So- I wrote this tag. It's pretty sad, but I am, too. It's short. It's M.
Warning for the purists among you: some readers used to complain that I make Jane cry much too often. I have to admit: I LIKE making him cry from time to time. Because he almost never cries on the show, and I think he should. So: he cries in this story. If you don't like that: don't read.
The story is entirely written from Jane's point of view, I know some don't like that, but I always find it easier to concentrate on one person's feelings, especially if I write a rather short piece. I switch the character whose point of view I'm taking from story to story, but in this case, I wanted to describe what happens inside of Jane more, so I chose him.
Okay, now to the story- I hope you like it, it's a mini tag, and a little melancholic, but- well, here it is.
Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist" and I don't make money from fan fiction.
This story is MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! REALY!
Just End the Pain (Tag for 5.18)
Getting a fresh cup of tea in the middle of the night turned out to be one of Patrick Jane's not so brilliant ideas. Because on the way to the breakfast area, he could see straight into Lisbon's office. And he didn't want to see her. Ever again.
He had actually thought about running earlier. Leaving the CBI for good, turn his back on all of this. The pressure seemed inhuman now, he was losing one witness after the other, hadn't been able to save Lorelei, was supposed to protect everyone from his evil influence. Sometimes, he felt as if he couldn't deal with any of it, nothing left but a shadow of a man who'd once been Patrick Jane, even his name sounding hollow to his own ears.
He'd once been the epitome of mental superiority. These days, he had committed every sin in the book- twice. Crowned by the biggest sin of all. Falling in love like a fool.
He hid behind a plant and watched her for a moment. The graceful sweep of her neck. The cloud of glorious dark hair around her pale face, now wild and curly. She'd had a long day, too.
He sighed under his breath. He knew he hurt her constantly, and the underlying snarl he had shown her all day didn't make anything better. But he couldn't help it- he was so, so tired. He just wanted to curl into her arms like a little boy and weep for everything he had lost, before he started to look into the new dawn that was presenting itself. In Teresa Lisbon.
Because she was still here. She loved him, despite everything he had done. And what was even worse- he loved her back.
The feeling coiled and lurched like a snake inside his guts, it wasn't a sweet rosy blossom, but deep and dangerous, colored the blackened red of desperate longing. How much he wanted, needed her.
He should go. Right now. Before even more terrible things happened.
But he walked like a zombie, pulled by an invisible string. Teresa Lisbon's tender hand, and she didn't even know what she did to him.
He could have his bag packed in twenty minutes, could be at the airport in one hour. Never see her again. His stomach clenched, tears sprang to his eyes.
His heart opened the door before his mind could stop him.
She looked up, and he immediately saw her eternal worry for him flash up inside her eyes. She was not angry, all the annoyance gone. She was the only one who could truly bear him, could hold him upright no matter the tide. He gave up a little in that moment, and the sweet love warmed him from inside, vibrating, sonorous. There were things too strong to fight.
He managed a half-smile.
"Hey- go home, Lisbon. This is not healthy. You have a warm bed waiting for you. Use it, for god's sake."
They stared at each other for a second, she swallowed drily, and he could see the myriad of emotions inside her eyes. Chasing each other, making her gaze burn. Damn, he wanted to hug her so bad. He'd been an ass all day. How could she still love him?
He sat down on her couch, insecure, not really knowing what to do with his hands. He was anxious and fidgety. And he absolutely hated how calm he became all of a sudden when she walked over and sat down next to him.
He sensed the urge to touch him in her, bright like a flame, but she wrung her hands to stop herself from reaching out. When he just couldn't bear it any longer, he grabbed her hand with a sigh, pulling it into his lap, with the impatient briskness of an annoyed parent. He gripped her much too hard, wanted to punish her a little. For making him feel all these unwelcome things.
He refused to look at her, stared at the floor, allowing his gloominess to show for a change. No smile, no charm, he was on edge, dammit, she could well deal with it. She was part of the reason, a big part, dammit. LOVE. He needed it like a second head, so why was his heart crying for her, unnerved by her delicious closeness, he could almost feel her warmth seep into his clothes. She smelt like a mixture of cinnamon and roses, he could barely stop his eyes from fluttering shut in sheer bliss. Tears bubbled up in his throat. No. NO.
"I believe you." She whispered.
"What?"
She was unearthly beautiful. Like a figment of his soul, a dream come true. She looked like an angel, the shadows playing over her face.
