Fanfic: The Mentalist
Title: The Strangest of Inventions
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, friendship
Spoilers: specific references to Bloodshot, Carnelian, Inc. and Red John’s Footsteps
Summary: future!fic. A late night conversation takes a surprising turn to cover some sensitive, emotional ground. Jello undertones, because I love UST.
Warning: I wrote this over the long weekend. Yes, that merits a warning, it's not uber-polished, but with exams [starting in an hour! *flails*], this is the best I can do.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Mentalist or its wonderful characters.
A/N: First Mentalist fic, so judge tenderly of me, please. I’d like to encourage low expectations so I can exceed them. ;P Also, I have no practical knowledge of hospitals or medicine in general, if anything seems odd, just go with it, ’mmkay? Thanks. :D
Dedicated to luisa_f.
It’s my first attempt in this fandom, so I’m hoping you’re not too disappointed, but your Mentalist posts have been really inspirational and squee-inducing and plaguing me with plot bunnies ['specially about helpless!Jane and protective!Lisbon, although this ended up nothing like I imagined] and I blame you for getting my muse worked up, she sunk her claws in and refused to let go til I finished this. It's all your fault. :P
---
‘Of all the bright machinery, love’s the strangest of inventions
How could this all just turn on me? When all I wanted was perfection
And you are, that’s what you are to me, you’re the brightest star…’
- Bic Runga, Election Night
---
It wasn’t the pain that woke her.
The sense of something left undone nagged at her, and the knowledge that this something was very important. Teresa Lisbon was not a woman who lightly shirked her responsibilities, and her brow furrowed in her sleep as she pursued this wispy trail of nebulous anxiety, intent on pinning it down to something tangible.
All she knew was a deep wrenching feeling of dread. The cause…the cause was an elusive wraith that flitted around the edges of her consciousness, evading her attempts to grasp at it, slipping through her fingers each time she reached out…willing herself faster, Lisbon launched herself forward in one last desperate attempt, just as a deafening boom filled her ears and she was falling, everything was tilting crazily around her, shifting, blurring, and the only constant was a pair of intense blue eyes that would not let her look away…
The shock of recognition jolted her awake, memories flooding back. “Jane,” she gasped, throat dry with fear, barely registering the flare of pain in her shoulder as she jerked upright in bed.
“Interesting,” said a familiar voice from the dark corner of her room, and she just barely suppressed an undignified yelp of surprise as the shadowy outline of Patrick Jane moved into view. He dragged his chair over to the side of her bed, where the dim light illuminated the teasing smile on his face and mirthful gleam in his eyes.
Heart rate slowing to a more regular pace, she relaxed back against her pillows, reassured at seeing him gloriously alive, decidedly safe and unharmed from their most recent escapade. Then she tensed as he drawled softly, “How often would you say you wake up with my name on your lips?”
Lisbon hated it when he used that intimate tone on her. He’d used it to fluster her very effectively more times than she cared to remember. And, she recalled, her main mistake every time was letting him provoke her into charging into a verbal skirmish to try and prove to herself that he had no effect on her, though her resulting blushes betrayed the exact opposite.
But even though she rarely came out on top, the few points she’d managed to score off him in their time together made it almost impossible to resist the effort. The memory of his expression on the occasions when she’d bested him, either blank with chagrin or alight with amused approval and nodding in concession, spurred her on. Lisbon had started to thrive on the challenge, in a twisted sort of way.
However, considering that she was currently wounded and stuck in hospital, unable to stalk off if he embarrassed her too much, it didn’t seem to be the right time to match wits on that front. So rather than engage him, Lisbon settled for a glare and misdirection. “Damn it, Jane,” she scolded him, taking refuge in the familiarity of their bickering routine. “Don’t do that. My heart can’t take it.”
He shrugged, unperturbed, and offered her a wicked smile. “It isn’t my fault, I always seem to have that effect on women. Blame nature for gifting me with the genes for overwhelming attractiveness.”
Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s an uphill struggle not to swoon at your feet,” she said. “You know, I do feel rather light-headed- although it could be that your gigantic ego just sucked all the oxygen out of the room. If you could park it outside, I’d appreciate it.”
Rather than taking umbrage at her sarcasm, he lifted his hands defensively. “Jeez, woman, you sure are snippy when you wake up.”
