Stolen Dreams
1
A/N: This has been sitting around waiting to be posted for some time. It's really nothing more than some fluff mixed with a little more fluff. It's futuristic and maybe just a tad angsty at the beginning (although I must say, Starry swears there's some serious angst… so I'll tell you all to rest easy).
I hope you enjoy...
Sunday, February 15th, 2015. Le Rivage Hotel, Riverside Blvd, Sacramento, CA 3:23am
The bitter winter storm throws its weight into the night. Frozen gusts howl and beat the glossy windows of Le Revage Hotel's penthouse suite while icy rain pelts the glass like phantom fingers begging for entrance. Patrick Jane stands, watching, framed in the doorway of the en suite bedroom. Sleep and satisfaction linger along the lines of his body. They thread their cloudy fingers through the corners of his mind, forcing him to take an added moment or two to fully focus on the scene before him.
It's not the storm his eyes catch and refuse to release, it's the woman.
Teresa Lisbon sits along the ledge of the suites bay window, knees drawn up in defense against the unrelenting chill beating the glass in time with the wind. To anyone else it would appear her interest lies with the tempest wreaking havoc along the banks of the Sacramento River. But he can see her reflection, drippy and peppered in frost and her eyes convey her minds disinterest in the storm outside.
Not to mention he's not just anyone else. Not anymore.
He finds himself pulled, as he so often does, toward the warmth of her. Still marvels, all these months later, after the knowledge that she's truly and freely his. After everything they've been through, everything he's put her through, he sometimes can't believe that she's still chosen him.
He wonders, as his advancement goes unnoted, if the storm brewing behind her eyes mirrors the strength of the one outside.
She'd gone quiet after dinner. Not fully by sound, more so by sight. Her eyes defining and somber, screaming with a need for release he couldn't understand while her mouth and her body extended a silent invitation and pulled him in, pulled him under, like only she can. Originally he thought nothing of it, chalked it up to nerves and excitement and love.
Now he's not so sure.
He would normally claim to know her well enough. Wouldn't think himself an armature while navigating the intricate paths of her emotions, but tonight, for the first time in too long to remember, he's found himself pausing at a crossroads without the peace of mind to know which path to chose.
He's always been secure in the knowledge of her alleys and hidden passage ways. Prides himself in his ability to whittle down her defenses, knows she now trusts him completely. Knows they've been through too much together to have secrets apart. He's considering waiting her out, knows she's never been one to keep him waiting long, but tonight he finds himself too anxious to hold back and simply wait.
He finds the courage to sit beside her. His naked back to the window, his side pressed tight along the length of her knees, her small feet tucked under the edge of his pajama clad thigh. "Can't sleep?" He rasps by way of greeting, his arm thrown around her legs pulling himself closer still. He doesn't stop until his chest is pressed firmly along the line of her shins.
He purposely seeks out her left hand, finds it buried deep within the confines of the heavy terry robe she wears over nothing but smooth ivory skin. Wants to watch her face light up the night again, doesn't think he'll ever tire of the sight. He finds it tucked within its counterpart, drags it up and out into the light.
Falters when he finds her slender limbs naked.
He seeks her eyes out instantly. Doesn't pause to compose himself, to mask his immediate response to her actions. Perhaps last year, last month, yesterday he would have schooled himself without thought. But the setting of yesterday's winter sun was seen to with the certainty that the coming dawn would bring about something new and purposeful. Something he'd never hope to have again. Something he's never wanted more with anyone other than her.
(...)
Only hours before, he'd slipped a promise on her finger….
Tangled together, bodies joined, hearts synched in a rhythm composed by passion and love he finds himself speaking without thought. While watching her eyes cloud with release and love, he can't find the patience, the conscience to wait for her mind to clear, for her to come back down from the heights he knows only he can take her to. He can't help the need and desire her reactions demand of him. Doesn't know how he's lived so long without her, without this, all of it. Knows he can't anymore.
Can't wait a moment more to ask her for her forever.
So while his fingers tangle within the confines of her hair, lips pressed gingerly along the peak of her cheekbone he confessed his need to have her for his own. Tto lay claim to her body her heart and her soul, to prove to her and to all whose eyes were clouded with judgment that he could move on, as long it was with her beside him. He can still feel her shuttered response, memorized the feel of her, the taste of her skin, the way her heart hitched and her breath faltered. Can still taste the mix of tears and sweat along the line of her lips. How quick and easy the joy erupted within her. How she arched her hips, threw a knee over his own, met his eyes in the dreamy silvery light and sealed their promise with her tongue and teeth and lips
Her enthusiasm matched his, demand for demand. It wasn't until hours later, when he'd followed her into the shower, wrapped in a gossamer veil of steam; that he proceeded to produce her ring.
