Disclaimer: Never.

A/N: Wow, thank you for so many reviews! The general consensus was that the phone conversation was a must-see, so here it is. It means that this chapter will be another long one. And yes, there will still be a love letter. The conversation is a bit non-linear; I did this because most real phone calls wander all over the place.

Love Letters

Chapter 11: The Sound of Your Voice

Teresa Lisbon was relaxing in an armchair at home when the call came. She glanced at her phone the first time it rang. She didn't recognize the number immediately, but Jane would have gotten her letter by now. It was undoubtedly him.

She took a deep breath as it rang a second time. She'd promised she would answer, but she was still nervous. She picked up her phone and tapped "talk" before she could chicken out completely. Her voice came out more quietly than planned when she said "Hello."

The voice on the other end sounded a little anxious, but still totally familiar when it answered, "Hi, it's me."

"I know it's you, Jane. I asked if you'd call me." She realized that she'd instantly reverted to calling him Jane even after months of addressing him only as Patrick in her letters. Old habit, she guessed.

"Yes, and I'm really glad you did Lisbon. I'm so glad to talk to you," Jane said.

She sidestepped that for the moment and asked, "How are you doing in there? Still think prison is only in your mind?"

He paused before replying, "Well, if it is then my brain is doing a stupendous job. On the upside, I have a jailhouse nickname now. That means I've been accepted!"

"Charming," she said, and went silent. This was more awkward than she'd hoped.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"How do I feel?" What a question. She let out a humorless laugh. "I hate you, Jane. I really hate you."

"I know you do," he answered, calm but sad.

"I'll never ask you why."

"Because you know why."

"And I won't argue about whether or not it was right."

"Because you promised in your last letter that you wouldn't," he said, hoping they would get past this part of the conversation as soon as possible.

"I'm only going to ask you one question about it: did you think of me at all, Jane? Lying on the floor in that cabin, shot? Or were you already too far gone by then?"

He inhaled sharply. "Lisbon, until I knew you were alive, I wasn't thinking of anything but you. What had happened to you, were you okay, what would I do without you? I could barely breathe until I heard your voice."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

"Yes, I just wanted to hear you say it."

"Is that all you wanted to talk about, Lisbon?" Jane asked, panicking slightly. Was she going to cut the call short?

"No. There are other things, too. For example, I'm pretty sure Rigsby and VanPelt are sneaking around again, if you didn't already know. I'm turning a blind eye for now; we've all been through so much that I just can't bring myself to care about that stupid rule."

"Oh, so it's a stupid rule now? At one point you were ready to give them a seriously hard time about it," he said, teasing just a little, testing if she would accept it.

She smiled slightly when she answered, "It was always stupid. You were right, I was wrong."

"Okay, who is this and how did you get Agent Teresa Lisbon's cell phone?"

That got a real laugh out of her. "I hope you were committing that moment to memory, by the way. It's probably one of the only times you'll ever hear me say that."

"I commit everything you say to memory," he answered, bringing the tone back to serious.

"I believe you. So, Jane, when you get out-"

"If I get out, Lisbon."

"When you get out, where do you want this to go? Us, I mean. What exactly do you want from me?"

"Honestly? Everything. I want love and marriage and babies and a big house and growing old together. I want us to be happy. I want everything," he said.

"Wow. That's… that's a lot to process."

"You did ask."

"Yes I did, and I wanted to know. I guess I didn't think you'd come right out with all of it at once."

"I'm telling you my secrets, Lisbon. I meant that when I wrote it."

"You were obviously serious."

"What about you? What do you want out of this?" he asked.

"Honestly? I'm a little scared to think about it. Lots of those things are big permanent steps that I've never considered would be a part of my future."

"Are you thinking about those steps now? Is it scary because it's in connection with me?"

"I wouldn't be thinking about them at all if it was anybody but you, Jane."

"That's good to hear. Although if we do get married and have babies, you'll need to stop calling me by my last name. The kids will get confused."

"Don't worry, I'll come up with a suitably embarrassing pet name for you. Our kids will grow up believing your first name is Pookie-bear or something similar."

"Pookie-bear? Seriously?" he asked, slightly appalled.

