A/N: So as I've always lived on the East Coast, I have no idea what kind of festivals they have on the west. Give me some creative license here. Also, how about the epicness of Red Barn? Loved the "partnership" at the end, let's hope this continues as it's much appreciated by those of us who love this camaraderie.
I've gotten a few questions about if the rating will change in this: my answer is I've never written an M story, and I probably won't start now. Yes, there is a small chance it could change but I will most likely stay safely in the T zone. Lisbon's character may be a bit OOC, but it's due to the whole "you have a deadline, hurry up" issue so bear with me while I sort her out.
The lyrics throughout are "Try" by Pink.
Sangre
Funny how the heart can be deceiving
More than just a couple times
Why do we fall in love so easy?
Even when it's not right…
XOX
Teresa realized that two and a half months wasn't a lot of time to convince someone they loved you, to truly mean it. It sounded easy enough, but easier said then done in the end. Especially when the man you loved was still very much in love with a ghost.
That was the kind of love you couldn't live up to, literally.
She knew her feelings, always desperately trying to bury them in the hidden corners of her memory palace. It was all she could do to get through the day when he'd run off on one crazy scheme or another.
It had already been two weeks since the apology. He'd bring her coffee or a bear claw, but other than this gesture, they'd made no further progress after and she couldn't help thinking her time was already running out. Red John was quite literally forcing her hand, demanding such an outrageous confession just for kicks. She'd agreed to it to save Jane's life, maybe her own too. She knew she was playing with fire, and she couldn't let Jane find out. Eight weeks was all she had.
Eight weeks.
Fifty-six days.
Over a thousand hours to come up with some way to tempt or seduce or convince, if she could just gather that last ounce of courage. It wasn't a matter of attraction; they had that in spades. She may have been out of the dating pool for a while, too caught up with him and his demons to find her own life, but was there a life without him? After everything they'd been through, constantly went through, she wasn't sure if anyone could ever handle that heavy of a burden. She'd never rid herself of Jane, she'd known that on day one, and getting involved with anyone else but him seemed moot now. Even a serial killer could see it.
Who would be able to take her and Jane, as long as they both shall live?
They were an oddly paired package deal.
She lamented her inability to figure out how, and where, to ask him out. Asking him out to dinner was too common an occurrence between them, and would be seen as a friendly gesture. Movies were silly since you couldn't exactly talk. Any place that he could whip out his conning skills and magic tricks was yet another horrible idea.
And then it hit her. It may be childish, a little out there, but she held back a secret smile at the thought.
She knew exactly where to take Jane.
XOX
Peculiar.
That was the word that struck him when he was around Lisbon now. Their vow of silence may have been broken, but her attitude was just so damn strange. She'd been acting strangely since the day of the apology two weeks ago. Maybe he hadn't apologized properly, or not enough. He couldn't tell by the day to day.
She'd stare a little too long his way before he'd catch her in it, she'd avoid him all day and then make awkward attempts to touch him, yelled at him a little more and then turned around and (actually) apologized to him for it, and her style choices had taken a sudden turn to the provocative. Oh, she'd never wear a skirt to the office to be sure, but the jeans were a little tighter in all the right places and the button downs were a little less buttoned down.
It was as if her actions volleyed somewhere between desperate attraction and cool disposition. It was the desperate part of this recognition that frightened him. Their dynamic had always been far from normal, but now it was just…different. At least he seemed to be the only one that noticed this sudden shift, else they'd be in real trouble.
She was spooked, and that was the best word for it. The few chances he'd been able to glance his fingers over her wrist, he found an uneven, shaky, nervous beat. She blinked more, tapped her fingernails, and chewed her pen caps to oblivion. She possessed a secret she wasn't willing to share. Whatever it was had altered her dramatically.
His concern outweighed his confusion over the whole mess. Perhaps tricking her into asking him out would open the door for the conversation. Maybe a few glasses of wine and chocolate cake would be enough to ply her secret out. He'd once said he'd never seduce her over a meal, but if this were going to work in his favor, he may have to break that rule.
Jane sighed, leaning back on the cot in his attic as he contemplated the best way to go about this situation.
He didn't get a chance to ruminate long as the soft knock came at the door. "Come in, Lisbon," he called. It was never not her; she was the only one who ever dared set foot in the dusty attic he'd claimed as his own. It was his version of office space.
She smiled, radiant as ever. She'd never understand how hard it was to resist the pull she had on him. It had surprised him, initially, when he realized there was a pluck at a heartstring that moment Hardy tried to shoot her. It was in that brief space of a second that his heart tethered a lifeline to hers, and he'd only pulled closer through the years, despite what she thought.
