The White Cliffs of Dover

It was time for a change. How could that be? Hadn't they just relocated, readjusted, retrained and reinvested their time, their lives in another cycle of reinforcing the law. But a change was coming.

Lisbon had always done the looking after. She couldn't remember a time when this had not been her daily routine. She had learned it young, losing her mother and – in most respects - her father too, looking after the men in her life. Always looking after the men in her life. Now it looked like a change was coming. Now, just maybe, if she didn't overthink it, if she could, for once, just keep focusing on the future and let the past take care of itself… If she could just trust someone else to do the looking after, then she might stand a chance of happy ever after. If she could trust Pike to be the one who could end her cycle of backward glances and endless, fruitless caring for those who didn't seem to care that much after all.

Pike had gone to DC on the early flight. Eager to get going, ready to leave. Lisbon still had boxes to pack, bags to fill. Not that she had really unpacked. She never really unpacked. Life was boxed up and taped shut; why exhaust yourself in opening old years and cares. Not much to put away, she hadn't been there long enough. So why was she still in her house, with so little to move, so little time to be part of life here with the FBI? Why wasn't she on the early flight to DC?

The voice and the knock came at the same time. It was their last case together and Jane was picking her up for one last drive in his ridiculous car. Handsome and elegant, but needy. Lisbon smiled to herself as she let him in. She could have let Cho finish it off, there wasn't much left to tie together. The evidence was pretty damning and all they had to do was go arrest the guy. But she couldn't let it go. Seeing Jane cut through the pride of the guilty, seeing him expose their hubris, their arrogance, their endless sense of entitlement, that's what she had loved in all the years they worked together. How he could stand up to their deceit and make them stare at the reality of who they really were always impressed her. She just charged them and read them their rights, but with Jane there was always a sense of occasion. There was always some kind of drama, subtle at times, but often cathartic in the end. She would miss that. She would miss so much. But she couldn't keep looking back. She had to be strong. Pike was in DC, already looking for apartments and this case was coming to an end.

"Ready to go?"

She wasn't sure whether he was referring to the drive or the rest of her life. Was she ready to go?

"Yep, I just need to grab my badge."

They were on their way. She would miss the leather upholstery, the way the left side had cracks at the top that you had to avoid getting your hair tangled in. The squeak of the wiper blade on Jane's side, the temperamental heating system and the complete lack of air conditioning. Maybe she wouldn't miss that.

They hadn't spoken. What was there to say?

Everything.

What was she doing? She had to keep her mind on the case or she was going to be in trouble. Jane had had every opportunity to say something. What was she thinking? Concentrate.

She couldn't concentrate. Almost ten years she had given him. She thought he'd be such a burden, he needed therapy or something to bring him back to whatever his normal was. She didn't know what that looked like, she only knew the damaged, closed off consultant who stood in front of her that day years ago. Who sat next to her now. How could everything have changed for everything to remain exactly the same?

"Jane?"

"We should go the long way, we're not in a rush, are we?" Jane looked over to her. He knew she wasn't in a rush. She was still here; Pike was gone already. He knew what he needed to do, but he couldn't. He couldn't tell her. It wouldn't be fair. He didn't even know how he'd begin and he had to think about what she needed. He always thought that they could just go on like this. Indefinitely. She had waited for him when he had gone, they had written, she was just the same. People like them didn't need to be tied down to relationships, they had experienced the hurt that entailed and they could find other ways of living and other ways to be happy in the day, in the moment. But he had been wrong. He thought what they had was enough. It always had been before. Not now. But the way she looked at him. He knew. He knew that what she had with Pike was a mere imitation of what they had together. What they knew of each other. How they had lived with each other for years, intimately. Hadn't they?

No they hadn't. The truth was that they were both so wretchedly closed off. She had been his boss, he had been consumed by a sense of justice, a need for vengeance, a sole crusade to right the wrong inflicted. Where was the time for trivialities? She hadn't dated, she was the job too. Both committed to their work, working together but never really sharing. A cup of tea, an ice-cream, the odd drive in his car with a hint of romance for a sentimental moment. But it was all functional. Everything else was out of bounds. Even catching Red John had brought them to the very verge of who they could be, had brought them to see themselves in ways they had never had to face. But they faced their selves alone, not together. It was too late to change that now.

"Okay, we can take the long way, but remember I've a plane to catch at 9:30, so make sure the long way isn't the really long way, okay?"

"Your flight's tonight?"

He hadn't realised she was flying out tonight. She was really going. Tonight. He suddenly felt a terrible sense of loss, a sense of panic that he hadn't anticipated. It was almost physical. But he couldn't tell her, could he? What would he declare? Who was he to make declarations, to imply a future, to hint at security and faithfulness and comfort and all those things that she could find in someone else. He had them once and they had been destroyed and all the years since then were a deliberate, methodical attempt to cement a life where nothing was anchored, where ties were held so lightly that he could just drift away. And he had. Two years had had spent, his ultimate state of detachment. He hadn't needed anything, anyone. But he had her letters. But what did that prove? It certainly didn't show that he could be what she wanted him to be. What she needed. What she deserved.

But couldn't he try?

She looked at her phone. Pike had texted with images of an apartment they could rent. She was looking at where the few pieces of furniture she had could go. She had a nice chess set Jane had bought her when they first started working together. This wasn't working. Even thinking about her new life with Pike, her new apartment with Pike, she was still thinking about her life with Jane.

"Jane?"

He looked at her. The furrow in her brow, her eyes seeking answers to questions she was too afraid to ask. They couldn't leave it like this. Even to try to articulate the sense of fear, the need for hope, the desire they both had to be true to each other for once. To overcome their crippling pride and confusion and anger and regret and just try, just try to be true. To stop hiding in the facades they had spent their professional lives tearing down to get to the truth of the cases they investigated. Now they had to see it through. They had to face the truth. The cost was too dear to ignore. She couldn't just fly off to DC without knowing. It wasn't fair for any of them.