Title: Shattered Reality

Author: Little Firestar

Word count: 4668

Rating: M

Summary: The Lisbon in his arms was very, very, real, still, he couldn't help but stealing a glance at what he knew was just a fragment of his imagination. It wasn't his biggest dream coming true, but simply before his eyes. But it was enough, for Now., Because now he had Lisbon in his arms. Tag to 5.2, M rated.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the Mentalist. Unless Heller gave them to me over night… which I doubt.

Spoilers: Season five

He took a first, almost tentative, sip of hot tea. The brown liquid burned its way down his body, but Jane shivered. Out of fear or regret, he didn't know.

He stared at the Tiffany blue cup in wonder, the liquid as still as his life. Had it been enough to have hallucinations? And what was he going to see? He didn't know. He thought that it was the main reason he was a bit afraid of what he had done. Was he going to see Charlotte again? Or maybe his beloved Angela… but were they to come, how would they have looked like? Was it going to be a sassy teenager again, a mini Jane, or was it going to be a collection of butchered, talking bodies?

Strange enough, despite having been on the verge of death the same day, prey to convulsions, because of the same poison he had just willingly ingested, he wasn't afraid for his life. His life had never mattered. At least, it didn't any longer. He knew it. He had told as much to Lisbon four years before, and she had tried her best to change his mind in that occasions.

The only result, had been that he had shoot and killed his only clue, his only lead to Red John to save her life, without second guessing his actions for even a second. He hadn't thought about her in that moment- because he wasn't thinking, point. But not thinking about her, had been something he had done too much lately. He had forgotten all about her, had cut her off, claiming to have done so for her own good…

But the truth was, Charlotte, his subconscious, or whatever, was right. It was always about him. it had always been about him. His vanity, his pride, had gotten his family killed, and his arrogant and selfish need for revenge had hurt her in the process. And he was still hurting her…. but he wasn't sure that being aware of this was going to be enough. Changing was hard. Forgetting was hard. And moving on, even more so.

He took a big breath at closed eyes, and inhaled deeply the scent of his beverage of choice, he willed his eyes open, and stared out of the window, his eyes gently and sadly gazing over the lights of the night skyline of Sacramento. He did it again and again, wondering if another sip was in order to get what he hoped, what he was craving right now.

The cup was already skimming over his lips when something- or better yet, someone – awoke him from his reverie, bringing him back to reality.

"I can't believe I thought you were saying the truth!" He stood, and the teacup ended up in pieces on the pavement, and all he could do was looking at her in silence. Lisbon hadn't talked out loud, her words had been a mere whisper but it had been enough to bring him back to reality. Her tears, her silence, her shattered and broken expression was all he needed to fall into pieces and regret everything that he had just done, and even more, and he now knew that asking forgiveness for "whatever you choose, or in general" wasn't going to help him out this time.

"You know what? You are right. You don't have anything to say. it's just my fault. I still keep thinking that you are a good man, and that you may actually care about me. ehy, if I haven't understood that you lie and mislead people just for your own benefit, it's my fault, really."

She shook her head and moved for the stairs, but he tried to reach for her. Lisbon abruptly turned just when he was a breath away from her, and dared him to get any closer, to try to touch her. "I… I told you that I wasn't going to do that for the case. But, just… try to…"

He once again tried to touch her, and once again she moved out of the way. In her eyes he could see all her emotions, the fear for his sanity, the pain for having had another promise broken, the disgust for what he had done and what he had turned into, and yes…. Even the love she was supposed to hide, from the world and from him. he could see it all so clearly, amplifying furthermore her own pain and her fear… all for him, all because of him.

"Understand? What should I understand? It's Belladonna, Jane, it's a poison! You don't believe in the afterlife, you remember? Like you don't believe in ghosts. So, what, you are ready to risk your life for what you know it's a fragment of your imagination? Are you so deep in denial with your life that you need to get high to get in touch with yourself? "

"Lisbon, please, I just…"

"No, no. you know what? That just proves my point. Because if you cared about us… you'd not be doing this. You would ask us for help, or…. But no. Why should you, after all? We are just pawns in your personal agenda against Red John, just… marks, and the hell with the others." She moved away, and took a first step outside the attic, when she stopped and turned. A small smiled graced his lips: maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for them. For him. For being forgiven. "Good luck with your ghosts. I hope they'll keep you warm at night."

