A/n Hello hello. Here is a one-shot for you guys of how Violets should have ended. Just a bit of fluffy fun.
Enjoy!
/
Violets – Pt. 2
Teresa Lisbon stares back at Special Agent Marcus Pike, his question hanging in the air. She blinks a few times and watches as his strangely attractive confidence starts to slip away and immediately, she is shaking her head at her own behaviour. Why can't she just say yes? Marcus seems like a lovely guy, an FBI agent just like her and she deserves someone after years of isolation. A quick glance out of the break room and towards her partner's empty couch and she knows the answer to her hesitation. "I'm sorry." She apologises. "Would you mind holding that thought?" He mirrors her action of looking out into the bullpen and swiftly understands, evident by the thwarted expression he starts to exhibit.
"Ah I see."
"No, I…" She tries to think up some excuse, so she doesn't actually voice what she's thinking, but it isn't easy. Dishonestly isn't in her nature. "I-I made plans with Jane tonight. Just let me go and talk to him." She manages to lie before getting up off her chair in search of the troublesome consultant.
In almost perfect timing, she finds herself wandering side by side with him as he appears from… wherever he has been and straightaway he senses her nervousness, a behaviour which is rare when they are together. "Are you alright?" Jane asks, his concern clear in his tone and he takes off his scarf, sensing that this situation might be turning quite serious.
"Yeah." She attempts to persuade but she doesn't sound so sure. "Can we talk?"
"Of course."
When he takes a seat on his couch, she almost perches beside him but decides against it on realising that eyes will probably be on them from the break room. So instead, she pulls up her desk chair, leaving a reasonable distance between them. He doesn't talk, leaving her the floor but he's internally fretting about what she could come out with. Since his return to the US things have been fractious at times and although he doesn't want that to continue, he doesn't know what to do to fix it. This fun case they've just closed has given them the chance to be close again, more than that they have been a fake couple and he has enjoyed it much more than he thought he would – and his expectations were already quite high.
He observes her silent struggle, how she doesn't know where to place her arms, at first inelegantly setting her hands on her thighs but deciding that appears awkward she switches her positioning to carefully place them in her lap. It takes her a few beats to utter a syllable but eventually she succeeds in stating, "Pike has asked me out tonight."
"Oh." Fleetingly, although it is so brief that if she blinked then she would have missed it, she notes the look of disappointment on his face, all but confirming her suspicions. This isn't one sided, her thoughts, her feelings, he wants something more too… or maybe that is more of a hope than a suspicion. "Are you guys going anywhere nice?"
"I-I haven't given him an answer yet." And suddenly Jane understands the reason behind this conversation.
His heart starts to hammer against his ribcage as he takes a sharp intake of breath both out of shock and desperation to get some oxygen into his lungs. Since the moment he woke up on the sofa at the fancy house, a blanket having been draped over himself by her, he knew that once this case was up that he wanted to take the leap, somehow, and search for the confidence to hopefully progress their oddly stunted relationship. This is unexpected though. He was expecting that the ball would be in his court, and he could take his time in deciding his serve method but now he feels on the backfoot, but maybe that is only fair when he's not exactly made life easy for her.
They've known each other for over a decade now and in that time, they've been through some difficult periods together and also, sometimes, apart. Something those times apart have shown them is that being apart is tough on both of them. The first time they went through it, he told himself that it was for purely platonic reasons, but he was lying to himself to protect her from Red John but also to protect himself from his feelings. When he left the country, to run from the law, he had enough time to truly consider how he feels and although he thought his return would be unlikely, he told himself that he would give them a chance. He has been back for almost six months now and he has struggled to find the poise needed because of having to repair their existing friendship.
She has known from his first disappearing act about how she felt but she didn't think she could go there. He was too hellbent on revenge and still grieving over the great loss of his wife and daughter. Now, he appears more at peace, his two years away (plus the three months of solitary confinement which followed) having properly aided his recovery but she still held back, most likely for the same reasons as him. Who knew it would take an offer from another man to force her into making a move? "Jane…" Lisbon murmurs after a deep breath. "What are we?" Her question is almost whispered, not wanting to alert their colleagues to the importance of their conversation, although there is no-one really around.