She tried out a one-shouldered shrug, careful not to jar her injury. “Give me a break, I just got shot. You weren’t any better when you went blind, temporarily. If I recall correctly- and I do- you were much worse.”
“Do I get to pinch you when you insult me?”
“No.”
“Double-standards, Lisbon? I thought better of you. Surely you’re not trading on the fact that you’re a woman-”
“Hey, it’s not like that. My actions were justified,” she protested. “The hospital staff shouldn’t have had to put up with your attitude, they were trying to help and they didn’t deserve to be insulted. However,” she added in severe tones, “You totally deserve it.”
Silence.
Lisbon waited for the ready retort that always sprang to his lips but she got nothing in return. Wondering at his lack of response, she glanced over- and her eyes widened at the expression she saw for a split-second on his unguarded face. She’d struck the winning blow in this bout and hadn’t even realized it.
“Jane,” she said, then promptly floundered, unsure what to say. Had that really been a look of enormous guilt and shame? Was she reading too much into an insignificant twitch of a facial muscle? But Jane normally had superior control over himself. He wasn’t- translucent. He was the master at masking his emotions and presenting a convincing façade that nobody could see through. For that to drop, even for a moment…it was un-Jane-like. It worried her.
“Hey,” she said softly. He met her eyes at last, calm, serene, like she had never seen any cracks in his composure. It was this air of determined calmness that confirmed her suspicions. That’s all very good and well, she thought, but now what? She was no good at this touchy-feely stuff.
But for Patrick Jane, she would try, no matter how silly and self-conscious it made her feel. She could always blame it on the drugs if this ended badly.
Lisbon reached out and tentatively placed her hand on his. When he didn’t move away or, as she’d half-feared, smile widely and reveal that it was all part of his plan to develop her sensitivity or something, she curled her fingers around his. “What’s the matter, Jane?”
She had thought about being subtle, trying to carefully tug the truth out of him, but she knew that there was no point in it. He’d see through any such efforts, so her best recourse was this simple heartfelt plea. Open up to me, just this once.
He stirred, rubbing his thumb across her fingers gently. “You’re right. I deserve it. I deserve much worse.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m tired,” he said quietly, and she had to strain to hear him. “So tired of being responsible for putting the people I care about in danger.”
That’s what this was about? Her brow furrowed in disbelief. “Jane, it’s not your fault.”
“Oh, but it is. Once again, my arrogance, my stupidity…” he trailed off, eyes distant, haunted in a way that made her heart ache for this damaged man, who had once claimed he could not be fixed, which had done nothing to cure her of her instinct to do just that. Jane laughed, a harsh unpleasant sound devoid of any real humor. “You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.”
Enough of this. “Don’t,” she said, digging her nails into his hand, drawing him out of that bitter self-loathing reverie and focusing back on her. He looked so lost and it scared her. Because this was the wounded side of Jane that lurked deep beneath that cheery, over-confident persona and even though she knew he existed, seeing him face to face was another matter altogether. Because she’d wanted to help Jane, she’d wanted to prove him wrong and show him that he could be fixed, but if he never let her in, there was nothing she could do about it. They were both such stubborn creatures, such intensely private people, and she’d resigned herself to accept the fact that she hadn’t really failed if he never gave her the chance.
Now, at last, here was her chance and all she could think about was the infinite number of ways that she could screw this up. How to even begin? With the softly-softly or tough love approach? She bit her lip in thought, and chose her words carefully.
“Jane, I’m not your wife. I’m not your daughter. It’s not your job to protect me from the consequences of your actions, it’s not your job to protect me at all. Do you hear me?” she said firmly. “I’m the one with the gun and the badge, all right? I’m the boss, and the sad reality is that a large part of my job is damage control. I let you do what you do best, and I minimize the fallout from your crazy stunts. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, too. Yes, okay, your arrogance, your recklessness, your elaborate plans, it all pisses me off sometimes-” here he let out a huff of breath that sounded like amusement, and it encouraged her “-but it works. That’s why I put up with your methods, because no matter how unconventional and outlandish they are, they help us close cases. Cases that, inevitably, place us all in danger at one point or another.” Her voice softened. “But that’s the job, Jane, do you get that? It’s not your doing. Our line of work can be dangerous, we all accept that, but I can take care of myself just fine- and save your ass in the process.”
