Sorry realised the blunders I had made will try correcting all.
Disclaimer:I do not own any of the characters.
Laying her head on a pillow ,she wrapped herself around another and with her legs nudged yet another so that her butt was nestled on it.
She mulled over this long established habit whose origins wasn't discernible.
Maybe when her mother has been killed tragically by a drunk driver.
Maybe during her father's slow descent into alcoholism.
Maybe when he hit her the first time..or maybe when he apologised for it.
But she felt safe and had kept her from breaking down during tough cases when there weren't any breaks...or when even cases solved brought no relief.
But she was happy tonight, it was the beginning of a weekend.
Marcus was away for the week on a stressful case involving, yet another homicide in the art heist world which unfortunately they were unable to assist in.
Not that she didn't like him around she just wasn't used to a constant appendage by her side.
Except Jane.
But Jane didn't count.
She closed her eyes as she willed herself to believe this but a surge of hurt crawled up her chest.
Tamping it down she squeezed her already shut eyes.
444
Crossing his arms casually against his chest, his back pressed against the couch he shut his eyes. He linked his feet, breathing regular and feigning sleep.
Fully dressed. The works, the shirt, jacket, pants, grey woollen socks and worn brown leather shoes.
He wondered when he would running away from life.
Stop started to feel a familiar boil in his chest winding its way up to his brain cogs starting to churn methodically.
A consistent downward spiral.
He was feeling content today though, more than content, happy, impossibly so.
Lisbon and he had spent the day together in a hunt for lies and secrets and a murderer.
Well …Lisbon and he had spent the day together, that was all the reasons he needed to be happy.
Something was niggling the back of his mind. That little piece of incidental information adding to his air of contentment.
Closing his mind to it.
Trying to convince himself that 'Lisbon deserves Marcus'.
Feeling like a fish being gutted (a feeling that physically manifested as a grimace)
He had made it a ritual.
Repeating the words like a mantra trying to convince his subconscious (not to do or say anything stupid).
He couldn't do it today though. Slowing down with the ritual gutting, he let a smile creep on the inside.
The information seeped to his conscious like sand.
Agent Pike was away for the week.
