Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).
All the merits for this story in particular, though, go to me and, especially, PetiteJ: she gaves me not only the prompt, but ended up as co-autor- she provided lines, and, moslty, plot ideas for all the times I was having a hard time figuring something out or having writer's block...
I'd like to say thank you to the people who wrote a review - Petrie is in the wigwam, InTheSnow, Brown Eyes Parker, Jisbon4ever, phoenixmagic1, LittleMender, lysjeloken, TheMentalistGirl, Diamond Lily425, Laurore, AgentGlory and mbleiva24; I'd like to say thanks to everyone of you, and the many others, who put this little thing on alerts or on favs.
But, mostly, I'd like to say thank you to you all, who keeps reading with patience, understanding that, since I'm not a mother language, English is sometimes still a bit hard for me (and PetiteJ shares the sentiment, we're on the same boat here). it means the world to me that you don't wnat to give up on me and my stories and that you appreciate them, even if I keep doing mystakes!
And now, here we go with chapter 6...aka the end!
6.
As he still refuses to open his eyes, feeling like he had just slept for the longest time, quite an unusual sensation for him, Patrick Jane isn't sure what made him abandon the land of Morpheus, if the noisy sunlight coming from the semi closed blinds, or the sobs of the person at his side, who's holding his right and kissing the back of it, and even if he feels miserable, he is quite sure there's nothing better than this feeling.
He remembers going to bed with Teresa, her telling him everything about how they had got Red John, so, he really can't figure out how he ended wherever he is.
The bed's cold and uncomfortable and it doesn't smell of cinnamon and it's not familiar, it smells of medications, and, besides, there's not a single part of his body that's not aching in pain, but, sill, when he finally ménages to open his eyes, slowly and reluctantly, is just to find in front of himself what he can describe with a word and a word only – a vision, teary and a bit foggy, but a vision nevertheless.
"Hello to you" he whispers smiling, trying to find the strength to take her hand in his own.
"Good lord, you scared me so much…- Lisbon leaves her chair, in tears, and in tears she flies at his side, and, standing on the bed, holds him against her chest, her chin resting on his curls- you're not allowed to leave my side any longer, you hear me?"
"Is that a treat or a promise, woman? – his voice is still a mere whisper, but there's no deny of the happiness in it, and he is smiling as he moves slightly so that he can kiss his wife, but when he does, just a quick peck, she doesn't answer, and, instead, just touches her lips in disbelief, red as a tomato, but still smiling, that wonderful expression never leaving her features, and Jane can't really understand why she didn't kiss him back- where's Jess?"
""Jess?" she is taken aback by his question, and tries to remember if there was a woman called Jess in his life, but, according to his file (that she red plenty of times), there's not a woman with that name that bears some kind of relation with Jane.
"Yeah, Jess, she is our…- and then, it's when realization hits him hard. Lisbon has been surprised when he has kissed her. Lisbon doesn't know who Jess may be. Lisbon isn't wearing a wedding ring. Great, I just woke up from the best dream I ever had – sorry, guess I hit my head too hard. Care to tell me what happened, because last thing I remember, was allowing you to arrest Worthington"
"Patrick, we arrested him 3 days ago, do you really don't remember what happened in the next 12 hours? - she cups his face in her hands, and he makes her sign that no, he doesn't remember, and Lisbon can't stop crying – Red John took me, Patrick, Red John… Brett Partridge… he tried to convince you to do as he wanted if you wanted to save me. He was in your old place in Malibu, but you didn't go alone as he thought, you were with the team, and when he saw Cho, he tried to kill me, but you have been quicker, and you rescued me, but you fell from the window, and he is an irreversible coma, and I was happy because he is gone, he'll never kill again and he didn't make you a murderer, but I was so scared, because you've been out for two days and…"
Just how the Teresa of the dream told me things went. Knowing now what happened, he holds her, answering to her embrace, even if he doesn't have so much strength, and his arms barely caress her own body; when he finally speaks, it's with a voice broken by tears.
"Lisbon, you are fine! I'm so happy to see you! You can't imagine how glad I am to be able to still hold you… I thought… I thought…"
"It wasn't real, Jane, the blood wasn't real. He just wanted to mess up with you. I'm fine; now calm down…hush, Patrick…"
"I though, I thought…."
"I know –she pauses, her words broken by her silent tears, as she keeps him in her embrace, rubbing his back gently – I thought I was going to lose you, Patrick, even if I never had you, I thought I was going to lose you…"
He smiles at her words, hoping that the dream was just the way of his subconscious of telling him that what he needs and wants is right before his eyes, so, driven by the strength of his own desire and passion, he kisses her, really kisses her, and she answers, she kisses him back like they are the only two that matter in the universe.
"You had me from the moment we danced to our song, Tess – he smiles, sweetly, truckling a lock of dark hair behind her year, looking at a not seriously wounded Teresa Lisbon busy giggling like a schoolgirl, and, smiling, before to end the sentence, he pinches her nose like his dream-self had done with his wife- Teresa, never question my love and devotion for you, ok woman?"
She rolls her eyes, and again she lets her chin rest in his curls, still soft and still smelling just like him, and it's smiling she gives him her answer. "I love you too, Patrick, and I'll never allow you to leave my side, and it is a promise."
As she keeps holding him against her chest, crying out of happiness into his curls, kissing them, Jane doesn't know that, in few weeks time, once free to move, he'll invite her over to dinner to the same restaurant he went with her years before, but this time with the clear intention of seducing her, as sophomoric as it may be. He doesn't know that it will take them just few months to move in together, in her apartment. He doesn't know that he'll propose to her putting an engagement ring into an origami rose, a ring in white gold and emeralds that compliment her eyes, he doesn't know that he'll stay in front of desk grinning like an idiot while she'll be speechless, and will answer him with just a kiss. He doesn't know that they'll get married less than six months later, on a beach, a simple but yet "extravagant" wedding, something that could definitely suits his "weirdness" as she calls it, but suits her and her wedding fantasies as well (there's no way he'll marry her in front of a judge, in a spur of the moment), he doesn't know only the team and their families will be present, that they'll be all bare feet, that she'll wear a long ivory wedding dress, simple and tasteful but yet wonderful, he doesn't know that they'll dance to their song, "more than words", or that, at the time of the wedding, Teresa will be already showing a small belly or that few months later they'll welcome into the world Jessica Emily Jane (he'll be the one suggesting the name), he doesn't know that, few days after Jess' fourth birthday, Teresa will announce the imminent coming of Patrick Thomas Jane Jr.
He doesn't know for sure, but, yet, he still has the memories of what he saw in his dream, fuelled by their shared confession of love, but, mostly he has a thing he holds onto with his entire hearth.
HOPE.