Rating: M
Characters: Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon
Summary: The words he had said kept repeating themselves in her mind again and again. Maybe he was right. She was, after all, sick of having regrets.
Disclaimer: Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say tha t I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.
Notes: Written for Rothelena's birthday... happy birthday, dear!

Once alone in her office late at night, Lisbon pondered upon the words shared in that very room that very evening. Although she knew that LaRoche was right, she wasn't scared at the subtle hint that one day her protectiveness towards her team could cost her the job and cause troubles. She couldn't stop thinking about how much she always worried about the team. Van Pelt and Cho were as all right as they could be, but there was still the issue of Rigsby – single father and now an orphan - and Jane.

He was so full of shit she didn't even know what she was supposed to start from. The revenge, the obsession, the insensibility towards his own team, Lorelai, the Belladonna addiction she wasn't supposed to know about, and now this. She didn't know how much he had planned the murder of the wonnabe gang lord, but she felt, deep in her heart, that what her superior had said was true. and what was worst: he thought he had been so smart and clever, when he had been just reckless. LaRoche could have decided that he didn't believe Rigsby, he could have accused formally the younger agent of murder in the first degree. Ben would have been forced to grow up without a father, just like his own father before him, and God only knew what Sara would have done about something like that. The last few months had showed how their love wasn't as deep as they had assumed when they had first brought Ben into the world, and so, how she would have reacted, it was a mystery for them. she could have erase Wayne from Ben's life, she could have brought him away, she could have decided to teach the child to hate his father, and who knew what else she could have in store.

At the end, though, as important as it was, such a thought had just a tiny little space in her mind. Jane's words couldn't leave her alone. It was like they were hunting her. she was obsessing them so much that she doubted she could actually go home and sleep peacefully and dreamless in her bed. No damn way.

It's better to regret something you did that something you didn't do.

She had seen a strange look as he had said the words, sitting on her desk casually and naturally, like it had always been his place. And it had happened just an instant after he had asked her to have dinner with him, or even just a drink, instead of wasting precious energy on all that useless paperwork.

As he had said so, she had gasped, her mind wondering back to that night, just a couple of months before, in her office, when he had told her he loved her . Did he think the final confrontation with his nemesis was getting closer, and that he could have died with the regret of not having confessed her his true feelings? Had it been just an act, all part of his con? Sometimes, with Jane, she really felt like a mark.


But, despite everything, she thought he was right. it was better knowing that you had given a chance, than not trying at all. she knew that feeling too well. She had always been a martyr, sacrificing her own happiness for the others. She had always lived on the side, never enjoying life to the fullest,

It's better to regret something you did that something you didn't do.

Jane's words kept repeating themselves in her mind like on autopilot. she couldn't get rid of them. and to be completely honest: she didn't want to. She was sick and tired of living that way. She was going to take what was hers, no matter what, the hell with the consequences. Jane was right, and she was a cop living constantly in danger. She could have died the very next day with the regret of not knowing how it felt to really kiss him, and she couldn't have that.

She wasn't going to live in that nor even for one more single day.

With e new determination, as sure as herself as she had never been before, she stood, and walked resolutely towards his attic.

In the dim light, she saw Jane stretched on his makeshift bed, lifting his head in her direction. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words and the breath died in his throat, because of what was happening. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't the belladonna any longer. it was true. all true.

Lisbon was slowly, seductively, walking in his reaction, getting undressed in the same way, revealing what he had only dared to dream about until that moment.

When she stood by him, she was completely bare, even more beautiful than what he had always assumed. His cock was so hard it hurt, so taunt it touched his stomach.

She giggled like she was, for once, the girl she had never allowed herself to be, and biting her lips and looking into his eyes she cupped and rubbed his hard-on through the soft cotton of his pants. He felt like electricity run through his whole being, and Jane arched his body like in agony. The most pleasurable agony of them all. What a way to die.

