Disclaimer: Ownership of "The Mentalist" is not claimed or implied by me.
Summary: Jisbon. Post-finale, Lisbon and Jane write love letters back and forth while he's in prison. Multi-chapter fic.
A/N: This is my first chapter fic, so I'm a little nervous. Letters will appear in italics. These will probably make the most sense if you assume that Lisbon and Jane have admitted their feelings for each other but haven't taken any serious steps afterward.
Love Letters
Chapter 1: The Fire of Your Passions
Teresa Lisbon was exhausted in every sense of the word.
She felt tired and used up, both emotionally and physically. After the events that had taken place in the cabin in the woods and the shopping mall, she hadn't been sleeping well. No proper sleep for over a week was taking its toll, along with too many nights spent crying into her pillow.
Jane had tried to call her more than once, but she was ignoring him. He knew the consequences of his actions, and he had to face them like everyone else. She was angry with him, and saddened by what he'd done, but maybe she was more tired than anything else.
Tired of arguing with him. Tired of trying to make him see things her way. Tired of explaining what would happen if and when his revenge was carried out. Tired of trying everything to sway his mind, even calling on the love they shared but had never acted on. And now probably never would.
The calls eventually stopped, but in today's mail there was a letter.
She knew it was from him. She recognized the simple and neat handwriting instantly. In a brief flair of spite Lisbon had considered burning the letter, or ripping it into a thousand pieces without even opening it, much less reading it. But she couldn't bring herself to do that. Ignoring a phone call is one thing, but who even wrote letters anymore? To completely disregard that much effort just didn't sit well with her, even under these circumstances.
So the letter sat, a long white envelope on her coffee table, as she settled down on her couch after dinner with a glass of wine. She sipped it slowly, considering the letter every few moments. Delaying the inevitable point where she would have to pick it up and open it. She couldn't fool herself; she did want to know what he had to say. What excuses would he make, what reasons would he try to use to convince her?
There was nothing else for it. Lisbon opened the letter, and began reading.
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Dear Teresa,
I know you don't want to talk to me on the phone, but I'm desperate that things shouldn't end this way between us. So I'm writing you this letter in the hopes that you will take the time to read it. I swear every word in it is true.
It's been a week since I took the actions that landed me in prison. Seven days without you. I want you to know that's how I'm counting my incarceration time, in days without you. It'll be a few more by the time you get this.
I won't insult you by making excuses for myself. You and I both know why I did what I did. I also know that what I did affected you in a terrible way, and I can say that fact is the only part of it that I regret. We may never have made any grand gestures or plans, but I've loved you for years and knowing that I hurt you makes me so unhappy.
I think of you every day, and I dream of you every night. Your friendship and kindness and love mean the world to me, Teresa. You made what had been my hollow life seem vibrant again, and I never thanked you enough. I couldn't ever thank you enough; there aren't the words to do so.
I'm writing you now to say that I surrender. I would willingly be consumed in the fire of your passions, be they love and lust or fury and hatred. But I can't bear it if you turn away from me forever. I can accept that you need time, and may also need to cast anger and abuse in my direction. Please just don't shut me out.
I'm asking too much of you, but I have never claimed to be anything but selfish. I'm begging for your forgiveness, an undeserved act of charity on your part. I don't expect you will be able to grant it immediately, but I can only hope it could happen someday. I will wait as long as I need to, if I know that's what I'm waiting for.
If you've read this far, you'll have some idea how dear you still are to me, and how much I long to hear from you in any way. If you still can't stand to look at or speak to me, perhaps you could respond in kind with a letter of your own. I will watch for it, just in case.
All my love,
Patrick
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Lisbon felt stunned as she slowly put down the sheet of paper. She'd never received a letter like that before in her life. She wasn't too surprised, however; the man certainly had a way with words in person. It followed Jane could be an excellent writer if he put his mind to it.
And there had been no excuses. No trying to justify himself to her. In any other case she probably would have been more upset by that. In this instance, however, it actually made her think better of Jane.
Now what? She was still exhausted and hurt and heartsick, yet she found herself believing what he told her. It was flowery language, but she'd known Jane long enough to sense the genuine emotion behind it. Was it foolishness on her part? Maybe, but she didn't think so. The ball was in her court at this point. What could she do?
Lisbon allowed herself a small smile. She would do him one favor by taking his suggestion. She got a pen and paper, and started to write.
To Be Continued… what do you think so far?