Chapter Two - Visitor In Bed


She was vaguely aware of warmth underneath her cheek. She stirred and sighed, smiling at the heat cradling her face. The feeling was new and strangely welcomed. It was as if she wanted to curl into the heat even closer. She turned in closer, tilting her head up and felt a sharp, warm breath on her face. Her eyes swung open and she lifted her head. Everything was hazy; as if the world around her had been engulfed in clouds. As her vision finally adjusted, however, she found herself staring at the sleeping face of Patrick Jane: consultant, and an obligatory jackass. She dropped the content smile off her face and felt her heart jump in her throat.

Teresa gasped and rolled over, scrambling off whatever the hell she was on and dragging the cover with her. It had been under Jane's heavy body, and when she pulled on it, it tugged him and rolled him off the other side of the bed.

"Ouch!" he blurted out sleepily, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. "What the hell?"

"What are you doing?" she demanded, covering herself with the cover even though she realized she was still fully dressed, all save her shoes.

She realized as she took in her surroundings from the corner of her eyes, that she was in her house. In her bedroom sleeping. Patrick Jane was sleeping in her bed next to her. What the hell was his problem?

"I was sleeping," he told her, standing and continuing to rub his skull. "Until you deposited me onto the floor."

"Why were you in my bed? What—what the hell is going on here? You better start explaining before I find my gun!" She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes angrily at him.

"Now, wait, Teresa! I have a reason for—for being in your bed, okay? Calm down," he assured her.

"You'd better start talking! If I can't find my gun I will just kick your ass with these!" She held up her fists clenching the navy blue cover. "What the hell are you doing in my bed and what were you doing spooning me?"

"Spooning? Really?" Jane shook his head. "All right, all right. Put—put your fists away. Sheesh! Anyone ever tell you you're kind of violent?"

"TALK!"

"Fine." He sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair, locking his eyes on hers. "You passed out at work, Teresa."

"So?"

"So? I brought you home," he explained. "You were out like a light, Teresa."

"I passed out?" she repeated.

"In my arms, yes," Jane confirmed, walking around the bed slowly, his eyes still trained on her face. "Rigsby carried you to your car and I drove you home."

She took this information in and licked her lips. She had passed out and he had brought her home. That sure didn't explain why he was spooning her in her own bed or why when she felt his warmth she felt like a sledgehammer had hit her with an electric charge through her veins. She was hugging Patrick Jane's torso and it still wasn't enough. She had wanted to be even closer. But that was just her sleepy subterfuge, right?

"You brought me up here?"

"Yeah," he replied, keeping his distance still as his eyes darted to her balled up fists and back up to her eyes. "I didn't think you'd want to go to the hospital, but if I had my say... I laid you down and took off your shoes. Didn't want to—you know. So I left your clothes on."

"Still, doesn't explain why the hell you were in my bed when I woke up!" She yielded and lowered her fists, balling up the cover and tossing it back on the bed. She wouldn't tell him she had woke up snuggling up to him or that she had enjoyed it.

"I was going to leave, I swear! I was heading out of here."

"What made you change your mind about that? Opportunity?" she shot at him. She knew it was unfair, but she was angry and embarrassed.

He looked as if he'd been slapped. He walked closer to her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "That's not fair, Teresa."

She said nothing. Instead, she flinched away when he tried to reach out to push a straggled tuft of hair from in front of her eyes. He cleared his throat and dropped his hands.

"Uh, okay," he finally said after a few awkward moments of silence. "You were screaming in your sleep, Teresa. I mean, piercing screams. I tried to calm you down, but you wouldn't stop."

"So you thought you'd just hop in my bed? Your brain is fascinating!" she said angrily.

"Well, I actually, uh, I reached out to touch your arm to calm you and you just...stopped," he said, gesturing with his head in a slight nod. "One moment you were screaming, and the next I was touching your arm and telling you it was all right and you were silent and dreaming."

She just stared at him for a long moment. She had been too frazzled to realize that she actually felt like she had slept a decent amount of sleep. Her eyes no longer burned or shattered into a million pieces and stab her pupils when she opened them. Her legs did not shake when she stood on them and the heaviness in her eyes were just dull aches.

"How long did I sleep for?" she whispered, looking at Jane in confusion. "How many hours?"

"I don't know exactly," he admitted. "I fell asleep about an hour after I laid down beside you. Nine hours?"

"I slept all night," she whispered to nobody in particular. "The nightmare stopped when you climbed into bed."

"Huh?" Jane pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed his chin. "Nightmare? This is the reason you didn't look good and why you passed out?"

She walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down. Jane hesitated, then followed her and sat down beside her. She could see him staring at her, trying to figure out what exactly he was missing. She secretly relished the fact he had to ask her or have her confirm and that he couldn't just guess on his own. She always hated when he did that to her.

