Mend This Tear- chapter sixteen
DISCLAIMER: The Mentalist does not belong to me. It is the creation of Bruno Heller. I'm writing this fiction to express my love for the series and maybe vent a little.
Teresa was massaging her temples on her couch when the doorbell rang. She got up to open it when it rang again, followed by steady knocking. She winced at the loudness.
"I'm coming, already!" So much for hoping Jane would leave her be for the day. The man had the patience of a five year old when he'd made up his mind to do something.
Reaching to unlock the door she was careful to school her expression to not betray the suffering she was in. As soon as Patrick heard the key turn, he turned the knob himself and made his way inside her condo. She saw him take in her place probably comparing it to the last time he was there. He glanced once more at the photo of her bothers then walked towards her living room before stopping to look up the stairway.
Annoyed, Lisbon opened her mouth to make a snarky remark, something in the vein of 'make yourself at home, why don't you'. But it died before ever making it to her lips when Jane suddenly rounded on her and she saw how his face was even more drawn than it had been at the hospital.
Jane started to say something before he too was rendered speechless when he caught sight of her. He seemed oddly shocked and disturbed, and Lisbon saw him avert his eyes and swallow. Looking down at herself, she wondered what was wrong then figured that if he looked tired then she must look half-dead.
Annoyed at how self-conscious his reaction made her, Teresa opted for her favorite defense; sarcasm.
"Is it really that bad? Cut me some slack, I was in the hospital."
Her misinterpretation had Jane studying her carefully as she walked into the kitchen and turned on the electric water heater. It was the opposite. Yes she was paler than usual but it only made her look more ethereal; she was breathtaking; all five feet and four inches of her. Angela was right. Although he'd seen Lisbon in a jersey before, the sight affected him more now than it had last year. Why was that?
Jane gave himself a mental shake. He'd come here to talk to her, not to notice how amazing her legs were.
Since Red John clearly had no interest in killing Jane, his killing cops could only mean one thing...he was targeting Lisbon. But Patrick wouldn't tell her any of that. He'd let her think this was about his revenge. He didn't care if she thought he was being selfish. Telling her would be a pointless risk. After all, if she wouldn't break the law to help him she was even less likely to break it to save herself.
Saint Teresa. He thought it with equal parts frustration and regard; noting that the conflicting emotions have become a common theme for him these days.
The thought that Lisbon might find herself at the wrong end of the man's knife had him frantic. His sudden attraction only added to his ire with the woman and he quickly found his tongue. But neither the words that came out, nor the fervent tone they were spoken in were part of the plan.
"You always said you didn't need to be saved, that you don't need to be protected, that I should include you in my plans. This is me being straight up with you, Lisbon. Help me."
And that was why he had come. Jane wasn't an idiot. He knew he'd have a much better chance at stopping Red John with Lisbon's help. Now if he could only get her to agree on that one point then he'd be more than willing to share all he knew with her.
It only took Teresa a beat to catch up. Despite how unreal it felt that they were outwardly discussing the matter, she'd imagined having this conversation with him countless times. She just never thought he'd be so up front with her, would sound so vehemently desperate. The sight moved her and left her coming up empty on how to best answer him.
"Of all the things you could have told me Jane, why this?" Lisbon finally said, shaking her head in despair. A thought suddenly occurred to her and she looked at Jane in hopeful wonder, "Unless you want me to stop you."
Jane's demeanor turned so icy her insides practically froze. Had she really been feeling sorry for him scant seconds ago?
"You think wrong," Jane shot down the possibility with a hard scowl, "Really, woman, are there no limits to your optimism?"
"Fine," Teresa quickly conceded her error, but she still wanted an answer. This was something she'd always wanted to ask. "So why did you?" She asked once more, studying him as she prepared his tea.
Jane looked at Teresa searchingly. Would she believe him if he said he'd wanted to spare her the shock the day he killed Red John, that he felt he owed it to her?
Not likely. She didn't trust him.
Lisbon looked up from her task to note that Jane was as poker faced as ever. This led her to believe that he was taking extra care to hide his emotions which entailed that her query must have hit something pretty sensitive. Before the silence stretched too long she rephrased the question.
"I mean, what did you expect would happen when you told me?"
