A/N: Happy Birthday to my dear friend Erin (evrrrinn) who asked for a tragedy. For your special day may I present to you, your tragedy. I hope it is everything you dreamed it would be.

As for the rest of you, this is your **WARNING**…. If darkness and sadness aren't your cup of tea, I'd pass up on this one.

Disclaimer: I don't own TM thankfully. I couldn't handle this on a regular basis. The lyrics aren't mine either and belong to Trading Yesterday/David Hodges.

Summary: "The shadows of a shattered life only returns to die." - Trading Yesterday

Shattered

But I know, all I know is that the end's beginning

The plan was pretty simple really. It had taken him three days to devise and another two to execute. The most complicated part being the postcards. He had chosen postcards because they were less personal. One a month for eighteen months and all from various locations around the globe. The timing had to be just right. Two years exactly would have been a giveaway. Eighteen months seemed more realistic. Then, they would begin to taper off with happy stories of discovered love and future plans, growing distant like two estranged friends might over time. The constant changes in location would see to it that no one would be able to trace his whereabouts. He hadn't been sure of her address but by filtering them through Sam and Pete like he had the letters, they were sure to reach their destination.

Jane paid the cab driver as it pulled alongside his destination. He stood on the curb breathing in the warm dry air. Texas was noticeably more humid. In his arms, he carried a single cardboard box. In it contained the items he would need for the task at hand. The lot was empty and the guard shack long abandoned as he walked through the gap in the iron gate toward the door. Out of long forgotten habit, he dug inside of his jacket pocket, looking for the plastic ID badge but the pocket was empty.

"You people have no concept of what we do. We go into dark horrible places alone and afraid. And we do it with no money, broken down vehicles and with computers that have more viruses that a $10 whore. How? Good people."

There was a chain and a padlock securing the door but he made quick work of the lock, then pocketed it. The chain indicated the unlikelihood of an alarm and trying the door, Jane's suspicions were confirmed. Rumor was, sale of the building was stuck in some kind of political battle between the state and an unknown buyer. The state wasn't ready to sell even after years of doing nothing with it. You didn't ask questions when it came to the government and Jane didn't think it was on anyone's priority list for the foreseeable future. He was counting on it anyway.

The dark stone stairway echoed as he climbed to the desired floor cardboard box tucked securely under one arm. At the landing, he set the box down near the stairs for later before walking into the now open space. He did a slow circle with his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes. If he concentrated, he could almost hear the sounds of papers shuffling, keys clicking, and familiar footsteps. He could smell cheap coffee and sun-warmed leather. Opening his eyes, Jane took in the emptiness. It wasn't unlike the mansion of a house he still owned, shadows of past lives. He could still make out rectangular discolorations in the floor in places including his snug corner in the back. He walked over to it and stopped to glance at the ceiling. Yep, still the same.

"Do you ever talk with your wife?"

He missed the low filtered lightning. The FBI was too bright and fake. This was darker and somehow safer. Leather-clad feet padded out of the bullpen and into the open hallway, around toward the back. Ironically the break room seemed smaller being empty. You'd think it would be the opposite. He almost missed the old occasional whiff of spoiled food hidden somewhere in the back of the refrigerator.

"Did I make a fool of myself? Cluck like a chicken? I didn't do Tina Turner, did I?"

Two small rooms stood side by side, a two-way mirror divided them. Here, lies had been exposed and the guilty were relinquished of their burdens. Technically, it was these rooms that had started it all. Sure it had only been a meeting room before the remodel; One long table surrounded by a cast of possible murderers. He had used his "gift", solved his first case, and hadn't looked back until now.

"The best I can get with one phone call is a pizza."

He stopped outside a familiar glass door. The blinds were gone. It almost resembled the fish bowl rooms of the FBI now without the privacy. Her name was still etched on the outside, only faded slightly over the years. Jane ran his fingers over the letters but couldn't make himself push through the door. There was nothing inside for him anymore.

"You, go to hell, take a toothbrush."

He hadn't thought to check the elevator though he figured it was unusable with no power coming into the building anymore. The gold features seemed to rage war with the dust that threatened to take over the entire place. This particular elevator wouldn't take him where he needed to go though so Jane picked up his box and started again for the stairs.

"You know what made me feel better? Punching you in the nose."

The metal was heavy and still let out a horrendous squeal as it was slid open. He closed and locked the door behind him just like he had when he was hiding the clues on his seven suspects. Jane was surprised to find everything still in its place as if he had never left. The bed, table, creepy machinery, and even the little stool were all still there. Surely they had looked for him up here back then. Why hadn't they emptied the attic like they had the rest of the building?

