A/N: Trigger warning for references to suicidal ideation.
xxx
Jane, determined not to repeat the humiliatingly disastrous end to their movie date, made a conscious effort over the course of the next few days to not anger any criminals who looked like they might have a bent for kidnapping. As a result, the rest of the week passed fairly peaceably, and on Friday afternoon, he braved Lisbon's office once again with grim determination.
"Teresa," he said. "Are you busy tomorrow?"
She groaned. "Jane, not again."
He stopped, affronted. "What?"
"Look, I appreciate the thought, and yeah, it was totally great bringing down Mariani last weekend, but it's been a long week. I really don't want to work again this weekend."
"This isn't about work," he said hastily.
She stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "It's not?"
"No," he said firmly. "I want to talk to you. Somewhere away from the office. I thought we could go for coffee. Tomorrow morning. Marie's maybe. Or that place near your house that you like."
She sighed. "What are you plotting now?"
"No plot," Jane said, exasperated. Really, what had he done to merit this level of constant suspicion whenever he wanted to spend time with her? Then he stopped and decided that was a question best left unanswered.
"This is about Red John, isn't it?" she said with dread. "That's why you want to talk about it away from the office."
"I assure you it isn't," he said, with every ounce of earnestness he could muster.
Lisbon only looked more suspicious. "Jane, I'm really not in the mood to be jerked around for one of your games," she said flatly.
"No game," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just two friends enjoying a hot beverage together on a Saturday morning." Hopefully soon to be more than friends, he added mentally.
"All right," she said, still eyeing him warily. "Ten am at Marie's, then."
"Great!" Jane said, relieved. "See you then." He retreated, congratulating himself on another successful venture.
Tomorrow would be the day his luck would turn and she would finally realize the only plotting he was interested in was focused on getting her to understand he wanted to spend more time with her.
He was sure of it.
Xxx
When he got to the coffee shop, Jane ordered himself a tea and took pains to get an order of coffee exactly the way Lisbon liked it, plus a generous selection of pastries. Then he snagged a table by the window and waited for Lisbon to arrive.
She arrived in jeans, casual sneakers he'd never seen her in, and an SFPD sweatshirt that looked cute as a button on her. He drank in the sight of her, smiling softly as she crossed the room to sit down across from him.
She eyed the selection of pastries as she took her seat. "More bribery, huh? You must be working yourself up to something big. What is it? You want to pull a heist? A long con on some bigwig?"
"Nothing like that," he assured her.
"It's about Red John, then," she said, tensing. "I knew it. Dammit, Jane. What idiot plan have you got in your head now? Just spit it out so I can start talking you out of it before you get too attached to the idea."
"Lisbon," Jane said, pained. "Teresa. This isn't about Red John. I told you the truth the other day. I just want to talk to you."
She frowned. "About what?"
He took a deep breath. "Well—you and I have known each other a long time."
She sat back, wary. "Yes…"
"And you know what I've gone through," he continued bravely. "The guilt and grief, the anger."
She straightened, looking worried. "Yes. Jane, what-?"
He plowed ahead. "You've been by my side this whole time. And I'm so grateful for that. You have no idea."
She looked really alarmed now. "Jane. I'll always be here for you. You know that."
He had to smile at that. He gazed at her adoringly. "I do. I appreciate that more than you know."
"Jane," she said, tilting her head to the side. "What's this about? Really. You're scaring me."
He laughed a little at this. "There's no need to be scared, Teresa. I mean—well, not in the way you mean. You probably should be a little scared of what I'm going to tell you, if you have any sense."
"Oh, my God," she said, her eyes widening. "You've killed someone."
He rolled his eyes. "No, I haven't. Good Lord, woman. If I killed someone, you think I'd ask you out for coffee to tell you about it?"
Her shoulders slumped in relief. "No," she said, sounding uncertain. "I suppose not."
He couldn't resist adding, "I'd call you from the scene to ask you for help hiding the body, obviously."
"Jane," she said warningly. "Don't joke. Not about that."
"Do you really think I'd do that to you?" he said, unable to help himself. "Stand over Red John's body and ask you to help me hide what I'd done?"