She explained to Jane about her recurring nightmare and how it deeply affected her sleep almost every single night. She even told him about waking up sweaty and gross. She left out the part about reading his letters to keep herself awake. She finished and looked over at him, searching or some sign of what he was thinking. He was a closed book to her, so it was no surprise when she came back empty-handed in that department.

"Teresa," he finally whispered. "He's still dead. There's nothing to fear anymore. He's gone."

She sighed softly to herself. "I know that, Jane. It doesn't change the fact he still haunts my nights, okay? How do you think I'm feeling? I know he's gone. I wish that fact could be used to keep the dreams at bay. There's nothing I can do about them." She cleared her throat and stood. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. The only thing that seemingly gives me respite is you," she said. "How's that for some irony? Pain in my ass by day, the only person to give me the best night's sleep in years by night. My bad karma."

Jane was silent. Unusual for him, so Lisbon dipped her head so that he was distracted enough to look up at her. There was a strange look on his face. She recognized it as a look of deep thought. He exhaled and licked his lips. She watched him dart out a hand and tuck that stray strand of hair he had tried to move earlier behind her ear.

"What if we made an arrangement, Teresa?" His eyes bore into her. Not just into her, but through her. Around her.

"Arrangement?" She was a little bewildered. "I'm not following..."

He smiled and shook his head at her. "What if I slept here at night? You could sleep well finally."

"Absolutely not!" she protested. "I—I really don't think-"

"Lisbon, it wouldn't be anything more than a business arrangement. That's all," he promised. "A compromise."

"No! I don't want—please, Jane. Leave," said Lisbon, stepping back from him. "Please?"

He lingered on her face for a moment later before he silently turned and walked out of her room. She waited until she heard the door snap closed below before she turned and fell backward on her bed, covering her face with the palms of her hands and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Business arrangement? What in the hell was he thinking? Sure, he had given her the best sleep she's had in years, but she wasn't about to invite him into her bed! It's bad enough he ended up there last night.

She sighed inwardly. She couldn't help but go back to waking up with her face buried in his warm chest. She had wanted to get impossibly close to him, for God's sake! She instantly chided herself for feeling that way. There was no way she was going to let him sleep beside her night after night. There was enough tension. She didn't need anything else standing between them. It could crush what relationship they had. Was this her real reason for saying no? Hell if she knew anymore. For right now, it was the one she was going with.


It was a few hours later that Jane walked into the CBI and plopped down on his couch. Lisbon hadn't come in yet, and he didn't know if he actually expected her to. When he left her, she was embarrassed and upset at his suggestion of sleeping with her in her bed.

For his part, he didn't think it was a bad suggestion. He thought of it as a transaction. He'd provide her with nights of restful sleep, and for his part—well, he didn't know. He would have asked her when he thought of what he wanted in return.

He laid down on the leather and sighed. He remembered crawling into bed with her and pressing a hand to her arm. When she stopped her outburst, he had decided that he'd stay to make sure she was all right. He didn't plan to stay the night. He fell asleep and it just so happened that he ended up with her against him. Not that he minded at all. He simply enjoyed feeling her warmth.

Actually, if he was being honest with himself, he had watched her as she slept. The peaceful look on her face and the slight tremor of her lips, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He would never tell her that he actually fell in love with her long ago. There was already enough strain on their partnership from when he took off and came back and uprooted her life once again.

The nightmare was his fault. Had he not upset her, she wouldn't have gone there alone and Red John wouldn't have gotten to her. He hated himself for that. For doing that to Lisbon. In some way, he was trying to make up for his mistake. Realistically, he could provide her with the forgiveness he was asking.

His eyes slid to the elevator as he watched her walk out of it. She looked a hell of a lot better after getting good rest. She walked without the shaking of her body and she looked much more of her natural complexion. She looked rested. Her eyes locked onto his and she turned her head away, choosing to look at the nice new paint on the furthermost wall to her right.

He watched as she slid into her desk chair and turned on her computer. He looked at the back of her and sighed. She was being needlessly difficult. If she didn't want his company in her bed to keep her dreams at bay, fine. He couldn't force her. But to studiously ignore him for what happened this morning was crazy.

"You mad at me?" he asked her, playing with the tips of his fingers.

She said nothing. He could hear the tapping of her keyboard in her resolute silence.

"Teresa, we need to get this sorted out. I won't have you ignoring me. Please?" he begged. "Talk to me."

She sighed deeply and turned her chair around to face him. Her face was as impassive as a mask. He couldn't read her very well.

"There's nothing to sort out, Jane," she told him. "I told you what I had to say and that's it. Okay?"

"Something is bothering you, Teresa. Why won't you tell me what it is? What did I do?"

