When Worlds Collide
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He's not sure, just turning up here, like this. Whether he will be welcome. It isn't like him to be nervous. Normally, he has no care, no time for social niceties. But if he gets this wrong, it will be...he's made his decision, he doesn't think he could bear to still work with her, and have her cold and distant. He's also not sure if he can trust himself, if she looks up at him with those big green eyes, and that makes him nervous, too.
He was a little wild in his early twenties, they all were, a world of fun and parties. But he'd met his wife, and he's never been with another woman since. That's the honest truth. Oh, he flirted as part of his persona – (as later, he'd flirted with Sophie, subverted her control, and he does feel a stab of guilt for that, but he had no-one else to release him from that place) – but then, he had resisted temptation, and there had been a few, he won't deny, put away the show and gone home. He'd liked being married. Under the glitz and the show, he's the faithful type.
He's hanging about at the doorway like some damn teenager, because he's afraid he'll get dumped with a 'just friends' speech. Which is ridiculous. She cares about him, he's important to her, he knows that she finds him attractive...he realizes that he is reciting a list of things to himself, and winces.
He has to know. Has to be here.
And then a man opens the door.
"Hello?"
The world tips right side up again. Jane has a slight advantage, having seen photos. The man, pale skin and untidy dark hair, has the same eyes as his sister. More hazel than Lisbon's clear green, but the same set of the jaw, sense of strength and hard-earned wisdom. Dressed in jeans and a casual t, proclaims he went to somewhere called Finch.
"You're...Sean, right?"
"Right." Wary smile, and a handshake. "And you are?..."
"Patrick..."
"Sean, who is it?"
Lisbon peers around his shoulder. Jane waves his fingers. She closes her eyes.
She's always dreaded the day past and present would meet. Niall has some sense of normal behaviour, but Sean is the joker. The brother she really, really didn't want to ever see alone with Patrick Jane.
"Hey, T-bone. You never told me you had a new boyfriend."
And that would be why.
It's an obvious inference, after all. A man turning up to her apartment at this time of the evening.
Jane sees the dismay in her face, and sighs.
"I'm...just a friend from work." He waves an airy hand. "I was going to offer to cook dinner, but I can go..."
"Oh, hey, no need. Unless...can he cook?" Sean asks his sister.
"Oh, yes." Oh, damn. "But, Sean..."
But Sean is already shutting the door, with Jane this side of it.
They can do this. It's just dinner. With her brother.
Her horrible, immature baby brother. The one with no sense of personal boundaries and a really good memory for all the bits of her teenage years she doesn't want to share with anyone...
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"What were you going to cook, then?"
"I was going to try that eggplant thing you do." she confesses. "You nearly got a call for the recipe."
"Lisbon..." He's already hunting out the apron. "I never share the secret sauce recipe. I would've had to come over anyway."
It seems a bit ridiculous after the last few months, spending their free time together, dinner and movies. He has a key to her damn apartment, for god's sake. They know each other so well in so many ways. But she feels oddly shy, their admission of feelings taking things to a new level.
"You stopped coming over."
"Veidt." He lifts a shoulder, slightly shamed.
"I did wonder."
"It was very – complicated. And then...it wasn't." Eyes intent.
She wonders how it would have been, if Sean hadn't turned up on a surprise visit. Would she have let him in, with this strange new mix of the unresolved between them? Because they aren't children, and there's no doubt about his intentions. Hell, she's not sure about her own, and that's even more worrying.
Sean watches them in the kitchen. Obvious that the guy has been here before, knows his way around the place. Watching someone manage his sister is hilarious, the gentle way he steers her about. And Tree, laughing up at him, in a way he hasn't seen for years. Because of course he's 'just' a 'friend' from work. Grins to himself.
Eventually, she finds herself banished from her own kitchen, sits herself down with her glass of wine, and regards Sean nervously. He doesn't disappoint.
"Well," smirk, "he's sooo much better than those weirdos you dated in high school. Or that mad guy from the record store..."
"Shut up." She groans, over her brother's cheerful litany.
Sean holds up his hands.
"It just seems kinda unfair that the guy comes over, wants to spend some time with you, is making a totally rocking meal, by the way, and you wanted to toss him out on his can..."
"Leave. It. Alone."
"'Cos you were making him about as welcome as bacon at a Bar mitzvah."
"We work together, Sean."
"So did Sam and Niall." he says, unhelpfully.
"...it's – complicated."
"Why?"
"That's what I keep asking." Jane sits down with his own glass.
(Neither of them totally conscious of the fact that she has curled into her 'usual' end of the couch, automatically making room for him, and that he lounges down, puts his glass down on the side table without even looking. Comfortable.)
