A/N: This will be an AU multi-chapter fic. I'm not really sure where this idea came from I just thought it might be fun to write these two characters in a completely different setting. Hope you like it. Please read and review.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist
Teresa Lisbon sat staring at her laptop screen. She knew she had to write something but at that precise moment in time the words just weren't coming to her. She had been sitting at her desk in her study for a good half hour now but every sentence that she wrote she had deleted. She just wasn't feeling inspired. The warm Sacramento day outside wasn't helping her concentration much either; she kept finding herself getting distracted by everything, from the cloudless blue sky outside to the mailman delivering her letters. She looked at the clock on the wall, "Dammit!" she swore silently to herself and then shut the laptop down and moved towards her kitchen. Once there she opened up a cabinet and took out her favorite mug and poured some freshly brewed coffee into it from her coffee maker but just as she was about to add some milk, her cell phone rang. "Hey Grace," she began, semi-relieved that her best friend had called. "no, no, I was just working on the book. I'm at this point where the character has to make a tough choice between saving his wife or killing the man who murdered his child. I… I can't decide what to make him do!" she paused, listening to her friend's advice. "hmmm yeah I've tried that but I can't get the words to flow, it always comes out wrong." She sighed, "I'm thinking about going with the happy ending, him saving his wife…" Just then Teresa paused hearing a knock on the backdoor, "Oh I'm sorry Grace, I gotta go, there's someone at the door. Yeah I'll call ya later." There was another knock on the door, louder this time.
Teresa, hung up the phone. Her heart was beating faster; she had lived at her house for six years and no one had ever knocked on her backdoor. She had heard there had been a string of robberies in her neighborhood in the last few weeks and thinking this could be a burglar, she slowly picked up the baseball bat which had been resting against an end table in the hallway and slowly moved towards the door. Her free hand clutched at her cell phone as she began to dial 911. "Who is it?" she called out.
"Hi, I'm your new neighbor!" a man's voice replied, "I just moved in next door. I was just about to make some tea when I realised I don't have any sugar. I was hoping you'd have some I could borrow?"
Teresa thought back to the events of a few hours ago when she had got distracted by a moving van outside. She had stood there for about fifteen minutes watching as a man pulled up into the driveway and had a long conversation with the driver of the van. She remembered they appeared to be arguing over something but what she remembered most was how good looking the man was. She carefully peered through the curtain on the door only to find that it was indeed the one she had seen earlier that morning. Taking a moment to regain her composure, she opened the door a little.
He smiled at her. "Hello." He greeted as if he was talking to a shy animal.
She looked at the man, who was more handsome close up than she had expected, and smiled back. "Hi," She began, "err….how did you get into by back yard?"
"I jumped over the fence." He explained as if it was a normal thing to do.
Teresa knew she should have been annoyed with him but found herself feeling more curious than angry at his confession. "Why didn't you just knock on the front door like everyone else does?"
"I've never been one to do things the conventional way!" he grinned, "I'm Patrick, by the way." He said and held out his hand. She shook it, still feeling a little bewildered by him.
"Teresa." She said.
"It's very nice to meet you Teresa," He told her, "err..about that sugar?"
Teresa shook her head as if she were coming out of a trance, "err...yes, come in Patrick, I was just about to have some coffee but I can make you some tea if you'd like?"
"That would be wonderful!" he replied and he followed her into her kitchen and closed the door behind him. "Teresa, why do you have that baseball bat in your hand?"
Teresa felt her cheeks heat a little in embarrassment and was glad that she had her back to him. "I was just tidying up when you knocked."
Patrick smiled, "You weren't going to beat me with that were you?"
"Off course not," She began, "had you been a burglar, then it would have been another matter!"
Patrick sat down on one of the stools next to the breakfast bar, "I'll bet."
"Look, there have been some robberies in the area, you can't be too careful."
Patrick held up his hands, "Hey, I agree, I'm just glad it was a baseball bat and not a gun!"
Teresa smiled as she set the bat down and began preparing his tea. "I don't own a gun; don't believe in them."
"Not even for protection?" he asked and she shook her head.
"Hmmm, I thought so." Patrick said, "You don't seem like the gun carrying type."
She turned around to face him, put her hands on her hips and asked, "Oh really? And just what 'type' do you think I am?"
"Woah! Take it easy, I meant no offense. It just seems to me that you're a pacifist by nature. Kind, selfless, always putting the needs of others above your own."
"wha….how did you…"
"Well your body language when you opened the door to me gave it away, that and in spite of the fact that you are having coffee, you offered to go out of your way to make me tea, instead of just giving me some sugar. I'm sure everyone who knows you finds that to be a very endearing quality."
Teresa found herself blushing again and quickly turned her back to him. "I..just didn't want to be rude, that's all."
Patrick began looking around the open planned room which lead to her living room and study. He found his gaze resting upon the laptop on her desk, which was surrounded by empty candy wrappers and soda cans. "What do you do for a living, if you don't mind my asking?"
Teresa handed him his tea and leant against the breakfast bar opposite him, coffee mug in hand. "I'm a writer." She replied.
"Oh? What do you write?"
"Mainly fiction. I'm working on a drama novel at the moment but I'm kinda stuck."