For all his faults and frailties, she wouldn't let him go. His betrayal, leaving her for Vegas like a vagabond, sleeping with Lorelei and all the witches' drastic measures to drive a wedge in that lifeline had failed; they were still inextricably linked.
Even after all the ugly words they threw at each other, the darkness had passed.
Well, it had passed for him at least. It still lingered in the vestiges of her lovely emerald eyes, and he wished she would tell him why. Had he not been clear in his apology?
She interrupted his thoughts, sitting rather close to him on the cot. This was new. She never initiated anything unless he was in dire straits.
"So, I was thinking," she began carefully, staring somewhere far off. "I haven't been to the beach in a long time. And there's this festival they're having out on the sand. Annie was supposed to go with me but she had to cancel last minute, and I was kind of looking forward to going."
She was playing the sympathy card. Annie wasn't anywhere near California right now; instead she'd been staying with her mother while Tommy was taking night classes.
Jane nodded, catching the clear lie. She really was a horrible actress. He wasn't going to make this easy for her. "Well, I think Van Pelt cancelled her appointment to the spa, perhaps she'd enjoy the beach?"
She looked thoroughly abashed. "Well…I…um…I know you like the beach, so I was thinking, maybe, you'd like to go?"
He smirked. He'd played her! She hadn't been this incensed since…well…when wasn't she? She huffed, irritated.
"I'm trying to be nice, you know! This is hard. We haven't really gotten a chance to talk, with the last two months and all…" she trailed off quietly. "I just thought maybe…it would be a nice gesture." Her fingers twisted into pretzels in her lap until he snatched one hand up in his.
"I promise, dear, I wasn't making fun. It's just really interesting to watch you struggle with your words…it's rare," Jane said, attempting to ease the frazzled beat in her wrist that still concerned him. "And it sounds like a grand idea. I haven't been to the beach in a while either, and it's a nice evening for a stroll."
Her grin was wide and shy, another new addition to her personality. "Pick me up at eight," she stated. No question.
"Wait a minute, aren't you supposed to pick me up? You asked me out!" He questioned laughingly. She stood, the smile still in place.
"I thought you were old fashioned Jane?" She mocked lightly.
"Well, if old fashioned is what you wanted, then prepare for doors to be opened, and you may as well leave your wallet at home. And if we're being really old fashioned here, perhaps I should call your brothers for their permission to take you out on this date!"
That took the mocking right out of her. "Jane, don't you dare call my brothers, and who said this was a date?"
She slipped out the door before he could argue, leaving him alone to contemplate this sudden change.
"You did," he whispered quietly.
XOX
Every time she discarded an outfit option, she remembered this was Jane she was dressing for. He'd seen her in virtually every (pant suit) item that she owned. She'd effectively run out of anything impressive. She had nothing.
For a moment, she felt sixteen, trying to impress the popular boy on the first day of school.
This was a date, after all. No matter how much she denied it. Jane knew it.
Maybe it was good he could read her so well. She'd opened back up, little by little, but left the lingering secret protected. She'd made it clear he could read what she wanted him to read, and nothing else.
He seemed concerned more than curious about it. She was sure he suspected, but feared the confrontation. Not that she could blame him, she feared it just as much, knowing full well everything she was doing would come to light eventually. The how and the when would be the only two checkboxes up to her. Teresa held onto that last bit of control for dear life.
Unfortunately, dressing for this occasion was impossible. She wanted to look pretty, like the woman she was; not like a repressed cop who only wore dress slacks and the occasional pair of heels. Lisbon shoved a chunk of hangers to the side, wincing at the screech they caused as they skittered across the metal rod, until she found it. There it was, hanging forgotten in the darkness. Hidden in the recesses of her closet was a blouse she'd yet to wear from one of the excursions she'd had the misfortune to go on with Van Pelt.
She grasped the thin, silky fabric with her fingers lovingly. She'd never admit how much she adored the top, but with so few occasions to wear it, she'd forgotten its existence. The pale jade green would compliment her eyes perfectly, a feature she knew Jane appreciated. She pulled the floaty top over loosely curled raven hair, relishing the flash of cleavage the "V" created as she pushed the pearl like buttons through the tiny tabs and cuffed the sleeves. Her darkest wash skinny jeans paired well, and since they would be traversing the beach, sandals were the best option.
Now all she could do was wait.
Not long though, as Jane was ever the punctual sort. He appeared promptly at eight on her doorstep, a bouquet of white Easter lilies in his hand. She couldn't prevent the profuse blush that spread rampantly across her features.
