Sorry (1/1)
Title: Sorry
Author: tromana
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: She didn’t know quite how it happened.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for justlook3 as a part of the holiday fics challenge.
Sorry
Cause I know I said I'm sorry but that's not what I meant to say
What I Meant to Say - Daughtry
She was angry.
So was he.
She didn’t want him to throw his life away on a fruitless quest for revenge. It never solved anything. Usually, it made things all the worse, not better. It led to complications and heartache. It meant that people clung onto the past desperately, for far longer than was entirely necessary.
Lisbon also knew that revenge was what had stopped Jane from having the emotional healing he so desperately required.
Besides, he’d already had one reprieve. He’d already suspected that Timothy Carter was Red John and killed him as a result. By a wing and a prayer, he had managed to do something she generally hated: to get away with murder.
Yet, being Jane, for some reason, she found herself not minding quite as much as she should.
But that didn’t stop her from being determined to make him see the light before it killed him. She wouldn’t be made to feel sorry for it, either. This was for his, their, own good. He couldn’t continue fighting for ghosts, he need to live his own life. Get his head out of the sand and realize that life was worth living, and that he didn’t have to remain trapped in the past.
That it didn’t matter how anguished and broken he was, there were still people who cared about him for one reason or another.
Unfortunately, as always, Jane seemed to have other things on his mind.
xxx
She didn’t know quite how it happened.
Free time turned to socializing.
Socializing turned to dinners. Dinners which included the sharing of desserts.
In a way, it was almost inevitable that somewhere along the line, that something more would happen between them.
Part of her hated it, was screaming out about just how wrong the situation was. She was using and abusing a wounded man, somebody she was meant to be assisting. Jane wasn’t meant to become one of her conquests, somebody who meant little more than sex to her. Lisbon didn’t have a particularly good track record at relationships and part of her always doubted as to whether or not she could find somebody to last the distance with.
But equally, she didn’t want him as just a one night stand, either. She knew she was getting sick of them, that she wanted more companionship than just something brief and fleeting for the one night.
Even lone wolves end up wanting to be paired off sooner or later.
There had always been that something she’d shared with Jane and for years, she had tried to deny its presence. Had spent time actively looking in the opposite direction to tell herself she wasn’t feeling these things. That even if she did, she’d end up licking her war wounds because he was just so broken, so focused on the alternative.
Yet, she had stopped fighting, clearly.
And so had he.
Red John was still out there, but neither of them seemed willing to stop this. If anything, they were actively encouraging one another.
This was dangerous, almost too dangerous.
Her heart rate sped up considerably as she deftly undid the buttons to his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she placed a trail of wet kisses down his chest.
xxx
It didn’t last one day.
Nor did it last just the one week.
Things kept going, they kept using one another.
Or that was how it felt, anyway.
They were both still angry at the world, angry at each other, angry at themselves. Both wanted things to get easier.
And Lisbon knew that she, personally, was just sorry that she couldn’t do a better job at fixing him. She wasn’t a band-aid, but equally, it required more than just basic first aid supplies to fix a human being. Especially one with a heart quite as broken as Patrick Jane’s.
It wasn’t as if she was even particularly good at relationships herself, either.
Still, she could only promise to continue doing her best. Or wait, until it was all over again.
xxx
“Sorry,” he said as he kissed her on the knuckles.
And again as he placed another one on her shoulder blades. Once more, when his lips graze against her neck. Finally, when he presses his mouth against her forehead.
He never kissed her on the mouth; for some reason, he just cannot dare to do just that. There’s something too intimate, too precious about the lips for him to dare contact. Lisbon didn’t need him to tell her that; she automatically knew. Worse, she felt the need to be kissed just there, to be shown that he cares about her as much as she did him.
But this was Jane. It was a miracle that he was willing to even go this far with her, never mind anything else. Lisbon knew that she should have been grateful for what she was being given, but instead, all she could feel was the resent for what he was withholding from her. And it wasn’t just the kisses and the like. It was more complicated, more intricate than that. He was still holding her at arm’s length, figuratively speaking. It didn’t matter how much time they spent together, or how physically intimate they were, there was always something missing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he undid the button on her pants and helped her slide them down to the ground.
‘Sorry’ was something he always said these days. Either, he genuinely meant it or it was the worst euphemism he had.
Or both. There was always that possibility, too.
xxx
The call came at five past four am.
Bleary eyed, Lisbon stretched over his prone body for her cell phone. An ADA, one she couldn’t identify at that godforsaken time in the morning, was frantic on the other end of the line. Somehow, she managed to get all the information she needed out of him.
It was only after she bade the man farewell that she woke Jane.
