Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites, and for sticking with this. You guys are awesome too!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist and would not be foolish enough to claim to.
Of course, Jane did actually give her a real Christmas gift. She was important to him and he wanted to show it, wanted her to have something that she could see every day. It wasn't much. A simple bracelet made of twining brown threads of leather and green glass gems, a kind of green that came as close as he could afford to matching the color of her eyes. He couldn't afford real emeralds, as he would have liked, but it was the best he could manage.
Teresa seemed to treasure it all the same.
When they pulled up to her house and he turned off the car, she was already wearing it dangling from her wrist where he could see it as she unbuckled her seatbelt. It sparkled in the faint light when she set a hand on the dash. Lifting up enough to get a knee on the seat, she laid a hand on his arm, leaned in over it, and kissed him again for the umpteenth time that night.
He welcomed it. The heady buzz, the softness of her lips. It was enough to send lightning running along his nerves and excite his every cell. He couldn't imagine every getting tired of it. Somehow, the press of their lips together felt different now than it had before they'd exchanged those three treacherous little words together. It was more searing, almost electrocuting him with compressed energy- the only thing capable of fitting in the infinitesimal space suddenly left between them.
She was pressing her body closer to his, leaning into the kiss more than she had in the park, and delving into his mouth with her wicked tongue.
When she finally pulled back a little, his lips tingled. He felt breathless and stupefied and fiery and... so many things at once all he could do was smile dumbly up at her. She had managed to render him immobile and mute.
Gently, she rested her forehead against his and slid her hand from his shoulder to his chest, fingering his collar. "Goodnight, Patrick." It whispered over his cheek, tickling his skin with the lightness of her breath.
He shivered at the tenderness in her tone, the way she lent her whole self into his space like she trusted him that much. A sobering thought and one that gave him back the power of speech. "Goodnight Teresa." His voice came out a croak, but it was the best he could manage.
Climbing hurriedly out of the car as if desperate to get some space between them, Teresa closed the door roughly and then paused.
They were both still breathless, so it was probably a good idea. They both needed to be able to breathe. For him, it felt like the first breath he'd drawn in an age.
"I know I won't see you tomorrow." She spoke without turning around. "I know you hate Christmas, but..."
A loud shout came from the house. It sounded like Tommy calling her name.
"Looks like you've been spotted." He teased. "You better get inside before they feel the need to come out here to check on us. Make sure I'm being a gentleman to their only sister."
She shot him a look that make him chuckle.
"Have a good Christmas."
Her lower lip was captured by her teeth. "You too." She smiled, and with that, practically ran for the front door.
He waved a little when she glanced back at the threshold until she disappeared inside and then started the car, ready to pull out into the street. The only thing that made him hesitate was the Lisbon's old clunker pulling into the driveway.
Mr. Lisbon climbed out and shut the car door, going around to get something out of the trunk. He waved at Jane in the dim light radiating from the front porch.
Jane waved back nervously and then decided to skedaddle while the getting was good, before Mr. Lisbon thought he was actually hanging around the house again. The man had been sober for a while now, and he didn't seem to hate Jane. In fact, he seemed to welcome him. But that just made Jane uncomfortable. He glanced in his rearview, but was only barely able to make out Mr. Lisbon's form going into the house with something slung on his back.
Blowing out a relieved breath, Jane tried to concentrate on driving. He was a little rusty, admittedly. It had been awhile since he'd last driven and that was for the actual driving test. Luckily, practice with the trucks that carried the heavy equipment at the carnival was serving him well. Heading back to Mrs. Ruskin's house was still treacherous work though, mostly because he was stuck in his own head, stuck in the memories of the night rather than watching what he was doing. He wanted to go over every detail, to burn it into his long term memory so he would never forget what this night had been like. What he felt.
Arriving in the driveway of the house, he turned off the car and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. He couldn't quite believe it. Had he really said it? The words he was so afraid of, the ones that made his insides quake with vulnerability and glee all at once? Had she really said them back? With the curve of her lips, like a secret smile made only for him. Lips so tender on his that it was heart-wrenching.
