Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and am making no money from this story.
Author's Note: The end of Red Mile is one of the most powerful moments of the series, IMO. It really showed Jane's compassion and him struggling a bit to find the right thing to do in a tough situation. The ending was perfect, but it did leave me pondering what happened next. This is the best I could come up with.
Jane sipped his tea, trying not to think that he was sitting next to a corpse. One who'd been talking to him mere minutes before. Death was odd, when you thought about it; it transformed a person into a thing. Really it was an absence rather than a specter. Jane wasn't religious, but he had to admit there did seem to be an animating, if not eternal, spirit.
Whatever it was, it was gone from Steiner now. His troubles were over. But Jane's were as pressing as ever. Possibly even more so, because now he was going to have to call the authorities and hope they believed him when he told the truth.
He wished Lisbon was here. But he knew why Steiner hadn't invited her; she would never have gone along with his plan.
It occurred to Jane that calling Lisbon was not only what he wanted to do, but it was also exactly what she would want him to do.
Surely enough time had passed to put Steiner safely beyond the reach of resuscitation. Jane pulled out his phone and pressed the key to call her, and she picked up on the second ring.
"Where are you?" she demanded.
"Steiner's house."
"What?"
He gave her the address. "I need you to come over here."
"Why? Jane, this better not be one of your jokes."
He couldn't blame her for being suspicious, but he didn't have the energy to argue. "This is serious, Lisbon. He's dead."
"What?"
He winced, holding the phone out from his ear until her shriek faded. "He's dead. He asked me to watch while he killed himself so there wouldn't be an autopsy."
"Jesus. I'll be right there. Don't move anything."
Her commanding tone reassured him. Lisbon would deal with it. She'd be unhappy about his involvement in a suicide, which he knew she disapproved of, but she'd do the right thing for him and for Steiner.
It was a measure of how shaken he was that he was anxious for her to take charge. Normally he preferred to be the one figuring things out and giving orders. But witnessing someone's last moments was a shockingly intimate act, and it had gotten to him. Jane wasn't used to letting things get to him.
He'd been present at deaths before, of course; he'd watched Tanner die, and Alicia Seberg, to name two. But neither of them had wanted to die, and he hadn't been the only witness. Neither had wanted him to keep watch so they wouldn't die alone.
No one should die alone. Everyone should have someone to hold vigil as they departed. He wished he'd been in time to hold Angela's and Charlotte's hands and tell them they were loved and would be avenged. Distracting Steiner from his fear in his last moments had brought that regret back with painful intensity.
It also dredged up one of Jane's own fears. Who would be there to hold his hand as he breathed his last? It was possible his last sight would be of Red John, as his wife's had been. But it was also possible he would manage his revenge, survive it, and live to a lonely old age. He didn't believe in an afterlife, so there would be no comfort for him in his final moments, except an end to his suffering.
If it came to that, he'd be pathetically grateful for an acquaintance to do coin tricks for him as his vision dimmed.
He must have sat there longer than he realized, because it seemed like no time at all before he heard a car screech to a halt in the driveway and the front door open. "In here," he called, pleased his voice sounded calm.
Lisbon stopped in the doorway, her gaze going first to the body, as befitted a homicide detective. She glanced at Jane, making sure he was okay, as she went over to press her fingers against Steiner's throat in a vain search for a pulse. Finding none, her free hand went to her cross, and her eyes closed as she said a brief prayer.
Jane was seized with a sudden hope that she would do the same for him, someday.
His expression must have shown some of his thoughts, because when Lisbon looked at him again, she frowned in concern. Her voice was gentle as she asked, "What happened?"
"He took some pills, I think. Then just...went to sleep." He tried for a grin, but didn't quite make it. "Trust an expert in death to pick the best one for himself."
"Did he say why?"
"He was sick. Dying. He said he had no interest in letting nature take its course."
