Fluffy, sappy, kitschy, very PWP (really this time), rated super M… you know the drill.

This is for Entwife-Incognito, whose blog and stories give me courage and hope in hard times, and Kathryn, my good friend, fellow writer and sister in crime, who stands my me even if I act borderline crazy and am behaving like the worst friend ever. Without you, I would be nothing!

So, we might be on the last stretch, and I'm scared. Will Jisbon happen? I seriously don't know what I'm going to do if it doesn't… please, Heller. Have a heart. It's all I wanted for years.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist, and I don't make money from fan fiction.

Solar Burst

The decision to fight didn't come slowly, but in a crashing bolt of revelation on the morning Patrick Jane woke up and realized that his life felt over, and had done so for quite a while.

He didn't keep watches close because they depressed him, so he had no idea how late it was while he lay in the bright sunshine filtered through the thin curtains of the Airstream, his whole body feeling stiff and miserable. He had always slept like a baby in here. And suddenly, he didn't anymore.

He felt sick to his stomach when he finally got up, so breakfast was out. He winced inwardly. Everything that had brought him joy seemed to pale lately, slowly creeping out of the drab picture that was his life. The dull colors remained. The black of loneliness. The gray of working with the wrong person day after day. The brown of being without purpose, without future.

He chuckled listlessly and proceeded to spend a lot more time in the shower than he usually did.

Arriving at the FBI was accompanied by dread these days, and he sighed when he entered the sterile building made of white and glass. Lisbon would be buried in files up to her neck, trying to hide out of sight when he dared to approach her. And Fischer would babysit him on the next boring case of the day.

He groaned. He missed Lisbon so fiercely it hurt, but her avoiding him was a decision she had obviously made, and he was done manipulating her against her wishes. She had moved on from him, he had lost her in the gamble, had overstepped an invisible line because he'd never stopped being careless and arrogant.

She was gone.

The thought made him nauseous, and he ducked sideways into the men's room to splash some cold water onto his burning face.

He needed to stop thinking about Lisbon, because if he started meddling with her business in any way, she would start hating him. And there was only so much he could bear before everything would come crashing down around him.

Why were there tears streaming down his face? He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, wiping at the hot liquid on his cheeks, burning his fingertips. Why was he crying? Why wasn't Lisbon happy?

Sure, she went through the motions. Flirted with Pike, prepared for her dates with him, wearing soft dresses that pronounced her beauty until Jane could hardly look at her. But she always carried her sadness like a cloak, something deep and miserable he recognized because he was dressed in it himself.

Why wasn't Lisbon happy? What could he do?

He left the men's room, keeping close to the walls of the white-washed hallway, trying to be invisible. She had been his only hope, the only future he had ever wanted. But maybe he shouldn't be surprised that he hadn't been able to win her in the end. He was a self-absorbed jerk, and she had seen the ugliest sides of him. Plenty of them.

She hardly looked at him when he gave her a short greeting, and he wanted to scream with despair, wanted to hit a wall until his knuckles bled. But on this morning, he forced the storm inside him to calm down and looked at her. Looked at her like he should have done long ago, his senses alert, his whole being directed at her like a beacon. And like always, like in better times, he saw what she tried to hide.

She had lost weight, her clothes were too lose around her tiny frame. She was slightly stooped as if something heavy weighed her down, and she was constantly biting her lower lip until he was scared she would draw blood eventually. There was a tightness in her hands, clutching everything she touched too hard, as if she wanted to squeeze something out of her surroundings, something she couldn't get, but needed as much as her next breath.

She was sad. So sad he could feel it like purplish mist swirling around her, tainting his world as well as hers. She was sad. His Lisbon. Marked by misery like a victim of an invisible war. She was eating herself up.

They had reached their stalemate.

It was in this very moment that the pieces started to click into place. That the final revelation gripped him. That he decided to fight.

He heard Fischer's voice behind him.

"Jane, we have a case in…"

"No," he interrupted briskly, "not now. There's something I have to do first. Catch me in an hour or so."

His mind blocked her protests, focusing on Lisbon, who was rolling her eyes at him.

"I need a word with you, Lisbon." He stated firmly, and her face told him that she detected something in his voice, something firm and unmoving that weakened her initial protest. She gave a soft sigh he wanted to catch with his mouth and nodded.