The whole thing felt impossible. So impossibly beautiful. He felt both free and bound at the same time. Broken and whole all at once. He was also terrified. It made him open, this confession,, naked for the whole world to see. If any kind of enemy saw how much she meant to him- It would be all too clear that the way to get to him was through her. He knew he was too much of an ass sometimes not to make a few enemies in his life. Hell, he already had a few. As long as they never knew about Teresa, the two of them would be okay. Right?
Crawling out of the driver's seat, Jane shut the door hard enough that he could be sure it latched and looked up. The lights of the house were off, even the one in the foyer, which Elsa usually left on while she was there. He jogged up the steps and used his key to let himself in the front door. The empty house was dark and a little chilly, the shadows long in the bits of light from the windows. His keys clattered loudly in the silence as he tossed them in a bowl beside the door and he shrugged off his coat to hang it up on the rack in the closet.
Elsa's hat and coat were already gone from their hooks, so the maid had obviously gone home for the night. He was glad because she worked hard. Maybe too hard. Plus, it probably meant that Mrs. Ruskin had had a good night and went to bed on time too. The relief that flooded through his system was palpable. Angela had been so sick lately...
Sometimes he worried too much.
Tugging off his shoes, he swung them from a few fingers so he didn't track mud from the park over the floors Elsa had to clean every day and then made his way to his room.
His room was just as he'd left it. Bed in the left corner with the head at the windows, dresswe just inside the door, and desk off to the right near the closet- not that he used that last one. He swung his wallet onto the dresser at hand, right next to the record player. There was no record left on the player this time though. He didn't need it, since he wasn't sneaking out anymore, and maybe it was noticeable how much less he left the thing running at night, but Angela hadn't said anything. Throwing down his shoes, he flopped on the bed and covered his face with one arm.
What a night.
He scrubbed at his face and still couldn't rid himself of the goofy smile trying to crease his cheeks. Finally, he just gave in and let his arms fall out, breathing a sigh of resignation. He'd never thought this would happen. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd fall in love. Not like this. Passionate, singing, singeing love like this was only seen in stories. Stories that featured unrealistic circumstances and contrived plots. Love like this was for marks, for people who didn't know better.
Yet, he knew better and he still wouldn't change a thing. There was simply no question anymore... Teresa was the girl for him.
The fiery, mysterious, vulnerable young woman had captured his heart so thoroughly, and the small plant that had been growing in such a hidden place in his heart was now a tree thriving in the sun. It felt more wonderful than he'd ever imagined it could. Maybe even too wonderful to be real. In a way, he felt like none of this could be coincidence. Nothing this wonderful and miraculous just happened.
But maybe, just for her, he was willing to believe in magic just a little bit.
He grinned.
After a moment of laying there, smiling like an idiot, he hauled himself back up and went into the hall, headed for the bathroom to get ready for bed.
A light on at the far end of the dark hallway caught his eye just as he was about to go inside. Funny. There shouldn't be a light on. No one used that wing of the house. Abandoning his earlier destination, he decided to walk down the hall to investigate. The floorboards beneath his steps creaked with his weight and each strain to the wood echoed in the quiet space. He kept walking.
The source of the light was hidden behind a door that stood slightly ajar. He edged it open further and peeked through.
The bedroom beyond was empty. It was one that he might have expected a young woman to occupy, with walls that were a dark burgandy-like purple, lit scantly by a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The bed in the center of the room was a canopy, draped in pale, off-white clothe. It wasn't lived in, obviously. Dust coated the surfaces of both cloth and furniture, thick and scented with age. There were a few uncovered pictures on one end of what looked like a dresser, but other than that it seemed pretty nondescript. Looking around in the corners but seeing nothing and no one, he at last shrugged and flipped off the light.
Returning to his room after using the bathroom, he tugged his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the bed. Suddenly, he received a shove against his shoulders from behind and stumbled toward the bed.
"Boo!"
His heart leaped so high, he thought it would never come down again as he gave a strangled cry and turned on the intruder in his room. "Dad?!" He puffed in disbelief, breathless from the fright.
His father smirked. "Man, you are still so easy, Paddy."
Jane's legs gave out a little and he stumbled back to sit heavily on his bed.
