Aside from the big fight about having children of their own, life at home for Lisbon and Jane was quiet and blissful like the one of many other freshly married couples; but, it couldn't be said the same for what happened on the job. Yes, Lisbon could still control him a little bit, but at the end of the day, Jane was Jane, and she knew that she couldn't expect him to change his colors in such a drastic way. He would have still lied, still manipulated people, still kept his plans, and evidences or whatever he wanted to, to himself, and if he thought that it was better for her (and the plans) to kept Lisbon out of his schemes, so be it. He didn't see anything wrong with it, but Lisbon didn't agree with him. And that was one of those times.
"I know you are not sleeping." She said between clenched teeth, kicking his couch, one afternoon. She had just gotten back from lunch with Kim, and Abbott had asked her in his office, and as soon as she saw her boss' face she knew what it mean; after all, in the last twelve years, she had been asked in her superiors' office usually because Jane had done or said something that said superiors didn't approve of.
"Well, well, well, hello my dear wife. How are you doing this fine afternoon? Did you enjoy your lunch with Kim?" he asked, smiling his Cheshire smile, hands behind his head as he didn't show any indication of wanting to leave his comfortable position on his couch.
Ass, Teresa thought crossing her arms. Sometimes she wondered what was going through her mind when she agreed to marry him, but then she remembered all he had done for her and how he showed her his affection, so she normally allowed herself to get lost in his eyes and his devilish charm. Not this time, though; Abbott had been furious, and had menaced to threw her out of the FBI. She loved this job, it was everything she had ever wanted, and even if she was pretty sure that she would have always chosen Jane over any job, she didn't want to pick a winner, scared of ending up resenting her husband.
See? She loved him too much for this.
"Jane, I've been just lectured by Abbott about how you went behind his back and accused the senator's son of being a drug abuser and a serial rapist." Teresa sighed, looking at Jane with plea in her eyes. It wasn't like the senator's son wasn't shady, because, God helped her, he behaved like a slick bastard, it was that saying so on television, while the senator was campaigning for his second run wasn't exactly how she would have told the world of the charges against the young, spoiled brat.
But of course, it was Jane she was talking about, and being dramatic and spectacular was still his thing, underneath the old suits he was still the showman he had been for so long. After all, how could she forget the one and only time he had been asked to participate at a CBI fundraiser, playing some magic tricks that actually turned into a speech about how those people, who were oh so willingly to donate their money to look good in the eyes of the world, could have easily maintained a small nation for an year or so with each of their fortunes?
"Meh, I was merely stating the facts, Lisbon. Besides, despite Lombroso's theories were proven wrong, you know that I think that there's so much we can say about a person's attitude looking at them, and young Jared's eyes spoke of ever-lasting lust, his nose spoke of a drug addiction while the way his hand slightly trembled while he was in your very presence suggested that he isn't at easy with the fair sex as much as he says. I think it's because of something daddy did. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that underage sex may run in the family. I say, the senator slept with one of Jared's first girlfriend, ruining the boy for good."
Lisbon just shook her head, at closed eyes. She couldn't believe how things changed, and still remained the same. Here she was, twelve years older than when she first worked with him, and yet Jane still annoyed powerful people without thinking about the consequences. Nor for him, her, the rest of their team or the people whose lives got "ruined" by his shows. Jane claimed that since they had started working together he had changed and learnt a lot, but frankly, in moments like those, she doubted it.
"You know what? That guy is a creep, I'll give you that. But you can't say that live on CNN, all right? Have you thought of what will happen if we'll not be able to build the case, or worse, if Jared will be proven innocent?" Jane didn't even bother to answer to her, he simply stared at her with his usual Have I ever been wrong? look. She hated, hated with everything that she had that look. She couldn't stand when he acted all smug and superior and arrogant, and… and… and like they weren't' able to do their job without him walking them step by step. Frankly, that look was his worst trait, not the fact that he was an arrogant showman. No. It was the fact that he couldn't admit being wrong, that there were people who could do their job without him- and being right at the same time.
"So, that's how you want to play it, then?" She asked, arms still crossed, her annoyance with her husband clear in her tone. "All right. Now I'm going to head home, and take a long, calming bubble bath, because I hate being dismissed by you, and you should know it. You, on your side, will get home at the end of the day, as usual, and since you haven't made friends with the couch back home just yet, you'll spend the night doing exactly that, and thinking about the consequences of your actions."
