A/N: 50 Things to Say is my new oneshot collection. It's a challenge response to the Fantasy Script's 50 phrases challenge (the link to the website is in my profile if you're interested in having a look). Some of them will also draw on other prompts as well, which I will identify at the beginning of the oneshot.

I won't neglect Scarlet Shorts, I promise. I'm hoping that the '50 Things to Say' oneshots will be longer than the ones I generally write for that.

x tromana

Title: Moving On
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: Jane's psyche is more intelligent than he is.
Disclaimer: Me? Own The Mentalist. Nope, just a fellow fan.
Notes: jello-forever August '09 challenge (again!): Mistakes. Thanks to WildDaisies10 for the beta job as I really wasn't sure of this oneshot.
Challenge Prompt: Marry me?

Moving On

A ghost of a smile traces across his lips. They've been running down the beach and he can't help but break out into a beam at the sight of her long, blonde hair caught on the breeze. She's always been faster than him, so he is panting as he finally catches up. Once he's caught his breath, he gently takes hold of her face and runs a finger down her cheek. The sigh he's treated to in response is just delightful and his fingers soon become entwined in her beautiful locks as they kiss whilst the sun is setting.

Jane likes memories like this. They're scant. He's normally treated with sights of her butchered body, curled up closely to that of their precious daughter. But today, his mind had focussed on that day and he doesn't know why. He's not complaining though, of course. Being treated with visions of the two of them when they were young, carefree and happy is a lot more pleasant than the alternative.

They break apart and when he opens his eyes, it isn't his wife smiling back at him, it's his boss. He frowns as she links arms with him and they carry on walking down the beach, their feet slapping against the wet sand. She whispers his name and he answers, but she doesn't appear to have heard him.

"I'm here, where else would I be?"

He feels a sharp kick in his side and he's awake. Lisbon is looking down at him, with a mixture of confusion and annoyance written over her features. Despite having been so abruptly woken up, it's enough to make Jane grin. After all, only she can get away with such a mix and still look so damn cute whilst she's at it. Besides, he's not sure if he should be grateful or not. He couldn't be entirely sure if he liked the direction that dream was going in, but it wasn't as if it had been unpleasant. He knew what had happened later on that night. It could have made things… embarrassing.

Jane can't seem to get to sleep at all again for the next week, though not for lack of trying. He can see the pity and worry written across Lisbon's features which only makes him feel worse. Contrary to popular opinion, he doesn't like making her mad for no apparent reason. Sure, he likes winding her up so that he is treated to that 'I'm pissed off and I'm not afraid to show it' look, but that was just in jest, even if she didn't always realise it.

He reckons that the exacerbated lack of sleep might be something to do with the last case they had worked on; he often sleeps even less when it involves children. Those ones always seemed to have a habit of triggering even more memories of the bloodshed. It doesn't help that Lisbon always manages to go into her overprotective mode without fail. Jane is fairly certain she doesn't realise it, but being secure in that knowledge isn't enough to stop him from finding it that little bit irksome. The office is virtually empty now, and he swears he can hear her pen scratching away at the last few pieces of paperwork even though he is on the opposite side of the bullpen and there is a closed door between them. The thought of her being close is reassuring, though. After the week they've had, the last thing he expects is sleep so it's comforting to know someone who cares is close by.

They're laying on the beach now, and he is uncharacteristically nervous. Is he about to pull the biggest mistake of his life by completely misjudging the timing? The willowy blonde curled in the crook of his arm simply sighs contentedly. He swallows and she props herself up, looking terribly concerned.

"Marry me," she murmurs.

What? He's the one who is meant to ask that question. He fumbles into the pocket of his jacket that they have been happily reclining on and finds what he is looking for. She gasps in sheer delight and wipes away a tear as the little jewellery box is opened to reveal a simple, yet beautiful engagement ring. Jane slips it carefully on her ring finger and she spends a second simply admiring it.

"Only if you'll marry me," he whispers in return.

She leans back down and he is quite happy to melt into another kiss from those lips that are coated in a rather delicious cherry gloss which just makes them all the more perfect. He feels like it is safe to assume that the answer to his question is a very definite affirmative. Though he didn't think it possible, his smile broadens as she turns her attention to his jaw line, decorating it with feather light kisses. When he opens his eyes, he sees a short, dark bob rather than long, golden curls and Teresa Lisbon looks happier than he's ever seen her before. Ever.

The footsteps are enough to wake him up. When he actually opens his eyes, rather than simply opening them in the dream-state, he finds that Lisbon is looking down at him rather quizzically. And unusually, it's him with the blush creeping unashamedly to his cheeks. Damn it, it's meant to be her face that reddens at the drop of a hat, not his.

"Are you okay, Jane?" she queries.

"Uh, fine, Lisbon. Thanks for asking."

She nods in response, walks away and picks up her bag from the chair she had slung it on before she had walked over to him. Jane scrambles to his feet and rushes to catch up with her before she makes it to the elevator. His mind is still scrambled but for some reason he just has an urgent need to spend more time with her. Later on, he thinks, he'll blame it on the dreams, though they are very quickly becoming just a distant memory. Still, they're what is making him think, feel like this. It certainly isn't logical behaviour, not for him, after all.

"Would you do me the honour of coming out to dinner with me?"

"Jane," she sighs, looking at him as if he has gone slightly mad. He looks at her pleadingly, knowing full well that the puppy dog eyes worked nine times out of ten on her.

"Please?" he whispers, taking hold of her hand which she promptly snatches back.

"Fine."

He beams as the elevator arrives on the third floor. He has a feeling, if she is willing of course, that he definitely won't be responsible for his actions later tonight.

end