Hanging Gardens of Babylon
"Jane!" Lisbon shouted angrily.
"Lisbon!" Jane shouted back in a jovial tone.
"You want to explain why my office is filled with grapes?" Teresa asked her consultant friend irately. She was in no mood to put up with his antics, nor stare at his smirking, self-satisfied and - though she'd never admit it - adorably sunny face.
"I thought you liked grapes." He lamented.
"You're the mentalist, I thought you knew." She smirked sarcastically.
"Actually, I know that you prefer the purple grapes because despite what anyone else might say, you have quite a sweet tooth. You like the clear, sharp, tangy taste because it doesn't muddle your tastebuds, not to mention you're a Rooster; it's in your astrological profile to like acrid tastes. They also provide water, and while you don't like to say so, you know you don't eat or hydrate enough-"
"Okay, you're done." Teresa put her hand up to silence him. She was used to his... prying, but it never ceased to be uncomfortable. Everyone hates to be vulnerable, but Jane could (figuratively, of coarse) read your innermost thoughts.
"You're just afraid I'll find out about the bueno bar that's hidden in your bottom right drawer. Along with our little amphibian friend, might I add."
Lisbon felt a blush creep into her cheeks, painting them a cherry red. She should have known he knew she'd kept it, but it didn't help that she actually cherished the little guy very much. His name was PJ, as in Patrick Junior. Cliché perhaps, but she wasn't planning on anyone finding out about him. "Whatever."
"Enjoy your grapes!" Jane waved as she scuttled into her office, trying to save herself from further embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was him finding out about every other gift she'd kept. The little crown of daisies he'd made for her after their case in the woods. The... she decided not to continue on that train of thought. She didn't want to have to tell him about how she'd found her pony a permanent spot at the petting zoo where she often visited him. His name was Patty.
She was never good with naming animals, okay?
She shook her head and peeked out of her office to see Jane already sleeping.
I look around to find myself in a dreamy paradise. It reminds of a picture of a Hanging Garden of Babylon I'd found on Google images. Wait... I'm in said Hanging Garden. This was probably caused by my filling Lisbon's office with grapes. It's rather fun to see exactly what I can stuff in there.
Walking around I notice the stone is a creamy yellow, the plants a rich, light olive green, the flowers a vivid grape purple and the sky a perfect blue.
Well this is new.
Normally I'm dreaming of that damn smiley face or... them.
This is a nice change though.
I continue on my way when I see a figure in the distance. Running towards them I can see... Lisbon? No; Lisbon in a Greek looking tunic. The crown of daisies I made her is sitting atop her perfectly dark curls; now that I think about it she's probably kept that too. How sweet.
She turns to me and something is wrong. Her eyes are the wrong color.
I see another Lisbon all of a sudden and her eyes are also the wrong color.
I'm surrounded.
None of these women is the right Lisbon!
One has blue eyes, another has brown eyes, another's hair is too light and one is even a few years too young. Visibly. Not that the twenty two year old looking Lisbon isn't very radiant, but I want MY Lisbon! My Lisbon has green eyes, almost completely black hair and fair skin! She's not very tall but she is athletic and very... alluring. None of these Lisbons are my Lisbon and it's very disconcerting!
I know that in the back of my mind I know why there are multiple Lisbons in this dream but none of them are the real Teresa Lisbon. Also why no one else is here; no Van Pelt, no Rigsby, no Cho. Not that I mind being surrounded by Lisbon, but I don't like facing this little fact; I love Teresa Lisbon.
Please don't ask how it happened, because - just this once - I can't give you an answer. I met her and thought she was very attractive. I woke up a week later and decided that she wasn't just attractive; she was beautiful. And cute. About a year later I decided I'd do anything to see her smile. And blush, of coarse, because it's cuter than a dozen puppies playing with baby bunnies and kittens in Build-a-Bear headquarters. Then I decided I'd do anything to keep that smile there, at least a little bit. I'd do anything to protect her, even though she's repeatedly saved my smug ass countless times. Finally I decided that not only did I have a bit of a (childish) crush on her, but... I loved her. I shot Red John's accomplice for her! I'd do it again, of coarse, but let's not get into that. This is the nicest dream I've had in months.
I've digressed slightly. I beg your pardon.
I can't have her. That's why all of these Lisbons are different and not who I want. It means I want her so badly but I can't have her, and that's clearly driving me insane.
I bump into one Lisbon who's holding an infant. It's a boy, I think, with dark hair. She lifts the blanket from over his eyes and I see that they're mine. How interesting. It is a boy, certainly, with her face and quirky grin. He reaches a tiny hand for me and I want to take it and play with it. She moves away though, and instantly disappears. That's not nice.
