"Don't go."
The softness of his voice almost prevented her from hearing it, but the simple phrase was unmistakable when he repeated it, bowed head rising slowly, so that deep pools of stormy blue met clear green.
"Please, don't go."
Teresa Lisbon's thoughts swirled, contemplating all the things Jane could possibly mean as he stood on her doorstep, hair and clothing sopping wet from the downpour outside. It could be any number of things, there was a reasonable explanation; she was sure. And yet, when the possibility that he was here about that one certain thing crossed her mind, Lisbon couldn't help but feel her stomach plunge.
"Jane, what are you talking about?" She ushered him inside, closing the door quickly and shutting out the rain.
"I don't want-… I can't-…"
Jane swallowed, shifting his weight and choking back the truth as fear began to take over and the brave moment faded. The usually charming, silver-tongued consultant felt himself at an utter loss- an inarticulate, selfish fool. He cursed himself silently, eyes shining in frustration and self deprecation. He should have never come, he should have known better! She was happy, happy with him. Why couldn't he just let her be happy?
"Jane." Lisbon's soothing voice cut through the dark thoughts that surrounded him and brought him back to the moment. He scared her when he was like this. She very rarely saw this side of him, so… raw, so vulnerable. Lisbon gazed upon the pitiful man before her, blonde curls plastered to his head, suit jacket heavy and darkened by the extra water weight, eyes pleading, imploring. She resisted the urge to gather him up in her arms and offer comforting assurances, and scolded herself for even thinking it. Instead, Lisbon cracked a tiny smirk.
"You're dripping on my carpet." She remarked gently, in an attempt to ease the tense air in the room.
Jane looked down upon himself, brow un-furrowing and a small smile of his own growing on his lips.
"So I am."
"I'm going to get you a towel, and then we can sit with some tea and talk about whatever's going on with you, okay?" Lisbon turned to head up the stairs, and as soon as her eyes left his he felt the panic rise up to his neck like a tide, the fear and the pain coming back like old memories and suddenly he was suffocating from the knowledge that as soon as she disappeared up those stairs his nerve would leave him permanently, and this was his chance, his one chance to finally say what needed to be said and by this point it was probably already too late, this is his last chance-
"Teresa!" His hand captured hers, and she whirled to face him, somehow shockingly beautiful in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He struggled to spit out the words, praying to a God he didn't even believe in that if he just got the words out, maybe he'd be able to finally get some sleep.
"I need… I need to say it now. Or I never will. Teresa, I don't want you to go to D.C. with Pike."
Teresa's wide eyes softened and she gave his hand a tiny squeeze.
"Jane, I would still see you. I promise I'd visit whenever I could." She grinned, flashing that knee-weakening smile. "You can't get rid of me that easily."
He shook his head, still gazing up at her a couple stairs above him, their hands tightly conjoined.
"You don't understand. I don't want you to go to D.C…. with Pike."
The realization of what he was saying struck her like a cold wind through her bones.
"Oh…." She breathed out, sliding her hand out of his grasp. "Jane…"
Her apparent rejection was a bullet in his heart, but he couldn't stop, pent up emotions rolling off his tongue in run-on streams, the cup finally overflowing as he stepped up toward her.
"I can't bear the thought of not seeing you every day. I just… I want to wake up to your smile every morning, and I want your eyes to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep every night. I want to make you chicken soup when you're sick, and buy you ice cream when you're sad." His eyes began to burn with tears. He wiped them away hurriedly, hoping she hadn't seen.
She had.
He took another step closer, their bodies close enough to feel the heat of each other. His voice lowered, but retained its fiery passion.
"I want to hold you in my arms and listen to you talk about your day. I want to kiss you awake, make you pancakes every Sunday, and I want to hear your three A.M. thoughts as your head lies on the pillow next to mine." He took a deep, shuddery breath, his hand finding hers once again. "Most of all, I want you to know every second of every day that you are safe, you are loved, and you are wise."