The consultant runs his fingers through his blonde curls uncertainly, his heartbeat so loud now that he can virtually hear it in his ears. "Friends." He quietly declares before continuing. "Best friends, partners…"
Despite the significance of this line of chat, she finds herself softly smiling at his sweet assertion of them being best friends. "Okay." But she can't back down now. Teresa can practically sense Pike's eyes boring into the back of her as he watches on from the breakroom, the pizza in front of him turning cold and the upbeat chatter around him dissipating about his ears. She kind of finds it unnerving but she tells herself that at least he is an option. If her partner doesn't answer her next question how she would like, then she will go out for pancakes with the art squad agent. Spend her night laughing with him and who knows where that will take her… deep down though, she knows that if she gets put down now by the man that she actually truly has feelings for then she won't be laughing with anyone tonight. "Is that all we are ever going to be?" And now the ball is definitely in his court.
Jane is gagged by her frankness. Years and years of avoiding having talks like this between them and suddenly, out of nowhere, she wants to have it. Not just that, she wants to have it in the office not too far away from their colleagues and friends. It all seems so… unlikely. He feels like this is all so alien and although this is a discussion he also wanted, he was not expecting it to come from her and he certainly was not expecting for it to go down like this. There is something though about the hope in her stunning green eyes and how she marginally leans forward in her chair expectantly, being both patience but also impatient simultaneously, that gives him a confidence boost from nowhere. "You want to do this here?"
She rolls her eyes at this whilst folding her arms stubbornly, instantly annoyed by his reply. "Where else do you want to do this?"
"Well we could-"
"Jane." She sternly interrupts his potential ramblings. "Just give me an answer. Please." She has waited so long, too long, and now she is desperate for an honest answer from him. Even if it is a yes, and he says that they will never be anything more than friends, at least she would know where she stands.
He visibly gulps while attempting to stop his throat from being so dry and he comprehends that not only is she deadly serious, but he owes her the truth. When he goes to open his mouth though, words just start to ungracefully stumble out. "I-I'm not good at this stuff. I'm not nearly as smooth as you think I am and being open is difficult after having to be so closed off for so long but…" He makes himself pause for breath, in hope to find some composure – and he does unearth some from somewhere unknown, deep within him. "Genuinely? I hope not."
Despite this being the answer that she desired, she finds herself dumbfounded. Her jaw grows slack, and she has to use her little remaining power to not let her mouth fall open. This could be a key moment for the future of their relationship, she doesn't want the image of her looking like an idiot imprinted in his memory palace. A few seconds pass which feels like an eternity until she eventually comes out with a surprised yet delicate, "R-really?" A smile then begins to form on her features and blood seems to rush from her head making her so dizzy that she thinks she could faint, but thankfully she doesn't.
Jane returns her smile before snapping out of his daze and studying their surroundings, suddenly deciding that he really does not want to do this here. "Let's go somewhere and talk." He proposes and she nods whilst carefully getting to her feet.
"Where do you want to go?"
"Hm. Are you hungry?"
"A little." She was, but now she is feeling slightly nauseous about their impending conversation.
Chivalrously he aids her with her jacket which was hanging on the back of her desk chair like he has done on numerous occasions before but this time there is something about it which seems different. In the past he would do it to butter her up before a questionable scheme or to hurry her along or both, but this is a glimpse into a potential future together not just as work partners but as life partners too. "Thanks." She nervously mumbles before they start to walk out together, both with a little haste in their steps, the suspense almost becoming too much to bear.
Marcus Pike watches them go and frowns, quickly understanding that he is never going to get those pancakes with Agent Lisbon. "Oh my, Pike!" She remembers when the elevator doors close behind them, immediately feeling terrible that she forgot about him. Jane doesn't appear fazed, and his lack of care does transfer to her, and she ends up shrugging her shoulders with a, "Oh well. We probably won't work with him again."
Lisbon drives them both to the edge of the city, following his directions as they go until they reach a side street with a few food trucks and picnic tables. This certainly was not what she was expecting and after declaring that she is about the have the best taco of her life, he clambers out of her car and leads her to a truck with a garish sign reading: DIEGO'S TACOS Y BURRITOS. There are two men behind the counter, one ringing up a customer's bill and the other slicing up a lettuce behind him. "Hola Diego." Jane greets once the previous customer has received his order.