He led the way, trusting her to follow him. The ladies' room on the upper level was one of the least used in the whole building, and she didn't question him on their odyssey through the pale hallways, just looking at him from time to time with this sliding gaze that always ended at his lips. It gave him a thrill that made him hard, his breath bursting from his mouth in short, frantic gasps. She heard it, and soon they were breathing in synch. The air seemed laden with electricity, and when they finally reached their destination, he knew talking would be a challenge.

He locked the door behind them, but she didn't show the slightest hint of fear, and it pleased him enormously. There was something cautious in her eyes, though, and he watched her closely, leaning against the row of sinks.

He only spoke up when the silence seemed to make her uncomfortable.

"What do you want, Lisbon?"

His voice was as soft as a caress, floating between them like a gentle invitation.

She regained her footing with the elegance of a long-standing fighter, but her cool was too hot to chill him.

"I want to WORK." She said, raising her little chin at him, her pout so sweet he wanted to lick it off her lips.

He smiled.

"Let me rephrase this- what do you want from me?"

Her posture changed, until she was poised like a cat, ready to go for his throat.

"I want you to stay out of my way."

"Yes. I noticed that. But that's just the surface. Come on, Lisbon. You can do it. In an ideal world, what would you REALLY want from me?"

Her hull cracked so fast he made an involuntary jolt, the impact so fierce he gasped. Suddenly, there were so many dreams in her deep, green eyes, turning into a hot liquid that dripped onto her cheeks, and her lips parted in longing, unspoken, but outspoken for him.

"I spent my life being helpless, Jane," she said softly, "things are taken from me whenever I dare to be happy. So I stopped being happy. I like the surface. It makes me feel safe. I never go deeper. Surface relationships. Surface commitments. Nothing may make me happy, Jane. And nothing may make me helpless, either. I'm not that twelve-year old anymore, the girl who lost everything in a second. The moment where happiness was disposed of forever. But then…"

She swallowed, and when she looked at him, his love filled him up like a fiery snake, curling in his rump, and his whole body was pulsing to the rhythm of her breath.

"And then, there was this night," she whispered, "a night on a beach, the sun setting slowly, painting the whole world in gold. I wasn't on guard, because you were there. And I was… I was so happy. YOU made me happy, Patrick, in the middle of a war, in the middle of breakdown and decay. I was happy and helpless and so full of hope in that very moment, and the blackness that followed was blacker than anything I have ever known. I need you to stay away from me, Patrick, because you make me happy. And I can't be happy, because you'll do what you always do: you leave. And it's only a question of time until it kills me. Because after all these years… more parts of me seem to be dead than alive. I betrayed my vow never to be happy again, for you. And see where it got me."

He understood in this very moment. Shame made him shrink like wet mist, the sounds he made harsh and miserable. She looked at him with something almost calm exuding from her, but she was moving ever so slightly from time to time, her body twitching in her need to get to him, protect him.

He was glad she didn't. It took him a while to find the fighter's spark inside of him, but finding it he did.

"You are not in love with Pike?" he asked.

She snorted.

"Don't talk to me about love, Jane. I try to forget all about love, and you just won't let me."

He nodded.

"Good," he said, "because I'm going to steal you from him."

She shook her head.

"No. I don't want to be stolen, don't want to be taken. Ever again."

But she came closer, her eyes wondering, questioning, as if she were giving him a last chance to prove his worth to her, a last out, the final straw of hope.

Without hesitation, he wrenched the wedding band from his finger and took her hand, putting the slim golden ring into her palm before closing her fingers over it.

"Take this, Teresa," he whispered, moving his head until her lips were so close to his, just a breath away, "no matter if you accept me or not, I want you to have it. And no matter if you accept me or not, I won't leave. I will bear the heartache and the loneliness, for you. But I won't leave you again. No matter what happens. I swear. And to remind you, I want you to keep my ring. It's my promise to you, Lisbon. I won't leave you again. No more lies, no more games. I'm in this for good. I will watch you and Pike and still be there. I can do it. Everything is better than hurting you like that again… and I refuse to do it."

He'd never meant anything as much as this, his grip tightened on her hand although he knew she could reject him so easily.