Patrick took a sip of his tea. "What's the problem?"
"Well, I've come to this point in the story where the protagonist has to make a choice but I can't decide whether to go for the happy ending or to add a bit of drama." Teresa explained.
"Oh go for the drama, definitely!" he advised.
Teresa gave him a questioning look, "Really? You think so?"
Absolutely! Happy endings are….overrated."
She could hear a faint whisper of sadness in his voice as he said those words and felt her gaze drift towards his eyes. He caught her stare and looked away immediately. "Perhaps I can help?"
"You?"
"Yes. A fresh pair of eyes and all that?"
"I don't know. I don't really show anyone my work until it's done."
"Oh come on Teresa, I'm not gonna judge." He coaxed.
She thought about his offer for a moment and then reluctantly agreed. "Well...okay then."
"Excellent! I take it that's where you write?" he gestured towards the messy desk.
"Yes," she confirmed as the two of them made their way into her study, "sorry about the mess."
"Hey, like I said, I'm not going to judge." He smiled warmly at her and she felt her heart skip a beat.
The two of them sat down at her desk, Patrick had brought in a chair from the dining room. After Teresa opened up her laptop and accessed her novel she read the last sentence to Patrick. "So you see, he now has a choice. If he saves his wife the killer gets away but if he goes after the killer his wife will burn inside their house."
Patrick tapped his bottom lip in thought. "Hmm, tough call. I still say go with the dramatic angle."
"Really? But what about his wife? He loves her too much to let her die!"
"This man murdered his only child. If it were me I'd want to strangle the bastard with my bare hands! Oh, sorry Teresa, please excuse the language."
Teresa just looked at him and giggled. "You're right. I think I would have done the same thing. But I don't want him to come out of this alone."
"Well, there's always the third option!" he told her.
"What third option?" she asked.
"Well, it seems that the best thing for him would be to have his cake and eat it." He explained.
"You mean save his wife and catch the killer? How?"
"Why was the killer inside their house in the first place?"
"He was going after the guy's wife." She explained.
He clasped his hands together and put them against his lips in thought. "Hmmm he wanted to attack her?"
Teresa nodded. "Yes, she was going to testify against him and he wanted to silence her."
"Okay, I have an idea. What if after setting the fire, the killer tries to run out of the house but as he gets to the front door he finds it jammed shut and he can't open it? What if the guy scoops his wife into his arms and they escape through the bedroom window."
Teresa looked at him in awe, "God, that's perfect! Why the hell didn't I think of that?"
Patrick smiled. "You kinda did, you just didn't listen to yourself. That little inner writer of yours was telling you that you wanted a happy ending but also a fitting end for the killer."
She sighed, "I just hope I can do it justice." She began to type away but then stopped mid sentence a minute later and sank back into the chair, a look of sheer frustration on her face.
"What is it?" Patrick asked.
"This just doesn't sound right!" she almost growled before deleting everything she had written.
"Relax, just take a moment, breathe. You can do this, just go with your instincts, your feelings." He tried to reassure her.
"That's what I've been trying to do for the whole morning!" she said, exasperated. "Arrggh! The magic has gone, I've just got to face it! I'll only ever be a one hit wonder!"
"Come on, it's not that bad, surely?"
"Patrick, I have written seven novels over the last 3 years and all but one of them have been spectacular failures! I might as well just give up and get another job, like maybe a cocktail waitress or something?"
"Close your eyes." He told her softly.
"What?"
"You can do this, trust me. Just close your eyes and take a deep breath." After giving him a confused look she did as he instructed. "Okay now let it out slowly." Teresa exhaled silently. "Now," Patrick began, "imagine the scene in the house, as vividly as you can. What does it look like, what is the protagonist feeling, what does his wife feel? Really experience it!"
She imagine the whole scene in her mind's eye, her own anger quietening by the calm of his words to be replaced by the characters' feelings. Soon Teresa found herself imbued with everything they felt and her eyes flew open as a wave of inspiration took hold of her and her fingers typed frantically at the keyboard and when she was done she sat back in her chair with a huge smile on her face. Patrick look at her and smiled, "See, I knew you had it in you." He whispered.
"Thank you Patrick." She said but he shook his head.
"No need to thank me, it was all you." They looked at each other for a moment, before Patrick broke the gaze. "Well, I'd better get going. Still got lots of unpacking to do. Thanks for the tea Teresa, it was lovely." He then got up and carried his chair back to the dining room.
When he was halfway to the front door Teresa called out "maybe I could help?"
He stopped and turned around and looked at her quizzically. "With the unpacking?" she elaborated, "I know how tedious and time consuming all that could be, and you know, one good turn and all that?" she smiled shyly as he stared intently at her.
"That would be wonderful," He said, "how about you come over in an hour and I'll make us lunch? I hate to unpack on an empty stomach!"
Teresa laughed, "I make you tea and you make me lunch? That doesn't exactly sound fair?"
He smiled, "Oh, my dear, after everything you've done for others your whole life, it's immensely fair! I'll see you in an hour." He told her and then walked out of the front door.
Teresa couldn't stop herself from grinning, amazed at how quickly her morning had changed. She was intrigued by this man whom she had only just met and was eager to get to know him better!