A/N: Here it is! Selections of "Long Lost (long last)" from Jane's POV as requested by my lovely readers. I'm posting my scene requests in chronological order based on the original story. I am assuming you've read it, by the way. It would probably help, since there are gaps in the narrative. Since many requests were made by multiple people/cover various scenes, I'm not stating who requested them, just FYI. Also, I have to say, between you guys, you got pretty good coverage of the fic. This might take a while...
Request #1: Jane upon receiving Lisbon's first letter
Jane walked into the CBI early Monday morning with a smile on his face.
He wasn't ashamed to admit (at least to himself) that he'd been vaguely curious all weekend about how his letters would be received.
The letters had been an interesting diversion. A little bit of fun. He wondered what the team had thought of his little notes. He imagined they'd do nothing but tease him a little about them. At most, he'd have embarrassed Rigsby, and possibly Van Pelt. The notes had been surprisingly easy to write. It was always interesting, how you could spend so much time with people, years even, and still not know some of the basic things about them, hence his questions.
Still, he admitted even to himself that the notes had been a little silly, and it was probable that he wouldn't receive replies from three of his team members (unless Van Pelt wrote back out of sheer politeness, but Jane doubted it). Three of the notes had been particularly foolish.
Jane's smile turned wistful as he sauntered into the empty bullpen.
There was one letter that'd been different (and one person who might react differently).
As she so often was, Lisbon was the wildcard.
Jane lay down on his couch and waited for the team's arrival, his curiosity mounting with each passing minute.
To Jane's surprise, neither Rigsby, Cho or an Pelt so much as mentioned the letters when they arrived at work (although, Jane was pretending to take a nap, which might have had something to do with it). Still, Jane hadn't been expecting a written reply, but some form of acknowledgement of receipt might have been nice.
But no, nothing.
The subject of his letters only came up when Lisbon walked into the bullpen to wish everybody a good morning. That was when the mockery started.
Jane took the teasing about his notes with good grace. Particularly when he realized that Lisbon had very neatly deflected all attention from the letter she'd received. She hadn't mentioned that hers had been quite a bit longer, and quite a bit different in scope. She'd let her team draw her own conclusions. And, Jane thought with a smirk, she'd also deflected attention away from the fact that she'd thought he hadn't written her one. (Foolish woman. Really, as if he'd leave her out. If he'd planned on only writing three letters, he'd have definitely ensured one was to her. Really, if he'd planned on only writing one letter...)
Jane wondered what she'd thought about her letter in the end.
He wondered what she'd done with it.
He wondered if she'd bring it up when the two of them were alone, away from team members who might tease her.
He'd give her until noon. If she hadn't broached the conversation before then, he'd sneak into her office and spring it on her.
Jane watched Lisbon carefully as she bantered with her team
He smiled at her as she walked over to his couch, obviously trying to look casual. "Since I'm all too aware that you won't be doing any normal paperwork, take a look through this file for me, would you? Technically the case belongs to organized crime, but Wainwright wanted a second opinion," Lisbon said quietly.
"As you wish, Lisbon," Jane said agreeably, still watching her face closely. She was avoiding his eyes just slightly. She wasn't having trouble looking at him or anything; there was no guilt, but she was just a little awkward. Jane grinned. Something was up. If he wasn't mistaken, something related to a surprising correspondence in her life. He was still considering his next remark, when Lisbon gave him an awkward little wave and turned towards her office.
Jane frowned slightly. What was going on with that woman? Was she feeling guilty or some such nonsense because she hadn't liked his letter? Or maybe she hadn't wanted to write back even in fun and now didn't know how to tell him? To hide his displeasure, Jane flipped open his file and started skimming the contents.
The case was a particularly boring one. It would barely take ten minutes to come up with something to tell Wainwright. Jane figured he'd better get it over with. For some reason, his Monday didn't seem quite so fun anymore.
Midway through the file, Jane's fingers stilled and his eyes lit up. It seemed his file had an unexpected addition written in familiar handwriting. Jane chuckled to himself. Tampering with a police file, Agent Lisbon, he thought to himself. How surprising.
He really should have known she'd write back. He really, really should have known. Underneath all of her gruffness and occasional sarcasm, Teresa Lisbon was at heart a very kind woman. There was no way she'd ignore something that she thought might be important to him. It wasn't in her.
