From One-shot,. the story has been promoted to multi-chapter, although I'm not quite sure how many more you'll have; Many of you asked for a sequel, and so, I thought about giving Annie a bit more or space (even if she is only mentioned once in this chapter)... and, of course, I've decided to gie a way more space to the marvelous Jisbon romance, even if I have to say, I apologize for the short chapter.
I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who wrote a review and/or added the story on fav and/pr alert... you guys are amazing, and, as always, I wnat you all to remember one thing and one only: I don't own it!
That night, like the perfect gentleman he was, Jane had drove her home not too late; once at the door, she had looked at him, a bit hesitant, unsure of the next action; Lisbon wasn't sure what she should do, or what he expected her to do; did he have something in mind? Did he expect something or what? As she took a big breath, ready to go into some hybrid motor-mouth/freaking out mode, he silenced her with a simple gesture, his right index on her crimson lips.
"Just because we both know where this road will lead us, it doesn't mean that we have to take it running…. – he had given her a quick kiss on the lips, moving his hand on her cheek, and then, he had murmured in her ear, before to leave, the sweetest goodbye – goodnight, Teresa. I'll see you tomorrow… well, at this point, just later." As he reached his car, he kept walking with the head turned in her direction, and Lisbon, who was still giggling with a girl, unable to keep her emotions quiet, didn't move until he was out of sight. As she entered in her place, her back resting against the door, two thoughts were clear in her mind: she was glad that they were going to see each other in few hours (saving the heart-ache of the post first date and the eventual "do I have to call him, or do I have to wait for his call? What if I don't call? What if he doesn't call?") And, second, she didn't know how to hide her newly discovered feelings for her blonde consultant….
Not that she didn't have time to think about it during the rest of the night, since she actually thought just about it for the rest of her sleepless night; the fact that, as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw him or relived the event of the day just made her more troubled, and Annie and Tony were making it just 10 times worse: if she wasn't thinking about him in general, about the day they had, or about him as the hero of her novels, then, she was thinking of her marrying him, or her having a blonde child with green eyes with him, with Patrick carrying the child in his strong arms, sitting at her side on the bed of the hospital, while she was one of those mothers who become just simply divine during the pregnancy and… "No!" she told herself, trying to shake away the thoughts; she had enough problems facing the here and now, she didn't need to go in her personal fantasy world where she and Jane were rising a family free from the evil of the worlds, like nothing else could matter…
Besides, there was still another problem, that wasn't so small… when Van Pelt and Rigsby told her that they were in a relationship, she had to call it off for them, even if she didn't want to; she knew that they were professionals enough to keep it quiet and to not let it interfere with the job, but, unfortunately, rules were rules, and Hightower hated her enough, without two members of her team breaking the non-fraternization rule. Too bad at the moment there were 4 members of her team breaking, in different times, said rule; she and Jane were going to take it slow, and they were going to keep it a secret the longest possible, but she knew that it was just a matter of time; sooner or later, they'd be forced to share the news. Frankly, she couldn't wait to tell everyone about it, even only to make her brothers stop to organize blind-dates for her. Besides, there was this feeling in her stomach, that desire to scream to the entire world that she was in love with Patrick Jane; smiling a bit, and looking at the red dress that was now leaning against the mirror on the wall, she remembered when, younger, she had believed to be in love… now she knew she had been wrong at the time. That, what she had with Jane, was love.
Like Lisbon, Jane was struggling as well, even if for a different reason. All the things he had told her, all the things he had done, were, indeed, true; he loved her, and he didn't want to hurt her. He had really decided to abandon his quest for revenge. That wasn't the problem; if he had to be honest with himself, it wasn't really a problem at all; it was just… weird. He had stopped to live for so long, he had never allowed himself to think to the after, and now, here he was, concentrated on it with all his heart, doing something he had never done in the previous years, something he had said to everyone he couldn't, didn't want, to do.
"I hope you'll understand that I'm not going to forget you. You've been my first love, and you'll always be my daughter, but… - he paused, as he kneeled in front of the red face, looking at it like he had done times and times in so many years – I know that it's in part my fault. I'll always blame myself for what happened, but… my hand didn't kill you, now I know. Men are potentially evil, but, at the end of the days, they can decide what to do with their lives, you can call it free will, you can call morality… I didn't kill you; the man behind the mask of Red John did it. He had a choice, and he chose to become a killer. I know I did mistakes, but… - he paused again, passing a hand through his blonde locks – I know it's not right that I'm still alive while you two died, but I'm alive, and nothing's going to change that. I like to think that… I like to think that, wherever you are, if you are somewhere and listening to me, which I highly doubt, you'd like to see me happy. And Lisbon, Teresa… she makes me happy, as happy as I haven't been in a long time. And, the weird thing is, for some unknown reason, I seem to be able to make her happy as well"
He skimmed over the red smiley, throwing glances at the white painting on the floor. As he left the room, his jacket on one shoulder, he decided that it was something that it could still wait; he had done enough for a day.
