The Mentalist – Moments of Silence

At last, he felt at peace

Patrick Jane had not had many moments of pure and absolute silence in his life. As a child, he got used to falling asleep with the sounds of games and people's laughter, and there was a time only the sound of clapping soothed his soul. His wife and daughter had been very prone to being loud as well, and even when they were slaughtered and he was left to find their broken bodies, his life was not silent, even in his empty house, even in his dreams. Everything was just so loud.

The CBI office was all kinds of loud and filled to the brim with people yelling, on the computer, on the phone, rushing here and there, and Jane could fall asleep to that background noise just fine, faintly remembering his childhood. Some people questioned how he managed such a thing, but he couldn't, wouldn't tell them that it was better than being in his house where his mind was all too free to scream at him, and silence was an abstract concept from beginning to end.

Teresa Lisbon, a bright and stunning woman, was one of the first to treat Jane with a hint of amusement, buried deep within honest respect for his abilities and very upfront annoyance at his theatrics. It was... Odd to admire another woman with the pain of his wife's death like a wound that would not heal, but Lisbon was impossible to ignore, her voice soft in his ears, and some nights, he could sleep a few hours while replaying her annoyed filled voice in his head. It was better than the imagined last moments of his family's lives, after all.

After he at last, God, it took so long!, to discover Red John's identity, and after he was dead, and Jane was long gone from his corpse, he stopped listening to his wife begging for her life, for their daughter whimpering and screaming for his help, and he finally had a the first night of considerable peace in many, many years.

Didn't take long for Lisbon's voice to return to him, first as a whisper, then like she was right beside him, and he caught himself many a times about to talk to her, only to remember at the last minute. He had ran, she had stayed, her voice was a distant memory and while he hoped to see her again, he didn't know if they would, and though he fancied himself a master at reading people, he knew Lisbon was the only person who could impress and surprise him.

After he returned to the States, he eventually took a deep breath and convinced Lisbon that his feelings for her were real, and he was finally ready to be with her, to give her a real relationship; his wife and daughter were at last in peace, and he felt free to embrace his attraction and love for Lisbon.

Being with Lisbon was–

He never considered it, never allowed himself to truly think about it, to daydream about what her lips would taste like, what having her look at him like he was the most important, the only person in the room, would be like, nor what her voice would sound like as they fell asleep together, and when they awoke the next morning.

(Jane was a liar, even to himself).

Then, he finally took the leap and asked for her hand in marriage, and the way her face cleared and brightened made him wonder how he'd been fooled to think he'd ever seen her happy before. No, this was her honestly happy face, and by God, but he adored that woman, who kept him grounded and human, and always called him out on his bullshit, the one person who didn't allow to step on her, the only person who could punch him in the nose and get away with it, because– Because–

Their wedding was a little fuller than he, than both would've liked, though thankfully it wasn't the huge blowout Abbott had planned for them, so just as well. Jane and Lisbon (or maybe Jane and Jane, he didn't know if she was going to change her name) were married, and they would be able to start a new life together, with no obsessive serial killer lurking in a corner.

Patrick Jane sat on a log with his lovely bride (and how beautiful she looked), and she turned with a tremulous, almost hesitant smile, and put her hands over her stomach and something flipped inside him.

He was going to be a father again. Patrick Jane would have another chance at raising a child, at loving a child. He would–

"You are?" – he asked, too stunned to say anything else. Lisbon– Teresa, smiled at him and confirmed it.

"I am" – he reverently put his hands over hers, and tried to feel the pulse of the life she was marvelously growing inside her.

It had been such a long time since he felt such joy, perhaps only when his wife– His first wife, told him she was pregnant. In pursuing Red John, he had forgotten that happiness could be as all consuming as grief and anger, and it took Teresa's gentle, understanding smile to snap him out of the sadness and depression that still hung around his sharp edges.

All too soon, he would have a child to call his own beside the woman he loved, respected, adored. As it were, he was able to sit beside his bride, both their hands over her stomach, and silence took him, even if only moments prior, he could hear their reception going strong.

At last, Patrick Jane could accept that some moments required absolute silence in order for him to truly feel and accept and cherish them.