I hope that nobody is thrown that I have changed the name of this episode tag. The original title worked for where I thought I was going, but this is more in line with my current direction.
To the guest reviewer who urged me to keep writing on Illusion of Control, thank you for your trust and patience. I haven't given up. I hope to have something for you soon.
To all those who read, review, and discuss with me in private messages, your encouragement and suggestions mean more to me than you know.
To the readers who guessed that my first chapter was not all there is to this story, you were right. I hope it lives up to your hopes.
To the professionals whose writing and creativity make The Mentalist what it is, this show is all yours, but thanks for letting me enjoy it in a non-profit, leisurely type way.
Chapter 2: Ticklish
Teresa was often surprised how strong Jane was, given that walking to and from the tea kettle was the most regular exercise that she ever saw him get. As he carried her out of visual range of the scene of today's near miss, she was surprised how little he showed the effort. He trudged towards the vehicle in which he had come, His breathing audible, but even. His grasp at her back and under her legs felt secure enough that she did not fear a fall. But once no other agents were visible, she did begin to feel awkward. Wasn't he tired of bearing her weight? She wasn't really injured, shouldn't she walk for herself?
Before she could prod herself to insist on being set down, she felt herself hoisted over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Hey! Jane, come on, this really isn't necessary, I can..." her breath caught suddenly midsentence. A slight pressure at the bottom of her rib cage, where Jane was holding her firmly but gently with one arm, made her squirm. She suppressed a giggle. No way she would reveal that he really had found her Achilles' heal. Even if he did know already where she was ticklish, she would not give him the satisfaction.
"Ow!" she protested, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't see the ploy for what it was. The only response was the sound of the car door opening. Within moments, she was in the passenger seat. Jane fastened her seat belt with a look of concentration, then remained there with his arm resting casually against her side (she tried to keep her breathing steady) and his face inches from her own, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Now don't fuss, my dear. You have announced an ankle injury. Our illustrious leader has charged me with attending to your care. And I intend to take full advantage of this opportunity to play hooky that you so cleverly provided." He paused for a moment, and then carefully asked, "You aren't actually hurt, right?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'll live," she assured him.
He beamed at her, looking into her eyes with such love and relief that it was hard to hold his gaze. She knew he would kiss her. If she leaned in. If she smiled back. If she showed even a hint of how much she wanted it.
If she didn't spoil everything by crying.
The look of sorrow and dismay on his face as she started to heave uncontrollably, eyes watering, frustrated and shook her. "Hey. Teresa..."
"Sorry...I...don't know..." she gasped between sobs.
"Shhhh..." He pulled her against his chest, while she clutched convulsively at his shirt, leaving damp patches where her face rested. She felt his arms tightening around her and one hand stroking her hair as he whispered tender nonsense against her temple. Slowly, she stopped trying to force down her physical reaction and relaxed into his embrace. Gradually the storm subsided, leaving her spent and more than a little embarrassed.
She leaned back into the seat, and he let her, his eyes watchful on her face, full of concern and regret. And a question that he probably knew better than to ask. But she would answer it anyway.
"I think... I think I'm okay now." The memory of her bravado, just moments ago, made her cringe. "Honestly, I have no idea where that came from..."
A wry smile touched his face just briefly. "Well, my best guess would be... and of course I could be mistaken... that someone just threatened to kill us both at gunpoint. After you watched an innocent man shot to death. After spending a few days in prison for a crime you didn't commit. Other than that, I can't imagine what would upset you."
"But I've been a cop for years. Usually I can handle things like that." She murmured, avoiding his eyes. "I don't lose control. I move on to the next thing."
He lifted a hand to smooth the tears from her cheeks. "Sometimes our bodies just need to react without having to be strong. It's involuntary. Like being tickled." She felt herself tense at the words. He must have felt it, too, because he drew back, placing his hands in hers. "Teresa, I promise that your secret is safe with me."
His tone was so earnest that she felt a bit uneasy. She berated herself silently. Didn't she want for them to talk about serious things? She hid behind humor. "What, you think that outburst couldn't be heard all over Texas? The fact that I got overemotional is not a big secret."
He shook his head minutely. "I didn't mean that secret. I should have said all your secrets, really, but I meant..." He lay his hand on her side, near the sensitive spot. She couldn't help pulling back from the touch. "Yes, that." His knowing smile gave way to regret. "Teresa, you have given me the privilege and honor of knowing you...intimately. I take that very seriously. I wouldn't use your secrets against you."
She remembered the night that he had discovered the ticklish spot, how his eyes lit with delight when she squeaked at a casual touch, how he had attacked her gleefully until the moment passed into something more sensual. He had known not to prolong that moment into discomfort for her. It became a way to build and release tension, setting the stage for something more. She had in fact forgotten it until he mentioned her being ticklish before she went undercover.
"I know. I do trust you. Mostly." She took his hands and placed them back on her sides. Then she leaned in and touched her lips to his while her hands traveled up his chest to the collar of his shirt. They lingered at the juncture of his neck and neck and shoulder while the kiss deepened. Then the slightest exertion of pressure at just the right juncture made him gasp and jerk away reflexively.
She smiled into his startled expression with a mischievous wink. "Just don't forget. I know a few of your secrets, too."
He grinned and squeezed lightly, provoking the slightest of jumps. "Woman, you are definitely not well. I ought to get you home where you can...rest."
