Author's note: Also for the Paint It Red October 2012 Monthly Challenge - prompt: Surrender.
Down the Rabbit Hole
He's lying on the same bed of the same motel room in Vegas where he spent six months not so long ago.
Yet he knows there is no going back this time.
His ultimate scheme to trap Red John has finally damaged his relationship with Lisbon; there's no way she's going to forgive him this time.
The fact that they've actually caught Red John seems almost irrelevant right now. The only thing he's able to think about is the look of anger on Lisbon's face the last time he saw her.
"What the hell were you thinking, Jane?"
"We've got him, Lisbon. That's all that matters."
"It is not! You let Lorelei escape, we almost lost our jobs, and now Grace is in hospital with a gunshot wound. This is all your fault, if it wasn't for your need for revenge."
"The doctors say she's going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine."
Lisbon eyed him coldly before adding her last words. "Yes, it is. And you know why? Now that Red John is no longer an issue, we're finally getting rid of you as well."
He felt his heart sink as she turned away and strode out of her office. Perhaps she was right – they were better off without him after all.
Truth is, he's actually sorry for Grace; didn't mean for her to get shot, nor to jeopardize anyone's career.
His only intention was protecting Lisbon and the rest of the team; that's why he had to get to the serial killer first. Revenge had taken a backseat to that priority a long time ago.
Now Red John is gone, and Lisbon is gone too – though for very different reasons, and he feels deeply grateful for that.
He might as well join his family. It's been too long since their passing and he's missed them more each day.
The spoon tinkles as he stirs the steaming tea in his favorite cup. He's stolen it as a reminder of the time he'd spent at the CBI, he didn't think he could depart his life without one last drink from the porcelain cup.
Sip by sip he savors the bitterness of the liquid, and the world around of him gradually fades away. Shadows spin around him as if he's falling down a bottomless pit, then everything goes black.
xxx
A strong hand promptly supports her when she falters slightly. Cho is there at her side; the thought of being alone would be too much to bear.
(Rigsby is still standing at Van Pelt's bedside, just as she expected him to.)
She'd felt her life crumble to dust when Vegas PD called her in the middle of the night, asking her if she knew the man who'd just attempted suicide in a shabby motel room of their city.
Belladonna poisoning, that's what the doctors told her later.
She can't help thinking this is all her fault. If she hadn't pushed him away, maybe she could – should – have saved him.
She's supposed to protect people, but now she's failed once again – something which echoed the loss of her father. Only this time, she was older, she should have known the signs.
She's suffered a lot of loss in her life. Jane isn't the first person she's nearly lost and she fears that he won't be the last.
"Don't blame yourself, boss."
Cho looks so solid and dependable that she almost gives in and cries on his shoulder.
Almost. For she's his boss, and she's not allowed to show him her weakness. All she can do is bottle everything up and try to weather the storm as best as she can.
It's quite ironic that the one who's (hopefully) saved Jane's life is the former girlfriend of his mortal enemy. Apparently Lorelei wanted to say thank you before disappearing, and an old colleague told her that the man she was seeking had showed up at the casino a couple of times of late.
Now she's sitting at the other corner of the waiting room, but Lisbon simply ignores her. She's way too tired – and emotional – to deal with that woman at the moment.
When Jane wakes up (she can't bring herself to say if, because she's not sure she'd ever be able to face the other possibility) he's more than welcome to elope with Lorelei, if he has a mind to.
As for right now, she's still the closest thing to a family he's had in a long while.
Even if she's probably been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back as well.
xxx
"Belladonna. Seriously, Patrick?"
"I just want to sleep, Angela. My quest is over, and I'm so tired…"
"Don't be silly. You can't sleep."
"You've no idea how much I missed you scolding me, my love. I'm so happy to see you again."
His wife shakes her head sadly. "You can't stay here."
"Nonsense. Where's Charlotte?"
"She's angry at you; she won't come."
"Why?"
"You know why."
He pauses momentarily. Is he already dead, or is he talking to his own subconscious once more?
Either way, there's something he has to get straight right now.
"I'm over and done with my life. I think I deserve some peace after all I've been through."
"And you're seeking it in death?"
"I want to be with you, Angela. You and our beautiful daughter."
"We're dead."
"That's exactly my point."
"You don't believe in the afterlife, Patrick. And even if you did, there's no chance we would be reunited – for suicides are not admitted in heaven."
"A bit too late for giving me a lecture on this subject, don't you think?"
"It's never too late, Patrick…"
All of a sudden everything around them collapses like a house of cards. Fleeting images dance in the air, swirling like leaves in the wind.
A dark-eyed siren is singing, her voice soft and sweet among the crashing waves. She's luring sailors to their death, and they cry happy tears as they sink into the ocean.
Then the sun sets on the horizon, round and blood red – laughing at him, he's almost sure of that.
Who's that maiden lying on the shore? There are tears in her emerald eyes, as if she's pining for her lost love.
He wants to go back, but a dark wave engulfs him and now he's going under. Down, down, the ocean is so deep, he struggles for his own life and calls out a name.
Her name.
xxx
"Teresa."
His whisper startles her, but she's ready to grab his hand and call him back.
"Jane, I'm here. Wake up."
When he finally opens his eyes she's not sure whether to slap or kiss him. In the end she settles for yelling at him, as she always does.
"Jane, if you ever do anything like that again, I promise I'll shoot you."
Oddly enough that's exactly what he's been longing to hear for quite a long time.
A sparkle of amusement shows in his eyes. "Shooting a suicidal person? That's a great idea, Lisbon. It'll save him a lot of pain."
"You're lucky that Lorelei found you in time."
"Lorelei? What are you talking about?"
"She wanted to thank you for helping her."
"I'm not sure I want to see her at all."
He looks worried when she sways slightly. "How long have you been here?"
"Vegas PD called me two nights ago. They found my number on your speed dial."
"I'm sorry."
It's not the first time he tells her so, but she can see he's being completely honest for once. She bites her lip and looks away from him.
"Van Pelt is feeling much better. And Bertram is pleased enough that we've got Red John."
Jane frowns. He knows this is her way of apologizing to him, but she doesn't have to. He deserved everything she's thrown at him – even worse than that, actually. Her forgiveness is more than he'd ever hoped for anyway.
"Come here."
She's so weary she doesn't even shy away from his touch. He rests his hand on her cheek and looks her straight in the eyes.
"You should really stop blaming yourself whenever I pull a stunt of any kind."
A wry smile tilts the corner of her mouth. "Attempted suicide hardly classifies as a stunt."
"Meh."