"Poor man." Lisbon looked sadly down at Steiner, then left him in peace. "I called an ambulance. They'll be here any minute. Did you touch anything?"
"Just the tea things."
"Okay. Sac PD is on the way too, but once you've given your statement I'm sure they'll accept this is a suicide."
"It was," he said.
Lisbon gave him a wry half smile. "I know. If you were going to kill someone, you wouldn't hang around."
Would he? Not while he was hunting Red John, he knew. He had to remain free until he achieved his goal. But after...maybe he would. Maybe he'd run. He'd have to wait and see how things played out. But he wouldn't want to make things difficult for Lisbon. He wouldn't want to make her arrest him or testify at his trial. Whatever happened, he wanted her safe and as happy as possible.
Lisbon must have sensed he wasn't himself, because she stayed beside him as the paramedics, the police, and the coroner arrived in rapid succession. Giving his statement was easy enough, since he only had to tell the truth—a refreshing change he was sure he'd appreciate later. Steiner would probably have been highly amused if he'd been alive to witness it. Lisbon just looked worried.
At last they were free to go, and Jane followed Lisbon to her SUV. Her concern turned to alarm as she realized he was leaving his car, and he tried to calm her by saying, "I need a good cup of tea before I get behind the wheel. You can drop me off here on your way home, can't you?"
"Okay." She unlocked the passenger door and got in. Jane put on his seatbelt and looked out the window as she drove, knowing she'd realize he didn't want to talk. Except he did, kind of. He just had absolutely no idea what to say.
"Did you know?" she asked softly after a minute.
"That he was sick? Yes. He told me after he realized I had guessed."
"I thought you didn't like each other."
Jane shrugged. "I liked teasing him. He liked the attention."
"That's why you invited him on the case, because you knew."
"Every dying man should be granted his last wish."
"You should have told me," she grumbled.
Jane stifled a sigh. "You wouldn't have let him. You'd have worried he'd suddenly drop dead and mess up the case."
She drew a sharp breath, and he glanced over to find her lips pursed. He'd offended her, he realized, and hurried to repair the damage. "He would have hated your pity. He admired you, you know. Told me you were a very good person. You reminded him of someone special to him."
Lisbon darted a suspicious glance at him but didn't pursue the point. "You two bonded, hm?"
"I think he was relieved to have someone who knew. He didn't tell anyone. He didn't have anyone to tell anymore, I think." Jane didn't continue his thought that he could identify with the man's dilemma, because he knew she would be hurt. When he'd first come to the CBI, he hadn't had anyone to really talk to, so he knew how it felt.
But now he had Lisbon. She was the person he'd call if he were dying, the one whose hand he'd want to hold. She was his friend, and she kept him out of the abyss of lonely despair he could feel pulling at him some nights.
He wondered with a sense of shock if he ever returned the favor. He should, he knew. Lisbon was in her way as solitary as he was. She was stronger, but even she must get lonely sometimes. Maybe some nights she worked later than she really needed to, because sitting in her office with him was better than going home alone.
"That's so sad," Lisbon said, and it took him a second to realize she was talking about Steiner, not either of them.
"Yes, it is." Jane decided not to voice any of his other thoughts. He hated pity and Lisbon hated talking about feelings.
"That was a kind thing you did. Thank you."
Jane shrugged, looking out the window again. He hated to be thanked, too. "No need to thank me. I didn't do it for you, after all."
"No. You did it out of compassion. That deserves a thank you."
"On behalf of humanity?" he teased.
"On behalf of Dr. Steiner." Her tone was firm, telling him she would not be deflected.
"Oh, so you're pretending to be psychic now?" He very much wanted to end this topic. "I can teach you some good tricks."
Lisbon's tone sharpened. "You don't have to be psychic to speak for the dead. We do it all the time when we catch murderers. We convict them of their crimes in the names of their victims."
"Yes, we do." And he would convict Red John in the names of Angela and Charlotte when the time came.