"I won't trust him. I believe you."
A dam broke inside him, and he felt the stupid tears pouring over his face. He made it a steely mask. He wouldn't break down. Ever.
"He killed Lennon, I'm sure of it. I don't know his agenda yet, but it's not good."
I want you far away from him. I always wanted you far away from him.
She shrugged gently.
"I believe you."
Jane frowned.
"You liked him."
"I did."
He looked down again. Tears were dripping onto the floor, although he felt almost calm, it was alright, he could do that. Her hand twitched inside his grip, he held her tighter.
Her whisper was like the sound of music, almost a symphony.
"But it's you I love."
It was over so fast he couldn't even gasp. His mask crumpled, and before he could stop it, could restore what he had practiced to maintain all his life, he was sobbing like a child. More tears splashed onto the floor, and he hardly noticed how she wrenched her hand free and wrapped her arms around him, her warm lips close to his neck, holding him through the worst of his heaves. She murmured soothing words he couldn't understand, and he held onto them as if they were little anchors, a language he hardly knew after all this years, but his heart answered. Still knowing the sound like a faint memory.
He'd never felt how much he meant to her as much as he did now, her body vibrating against his, wrapping around him like a tiny blanket, shielding him from the cold and all the pain he had surrounded himself with.
It took him quite a while to compose himself, it was embarrassing, but when he had managed to stop crying, angrily wiping at the tears to dry his face, he found that he couldn't let her go. As soon as he felt her arms slide from his back, he turned and grabbed her, all of her, pulled her tiny frame onto his lap and clutched her so tight he was afraid he would knock the air from her lungs.
His cock grew hard against her thigh, oh my god, no, he was pulled in deeper and deeper, the mess so big he would never get out of it.
He felt her skin under his lips, so soft he shuddered, sweet and warm, and he descended upon it like a hungry vampire, gently digging his teeth into her neck, sucking her flesh into his mouth. Marking her. She shivered violently, but didn't move an iota, so he blindly groped for her breasts, realizing he wasn't particularly gentle with her. But she arched into his hand, her flesh firm and full, filling his palm as if it belonged there.
He released her neck from his love bite, and when she raised her head, their eyes met.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her. But he was too scared. He was close to the point of no return, but if he gently shoved her off his lap now, got up and left, maybe he could save them both. He would get rid of this darn erection via biofeedback, never to think about it again. He grabbed the front of her blouse and ripped it apart, her stubborn, functional bra irritating him beyond words, he tore the blouse into a thousand pieces just to get to the fastening of the damn thing, her fingernails on his back, scratching him, groping, trying to dig through his clothes, it drove him insane. He knew his stare was that of a starving lion, he couldn't wrench it from her lips, and she was looking at his intently, but he couldn't kiss her, never could he…
He shoved his tongue into her mouth so deep she should have gagged, but she didn't, gave back with equal ardor, fighting him, every suck, every lick detonating inside his veins like TNT. She tasted like the rich sweetness of sugared cream, melting on his tongue, her lips quivering against his.
Damn clothes! He pulled at them, his, hers, stopping now and then to touch her breasts, kneading them with his greedy hands, sucking her pleasure in like a potion. She groaned with delight, seeking his lips again and again, and he was helpless to deny her, impatiently ripping what clothes he could, pulling off the rest, mentally cursing every single garment. He couldn't wait, shudders of longing running up and down his spine.
He wanted to slow down, but he'd never been as hungry in his whole life, his whole body clenching in want.
When they both were naked after what seemed like hours to him, he could think of nothing but her wet sex, filled by his rock-hard length, now throbbing against her thigh. Her skin was smooth and warm against his, her tiny hands touching him everywhere, finding spots where a small brush of fingertips could make him scream.
He'd always thought sex between them would be awkward at first, but there was not a trace of hesitation inside him now, as if everything just happened, an ocean of pleasure he simply drowned in, every touch a note in the unavoidable cadence of their song.
"Save me," he whispered into her ear," shield me from the world, from myself, Lisbon, please."
She turned her head and caught his lips in a kiss, and in this moment, all the pain seemed to evaporate, his stomach filling with the warm mixture of love and need, his eyes closing in bliss when her warm mouth worked its magic. He kissed her wetly, passionately, scared of nothing for a change, the notion of a strange freedom rising inside his throat, constricting his chest with joy. His senses ignited, setting fire to every cell in his body, and he'd never, ever been as hard before.