She closed her eyes. She looked very pale. "No," she said, her eyes still closed. "No. You'd never ask me to compromise myself like that." She opened her eyes, but she still looked unhappy.
Jane's eyes narrowed. "There's obviously a 'but' at the end of that sentence. Spit it out."
"What's the point?" she said helplessly. "You already know. You wouldn't call me. You'd just disappear."
Oh, dear. She'd clearly put considerable thought into the matter. She was unequivocally convinced that he planned to kill Red John and abandon her to clean up the mess afterwards, without so much as a word of thanks as he sailed off into the sunset.
He reached out and touched the back of her wrist, his voice urgent. "Teresa. I promise I won't do that to you, okay? I don't know what's going to happen. But it's not going to be like that. I swear."
"Okay," she said, her mouth turning down at the corners. She clearly didn't believe him.
Jane let go of her and sat back, surveying her drawn mouth, the defeated set of her shoulders. This was much worse than he'd feared.
He took a deep breath. He needed to get them back on track. "Contrary to what you may have been imagining, I did not ask you here for any nefarious purpose. I'm trying to have an honest conversation with you, Teresa. Can you please hear me out?"
She sighed. "Yeah. All right. What is it?"
Jane tried not to be discouraged by her less than enthusiastic response. He'd never played to a less receptive audience. He barreled ahead, resolute. "What I'm trying to say, Teresa, is—"
She fidgeted. "Why do you keep saying my name like that?" she interrupted. "Teresa. It sounds…" she trailed off, either uncertain or unwilling to put voice to what, exactly it sounded like.
"I'm addressing you by your name," Jane said. "I thought—well, we're not at work. And we're friends, aren't we?"
Her expression softened. "Yes. Of course we are."
"And friends call each other by their names," Jane said, gaining confidence. "If you wanted to call me by name, I wouldn't object. In fact, I'd very much like it if you would."
She looked even more uncertain. "Patrick," she tried, then made a face. "It sounds weird."
To him, it sounded like heavenly music. The soft lilt of her voice, the rise and fall of the two syllables of his name, taking shape softly on her lips. He stared at her, entranced.
She huffed. "See? You think it sounds weird, too."
"No, I don't," he protested. "I think it sounds wonderful. I'd like it if you called me Patrick more often."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll try it. But why are we talking about names, Jane? What is this really about?"
He forbore to mention that she'd been the one to raise the subject. "What I'm trying to tell you, is I've been thinking a lot, lately," he told her. "I'm thinking about making some changes in my life. Changes I want to talk through with you."
Now she looked wary again. "What kind of changes?"
"Big ones," he said. "Life-altering ones."
"Like what?" she said, her eyes wide.
"Well—you know that for the past ten years, I've lived a pretty solitary existence," he told her. "Aside from your friendship—well, and the team, I suppose—I have very few meaningful social connections in my life."
Her brow crinkled adorably. "What are you saying?" she said uncertainly.
"I want to learn to let some things go," he said. "Be more…at peace. More free."
She leaned forward suddenly and touched the back of his hand. "Jane," she said, worry bleeding into her voice. "Are you…are you thinking about hurting yourself? Is that what this is all about?"
He blinked. "What?" he said, appalled. "No. Not at all. Just the opposite."
Her shoulders slumped in relief. "Are you sure? The way you're talking…" she trailed off.
He realized she'd been imagining him walking into the ocean with stones in his pockets, or something very near. "Teresa, no," he said, horrified. Good Lord, he was really losing his touch. This was even worse than the kidnapping.
She bit her lip. "Because you've been acting oddly lately. I wasn't sure what was going on with you. But then I thought…maybe this is like, you know." She swallowed hard. "People who…who…anyway, sometimes they say people feel very peaceful, right before…"
Then to his astonishment, she jumped to her feet. "I need to make a phone call," she said abruptly. "Jane, promise me you'll stay right here. I mean it. Please. Tell me you'll stay right here."
"Where else would I go?" Jane said, genuinely bewildered.
