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Someone is knocking at her door. No, that’s not the right word. Someone is straight up hammering, the sound echoing in the whole house, warning her about the possibility of blowing it off of the hinges. She reaches for her gun she keeps safe in a drawer and tiptoes to the living room, peeking quickly through the window when she passes. She frowns.
It’s Jane.
She puts down the gun on the console table and reaches with her fingers to unlatch the door. The lock gives in and she throws it open, revealing a disheveled figure.
“What are you doing?”, she demands as a greeting.
Jane blinks at her, his eyes wild, and for a second she wonders if he’s high.
“Is Marcus here?”, he asks, frantic.
“What?”, she answers, looking around her like her boyfriend may appear by her side. “No, why are you asking?”
Jane inhales sharply and then lets out a long exhale, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s staring at her intently, his chest heaving, his body shaking. “Are you leaving for D.C.?”
Her face falls. “What?”, she repeats again, this time her voice is trembling.
“Are you. Leaving. For D.C.?”, he punctuates firmly.
“Jane—”, she tries slowly. She should’ve told him. She knows she should’ve. She just didn’t know how. And now he knows. It’s too late. “We really shouldn’t have this conversation out here”, she notices and steps back into the apartment. Jane crosses the threshold and slams it shut. She cringes at the sound, once again wondering if her hinges survive this.
He shakes his head, once, twice, three times. She watches as it jumps from side to side, starting to feel lightheaded. “Are you leaving?”, he demands, desperately. “ Are you?”
Her mouth opens and closes, trying to find the fitting words. But what can be fitting in a situation like this? So she stops, swallows and lets the truth come out. “Yes, I’m leaving”
Jane recoils like she’s just slapped him. His features turn into a grimace, his teeth gritting. He shuts his eyelids, turning his head to the side like he can’t look at her.
“Jane”, she says gently.
“No”, he butts in.
“No?”, she frowns, staring at him. “‘No’ what?”
“No, you’re not leaving”, he decides and this time she is the one to step back in anger.
She laughs humorlessly. “Oh, because you say so?”, she spits out. “I’m my own person, Jane, not your sidekick. You don’t get to tell me what to do”
“You can’t leave”, he says and his voice is pleading. It almost gets to her, almost.
“I know you’re upset I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry, I was trying to, I just didn’t know how”, she tries to explain. “But this is what I have to do for myself. Please, be happy for me”
He shakes his head again, more violently this time. “No”, it pierces through her like a sharp knife to the chest.
She screws up her face. Bitterly, mocking. “What happened to ‘I really want you to be happy and this is the most important thing to me that you do what makes you happy’?”
His head is still leaping from side to side. How is he not feeling nauseous by now?
“No, no, I—”, his voice cracks. “No, you can’t”, more shaking. “You can’t leave”, a whisper. Quiet. Begging.
“I can, Jane”, she replies steadily. “I’m leaving. I have to get on with my life. I want more, I want a home, a family. I want a future. Marcus is my chance for that so I’m going. I can’t just put my life on hold for God knows how long. What is left for me here?”, she exhales and leans her head down, staring at the ground.
On a side note, she should’ve expected it. She should’ve noticed his wide eyes before she looked down, should’ve picked up how his gaze darted to her mouth for a second when she was talking.
Well, she didn’t.
So it knocks the breath out of her lungs when suddenly two warm hands land on her neck, thumbs tilting her head up, and he kisses her. She gasps against his lips, hands landing on his chest and gripping his shirt tightly. She wants to push him away, she really should, this is what she was planning to do, right? Right?
She yanks him closer, her mouth parting on a breath and he takes this moment to slide his tongue between her lips. Her eyes roll back into her head and she stumbles, her back hitting the wall, one of his hands leaving her neck and cushioning the impact. He moans deeply in his throat, the sound travelling between their bodies, sending shivers down her spine.
Oh, oh, oh.
She pushes her hand into his hair and tugs, the locks dancing between her fingers.
This is nothing near what she expected. His lips are insistent, his movements both gentle and determined. He kisses her like she’s the last breath of air before one succumbs to the waves. He kisses her like she’s the last drop of water on a lone desert. He kisses her like he’s drowning, he kisses her like he’s dying, he kisses her like he can’t get enough.
Lisbon floats on the surface, her lips following this waltz in perfect symphony.
