Hey everybody!

This story works a little differently to most. I don't usually write angsty stuff, so this was a little bit out of my comfort zone. But it was a secret santa present for the lovely Divinia Serit, and that's what she likes so I gave it a try. However, I also wrote a fluffy ending to the story. So I'm going to post this in 3 parts - the beginning (which is pretty angsty anyway), the angst ending and the fluff ending. You can choose which one you'd like to read. Oh and then please review and let me know what you thought! And then go over to Divinia's profile and check her stuff out, because she's ten times the writer I'll ever be. :P

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, there would be no need for fanfiction because it would be actually happening :P

Hope you enjoy it everybody.

Lisbon was running. Physically, she was just walking (and pretty quickly at that), but emotionally she was running.

As she reached the stairs that would take her up to her apartment, she gave in to the urge and began to physically run. She couldn't be outside any longer. There were too many things to hurt her out here. She could feel the panic attack coming on fast.

She was an anxious person by nature, prone to panic attacks, but she did her best to hide it. She was usually quite proud of the control she had over her body and mind - her ability to mentally fight off a panic attack before it began to physically show itself.

But she was having a harder time fighting this one.

The muscles in her legs burned as she pounded up the stairs, but she didn't care. All she cared about was Jane. And he wanted to die. Even now, hours later, her heart stopped at the thought.

She finally reached her door and tried four times before she successfully got the key in the lock. She was panting now, and her hands were shaking. She flung the door shut behind her, and succumbed to the panic.

Her bag and keys dropped to the floor and she could feel her heart racing. Her breath came quicker and she knew she was having a full-blown panic attack.

Her hands tangled in her hair as flashes of their conversation echoed through her mind.

"You should have waited. We agreed on that."

She'd never seen him so angry. Especially not at her. She'd only glimpsed his anger at Red John, buried deep beneath the surface as he told her his plan to kill him all that time ago. It had frightened her then too, but it was suppressed anger, and it was reserved for Red John. This anger was fresh. And it was directed at her.

"You'd be dead."
"But you would have Red John."

His complete disregard for her words had not only stunned her, it had terrified her. Because they weren't just any words. Even that small section of their conversation had changed everything. He'd basically told her that he didn't care for his own life, his only care was revenge on Red John.

"I don't think you mean what you say. I think you'd choose life."

She'd desperately tried to salvage the situation. She'd internally pleaded with him to say she'd misunderstood him, and she was right when she said he'd choose life.

"Well you think wrong."

She'd felt her heart sink and her eyes begin to sting from unshed tears. But she'd known she needed to fight for him, even if he wouldn't fight for himself.

"No. No you think wrong. Can't you see there's people who care about you, who need you?"

Though she'd tried, she hadn't been able to stop her face from tremoring, showing him a glimpse of how she was feeling. She'd known if she didn't stop soon she'd cry, so she'd turned to anger.

"You're being selfish and childish and I want you to stop it!"

Her words had been angry, but her heart was breaking. Please, please stop it, she'd begged him in her mind.

"I wish that I could but, you know, some things you just can't fix."

These were the words causing her panic. Because she didn't even realise until he said it, but she'd always hoped she's be able to fix him. Or someone else would. Anybody at anytime. She just wanted him 'fixed'. Saved.

To save him would be to save her.

And even though he didn't want to be saved, she did. She was desperate for someone else to realise that they were on the path to destruction, but her panic increased as she realised – who would?

Neither of them had 'friends'. She was too much of a workaholic, and he'd cut everybody off after ... after. All they had was the team, and even if they did realise, they wouldn't be able to save him. They'd try, no doubt, but they didn't understand him the way she did.

Rigsby and van Pelt were the innocents on her team. Yes, as a result of their cases they'd seen the worst, but they'd never actually experienced it themselves. They hadn't had to learn the hard way. Cho had been a mixed up teenager, ending up in juvie before straightening himself out, but even that was nothing compared to her and Jane.

Lisbon and Jane had experienced the worst of life. Her mother had been killed by a drunk driver, and she'd raised her younger brothers. And she'd watched as her father became a drunk. Became abusive. Became a monster. And yet it still stung when he'd killed himself. Maybe because while he was alive, he'd had the occasional hour of being sober, and in those times he'd told her he loved her. But when she'd walked into the kitchen after school one day and found him dangling from the ceiling, she'd known they were empty words. If he'd loved her, he'd have worked through the pain. If he'd loved her, he wouldn't have left her alone.

And even after all she'd been through, it was nothing compared to the nightmare Jane was living. She couldn't imagine the agony of discovering your wife and daughter had been murdered. Let alone knowing it was your own fault. He'd been arrogant and careless and taunted one of the most vicious serial killers in history. And it had come back to get him in the most cruelly ironic way possible.