She searched her mind, but couldn’t find anything else to say. That was it. That was all she had. If it didn’t work, that would suck because she’d taken her best shot and hadn’t a clue what else she could say to make this better. She watched him anxiously, wondering if her words had reached him, hoping…
Jane inhaled deeply and then let it out slowly, studying their joined hands. She wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking but as a few minutes of silence went by, he seemed a little less tormented. That could just be what he wanted her to think, though. Jane hated it when people caught a glimpse of some real emotion he didn’t want them to see, he was used to putting others on the defensive by ferreting out their secrets, exposing their underlying feelings. He wasn’t used to being put on the spot himself.
“Lisbon, you- are very important to me. I care deeply about what happens to you. And it would cause me great distress if I were the reason for any harm that befell you,” his eyes automatically went to her injured shoulder. “If that had been an inch lower…” He stopped.
Not the blame game again. “Guess it was a good thing he was aiming for your heart,” she said glibly.
“Exactly,” he said, voice hard, blue eyes icy cold as they locked onto hers, and she almost shivered, though she reminded herself that the contempt she saw was not for her. It was inwardly directed. “He was aiming at me. My miscalculation of the suspect’s personality, my deliberate and, in hindsight, foolishly antagonistic manner provoked him into pulling that trigger. If I were the one to bear the consequences, as I ought to have been, we wouldn’t be here right now, doing this tiresome soul-searching business. But as it is, you are the one recovering from a gunshot wound and I’m here, perfectly fine. Well, perhaps a tad bruised from your energetic tackle, but otherwise whole and healthy.”
“Only you could make it sound like pushing you out of the path of a bullet is a bad thing,” she rolled her eyes. “Reality check, if you were the one to ‘bear the consequences’ as you so heroically want, you’d probably be dead right now-” her mouth hung open as something clicked. The memory of a dark cellar where they’d argued over the worth of his life. “Oh, my god, Jane. You and your goddamned death wish.”
He looked startled. “No. No, that isn’t it at all, Lisbon.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked heatedly. “You seem to keep telling me you’d rather be shot dead-”
“I’d choose life, Lisbon,” he said, stalling her angry rant before it even started. “I’d choose your life.”
Oh. Huh?
“My willingness to die if it enables the capture of Red John is separate and distinct from my belief that you sacrificing your life for mine is an unacceptable trade. And it isn’t evidence of a greater trend, these are merely the two circumstances under which the cost of my life is a reasonable price to pay. I won't hurl myself over a bridge or anything of the sort, if that will relieve your mind.”
She almost smiled. It was kind of sweet, in a Jane way. Which meant that as much as it was sweet, it was also deeply troubling. “You don’t think your life is worth as much as mine?”
“You have a future,” he said baldly. “Me…well, you know what my plans are.”
“I know.” Lisbon sighed. “But it’s not about what you believe, or what you think your life is worth. Most of the time, society needs protection from you. But on the occasions when you need protection from society, Jane? I’m not gonna hold back and let you go down without a fight, whatever the outcome. And if you’re not going to fight for yourself, I will. I believe you have a future, a real future, and I’m not giving up on that.”
He was having trouble meeting her eyes now. He looked down, squeezed her hand. This silence, the lack of eye contact, it seemed to be characteristic of Jane when his thoughts were in turmoil. When he was trying to make sure she could glean nothing if his control slipped. She was surprised at her maternal urge to ruffle his hair, to soothe him as he mulled things over, but he had hold of one hand and she wasn’t game to try moving her other arm yet, and maybe it was for the best, anyhow. This was new ground for her and Jane and she didn’t want to test the boundaries just yet.
“You’re going to have to trust me, Jane.”
“Trust you,” he repeated.
“You told me you did, remember? I’m not in any condition for a trust fall right now, so you don’t get to take it back,” she told him. “Look, this last case, I call it a win. We got the happy ending- you’re alive, I’m alive, and the wrongdoer isn’t going to hurt anyone ever again. You’re going to have to trust me, when things go bad, to be able to save you and to get out myself. None of this self-sacrificing crap, you understand? Don’t fall on your sword because you think I can’t handle the situation. Don’t doubt me like that.”
Another few moments passed in quiet contemplation, and then her breath caught as his head came up in a sudden movement, animated once more. “I have never doubted your abilities, Lisbon.” Jane smiled. “You’re a force to be reckoned with out in the field and I pity the fools that stand in your way.”
