Crimson Happiness (jisbon one shots)

After the desert rose

Ahhhh guys! what an amazing premiere, right? I just had to write a one shot for what I would like to happen when Jane finds Lisbon! I promise I'll post part two of Mud, Mangled Bodies and surprisingly Mistletoe right after this!

Patrick Jane had never driven so fast in all his life. If Teresa Lisbon had been her, she would not have approved! The thought almost made him smile till he remembered the direness of the situation. As he remembered he may never see his Lisbon again. He arrived at the crime scene and opened the door so fast he fell out of his seat. The first thing he saw as he looked up was the coroner. With a closed black bag. Patrick Jane fell to his knees and the weight of the world fell upon his shoulders, never had he felt so much pain, so much helplessness and anger. He wished he could die as well. Once again he had lost someone he loved due to his stupid selfish pride. He could feel the last spark of happiness and hope brought to life by Teresa Lisbon splutter and die just as her life had.

He had never told her. His last words to her had been of anger. She had died not knowing why he really regretted his choice to share his list with her. Not because he didn't trust her. Not because he wanted Red John all to himself like he had firmly maintained and told her so many times since they had met. No. He only regretted this choice because it meant endangering the life of the only person left that he truly and irrevocably loved.

Embraced by the night, lulled into a sense of madness by police radios and flashing lights, he collapsed onto the grass outside of the old abandoned house. He knew that this time Red John had truly won. This time there was no going back. There was no strength left in his body to fight back this time. He sobbed, trying his best to hold back the stinging tears of utter pain and guilt, but it was pointless. Nothing mattered now: nothing in the world, so the world could think whatever it wanted of Patrick Jane and so could Red John. What sense did life hold now, what purpose? What joy could it possibly have now that she was gone?

And she hadn't known. He had told her only once how much he loved her and she had died believing he had lied. Died believing that the mistress of a serial killer- a mere piece of bait- mattered more to him than she had ever done.

A small hand placed itself on his shoulder, trying to bring him back to reality, but he didn't want to, didn't want to face what he had done. He just kept sobbing, shaking, his head held in his hands, still holding his beeping phone for dear life. Realizing this, he did the one thing that did make sense right now. The one thing he wanted to do. To hear her voice. He redialled her number, till it went to voicemail. He sobbed even harder, pressing the phone to side of his head, so close it hurt him. But it was comfort, heaven to him as her sweet beautiful voice rang over his body.

"Jane....". He shook his head again as the agent called his name, crying openly like a frightened child, but the cop didn't stop, and kept shaking him like her life depended on it. "Jane! Jane, please..."

And in that moment, he knew he had lost it. Lost his life, his love and his sanity, because he had heard her voice! He turned very slowly to the cop kneeling at his back, and the breath died in his throat. Either he was crazy, or he had been wrong his entire life about the afterlife, because there was just no way he could have been that lucky.

Because she was there. And she was alive. Teresa.

Without a second thought, he just took her in his arms, and held her so tightly, he knew he was going to hurt her, all the while thanking whatever God she believed in. Teresa returned his embrace and still sobbing, covering her in his tears, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She was trembling and he could feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt just like she could feel his heart-racked sobs like she was the one crying.

When they finally let go of each other, his hands flew to her face, rubbing desperately at the traces of the monstrous, bloody smile that had been painted there that still remained. That bastard had touched Teresa. His Teresa. Run his foul filthy hands over her beautiful face before even he had! He memorised every beautiful feature again, though they were already imprinted in his memory. He opened his mouth, to begin apologising. For everything. For arguing. For every single time he had been stupid enough to hurt her. For letting Red John within an inch of her. But she held up a shaking finger and pressed it against his lips, shaking her head. Jane understood and closing his eyes, kissed her index finger tenderly. "He killed Partridge" she said simply, her eyes focusing on the black coroners van. Thank god it was him and not you! was all that Jane could think. Teresa shifted her weight from foot to foot, shivering in the cold wind, "Jane, I want to go home....Can you...?".

He wrapped both arms round her, trying to shield her from the wind and everything else that could hurt her. "No!". It burst from his lips, a desperate plea. "I mean, it's not safe! Maybe a motel, that no one sees you go to". He guided her to his car, wrapped in his coat, and lifted her into the seat gently. They drove to a small motel, Jane switching roads several times to make sure they weren't being followed. As much as he felt like he would break if he had to leave Lisbon, he booked two separate rooms. Lisbon would not appreciate him breathing over her like some crazy person. But he booked rooms close to each other, right next door and tried to console himself that he could be over in a flash if anything went wrong. When they had to leave for separate rooms, Teresa ached to beg him to stay and his whole being hurt at the very thought of being put through the agony of being parted from her, but they dragged themselves away.

An hour passed painstakingly slow....He couldn't take this anymore! He leapt up and charged out his door. What if something happened to her? He paused outside the door, his hand held up to knock. He couldn't bring himself to knock however. What if she was sleeping? He sat down outside her room and kept watch over his angel.

All of five minutes had passed when he heard her shriek. He sprung to his feet but there were already footsteps running to the door. It was flung open and Lisbon ran out, falling on top of him. She looked at him eyes wide, "What were you doing outside, Jane?". He was unable to meet her gaze as he lifted her to her feet. "I was just- Well, I was- worried! I can't sleep! I just need to be close to you!" he burst out. Jane could feel her beautiful eyes staring at him but he kept his trained on his feet. She took his hand gently, intertwining each of their fingers, and led them both inside.

"I can't sleep either" she told him, her cheeks blushing scarlet. "I just- I just keep thinking- what if- what if he comes after you?". She whispers the last few words as if afraid uttering them might make them seem more real. Jane wrapped her in a bone crushing embrace, tender despite its strength and she clung to him, never wanting to let go. They both relished the contact, needing it, wanting it more than anything. He carried her to the bed and tucked her in carefully, laying down beside her. She sighed peacefully now that he was near, the events of that day seemed like a far off nightmare in the past. She leant her soft head on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and lulled by the rise and fall of his even breathing. Just before oblivion in the form of sleep could catch her, she whispered "Don't leave me, Patrick.". Jane planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Never again."