Title: Anchor
Summary: She falls even further. (Companion piece to "Atonement.")
AN; Small accompanying piece for "Atonement" from Lisbon's POV. This should make sense on it's own though (bear in mind that it's a tad non-canon in that Jane didn't get RJ) Once again, thank you for the positive reviews for all my pieces – it's incredibly gratifying to know people enjoy what you've written. So, yeah, here it is & reviews are loved like…..something that's loved a lot…like Jane loves Lisbon. Nope, too sappy.
X
The first time she saw someone die, she was twenty one. There was more blood than she'd ever expected and she waited until she got back to her apartment to cry.
When she first meets him, she sees a dead man walking and wonders if there is anything good left in the world.
X
She gives him a chance because she is Saint Teresa. And because there's a look in his eye that she recognises (it is despair and she knows it so well – her father wore it and it tore him apart) She sees something in him that she cannot place and it intrigues her – she wants to work him out, like a puzzle. She fixes things – not him because he is unfixable and grieving and irretrievable – but she wants to see if she can maybe put a solitary piece of him back.
When she slowly learns things about him (he likes jazz and he reads classic literature because everything since is mere imitation – "nothing is original any more, Lisbon – it's all just a poor derivative") she feels a sense of excitement that she buries as deep as she can. She slowly considers him a friend (and she ignores how she has started to dream of him because she is who she is and so is he) but she doesn't trust him because he has an agenda and she knows that. She knows it contradicts everything she has pledged her life to (she upholds the law because justice prevails - it has to because the alternative for her is unimaginable)
To take a life is a mortal sin.
So she prays for him at church.
Because no-one else will.
X
She can't remember when her team became her bizarre surrogate family (all four of them, her motley crew, her band of brothers) - she thinks it might have been one ridiculously long drive to their next case – all crammed into the same vehicle and it's too hot and all the windows are down because they can hardly breathe. And she's driving (obviously) and he's next to her and she laughs at his jokes and she feels like they are both alive, at the same time, and everything is okay. The wind blows her hair and she listens to Cho and Rigsby bicker behind them – Grace is playing the role of referee ("Guys, really, can you be grown ups?") and she realises she doesn't want to be anywhere else. She casts a glance at him and there's a smile (a real, honest genuine smile - he looks happy and her heart is close to bursting) He turns to look at her from the passenger seat – when her eyes meet his, she feels electric.
It only occurs to her later that day (alone in the motel room and thinking of him, again) that she's in trouble.
X
She counts everyone one of the one hundred and eighty seven days he is gone. She hates him for leaving but she hates him even more for making her feel this way.
She forgives him because she has to – she can't change who he is and this is him – tortured and obsessed and she knew what she was getting into, but never how far.
He buys her donuts (her favourite - he always knows her favourite everything and she wonders how she became so easy to read) and she lets him sit on her couch – they slow regain ground that had never really been lost. He was always going to go and she was always going to forgive him.
It's just how they work.
She is strong like an anchor and there is no other way.
She tallies his sins against him and loses count. He isn't perfect and neither is she (her hands are stained with blood too and she can never forget the things that she has done.)
She goes to confession and it is too quiet for her words.
(His mind is set on a mission of vengeance, Father. And I think I am in love with him.)
X
Her mother had always told her to be strong.
So she was.
She was strong when she stood in their house like a good daughter, the black dress itching her neck, holding back the tears and she was strong people told her what a good woman Marie was (they were dressed all in black too, with grieving expressions and flowers that she thought were worthless because they would die too) She was strong when her father lost himself in alcohol and she had a target on her back.
She was strong because she had to be. There was no other way.
She was Saint Teresa (she hated the name - she was no saint – her thoughts betrayed her and she felt condemned) She held everyone else up and so then, she couldn't fall apart.
She finds him in his attic (she didn't have to think) and she won't fall apart on him either.
"I'm sorry." She wasn't. I'm glad you are here and you didn't triumph and you are here, with me, and things could have been so different but they aren't. She feels selfish and she has started to dislike herself for being this way where he is concerned. She reaches for him because she can – because he is there and so is she and the man who took everything is no longer.
His hand entwined with hers. And it is as if the world has stopped for a moment. She has never wanted anything back from him (never asked, never hoped because there is a web of things that she cannot hope to untangle) but she knows that something is happening here and she just can't face losing him.
"I don't know what to do." They are quiet because it's them and they don't need words – never have. He is stroking her hand and she tries not to let herself feel. She has to be strong and this isn't a fairy tale.
"You could stay." Her voice is husky and she wants to be a better person –wants to be enough for him and she fears she never will. "I would like it if you did." She considers every word and it is as though each beat of her heart betrays everything she has tried so hard to hide.
"Why?" He never changes (he always tests her and forces her hand – she likes it more than she should) She doesn't know where to begin. Because I need you. Because I've forgotten what it's like to not to want you. He has no reason to stay here, in this place where so much has been lost.
"You already know why." But she is honest and strong and her mother would be proud.
He kisses her and she falls even further.
X
They don't change and yet , they do.
He is still Patrick Jane - irritating and charming and he drives her crazy (in every way possible) She is still Saint Teresa – all sarcasm and tenacity and he whispers in the dead of night how much he loves her (and it never gets old) They tease each other and she kisses him to win an argument and whispers her plans for him that evening to beat him at poker. He brings her coffee in bed and she learns to like tea and she doesn't know how to tell him that everything is going to change soon; but he reads her like a book and the baby monitor appears one morning in the kitchen, with a bow – she glares at him and then kisses him because she can and they are so far from where they were.
And so it goes.
Their son looks just like them (cheeky and mischievous - she didn't understand that she could love this much) and her heart is so full of their life together. Their son crawls and then walks and then another bump appears ("you're sure?" he asks and her voice is light when she replies - "three pregnancy tests" - he lifts her into his arms, her legs around his waist, he spins her round and she doesn't care that they are a cliché)
She gets older (and maybe wiser) and the babysitter calls her "Mrs Jane" (Friday date nights - they stumble and giggle to their bed – she pulls him towards her and it is still so good) Their boys beg them for a dog and Baxter ends up chasing them all round the garden on hazy summer afternoons – she laughs so much she could cry and he holds her as if she were his anchor (in the midst of passion and ecstasy, she tells him that it's the other way around). Their perfect little family is tiring and exhausting and everything she wished for – they have two lively boys that she can't imagine her life without (they cuddle sleepily next to her on the sofa - his arm is around her and he kisses her hair because he can and she wonders when life became this good)
He calls her his strength and she knows now that it works both ways. Because he is hers.
FIN.