The Hoppin' Frogs Chapter 1, a mentalist fanfic

This is one of the approximately 10 000 000 ways I've come up with in my head about how to finally get Jane and Lisbon together. It contains spoilers for episodes 6.17 to 6.19, I presume. So if you don't want to be spoilt - stop here. This one-shot was inspired by some discussion on Tumblr in the wake of the episode Violets and it can be read as some sort of tag if you want.

I'm not a native speaker, this is un-betaed and was written in the space of only a few hours. So please forgive me for any mistakes you might find.

Disclaimer: If The Mentalist belonged to me - I'd not be here on fanfic net coming up with ways to finally get our beloved leads together. I would have made it happen in canon ages ago! ... so no, not mine... and neither are the other works mentioned/quoted in this story.

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The Hoppin' Frogs

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Their shared lunch hour on Friday was nearly over when Marcus asked, "Do you wanna go out tomorrow, Teresa? I know, you said you need some time alone to think over that job offer in DC and everything, but it's been a while since we've been out on a real date."

Lisbon cast a tentative smile at her boyfriend of three months and replied, "Okay. But I really need that alone time on Sunday, Marcus. Do you have anything specific in mind for our date? You have that look, you know…?"

"What look? I think you've spent entirely too much time with Jane if you're already figuring out all of my expressions."

She chuckled only half-heartedly. She never liked it when Marcus mentioned Jane. "Well, sorry, but your game face is not exactly worthy of a poker champion. So where do you wanna go tomorrow night?"

He grinned. "Have you heard of Miss Sippi? It's a very popular jazz club in town."

"Yes, I have heard about it from someone. Can't remember who. I've never been there though. But you don't like that kind of music, Marcus."

He sent his warmest smile in her direction. "But I know that you love it, honey. And you remember my friend Tony?"

She nodded. "That's the guy with the garage, right?"

"Yes. He and especially his wife Melly love jazz. And he told me that there's this one band playing every other Saturday. Apparently they are the new stars of the scene in Austin. Everybody goes there when they play. I thought we could check it out tomorrow. What do you say?"

"Sounds great! It's been ages since I heard good live jazz. Can't wait! Thanks for being so thoughtful, Marcus. I hope it won't be too dreadful for you."

He smiled warmly again. "It could never be as long as you're there with me."

As usual his open admiration and obvious affection filled her both with happiness and with unease.

The next evening Marcus came by Lisbon's cozy little townhouse. He complimented her comfy but still stylish outfit and led her to his car – a sensible station wagon. Sensible because Marcus played goalie on the FBI hockey team and needed a lot of gear.

They made their way mid town and ended up standing in a long queue outside a homey looking club. The name Miss Sippi in blue neon letters adorned the front above the entrance, the silhouette of a saxophone player in the same color framed the door on the left side.

Lisbon was astonished at the big crowd waiting to get inside. It took nearly half an hour for them to make it in and she had the strong impression that if the doorman hadn't taken a shine to her, they might not have managed at all. Right after they'd entered, he'd declared the night to be sold out. Upon seeing all the people inside, she would have rather called it chock-full.

With the help of their elbows they made it over to the bar and got a couple of beers. A dark skinned, chubby lady in her fifties was playing the piano and singing blues songs, but they realized immediately that this was only the warming up for the main attraction of the evening. There was no chance for them to get a table, so they decided to find a relatively roomy spot to stand which still gave them a mostly unobstructed view of the stage. Marcus stood behind her with her back pressed against his chest. He had one arm around her waist, the other held his beer bottle.

"Never knew that so many people are into jazz," he shouted into her ear in order to be heard over the cacophony of music and voices filling the club. The interior was made of dark wood and mostly lit by candles. It was a very snug, inviting place that made one want to stay. Even Pike couldn't deny the lure of the atmosphere. "It's really a nice location."

"I'm surprised myself," she shouted back. "Usually these clubs aren't all that packed. But it's an incredible place. I already love it."

Half an hour later the lady who'd played the piano got up and grabbed a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming. For those who're here for the first time, I'm Mathilda and this is my club." Roaring applause answered her. She smiled a big, open mouthed smile, revealing perfectly white teeth. "Ah, thanks. You're a great crowd tonight, I can see it. Anyway, we all know why you're here and that's not to hear me talk. So let me introduce the main act of the evening. Please give a warm welcome to our special house band. Ladies and Gentlemen, here for your entertainment tonight The Hoppin' Frogs!"

