Thought of the day: Two days ago I told my husband that I was reading fan fiction to help me with my Mentalist withdrawals. Today I told him that I'd written some. He wanted to read it. Hell no, the last thing I need him to know is that I would eagerly divorce him if it was possible to be in a beautiful polygamous relationship with two fictional characters.
A/N: I'm on a roll now, speeding towards the good bit. Because no one suffered through those six seasons of will they/won't they without desperately wishing that they would.
I've been trying not to over-explain Lisbon's feelings, but hopefully this chapter will give you all a bit more insight into why she has been holding back.
Jane is asleep on the couch when I arrive the next day. I look down at him, remembering what he asked me last night. Was he asking me what I wanted because he wants to know about me, about my feelings? Or was he asking because he wants to know what normal people want, trying to decide if he wants those things too.
I've spent so many years of my life trying to figure this man out, but I don't know if I've achieved very much. Maybe now, after last night's conversation, he will tell me real answers when I ask. Maybe after last night I can find it within myself to give him some real answers.
His eyes flicker, but don't open. "Hello, Teresa."
"Hi, Jane. Did you come back here to sleep last night?"
"No, just came in early to get a good start on the day. Nothing like a nap to get your mind working."
I laugh. "A nap after a night's sleep huh. Sounds like a solid plan."
He sits up, smoothing his suit over his chest. He cocks his head at me. "And did you sleep well, Lisbon?" He is looking at me with narrowed eyes, trying to figure something out.
I sit down at my desk and turn to my paperwork. "Like a baby," I lie.
I struggle to concentrate on my work, feeling his eyes boring into my back. I try to convince myself that he's probably not looking at me, that I'm just imagining it, but my mind is a jumble.
The thing is, I like joking around with him, flirting even. But the thought of anything else sends my brain into a whirlwind of excuses and feelings and thoughts that I can't quite make sense of. To start with, I have no idea if he even wants anything more from me. He went on that date with Karen, after all. What does he think we are? Friends?
Fischer arrives not long after, and sits opposite me at her desk. "We've questioned Ted Gareth, he thinks that Professor Gallagher knew that Redmond was selling the photos, so we've called him in for questioning. He'll be here in a few hours."
"Hi, Kim," Jane calls from behind me.
"Hello, Jane," she replies with a small smile. "Are you going to talk to Mrs. Gallagher about that material, about the suits?"
"Yes, I thought I might."
"Well, are you going to do it soon? It would be nice to make a bit of headway with this case."
"I suppose I could do that," he replies. "Just for you, Kim."
She suppresses another smile. Yes, it's certainly hard to resist Jane's charm, I think to myself.
"Good, well you get onto that." she says.
He stands up and walks over, pausing at my desk.
"You smell like..." he sniffs me. What do I smell like? Shampoo? Did I put perfume on this morning?
"Toast," he says triumphantly. "Wheatmeal toast. Strange, I'd pegged you as a wholegrain girl."
I smack him on the arm.
"Did you see that?" he asks Fischer, then he turns to me and shakes his head, a look of pure hurt on his face. "Always with the hitting, Lisbon."
"Go and do your job or I'll hit you again," I say.
"I would love to, but I think it would be best if I talk to her at the same time as you talk to the professor. I want to make sure they can't corroborate their stories afterwards."
"And why is that?" Fischer asks him.
"Because they're both lying about something, and I want to know if they're lying about the same thing." He grins at us, looking as cocky as ever.
"He thinks he's so clever," Fischer says to me.
I roll my eyes. "Always."
Jane looks from me to Fischer, then back again. "Oh I don't like this at all," He says, narrowing his eyes. "You two are ganging up on me. Don't think I can't tell."
He starts to wander off. Fischer calls after him- "well where are you going now? There's other work you can do."
"All in good time, Kim. But right now I've got a hankering for something grainy and toasted."
Fischer goes with Jane to talk to Mrs. Gallagher while Van Pelt questions the professor. I find myself at a loose end once I've finished my paperwork, so I go to the break room to grab a coffee.
I sit at the table alone, once again letting my mind wander back to my conversation with Jane last night. Until now, I haven't been able to admit that I have feelings for him at all. But now, as I let that thought wash over me, I can't quite figure out what those feelings are. What would a relationship with him look like? Sure, I am used to his tricks and games now, enjoy them even. But would I be able to cope with that in a real relationship with him?
I can't tell how he feels, and I can't trust him not to run away again. I can't figure out exactly how I feel about him until I know, I won't let myself.
I resolve to put these thoughts out of my mind for now, and I go back to my desk.
Fischer and Jane come into the room an hour before the end of the day. They are joking together, they seem relaxed in each others company. I'm not jealous, I'm definitely not jealous, I tell myself.
The whole team sit in the conference room and go over what we have discovered.
"Both the Gallaghers say that they were at home at the time of the murder, and they are each other's alibi," Fischer says. "However we have managed to get Mrs. Gallagher to admit that James Redmond spent a lot of time at their place."
"And she made the suits," Jane says.
"Yes," Fischer says with a smile. "Yes, she made them both suits."
"So if they didn't kill Redmond, then we are no closer to figuring this out than we were before," I say.
"Well I don't know about that," Jane says. "We still don't know why she lied about knowing Redmond in the first place. And I'd like to check out the crime scene again."
Fischer nods. "Okay, we'll do that tomorrow."
Jane stands and looks around at us. "So, dinner?"