"You're the goddamn mentalist," she replied in a mean tone. "You tell me."

"If I knew, I would not have had to ask," he muttered. "Is this about this morning? Because I am not telling anyone and I am pretty sure you won't. I was just trying to comfort you, Teresa," he whispered. "Honestly."

"Well, thank you for the comfort and all of that, but I think I can manage from here."

He sighed as she turned herself back to her desk, tapping away again at her keyboard. She was being challenging. Nothing new with her, really, but there was something under the surface bothering her. He couldn't quite figure it out, though.

They spent nearly the rest of the day in silence with one another, only speaking when Cho asked if they had any leads on the case thus far, which they didn't.

When it was finally time to go home, Jane deliberately waited until everyone had left the office before he approached Lisbon, who was putting things into her bag for her trip home. The concern wouldn't allow him to let her go just yet.

"Are you sure you don't want me to...compromise?" Jane asked her, standing in front of her desk.

"Yes," she answered simply.

"Okay," he replied. "You have my cell number. If you ever need me, just call me. Understood?" He waited for her to answer. When she didn't, he put out a hand and tilted her chin up. "Understood?"

He heard her breath catch in her throat. Finally, she pulled away from his hand and nodded her head at him.

"Yes, I understand. Good night, Jane!"

"Goodnight, Teresa," he whispered as she walked quickly away from him. "I hope you have pleasant dreams."

As soon as she crawled in bed, she immediately felt the absence of his warm body. Not only that, but she was scared to close her eyes in fear the nightmare would return. She didn't want Jane to be her comfort. She wanted the nightmares to go away on their own. She didn't want his body so close to hers. The warmth of his body, the shape of his legs nesting in hers. She just wanted some good rest for a change and not with Patrick Jane's help.

She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take her. There was no use fighting it. It would come eventually. She hoped she didn't have the nightmare again, actually. Perhaps Jane had cured it for good. She shifted under the covers and laid on her side. It wasn't long before the blackness behind her eyes faded into sleep.

She was lying on the mattress this time. She could feel the scrape of his fingers as he wiped the crimson across her flesh, lingering over her lips and eyes. The moonlight from the broken window behind him illuminated the carpet knife that he was using to collect his sick paint. She followed his movements with her eyes as his gloved fingers ghosted over her forehead and cheeks. He got to her chin, the last bit of bloody paint, and she awoke, gasping for air and sweating profusely again.

She could feel the tightness in her chest as she tried to stop herself from losing control and hyperventilating. She was slipping. She could feel herself falling into panic and frustration. She lifted her sticky palms up and wiped them on the cover that was half off of her body and brought them to her eyes, rubbing furiously, trying to scrub the nightmare from her brain.

She could have cried. In fact, she was. She could feel the sobs working in her chest, fighting to get out of her throat and tear into the silence of the room. She was exhausted. She could feel it in her bones and in her mind.

Lisbon curled her legs up against her chest and rocked herself, trying to steady her racing pulse and hammering heart. She put her head on her knees and then turned to rest her cheek on them. She saw her cell phone sitting on the night table as the tears fell fast and heavy on her pajama-clad legs. She lifted her head and reached for the cell phone.

She didn't want to be alone anymore. Despite her attempts to go it alone, she knew she couldn't. It wasn't in her. She was so tired. She was tired of the nightmare and tired of living the damn thing every single night.

She pressed a speed dial number and put the phone up to her ear. After just two rings, they answered.

"Teresa," he said softly. "Everything okay?"

"I need you," she told him, crying heavily into the phone. "Can—can you come over, Jane?"

"I'll be right there, Teresa," he told her. "Don't worry. I'm coming. Okay?"

"'Kay," she replied helplessly. "Hurry?"

"I'm coming. I promise. I have to hang up now, Teresa," he told her. "I'm heading over."

"T—thanks," she sobbed.

She hung up and rocked back and forth. She realized she locked the front door when she came in. Sliding slowly out of bed, she made her way down the stairs to wait for Jane. She didn't have to wait long. She saw him pull up outside of her apartment. He exited his car and ran up the stairs. She unlocked and opened her apartment door.

Jane took her expression in and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He reached out and innocently wiped the tears from her face. It was gentle and was something a friend would do for someone. She closed her eyes at his touch.

"Are you all right, Teresa?" he asked. "Did it come back?" He meant the nightmare.

She nodded her chestnut curls. "Yeah. Jus' tired." She opened her eyes which were drooping heavily.

He let go of her cheeks and reached down to take her hand. Silently, he led her across her living room and up the stairs.

"Let's get you to bed," he whispered. "I'll help you sleep, Teresa."

"Mmhm," she muttered tiredly. "You do that."

He led her down the hall and into the bedroom they shared early this morning.

"I will. Promise," he replied.