Author's Note: Oooo- followers. Kewl. Hi everybody!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist and would not be foolish enough to claim to.
Jane felt his heart skip a beat, give a panicked little flutter, and speed away without him. It's seeming absence compressed the air in his lungs, tightening his chest almost painfully. Like something had a strangle hold on his organs. Desperately, he swallowed down the need to gasp for breath and the roll of emotions along with it.
Lisbon was inviting him inside her house.
He hadn't imagined that, had he?
No- no, the door was open and waiting for him. She was waiting for him.
Realizing his must look like an idiot just standing there staring at her in shock, he ordered his feet to move and his mouth to respond. "Alright." It came out strangled and too high, but his voice wasn't shaking. He didn't know whether to be proud or horrified that he could fake even that much. Tamping down his nerves, he shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his way past the door inside. The effort not to stumble his way over the threshold left him staring at his feet in a kind of stupor before shaking himself out of it forcibly. He really didn't need to look any more the fool right now.
Behind him, Lisbon didn't seem to notice a thing. She took a moment to close the door, then was padding her way across the room to the next, speaking over her shoulder. "Just give me a minute." Then she disappeared.
Jerkily, Jane nodded, even though she wouldn't see it by now. Left alone, he finally let out a breath, feeling as though his feet were coming back to earth. It was more reassuring to be able to feel all of his extremities at least. To tell the truth, he was grateful Teresa was giving him a moment. It gave him time to concentrate on breathing and getting himself back under control.
They were just two good friends. Just two people, hanging out. He needed to get a grip. Not only was her little brother running around here somewhere, there was also no need to scare her off by acting weird, even if the stress of the last twenty-four hours was giving him a head rush.
He needed to sit down.
Taking a few more steps inside, he paused abruptly as he took in the room, because he wasn't entirely certain where he could sit. He was standing in a large living room, obviously the main room of the house, but he got the feeling they hadn't been expecting visitors. Beneath the large front window by the door, there was a faded old couch that had a blanket and pillow strewn on top of it, seemingly recently vacated. Probably where Andrew had just been. Across from it, against the far wall just where a staircase leading upstairs let out, was an entertainment center with a TV. It had a few movies stacked on its upper shelves and mostly there were toys on the lower ones, but those shelves were half-empty. Most likely, this was because the rest were laying in a circle radiating outwards from their previous confines. Several toy cars and a train set were scattered across the carpet with lego pieces and tiny lego people, looking as though a wreck had occurred where many little imaginary lives had been lost. An array of parts that might belong to the same toy were shoved against the wall at the base of a tower made of pillows and one very beat up looking cardboard box. Oddly, a stuffed duck was also tied up to a piece of the trains track.
The chaos on the carpet wasn't really what held his attention though. It was the coffee table directly in front of the couch. It had a large bowl on it, but the faint hint of vomit coming from it was mostly drowned out by the smell of the ten or so empty bottles spread across the surface with it. Old liquor bottles by the look of them, mostly beer but he recognized some other kinds of fermented drinks as well. In the other corner near the couch, an old gray recliner sat and a small side table near its armrest was covered in bottles as well.
He definitely got the distinct impression he wasn't supposed to sit in that chair, but he didn't want to take Andrew's spot either, especially since the kid was sick.
Standing was all right. Standing was fine.
It allowed him to keep moving his eyes about the room, if nothing else. Let him memorize the place he had been permitted to enter and see. All told it had a homey, worn, if slightly neglected feel to it, with one wall that he could see with remnants of crayon marks still on it. It was definitely lived in but there was something about it that made him think of Teresa and that calmed him.
Even as he gazed around, Jane was aware of eyes upon him, but he was content to let the middle Lisbon boy look his fill at the stranger in his home. When he thought he'd waited long enough, he turned and smiled at the eyes he could see through the foot of banister jutting out from the wall.
Unfortunately, that only made the kid jump and scramble up the stairs to hide.
He walked over to the banister and peered up the short flight of stairs after him, but Andrew was already gone from sight, leaving only a few pictures on the wall to see in the empty well. Jane snorted in amusement, tickled by the kids reaction and curiously moved closer to peer at the nearest picture.