The place erupted in ear-splitting clapping, trampling, whistling and cheering while the band consisting of six men took their places on stage.

Lisbon did a double take, then another one, and then her eyes almost fell out of their sockets: amongst the five dark heads of the Afro-American band members the familiar golden curls of the sixth musician stuck out like a halo in the night. Clad in perfect fitting blue jeans and a dark grey-blue shirt, hair looking fluffy and shiny, a true smile on his lips and a bass guitar lazily hanging from his shoulders Patrick Jane was standing at the back of the stage looking for all the world like the dream image of a rock star.

"The bassist looks a bit like Jane," Marcus blurted out cheerfully.

Lisbon took a big mouthful of beer, swallowed heavily and tried desperately to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "That IS Jane," she croaked.

"What?" Marcus exclaimed surprised. "I thought you said he never does anything but sulking around at the office after hours. You never mentioned that he's playing in a band."

"I didn't know," Lisbon admitted, a deep sense of shame settling in her stomach.

"Wow, okay," Pike replied a bit uncertainly.

They had to stop their talking at that point because the band had started to play and it became immediately clear to Lisbon why The Hoppin' Frogs were so popular: they were breath-taking. She had seen her share of jazz combos, had been an avid guest at many clubs in the San Fran Bay Area during her time there and also later when she'd already been living in Sacramento.

She had come to love jazz ever since starting to play the clarinet in High School and the sax at college – a natural progression considering that both instruments had a very similar key work. The soulful music had been a great comfort to her during hard times in her life. Her love for jazz had drawn her more and more to the sax and she'd dabbled into a bit of jamming with some friends too back in college.

What she heard at Miss Sippi tonight however was some of the best jazz she'd ever encountered. Not so much due to the individual quality of the musicians – they were all clearly amateurs – but because they were so incredibly good together. Sparks seemed to be flying amongst their instruments – a piano, a trumpet, a sax, a guitar, a bass, a drum set, and vocals – igniting the whole club in a matter of minutes. People couldn't stop their bodies from moving to the rhythm of the music and from losing themselves in the beautiful soundscape. The Hoppin' Frogs were perfectly in synch with each other, so much so that even their improvisations seemed to originate from one mind.

But Lisbon wasn't only enchanted by the music. What truly overwhelmed her was the sight of Jane playing the bass – sometimes an electric one, sometimes the acoustic version – looking perfectly happy and content, eyes shining, mouth smiling, expression open and unguarded, lost in the songs they were playing. She could only remember him being so happy once before: when they'd seen each other again for the first time after his two years on the lam.

The band concluded the first part of their set after about an hour with the blues song 'Kansas City', which nearly made the already emotional Lisbon shed some tears at the memory of a shared moment with her consultant that suddenly seemed half a lifetime away and yet so close. The words 'God, how I've missed him, missed this,' flashed through her head.

"Grab a drink, use the john, but don't leave yet! The Hoppin' Frogs will be back with you in thirty minutes," the lead vocalist who also played the guitar announced after the song was finished.

Lisbon excused herself to the toilet. She needed a moment to compose herself. Five minutes and some cold water to her face later she felt strong enough to face Marcus. Her way back brought her close to the bar where none other than Patrick Jane was leaning, sipping at a bottle of beer and chatting with the barkeeper. She tried to get past him without him noticing.

Patrick Jane was as at peace with the world as he could possibly get these days (which wasn't saying that much). Once again he congratulated himself on joining The Hoppin' Frogs all those months ago – against all odds, because they had certainly not had a blond, white guy in mind when they'd hung up their search note for a jazz bassist. Making music with his newfound friends once or twice a week was the highlight of his life. The rest of it was deteriorating before his eyes, but these hours of bliss made it all at least bearable.

Now standing at the bar during the break (and fighting off the female attention he got in spades) that strange feeling he'd had in his stomach all night suddenly grew tenfold in strength. Then a whiff of cinnamon reached his nose and he knew: Lisbon was here.