"What? No!" He exclaimed loudly, suddenly sitting up and looking at her with mixed feelings; he was annoyed with her, too, but there were also fear, regret and a bit of guilt mixed all together. "Lisbon, when we started this, we said that we were always going to leave the job here, on the job. We said that we would have never brought it back home with us."
"Yeah, well, we said many things, like that we would have never gone to bed mad at each other, but I haven't been the one with the cold shoulders attitude for over a week after I tried to discuss children with you." She said, pointing an accusing finger at her. There was a part of Jane who was honestly scared that this could be it, the end of their marriage; after all, Teresa was so mad she wasn't even crying, her eyes weren't teary. Add to that the fact that she had just talked about something he had believed they had turned into taboo, and the result was an explosion.
"We can't…" he tried to explain, but felt himself losing his focus. He closed his eyes, massaged the bridge of his nose and then looked at her, stern and sure and cool. "We are NOT going to discuss this at home. It's not fair. This isn't about us, this is about the job, and you are insulting us if you think you can manipulate this conversation and…"
"This isn't about us?" she quoted, her mouth wide open in shock, her voice too high to be a good sign. "Jane, this turns out to be about us the moment my boss tells me that, if something goes wrong with this case because of that stunt you pulled, you will be returned to a detention suite and face trial, and I will have to beg even McDonald to offer me a job, all right?"
"Listen," he tried to tell her, his hands held up in front of him like in mock surrender, which unnerved her furthermore; Jane was claiming she was being irrational, but did he really think he would get any score points by behaving like she was crazy, or, worse, a child in dire need of a lesson? "I'll talk with Abbott, and…"
"NO!" She exclaimed, but soon realized her harsh tone, her high voice; in that moment, she looked around, and noticed the office turning to look at their conversation. She blushed, and lowered her eyes to the ground, her voice low and broken, all but a whisper in the commotion of the office. "I don't want you to manipulate our boss, all right? I want you to think before talking. Or, you know, doing anything in general."
He dared to laugh at her, dismiss her statement with a wave of his hand in the air like it was nothing; he wasn't being cynic or what, nor mean, which was far worse. "C'mon Teresa, you knew how I was when you married me."
"Yeah. I thought you were a man who had learnt from his mistakes. A man who knew that talking badly about people in front of the press is dangerous and…" she jumped as soon as the words left her mouth, her voice the deadliest poison, dark and cold like it had gone directly through his heart. Teresa took a step back, her mouth and eyes wide open in shock when she understood what she had been talking about, and she shook her head, like to beg for forgiveness. But Jane just stared at her, he wasn't saying anything. He was just pale, his pulse was quick and irregular on his jugular, and when she tried to get closer, to touch him, he took a step back, and avoided her touch like it would have killed him, like the wound she had re-opened was real, and blood was spilling out, rotting the dead flesh.
"Jane, I…" She tried to say, but he stopped her from saying furthermore; she had done enough damage already to their marriage, he wasn't going to allow her to make things worse. She was his wife, and he wasn't going to break up with her, but if she kept talking, he feared that he, too, would have said something mean, and he didn't want to be the one spilling the proverbial last drop.
"No, you are right." He said, talking his jacket from the couch and putting it on. He didn't say anything more, just walked past Lisbon and didn't listen to her pleas as she called after him. He didn't even stop to tell Cho and Fisher where he was going, he walked past them with rage in his step, hands in the pockets of his slacks, with a "Tell Abbott I take the rest of the day off" and walked into the elevator; Teresa was right at his back, but he allowed the doors to close in her face when he angrily pushed the button, his gaze a declaration of intents and emotions.
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach, and the sobs died in her throat when she realized that she had broken his sacred rule, the same rule she had imposed upon herself the day she had said "I do" to him in front of a judge: she had talked about his family, about that night and his guilty, had actually told him, in a moment of rage, that everything she had said until that day, that he could have been the trigger but Red John was the only guilty, was a lie. It didn't matter if she didn't think so: that was what Jane had always believed, and to have her, of all, say so in his face… it was like her father, when, drunk, he had accused his children of being guilty of his wife's passing because she was going to get James from soccer practice and Teresa from ballet; they knew it wasn't true, but there was a part of them that wonder buts and what ifs non-stop. She would have never wished the same anguish on her worst enemy: but to have Jane, her love, feeling that way, because of her, it simply killed her.