Rigsby shakes his head and looks at Van Pelt. "No, we have plans."
Cho just shakes his head.
Jane looks at me. "Lisbon? Dinner?"
"No, I can't," I blurt out. "Plans."
He raises his eyebrows at me. "Oh yes, don't tell me you have a date?"
"I could have a date," I say. "I go on dates."
"Well who are you going on a date with then?" he asks, staring at me intently.
"None of your business." Oh great, so now I'm making up dates and acting like a child. I'm acting just like him.
He looks at me for a while longer, then finally turns away. "Well okay then. Go on your date. Have a fantastic time." He turns to Fischer. "Kim, what about you?"
Kim shrugs. "Yeah, I could do dinner. What do you have in mind?"
I spend another fitful night trying to figure out my own feelings, despite my promise to myself earlier in the day. When I finally sleep, I hear his voice in my dreams. Are you happy, Lisbon?
I wake earlier than usual, not any more rested than the day before, the voice still echoing in my head. I suppose I'm not that happy, I admit to myself. Not completely anyway. But what am I going to do about it?
When I exit the elevator, I see Jane and Fischer talking to each other in the passage. He's smiling, and in the interests of being honest with myself, I let myself linger there, admiring him. He spots me and waves.
When I walk over to them, I hear Jane murmur to her- "and that thing with the handcuffs, absolutely genius."
I feel like ice water has been poured all over me, but I force a smile.
"Hi, Lisbon," he says with a grin. "How was your date?"
I shrug. If I speak, I will lie, and I don't want to lie to him again.
"Well, ours was fantastic, wasn't it, Kim?"
She laughs. "Shut up, Jane." She walks away, back to her desk.
I stare at him in poorly masked horror. "You're actually dating Kim?"
"No, I'm not dating Kim. I went on one date with Kim."
"That's the same thing."
"No it's not, dating implies more than one date. Or the present tense. So I guess you could say that last night I was dating Kim, but today I'm not currently on a date with her and we've only been on one date so-"
"Jane!"
"What?"
"I don't want to hear about it. Really. Are we going to go do some work, or what?"
I feel like I have hundreds of rocks flowing down my throat into my stomach. Okay, so I guess I'm a bit jealous.
"Why do you even care that I went on a date with Kim anyway," Jane says, looking at me with those infuriating blue eyes.
Jane and I visit the crime scene later on in the day. Jane picks up a knife from the kitchen bench with his handkerchief.
"This doesn't match the set of the knives here, we should get it fingerprinted," he says.
"But the murder weapon was a gun," I reply.
"Yes, but I think we'll find someone's fingerprints on this, and surely that would place them here around the time of the murder?"
"I suppose. Whose fingerprints will we find?" I ask, not really expecting him to divulge all that he has figured out.
He pauses before replying. "One of the Gallaghers, I think. I don't believe they were both at home that night."
"Okay. Anything else you want to look at here?"
"Hmm, no. Nothing crime related anyway," he says with a smile, looking down at me.
"Oh stop flirting, it's not going to work on me," I say, but I smile back.
He bends down and peers into my eyes. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Well that's a shame. Here I was thinking that you'd cave to my every whim."
"And what would Kim think about you flirting with me," I ask. I try to mask my expression but I am sure that it doesn't do any good.
"Oh don't worry, that was just a friendly dinner. Nothing untoward."
My body relaxes in relief, then immediately tenses again. So maybe they didn't sleep together, but they did have dinner. And when I look at him he is calm, leaning casually on the bench. Surely he can tell what that did do me, and he doesn't even care.
"So you were just trying to make me jealous? And that handcuffs comment? How many times do I have to ask you to stop playing games with me?" I am furious now, pacing up and down.
He frowns. "I'm sorry. I didn't know... I couldn't tell-"
"Couldn't tell what? You were trying to get a rise out of me so you could read me? Use your little games to read my mind?"
"I can't read your mind, Teresa," he says softly. Liar.
"Good." I reply. "You wouldn't want to know what I'm thinking right now."
"I would, actually," he says, moving closer to me. "You always want me to open up, so why don't you?"
I hate him. I hate him. He knows how I feel, surely he knows. If he felt the same, then why wouldn't he say something? Why does he just speak in riddles and ask me questions that he already knows the answer to.
"Okay," I say, my face screwed up in fury. "I'll open up. I think you know exactly what is going on in my mind, and you're messing with me."
"I don't. I'm not a psychic, Teresa. You know that."
His face is honest now, and I start to feel guilty. Maybe I've overreacted and this is all my fault. Maybe he truly doesn't know that I have feelings for him. Is this what he was waiting for? For me to just tell him? I can't. I can't say it. Not until I know for sure that he feels the same way. I glance down at his wedding ring. Not until I know that he is ready to move on.
He catches me looking at his hand and he twists the ring around on his finger. "Well, are you going to say anything?" he asks. That damn ring, his past, everything is rushing around in my head. I don't know what to do.
"Fine," he says. "You know, maybe I will go out with Kim again after all."
He continues looking down at me but I don't meet his eyes. Say something you idiot, I command myself. But no words come out.
"Fine," he says again, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe you need to stop worrying about whether I can read your mind, and start being honest with yourself, Teresa." And with one last glance at me, he leaves the house.
I sink down against the bench, head in my hands. What the hell is wrong with me? With him? This can't go on forever.
I decide, as any sensible daughter of an alcoholic sometimes does, to get blackout drunk tonight.