"Ah, Mr Jane! What can I get for you and your friend?"
"Dos tacos de carne con ensalada y queso por favor." He effortlessly orders and his partner cannot help but be impressed with his Spanish despite it being quite rudimental. Before his time in Venezuela, he didn't know any Spanish, but he had to swiftly learn to get by in a place where not many people could speak English. It was tough at times but actually a welcome brain exercise in a place where he wasn't getting much of a mental workout. "Oh, y agua."
"Coming right up." He looks to Lisbon with a cheeky glint in his eye, "He is the only one of my customers who orders in Spanish."
"Oh really?" She asks, realising that her partner must frequent this food truck a lot. "How is his Spanish?"
"His Spanish is okay." Diego then turns around to his son who has already begun to prepare their food. "Jorge, Mr Jane's regular order times two." The mentalist holds out a couple of notes and tells the stall owner to keep the change who beams back at him but doesn't seem surprised. "You two go and sit. Jorge will bring your food to you." They get passed two bottles of water before they head towards one of the picnic tables in the middle, away from the road and any trashcans.
They sit opposite each other, their knees bumping under the table which is strangely comforting when the air around them seems so thin. They clearly share each other's apprehension, but they also understand how necessary this interaction is, it may not come easy, but the potential positive result is what they're trying to focus in on. "So, where was Pike going to take you?" Jane queries, mainly to try and break the awkward silence.
"You know what, I don't want to talk about him." She explains with a curt shake of her head before her attention shifts to the man before her once more. Their eyes fusing creating such thick tension that it could probably be felt by the few people on the surrounding tables. "I want to talk about us."
"I know you do."
"Then why are you putting it off?" She asks, obviously frustrated, followed by a sharp huff. "Jane, I understand before things were complicated…" Before Red John's demise, none of them were thinking straight, especially him and it is unsurprising that he didn't want to get close to anyone when he truly believed that he wouldn't survive it. "…but now I believe that we can be honest with one and other. What's holding us back?" She probes, but her question is unmistakably rhetorical, apparent by her continuing without waiting for his response. "We are back together and in a new state at a new job. A fresh start." It is not the first fresh start in her life, her leaving Chicago and having to leave California are just two other instances, but she hopes that it is her last. "I think we deserve to be whatever we want to be after everything that has happened. Don't you?"
He takes almost a minute to answer, she watches as the cogs turn in his head and his fingertips rhythmically tap on the tabletop – but she does give him that time. This is definitely an occurrence which requires patience. "I don't know what I deserve, Teresa." He sadly states after a deep breath and she's cocking her head in confusion, not taking her focus off him but he distractedly looks to the graffiti carvings on the wood of the picnic table. His fingers trace a particularly roughly drawn heart and he has to stop himself with a sigh. "My ego cost the lives of two of the most important people to me. My selfishness and foolishness caused so much trouble for you, and Cho and Grace and Rigsby." It almost makes her smile that he is thinking of them also in this moment, but she doesn't quite manage it because of the gravity of the situation. The wait, the doubtfulness, is almost stifling. "You were once shot because one of my schemes went wrong." His voice cracks at this, making her realise that he has never truly forgiven himself for that yet whenever she sees the scar on her left shoulder in the reflection of a mirror, she has never once thought to blame him. To her it was just an error of judgement on the job, it happens.
Now she is beginning to wonder, what else he needlessly blames himself for. "I have killed… four people, yet somehow I am a free man." He drags both of his hands down his face and over the beard she finds so attractive, but in this moment, she can't home in on that, instead all she can do is take in his anguish. There is nothing she wants more than to make it go away. "I'm not sure what I deserve, but I know that I don't deserve you." And it is like she has been stabbed in the heart, the ache she can feel is so tangible that it almost causes her such great pain that she can't function. She knows she needs to say something, but no words come out which gives him the opportunity to continue, but that doesn't help her speechlessness because he continues to knock the wind from her. "You are one of the most brilliant, patient, caring, intelligent and beautiful women on this planet. You deserve the world and although I don't doubt my love for you, I don't think I warrant yours."
"Y-you love me?" She stutters in stark disbelief, her eyes going wide and tears beginning to pool in them.
