I told myself I wouldn't do this. I was going to be good, and only write a oneshot or two for this challenge, because I definitely have three other multi-part stories going on. My head is going to explode! But driving home from school last night, the radio was mocking me. Love song after love song played- some happy, some sad- and this story came to mind. What can I say? I'm a slave to the plot bunnies. I hope y'all enjoy it! Hopefully I'll finish before the month's over! Smoke will be updated next, and I have another new story written for the winner of my Help Haiti fic auction that should be posted in a few days!
Title: Symphony
Author: Divinia Serit
Rating: T
Spoilers: Possible spoilers for Seasons 1 & 2
Disclaimer: I don't own them! I just like to play with them!
Summary: Written for the JelloForever February Challenge. Prompt- Love Songs. A look at a love that was never meant to be.
A/N: IMPORTANT. This will be a relatively short six chapter story alternating from Jane's and Lisbon's point of view. Jane's side is told in reverse chronological order-starting from the end of their relationship, while Lisbon's side is told in chronological order starting mid-Season 2.
Chapter One
"How was I supposed to know she was slowly letting go?
I was putting her through hell. Hell, I couldn't tell.
She could have given me a sign, and opened up my eyes.
How was I supposed to see? She never cried in front of me."
-Toby Keith, 'She Never Cried In Front of Me'
She was gone.
Two red lights disappeared in the distance leaving Patrick Jane standing in the dark. Alone. Always alone. The dust had barely settled, and as much as he tried to crane his neck to see around the bend, her car was out of sight. Slowly, he sank to his knees, and let a handful of dirt fall from his fingers. The particles sparkled in a thin beam of moonlight that trickled through the trees. The silence was deafening, and he was alone with his thoughts. He stared down the empty road once more. She never even slowed down. No second guesses. No regrets. How did it come to this?
She had only taken the necessities. Told him he could keep the rest. She didn't want it- didn't care what he did with it. The lone tear streaking down the side of her face killed him. Teresa Lisbon never cried. Standing in the foyer, he could almost pretend she was still here. A few sweatshirts littered the furniture, and photographs covered the walls. The faint smell of her perfume lingered throughout the house. Lingered on their bed- his bed. Her ring sparkled on the dresser. Then it hit him. She was gone for good, and he was once again trapped in a house that was frozen in time with memories he couldn't bear to part with..
They never had a fairy tale romance. They argued, made up, and built a relationship based on respect and mutual loss. They rarely saw eye to eye, but they agreed to disagree. The attraction was always there, and maybe that was the problem. No matter how intense the fight was, they couldn't stay away from each other. It was an addiction. Their relationship may not have been a carefree love song, but he never dreamed things were this bad. For someone who made a living being observant, how had he missed the fact that his marriage was falling apart?
He was too lost in Red John. His obsession with the serial killer consumed his every thought, and it wasn't fair to a woman like Teresa Lisbon. She didn't deserve to play second fiddle to a notorious murderer. Lately, the killer had gone on another rampage taunting Jane with more needless death. He lost himself in the blackness. To catch a serial killer, you had to think like one, and he hated the man he had become. He never paid attention to the fact she was slowly withdrawing- tired of broken promises, fake smiles, and false pretenses. He never noticed, and he'd never forgive himself.
She tried. God knows, she had tried. But her sense of duty and morality was too far ingrained in her character. It was who she was. It was why he loved her. She kept him true to himself, until he began to shut her out. He could never ask her to compromise her beliefs for the unattainable quest that was his personal revenge. They split the blame. He shouldered the guilt. They just weren't meant to be. It wasn't for lack of trying. There was just too much against them.
He numbly sat on the edge of the couch, her college sweatshirt in hand, and tried to ignore the events of the past few hours. Although, he wished she'd come to her senses and return, he feared they were too far gone this time. He knew they were too far gone. Lifting the soft fabric, he breathed in her intoxicating scent. There was no point in lying to himself. There was no quick fix, and she wouldn't return. It wasn't a love song. There was no happy ending. It was over, and he wasn't sure he would recover this time. What was the point? The sweatshirt fell to the floor.