A/N: thanks for the amazing support! I loved every one of your reviews (thanks to the two guests, btw) and every fav a follower... hope you'll be with me with this chapter as well!
The next day, she and Jane were driving to the crime scene, and, for once, Teresa had trusted him behind the wheel. It wasn't just the fact that, now that he didn't have the Citroen any longer, she felt a little bit safer when he did the driving,
No. She simply didn't feel safe enough if she was the one driving. She knew herself, and, as hard as it was to admit sometimes, she was her father's daughter in some compartments- and road rage under stress was, indeed, something she had inherited from her old man. And she was stressed- a lot. And mad. Last night's delusion and hurt had been processed through all the stages of grief during the night, and even if there was still that small part of her heart that was occupied by Marcus, well, saying that she was disappointed by his behavior was an euphemism.
God. She couldn't quite believe what he had done. They had been together for almost one year when he had left for Washington, and even during his year away they had, randomly, communicated, and he had never said anything about not being serious with her or that he was sleeping around. She blushed, felt angry tears burning her eyes and clouding her vision.
But the truth was, she had been blind before. She had listened to Marcus' words, and had given them another meaning altogether; whereas he said that he wanted for her to not feel caged into a relationship with him, that he would have never blamed her if she had fallen for someone else while he was away, what he had truly meant was that she wasn't that important and that he was still looking around for a better option.
(His better option being an FBI agent, with dark brown hair falling in soft waves on her back, dark green eyes and petite- her perfect copy, if not for the fact that Francine was a good fifteen years younger than her- and Marcus too.)
She thought it always been about her. But no. Marcus had showed to be a self-centered egoistic jerk who no respect whatsoever, and "poor" Francine was nothing more than another victim of his charm: it was quite clear that the woman was completely oblivious to the "special bound" she had shared with Marcus, all she was in the eyes of the younger woman was Jane's handler of sort.
She sighed and looked outside the window, trying to concentrate on anything: the case, the landscape, anything would do. And yet, her mind kept coming back to the same topics, and she felt at battle with herself- a battle she thought over a long time ago, but that, apparently, had been secretly carried on in the deepest recesses of her heart, in those shadow lands she wasn't aware of.
Only, this time, it was worse than ever. Because she wasn't simply being forced to face her feelings for Jane because of their comedy of errors, she was also battling her own feelings for Marcus. Yes, she knew he had been awful with her, but a part of her still thought that there had to be a reason, that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't fallen for Francine on purpose, that somewhere it had to be a reason for his behavior. Rationally, she knew it wasn't the case, and if a friend of hers would tell her that something like that had happened to her, she would say something in the lines of "You crazy or what? Just, let it go and look for someone else!" , but it wasn't a girlfriend she was talking about, it was her and she had never been a good judge (or a successful counselor) when it came to her own life.
If she was… well, (a) she would have given up on Jane a long time before, instead of waiting for something like thirteen years before starting a serious (yeah, sure) relationship, or (b) she would have jumped his bones as soon as she saw him into that FBI interrogation room after two years apart.
But reminiscing on what ifs and buts wasn't going to help her out: Marcus had "broken up" with her, and Jane had saved her (yet again) by staging their engagement, and now the whole building was congratulating them on their impeding wedding.
She groaned, and when, at her side, Jane chuckled amused, she hit him softly on the shoulder with her fist, shaking her a little. She was on her way to an honest to God smile, when, suddenly, her phone rang, and without bothering to check the identity of the caller, she answered.
"Lisbon." She said in her most authoritative and sure voice, showing to the world that she was a woman in control of her emotions, on a mission.
"Are you with Jane? Can you put me on speaker? Please? Please!" Teresa sighed as she heard Grace's voice at the other side of the line, and her good mood suddenly vanished, replaced by something cold and dark.
She hated what she was about to do, because hearing Grace's voice, as excited as the one of a child on Christmas morning, broke her heart, but she guessed there was really no other way; it was better this way, this way she could save her face, her pride, and their whole collective hearts.
