Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).

By the way, I think it's prretty clear i don't own the songs as well, but I have a MP3 palyer that i put into shuffle mod, and took teh first 10 sings i Heard at good use (No, I didn't heard them in that order)


Surrender (Laura Pusini)

I can't pretend anymore, that I'm not affected, I'm not moved. I can't lie to myself that I'm not always thinking of you….

Lisbon glanced for the hundredth time of the day at the man, peacefully faking sleep on his couch on the other side of the blinds. Closing her eyes, she took a big breath and come back to focus on her job (or at least she pretended to come back to work). It wasn't like she could really concentrate on anything in particular, if not her personal inner battle. In a way or the other, Jane was always at the centre of her thoughts, whatever it was work related (like the mountain of paperwork she had to do after a case where he sued few of his damn antics) or more… personal related, kind of fantasies, thoughts, thoughts had been intensified in the last few months. Days and nights, she always thought of him, always wished for him, always wanted him. She fought hard to suppress the tears leaving her eyes, hoping that he couldn't see through her. She couldn't allow him to see through her, not about this, she couldn't stand the pity from him; she couldn't stand the pity from the man she was in love with, a man who couldn't reciprocate her feelings before he was in love with a ghost and married to vengeance.

But this simple fact didn't stop her from thinking of him 24/7; she couldn't lei to herself that she wasn't always thinking of him…

If we were (Belinda)

Maybe I'll find some time to go shopping and buy you nicer cloths, 'cause the ones you've got have to go, I'll cook you dinner, put some meat on those bones (…)you'd never be so damn depressed if we were (…)and you've got a crazy life, wouldn't think less, I'll drive you crazy for the rest of your life. I'd be so good to you, I'll be the best, and (…) you'd have it all, if we were…

Looking over Jane was something she was quite used to, only God knew how much the man needed that, for his and her own sake. Nowadays, thought, Teresa found herself more watching at him, stealing glances whenever she could, hoping he wasn't aware of that. She had started to have… fantasies about him, but if before were dreams, and she could think there was just no reason at all behind the dreams, now she day-dreamt about him. And today, today was the worst thing ever.

Today marked the sixth year spent without his family, without his beloved ones, today he looked messier than usual; she knew, thought, that, the closer they got to the day, the worst he got. He was paler, the bags under his eyes bigger, he snapped at everyone for the most insignificant things, and his clothes… it was quite clear that he had slept in that damn 3 pieces suit, and it was quite clear that it was at least a week he wasn't eating properly; his eyes, his magnificent blue eyes were lost, like life had abandoned them. She knew it was just a matter of days before he come back to his usual self and come to her saying how sorry he was for the way he (mis)behave, but, still, she couldn't help but hope to see him, one day, different than this, being able to remind what was good instead of what was bad.

And she couldn't help but dream of being the one to make it better, if we were…

Bleeding love (Leona Lewis)

Closed off from love I didn't need the pain, once (…) was enough (…), time start to pass and before you know it you are frozen, but something happened (…) with you…

A long time ago, he had loved. Patrick Jane was a beloved and loving father and husband, but Red John had taken it away from him. Red John had taken away his life that day.

That day, he had decided that there were two ways of ending his life: killed by Red John while fighting him, or in jail for Red John's cold blood murder. A third way wasn't an option, he hadn't considered it. He had never, never thought about allowing The Justice System to take him, not when he had first told Lisbon about his plan. After all, he had lost his very soul, he was frozen in that moment in time, the moment he read the letter, and he saw the bodies… he become empty. He was no longer a man, just a shadow. He wasn't living. He was merely surviving.

But when they remained blocked in that crate, something inside him snapped. For the first time (in, how long, 4 years that he had knew Lisbon) she was fragile. She was broken. She was really petite. Lisbon was the boss, so he had always assumed she was strong and unable to let her guard down, but he realized he had been wrong. Lisbon was, after all, human. She was a still young woman, fragile and broken and defeated, disillusioned, and all because of him. He talked before he couldn't even realize he was talking at all, his words leaving his lips without him acknowledging it.

