A/N: This oneshot is for the fic exchange organised on Twitter by half agony and hope. If you haven't read them already check out the others by PoppingVestButtons, Hayseed Socrates, Idan and, of course, half agony and hope herself. For those of you following my other fics don't fret I'm getting back to them as soon as possible now holiday season is over. (I also have a lot of fics to catch up on reading too so please bear with me).
Endings
He speaks with purpose. "Large man with a gun. Red John's girl. This is it."
Jane's bicycle falls to the ground as he grips the cardboard box in his hands tightly.
Lisbon voice murmurs through his earpiece. "All right. We're moving in. Stay alive until we get there."
Her assured tone allows him to draw a breath and smile inwardly as Lorelei Martins saunters towards him, her black boots kicking up the dry earth of Nevada in her wake.
A coquettish smile plays on her lips and Jane's gut tightens in self reproach as he's reminded of that same smirk as she lay on top of him nights before. As he imagines her fingernails scraping his chest like tiny daggers dipped in guilt he pushes those thoughts aside roughly, swiftly refocusing his attention on the large limousine behind her.
"Hi!" She speaks pleasantly like a helpful hostess at an upscale restaurant.
He squints against the sun with a nod. There's no further requirement to charm her. He responds with a clipped, "Hey."
"That the gift?"
His gaze becomes increasingly transfixed to the car and he's not in the mood for small talk. "Red John in there?"
"He's looking forward to speaking with you."
He studies her keenly for any sign of deception. She turns her face away and begins to pace towards the vehicle. He follows slowly, unsure, his knuckles white as he carries the box. He's been counting how long before Lisbon and her team arrive. He knows it'll be soon.
Over the years they've suffered alongside him as the defeats piled on like wood on a funeral pyre, stoking its embers time and time again. And, for Lisbon, the past six months have been particularly hard on her. Her eyes lack the vitality that had once shone brightly like those emeralds he'd attempted to gift to her once, the spark of affection that meets his gaze now almost extinguished, weariness and worry taking its place. The scales of trust, perpetually swinging back and forth over the years over the course of their relationship, appear to have settled against him for the foreseeable future.
Was that why he'd filled her in on his plan so readily? To attempt to curry favour with her once again? To tip the scales back in his direction? Because if Red John actually is in that vehicle then he has led the CBI to him. He could have misdirected the team, sent them elsewhere when he received the call earlier. He could have set up the smokescreen of Lisbon and Rigsby's deaths with their assistance then sought Red John out on his own. It was how he'd imagined it on many occasions. The final showdown of two men standing off against each other in a duel to the death. He'd toyed with the idea briefly, of course. How could he not? Lisbon had always maintained she'd prevent him from killing Red John. Would this place, the dry heat of the desert and the taste of sand on their tongues, be where they'd make their final stand with each other on that matter too?
Whatever the outcome, she's earned this potential grand unveiling almost as much as he has. They all have. And in the end he can't rob them of the opportunity to share this moment with him. He wants them there at his side. It's a surprise but it's the truth. Whether it will turn into a Pyrrhic victory (in her eyes) is yet to be determined. But naturally, the decision to have them here wasn't entirely altruistic either. If he loses the battle Lisbon will make sure Red John will pay the piper too. His won't be the only blood shed.
She whispers in his ear, her concern apparent, "Jane, we're almost there. Hold on."
He realises in this moment how much he's missed this – being part of something. Being part of a team. Being part of her team. He's been away for six long months and each day had felt like betrayal heaped upon betrayal as he ignored her calls. He'd stopped listening to them after the first month for fear he'd slip up and reach out to her. But lacking the sound of her voice only made her absence feel more consuming, more real, more raw. Time apart had done nothing but cement his love for her.
"That thing you said before you shot me...Wh-What did you mean?"
They'd danced their usual dance then, pretended it hadn't been said, pretended it didn't matter. If she had pushed him for an answer what would he have said?
Lorelei is almost at the hood now and nods for Jane to place the box there. He does so slowly, extending the time. If this is a double cross and the team don't make it soon will not answering that question honestly be what he regrets most as he takes his last breath?
"Take cover!" blasts through his ear loud and clear and he's alert instantly. There's no more time for what ifs. He surprises Lorelei and the musclehead on the other side of him by scampering head down to a grassy outcrop a few feet away, grabbing the box and using it as a makeshift shield. Cover is minimal but the others are distracted now as they draw their weapons. The wail of sirens approaches, the screech of tyres against asphalt in the near distance.