As much as she hated herself in that moment, she couldn't do otherwise: she had to lie to her best friend, because she couldn't say something in the line of "Yeah, sorry, we are not really engaged. Jane just decided to save my face when I realized that my boyfriend, when he told me that I didn't have to feel caged in a long-distance relationship, really meant that he wasn't interested in said relationship. But ehy, as I'm supposed to be a good cop and a great detective, do you mind keeping it for yourself? Even if I know that Abbott calls you twice a week begging to accept his job offer…"
Sighing, Teresa put Grace on speaker, regretting the choice as soon as she saw Jane's amused expression; she felt rage surging into her whole being, and not for the first time that day she wished to punch him in the nose already. He deserved physical punishment: he was having way too fun at her expenses, and it wasn't right. It was all his fault. And Marcus, and… yes. It was partly her fault, too. But just a tiny little bit. Mostly, she blamed the men in her life for the mass she was currently in.
"Ehy, Grace!" she said, trying to sound as happy as possible; Jane was probably right, in the last few years she had improved her acting skills. If she hadn't been herself, she would have never guessed she was that close to being on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
And then… something happened, something that she have never thought possible if she wasn't seeing it with her own two eyes. Because as soon as the word "Grace" left her lips, at her side, Jane soundly gulped, and turned a lovely and nice shade of red all over.
She smiled. Patrick Jane was blushing- and it was, although indirectly, because of her. It felt too good to be true.
"Ehm." Jane started, clearing his voice. Teresa wanted to giggle- seeing him behaving like a fish out of water was just too fun, and it made her feel a little better. If he felt a little guilty too, a little embarrassed as well… well, she guessed she could survive the experience, after all. "Grace, I know what you want to say and please, allow me to tell you that we really are…"
But Grace cut him short, with a voice laced with both tears and happiness. "You big fat liar! Wayne asked you if you and Lisbon were together and… and…" Grace stated to sob, and even if Teresa was repeatedly punching him in the arm, Jane simply dismissed with a movement of his head the whole thing; Grace was supposed to be emotional, after all, considering she had just entered her second semester and her body was bombarded with hormones.
"Grace…" Jane said, looking everywhere but at Lisbon, and his behavior didn't go unnoticed to the FBI agent; apparently, he feared that the omission of Rigsby's simple question, are you and the boss together, could make her mad.
Well, actually, it was rather cute, and she sighed a little at the thought of Jane having to answer such a question… the poor man always struggled with problems of the heart, more than she had always done, but she guessed she couldn't blame him for this, between his uprising, his troubles with opening up because he always saw so much, too much, whenever he met someone's gaze, and obviously… Angela.
For a moment, Teresa asked herself all kind of questions. Jane, as far as she knew, hadn't been in a relationship after his wife's death; he had flirted with Sophie to win her trust and an exit ticket from the asylum, dated, once, Kristina, as both an experiment and a way to get her trust. And then, there were Erika Flynn, Lorelai Martins and all the other marks he had seduced, used and abandoned one way or another; even Kim, Teresa was sure, hadn't been that serious; yes, she knew (from outside sources) that Jane had taken off his ring to have dinner with her, but he had put it back on the following day, and the fact that he had gotten drunk because of fear that something could happen showed that it had meant little to northing for him: the FBI agent had been a distraction, an island in the sea of chaos and solitude that his life had turned into after he had escaped.
Maybe… maybe he wasn't doing this just for her. maybe he was doing it also for himself. He had said so much himself: she had to know that he had some ulterior motive hidden underneath the knight in shining armor facade. Maybe… maybe it was easier pretending to be in love with her, than having to explain himself to everyone; she guessed it was hard for him, he had loved so much his wife, and now people expected him to just let it go. Yes, it had been a long time, but how are you supposed to move on after the death of the love of your life? Angela had been his soul-mate, his anchor, his whole world… and now, she wasn't any longer, and he still blamed himself. Getting and killing Red John had lessened the pain, but she knew the sensation all too well: that pain never really left, it stayed with you for the rest of your life; it was like phantom pain in a missing limb, months, years without feeling nothing, and then, suddenly, here it was again, the memory of something that wasn't no more that crushed your heart and your body with its power.