“Oh. Thanks,” she said, a little taken aback by the transition from silent statue to Cheshire Cat. Jane had bounced back, he was resilient like that. She just hoped that something of what she said had sunk in. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
He wasn’t done yet. “You are a great agent, the best that I have encountered. Fair, fiercely loyal, determined, compassionate,” he smiled brilliantly as she stared at him, bemused by the new line of conversation. “A few of the many reasons why I love you.”
Lisbon choked. Normally, breathing came naturally to her but just this once, air somehow went down the wrong pipe and she choked. Jane relinquished her hand and poured her a glass of water which she gratefully accepted, still sputtering.
When she was finally able to breathe without coughing and her eyes had stopped watering, Jane was watching her with an amused expression. “I knew you were uncomfortable with sentimental talk but I didn’t realize it would cause you respiratory distress.”
“Shut up, Jane,” she muttered, embarrassed by her reaction, even as she was warmed by the memory of his words, the sincerity in his eyes. She hoped he never ever said anything like that to her again because she didn’t have a clue how to respond, but she appreciated the sentiment.
Lisbon placed the glass against her heated cheeks, and as he opened his mouth, she pointed a threatening finger at him. “If you make a single comment about reading my mind right now, so help me, I will club you over the head with that IV pole.”
“Consider me cowed into submission,” he said, looking anything but.
Lisbon narrowed her eyes at him. She was getting better at reading him, she knew what he’d done. Flipped her earlier trick of misdirection right back on her to distract her from applying pressure on those sensitive sore spots on his soul, make her forget that vulnerable man she’d just seen. Restore their usual dynamics. It was okay, she’d let him get away with it.
Partly because she had heard the truth in his voice, and although she didn’t want to ascribe any deeper significance to them, his words had made her feel an odd fizzing combination of contentment and delight. And no, she didn't feel like examining her reaction too deeply, either.
But she also let it go because she figured he needed some space. After that dreadfully serious, somber conversation, he had some things to work out for himself, on his own.
Although he showed no signs of budging from his chair anytime soon. Which was a problem. “Jane?”
“Mmm-hmm?’
“It’s- I don’t know what time it is, but it’s late. I’m going to get some more sleep.” She waited for him to get the hint.
“Okay.”
She frowned. “I can’t do that with you just sitting here, watching me.”
“Really? Huh. You were doing an admirable job of that just before.”
“Yeah, but now I know you’re here.”
He looked curious. “And that would prevent you from sleeping?”
“Yes. It would. It would make me uncomfortable.”
“I don’t feel uncomfortable when you watch me sleeping on the couch at work.”
“I- what? I do not!”
“Sure you do. You think I’m adorable-”
“If anything,” she cut in hastily, “I think you’re a pain in the ass, and that you should be working instead of lounging around like you don’t have a job.”
“That’s what you say now, but you told a different story under heavy medication.”
Lisbon closed her eyes for a long moment. “If I find out the team left me alone with you while I was drugged out of my mind…” Words failed her at the thought of Jane persuading her to confide all her deepest, darkest secrets to him. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Maybe I’ll wake up and this will all be just a nightmare.”
“Come on, Lisbon. It can’t be that hard. You can fall asleep in the car with me at the wheel, after all.”
“Yeah, but the point is that you’re driving, not watching me sleep.”
Jane tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. “Oh! What if I closed my eyes?” he suggested, with the air of one who’d had a stroke of genius.
“What?”
“Your main objection is the thought of being observed while you’re in a vulnerable state. But if I close my eyes, you shouldn’t have a problem,” he said in a reasonable tone.
She thumped her head against her pillow a few times, and stared up at the ceiling. Frankly, she didn’t have the energy to come up with an argument to refute him. “Fine, if I can’t get rid of you, then- yeah, fine, you do that.”
Lisbon shut her eyes, determined to get some rest despite the distraction of his presence. They almost flew open again when she felt his hand grasp hers but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Night, Jane,” she murmured and, despite the thought that she shouldn’t encourage him, she squeezed his hand, then smiled as he interlaced their fingers.
“Night, Lisbon. Sweet dreams.”
She wouldn’t tell him this, but she slept better that night than she had in ages, and her dreams were of a future bright with hope and promise.