Her hand clamped down on his arm. "Stay right here, Jane. That's an order. For once in your life, please listen to me."
"I'll stay," he said, looking up at her. "I promise, Teresa."
She relaxed only a little. "Okay. I'll be right back."
She went outside, and he could see her talking on her cell phone, glancing back at him through the window every five seconds. He watched her, puzzled, until she nodded as though the person on the other end of the line could see her. Then she hung up, set her shoulders, and came back inside.
"Come on," she said tersely. "Get up. We're leaving."
"Ah—okay," Jane said, confused, but willing.
She took hold of his arm and steered him out of the shop. "We're going for a drive," she told him.
He perked up. "That sounds nice."
But it wasn't nice. Because Lisbon radiated tension the entire time, and after they'd been driving about twenty-five minutes, she pulled up in front of a brick building that looked vaguely familiar, and then she frog-marched him into the office of none other than Sophie Miller.
"Sophie," he said, greeting his old psychologist with an ill grace. "I didn't realize you worked Saturdays."
"I'm making a special exception," she told him. "Teresa said you needed my help."
Lisbon nodded at Sophie. "Dr. Miller," she said briskly. "Thank you for seeing him on such short notice."
Great. Now his date was ending with an intervention. He was trying to confess his love, and Lisbon thought he was experiencing a mental health crisis.
"Well, let's get on with it, then," he said grimly. He gestured for Sophie to precede him into her office, leaving Lisbon in the waiting room, still looking anxious.
"Why don't you tell me what this is all about, Patrick?" Sophie said, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch while she sat down in the chair opposite.
Jane sat down. "Lisbon thinks I've cracked up," he told her.
"She sounded really worried about you when I spoke to her on the phone," Sophie observed.
Jane sighed. "Yeah. She's got the wrong end of the stick, though." He proceeded to explain the situation in humiliatingly minute detail. His chagrin only increased when it became clear that Sophie was valiantly suppressing the desire to laugh.
She made it halfway through the whole saga before she couldn't hold it in any more. By the time he finished, shooting her a disgruntled look, she was laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair.
"Oh, Patrick," she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "The straightforward approach really isn't working for you, is it?"
"No," he said, ruffled. "It really isn't."
"Maybe you'd better try some trickery for the next date," she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Play to your strengths."
"I'll take that under advisement," he said sourly. "Is that all, Doctor?"
She waved him off, still laughing. "Don't worry. I'll try to put her mind at ease. Once she's no longer worried you're about to go off the deep end, you'll have to take it from there, Slugger."
"Do you always mock your patients' suffering like this?" he said, indignant, getting to his feet.
She got up as well and patted him on the shoulder as they walked to the door. "Only the ones that can take it."
She was still laughing when they went out to the waiting room, where Lisbon was sitting on the couch, looking anxious. Lisbon got to her feet when they came out, watching Sophie in consternation.
Sophie crossed the room and took Lisbon by the hands. "Teresa," she said warmly. "I want to assure you, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Patrick is as sound of mind as he's ever been."
"What kind of reassurance is that?" Lisbon blurted out. She shot Jane a guilty look. "I mean…well. You know what I mean," she muttered, embarrassed.
Sophie only laughed harder. "Fair point. I only mean, you don't need to worry about him. This has all been a big misunderstanding. An acute case of miscommunication." She squeezed Lisbon's hands. "I prescribe a long heart to heart, and many more coffee dates."
Lisbon leaned back and eyed Sophie suspiciously. "What the hell?"
Sophie patted her hand, then released her. "Patrick is in much better mental health than at any point since I've known him," she assured Lisbon. "I promise you. He has no intention of harming himself, or letting himself be hurt by others. He's not even a flight risk. I'm absolutely certain he's very invested in having a long, healthy life right here in Sacramento. He's made tremendous progress in the past several years, and I think a great portion of that progress is due to your influence in his life. He was trying to tell you something like that, I think, when you called me. He's just a bit out of practice, you know, so it came out a bit clumsy. He had no idea it would make you worry so much. Please accept my assurance that he is in fine shape and you don't need to concern yourself over his behavior."
