Pretty risky to publish this now, but I wanted to hear your opinion- I have NOTHING for this story so far, only this one chapter and the vague idea of some hardcore Patrick Jane wooing :D… I haven't written a second chapter yet, so I can't promise that I'll update every day, and I haven't written an outline yet, so I have no idea where this will be going (but I'm SURE the story will tell me). All I know is that I need a holiday-fic right now, and "Seducing Patrick Jane" is SO 2011 ;)… so I thought I should write something new. As I said, this could turn out super fluffy, or pretty angsty, or both, or sappy, or funny, or, or, or… no idea yet. Just tell me if you want me to continue, and I see what the evil voice inside my mind whispers tomorrow.
I rated this M, because, sorry: a luxury resort in the Florida Keys, a romantic bungalow directly on the beach, sun, sand and the turquoise ocean and Jane and Lisbon totally in love with each other without acknowledging it yet? I don't have to say anything more, do I? So: RATED M!
Oh yes, if you want to know more about the Little Palm Island resort, take a look at my blog (address in my profile)- I'll post a link there this afternoon :D.
Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist", and I don't make money from fan fiction.
Scarlet Sea
They hated him, and he absolutely couldn't imagine why that hurt so much. He'd been despised and rejected before, oh yes. It had never bothered him, never.
Patrick Jane had one single purpose in his life: catch Red John and make him pay. Nothing else mattered, nothing.
He was on this Earth to exact his revenge, a dark-winged avenger, ready to be obnoxious and annoying and utterly unlikeable in order to reach his goal. He certainly wasn't here to make friends and play the knight in shining armor.
So why did it hurt so much that Grace gave him the silent treatment, that Cho didn't even look at him and Rigsby sometimes watched him with an expression of pity on his easily readable face?
Five weeks since he'd returned from Las Vegas, since the chips had come down in the desert. Still nobody laughed when he made a joke, nobody allowed him to buy closed case pizza. Cho refused to go on field missions with him. Grace leaned away when he looked over her shoulder at something she showed him on her computer. Rigsby didn't know where to look when he tried to make conversation.
They made it more than clear every minute of the day: for them, Patrick Jane wasn't part of their team any longer.
His heart clenched. Oh yes, that hurt. Even worse was that his shield and sword, his one bastion of comfort and protection hid in her office constantly, sad and confused, refusing to smile or banter with him.
And that was the main reason the team couldn't even stand his presence. Everybody knew he had hurt her, hurt her so much she was a shadow of herself these days. He had read all the emotions on her beautiful face, the lines of worry and love, of sleepless nights thinking about him, had seen the look of confusion when Loralei had spilled that they had been… intimate. It had affected her. A little jealousy, much fear for his sanity, pain about the fact that he hadn't told her himself…
She didn't know what she was supposed to think any longer, and had pulled back. Completely. Functioned like a machine, filled her little forms, was the perfect boss. Not a smile. Not a personal word. No sweet little phone calls to inquire what he was up to. No bantering in her car. In fact, she rarely took him to interviews, intent on soldiering on alone.
She mostly paired him with Cho, who refused to acknowledge his presence and always "forgot" him in the bullpen. Jane could have squeezed his way into the investigations, but he preferred to stay on his couch, brooding. Why should he use his mental abilities to force them to accept his help when they clearly didn't want it?
He looked in the direction of her office, his skin prickling with sudden longing.
He'd given up on storming into her personal space, trying to cheer her up with snarky comments and funny remarks. She always looked at him so sadly that he became sad himself, and sadness was a feeling he avoided if he could, it made him weak and slow and overly sentimental, an easy target for feelings he couldn't and wouldn't acknowledge.
He rubbed his hand over his leg, a habit he'd developed to diffuse the tension- whenever the urge to touch her became too strong. He couldn't indulge, couldn't form his happy little bubble in the midst of chaos and insanity. Couldn't hurt her even worse.
But he could still remember how she had felt in his arms, the infinitely small, warm body, like that of a delicate little bird. He had felt the strength inside her petiteframe, had always known it was there. But in that moment in time, she had been nothing but soft, warm woman, the center of his need and longing, everything he wished for.
He took a sip of his lukewarm tea, it tasted bitter, and tears sprang to his eyes. Yes, he had bungled this. Had caught Red John's minion, but lost his haven of comfort and safety in the process.