She looked at Jane with tenderness and affection; she remembered that pain, had felt it herself as well, but she had been able to learn to live with it. After all, as traumatic as it had been, it had been her mother who had died, but she had always been a rational person, who knew that parents weren't supposed to survive their children, but Jane had struggled- and somehow, he still did, with the greatest loss: it wasn't just the love of his life he had buried, but also his child. Was it possible to heal from this, come back after such a tragedy?
Frankly, after so many years at his side… she was still struggling to find an answer to this very question.
Jane was still struggling for words, and Grace was still sobbing on the other side of the phone, when Teresa decided to take matters into her own hands, guessing that, after all, two – or better yet, three- could play that game.
"Grace, I know we hurt you, but… you know, we wanted to live for a little bit longer into the…" she gulped, closing her eyes. "You know, we were in the honeymooners phase and…"
She blushed, and Jane, at her side, mouthed the word "naughty" laughing under his teeth, as Teresa remembered herself that, if she hit him too hard and he had an incident, she would be injured too- and frankly, even if her life had turned into a soap-opera, she kind of liked being alive.
Grace sniffed. "Oh, I understand. I mean… I know you did it because of us." She sniffed, again. "In case something went wrong. So we didn't have to choose sides…"
"Yeah…" Teresa whispered, while Grace was still talking without noticing that her long-time friend had stopped her.
"…And I know you are an adult, and it's not like we are really family, even if we kind of are, but… I'm not exactly mad with you. It's just that, you've been pining after him for so long, and, I mean, it's my fault. I've been a detective, and I should have understood that something was going on between the two of you when I saw you reading his letters the last time I was visiting in the middle of the night, and…"
Teresa blushed even more- if that was actually possible- and at her side Jane erupted in an honest-to-God laugh; while still listening to Grace's love ramble, he scanned the road, and as soon as he could he parked the car, turning into his seat to face Teresa with an expression so amused that made her heart clench with a mix of happiness (because she had been part of the reason of his happiness) and sadness (because the fact that she had been in unrequired love with him for long wasn't exactly her favorite topic of conversation).
"Grace! Enough!" Teresa screamed, jumping to end the conversation, but Jane apparently still knew a couple of tricks from his poker days, and stole the phone from her hand before she could do anything, or even realize what was going on. God. She just hoped that Grace had heard her and gotten the message clear: there were things that were better off left unsaid, and unknown to Jane. He had e big enough ego, he didn't need to know about her drunken confessions of love post-Vegas and post-Red John.
"Really, Lisbon? You've been in love with me for so long?" Jane asked her, amused. God. She really, really didn't know what to with him. Because he was so happy, and when he was happy… she felt happy, too. She didn't know if it was because the special bound they shared, or if it was something he had always carried with himself, but Jane's happiness, his smile, was contagious. Because, frankly: what sane person would have been that happy finding a real pony in their own office? But she had been, because she had turned to lecture him, but then, their eyes had met, and all she could have been able to do was mimicking his expression, one of happiness and childish satisfaction.
Teresa made a very un-lady like sound, something between a grunt and an animal call he couldn't pinpoint exactly, then she turned to face him, acting like he had so many times before: she decided that, if he could dismiss every important and meaningful conversation they had shared until that very moment, then, she could dismiss her own feelings for him, too. She felt like she was allowed to, after having kept her own emotions buried deep within her heart for well over a decade.
"What? I'm a living, heterosexual human female, Jane. Of course I had a crush on you when we first met. Have ever looked at yourself in the mirror?" she tried to keep it light and casual, because, had she already mentioned that she wanted to dismiss the whole thing like it was nothing? But it was harder than she thought, she realized when she felt a knot in her throat.
