Lovely Fool

Disclaimer: The plot's mine, just borrowing the rest.

A/N:- I have no idea where this came from. I was meant to be writing my dissertation but wrote this instead. It's AU but I hope that that's self-evident. ;)


In the window of your past,
There's a broken pane
Reflecting all the things that make you sad
In the shadow of your fear
There's no hiding place
So why do you run there?
It's strange
That I should know you better than you do,
You lovely fool
So strange
That you should want to live your whole life through
Broken and blue
You're a martyr for the cause
What the cause is I'm not sure
I'm sure it ends with no applause …

Jack Savoretti – Lovely Fool



She checks her phone for the hundredth time and struggles to resist the temptation to call him. He said he needed some time alone and although every fibre of her being wanted to go after him, she knew it was best for both of them to give him his space.

It had been another Red John case which had ended just like the all the rest of them had ended. They got close but not close enough and the fallout had sent Jane into another downward spiral, leaving her unable to do anything except stand back, watch and worry.

They always said that being together wouldn't change anything but she knows that she at least has changed. She worries about him constantly and feels like there's a piece of her missing when he's not there beside her. Her whole life seems to revolve around him now. He is there from the moment he wakes her up in the morning with a cup of tea to when he puts his arms around her at night and although she had never expected to be so comfortable sharing her life with someone in that way, it has become the new normal. She doesn't even want to think about how she'd cope if the normalcy disappears.

She picks up the phone again and her finger hovers over the call button but before she can dial, there's a banging on her door.

He's standing there drunk, clutching half a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"I'm sorry," he says, leaning against the door heavily.

He doesn't need to apologise; she's anything but angry. She's actually relieved. Relieved that he's come home; relieved that he's drunk so she doesn't have to struggle to think of something comforting to say that doesn't sound so completely pathetic in the face of what he's going through right now.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "Didn't want you to see me like this. Was going to check into a hotel but I - - I needed to see you."

He has never let her be there for him at his low point before and in a warped way, a small part of her warms at the fact he has finally given her the final piece of the puzzle that was Patrick Jane.

"It's okay." She takes the bottle out of his hand and helps him in. For a brief moment she flashes back to all those times she has done this with her father before reminding herself that it's anything but the same thing. With Jane it's a one time thing because she knows he would never put her through that again, no matter how bad things got.

The door's barely closed before he wraps his arms around her. "Lisbon, I need you."

He stumbles, nearly knocking them both over.

A laugh escapes her which seems so out of place but after the week they've had she has to take light-hearted moments where she can find them. "What you need is to sit down."

She has never seen him drunk before and it seems unreal to see someone who always has it together so out of control. "Stay here," she says before walking into the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

He stands up and follows her like a puppy. The alcohol has made all his moves exaggerated and it would be comic if it wasn't so tragic. He catches her in the doorway and presses her against the wall, kissing her deeply. He hasn't shaved for a couple of days and the stubble on his chin scratches her face.

"We should get you to bed. You need to sleep this off," she says softly, gently slipping out of his embrace but he moves towards her again. He's relentless.

He fumbles with the belt of her robe trying to untie it. She doesn't encourage him but she doesn't stop him either. He pushes her towards the couch, a tragic vulnerability about him. Seeing him like this throws her for a loop. He's normally so self-assured and confident, just like the night he had first kissed her.

"We were so close. We almost got him. We almost got him," he mumbles.

She can see the deep despair in his eyes and it rocks her to the core. She reaches up and cups his face with her hands. When he hurts, she hurts. "Patrick, listen to me. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"I don't want to fight him any more."

They fall onto the couch.

"I want you, not him," he says over and over again, almost as if he's trying to convince himself. She doesn't know why; she's never asked him to choose between them.

He presses his mouth against her skin but then as if a gear has suddenly shifted in his head, he pulls away to look at her and starts talking rapidly.

"Let's leave the country. Let's move away. Let's go somewhere far far away. Away from him, away from the temptation of finding him. We could start a new life. We don't ever need to come back."

She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He's so earnest, so hopeful. In this moment he really believes what he's saying; it's truly heartbreaking.

"We could get a cottage in the countryside and dogs. Just you and me. Nothing else matters. Teresa, leave with me?"

She knows it's just the alcohol talking but it's almost cruel the way he's playing with her fantasy like this. Every day a part of her wishes they could escape. Start over. Just them, no Red John. But she had accepted the reality a long time ago and made her peace with the fact that there would always be three people in their relationship. By tomorrow these alcohol-fuelled thoughts would be nothing but a memory and Jane would be back in the office reviewing everything in the Red John case-file again. Now though, as she looks at the hope in his eyes, she can't help but indulge him for a few minutes. "Okay."

He kisses her deeply and embraces her. His eyelids are heavy and she watches as sleep takes hold of him. He rests his head on her chest and his eyes close. The storm's passing. Tomorrow everything would go back to normal. Their normal.

"I love you," he says sleepily.

"I know," she replies, running her fingers through his hair. And for her, that's enough.