Jane hadn't actually thought of that. The day he'd told her of his plans, they had been arguing about justice and vengeance. He'd stated there was no difference between the two, and she'd disagreed. Her opinion had surprised and irked him. He'd thought he'd known her better than that, and to test his theory, he'd told her what he planned to do with Red John, to see if she'd stand her ground even knowing what he had in mind.
Yes. No. Yes, that was part of it, but it wasn't all. He'd just wanted her to know. For some reason, it was important that she know…that he know…
Patrick's conflict was more visible on his face now, and it worried Teresa. Deciding she didn't really need to know his reason she quickly added sugar to the tea she'd prepared and approached him.
"Sorry, I don't have a cup and a saucer," she said, offering his favorite beverage in a mug.
Jane took the opportunity to collect himself. This wasn't going as planned. She was supposed to answer his questions, not the other way around. Taking a sip, he looked over the mug's rim to see Lisbon's inquiring gaze upon him. No doubt wondering what it was about her question that managed to derail his thoughts so much.
That makes two of us, he thought, taking another fortifying drink. He'd have to relay the deciphering of his thoughts for later. For now he had to stick to his plan. If he spoke to Lisbon rationally she was bound to come around. She had to. Her life was in danger
He took one last sip before placing the half full mug on the nearest flat surface, her desk. They were still standing just in front of her doorway. Neither had made an attempt to move the conversation to the living room since he'd arrived; it was something else he'd ponder later. For now, he needed to get back on track.
"Why, Lisbon?" he started the conversation anew, feeling much calmer, more in control, hoping Lisbon would go along with the do-over, "Why are you being so stubborn about this? You know he has to die."
"No, Jane, I don't know that," she answered readily, finding the current conversation more predictable, hence safer, than the past one. "And besides, how he dies makes all the difference in the world. You can't do what you say you will without expecting it to change you. You don't know what it's like," she stated emphatically.
This was unexpected, Jane thought. No recital of the rules, codes or ethics. Was it really his soul she was worried about it?
"I've killed before," Jane reminded her, putting his hands in his pockets, exuding confidence he didn't feel.
"Not in cold blood. It changes you," Lisbon repeated earnestly. "I've seen it happen."
The partly open box in Jane's memory palace labeled "Sam Bosco" pulled itself out of storage.
"Did it change Bosco?"
Lisbon lowered her eyes furtively, and something in Jane's head clicked loudly into place.
He had always been irked that he hadn't been able to tell that Sam and Lisbon had history. But he'd consoled himself with the fact that there simply hadn't been any clues to be seen.
After the man's death, Jane had given up ever understanding their relationship. He'd understood Sam perfectly, but Lisbon, there was something conflicting between her obvious respect and fondness of the man and how little time she actually spent with him. In fact, prior to the Unit Head's taking over the Red John case, Jane never saw them have a single conversation.
Now he knew why. Satisfied his mind had officially solved the case, Sam's box was finally allowed to be shut completely before being pushed back into storage.
"It didn't," he said watching Lisbon walk nervously to her tiny desk, rearranging the items there. "It didn't change him at all, and that's why you left him."
"We were never together, Jane." she replied before she could stop herself. Too late she remembered that any reply to the mentalist, even a denial could be dangerously telling. She held up her brothers' photo, gazing at it in earnest, to keep him from seeing her eyes; her mutinously revealing eyes.
But Jane was already passed that.
"Not as lovers, maybe, but as soul mates." He watched her put down the photo and pick up another frame. This one of a handwritten tattered piece of paper, he guessed it was a bible verse that must have some special significance. "You loved and respected Sam. But after he killed whoever it was he couldn't catch everything changed. After you found out, you couldn't get over your disappointment in him. That was the cause of your estrangement."
Teresa put down the second frame as well to give Patrick a pleading look. He was getting way too close the truth. But he was on a roll and was undeterred.
"And me, you probably don't even think I'll live long enough to let you down. You think he'll kill me."
Looking for something else on the desk to fiddle with and coming up empty, Lisbon picked up Jane's still steaming mug from her desk to return it to the kitchen. Only Jane stayed her with his hand on her nervous fingers. Waiting for her to meet his gaze, he spoke his next words slowly and deliberately.
"Lisbon, I assure you I have no intention of dying."
"Sure you don't," she snapped. Pulling her hand from under his, she went to set the mug in the kitchen sink before returning to give him an accusing glare, fists balled at her sides.
His suspicions confirmed, Jane uttered a long sigh into the floor.