He felt his heart constricting with both pain and happiness at the same time and without conscious control he turned around in the direction the smell had come from. Lisbon stood before him rooted to the spot with the look of a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hi Lisbon. Fancy meeting you here," he said, trying and completely failing to sound nonchalant. "You come here often?"

She stared at him as if she'd seen a ghost. "I… ah," she stammered helplessly.

He smiled at her and made a come hither gesture with his pointer finger. She took a step closer to him because with the noise level the only way to have a conversation was to stand very close. "May I buy you a drink, Lisbon? You look like you need one," he asked, eyes warm and inviting. Her heart missed several beats and she could only manage a nod. "Beer or something a bit stronger?" he inquired with a wink that made her knees go weak.

'Good god help me! That guy looks and smells absolutely heavenly tonight. This is bad,' she thought. Taking a deep, calming breath and scolding herself for behaving like an idiot, she finally regained her footing enough to answer. "Beer's fine, thanks."

He handed her the cold, fogged bottle, touching her fingers in the process, making her gasp. The light contact felt like an electric current reaching every single nerve cell in her body, short-circuiting her higher brain functions for a minute. "So, what brought you here tonight?" the blond god in front of her asked.

"Date. I mean, I'm here on a date," she spluttered.

"Ah yes, of course," Jane replied and the lights went out in his eyes.

She didn't like it one bit. "I didn't even know you were playing in a band, Jane," she blurted out.

He shrugged. "Guess, it didn't come up," he said in a noncommittal tone.

"But how long have you been doing it?" she inquired, her face showing confusion and something else he wasn't sure how to read.

"I started a couple of weeks after I was so graciously freed from my comfy detention suite," he offered merrily.

"What?" she exclaimed. "That long? But you're not ready to do things like that. I mean, you're still not making any headway moving on," she rambled, looking incredulous.

He shrugged again. "If you say so."

"What's that supposed to mean?" was her miffed reaction.

"It means that you have no idea what I'm feeling or doing," he stated. "You're only assuming and you're assuming wrong."

"But I…" She was stumped, truly stumped.

He nodded. "Yes, you were otherwise occupied. I know. It's alright."

"No, it's not!" She huffed. "This is all wrong. You're not making any lasting ties. You're still ready to run whenever you please with your stupid Airstream. And you have no life outside of the FBI. You're stuck in neutral with your damn wedding band and… and… and…" She bristled with anger, eyes flashing dangerously.

Jane shrugged once more. "If you say so," he said again.

"Stop saying that," she replied. "I… explain!" she pleaded. "Please, Jane."

"Okay, no problem," he answered. "I am back to stay, Lisbon. I never said differently. I came back to be with you and I'm trying to move on with my life. That's it. What else do you want to know?"

"But the Airstream and… and…," she stammered, still completely baffled.

"What about the Airstream?" he asked.

"You asked for it so you could disappear whenever you want." Her look contained a clear challenge.

"No," was his simple reply.

"It's the only logical explanation," she stated, brows furrowed. "You wanted to have it so you can run away from me again."

He shook his head, his eyes expressing a deep sadness. "I'm sorry you think that. But it doesn't make it true. Look, Teresa, my childhood might not have been all that great but an Airstream is still the only other home I have ever had apart from the one I built with Angela. It's the closest thing to a home I can imagine to have at the moment. And besides, it's really practical in the field. I can even feel at home while I'm forced to be on the road all the time. In our line of work that's actually smarter than having a normal apartment or something like that."

She gaped at him, truly gaped at him in open mouthed shock. "You… you actually got it so you'd have a real home?" she finally managed to ask. "I… I never… it honestly never crossed my mind." She swallowed heavily. In a whisper she inquired, "And you're really building a life here in Austin?"

Jane nodded. "As much as is possible in our job. This whole traveling around business doesn't exactly make it easy. But if playing in a band, a season ticket to the local opera house, and a library card count as lasting ties – I'd say, yes, I'm building a life here."

"But why don't I know about this? Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him sadly.

"It's a bit hard to talk to someone who isn't around long enough to listen," he replied dolefully. "Look, I'm sorry, Lisbon, but I have to leave now. We're going back on stage in a few minutes. See ya."

He got up and left. Dazed she remained where she was for a long moment before making her way back to Marcus who'd watched her talking with Jane and decided to stay where he was.