Sean's eyes dart between them.
"So how long have you been chasing my sister?" (She chokes her wine.) "And don't tell me you aren't."
"She doesn't like me chasing her." Jane shrugs. "She likes being my scary boss-lady too much."
"Oh, she's always been bossy."
And then they both grin at her. She has the distinct sense of being out-numbered. Either one of them by themselves present a challenge, but the combination promises to be unholy.
"So, you're an agent, too?"
"Nope, freelance consultant." He smirks at her, for emphasis. "For some reason, they think I need a keeper."
"Lucky me." Dry sarcasm, and a half-smile at his suggestive expression.
It's a very strange experience, for both of them. They are so used to being treated through the filter of his past, her job. Sean just sees his big sister, and a guy who's interested in her. And the thought is there, that that is who they are, after all – tonight they are just Patrick and Teresa.
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"Sean!" She bangs her fork down. "You do not tell the raccoon story when people are eating."
Sean grins. So does Jane. It's usually him on the other end of that tone of voice.
Sean is a full-time paramedic and a 'part-time Professional Irishman'. All of Lisbon's sense of fun, unfettered by any of her rules. Or many others, by the sound of it. Jane likes him. Like his sister, he spends his working life helping other people in horrible situations. Unlike her carapace of hard-boiled professionalism, though, Sean adopts an approach of irreverent gallows humour. It means that the conversation is light, funny and frequently rude.
And often embarrassing. Sean has a whole fund of fun little tales to provoke his sister with. She can retaliate, but it has less impact. She just has to endure, aware that Jane is filing away each and every little thing.
"...At least you had the good taste to go finding an Irishman this time."
"Irishman?"
"Ah, now," Sean spreads his arms, "With a name like Patrick, and that gob on him, sure and what else would he be?"
She looks at him. Jane smiles back. He's honestly not sure what his forebears did, though he suspects it was probably more in the line of riverboat grifting than upright citizenry.
"I could probably find some Gaelic ancestry if it makes you happy..."
"Oh, she's proud of her heritage. She's even been known to down a few pints of Guinness on Paddy's Day..."
"Really?" Jane senses fun. Lisbon senses calamity.
"Sean..."
"...and dance on tables."
"I would like to see that."
"Pour her another glass, and I'll see if she's got any decent music..."
"Stop it." She covers her glass. "I'm only little, don't bully me."
They both splutter at the unlikeliness of that.
"Cho's still pissed he never got to see your Mia Wallace impersonation..."
"That was your fault..."
They have so many little memories, some that touch obliquely on work, and others that are purely them. They do not mention anything dark or sad, this evening. This is...a purely social occasion. And so they finish each other's stories, laugh and find their way together, hindsight showing them exactly where they have been heading for so long.
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"...I'm just in town for the weekend, then I'm dropping in on Niall."
"Oh, good, you can take the presents. I was going to mail them next week." She pulls a face at his bemused expression. "Sam and Robert both have birthdays?"
"Ah, crap." Crooked grin. "Guess we're gift-shopping, then." Turns to Jane. "They wanted a girl, this time, but the Lisbon genes are strong."
"All my cousins are male. I get loomed at a lot." she says.
Jane imagines tiny little Lisbon in amongst her menfolk, and grins.
"So that's where you learnt to fight dirty."
"Very. It's a good thing she's ticklish."
Lisbon's eyes go huge with horror. Jane's smile is beautific.
"Really?" It's a purr.
Sean will happily hand him bullets all evening, just to watch his sister's reaction. He's decided that he approves of this guy – he makes Tree laugh, and he's obviously nuts about her.
There's just one thing he has to know, waiting until his sister excuses herself...
Sean's gaze fixes. Interesting. Jane follows his eye-line. Oh.
"I gotta ask..."
"My wife died." Jane says quietly. The truth falls between them, stark.
"Oh. Oh, crap. Sorry, man. It's just..." Runs a hand through his dark hair, and that's Lisbon's wry half-smile, apologetic but firm.
"I understand." Jane allows his own face to relax back into amiability. But he files away the thought that Sean may have known about the Scumbag, and did not approve. Sean confirms this, voice quiet and low.
"She had...a bad experience."
"I've met him. Asshole."
"Yeah, well, we never met him." He scowls. Jane has the happy thought, that if Sean is in town for any length of time, perhaps he could persuade him and Rigbsy and Cho into some kind of posse. Which may indicate that he has had a little too much to drink. Ah, well. He can always come back for his car tomorrow.