Surreptitiously slipping her note to the front of the file, Jane settle back against his couch and began to read.
Thank you for the lovely note yesterday. It made for interesting reading. However, seeing as the state's paying us to keep criminals off the streets, if you could see your way clear to doing some actual work today, you know, the stuff we pay you for, that would be great.
P.S. I can't speak for Rigsby, but for me? Good quality ice cream all the way.
Jane grinned. Even on the page she was scolding, but as ever, a little thread of fun slipped through.
He'd been fairly certain he'd be able to coax her into his little game. (Fairly certain, but not positive. That'd been the problem.)
Jane got up and got a piece of paper off his desk.
Wainwright's boring file could wait another few minutes.
He had another letter to write. Wouldn't want his potential new pen pal to slip away, not when she was showing such promise.
Request #2: The scenes with the mail room guy
Jane was prowling the halls o f the CBI. Surreptitiously of course. Just wandering aimlessly, while trying his best to look like he wasn't wandering aimlessly. Actually, that was a lie. His wanderings had an aim, a very specific aim.
He was searching for Lisbon.
He hadn't actually seen much of her that day, which was a bit odd. She'd dropped off a letter for him that morning, but since then she'd been busy with all variety of meetings and paperwork, and Jane hadn't really wanted any part of that. He had written her a reply of course (in which he expounded at length on the negative impacts of pointless bureaucracy on the psyche). He supposed he could just leave it for her in her office. He'd had loads of time to do that; she hadn't been in it for the better part of an hour and a half.
But Jane wasn't in the mood for such a hands-off method of delivery. Not today..
He wanted to see her. He couldn't decide if he wanted to noticeably slip the letter into her pocket and watch her smile as he did it, or if he wanted to slip it in subtly so she didn't notice, and only found the note later after he was gone.
Jane considered his dilemma as he ambled down the hall (his sources put Lisbon on the east side of the first floor). He thought he might want to see her smile that afternoon.
Nodding to himself, Jane rounded the corner towards the mail room. And there she was, talking to Brad, the mail room guy whose smile Jane was only too aware of Lisbon's feelings about (Jane couldn't see anything particular noteworthy about it, but Lisbon did tend to frequent the mail room when Brad was behind the desk, so...). Jane shook his head indulgently, hovering just outside the room. He didn't want to give her his letter in front of Brad. He'd just wait until she was done... whatever she was doing.
Jane frowned as he watched Lisbon step even closer to her favourite mail room employee. She reached into her coat pocket and removed a letter, which she slipped to Brad with a conspiratorial wink.
Jane froze momentarily in shock. Then, recollecting himself quickly slipped back in the direction he'd come in, intent on getting as far away from the mailroom as quickly as possible (and before she noticed him lurking).
So, Lisbon was slipping letters into the pockets of multiple men, was she? Well, really only him and Brad, that he knew of, but how many others were out there? She could be writing to literally dozens of CBI employees, and Jane would have had no idea. It wasn't like he followed her every move or anything.
Jane sighed. Alright, maybe dozens was unlikely. Lisbon didn't have that much free time with the hours she worked. She probably didn't have time for an army of correspondents. Still, it was obvious that Jane wasn't the only one. And she did think Brad was attractive... (Jane supposed he was, if you liked the type. Square-jawed, with a kind of vacant cheerfulness to him.)
Jane slipped up to the attic to mull over this new development in peace.
So Lisbon had a second pen pal.
Obviously that was just fine. She could write letters to the whole CBI if she wanted to. She'd certainly been enjoying the letters the two of them had exchanged. Why shouldn't she write others? Jane suspected he'd given her the idea. Obviously Lisbon had just jumped on board the whole letter writing train he'd started and then expanded the line to include more stations.
Jane decided to abandon his train metaphor.
It didn't matter. None of it mattered. As he said, Lisbon was well within her rights to pick up other correspondents.
Still, she might have told him about it. After all, it had been his idea to try to bring back the long lost art of letter writing. Sure, he'd only gotten one correspondent out of the attempt, but he had written to a selection of people originally. Lisbon had known his plan. She might have told him of her success.
Although, why she'd picked Brad, Jane would never know. He rather doubted his letters were scintillating. A winning smile certainly didn't guarantee an entertaining letter. But maybe Lisbon just liked having the excuse to go down to the mail room.
