Author's Note: I'm back from vacation! Plus, a couple people asked, so... more story. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist and would not be foolish enough to claim to.
Thanksgiving came and went quickly, in a haze of feelings Patrick Jane hadn't felt in so long, he'd forgotten what it was like to be this... happy. He didn't let his focus linger on anything else, he just let himself enjoy the fact that he had not one, but two places to spend the holiday this season. Two places where he felt more like a human being than he had in ages. Normally, this particular holiday was only another meal alone or a can of meat with the carnival gang. Nothing special.
This time, he ate fancy fare with Mrs. Ruskin by his side in the afternoon, talking with her like she was really his grandmother and they really mattered to one another. They'd talked until she'd had to leave to go back to bed, her face tight with fatigue. She still hadn't kicked the under-the-weather feeling she'd been fighting for the better part of the month. He didn't let on that he was at all worried about that, so as not to spoil her day. He just helped the old woman to her room and once he was sure she wouldn't need him for anything else and would just be sleeping for the rest of the day, he left Elsa in charge of her and went to Lisbon's.
Teresa had become his confidant, his comfort. She was everything he'd ever needed in his life. When he voiced his concerns to her, she would take him by the back of his neck and rest their foreheads together, like they were linked. She'd whisper reassurances to him until he believed her, letting him know that she was there for him no matter what happened in their lives. On Thanksgiving, he ate so much while with her and her family, playing around with her brothers, that he felt he might burst at the middle. Mostly because they had the evening to themselves. Mr. Lisbon had to work long that day, like most days lately. The meal was quite a bit more relaxed and noisy with just the younger Lisbon's.
With Teresa. Sitting so close to him, he could feel the warmth of her hand on the back of his as a constant reminder of her presence. Getting so full from two separate meals might not have been his best idea, but he was too content to be looking a gift horse in the mouth that day or any of the days since.
He spent his winter break off school like that, moving between Mrs. Ruskin's and the Lisbon's household, and he admittedly started to get used to taking care of the old woman at night and being in Teresa's house during the day or sometimes the other way around when he knew Mr. Lisbon had to work or he decided to brave another meal under the man's scrutiny.
Some days, when the cold outside was enough to bite, Jane sat on the couch with Teresa's back pressed against his front, her head leaning on his shoulder, fitted together like they were two parts of a single being, and in those moments, almost sighed with something akin to contentment. They'd sit that way for hours, playing board games or watching movies with the boys to keep them from tearing the house apart in rambunctious play.
Even James seemed to be relaxing and joining them more and more as Mr. Lisbon remarkably remained sober. Almost like he was starting to hope again. To see some kind of light at the end of a long tunnel. They all floated in this in between space where life was something to be lived again, rather than endured. So they got closer and closer to what he dreaded.
Christmas.
That time of year for joy and family. For the celebration of life.
He despised it. The false cheer forced on the populous, the amount of obligation people felt to share gifts with others they couldn't stand. Nevermind how much it hurt sometimes, to always have spent that particular holiday alone. How lonely that could feel. It was fast approaching them too. Like some kind of Christmas-tide of doom. Not something that he could fight or control though, even if he'd had the time and energy.
Which he didn't. Mostly because, between watching Mrs. Ruskin struggle with her health while he could do nothing but watch and be helpless, in addition to feeling constantly like he was keeping something back from Teresa, the woman that he loved- he was weighted down.
He stopped sneaking away to make calls. Stopped checking in. He just couldn't do it anymore. He was going to stop being their puppet. Even if it killed him. There would be repercussions, of course, but he couldn't keep on lying to the two most important women in his life. Not when he'd come to care so much about them.
Teresa Lisbon was sweet and fierce, equal parts protector and vulnerable. She went out of her way to make sure he was comfortable in her home and to include him in everything she did with her brothers. No one had ever made him feel so wanted.
Mrs. Ruskin worried about him. Him. As though he was the one who was sick, not her. She kept trying to make sure he was okay, even though she was feeling like she had a constant flu that wouldn't go away.