"I'm always going to save you, Lisbon, whatever you like it or not" as she smiled at him, his breath got caught in his throat, and Patrick Jane realized that option number three wasn't even an option any longer. He was always going to save Teresa Lisbon. He wasn't going to hurt her- and he knew that, either dying or getting arrested by her was the psychological equivalent of firing a bullet to her heart. He simply could' do it, not to her.

He didn't know how or when it happened. He just knew his heart wasn't frozen any longer; his heart was bleeding, and kept bleeding, bleeding love, for the fiery brunette called Teresa Lisbon…

Lay all your love on me (ABBA- Mamma mia! The musical)

I wasn't jealous before we met, now every man I see is a potential threat. And I'm possessive and it isn't nice…

Before Hightower, he thought he went to something like a couple of charity events (after he joined the CBI, at least, he wasn't even counting his old days as a fake psychic), but now that miss "The governor is my friend" had become their boss, it seemed that, since they were the icing on the cake, the cherry on top of the whole CBI, best team of the whole state of California, they were requested to attend that idiocies at least… well, a way more often was enough.

Every damn time Lisbon had a dress (a different one every time; they were obviously not rented, and since they were a bit long, he assumed they come from her sisters in law- just a couple of them fitted her just perfectly), and every damn time there were men, many adoring men, at her tail. After all, what was wrong with that? Nothing! Lisbon was beautiful, attractive, smart, funny, strong, caring, and seductive; she seemed more like a goddess than a woman. Looking at Teresa Lisbon in that stunning emerald gown, one of her owns, obviously, he realized that the man who got to get her was going to be incredibly lucky, and he wanted to be that man. There was nothing wrong with the dark haired beauty at the centre of the room, if not that she was talking and smiling to a man, another man, a complete stranger and not at him.

As she had red his mind, Teresa turned to look at the man with the white tuxedo, and when green met blue, she smiled of a different kind of smile, the one she reserved onto to him, Patrick Jane, annoying as hell and pain of a consultant.

He took courage and went in direction of Teresa, and without saying a single word; he stole her form the other guy, and brought her in the ballroom. Dancing was their thing; he was the only one she was supposed to do so with. And it looked like she wasn't going to complain, if the smile and the surprise on her face meant something. One day, he was going to ask her to lay all her love on him.

Wear my kiss (Sugarbabes)

You wonna wear my kiss all over your body, once you tried it on, you can't live without it. You wonna wear my kiss all over your lips, I'm promising you this, you wonna wear my kiss.

When he entered in her office, few minutes to midnight, without knocking, she didn't see too much into this: she'd see something in this if he had actually knocked at her door. Jane not knocking was usual, annoying, but usual. Besides, she could always throw him out if he got too annoyed or had weird pretences or stupid ideas…

"Jane?" she finally said, a bit worried; he had been in her office for a while, without saying a word, and so, she HAD to left her not so beloved paperwork to look at him. When they eyes met, she had a questioning expression, while her blonde curled consultant…. She really didn't know what was going through Jane, but she knew he was worried, and obviously not at easy. "Jane, are you all right? What's wrong?" She left her chair, and joined him in front of her desk, putting her hands on his chest to try to calm him down. As green eyes met blue, she took a big breath, like she knew what was going to happen; he hesitated before to put his hands on her shoulders and guide her towards him, but finally he did it, after a whole week spent daydreaming of this moment, fearing it but, still, he couldn't wait for the right time to come.

As their lips met for the first time, slowly, sensually, a loving dance of tenderness, he realized that just one kiss got him addicted. Lisbon had been his drug, he had understood that in the crate and he had got the certainty as he saw her with that guy the week before, now her kisses had taken that place; he was never going to get rid of that particular addiction, though, no matter what. He just had to convince the recently runaway woman to agree with him, because the only thing he wanted to wear was her kiss.