Well, Jane thought with a scowl. She had her new correspondent now. She probably didn't need her letter from him today. Probably wouldn't even notice that he hadn't written back. After all, he hadn't even seen her all day. She clearly wasn't looking for him. She was probably too busy to write the likes of him letters.
In that case, maybe he was too lazy to go downstairs and give her the reply he'd written earlier.
Deciding he probably was, Jane lay down on his makeshift bed and decided his sudden tiredness meant it was clearly time to take a nap.
A couple hours later he heard someone walking up the stairs, and knocking on his door.
It had obviously finally occurred to Lisbon that he wasn't downstairs and hadn't been for much of the afternoon. He had gone downstairs earlier in search of a book. He'd been drawn into conversation with Cho and Rigsby, but had luckily managed to escape when Lisbon and Grace arrived, back from an errand of some kind.
And now, here Lisbon was, standing in front of him, looking concerned. Hmph. "Jane, what's the matter?" she asked gently.
He didn't look at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He saw her square her shoulders out of the corner of his eye. Apparently she was in the mood for a confrontation. Well, good. He wasn't going to give her one though; see how she liked that. "Yes you do," she insisted.
Other then the slightest tightening of his jaw, Jane didn't react. Instead, he deliberately used his most condescending tone, "I don't. But you seem to think something's wrong, so why don't you tell me what it is then."
"Damn it Jane!" Lisbon said in frustration.
Jane tutted critically, unashamedly pleased by her outburst, "Such language, Teresa."
Lisbon (probably wisely) decided to ignore his comment, taking a deep breath. "You've been acting odd all afternoon. Now are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to make me guess?"
"Guessing won't get you very far, since I've told you there's nothing wrong," Jane continued, his tone still carefully even, still refusing to engage with her.
That was when Lisbon decided to play dirty. She nudged his arm over slightly, and sat down next to him on his makeshift bed in the attic. "Patrick," she said softly, her tone wheedling, caring, even concerned.
Jane's eyelids fluttered almost imperceptibly. She would play the first name card. Vixen.
Lisbon sighed, obviously not sure how to tackle the conversation. Jane wasn't surprised. After all, she didn't know that she'd been caught. He could see right through her little 'concerned boss' act now. "You don't have to tell me what's bothering you if you don't want to. I'm not going to force you, but I thought... I thought..." Lisbon trailed off, trying to find the words.
Jane prompted her grudgingly. He was curious about her unfinished sentence in spite of himself. "You thought what, Teresa?" he asked, his tone harsher than he'd meant.
Apparently he wasn't the only person who hadn't expected his tone. Jane was surprised when Lisbon's breath caught in her throat. "I thought that you wanted to talk more," she said softly. "Or I guess, not really talk but... something. Wasn't that, wasn't that the point... with the letters I mean..."
Jane glared at her. "Ah yes, the letters. You've taken quite a liking to letter-writing, haven't you Teresa?" he asked scathingly.
Lisbon blinked, and looked almost hurt. "Well, so have you. I've been writing to someone all this time," she defended.
"Hm," Jane hummed noncommittally. He wasn't the only one she'd been writing too. He decided to remind her of that fact. "Now tell me, what does Brad from the Mail Room think of letter-writing?"
Lisbon looked thoroughly confused by the question. Odd, he'd have expected her to catch on before now. "Well, his job is somewhat dependent on letter-volume, so I'd guess he's all for it."
"You'd guess?" Jane mocked slightly. Obviously it hadn't come up. Looks like he'd been right n his earlier assumption that Lisbon's second correspondence wasn't exactly heavy on the substance.
Lisbon frowned. "Yeah..."
Jane chuckled softly to himself, but there was very little humour in the sound. "You haven't asked him?"
"Uh, no?" Lisbon said slowly, and staring at Jane like he had two heads.
"Oh, it hasn't come up, I suppose," Jane pressed.
"No, it hasn't," Lisbon replied, obviously near total confusion. "I mean, I pass him in the halls, maybe in the break room, or when I go pick up my mail... We don't really have a lot of conversations about how he feels about letter-writing, Jane."
Jane harrumphed derisively. "Your conversations don't sound like they have a lot of substance then, Lisbon."
"No, I don't suppose they do," Lisbon agreed.
Jane scowled. And men were accused of being the shallow ones. "And that doesn't bother you? So what is it then? His penmanship?"