Lisbon was silent for a while. "Don't worry," she said finally. "I won't give you away. We wouldn't want your colleagues and the DA's office to think you've gone soft."
He greeted the return of her sarcasm with relief. "Thank you. Every superhero needs a secret identity, you know."
"I thought the secret identity was supposed to be mild mannered, not a jackass."
"Only in comic books. In real life, jackass is a far better disguise. Admit it: no one would ever suspect me of even a slightly heroic bent."
"I would," she said quietly, and he knew she was thinking of Tanner.
"Ah, but you are the trusted confidante who's in on the secret," he said. He was well aware the word "sidekick" would get him punched. And it wasn't really accurate, anyway.
Lisbon smiled; she liked the idea of being his confidante, he could see. He decided to expound on the theme a bit.
"Every superhero needs that vital person who knows both sides of them. Who keeps them grounded and helps them navigate those tricky situations when their identities collide or are in direct conflict. Someone who protects and comforts them and believes in them when no one else does."
She looked at him with glowing eyes, and he realized he'd gotten carried away. Time to backpedal, he thought. "Of course, you have some deficiencies in that last area, but I feel sure you'll improve with practice."
"Ha, ha," she retorted. After a moment, she added, "Believing in you and believing you are two different things."
"True."
"In fact," she continued with a growing tone of triumph, "me not believing your bullshit is actually good for you. It's the keeping you grounded thing."
"Hm." She was right, but he'd never admit it.
"You like it when I see right through you. You despise people who fall for your tricks."
"Despise is a strong word," he objected.
"You feel superior to them, then. And you need people you don't feel superior to. They're the only ones who don't bore you."
"It's true the vast majority of the human race bores me," he said with a straight face. "But not you. And Cho, of course. I enjoy his air of inscrutability and his blunt moral clarity. It's so refreshing. You know, he would make a truly excellent sidekick."
Lisbon snorted, trying unsuccessfully to keep from laughing. "Please let me be there when you tell him that!"
Jane grinned. "Of course. I'd need you to stand between us."
She pulled into a coffee shop parking lot and shut off the engine, then turned to him. "I'm glad you're okay," she told him, touching his shoulder.
He caught her hand as she pulled it away, holding it in his own. "Thank you," he said.
She graced him with one of her gentle smiles. "You're welcome."
Her hand, so small and warm in his, reminded him of the love he'd had in his life, never to be regained. But friendship was precious too, and he had that with her.
He opened his mouth, but no words emerged. Lisbon's smile faded to a frown of concern.
When his words finally came, they were as much a surprise to him as to her. "Hold my hand when I die."
It took her a moment to get over her surprise and say, "That's a long time from now, Jane."
"Maybe. But we never know what will happen tomorrow. Just...everyone should have someone to see them off. Don't you think?"
She nodded. "Okay. I'll hold your hand when you die, if I possibly can."
He smiled and let go of her. "Thank you. I would promise the same, but I expect you'll outlive me." She'd probably have an adoring husband and maybe a kid by her bedside, anyway.
Lisbon opened her door, remarking, "Probably."
As he opened the coffee shop door for her, she paused. "But if I don't, I hope you'll hold mine."
"Count on it," he assured her.
As he followed her inside, he comforted himself that she really was likely to outlive him, so he wouldn't have to hold up his end of the bargain. She would hold up hers, though, given the chance. He just needed to make sure he kept her part of his life.
It wouldn't be hard; she was loyal and compassionate. Really, when he thought about it, she was the superhero, fighting for truth and justice with every tool at her disposal, leading her own little Justice League. He was the odd one out, the dark antihero with a tortured past who wasn't satisfied with catching crooks because there was only one he really cared about dispatching.
But it was good to be part of her team, even if sometimes he was frustrated by the rules that held them back. At least he had people who cared about him and helped him. And if he died in his quest, there would be people to mourn him and remember him.
And, if he was lucky, a friend to hold his hand.