Thanks to tromana, lysjelonken, HeatherCornwell, lucyyh, Jisbon4ever, xxpoeticjusticexx, Famous4it and Mary for reviewing the first little story. I hope you'll like that one as well.

Title: Vow of Silence

Characters: Jane, Lisbon

Genre: Romance/Angst

Prompt: "A dream stays a dream if not woken" ~ Bare Hands by Delta Goodrem

Written for tromana in the mentalistprompt fic meme on LJ.

Once a week, we have a breakfast date. Just the two of us in a random coffeehouse as far away as possible from both our homes, the office and impending gossip. We sip our beverages and eat croissants in intimate togetherness. We enjoy the warm sunlight shining down on us and observe the strangers around us. Lisbon looks gorgeous when she absentmindedly twirls a strand of hair with her fingers or when the tip of her tongue slowly removes a hint of frothy milk from her upper lip.

We revel in each other's company, but we have a tacit agreement: If I don't ask her any private questions, she doesn't ask me why I constantly gaze at her. So we don't talk about anything of importance during breakfast, ever. We ask for the sugar bowl or for a certain page of the morning paper. We discuss the weather and crime rates and movies. Trickier topics are taboo.

Silence is a form of nonverbal communication, they say, but I'm sure it would work better if she'd at least look me in the eyes. Just for once. Maybe today. But she doesn't, only sits and eats and seems inexplicably sad. I slightly open my mouth, the words already eager to escape, but then I remember our deal and almost choke on all the things I can't say to her.

Are you okay? Why are you so sad? I love you.

She wouldn't answer, isn't in the position to reply to the questions nor to reciprocate the statement.

She doesn't like to talk about feelings. Love is an illusion.

Sometimes she hides her honest eyes behind sunglasses to prevent that the traitors give anything away.

An hour goes by and I still don't tell her how much she means to me. The people around us probably think we have grown apart, but this isn't true. Below the surface our emotions are seething; impatiently they wait for their chance to break free.

But first we have to get through a long drive in separate cars.

And walk thirty-two steps up to my apartment.

A faded mermaid looks down on us when our aroused, starved bodies finally unite.

Before our pact of silence, Lisbon once told me that the corny picture above my bed reminds her of a book of fairy tales from her childhood.

Once upon a time... we used to share heart-to-heart conversations.

Then, one day, she rested her head on my chest.

I gently stroked her hair.

She confessed to feeling secure in my arms.

I kissed her temple.

She decided to remain silent when I asked her why she was crying and thereby sealed our fate.

Today she assumes the same pose in my arms. In my mind I dream up a world where I can always hold her like this. Through a protective veil of tousled hair she smiles at me and distracts me with deliberate kisses on the corner of my mouth.

Like always, I make love to her once more before she leaves me.

To give me strength enough to see her daily for the next six days while being forced to pretend having no feelings for her whatsoever.

To be able to keep a straight face until she gets dressed and drives home, to her husband and son.

Standing at the window, I watch her car disappear around a corner. I wish I would be able to make her stay with me, but deep inside I know that my foolish, desperate love for her will leave me tongue-tied forever.

The End