Two Hours

by funnygirlOoObroadwaybaby

written for TropicalStormEmily, whom I've had the pleasure of talking to for the past few days! I think I've found a writing buddy! Check out her stories too, they're phenomenal. (And she gave me this prompt! And she edited this for me!)

Disclaimer- nope! I do not and will not ever own the characters or anything else that makes up The Mentalist. Ever.

Two hours. He had two hours left to stop his best friend from making the worst mistake of her life.

No, not 'best friend.' They were something more than that. Something much deeper. So deep that you couldn't possibly put a title on it adequate enough to truly define what they had. She had saved him from the darkness that was himself. Pulled him back to life. And he knew that deep down, she felt the same of him. They were both so damaged that it took having the other to make them see clearly. For that reason, they were perfect for each other.

He loved her. He always had. But it started as a different kind of love. A brotherly love that grew as they learned more and more about each other.

The one night they had spent together had meant so much more to him than she knew. But the next morning all she had said was how much of a mistake they had made, that they never should have done it, and that they were never to speak of the event to anyone. It broke his heart to see how much she regretted it. He couldn't get the soft feel of her skin or the faint smell of cinnamon she always wore out of his head, and he was so focused on those memories that he didn't notice her leave his motel room until the door slammed behind her.

After everything they had been through, nothing could lessen his love for his pocket rocket, dynamite, heavily armed, cute as a button, Agent Teresa Lisbon.

But in two hours, Lisbon was to become Mrs. Walter Mashburn.

oOo

He watched the hustle and bustle of people passing in front of him, in to the altar, out to the garden, and in the back of the church to where Lisbon, Mashburn and the rest of the people in the wedding were getting ready. Jane took another sip of his champagne while listening in on a conversation between the wedding planner and a delivery man for the florist.

"The bride wants red roses, where are the red roses? These are yellow! She's going to be very upset-" the woman scolded the man who was probably at least twice her size.

'Poppycock.' Jane thought, 'Lisbon would never get upset over such a girly thing.' He doubted she would even mind in the least.

"I can't deal with this right now, I need to go find the ring bearer and make sure he hasn't swallowed the real rings, it was bad enough with the rehearsal ones..." she thought aloud.

Jane remembered how frantic everything had become at the rehearsal dinner after the young boy had swallowed Lisbon's rehearsal ring. Only Mashburn would have real gold wedding bands set aside just for the rehearsal dinner. Jane doubted any of this was actually what Lisbon wanted. He never took her for someone who liked to make a big deal of herself. Jane shook his head at the thought that he knew Lisbon better than Mashburn did, but Mashburn was the one that got to take her home that night.

The wedding planner was still listing off things she needed to take care of to the obviously frightened delivery man when Jane rose from his bar stool and interrupted.

"Excuse me. I heard your predicament, and I would like to offer my services. I am a good friend of the bride and I would be happy to go talk to her about the flower problem for you. I'm sure I can help her work something out."

"And you are?" the petite blonde looked up at him and took his offered hand.

"Patrick Jane, CBI Consultant."

"Well Mr. Jane, it would be very appreciated," she pointed down a long hallway, "she's at the end of this hallway here, last door on the right."

As Jane walked down the tight hallway, he heard small snippets of conversations as he passed each door.

"I tell you right now, if you don't quit complaining you can sit in the car until the ceremony is over, do you hear me?" a mother scolded what Jane assumed was her bored teenager.

"Ugh! I look so fat. Completely disgusting!" he heard from the room holding the bridesmaids, and then the others began comforting her and insisting she didn't look bad at all.

None of the conversations held any interest for Patrick, until he came upon the room holding the groomsmen.

"Can't believe Walter's actually settling down." one said.

"And settling in every sense of the word."

"Exactly, what is up with that Teresa? She's definitely not in her prime anymore. And she's a little spit fire, don't you think?"

"I don't see what he sees in her. She's not even close to what I ever pictured him with."

"I always pictured him with someone in her 20's, not her 50's." The men laughed. Jane had to resist the urge to burst in there and pound every one of them. He couldn't believe the way they were talking about her. Teresa was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen; he just tried to convince himself that these men were just pigs who didn't want to waste their time on anyone over the age of 21, which was disgusting in itself.

"I wonder how she roped him down."

"I bet she's got something bad on him. Blackmail you know?"

"I bet she's a gold digger," a new voice appeared, "in it just for the money."

"Or the sex."

"I bet she's pregnant." and that caused a new round of laughter. "You've seen her right? I wouldn't doubt it..."

"Can you just imagine Mashburn, a father?" one of them spoke between the laughter, "I bet if she was pregnant, he wouldn't marry her, he'd get the hell out of there."

