Disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real... I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed by the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...)- I'm thinking about doing few vodoo on him as well, you don't know how things could work out...
So, a little something my mind elaborated in answer to euridice1980's prompt on thementalistprompt on lj, who asked for a broken necklace and jane/lisbon...
She has been off the whole day, and she knows it's stupid and childish, but she can't help it.
Without her necklace, she doesn't feel whole, she doesn't feel as strong, as sure. Besides, every time she rubs the cross between her fingers, she feels the connection with the previous owner, her mother.
She rubs the cross, and she remembers the old times, the good times, and remembering smiling children, and a baby girl skimming over a gold jewel at her mother's neck, makes her smile.
But not today, though. Today, the cross is at home, and the chain is in a box in her nightstand, broken behind repair; she knows it's stupid and childish, but she feels broken as well, it's like without the cross she can only remember the bad times, funerals, crying children, runs to the hospital, an explosion that could have been the end of five lives but saw just one victim.
It's in days like that that she feels like she never healed, like she'll never do. It's in days like that she feels she can understand a little bit more Jane and his pain.
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She has been off the whole day, and he knows why, he knows why because he has seen her touching the neck out of habit, just to shiver realizing nothing was there- looking at her as much as he does, he knows he often rubs her cross to find comfort in the good old memories the jewel brings back with it.
It's a concept not foreign to him, his dad thought him that objects often, if not always, carry a certain kind of connection with their owner. He realized it was the case the first day he met Lisbon- the cross was quite old, first half of the last century, and she wasn't the kind of person to wear something just because it was a gift and she didn't look like an antique lover. He knew that, if she had it, it was because it meant something, and one year later, when he heard Minelli and Cho remembering it was Agatha Lisbon's anniversary, seeing the woman's daughter holding the artifact like for dear life for the whole day, he realized he had been right.
Besides, it's something he does as well. He always rubs his wedding ring to remember what he is supposed to do, what he caused, what he saw that night, even if, lately, the images he sees whenever he skims over it are different. Lately, he looks at his ring, and remembers happy times, his wife telling him he could use his abilities to help the police, but, mostly, he keeps seeing holding her in his arms one night, and Claire, serious, making him promise that, had something happened to her, he had to move on and never feel guilty, and be happy.
It's in days like that that he thinks he is healing, that she healed him, still does, step by step, it's in days like that he feels he can understand Lisbon's strength a little bit more.
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At the end of the day, he enters in her office. Her doesn't knock, so she already knows it's him, she doesn't have to lift her eyes from the paperwork he contributes to cause to know she'll see his blonde curls, and she doesn't have to talk, because she knows he'll talk and he'll ask for help in something usually not too legal.
She lifts her eyebrows when she hears him tapping his fingers on her wooden desk, delicately, just two times, just to get her attention.
That's when she sees it, a medium size jewel box, and red, with golden decorations. It's still with lifted eyebrows that she opens it, almost scared it's one of his stunts, and Jane… she can't really stop looking at him, awfully quiet, hands in his pockets, and almost shy and scared (which makes her worried, because he has never behave that way before).
When she sees what's inside the box, she tries her best to avoid crying and hugging him; she knows she should be mad and upset for what he has done and may have done while doing it, but she really can't. This gesture has been sweet, probably the sweetest thing ever done for her, and it just shows how much Jane cares and understands- basically, it proves she has been right about him the whole time; he is a good man, after all.
He moves in front of her, still in silence, still with that unsure and almost shy smile, and while she moves her long, dark hair out of the way, he puts the necklace around her neck, carefully, slowly, like he was scared she could hit him, but she really couldn't- the skin on her neck burns where he touches and where his eyes are focused on.
"They said they couldn't repair the chain. I know it's not the same thing, but I figured out it was the cross that mattered…." His voice trembles, it is low and it is husky, when their eyes lock, blue in green.
"You know, the necklace is supposed to help me relaxing, now, how could I do that if whenever I'll touch it, I'll have to think to all the tribulations you cause me?" She fakes indignation, with that amused expression he loves so much, the same she had when he gave her the pony, giggling, and he can't help but smile as well, putting a rebellious locks of hair behind her ear.
"At least you'll think of me" He tries to sound as funny as she did, but he can't, somehow, his voice still keeps being just a husky whisper, and, suddenly, he is cupping her face with his hands, and they are closing their eyes, getting closer and closer, until, when they are merely millimeters apart, he stops.
"I… I still can't… just… give me a little bit more of time…will you do that for me? Will you wait for me?" Cupping his face like he does with hers, she nods, smiling, without speaking with words, and, when, after minutes that seem an eternity, he leaves her office, it's with tears of happiness that she holds the necklace, both cross and chain, knowing that, one day, she'll associate them both with happiness.
Like she knows he will, one day, as well: Jane may believe she didn't saw it, but he has seen what he had around his neck, she has seen he has moved his wedding ring to a chain, just like her one, and it's enough for her to hope in a better future, free from regrets and pain and guilt and whish of vengeance.
They both still hurt a bit, but they are both healing a little bit, step by step, and it's in days like that she feels that one day they'll be lucky enough to heal completely, together.