Sad Songs and Ruby Moments: Lisbon and Jane share a dance, and she realises just how much he means to her. My first Songfic.

Note: Spoilers for 2X11 "Rose-Coloured Glasses." Please read and review. I live for your reviews

Disclaimer: I do not own "The Mentalist" or the song "More Than Words" by Extreme.

He is still talking but her mind is elsewhere, tendrils of recognition tickling at the edge of her consciousness as the familiar earthy chords strum out. "Oh God," she breathes, inadvertently interrupting him. "I used to love this song." Her mind is awash with yellow-tinted memories of seemingly long-ago adolescence, of first kisses and illicit moonlight car drives and pain that the music helped ease. He looks at her quizzically, his eyes twinkling with delight as he gathers another little piece of her soul through the momentary chink in her armour.

"You love the song," he states, his voice full of something sweet like honey that almost resembles affection. She vainly attempts to hide the faraway look in her eyes that gives so much away. "I used to love the song." She protests weakly, too caught up in fluttering guitars and soulful voices to argue with any power. "You love the song," he repeats and blushing, she concedes, wanting him to stop talking so she can hear the music and let it take her back to a time she had forgotten, when her heart wasn't as hard and she still used the word "romance" in sentences. She feels an unfamiliar sensation in her face and she realises it is a genuine smile, the first in a long time.

Then he ruins it, bringing her back to the present by saying "Obviously you want to dance." Her first instinct is to say yes, until she remembers where she is and who she is with, and the persona she has adopted springs to life, sarcastic and cutting as ever. "With you? No." She scoffs half-heartedly, and reassembles her features in an attempt at professionalism, but the glint in his sapphire eyes tells her she isn't getting away that easily.

"Come on," he protests playfully, and she gulps, fearing the analytic words that are sure to come next. "You can pretend that I'm that mean, cold-hearted guy that you used to worship from afar but never talk to." His penetrating words sear her brain and at first she is overcome by panic at how he could be so correct and so confident when breaking her shell like a fortune cookie, easily reading the message inside. She looks at the floor, her mind racing, her heart torn between desire for the man in front of her and fear of breaking the rules. He watches her, his stare unfaltering, every second silently convincing her to follow her heart instead of her head. She looks back up at the triumphant look on his exquisite face; he knows he's won, but she doesn't care.

Bashfully offering her hand, she jokes, "No funny stuff." As if she believed he would try anything. She knows he is far too broken, but it seems like a good way to assert herself in a situation where she feels completely helpless. "Really?" he replies jokingly, and grasps her pale, delicate hand in his strong one, and the jolt of electricity she expects does not come. Instead of the halting awkwardness she expects to feel, there is only comfort and rightness in his chaste touch as he wraps his other arm around her small waist, pulling her body closer to his, melding them together as one entity. She rests her head on his strong shoulder, the fabric of his suit gently scratching her cheek as she nestles into him, closing her eyes. She breathes in the warm, earthy scent of him as they sway perfectly in time to the music, and it is as if everyone else in the room melts away, leaving only him, her, and the song. He gently strokes her inky locks as she blots out everything except his gentle touch and the words of the song, feeling like they were written for this moment.

"What would you do, if my heart was torn in two?" She swallows, trying to even the erratic beat of her heart as she knows that he can feel it through his silk shirt. She loves everything about this moment, but wishes it would end so she can't feel guilty about it later. She feels so at peace with him, but at war with herself for being near him this way. "More than words to show you feel that your love for me is real." Her head spins with memories of him, neither of them being able to verbalise how they feel, but using actions to speak. She recalls the paper frog he gave her the first time they fought, how much more it meant than the word "sorry". Wondering if he knows she still has it, she shifts in his arms, so that her head is leaning in the middle of his chest. She remembers the last time she was this close to him, when he caught her in his stupid trust fall. She hates to think that he felt she didn't trust him, because she does, more than anyone. But when he'd caught her and held her in his arms for just a moment, she had known she would be there again.

Here I am, she thinks, and decides to stop thinking about old memories and concentrate on making a new one, because moments like these are like rubies - too precious to lose. The words of the song dance around her mind, mirroring her actions as she tilts her head onto his chest, and tries not to gasp when she feels his chin coming to rest delicately on her forehead. Instead, she clutches his hand just a little tighter, and they continue to sway around the shabby dance floor, eyes closed; two people in a world of their own, full of mournful strums and mending hearts.

All too soon, the last note rings out, and the world around them forms again, filled with shuffling feet and idle chatter. But they stay melded together, a frozen teardrop of a moment suspended in time, warmth flowing through them as they silently dare each other to let go, until finally, their hands break apart and their eyes open, and the real world bites at the space between them. And then, with an exchange of quick, silent smiles, it is over; back to business as usual as they walk away, two separate people with only a paper frog, a trust fall and a dance to fill the silence.