A vacation. That was exactly what she needed, after everything they'd been through of late.
Rigsby had nearly lost his life to the serial killer they'd been chasing for over a decade, while Van Pelt had ended up miscarrying their child as a consequence; as for Cho, he was still recovering after a severe gunshot wound to his leg.
Then came the dramatic showdown in the CBI attic; even now she couldn't stop thinking of Red John's laughter as he fell to the floor with a hail of bullets in his chest, nor the astonished look on Jane's face as he realized what had just happened.
He'd walked away on her, and she hadn't heard of him ever since.
In the end she simply resigned from her job, and booked a tour to Europe. Rationally she knew that running away wasn't the solution, her demons would follow her wherever she chose to go; however, she needed time and space to mull over the latest events, so that she could learn to live with her guilt and regret.
The hard cold truth was that she'd failed; as a cop, as a team leader, and as a friend. Her colleagues were family to her, and yet she hadn't been able to protect them; they were alive, that was true, but all of them were now scarred for life. Even in death, Red John was still stronger than they could ever be.
Lisbon sighed as she gazed down the windswept cliff; visiting Ireland had always been her childhood dream, but now she was there she found herself unable to enjoy the view. The only thing she really wished was that everything could go back to as it was prior to this nightmare and yet, she was all too aware that just wasn't possible.
The rest of the trip passed in a haze of bittersweet memories; England, France and Spain weren't any better, nor was Portugal, which was supposed to be the last stage of her journey. It didn't matter that her friends and brothers kept calling, assuring her they were fine and couldn't wait for her to be back home; she wasn't actually sure she wanted to come back at all.
She was sitting alone in a small café of Lisbon – and the fact that she shared her name with an European capital city slightly amused her – when she got the distinct feeling someone was staring at her. A sense of foreboding crept over her as she turned around, only to find Patrick Jane smiling down at her.
"Took you long enough," he murmured, and sat down beside her as if he hadn't disappeared on her for months now.
She stared back at him, suddenly unsure whether to slap him or throw her arms around his neck; he was the one who reached across the small table and covered her hand with his own. Her eyes widened in surprise as she noticed that his old wedding band was missing.
"What are you doing here, Jane?" she murmured at last, and he broke into a dazzling grin.
"Waiting for you. What else?"
"Please. You can't expect me to buy this."
His thumb skimmed over the back of her hand. "Sweet little Grace told me about your trip. Did you know she's expecting again?"
"That doesn't change anything," she said bitterly, and withdrew her hand. "We should have stopped Red John before he got the chance to hurt our friends."
"I know, and I am sorry. But we can't change the past, Teresa; only the future is in our hands."
"Says the one who spent a decade hunting a madman," she all but snorted.
"Well, it's over now."
Then he leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek as he looked her straight in the eyes. "Wallowing in guilt is not worth it, my dear. Trust someone that knows."
She laughed, couldn't help it. That was when he leaned forward, and silenced her with a gentle brush of his lips.