This is turning out to be much more angsty than I anticipated, so be prepared- there's a lot of hurt running rampant here, and they have to untangle a lot of knot to regain their balance!
Chapter 2
Patrick Jane loved airports, the buzz, so many faces to read, gestures to explore, the enormous size of the planes, noises, smells, excitement. He was like a little boy in that regard and would have enjoyed every second of it had there not been the three angry people glaring at his back. Them, and one pale, very sad little princess.
Lisbon didn't talk much, but that wasn't new to him. He had hardly heard her voice those past weeks, missed her stern lectures and exasperated scolding as much as her adorable smile. He sighed. Everything had changed, and he had no idea if he could mend the cuts this time.
The huge body of the jet hummed beneath his feet when he entered the plane, and he would have liked to clap his hands and jump up and down with glee. He didn't, of course, it would have looked mighty suspicious since his travel companions looked as if they were going to a funeral.
He tried to lighten the mood, for about the millionth time.
The plane was smallish, just an inland flight, so it had two seats next to each window and three seats in the middle row.
"Okay," Jane exclaimed cheerfully, "we have one window seat, one middle seat, three on the aisle- any preferences?"
Without saying a single word (no surprise there, they had given him the silent treatment all day) his three fellow agents slipped into the middle row and flopped down in their seats, glaring defiantly at him.
"Okay," he said flatly, "Lisbon- do you want the window seat?"
She looked a little panicked for a second, her fingers fidgeting nervously with her pants.
"Uhm, you know what, Jane? You take the window seat, and I'm gonna sit next to you, okay?"
He smiled at her and slipped into his seat, feeling pretty tired all of a sudden.
"They will snap out of it, Jane," Lisbon said softly." Just give them some time. They are overly protective of me, not that I ever asked for that kind of loyalty, but it's the way they are. Don't give up on them. We…still need you. They will see that eventually."
He forced another smile, but it fell short. He had always been happy to be solitary in his fight, had always seen friendship and close relations as a burden that might slow him down, weaken his resolve, but right now he wished nothing more than to be a normal guy like everybody else, ready to meet his friends for a beer and a nice, friendly, NORMAL chat.
He averted his eyes, looking out of the window to mask the uproar of unwanted feelings. He concentrated on the things happening in front of the plane to diffuse the unbearable tension that seemed to fill the space around him.
"Look, Lisbon," he cried out, "they just finished refueling our plane, can't be long now, ohhhhhh, I can't wait for the take-off, that's the best moment when you're flying…"
He stopped when he noticed her unmistakable tension next to him. She looked down at her hands, the tiny fingers trembling, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Tenderness washed through him like a flash flood, so strong he was almost shocked for a moment. Her long, shiny dark hair flowed over her slim shoulders, framing her pale, heart-shaped face, the skin sprinkled here and there with adorable freckles. Her eyes were huge, pools of green moss, swallowing him like a tasty snack. Damn, she was beautiful. He looked at everyone. Why did he rarely take the time to look at her?
"You don't like flying at all, do you?" He asked gently.
She smiled almost shyly at him, and tears sprang to his eyes, threatening to spill before he stopped them briskly. She smiled. At him. He hadn't known how much he had really missed that until now.
"No, I hate it," she whispered, "I'm scared. It's ridiculous, isn't it?"
He smiled back, the gesture felt good on his lips, like waking up from deep slumber slightly cramped, but relaxed and full of energy.
"Not at all," he said and took her hand in his, feeling the delicate bones through the softness and warmth of her skin. "But there's nothing to be scared about. See this coin? The light catches on the metal, and when I turn it like this… you can see it lighting up shortly, do you see it?"
She nodded quietly, watching the Quarter in his hand with wide, attentive eyes.
He continued to turn the coin, light, dark, light, dark, his voice low and soft. Her fingers calmed under his until they rested against his skin in perfect stillness.
"Do you see the light, Lisbon, the spark of the sun- lighting our coin again, and again. Why don't you sleep now, my love… deep and peaceful, your breath going in and out, in and out… and when we reach our destination, I will stroke your cheek, and you will wake up, rested and invigorated."
He put the coin in his vest pocket and brushed his free hand over her face to place the trigger, and Lisbon slowly slumped against his body, her head landing on his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing became calm and steady.
He smiled and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, scooting down in his seat to make her position more comfortable. It was nice to sit with her like this, as if they were a couple on the way to their honeymoon, happy and blissfully oblivious to the ways of the world.
He closed his eyes in pain. He would never have this wonderful kind of ignorance again, it was lost to him, the confidence gone, no matter what he outwardly portrayed.
He turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss onto Lisbon's hair, savoring her sweet, addictive scent and the warmth of her slight body so close to him.
When the plane's frame started to vibrate in clear indication that the take-off was very near, he checked if her seat belt was properly fastened and put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
Looking up, he caught Grace staring at him, her eyes narrowed and suspicious. He smiled cheerily, but she just frowned and averted her gaze.
Jane sighed , blowing air out of his nostrils. This could be the longest three weeks of his "career" at the CBI.
He closed his eyes and continued to nuzzle Lisbon's hair, drowning his insecurities in the safety of her touch, holding her tiny hand like a priceless treasure.
Xxxxxxxxxx
Teresa Lisbon felt strange when she parted the flimsy curtains leading onto her deck. This was like some kind of out-of-the-world-fantasy, she'd never been in a place like this and felt slightly lost. It was entirely Jane's style of the old days, though: small, secluded bungalows, separated from the main buildings, screaming luxury with every fiber. Elegant, sturdy wooden furniture, directly at the ocean.
It was hot and humid, and her tight jeans were chafing her skin. She wasn't the type for flimsy summer dresses and bikinis, but she guessed she would bite the bullet in order to survive the heat.
She yawned and stretched her frame thoroughly. She had fallen asleep before the plane had taken off, thanks to Jane's tricks, and felt surprisingly well rested now.
With a sigh she marched into the bathroom and took off her clothes, taking a deep breath of relief when she finally got rid of her pants.
She spent quite a time under the shower, letting the lukewarm water cascade down her body, wash away the grime the journey had left on her skin. She felt a million times better when she finally left the bathroom, still slightly damp, smelling like coconut from the delicious body wash provided by the resort.
She had packed lots of flimsy garments in a bout of foresight (okay- the travel guide had told her about the climate) and chose a simple white dress made of thin, flowing cotton. Underwear wasn't required- she would hide here for the rest of the evening, the sun was already setting, and she had no desire to see anybody.
The burst of longing inside her guts called her a liar. She had woken up with her hand inside his, and he had smiled at her, giving her even more feelings she didn't need, the compulsion getting stronger and stronger every time he touched her, came oh so close… she let her eyes flutter shut and tried to sense him, feel his presence in the midst of all this luxury. She felt sad and lost and pretty scared all of a sudden. The fear that he could simply leave again, just like that, out of her reach, gone, accompanied her everywhere these days, and she scolded herself for being strange and clingy.
He wasn't hers, for god's sake! She had no business wanting him close.
But it took every ounce of her will power to stop herself from searching for him, just to make sure he was fine and not too far away from her.
She lay down on the bed and curled into a ball, her stomach growling in quiet demand. She felt slightly nauseous, though, so she just closed her eyes and willed the world away.
Xxxxxxxxxx
Grace van Pelt looked out from her wooden deck, sprawled on one of the various chairs. The sun was just sinking behind the horizon, leaving a soft orange hue on the stark blue, twilit sky. She had shared a quiet dinner with Cho and Rigsby, nursing a slightly bad conscience because they hadn't even bothered to invite Jane- he had paid for all of this after all.
On the other hand, the guy was a class A asshole who never thought about anyone but himself, so…
She groaned. She had so hoped he would prove himself worthy of their trust. Would become better and better, more… normal. Responsible. Nice. Hell, simply trustworthy!
But he had run away, following the next deluded plan, playing another scheme that could get him and everybody close to him killed, and she was not even talking about him risking their careers all the time.
She had suffered, too, dammit, not as much as Jane had, but enough to lose a part of her soul forever. And she hadn't become completely crazy in the aftermath. Yes, Red John had destroyed her life, too. But she wouldn't sacrifice herself in a futile chase for revenge. It would be like letting him win- serving the killer her essence on a silver platter. Never.
She was here, she was alive, she would look fate in the eye. Would pull through. After all, she had always been a fighter.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.
She had never, ever in her life admired another person like she admired Teresa Lisbon. Not even her wonderful father.
To see Lisbon crumble had been almost worse than shooting Craig. She had been the rock for all of them when the chips had come down, only to break like glass when Jane had left them, refusing to take her calls, shunning her completely.
Her boss had merely functioned afterwards, wearing her sadness like a cloak, unable to hide how much she'd worried about him every day, how much she had missed him- so much Grace had been speechless with awe, for Lisbon's feelings might be excruciatingly deep and passionate, but they hadn't destroyed her.
She had ploughed on, every day, struggling to maintain her balance, survive.