Her mind went to another building, another State, another elevator. Many years before, Jane had allowed the doors of the CBI elevator to close in her face, muttering the words "You are sweet" and attempting to smile at her. Back then, he had left for six months, reemerging after a liaison with the mistress of a serial killer and declaring, and forgetting, his love for her. But as the doors closed before her in Texas, at the FBI building, there was a part of Teresa who wanted to cry for him, beg her husband to not leave her.
Because there was a part of her who was sure she had lost him, for good, and the feeling stayed with her as she went home. She had hoped that Jane would have calmed down, came to reason, or whatever, he was a smart man after all. She had even gotten so far to prepare dinner, and arrange the table with the best dishes and a chandelier. She had sat at the table, without eating, playing with her food, hoping that he would join her, but it hadn't happen; t was well past two in the morning when she finally saw the lights from Jane's car approaching their driveway; she had been up until that moment, sitting either in the kitchen or on the couch while silently sobbing, feeling guilty for her words and replaying the scene in her mind again and again. She had been so scared that she would have never seen him again; she knew it was irrational, but every time he wasn't close to her, she feared being abandoned. It didn't matter if they were older, if Red John was dead, if Jane was going to end his "sentence" in a short while: she was still in front of that elevator, or stranded on the side of the road, or back at the CBI, with her phone ringing and Jane on his way to a plane with a fake passport.
"Jane…" she whispered, her fair features marred by dark strain of mascara, her eyes red and puffy. He had just walked past the door, he wasn't even fully inside when he turned and saw her, standing there. He had felt guilty when he hadn't returned home, hadn't answered her calls, but a part of him, the man raised by Alex, had decided to be mean and pay her back with her same money: she had taken their rules and played with them as she saw fit, manipulating feelings she knew where there- his everlasting guilt for his family's loss- and that part of him hadn't been able to let it go.
But then, he had remembered all the times he had left her behind, vanished without a word, and even if he had wanted to just appear at the office in the morning, he had decided to go back home and sleep at her side, so that in the morning she would know she wasn't going to lose him this time. But he had underestimated her feelings and fears: Teresa was till dressed, still up, waiting for him, and had probably cried the whole day, thinking that he was going to vanish again in Venezuela or whatever. He was a stupid and a jerk; Teresa loved him, and was scared of losing him because she couldn't admit that she saw real love reflected in his eyes. He knew she was a good detective, that she was good at understanding people; if she hadn't been that deeply involved with him, she would have seen what was going through his mind and heart as well- what had gone through him for years- but she was too much into it. He knew that he would have to say the words eventually, but right now, when she was so shaken, wasn't the time; she would have just believed that he wanted to calm her down, that he wanted to keep her close and make her forget what had happened. Right now wasn't time for words. But for actions.
"Oh, Reese…" he whispered in the semi-darkness of their home as she collapsed in his arms and cried in his shirt. He buried his nose in her dark hair, inhaling her scent, breathing her in as she wet his shirt, stained it with mascara, but he didn't care, he didn't let it go, he kept her in his arms like their lives depended on it, his grip on her waist bruising.
At a certain point, after it seemed they had been in their hallway for what felt hours, she stopped crying, and slowly, like he was scared or she was too frail to handle, he let it go of her; but Teresa lifted her mascara-stained eyes, and shook her head. He looked at her, quizzically, but soon her hands moved to his hair, and grabbing him for the curls, she lowered his face until their lips didn't crash together, and their tongue started to dance the oldest dance of the world.
"I was… so scared… of losing you…" she moaned between kisses, as her hands moved south, pushing his jacket on the carpet just to start working on his buttons afterward.
"Teresa…" he breathed in her mouth, his own air eaten away by her eager, hungry mouth. She didn't want to part from him for too long, every time just few seconds to allow them to get enough oxygen for the following session of kisses. He felt himself move, but didn't think it was his own body doing it, it was like an external force, the goddess right before him, was governing him from above, like a puppet in the hands of its mastermind. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the rug, his back against the couch, right before the fireplace, and he was completely naked, no idea when it had happened or where his clothes had gone. As Teresa straddled him, he moved an hand, tenderly, toward her chest, intending to help her unbuttoning her black shirt, but she shook her head and stood up, slowly and sensually undressing in front of him, a strip-tease meant more to reassure her of his presence than to excite him furthermore. When she was as naked as him, she straddled him again, and left butterfly kisses on his skin as her hands explored in earnest his masculinity. Jane turned his face so that he could meet her lips, and kissed her as he stroked the skin of her shoulders and back, calming her down, reassuring her that he was there, that it was real.
