AN: Basically, this is what would have happened if the writers had let Lisbon know her own heart in season 6. It takes place immediately post-Violets. Hope you enjoy it.
Lyrics from "Incomplete" by James Bay.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.
I breathe out now and we fall back in
Just like before, we can rebegin
She'd so wanted Marcus to be right. To be right for her.
But she can't get that image of Jane out of her mind. She replays the way his face fell as she walked past him, the way he'd looked at the ground when Marcus put his hand on her back.
She knows things won't work between them before they even reach his car.
He opens the door for her, giving her a puzzled look when she doesn't immediately climb in.
"I'm sorry," says Lisbon, and she hates herself for how awkward she feels. She's not sure where to put her hands, so they end up hanging limply at her sides. "This, um…this isn't fair to you. Or to me."
Marcus shuts the passenger side door, sighing under his breath. "Or to Jane?" he adds knowingly.
Lisbon feels helpless. "I'm sorry," she says again.
He looks away for a few seconds before staring at her again. "That kid told me there was nothing going on between you and Jane."
"There isn't," says Lisbon. "There may never be, in fact."
Marcus scratches the back of his head, clearly agitated. "Well, uh, thanks for being honest with me, I guess."
Lisbon nods twice. "Yeah," she whispers. She feels like she should apologize again, but instead she just turns away, trying to calm her nerves, her heart, her soul.
He speaks up when she's about 10 yards away. "Teresa," he says, his voice cutting through the night.
Lisbon looks at him over her shoulder.
"Don't wait for him forever, okay?"
She has absolutely no idea how to respond, so she walks away instead.
He feels suddenly claustrophobic inside the Airstream, so he tosses the scarf he realizes he's still holding on the couch, discards his suit jacket next to it, and heads out the door, stepping down into the grass. He looks up at the stars.
It's a beautiful night, Jane thinks. It's a damn shame he's in no mood to enjoy it.
But the slight breeze is calming over his sweaty skin, so he grabs the camping chair he has stowed away in one of the Airstream's storage compartments and sits just beyond the reach of the awning. He leans back, raises his eyes, and asks the skies for strength.
He feels like he's losing his family all over again. In a sense, he is—because Lisbon is his family.
But the pain from this wound is sharper, he thinks. Partly because it's fresh, but mostly because he knows he could do something to stop it if he weren't a coward.
He closes his eyes, blocking out the stars and planets and universe above him, and tries to breathe normally. He's not surprised when he can't quite manage it.
He is surprised, however, when he rubs his hand over his face only to pull the hand away when it encounters wetness at the corners of his eyes. Jane shakes himself. He and Lisbon had made no promises to each other. She owes him nothing. She is at perfect liberty to date whomever she chooses.
He, on the other hand, owes her everything. And because of this, he knows he must retreat.
It's the hardest thing he'll ever do, not fighting for her. But Lisbon deserves to be happy, and if Pike can make her happy…she deserves him.
Jane sighs again.
What exquisite torture it will be to remain forever near her but never be hers.
Lisbon pulls up to the RV park, wishing she'd thought to ask Jane where he parked the Airstream. It's dark, she's exhausted, and she doesn't feel like driving around the narrow gravel roads searching for him. She's just reaching for her phone to call him when her headlights reflect off a silver surface.
She's found him.
He's sitting outside the Airstream in what she thinks is a camping chair, leaning back slightly, his eyes closed. He straightens as her SUV approaches, and he stands up just as she parks the car.
Lisbon shuts the door quietly, careful not to wake anyone in the park who is already in bed, and they walk toward each other through silver light.
"Lisbon?" he asks. She notices that he looks confused, and she almost smiles—it's not a look she's used to seeing on Patrick Jane. "What are you doing here?"
They stop moving at exactly the same time, about a foot from each other.
She looks up at him. "I wanted to—" she begins, but she cuts herself off upon seeing his face. He looks every bit as miserable as she feels. "Hey, are you alright? Is it the case? I know it affected you more than most."