Lisbon hated doing that. Sleep was a rare and precious commodity for him, even more so when they shared a bed. She wasn’t the most settled of sleepers; Lisbon knew that she kept him awake at night with her kicks, wriggles and tossing and turning. Still, every time she suggested he favored sleeping elsewhere, he batted the suggestion away. Insisted he preferred to be close to her, to watch her doze.
Really, she knew that he was scared that if he wasn’t close by, Red John would take her away from him in the dead of the night. By being with her, then he could ensure that, if he couldn’t protect her, he could at least die with her.
Worse, she knew what was coming. The guilt was building up in the pit of her stomach and there was nothing she could do. Couldn’t even delay the inevitable, as it was her duty to attend the crime scene.
“Case?” he asked, his eyes bleary with sleep.
She nodded.
“Red John?”
Again, she nodded. There was no point in lying to him. Besides, he’d worked it out without her even having to say a word.
He was dressed and ready to leave within a minute. It felt like it took an eternity and equally, no time at all to get to the destination.
Somehow, it didn’t seem real until they both saw that smiley face on the wall. The blood hadn’t even dried completely, was still glistening under the lamplight. Lisbon watched Jane warily as he approached it, almost rapt. She didn’t need his skills to know what he was thinking of. That he was trapped back in the moment, remembering what it was like to be faced with the face indicating that his wife and child had been brutally slain.
Automatically, she touched his arm with two fingers. Something she had done before and something, she imagined that she would have to do again in the future.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Though really, what did she have to be sorry for? She was doing her best and what more could he ask for?
Really?
xxx
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
This time, there’s no worrying about whether or not it was a euphemism.
Lisbon knew because, for once, it was her doing the apologizing.
And, and…
She shook her head.
Instead, she dug the keys out of her pocket and placed them in the palm of his hand. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes and she silently cursed at herself. What was wrong with her? She always knew that it would come to this. Given the choice, she was always second best. Never the one he really wanted. It didn’t matter that Angela could never come back, she had always known, deep down, that he resented her on some level.
Lisbon had seen Red John consume him time and time again. She had tried to stop it, thought she could control it. But she was wrong. As per usual. When it came to Jane, she always underestimated him. Always believed that one day, he would see that revenge was a fool’s game.
She had to get out of there.
Not because she didn’t love him - she did and desperately so - but for her own sanity. She couldn’t continue playing second fiddle to a ghost.
Author: tromana
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: She didn’t know quite how it happened.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for justlook3 as a part of the holiday fics challenge.
Sorry
Cause I know I said I'm sorry but that's not what I meant to say
What I Meant to Say - Daughtry
She was angry.
So was he.
She didn’t want him to throw his life away on a fruitless quest for revenge. It never solved anything. Usually, it made things all the worse, not better. It led to complications and heartache. It meant that people clung onto the past desperately, for far longer than was entirely necessary.
Lisbon also knew that revenge was what had stopped Jane from having the emotional healing he so desperately required.
Besides, he’d already had one reprieve. He’d already suspected that Timothy Carter was Red John and killed him as a result. By a wing and a prayer, he had managed to do something she generally hated: to get away with murder.
Yet, being Jane, for some reason, she found herself not minding quite as much as she should.
But that didn’t stop her from being determined to make him see the light before it killed him. She wouldn’t be made to feel sorry for it, either. This was for his, their, own good. He couldn’t continue fighting for ghosts, he need to live his own life. Get his head out of the sand and realize that life was worth living, and that he didn’t have to remain trapped in the past.
That it didn’t matter how anguished and broken he was, there were still people who cared about him for one reason or another.
Unfortunately, as always, Jane seemed to have other things on his mind.
xxx
She didn’t know quite how it happened.
Free time turned to socializing.
Socializing turned to dinners. Dinners which included the sharing of desserts.
In a way, it was almost inevitable that somewhere along the line, that something more would happen between them.
Part of her hated it, was screaming out about just how wrong the situation was. She was using and abusing a wounded man, somebody she was meant to be assisting. Jane wasn’t meant to become one of her conquests, somebody who meant little more than sex to her. Lisbon didn’t have a particularly good track record at relationships and part of her always doubted as to whether or not she could find somebody to last the distance with.
But equally, she didn’t want him as just a one night stand, either. She knew she was getting sick of them, that she wanted more companionship than just something brief and fleeting for the one night.
Even lone wolves end up wanting to be paired off sooner or later.
There had always been that something she’d shared with Jane and for years, she had tried to deny its presence. Had spent time actively looking in the opposite direction to tell herself she wasn’t feeling these things. That even if she did, she’d end up licking her war wounds because he was just so broken, so focused on the alternative.
Yet, she had stopped fighting, clearly.