His smirk at her discomfort was gentle, different from his usual sly grins. Jane held the bouquet out towards her, and she accepted them tentatively. "They're beautiful Jane, thank you," she said politely, not bothering to ask how he knew they were her favorites. At this point, it was a fact she accepted, that he knew everything, almost anyways, about her.
"Not as beautiful as the recipient," he replied with a wink.
Lisbon rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's cheesy Jane, especially for you." She took a moment to place the lilies in a vase before returning to her suitor, sliding her arm into his.
"Well you wanted old fashioned, Teresa. Be careful what you wish for," he whispered softly. The happy smile faded as the second half of the sentence chimed a warning in her mind. She wasn't doing this for pleasure, or even self-satisfaction. She was doing this for a serial killer with a price on their heads and a deadline to keep. Someday, maybe, he'd forgive her for everything he'd eventually find out. Someday they might actually have a chance at this.
Because for now, it was all a show.
XOX
The beach, of course, was beautiful. The sun had long set, but the glow of game booths and cheap carnival rides lit the water with a rainbow of unearthly, dancing colors. A few bedraggled clowns wandered aimlessly, passing out balloon animals to small children and squirting adults with the silly fake flowers pinned to their lapels.
Jane already purchased fluffy pink cotton candy for her, a true staple at a festival, and popcorn for himself. They took in the flickering lights and swirling rides in a strange, comfortable silence. As if speaking would disturb the joyful noise in the atmosphere. Rarely was there a peace like this.
He came to a stop at one of the game booths, so suddenly that she stumbled into him.
"Jane, seriously," she grunted.
"Fitz?" he questioned lightly. The man in question was a beast of a man; dark brown beard shrouding most of his face, bald on top save for the top hat he occasionally waved ecstatically, trying to draw in players. He leaned heavily on a cane that seemed to have seen better days but remained steady, nonetheless.
He squinted, recognition crossing the fine lines of his weathered face. "Well, Lord have mercy! Patrick Jane? What in the name of my beard are you doin' here?" He roared happily. The man, Fitz, all but jumped over the booth's stairs, throwing his arms around Jane and picking him up off his feet.
"Teresa, this is Fitz Mulroney, he's Pete's cousin," Jane coughed out, suffering from being squished in the large man's arms. Fitz dropped Jane unceremoniously when he caught sight of the petite brunette.
"Hi, Fitz, right? I'm Teresa Lisbon," she laughed, watching Jane gasp for breath in the sand. He shook her hand, removing his hat as he did so.
"Well, she's quite a looker Patrick. Where did you find this one?"
Jane had finally caught his breath, hands still planted on his knees for support. Lisbon was flushed, not used to this level of outright attention.
"This one? This one I found at the CBI," Jane said laughingly, shooting her a sideways glance.
"The CB what?" Fitz queried.
"California Bureau of Investigation," Lisbon replied automatically, practiced in the art of the response.
"What the hell did you do now, Patrick?"
Jane held his hands up defensively. "Nothing, if you must know. I'm a consultant for her."
Fitz raised a bushy eyebrow at the implication. "Well, in that case, sign me up to be a consultant then."
"Trust me, Jane's all the consultant I can handle, but we'll see Fitz," Lisbon answered the flirty, bear of a man before her.
"Well, the least I can do is let Patrick here try to win his lovely lady a prize," Fitz waved at his booth merrily. Jane chuckled at the prospect.
"For a fee, I'm guessing," Jane responded. Fitz laughed.
"How about first round on me?"
Jane shrugged, acquiescing to the cajoling of his former…friend? "Why not, if the first round is on you, after all."
Lisbon smirked, watching the back and forth of the familiarity. "Jane, I'm going to find the ladies room, win me the white bear?"
"Sure Lisbon, anything for you," he replied with a tone that belied the seriousness hidden within.
She wandered off in the direction of the restrooms, wanting to give Jane time to catch up with what was clearly a friend from his past. The characters that dotted his colorful history always amused her. He certainly had not led a boring life by any means. Hers may not have been conventional, raising three brothers for a good portion of her childhood, but his had been downright bizarre at times. They both eventually escaped, but they both also still remained chained to the events that shaped them.
"Would you like a reading by Madame Pria?"
Lisbon jumped, caught off guard by the tall, middle-aged woman to her right. She wore midnight blue robes and thousands of silver and gold chains. She embodied everything Jane would cynically call a charlatan, robbing people blind at the expense of a false future. Then again, it was a festival. Other than Jane, she'd never gone near a psychic, true, false, or otherwise.
"Why not?" Lisbon responded, eschewing her beliefs to embrace the frivolity. Jane did tell her she needed to be spontaneous more than once. She took the seat offered by the woman, Pria, a name she was sure was as false as the crystal ball on the table next to theirs, sliding the requisite eight dollars across the small table.
