Post 6x08, Jane wonders where he can go from here, and reflects on all that has been lost.
This will, for certain, be either the cruellest or the kindest thing he has ever done to her. After so long, and so much, together, he knows this separation will either make her, or break her.
He has been nothing but trouble since he came into her life, and he knows it. Sure, they've had their moments, glorious hours of pure beauty and understanding and love, but those have always been by-the-ways and in-betweens amongst the hard times that became their terrible normality. Outside of that, he knows he has hindered her whole life. His presence and actions over the years have prevented her progressing in her career - at times even regressed it; he has taken all the care she would have given to a husband; he has haunted her home hours too. And, aside from the everyday annoyances, now he has left her, truly left her, and he has left her with nothing.
A clean break. That's what they need, or so he tries to convince himself. The more he thinks about it, the more unsure he gets, but he needs to do this. He needs to do this for him, and he needs to do this for her.
He starts to feel uncomfortable. At least he'd said goodbye this time. The last time he hadn't; he'd deceived her and ran from her and broke her. He'd never forget the things Cho had told him once he'd returned, things about her and how she'd reacted during those six months. He'd never forgotten the warning Cho had given him about ever doing something like that to her again either; he still hasn't forgotten, but that's beside the point. It's not important any more. He has to do this, and if it means burning a bridge with Cho, then it's just another sad necessity. She's that important. He's come too far to stop now. It's too important, and even if Cho burns a bridge with him, at least she'll still be standing. He imagines himself, standing alone in some South American country, his last bridge back burnt to the ground by his actions, no way back. At least then she'd be safe, at home; without him, but in the city and near the people she'd once loved so dearly.
He'd never said goodbye to her last time, but he'd always known he'd be coming back. This time he'd only given her a sorry excuse of a farewell, a couple of words on a voicemail he couldn't be sure she'd even heard. He's determined that this will be final. He wants to give her the best chance at some kind of a happy ending after being the reason she hasn't had one for the last ten years. He loves her so much, and it is breaking him, but leaving her and letting her get on with her life without him would be kinder than stringing her along with the cruel hope that he'll be coming back. He's trying to convince himself, but it's not as though he even has the choice.
He needs to leave the country and get out. If he doesn't he'll end up in jail for years on end, and as bad as that is, worse still is the thought that he'll still be here, in easy reach of her, having her call in on him, knowing she still has her life on pause because of him. No, he will not do that to her anymore. She should have the choice too, he knows. But he knows what she would choose, and he knows it's not a good enough ending for her, so he takes the decision for her, and knows he has to leave. If he is still within her reach, nothing he can say or do will stop her holding on to him, and she has given him so much already, that he can't let her do this too. The thought of still seeing her, is gorgeously tempting, but if he goes to prison, he's condemning her too, and he will not allow that to happen.
Better she should start a new life. The team will look after her, he knows, not that she needs it. They'll ensure that she's okay. Maybe she'll move back to Chicago, spend more time with her family. Maybe she'll stay in Sacramento, and battle against the many memories still living there. Maybe she'll go somewhere new altogether. Maybe she'll meet someone, someone better than him, someone easier than him, someone who will make her life better, not worse. Maybe they'll get married; maybe one day she'll send him a photograph of her holding someone else's baby child, and he, swallowing a lump in his throat, knowing he did the right thing, will weep. Then this will have been a kindness.
But if she doesn't, he realises, then to leave her will have been the cruellest thing he could ever have done. For the best part of the last ten years - and it has been the best part - they have been a two, they have grown to be each other's closest friends. She has done so much for him, he has owed everything to her, that to leave her alone now, and it truly is alone, for she will no longer have her work or the CBI to throw herself into as she did when he left the last time, is a terrible reality. The team have been split up now, and he knows things will be very different. And still, he knows they will look after her, not for him, but for her, and for themselves. He forgets, sometimes, that they all love her very much too.
He remembers all those times they'd spent together – early, tired mornings in her office, long midnight drives to crime scenes, all-night stake-outs fuelled with hot tea and coffee. Playing games behind her office doors, endless teasing as well as serious and important conversations about a hundred different things. They know each other so well now. He tries to imagine her doing all those without him, and it nearly breaks his heart. Who will put the sugar in her coffee on the mornings she's a little grumpy? Who will keep her company when she stays put at her desk and works long into the night? Who will tease her? Who will make her laugh? Who will-
He stops. He needs to stop. The cruellest, kindest decision has already been made. This needs to be a clean break, but that doesn't stop him wishing he had hugged her in the park before running to Red John. All the time he has known her, he's been running to Red John, and now that Red John's gone, he's still running, only now he's running away from her. He should have taken her into his arms, pressed a long kiss to her forehead and maybe held her hand before he left.
God, he's going to miss her. He's going to miss her so much. Maybe she'll be able to come and visit him some day. Maybe she wouldn't want to. Maybe it would make things worse. She has been the best thing in his life for some time now, and it's killing him to let her go. Maybe she'll hate him for this. Maybe she'll be glad to see him go.
He wonders will she understand. He hopes that she knows he never wanted to hurt her. It has always been about keeping her safe. He wants her safe. He wants her happy. Of course, he wants her here with him, but that's not going to happen now. It's about more than that now; it's about finally, after all these years, doing something for her, doing something to help her; something to help her get over him. He hopes that when he's gone, she will remember all the times he was cruel, and not the times he was kind. He hopes she will remember his lies, and tricks, the times he denied her and defied her, and all of the tears she ever shed for him, and not the emeralds, and dancing, and trust falls, and hugs, and confessions of feelings. He hopes she will remember not the beautiful things that had been left unsaid between them, but the fact he had cruelly chosen to let them remain unsaid.
Of course, maybe the fact that he'll be gone will be enough. He knows she'll think of him often, will worry about him every day, there's no stopping that, he knows. He just hopes that as time goes on, she'll maybe think of him less, will miss him less. He, of all peoples knows that time is a great healer. He just hopes that time too will help heal this gaping emptiness he feels when he thinks of a life away from her, away from everything he knows.
It's funny, he thinks. He met her out of a terrible act of someone else's cruelty, and it was her kindness to him, despite his cruelty to her, that has led him to where he is today. He hopes with all his heart that she doesn't regret one moment of their time together, their terribly kind and beautifully cruel time together. He knows he never could.