(…)
She drags her right hand up front her lap, calling him back to the present. Her fingers fisted tightly, the proof of his love securely settled within her steely grip. She knows exactly where his mind has gone to wonder, can see it playing out along the lines of his face. Before he settled in beside her she was reliving the very same moments over and over. She knows the look he's carrying now. Knows he doubts himself, doubts her, doubts everything he thinks they've made. Her eyes soften as the confusion and hurt continue to parade across his face. He knows she would never choose to purposely hurt him. Never choose to lead him on in a masquerade of false emotions.
Her love for him is real. So much so it's taken on a life of its own.
She'd fallen over the ledge of devotion so long ago. His feelings for her were a mere inkling of what they are now when she first faced her feeling for him head on. She wants nothing more than to return the glittery diamonds to their rightful place along the third finger of her left hand. Never remove them again. At least until she needs to make room for another. But she can't go into this surrounded by omission. Can't let him make these declarations or share his future plans when she's going to throw a hitch in his gate too soon down the road.
And even through all her hesitation and worry she still feels the lingering glow of his proposal along her skin. Feels it filling her already too swollen heart, she savors the way it continues to spread through her chest, her limbs. Doesn't want to break the spell, yet isn't sure if the seals are sound. Can't know for sure if it will hold or crack or simply shatter beyond repair. Wants to be able to remember those moments if she's about to ruin everything.
She holds the ring out to him then, meets his gaze, manages a smile. Knows she looks as uncertain as she feels. Knows he can also see the excitement behind her doubt. Knows it's that light that's throwing him off.
She clears the cobwebs of hesitation from her throat, pushes the ring on him when he makes no move to reclaim it. "I have something I need to tell you, Jane. When I'm through you can decide if you still want me to have it."
She watches him shake his head in the barely there light, watches the soft blonde curls catch what they can of the golden glow filtering in from the en suite bathroom. He won't take it back. The surprise and confusion are slowly slipping away, disappointment and sorrow slowly bleeding into their wake.
"What could you possibly have to tell me that I don't already know?" He strokes his thumb along the line of her lashes, cradles her face from chin to temple. "How could you think anything could change how I feel?"
She untangles herself from him, leans in and kisses him thoroughly. Throws everything she feels into the embrace. She pushes the robe aside and frees her legs, drops her full weight into his lap. Doesn't settle until her knees flank his waist and their hips kiss. He drifts back until his bare shoulders collide with the frozen panel at his back. The frigid contact startles him forward, he uses the momentum and stands. Lifting her, fingers finding purchase along the curve of her lower back, below the rise of her thighs. He lowers her back to the bed, doesn't stop until he's settled within the arch of her hips.
When the need for air becomes too great and she can finally drag her eyes open again he swears they remind him of the birth of a forest in spring; grey and green and gold. So filled with life and a love he knows will leave him awe struck for, at least, the next fifty years.
He lifts up to his forearms, places all his weight to one side as he takes the diamonds she's pushed on him and purposefully returns them to their rightful place before urging her to speak. "Now, you were saying?"
She shifts beneath him, lifts up to an elbow, doesn't stop until she's nearly sitting. Pulls a small slip of glossy paper from the pocket of her robe, lays it along the naked planes of her stomach, directly along his line of sight. It takes him a moment to comprehend what she's showing him. She watches as realization dawns along the line of his face. Nearly drowns in his awe as he takes in all the shades of black and white; the shadow of the soul they've created together.
She gives him a moment, is afraid to attempt to read the energy rolling off of him in waves. Gently nudges him with her knee before trusting herself to speak.
She keeps her voice soft and her eyes strong.
"Hey, Jane, you ok?" When he finally drags his eyes from the picture his lashes are wet. She doesn't get the chance to ask or offer anything. He's pressing frantic kisses along any naked skin he can find in rapid succession; her breastbone, her throat, her jaw line. Doesn't stop even when he reaches her lips. Only turns the bursts of contact into a slow and languid conquest. She feels his tears on her skin, can taste the joy in his mouth; hear the tremor of his breath and the frenzied beating of his heart. Knows he's in a place where words can't surface under the assault of too many emotions.
Wants to tell him she understands how hard it is to find the words, let alone breath, knows he'll find his way, and she's more than content to wait him out.