He will not allow that one moment of coldness to dim the warmth of this evening. Gladness in him that her brothers care. No prurient curiosity, just concern that he doesn't break her heart. He can't promise not to, but who can ever promise such a thing? He can only try and be what she thinks he can be. He won't lose her now.
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She collects the plates together. The men are arguing about obscure guitar bands. She has a strange sense of watching time roll back, a glimpse of Jane as he must have been in his twenties. She has a nasty feeling that she would have been dreadfully susceptible to the irrepressible charm of his surfer days. (Though distinctly less impressed by the later slick and besuited incarnation.) Watches him laugh, and acknowledges that the present day charm is pretty powerful, too.
He's not trying to read Sean, or play mind games, or show off.
And it hits her. He's trying to make a good impression.
Bites her lip to keep from laughing. Her boyfriend has come over, and he's stuck with making nice with his girlfriend's bratty little brother...
...She just put 'boyfriend' and Patrick Jane into the same thought. It is definitely time to put the coffee on. They are too old for silly labels like that...he looks up and across, gives her a little smile, and she finds herself smiling back, feeling fifteen and foolish again.
She does not blush easily. Growing up with brothers, and male cousins, and then spending half her life in law enforcement...well, she's fairly fire-proof by now. But he has a way of looking at her that is positively indecent. She isn't even sure how he does it, but something in his eyes and smile, and the room is suddenly an awful lot warmer. (Completely unaware that she has a way of looking up from under her lashes at him that makes him moan quietly to himself.)
Her love life has been, well, not an unalloyed success to date. A few boyfriends through High school and college, nothing serious. A slightly more intense relationship that had not survived the move to 'Frisco, that was really two people growing up and growing apart, sad but nothing unusual. And then the disaster that was Sam Bosco. And that, too, had been a growing process. A young and inexperienced rookie had become a seasoned agent. She had found her feet, and realized that she needed to stand on them.
Jane is always good at seeing the truth of things, not what people want them to see. She doesn't need to let down her guard with him, because he sees right through it anyway. She doesn't try to fool herself. She knows exactly what he's like, what he is. But it is a little too late to back away, recuse herself. They are involved.
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Jane has eventually and reluctantly called himself a cab. Sean will obviously quite happily talk until the small hours, but Lisbon – Teresa – is getting blinky. She's curled into the corner of the couch, nodding off over her coffee. He rescues the cup, and she squeaks awake. Jane smiles down at her.
"I'll go down and wait."
"Yeah." Gathers herself together. "I'll see you out."
"Yeah, because he could get lost between here and the door..." Sean smirks. Jane doesn't quite hide his startled laugh, and she swipes her brother round the head.
"Sean, you're an asshole."
And this is a total reversion to her teens, saying goodnight on the doorstep with a grinning brother lurking within earshot...
His smile is nothing like the brash, bright grin with which he usually greets the world. This smile is gentle, and bone-melting, and slightly nervous.
"You've got me, woman. Whether you want me, or not."
She gives him an answering smile that makes his heart turn over.
"Did I ever have a choice?"
She burns her bridges, allows her lips to part slightly in invitation. Common sense shows up and threatens to ruin the party, but has no chance against that sweet hunger. She can't be sorry. She knows she should despise herself for having her principles crumble like sand, but really this has been bearing down on them like a freight train ever since they both admitted to caring.
Jane stops thinking the minute his mouth meets hers.
There is a whooping cheer, and a loud round of applause, and they break apart reluctantly.
"And now I'm going to strangle my brother."
Part of him wants to carry her bodily indoors, and kick her brother out into the street. Growls softly, a noise which makes her breath catch. This is not a safe, sensible, reasonable thing to be happening. She's half glad that Sean is here, because otherwise, things could have become even more complicated, very, very quickly. (The other half is not glad at all.)
"This doesn't happen in the office." She teases him, softly. He nods, solemn face, wicked eyes.
"So...no making out on your desk?"
"No."
"My couch after hours?"
"No."
"Meh. You're no fun, woman." He grins. "We could stall an elevator?"
"No." He can always make her laugh. Her hands against his chest lack strength or conviction. His hands on her waist, gentle possession.
But he allows himself to be pushed out into the night, with one final lingering kiss. Dazed and delighted, he stares out of the cab window, not thinking, content just to be, for a while. Tonight is not about darkness and vengeance, or the past, or fear for the future.
He's been a husband, a father. Then he was a widower. And now he's...a boyfriend, again. Not quite a lover (eyes closed, smiles as he savours the memory, feel of her against him, soft curves beneath his hands, and her lips...) Not yet. But tonight, there is no guilt in hoping, no regrets, just the fragile beginnings of a cautious happiness.