It was a family picture, one obviously taken many years ago because it was complete. In it, the five members of the Lisbon family were all dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters, but they were all wearing genuine smiles as well, off-setting their attire. The nine or ten year old James in the picture looked smug for some reason, while the six-year-old Andrew at his elbow seemed merely bored. Teresa was near the back, one arm leaning against her fathers shoulder. Her eleven year old frame and short straight hair didn't yet seem identifiable as his Lisbon, but the eyes were the same. Two sets looked out of the photo in fact. Jane looked his fill of the woman near the front with a three-year-old Tommy clasped in her arms on her lap. She was like an adult version of Teresa, with dark locks and emerald green eyes. Her kindness and good-humor flooded out of the picture so that it was nearly possible to feel it.
He shook his head.
No wonder she was missed.
The man in the picture was almost difficult to accept at first, at least for Jane. He looked like a nicer, less careworn version of the man Jane had seen in the parking lot all that time ago and his hand on his wife's shoulder appeared gentle. He seemed nice.
Strange to think that smiling guy was going to turn into... something unrecognizable, that was for sure.
Just when Jane was going to look at another photo, Teresa came back from the kitchen, pulling an oven mitt off her left hand. She seemed surprised that he had moved, coming to a halt abruptly and followed his gaze to the picture he had been peering at. He stepped away, but it was impossible to miss the pained look that shadowed her eyes for a moment. She looked away quickly.
"Sorry." She chuckled almost nervously. "Just needed to turn the rice water off before it boiled away. I was right in the middle of making it."
"Rice water?" He questioned, turning away from the stairs. It was so nice to see her, and unharmed at that, that he ran his eyes up and down her small frame once more before raising an eyebrow at her.
"Boiled water with rice in it?" She said by way of explanation, tilting her chin up a little, almost like she suspected him of teasing her. When he still looked confused, she looked at him as though he'd grown a second head for not understanding before she huffed and gestured him back into the kitchen with her.
Jane followed obediently through the archway and beyond. The room they entered was rather cramped, with yellow cabinets and blue laminate counter tops along the back and left walls. A table and chairs sat in the other corner near the archway, but were stacked with papers and what looked like the remains of a hurried breakfast. Pots and pans were stacked high in the sink, surrounded by soap suds. He'd probably interrupted their washing. The only thing he could see on the counter tops besides a toaster and blender was a tall, fat thermos, open and waiting to be filled. The stove was in a corner beside the fridge and there, a pot was gently simmering and steaming.
Lisbon approached it, blowing on the bubbles rising for the lip. "See?"
He did and was a little impressed at the sight. So Teresa could cook?
She continued on without looking at him. "You boil the water with some brown rice in it. Most of the nutrients boil into the water and its warm, so it's good for sick kids. Helps to sooth their stomachs." She pulled the oven mitt back on her hand, added another and spared him a smile.
Adorable. That was the only word for her with her hands encased in red little clothe roosters.
Wary of the hot metal, Lisbon put a lid on top of the pot and carefully lifted the whole thing up to pour the brownish water into the thermos, somehow managing to keep the lid on as she tilted it to get all the water out. "Plus it's something that's easy to keep down, and even if they can't, it gives them enough strength to get better. At least that's what my mother- used to... to say." She finished the last bit awkwardly before clearing her throat, setting the pot back on the stove. "So, um, how did you even get here? I thought you didn't have a car." Picking up the thermos' lid, she glanced at him.
The way her dark hair framed her delicate cheekbones- the way she smiled without even thinking about it struck him. His heart expanded in his chest, but he ruthlessly pushed it back, mentally rebuking himself. It's just her eyes. So you love her eyes, so what? Calm down. "I got Rigsby to give me a ride." He said as offhandedly as possible, leaning on the small table and distracting himself by peering through the other exit of the kitchen. The gloomy area it led into appeared to be a small hallway that doubled as a laundry room, though what lay on the far side was beyond him.
"Wayne?" She turned to look at him, startling him into looking back. "Really? But what about classes?"