"Uh-huh," Lisbon said, unconvinced. She looked at Jane narrowly.
He drew himself up straight. "Can we go now, please?" he said, with as much dignity as he could muster.
"All right," Lisbon said reluctantly, casting Sophie a sidelong glance.
When they got back into the car, Lisbon burst out, "I can't believe that woman. She was so unprofessional! I mean—I could hear her laughing at you from the waiting room! What the hell kind of doctor is she?"
"To be fair, it is a pretty funny story, if you aren't one of the principals," Jane said gloomily.
"I don't see what's funny about it!" Lisbon said, fuming. "I know you said she helped you before, Jane, but I think we should get a second opinion. She's clearly not fit to practice."
"I assure you, that's not necessary," Jane said, horrified. Visions of Lisbon carting him off to a mental hospital danced before his eyes. "Lisbon, really, what she said is right. This was all a big miscommunication. All I wanted was to spend some more time with you. You're the one who interpreted that as evidence of an incipient mental breakdown."
"Well, I don't care what either of you says," Lisbon said, not remotely mollified. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. You're coming home with me."
Jane perked up. "Really?"
"Yes," Lisbon said firmly. "And I don't want to hear any arguments about it."
"No arguments from me," Jane said quickly, his spirits rising rapidly.
Apparently, losing one's mind came with some unexpected perks.
Xxx
He decided he'd better hold off on further declarations until he'd managed to convince Lisbon he was of sound mind again. Or at least, as much of sound mind as she ever credited him to be, which wasn't saying much, apparently.
He allowed her to fuss over him when she got him tucked into her apartment, secretly enjoying this side of her, so sweetly concerned and solicitous without being pitying. If only she weren't working herself back up into a state of anxiety, he might have allowed it to go on a bit longer, but as it was, he needed to nip this in the bud. Honestly, he'd tried to have one honest conversation with the woman and she completely freaked out and became convinced he was on the brink of madness.
"Lisbon," he said from the couch, watching her flutter around the apartment straightening things unnecessarily to calm herself down. "Come here, will you?"
She came over and sat down next to him. She touched his sleeve. "Jane. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "Come here." He pulled her towards him.
Startled, she resisted by reflex at first, but then she relaxed and let herself curl up against his side.
He guided her head to his shoulder. She stirred a little, but allowed him to pull her closer. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck. "Teresa," he said. "Will you please listen to me? You don't need to worry about my mental health, okay? My heart is more whole than it's been in a long time." He took her hand and placed it over his heart. She tensed, then tentatively flexed her fingers a little and flattened her palm on his chest, as though she didn't want to miss evidence of a single beat. He put his hand over hers. "See?" he said softly. "Strong and steady. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
"Really?" she said, her voice low.
He kissed the top of her head, reveling in the softness and the sweet scent of her. "Truly." In fact, if only she didn't think he was off his rocker, he would have been perfectly content.
"But before, the way you were talking…" she trailed off.
"Sophie was right," he said. "I was only clumsy. I'm sorry my clumsiness scared you. But I promise that wasn't my intention. You didn't hear what I was really trying to say."
She lifted her head so she could look at him. "What were you trying to say?"
Jane tried not to be distracted by the fact that she was within kissing distance. "I was saying I wanted to make some changes to my life," he reminded her. "But that didn't mean bad ones. The changes I want to make—they're good ones, I think."
She looked at him intently. "What kind of changes are you thinking of?"
"You once accused me of pulling away from you and the team," he told her. "I tried that. It didn't work. So now I'm trying the opposite."
"The opposite," she repeated.
"The opposite of pulling away." He gave her a little squeeze. "You know. Getting closer."
Her whole body flushed. He could feel the heat wash through her. It was…an intoxicating sensation. "Oh," she said, in a very small voice. She'd gone stiff in his arms.
He couldn't have that. He pulled her even closer. She went rigid at first, but then gave up struggling and hugged him fiercely instead. "You're really all right?" she said, a little choked.
His heart melted. He stroked her hair and closed his eyes, savoring the closeness. He held her tighter. "Never better."