He could never leave her, never let her go. They were in this together, for better or worse.
He pushed her off his lap, twisting her body so that she came to lie on her back, her head hitting the couch's armrest. He inhaled sharply, her pale skin almost glowed in the dark, her huge eyes fastened on his face, her lips swollen and cherry-red. He just breathed for a second, knowing his decision was enormous. As if his heart was thawing out after all these years, it hurt, it made him vulnerable and scared, and it felt so good. He was becoming hers tonight. Which meant he would never again be on his own time. Intertwining their fates. With a touch. A kiss. He hesitated, while arousal lashed through his system, lapping at his insides with its fiery tongue. He wanted her, but this was bigger than both of them.
Her silence won him over, made him take the final step, because this was her, not her annoyance or her exasperation. Her kindness, free of judgment, not rushing him, but taking him just like he was. She looked at him, and he knew she realized what was about to happen. The marriage of two minds. She would accept his decision, even if he pulled back now.
He grinned sheepishly.
"I never planned for this to happen."
She smiled back.
"I did. A million times in my head at night, when I was half asleep, too tired to get my guard up. And I lied to myself about it. A million times."
His body roared to life at that, as if listening to an irresistible call. His woman needed him, wanted him, and his decision was made.
He covered her body with his, silken skin caressing him all over. She spread her legs for him and he felt her wetness against his raging hard-on, rich and hot, and he was lost. He reached down and pushed his fingers through her softness, her flesh swollen, ready for him. She was as tight as a fist, and he enjoyed the softly sucking pull on his fingers, his cock pulsating insistently, demanding to be put where it belonged. But when he placed the tip of his erection against her rosy entrance, the dimensions seemed mismatched, and he hesitated for a moment.
He almost got a stroke when Lisbon wrapped her fingers around his length and showed him unmistakably where she wanted him. She wanted him, and it was all he needed to know. He sank down and kissed her, thus pushing the first few inches into her narrow sheath.
It felt like a surge of heat in every cell of his body, the nerves sizzling under the touch of sheer fire, and he was shuddering from the mind-blowing sensations in no time. Lisbon moaned into his mouth, her lips wildly groping for his, her little tongue so warm and sweet, caressing him insistently while she put both hands on his back to urge him deeper.
He moaned in defeat and entered her in one single, sinfully deep thrust.
She took him so deep he gasped along with her, her delicious heat catapulting him into overload. He lost it when she loosely put her hand around his throat, establishing a superiority that aroused him to no end. His body did what it wanted, and only seconds later he was pounding into her at full speed, fighting the resistance of her small body with ruthless force. She arched her spine beneath him, her hands sliding down his chest, wrapping around his arms, and he felt so strong, larger than life, intent on making her scream.
It felt so good that she touched him roughly, showed him how much she wanted this, wanted him to take her hard, pressing her hips against his although it was impossible for her to meet his rapid, forceful thrusts. Her whole small frame bounced under his frantic movements, but he couldn't slow down, the sweat running over his skin in rivulets, his body working like a machine while the release already sizzled inside his balls.
Lisbon cried out in pleasure and it directly translated into his system, as if they were melting into a single being through the force of their ecstasy, he leaned down to breathe into her mouth, still pumping into her like a madman, his cock feeling raw from all the friction, so close to spewing it hurt.
He swallowed her cries greedily, as if only her approval established his worth, her hands the only thing strong enough to hold him. He loved how she grabbed him, as hard as she could, her fingers digging into his flesh, heightening lust and desire until he screamed with it, filling her mouth with cries of pleasure.
His thrusts were bruising, punishing, but he couldn't stop, something monstrous unleashed inside of him, spurred on by her need, her sheer want, fueled by the love shimmering in her huge eyes, pools of sweetness, commitment, speaking all the promises he could wish for.
His whole body tightened in near-orgasm, he was covered in sweat and tears, lacking the power to fight it. He felt her burn out of control in his arms, and when she came so hard he could feel her contract around his length he surrendered, his screams mingling with hers when he spilled his seed inside of her in large, consuming heaves. He ejaculated copiously, filling her to the brim, the erratic movements of his hips spreading the balmy liquid everywhere.
He all but collapsed when he came down, Lisbon's aftershocks rippling around his cock, he felt how hard he still was, and knew he had to have her again this night. He felt feverish, starved for skin on skin contact, and wrapped her in an embrace that almost had to crush her tiny frame. But she just snuggled into his arms, her lips gently brushing his collarbone.