After she had left, he looked at the door for the longest time, still, motionless. His mind was almost completely empty, he just kept hoping that she would return, that she would take him in her arms to tell him everything was going to be ok.

But Lisbon didn't come.

He run, hoping to catch up with her, and in fact, he found her in her office, busy doing some kind of paperwork connected with the case. She was tense, worried and tired, he could see her massaging her head to fight the incoming migraine. All for him. all because of him. And he couldn't have any of that. Not any longer. Teresa Lisbon was done suffering because of him.

He stormed into her office, and looked at her. His hand was still on the doorknob, but he didn't mutter a word, nor he moved. He simply looked at her teary eyes, because of him, for him, and closed the distance between them, sealing everything with a kiss.

It was slow and tender, but somehow, the caress of the wet tip of his tongue on her mouth awoke an ocean of things to come and memories of erotic, wet dreams collected in almost ten years as Jane's handler; he parted from her, and looked quizzically at Lisbon; he would have said that she would have answered to his kiss, after all… well, her hissy fits had sounded almost like a love confession. Or a confession of supposed unrequired love. Or whatever.

And then… he saw her in the corner, and froze on the spot, hot and cold sweat mixing and making him shiver.

"Jane? Jane? Oh my… I'm…. are you all right?" Lisbon asked, covering her mouth, like tracing her lips with her own fingers would give her the confirmation she was looking for, would tell her that it had happened for real.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm… all right" he smiled, but he knew that he couldn't outsmart Lisbon, not any longer. She always knew when something was wrong with him, and had learnt a long time before that she could see everything in his eyes: Jane could lie to her with his voice, even with his actions, but in his eyes she could always see the truth. Like when she saw the shame and the pain after he had slept with Lorelai. Something he had felt he had to do to get to Red John, a mean to an end, but not something that was in his heart.

Besides, she knew too that he was lying.

"C'mon, go ahead, I know you want to. …" She smiled, all smug and sure and arrogant, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't wearing a jacket, just a tight shirt, partly unbuttoned, and her posture just empathized her cleavage. Out of reflex, he turned to look at Lisbon, and checked her out, his eyes fixated in the same spot, just for comparison. She blushed when she realized what he was doing, and crossed her arms as well, trying to cover her up but just ending up empathizing her assets. "You, Mr. Jane, have a dirty, dirty mind…."

"I think I can spot some lace underneath that shirt. I think dark green." he casually told her, still eyeing her chest like it was nothing and very socially acceptable. "You filled your wardrobe with dark green after I told you it compliments your eyes. I think that you were hoping that I would have eventually gotten a glimpse of it."

"Sheep deep, what the hell are you waiting for? Just take her clothes off! You want to!" She explained, pacing the room and rolling her eyes. Jane barely resisted the urge to grunt out loud and scream at her. Lisbon would have never liked it. She would have been very, very mad with him for that stupidity. Even if his own stupidity was kind of helping him out in regard of the moving on topic.

God, it's harder doing it sober. But, I can't do it like with Lorelai. This is Lisbon. She is important, she is… my everything. It's bad enough I have enough Belladonna in my blood to hallucinate her, I'll not add insult to the insulted.

"Jane?" she asked, reaching tentatively to touch him. her hand burned his skin, and his eyes focused on her tiny finger tracing pattern on his shirt. It felt good, and it made him smile: every time Teresa touched him, he knew it was real, that he wasn't tripping.

"You are not a mark" he told, a bit sad, taking her hand in his own, squeezing it, bringing it to his lips to leave sensual wet, open mouth kisses. "I know it's what you think but you are not. That's why I need to learn to never lie to you, even when I think it's for your own good."

"Jane…" she whispered his name at closed eyes, feeling him getting closer and closer. He engulfed her with his frame, an arm around her waist, the other still playing with her fingers, and pressed their bodies together. She was… kind of, rigid. He didn't know exactly why – fear he didn't know what he was doing or was conning her? unsure that it was the right time or that they were ready to take that next step? – and all he could think bout was how he wanted to change her mind before he would.

