Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist. If I, and not Bruno Heller, did, Jane and Lisbon would have run off into the sunset after season one and the show would be caput.
Author's Note: This is a companion piece to Couch Fantasy in D Minor, and I'm dedicating it to a marvelous friend of mine who has been hospitalized this week. Rosa, my dear, this one is for you.
P.S. Bonus points if you can spot the bit I got from The English Patient.
She has a fantasy.
Actually, she has lots of fantasies, but this is one her favorites. Most days it ranks slightly above wrapping her hands around Jane's throat and squeezing when starts making trouble during a case.
She allows herself a moment to indulge in that vivid scenario before moving on to the true object of her thoughts.
As far as fantasies go, this one is fairly simple.
It was rooted in a memory she had of the first time she saw Jane stop and appreciate his surroundings.
They'd been on a case in Northern California, and the trees had seemed to go up forever, while the sky pressed them back down. It wasn't often that a case took them this far out of the city, and she could feel that Jane was a bit out of his depth when he was encased by nature.
But he surprised her. Instead of adopting the air of a suspicious city slicker (an air that she, admittedly, could not seem to shake), Jane closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and lifted his face towards the sunlight piercing through the canopy.
After his brief communal, Jane appeared refreshed and full of energy, waiting to take on the world. She had seen this same behavior many times since, in different places all over California.
Jane would take a moment to remember that there was a world that existed outside of the depravities and atrocities that human beings inflicted on one another.
She envied his ability to remove himself from it all, but it also gave her hope for the future: if Jane remembered that there was a world out there, a world beyond his revenge, beyond Red John, then he might be convinced to let this thing get done the right way.
As long shots went, this was one of the longest, but she held onto that hope, and it gradually melded with her memories of Jane and his moments in the sun form one of her favorite fantasies.
They're out in one of California's many State Parks, but for once they're not here for a case.
Jane had shown up at her door well before dawn that morning in such a state of excitement that he reminded her of a bouncy puppy eager for the attention of the attention of its master.
"It's today, Lisbon, it's today! And you have to come see it with me!"
"Jane, it's barely today, and if you want to live to see tomorrow, I suggest you start talking."
He looked mildly put out for a moment, jutting his lip out into a pout before his excitement came back. "I can't tell you, Lisbon; that would definitely ruin the surprise. You're just going to have to trust that this will be worth your while."
Even though she was tempted to make a remark about not even trusting him to find his own ass with both hands and a map (he shouldn't expect kindness at this hour when he'd woken her up and not given her any coffee), she restrained herself.
Instead, resigned to whatever harebrained scheme he was cooking up, she simply asked if she had enough time for a cup of coffee before they left.
"No need, Lisbon; today I will be seeing to all of your needs! If you hurry and get dressed, the coffee in the car should still be warm."
His words had her practically flying to get her clothes on, and she was out the door in only a few minutes. She spared a second to regret not having time to put on a minimal amount of makeup, but she probably would have made a mess of it anyway, tired as she was. At least Jane had given her coffee.
She sipped on it gratefully and let it warm her to wakefulness.
"Where are we going, Jane?"
"You'll see when we get there, Lisbon. Exercise that famous patience of yours."
"Funny that around you my patience starts out at ground zero and only gets worse," she retorted.
"Now, now, dear. Drink your coffee like a good girl. You know what a beast you are without it."
She grumbled into her cup, "I'm a beast without my sleep, but you don't seem to have a problem depriving me of that."
"What I'm going to show you is worth losing a little sleep over. I promise."
"It'd damn well better be."
He'd brought he to a State Park, one that was surprisingly free of any memories involving dead bodies.
"Okay, Jane, what are we up here for?"
They were standing on some kind of ledge that rose up and out the side of a mountain.
"I brought you up here to see fire, Lisbon."
His answer alarmed her. "Fire? What fire? I don't even smell sm―"
He cut her off with a finger to her lips.
Moving his finger from her mouth, and putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her until she was facing east.
"Shh, Lisbon, just watch."
The horizon was just beginning to turn pink. She watched in silence with Jane as the dawn broke.
She felt him lean down and whisper into her ear, "Fire."
She stood there with Jane for another hour, remembering that there was a world outside of murder and broken families and Red John.
That was a good day.
It was a well-worn fantasy, one that she would fall into when the job got to be too much, when they didn't make the collar fast enough, when the evidence thin and their leads went cold.
She would take a moment for herself and imagine that perfect day with Jane.
He was her key to remembering; he is the one who, inadvertently, taught her how.
She's pretty sure that she loves him for it.