---
The end. :D
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, friendship
Spoilers: specific references to Bloodshot, Carnelian, Inc. and Red John’s Footsteps
Summary: future!fic. A late night conversation takes a surprising turn to cover some sensitive, emotional ground. Jello undertones, because I love UST.
Warning: I wrote this over the long weekend. Yes, that merits a warning, it's not uber-polished, but with exams [starting in an hour! *flails*], this is the best I can do.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Mentalist or its wonderful characters.
A/N: First Mentalist fic, so judge tenderly of me, please. I’d like to encourage low expectations so I can exceed them. ;P Also, I have no practical knowledge of hospitals or medicine in general, if anything seems odd, just go with it, ’mmkay? Thanks. :D
Dedicated to luisa_f.
It’s my first attempt in this fandom, so I’m hoping you’re not too disappointed, but your Mentalist posts have been really inspirational and squee-inducing and plaguing me with plot bunnies ['specially about helpless!Jane and protective!Lisbon, although this ended up nothing like I imagined] and I blame you for getting my muse worked up, she sunk her claws in and refused to let go til I finished this. It's all your fault. :P
---
‘Of all the bright machinery, love’s the strangest of inventions
How could this all just turn on me? When all I wanted was perfection
And you are, that’s what you are to me, you’re the brightest star…’
- Bic Runga, Election Night
---
It wasn’t the pain that woke her.
The sense of something left undone nagged at her, and the knowledge that this something was very important. Teresa Lisbon was not a woman who lightly shirked her responsibilities, and her brow furrowed in her sleep as she pursued this wispy trail of nebulous anxiety, intent on pinning it down to something tangible.
All she knew was a deep wrenching feeling of dread. The cause…the cause was an elusive wraith that flitted around the edges of her consciousness, evading her attempts to grasp at it, slipping through her fingers each time she reached out…willing herself faster, Lisbon launched herself forward in one last desperate attempt, just as a deafening boom filled her ears and she was falling, everything was tilting crazily around her, shifting, blurring, and the only constant was a pair of intense blue eyes that would not let her look away…
The shock of recognition jolted her awake, memories flooding back. “Jane,” she gasped, throat dry with fear, barely registering the flare of pain in her shoulder as she jerked upright in bed.
“Interesting,” said a familiar voice from the dark corner of her room, and she just barely suppressed an undignified yelp of surprise as the shadowy outline of Patrick Jane moved into view. He dragged his chair over to the side of her bed, where the dim light illuminated the teasing smile on his face and mirthful gleam in his eyes.
Heart rate slowing to a more regular pace, she relaxed back against her pillows, reassured at seeing him gloriously alive, decidedly safe and unharmed from their most recent escapade. Then she tensed as he drawled softly, “How often would you say you wake up with my name on your lips?”
Lisbon hated it when he used that intimate tone on her. He’d used it to fluster her very effectively more times than she cared to remember. And, she recalled, her main mistake every time was letting him provoke her into charging into a verbal skirmish to try and prove to herself that he had no effect on her, though her resulting blushes betrayed the exact opposite.
But even though she rarely came out on top, the few points she’d managed to score off him in their time together made it almost impossible to resist the effort. The memory of his expression on the occasions when she’d bested him, either blank with chagrin or alight with amused approval and nodding in concession, spurred her on. Lisbon had started to thrive on the challenge, in a twisted sort of way.
However, considering that she was currently wounded and stuck in hospital, unable to stalk off if he embarrassed her too much, it didn’t seem to be the right time to match wits on that front. So rather than engage him, Lisbon settled for a glare and misdirection. “Damn it, Jane,” she scolded him, taking refuge in the familiarity of their bickering routine. “Don’t do that. My heart can’t take it.”
He shrugged, unperturbed, and offered her a wicked smile. “It isn’t my fault, I always seem to have that effect on women. Blame nature for gifting me with the genes for overwhelming attractiveness.”
Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s an uphill struggle not to swoon at your feet,” she said. “You know, I do feel rather light-headed- although it could be that your gigantic ego just sucked all the oxygen out of the room. If you could park it outside, I’d appreciate it.”
Rather than taking umbrage at her sarcasm, he lifted his hands defensively. “Jeez, woman, you sure are snippy when you wake up.”
