AN: This tag is sort of late, but I think I was too busy going "squeeee!" over the last episode to do anything productive.
On sort of a side note, I've decided to be even more unproductive and make an effort to use my Twitter account, starrynineteen. I think I've tweeted approximately three times from said account (mostly at Donna, too), but I promise to make an attempt to be mildly entertaining.
Relationships and Reimbursements
Anything for you, Lisbon.
Even if she didn't know the real depth and truth of his words, she was starting to figure out that she could indeed make him do things.
He wasn't sure when she had originally come to that conclusion, but she had been exercising that particular privilege more lately than he could ever remember her doing before.
Of course, perhaps that was simply because she was more worried about him now than before.
It was a reasonable enough statement - he was as close as he had ever been to catching Red John, so wrapped up in the game he was playing that he had even started feeling sympathy and pity towards the man's mistress. That had certainly been a mistake, one he hadn't intended on making, and after Lorelei's death, he had vowed to keep a clearer head next time.
But...Lisbon was on a whole different level.
Twice in the past months, she had specifically requested his help. The first time, with Volker, it had been when she was forced to admit that she needed ever weapon in her arsenal to take the sociopath down. He certainly qualified.
And then, with their last case. Jane, I need you.
Not I need your help. But I need you.
Yes, said with a hint of annoyance and frustration that he was locked in the attic in the first place, but he found her choice of words telling.
Or perhaps he was simply seeing what he wanted to see.
And he did want to be needed by her, and not just as it related to her caseload.
So he had replied the way he did, knowing that she would purposely not read into his words. As much as she wanted to know what he meant, he supposed she was equally scared of figuring it out. He could mean it the way she wanted him to, or he could mean it in another way entirely.
She wasn't currently prepared to deal with either option, so she chose to set the whole thing off to the side, at least for now.
And, indeed, it would probably be disastrous if and when she figured out what he actually meant, how deep his feelings ran.
He had very little left in his life, but he had already proven he was willing to give it up for her. The center piece of his sad little universe was Red John, but even without her asking, he had given up opportunities to finish the chase.
He'd shot Sheriff Hardy without blinking.
There had never even been an instant where he'd considered giving Red John what he wanted when the offer was extended in Las Vegas. In fact, it had taken a definite stretching of his mental facilities to figure out how he was going to keep Lisbon safe while he let his ruse play out.
As much as he'd wanted to be involved when it came to staking out Lorelei's next potential victim, Lisbon had told him to stay put. So he had, at least until it became clear that Rigsby's life was in danger.
He wondered if Lisbon had ever connected the dots.
And then he wondered if she would ask him to give up his search for Red John. Ask him, and really mean it. Look up at him with her heart shining in her eyes, put her small fingers in his, and beg him to give it all up.
He had no idea what he would say if the situation ever came to pass.
Revenge, vengeance...it was something he felt he needed to do. He needed to make sure the man that had murdered his family, had taken away everyone he loved in one fell swoop, was no longer walking the face of the earth.
In the beginning, even as broken as he had been, that much had been clear to him.
But then...then there was someone else he loved.
It wasn't something he had considered, something he'd accounted for. But there was no denying that it was true.
Although he hadn't really deviated from his course, it did make him wonder sometimes.
Of course, Lisbon wouldn't ever ask him. He knew that much beyond a shadow of a doubt. She hadn't stood by his side for the last nine years simply to tell him to stop so close to his goal.
However, if he was being candidly honest with himself, there was sometimes a part of him that wondered what it would be like. To just walk into her office, wrap her in his arms, and let all the rest of it go.
He kept hoping that there would be a day like that anyway, and soon. A day when he could lay down his guard, so to speak, to leave his facade, his mask, on her doorstep and simply be with the woman he loved.
The sun was coming up over Sacramento when he drifted off in his hotel room, still fully dressed. There weren't many nights that he came here now, but the attic had been compromised and he no longer felt completely secure there.
He kept up the charade, simply because he didn't want anyone to suspect he was on to them. There was definitely something disquieting about the idea that there could be prying eyes watching him sleep, though, so he had opted for option number two.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, he headed to work, noting that he was actually the last member of the team to show up. What a novel experience.
To offset Lisbon's probable annoyance in regards to his tardiness, he bought an elaborate caffeinated concoction from the coffee cart. It was terrible for her, but perhaps it would hold off her blood sugar crash until he could drag her off to lunch, and not catch her eating chips from the vending machine like a ravenous wolf.
Rigsby was in the break room when he walked by, his eyes flicking constantly back to where Grace was already sitting at her desk, industriously typing on her keyboard.
The redhead had a telltale glow about her, and Rigsby's goofy expression told him everything else he needed to know.
