A little piece of drabble that has been bouncing around my brain since I watched "Red Sky at Night". It was keeping me from my studies, so now that it's out, I can hopefully get back to what I should be doing... Enjoy.

Setting: After S3E1.

I own nothing...

The box was uncomfortable, but he didn't mind. He deserved it. To be away from the comfort of his couch, of the bustle of the bullpen, from their eyes. He flipped through his journal pages absently, his gaze fixed on the crack in the glass, then beyond the crack – at the storm clouds gathering on the horizon – at the way the panes of glass fragment the wide panorama of the afternoon sky while still framing its magnificence. Again, he idly wondered about removing himself completely from the CBI, it would be safer for them. Tyger, tyger... Jane closed his eyes, only to open them quickly, the tiger stalked through his unconscious thoughts and its burning eyes stared at him in the dark.

Briefly, he considered the poem in its entirety, and its companion piece, "The Lamb". Lambs to the slaughter, he thought, sighing silently. He could feel that his muscles were going to start complaining soon, but he remained still, forcing himself to remain motionless. He tried to remember the meaning behind the two poems, but he was certain that whatever literature had to say, Red John meant something very different. The tiger was a creature of the night, much like how Jane saw himself, and Red John. Somebody who doesn't belong in daylight. The tiger stalked its prey, much like Jane felt Red John was stalking him. He had seen the mad man's eyes, and they burned into his soul. Jane wasn't the man's equal, he was the prize. And he wouldn't be claimed until Red John had taken everything away.

Jane couldn't let that happen. He'd become complacent. The desire for revenge was still overwhelmingly present in his mind, but he had become distracted. The agents downstairs had become too close to him. They were all in danger, and Red John had all but told him that he was going to hunt them down in the night. Those eyes didn't lie.

A slight shift in the air brought him back to where he was, sitting on a box in the attic at the CBI. He kept his stare straight ahead as he tried to detect who was there, and how long they had been watching him. The silence was thick and heavy, but for the idle flicking of the pages as he continued to flip through the journal. Out the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of green in hers as she let him sit and stare sightlessly out of the window. He felt his stomach twist with guilt. She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be supporting him or being patient with his erratic behaviour. She knew why he was doing it, and still she silently offered support. And he still hadn't told her what Red John had said. She knew something had changed, but she wasn't pushing him. And damnit, it made him angry that she didn't. He had gotten too close to being happy again, and Red John sent him a timely reminder that that wasn't in the plan. For their safety...

Why wasn't she saying anything? He hazarded another glance to see that her attention had also shifted to the impending thunder storm brewing on the horizon and moving inexorably closer. It would be a good analogy for whatever was coming for him – for them, since she didn't seem to want to abandon him at any point in the near or distant future – the storm was building, the question was, when would it break? And who would be caught in the deluge? He closed his eyes again, the flash of green briefly replaced the mad glint of gold, and he opened them slowly, sensing that Lisbon was going to move soon. She did. The creaking of the floorboards as she walked out of the shadows made him stop paging through the journal. He waited. It took longer than he expected for her to break the silence.

"I thought you weren't going to hide up here."

"I'm thinking." He could feel her eyebrow rise.

"Is that what you're going to call it?"

"Yes, because that's what I'm doing. Don't you trust me?" A loaded question.

"You're trying very hard to make me lose my trust, Jane, but I'm afraid that's not going to happen."

"You're going to get hurt, Lisbon."

"I'll deal with that when we get there. We're not going to abandon you, Jane."

"I wish you would, it'd be safer that way." He felt her eyes shift.

"For whom? Us?" His silence spoke volumes. "Since Sam, it was never going to be safe for us. Even if you did leave, we'd still be on the case, and Red John would still be playing cat and mouse with us. There is strength in numbers, Jane."

"But it's also more fun for him that way."

She sighed. "Fine. Stay here. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and see if you wanted any tea."

The creak of the floorboards as Lisbon began to leave made him feel cold for some reason. He turned to look at her. "Lisbon..." she paused, but she didn't look back at him. He could tell she was frustrated by the way she was holding her shoulders. "I'll be right there. Wait for me?" An unconsciously loaded question.

She relaxed slightly. "I'll be at the door."

He looked back down at his journal, and out at the clouds – they were quickly darkening – and stood. His muscles complaining loudly at the movement. Nodding slightly to himself, he fixed his expression, and turned to walk back to civilization.

Something tells me it's going to be a doozy of a season. Here's hoping anyway.

Thanks for reading!

xox ~CF