Author's Note: I don't read a lot of spoilers so this probably bears no resemblance to what is in the episode. And yes, I know I should be working on In the Cards, but this wouldn't leave me alone. So I hope you enjoy it!
"I will not be a part of this, and neither will you, if you want to remain with the team." The second the words were out of her mouth, Lisbon knew she'd made a mistake.
"An ultimatum," Jane observed, looking almost amused.
Shit. She'd grown up in a house full of boys, and she'd known Jane for nearly a decade. She knew an ultimatum was unlikely to produce the effect she wanted. But then, she couldn't think of anything that would. So this is it.
"You know my answer," Jane said, his expression at its most bland. She looked in vain for any sign of doubt, anything she could use to try to change his mind.
She let her shoulders slump as she swallowed, trying to steady her voice. "I was hoping you'd surprise me."
A slight twitch of his mouth told her he appreciated the fact that she'd never in her life said that sentence before, and was unlikely to ever again. "It appears I'm out of surprises."
Yes, this was it. A lump formed in her throat, threatening to choke her. At least she was getting to say good-bye; that was more than she'd expected, really. "Be careful. Good luck." She looked at him one last time, not bothering to hide the tears forming in her eyes. He was ripping her heart out, and even her pride wasn't enough to make her try to smile while he did it. She hoped he would see the cost of what he was doing. And she was selfish enough to hope that he would regret it, at least a little bit.
His mouth opened a little, then closed again. She supposed she should be grateful that she'd gotten to see Patrick Jane at a loss for words; there weren't many people who could say that.
She turned to go before she made a complete fool of herself. But just as she took hold of the door handle, his hand landed on her shoulder. She held her breath and tried not to hope as she turned around.
Before she could catch more than a glimpse of his expression, she was engulfed in a warm hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. "And thank you. For everything."
This was probably her last chance to hug him, so she slid her arms around him and held on tight, trying to memorize how he felt, how he smelled. She waited to see if there would be another "love you," but there wasn't. It was for the best, she told herself. She wouldn't believe him right now anyway.
His lips brushed her temple, so lightly that she would later convince herself she'd only imagined it. She hoped he didn't notice the handful of tears that escaped to wet his jacket before she tore herself away from him and flung the door open.
Stalking blindly down the hall, she didn't look back to see if he watched her go. It didn't matter; she knew he wouldn't follow her.
She tried to convince herself that choking feeling was anger, not grief. But her heart knew the difference.
mmm
Two weeks later, she got the call she'd been dreading. She knew what had happened as soon as the caller identified himself as from the Malibu police, even before he gave her the address of Jane's house. She could barely force herself to listen to the particulars: a single male victim, killed with a knife, smiley face on the floor.
"The floor?" she managed to ask.
"Yeah. Looks almost like he did it himself."
What? Jane's last act would never be to desecrate his own house that way. "Do you have an ID on the victim?" Maybe her assumption was wrong. She took a deep breath, trying to make her pounding heart beat more quietly so she could hear.
"Not yet. We're running the prints now."
"Blond hair, blue eyes?" No amount of determination could keep the tremor out of her voice. Beautiful hands with long, graceful fingers. Old brown shoes. A smile that can make you forget all the ugliness in the world.
"Uh." There was a pause, obviously to look at something. "Wouldn't call that blond, no."
If she hadn't been sitting down, she would have collapsed from sheer relief. "We're on our way."
She managed to walk out to the bullpen, where Cho and Rigsby looked at her expectantly, then with dawning concern.
"What's up?" Cho asked.
"A Red John victim. At Jane's house," she said.
Both men jumped up from their chairs and grabbed their jackets. "I'll drive," Cho said after glancing at her again.
mmm
The long drive to Malibu was sheer torture, but they arrived to good news. The police had run the victim's fingerprints against Jane's first thing, since it was his house, but there was no match. The body had been removed by the time they reached the house, but the photos were enough to confirm this hadn't been a Red John kill. The cuts were sloppy, uneven—the work of someone consumed by anger, not calmly making a statement. Looking at the photos, Lisbon's stomach turned. She knew that Jane was capable of things she'd rather not think about, but she hadn't believed he had this kind of butchery in him.
Over the next three days, they discovered one puzzling fact after another. The smiley face had been drawn by the victim in his own blood, and only his prints were on the knife. The majority of the cuts had been made post mortem by someone who'd either worn gloves or held their hand around the victim's on the knife.
Lisbon searched the house top to bottom, convinced that Jane would have left her some sign, some reassurance that he was all right. Some little good-bye gift, perhaps. He would have known she'd come here. But she found nothing except a stray button beneath the stairs. Analysis showed it was from a jacket, most likely a woman's, and fingerprinting identified it as Lorelei Martins'.
So she had been here, undoubtedly involved in whatever had happened. But why? To be in on the kill, as Jane's accomplice? Or to make a statement while pursuing her own vengeance, because Jane hadn't made it this far? What if he was dead and they just didn't know it? What if they never knew for sure? She wasn't sure she could live with that.
But she might have to.
mmm
The autopsy concluded that the two cuts that would have been fatal were at angles that suggested they were self-inflicted; the post mortem cuts had obviously been done by someone else. The victim was identified as Robert Johnson, a longtime member of Visualize and a successful banker. When they searched his house, they found a secret room in his attic, the walls covered in photographs. Some of them were crime scene photos, but the most disturbing were those of Lisbon and her team going about their daily activities. Lisbon and Van Pelt were most often featured, with Jane usually somewhere in the background if he wasn't standing right next to Lisbon.
"Creepy," Rigsby said, looking around in dismay.
"Yeah," Cho agreed.
Lisbon said nothing. She was staring at one of the pictures, showing her looking at Jane in annoyance while he smiled at her, full of himself. It was so familiar that it made her heart ache.
mmm
Van Pelt returned from her training, full of excitement about the things she'd learned and the people she'd met, but disappointed to have missed closing the Red John case and any chance of saying goodbye to Jane. Lisbon discouraged the team from talking about Jane in her presence, but she knew they did so when she wasn't there. She had no answers for them. If Jane were alive, he would have come back by now, she thought. Unless he had no reason to. Maybe he thought he'd already said good-bye to her and that her ultimatum absolved him of any need to show consideration to any of them.
One bleak, rainy morning she decided to cheer herself up by stopping at Marie's on her way to work. Coffee and pastry for the team would reassure them she wasn't sinking into a depression and would hopefully stop the anxious looks they kept giving her.
When she pulled out her wallet to pay for her order, the cashier smiled. "No need. It's taken care of."
"What?" Lisbon frowned, looking around. She didn't recognize anyone in the place.
"Your friend prepaid. He wanted it to be a surprise."
"Which friend?"
"The blond hottie," she grinned.
"When?" Lisbon demanded, heart pounding.
"Oh, weeks ago. He hasn't been in since. You guys been out of town on a case?" the cashier asked. "Tell him I said hi."
"I will," Lisbon managed to say, picking up her order and going out to sit in her car, stunned. The gesture was so typically Jane, thoughtful and puzzling all at once. Was it his goodbye? A message for her, telling her not to give up on him?
She would believe in the latter theory as long as she could, she decided. And she started going to Marie's every morning, trying to figure out how much Jane had paid. No one would tell her the amount, but it seemed to have been a lot. What did that mean? He was planning to be away a long time? Forever?
mmm
Lorelei Martins was picked up during a routine traffic stop in Kansas City and sent back to California to face charges relating to her escape from prison and questions regarding the death of Robert Johnson. Lisbon took Cho with her, trusting him to spot things she might miss if she became emotional.
"You claim you killed Robert Johnson," Cho began in his usual abrupt way.
Lorelei smiled her calm, eerie smile. "Yes. I plunged the knife into his chest, and then I cut him over and over again so his blood spilled on the floor like my sister's. I'm only sorry he died so quick."
"And you did this alone?"
"I didn't need help to kill the bastard," she said.
Lisbon asked, "Why Jane's house?"
Lorelei smirked. "Why not? It was empty, and I knew he wouldn't mind. It was easy to lure Rob there, just by telling him Patrick wanted to talk."
"When did you last see Jane?" Cho asked.
"Oh, let's see. I guess it's been about a month now." Lorelei slanted Lisbon a sly glance. "He was in a funk, a little homesick, I think. He wanted to get it over with. I thought he'd be back with you by now."
"He isn't," Cho replied.
"Huh. Guess he wasn't homesick after all. Or maybe his home is somewhere else now," Lorelei said.
On their way out to the car, Cho remarked, "She's full of it. He'll be back."
It hurt to admit it, but Lisbon felt she owed him the truth. "I'm not so sure."
"I am," Cho said. "He'd never just wander off without some showy good-bye."
"He prepaid my tab at Marie's."
"I thought there was a reason you were suddenly feeding us breakfast all the time," he said. "But that just proves my point."
"How so? That's not a showy good-bye?"
"Nah. He'll want to be thanked for that."
Cho had a point, she hoped.
mmm
She even went to Marie's on her days off now. She wasn't sure what she was hoping to find, but every time the cashier smiled and told her it was taken care of, she felt a little better. It was proof he had cared about her, even if it wasn't the way she'd hoped.