"You are cute" he said, pointing the sentence with a sweet, funny kiss on her nose. "I like you" he said more seriously, leaving another kiss, this time on the corner of her lips. "And I've been dreaming of doing this for years." He ended the sentence- almost everything that "Charlotte" had told him in his hallucination – by kissing her fully on the lips. And this time, not only Teresa answered, but she participated, fully.

She freed her hand, and her fingers immediately went to his hair, running through his curls, feeling its texture like she had often fantasized about, and, at the same time, she brought him closer. She hummed in pleasure, and gasped at the same time, when he slowly traced her lips with his tongue, begging for entrance. She allowed him to, and immediately, her tongue went to his, they interlace and sweetly and slowly fought. Even if they weren't sure it was the right word: it was like they were melting, preparing their bodies for what was to come, giving them a taste of the incoming heaven.

She gasped and bit the tip of his tongue, leaking blood, when she felt him against her abdomen: he was hard, and she could feel his dimensions… and she wasn't sure she could actually take something like that. Even if she'd die if she wasn't going to try first.

"I'm very, very happy that it's not a gun in your pocket, Mr. Jane…" she purred from the corner. He shot her a glare, like to order her to shout up. She simply rolled her eyes, in that way that… that she used to do.

"Mmmmm… it's not a gun your pocket, right? Because otherwise, I'd be very, very, disappointed…" Lisbon purred, biting his lobe and making him gasp when she reached for his throbbing hard on; she squeezed it, and Jane was scared that he would be soon coming into his pants.

"See? That's why you are supposed to listen to your subconscious. And to her in general when in doubt." She said, but it wasn't like he was still listening. He didn't care about anything but what was unfolding in his arms: aka, helping Lisbon getting rid of their clothes as quickly as possible, the hell with buttons. Besides, it wasn't like they didn't have a change there with them, so… he was more than glad to give free reign to passion. Having a naked Lisbon in his arms was worth a ruined shirt.

"Ouch. Too bad, I liked that shirt…" she said, making a face, he didn't know if disgusted or sad, disappointed or what. Anyway, he knew she did; after all, he liked that pinstriped shirt as well, but differently from her…. he really, really didn't care.

"Definitely not a gun…" Lisbon giggled once they were both naked, finally, finally, free to touch him without interference of fabric. Her hand immediately went to his length, and she tried her best to circle it, failing to no avail. Neither of them cared: the contact was just right, and when she pumped him, priming his genitalia for their incoming mate, he didn't have anything to say. and if the purring was of any indication, neither did Lisbon.

"Trust me, she isn't the only one happy that's not a gun. Di I already told you that? I guess I did… anyway, just know that…."

It's a not a gun but my cock. Yes, I know. he thought, grunting, ending her sentence. Seriously, when was she going to disappear? He was starting to have enough. And he didn't want an audience for his first time with Lisbon. Even if it was her.

"mmm…I wonder how deep it can go…." Lisbon purred against his neck, biting his skin. He already could feel a hickey forming there- like he could feel her tongue lapping at his blood, soothing the small ache – and wondered if he could cover it with the collar of his shirt. Or maybe…

"Uhm. I think she should have same bb cream. It's a kind of moisturizing cream, that takes the color of the skin, more or less, and…" He mentally shout her up. He didn't need for her to tell him what a bb cream was. For God's sake, he watched TV! "Well, at least you'll not have to be worried about showing an hickey there. unless you are planning of going to the bathroom with Cho or Rigsby?" she smirked, and he wondered what she meant, until his eyes didn't fall on Lisbon…

On her knees, licking her lips and staring in wonder and perverted fascination, and yes, intent, to his cock.

"Teresa?" he asked, almost fearful, but as he said so…. "TERESA!" he screamed, when she just, like that, took his cock in her mouth and started deep throating him without blinking.

"I think that's what she meant when she asked herself how deep it could go…." She told him, getting closer and closer and looking at their performance with intent, like they were animals to study, mating between the walls of a zoo or a research center instead that on the carpet of her office. "Grab her head, you know you want to…" she said, moaning, her breathing uneven and accelerated, heavy. When he turned to look at her and see why, Jane saw her sitting on Lisbon's desk, fully naked, her legs wide open, and she was touching herself, two fingers thrusting in and out of her to the knuckles, the other hand keeping her lips open so that he could see what she was doing for him and because of him.