He lowered his turquoise cup to the saucer and worried his lower lip. He was Patrick Jane, dammit. There had to be something he could do to charm his way back into the team.
He pretended to be asleep when Lisbon left her office to go home and almost pulled her into his arms when she came over and carefully covered him with a warm comforter. She pressed a chaste kiss on his temple and he had to fight to keep his breathing patterns calm and relaxed.
When she walked away and he heard the distinct ringing of the lift approaching, tears started to spill. Hold me, he thought desperately, hold me through the night, make the cold go away. I'm so, so sorry, and it's more than empty words this time. I miss you, Teresa Lisbon. Miss you so much I can't breathe.
He remembered the many lonely nights in his motel in Las Vegas and sobbed helplessly into the worn leather of his couch, disgusted at himself for being so childish and vulnerable and damn weak, for letting love crawl under his skin like that. But it took him a while before he could get his tears under control- and continue to plot his scheme.
Xxxxxxxxxx
Why could she never stop herself from touching him?
Her insides were a festering wound, and she sat in the darkness on the couch in her lonely apartment, too sad to watch TV or eat or read a book. She was crying, but since that had been her normal state for more than half a year now, it didn't bother her especially tonight.
What was the matter with her?
The passion was gone. Life was as dull and lonely as it ever had been before.
What did I say? I was pretty hyped up.
Was that a no? Why hadn't she inquired further? Yes, because she had no idea what she was feeling herself. And that was the biggest lie of all, so big it was like an elephant in her living room, staring at her out of drilling, squinty eyes.
She knew it. Had always known it in a way. And that meant she was doomed.
What a nice feeling.
She had felt like a fool when jealousy had pushed into her heart the moment Loralei had announced that she and Jane had been lovers. She couldn't stop the feeling, had felt helpless and hurt, all the time scolding herself for being such an embarrassing child, jeopardizing their so far biggest success in the Red John investigation for the sake of her personal feelings.
They were petty. Childish. Utterly unimportant. And so strong and deep they put everything she had lived for in question.
There was no future with Jane, he couldn't even be nice to her sometimes, was utterly absorbed in his hunt, a bottomless hole who took and took and couldn't give back. But her fingertips craved his skin, and when she saw him sleeping on his couch before she left in the evening, she tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, every damn time. It was like a compulsion, and she had no doubt that if she refused to do it, denied her lips that short moment of contact, her internal organs would combust one by one and she would bleed out on the elevator floor in seconds.
Patrick Jane had showed her that she had never loved before. Because this feeling? She sure as hell would remember it.
She hated it when she was small and ineffective. She couldn't even make Jane feel better, caught in her own loop of sorrow and grief. She had always comforted him when he was down, it was as much a part of her as her right arm.
Loralei had touched him- his whole body, in places that were utterly taboo to Lisbon. He had kissed her, and she him- his lips, his skin, maybe everywhere. He had found that moment of release in her arms, the nameless bliss of sexual gratification… a lazy play of lips in the aftermath.
Lisbon swallowed dryly, a surge of nausea filling her throat.
She absolutely shouldn't think about that, jealousy was for sentimental idiots who still believed in the victory of romantic love, Omnia Vincit Amor, Love Conquers All, it was a lie, a fantasy, mist and dust, but still she pictured their kisses, watched Loralei sample what she had been denied, her heart bloody and torn, pumping blood into an empty cavity.
What did I say?
She hadn't asked him what he had felt when he had slept with Red John's servant. In a way, she didn't want to know, was too scared to know.
She was so stupid. Nothing but a weak woman, the strength of her cop-attitude, the one she had fought for all her life, falling away under the solemn gaze of his light green eyes, sparkling like greenish glass in the sun.
She had lost everything and had no idea how she could ever retrieve what had formed her life all those years, it was gone, and she couldn't find out how much of herself really remained.
Loneliness ate at her, the darkness forming eerie shadows in her living room.
She looked at the cup in her hand, the liquid inside it sloshing under the tremor of her hands, and got up to pour the cold coffee into the sink.
Xxxxxxxxxx
"What about effectivity , Madeleine? I bet we could do better, couldn't we?"
Patrick Jane looked at the elegantly dressed woman in front of him and smiled. He bet she had sworn never to go along with one of his plans again. And now her resistance was melting like ice in the Californian sun- and he had hardly started his little speech.