Lisbon was scared of getting close to him only to lose him, either figuratively (if he kills Red John) or literally (if Red John kills him). The fact warmed him even as he regretted that her fear and principles getting in the way of their friendship and her safety.
He wondered if he should tell her he didn't think he was as ready to lay his life on the line as he used to be, and that it was mostly because of her. But again, the fact that she didn't trust him meant that she wouldn't believe him. And he wouldn't try to convince her to either, not when he himself didn't know what he'd do when the time came. All he knew was the Red John would end up dead, preferably as painfully as possible.
Lisbon was probably right; if need be, he would sacrifice himself to get Red John.
He just wouldn't be as apathetic about it.
Somehow he doubted that would make a difference to Lisbon. If he wanted her companionship he'd have to up the ante. He walked around a bit, biding his time until he was able to come up with a new strategy. He got one by the time he reached her door. Turning to lean against it, he regarded her challengingly.
"Whatever happened to thinking I'll make the right choice? See that violence isn't the answer?" He asked, crossing his arms, watching with interest as Lisbon unconsciously did the same.
"You mean assuming you live long enough to make that choice?"
"Yes, let's assume that," he said seriously, frowning at her incredulousness.
"I still believe that. But that doesn't entail acting recklessly."
"Acting recklessly? Please, do explain."
Teresa sighed, thinking of the best way to convey her reasoning. Luckily it didn't take her long.
"In a firefight, you don't throw yourself into the open and hope for the best," uncrossing one arm to make a flaying gesture, "No. You put on your Kevlar first, pray that you'll make it out alive, and keep your head down even as you're exchanging shots to take out the bad guys."
Teresa didn't add that you should always have back up; people you trusted enough to cover you, to put your life in their hands. She didn't need to.
Watching her, Jane figured as much. He'd been thinking it this whole time, and now she'd practically come out and said it. "I don't trust you." It stung, he'd saved her life, but Jane let it go for now.
"How very rational Lisbon. Spoken like a true cop," he said, his voice that patronizing lilt he knew she hated.
Apparently, he couldn't let it go completely.
Lisbon winced, and with an inward start Patrick realized it wasn't just at the bitterness in his voice. Her head still hurts. How had he missed it? It was clear as day from her rigid stance, and from the way she now took a deep breath, undoubtedly trying to hold in the ache. And like in the hospital, was once more overcome with the fierce desire to make it go away. But first things first.
"I'm guessing I'm the bullet in this analogy?" he asked rhetorically, uncrossing his hands to gesture to himself before hiding his fists in pants' pockets.
"You're my consultant, Jane, a member of my team. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe; including protecting you from yourself. That's my job," she finished strongly.
Despite her valiant attempt, Jane didn't miss the pain flickering on her face as she spoke.
"Bravo. I must say, that was very good," Jane said, staring at her intently. This time Lisbon didn't break eye contact. Jane could see how resolute she was in her decision and was once again torn in his admiration for her and his irritation with her.
But more than anything, her stance stirred something within him. Playing hardball was his game.
He grinned, a humorless grin.
"I wish I had such a convenient excuse for wanting to save you," he stated in . Watching with satisfaction as Lisbon's eyes shifted, he continued before she could recover. "Unfortunately I don't," Jane shrugged, "so think of this as a consolation prize for when I kill Red John," he said, taking a long stride towards her.
"What are you doing?" Lisbon asked, warily backing away further into the apartment, but before she could get far, Jane reached out and clasped her hand, pulling her firmly towards him, feeling her pulse race under his fingers.
With practiced ease, Jane kept firm hold on Lisbon's wrist with his right hand, as he raised the other to the side of her head. He wove the fingers of his left hand into her hair and once he had a firm hold, ensuring that she wouldn't be able to get away without scalping herself, he released her wrist so that he could do the same with his right. When both hands were resting on either side of her head, fingers tangled into her hair, he pulled her close and looked deep into her startled eyes.
Lisbon felt the air leave her lungs at his proximity. She could see his thick gold tinted eyelashes, count the individual wrinkles on his face.
Dear God.