But Jane smiled, and looked at her with such a tenderness and affection, that it broke her heart, made her wish to puny everyone who had ever made him suffer take that good, wonderful man in her arms and comfort him, tell him everything was going to be all right, that she was going to take care of him, to protect him. But she didn't- it wasn't her place to, after all; instead she allowed him to ruffle her hair like she was his "angry little princess". Jane shook his head, then told her something that, for some unknown reason, took her breath away- maybe because how much he really knew her, after all.
"No, you didn't like me because I'm good looking, and it's not even because you like a bit of danger along with your pleasure. No." He said, interlacing their fingers and looking at her in the same way he had done the previous evening. "You wanted to save me. Heal me. Because you are a good soul, Teresa."
Grace was still listening- something that, apparently, the both of them had forgotten- and was sniffing over the line when Teresa claimed that they had reached their crime scene and that she was sorry, but she was going to call her another time. It was another small lie, another thing that, had Grace known, would have shattered their trust, their friendship, but Teresa wasn't sure she could handle her best friend in that moment. Too much was going on- and she didn't understand the half of it. If she had to face Jane, she need to do it on her own, at least right now. Besides, there were things she and Jane were probably supposed to be talking about.
Jane put back in motion the car, and they drove in silence for the next fifteen minutes; then, Teresa cleared her voice.
"I didn't tell her." She simply said. Her voice was low, and she seemed… ashamed? Jane wasn't sure what she was feeling, for once- he had always had an hard time reading her, regardless of what she thought- and he wasn't sure if she knew, too. He knew that, despite everything, Lisbon liked him, so she wasn't ashamed of people believing they were into a relationship; so, what was it? Was it because Grace had believed she was in love with Marcus, and was scared that her friend would deem her easy now? Or was it because, after less than twenty-four hours, this so-called lie had already escaped their control?
Jane just smirked. "Cho did. I think he wanted to collect some old money from Rigsby." She nodded, and he went on, his expression suddenly changed. Jane wasn't exactly hurt, he seemed… watchful? "The Austin office is quite… friendly, and in a matter of days people will start congratulating us."
She nodded, again. People, actually, had already started to congratulate them, and Lisbon had almost told every one of them that no, they didn't have to, because no, she wasn't really getting married to Jane. But obviously, she had kept this little particular for herself… she sighed. She should have been used to it by now. Lying for and because of Jane wasn't exactly new territory for her, after all.
"Jane… Grace… Kim… they are my friends. I hate lying to them." she shook her head, trying to send away the tears that were burning her eyes, but she couldn't. It was too much, all at the same time, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do.
"So don't." He simply said, shrugging his shoulders. "If they ask, don't give them too many particulars. Being vague is the secret of the con. Just keep underling that you are engaged with me, and all will be well."
She groaned. She hated when he pretended to be oblivious, to not understand what she truly meant. "Yeah, well, it would still be a lie, smart-ass." she said, finishing her sentence with a forced laugh. But Jane didn't say a word, he gulped, again, and looked in front of himself, both scared and impatient.
"What if," he stared, then stopped, clearing his voice. "What if it wasn't a lie?"
Lisbon gasped in shock, and Jane turned to her, ready to shop her if she was trying to jump out of the car while they were on the road, but Teresa seemed to be way past panicking, she was looking at him in the same way she had done the evening before, when she had asked him if she had forgotten they had gotten engaged.
He wanted to groan. Because, well, she was downright adorable when she behaved like that. All the time he was the one in need of protecting, and now, finally, finally he could take care of her, gave her back all the love and affection she had showered him with for so many years.
Only… Lisbon had only always been affectionate, because she feared, or maybe he couldn't give her anything in return; of course it had been the case, but Teresa had never really understood his motivations. She had always assumed he couldn't love her because he had been too much in love with Angela, but it had only been because he was scared of painting a target on her head, putting her in more danger than she usually was.
And then… then, he had left, and when he had returned, she had asked him to stop trying to control her life, so he had decided to put his needs and desires and feelings aside, allowing her to be happy with a new job and a new man in her life. And now… now she was respected on the job, wasn't threatened any longer if he pulled any stunts, but mostly, as from twenty-four hours before, she was single, and in need of his help, his presence in her life. And dammit- he couldn't wait to start the con of his life for real, and he felt that right there, right now was the perfect time.
