Amendment of the Heart
Summary: Yes, he did like her—she didn't know that, and he preferred it to stay that way.J/L
Disclaimer: I asked for The Mentalist for my birthday, but when I woke up this morning—I was another year older but I wasn't any step closer to gaining the rights. Darn.
Episode: 2x23, Red Sky at Morning.
A/N:
Just a cute little fluff piece for the romantically inclined. ;)
So now I come to you, with open arms
Nothing to hide, believe what I say
so here I am with open arms
hoping you'll see what your love means to me,
Open arms.
-Open Arms, Journey
It took every ounce of willpower he held to not rupture his eardrum with one of many soup spoons littered across the red decorated table, even as he wore a bright smile and told her the story of his prison escapades. He discreetly glanced at his watch as she continued to laugh in disbelief, and he pretended to be interested with only a few nods of the head, a few warm, charming smiles and a few well placed chuckles.
Jane almost shuddered at the expression written across her face and in her eyes; she looked as if she wanted to eat him; the repulsive thought was enough alone to make him want to push his red wine aside, leave and never come back but…he had to do this.
Hightower's asinine comment about him liking her was the whole reason he even sat at the table, in one of the most clichéd romantic spots of the city with the pseudo-psychic, Kristina Frye—for a moment there, when Hightower and himself had stood together at work and she had said you like her, he had panicked.
Yes, he did like her—she didn't know that, and he preferred it to stay that way.
Hightower's comment however, hadn't only caused Jane to wonder what the hell the woman was playing at, especially by giving him advice for his so-called love life at work, but it had also caused somewhat of a crisis between himself and Lisbon.
Lisbon had overheard the comment, and the little snide remarks following it were enough to drive what little of his sanity, he had left, far enough away.
So the only reasonable response for the sanity deprived had been to barge into her office, nearly three hours later, and ask her out. She only laughed in his face, and told him to get out. He refused to leave, and she realized, after about six hours of him in her office, humming the tune to almost every nursery rhyme, that he might actually be serious.
Not only, had CBI consultant Patrick Jane asked Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon out, but it hadn't been because of an undercover case or because of a bet, or because of a joke—it had been because he honestly liked her.
"I'll do anything to prove that this isn't just another one of my schemes, as you often put it." He had told her, and she had glanced at him, glanced at her desk, glanced up at him and then glanced out past him before she focused on him once more.
"Go on a date with Kristina Frye."
Her comment hadn't only unnerved him; it had also caused him to wonder if she were in her right mind; after-all, what woman asked the man who just asked her out, to go on a date with another woman?
He had asked her why, she shook her head in response and the next evening, Patrick Jane asked Kristina Frye out.
"Okay," he said, awkwardly while he looked around. "Excuse me; I have to go to the bathroom." He stood from his chair, threw down the napkin he was holding and found the waiter to ask him where the bathroom was—he didn't even have to look back at his date to know that she was still laughing.
He let himself into the bathroom with a soft thank you to the waiter and locked the door behind him, before he paced nervously and wetted his hands, taking care to dry them afterwards before he twisted the thin gold band around his finger—he was ready to leave this whole mess of what some would consider a date.
He threw the paper towel into the trash bin, unlocked the bathroom door and led himself back to his date.
"Kristina, um…" He paused, when suddenly, his phone rang. "Oh, so sorry." He wasn't sorry at all, but she didn't need to know that, he brought his hand into his pocket to pull out his cellphone, flip it open only to read: CBI, flash across the screen. "It's work." She didn't say anything and he held it to his ear. "Hello?"
On the other end had been Van Pelt—she beckoned him back into the office, and Jane silently thanked whomever was looking out for him.
"I've got to go, work calls." He told her, after he let Van Pelt off the line and Fyre only nodded in understanding with a soft smile across her features.
"Maybe we can do this another time?"
He didn't respond, instead, he left and placed the money for their date on the table.
OoO
When Lisbon had dragged him into her office, sat him down on the couch and sat down next to him, he panicked; the last thing he had wanted was for Lisbon to question him even further about the whole Red John situation after having just lied to her. He was surprised however when she simply stared at her white dry-erase marker board and only allowed one word to punctuate the silence around them.
"Yes."
He brought his green-blue gaze to focus on her instead of the hard wooden floor beneath his feet.
"Yes…?" He questioned, and she barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.
"Yes, as in "I'll go on a date with you"." He paused to raise his eyebrow at her and she kept her expression neutral, eyes still trained on the board. "Do you want to know why I asked you to go on a date with her?"
"No Lisbon," He sarcastically gave. "I don't want to know why you asked me to go on a date with another woman, after I asked you out…"
"Jane, I didn't realize how serious you were." Lisbon answered, as she glanced at him. "I thought that you were playing another one of your jokes."
"Why would…" He paused at her eyebrow raise and he chuckled as he moved his eyes off her. "Never mind."
"Exactly." She agreed, and the both fell into a comfortable silence.
"Lisbon?" He asked after about three minutes or so of silence, he glanced back over at her.
"Hm?"
"Why do I have a feeling that there's another reason behind this besides the matter of seriousness?" He asked her and she simply smirked.
"Because, you're paranoid."
"I'm not paranoid," he weakly defended and Lisbon nudged him with her shoulder, playfully.
"Just keep telling yourself that, Jane." She teased. "Just keep on telling yourself that."
He listened to her laugh, and he felt for just that moment—everything was going to be alright, tomorrow morning they could worry about the weight of the world on their shoulders, tomorrow morning they could worry about the effect of Red John's actions, and Frye's disappearance on the both of them.
Tonight, however, would be theirs and theirs alone without the dangers of Red John, without the worries of Kristina Frye or without the lies, which would bring them to their knees tomorrow.
"Come on," he told her softly, as he stood from the couch and she cocked her head at him in return. "You'd said you'd go on a date with me…"
"You can't expect me to drop everything for you, Jane." She seemed aspirated and he grinned. "I do have a job."
"You make me drop everything for you, Lisbon." She rolled her eyes.
"What are you even talking about? You don't do anything." She scoffed, as his grin grew wider.
"You make me drop my thinking to canvas the town for psychopaths." He told her. "I find my thinking time to be sacred."
"Jane, you find Sudoku puzzles to be sacred." She shook her head in disbelief. "You also find anything that goes against religion to be sacred."
"That's just the kind of man I am, baby." He almost regretted letting the words slip from his mouth, especially as she hit him in the leg—but the smile that spread across her lips, and lit up her green eyes made it worth every moment of the awkwardness and pain.
Lisbon glanced around, stood from the couch, stepped to her desk and grabbed her purse from her desk drawer.
"Come on then." She told him. "I don't have all night, and I'd like to get out of here before I have second thoughts."
"Oh, we both know you won't, especially after what you put me through." He joked, and she didn't bat an eye in response.