Red John's people briefly look at each other and duck for cover, opening the front doors of the limousine and climbing inside. The engine starts as Lisbon's vehicle comes careering down the road. Jane flips open the lid of the box and retrieves the gun inside. His hands are shaking as the crackle of gunfire breaks out.
He hears Lisbon's voice a short distance away. "Aim for their tyres! Make sure they can't escape!"
Bullets whizz through the air in a volley from both sides. Jane is carefully creeping to the rear of the vehicle, out of range of the firefight taking place at the front.
He jerks when a tyre explodes a few feet away. A glimmer of a smile works its way across his face. The limousine is incapacitated now, no chance of escape.
"Hold your fire!" Lisbon yells. Her team are shielded behind their vehicle, guns aimed at the occupants in front of them. "Put your weapons down!" Cho shouts.
Suddenly there's silence and Jane hears a voice in the back of the limousine, a call to his people at the front. "All right," his sigh is audible and Jane is afraid to move a muscle. He's only a few feet from the back door.
"Lay down your weapons," Red John commands.
She finds him in the attic later that night.
She can almost make herself believe that the past six months haven't occurred and that tonight is like any other night she's found him there. The door open he stands with his back to her as he gazes into nothingness ahead, hands in his pockets and his jacket tossed casually on top of the chair behind.
But tonight isn't like any other night. Tonight everything in their worlds is different. And she has no idea if she is welcome in his anymore after the events of the afternoon.
"Lisbon."
He says her name as she opens her mouth to speak. There is no surprise in his tone that she is there at three am. No witty jibe about her needing to find sleep (or a life).
She exhales slowly and takes a step forward. She focuses on what she needs to tell him and not the tight knot that has settled in her stomach. "Preliminary search reveals that there's sufficient evidence at his property to make a credible assumption that McAllister was Red John. Laptop is still being examined but evidence has been found on there too."
He nods his head and hums his acknowledgement. It was obvious enough to both of them earlier that they had the right man on this occasion.
"We got him, Jane." She can't help herself say the words but the knot tightens.
He laughs then. But it's cold to her ears and sounds as bitter as espresso.
"Is," he states quietly.
"Is?"
He turns towards her for the first time and she almost draws back when she sees his face. He hasn't cleaned up since that afternoon but his stubble and unkempt appearance isn't what surprises her most. His expression is one of a man still lost. She's reminded of the first time she met him but this is worse, somehow. Then he had a purpose. Now he simply looks defeated.
"You said McAllister was Red John," he states. "You mean he is Red John. He's still alive, Lisbon."
She averts her eyes for a second and a vision of the killer's eyes glinting in amusement as he surrendered to her that day is all she can see. A cold shiver snakes through her veins and she wonders if she'll ever feel warm again. She'd never wished more for someone to pull a weapon so she could have put him down like the animal he is. She couldn't look at Jane then either. But she'll never forget his pleading in her ears as Cho and Rigsby held him back from allowing him to take the vengeance he so sorely wanted with his bare hands. If his gun hadn't misfired on the only shot he was able to take then she could have been arresting him for being a murderer too this evening. Would she have done that, she asks herself. The response is a thundering no.
In McAllister's case, unlike any other arrest she's ever made, she can find no satisfaction in doing her job and following the letter of the law. Instead she simply feels like a traitor.
She tries to push that image from earlier aside, straightens her shoulders and gives him the speech she's prepared. Maybe she'll even believe it herself if she says it out loud. "He's never going to be free again, Jane. He's never going to hurt another person. He's going to death row. And then he'll be executed."
Unconvinced, he drawls through a long sigh. "Hm."
She takes another step forward. Firmly, "It's over. Now you need to let it go. Let him go."
He stares at her and she blushes under his scrutiny. "I don't blame you, Lisbon. If forgiveness is what you came here for tonight. You did what you said you'd always do. You got to him before I could. Simple as that."
"I didn't come here for forgiveness, Jane."
"No? Then why do you look so guilty?"
"I stopped you from making the worst mistake of your life."
His voice is so calm she wants to throttle him. "Been there, done that, I'm afraid."
"For god's sake, Jane-"
"No need to get upset. You should be pleased. Career making arrest like that. Bravo."
"You know what, screw you, Jane!"
She turns to leave then stops herself at the door. She blinks to stop herself crying in front of him. "I'm sorry." She shakes her head as she breathes out and the tears fall. "I'm sorry," she says again.
"I know," he says at her back.
She bats the tears away roughly and faces him again. "Look, Press are all over this. Until it calms down I-I think you should take some time away-"
"I'm leaving tonight. I was just waiting for you to come find me so I could let you know."
"You could have found me."