The right kind of wrong (Lee Ann Rimes)

I know it's bound to be a heartbroken situation (…) You walk in and my strength walks out of the door, say my name and I can't fight it anymore, I know I should go(…) but baby you're the right kind of wrong (…) It might be a mistake, but what you're giving I'm happy to be taking it…

No one knew about what was going on, and, if she had to be honest, she didn't either. She just knew that, one evening, thta evening, Jane run into her office looking like a ghost and suddenly he was kissing her. And she was kissing him back- and was what was bad. Because, of course, she was allowed to have fantasies about Jane, since she was sure every heterosexual woman in her right mind had them (please, the man was charming, seduction made flesh, stunning with 3 pieces suits, perfect blond curls, marvelous blue eyes, a perfect body, of course she had fantasies about him!) and she could even consider the idea of being in love with him. But acting on those feelings, and having an actual story with him? That was another thing, a completely different thing. Of course, he had just kissed her, but the look in his eyes was practically shouting "I want you to be mine", exactly, like his actions had done the week before at the ball. And running away hadn't been exactly the beast idea, but she was scared. What if he wasn't going to give up on revenge? What if he just needed some kind of release? What if he wasn't in love with her? What if he was still in love with his wife? What if it didn't work?

There were many negative possibilities, she knew that, but she knew that the good ones were there as well.

What if being together would allow him to overcome his desire to kill Red John? What if it was real love? What if it was her he wanted? What if it was her he was on love with her? What if it worked? What if it made them happy? What if it made him behave a bit more? Besides….

Besides, he did flirt with her; he did care about her more than he did with the others; he had been always at her side, even when nobody else was; he had listened to her; he had confided in her, he did make her laugh.

It was time go back into her office and take things in her own hands- kiss him as he had done before, because she knew there was a risk, the risk of ending heartbroken, but it was a risk she decided to wanted to take. Maybe Patrick Jane was wrong, but he was the right kind of wrong.

Leave out all the rest (Linkin Park)

Forget the wrong I've done (…) and don't resent me (…) I'm strong on the surface, not all the way thorough. I've never been perfect (…) leave out all the rest

As soon as she had left the room, he had collapsed on the surface of the pavement of her office. He knew she was crying. He knew she was scared. He knew because he was as well. Leaning against her desk with the back, he hid his face behind his hands, and, for the first time in a long time, he prayed whatever higher power there was, if there was a higher power, to bring her back to him.

He couldn't live without Lisbon, and yet he couldn't live to have Lisbon at his side only as a friend. It was wrong, it was dangerous, and he knew he was being selfish and wasn't putting herself first as he should, but her really couldn't. he preferred to not have her, but letting her know how he felt, that living in denial, or, worse, having, one day, to look at her getting married to somebody else. That was something he really couldn't live with, something he couldn't survive.

If he couldn't have her, he was leaving, and for once, screws Red John. That was more important that his childish desire of revenge (childish because he had finally understood how futile revenge, at list his own personal view of revenge, was: a dead serial killer and himself in jail or death sentence, and all the victims were still going to be dead. Once given to justice, Red John was still going to be dead, so there was no point in committing the equivalent of suicide).

He wasn't perfect, hell, he was far from perfect, he was a human mess, he attracted troubles, and he easily got bored, his head had more space for useless things that anybody else; he tended to talk at the wrong time (he wondered if it was some kind of Asperger disorder). He knew he was broken, but he really hoped that…

"Patrick?" He lifted his face, and he saw her, sitting at his side, gently rubbing his shoulder. Teresa smiled, and repeated the gesture he had done just few minutes to midnight.

They both smiled into the kiss, leaving everything out, leaving out all the rest. There were them, and only those alone, nothing else mattered.

Can't be tamed (Miley Cyrus)

I can get a bit crazy, have to get my way 24 hours a day (…) they try to change me but they realize they can't, if you're gonna be mine understand, I can't be tamed, I can't be changed, I can't be tamed.

He wasn't going to give the "puppy dog eyes", as she so eloquently called them, because he knew there was no use. Teresa Lisbon knew his too well, to buy that. She knew he wasn't sorry. Entering in the house of a suspect? Making him tea? Trying to seduce a suspect to get a confession? Stealing evidences? It was, after all, his usual behavior. He lied and he manipulated- everyone but her. And she should have known that by now….

"Teresa, will due respect, if you think that I'd change only because we are in a relationship..." he grinned, with that magnificent smile of him,

"Jane!- She hissed scandalized as she run to hid and closed his moth by putting a hand on his still grinning mouth, feeling his smile against her skin – Jane, I told you to not call me Teresa when we are at work, and to not sue our…"

"Story" he whispered, completing her sentence as he removed her hands from his face, kissing it quickly.