She tried out a one-shouldered shrug, careful not to jar her injury. “Give me a break, I just got shot. You weren’t any better when you went blind, temporarily. If I recall correctly- and I do- you were much worse.”
“Do I get to pinch you when you insult me?”
“No.”
“Double-standards, Lisbon? I thought better of you. Surely you’re not trading on the fact that you’re a woman-”
“Hey, it’s not like that. My actions were justified,” she protested. “The hospital staff shouldn’t have had to put up with your attitude, they were trying to help and they didn’t deserve to be insulted. However,” she added in severe tones, “You totally deserve it.”
Silence.
Lisbon waited for the ready retort that always sprang to his lips but she got nothing in return. Wondering at his lack of response, she glanced over- and her eyes widened at the expression she saw for a split-second on his unguarded face. She’d struck the winning blow in this bout and hadn’t even realized it.
“Jane,” she said, then promptly floundered, unsure what to say. Had that really been a look of enormous guilt and shame? Was she reading too much into an insignificant twitch of a facial muscle? But Jane normally had superior control over himself. He wasn’t- translucent. He was the master at masking his emotions and presenting a convincing façade that nobody could see through. For that to drop, even for a moment…it was un-Jane-like. It worried her.
“Hey,” she said softly. He met her eyes at last, calm, serene, like she had never seen any cracks in his composure. It was this air of determined calmness that confirmed her suspicions. That’s all very good and well, she thought, but now what? She was no good at this touchy-feely stuff.
But for Patrick Jane, she would try, no matter how silly and self-conscious it made her feel. She could always blame it on the drugs if this ended badly.
Lisbon reached out and tentatively placed her hand on his. When he didn’t move away or, as she’d half-feared, smile widely and reveal that it was all part of his plan to develop her sensitivity or something, she curled her fingers around his. “What’s the matter, Jane?”
She had thought about being subtle, trying to carefully tug the truth out of him, but she knew that there was no point in it. He’d see through any such efforts, so her best recourse was this simple heartfelt plea. Open up to me, just this once.
He stirred, rubbing his thumb across her fingers gently. “You’re right. I deserve it. I deserve much worse.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m tired,” he said quietly, and she had to strain to hear him. “So tired of being responsible for putting the people I care about in danger.”
That’s what this was about? Her brow furrowed in disbelief. “Jane, it’s not your fault.”
“Oh, but it is. Once again, my arrogance, my stupidity…” he trailed off, eyes distant, haunted in a way that made her heart ache for this damaged man, who had once claimed he could not be fixed, which had done nothing to cure her of her instinct to do just that. Jane laughed, a harsh unpleasant sound devoid of any real humor. “You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.”
Enough of this. “Don’t,” she said, digging her nails into his hand, drawing him out of that bitter self-loathing reverie and focusing back on her. He looked so lost and it scared her. Because this was the wounded side of Jane that lurked deep beneath that cheery, over-confident persona and even though she knew he existed, seeing him face to face was another matter altogether. Because she’d wanted to help Jane, she’d wanted to prove him wrong and show him that he could be fixed, but if he never let her in, there was nothing she could do about it. They were both such stubborn creatures, such intensely private people, and she’d resigned herself to accept the fact that she hadn’t really failed if he never gave her the chance.
Now, at last, here was her chance and all she could think about was the infinite number of ways that she could screw this up. How to even begin? With the softly-softly or tough love approach? She bit her lip in thought, and chose her words carefully.
“Jane, I’m not your wife. I’m not your daughter. It’s not your job to protect me from the consequences of your actions, it’s not your job to protect me at all. Do you hear me?” she said firmly. “I’m the one with the gun and the badge, all right? I’m the boss, and the sad reality is that a large part of my job is damage control. I let you do what you do best, and I minimize the fallout from your crazy stunts. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, too. Yes, okay, your arrogance, your recklessness, your elaborate plans, it all pisses me off sometimes-” here he let out a huff of breath that sounded like amusement, and it encouraged her “-but it works. That’s why I put up with your methods, because no matter how unconventional and outlandish they are, they help us close cases. Cases that, inevitably, place us all in danger at one point or another.” Her voice softened. “But that’s the job, Jane, do you get that? It’s not your doing. Our line of work can be dangerous, we all accept that, but I can take care of myself just fine- and save your ass in the process.”