"He'll get back in plenty of time." He shrugged that concern away perfunctorily.
With a shake of her head, Lisbon leaned toward him a little to lightly cuff his arm and he grinned at the familiarity of it. "I meant you."
"Oh, well-" He was stopped from having to answer by the sudden sounding of a small voice near the archway to the living room.
"Reese?" Drew had stuck his head around the corner, hair rumpled and a tiny frown creasing his bottom lip.
"Yeah, kiddo?" Teresa leaned to see around him to her little brother.
"I'm hungry." He spoke quietly, shyly, eying Jane uncertainly and only in snatches, as though afraid that if he stared for too long they might accidentally make eye contact. One hand nervously played with the edge of his sport shorts and in socks at least two sizes too big for him, he looked especially pathetic. It was easy to see just the barest green tinge about his pale skin.
Poor kid.
Stepping around Jane, the young woman came to her brother and gripping his shoulder with one hand, she laid the back of her other wrist against his forehead. "Looks like your fever broke." Teresa spoke gently, leaning down slightly to look him in the eye.
Noting that the top of the kid's head already came up to his sisters collarbone when they were standing, so now she barely had to bend down at all, Jane smiled to see the affectionate way his tiny little firecracker held her brothers arms and smiled at him so gently.
"You feeling better?"
"Little." He glanced at Jane and away again. "The... the smell's not helping." The kid complained quietly.
Lisbon sighed. She patted him on the shoulders softly, smiling. "'Kay." Walking over to a cupboard, she opened it up and stretched up onto her tiptoes trying to reach a new large bowl.
For a moment, Jane just looked on, before coming to his senses and finally stepping forward to help her.
"Thanks." She murmured, taking the bowl.
Their fingers brushed lightly and Jane fought not to flush with pleasure.
Retrieving the thermos from where she'd set it down, Lisbon gave both to Drew before ruffling his hair a bit.
Abruptly, the kid grabbed her sleeve and tugged her down closer to his mouth.
Obligingly, she bent, tucking what was left of her loose hair behind her ears to hear him better.
Remembering that was one part of her he'd never seen before, Jane strove to catalog every detail about them before they disappeared. The way they were cute and small, perfectly proportioned to her. How the shell was such a delicate curve. His hands fairly itched to reach out and trace them, learn the way they felt.
He really needed to distract himself.
Drew mumbled something to his sister in an inaudible whisper and her eyes closed, a smile breaking out on her lips.
She shook her head, speaking quietly back.
Lacking anything better to be doing, Jane strained to overhear.
"That is none of your business buddy." She straightened and said in a louder voice- "You've had enough TV for a while. Back to bed."
The kid groaned, but went nonetheless. His heavy, sorrowful stomps could be heard all the way up the stairs.
Teresa grinned, eying the wall that separated him from sight. "You watch, I'll go up in fifteen and he'll be sound asleep."
"You're really good with him." The words were out before Jane really thought of them, which surprised him.
Lisbon blushed and shrugged. "He's my kid brother. If I don't take care of him, who will?"
Unable, or perhaps unwilling to respond, Jane let the heavy air hang between them with the question.
She must have sensed his unease because she laughed. "Relax, Patrick."
He did, almost unconsciously. The way she smiled around his name sent heat to his cheeks and shivers toward the base of his spine. He turned away so as not to give himself away, pretending to be engrossed with the view out the window above the sink of the side of the house and the driveway. "Uh, so... where's James?"
There was a slight bitter tinge to her answer for some unfathomable reason. "If he's where he's supposed to be, he's spending his lunch hour with Tommy."
Ah, the ritual. Of course, he should have thought of that.
Over their heads, there was suddenly a loud 'THUMP'. They eyed the ceiling together before Teresa sighed. "Guess he's not going back to sleep. I'd better go up there and find something to distract him with, or he's going to start throwing up again just for something to do."
"Hmmm..." Jane turned to her thoughtfully. "I might be able to help with that."
She gave him a distrustful look. "How?"
"I may not look it, Lisbon," He spun slightly as he came around her, showing off himself with flare. "But I rock at monopoly."