Chapter Two

He really thought it would get easier. Well, it was time for Patrick Jane to face the truth: looking at Lisbon being happy and in love with someone else wasn't the piece of cake he had assumed it was going to be. Not that he had really thought that it could be that easy, but he had hoped that with time he would have been ok with her being with someone else, that he could be happy for her. Well, he had been wrong. And if Hell existed... it looked exactly like that.

But looking at her all smiles and secret touches with Heist wasn't even the worst part. No. Teresa herself was making it harder to handle. Because she couldn't help but being yet again Saint Teresa, savior of all things Jane. She was always around. Had he wanted to escape her - which he wasn't sure he wanted - there was just no way out. She was always there for and with him. Either when he was awake and asleep.

He wondered if his mind was trying to telling him something, with those constant dreams he was having of her. He had never really been in touch with himself. He had always found his mind a scary place, dark and lonely, filled with anger, despair and regrets. When it came to other people, he often used what they dreamt and hoped for, just to get what he wanted when he wanted (and needed) it, but with himself it was different. Before Red John fell, dreams had been a scary occurrence, something he avoided with all his might, and on the rare instances he dreamt and it wasn't about bloody smiles and murder, he just couldn't be bothered with analyzing it. He didn't have time to think about himself, he had to concentrate on getting Red John, killing him, getting vengeance.

But now...

Now, it was all different. It wasn't like he wanted to dream or think about his dreams or what they could mean. It just was that now couldn't help it. He had all this free time, and he didn't know how to use it, so of course his mind kept going always in the same place-Lisbon, and the dreams he was having about her, all those tiny details that others would define insignificant that were imprinted forever and ever in his mind, thanks to that wonderful memory palace he had started to hate.

And only if they had been erotic dreams... but no. He could have been able to handle erotica. He had been quite the lothario in his youngster years, prior to Angela, lust wasn't something he wasn't accustomed to. Lust he could handle, he was in full control of his body, after all. But no. It wasn't about the sex. He didn't want her merely for her body. Nope. His dreams were caste and pure. He kept seeing her asleep, engulfed by him. He saw the two of them cuddling. Playing with a dog on a seaside. Deep asleep at night, with a brunette child between them.

They weren't nightmares and yet they felt like it. Because he knew that despite how much he wanted for them to come true, it wasn't meant to be. It wasn't right. Teresa deserved better, someone just like Heist.

But she didn't want to understand it. She was always there. All he needed was space, and she wasn't willing to let him be. It was like she was scared of letting it go of him. And speaking of the devil...

"Ehy Jane, you want to get something? I feel like getting a sundae. A corrupted and evil judge sent behind bars is reason enough to celebrate with ice-cream in the middle of the day, right?"

He barely resisted the urge to grunt or say something extremely impolite, as much as she could deserve such a treatment; instead, he opened his eyes, and lazily he left his beloved spot on his couch. He wanted to sigh and shake his head. Two months ago Lisbon would have never asked him out to eat, in any way - it was more his kind of thing- and she would have woke him up by kicking the beloved piece of furniture. Now, instead, she made sure that he had always something to eat - sometimes proper food, sometimes just food for the "soul"- and she gently woke him up with a low, smiling voice and gentle touches.

Why was she making him fall in love with her a bit more every day? Why? What was that? Karma? Proof that God existed and He hated him?

"Ugh... no thanks. I think that the green filling of the sandwich I ate for dinner wasn't supposed to be green at all..."

She sighed, shaking her head, yet with a small smile. Sometimes, she just didn't get him. "Jane, if you just had one old sandwich in your fridge at the motel, why didn't you come to eat with me when I offered?" she asked. She really wanted to grunt. That man, he was impossible. Why wasn't he allowing her to take care of him? It was what she was best at, after all. The reason her brothers were happy, healthy and with no criminal record.

And then she saw it, his tell. Because when it came to her, Patrick Jane didn't have a perfect poker face any longer. She could always say when he was lying or not telling her something, nowadays, as much as he said the opposite. Maybe she didn't learn to lie in ten years of partnership, but oh boy, she knew him. She knew him better than what he thought. Maybe even better than he knew himself.

"Jane... you know, you are giving away that homeless vibe again." she told him matter of fact, and when he bit his lips and looked away she knew she was right. "Please tell me that it's not what I think." she closed her eyes and took a big breath. She liked to take care of people, but this man was making it very hard.

"I'm not completely sure how it may have happened, but I think I got blacklisted from every motel in the Sacramento area." He admitted. Well, actually, he thought he knew why he had ended up sleeping on a semi-permanent basis in the CBI attic. He was almost positive that word came out that whenever he went, big, deadly, murderous, police-related troubles followed. And if there was one thing that motel owners (and carnie people) hated, it was the police.

"Jane..." she said, sighing and with a low, sweet voice. Their eyes met, and he knew where she was going. She had already gone there after Red John's death, and he didn't have any intention of following her there. Things were already difficult enough.

"Lisbon, I'm not going to take your guest room." he said, louder then he intended, and harsher. She took a step back, trembling for a fraction of second, her body remembering that tone, acting on autopilot. He hated himself, even if he doubted that Teresa was aware of her reactions. Now, it was his time to sigh. "Lisbon, I'm not a stray cat."

"I've never acted like you..."