Continuing my stroll I come to a river that's full and still. The crystalline water is reflecting the temples and Lisbons around me.
"Excuse me?"
I turn to a very peculiar sight. A Little-Lisbon? She doesn't appear any older than ten, at best. Either this is Lisbon's deepest inner-demon, appearing as a little girl like in a horror movie, or maybe a Nostalgic-Lisbon. Either way, the poor girl looks horribly sad. She reminds of my daughter, briefly... "Yes?"
"I'm sorry, but... it won't stop hurting." She holds out a hand, extending her bare arm, and at the word hurting bruises and bloody scratches appear all over it. Now I see; the hurting is Lisbon's childhood memories, which have never actually healed. The longer her hand is held out the more the blood accumulates, and I can't look it anymore.
"Here." I close up her small hand and the scars instantly fade–she feels vulnerable around me, like if she offers that part of herself to me it will reopen her wounds. "Don't do that anymore. I promise it will get better. Let someone help."
"There you are!"
Another Lisbon. I shouldn't be nearly this surprised. This one is about twelve, maybe thirteen years old. She has a small bunch of flowers in her hands. "I told you not to wander off, and you know to never talk to strangers!"
"My apologies. Who are you?" I ask.
"None of your business!" She bites, and something changes in her white eyes that makes me suddenly see her as much older. Does this Lisbon have some kind of superpower to change things?
"Right." I nod.
"Jane."
I turn around and see three Lisbons, one with blue eyes, one with gold eyes and one with almost black eyes. The blue eyed one looks like she's in highschool, but is smiling at me flirtatiously. The one with gold eyes is looking shyly at the ground while running her bare foot over the stone below. The black eyed one looks like she's about to whip out a mallet and knock my head off, though.
"Jane, we're not happy." She says threateningly.
"I am! You're just so cute!" Blue-Eyes giggles like a school girl.
"Will you shush!" Goldie hisses, blushing violently.
Now I see; they've come to me because they're three parts that make up the real Lisbon. Her shyness, her secret adoration of me, and the part that wants to beat me with any object within reach. That sounds about right.
"I beg your pardon ladies, do you know where MY Lisbon is?" I ask politely. My smile falters slightly though, when they all turn angry.
"What, we're not good enough for you! You want that topsy-turvy Lisbon you work with every day?!" Opaque shouts at me.
"Yes, I'm rather fond of-"
"What about me? I know you like her, so why not try me? I'm not aloof like that cranky-pants!" Blue-Eyes chirps very un-Lisbon-ly.
"Oh, shut up, will you?!" Goldie turns from Blue-Eyes to meet my eyes for a second before looking down, like my Lisbon does. "I'm sorry... I don't expect you to take to me. I mean, I'm not like the others."
That is true on a few levels. She's neither like these other Lisbons, nor is my Lisbon like the other women I've met. "No, you're not. You're probably my favorite part of Lisbon. Not that I don't love all of you, but Shy-Lisbon is adorable."
Blue-Eyes starts to pout cutely while Opaque/Murderous Lisbon looks like my Lisbon looks when I think she's going to take out her gun and shoot me.
"Hey! Back off!"
Ah. It was only a matter of time before Controlling-Lisbon showed up. She looks pretty close to the real Lisbon - her hair and eyes are almost right - but she's too tall to be my Lisbon. I could lean on my Lisbon's head comfortably. Not that I ever would. That would be degrading, not to mention she'd probably pull out a whip and strangle me with it. There's an interesting picture... oh, don't be so dirty minded! I meant in a – well no, I did mean in a sexual way, but you can't go there!
"Sorry about them, they're not very easy to keep under tabs." She says with my Lisbon's authoritative voice. The thing that's strange is that she's only a few inches shorter than me. Her eyes are too dark and her hair is too light, too.
"Trust me, I don't mind." I shrug.
"You're looking for the real Teresa, right?" She quirks an eyebrow.
"Yes." I nod with a smile. Finally, a helpful Lisbon.
"I guess I'll take you to her, but only to spare you from more bombardment. Be thankful Reckless-Lisbon didn't find you; she's not around very often, but she's impossible to stifle. I'm sure she's somewhere around here, probably bungee jumping or hula-hooping on a trampoline." Almost-Lisbon shakes her head.
"I see. So some of you do like to have fun." I muse, trying to get her going, but then I remember that since all of the Lisbons are separated they won't have each other's respective traits. Proving my point, Almost-Lisbon doesn't react.
"Yeah, but not many of us. There's a Vulnerable-Lisbon, but she cries a lot, so she locks herself up almost all the time. Only once in a while will she let Sympathetic and Empathetic-Lisbon console her, and only for a brief period of time. There's a really... Giddy-Lisbon that is almost always bouncing off the walls from sugar, but no one really knows when she's going to pop up out of nowhere and suggest we build a Quonset-hut or something." Almost-Lisbon explains in a monotone that makes me wish Giddy-Lisbon were here.