And for the rest of the night they didn't know anything beyond their mutual desire.
In the morning, she wake up in their bed, and although his side was empty, Jane was at the feet of the bed, rearranging a trey with cups of tea and of coffee and the best pastries they had been able to find in Austin. She sat up, without bothering to hide her nudity, and took her offering with a lazy smile. "What time is it?" She asked, turning to look at her alarm clock. It was still early, no need to be scared of getting late to work.
"I'm sorry for yesterday." He told her, but before he could end the sentence, she had said the same thing; they laughed wholeheartedly, snuggling into each other, Jane kissing her chin, burning her lightly with his stubble.
"We are not going to skip work, right?" he asked, feeling his reinvigorated arousal pulsing, heavy and hard, between his legs.
"Nope." She smiled, kissing him, allowing the make-out session to get too hot, just to leave him bothered without having her to help him out to solve his issue.
"Tease." He snickered, chuckling, as she jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom. Still smiling, she opened the small cabinet to retrieve her toothbrush, but then her eyes fell on a squared packet; feeling panic rising in her chest, no, no, no, no, no, no the mantra in her mind, Teresa opened the box, and checked the days printed in black on the aluminum covering each pill; Thursday, the pill of the previous day, was still there.
She had forgotten to take her pill. She had been so worried about Jane leaving her, that she had completely forgotten to take her pill.
She stared at the pill, like she could will it to disappear, and remembered her doctor's orders: never forget it, always take it, every day at the same time. And now, she had missed a day. A day when she had had sex twice in a matter of hours. There was a chance she had gotten pregnant, and the possibility stood for the following two weeks, whatever she took the rest of the box or not.
She heard Jane's footsteps approaching, and hastily dropped the incriminating pill into the silk, under the cold jet of water, and tried to hide the box in her closed fist; but when she saw that Jane looking at her, she wondered if he had noticed what she had in hand, she blushed, and hoped that he would believe her a prude on the matter of fertility- you do it, you don't talk about it.
"Do you mind if I shave while you take a shower? I swear, I'll not try to join you." He chuckled, eyeing her suggestively. "Unless you want me to, of course."
"We are late." She simply said, glaring at him as he took from the cabinet his old-fashioned razor and his shaving brush. "Do you really have to shave? I like the 3 days stubble…"
"Yes, but right now it's a five pm shadow, and I hate five pm shadow. It's… messy." He complained while he carefully rubbed the shaving foam around his lips and on his neck. Teresa studied him, groaning. Now, she loved him more with a stubble, but she didn't know why, but there was something utterly arousing about a man shaving himself like that, a cold blade running along the smooth skin without any kind of protection.
"Are you sure you don't want to call in sick?" he chuckled again, knowing all too well that for some unknown reason he preferred left unsaid Lisbon found arousing looking at him while he shaved. Then, in the mirror, he saw a glimpse of a pink box in her hand, and he looked at her quizzically, his eyes still fixed on his reflection. "The pills aren't giving you any problem, right?" he asked. He knew that Lisbon had been taking that brand for a while, but she was in an age in which her body was still, again, changing, and there was a chance she had developed sides-effects.
She smiled, and shook her head. Tell him, she ordered herself. Tell him you forgot to take one pill last night.
"Good." he said, smiling. "It won't be forever, Reese." He promised, and returned to the task at hand, while Teresa tried to put a mean to his words.
"You mean… you think you'll eventually be ready for a baby? Soon?" she asked with a low voice, not daring to meet his eyes, nor directly nor through the mirror.
"I just mean it will not be forever." He simply said, snapping a little, then taking a big breath, Teresa didn't know if to calm himself or because he had realized he had lifted his voice with her.
We may not have a choice at all any longer, she thought. She wanted to tell him, but then she saw how concentrated he was on shaving, and understood that his unapproachable aura meant he didn't want to talk about it any longer. Teresa sighed. His whole "not forever" thing was probably referred to the fact that she had just few fertile years left, and that once in menopause he would have been the one taking precautions- just in case.
No, she shook her head, berating herself, he promised me. Besides, it was unlikely, right? one day without a pill. She betted that nothing was going to happen. It couldn't happen- Jane was so dead set on not having a child, that she dreaded his reaction if she ended up pregnant after all. But how many chances there were, at her age?
"Ehy, something wrong?" he asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
She shook her head. Maybe I'll never have to tell him.
"Just thinking about work." She lied with her best smile, and dropping a kiss on his cheek, she left the room.