Author's Note: THis is the last chapter, another little tag of the story I've crafted within 4-10. Let me know what you think of it, if you could imagine this happening or not. And I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited. It means a lot to me! Well, enjoy.
The ride is quiet, almost too quiet. He seems so distanced, lost in a world where no suffocating webs or red smiley faces exist. Lisbon keeps on wondering if she should get his attention or not, but her insides are quaking and all she wants is to get this over with.
Finally, his eyes still shut, seemingly so relaxed, he asks her the dreaded question, "Where are we going?"
She's not sure if she even has an answer for him. She knows he's back in his pretend world and a little voice in her head questions if it's better for him to jolt back into reality now or when he enters that dreaded room.
As she turns into the drive, he opens his eyes dazedly and peers around as if he can glean more than that it's a darkened house tucked away.
Right before Lisbon exits the vehicle, she allows her fingers to pause over the cross for a second or two and finds that she's praying she'll can even forgive herself for what she's going to put him through.
Jane's just standing there, staring. Staring through the haze of the past into the horror of his present and the dim light that could be his future (if one could hold such hope.)
If he could feel something more, he might stop his hands from shaking or the tears dripping down his somehow expressionless face, like he deserves to let go of the pain chiseling away at his soul.
Lisbon wishes she could just freeze herself in place here. She doesn't want him to suffer alone.
For a strange second, she can almost see the web they're in. It's vast and slightly terrifying. There is almost no likelihood of a way out. Or is there?
Teresa Lisbon is nothing but determined and her mind is made up.
Her heart beating three times to every step she takes, she latches her hand into his, warming something numbed by numerous winters so adept at wearing him down.
"I'm not leaving you alone here. Let's go."
Like a small child, he takes a step back and then another. He walks awkwardly backwards, and she is leading him away with every bit of strength of character she has in her.
The walk to the car leaves him almost hollow, the wind cutting into him even though the night is only slightly cool. He shivers and bunches his jacket up against him.
Sitting in the car with him, she waits for something, anything, leaving time for him to feel his way around his memory palace once again. He truly needs it.
Just as the ignition turns and the car comes to life, Jane says determinedly, "I had them fooled, you know."
Lisbon knows where this is going. Her resolve wishes to crumble, but she steels herself and her hands on the steering wheel, driving like it were any other night. Even though this is a night she can never forget.
Halfway through their ride, he begins rambling about his interactions with the team. "Grace deserves more attention, you know. That's why I decided to give it to her. I like red-heads well enough, but it would take too much time because I'm not her usual type. She deserves to find someone worthy of her, worthy of her kindness and her attitude. However, Rigsby certainly isn't keeping her spirits company these days. Ha." The line is flat, with no sense of amusement. He's reading from a script, and he has to see it through. The show must go on for Patrick Jane to truly win over his audience.
"Rigsby's face when I alluded to Grace's 'cookie jar' of sorts was almost pitiful. He's bottled up the pain he felt when she was cuddling up to O'Laughlin and tries to avoid the truth. In reality, I wouldn't usually attempt to learn a failure's techniques to win over a woman like her because I could, with time, transform into a version of the perfect man she's searching for. But I wanted him to squirm with the fact that he held, and lost, something as unique as her."
"Cho doesn't even truly believe I like the team. He imagines I only intend to con for my own benefit..." The script forgotten, he is once again lost for words. He must break because the fall has been so tremendous.
In a whisper, he admits, "I had them fooled. But nothing has changed. I'm still twisting everyone's life with mine into something toxic."
Pulling into the driveway, she sits for a moment and listens to his slightly ragged breathing.
"I have no intention of getting out the web. I don't want to, and you can't push me out of it, no matter how hard you try."
His eyes, wet, weary, and red-rimmed, skim all over her face as if he's not quite comprehending what she's trying to tell him.
"You said we walk it together. And that's true. A lot has happened over these years, and I've had my share of it. But..."