"I'm sure she's buckets of fun." I laugh.
"Oh, no, Chipper-Lisbon is only ever around when there's good coffee and a solved case. Nostalgic-Lisbon is horribly morose and acts like a little girl. She's always off picking flowers for the other sad Lisbons."
"There isn't one specifically sad Lisbon, is there? Just a few different ones that aren't happy." I mumble. "I met two younger Lisbons before. One, I assume was a Hurt-Lisbon and the other one was... Protective-Lisbon? Hurt-Lisbon sounds like Nostalgic-Lisbon, but you said she acts like a little girl, not is, which leads me to believe Nostalgic-Lisbon is fully grown."
"There's a lot of us here, but that sounds about right. They were both children?" I nod. "Then yes. Hurt-Lisbon is always wanting help, but never lets anyone near her wounds. When they open, she usually runs."
So she does trust me in some deeper sense.
"The other young Lisbon was Protective-Lisbon, or maybe even a Maternal-Lisbon, if you would. She's the Lisbon that takes care of things."
But she's only a child. Then I remember how her demeanor changed, and I realize that Lisbon first became Protective-Lisbon around age ten, which is why she appears so young now. My Lisbon must be a little girl inside when she's being protective. An instinct of sorts.
"Yes, I know she seems young, but she can go from being young to older than the rest of us in the blink of an eye." Almost Lisbon explains solemnly.
"I can't believe there are so many sides of My Lisbon." I sigh. "Complex."
"Exactly. We're here." Says Almost-Lisbon.
There's My Lisbon.
Jane woke up to find himself staring at the ceiling fan. It was silent, meaning everyone had gone home. The shadow of the fan's slow-but-steady moving blades spiraled on the floor. Looking at Lisbon's closed office door he realized she was probably working on paperwork or some other load of crap she shouldn't have had to do for Minelli.
He was rather upset he didn't get to finish his dream.
Getting up and stretching he tip-toed his way to Lisbon's door and was about to go in when he decided to really surprise her. He knocked.
"Come... in?"
He did so. Upon entrance he beamed at Lisbon's utterly shell-shocked face. "Hello to you too, my dear Lisbon."
"Since when do you knock?" She asked, never taking her eyes from his face. She popped another grape in her mouth and waited for a response.
"I'm glad you like the grapes." He smiled.
"Yeah, thanks–what are you still doing here? I sent everyone home hours ago." She said carefully while she watched him take a seat on her couch. It wasn't as comfortable as the couch which was now pronounced his couch, but it was a couch. "Did you need something?"
"Actually, I had the most interesting dream." He smiled coyly. Seeing her confusion deepen he chuckled. "You were in it."
"If it was some kind of sex dream I don't want to know, Jane." Lisbon shook her head, eating another grape. She'd been eating them for hours now, one by one, and there was still at least ten pounds more.
"Let me help." Was his reply as he took a handful for himself. "You called me Patrick."
"So you want me to call you Patrick now, or what?" She would rather eat her own hand than admit it - too damn stubborn - but his name off her own lips flowed like water out of a magical fountain. She'd never admit to saying that, either.
"Well, I know you won't, because that would be relinquishing a piece of control, but that's not my point." He took in a breath and let his eyes dart to his hand for a moment. His wedding ring was now on a chain he wore around his neck; it didn't feel right to leave it at her murder site or lying in his stuffy little pocket. "Why don't I tell you about it over dinner?"
"Dinner?" Lisbon frowned. Was he asking her out on a–no, no, no. Shaking her head to keep her from getting ahead of herself she looked up at him. "It's almost eleven at night, Jane."
"I know - Patrick, by the way - I know a great Italian place that will still be open. What you're wearing is fine, and don't complain about how you look." He smiled. She had her 'stop reading my mind' pout on. Of coarse she didn't think it was a pout. Simply a frown with emphasis on her lower lip. "You look beautiful."
She blushed. She felt her cheeks become warm and looked away. "Well... *ahem* thanks, Ja-Patrick. I guess-"
"Great! Let's go right now!" He jumped up and grabbed her arms, swinging her around the side of her desk before she ever know what was going on. Without letting go of her hand he linked their arms and began to walk out with a bounce in his step. He was practically skipping.
"Jane!" He pouted at her. She sighed, but smiled. "Patrick; slow down."
"Come on, Teresa, move those legs of yours. You may be short, but your legs are those of a model." He took pleasure in embarrassing her, sure, but only because not only did she embarrass easily, but it was just so damn cute it was painful! Blushing-Teresa had to be his favorite.