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Someplace warm
Chapter four
Patrick Jane felt absurdly happy.
He'd never thought that this was what he needed- but it made him feel. Filled the emptiness in his soul with a warmth he could hardly remember. He'd been whole once. And suddenly, he could recall a hint of this state again.
It felt like the first touch of spring after an endless winter.
To avoid any complications, he simply programmed his dreams to work their cases while he slept. This was what they were supposed to do, not give him stupid, sweet images of…well, he simply ordered them not to confuse him further, and they didn't.
He went to her every night, like an addict, unable to risk this new state of mind, despite his refusal to analyze anything he was feeling. He took the sensations like a toddler. Sworn to the moment. Not bothering to ask any questions that might destroy what he experienced.
When he was with her, he was new. The past fell asleep for some precious hours. The torture ended with a look into her emerald green eyes. And Patrick Jane saw in her smile what he once had been.
They watched thunderstorms from her bedroom after they'd found out that they both loved them. Lying prone on her bed they saw lightning jolt across the violet-blue sky, saw the rivulets of rain streaming over the window panes, heard the thunder rumble in the distance.
He wrapped his arm around her small frame and pulled her closer, their hips touching. He smelled her shampoo, sensed the softness of her hair against his face and felt at home. So peaceful and pure.
Later that night he braided her hair into a French plaid.
She giggled.
"Jane," she said softly "What are you doing there?"
"Oh," he answered, smiling tenderly "I know what I'm doing…I used to braid my daughter's hair."
She fell silent, and his hands slid over her shoulders for some moments, absorbing the faint coolness her skin exuded. She was so small. It was a fulltime-job to keep her warm. He engulfed her in his arms and kissed her neck, carefully pushing the plaid aside. He willed his heat into her, and felt her slowly getting warm against his body. He pulled back and watched her turn. A smile spread on his face and Lisbon stifled a gasp.
He looked so young. So flawless. No medium would be able to capture what she saw in his eyes.
"You are beautiful." He said.
She nodded softly.
"I bet your daughter was, too." She whispered, bravely looking into his eyes.
"Yes," he said, and his smile got so sad her heart skipped a beat "she was."
He was silent for a while, his gaze wandering across the landscape of his memories, she could almost read the varying emotions on his features. When he looked at her, he made sure it was her he saw.
"Can I hold you?" he asked almost shyly.
"Of course." She nodded, her throat so tight she could hardly suck air through it.
And he held her for a long time, his breath rustling in her ears while his tears fell onto her shoulder. She touched his back and could trace every silent sob in the movement of his muscles. The fabric of his pajama top felt cool under her fingertips, but the exquisite heat of his skin seeped through, warming her palms.
Later he tried to find the most ticklish spot on her body. It didn't take him too long- it was at her hip, directly next to the sharply protruding bone. He slid his finger along the ridge and made her squeal.
He loved to cook for her, and it was in her kitchen that she heard him laugh for the first time. Deep, warm, loud laughter that made her heart soar with glee.
And he never, never forgot to kiss her goodnight, his lips resting against hers in a shy caress, just for a moment, swallowing each other's breath.
And he slept like an angel while she lay awake most of the night.
xxMentalistxx
Teresa Lisbon was worried. She felt like a traitor and didn't know why.
She knew she should simply stop touching him. Knew that she was violating their contract, all the time. For every time he put her hands on her, she held her breath, willing him to do more.
No expectations, he'd said. But she had dreams that contained a hope she couldn't allow herself.
They were friends, nothing more. And as a friend, she couldn't take from him. But she couldn't stop giving. Not when he seemed so free, so light for the first time since she knew him. She'd never seen him like this. It didn't matter what she felt, to look at him had to be enough. She'd never asked her heart about what it hid from her, for she was too afraid to hear the answer.
But she couldn't stop. Couldn't stop to want, couldn't stop to wait, couldn't stop the dreams. Couldn't stop her eyes from fluttering shut in bliss whenever he touched her. She depended on this touch, sometimes she thought it might be all that held her together these days. If she lost it, there would be only work. Again. She felt like a slave. Though she didn't even know what she was truly feeling right now.
She was confused as hell.
And then, one Saturday morning in October, she was busy doing the laundry, picking up garments all over her apartment. In the bedroom, she found Jane's pajamas and decided to wash those, too. She had no interest in becoming an obedient little hausfrau, but the danger was relatively low given her dire lack of talent in this area, so she would clean up for him this time.
When she knelt in the bathroom and loaded the clothes into the washing machine, the pajamas fell into her hands again. She paused for a moment, smiling softly. Touching the light blue shirt with her fingers, a sharp pull tugging at her heart, bittersweet. Almost a tiny bit painful. She buried her nose in the fabric and inhaled his scent- clean and unique, wrapping her mind in memories. Her fingers tightened, and she sighed, her insides awash with a mixture of unfathomable emotions. She honestly didn't know what to do.
Her eyes caught her reflection in the huge mirror that covered the whole bathroom door. She froze in shock.
For agent Teresa Lisbon might be a dull little spinster when it came to the dating business, might be a complete failure regarding her personal life, but she sure as hell wasn't stupid.
She recognized the signs. And watching herself like this, she couldn't pretend any longer.
She loved.
And she was not allowed to do that.
TBC
A little bit short, but it's a good point for a full stop. More about Jane's emotional state tomorrow!
And: I can say now that this story will probably have seven chapters- and an epilogue! There is some trouble ahead, I'm afraid- but just some.
