Preterite
Disclaimer: It's a universally known fact that I don't own TM. I just play around with the characters and make amazing plots for them to suffer...err... strive in.
Summary: She hasn't always dreamt in black and white.
A/N:
I have no idea where my dream dictionary is, I think it's in storage (if it is, I'll probably never see it again) so combined with the powerful words of an online dream dictionary, 0mementovivere0's prompt, "Dreams be Dreams" (the mentalistprompt fic meme over on LJ) and the use of the Jello-Forever August's Challenge prompt: Past Tense, this story was created.
"Her dreams are dreams
and all this livin's so much harder then it seems
but girl don't let your dreams be dreams."
- Jack Johnson 'Dreams be Dreams'
I.
She hasn't always dreamt in black and white.
When she was younger, before her mother died and her father became alcoholic, her dreams were of Technicolor. She could see the pretty blue sky and the brilliant yellow sand beneath her small feet as she dreamt the dreams of a happy family; her father, her mother, her three brothers and then herself, all six of them happy, on a beach and colored in warm colors to show what the hot Californian sun would do to their pale flesh.
It was those dreams that she'd miss the most after her mother's death.
The first few months after, she dreamt of them still on that colorful beach—her mother and father curled around her and her brothers, but overtime, the colors became dimmer and suddenly, the brilliant sky blues became storm grays, and the bright yellows became pale yellows and then one night, the colors forever seized to exist and she simply dreamt in black and white. It never concerned her, because she still had those dreams of her family.
Eventually, her blissful dreams vanished and her father became a black and white monster.
They were always the victims, being chased down and slaughtered on that colorless beach.
She always awoke before he could get to her.
II.
When she started at the police academy, she still dreamt in black and white but another color, after six months of striving to become someone, suddenly bled through her dreams.
The color Red, which symbolized passion and anger.
In her dreams however, the red revealed itself through the countless images of her standing over a victim, gun in hand, while the victim bled glorious red all over the colorless pavement.
Those dreams became her new nightmares.
She no longer saw her father as the black and white monster, as he had stopped chasing her long after his death and beyond her eyelids at night, she no longer saw that warm beach but instead, she saw a dark road and herself as the black and white monster.
It didn't matter that she called for help using the nearby payphone.
It didn't matter that she heard the sirens going off, coming to save her victim.
Nor did it matter that the handcuffs bit down on her wrists.
It did matter however that, her nameless victim remained in the gutter, gun wound through his chest and his eyes tilted toward her as he convulsed upon the red colored ground.
She always awoke before he died.
III.
Samuel Bosco let her join his unit, after several years of hard work and dedication; at night, she still dreamt in black and white with the occasional splash of red but another color quickly became known to her, hot pink.
Hot pink, was the symbol of sex and lust.
In the dreams, the hot pink became the fur on the handcuffs wrapped around wrists and the rug beneath the slightly rocking bed. In those dreams, she'd see only a splash of red. It was never blood. It was always tongues, but night after night, the couple who engaged in the tongue play remained faceless to her.
One night however, that changed.
The faceless, tongue playing couple suddenly morphed into her and Sam, eventually in those dreams, she'd have him on his knees and some nights, he'd have her pinned to the bed, lips pressed to her ear—but what became the common theme was the complete unawareness that he was married to another woman, named Mandy.
Often Mandy would stumble into the room to find the both of them, her face dark with malicious, a pistol in her hand and suddenly, the colorless bed beneath them would forever bleed red.
She always awoke before she could feel his touch.
IV.
She transferred to the CBI, and in doing so, worked for the Serious Crimes Unit for about five years before the director of the CBI Virgil Minelli, came to her and gave her the option of being in charge of SCU; she accepted the position and at night, three more colors became known to her besides the black and white, red and bright pink:
Purple, Maroon and Gray.
Purple stood for loyalty, maroon stood for strength and gray stood for fear.
The dreams never changed.
One night, she would have the dream that troubled her as a child and she'd see the red, which stained across the colorless sands.
The next night, she would have the dream of her and Sam—and he would be wearing a purple tie.