She went on her knees, and grabbed his curls, crushing her lips against his owns. It was just a soft touch, a caress, but Jane lost it as soon as she licked the soft tissue begging for entrance: moaning in her mouth, he allowed the tongue-war to begin.

With a strength she didn't know he had, without letting it go of her lips, he moved her so that Lisbon was straddling him. she gasped, giggling, but didn't show any sign that she wasn't appreciating his initiative.

They finally parted, and with his hands yet again at the back of his head he looked ta Lisbon with clear intent, licking his lips in anticipation.

That simple action drove her crazy, and she took apart his shirt, assaulting his chest. She savagely sucked his nipples, while he moaned and got an hold of her head, piloting it towards his throbbing erection.

She freed his cock and kept it in her hand for a short while, mesmerized, fascinated, then, for the insistence of his hands, she followed his order and deepest and secret desire. Without any ulterior preambles, she took it in her mouth, so deep it touched the back of her mouth, deep in her throat, sucking immediately so hard that Jane couldn't stop screaming, moaning his pleasurable ecstasy out loud while he accompanied her movements with his hands.

"No, enough!" he screamed, forcing her to part as he applied a bit of strength against her shoulders.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and didn't dare to meet his eyes. She shook her head, her eyes teary. She tried to cover herself as much as possible as she stood, ready to leave as quick as possible. She wanted to disappear, maybe once and for all.

It's better to regret something you did that something you didn't do.

She heard again and again Jane's words in her mind, but this time they didn't give her strength. He had lied to her that night, and now he had been wrong. She should have never listened to him. now, because she had, all was lost.

"Teresa, wait!" he screamed, desperate, trying to grab her for a wrist. He managed, and wrestled her petite body on the bed, underneath his own.

She cried and cried, and hit as hard as she could with her tiny but strong fists his solid chest. He let her do, until he saw she wasn't calming down and did the only thing that came to mind.

He kissed her. And as their lips melted together, all her fears, all her doubts vanished yet again.

Jane, panting, parted, and he quickly got rid of his clothes, just to join her soon back on the piece of furniture. They didn't talk. They didn't need to.

She parted her legs for him, and he immediately took his rightful place there. her kissed her again, and with his kiss he erased her screams as he entered her to the hilt into one swift move. He sensually moved in and out of her, so slowly it was a torture, the most wonderful one she had ever felt. Just few minutes of lazy lovemaking, and he felt her purring like a content cat, her inner muscles contracting around his thrusting shaft.

The temptation to give up, to just end it there and then, was strong, but Jane took control of his body and stopped it from reaching the edge of glory. He gritted his teeth, and started to fuck her as he meant it, now that she had her orgasm, and he thrust savagely into her contracting core, hard, quick, jack-hammering so forcefully that the head of the bed kept hitting the wall in tempo with his movements.

She opened her eyes, heavy with pleasure and desire, and when sea green met emerald green, he could see all her emotions: desire, happiness, completeness, and yes, even love, for him, such a bad man, broken.

He kissed her once more, and then he felt the telltale signals, and he went rigid on top of her. he buried his head between her breasts, and, as Teresa was massaging his scalp still purring, he emptied his seed in her, filling her to the brim, so much seed it covered their legs and the sheets underneath their joined bodies.

Once he was breathing regularly again, he tried to leave the thigh confines of her body, but with an hand on his back she gently kept him there, embodied within her, not carrying about this weight crushing her, feeling it, instead, utterly comfortable. Like a reminder that it had happened for real, that it hadn't been just another cruel dream of hers.

He nuzzled the tender skin of her neck, and Lisbon closed her eyes once again, feeling relaxed and sated as never before. She wasn't fully out yet when Jane left a butterfly kiss on the corner of her mouth, smiling.

"You'll not be a regret, Teresa" he whispered.

She smiled, humming happily. She didn't answer him, nor she replied to his statement. There was no need to. After all, Patrick Jane knew her better than she did herself.