And so had he.
Red John was still out there, but neither of them seemed willing to stop this. If anything, they were actively encouraging one another.
This was dangerous, almost too dangerous.
Her heart rate sped up considerably as she deftly undid the buttons to his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she placed a trail of wet kisses down his chest.
xxx
It didn’t last one day.
Nor did it last just the one week.
Things kept going, they kept using one another.
Or that was how it felt, anyway.
They were both still angry at the world, angry at each other, angry at themselves. Both wanted things to get easier.
And Lisbon knew that she, personally, was just sorry that she couldn’t do a better job at fixing him. She wasn’t a band-aid, but equally, it required more than just basic first aid supplies to fix a human being. Especially one with a heart quite as broken as Patrick Jane’s.
It wasn’t as if she was even particularly good at relationships herself, either.
Still, she could only promise to continue doing her best. Or wait, until it was all over again.
xxx
“Sorry,” he said as he kissed her on the knuckles.
And again as he placed another one on her shoulder blades. Once more, when his lips graze against her neck. Finally, when he presses his mouth against her forehead.
He never kissed her on the mouth; for some reason, he just cannot dare to do just that. There’s something too intimate, too precious about the lips for him to dare contact. Lisbon didn’t need him to tell her that; she automatically knew. Worse, she felt the need to be kissed just there, to be shown that he cares about her as much as she did him.
But this was Jane. It was a miracle that he was willing to even go this far with her, never mind anything else. Lisbon knew that she should have been grateful for what she was being given, but instead, all she could feel was the resent for what he was withholding from her. And it wasn’t just the kisses and the like. It was more complicated, more intricate than that. He was still holding her at arm’s length, figuratively speaking. It didn’t matter how much time they spent together, or how physically intimate they were, there was always something missing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he undid the button on her pants and helped her slide them down to the ground.
‘Sorry’ was something he always said these days. Either, he genuinely meant it or it was the worst euphemism he had.
Or both. There was always that possibility, too.
xxx
The call came at five past four am.
Bleary eyed, Lisbon stretched over his prone body for her cell phone. An ADA, one she couldn’t identify at that godforsaken time in the morning, was frantic on the other end of the line. Somehow, she managed to get all the information she needed out of him.
It was only after she bade the man farewell that she woke Jane.
Lisbon hated doing that. Sleep was a rare and precious commodity for him, even more so when they shared a bed. She wasn’t the most settled of sleepers; Lisbon knew that she kept him awake at night with her kicks, wriggles and tossing and turning. Still, every time she suggested he favored sleeping elsewhere, he batted the suggestion away. Insisted he preferred to be close to her, to watch her doze.
Really, she knew that he was scared that if he wasn’t close by, Red John would take her away from him in the dead of the night. By being with her, then he could ensure that, if he couldn’t protect her, he could at least die with her.
Worse, she knew what was coming. The guilt was building up in the pit of her stomach and there was nothing she could do. Couldn’t even delay the inevitable, as it was her duty to attend the crime scene.
“Case?” he asked, his eyes bleary with sleep.
She nodded.
“Red John?”
Again, she nodded. There was no point in lying to him. Besides, he’d worked it out without her even having to say a word.
He was dressed and ready to leave within a minute. It felt like it took an eternity and equally, no time at all to get to the destination.
Somehow, it didn’t seem real until they both saw that smiley face on the wall. The blood hadn’t even dried completely, was still glistening under the lamplight. Lisbon watched Jane warily as he approached it, almost rapt. She didn’t need his skills to know what he was thinking of. That he was trapped back in the moment, remembering what it was like to be faced with the face indicating that his wife and child had been brutally slain.
Automatically, she touched his arm with two fingers. Something she had done before and something, she imagined that she would have to do again in the future.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Though really, what did she have to be sorry for? She was doing her best and what more could he ask for?
Really?
xxx
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
This time, there’s no worrying about whether or not it was a euphemism.
Lisbon knew because, for once, it was her doing the apologizing.
And, and…
She shook her head.
Instead, she dug the keys out of her pocket and placed them in the palm of his hand. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes and she silently cursed at herself. What was wrong with her? She always knew that it would come to this. Given the choice, she was always second best. Never the one he really wanted. It didn’t matter that Angela could never come back, she had always known, deep down, that he resented her on some level.
Lisbon had seen Red John consume him time and time again. She had tried to stop it, thought she could control it. But she was wrong. As per usual. When it came to Jane, she always underestimated him. Always believed that one day, he would see that revenge was a fool’s game.
She had to get out of there.
Not because she didn’t love him - she did and desperately so - but for her own sanity. She couldn’t continue playing second fiddle to a ghost.