AN: Several TM authors over on Twitter decided to do a fic exchange, and here is the result. Make sure you check out stories by Hayseed Socrates, Idan, mayzee, and PoppingVestButtons, all of whom are also writing for the exchange!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.
i.
He follows her around like a long-lost shadow for several days after the Hardy incident. Lisbon doesn't comment – if this is what he needs to reassure himself that she is alive, that he made the right decision in pulling the trigger, than who is she to argue?
The only hesitation he shows is upon the threshold of the church when she pushes open the tall, looming mahogany doors. She looks back at him, and her voice echoes in the empty entrance hall.
"It's okay, Jane," she says softly. "You can come in."
Jane inhales sharply and gives a curt nod before stepping inside. Lisbon lets the door fall shut behind him, and together they make their way up the rows of pews and into the church, Lisbon pausing to dip her hand into holy water and make the sign of the cross before continuing.
The sun shifts outside, causing the stained glass windows to glisten, and the colors fall over them as they walk. Lisbon makes the sign of the cross once more before stepping inside one of the pews about halfway to the front of the church, and Jane slides in behind her. They sit down. Lisbon closes her eyes.
Jane reaches for Lisbon's hand. She squeezes his fingers and covers his hand with both of hers.
He breathes out.
ii.
She asks him if he's okay, if he's sure that Red John said nothing. Later, he decides he wants to come clean about the former, but the latter must remain a lie.
So, ten minutes after darkness has descended, after she's already left for the night, Jane follows her out. He has no difficulty tracking her down. He knows to first check the church she frequents, the one he'd accompanied her to the year previous. And sure enough, she's there.
The church is empty, and he's sure she can hear his footsteps as he approaches her. She looks up at him, brow furrowed. "Jane?" she whispers.
He sits down beside her.
"You're not the only one who came here to confess something tonight," he says, leaning his forearms on the back of the pew in front of him.
"Jane?" says Lisbon again, clearly concerned.
"I'm not okay," he murmurs, and Lisbon leans forward to rest her hand on his upper back.
iii.
She doesn't tell anyone when she is released from the hospital. Instead, she takes a cab to the church and slips inside, welcoming the cool darkness and the quiet, grateful to finally be able to grieve alone.
She knows she'll work up the courage to see him in prison eventually, but for now, she can't even think about facing that.
Facing him.
So she lights a candle for him, prays for him, grieves for him, but she refuses to cry for him. This is, after all, what he wanted. He's free now, and she knows she has to let him go.
How she will manage that, she has no idea.
iv.
He crawls on his hands and knees from the back of the church, the smell of dried candle wax on the floor almost overwhelming, until he can see her boots, grinning to himself all the while. He's giddy and hyped up on adrenaline with the knowledge of hearing her voice, of seeing her brilliant eyes, for the first time in six months.
"This is God. What is it now?"
He hears her gasp, and he laughs aloud. He can't help the ridiculous smile that spreads across his face as he reveals himself to her.
Lisbon is still obviously trying to catch her breath. "You scared the life out of me," she says, her voice almost wispy.
They banter and argue for a while, him trying to earn her forgiveness with his easy smiles. But he can tell it's the truth she wants, so he gives it to her.
"Well…I'm sorry."
She stares off into space as she answers, clearly lost in the six months he'd thrown away. "I tried calling," she says eventually. "I tried calling you hundreds of times, begging you to talk to me, begging you to get help." She lets out an exasperated breath. "Not a reply," she says, shaking her head. "Not a word. Not a text."
He apologizes again and lets her verbally abuse him for a few minutes. This seems to cheer her up considerably.
"And your plan? It's stupid. It's not even a plan."
He waits before he responds.
"But you will help me?" he asks.
He knows her answer before she does.
v.
They sit together this time, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and his calm is the only thing that grounds her. Storm clouds gather outside, an abrupt change from the brilliant sun from earlier in the day.
After a few minutes of silence, Jane asks, "Have you ever lost faith?"
Lisbon glances at him. "You mean in God?" She gestures to the altar in front of them.
"In God. In yourself. In me." Jane shrugs. "Take your pick."
"Faith isn't infallible, Jane. It's something that's tested every day. So, yes, I have lost faith. In all of those things. It's only human."
"How do you get it back?"
She holds his gaze. "What have you lost faith in?" she asks, correctly reading him.
Jane looks across the church. "What if we can't get him?" he says, a confession for her ears alone. "What if this whole thing is futile? What if I've just been endangering all our lives for some impossible cause?"
Lisbon traces the twisting patterns of the wood on the pew in front of her. "That list of names that Lorelei read has got you more worried than you let on, hasn't it?"
"The stakes are higher now than they've ever been," Jane says. "If they're raised any higher…"
Lisbon nods. "I know." She clears her throat. "But to answer your first question – I don't know. Whenever I've lost my faith, it always comes back. I have to fight for it, but it does." She shifts to lean into him. "We'll keep fighting, Jane. And that is something you can always have faith in."
vi.
He watches as she stands up from the pew and walks toward the back of the church, toward him, her eyes on the stone floor. But she looks up suddenly, and her eyes lock onto his.
She stops, and he lets her read everything on his face one last time.
Lisbon continues forward and throws her arms around him, prayer candles flickering on either side of them. Jane tightens his grip on her, and he can pretend for a minute that he's never going to let go.
"How'd you know I'd be here?" she murmurs into his neck.
"How many years have we worked together, Lisbon? When will you stop asking that question?"
She laughs at this as they pull back from each other. But her eyes are dark, and he knows she's bracing herself for what tomorrow will bring.
"So this is it?" she asks.
Jane nods. "I think so."
"And no matter what I say, you won't let me be with you when this all goes down?"
"I can't," he says weakly.
It's Lisbon's turn to nod. "Just finish this, Jane. Please."
"I will," he promises.
"And after, make sure no one can find you. Hide yourself so well that even I won't know where you are."
The last sentence seeps into his veins like a poison, slowly killing him. He can't bear to know how much this will hurt her. "It's all taken care of," he assures her, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye, and he pulls her to him again.
"You know how I feel about you, don't you?" whispers Lisbon, her words muffled by their closeness.
"The same way I feel about you," murmurs Jane, ducking his face to the crook of her neck.
"Then stay hidden. Stay safe."
"I will. I promise."
"Remember me," she pleads.
He just holds her tighter. "As if I could forget you," he manages to get out. "Thank you, Lisbon." He pauses, thinking the sound of her last name sounds strange here, now, after all they've been through. "Teresa," he says.
"Go," she orders.
So he turns, and he runs, disappearing into the darkness and thinking of all the confessions he should have made to her.