Well, that, he didn't mind damming, had been something he had fantasied about. And that he wouldn't mind asking Lisbon. He really, really, really hoped that the way she was sucking him dry, enjoying his firm grip on her hair, the way he was slamming her face against his groin, indicated that she wasn't a prude.

"Mmm…. All the dirty, kinky things you could do together…." She moaned, still mounting her hand, but no longer lazily, very, very harshly, like she was enjoying their show, and was going along with their rhythm. "Well.. not that fucking into the office isn't kinky….especially if you'll come in her mouth!" She giggled, gasping when her hand touched a particularly sensitive spot full of nerve endings in her core.

"NO!" he screamed, and when he realized she was right: he was on the verge of coming in her mouth, and it wasn't like their first time was supposed to be.

"Spoilsport" she grunted, putting back on her clothes, like denying Teresa Lisbon her oral fixation had killed off the mood. "You know what? I'm leaving!"

He simply smiled lazily, forcing Teresa to let it go of his cock and forcing her to lean on the carpet. He was well aware of the carpet burns he was going to cause, but the couch wasn't big enough to make love to her- because that was what it was going to be - and frankly, he hoped she would be proud of any mark he would inflict upon her body in the throes of passion.

He kisses her, lazily, but tender and with intent. It was a making out session, slowly building the tension and the increasing need in them and between them. He reached for her core, just skimming it with his finger. He felt for it, and she gasped. Teresa was all wet and ready, swollen with need. She was aroused…. So aroused…. How long had she thought about that, about them?

"Jane…." she whispered his name between kisses, as he carefully opened her legs for his penetration.

"Patrick…" he corrected her, eyes semi-open to see her, and let her vision of woman, his woman, filled with pleasure, engulf his whole being. "I'm Patrick… just Patrick…."

"My Patrick…" she moaned, and then reached again for his lips. They kissed, not lazily any longer, but harshly, and in that instant, Jane joined their bodies, entering her to the hilt in just one move, so wet she was.

He started to move carefully inside and out of her, letting his weight forced on his forearms to not crush her, but she embraced his ass with her legs, pushing her inside her furthermore. He didn't desist, though, although she giggled and he gulped. He kept moving in and out, leaving the trap of her body just few inches at time, and then slowly and carefully giving her those few inches back.

"Mmm…. More…" Teresa moaned against his neck, and he just did as she desired.

He started to slam inside and out of her, he left her body completely to just let himself in back again, again and again, without caring for her comfort, without caring how much her convulsing core was trying to trap him inside, this new kind of penetration was enough to send her immediately in multiple orgasm, an orgasm made ten, thousands time stronger when he bit a nipple, rolling it with his tongue. She arched against his grinning and smug frame, and he ate her screams with his swollen and hungry lips. She was convulsing beneath him, but he trapped her, kept her steady with strong, rough hands- talented hands, hands of a magician, hands she hoped he would try on her.

He clenched his teeth, sweat running over his body and falling over her oversensitive skin. He was fighting hard to keep an iron control over his body, and yes, he survived her orgasm: he kept fucking her, and he was able to do so until he didn't dare to lift his face, his eyes, from her breasts, and saw her, just… Teresa. It wasn't about vulnerable and open. It was about how open she was. How she wasn't scared any longer of showing him her feelings. And for the first time, even if he was well aware of her love for him…. he saw just how deep it run.

He joined their forehead, and stilled, rigid in her arms, letting it go, finally. His ejaculation didn't feel like something… bad, a testimony that their lovemaking was over for the time being, but it was… invigorating, like a balm for his soul. He had never felt that connected with her before, never felt that happy, free, empty of any emotion of not love and tenderness, and he thought…. A part of him dared to think… a scary and scared part of him wondered….

Lisbon massaged his head and his back with her hands, not giving a damn about his weight on her, enjoying their intimate connection, a connection of the body and soul, and before falling asleep, he turned to look at the corner, where she had been just until a moment before. And here she was again. Just like… juts like…

He smiled, and so did she, and he fall asleep to Lisbon's soothing breath on his skin.

o-o-o-o-o-o

The next morning, the light coming through the blinds awoke her. It was already morning, but it was quite early. She was well aware that she and Jane were the only ones usually there at that unholy hour, so, as she opened her eyes, she decided to take advantage of the situation for a little longer. They were still both naked, but Jane, the insomniac that he was, had somehow migrated them to her couch at some point in the night. A Plaid cover was draped over their bodies, but Lisbon was quite sure that the heat she could feel didn't have anything to do with. It all to do all with themselves, and, she thought giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, to his morning wood: his throbbing erection was already pushing against her naked abdomen, and from the look of things – and from the drops of precum oozing from his tip, wetting her skin – Jane was having some very interesting, and intense, thoughts.

