Author's Note:
Dedicated to Lothiriel84.
Patrick Jane knows what loss of control feels like. He knows what it tastes like. He knows what it smells like. Patrick Jane knows all of this intimately.
Lorelei Martins was dead. Hardly surprising that Red John would command her death the same way he commanded her life. And so they were down yet another possibility for putting a stop to his infernal chess game with Jane's life.
The look on his face as he left the CBI headquarters reminded her far too much of the way it looked when Wainwright fired him, and they parted at the elevator doors. That night she went to his motel room, but he was already gone. This time, she did not wait; she followed him immediately.
He met her at the door, saying, "Lisbon, come to make sure I don't fly the coop? Have a drink," he said. He held a bottle of Stoli out to her.
The venom in his voice, the sneer on his face, they seemed cold, impersonal. She knew him too well to let this rattle her.
"No thanks. I came to see if you need help packing," she said.
"Liar."
"And you are being a jerk again, but I'm trying not to hold it against you."
"Oh please, Teresa, hold something against me."
"You aren't looking for a replacement lover already. Are you just trying to scare me off? Or do you want to fight? I'll give you what you need if you tell me honestly."
"No one can give me what I need. No one except Red John, and he can only do that by dying."
"Jane, some day you are going to regret living for death." Lisbon turned away and walked through the door without a further word. There simply was nothing more to say. She wanted to help him, but he had to want more than to kill the killer before she could offer him much.
Astonished by her abrupt departure from his motel room, Jane followed Lisbon home with neither her approval nor her awareness. His anger already whipped into a frenzy, she had redirected it from Red John to herself. She had only a couple minutes' start on him, and he made it up by furious driving. As much as he was on her mind, when he grabbed the door before she could close it, there was only a moment of cognitive dissonance when she saw his face. Lisbon stepped back to allow Jane into her apartment without resisting his intrusion.
"Tell me you did not drive all this way just to get the last word," she said.
He reached around her to shut the door. Checking that it was locked, he said, "Can we have one night?"
"What?"
"One night. Tonight. Now. Can we do this?"
"Jane, what are you saying?"
He framed her face with his hands, brushing his lips against hers once, twice, then he caressed her ears with his thumbs and rested his forehead against hers. "I did not drive all this way just to get the last word. I drove all this way to spend the night with you."
He kissed her again. "You have to know by now this is more than just vengeance for me. As much as I want to lay my ghosts to rest, I have to know you are going to be safe from him. There is only one way to guarantee that. He has to die. It's gone too far. He knows how much you mean to me. I'm not living for death - I'm living for you. And the hell of it is that even when I do catch and kill him, there is no guarantee that there will be anything left for you."
He took a breath and continued, "So, one night for us. Maybe it will give us the strength to make through the rest of this. Maybe it will just make it harder, I don't know."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Jane."
"I want you to call me Patrick. I know it isn't a good idea. But I am sick of waiting. I need you, Teresa. And I want to show you there is more to this than vengeance, hate and death."
"Jane - "
"No! Call me Patrick!"
"Jane."
He dropped his hands and stepped back. "You're really going to push me away?"
"Jane, I can't - " the words stopped in her throat.
"Lisbon, why not?"
"I can't push you away. You know why not."
"I see. But you won't hold me, either."
She looked away from him.
"You're afraid," he said.
"You aren't asking for a simple one night stand. You're asking for everything all at once."
"I know trusting me hasn't been easy for you. But you do. And this is going to be courtship, consummation, and dissolution all in one night. I know I have already hurt you. And I won't make false promises about never hurting you again. But I want to love you, I want to give you the best that I have. Trust me with this, please? Let me love you once."
She chose trust. She chose him. For the first time, she reached out to him, her hand sliding behind his neck to bring them closer together. "Okay," she breathed. And they kissed their way up to her bedroom.
In the morning, when he woke, Patrick Jane knew what loss of control feels like. He knew what it tastes like. He knew what it smells like.
Patrick Jane knew all of this intimately. It feels like Teresa Lisbon's skin, silky and warm and moving against his. It tastes like coffee and likw the vodka he offered her when she came into his apartment. It smells like the apricot body wash she used that morning mixed with his own sweat and the tang of sex.