Disclaimer:Sadly, I don't own anything. This is just fan fiction.
Note: Please take a moment to leave constructive criticism. Let me know if you think this could be a good start to a longer story.
Lisbon walked in the door, drained both physically and emotionally. She had spent a good part of the day almost in a state of shock, scarcely able to believe the truth that had suddenly become so glaringly obvious: she was in love with Patrick Jane.
She was a little hurt, but more concerned for him, when Jane admitted that he trusted Lorelei. The woman is a serial killer's mistress. Was the man insane? Had his desperation to find Red John so blinded him to reality that he could trust a woman who had asked for her head and damn near cut off two of his fingers? There were days even now, after almost a decade of working together, that she questioned whether or not Jane really trusted her. When she heard him say he trusted Lorelei, after one night of sex and a couple of days on the road as fugitives, she almost couldn't believe it
But the revelations didn't end there. Jane finally admitted that he had feelings for Lorelei. She had always suspected this, despite his denials. But to hear it confirmed was like a punch to the stomach. What she felt at that moment was not consistent with this being merely concern for a friend. There was no avoiding the heart crushing pain or the bitter taste of jealousy that almost brought her to tears in that moment. It was like a lightning strike. Suddenly, everything became so clear. She still couldn't believe that she had missed the signs. But her previous blindness no longer mattered. What mattered is that she now knows the truth. And as obvious as it suddenly was to her, she had a terrible feeling that her reaction must have been plainly visible to others. Her feelings must now be clear to Bertram and, even worse, to Jane.
She walked down the hall towards her room wanting nothing more than a long hot shower to wash away any trace of this disastrous day. She undressed as she walked, shedding her clothes with no care for where they landed, wishing she could shed her memories of Jane's words with as much ease. When she climbed into the shower and the soothing hot water started to rain down on her, she finally gave in and started to shed the tears that she had held in all day.
She cried like she hadn't cried in many years, perhaps ever. She cried for her unrequited love. She cried for her broken trust. She cried for the lost years that she now realized she would never get back. She cried for all the sacrifices she made for him, all the risks she took, all the damage to her career, all the lies that he told, all that she had given and he had taken without a care for what it cost her. And she cried for what this meant and how it would change things going forward. Because now that she fully understood the power he held over her and how vulnerable she was to his manipulation, she realized that Jane would use this against her.
She saw how cold he could be when Red John was involved. She understood that more than his friendship with her, more than his relationship with Lorelei, perhaps even more than his memories of his dead wife and child, the thing Jane valued most now was his quest for vengeance. He would use her feelings as one more tool in his arsenal. He might feel guilty about doing it, but it wouldn't stop him. She would just be collateral damage on the road to Red John. She had always thought that being in love must be a wonderful feeling. She had never been more wrong.