"A lot going on in the office like you say. I needed the quiet, not two dozen eyes staring at me and not knowing whether to congratulate me or commiserate with me."
She raises an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you're actually telling me you're leaving this time. Although you barely came back anyway, huh."
He nods. Seriously, "This time is different from before."
She frowns and then shock replaces questioning. Although why she should be surprised is equally as surprising. Part of her knew this day would always come. She whispers, "You're leaving for good, aren't you?"
He licks his lips and turns towards the window again. "Like you said, I need to move on. And I can't do that here. If I stay he won't allow that. He'll find a way to make sure I cannot."
"He's going to be placed in solitary confinement-"
"Lisbon, spare me any more speeches, please. There are ways to circumvent that. And we both know that today only marked the beginning of another chapter for him. Like a second act, if you will. Find a way to torture me when I know who he is and where he is but is so protected I have absolutely no chance of getting to him. It's not like my thirst for revenge has ever been a secret, I won't be allowed within twenty foot of him without a guard present.
"And getting him to death row takes years. And, who knows, he may even escape that too if he has friends or influence in the right places. It's a long road ahead to trial never mind that. Anything could happen in between. The only way I give myself a chance of any semblance of a normal life is to get off this ride once and for all. Plus it's the only revenge I can extract on him now. Take myself off the grid. Remove his plaything from the board. It's my only choice, Lisbon."
"Are you sure you're not leaving because of...because of what I did today?"
He faces her again and shakes his head. "I'd be lying if I said there wasn't some lingering resentment over your actions. But..." He looks down and buries his hands deeper in his pockets. Audibly he catches his breath. "But I could never stay mad at you, Teresa. I owe you too much. I...I owe you everything these past years. I doubt I'd have made it here without you."
This is sounding too much like a farewell and she shakes her head. "You don't need to say that. Of course you would have."
He peeks at her again and takes a step forward. "It had to be said. If not now then when?"
She's not aware tears are streaming down her face until he wipes her cheek gently with the pad of his thumb. His eyes bore into hers and her heart feels like it might crack. Her throat constricts. "If I'd allowed you to kill him today would you still be leaving?"
He ponders her question, answers with a shrug.
She nods and puffs out a breath to stop crying. "You're going to be okay." She frames it as a statement and not a question.
"Of course." His answer isn't quite as assured.
"I promise I will get you justice. It might not be what you wanted but I'll make sure he doesn't escape what he has coming. He'll pay."
"I know you will."
She glances towards the doorway. "I-I better go then. Still got a tonne of paperwork to work on down there. And Bertram wants to hold a press conference in the morning."
"Just as well I'm leaving. I doubt I'd be able to control myself sticking my oar in."
She laughs gently then plays with her fingertips, runs a hand through her hair. "So...this is it, huh?"
"Now you see why it's easier just to disappear into the night. Goodbyes are hard."
"Yeah, damn right."
"Anyway," he says. Then he surprises her by embracing her quickly. Her shock makes it awkward and she can feel his heart thumping against her chest instantly. It's almost as if it's easier to hug her than keep looking into her eyes. "I'm going to miss you," he murmurs into her hair.
She wraps her arms around him. "I'm going to miss you too. Have-have a good life, okay? That's the best revenge you can get, Jane-"
She stops talking when he presses a kiss to her cheek. His breathing is laboured and his cheek is wet too. The kiss is desperate and not the kiss of a friend. A lover's kiss.
He's shaking when he pulls away as swiftly as he began to hug her. His face is flushed as he wipes his eyes. He's ashamed for showing his feelings so openly. "Sorry, little...uh...emotional."
"Yeah," she agrees with a half-smile, half-laugh.
Then they lock eyes again. And in that moment nothing else matters but sharing how they feel. And if this is really goodbye then they don't want to have regrets. "What I said," he begins, "in your office." He takes a breath. "I meant it."
He exhales again and speaks louder and with more certainty. "Mean it. And you have a right to hear that. I don't want you to ever have any doubts where that was the case. I'm-I'm just sorry that-"
She cuts him off with a kiss. She's not as eloquent as he is and all she wants to know is how those lips feel against her mouth and not just her cheek. She'll digest his words later and probably for the rest of her life. But right now she wants to feel loved, not be told how much she is loved.
He assures her more than sufficiently.
A/N: Thanks again to half agony and hope for organising this fic exchange. It was a lot of fun. I admit I amended the prompt to fit in with this scenario as I have a future fic in mind that would follow on where this oneshot leaves off (I always wondered what would happen if Red John was captured and not killed and have a story I think might be interesting). Won't be penning it for a while but the groundwork is laid.