Fic--If You'll Be Mine
Title: If You’ll Be Mine
Author: foreverwriting9
Characters/Pairings: Jane/Lisbon
Spoilers: For Wedding in Red
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,088
Summary: “How could I be sad? We solved a case. Two people who deserve each other are getting married. You managed not to be killed.” Two missing scenes from Wedding in Red.
-
“Looks like we’re going to be spending a little bit more time in Napa than we expected.”
“Really?” he asks, pleased and slightly giddy, because he is alive.
Lisbon nods, making her way over to the opening leading onto the roof and peering out at the night. Jane watches her for a moment, trying to commit to his memory palace the way the moonlight slants across her face. "Van Pelt and Rigsby, huh?" he says eventually, making an effort not to sound too smug.
Lisbon turns to look at him over her shoulder. "You knew."
Even in the dim light of the steeple she can make out his grin. "I could see the box in Rigsby's pocket," he admits with a shrug. "That and he had the air of a man about to commit himself."
She glances back up at the sky, thinking over her recent interactions with Rigsby. "I didn't notice,” she says, musing.
"Well," he says slowly, moving to stand beside her and stare up at the stars, "it is my job to notice things like that." He pauses, giving her an opening for some sort of biting comment. When all he gets in response is a noncommittal hum, he frowns. This isn't normal, everyday Lisbon. Something happened while she was watching Van Pelt get her happily ever after, and he wishes he'd been there, to see her, to comfort her, to do something for her. It would have been a million times better than almost falling off a roof.
“You’re sad,” he observes, tilting his head as he turns to look at her thoughtfully.
Lisbon finally tears her gaze away from the sky, eyes narrowing at him. "What? No, I’m fine,” she replies, trying to hold onto the happiness she knows she should feel for their finally married teammates. (It slips and swirls away from her, leaving an icy weight in the pit of her stomach.) “How could I be sad? We solved a case. Two people who deserve each other are getting married. You managed not to be killed-"
"There it is," he says, giving her a small smile.
She's full on scowling at him now, and it sends a spurt of warmth through the cold ache of his bones. "There's what?"
He shakes his head, letting their conversation lapse into silence as he returns his attention to the darkness surrounding them. Lisbon watches him for a few more seconds before sighing. “All in all, it wasn’t a very bad day,” she says softly, and Jane suddenly remembers the feel of her curls between his fingers.
“It most certainly was not,” he agrees.
Off in the distance, they can hear the faint strains of music from the wedding reception, occasionally drowned out by the sound of laughter. He can’t help but wonder what a wedding with Lisbon would be like. Full of laughter, if she found the right man. Bright. Blindingly beautiful. Perfect. He swallows thickly, too aware of how lucid his daydream has become.
“I think I’ve spent more than enough time up on this roof,” he says quickly, backing away from the opening in the wall. Disappointment twists at Lisbon’s mouth for a split second, and it stops him in his tracks. She’s his partner, his friend, and she deserves so much more. “Come along, dear.” His hand moves to press familiarly against her back of its own accord, guiding her toward him. “If we hurry up we can catch the last of the festivities.”
She rolls her eyes at him, but leans back into his touch slightly before reaching down for the ladder. (He counts that as a victory.)
“Maybe even a dance,” Jane adds quietly, once she’s out of earshot. Because yes, she deserves more, but he is a selfish man and she is everything he forgot he needed.
Lisbon finds him sitting on a bench outside the courthouse, staring off into the space where the carriage sat only moments before. He looks years away, and for a moment, she can see everything etched across his face. (It stops her heart.)
She clears her throat, giving him a moment to fix his mask, then slides in next to him. "It was a nice ceremony," she says, squinting up into the afternoon sun.
"Yes," Jane agrees, gaze still fixed on the street, "it was." His hands fall uselessly into his lap, fingers twisting at his ring.
Lisbon bites her lip, thinking. Of anyone else, she is the one who most often succeeds in pulling Jane out of his melancholy moods, and she feels the weight of that responsibility heavy across her shoulders. "What about McAllister?" she tries eventually, since they haven't really had time to discuss any new developments in the case during the past twenty-four hours. "Do you think he’s Red John?"
Jane finally turns to look at her, the corners of his mouth quirking into a pained expression. "I'm not sure," he says. "He might be or he might not be."
She hates the hopelessness hanging in the blue of his eyes. "Well,” she points out, inching closer to him until her elbow nudges his, “he's clearly not afraid of heights.”
A shiver runs up his spine at the thought of the roof and the dark and the potential serial killer's hand wrapped around his. "True," he says, "unless Red John lied to Sophie about that."
Lisbon shakes her head. “Why would he do that?”
“Why does he do any number of things?” Jane asks, voice suddenly sharp with anger. He turns away from her, the rage seeping out of him as quickly as it appeared. His shoulders slump as he looks back toward the street, and no one has ever broken her heart as much as he does.
Something like desperation catches in the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. "You're sad," she murmurs, the words falling quietly between them.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, fumbling for his ring again. "We got married on the beach," he remarks eventually.
Oh.
She doesn’t - How does she fix that? Jane gives her a tight smile, understanding. (He’s made up of too broken pieces for one person to handle. Even if that person is his Saint Teresa.) Lisbon reaches for his hand, unsure, but this is the one thing she can give him right now. Jane lets her fingers slip between his, smile turning slow and sweet as he tugs her closer to him. “Thank you,” he whispers, and that’s all he needs to say.