With a smirk, Jane gave the man a quick clasp on the shoulder. "Good for you," he said. "Don't screw it up."
Half annoyed, Rigsby turned to him. "How do you even do that?" he demanded, mouth half full of doughnut.
Jane shook his head. "It's very obvious. I'd recommend working on your poker face, at least in front of your boss, however. I doubt she'd do anything directly, but it would probably put her in a bad mood, and we all know how much fun that is."
Thoughtful now, Rigsby nodded. "I'll work on that. Jane," he added, "thank you. I don't know if...Grace and I...were a part of your plan to start with, but if it wasn't for you, I'm not sure when we would have gotten there." There was genuine thanks in his face, and Jane smiled.
"You're very welcome," he said. "But, like I said, don't screw it up."
He offered Grace an outrageously cheeky good morning, just so she would know that he knew before pushing open the door to Lisbon's office.
She didn't look up. "You're late," she told him, flipping through another ubiquitous manila folder.
"Ah, but I brought you coffee," he said, grinning when she finally met his eyes.
"I already have coffee," she replied, gesturing to the half-full CBI mug on her desk.
"Yes," he said patiently, "but this is special coffee. It has three times the caffeine you need for the day, and about seventeen times the sugar. It actually comes with a coupon for diabetes supplies, so you should love it."
He set the sytrafoam cup on her desk before settling himself on her couch with his own cup of tea.
Although she tried to keep her annoyed persona up, he very clearly saw the eager look on her face as she reached for the beverage.
"Hmm," she murmured after a satisfied-sounding sip. "Your tardiness is forgiven this time."
He held a hand over his heart theatrically. "Goodness, I'm so glad to hear it."
She angled her chair slightly towards him. "So I heard from Bertram's office this morning. He heard about your latest play, and though he didn't sound particularly upset, I am to tell you that you will absolutely not be getting reimbursed for the shoes."
He shrugged. "I'd never planned to ask."
Lisbon stared. "Jane, those were a pair of five hundred dollar heels."
"Sure," he admitted, "but we caught a killer and exposed your love doctor as a cheating swine. There are just some things you can't put a price on, Lisbon." He paused, thinking. "Somehow I don't think Buddy is going to get his contract renewed. You're going to have to find a different show to listen to."
Her annoyed look was back. "I'm really not a fan, Jane, like I said. It was just on sometimes."
"Uh huh," he replied. "And of all the radio stations in Sacramento, you couldn't find one you wanted to listen to more than that? Oh, please. I've mentioned you're a terrible liar, yes?"
She didn't answer, turning emphatically back to the work on her desk.
There was something a little heartbreaking about the idea of Lisbon listening to other people's relationship problems. He knew very well that normally things like that would simply irritate her, but she was looking for advice of her own now.
Maybe she should call in. That would be one hell of a show. Dr. Hennings, I have feelings for my consultant. The problem is, I'm technically his boss. Oh, and he's obsessed with catching the serial killer that murdered his family. And the only person he's slept with in ten years was a lying, murdering minion of said serial killer. He might also be a pathological liar with a fanatical need for secrecy and he still wears his wedding ring. Additionally, he told me he loved me and then pretended to forget it.
Yes, he thought that about summed it up.
A few years ago, he would have added wildly emotionally unavailable to his list, but that wasn't really true, not anymore. In fact, with the exception of the first few years after Angela, he wasn't sure he ever was, at least where Lisbon was concerned. It had always been easier to open up to her than it should have been.
Perhaps Buddy was available for some private counseling sessions. He snorted at the thought.
"What's so funny?" Lisbon demanded.
He shook his head. "Nothing you'd care to hear about, trust me." That much was definitely true.
She let the issue slide, ignoring him as he lounged on her couch.
Some day, he hoped her personal relationships weren't so complicated that she needed to actively seek out advice from a conniving therapist. Some day, maybe they could just be normal. Fights over where the milk went in the refrigerator or what kind of toothpaste to buy.
For just a moment, the ache of wanting overwhelmed him, and he unconsciously pressed his closed fist against his heart.
Lisbon noticed the movement with concerned eyes. "Are you alright?"
He shot her a quick, dismissive smile. "Heartburn," he said, standing and making his way to the door. It was probably past time to shut himself away for appearance's sake. "Have a good morning," he said, halfway out of the room. "See you for lunch?"
She nodded, and he saw how carefully neutral her expression was. Her eyes gave it away, though. "Sure."
His smile was warmer this time, and as he climbed the stairs a few minutes later, he hoped that, above all else, maybe some day they could stop lying to each other about what was between them.
He hoped what everyone said was true.
Some things were worth waiting for.