"Of course I love you!" He declares, not quite understanding how she could not know that when it is clear to him how much he does. "And I can't imagine ever stopping loving you, which is what makes this so hard."
"How is this hard?" They have had years of complex issues stopping them from being anything other than friends – and there were even instances where she felt like calling themselves friends was a stretch – this, is not hard. Life has settled, this is their opportunity. "You are talking for me. You are assuming you know what's best for me, but I don't think you do." It won't be the first time he has assumed, and it probably won't be the last. "Patrick Jane, you have an incredible mind but how can someone so smart also be so stupid?" She exasperatingly questions, trying her hardest to keep her voice from raising. "I spent two years hoping that I would see you again. My evenings were spent with me re-reading your letters and wishing that I had a way to reply, to tell you that I am so glad you have found peace but please, somehow, come home." This revelation makes his lips tug downwards as he tries not to let emotion get the better of him, now isn't the time to cry. "I could have gone looking for someone else, I did have offers from other guys, but I didn't want that. If I didn't want something else from us, then I would have accepted Pike's invitation tonight without a second of thought, but I knew that I didn't want that. I don't want that." She firmly states and both her manner and tone cause him to properly believe her. "I want you."
Jane cannot keep hold of his emotions for any longer, something which she reciprocates as they both begin to sniffle through watery smiles – a tear even finds itself cascading down his cheek before getting caught up in his blonde stubble. She swoons at the sight and is tempted to lean over to wipe it away but instead she places her hand on the wooden table to invite his own, their fingers lace lovingly but also perfectly, like they were destined to fit together. When his breathing calms and some composure returns, he starts to tenderly rub circles on the back of her soft hand with his thumb, neither of them saying a word because they don't need to. Not yet.
It is only as Jorge appears with a bag of food for them that he decides to utter a syllable. "Why does it feel wrong to suddenly start eating some tacos now?"
"I'm going to be honest, I am not really that hungry." She blushes in embarrassment with her statement making him lightly chuckle with a shake of his head.
"They are really good tacos… but they also taste great cold." He attempts to quash her mortification. "How about we take them back to yours?"
"You're inviting yourself over now?" She faux accuses, not actually caring because she is currently floating on cloud nine.
"It is either that or you come to my Airstream."
"Mine it is."
They ungracefully free themselves from each other and then the picnic table, before they walk side by side once more but unlike earlier, she doesn't feel at all nervous. Instead, she is just excited. The carrier bag of food swings between them from his hand. "Actually, I could do with your help with some flatpack furniture." She remembers, thinking about the Ikea package which has been by her front door for the past fortnight – it is even starting to gather dust.
"Ah, so that's what you meant by wanting me."
"Hush." Lisbon smacks him lightly on the bicep and he fakes a grunt to play into the charade.
The car journey to her condo is filled with light-hearted chatter and the radio quietly playing in the background. If you ask either of them afterwards what music was playing, neither will know the answer because they are both so focussed on each other's musings and the buzz coursing through their veins. By the time their twenty-minute journey is up, he feels like he is about the burst, and he is swift in getting out of the car, encouraging her to walk at pace along the path to her home. He observes the minute shake of her hand as she sticks the key in the lock and briefly, he considers how he hates that she's on edge but then he realises that his own hands are shaking also. This is silly, he tells himself. He is Patrick Jane, and she is Teresa Lisbon, people have been telling them for quite some time how they are meant to be together, and they are right, he knows that and after her passionate spiel he believes it also.
The door is eventually opened, and they step inside, the relief of being in her warm and cosy home makes his previous anxiety disappear instantly. "The kitchen is through there-" Lisbon starts to say but he isn't interested about where the kitchen is, evident by the dropping of the carrier bag on the ground and him pushing her up against the now closed front door. His lips attacking her own…
…that's how it starts anyway.
Swiftly, the urgency dissipates and instead it gets replaced by them melting against one and other. He relinquishes the pressure against her body, giving her the opportunity to find her feet properly and counter his desire with her own. One of her hands settles on his jaw so she can feel the roughness of his stubble against the palm of her hand, a harsh yet satisfying juxtaposition to the suppleness of his lips and the gently caressing of his arms around her waist. Her other hand is in his hair, gliding through his curls and when she tugs faintly and he moans into her mouth, she cannot help but smirk.
This is going to be a fun night.