.
"I would like that, thank you," he said. Where she smiled and turned away her head, he never took his eyes off her. And instead of laying on the couch with his head on the right side, he chose for the left side, so that he could look at her. His little pixie.
He would tell her one day.
But until that day, she would be there for him. And she would wait for him. Even if it took him an eternity.
A/N: So? You like it? Hope so! Please let me know by faving or reviewing, thank you! And Merry Christmas! I wanted to say that for a long time now, kept forgetting it. And stay in one piece on New Year's Eve! :P