She was so… good, so pure, she deserved to be called a saint like no other Grace had ever met.
Next to her, Jane's smile almost contorted into the grimace of evil, his core tainted by Red John, maybe beyond redemption. Something inside Grace refused to give up hope, shared Lisbon's infallible belief in Jane's goodness, buried beneath layers of lies and deceptions, but there, somehow, anywhere, ready to be found by the angel of brightness… she swallowed.
She was unsure if Lisbon could save him, even Lisbon, who had so much sunshine inside her despite her dark past, who was everybody's warrior princess, never ready to relent until the last drop of blood was spilled.
Grace's loyalty was hers- Teresa Lisbon's, and it was her she longed to protect.
Unfortunately, ignoring Jane wasn't a long-term solution- for Lisbon needed him so much, her equilibrium depended on his closeness, his willingness to behave like a responsible adult, a sensible being with feelings, dammit, just a tiny little bit… her boss sucked up every trace of humanity Jane showed, nourishing the hope that he wasn't completely gone, that he would be able to establish steady relationships eventually, that not every smile, every nice word, every compliment was a fake…
At least, that Jane seemed clearly bothered by the cold shoulder they were showing him was a start.
But to make him see, to help him realize what was really important in life, they had to kick his butt.
Lisbon was much too nice to him. He didn't deserve her. And to change that, Jane needed to eat a huge piece of the humble pie first.
And this time, they wouldn't take him back until he'd proven his worth. Until he'd showed them that he was for real.
Xxxxxxxxxx
Jane took a piece of bread and wiped the last trace of sauce from his plate. Delicious.
He had chosen to take dinner in his bungalow, knowing full well the team wouldn't appreciate his company, and he needed to think anyway.
His soul reached out to Lisbon automatically, he couldn't really stop it. He hoped she was warm and safe and well-fed, having a great time on his expense, spreading his money generously. But he knew she was not, of course, probably lying all alone in her bungalow, unable to eat a single bite, just trying to make herself numb to all the pain and confusion inside her. He sighed.
He had been pondering plans to regain the team's affection for hours now, and every scheme had seemed shallow and dishonest and just not right. Maybe he couldn't win the teams affection back because he didn't deserve it. If there ever was a man who was rightfully hated, it was undoubtedly him.
Lisbon seemed downright depressive sometimes, and her flawless ability to do what was needed couldn't fool him. Her feelings for him went so far it scared him. He couldn't allow a mere complication like this into his life, couldn't risk getting vulnerable to anybody. But somehow, he couldn't turn away from her pain.
What had happened to deceiving, lying, cold? He could only beat Red John at his game if he was just as ruthless as the killer himself. Feelings had no business intruding, and he should use his energy to get rid of them instead of wooing three stubborn agents who had written him off as unreliable and mean anyway.
But he needed Lisbon. Without her, he would never catch Red John. Without allies, he was nothing but…alone.
He walked onto his deck. He had shed his vest and jacket and unbuttoned his shirt down to his sternum, the hot wind caressing his naked skin.
Tears were running down his face, the rivulets large like little rivers, and he analyzed the sensation almost clinically while sobs kept wrecking his body, making him shake like a leaf.
Teresa.
He was in this far too deep, knew inside his stony heart that he didn't want his fierce dark-haired angel just as an ally to catch Red John.
How had she managed to get under his skin like that, to rip him wide open- make him CRY, for god's sake.
Teresa.
His need for her was like a throbbing wound, he wanted her goodness to touch his rotten soul, soothing away the hurt and suffering that could never be buried deep enough.
Between him and death wasn't his undying thirst for vengeance, it was her. She was his last thought at night, she inhabited his dreams, his hopes. She was the beautiful fantasy he could never have, but couldn't let go either.
She was everything, alpha, omega, his answer to who he truly was.
In the moments he looked at Teresa Lisbon, Angela would be able to recognize him.
Only for those seconds he turned back into the man he had once been, his heart breaking free from its stony crust , pumping freely for a few precious beats, the blood-red organ it was meant to be, not the fortress of pain that inhabited his chest these days.
He looked out onto the ocean.
Nobody was an island. But he could try.
TBC
Well- you see that this is obviously not turning into a sunbathing fantasy, sorry. As I said, I pretty much let my stories do what they want to (much as I do with my kids ;D), I'm not a stern writer-mommy… this little one seems to plan on getting a little more angsty, so brace yourself. I promise: there will be a happy ending (because I'm a sucker for happy endings), but that's all I can promise for now. I apologize to those who had hoped for a more light-hearted story, it just didn't happen. See you tomorrow (I hope).