Masquerades (1/1)
Title: Masquerades
Author: tromana
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lisbon, Van Pelt
Summary: Van Pelt considers her relationship with her boss.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for miss_peg as a part of the Holiday Fics challenge.
Masquerades
You watch as her hand twitches nervously. Then, she picks out her pen, the one with the chewed cap on it, the one she always uses when she’s nervous, or irritated, or annoyed, or worried. Instinctively, she starts tapping it against her desk, just as you expect her to.
Tap, tap, tap.
She doesn’t even notice you observing her. Either that or she doesn’t care, which is far less likely. You know Lisbon doesn’t like being scrutinized, being treated like an animal caged in the zoo. She doesn’t tolerate it with Jane, so why the hell should she tolerate it with you?
That’s the point, really. She wouldn’t, so she can’t have realized.
She’s too preoccupied for that.
There’s a very finite list of things that could lead to such a state. It’s always something personal, something close to her.
Over the years you’ve worked under her tutelage, she has slowly opened up. Not by much, but a little bit. It’s satisfying, whenever she dares to share a tiny scrap of detail about herself. It’s like she’s at least trying to show willing, to break down the barriers that she’s built between herself and other people. Between the two of you. But still, it’s enough for you to consider it a bond, a friendship, of sorts. It had been enough for you to ask her to be your bridesmaid (and for her to accept, though sometimes you do wonder if Jane had hypnotized her into saying yes.)
But all that’s beside the point. It doesn’t explain what’s wrong with her right here, right now.
Realistically, even you know there are only three things that have her so on edge. Her brothers and their families, something having happened to one of them (most likely, Tommy) and her waiting impatiently for news. Some kind of threat to her job, whether that be an ex-convict she put behind bars out for revenge or in-house manipulation.
Or Jane.
There’s all manner of things Jane can (and does) do to anger her so. Crazy stunts, chasing up supposed Red John leads and him not opening up about. Him risking his own life (and that of other people) just to show how clever he is.
Him pushing her away…
Lisbon thinks she has herself all masked up, that nobody can tell when she’s really hurting. She protects her inner demons fiercely and justifiably so. It’s only recently that you’ve begun to understand why someone would want to do such a thing. To cut themselves off from the rest of the world, to pretend they were fine when really, they were far from it.
If you could pretend that Craig hadn’t hurt you so terribly, you would. But you can’t. She knows, they all know. And they all know how to get inside your shell already. It’s too late.
You run a hand through your hair before taking a sip of coffee. Still, you’re watching her. She knows how to help you, but you can’t do the same for her. It’s just not fair. You just wish you could go and offer her your help, your support.
She stares at her phone determinedly. It doesn’t ring. The pen keeps tapping against her desk.
If only you had the words, the confidence, to try and make everything that little bit easier for her. The ability to tell her that you’re there for her, just like she is for you.
Problem is you just don’t know how.
Author: tromana
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lisbon, Van Pelt
Summary: Van Pelt considers her relationship with her boss.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for miss_peg as a part of the Holiday Fics challenge.
Masquerades
You watch as her hand twitches nervously. Then, she picks out her pen, the one with the chewed cap on it, the one she always uses when she’s nervous, or irritated, or annoyed, or worried. Instinctively, she starts tapping it against her desk, just as you expect her to.
Tap, tap, tap.
She doesn’t even notice you observing her. Either that or she doesn’t care, which is far less likely. You know Lisbon doesn’t like being scrutinized, being treated like an animal caged in the zoo. She doesn’t tolerate it with Jane, so why the hell should she tolerate it with you?
That’s the point, really. She wouldn’t, so she can’t have realized.
She’s too preoccupied for that.
There’s a very finite list of things that could lead to such a state. It’s always something personal, something close to her.
Over the years you’ve worked under her tutelage, she has slowly opened up. Not by much, but a little bit. It’s satisfying, whenever she dares to share a tiny scrap of detail about herself. It’s like she’s at least trying to show willing, to break down the barriers that she’s built between herself and other people. Between the two of you. But still, it’s enough for you to consider it a bond, a friendship, of sorts. It had been enough for you to ask her to be your bridesmaid (and for her to accept, though sometimes you do wonder if Jane had hypnotized her into saying yes.)
But all that’s beside the point. It doesn’t explain what’s wrong with her right here, right now.
Realistically, even you know there are only three things that have her so on edge. Her brothers and their families, something having happened to one of them (most likely, Tommy) and her waiting impatiently for news. Some kind of threat to her job, whether that be an ex-convict she put behind bars out for revenge or in-house manipulation.
Or Jane.
There’s all manner of things Jane can (and does) do to anger her so. Crazy stunts, chasing up supposed Red John leads and him not opening up about. Him risking his own life (and that of other people) just to show how clever he is.
Him pushing her away…
Lisbon thinks she has herself all masked up, that nobody can tell when she’s really hurting. She protects her inner demons fiercely and justifiably so. It’s only recently that you’ve begun to understand why someone would want to do such a thing. To cut themselves off from the rest of the world, to pretend they were fine when really, they were far from it.
If you could pretend that Craig hadn’t hurt you so terribly, you would. But you can’t. She knows, they all know. And they all know how to get inside your shell already. It’s too late.
You run a hand through your hair before taking a sip of coffee. Still, you’re watching her. She knows how to help you, but you can’t do the same for her. It’s just not fair. You just wish you could go and offer her your help, your support.
She stares at her phone determinedly. It doesn’t ring. The pen keeps tapping against her desk.
If only you had the words, the confidence, to try and make everything that little bit easier for her. The ability to tell her that you’re there for her, just like she is for you.
Problem is you just don’t know how.