"Yes you did, Lisbon." he said, stopping her from ending the sentence. Because she wasn't being honest. She was acting like he was a stray cat. Hell, she acted like everyone was a stray cat. That was why her team was made of such... peculiar members. "Lisbon, you are that close to try to fluff my hair!" he added in an annoyed, child-like tone, his thumb and index finger almost touching.

"Now you are exaggerating..." she answered huffing, but he tried to resist smirking when she blushed. Oh, the lovely Lisbon had been tempted to pat his head just like he was a child or a kitty and now she didn't want to admit it. Sometimes she didn't get her. She knew that she wanted to look like an hard-assed cop to the rest of the world, but was it really necessary to act with him too? He believed she was aware that there was no need to hide her sweet nurturing nature with him. Unless... unless it was because she was still trying to put walls between them. Because she was still scared that he could hurt her.

Oh, wonderful. Now even the thought of dreaming of having a relationship with her made him feel guilty.

"But... are you at least trying to sleep?" he looked at her in a way that she immediately understood that he was yet again trying to make her see his point-that she acted like he was a poor lost creature found in the woods - and yet again she blushed. Well, she guessed he did have a point. But she couldn't help it. She wasn't ashamed of her nature, and she wasn't going to change herself for any man, not even Patrick Jane. "What? You do have dark shadows under the eyes. And it's not like I am blind." She defended herself.

"Lisbon... stop worrying about me. Because as far as I remember, a, I already had a homeless vibe when we met and b, these dark shadows were already there too."

"Maybe you should try to talk with someone... I mean, I am here, but if you don't want to I think that maybe Doctor Miller would be willing to help you out..."

"Lisbon..." he just said her name, massaging at closed eyes the bridge of his nose. It was something more in her cords, but he just was having enough. He just... why was she torturing him like that? What did she want? He knew that she wanted to make it easier for him, that she just wanted to help, but she was doing the opposite. With every look, every touch, every word, she was just making him fall in love with her a bit more. And knowing that he just couldn't have her, that he wasn't allowed to...

"Listen, why don't you come to my place tonight? I've got a decent meal, and, if you don't want to sleep in the guest room, I'll let you stay on the couch. It's fine with me. I just want you to..."

She didn't end the sentence, but the words were still in the air, heavy between them. She wanted him there, and she wanted to be the one to heal him. Only, he knew it was wrong. Teresa was doing it with the best intentions, but he didn't want to make her break up with her boyfriend just to start something that couldn't work, nor he wanted to fall every day more in love with her just to look at her getting married and having a family with someone else. He had believed he could have been able to handle it, but now he knew that he had been delusional.

With the corner of the eye, he saw Heist leaving the elevator, checking the time to see if he could already ask Teresa to join him for dinner- it was just how considered he was - and without saying anything, Jane nodded in his direction, showing Teresa who was there.

"I don't think Peter would be happy to have me at his girlfriend's place." he added.

She nodded, blushing, suddenly aware of what many men would have believed, and she stood without saying anything more. With quick, heavy steps she joined Peter, and kissed him, embarrassed. It was quick and very caste, something Peter didn't like considered that he thought they were alone, but Lisbon had never been too passionate and wild with him, after all. But he had never complained: Peter liked that she was shy, stubborn and concentrated on her job, this was why he had fallen for her.

Once the elevator doors opened, she stopped before entering, and she turned one last time, looking in Jane's general direction. It was dark and the only reason she could see his silhouette was because she knew he was there. "Jane? I'll see you tomorrow, then?" She asked, a bit tentatively. It was like she was scared, like talking about Peter and having him there with her had broken some kind of secret spell between her and her consultant.

Jane stood, and with hands in his pockets he joined her. He stood a bit far, studying the duo, Peter always touching Teresa and marking his territory, Lisbon always divided between the two men of her life. Then and there, he decided that it was time to end it once and for all, it wasn't right for neither of them. She deserved better, but so did he.

"Actually Lisbon... I talked with the Director, and... you were right. I need to talk with someone." he said, at low voice.

"Oh" she simply said, clearly surprised. And not only that. He could see in her eyes there was another emotion - fear - and he knew why. She knew what he was going to say, and as much as she had known it was going to happen, she had tried to stop it with all her might. It killed him to do so, but really, there was no other way.

"I am taking a leave of absence. I think... it could do me some good. Besides, we haven't been able to find Danny to tell him that he is dead so, I was thinking that maybe Sam and Pete could give me an hand... I want to be the one to tell him exactly what happened, and who he was. After losing Angie and Charlie that way, he deserves as much, don't you believe?"

"Yeah, sure, besides, you've always been adamant that the only reason you were here it was because you wanted to get Red John, right?" he didn't need to be close to her to know that her eyes were teary, that she was fisting her hands at her sides, that she was full of rage. He knew her. And it was hell to do such a thing to her, but it needed to be done. For both their sake.

"Yeah, you know, maybe getting back with the carnival and my family is just what I need to move on... remember who I used to be before all of this started."

"Yeah, well, in that case, Jane, good luck with the rest of your life" And grabbing Peter for an arm, she finally entered the elevator, turning her back on him once and for all, facing the truth: she had never meant anything for him. Like all the others, she was just a means to an end, and he had stayed just to kill Red John. With the killer dead, he had no reason at all to stay. He was free, and he could go back to his old life, to his old ways, the con-man, fake psych lothario.

As she went away, Jane wondered why, if it was the right thing, it hurt so much.