And she understood his desire for revenge. She still felt the burning anger and hatred towards the man who'd taken her mother away. All through her teenage years she'd had nights where she'd felt so alone, she just wanted to end it all. When she remembered the warmth and safety of her mother's arms and wanted to feel the satisfaction she was sure she'd get by running him over. So she understood how Jane was feeling.

But she'd moved on. She'd learned in time that killing the man wouldn't make her feel better. It wouldn't bring her mother back. And she knew that Jane knew the same.

Her head was pounding as tears streamed down her face. She sank to the floor, her knees curled up to her chest as she sobbed. And then suddenly stopped crying, stopped breathing, when she heard a knock at the door.

"Lisbon, open up," he said quietly.

She was frozen in place, irrationally feeling that maybe if she stayed still enough and quiet enough, he wouldn't realise she was there.

"Lisbon, I know you're there. Come and open the door."

The tears continued streaming down her face, but she stayed silent this time.

"Lisbon, come on." He said quietly, his voice now tinged with concern. Her heart ached even just hearing his voice.

A soft clicking sound then indicated to her that he was picking the lock to her door. If she could have spoken through the tears she would have told him to stop. But she couldn't.

With one final click, she knew he'd succeeded and her door swung open. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and she buried her face in her knees – a useless attempt at hiding her tears.

She heard his sharp intake of breath when his eyes adjusted to the darkness in her apartment and he saw her. She realised in that moment how pathetic she must look – how small and vulnerable – but she didn't care. This time, he needed to know how much he'd hurt her.

"Lisbon." She could hear the shock in his voice, and ... was that fear?

"Go away, Jane." Her words were muffled but she knew he knew what she was saying.

"No." She heard him take a few steps closer and shut her apartment door behind him.

"Go. Away!" She repeated, louder and stronger this time.

"I don't want to."

"I don't care. Get out."

"Lisbon, I-"

"Get out, Jane!" This time, she looked up at him. Looked him straight in the eyes so that he could see how much damage he'd done. Tears were still running down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away, and she saw his eyes widen when he realised.

"Lisbon..." he reached for her and she flinched. He gasped. "Lisbon." He reached for her again and she flinched again.

"Go away, Jane. Don't touch me, don't look at me, don't read me, just get out." As she spoke, she stood up and backed away from him until her back hit the wall.

"Lisbon, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yes, you will."

She waited a moment for him to catch her meaning, and when he did he looked like she'd slapped him. She looked away, not wanting to see the hurt on his face. She knew it needed to be said, but she still didn't like seeing him in pain and knowing she was the cause of it.

Jane took another step towards her and felt his heart break when he saw her press herself harder against the wall. He stepped forward again, and again, and again until he was directly in front of her.

Lisbon couldn't move. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible, but now, in order to get away from him she'd have to brush past him. She was trapped, and still not looking at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand reaching for her face and she cringed. She didn't want to, but it was involuntary. Now that it was a solid fact that he would hurt her, her body automatically protected itself. A tear slipped down her cheek. As she felt his palm gently cup her cheek and his thumb brush away the tear, she closed her eyes and two more slipped out. She couldn't stand the tenderness and care in his touch as his hands cradled her face. The tears were coming faster now.

"Teresa..." He breathed, and she felt him lean forward and brush his lips across her cheek, kissing away her tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Anger flared within her and she jerked away from him.

"No." She pushed past him and began to walk away, before changing her mind a few feet away and whirling to face him.

"You don't get to do that, Jane. You don't get both ways. You don't get to stand here being all gentle and caring and kiss away my tears and then tell me you're sorry! It's one or the other. You get me, or you get Red John. If you choose me, then you get me. In every way possible, I'll be yours. If you choose Red John, you lose me. When the time comes, you'll go to jail, and that day you'll learn for yourself that killing him won't bring back your family. It won't even take away the ache. It will only lose you your freedom, your friends, and me."

She stopped for breath, and glanced at him. There was a mixture of emotions on his face: sadness, guilt, but most of all confusion.

"I'm sorry, Jane." She spoke quietly now. "I promised myself I would never say that to you, I would never try to make you choose. But then today ... a lot happened and I was so scared I was going to lose you. More scared than I've ever been before, and it made me realise how much I care about you. And it also made me realise that if I am going to lose you to Red John one day, I need to start cutting you off now, so it doesn't hurt as much when the time comes. And the way things are now ... well if I'd lost you to Red John today I think I would have lost myself too. And that scares me. So I want to prepare myself. So I need you to choose. I'm so sorry."

Jane watched as she looked at the ground, obviously ashamed of what she'd done. He looked at the broken woman in front of him, and couldn't help but think how beautiful she was.

Now choose which ending you would like :)