Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist. I own nothing except for a crazy mind.
A/N: This was inspired by a mixture of songs, mainly Hurt by NIN and David Bowie. Their voices work brilliantly together. I've never tried a layout like this, so let me know if you think it works. Anyway, read, enjoy and I'd love to know what you think! (:
Her hair glimmers under the bright daylight and he smiles softly, enjoying the way she laughs at something Cho says. With her head tilted back, the sound of her laughter makes his heart flutter. It is a slight movement, and if he wasn't so alert, he wouldn't have noticed the pull he felt when he saw her.
But it still happened.
She made it happen.
She should smile more often. Her laughter was intoxicating.
Although he knows that she would laugh more if he angered her less, he doesn't let this faze him. These moments, with her having to place a delicate hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, with her eyes bright and the stress withdrawn from her face, it was these moments he would silently treasure. It was moments like this that matter the most.
He could forget about the rest for a few minutes more.
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In the quiet of his bedroom, there would be moments where he allowed himself to forget. His focus would divert from the one main focus in his life–some would say it's the only reason he still lived–and it felt like so long since he had a sane moment that he would smile.
It was all down to her.
Lisbon.
He doesn't know how she does it. Tough, hard, and yet beautiful. Though he knows she would never want him to say this.
Because that would just be weird.
And, he thinks as he stares at the wall, that would get in the way of The Plan. The reason he does what he does.
No, he must allow himself only the few fleeting moments at night where he could be alone with her without any interference.
Even if it was just in his mind, it would do.
For now at least.
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Sometimes he wondered if she had anyone to love.
Of course, there were people who loved her, he was sure of it. There were her brothers and their families who, although she didn't tell anyone, enquired about her life on a fortnightly basis. He would hear her talking to them after work hours, in the security of her office, and it was the only time she would allow the slight sadness creep into her voice.
She missed them. She was alone here.
Well, not entirely 'alone'. There was Cho, and Rigsby, and Van Pelt, and him here, whenever she needed them, to keep her sane. She had people to turn to if she needed to, but whether she would do that is another issue.
No, the moments where she would talk to her brothers, those brief conversations showed him that she missed having someone who loved her as a constant in her life.
The team cared for her, and they treated each other like a family, but she needed more than that. She needed someone to love and someone to love her back without restraints.
He wonders if he can be that.
One day, maybe.
Just not now.
His focus was still elsewhere, he would need to finish this first, but soon, hopefully, he would be able to confront his fears and accept his feelings for her. Maybe she will feel the same back.
He hopes she does.
If not, he doesn't know what he would do.
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"You're so infuriating!"
A small smile forms on his lips as he hears her mutter the phrase under her breath. She sounds so angry, and although he should be taking the situation seriously, all he can think about is how sexy she sounds. Her voice rough with emotion, her eyes burning, a faint tint of red on her delicate face – she was perfection.
Why has it taken him so long to realize?
He looks away, his thoughts overwhelming – a regular occurrence when it concerned Teresa Lisbon. The fact that she could do this to him was remarkable. For so long, he had convinced himself that he didn't need this, that he didn't want anyone. But then, he finally noticed her. She wasn't just another Agent, another woman that he could look over or ignore or use.
She was beautiful.
And she could be his.
If he allowed himself to give in.
He looks back at her, and when she rolls her eyes in frustration before turning her back on him, he wonders if she would accept him for who he really was. He wasn't sure himself, for too many years he had been one person, his one mission in life becoming all too consuming, that he didn't know how he would act without it in his life.
Would he be calmer?
Sensible?
Patient?
Would he be able to give her what she needed?
A part of him thinks he would be too broken, too incomplete, to ever give her what she deserved. There was no doubt in his mind that Lisbon deserved the best, but whether he could be the best for her…
He didn't want to think about it.
If she rejected him…
No, it just wasn't possible.
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She returns to the CBI building late at night. The emerald green dress she is wearing shimmers under the lights and he smiles to himself, he always did think green was her best color.