Her eyes stare into him, making him understand.
"I won't leave until we can both leave alive."
Physically and mentally.
"Besides, I wouldn't let go of your hand." Her fingers drift very close to his on the armrest, but she doesn't dare touch it.
Jane's pupils, slightly dilated, mirror a bit of her face into them. He must be wondering how sure I am, or how crazy I am, to say this, she wonders. He can't understand now, but eventually she'll make sure he knows that in no way would she allow him to face it all alone.
"Come on; let's go inside," she coaxes, and slowly he walks to her door. Easily, she ushers him inside and makes him sit down on her sofa, making furtive glances at him as he settled himself.
Tired and drained, Jane melts into the sofa and looks back at the woman who has followed him so far. Though tonight, he supposes, he's following her, which he doesn't quite mind. The hand digging into the sofa relaxes. She's always been fascinating to watch.
Minutes later, she exits the kitchen with a steaming hot cup of tea and stands in front of him, the steam creating whorls to hide her emerald eyes. When he reaches and eventually clutches the cup, he finds himself somehow relieved her eyes don't hold any regret in them.
Absentmindedly, she notices Jane following her into her kitchen and leaning in the doorway, taking a small sip of his tea, his eyes traveling with her movements.
"I'm sorry for what I did. But in a way, I did miss you terribly. And I don't think badly of who you were. Everyone has to take stock of who they are and change, no matter what they were before."
"Hmm." He takes another sip, then transfers the cup to his right hand. "But I want to make it right to the team. I need to let them know what I was doing."
"Of course." She finds her coffee filters and sets them on the counter."
"And I'm not leaving anytime soon, so I might need to retrace my steps."
"We'll help you retrace your steps." She puts the coffee pot on and listens to the gurgling of the machine.
"Well, then, I suppose I'll be haunting the CBI for a while. I'm sure Wainwright will be pleased..."
Lisbon can't help it anymore, and she forgets everything but him, even the empty coffee mug still in her right hand. "Thank you," she says, and then crosses the room to hug him, wrapping her arms around his chest with her chin in the crook of his right shoulder, rocking slightly from right to left; then, she leaves the warmth that is him and moves back, smiling slightly.
Jane's not quite sure where this comes from when she hugs him, but the slight intake of breath at the surprise of it all gives him away. At the last moment, his hand reaches her back and holds for a moment; then, he loses the warmth that is her and he watches her expression carefully.
He doesn't have to speak to remember another hug on a sunny day, of strawberries and promises and her hair blowing everywhere, of new hope between them somehow.
It must be the tea that's warming me inside, he tells himself.
Her hips swaying slightly, she pours her coffee, takes a sip with reverence, and then leans on the counter near the door.
"You know, Mashburn never tried that trick on me."
"Oh, the..." Jane's eyes widen. They're really going back to this, to her and her assets? Well, he may as well have some fun. "That's a shame. But maybe he was concerned you'd punch him in the nose, and then where would he have gotten in wooing you?"
Lisbon's smile widens immensely, and she shakes her head in slight disbelief. "I'll be sure to ask him about it when he gets back in town."
"Really?" Now it's Jane's turn to move closer to her, waiting for the punchline, brow furrowed.
"Actually, I think I'll wait until the next time you try to pull it on me again, and I'll tell him your success rate. I'm sure that'll get him interested." Her smile can't help but turn into a smirk.
"He isn't that competitive with me, and who said I was actually successful?" Jane parries, to which Lisbon can't help but argue that she didn't stop him with more force, and the conversation continues for a long while in the kitchen. Their beverages get cold, and at some point Lisbon dumps her coffee and takes several sips of his tea, but neither one cares much.
The web is waiting for them, ready to take them down varying paths and to new dangers. But events are forever altered based on the decisions made on this very night.
The saying, "Tea for two, and two for tea," has never been as important or as potent as it has now.