"Yeah, I told you that I wasn't going to allow you to use our… story – she turned a deep shade of red as he grinned again, only this time deeper – to escape troubles. Just because we are dating, it doesn't mean I

At this point, feeling that her talk wasn't going to work, Teresa preferred to grunt and collapse into her chair, again at the other side of her desk.

"Teresa, I can't be tamed" he grinned his usual grin, and leaned in her direction, stealing a kiss, something resembling a mere peck on her lips, as she send him away with a gesture of her hands, annoyed.

The man was, indeed, without hope. If she thought she was going to be able to tame him just because they were clandestinely together, she was wrong. And somehow, as he went away still grinning, she found the same expression on her face.

Patrick Jane was having, indeed, a bad influence on her.

All the lovers (Kyle Minogue)

You just want more, even if it throws you to the fire. Don't be running, just give me a little bit more (…) can't you see this is really higher (…) lying next to me is all you need. (…) All the lovers that have gone before they don't compare to you.

"Please, stop me…" Patrick beg between kisses on her skin, kisses on her neck, kisses on her neckline, kisses on her shoulders, kisses on her luscious deep red lips.

Teresa's back was against the wall, it was he boyfriend to press her against said surface and if the moans escaping her lips and her hands that were busy getting ready of his jacket/waistcoat/shirt meant something, they meant she didn't want Jane to stop – and he was pretty sure that her leg, entangled to his hips, meant the same as well.

"Don't dare to not end this, Jane. This time I'm not going to allow you" they had been there before- well, almost there, at least, because something else always happened. There was a call from work. There was stress because they had just closed a case. They were tired, one of them or sometimes both. It wasn't the right day for her. She was mad because he had done some idiocy. He was in a bad mood for a Red John case. He felt guilty for his past. He felt he wasn't being respectful to his late wife and daughter.

But she needed it. She needed to know he was there; he was really there, in the story. She needed to let him know she was there for him; she needed him to know sometimes you have to let it go of the past. She needed to let him understand he was allowed to feel again (And, ok, maybe it was also because she had been without a sexual life for a way too long and the only way to describe her boyfriend was handsome… just because she was a woman didn't mean she wasn't allowed to have sexual thoughts about the man she had a story with).

When the next morning she woke up in her bedroom, she was cuddled against him, her face buried in the crock of his neck, his nose in her hair, a picture of happiness and tranquility on his sleeping form, and she realized that it was simply perfect. She had never felt that anything like that before, she had had lover before, but all the lovers that have gone before didn't compare to him.

Because it was the first time she wished she was going to wake up like that for the rest of her life.

Las Palabras de amor (Queen)

Look in my eyes and speak to me the special promises I long to hear. (…) my love may we whisper once more it's you I adore (…) let us share the words of love

Having dinner at Teresa's wasn't exactly the plan. The plan was to celebrate their 6 months anniversary at her favorite restaurant, and ending the evening back at her place, after dessert with strawberries and chocolate. Yes, they knew they were going to come back to her place, but they wanted to have dinner outside first, and they wanted to have dinner ALONE. They weren't planning on having dinner at her place, after having ordered in, and they weren't thinking about doing so in the good company of her 10 months old nice, Josie. Of course, it wasn't the baby's fault if her mother and her dad had a little argument and, to make up, sent her to her aunt. To be completely honest, he was pretty sure it was just an excuse- the two hadn't had a moment for themselves in ages, from what Teresa had told him, and he wondered if they weren't closed in a hotel room making out like hormonal teenagers in that moment… besides, having Josie over had its advantages, like now.

They were sitting in the kitchen, Chinese food almost entirely gone in front of them, waistcoat gone and sleeves rolled up, Teresa dressed simply with truck pants and the Lisboan jersey, and the baby was sitting on her aunt's knees. Teresa was smiling and making faces at the small kid, trying to convince her to take the food in her mouth instead of sending it all over the room. They were both smiling and laughing.