Hightower leaned forward, trying to intimidate him. Yeah, as if that would work. His smile deepened.
"Team's morals are thoroughly busted due to your latest stunt, Jane," Hightower said, "you lost their trust. Things like that take time to heal."
"And meanwhile, we don't close any cases because everybody is shunning the big bad consultant who ran away and made mommy cry? That can't be the solution, Madeleine."
Hightower closed her eyes in exasperation.
"You hurt her, Jane. Badly. I don't have to remind you what she did for you, do I? You shouldn't make fun of this, even you can't be that cold."
She was right- he wasn't. And sometimes he hated himself for it.
"I can make it all better, Madeleine. Just give me some time alone with the team, and I'll be good. We're not accomplishing anything anyway, are we? Release us for three weeks- I'm paying."
Madeleine sighed, and he already knew she would relent.
"Fine. You can go on an official team-building excursion. Three weeks, starting next week. I won't leave the team a choice, but you owe me for that, Jane."
"Don't worry, Madeleine, I'll…"
"If you bungle this," Hightower interrupted, "you're entirely on your own. And if you hurt Lisbon any more than you already did, I'll have your hide for that. I mean it, Jane."
He smiled, but he didn't feel especially smug inside. He wouldn't bungle this. He would fight, bleed and suffer to kiss it better.
And now, he had some research to do.
Xxxxxxxxxx
"That's not up to discussion," Hightower growled, "so back off, Agent Cho. This team is still thoroughly affected by what has happened in Las Vegas, and you all know it. Patrick Jane is our most valuable asset, and we can't stop wiping killers from the city just because you decided that you don't like him anymore. Agent Lisbon, my decision is final. You will go on a three week excursion to the Little Palm Island resort in the Florida Keys, taking your whole team- INCLUDING Mr. Jane. That's an order."
Jane cringed slightly when he looked at Lisbon. She seemed to have lost her will to fight, wanted only to get this over with. His heart ached for her, and for a moment he felt so deeply ashamed he was afraid it would be visible on his face.
"Whatever you wish, Ma'am," Lisbon said softly, "I'm sure we can survive three weeks in a luxury resort in the Keys. I'll make every effort to get the team back on track."
Hightower's voice was warm and gentle when she spoke again.
"I know that, Teresa," she said, "nobody is more capable to lead this team than you are. I depend on you."
Lisbon looked a little doubtful, and Jane wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, whisper words of trust and reassurance, but the team glared hostilely at him, ready to protect their beautiful alpha wolf.
So Jane backed off, looking at Cho who was clearly pissed beyond words. He sighed. He really, really hoped his not very well thought-out plan would work.
The team dispersed, chattering excitedly with each other. Yes, no matter how angry you were- three weeks of paid holidays in the Keys always did the trick in the end, that was what he'd been counting on.
Lisbon looked at him, her eyes deep and sad and beautiful, before she turned and marched into her office, firmly closing the door behind her.
Hightower turned to Jane.
"Little Palm Island? That has to cost you a fortune, Jane!"
He chuckled.
"Pretty much, but I have no doubt it will be worth it."
"I don't need to remind you that this is an UNPAID holiday", Hightower said, "so we know who's gonna pay the agent's wages during those three weeks, don't we, Jane?"
"Don't worry, Madeleine. I'll thoroughly bleed for this and pay everything."
She nodded slowly and turned to walk away. But shortly before she left the bullpen, she turned and looked at him.
"Remember, Jane," she said, "you make mommy smile again, the kids will start to accept you."
His stomach felt hollow, carved in. He had chewed on pain for so long now he felt starved for life, laughter, any feeling happier than the poisonous cocktail of hurt feelings he had been swallowing daily since Teresa Lisbon's sun had stopped shining for him.
"That's what I plan on doing, Madeleine." He said.
"I don't talk party tricks and a magician's illusions, Jane," she answered, "this time, you'll have to give more than that."
Jane looked at her, feeling dizzy with fear. He'd rarely been this scared in his life.
"I told you," he whispered, "I'll bleed for her."
So- Hmmmm? I don't know if I can update tomorrow, but I'm willing to try. Do you think I should continue? It will get romantic for sure ;), and I need a little sunshine (AWFUL weather in Germany at the moment). Tell me what you think, please! See you soon!