AN: Here's the long-promised sequel to "Til Our Souls Catch Us Up". There's been almost no passage of time between that story and this one - TOSCUU ended at night, and this begins the very next morning. Anyway, I've got the story completely outlined but not yet written, but I hope to update every week or so. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!
One side note: I have no idea the layout of Lisbon's condo, so I'm making this up as I go. My apologies if it contradicts canon!
Also, I've joined twitter, so if you want to chat over TM, I'm halfagonyhope over there. And, as always, you can find me on tumblr as halfagonyandhope.
The title of the story and lyrics at the beginning of each chapter are from "We Remain" by Christina Aguilera.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.
All the ways that you think you know me
The call almost goes to voicemail before she picks up.
"Hey," Lisbon says, her voice still raspy with sleep, and she shifts to lean back against the pillows, moving slowly so as to not pull at the stitches in her chest.
"I woke you, didn't I?" Jane's voice is apologetic, and she cuts him off before he can continue.
"It's fine," she says, smiling slightly. She peels the bedsheets from her torso. "It's almost ten anyway. I needed to get up." She hesitates before adding, "And the sound of your voice is as good a wake-up call as anything."
The sound of his laughter through the phone makes her insides twist not unpleasantly.
When he doesn't answer, Lisbon continues. "Is everything alright?" she asks.
He takes a few seconds to speak. "I'm…I'm not sure," he finally says. "I'm nervous," he admits. "I haven't really had any connection to the carnie circuit in well over a decade. They're going to see me as a mark now."
Lisbon closes her eyes and wishes she were with him.
Earlier that morning, she'd felt Jane's lips against her own as he stole out of the bedroom. Still feeling hazy with pain medication, Lisbon had barely registered him leaving before sleep had pulled her under again.
Now, she blinks to clear the fog that's permeating through her brain and forces herself to focus on Jane. Who, at this very moment, should be right about ready to meet up with an old carnie friend of his who might be able to help them disappear.
Lisbon is still not entirely sure that fleeing Sacramento is the best decision. However, she also recognizes that her current injury is a major liability for the group—she cannot protect herself, and she certainly cannot protect Charlotte. And Charlotte, of course, has become her top priority.
So flee they must.
If they can disappear for a few months, she will be able to heal. She and Jane had decided to reassess their plans at that point.
Lisbon thinks back to Jane's last comment. "I can't imagine you ever being a mark," she says honestly. "I'm sure the moment you see your friend, those carnie instincts will come right back."
"That's what I'm afraid of," mutters Jane, so low she can barely hear him.
She stares at the window for a few seconds, taking in the soft sunlight as she tries to sort through his words.
"When will you be back?" she asks.
"Oh, this won't take long. And don't worry—Grace will keep me out of trouble."
Lisbon doubts this, but she'd insisted that Jane take Van Pelt with him. After the events a few days before, she refuses to allow any member of her team to go anywhere alone.
"How're your incisions feeling?" he asks, his tone entirely too light, and she notices that he's avoiding saying the word 'scars'.
"Fine," she says too quickly.
"Meaning you need more medication."
She rolls her eyes. "However did I survive without you in my life, Jane?"
"Quite well," he says, his tone on the edge of being bad-tempered. "Actually, you seem to be worse off after meeting me."
"Jane—" she begins reproachingly, but he cuts her off.
"Sorry, Lisbon—got to go." She hears two car doors slam.
The line goes dead.
Lisbon sets the phone down, frowning, then reaches over to her bed stand for her pain pills. She swallows one with a sip of water from a glass Jane must have thought to leave for her before he left.
Grimacing slightly from the movement of twisting her torso, she shifts to slide out of bed, and she stands slowly. When her head doesn't spin, she gains confidence and takes the first few steps to the master bathroom.
A few minutes later, she walks slowly down the hall towards the guest bedroom, intending to check on Charlotte. She peeks her head in and raises her hand to knock on the doorframe, but one look at Charlotte causes her greeting to die in her throat.
Startled, Lisbon moves as quickly as she is able and kneels beside the teenager, who's curled up in a fetal position on the bed and holding one of Lisbon's childhood oversized teddy bears to her chest.
"Hey," Lisbon whispers, wincing from the abrupt movement. She reaches over to brush Charlotte's hair away from her face, revealing the tell-tale signs of tear tracks. "What happened?"
Charlotte doesn't bother wiping at her eyes. She hugs the bear closer.
When Charlotte doesn't answer right away, Lisbon reaches over to hug her. Though the position is a little uncomfortable, Charlotte seems to calm down as Lisbon rubs a hand up and down her back.
"I called Will," says Charlotte, and Lisbon pulls back to see her gesturing to Rigsby's phone, which lays abandoned on the floor near the end of the bed. Lisbon wonders vaguely if Rigsby has noticed yet that it's missing.
Lisbon turns her attention back to Charlotte and bites her lip, unsure. Though she'd only heard good things from Charlotte about her friend Will, whatever Charlotte's about to tell her, it can't be good news. And Lisbon had always been rubbish at dealing with relationships as a teenager.
"I just wanted to hear his voice." Charlotte releases her death grip on the bear, and Lisbon grabs her hand without thinking about it. "And then, completely out of the blue, he told me he loved me."
Charlotte's eyes mist over again, and Lisbon grips Charlotte's hand tighter. "What did you tell him?" Lisbon asks quietly.
"I said…I told him I didn't feel the same way."
Lisbon looks at Charlotte closely, recognizing right away that whatever Charlotte may have said to Will, she meant the exact opposite.
Lisbon takes a shaky breath.
"But you do," she says. "Feel the same, that is."