"Come here partner."

He shrugged and walked over to the old desk, placing his box on top. The old wooden floor creaked under the unfamiliar weight. Gently, Jane peeled out the first item from his box. Well, technically it was two items wrapped safely in newspaper. Lisbon's last gift to him.

She had knocked on the door of his airstream the night before she was planning on moving to DC. His heart had sped up at the sight of her standing on his doorstep. Had she changed her mind at the last moment? No, instead she had come to give him a gift.

"I found this back in Washington over a year ago, at a garage sale. I kept it but forgot about it until I was packing the other day."

She handed him the box. He peeked inside to find a turquoise teacup, identical to the one Abbott had shattered nearly three years prior. They shared a few awkward words and an even more awkward hug. She promised to call once she was settled and he promised to visit in his 'silver sovereign' soon. What was one more lie anyway?

He unwrapped the teacup delicately and then its matching saucer placing both on the table. He wondered briefly if she had really forgotten to give it to him or had simply chosen not to until now. The thermos was next, as he slowly uncapped it and poured its contents into the cup until it nearly overflowed. The sweet aroma of the over-brewed tea reached his nostrils in the otherwise stuffy room. This was not the proper way to be drinking steaming beverage but with no electricity, it was his only option. The remaining two items were a simple white envelope and a lime green iPod. The contents of the envelope weren't anything profound but simple instructions and a single request to keep this one final secret from Teresa. He wasn't lying when he said he only desired her happiness.

With the envelope in plain sight on the desk, Jane fetched his iPod and fixed the earbuds in place. He chose Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings" as the soft music filled his mind and relaxed his trembling hands. There wasn't much to look at as he lifted the steaming mug to his lips. He could barely see through the dirty wall of glass that looked over the city he had called home for nearly a decade. The first sip was bitter but then went down sweet as he swallowed. The following sips were similar as Jane blew over the top of the mug to cool it. It was important he drank as much as possible but he didn't want to gulp it either.

The room suddenly got darker and Jane wasn't sure if it was the effects of the tea kicking in or something more sinister. The shadows around him slowly seemed to creep inwards as if they were hunting for something. He thought he knew exactly what or more accurately, whom they were searching for. The music crescendoed as the darkness, like claws reached him. Fingers pulled him toward the ground and Jane found it suddenly difficult to breathe.

Instinctively, he grabbed the back of the rickety chair but the weight of too many sins was great. Like a tree, both chair and consultant toppled, careening towards the floor. They say if a tree falls in the woods and there's no one around to hear it, it doesn't really make a sound. If there had been anyone else around, they would have heard a crash followed by the sound of shattering glass as turquoise shards scattered across the floor. With it, a few remaining drops of the sweet toxin quickly seeped into the wooden planks of the floorboard. The saucer miraculously remained intact, rolling until it was stopped by the leg of the makeshift cot. The last time this had happened, she had been there, pulling from the other end as the demons fought the tug of war over his soul. This time however, he was alone. He wasn't a strong man and the onslaught was too overpowering. He didn't want to fight anymore anyway. Instead, he let them win and surrendered to the darkness. With a final rattle, the saucer circled in place where it had been halted and an eerie calm fell over the room save for the concluding violin notes echoing from the headphones of the man slumped on the floor. Soon, that too dwindled into silence until there was nothing but the old building and its lonely ghosts.

.

.

.

Back in the Austin, a phone rang inside of the airstream. There was no one to answer so the caller left a message: "Jane, it's Lisbon. Look, you were right, well not exactly right but… I don't know what I'm doing here. This place, all they care about is numbers not the people we're trying to help. It's only been a few days and I can already tell I'm not going to be able to stand it. I guess what I'm saying is I want to come home. Please, Jane, call me back when you get this. Alright, I… I guess I'll talk to you later."

The silence of this sound is soon to follow. Somehow, sundown.

Fin.

A/N HELLO…Hello…hello… Yep, I've killed the fandom, not to mention Jane but no biggie. Let me tell you how difficult this was to write. With shaking hands and tears streaming down my face, I just barely managed (It didn't help I had Adagio for Strings playing in the background as I wrote… I don't recommend it). Huge thank you to Christina (SteeleSimz) for reading the early drafts and giving me ideas. Erin, you also helped but you weren't aware of it at the time (haha). I hope I lived up to your expectations. Have a wonderful birthday my friend! ;o)