What had he done? The memory burned in his mind, her happiness so sweet and honest, her face so beautiful in the setting sun… deception had hurt like it never had before. He had cried all the way to his house in Malibu, hot, wild, grieving tears that had tasted shameful and hungry on his lips.

But it had been nothing compared to what it had done to her.

He cringed, his tortured soul releasing a desperate, strangled sound of pain. He would be her slave. He would never run from her again, and if it cost his life. What was it worth without her anyway? Nothing. Empty shells and breathless pain, nothing else.

He pulled her close on instinct, crushing her small body against his chest.

"I'm so, so sorry, Teresa. I hate my words for being so weak. But I love you. If you don't believe anything I'm saying, believe this: I love you. There is nothing to my life but this, I understand that now."

He loosened his grip on her, putting his hand beneath her chin to make her look at him.

"I love you, Teresa."

Her voice was hoarse, tiny, almost inaudible.

"I love you, too, Patrick Jane."

Happiness and relief crashed together in a mighty explosion, making his chest tight, constricting his veins until blackness started to invade his vision. But she inched closer, her sweet breath filling his lungs, lips so soft he shuddered in wordless bliss.

She tasted more divine than the dreams he'd had about her, the long hours of mindless hope when images had swirled through his mind, so perfect they had kept him alive through the darkest times. She made him part his lips with the tip of her tongue, and he went willingly, sunshine streaming through his core when she wrapped her tongue around his, lust streaking his body like wet paint.

She rubbed her abdomen against his erection, and everything went hazy and wild, his hungering body shutting down his mind before he could do anything. When he tightened his grip on her waist in a fierce gesture of possession, her groan told him she wouldn't push him away, and ecstasy streamed through him until he wanted to scream. Her fingers shook while she slid his shirt buttons through their holes, the restraint it took her not to rip anything palpable in her touch. He slid the jacket from his shoulders before he pulled her shirt from her waistband, pushing his hands beneath it while he lifted his face to beg for more kisses. God, her lips were soft, he sank into them, pushing his tongue into her mouth like a starving man, moaning his delight shamelessly with every swipe he took.

Her kisses were so sweet they stoked his need into something fierce and desperate, and breaking from her to pull her shirt over her head was so hard it made him tremble. Unable to restrain himself, he ripped her bra from her body, hearing the sound her shoes made when she kicked them off as if from a great distance.

It seemed to take forever to get out of the clothes, but he didn't want to deprive her from touching his naked skin after she had waited and suffered so much, so he mustered all his patience and let her undress him, her hands kneading his flesh making his cock pulse against her flat stomach. She was unhinged, as passionate as he had never seen her, and it excited him beyond words.

When they were finally naked, he reversed their positions, sitting her on the table that contained the sinks before he took a moment to look at her. He could see the muscles ripple in excitement beneath her smooth, pale skin, covered in places with the most adorable freckles he had ever seen. He would spend the rest of his life kissing every single one of them, and he started at her shoulders, licking the creamy sweetness with shivering pleasure. But she was impatient now, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist, it brought his erection into contact with her soaking wet sex.

He looked at her, gasping, and she stared back at him from hooded eyes, her red lips swollen from his kisses, and damn, he desired her more than anything he had ever known.

"Teresa," he groaned, feeling her wetness cover his cock, and gently pushed the tip between her folds.

The sensations were almost too much to bear, and he was grateful that she held his shuddering body, her breath sharp and panting in his ear.

"Hard, Jane," she sighed, "please, fuck me hard."

That broke his trance.

He felt her tightness when he pushed into her, shoved his cock deep, struggling to get as far into her as he could. She was so wet he easily surmounted her relentlessly clutching muscles, gripping at him, causing a friction that almost floored him. His nerve endings burned in pleasure, his erection twitching inside of her, swollen so large he filled her completely when he was finally in to his balls. It felt amazing, and he breathlessly savored just being inside of her, surrounded by her molten heat, wet and slick and smooth, his own personal heaven. Her hands were clutching at his back, spurring him on.

"Take me, please. I need you."

He could feel how close she was, and instinctively angled his body so that her clit would be able to rub against his hard cock with every thrust, sending her into overload fast. He pulled out almost completely before he pushed back in, filling her, and she made a needy, wailing sound that broke the sorry rest of his resistance. Clutching her close, he gave her a few hard, slamming thrusts, the wet sound of fierce sex driving him crazy. The rhythm he established was rough and punishing, he felt her relax and tense at the same time and made sure he battered her clit every time he rammed into her. She cried out, her contractions around him so strong he gritted his teeth under the force, fighting for control while giving her the hard pounding she demanded. It felt so good he wanted to scream and shout his ecstasy, but he wasn't willing to give up control just now.

She came relentlessly while he fucked her through her climax, hard, stabbing thrusts that made her clench even harder around him, her cries wild and frantic. He whispered her name along with lustful nothings, staring into her beautiful face, unleashed and perfect in the throes of her passion. His hips slammed against her, pushing the broad base of his cock deep into her, stretching her so far he could feel the rub of her clit against his taut skin. More, more, he needed to make her come harder, and he did, her body arching in his arms, and when she kissed him again, his control slipped, and his whole body seemed to contract like a single muscle. His balls drew tight to his body and shot his load in a fierce jet of pure heat, filling her in pulsing reams while he groaned into her mouth.

He pulled out briefly, spilling a few warm jets onto her stomach, watching her eyes go wide in ecstasy. He shoved his cock back in, deep, deep, until he reached the very end of her soaking sheath, her walls still contracting. She milked him dry, making him spill everything he had in voluminous spurts, he had never come as copiously as that, his semen dripping from her core unto her thighs, wetting them both.

He could hardly breathe when he was done, burying his face against her shoulder, drinking air in large, panting gulps, his body covered in sweat. When he finally lifted his head to look at her, she brushed her fingers over his jaw, her eyes wide with love, and he noticed that she had slipped his wedding band over her thumb at some point. It caught the glint of the sunlight, reminding him of his promise. He smiled and kissed it before he gently sucked her fingertips into his mouth, one after the other, giving them a gentle lick before releasing them again.

"I love you." He whispered, and she sighed softly, bending forward to kiss the shell of his ear.

"I love you, too."

"Let's not waste this day with tedious work, Lisbon. Let's take a shower and sneak out of here. I want to spend the day at the beach, with you."

"You have a case, Jane."

He sighed.

"This guy will still be dead tomorrow…"

He stopped himself when he saw her face. No, she was right. He had given her a promise, and he still had a lot to prove. No more games, no more lies, no more irresponsibility. He would prove himself to her, for the rest of his life.

"I will solve this case, of course." He said gently, "But don't expect me to stop thinking about you for a second."

She chuckled, and he saw the flame inside her eyes, the spark he had so missed. She dared to be happy again, for him. He hadn't lost her after all. Warmth swirled inside his chest, and he made a squealing little sound of joy deep inside his throat. He wouldn't disappoint her this time.

"I don't doubt you can solve this case even with half your mind." She said, pressing a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. He grew erect inside her again… damn, breaking away from her would be damn hard.

"What about… Pike?" he asked slowly, his voice translating the jealousy that had almost driven him insane over the last few weeks.

She sighed, her eyes becoming a little darker.

"We broke up last night." She whispered, "I couldn't keep up the front any longer. It was never fair to him… I loved you all the time, he never had any chance. I just… I wanted normalcy so bad, I wanted something safe and unspectacular, and my heart was broken anyway, so…"

He held her tighter, pushing his face into her hair.

"My brave Lisbon," he breathed, "I'm so sorry. I was a fool. I'll do whatever you want. I'll buy you a house and a dog and a sensible car…"

She laughed softly.

"I need YOU, Jane. In my life, for good. Nothing else. But, I want you to solve Fischer's case, yes?"

He groaned and kissed her sweet, sweet lips, warm and soft and yielding. He had to force himself to break away eventually.

"Okay… shower, then case- if you absolutely insist."

"I'll strike you a deal, Patrick," she said, and her using his first name made him shudder, "you catch the killer today, and I talk Abbott into giving us the day off tomorrow. Hmm?"

He smiled, the brightest, most heartfelt smile he had smiled in weeks. Her kisses were addictive, so he stole another one before he whispered into her mouth.

"Deal."

The End

So far from me… I hope so, so much that Jisbon happens, but after years of ambiguity, I'm scared. Two months until the finale. Isn't that a little scary? Damn, it is…. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it a little, and I hope that I can write another one soon. I dream about Lisbon almost every night, so there are quite some dirty stories left to tell…