Alex Jane grabbed something off Jane's dresser and started tossing it idly in the palm of his right hand. "But then, you always were an easy mark."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jane hissed fiercely. "If Mrs. Ruskin sees you-"
"That old bat?" He made a raspberry sound with his lips. A sound of deepest derision. "She wouldn't notice a firework in an art gallery, not in her condition. Besides, she's sleeping soundly. I checked."
Rage, and no small amount of fear, coursed through Jane's veins in a rush. He stood and took a threatening step into the other man's personal space. "If you've so much as laid a single finger on her, I'll-"
His father pushed him back, one hand on his chest, eyes glinting dangerously. "You'll what?"
He didn't really have an answer, but he felt it in his bones. If his father had hurt Mrs. Ruskin, he'd live to regret it.
Finally, his father smirked, cutting through the edge of anger between them. "Man, Paddy. You acting like she actually means something to you."
Jane wasn't stupid enough to open his mouth and give his father fodder to torture him with.
"It's a job." The man tapped his temple. "A con."
He hit the hand away.
"Oh ho, big man now. Think you can handle yourself, huh?" Alex stepped away, walked over to the dresser and hopped up on it, making the whole thing shake. "That why you stopped checking in? Huh? You stupid now?" His voice lowered to a growl. "We got our lives riding on this con, and suddenly you gotta grow a conscience? Now?"
"She's- She's-" Jane felt stupid but he didn't know how to express what he felt for the old woman. The first person to ever seem like they gave a damn about him. The closest thing to a mother he could remember.
"It's not real, Paddy. You know that." He looked up at him away from the thing twirling in his hand. "It's a lie."
"She doesn't deserve this. I'm not going to let you hurt her."
"Who's hurting her?" His father spread his hands wide. "Our deal was simple. You con the lady into giving you the diamonds. What does she need 'em for when she's dead?" He had leaned forward to hiss the last part and in that moment, Jane felt his blood his the boiling point.
Without thinking, he struck out.
Alex dodged the blow and swung with one of his own, catching Jane hard in the stomach.
Jane doubled up. The breath completely left his body, the shock of his dad actually hitting him only making it worse. He felt like his lungs were trying to explode as he struggled to take oxygen back into his body.
His father had made him do a lot of things, had threatened him often, but he'd never actually hit him before. Usually he made sure the man never had a reason to.
Alex Jane clapped him on the back. "Close but no cigar, Paddy my boy." He crouched and leaned in close to his ear, getting a grip on his neck so he couldn't pull away. "It's okay. I was about sixteen when I first tried to deck my pa too. You gotta learn to pick you're battles though, kid. You see, I've got this powerful fear of ending up six-feet-under, and if you foul this up, that's where we're both going to be. So... stick to the plan. Get the diamonds off the old broad, 'without hurting her'," His tone was whiny and insincere. "-and then we can blow these digs free and clear. Go back on the road... like old times."
Carefully, Jane slid out of his grasp and sat on the bed again. "Yeah, swindling people out of their money and making them think we not just a bunch of liars. Never staying in one place long enough to make enemies, let alone friends." He looked up at him. "Fun."
You could have cut his sarcasm with a knife.
"Friends? Who needs friends when you've got cold, hard cash in your pocket?" He suddenly looked at Jane suspiciously. "Is that what this is all about? You're getting cold feet because a few punk kids managed to convince you that you were friends?"
"This is about not stealing from a harmless little old lady!" Jane spat. "It's about doing the right thing."
"The right thing?" Alex scoffed. "What the hell do you know about the right thing, huh? You're here for all of half a year and suddenly you got morals? You think you know a damn thing?! You don't!" He threw the thing in his hand against the wall.
Jane flinched away. He'd never seen his father like this, like he was losing it. It reminded him a little bit of Mr. Lisbon. At least the Lisbon patriarch had had a legitimate problem. He was pretty sure his father was just bat shit crazy.
His father turned on him and pointed a slightly trembling finger his way. "You get your head back in the game, Paddy, if you don't want to see anything happen to this Ruskin lady. Or any of the so called friends you've been hangin' around with that have messed with your brain." He pressed his finger into the side of Jane's head.
Jane shook him off and watched his father carefully as he left, the door rebounding off the wall a little with the force that he expelled. For a long moment after he'd left, he just stayed in his perch on the bed, not moving- just breathing as calmly as he could.