Private Talk
A one-shot that takes place after 6:03. Spoiler alert!
Patrick Jane, a man not known for the open expression of strong emotion, watched the wedding of Grace Van Pelt and Wayne Rigsby with a tear running down his cheek. He was thinking of his wife, of course, and their own wedding so many years ago. But he was also thinking of someone else: Teresa Lisbon.
He'd helped her put on her jacket that morning before they left the office together. He'd never done it before, but since the horrific episode of her capture by Red John he felt inordinately protective of her. He instinctively helped her with her jacket just as he had instinctively stroked her hair and held her hand in the hospital. Her dark, almost black, silky hair was wonderful to touch. He'd never had the courage to touch it before. He wanted to feel it again in his hands, so he gathered it and flipped it over the back collar of her jacket, then arranged it in front so that it fell in beautiful loose waves.
The former Lisbon would have been mildly annoyed by this unwarranted attention, but her experience of a few days before had changed her. She had become acutely aware of how much she depended on Jane. She had experienced his comforting touch for the first time, and she wanted more of it. So she acted as though they were a married couple and this was something they did every morning, talking to him as he did it, and secretly thrilled that he was so solicitous and still comforting to her. Because Lisbon was still severely shaken, even though she wore her tough cop expression and went back to work quickly. She couldn't let anyone know that she was frightened and felt defenseless without Jane. But he knew. Out of love and respect for her feelings, he said nothing but continued to let her know that she was safe as long as he was around.
Lisbon and Cho were ring bearers at the simple ceremony, Rigsby with a new sense of maturity and purpose, Grace tall and graceful in the elegant gown that she had kept since O'Laughlin betrayed her. They were both so happy, their young faces shining with anticipation. As Lisbon watched, her eyes filled with tears. Where had her own youth gone? She had spent ten years living a nun-like existence except for a few meaningless dates and a fling with a man she had no feelings for. She had shut down emotionally, until Patrick Jane gradually induced her to open up to the possibility of something real.
Would they ever get married?
Would they ever even date?
What exactly did their relationship mean?
They were more than partners, but less than lovers. Lisbon felt increasingly agitated in this limbo of feeling. She wanted more, but she sensed that Jane was not ready yet. She couldn't drag him into something he wasn't ready for. And they had already hurt each other enough when they quarreled. Why open themselves up to more pain? They hadn't even talked about that fight.
As soon as the vows were made, Lisbon hurried out the back door of the courthouse to find Jane. She felt that she could no longer bear to see the happiness of her two young agents. She found Jane wandering aimlessly around in the back hallway, his hands in his pockets, looking pained and thoughtful.
"Jane! Are you OK?" The question she was always asking him.
"I will be."
"It must be so hard for you…I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. It's only natural that I'd feel sad at a wedding."
"Do you want to get some dinner?"
"Sure, I'm starving."
They ended up at a small Italian restaurant that had great spaghetti alle vongole. Lisbon hoped that Jane's love of good food would help comfort him. She wasn't confident of her ability to accomplish the task. Seated at the table with a candle casting its soft light on their faces, they gazed at each other, each trying to divine the other's thoughts. Although the mentalist had expertly discovered many of her secrets, he still couldn't consistently read her feelings. He had come to recognize a kind of thought barrier that she put up whenever they spoke so that he couldn't get to the place in her mind where she was vulnerable, lonely, and full of desire.
He saw, or thought he saw, traces of tears on her cheeks. She wasn't the type to cry at weddings. Especially in front of her team. He imagined that her emotions must still be raw and near the surface, although she was skillful at hiding them. He sighed.
"We still haven't talked about that fight we had. I was wrong to trace the phones," began Lisbon. "I should have listened to you. You know more about how Red John operates. I shouldn't have called you arrogant. I'm sorry." Her cheeks were flushed.
"And I shouldn't have called you childish. Let's make a pact, Lisbon: not to stay angry with one another. Let's apologize as soon as we start to fight." He managed a wan smile. "It felt terrible, being angry with you, and knowing you were angry with me."
"Let's shake on it." Lisbon extended her small white hand and he grasped it in his long, slender fingers. She smiled.
"I feel a lot better now," he announced.
"So do I."
"Let's have a nice bottle of red-and some antipasto." Jane was smiling.
"What were you feeling bad about?" he asked. "I'm guessing you were wishing you were as young as Grace, and feeling like it's too late for you to get married, or some such nonsense."
Lisbon continued to blush, wishing she could control her feelings. "I guess so," she said carefully. "And I guess it made me sad when you said you could marry me off in an instant." She realized what she had said too late-she might as well have just said she only wanted to marry him.
"But isn't that what you want?"
"I don't want to be married off. It sounds like you want to get rid of me."
"I was joking. But that was insensitive of me. I'm sorry. Of course I don't want to get rid of you."
Lisbon sighed and looked down at her plate of antipasto. She took a couple of sips of wine. I might as well get drunk, she thought bitterly, it will relieve the pain. But then he'll insist on driving me home and we might end up in a crash, the way he drives. Why, why can't we just be honest about our feelings? Would it be so terrible?
Jane reached across the table and clasped her hands in his. "I never want you to leave me. That's my problem. I haven't avenged my wife's death, and already I'm in love with another woman. You."
Lisbon barely suppressed a gasp of astonishment.
"Oh…" she found herself saying stupidly. "So you did mean what you said when you pretended to shoot me."
"I loved you then and I love you even more now," he answered simply. "I know it's hard to believe, there's no accounting for taste…" He was grinning impishly now.
"Jane…I don't know if I…if we…are ready for this. I have tried to hide my feelings from you for a long time because I thought you weren't ready. I thought Red John would have to be dead before you could even think of moving on with your life. All I can ever think about is you, protecting you from being hurt, wanting you to be happy somehow, some day." She looked at him earnestly, her green eyes searching his face.
"I was trying to protect you. I thought if Red John knew how deeply I care for you, he would target you, and he has, even though I have tried to keep my feelings hidden. We're both very good at that, but all we succeeded in doing was fooling each other. He wasn't fooled. So why not be open now?"
"I want to be open. I want to be with you. But I'm not used to being protected. I've always been unafraid, confident, able to defend myself. But when he was able to hook me right in like that…well, I've lost confidence in my ability to protect myself. I want to let you protect me. But part of me doesn't want it."
"Please let me protect you. Teresa. I promise I won't suffocate you with my constant presence. Let's consider this our first date. I'll drive you home because you are flushed from drinking too much wine."
She knew that he knew she was flushed for another reason. Why was she so unbearably shy with this man she'd worked with for so many years? She suddenly wanted to go home, to be alone in her own bed so she could think and become once again the self-possessed, confident, competent Teresa Lisbon that she was not so long ago. If she let him protect her, wouldn't that mean she'd never regain her strength?
It was past ten, and they had just finished their dessert and coffee.
"I never thanked you for the flowers. They were beautiful."
"I wanted you to see something lovely when you woke up."
"I saw you. That was all I wanted to see."
"Come on, I'll drive you home."
"OK. But don't drive fast."
Patrick Jane laughed. He hadn't laughed in a long time. The terrible weight of the search for Red John had kept him gloomy, but now he felt a lightness that was new to him, even a sense of relief. They'd got it out in the open. He and Teresa could date now, as if they'd only just met. It was like starting all over again with a clean slate. And they would be careful not to hurt each other again. He might even be able to kiss her goodnight.
Lisbon smiled at him. "It's so great to hear you laugh," she said.
"The idea of me driving slowly is hilarious, you have to admit."
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling.
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