As he watches her move gracefully to her office, he can't help but feel a tinge of joy. It was clear that she had been dressed up for a date. An unsuccessful date.
Of course, if he really cared, he should be proud of her – he knew how hard it was for her to meet men outside of her work, and opportunities like these were rare. Going out on a date guaranteed her some brief happiness, a small escape from her job, and so he should, theoretically, be pleased for her.
She deserved to feel happy.
It was a shame that this date had obviously fallen through.
It was the part of him that loved her that cheered when he saw her disappointed face. Selfish, yes, slightly sadistic, yes, that too, but didn't this mean he had a chance now?
He could be the one to make her feel happy.
If she was still single, then surely this was his chance.
Why was he still sitting here, alone on his couch?
Soon, he thinks, as he closes his eyes and his brain conjures up images of her in that green dress.
He'll tell her soon.
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The Plan has worked.
He looks down at the limp body and feels nothing.
Surely, after all these years, after all the dead bodies that had to suffer because of him, shouldn't he feel something?
The Plan has worked and yet, he isn't happy.
He knows he should be satisfied but he isn't. However, he isn't sad either. Or regretful.
His eyes remain steady on her as she walks towards him. Despite the calm, determined, powerful face she put on, he knows she is afraid. It was as if he could smell it, see it, and he doesn't know whether he is upset over that or pleased.
Should she fear him?
No, he was different with her.
He would be different now. It was all in the past.
The Plan has worked.
She shouldn't fear him.
He would never hurt her.
Never her.
Her eyes flicker to the body that is lying behind him and his jaw tightens. He knows what is coming next but he hopes that one day she will forgive him.
This was never part of The Plan. Falling for her, falling in love…it wasn't meant to happen.
He had everything planned to the last detail. He was a meticulous worker when it came to catching him so this…He never expected to be drawn in by her confidence or her delicate features or her dry and sometimes unexpected humor. It was all new to him, and he will admit now that it had breathed a new life into him.
With her, he felt normal.
Like how he used to feel before–
"Drop your weapon."
When his eyes meet hers, he wonders if she thinks she sounds in control. She doesn't. Her voice had waivered and he heard the fear. He heard the pain and sorrow and tears. There were hints of unbridled anger, too.
He glances down at the body, the man's blond hair now matted with bright red blood.
And before he knows what he is doing, the knife slips from his cold hand and onto the concrete, the noise making Lisbon flinch.
As he sees the unshed tears glimmer in her eyes, the words burst out of him before he has a chance to think.
"I'm sorry, Teresa."
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He loves her. He wonders if she knows that.
It doesn't matter now, of course.
He has hurt too many people, taken too many chances.
There was no way she would love him now.
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She loved him.
With his curly hair and bright eyes and perfect smile.
She hated to admit it, but she loved him – even when she was supposed to hate him.
But it doesn't matter now, of course.
And that thought makes her heart cry, her soul crushed, a part of her life ruined.
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He can't watch her now. He can't love her. He can't be the one to make it right. He had his chance and he wasted it.
He wasted it on him.
On gaining the vengeance he had sought after for what felt like a lifetime. Was it worth it? He doesn't know anymore. He wasted his only chance at feeling normal, sane, human.
Looking at his hands, he wonders how he did it. How he had taken away life with these hands.
Slowly looking up, he stares at the blank wall in front of him. The contrast to his own bedroom wall strikes him and he finds himself grimacing slightly, a stab of remorse flowing through him. It was a new feeling. In the past, he hadn't cared what he did. It was all part of The Plan, there had been no room for emotions like this.
But he was a different man now, evidently.
He had feelings. He had loved someone. He had cared for them and wished they had felt the same.
He realizes now that he should have focused on Teresa, not him. If he had just gone after her, admitted to her how he felt, how he was a new man, how he was sorry for his past and how he would treat her right then maybe this would be okay. Maybe he wouldn't be here.
But it was done now. He had made his mistakes and all he could now was repent.
It was nearly oxymoronic.
Red John repenting.
And yet here he was, doing exactly that.
I hope this made sense. Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading! (: