Wrote this on the plane to Seattle so I hope it's coherent. Again, it's not connected to the first chapter at all. Another one shot.

Is it any wonder?

Sometimes Lisbon almost hated Jane.

The way he could coldly declare his murderous intentions with no regard for others—least of all her.

The way he trivialized her job.

The way he behaved childishly, reaping trouble where ever he went.

The way he looked when he stood so close and earnestly declared that he would save her.

She didn't want to be saved—least of all by him.

Besides, it was a lie. Here she was, left in the dark as he pursued Red John. She knew she shouldn't feel betrayed. It wasn't as if she had ever believed that he truly cared for her. She didn't want him to make her doubt. She knew that her job counted. That justice mattered. That what she did was good.

Still, she hated that he could make her feel this way. Make her feel the need to justify.

Before him, she hadn't realized how lonely her convictions could be. And she knew that there was no fix. It wouldn't change.

She hadn't lied. She had known he would be the end of her career. She just hadn't known he would make her this confused in the process.

Conflicted.

She stared at the door of her office. With every breath, she expected it to open. She waited for bad news. She waited for that disappointment that mingled with relief. Waited for Jane to return, depressed that he had missed the chance to slaughter his nemesis. Waited for one of the team—or worse, an unrelated officer of the law—to arrive with the horrifying news that Jane was dead. Or arrested for murder.

Funny how so much hinged on what lay beyond her office door.

It was enough to make herself question her feelings again. She had wondered for a while if she loved Jane. Why else would his life make her mad…sad. Betrayed. Hopeful.

No, that was stupid. If Jane had taught her anything, it was that love was simply a thing of fairy tales, believed by children and those who hadn't yet grown up. She had been old at the age of twelve.

God, just look at what he did to her. Made her think of things like love. Her past. If she didn't lie to herself, she would admit that he even made her think of the future. Was it sad that she wasn't even surprised by now?

The knob on her door began to turn.

Lisbon shut her eyes.

She'd rather face the darkness of her eyelids than the darkness that Jane brought to her.

End

Is it any wonder

I.. I always thought that I knew
I'd always have the right to
be living in the kingdom of the good and true and so on
But now I think I was wrong
and you were laughing along
And now I look a fool for thinking you were on...

My side,
Is it any wonder I'm tired?
Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?
Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?

Sometimes it's hard to know where I stand,
it's hard to know where I am,
Well maybe it's a puzzle I don't understand.
Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm
stranded in the wrong time
where love is just a lyric in a children's rhyme, a soundbite

Is it any wonder I'm tired?
Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?
Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?
Oh, these days, after all the misery made,
Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?
Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?

Nothing left inside this old cathedral,
just the sad, lonely spires,
How do you make it right?

Oh, but you try,
Is it any wonder I'm tired?
Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?
Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?
Oh, these days, after all the misery made,
Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?
Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?