She searched her mind, but couldn’t find anything else to say. That was it. That was all she had. If it didn’t work, that would suck because she’d taken her best shot and hadn’t a clue what else she could say to make this better. She watched him anxiously, wondering if her words had reached him, hoping…
Jane inhaled deeply and then let it out slowly, studying their joined hands. She wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking but as a few minutes of silence went by, he seemed a little less tormented. That could just be what he wanted her to think, though. Jane hated it when people caught a glimpse of some real emotion he didn’t want them to see, he was used to putting others on the defensive by ferreting out their secrets, exposing their underlying feelings. He wasn’t used to being put on the spot himself.
“Lisbon, you- are very important to me. I care deeply about what happens to you. And it would cause me great distress if I were the reason for any harm that befell you,” his eyes automatically went to her injured shoulder. “If that had been an inch lower…” He stopped.
Not the blame game again. “Guess it was a good thing he was aiming for your heart,” she said glibly.
“Exactly,” he said, voice hard, blue eyes icy cold as they locked onto hers, and she almost shivered, though she reminded herself that the contempt she saw was not for her. It was inwardly directed. “He was aiming at me. My miscalculation of the suspect’s personality, my deliberate and, in hindsight, foolishly antagonistic manner provoked him into pulling that trigger. If I were the one to bear the consequences, as I ought to have been, we wouldn’t be here right now, doing this tiresome soul-searching business. But as it is, you are the one recovering from a gunshot wound and I’m here, perfectly fine. Well, perhaps a tad bruised from your energetic tackle, but otherwise whole and healthy.”
“Only you could make it sound like pushing you out of the path of a bullet is a bad thing,” she rolled her eyes. “Reality check, if you were the one to ‘bear the consequences’ as you so heroically want, you’d probably be dead right now-” her mouth hung open as something clicked. The memory of a dark cellar where they’d argued over the worth of his life. “Oh, my god, Jane. You and your goddamned death wish.”
He looked startled. “No. No, that isn’t it at all, Lisbon.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked heatedly. “You seem to keep telling me you’d rather be shot dead-”
“I’d choose life, Lisbon,” he said, stalling her angry rant before it even started. “I’d choose your life.”
Oh. Huh?
“My willingness to die if it enables the capture of Red John is separate and distinct from my belief that you sacrificing your life for mine is an unacceptable trade. And it isn’t evidence of a greater trend, these are merely the two circumstances under which the cost of my life is a reasonable price to pay. I won't hurl myself over a bridge or anything of the sort, if that will relieve your mind.”
She almost smiled. It was kind of sweet, in a Jane way. Which meant that as much as it was sweet, it was also deeply troubling. “You don’t think your life is worth as much as mine?”
“You have a future,” he said baldly. “Me…well, you know what my plans are.”
“I know.” Lisbon sighed. “But it’s not about what you believe, or what you think your life is worth. Most of the time, society needs protection from you. But on the occasions when you need protection from society, Jane? I’m not gonna hold back and let you go down without a fight, whatever the outcome. And if you’re not going to fight for yourself, I will. I believe you have a future, a real future, and I’m not giving up on that.”
He was having trouble meeting her eyes now. He looked down, squeezed her hand. This silence, the lack of eye contact, it seemed to be characteristic of Jane when his thoughts were in turmoil. When he was trying to make sure she could glean nothing if his control slipped. She was surprised at her maternal urge to ruffle his hair, to soothe him as he mulled things over, but he had hold of one hand and she wasn’t game to try moving her other arm yet, and maybe it was for the best, anyhow. This was new ground for her and Jane and she didn’t want to test the boundaries just yet.
“You’re going to have to trust me, Jane.”
“Trust you,” he repeated.
“You told me you did, remember? I’m not in any condition for a trust fall right now, so you don’t get to take it back,” she told him. “Look, this last case, I call it a win. We got the happy ending- you’re alive, I’m alive, and the wrongdoer isn’t going to hurt anyone ever again. You’re going to have to trust me, when things go bad, to be able to save you and to get out myself. None of this self-sacrificing crap, you understand? Don’t fall on your sword because you think I can’t handle the situation. Don’t doubt me like that.”
Another few moments passed in quiet contemplation, and then her breath caught as his head came up in a sudden movement, animated once more. “I have never doubted your abilities, Lisbon.” Jane smiled. “You’re a force to be reckoned with out in the field and I pity the fools that stand in your way.”
