Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yaaaaaaaaawn.
A/N: Well what is this? Yes, it is a cliched, unoriginal, short Jisbon oneshot that I wrote instead of getting dressed for school this morning. I hope you like it. :)
A/N2: Thanks to Tiva4evaxxx for beta-ing and hopefully de-crap-ifying it a little.
Lisbon waited until everyone had left the bullpen before she went to him. She pulled a chair from one of the desks and sat beside his couch, silent for a few seconds as Patrick continued to stare defiantly at the ceiling, ignoring her.
"One of these days, Jane," she promised, but even to her the words sounded weak, false.
"And how many girls am I supposed to let die first?" Jane asked, his voice low.
"It's not your fault."
"If you were one of their mothers, would you still think that?"
"Jane, if I were one of their mothers, I'd be joining you, not blaming you."
It was the first time she'd admitted her vengeful streak to him, which provoked a wry smile. But he still blamed himself, and couldn't help being convinced that others blamed him too. And if they didn't... well, they should.
"Stop doing this to yourself," Lisbon said gently. "Today... well, there'll be another chance."
The words, well-intentioned, just intensified the thoughts of his most recent failure, and he snapped to his feet.
"What if I never get him?" Jane yelled.
Lisbon closed her eyes, knowing she'd miscalculated how far along his cycle of self-blame and anger he was.
"One of these days," she said again. It was all she could say. He wasn't the only one who needed to cling onto something.
He grabbed the sides of her chair and swivelled it round to face him. Reluctantly, scared of what she would see, she opened her eyes to stare into his face.
"You say that," he said quietly. "But what if you're wrong?"
"I promise you, Jane."
He laughed loudly, bitterly. "Don't you always tell me not to make promises to the families of the victim, Lisbon? 'Don't make promises you can't keep, you'll only hurt them more', does that sound familiar?"
His voice was steadily rising as he looked around in desperation. He slammed his hands down on a desk, a glass paperweight fell and smashed against the floor.
You're scaring me, a voice in her head whispered - she nearly said it aloud, but it would be a cold day in hell before she admitted that to Jane, no matter what mood he was in.
"Jane, stop it!" she yelled instead.
"WHY?" he looked at her, expression softening briefly. "Why do you talk like you understand? Leave me alone."
Jane began to walk through the CBI, which terrified her more than she could say. In this state he wasn't responsible for what he was doing – he was barely aware of what he was doing. Despite her fear – yes, she was scared of this Jane – she followed.
"Jane, get back here!"
Patrick, don't do this.
"Jane, stop being an idiot!"
Patrick, I'm scared.
"For god's sake, JANE!"
Please Patrick...
"Jane!"
Patrick...
"JANE!"
Patrick...
He resolutely ignored her, and continued on his way. When he reached the stairs, she broke into a run to catch him, darting in front of him on a landing.
"Lisbon, move," he said, jaw clenching.
She glanced at the stairs behind her, imagining falling down them, imaging Jane walking by her... but she was being stupid. Jane wouldn't do that to her. No matter his mood... she didn't think he would, anyway.
"No. You've got to listen to me."
"I don't have to listen to anyone! No one GETS IT, Lisbon, not even you!"
Frustrated, he turned ad drove his fist into a wall. The skin broke and blood rose to the surface. Lisbon noticed. Jane didn't.
"Now move," he said again.
When she didn't, he turned to walk up the stairs again, anything to get away. She grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her, but the wild look in his eyes stopped her saying anything. Instead, she grasped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down, pushing her lips against his, as hard as she could, passionately, violently.
After a second, he turned them and pushed her to the wall, his hand at the back of her head to cushion her – just the small gentle gesture was reassuring. He kissed back just as desperately, venting all his frustration and pain. Then he pulled back, wrapping his arms around her and burying his head in the corner of her neck. She felt a slight dampness, and realised with shock that he was crying. Trying to reassure him, she held him silently, knowing that there was nothing she could say.
"I'm sorry," he finally whispered.
"S'okay," she managed to say, finding her voice.
"It's not," he told her, his voice cracking. And then he flashed her a weak version of his grin. "Did you just kiss me?" he asked, smirking. "I knew you'd give in someday."
She couldn't help it in the ridiculous situation – she laughed.
"I kissed the Other Jane," she told him. "The Anti-Jane. The Red John Jane. Because sometimes I'll do anything to get you back, Patrick."
There was a pause.
"And if you tell anyone about this, you die," she added.
Patrick laughed, and she smiled.
:D Jisbonness... It's not quite happily ever after, but I suck at fairy-tales.