"Of course I do," whispers Charlotte. She sits up, brushing her hair over her shoulder and the tears off her cheeks. She moves to sit beside Lisbon on the floor, leaning her back against the bed. She shrugs helplessly. "But you and Dad and me…we're leaving. We might not be back for a while. Maybe not ever. And I can't tell Will where we're going—for his safety and ours. I shouldn't have even called him."
This was Lisbon's first thought as well, but Charlotte looks so miserable that she can't bring herself to scold the girl.
Lisbon holds Charlotte's gaze patiently, prompting her to continue.
"Will's the kind of guy who people write movies about. If he knew I loved him back, he'd wait for me. He'd put his life on hold, waiting for the day I could come back." Charlotte's hand clenches into a fist. "And I can't do that to him. I want him to be happy, and he wouldn't be happy if I told him how I felt."
Lisbon's heart breaks.
Because she knows exactly how it feels to be unequivocally, irrevocably in love with a man and not be able to tell him.
She blinks several times to dispel the moisture pooling in her eyes, then she lays one arm around Charlotte's shoulders to tug the teenager against her.
Charlotte leans her head on Lisbon's shoulder, and Lisbon rests the side of her head on Charlotte's temple.
"Did I do the right thing?" Charlotte whispers, pulling her knees to her chest.
Lisbon breathes in deeply. "It's what I would have done," she says.
They both know it's not an answer, but it's the best Lisbon can give.
Lisbon tries not to check her phone too often, but when an hour passes without word from Jane, she dials his number, needing to hear the bravado in his voice.
He doesn't pick up.
Lisbon closes her eyes, clutching the phone tightly. Then she looks over at Cho, who's sitting with her in her living room at the other end of the couch.
"They should be back by now."
He looks up from Ulysses, his gaze more impassive than usual. "I know," he says, his voice tight.
They only hold each other's gaze for a second, but it's more than enough time for Lisbon to gather that Cho is uneasy.
"Teresa!"
Lisbon looks to the top of the staircase where Charlotte has appeared. Only the faintest traces of red remain around her eyes.
"There's a woman walking up to your door," whispers Charlotte.
Lisbon freezes for a second, startled, but then Cho is on his feet and she is only a half second behind him. He's reaching for his gun, and Rigsby appears from the kitchen with his weapon drawn as well. They both turn toward the front door, and Cho gestures with a quick jerk of his head for Lisbon to go upstairs.
But Lisbon is already moving, and she clears the stairs faster than she'd thought possible with her handicap. She reaches for Charlotte and pulls her down the hall. But as they move past the guest room, something in the window catches Charlotte's eye, and she slips out of Lisbon's grip.
"Charlotte!" Lisbon almost shrieks. The guest room overlooks the front door—going towards that window is the last thing they should be doing.
"I didn't see her well at first glance," says Charlotte, moving around the bed, drawn to the window as if in a trance. Lisbon tries to keep up, but the ache in her chest has returned after her flight up the stairs, and she's beginning to feel faint. Charlotte continues. "But I've seen that woman before."
There's a knock on the door.
Lisbon forgets how to breathe.
Charlotte reaches the window and looks down, one hand raised to touch the glass. "I know I've seen her before. I know I have."
Lisbon finally reaches Charlotte. "Come on," she says, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the window. "If she's armed…"
Charlotte doesn't budge. Instead, she looks up at Lisbon with big, sea-green eyes, and Lisbon remembers a million times that Jane has given her that precise look—the look he wears when he's just pieced something together.
"My parents had photographs of her," says Charlotte softly. "Ratty, battered photographs, and there were only two—but it's definitely her."
Forgetting herself for a few seconds, Lisbon looks around Charlotte to glance out the window, making sure to keep out of the woman's line of vision.
The woman is petite, maybe Charlotte's size, with curly hair that might have been sand-colored at one point but is now more gray than blonde. Lisbon can't make out more than her profile, but she's sure she's never seen the woman before.
"You don't have any idea who she might be?" asks Lisbon quietly, moving slowly away from the window and grabbing Charlotte's arm again. This time, Charlotte lets herself be pulled away, and Lisbon leads them across the hall into the master bedroom.
The woman knocks again. Lisbon fervently hopes Cho and Rigsby have their guns trained on the door.
Lisbon forces herself to focus on Charlotte, who's leaning against Lisbon's bed. "A carnie friend of your dad's maybe?" Lisbon asks. "Or a relative?"
Charlotte's gaze snaps up. "Yes," she says.
"What?"
"A relative. I can't remember her name, but I'm pretty sure she's from my dad's side of the family. I've never met her, obviously, and I think Dad only ever mentioned her once, so I'm not completely sure."
Lisbon has no idea what to say to this. She curses the pain medication she's on for making her brain feel like it's running at half speed.
Suddenly, something falls into place.
"Did your father tell you who he was meeting today?" she asks.
Charlotte shakes her head. "He just said he was going to talk to someone from the circuit."
Lisbon tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "What if that woman is who he met?"
At this moment, Rigsby appears in the doorway, cutting off Charlotte's question before she can ask it. "Boss," he says. "You're going to want to see this."
Lisbon turns around to glance at Rigsby. His expression immediately tells her he does not bear good news.
"She's gone now," he says quickly. "But I think she knew we were here."
"How do you know?" asks Lisbon.
Rigsby gives her a pained look. "She left this," he said, holding out his hand to her, "on your doorstep."
And he presses a slightly tarnished ring into Lisbon's hands.
A pain that has nothing to do with her stitched-up chest threatens to consume her when she realizes what she's holding.
Her fingers close around Jane's wedding band.