“Oh. Thanks,” she said, a little taken aback by the transition from silent statue to Cheshire Cat. Jane had bounced back, he was resilient like that. She just hoped that something of what she said had sunk in. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
He wasn’t done yet. “You are a great agent, the best that I have encountered. Fair, fiercely loyal, determined, compassionate,” he smiled brilliantly as she stared at him, bemused by the new line of conversation. “A few of the many reasons why I love you.”
Lisbon choked. Normally, breathing came naturally to her but just this once, air somehow went down the wrong pipe and she choked. Jane relinquished her hand and poured her a glass of water which she gratefully accepted, still sputtering.
When she was finally able to breathe without coughing and her eyes had stopped watering, Jane was watching her with an amused expression. “I knew you were uncomfortable with sentimental talk but I didn’t realize it would cause you respiratory distress.”
“Shut up, Jane,” she muttered, embarrassed by her reaction, even as she was warmed by the memory of his words, the sincerity in his eyes. She hoped he never ever said anything like that to her again because she didn’t have a clue how to respond, but she appreciated the sentiment.
Lisbon placed the glass against her heated cheeks, and as he opened his mouth, she pointed a threatening finger at him. “If you make a single comment about reading my mind right now, so help me, I will club you over the head with that IV pole.”
“Consider me cowed into submission,” he said, looking anything but.
Lisbon narrowed her eyes at him. She was getting better at reading him, she knew what he’d done. Flipped her earlier trick of misdirection right back on her to distract her from applying pressure on those sensitive sore spots on his soul, make her forget that vulnerable man she’d just seen. Restore their usual dynamics. It was okay, she’d let him get away with it.
Partly because she had heard the truth in his voice, and although she didn’t want to ascribe any deeper significance to them, his words had made her feel an odd fizzing combination of contentment and delight. And no, she didn't feel like examining her reaction too deeply, either.
But she also let it go because she figured he needed some space. After that dreadfully serious, somber conversation, he had some things to work out for himself, on his own.
Although he showed no signs of budging from his chair anytime soon. Which was a problem. “Jane?”
“Mmm-hmm?’
“It’s- I don’t know what time it is, but it’s late. I’m going to get some more sleep.” She waited for him to get the hint.
“Okay.”
She frowned. “I can’t do that with you just sitting here, watching me.”
“Really? Huh. You were doing an admirable job of that just before.”
“Yeah, but now I know you’re here.”
He looked curious. “And that would prevent you from sleeping?”
“Yes. It would. It would make me uncomfortable.”
“I don’t feel uncomfortable when you watch me sleeping on the couch at work.”
“I- what? I do not!”
“Sure you do. You think I’m adorable-”
“If anything,” she cut in hastily, “I think you’re a pain in the ass, and that you should be working instead of lounging around like you don’t have a job.”
“That’s what you say now, but you told a different story under heavy medication.”
Lisbon closed her eyes for a long moment. “If I find out the team left me alone with you while I was drugged out of my mind…” Words failed her at the thought of Jane persuading her to confide all her deepest, darkest secrets to him. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Maybe I’ll wake up and this will all be just a nightmare.”
“Come on, Lisbon. It can’t be that hard. You can fall asleep in the car with me at the wheel, after all.”
“Yeah, but the point is that you’re driving, not watching me sleep.”
Jane tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. “Oh! What if I closed my eyes?” he suggested, with the air of one who’d had a stroke of genius.
“What?”
“Your main objection is the thought of being observed while you’re in a vulnerable state. But if I close my eyes, you shouldn’t have a problem,” he said in a reasonable tone.
She thumped her head against her pillow a few times, and stared up at the ceiling. Frankly, she didn’t have the energy to come up with an argument to refute him. “Fine, if I can’t get rid of you, then- yeah, fine, you do that.”
Lisbon shut her eyes, determined to get some rest despite the distraction of his presence. They almost flew open again when she felt his hand grasp hers but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Night, Jane,” she murmured and, despite the thought that she shouldn’t encourage him, she squeezed his hand, then smiled as he interlaced their fingers.
“Night, Lisbon. Sweet dreams.”
She wouldn’t tell him this, but she slept better that night than she had in ages, and her dreams were of a future bright with hope and promise.
---
The end. :D