She could smell him; like warm sunshine. She knew it sounded ridiculous but that was the only description she could ever come up with to fit his fresh musk. It was stronger than usual this day, no doubt from spending all night with her at the hospital; but not unpleasant. The man was so lazy he never seemed to work up a sweat. And as pathetic at is sounded, the scent was actually nostalgic. It reminded her of the rare instances they were in such close proximity. Waking him up at the attic after spending the night there, being stuck in a crate together…hiding under a table at Judge Fitzwilliam's home.
But only one other time had her pulse racing so much she felt her heart would either burst or stop. It had also been in her home when he had hypnotized her. She realized that they were standing in the exact same spot. And that wasn't the only similarity.
Now, like then, she was absolutely terrified.
The knowledge brought Teresa back to her senses. Air suddenly rushed back into her lungs, making her chest heave uncontrollably, almost brushing Patrick's; so close were they. Lisbon quickly tried to concentrate on taking slow deep breaths to calm herself, but that only made the situation worse. She was practically breathing him in; his scent heady, suffocating.
Was he trying to kill her?
"Jane," Lisbon gasped, moving her hands to his chest to push him away.
But Jane started talking then and the gravely tenor immobilized Teresa, leaving her hands in place on his chest.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel it. This lazy sense of belonging, of knowing someone will always be there for you no matter what."
Lisbon started to argue the impossibility of his contention but words failed her when Jane started to massage her temples with his thumbs and stroke the back of her head with his fingertips.
She was barely able to stop herself from moaning. It felt so good.
"Can you feel it? This relaxing connection between you and I. Two tired, so tired souls, the sleepy daze of regard, it can hurt, I know it's hurting you, but it can also feel good, soothing. Imagine if you could just let go of the pain, feel your headache slipping away, flowing into my fingertips, because we are one. I am you, and you are me. Your pain is mine Lisbon."
This time Teresa couldn't help the tiny whimper that escaped her.
The pain really was fading under his ministrations; a result of the magical mixture of his soft, almost sultry honeydew voice and miracle hands that knew exactly where the pressure was in her head, and how best to stroke to alleviate it.
"I know you've been worried about me. And despite your fears, you still try to look out for me, try to keep me from my demons. You think I don't notice but I do." He was almost whispering now, his voice going even throatier with gratitude, before almost catching at the next truth, "I worry about you too…" more than you'll ever know. I can't lose you...
Patrick had to take a deep breath before he was able to continue.
"That's why it's okay for you to let go sometimes. Let go of your pain and I'll bear it for you. You can feel it can't you? You're migraine flowing away from your head, flowing into me?"
Lisbon hummed in reply, then opened her eyes, wanting to see him, this amazing man who was healing her as she stood in her condo.
Jane was starting to feel dizzy himself, the jade of her eyes the only thing that made sense anymore, along the softness of her hair under his fingertips. It's like our souls are entwining, he thought, allowing his eyes to fall loosely shut in gentle concentration as he continued his blissful massage. He was in his element.
"You don't have to worry about anything and you don't have to think about anything. Leave that to me. I can handle it. In fact, it gives me strength."
Teresa could barely concentrate on what Jane was saying. She was too swept away by all the pleasure he was bringing her. She felt like her head would fall off her neck with all the tension that had left it.
"Your pain doesn't hurt me," Jane repeated, his soft words caressing her heart, soothing it, "it empowers me. It feeds me strength, to go on, to live, to keep on living."
"To be free of control," Teresa mumbled mindlessly, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her fingertips.
"Exactly," Jane whispered approvingly, gazing at her lovingly through hooded eyes.
"To let go of the pain," she added, reveling in how easy it was to lose herself in him, and how safe she felt. While Teresa still feared losing control over her emotions, she no longer feared him. Somehow her brain now differentiated between the two.
Jane was simply awe-stricken. He'd never had anyone respond so easily to one of his exercises. What started as a simple procedure to alleviate her suffering had resulted in something so majestic it could only be called sublime. He could almost feel himself and Lisbon floating away as she continued his quiet spiel, easily picking up from where he left off.
"We need to move on," she stated in a barely discernible whisper.
"Yes," Jane murmured, hanging onto her every word.
"You need to let go of the past," Lisbon breathed.
Jane's fingers stilled, and his eyelids flew open to study her, his own chest now heaving. At the arrest of his ministrations on her head, Lisbon opened her eyes as well. Their cathartic connection broken, the friends gazed dazedly into each others' eyes; both trying to grasp what she had been doing. What she had done.