She stared at him for a few seconds before finally replying. "I really wouldn't know. I don't think I've ever seen his penmanship. The only time we've ever even..." Jane watched her pause. She'd obviously come to some kind of a conclusion. He wondered what it was. Maybe she finally realized that she'd been found out. He'd found her out, with his superior investigative skills. He wondered what her reaction would be.
"The only time you've what?" Jane prompted, definitely irritated now.
To his shock, Lisbon let out a whoosh of laughter and got on her feet. "Stand up," she ordered.
"What?" Jane demanded, thrown slightly off balance.
The woman was laughing at him! Laughing at him, and he was the injured party. Maybe that was why she was laughing at him.
Oh, she thought it was funny did she? She was enjoying herself? Of course she was in a good mood. She was picking up people to write letters to left, right and centre. Jane wondered how often she did this. If she was exchanging notes with other people. After he'd been the one who'd wanted to bring back the long lost art of letter writing. She'd just... She'd taken over his goal.
She was writing to Brad, whose correspondence Jane was sure must be just scintillating.
Not that Lisbon couldn't write to Brad, but...
The letters had been his idea. This was supposed to be theirs... Not...
And now Lisbon was laughing at him.
"Humour me, you idiot. Stand up," Lisbon ordered a second time with a grin, disrupting Jane's thoughts.
Jane frowned, "I'm comfortable."
"You're not," Lisbon contradicted affectionately.
"Yes I am," Jane insisted stubbornly.
Lisbon stared at him for a second. "You're lying on a board," she said logically after a moment.
"A comfortable board," he insisted. He certainly wasn't going to agree with her.
Then she sighed, obviously getting a little sick of this game. "Jane..."
She closed her eyes briefly, "Please. Please Patrick, just trust me this once."
Jane froze. The first name again, and a request to trust her? Wow. Lisbon was really pulling out the big guns now. He sighed internally. He'd been sunk the second she'd asked him to trust her. Hadn't stood a ghost of a chance. Still, that didn't mean that he had to hop to do her bidding. He waited a full three seconds before swinging his legs over the edge of his door while Lisbon waited patiently beside him. "There, Happy now?" he muttered as he stood. "Now what was suddenly so important that..."
Lisbon stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Tightly.
Jane stilled completely. It was the first time she'd ever hugged him without prompting. The first time she'd initiated one of their hugs, that is. And this was a real hug. Lisbon was showing no signs of letting go anytime soon. It was... interesting.
"Brad from the mail room wants to surprise his girlfriend in two weeks," Lisbon murmured close to his ear. Jane found he liked the sound of her voice so close by as she continued. "You've met Alice. She's an admin assistant downstairs. Anyway, iIt's her birthday. He wants to throw her a surprise party and he wants it to be a complete surprise so there's not supposed to be a hint of anything about it in his e-mail in-box since apparently she sees his e-mail sometimes. Anyway, I have a friend who owns a restaurant on the other side of town that would be perfect for what he wants, so I slipped him the information today in the mail room. We were a bit sneaky since Alice works in the building. I gave him a piece of paper with the contact information. Slipped it in his pocket, which I admit, I got that idea from our letters. But Brad's secret message only had an address, name and phone number written on it."
Jane slid his hands around her waist, returning the hug, and squeezing just slightly. She hadn't been corresponding with Brad. "I'm not sure why you're telling me any of this," he said weakly.
"Because I think you saw me slip Brad the piece of paper," Lisbon told him.
"So?" he asked, still trying to sound nonchalant.
She grinned, obviously seeing right through him. "I'm not in the middle of a secret correspondence with Brad from the mail room, Jane."
"I didn't think you were," he denied immediately.
"Of course not," Lisbon agreed.
"I didn't," he insisted.
"And I agreed," Lisbon reminded him cheerfully.
Jane turned slightly towards her, angling his nose into her hair. It was just so soft. He sighed. "Okay, maybe I did."
She nodded, "And you got jealous, which is just ridiculous by the way."
"First of all, I was not jealous," Jane insisted. He hadn't been jealous. Who would be jealous of Brad, the mail guy? Really now. Jealous. "And second of all, even if I was, it wouldn't be ridiculous. How would you like it if I started writing to Van Pelt?"
