It was late one evening when Van Pelt was searching around the bullpen for her cellphone; she was way beyond tired after the closing of the Eileen Turner case, all she wanted was to find the damn thing and go home.
She was marginally surprised when Lisbon walked in from somewhere, an odd look of guilt written all over her face. By the time the younger agent furrowed her brow Lisbon had already disappeared into her office and shut the door behind her.
That was when she finally got hold of her phone, which she had apparently misplaced on Rigsby's desk; so she simply shrugged her shoulders and headed to the elevators. There she caught a glimpse of Jane descending the stairs that led up to the attic; he barely acknowledged her presence as he brushed past her, probably looking for a fresh cup of tea.
Van Pelt didn't give much thought to the whole business; not until a few weeks later, when she walked into the ladies' restroom after a hurried make-out session in the janitor's closet only to find a sick Lisbon bent over the toilet.
"Boss," she said softly, reaching an arm to steady her.
"I'm fine, Grace," Lisbon replied stubbornly, though she couldn't quite hide the fear lingering in her eyes.
Van Pelt didn't say anything, just handed her a tissue to wipe her mouth. Someone had to take care of the boss, and she didn't mind doing it herself; over the years Lisbon had taken the place of the eldest sister she'd lost in her youth, there was no way she would let her down.
That night as she was lying in Wayne's bed she couldn't help her mind from wandering back to her friend's current predicament. She was pretty sure that no one else had noticed, not even Jane that was getting more and more entangled in his chase for a serial killer; however, it was the kind of thing you just couldn't keep secret forever, and she hoped that they got to Red John before he decided to go after the boss.
A couple of days later Jane went missing; Van Pelt did her best to dissuade Lisbon from going out on the field, but the senior agent simply refused to listen. She watched her friend as she strapped a Kevlar vest around her chest, then heaved a resigned sigh and fell into step behind her.
Blood froze into their veins when they were finally met with the sight of Raymond Haffner – Red John – holding Jane at knifepoint.
"I'm glad you decided to join us, Teresa," Haffner murmured slowly, and there was a manic glint in his eyes. "I was wondering whether you'd be willing to exchange places with our friend Patrick here."
Lisbon seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Van Pelt knew exactly why; there wasn't just her life at stake, and that was exactly what spurred the younger woman into action.
Her hand didn't waver as she emptied her gun on the serial killer and watched his body fall limply to the floor. Memories of Craig's death flashed briefly before her eyes, then she rushed forward to check on Jane.
He seemed to be in a kind of shock, and meekly allowed the paramedics to take him away when they got there. Lisbon looked quite shaken too, but she still fought tooth and nail to keep a grip on herself; when Rigsby and Cho arrived on the crime scene at last Van Pelt took the chance to usher the boss out of the building, then drove her safely to her apartment.
The next few days were mostly a blur, a sense of unreality sweeping over the whole team as they struggled to come to terms with Red John's final demise. Jane wandered around like a lost puppy, and even though he spent most of his time on Lisbon's couch he seemed completely oblivious of everything that was going on around him; Van Pelt couldn't help but wonder how was he going to react when he finally made the connection.
Then one morning she met his gaze as she placed a mug of chamomile tea on Lisbon's desk, and the truth dawned on him at last. She quickly vacated the office, making sure that no one was going to disturb the much needed conversation between Jane and the boss.
Perhaps she was going to be Lisbon's bridesmaid this time around.