A second glance reveled the truth: the lines between his eyes were testimony enough that he was, indeed, awake. That stalker. Didn't he know it was creepy looking at people sleeping? Even if she was his partner… well, she still found it creepy. And besides, he was lying to her. He had an impressive erection and didn't use it even if he was awake? Punishment was in need.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, her voice muffled by his own naked chest, her lips busy leaving butterfly kisses on his hot skin.

"I'm not sure I want to tell you. Or that I can, for what it matters" his voice was low, but his eyes told her everything. Even if he was secretive about it, especially because he was so secretive about it, it had to matter, to be important. Just another reason to let her know this big secret.

"Please?" she asked like the little minx she was, her lips on his chin, one hand scratching his chest, and another grabbing his already hard length.

He closed his eyes in bliss, and breathed heavily few times, enjoying the sensations that his throbbing erection engulfed in his hand awoke. Lisbon was slowly and sensually pumping his cock, her thumb rolling the tip, splattering his precum everywhere she could reach.

"I liked being a father again, even if I knew it was just… my imagination." He murmured, almost eating the words. He was slightly getting out of breath, due to her magnificent actions. He could feel himself getting harder in her hand, bigger, and the fact that so many emotions were involved, that there was such a confession in the middle, it made everything… stronger, deeper. He was already on the point of letting it go, and he didn't even care. this moment wasn't about pleasure; Lisbon had intended to use it as a torture, but Jane just wanted to be honest with her, for once. There was no turning back now. "One day, I'd like to do that again. I want to do it again. Eventually."

She stilled, and rearranged herself, so that her eyes were on level with his, leaning on one elbow, her other hand busy nervously playing with her hair- so lost in her thought she wasn't even realizing she was leaving precum all over her head. "Jane, I'm not sure…. I mean… I know that right now it's not… possible…. But…"

He sat up, and took her hand in his own, delicately kissing it, then, he cupped her face, and kissed her, with a smile, for a short while. It was a slow, sensual kiss, more a series of sensual pecks and smacks, but he didn't care. he didn't feel like thrusting his tongue in her mouth, mimicking an action that he craved to do with another part of his body (or even the tongue). It wasn't about just sex. It wasn't just about attraction. It was so, so much more than that…

"Listen, I'm not saying that I'm going to tamper with your birth control pills, or that I'll not use a condom when you'll not be safe…." He told her, very, very casually, like he was talking about the weather or what he had had for dinner the previous evening. Patrick Jane, Lisbon though, blushing, almost embarrassed, like she wasn't in her forties or sure of herself and of her sexuality, was demonstrating to be exactly like she had always pictured him to be. Very, very, very open about all things sex. "… I'm just saying, whatever will happen, I'll be a very happy man, and if… if we will get to him when… if we'll not feel ready any longer, I told you, I'll be happy anyway. And besides, there's always adoption, right? In the meanwhile… I just… think about it, ok? That's all I'm asking."

She smiled, laughed and cried, all at the same time, and Jane eyed her quizzically. Until she didn't attack him again, well aware of the time, lancets ticking quickly, quicker than she liked them. "….In the meanwhile Mr. Jane, as you are a bit rusty and out of shape, I think that we should have another look at this whole baby making stuff you seem so fond of…."

She kissed him deeply on the lips, and with her kiss, she devoured the primal screams of need and desire they made as their bodies joined once more.

Jane didn't even pay attention to her smiling in the background, shaking her head quite happy for the outcome, her hands busy caressing the womb full of life, the long, white dress a vision, his two biggest wishes not coming true, but at least…. There, right before his eyes in some kind of form.

But…well, , she was still just a part of his imagination. The Lisbon in his arms, was indeed real, very, very real.

And one day, she would be a real vision in a long white dress and a womb filled with life created together right before his eyes. And the aisle of a church.