Lisbon tries to imagine her life without Jane, and all she can really think about is how dull and proper everything would become, how somewhere between hunting murderers and doing paperwork, Jane and his antics have become an integral part of her life.
XXXXXXXXX
She's not at all surprised to see Jane handcuffed to a pole in the basement of the hunting cabin, surrounded by blood spattered concrete and a corpse. (One thing is always certain when it comes to Jane: wherever there is trouble he's sure to find it.)
Lisbon takes a half step down the stairs and then stops, the cop within her demanding that she take note of the entire situation before proceeding. Rachel prods her in the back with the gun, a sharp reminder of the position she's in, but Lisbon doesn't notice. Her eyes move to Jane, and as she takes in his rumpled clothes and the expression on his face, she exhales a shaky breath.
This mess is certainly not ideal, but it's far better than finding two bodies in the basement.
The main thing is that Jane is alive.
"Oh, visiting hours. Hey, Lisbon," Jane says nonchalantly as though being kidnapped is something he does on a regular basis. The frenzied thumping of Lisbon's heart drowns out his words.
It's when Rachel handcuffs her to the pole that Lisbon begins to freak out. The basement is hellishly hot, and the handcuffs are cold against her wrists, and Lisbon suddenly feels as though she's drowning in it all.
She can practically hear Jane in her head. Hey. Hey, look at me. Like he's trying to hypnotize her. Like they're alone and there's not a deranged woman on some twisted crusade for revenge standing right next to them. Like there's not a corpse on the floor spilling blood onto their shoes.
Lisbon looks at Jane and breathes.
Then Rachel starts talking about revenge and suffering, and Jane's eyes are too serious, like he realizes he might not be able to talk his way out of being burned to a crisp.
When Rachel leaves, Lisbon turns to look at Jane, hoping that he can't read the panic in her eyes. (Of course he can.)
"What are you going to do?"
"You're not going to like it," he says, and Lisbon wants to ask him when she everlikes his plans.
Before she can really bring that point up to him, he's dipping his fingers in some of the blood on the floor, and inching carefully toward her.
"Jane-"
"Hush, Lisbon. It'll work."
His hands are warm against her neck as he smears the blood onto her skin.
XXXXXXXXX
They live, of course.
XXXXXXXXX
Later that night when she's sitting on his couch, Lisbon thinks that maybe she could get used to this.
"Where's my apple?" she asks, because it doesn't feel quite right to say we could have died today or thank you for saving my life again.
"Your what?"
"My apple. I asked you to get me an apple," she says, trying not to roll her eyes at him, because he certainly has had more important things weighing on his mind since that conversation. Namely the fact that he was kidnapped and cattle prodded and almost burned alive.
"I come through the valley of death and all you can think about is your stomach. A piece of fruit."
Lisbon tries to contain her smile, but she's sure Jane can hear it in her voice. "That's right." She shifts closer to him and grins as he sips his tea and shakes his head at her.
She could definitely get used to this.