It was too much to even think about all the lies he'd told them. So he stopped telling them. He stopped hiding from what he wanted.
It was this.
He needed to do something nice for them. For Mrs. Ruskin, for the Lisbon's, for the friends Teresa had brought into his life. One especially for Teresa. Something that would assuage the nagging feeling in his head whenever he did almost sigh in his contentment, or watched Teresa smile at him like he was something so special, when he wasn't really.
Mrs. Ruskin was the first on his list.
He could tell that she was getting sick. Not just under the weather, but full on, coughing in bed- sick as the December date approached. Which was also leading to a depression he never thought he'd see in her. A loss of the fire that marked her personality. It was a cycle. The more she deteriorated, the more she had to stay indoors, the more depressed she got, the sicker she got... It got to the point that she wasn't going outside at all anymore, and barely left her bed, even for tea.
Jane didn't want to admit it, but that scared him. So a week from the awful date coming up on them, after planning it all out in his head, he decided he needed to recruit Teresa to make his pseudo grandmother feel a little better.
She would like that, because she liked Teresa.
:)
One deep breath.
Okay, maybe two.
Then- "I need your help." He said it fast, hoping to minimize the flutter in his stomach. Even his insides weren't used to asking anyone for help. He kept his gaze down to avoid eye contact while he did it too, watching out of his periphery.
Carelessly leaned against him, Teresa looked up and back at him, a little surprise pulling down her brow. She'd been in the middle of reading something, trying to tune out the boys playing but not relly succeeding based on the crease in the middle of her forehead that told anyone who cared to look that she was getting annoyed. Now it was smoothing out in favor of quirking one eyebrow toward her hairline. "My help? With what?"
He compressed his lips, looking away completely, but there was nothing for it. He'd have to lie to her again. To explain. "My Grandmother." His throat closed on the lie, catching it up, so he spoke faster to hide the hiccup. "She's been kind of depressed since she started feeling sick, and it's almost Christmas. Her favorite holiday." Or at least it had been, once upon a time. "I need to do something to cheer her up. But it'd be hard to do it by myself."
"I thought you said you hated Christmas." She smiled at him. The teasing smile that always made him melt.
"Yeah, well, she doesn't, okay?" He griped petulantly. He hated having his own words shoved back at him. Somehow it always felt like the other person was cheating.
"Ok-ay." Teresa set down the book she'd been trying to read and stared him down.
"I just want to do something nice for her." He grumbled, picking at the worn armrest of her couch.
Suddenly, gentle fingers took hold of his chin, and Teresa forced his whole head around to look at her. "You don't need to justify yourself, Patrick. I think it's sweet." She pushed against the seat cushion behind her, her hand going to his chest to assist, and kissed his softly on the lips. Just a quick peck.
"Yuck!" Tommy exclaimed from the other side of the abruptly too small room. He was looking at the two of them, the toys having fallen from his hands.
"Hush." Teresa admonished.
Drew grinned and with one hand, shoved on his brothers face to stop his staring.
That made Tommy retaliate.
"Boys, enough." Teresa called them to a stop before things had a chance to escalate. "What have I told you about fighting?"
Both boys went sullen. "'When in doubt, don't act out'."
"Right." She turned away as the two got back to playing and looked directly at Jane. "So, what are we doing?"
Jane smiled. "No one owns the sunlight."
:)
"Whoa there!" Jane cried, grabbing onto Teresa's hips to steady her precarious position on the ladders they'd set up. His throat suddenly went dry when he realized what he'd done.
"How does it look?" She puffed.
He kept his eyes on her, the curve of her hips beneath his fingers. The patch of her toned stomach he could see where her shirt had ridden up as she reached above her head. "Perfect." He breathed.
She looked down.
"Uh-" As quickly as he could, he jerked his eyes away from what was in front of him, hating that she had caught him staring at her. He peered back at the wall.