"Teresa…" he started, because he needed to break the silence, and he wanted to know what she thought. Maybe it wasn't the declaration she had always dreamt of, hell, she probably didn't got that it was a declaration at all, but it was sheer torture listening to the sound of the silence between them. "Teresa… you know that if we wanted to… we could get married, right?"
She didn't even shook her head. Just stared ahead. And then…
"I… Marcus left me yesterday, Jane. And… and we don't love each other in the right way…" she said, panicking. He grinned. Ah, how much he liked an old-fashioned Lisbon breakdown- even if what he liked the most was the prospective of lure her into his life and show her that, using her words, they loved each other in the right way.
"Maybe we are not in love with each other." He started, and when he had to deny his love for her, he wondered if the Illuminists, when threatened by the Church to change their believes, felt that way too. "But you know that I love you. I wrote it one hundred and four times at the end my letters. And… and I know you feel the same. Because, otherwise, you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have accepted my presence in your life for so long- not even on the job."
Lisbon looked at him from her seat, in silence. She couldn't believe Jane was really asking her such a thing. A man who had gotten married out of love, who had loved so much his wife… and now, here he was. She wondered if it wasn't the real reason behind his proposal: she was a safe deal, after all, they knew each other better than anyone else, better than themselves, probably. With her, he knew that there would never be to lie or pretend; he could get the best of two words: she understood him, didn't expect anything in return and was going to give him companionship and sex.
And what about her? She had thought that Marcus would marry her, once back from his assignment, but he had changed her for the newest model. She wasn't that young any longer- also because of over a decade spent pining after Jane- and her better years were way behind her. So, no, she wasn't going to cry herself to sleep every night because she was in her new home all alone at night. Nope. No freaking way. If Fate, God or whoever were giving her this chance, she better take it.
"Yeah, well… I guess there are relationships based on less than a friendship like ours…" she finally admitted. She faced Jane, and wondered if they could really do it. God. Marrying for convenience and companionship… it felt so old-fashioned, she couldn't believe they were contemplating it. "But I still think it's crazy. Right?" she asked, just to make sure. Because, as absurd as it could be, the more time she spent in the car with him thinking about marrying Jane, the more it made sense.
"Nah." He simply said, but then he turned, and saw that Teresa was on the verge of tears. He sighed. He hated seeing her like that, hurt and scared. "Ok, listen, you don't have to decide anything today, all right? Once the case is closed, you'll get back home, run that cinnamon and lemon bubble bath you love so much, drink a glass of Merlot while listening to some good Jazz music on your couch, clad in that red pajama top of yours and you'll think about it. Alone. Calm. All right?"
She nodded. She didn't even want to know how he knew he so well. That was what she did when she was tired or stressed: run a bubble bath, drink a glass of wine, listen to some good music clad only with the red pajama top. She groaned. When a man behaved like that, was she supposed to be scared, or flattered?
Well, it was Jane, so the third option was the right one- annoyed by his known-it-all attitude.
Even if it was rather sweet.
Ok. Flattered was it.
She smiled. "Sometimes, you are too good with me. Too good for me. And I can't really understand why…" she sighed, her eyes half-closed as she was falling asleep. It was an early morning, and the poor woman hadn't probably gotten any sleep because of the two men in her life. Marcus with his fiancée. Himself with his "proposal" of sort.
He found a quiet lay-bay and parked the car in the shadow of a big, old three, thinking back to the day he had "forced" Teresa to perform a trust fall, and texted Fisher and Cho that they were having a small car issues and they would be a bit late on the scene.
Then, he turned to face Teresa, and when her lips opened in a silent sight, he couldn't resist temptation, and touch them with his owns. He cupped her face, and looked at the woman he treasured more than his own life with a longing he hadn't felt since he was a young man in love with a girl he wasn't supposed to have.
"Just think about it, Teresa." He whispered to no one in particular, his breathing hot on her skin, his voice full of sadness and desire. "Just think about it…"