“I love you”, she barely hears it, the sound swallowed by another long kiss. “I’m in love with you”, he repeats more audibly when he comes up for breath. He dives back in. “Please, don’t go. Please, don’t leave me”
It sobers her up instantly. This, and the phone that starts ringing loudly somewhere in their vicinity. She pushes him back in one move, her chest heaving, her whole body shaking with effort. She looks at him and freezes, his eyes are bloodshot, traces of tears on his cheeks. She brushes her own and her palm comes back wet.
She didn’t notice she was crying. Whose tears are those?
Jane is working his jaw, visibly swallowing. What has just happened?
She turns her eyes to the living room, the device still echoing between the walls. She moves, trying to break the moment and reach it but Jane’s arm catches her hand.
“Don’t answer”, pleading, begging, desperate.
She shakes her head, still dumbfounded, her mind barely wrapping around the last few minutes.
Oh God.
Jane’s leg between her thighs, his body pressing her to the surface.
What did she do?
In a few long strides she gets to the coffee table and looks at her phone.
Marcus.
She blinks. She clears her throat.
“Hey”, she breathes into the microphone, turning to look at Jane. He’s still standing there, his hands hanging by his sides like two strings that have been pulled and broken.
Those hands were on her waist just a second ago, one of those palms lifted her thigh on his hip, the other pressed against the small of her back.
Oh God.
“Teresa”, a cheerful voice in the speaker. “How’s your day?”
“Okay”, she answers. “It’s okay”, she repeats. “I was just… just packing some things”, she tells him, barely managing to keep her voice even.
Jane squints at her. His eyelids drop once, then up and then down again. He takes a deep breath, his face hardens. The Jane from a moment ago fades away. He blinks.
Just packing some things.
Jane-memory included.
He must read the thought from her features because his face turns into a grimace and once again he looks like he’s been slapped.
She can’t do this. She can’t.
He’ll leave her hanging again.
“How’s it going? Much left?”, he asks conversationally. She blinks, her eyes roaming the room that is filled with boxes.
“Marcus—”, emerges from her lips.
She can’t.
She can’t.
What is she doing?
She looks up and notices the back of his head before the door clicks after him. She blinks again.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
She inhales and exhales, both loud and long.
What is she doing?
Her heart thuds in her chest.
“I can’t”, she breathes out. “I can’t do this”, she confesses firmly. “Oh God, I can’t do this”
“Hey, hey, Teresa, slow down, what’s happening?”
She hears the airstream’s engine starting outside.
Her hand lands on her breast, she can feel the hammering under her palm. Her pulse quickens.
“I can’t do this”, she repeats. “I can’t move to D.C.”, she tells him.
A pause.
Silence.
Marcus doesn’t say a word.
Then, “It’s Jane, isn’t it?”, his voice remains steady but she can hear the bitter undertone. “He’s done something, hasn’t he?”
She ignores it. “Marcus, I can’t”, she almost begs, the words cracking at the edges. “I can’t—”, she tries again. She owes him an explanation. She has to say something.
The tires start rolling from her driveway.
“I’m so sorry”, desperate, frantic. Her hand moves to the nape of her neck, her fingers tightening on her skin. “I’m so sorry, I can’t, I have to… I have to go”, breathe in and breathe out. Again, “I’m so sorry”, and she hangs up.
She blinks back the tears that gather in her eyes, wondering how such a heavy decision may leave her with such lightness in her chest.
Then she bolts, the phone still gripped in her hand.
The silver bucket is shifting around the street, its blue body veering into the next corner. She starts running, her feet hitting the pavement, the sound resonating in her head. She may be waking up every day for a morning run but there’s no chance she will chase a freaking car.
She punches out his number, listening to the beep.
Pick up, pick the fuck up or I’m going back.
“Lisbon?”, his voice is slow, heavy, unnervingly calm.
“Stop the car, Jane, stop the fucking car or I swear to God—”
She rounds the corner and sees it, its silhouette just nearing another curve. She’s gasping for breath. The tires turn and the vehicle parks on the roadside. She rushes to it, her feet almost giving up on her. The side door opens and Jane stands inside, staring at her with a blank face. She jumps the steps, pushing her way in and yanking the metal behind her.
Silence.
She pants, leaning forward, hands landing on her knees. God, she can’t breathe.
“Teresa”, he says, worried.
She looks up sharply, her whole body taut like a string. “Listen to me”, she orders. “Listen to me because I will not repeat myself. I will kill you, do you understand? If this is a con of yours, if this is some way to manipulate me into staying, I will take a fucking shovel and I’ll dig you a fucking grave and then I’ll push you inside so I can bury you alive, consequences be damned. Do you understand me?”, she demands. Jane nods, his mouth opening in protest. She shushes him, her hand raised in front of her. “The truth, you’re telling me the truth. If you lie to me, I swear to God, Jane, I swear to God, I will kill you”
“Okay”, he breathes quietly.