The following night, she would dream of being murdered.
In that dream, she remained in black and white except for the blood that pooled around her—small items in the room however, would become colorful.
The chair in the far corner became entirely gray, except for the cushion.
The book by her bedside table was entirely purple, except for the words.
The mug also on her bedside table was entirely maroon, except for the handle.
She often watched her subordinates; Wayne Rigsby and Kimball Cho rush into the room with their guns out, only to find her broken body spread upon her colorless floor.
They would also, if they glanced up, find a freshly drawn red smiley upon the wall.
She always awoke before the blood could dry.
V.
The Serious Crimes Unit grew from three to five with the last two members, Grace Van Pelt and Patrick Jane; Van Pelt was a fresh graduate from the police academy, with advanced knowledge in technology, and Jane wasn't new to the CBI, the ex-psychic had been passed around from unit to unit because of his supposed unhealthy mental state due to his wife and child having been murdered at the hands of the psychopath, Red John.
When she wasn't doing the insane amount of paperwork from Jane's ridiculous daily stunts, and when she could sleep at night without fretting over the consequences of his stunts, she noticed that another color became available to her.
Indigo.
While indigo was the color of divine protection, it also held a double meaning.
Deceit.
In her dreams where indigo made its presence, she was always in the shower.
The flimsy shower curtain remained splashed with indigo.
The shampoo bottle on the shelf was hot pink,
The water, as a knife embedded itself into her back, became red.
Her own blood stained fingers grabbed at the indigo curtain, and ripped it from it's barring to find a faceless Spector staring at her.
Each night however, the faceless Spector gained something new about him.
First, it was clear that her faceless Spector was a man.
Second, his hair became more familiar to her and,
Third, her dream self was eventually calling out his name.
She never wondered who the deceitful one in her dreams, because it was obvious.
Patrick Jane always stabbed her in the back, and he became the new black and white monster in her dreams.
She always awoke before she could see the dark smirk upon his face.
VI.
Sam Bosco's death introduced another color into her dreams, ivory.
Ivory, though an off-set of white became a color to signify slightly tainted purity.
In her dreams, she dreamt that she was with Sam when Rebecca took fire; she was never able to move until the woman left and then she was able to move to save him by ramming her clean hands against his bloody chest.
In reality, she hadn't been in the room with him, or paralyzed until Rebecca had left, but she had tried her damned hardest to save him—but her hardest was never good enough and he died anyway.
Both times, he had said "I love you."
Both times, she had left him with a watery smile.
She always awoke before his blood, which stained her hands, could run freely into her ivory sink.
VII.
They eventually caught Red John and Patrick Jane left them; angry because he wasn't given the chance to kill the man who stole his family from him.
At night, she dreamt in black and white once again, her dreams void of all color and she dreamt of becoming the monster again.
Her victim however, who had always remained in the gutter, always with a wound to the chest, now had a name.
It was Patrick Jane, his cold colorless eyes tilted up toward her as he convulsed around, spitting out groundless accusations.
She always awoke before he could tell her how much he hated her.
VIII.
One night, the colors just returned and not long after that, Jane returned to them.
She didn't dream of bloody beaches, of murder or of death and red, once again became the color of tongues instead of blood. However, the tongue play wasn't with Sam anymore. Instead, it was between Jane and her.
She could see the brilliant yellow of his hair, the turquoise of his warm eyes, and she shivered, under her warm blue covers when she saw his small pink mouth move to form words, as the man stood to the side of her bed—his soft hands, slowly caressing her face.
"I bet you think you're dreaming, Lisbon."
The soft caresses stopped; the bed suddenly felt heavier; his voice, husky and low; the cover, ripped away from her iron grip, before his strong arms encircled her bare waist.
She only merely nodded and soft lips found hers, biting, pulling, and always begging for something she couldn't give; happiness, ironically, the color of his hair in her dream and the color of the sand on her beach from years ago.
She then awoke, and he was already long gone—the covers still clenched around her aroused body as she allowed herself to wonder, with her pupils dilated, and chest heaving with excitement, if it really wasn't just a dream, after all.