Title:Another world
Author:Little_firestar84
Rating: T (to be on the safe side)
Characters: Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon
Summary: They call it the butterfly effect. Just one small, random adjustment, and all changes. And here there is, another world. A world where his daughter has never been, his late wife is an ex and he is still a psych. And yet, few things just can't change. Some things are written in the stars, just like love at first sight.
Disclaimer: Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.
Notes: Extented version of "In this life", published around mid-September.

Teresa L Jane, Ayako-chan, letmewalktheeartwithyou, 666bloodyhell666: thnaks a lot. House Ever: I know. but after all, this isn't the same Pateick Jane we all get to love, so...well, I think that Rick is a good nickname for someoen called Patrick! And besides, poetical license!

AND: either you give me as many reviews as with last chapter (at least) or I'll be a very bad girl and I'll not update... and you want to know how it will end, right?

3/8

3

It had taken him longer than he cared to admit, even longer than he cared to think, to find that damn building, and now, all Jane could think about was that he looked like an idiot. Because there was no other definition for a man standing in the hall of a government agency, with a huge brunch of red roses (48. They were sold in 12, and he didn't want to look cheap) checking every face coming out of that damn elevator.

He didn't even know for sure if she was actually working in that moment, or how late she was going to stay, or... what if the news was old news? She had closed the greatest case the CBI ever had, a killer who had murdered over 20 people in half the years, and she had been the one finding the evidence, following every lead and breaking, at last, a runaway teenager by the name of Lorelai Martins. The girl, he remembered reading, had befriended the son of the late senior agent Sam Bosco, Teresa's predecessor, and once gotten access to the property, she had murdered the whole family in her master's name, in the same moment a woman called Rebecca something, Bosco's assistant, killed part of his team to slow down the investigation.

Teresa Lisbon had shown the world her true colors, he was quite sure of that, and maybe...she had made a name for herself, after all. Maybe she had moved up into the ranks. Maybe the show was her way to say goodbye to her friend.

Oh, lord, he didn't want to think about that. He just couldn't. Teresa had to still be there. She just... he couldn't contemplate another outcome, and he didn't have time.

He wanted her. He needed her. He felt like... like he had never felt in his whole life. He had never believed in love at first sight, and yet, here he was. It wasn't like he was going to walk on her, jump her and asking for her hand in marriage. Nope. He was going to seduce her, and then he would let her think he had gradually fallen for her, and was now ready to move on with his life in the form of matching rings.

Well, now that he thought about it... just thinking about it made it scary. Lars was right. He had it bad. So bad they couldn't even imagine how bad it actually was.

Oh well, it really didn't matter. It wasn't like she was going to discover it. He was going to woo her, he was going to seduce her, he would woo her a little bit more, and then he would propose. Nothing over the top, too fancy or public. He would probably just drop a "I think we should get married" while they were watching TV on her couch, one late evening, few months into their frequentation. It had to be after a boring day at the office, and not after an hard case, because he didn't want for her to think he was pitying her or was just trying to make it all better. She would look at him like asking for confirmation, he would smile his killer smile, and she would answer in the form of kisses, tears and the sweetest love making they could have ever had. If they were lucky, she was going to get pregnant with their firstborn that very night- or shortly after, anyway.

Yep. He was going to enjoy convincing her they were meant together, made for each other, the two half of the same apple.

Making love to her was going to be the best experience of his life. He just knew it. It was going to beat even his first million. A million he would be treasuring, like all the ones that had followed (and that Angela didn't get with the divorce and her lies) . It wasn't like he could still work as a fake psych after getting together with Teresa. Maybe he could have tried being a staying at home daddy. Of course, he needed to be a daddy first, but with Teresa's help...

"Ehy, Blondie, you got lost?" an older man approached him, well-built and with a dark blue uniform, almost black. A metal Pin on his shirt said that his surname was Ron, while his whole demeanor screamed rookie with the need to impress and make a name for himself.

Also, it was just his luck. Maybe this Ron guy knew if Teresa still worked there.

"Thank you very much, Ron, but I'm waiting for someone working here. A miss Teresa Lisbon?"

"Do you want a pass to go to see her? Cause I'm gonna tell you, good luck waiting for her. She would live here, given the chance. She works even more than assistant director Minelli himself." The man chuckled, looking at Jane like he would know what he meant, but all Jane did was "meh" him with a movement of his shoulders, like he knew that truth like his own hand. Actually, he didn't, but there was no need to alarm Ron of his stalker-ish tendencies or that the only time he had talked with Minelli (well, his agent had done it, but still) was to help with the Red John investigation, and that the man had turned him down under pressure by Teresa Lisbon herself.

"Think I'll wait for her over here, if it's not a problem. I want to surprise my love." he chuckled to Ron (who was looking at him like he had horns or two heads, like the chance of him being Lisbon's love - or that Lisbon had a love at all- would be equal to zero or even less.

He sat on the stairs, absently playing with the flowers (and ruining few of the roses. He was probably down at just 45, and his fingers were reddish, smelling like grass). There was a little smile on his lips as he thought about Lisbon. She intrigued him. She was... well, he didn't know how she was, but she seemed deep and intense, somehow peculiar. The fact that she was beautiful was just an added bonus. She was perfect-for him, at least. Feisty in life, every day, when he would be too lost in himself, too absorbed by his own persona and his virtues, and he bet feisty in bed. He wondered if she was messy, as it was said that messy women made the best lovers. Angela was ordinate and perfect, and the other women he had been with since, they all had been stories so short-lived he had never gotten to really know not even such an aspect of their personality.

