Disclaimer: None of this would be happening if they belonged to me!
Author's Note: Still digesting the episode, but this is what came to me this morning.
His new life began on a wave of grief, filled with memories of his family so vivid they nearly drowned out the pathetic choking sounds of their killer's last breaths. It wasn't pleasant strangling someone, though he guessed cutting him to pieces wouldn't have been any better. It was a shockingly intimate act to witness someone's death, that moment when they lost their animating spirit and became a thing. A thing to be disposed of.
But also a thing that would never know pain again. Nearly sobbing with the emotional maelstrom inside him, Jane picked up the gun and tried to think. His plan had never, in the beginning, allowed for him to outlive it. He had no real desire to, even now. He was done. Why endure anymore?
He had the gun halfway up when an image flashed into his mind: Lisbon's face staring at his corpse. The horror, grief, and anger she wouldn't be able to contain. The sudden realization that she had been assisting in a decade-long suicide. That she had given everything she had—her gun, her car, her career, her heart—only to have him render it worthless. She would hate him, but worse, she would hate herself. How could he condemn her to a lifetime of guilt and regret, with no possibility of redemption, just when he had found his own?
No. She deserved more. He couldn't give her the happy ending she'd longed for, but he could at least give her a fighting chance at a new life in which she could find peace, perhaps even happiness. He would leave her life as gracefully as he could, causing as little damage as possible.
He got slowly to his feet, aware of the need to move. The FBI wouldn't be far behind him; that last chase had been too public. He'd have to ditch the phone. But before he did, he would make one last call. His fingers trembled as he dialed her number for the very last time.
He was disappointed but not surprised when she didn't answer. No doubt she and the team were still in the clutches of the FBI, having thrown themselves there in one last ditch attempt to get him to his goal. He was sorry he'd never get a chance to thank them as they deserved. But at least they'd make no more sacrifices on his behalf.
"Lisbon. It's over. It's done. Just want you to know I'm okay. I'm going to miss you."
He didn't add "I love you," because what good had his love ever done anyone? It had surely been a curse on her. Well, no more. She would be free of him now.
As he ran, he reflected that at least he'd thanked her, gotten to hold her, even if her memory of that would be tarnished by his stranding her immediately afterward. He would have that memory of her face in the golden light, smiling at him, to tuck away next to his favorite images of Angela and Charlotte for when he needed to remember that once upon a time, someone had loved him, unworthy as he was.
He hoped Lisbon knew, deep down in her heart where she was mostly afraid to look, that she had been loved, too. That she had saved him even though she hadn't been able to alter his course. He had had only the remains of his heart to give her, sharp shards that had made them both bleed.
He hoped the next man she loved would heal her instead of hurt her. He hoped the lucky son of a bitch would recognize his good fortune and throw everything to the winds for her, as she had done for him.
Would still do for him, he knew, if he was weak enough to give her the chance. She would come with him if given the slightest invitation, especially now that the FBI had destroyed the part of her life he hadn't managed to.
But she would rebuild, regroup. She was strong. She would go on saving people, trying to give them the chance at happiness she'd never found for herself.
And he would leave her alone so she could do it. That was the only redemption he would find for what he'd done to her. He would go live his unwanted life and let her believe him safe and happy somewhere, and hope she would be safe and happy in whatever future she managed to build. He hoped it was as lovely as the one he would dream for her during the endless nights ahead.
He would think it every night as the sun went down, he resolved. In memory of the moment he should have told her, and didn't.
Somewhere in the world, someone loves you.
He'd found redemption for causing the deaths of his wife and daughter by killing their killer. It had taken him a decade.
But redemption for breaking Lisbon's heart was going to take him a long, lonely lifetime.