"Absolutely. In fact, it's growing on me already," she teased. "At least I don't have to worry about whether or not you'd be a good father."

"I'm glad you're so sure I will be. I'll be a good husband, too. I'll be terrifically domestic, and I promise to make late night pregnancy craving runs for chocolate-covered red licorice."

That stopped her cold. "Jane, how on Earth did you know-"

"I'm right, aren't I? You love it, so I might need to invest in a case or two when the babies start arriving," he interrupted. She could hear the smirk.

"It's so good to talk to you," she finally admitted. "I've missed you. I never realized how much we used to talk to each other until suddenly we weren't talking at all."

"Yes. It leaves an awful hole in every day." Jane agreed, and began to hum under his breath.

"What's that song, Jane? It sounds familiar, like something I may have heard on that Swing radio station you like."

"It's 'Til Then' as performed by The Mills Brothers, 1944. It's the part where the lyrics are 'Although there are oceans we must cross, and mountains that we must climb, I know every gain must have a loss, so pray that our loss is nothing but time.' It just popped into my head."

"Only you would serenade me with an obscure love song from World War II, Jane. And of course it would have to contain lyrics so appropriate that I can't even make fun of you for not picking something from at least the second half of the 20th century."

"Annoying, isn't it? You can always make fun of me for something else, though."

"Oh, I will. Don't worry about that," she shot back.

He took a deep breath. "You know, talking to you makes this the best day I've had in months. Awkwardness and jibes included."

"For me, too, honestly."

"But I can't stay on much longer. I wish I could, " he added.

"I understand. We have been talking for a while," she said, but she felt her stomach clench.

"But we can talk again, can't we?" he asked, sounding worried.

"Yes, this was tough but good. Don't think you're getting out of writing me letters, though."

"I don't," he promised.

"It's your turn next. To write one, that is."

"I remember. I'll get right on it, as soon as I get back."

"Good," she said, and then paused. "I love you, Patrick. I really love you."

That made him smile again, she could tell. "I know you do, Teresa. I love you, too."

"Okay. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Four days later, there was his letter to her, as promised. Lisbon wasn't in the same incredible rush to open it as usual, but it was still only an hour before she couldn't resist finding out what he'd written.

###

Dear Teresa,

It's been exactly twelve minutes since our phone conversation ended, and as instructed I am starting my letter to you. I'm going to be ridiculous and say that I miss you already, because it's true. Even with letters and now with a phone call, I still miss being with you.

It was wonderful to talk to you after such a long gap. Hopefully it made me seem less like a ghost to you. It made me feel less like a ghost; less like my connection with the outside world was evaporating.

Have you been considering some of the things I said? I was being completely honest; I would love to make a full life with you if possible. I know it's soon to ask, but I'd like to hear your further thoughts on the matter once you have them. For example, after the end of this mess, what do you think you would say if I asked if you would be with me?

I know I should be happy that we've made such a step forward, but the selfish part of me is always pushing for more. You will come and visit me one day soon, won't you? I know it will be hard on you. But being apart is hurting you, too; I know it is, and I know it's my fault. I'm sorry for hurting you, Teresa.

Some nights I still fight insomnia, even when I'm absolutely worn out. We're not allowed to keep cell phones, but I think if we were I'd call you on those nights. If you were awake too we could whisper quietly for a while until we dropped off. And if you weren't, your phone would already be off so it wouldn't disturb you. In that case, I'd just let it ring until it went to voicemail so I could still fall asleep to the sound of your voice. I can't think of anything more comforting than that while still being stuck here.

Hopefully we'll talk again soon. In the meantime, don't think you're getting out of writing to me, either. I will still be waiting and watching for your reply.

All my love,

Patrick

###

Lisbon smiled as she set the letter aside. It certainly confirmed that their phone conversation didn't leave him with nothing else to say.

She knew she would be arranging future phone calls soon. Hopefully they could make it into a weekly thing, like the letters. She had a feeling she was going to start thinking of the letter days and phone days as "Jane Days" in the midst of all of her days without him. She knew it was sappy, but it cheered her up.

In fact, it cheered her up so much she was smiling for the rest of the day.

TBC…