Epiphany: Chapter 8
I just updated a few hours ago and ALREADY reviews are killing! You guys are awesome.
Be prepared for a very awkward chapter.
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Frustrated, Lisbon braced herself against the bathroom sink and stared into the mirror.
"What. The hell. Was that?" She whispered to her reflection.
That wasn't supposed to happen. The quickening pulse, the fluttering in her stomach… the tingling of in her hands.
Was she… attracted to Patrick Jane?
No. No, of course not.
He was Patrick Jane. Her colleague, her consultant. Her consultant who, just incidentally, also happened to get under skin on an almost daily basis. Who she accepted as a friend, but never anything more…
Until now?
What happened? What changed since a few days ago? Other than her little brush with death, her new broken ankle and abdominal scar?
She sighed.
This was so confusing, so frustrating. This is why she didn't get close to people, why she settled for shallow one-night-stands and lonely nights. She's never been good at figuring out romantic intentions.
She threw her crutches down and hopped off towards the bathtub. Usually she would much rather take a nice, hot shower, but she had to keep the bandages around her ankle dry. She drew the bath, letting it run full with hot, foamy water. When it the tub was full, she undressed and got into the tub. She let the warm water absorb all of her worries and all of her frustration.
She ran her finger against the long line that scarred her abdomen – where the bullet had entered her, and where surgeons opened her up more to get the bullet out where it was lodged somewhere inside of her. Though the pain medication numbed most of the pain, the line still throbbed uncomfortably, and as she ran her finger along it, it stung, raw and red.
This certainly wasn't the first time a gun has been pulled on Teresa Lisbon. It would certainly not be the last.
And through the years she had been grazed by a stray bullet once or twice before. Scrapes and scratches, mostly, and a lot of bruises from bullets hitting her vest. But this was something scary and new – being so close to death, and then miraculously surviving. It was a fluke. It could've gone either way.
She could've been dead right now. She should've been dead right now. These past few days – waking up in the hospital, the few days she stayed there, coming home, last night – was driven on pure adrenaline. On the disbelief of actually still being here.
And now all of this – Jane, and these new, weird feelings she was having. There was something different in the way he's been treating her since she woke up. He looked at her differently, spoke to her differently. At first she thought it was shock, and was annoyed with it. She hated being coddled and treated like a child.
But since she came home it became less coddling and more just caring for her – something she would still have rather done for herself, but found harder to complain about. He still let her do things for herself, like wash and get dressed and entertain herself, but he treated her. He made her meals (which she wasn't going to complain about – she's never been a kitchen-dweller and Jane was quite the cook), he brought her pain medication after every meal. And he did all kinds of sweet things that confused her. Like arrange indoor picnics and take out movies he knew she'd love and massage her back when her shoulder hurt… And stir up feelings she wasn't allowed to feel.
Soon, she lost track of time deep in her bathtub-musings, and her fingers had turned into prunes. She pulled herself up and out of the bathtub, careful not to slip, and she wrapped herself in a towel.
She tucked the corner of the towel securely under her arm, and grabbed her crutch. Her mission: get to her room to get dressed without tripping and falling on her face.
The problem was that her room was all the way down the hall.
She opened the door and slowly started to make her way to the door, concentrating fiercely on not falling over.
She didn't look up, too focused on her chosen path, so she didn't see the mop of blonde curls appear from the staircase, silently walking up. He didn't see her either; he was focused on the little bottle of pills, trying to open the childproof lock which was suddenly a lot harder to open…
And then he looked up.
"Ah!" He yelled, seeing her half-naked not exactly on his top-ten list of things he expected to see.
In reaction, her head snapped up and she screeched.
She was so used to living alone, keeping an eye out for someone who could see her in a towel never occurred to her.
In her shock, she stumbled over her own feet, falling forwards, and Jane – seeing the danger in her expression – lunged himself forward to attempt to stable her. In a confused flurry of limbs, they stumbled backwards, and Lisbon (crutch lying somewhere behind her and legs flailing) landed right on Jane, who fell on his back.
The landing wasn't gentle by any means, and the result was two groaning people lying on top of each other, in a messy, tangled heap.
And then their groaning stopped, replaced by a very awkward, stunned silence as they stared at each other with shocked expressions.
"I-I…" For once in his life, Patrick Jane was truly at loss of words.
"It's okay." Lisbon said, just a little too loudly for it to come across as anything close to okay. "Uhm… It's fine, it's just a little accident." She struggled to get up, but only succeeded in wiggling against him, earning a strained groan. "Sorry." She whispered, her face flushing bright red from embarrassment. "Could you, uh… Help me up? My foot is…"
"Yeah, yeah, sure…" He said. He was pretty sure that he himself was blushing – a rare, rare occurrence, that hadn't happened to him since maybe his teen years – as he struggled out from underneath her. She wasn't heavy by any means (in fact, she was as light as a feather), but he was careful not to hurt her, knowing she had probably landed with her foot at an odd angle.
Finally, he managed out and helped pull her up, looking away as soon as he saw the towel threaten to slip just lower than decent. As much as he wanted to, he didn't want to make this worse for her (her face was already on fire). Besides, he was a gentleman. If he was going to see her like that, it wasn't going to be because she fell in a towel by accident…
Both parties thoroughly embarrassed, and Lisbon flushed a brighter red than he'd ever seen (or thought possible), they stood in the hallway for a few moments more in awkward silence. She was clutching to towel tightly around her and balancing on her one leg, her eyes fixed on the floor.
"Sorry." He then said, as he bent down and grabbed her crutch handing it to her.
"N-No problem." She said, taking it from him, her other hand still clutching the towel for dear life. And then she hopped into her room with impressive speed, and slammed the door shut.
Jane stood in the hallway for a few moments after she disappeared into her room, leaning against the wall in support. He's pretty sure that his eyes must be as big as saucers.
That was probably the most embarrassing, strangest, most unreal moment he's shared with anyone, let alone with Lisbon. And he was a man who has had quite a number of strange events happen in his life.
Slowly, he walked back downstairs, his mind still flooded with confusion and adrenaline.
Then he quickly backtracked and picked up the bottle of pills that lay forgotten on the carpet.
Ha. So that went somewhere weird… My excuse is that no one suggested anything, so I just let my weird head go where it wanted to, and since I think awkward moments are hilarity itself, my head went to Awkwardland. Thoughts?
Much love, Zanny