To her credit, Lisbon looked as shocked as Jane was. But even as comprehension dawned, they stood as if caught in time; surrounded by the silence and the strength of the spells they had cast on each other as they gradually came down from a higher plane.
It finally got to be too much. With a final brush of his fingers through her hair, Jane lowered his hands into the safe haven of his pants pockets while Lisbon concurrently brought hers away from his chest, but not before noting how erratic his heartbeat had become under her palms. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her; knowing that something had forever shifted in their relationship. Feeling Jane's boring gaze, she waited for him to say something.
It took a while.
"Funny, I'm a mentalist too," Patrick finally said. His voice was still low but had gained a decidedly dangerous edge to it.
The corner of Lisbon's mouth curled up a tiny fraction in nervousness…and pleasure.
She never thought she'd be able to get one up on Jane. The best part was that she hadn't even been trying. It just happened.
"Oh please don't bother hiding that grin for my benefit. You're obviously very happy with yourself aren't you?" Jane stated.
Lisbon cleared her throat before giving him an honest answer.
"Sorry, I lost myself for a minute there."
"I'll say," Jane retorted softly, looking at her with piercing eyes. Somehow it was even more disturbing that Lisbon had done what she had unconsciously. The woman was dangerous. "You actually thought you could hypnotize me into getting over my revenge."
The intensity of his stare gave her goosebumps. Looking away, she rubbed her arms repeatedly but did not say anything.
"You're even more naive than I thought," Jane continued, trying to illicit a reaction from her. But Teresa had decided to quit while she was ahead. Her prolonged silence unnerved Patrick.
"I'll do it, Lisbon. You have no idea how far I'm willing to go," he threatened.
She resisted another shiver. She didn't doubt his words one bit. And yet, the desperation in his voice, the zeal in which he tried to convince her of his intent actually detracted from its validity. Could it be…?
"If you thought my lying to Hightower was bad, it's nothing compared to what I'm willing to do," Jane continued, with a sneer.
Lisbon finally found her footing.
"Whatever you say, Jane."
How could she have missed it? The best way to get through to him was to refuse to lower her expectations of him.
Or at least pretend to. It was a risky gamble; she might end up believing in him only to be bitterly disappointed.
On the other hand the return was too great to ignore. He might start believing in himself; maybe even live up to her hopes.
Jane made her favorite sound again; that guttural hum- only this time it almost sounded like a growl.
He's frustrated, Lisbon thought gleefully, knowing that meant she was probably on the right track.
Feeling ridiculously hopeful, she thanked God for whatever angel breathed the idea into her ear.
Patrick shook his head, beyond annoyed. He wasn't prone to violence but he really felt like punching someone just now.
Mostly, however, he wanted to wipe the serene look from Lisbon's face; he just wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or slap her. The idea horrified him but not enough to stop him from acting on impulse.
He pulled his hands from his pockets to grab her head once more. It was nowhere near as gentle as before. Instead of the delicate massage, his fingers firmly grabbed onto the strands close to her scalp. It wasn't painful, but Teresa felt a definite tug at her roots.
Pulling her close Jane leaned over to place a rough kiss on her bangs. Lisbon's skin tingled where his lips brushed against her forehead and Patrick was satisfied to see that her eyes had gone as round as saucers. He kept his hold on her hair firmly, making sure she looked at him as he spoke.
"You hold onto to your dreams Lisbon if they keep you warm at night. It's the least you deserve."
His fingers flexed once more in her hair, tugging the strands affectionately. He gave her another kiss on the forehead, this time allowing his lips to linger softly. Teresa was so lost in the moment that she didn't realize it had ended until Patrick had disappeared from her line of vision. She was so taken aback that she thought he'd pulled a magic trick on her. But when she heard her door open she realized he hadn't left yet and turned to catch a final glimpse of him, wanting to see his face after what had just happened, after what he'd done. She was disappointed to see that his back was pointedly turned on her, ignoring her even as his hand lingered on her doorknob. Finally, he leaned a bit sideways to address her general vicinity.
"Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow at work."
Author's note: The last chapter! All that's left now is the epilogue. There are a few loose ends that I'm not sure if I should take care of now or in the sequel, so it'd be really helpful to get an opinion on that. Also, please let me know if there are any specific issues you'd like to see addressed. I really hope everyone enjoyed this. I know I did and I really hope it's lived up to your expectations. As always, thank you so much for reading and your support!