“Is this a con?”
“No. No, this is not a con”
“Are you trying to manipulate me?”
“No, I swear to you, I’m telling the truth”
Her voice breaks. “Why now, Jane? Why the fuck now? ”, her whole body shakes. “You had so much time, so much time, why the fuck now?”
He blinks. He exhales. “I just don’t want you to leave”
“You don’t—”, she croaks. “You don’t give a damn about what I want or need. I’m just a convenience to you. You use me. It’s all about you” , she accuses.
Jane swallows, hard.
“Did you forget?”, she cries. “Did you forget how to be a decent human being?”
He closes his eyes quickly, his jaw tightening.
“How am I supposed to believe you when all you do is trick me into your schemes? When all I see on a daily basis is your dishonesty. How am I supposed to know when you’re telling me the truth?”
“I wanted you to be happy”, he says desperately.
She laughs humorlessly. “Oh, really? So what are you doing now?”
A pause. Breathing, loud and shallow.
“You're right”, he whispers. “I have forgotten how to act like a normal human being. And I play games and I lie and I trick people to avoid the truth of how I feel”, he continues steadily, “And—”, his voice breaks. “And the idea of letting anyone close to me is terrifying for obvious reasons”, he inhales. “But the truth, Teresa, is that I can't imagine waking up, knowing that I won't see you”, he looks at the ceiling, tears gathering in his eyes, then back at her. “The truth is... I love you”, he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s just… you can't imagine how good it feels to say that out loud but it scares me”, he stops and licks his lips. “And it is the truth. It is the truth of what I feel”
She lets the teardrops flow down her cheeks. She lowers her head, looking at the ground.
Heavy. “Have you ever thought it’s too late?”
“Maybe”, he answers, defeated. “And I understand. It’s—”, he swallows. “It’s okay. I just… I needed to get to this and you deserve to hear it”
“Do you mean it? Or will you take it back again?”, she asks bitterly, the memory from years ago still fresh on her mind.
“I won’t, I won’t. I mean it, Teresa, I mean every word I’ve just said”, he convinces her desperately.
She stares at him, her chest still heaving. “Good”, she manages. “Because I feel the same way”
Jane’s mouth drops open, he inhales sharply. “That’s—”, he swallows. “That’s lucky”, he grins brightly, his smile overcoming his features. Then it falls. “What about Pike?”
She breathes out and shrugs. “He’ll understand”
A pause. He doesn’t take his eyes off her.
“Say it again”, she orders, her fingers wiggling nervously at her sides.
Jane tilts his head, a small smirk forming on his face. “Say what again?”
She takes a step forward, anger rising easily. “I will kill—”
Jane kisses her.
She groans against his mouth.
“God, I love it when you’re angry with me”, he admits, little pants sliding from between his lips.
“I’ll show you angry”, she decides and draws back, pushing him forcefully until his knees hit the back of the couch. He looks at her wide-eyed and then drops down, his legs spreading slightly when she pushes between them. She grabs his chin and makes him look right at her. He actually whimpers. Oh, she’s going to enjoy this so much. She smirks and leans closer, her lips attaching to his neck. A loud moan escapes him, his hips arching when she bites the skin. She props herself, her fingers digging into his thighs. Jane lets out another pitiful sound. Her lips graze his earlobe, her tongue poking when she mutters his name, testing its structure in her mouth.
“Dear God” , he exclaims. “Say it again”
She draws back and grins, eyeing him from head to toe. “Say what again?”
He surprises her, his palms landing just under her butt. He tugs her closer, making her straddle his waist in one quick move.
She catches his face into her hands and stares. She licks her lips. “Patrick”, she repeats. He lets out a ragged breath. “Patrick”, her nose nudges his jaw, leaving a kiss there.
He grabs the back of her head, his fingers travelling through her hair like waves through the sea. She sighs and leans her forehead against him. Suddenly, she’s so tired. “What now?”, she asks hopelessly.
He looks at her, his eyes honest and kind. “Whatever you want, Teresa”, he brushes his lips against the corner of her mouth. “Whatever you want”, and he swallows her next words in a kiss.
The thing is she has no idea. She doesn’t know what will happen now. She doesn’t know if it’ll be worth it. She has no idea what she’s doing.
But somehow, she knows that the choice she’s just made is the right one.