"Your hands, dear," Pria said, nodding to Lisbon's folded hands. "Palm up, if you will."
Lisbon flipped her hands, resting her elbows on the table's edge. Pria placed her elbows in a similar manner, grasping Lisbon's left palm, tracing the lines along it carefully, eyes closed in concentration.
She was quiet for a long moment.
Lisbon couldn't help the small Jane voice in the back of her head that laughed at her. She would never tell him she stopped here.
"You have a secret you can't tell a friend. You're afraid that something bad will happen. Your aura is cloudy, suggesting anxiety over this…situation. It's put you at a fork, a significant fork in your life…" The psychic trailed off, knitting her brows in concern that Lisbon couldn't decipher as real or fake. She knew Jane was a cold reading pro, but that itself was a hard trick to master. "There's no solution to the fork, I'm sorry. It's too undecided for me to read, but it proves your uncertainty. You need to choose soon though, that much is clear. You don't have a lot of time."
Lisbon eyed the woman warily, glancing at her watch. If she didn't head back soon Jane would worry and inevitably come looking for her. She pulled her hand from the woman's grasp. "Look, thank you, for the reading, but I have to go," Lisbon rushed as politely as possible, standing abruptly.
The woman caught her hand before she could turn. "Look, I understand that you're suspicious, that you don't believe me. It's written all over your face, dear. But listen too me when I say you don't have long to make whatever decision it is you have to make. Be careful."
The psychic let her wrist go, and Lisbon felt the woman's eyes on her as she walked quickly back to Jane. Now she knew what paranoia was, as a fleeting thought that the carnival psychic could be in Red John's pocket ran through her mind. With the man's vast reach, she was sure it couldn't be impossible. It was a good way to rile her, keep a close watch on her nerves.
She stood back, keeping a distance between her and Jane as she watched him throw the rings around the rigged sticks that they needed to encircle. Like the sticks in the game, her entire life had become rigged. She was a puppet on Red John's strings.
Jane turned, feeling her presence. Fear was written on her face, and she didn't have a chance to hide it in that second. Fitz passed him the white bear that he hadn't won with a wink, knowing his old friend may need a bit of help in his situation. Jane gave a brief nod, passing Fitz a ten, which he refused. He didn't want his friends money. He was just happy his friend had moved on.
He made his way to the petite brunette, holding out the white bear. She smiled, the fear gone, replaced by the impassive, blank mask she'd adopted since their apology. "You alright Lisbon? You look like you've seen a ghost."
She shrugged. "It's nothing. A touchy clown practically assaulted me on my way back here. I never liked clowns very much."
It was another lie he saw right through, but chose not to push. He didn't have a right to ask yet. "A lot of people are afraid of clowns, Lisbon, that's nothing to be ashamed of," he replied laughingly.
She looked abashed. "I am not afraid of clowns, I simply said I didn't like them very much. I'm not six, Jane."
"Whatever you say, dear. Why don't we go try out the Ferris wheel. It looks like the most promising ride here. And by promising, I mean stable."
"And now I have to be afraid of the Ferris wheel. Thanks, Jane," she replied, rolling her eyes and bumping his shoulder with hers.
"I promise you can hold my hand the entire time if you're scared."
All that elicited was another eye roll.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"What, seeing you scared for once, or holding your hand? I'm good with either, but I prefer the latter," he answered cheekily.
"You are utterly incorrigible, Patrick Jane," Lisbon replied dryly, a touch of wistfulness in her tone.
"Yes, I certainly am."
XOX
The non-date date had gone fairly well, by both of their standards. They'd ridden the Ferris wheel, the carousel, and a ride they couldn't recall but had made their stomachs churn without much incident, eaten corn dogs and drank more then their fair share of sugary lemonade before the night was done. Lisbon still clutched the bear like a child, passed out in the passenger seat as he drove her home.
He would have laughed if it wouldn't get him punched in the nose. He desperately wanted to bring up the fear that had alighted her face hours before, but had no clear way of doing so. He could manipulate her in her sleep, but the chances of it working were slim at best. Her threshold had been lower years before, and drugged at that, easier to manipulate. She was so on guard now that even getting her to relax would be a feat. Even in sleep she was fitful, tossing her head back and forth.
He'd have to work on getting her to trust him first. The trust he wanted wasn't built in a day, much less ten years. Jane trusted her implicitly but couldn't say the same for her of him. She had no reason to trust him after all.
Who could trust a man that got her fired, suspended more than once, shot, almost shot, almost blown up on occasion, targeted by a serial killer, abandoned by him after claiming he'd always save her, thereby implying he'd always be there, and told her he loved her only to take it back in a moment of weakness.
