Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist, nor the characters. I don't get any money from this story. I am grateful I discovered the show; I wish Jisbon was canon.

Just a call

Teresa hated unexpected phone calls. They reminded her that life happened - mostly ended - and she could do nothing about it. A phone call made her aware of her mother's death. Her father used to call her in the middle of the night to shout at her. (Apparently, he helt better after that.) James had an accident, while trying to call her. In a nutshell, nothing good happened.
Of course that this wasn't the case anymore, with her being a cop. Or shouldn't, anyway. Having her own team, again, she had to be informed about different cases they were working on. Or sometimes, it was one of her former teammates, that was worried about her well-being. (Mostly Grace.) However, she still felt uneasy everytime she was startled by the noisy ringtone of her mobile.

She stared at the telephone on the table; from the angle it was situated, she could read the name of the caller: Patrick Jane.
Her heart sank deeper in her ribcage at the simple thought that they hadn't talked in months. She had never meant it. Even after moving to DC. and becoming Marcus' wife, she had tried her best to keep in touch with Jane. He had been her bestfriend, after all. A little distance shouldn't have been able to pull them apart.
However, she failed. The conversations had became more and more awkward every week; she could feel the sadness in his voice and the desperation in her soul. There had always been a voice in her head that told her that it shouldn't be this way. She had tried to shut it off before allowing any regrets to grow. Before realizing it, the calls stopped.

She took her phone in the hand and stared at it. She wished so hard to stop being afraid; she used to be so confident in herself and now..?. She pressed the 'answer' button, silently praying for the best. Maybe the bad possibilities were only in her mind.
"Hello, Jane."
Five seconds passed in silence.
She was starting to worry that he might have closed the call, when the answer came: "Hello, Lisbon."

Her heart slowed her beats for a second and a small smile appeared on her face. Why didn't she have his observation skills? She wished she was able to tell his mood by only his voice. She wasn't sure that he'd answer the questions honestly. He never did. It didn't mean she wasn't going to ask, though.
"What are you doing?"
He hesitated.
" Well."
He seemed sad. Or just tired? She sweared she could also feel relief there. Before she could deepen her thoughts regarding his mood, he intrerupted.
"Well...not actually that well. There's bomb in front of me that it's about to detonate. No way out. "

Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to comprehend the concept. He didn't mean what she thought he meant, right? He couldn't be serious. It was utterly foolish to say that Patrick Jane was about to die in a few seconds. Completely. Her heart suddenly stopped beating as the silence took over the conversation for a few seconds. This situation was ridiculous. He was supposed to laugh and say 'Gotcha!' and she was supposed to get annoyed and scold him for joking about such a serious scenario. That's the way their dialogues usually went. Then why the hell didn't he laugh?
"I have about a minute. Remember when I said that I would call you if I were dying?" He asked, allowing himself a chuckle she more felt than heard. "I wanted to hear your voice before I go."
He was awfully calm. Too calm for her own liking; she was able to hear and feel her blood in her veins and she found breathing a hard task to accomplish. Yet here he was, sounding as if he told her he was coming to Washington D.C. to visit her.
"Also", he continued, "there's something I should have told you a long time ago. I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but then I thought you have the right to know."
'No', said her lips, but never the voice. She gulped. Why was she so sure she knew what he meant by it? He could say anything. She wasn't supposed to get nervous; her heart wasn't supposed to start to beat so fast and her fingers shouldn't get cold.
"You have the right to know that you are beautiful. You have the most beautiful soul I've ever seen. You have the right to know you are loved. And safe, and wise. In this new life of yours..."here he hesitated for a second, as if trying to gain some courage, but she barely felt the time passing. "Good luck, Teresa. I love you. This time I'm not taking my words back."

Teresa had been a lucky woman. She had received a few times confession from various men in her life. She did many things, from rejecting them, to getting scared, nervous or glad. She had never laughed, though.
Her hands clasped her phone until her knuckles turned white. That jerk. That jerk was able to get the most unexpected reactions out of her. He also had the worst timing ever. She was married and he was dying and he was telling her that...
She wanted to answer. To excuse herself for laughing in his face. Her mouth was opening and closing itself; no words came out.
"My time is running out. I should..."
"Don't!"
Was it a shout? Or a whisper? Very hard to tell, since she was too focused on the situation.
"Please, stay with me. Okay? Stay with me." she heard herself saying, as if he was in an operation snd she could actually do something about the situation. She couldn't comprehend the fact that it was impossible to help him.
"I'll get it done, okay? I'll do something. Let me remember how to defuse a bomb. I did it once."
"You had no idea what you were doing." he answered, and she could see his smile.
"Shut up, Jane."
"If this makes you happy, Teresa. Shall I remind you that I don't have many seconds left? I'd rather spend them by thanking you."
"Thanking? What for?"
" For saving an ugly and shattered man."
"Patrick.."
This was the only thing she managed to say before the call ended. Teresa stared at the screen, trying to comprehend what happened. She felt as if her life was sucked out of her, despite Patrick being the one with his life in danger. Or maybe he was already dead.
What a funny word, dead.

"I hate you." Her voice was flat. It had no emotion, not even anger or hatred. She was just trying to pick one thought and comprehend it. She wasn't even sure she spoke. She was more than sure that she didn't hate him but it was easier to say it. Despite being the one who could threw herself inf a gun to save someone's life, she had never considered herself brave.
She heard the door opening and the usual hard footsteps following it. She didn't feel like turning back, to greet her husband. He could see by himself that she was good and alive. Exactly what Jane wasn't.
"Teresa? What happened? Why are-"
Such a noise. When she married him, she had been pretty sure that his voice wasn't so annoying to her. Months of her life togheter and he hadn't been so distressing to her.
"Get out."
"But-"
"OUT."
Maybe she shouldn't have been that rude. Though if this was the only way she could make him shut up, she didn't mind. As soon as she heard the shower, she started packing a few things.
She was going to be in the case. She was sure she would need a bit of persuasion but she didn't accept anyone else to do it.

She couldn't save his life but maybe she could solve his murder.

NOTE: Thank you for reading this until the end. This is the first story I posted here; also, English is not my mother language so I may have mistakes in there.

I'm thinking into continuing it in another chapter or two. I'm not sure yet.

Review if you feel like. Criticism is welcomed with open arms, as long as you argue it.