Lisbon bit down on her lower lip, a frustrated tear spilling from her eye and cascading down her cheek as she glared at the man in front of her.
"Goddammit, Jane!" The tears kept flowing, as a shocked and confused Patrick Jane stumbled backwards. "Now? You decide to tell me this now?! Your timing is on-damn-point, you know that?"
"Teresa, I-"
"No!" She shoved him, forcing him down the last two steps. "You don't get to do this now. Not when I've just finally given up on you, not when I've finally just met a man who treats me right and appreciates me and makes sure I know that he wants to be with me!" She advanced. He retreated. After a long, furious stare into his sad, blue eyes, she let out a quiet sob, looking away.
"You're right," Jane spoke softly, only remorse and sorrow in his voice. "I'm sorry." A long pause. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her tear-tracked cheek in a chaste kiss of farewell. "I'm glad that you're happy."
Lisbon sniffled, shaking her head again. Matching his softness, she implored, almost begging.
"Why couldn't you just have come to me a couple of months ago?"
Jane's hurt boiled hot and quick from somewhere deep within him, springing to the surface in one entirely exposed moment as he clutched his left hand with his right, feeling the smooth metal of his wedding band under his fingerpads, an automatic response to the triggering question.
"Because… I'm… I was afraid…"
"Afraid of what, rejection?! You're a goddamn genius, Jane, but you wouldn't have to be to realize how long I've lo-" She paused. "How long I've had feelings for you."
"No, I was afraid for you!" The sentence was barely out before his swollen eyes finally yielded patient droplets, a flood of suppressed heartache. "I was afraid that you'd get hurt, that I would hurt you!" He broke down completely- deep, body racking sobs shuddering through his frame. Bitterly, he managed to get out, "That's what happens. Everybody that I love ends up getting hurt… because of me." Years and years of guilt surfaced as the layers of Patrick Jane were pulled back to reveal an utterly broken man, a man who Teresa Lisbon pulled into her arms, surrounding him with her warmth and love.
Murmuring comforts, she sat down on the sofa and pulled him in, resting his head on her lap as she stroked his hair and let him cry.
"It's not your fault… It's not your fault…" She repeated, drawing him closer still. She squeezed her eyes shut, some part of her really believing that if she could just concentrate hard enough, she could take his pain away.
Long after the last remnants of tears subsided, they stayed like that, the former CBI agent and her consultant, cuddling on a sofa. In the time passed, the sun had made its bow, leaving only darkness and the light of the moon.
The silence was not uncomfortable, in fact both parties were perfectly content to enjoy each other's warmth in the dimly lit living room, but eventually Jane's voice ended it.
"I love you."
Lisbon's hand froze. A second passed. Unfroze. Jane continued.
"I love you, and I've loved you for a long time."
A whisper returned the answer.
"So have I."
Jane smiled into Lisbon's thigh and sat up slowly.
"I want to be with you."
The same whisper.
"So do I."
Their lips met so gently, so lightly, like the first stroke of a paintbrush on a blank canvas. They became a tangle of skin and caresses, hair and kisses. The darkness of the room heightened each other sensation, and it seemed even the smallest of touches sent waves, ribbons, tingles of delight through both bodies. An exploration of senses, of bodies and desires permitted intimacy in its most revered state- complete, and utter unity, as minds and bodies became one.
Hours passed, and Jane did indeed hear Lisbon's innermost thoughts at three A.M. The last image his laughing eyes captured before weariness overtook them were two pools of wild, jungle green. In the morning, he kissed her awake, and was elated that her smile was the one of the first things he saw. He even made her pancakes (and was immediately rewarded with a particularly appreciative kiss). Perhaps the most wonderful thing, however, was that throughout it all, it was Jane that ended up feeling safer, more loved, and wiser than he ever had before.
"Jane, pass the syrup."
"Teresa?"
"Mm?"
"….I think maybe you can call me Patrick, now."
Author's Note: Alternative title suggestions welcome. I want it to have something to do with a color- like all of the episode titles.