He wouldn't trust him either. But she was nothing less than the abiding saint, always willing and always there to pick him up and forgive him so easily.
He sighed heavily, the weight of his thoughts bearing down on his shoulders. Given a choice, he wished he could give up this lonely crusade of his. He wished he didn't need to have this vengeance. Wished his family wasn't dead.
But wishing wouldn't change a thing. And when he thought of the course of events, if his family hadn't died, he would not have met her. And a life without her was just as awful a thought as a life without his family. He made a promise to himself when he'd left for Vegas that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if it was from himself. He couldn't protect his wife and daughter, but he could protect Teresa Lisbon.
Leaving her, pretending she was nothing, ignoring her hadn't worked. She was still as big a target as she'd always been, Red John made that clear. Perhaps staying close would be the better way now. At least if she were taken, he would be with her.
He stopped the blue Citroen in front of her condo, cutting the engine. She barely shifted, out like a light. He felt sorry to have to wake her. She needed the rest.
Gently, he placed his hand on her shoulder, nudging her awake. "Teresa, you're home. Unless you want me to carry you inside, I'd advise waking up."
She grumbled out her protests. Cranky, as always as her eyes fluttered open, confused.
"Didn't mean to fall asleep, sorry about that," Lisbon said on a yawn. It was nearing midnight, and she was more than thankful tomorrow was Saturday. He smiled softly.
"It's alright, I don't mind a little drool on the old girl," he joked, patting the dashboard. She immediately ran her hand across her lips, narrowing her eyes tremendously.
"I do not drool, Jane!"
He put his hands up defensively. "Whatever you say, boss."
She tried to hide the irritated grin, failing to do so. "Did you want to come in for tea?" she asked, nodding towards her condo. There was a nervousness in her voice he'd never heard before. He couldn't help thinking she was trying to force something along, with the clothes and the festival, and wondered briefly if that was the unnamed emotion he'd seen in her eyes when they'd apologized: a controlled desperation.
She wasn't one to push for a romantic relationship, had never really given him an inclination other than questioning his "love you" all those months before. He supposed there were the little things, touches, gifts, trust falls, throughout their friendship. She followed rules almost to a T before she'd met him. They'd both changed outrageously in the past decade: she'd given up a good portion of her control, her reputation, and her morals for him, and he'd relinquished a good measure of his revenge, the lingering doubts of killing the man came softly in the past year. He had more to lose now than ever before.
"I'll walk you to your door, as per my old fashioned gentlemanly duties, but I must refuse your offer on pretense Teresa," he said with a smile, dissuading her frown with a wink. "Perhaps, next time."
So there would be a next time, she wanted to ask. She couldn't help feeling a bit insulted, followed by worried. She'd never been refused the little she'd dated in the past decade, and being refused by Jane somehow hurt more than she was willing to admit. The worry was there because of her timeline. Clearly she would have to up the ante if she wanted to be alive in eight weeks.
He got out of the car, coming around to her side to open her door, offering his hand. She smiled, but it was dim as he led her to her condo.
"Thank you for tonight Lisbon, it's nice to get out of the attic. I truly missed the beach as well. And since this was your plan all along, I suppose I should be the one offering the next non date."
The offer made her heart leap. Maybe this was going somewhere after all. "Sounds like a plan Jane. But I doubt you could come up with a non-date as good as my non-date," she challenged. A challenge was something he could hardly resist.
"I see your challenge, dear, and I raise you a challenge. I'll see you later, Lisbon," He smirked, before stopping and giving her a soft, quick peck on her cheek. "Good night, Teresa."
He was gone before she knew what to make of the peck. It was something. He'd never deigned to kiss her before. He'd kissed practically every woman they knew in some manner; Kristina Frye, Sophie Miller, Hightower, Erica Flynn (a kiss he'd confessed too after some needling), she was certain he'd given Van Pelt a peck before, having used her to go undercover in a small town setting, and of course Lorelei, on multiple occasions as well as sleeping with the witch. But never in their ten years had they kissed in a single instance.
Yes, it had to mean something.
XOX
When she woke the next morning, after her coffee had been made and she went to get the newspaper, a yellow envelope rested within the heavy pages.
No address, return or otherwise. Simply her name scrawled on the thick letter.
She slit the envelope cautiously, afraid of what she would find. And she should have been. Within the confines was a series of photographs, all taken from the carnival. So he was following her, or at least, had someone trailing them, keeping tabs on her progress.
A red permanent marker smiley face covered each of the photos.
"Motivation" was written on a single sheet of blank white paper.
She tore the photos into pieces.