After what felt like hours he could breathe again, releasing her reluctantly, sliding out of her eventually. They stared at each other, until he bowed down and stole another kiss, soft and gentle, just a sweet playing of lips and tongues. The slight smacking noises they made whenever they parted for a second made him harder and harder, until he forced himself to pull away.
He looked around him with a sigh.
"I'm afraid I ripped most of our clothes."
She chuckled sweetly.
"Don't worry. I have a new set in my desk, and I can get you something fresh from the attic once I'm dressed. "
It was silent while she put on the her clothes, and Jane couldn't help looking, his eyes wandering lovingly over her graceful body, he felt dangerously in love now. But it was a risk to be as close to him as she was, a terrible risk, which was why he always had avoided feeling too much.
And even now, sitting on her couch watching her, the need to touch her was almost inhuman. His hands twitched. He buried them in his lap.
While she went to fetch his clothes, he tried to regroup, unable to move. So he loved her. Loved her so, so much. But dammit, he owed it to her to act cold and unavailable, to fool Red John into thinking that she wasn't what she had been for so long: his lifeline. The one thing separating him from an ugly death. His Lisbon. The one precious chance he'd always thought he didn't have.
When Lisbon returned, he felt nauseous with pain. Everything hurt, he always had lied to himself about his feelings because of this, it made him ache and suffer and he couldn't afford it. He dressed in silence, trying not to look at her at all, but he couldn't. How perfect she was. Raw, emotional, slightly disheveled. His loving goddess, mistress of his lonely heart.
"Will you come home with me?" she whispered.
More pain, like cramps in his heart.
"I shouldn't, Lisbon."
She looked down, and he knew it would be like this again and again, him hurting her, causing more and more pain to the one he loved most. Red John's legacy, the curse he had spelt upon him. Killing him was the only way out.
But then she looked at him and rolled her eyes.
"Who do you think you can fool, Jane? He knows who I am. Maybe he knew before we did. So you want us to be miserable because of him? I bet he would like that, whoever he is. Why don't you trust me, Jane? I'm not a damsel in distress."
"He's killed everything I loved Lisbon! My family, my anchor. I never thought I would feel like this again, but…"
He stopped, tears blocking his throat. Dammit, he was becoming an awful crybaby these days.
Lisbon sighed softly, and he could hardly bear the misery in her eyes.
She walked over and pressed a kiss to his lips, just a small one, soft and tender like a summer's breeze.
"Never mind. At least promise me you'll get some sleep, okay? It's cold outside, Patrick. Take care of yourself if you won't let me do it. I love you."
She kissed him again, lingering just a little longer, before she finally turned and started to walk away.
His whole body seemed to throb in agony, and he knew he would never sleep without her, never again, knew that they would both spend the night in a twist of thoughts and suffering, unable to find peace without their other half.
This was hell. And deep down he knew she was right: he was protecting no one. Instead, he made it worse, allowing Red John to take everything from him, his whole existence, everything that could give him a little rest in this mad chase he called a life.
Red John was somewhere laughing about him, watching him throw away the love of the only person who meant something to him. Who might be able to save him.
"Teresa!" he cried out before he could stop it.
She turned and looked at him, and he saw that she had been quietly crying. In this moment, everything fell into place.
"I love you." He whispered breathlessly. "Will we take your car or mine? Or both, if you want to be sure the team doesn't find out ."
She smiled.
"Yours," she said, "I don't care who finds out."
He walked up to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her with him.
He couldn't wait to get home.
THE END
It's a little sad, but the episode made me a little sad, too. I know that Jane isn't yet ready to acknowledge that sacrificing his life is not what will stop Red John, but a woman can dream.
What I want from the next episodes: more WARMTH, and more touching between and Lisbon. I'm so greedy for them touching that whenever a gif of the hand-holding scene from 4x24 shows up on my tumblr, I'm unable to look away for minutes. I SO WANT THEM TO TOUCH!
What I also like to repeat: Lisbon's everlasting willingness to put up with Jane's shit is by no way a weakness for me- in fact, her love for him is the one thing that might be able to pull him off his fateful path in the end. Everybody else would have given up on him by now- Lisbon hasn't. It's the key to her eventual success: the ability to love him despite his massive flaws and the obsession with Red John. And that makes me love her so, so much…
See you soon, sweeties! And thank you so much for your ongoing support!