Title: a lifetime

Summary: 15 drabbles, 1500 words. two lives becoming one, while looking for peace, revenge and forgiveness.

Author :Little_firestar84
Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon.

Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say that I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.

He felt tired and old, and on the tenth anniversary of his family's death he finally felt like he had had enough. He decided to give up, that he couldn't fight it any longer, it was time to face the truth: they were gone, they weren't coming back, but Teresa was alive, and she loved him, just as much as he did, even if she couldn't know it yet.

He begged her, please, between kisses, and she gave up too, allowing their bodies to become one as they melted together in the flames of passion.

She was finally, really, his.

When it had started she had immediately knew it was wrong, but, honestly, whatever it was, there was only her to blame. Even if it had been Jane to seduce her, he had had asked for her permission first, and the only reason she had said yes to his lips on her body was because they both knew the truth: she had been in love with him for too long to resist temptation, and with every touch, she allowed herself to believe it wasn't a mistake.

But maybe, that his kisses were a promise of love was just her fantasy.

They had sex in cheap motels and he was always gone in the morning, like she was his mistress or a prostitute, but she wasn't surprised. Jane was just after the sex, he didn't even need the comfort of the act any longer.

He once told her he loved her, but she didn't believe him: he was a con artist, and he was just using this to manipulate her into agreeing with him.

Or maybe, she was just a bait to get Red John, finally.

She didn't know. She just knew that she was a masochist to keep that up.

He knew that she believed he didn't valued their relationship, but she was wrong. In truth, he loved her, and that was why he couldn't make love to her between the sheets of a real bed, but just in cheap motels. This was also the reason why he always left before she could wake up.

He wasn't supposed to love her. He felt guilty because of that love. He was the reason his family was no more. Before loving her, he should have killed the monster, but he had loved her too much for keeping denying what they both wanted.

When she saw the two pink lines she felt like a stupid. At school, they had told her that she wasn't supposed to skip a pill or mix it with antibiotics if she wanted to be safe, and yet she had done both things. And she and Jane had kept sleeping together, not caring about anything, like they were prisoners of passion.

And now, she had an equation whose result was baby on the way.

She didn't know how to tell him. She just hoped he was going to be as happy as she was, despite all odds and circumstances.

She was calm when she told him, but as soon as she saw him looking away, she started crying, telling him she was scared, didn't know how to handle a child. She begged him to keep his promises, for once, she asked for him to be happy for them.

Deep down, she knew that her biggest nightmare was coming true.

He shook his head and left, saying that he couldn't, and from the trembling of his shoulders, she knew he was as heartbroken as she was.

Just a while, and she would have had to comfort her heartbroken baby too.

It wasn't like he didn't love them, because he did. But he was scared.

He had lost his beloved family already once, and it had costed him almost his sanity. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Lisbon and the baby too.

He kept his distance, hoping that he would stop loving them (a futile attempt) and that they would be safe. People he got close to, they got hurt, and he couldn't have that. Like he couldn't have them yet. Not with Red John still at large.

He hoped that she could eventually forgive him, or at least understand.

Despite all odds and circumstances, she still trusted him. It didn't matter that she was heartbroken, she knew that he would be back, eventually. She knew how his mind and his soul worked: he had left because he was scared. Losing his family once almost costed him his sanity, she understood why he was desperately trying to stay away from them. Because he knew it would have been the end for him, were he to lose them.

And yet, because of that single instant, she trusted him, that was why she was going to wait for him. Like the baby.

She should have listened to the team when they begged her to allow them to look after her, but she had been too stubborn to listen. She had assumed that since Jane was no more, Red John would have left them alone, but how could have she forgotten that the monster had had asked for her head once, that he had killed a CBI unit just to try get Jane back on the case?

Jane was right. Red John destroyed everything he held dear, and he had moles. He was smart. Of course he knew that Jane was the father.

He looked at the small screen of his mobile, the breath dying in his throat as he studied it looking for evidence, an hunch, something: there was nothing. All he saw was Lisbon, hands up in the air, following a monster in order to protect the life growing inside of her. The baby was due in just a couple of weeks, he should have known that the monster would have waited for that moment to strike.

Again Red John wanted to take away his family, but this time he would have been in time.

He was going to save them.

Red John didn't hurt her. He was a master manipulator just like Jane, exactly like Lorelai told them. He rather preferred using his tongue than a blade (she was positive there was an old saying about that). He called her names, he insulted her and her child. He kept telling her how they weren't even second best in Patrick Jane's heart, that he wasn't going to miss them, that he was doing his "enemy" a favor.

And yet, he wasn't killing her, like he had killed all the others. He was waiting for Jane to strike. Because Jane loved them.

When she saw Jane slowly walking downstairs at a woman's arm, she felt like dying. She prayed with everything she had that her God was going to save them all, because now that Jane was there, Red John was planning of killing her before his eyes. She didn't cry, she didn't want to give the monster that satisfaction, but she closed her eyes, waiting for death to arrive. But all she got were gunshots, and when she opened her eyes, Jane was on his knees, in front of her, a smoking gun in his hands, and Red John was gone.

She rode into the ambulance with him, never stopping crying, and for once she couldn't blame the hormones for this: her best friend, father of her child, her beloved, was dying in her arms. The doctors asked her to be checked up, but she refused, saying she was all right. That she would be better once her "husband" was safe and sound.

He murmured her name, and when she joined him he caressed her womb, smiling tired but with an happiness she had never seen before in his beautiful eyes.

She wasn't going to leave his side any time soon.

One of the nurses appointed to Jane immediately recognized the telltale signals that the baby was going to arrive sooner rather than later, but Teresa, with teary eyes, kept shaking her head, no, not knowing that she didn't have a saying on the matter any longer. As much as she wanted to have the baby when Jane was going to be there for her, she couldn't wait.

She kissed his forehead and promised to the unconscious man that she would be back soon, not alone any longer.

He better off not dying while she was giving birth to his child.

He opened his eyes to a sight that took his breath away, asleep at his side, in an old chair, there was Teresa, with a crib next to her. He took the child in his arms, and studied the bracelet around its wrist, Baby boy Lisbon, it said. He promised his son that he would have soon given him his own name - Michael Jane fitted him so much better- and that he would have make an honest woman out of his mother.

Now half awake, Teresa smiled, her heart not broken any longer, and she cried tears of joy.