His absence was a palpable thing, like phantom limb pain. She still turned to ask him things or make sarcastic remarks, and it was still an unpleasant shock to find him not there. She had coped while he was in Vegas, but at least then she'd known for sure he was alive, if not well. The nightmares that plagued her now were about finding his body. It was no wonder she needed more coffee than she used to.
On Saturday, the place was packed. She had nowhere in particular to be, so she waited patiently in the long line for her coffee and bear claw, fiddling with her phone. She'd taken some pictures of Ben the last time Rigsby had brought him in for a visit, and they always made her smile.
"Cute kid," the man standing behind her remarked. "Yours?"
"No," she replied.
"Oh, too bad," he smiled at her. "I was hoping for an excuse to show you my equally adorable kids. You know, to break the ice."
"You don't want to start that contest," she told him, smiling back. It felt good to pretend to be a normal person for a change. "I have a horde of nieces and nephews. We'll be here until lunch."
"Sounds great," he chuckled. "Can I take a rain check, though? It's my weekend with the kids. But I'd love to buy you breakfast, as a down payment."
"No need," Lisbon replied. "My money's no good here."
He looked impressed. "Are you some kind of celebrity? Should I recognize you?"
"No," she said quickly. "A friend pays for my breakfast every day."
"Some friend."
Lisbon wasn't really sure Jane qualified as a friend anymore, but she wasn't going to get into that with a stranger. "It's an apology, I guess. Long story."
It was finally her turn to check out, and she thought it would be just her luck to have Jane's money run out just when she'd mentioned it. But apparently even her life wasn't that much like a silly movie, because the cashier just handed her her coffee as usual. Well, if you didn't count the wink, but Lisbon figured that was because a reasonably good-looking guy was trying to flirt with her.
Until she noticed the slip of paper tucked in the cardboard band around the cup. She didn't give cute single dad one more thought, hurrying outside to unfold the note with trembling fingers.
Come here often? was all it said.
What the hell? Lisbon thought angrily. Of course she did. Jane knew that, or else he wouldn't have spent so much money paying for her coffee and bear claw habit in advance. She scowled at the note, then realized it wasn't Jane's handwriting. Had he literally phoned it in?
Or was it not from Jane at all? She remembered suddenly that Red John had a network of disciples. Visualize had made a lot of promises about re-educating those who'd been led astray, but Lisbon wouldn't trust Bret Stiles any further than she could throw him. And Red John had obviously marked her as a target.
She thrust the note into her pocket and drove straight to the office.
mmm
Two days later, they arrested Chad Markham, another member of Visualize, as he broke into Lisbon's apartment in the middle of the night. She was grateful she hadn't argued harder against the surveillance her team had insisted on, but puzzled that Chad wouldn't admit to having written the note. Had it been a warning from someone else watching her?
She soon learned the answer was yes, after two more cryptic notes alerted her to a pair of stalkers they managed to catch. By now she and the team were becoming downright paranoid, wondering how many of these lunatics were out there. Lisbon wouldn't allow anyone at Marie's to be questioned, not wanting to draw attention to them or to her mystery informant. The team gave in so quickly that she knew they shared her suspicion that Jane was behind the notes. It explained why he hadn't come back yet; he was helping root out Red John's helpers. She was grateful, but she fiercely wished he would come in out of the cold. What he was doing was dangerous, and surely they'd have better luck working together.
When Cho reported that Chad had claimed Bertram was one of their network shortly before he was poisoned by his jailhouse lunch, Lisbon thought she knew why Jane was still out there. Under strict secrecy and using Van Pelt's new hacking skills, they slowly collected evidence against their boss, building their case. Lisbon found it hard to smile at him during their weekly poker games, and one morning the note attached to her coffee cup read, Gambling is a dangerous vice. You should consider finding a new hobby.
"It's like getting a damn fortune cookie at breakfast," she complained as she showed it to Cho in the privacy of her office.
"It's gotta be Jane," Cho said. "You should listen to him. He's been right so far."
"How do I explain dropping out? It'll make Bertram suspicious for sure. He'd know if we caught a new case. No. We're too close to blow it now. By next week we'll be making the arrest, but tonight I have to go."
mmm
By the end of the game, Lisbon felt distinctly woozy, though she'd been careful about her alcohol consumption. Her fellow players teased her, but neither the judge nor the senator seemed to pick up on her mumbled distress when Bertram announced he would see that his employee got safely home. She wondered vaguely what he'd dosed her with and hoped that the team was still keeping tabs on her.
The construction site on the outskirts of town was deserted and, she had to admit, a perfect place to get rid of a body. Her team would never stop looking for her killer, but if she simply vanished, they might assume she'd gone with Jane. Bertram probably had a plan to make their evidence against him disappear as well.
