As if the planets were aligned
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist or their characters. Just borrowing them for a while ;)
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon
Words: 973
Summary:Her eyes are like two emeralds, their intensity almost unbearable. (Jane/Lisbon. AU.)
A/N: So, this is kinda weird. If I have to be honest, this is probably product of what Lost is doing to my brain lol.
Hope you'll like it, as confusing and out of the blue it is ;)
uno
It's Sunday, and the sun is exceptionally bright; the grass seems even more green than usual.
He's at the park, his wife by his side. It's one of those rare moments they can spend together; lately they've barely had time, because of his job.
It wouldn't seem, but being a psychic required a lot of time and effort, especially now that he was working with the police.
He watches his little girl giggling, as she chases some pigeons. But in that moment, something else catches his eye.
It's a woman. She's sitting on a bench reading the newspaper, and he wanders what exactly caught his attention. There's something about her that he can't quite place, she seems… out of place, somehow.
Just when he's about to turn around (his daughter is calling him, dad! see what I'm doing?), the woman looks up and their gazes meet. Her eyes are like two emeralds, their intensity almost unbearable.
A second later, she's reading the paper again, and he's watching as his wife swings their girl around, both laughing uncontrollably.
The only thing he knows about her is the color of her eyes, the most beautiful pair he's ever seen. But they tell so much about who she is, that he feels like he's known her all his life.
dos
"So… Mr. Jane. I'm not used to this sort of things, I'm…" she starts. She's so nervous it's almost cute.
"Please, Teresa, call me Patrick. And don't worry about it, it's nothing to be ashamed of, you know? It's normal to feel the need to communicate with the ones we loved and lost." he puts his hand above hers, trying to be comforting.
She blushes and escapes his eyes. She's insecure, isn't used to be comforted or taken care of, especially by men.
So, missing father figure; possibly abusive.
She carries a cross around her neck, but doesn't seem to be a believer. A gift, maybe? Probably from her dead loved one. Mother, it'd seem. Something to remember her by.
"So Teresa, you suffered a loss, someone close to you... but, correct me if I'm wrong, it isn't a recent event, right?"
"You're right indeed. It happened a long time ago, it… it was my mother. She died in a car accident."
"Oh, I see. And your father, he…" her eyes flicker, and her fingers tremble a little. Then she sighs; so he's dead, also. "He died too, didn't he?"
"Yeah, he killed himself a few years ago." she looks serious, and suddenly she moves her hand from his, as if electrocuted. "Excuse me Mr. Jane…"
"Patrick, Teresa. Call me Patrick." he interrupts her softly.
"Right, whatever. I thought I was here so you could talk to my mother?" she's angry now, and he's taken aback. She was showing so much emotion just seconds ago, and he can see it, the moment where she puts her walls back up; her only protection.
And it's right there that he realizes, he can't do this.
Not to her.
"I'm sorry, Teresa, but I'm, eh… kinda busy right now, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." he rushes the words out, as he stands up.
"Emm, okay I guess. I'll call you in another time?" she's confused, but also relieved somehow.
"Yeah, you- you do that."
He watches as she walks out the door, wondering what'll do if she does call again.
(He hadn't had a scene like that since he was sixteen, and he does not want to experience it again.)
But fortunately (or not), she never does.
tres
He's not really sure what he's doing there, it's unlike him.
But everything feels unlike himself since the loss of his family. Everything seems foreign and unfamiliar.
He orders whisky, because- why waste time with soft drinks? The bar woman flashes him a flirty smile, as she puts the glass in front of him.
He drinks it all at once, and almost chokes as he feels the hot liquid traveling down his throat.
A few minutes later, he sees a woman sit beside him. She's got dark her and very green eyes.
(So different from her.)
"Hey, want a drink?" he asks, the flirty tone rolling of his tongue.
The woman looks at him, surprised. It was like she hadn't even seen him.
"Sure, whatever." she seems distracted, and he can't help but try to gain her attention. There's something about her that intrigues him.
"I bet I can guess what you want." he says, moving closer to her.
"Oh, really? What is it, then?" she arches an eyebrow, her lips curving up a little.
"You don't like soft drinks. But a beer wouldn't really have any effect. So, my guess would be… tequila?" he offers with a smile.
"No…" she answers, not very convincingly.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Well, okay. You're right." she admits, frowning. "How the hell did you know that?"
He ordered two tequilas; the bar woman looked a little disappointed.
"I'm good at reading people." he doesn't adds anything else, and she doesn't ask.
They talk for a while, as they keep drinking. He thinks her laugh is cute, and her eyes look pretty when she smiles.
He knows she's noticed the ring, but she doesn't mention it.
After a while, she kisses him, her hands on his chest. He reacts immediately, kissing her back forcefully, almost desperately.
He stands, puts his hands around her waist, his lips never leaving hers. Her back is now against the bar table, as he pushes her to him fully, touching her everywhere.
They go to a hotel across the street. He isn't gentle with her; she doesn't seem to mind.
As soon as she falls asleep, he puts his clothes back on and leaves.
She's the first woman he sleeps with after his wife's death.
by blondieland.