A rainbow danced there. It hopped and shimmered, like a giddy child ready to explore and unable to contain it's happiness at finally being free. The whole wall was draped in them, like a painting of light.
"It's good." He corrected himself, clearing his throat of the squeek.
Thankfully, Teresa made no comment. She tied off the tiny crystal where it hung in front of the window's light with careful fingers.
They were in Angela Ruskin's room, the curtains pried apart, the bed laying empty. Ladders were leaned against the wall, and hundreds of strings dangled the tiny crystal prisms so that the room was bathed in color.
She gave it one final tug and then held onto the ladder again so he could let go, assured she wasn't going to fall. "How much time do we have?"
Jane checked the time. "Ten minutes." Mrs. Ruskin was being seen by a doctor a flight down, wheeled there via chair by Elsa so that she didn't have to try to walk. He had limited time to get this done though, before she was brought back up.
"How many more do we have to do?" Teresa asked, looking down again.
"Just two." He answered, picking up a box and the stringed crystals inside. "Got space for them?"
She bit her lip, looking it over. One finger gestured at an area. "Maybe one here in the middle, but not three."
In response, he handed the last one up to her and they positioned it easily cause she didn't have to precariously hover on the ladder to place it. Then he helped her down, trying not to blush as she leaned close in his arms to look upward at the tall window and their work.
It was impressive. Over an hours labor to decorate the huge window in crystals to make the kaleidoscope on the opposite wall, a mosaic of color for the woman he cared so much about. To cheer her up.
Teresa shook her head. "Amazing." She spun,smiling as she caught his arm with her hand. "Where the hell did you get this idea, Jane?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Really? A fan of 'The Wizard of Oz' and you haven't seen 'Pollyanna'?"
"Just cause I'm not as "worldly" as you, doesn't mean you have to be condescending." She crinkled her nose at him cutely, teasing.
Jane couldn't help but smile at her warmly. He held up one of the two remaining crystals between their faces, watched her shining eyes reflect the image back at him. "For you and your brothers. To bring a little color into your lives."
"Oh, you bring enough color all on your own Patrick Jane." She smirked, but enclosed the prism in her palm anyway.
Opening his mouth to protest her implication, he was stopped by the door opening and the fact that Teresa jumped back away from him hurriedly. He gave her a bemused smile before spinning toward the door.
"I'll just have my tea in bed, Elsa, I'm too exhausted to-" Mrs. Ruskin cut off and behind her, Elsa halted.
"Wh-Wh-" Mrs. Ruskin's eyes teared, more alive and filled within the creased wrinkles than he'd seen her in what seemed ages.
He gave Teresa a smile of reassurance as she scuttled behind him and slowly approached the old woman's wheelchair, crouching down beside her knee. "Well? What do you think?"
She just stared upward in awe, as tears started to roll down her cheeks unabated.
"Don't cry!" He protested gently, smiling. This was it. The feeling he wanted to carry with him everywhere, all the time. The feeling that he had made a life beautiful again, even if was only in her eyes that it had dimmed.
"Oh... Patrick." She gasped gently, placing a soft and wrinkled hand against his cheek. "It's-" Finally, her eyes locked with his. "My sweet-hearted boy. It's b-eautiful." She tried to shake her tears away.
"I'm glad you like it." Jane whispered. "I just thought, with you stuck in this room so much, you might like to look at things in a different kind of light." He looked back at the prisms. "Teresa helped."
Said young woman looked like a deer caught in headlights to be brought to sudden attention.
He grinned at her.
"Teresa... dear." Mrs. Ruskin held out her hand.
Hesitantly, Lisbon stepped forward and carefully took it. She looked apprehensive.
"You're both so sweet." Mrs. Ruskin clutched her hand and pulled her still closer.
At last, Teresa smiled brilliantly. "Likewise, ma'am."
"Please, call me Angela, darling." Mrs. Ruskin looked up. "Any girlfriend of my Grandson's is welcome to."
Lisbon opened her mouth, but stopped when she saw him watching her. Instead of responding, she just smiled again.