An ecstatic shriek awoke him from his reverie made of naked, sweating bodies (his and Teresa) and, he hated to admit it, dirty diapers too, and he lifted his green-blue eyes to see Van Pelt slowly regaining control of herself, Lisbon at her side grunting something definitely not very lady-like between her teeth.

He so loved when she was annoyed with him. It was very... arousing.

"Hello Mr. Jane, we are so happy to see you! But, forgive me, what can we do for you? I don't think hearing you've been invited to the CBI..."

He didn't look at her, he was barely noticing that the redhead was there at all, nor he could see that she was looking with fascination and lust at the flowers, with a mixture of glee and pride. Like they could be for her. She was his usual type, after all, he could understand her reasoning, but pretty in the common sense of the word, vain and lightheaded wasn't what he needed any longer.

What he needed were those flames in her eyes, he needed being burned down by her just to be reborn in her arms, in her lover's embrace.

"Aren't you going to say hi, Teresa?" he asked, getting so close she could feel his breath on her lips. He could see her fury at the idea that he had asked around about her, that he had investigated her persona.

If she didn't keep that fire at bay, he was going to do something utterly stupid. Like jumping her in the hall of the damn CBI and kiss her senseless.

"No, I think I'll go straight to the point. What do you want, Mr. Jane?"

"You can call me Patrick, Teresa. I am, after all, calling you with your name."

"Well, in that case, you can call me AGENT LISBON, Mr. Jane." she paused, grinning like she had just proved her point (whatever it was) and stared in his eyes. Blushing. "I'll say it again, Mr. Jane. What do you want?"

Being naked in your bed, while you, as bare as me, move on top of me while we lazily make love every Sunday afternoon. We could be more wild the other days of the week, if you want. Personally, I don't mind vanilla, but I know how to appreciate spicy every now and then too . He thought, but he didn't dare to say it at loud, despite the fact that the blush seemed to indicate she agreed with him. He kind of valued his own life, and his male attributes too. "Flowers, for you." he said, gallantly offering her the red roses.

She looked at them, quizzically. "Well, those flowers are indeed beautiful, Mr. Jane, but, as much as I hate repeating myself, what do you want? Or better yet: what do you need?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping that the flowers would convince you to give me a chance. So I'll ask again, and trust me, I never, ever, repeat myself: would you like to have dinner with me?"

She shook her head, and laughed-she actually laughed of an honest to God laughter. It was one of the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his whole life. It filled his heart, gave him hope. And besides, she was radiant when she laughed that way, happy.

If she was that marvelous when she was "normal", he couldn't wait to see her in the heat of passion, or the next morning. Or even better: with her womb filled with life, pregnant with his child.

Ok, he had it bad, he admitted it. But it wasn't his fault. She was just so damn perfect for him, desirable and irresistible, temptation made flesh. And he wasn't even talking about sex. He was thinking about settling down. And everybody knew that Patrick Jane wasn't the kind of man to settle down.

"You know, seducing a woman over a meal and offering her red roses are things a school boy would do. I thought that the mighty Jane would have thought of something more... special, and a little less sophomoric." She smiled, and once again she blushed, probably not even noticing it this time. And every time she blushed, he could hope that there was at least a tiny part of her that wanted him as much as he wanted her, or that was at least a bit interested.

"Well, you know, sometimes a classic is all you need to state your point." he answered, smug, offering her once again the flowers, so close that she could clearly smell his aftershave- Davidoff, she guessed, giving up for just a second, closing her eyes and breathing in the man. She knew the essence- she used Cool Water for woman, and had tried to give Tommy the male version, hoping to convince him to give up the beard, now that he was the father of a toddler (recently turned 5). "So, what do you say, Teresa?" she shivered when he said her name. It was husky and erotic, rolling on his tongue like it was an exotic word. She started to understand what people meant when they talked about dirty talking and touch-less orgasms. That man, that... bastard, had to be a master at that.

But then again...

He was sexy and charming, and had that dangerous vibe about him (one of the qualities she kind of liked in men) but she wasn't in her twenties any longer, and even the youngest of her brothers, Tommy, was married with a child (actually, he was in the process of getting a divorce and sole custody of Annabeth, but still...). It wasn't like she could keep fooling around. One night stands and meaningless relationships where sex was all it mattered couldn't be her cup of tea any longer. And besides, he wasn't just dangerous. He was a criminal. And she didn't do criminals. Not even in bed. Especially in bed.

She took the flowers from his hands, and breathed in their scent. Strong, too strong, heavy and heady. And even the color, the deep scarlet, it was almost... vulgar. It was like that man was screaming that he just wanted to fuck her and then goodbye. "They are very beautiful, Mr. Jane, but I told you, they are a cliché', and I don't do them." she changed her tone, from flirty to un-forbearing in the blink of an eye, and slapped him hard, with the bouquet, again and again like she was a child. "like I don't do criminals and con artists. Goodbye Mr. Jane. Just know that if I'll never see your face again I'll not mind."

She walked away, and he grinned, staring at her derriere and massaging his injured face, while poor Grace was on the verge of tears. Or maybe was close to have an outburst, he wasn't sure. Nor he cared. She wasn't his feisty brunette, after all.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Jane. My boss is a... she doesn't know you, doesn't know what you do for all that poor people out there...I'm sure that when she'll get to know you better..."

"Trust me, honey, she knows me, she knows me better than I know myself." He murmured. Grace looked at him quizzically, and he didn't even ask her if it was because she had heard the words but didn't understand their meaning, or because she hadn't heard what he had said at all.

He definitely needed that woman in his life. And, one way or another, he was going to get her.

No matter what.