Now it was Lisbon's turn to stiffen slightly in his arms, to Jane's extreme amusement. It seemed he wasn't the only one who was a bit possessive of their correspondence. "You're more than welcome to write to Van Pelt, if you like," she said primly after a moment. "In fact, I believe you have," she added in a lighter tone.
Jane grinned, feeling slightly more in control of the conversation now.. "Once."
"Exactly," she muttered.
Jane pulled back so that he could tip her chin up to meet her eyes. "I'm not going to start writing to Van Pelt, Teresa." he promised, only too happy to reassure her. After all, they didn't need to go through this afternoon's exercise over and over again each time either one of them jotted down a note. Once was more than enough enough.
"Alright, whatever," Lisbon muttered with a shrug, obviously a bit uncomfortable. "I don't care one way or another. It's none of my business. So if you wanted to..."
"I don't," Jane assured her firmly. "And I'm not going to start writing to Cho, or to Rigsby, or to anyone else..."
Lisbon paused. "Is this your way of telling me that I'm your only office pen-pal?" she asked, Jane thought her voice might have even sounded hopeful.
"You're my only pen-pal, period," Jane corrected bluntly.
"Hm," Lisbon said, biting her lip in obvious pleasure.
"Hm?" Jane asked incredulously. He'd laid most of his cards on the table and she had nothing else to say? "That's all you have to say. Hm?"
"What were you expecting?" Lisbon asked, eyes twinkling.
"Something more than Hm," Jane muttered.
Lisbon smiled suddenly. "You're the only person I write to too, Jane."
"Well... good," Jane said after a brief pause where he watched her face. "That's all there is to say, I guess."
"Is this your way of asking me to make our correspondence exclusive?" Lisbon prompted, hints of a smile flashing around her face.
Now it was Jane's turn to falter slightly. "Don't be silly, Lisbon... I wouldn't..."
"Jane..." she warned.
He shrugged, suddenly realizing he shouldn't let this particular opportunity slip by. "Although, now that you mention it..."
"Okay," she said quickly. In fact, the rapidity of her response rather startled (and pleased) him.
"Okay?" he double-checked before he could stop himself.
"Yes," she confirmed with a nod, obviously pleased.
Jane nodded with a smile of his own. "Alright."
"I mean, I'm not saying that I'm never going to write another letter to anyone else," Lisbon hastened to clarify. "I'm sure I'll need to write a letter from time to time in life."
"Of course," Jane agreed with a wave of his hand. He didn't care about that. As long as... as long as she didn't have another daily pen pal, another person that she came up with creative insults for by way of greeting, and whose notes she hid in secret hiding places. She could write as many boring, practical letters to other people as she wanted to. "I understand."
That was when something else obviously occurred to Lisbon. "Jane?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes?" he asked cheerfully.
"Can I have my answer now?" she asked still hesitantly.
Jane let his amusement surface on his face, just to irritate her. "What answer?" he asked. He knew he was pushing it now, but he just couldn't help it. And anyway, she obviously didn't mind. After all, she'd put up with him for this long.
She glared at him.
Jane smiled self-deprecatingly before removing a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket and slipping it into her jacket.
"Thank you," she murmured
He ran his thumb along her pocket, back and forth and back and forth, couldn't help himself. "You're welcome Lisbon."
"Are you over your unreasonable sulk now?" she wondered.
That earned her a slight glare. "It was not unreasonable."
She smirked. "So you do admit to sulking?"
Jane paused briefly before recovering. "No."
Lisbon held out an olive branch. "Want to come downstairs and have some tea?"
"Don't you want to read your letter?" Jane reminded her. She had asked for it after all.
He watched her pause, obviously considering his reminder. Jane could see that he'd been right. She did want to read her letter. He smiled and suggested an alternative solution. "Or I could just meet you in your office in fifteen minutes with a pot."
Lisbon spiled back. "Okay."
She patted him on the shoulder, stepping away from him. "Try to contain your insane jealousy until then, would you?"
"I was not jealous!" he insisted. He hadn't been jealous! He'd just been... concerned. Concerned that she was spending so much time with Brad. Jane didn't want her IQ to suffer after all.
"Mmhm," she said on her way out.
"I wasn't," he muttered just before he heard the attic door slid shut.
Jane grinned. It seemed Agent Lisbon was exceedingly attached to their correspondence. Well, good.
Not that he'd been worried about that or anything.