"It's been a pleasure working with you, Lisbon," he said as he dragged her out of the car. She didn't struggle, saving her strength for a better opportunity. "But you're too good at your job. You should have been content with Red John, but no, you had to go digging around for his friends, too." He panted a little from the exertion of lugging her dead weight across uneven ground. Then he froze and called out, "Drop the weapon, or I'll shoot her in the head."
Lisbon was aware of an odd thumping sound, a gunshot much too close to her ear, and a sharp rock that dug into her ribcage when she fell to the ground. The last thing she thought she saw was Jane's face, gaunt and alarmed, his lips moving without making any sound.
mmm
When she woke up in the hospital to find Van Pelt keeping watch, she realized she'd only imagined Jane. She closed her eyes again until she felt more composed, then summoned a smile. "Hey, Grace."
"Boss," Van Pelt said in surprise, her eyes lighting up with happiness and relief. "How do you feel?"
Lisbon thought about it. "Hung over." She gratefully accepted the paper cup of water Van Pelt handed her. "Thanks for finding me."
"You never left our sight. We were just having a hard time getting close without being seen until Jane distracted him."
Lisbon blinked. "Jane?"
"Yeah. You don't remember?"
"Not much. Where is he?"
"Cho made him go give a statement, practically at gunpoint. I told him I'd call when you woke up," Van Pelt said.
"Did he tell you where he's been?"
"No, but I bet he's told Cho by now." Van Pelt looked up as the door opened, then smiled.
"I come bearing coffee," Jane announced as he entered, handing Van Pelt a cup. "Bear claws are at the nurses' station if you want one."
"Great. Yell if you need me," she said to Lisbon on her way out.
Lisbon stared at her former consultant as he perched on the side of her bed and set a fragrant, steaming cup on the little tray nearby. He smiled at her, then said, "You really can't manage without me, can you?"
"You couldn't call and let me know you were alive?" she demanded.
"You knew perfectly well I was alive. Who else would possibly guess you would get through nearly five hundred dollars of coffee and pastry over a three-month period? Do you never eat anything else, or have you been feeding the entire CBI?" He grinned at her, as if the months apart had never happened.
She reached out a hand, laying it on his arm to assure herself he was real. He covered her hand with his own and squeezed. "You look like hell," she told him.
He laughed. "You have little room to talk, my dear." Then he frowned. "You took years off my life back there. Why did you ignore my last note?"
"I didn't have you around to help me come up with a good lie."
"Mm. I guess I have no choice but to stick around, then." He was too cheerful to pull off the doleful tone he was aiming for. "You, however, do have a choice. Do I stay as your brilliant consultant, or your doggedly persistent suitor?"
Her heart seemed to stop for a second, then start up again much too fast. She took a breath to calm down and make sure her head, not her wayward heart, was in charge of this conversation. If he thought she was going to ignore the deeper issues between them, he'd forgotten whom he was dealing with. "That depends. How many of those cuts did you make, Jane?"
He sobered immediately. "Lorelei and I took one apiece, to start with, so we could both claim to have killed him. I took two after that, one for my wife and one for my daughter. The rest was Lorelei's doing. She lost her temper after he laughed at her."
He was confessing to premeditated murder, possibly, but her predominant feeling was relief that he hadn't committed the savage butchery she'd seen. He looked closely at her, reading her thoughts. "It was justice, Lisbon. I know you think it wasn't my right, but it was. If you feel you have to arrest me, I'll go quietly."
"You aren't afraid Lorelei will try to pin it on you at her trial?"
"No. She'd never have known the truth without me. She has her justice now, her revenge. She'll be content with that."
Lisbon looked away, struggling with herself. "You did a great job hiding the evidence. I don't think we'd be able to convict you without a confession. We can't even place you at the scene, unlike Lorelei."
"That, my dear, was on purpose. I told you I'd come back."
She frowned. "No you didn't."
"That's right, you had already run out the door," he said. "But I promised you, nonetheless."
She made a face at him.
"It serves you right for giving me that ultimatum in the first place," he remarked. "Never do that again."
"Now who's giving the ultimatums?" she retorted.
"I also gave you a choice that you still haven't made."
"Consultant or suitor? That's not much of a choice." She was pleased by how scornful she managed to sound.
"Oh? You'd prefer a third option?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Why can't I have both?"
He chuckled. "Greedy."
He leaned down to kiss her, but she slid a hand over his mouth. "One last ultimatum," she said softly. "If you ever run off with another woman again, I will beat the crap out of you. You only get a pass this time because I'm in the hospital."
Pressing a kiss into her palm, he said, "Fair enough. But I've left you twice now, and it gets harder each time. I doubt I'll be able to do it again."
"Good," she replied, sliding her fingers into his hair and pulling him down for a kiss.