Disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real... I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed by the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...)- I'm thinking about doing few vodoo on him as well, you don't know how things could work out...
So, a little somehting my mind elaborated using petitj's polt bunny from the jello forever forum ("Whould you please be my boyfriend for 5 minutes?" ). Glad you all liked it, it makes my day, really. chapter two had been re-submitted. apparently, FF. decided to play a little with me...
aaannd... I really don't know when I'll be able to post the nexy chapter, really. I'd like to tell you sometime next week, but I'n not sure- I work 3 days each week and then I'm shifting the tunrs, night and day, with my mother the time she spent in hopsital looking after her dad, so i'm either tired at evening because I've spent the whole day at the hospital, or i'm tired duirng teh day ebcause I've tried to sleep at the hospital ending just sleeping deprived...
Lisbon didn't even looked at Jane when he escaped from the bar; she kept her glossy eyes firmly on the pavement, suppressing the sobs of sufferance she was feeling inside, only letting it go as she heard the doorbell, signal that he was gone. After all, Jane seeing her upset she could deal with, but Jane seeing her broken behaving like a broken hearted teenager left by the handsome, cold and heartless quarterback was too much.
No, she couldn't allow Jane to see how his behavior had affected her; she wasn't going to let him see how his guilt and regret had made her feel. And there was no way she was going to let him know she wasn't regretting what had happened between the two of them.
At the end, what had made her feel that way wasn't the kiss in itself, but the rejection: Jane had been the one to actually kiss her, but not only had she answered it, she had deepened the exchange, and not because Jeff was there, but because she wanted to. She had done what she had because she didn't need to pretend to be affected by him. She had known from a while she was feeling something for her blond curled, blue eyed, annoying consultant, long before he killed his only led to Red John to save her life, long before he trusted her with the knowledge of his breakdown, the asylum and how he knew Sophie Miller, long before he admitted what he wanted to do to the bloody killer, long before he confessed her that no matter what, he was always going to save her, always there at her side.
Only, at the time she didn't know what it exactly was, under what category it fell. She had considered empathy, she had considered physical attraction, she had considered the idea she had been too long without a man in her bed (but, then, why didn't she feel attracted to Cho or Rigsby, even if they were good looking, but just to Jane?). Hell, she had been that desperate that had been even contemplating the anthropological theory of love (the sight of a particular specimen of the opposite sex triggers a chemical reaction in the brain, that drove the subject to feel love, i.e. attraction, in order to generate offspring that, given the genetic combination of their parents, would mostly be good looking, i.e. more successful). What she had never contemplated, because, frankly, it scared her, was the thought of being in love with the man, for real. It took her his regret, his shame and his guilt to understand how deep her feelings run, and a kiss she knew she wasn't going to forget soon.
Still crying, Teresa Lisbon didn't register the whisky on the rock Sully had offered her, or Grace's hand gently rubbing her back to try to make it a bit better. No, Teresa Lisbon was oblivious to the whole word, but Patrick Jane and the tears he was making her cry.
"Put it away" as soon as Lisbon got a hold back to reality she saw the glass of iced liquor in front of her, and pushed it away. She wasn't going to drink it. And it wasn't because she didn't drink, she did, in facts, not too much, but she did. It was that she didn't want to drink for the wrong reason. One or two beers when she was out with the guys she could handle, but she wasn't going to drink herself into oblivion because she was heartbroken.
She wasn't going to drink herself away because of love. She wasn't going to be her father's daughter. He father, back then, had been so heartbroken for the loss of his beloved wife that had forgotten that his family had survived, was still there, that his children were still alive, still at his side. Her father had become a monster, and it didn't matter that sometimes, even drunk, was sorry and kept crying, or calling his wife's name, like he had done that the night he had died. He had sent the house into fire, calling for his beloved Amanda, telling her that the six of them were going to be back together again soon. Lisbon remembered when she had bran to safety her brothers, and how a fireman had stopped her when she had tried to come back inside to grab her father. She remembered the man telling her it was too late, that the house was gone, that there was no way he could survive that, and had she tried to come back inside, her brothers would have mourned her as well. She remembered thinking that, on the night of her seventeenth birthday, her father's body finally died, joining the soul he had lost 5 years prior, when he had got drunk out of loss and sufferance for the first time.
No, she wasn't going to be her father's daughter, not now, never, not like that. She was better than this, better than him.
"I had to marry him, you know? But he left me for Barbie. And I found it out because…because I found them in my…in our bed, one evening. I didn't know he got married to her. I so wasn't ready for this and for his bloody nonchalance…" she emitted a high hysterical laugh, and was glad when Grace just nodded, not praying. She wasn't ready to admit she was in that state because of Jane's rejection, even if she knew that Grace wasn't stupid and had seen everything, from the flirting to the kiss to Jane's escape. Grace had seen it and had understood what had happened; after hearing Lisbon's words she had understood the reason behind the game, even if she was sure that deep down there was more than it met the eyes. She knew that both Lisbon and Jane wanted It to be just a game, but it seemed that said game had gone too far, awakening and exposing emotions and sensations that the two of them had buried deep down in their souls.
No, Grace Van Pelt wasn't there to lecture her boss about what had happened, neither to give her advice. Not now, at least. Later on, if the boss and the consultant would still be at the same point, she was to, but not now. Right now, all Teresa Lisbon needed was someone willing to listen to her, a shoulder to rely on, to cry on, but not advice.
She didn't need advice because she knew what she was going to do. She was going to act exactly as Jeff had. She was going to behave like nothing happened, like it didn't matter. Even better: she was going to claim the kiss hadn't affected her at all. She hadn't given the satisfaction to Jeff, why should Jane be any different?