"Mum" the small kid whispered with a note of uncertainty, not already able to formulate words mum was the only one she knew so far, and kept repeating it to everyone, while playing with Teresa's hair. His girlfriend cried, and buried her nose into the mass of dark hair the infant had inherited, like her green eyes, from her father's family. And a realization hit him, not really realization, but… he didn't know how to describe it. It was like having in front of yourself a picture of your future. It was his future he was seeing, his family to be: Teresa, smiling and happy, with a kid, their kid, on her knees.

"I adore you" he suddenly said, looking dreamily at the scene in front of him; he didn't know why but when it come to her, he spoke before tot think about it.

"Really?" she asked him smiling, happy, clearly amused by his outburst, not minding it at all.

"Actually, no – he said, serious, joining her at that side of the table, and kneeling so that their faces were closer, but still enjoying the worried expression she had put after he had said that word - because I love you" she looked in Patrick's eyes, and saw the same expression she had seen 6 months before. He was worried about what he was saying, and, mostly, what he was asking: he was giving her love; he needed love, and was asking her for love.

The day she agreed on dating him, she thought he was going to break her heart, but as she heard the words for the first time, as soon as she took his left hand, his left bare hand (he still had it, though, but had moved the ring around his neck, on a chain, where he was going to keep it until the Red John affair wasn't over once and for all) in her own, as soon as she looked into his eyes, as soon as she saw they were sharing the same tears, there was only thing she could do.

"I love you too"

Bonus Track: Waking up in Vegas (Kate Perry)

Why are the lights so bright, did we get hitched last night dressed like Elvis? And why I'm wearing your ring? (…) now we are partners in crime (…) that's what you get for waking up in Vegas.

Even if the blind were firmly closed, there was still a subtle film of light coming in to the room, but to Teresa it felt like the room was engulfed by light, like she was in the middle of one of those portraits of Heaven.

She had been awake for the last couple of hours, and, even if still under the effects of a terrible hangover, she had been able to remember all the events of the previous nights. And now, all focused on the immaculate ceiling of the luxurious room of the Montecito Hotel, Vegas, she was freaking out. She was hoping to have the enlightening, like Jane seemed to have back at the HQ whenever he looked at the spot he had nicknamed "Elvis", but it didn't seem to work. Nothing was working. And she was still freaking out.

"You all right?" as soon as she turned in direction of the voice, everything changed. Her breath got caught in her throat, her eyes got filled with tears, and she had that enlightening she was waiting for until a moment before. She had the enlightening as soon as she saw PATRICKlying at her side, still naked (like her). As soon as she thrown her arms around his neck, as soon as green eyes met blue ones again, she realized that it wasn't a mistake, but that what they had, whatever it was, had the potentiality to be the most beautiful and important thing in her life- their lives, their life.

As soon as they lips met again and hands already expert explored heated bodies, memories of last night filled her mind: a discussion at the bar, because she was talking with a guy she had met at the seminary and Jane was behaving like the caveman he was when around her, a walk along the Strip, kisses, a dinner in a fancy but yet intimate restaurant, other kisses, and, before to move to his suite, another chat, where he drop the bomb on her, a bomb at the moment, a bit inebriated by the drinks, she happily received…

"So, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas or what?" he was finally able to say after they broke the kiss. She knew he was going to ask her something in that line, he already had, the day before, but, somehow, it had been different. Back then, he had said it playfully, now in his voice there was a hint of something, of… uncertainty, of fear, like he really didn't know how she was going to answer.

After a moment in which she looked at him with a triumphant look in her eyes (Patrick Jane not sure of himself, and it was her doing….it was something to mark on the calendar or to inform the press about) she finally gave him an answer, in the form of a kiss to the petulant consultant, while busy playing with the white gold band on her ringer finger of her left hand.

What had happened in Vegas had been just the epilogue of their stories, of 5 years of their shared existences and of 7 months as a clandestine couple. No, she corrected as she smiled and went back under the covers to cuddle at his side, this wasn't the epilogue. It may have been the epilogue of the lives of Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane, but it was the first chapter of a new book, the one about Patrick and Teresa Jane.

That was they got for weakling up in Vegas…