"Hey Rick," Joe, the vocalist of The Hoppin' Frogs greeted the bassist backstage, where the band was reconvening after the break. "Who was the lovely lady you talked with at the bar? Never seen you interested in any of the dozens of girls who always seem to be drawn to you like flies to honey."

Jane's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, just someone I work with," was his noncommittal answer.

The band leader stepped closer, sporting a knowing look. "I see. She's the one, right, Rickyboy?"

"What do you mean? Which one?" Jane inquired with slight irritation.

"Your rose," the dark-skinned man stated, not the least bit fazed by Jane's reaction. "You think I'm stupid, man? We've known each other for a while now. Have become friends even. Right, mate?" Jane acknowledged it with a nod. "Well, Rick. I'm a jazz and blues singer. Don't you think I recognize heart ache when I see it?"

The blond man sighed. "Okay, you got me there, Joe. And while we're at it: I can't do it tonight, okay?"

Joe shook his head and patted Jane's shoulder. "Au contraire, my friend. I won't let you chicken out. Let's go out there and blow 'em all away."

When the band returned to the stage Lisbon didn't know whether to run and hide or try to enjoy seeing her best friend in his new reality which she clearly hadn't allowed herself to be a part of. She stood beside Marcus who didn't understand why she suddenly seemed completely opposed to physical contact. He wasn't stupid, of course, and thus he had a good idea that whatever was going on with Teresa was somehow connected to Jane. That guy had a way of getting under your skin. And to be honest, Marcus had still not managed to figure out just what kind of relationship his girlfriend had with the other man.

The Hoppin' Frogs started to play again and for the first half hour Lisbon was in a complete stupor, her eyes never leaving the bassist. She was conscious enough, however, to see that Jane didn't look as carefree and happy as before their encounter and the thought of her being the cause of it hurt her more than she could describe. Watching him was still enchanting and after a while she couldn't resist the magic of the music any longer and she let herself be pulled fully into it again.

About an hour after the break Joe, the lead vocalist, addressed the audience with a big smile. "As you all know, now right before we stop for today, we've finally come to the real reason most of you are here tonight." The crowd started to get even more ecstatic than before – something Lisbon hadn't thought possible. "Ah, yes, ladies. The wait is over at long last. But let me first introduce you to the members of our wonderful combo. On the piano my blues brother Lionel. On the saxophon my blues bother Lee. My blues brother Sam on the drums and the guy with the trumpet is my blues brother Jimmy. And last but certainly not least the guy with the contrabass, Rick, my youngest blues brother – oh yes, he is, though he was obviously accidentally switched at birth." The crowd laughed roaringly. Joe winked and added, "Hey, but at least he got the family curls." Another round of laughter followed. "Well, anyway, folks, time for me to step back and leave the center of the stage because as you all probably already know – this last one is calling for the voice of someone else. Please enjoy our most popular piece." He turned around and took a few steps back. "Rick?" He motioned for Jane to take the mic.

To the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd the FBI consultant took the center of the stage. He cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the drummer Sam, giving him the signal for the get-go. Then his eyes made out Lisbon in the audience and his intense, loving gaze never left her again and spellbound her. A distinct rataplan resounded and the following dead silence was broken a moment later by the hauntingly beautiful, mesmerizing tenor voice of Patrick Jane, opening an entrancing blues version of a well-known song:

"There's a yellow rose in Texas that I am gonna see / Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me / She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart / And if I ever find her we never more will part

She's the sweetest little rosebud that Texas ever knew / Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew / You may talk about your Clementine and sing of Rosa Lee / But the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only girl for me.

Where the Rio Grande is flowin', and starry skies are bright / She walks along the river in the quiet summer night / I know that she remembers when we parted long ago / I promised to return and not to leave her so

Oh, now I'm gonna find her, for my heart is full of woe / We'll do the things together we did so long ago / We'll play the banjo gaily, she'll love me like before / And the Yellow Rose of Texas shall be mine forevermore

When the last tones of the yearningly beautiful version of the song had finally faded out, a moment of awestricken silence was followed by the most rapturous applause of the whole night while Lisbon stood motionless, unchecked tears running down her cheeks.

Marcus Pike cast one sideways glance at her and simply stated, "I guess, you'll not be going to DC with me," before he turned around and left.

The End

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Reviews and comments are very welcome and much appreciated. Thanks for reading.