He gives her a tight smile. "I'm fine," he says. "You're here—I'm fine."
"Let's pretend like we both believe you," she mutters, and this time Jane's smile is real.
"What are you doing here, Lisbon?" he repeats.
She wraps her arms around herself in response to the breeze but also so he can't see her hands shake.
"I need to ask you something."
Jane just stares at her.
So she decides to just say the words. After all, if the answer if not what she wants to hear, isn't it better to know sooner rather than later? So she can get on with her life?
Jane's eyes are piercing. Lisbon takes a breath.
"Should I wait for you?" she asks. She blinks several times to dispel traitorous tears. Damn it, she's already beginning to cry and he hasn't even answered yet.
She suddenly realizes that there are more lines on Jane's forehead and at the corners of his eyes than she remembered.
"Because I will," Lisbon continues. "If you promise me you'll be ready, I'll wait. As long as it takes. But, um…" The moisture in her eyes makes it difficult to focus on Jane's outline in front of her. "If this isn't something you want, or if you don't think you can move on, I need to know. I'll understand. I…I just need to move on."
She sees his mouth form his response, and she has to look away as he answers.
"No," he says softly. "I don't want you to wait for me."
Lisbon nods, turning away. She has the sudden urge to be far from here, to be drowning herself with a pint of cookie dough ice cream. Which, of course, she plans on washing down with a glass of wine.
Make that several glasses of wine.
"Okay," she whispers, reaching for her pocket to grab her keys.
But Jane is faster, and he snatches the keys before her fingers can close around them. He moves, coming to stand in front of her, his hands resting on her upper arms.
"Teresa," he says, and the tone of his voice makes her look up. "You didn't let me finish."
Lisbon forces herself to meet his eyes.
"I don't want you to wait for me," he repeats. Then he elaborates. "Because I want to be with you now."
"You do?"
She watches as a tear runs down his cheek. "Of course I do," he says, half rolling his eyes. "I've wanted nothing else in a very, very long time."
She reaches up to wipe her eyes. "Then why the hell didn't you say something?"
"I wasn't ready," he admits. "And I'm not whole. Lisbon, I'm broken. I want to be with you, but I don't want that for you."
Lisbon is vaguely aware that Jane's grip on her upper arms has pulled her closer to him, to his warmth.
"So I am," she whispers.
"What?" he asks.
"I'm broken," she tells him. "I probably always will be. And you know what? That's okay. Being broken doesn't diminish my capacity to love, and I know the same can be said about you. Your feelings toward your family are proof of that." She can make out the flecks of blue in his sea-green gaze, and for some reason this makes her head spin. "Being broken is part of being human. We just happen to be…more human than most people."
He stares at her for a solid fifteen seconds. She wonders exactly what is going through that ridiculous brain of his.
"Ever since I got back," he says, his voice low and rough. "I've been trying to figure out how to make myself whole for you. I couldn't figure out how to do it."
"Don't change for me, Jane. Then you wouldn't be the person I fell in love with back in Sacramento."
She barely gets the last word out before his lips meld with hers. His hands move from her arms, one snaking around her waist to rest at her lower back and one tangling in her hair.
He gives her a series of heartachingly sweet, slow kisses, his nose brushing against hers, the taste of tea still lingering on his lips.
Lisbon has to pull back in order to breathe, and Jane's smile is brighter than all the constellations combined.
He pulls her toward the Airstream. "Stay?" he whispers.
She wakes a couple hours later and rolls onto her side.
Jane is sleeping peacefully, his hair rumpled and almost glowing in the starlight streaming through the window. She watches his chest rise and fall a few times before closing her eyes and inching closer to him. He shifts in response to her movement, his hand coming to rest on her hip. Lisbon smiles.
She'll thank God every day for the rest of her life for giving Jane a second chance.
And for giving her one.