"Can't wait to see what happens if he ever does knock her up."

Jane couldn't stand it anymore. He moved from his place next to the door and took off down the hallway, opening the door the second he reached it.

"Jesus, learn to knock!" Lisbon exclaimed, turning to face her intruder. "Jane?"

"Hi Lisbon." she looked beautiful. The simple wedding dress highlighted every curve of her petite body and the creme colour was a breathtaking contrast with her dark brown hair. Jane forgot his excuse for coming to see her the second he laid his eyes upon her. The only thing he was there to tell her was how big of a mistake she was making.

"What are you doing back here?" her arm ever-so-slightly crept its way up to the cleavage shown by her low cut dress, covering as much as she could, and resting her hand at the base of her neck.

"Don't do this." Nothing else was running through his mind. He needed to convince her not to go through with the marriage. He needed to convince her to leave with him. He needed to convince her that they could be happy, much happier than she'd ever be with Mashburn. He needed to convince her to be his.

"Don't do what?" he could tell she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she turned and faced the mirror again, fixing her hair and smoothing the fabric of the dress over her stomach and down her hips.

"Don't marry Mashburn." he pleaded, stepping towards her and turning her to face him, "He's not good enough for you. You deserve better."

She laughed nervously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

"Jane don't be ridiculous, of course I'm going to marry him." She pulled away, but he refused to let go, "Jane let go of my arm."

"No, not until you promise me you won't walk down that aisle."

"I can't promise you that."

She turned, pulling her arm from his grasp and walking back to the mirror, examining her make-up closer.

"Lisbon, I love you," he blurted, and watched the reaction play out on her face. Her eyes widened, but then she quickly pulled her face back to her straight, no nonsense expression.

"Jane, no." she acted as if she hadn't heard his confession.

"I love you."

"Jane don't say that." Her eyes teared and she spun to face him. "You don't mean it."

"Yes I do, of course I do. I've always loved you and I can't watch you marry Mashburn." He met her in the middle of the room.

"Then don't. You don't need to be here."

It was like a blow to the stomach. She was set on marrying Mashburn, but Jane wasn't one to give up.

"You should have heard what the groomsmen were saying about you, and about Mashburn. They know him better than anybody, and they were talking about how you are nothing like what they pictured Mashburn with. That has to tell you something."

"Jane," she tried to interrupt him, but he stopped her.

"And I know you want kids. I know you want them someday. Do you think Mashburn feels the same way? His friends swear he'll leave you the second that stick turns blue."

"Jane!" she attempted again, but he wouldn't have any of it.

"No! He doesn't love you Teresa! I can see right through it! He doesn't love you like I do! Please!" His eyes glossed over as he begged. "Please don't do it."

And right then he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. She may not have meant to, but Lisbon instantly lost herself as their passionate kiss took control of their conversation. He let his hands run down her back and hers pulled up to his hair. But realization hit Lisbon like a brick in the face, and she pulled back.

"No Jane!" the tears were running down her cheeks now, she couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Lisbon-Teresa." he grabbed her arms again, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "Please."

She took a moment, her eyes searching his. He could tell she loved him. He could see it in her face, in the way she held him. But he could also see the regret. From the kiss. From their night together those years ago. From her feelings about him. Feelings she didn't want to have.

"I can't Jane."

He couldn't stop his tears from escaping, and she wiped them away with her thumb.

"I'm sorry Jane."

She was gone. There was no way he could get her back. In about an hour she was to become Mrs. Teresa Mashburn, lost to him forever. He knew he couldn't stay in Sacramento if... but would they stay in Sacramento? Mashburn had places all over the world, who was to say that he wouldn't take her away? Take her away from her friends, from Jane. He couldn't stand the thought.

But if she wasn't going to go with him, he needed one last kiss. He would give her one last opportunity to come to her senses and leave Mashburn. Jane placed his hands on the back of her head, tilting her head up to meet her lips with his.

He put everything into that kiss. Their past. The present. Their possible future. All his emotions. Everything. Everything he wanted to leave her with.

But when they parted, and he looked into her eyes, he knew nothing had changed. He knew she was still going to marry that bastard. Give up their perfect life for someone who could never care as much for her as he did.

And he left. He left without another word, leaving her frozen in the middle of the dressing room. Black mascara stains ran down her cheeks, but she didn't care. She stood, thinking about how right Jane had been. She did love him. She loved him with everything she had. But Mashburn was a good man, and she loved him too. But it was a different kind of love. A love that didn't reach the same depth as her love for Jane. And she knew she and Jane could be so happy together, and she had always wanted it. Always.

But there was one thing he was wrong about.

Mashburn didn't run off when the stick turned blue.