Lovely As You Are
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Rating: T
Spoiler: None
A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed and placed this story on alert and favorites lists. I really appreciate the positive feedback since this was a spur of the moment type of story. Thanks also to my beta, Duppy Conqueror, and forthecoast for telling me that the particular idea in this oneshot wasn't totally insane. I hope you guys think so too!
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"Justice limps along, but gets there all the same."
- Gabriel García Márquez
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November 2011
Derek Lewis was a good man. He was a loving husband, a devoted father and a man who had given six years and two tours in Iraq for a country where merely decades prior he wouldn't have been able to marry his high school sweetheart because he was African American and she was not.
Yes, Lisbon thinks as she stirs the appropriate amount of skim milk into her coffee, Derek Lewis was, and still is, a good man who had vowed to protect his younger sister when their father walked out on them. A man who is now on trial for attacking and killing the man who had, aside from Derek's sister, killed over a dozen others, including Angela and Charlotte Jane and Sam Bosco and his team.
Lisbon isn't naïve, she understands that the justice system cannot be biased, but that doesn't stop the anger that wells up inside her every time she thinks about the fact that Derek Lewis should not be on trial for something that many people whose lives Red John indirectly destroyed, have dreamt of doing themselves. Still, she tells herself to have faith that the outcome will be in their favor.
It's a new experience for her, to sit on the side of the defense, but she's doing it. She sits a few pews behind the Lewis family and runs her fingers repeatedly over her mother's cross, unconsciously praying that this particular verdict brings an acquittal rather than a conviction.
Thinking about the other very prominent reason for her presence in court intensifies the pressure building at the back of her skull. Coffee probably won't stave off the impending headache, but she's not really sure what else to do. Going home isn't really an option.
Lately the pale unadorned walls in her condo have taken on a strange likeness to those in the few mental institutions she's visited. If she's not tired enough to just collapse onto her bed when she gets home, those walls seem to close in on her and she flees back to the office anyway.
And yet, she can't force herself to focus on paperwork tonight. So at around a quarter to nine, she makes her way to the break room, and pours a cup of coffee she doesn't really want, if only to occupy herself.
Inevitably however, her thoughts lead back to the very subject she's tried to avoid all day, because she knows that a large part of the reason why she even shows up at court every day, isn't because she's worried about Derek Lewis (even though she is). It's because even postmortem Red John simply will not stop haunting Jane.
It seems that in the six months since she received the call from local authorities in Vacaville explaining the circumstances surrounding the capture and subsequent murder of the man thought to be Red John, Jane has simply shifted his focus away from vengeance towards justice. He began putting all his efforts, and possibly some of his own resources, towards ensuring that Derek Lewis does not go to jail for doing something Jane himself had failed to do.
Lisbon had always thought that if Jane was unsuccessful in his revenge plot and Red John was apprehended in some other way, eventually the consultant would move on. However, in this particular scenario, that cannot be further from the truth.
She doesn't know if its guilt, envy or simply regret that initially made Jane so devoted to the Lewis case, but she does know that her constant worry for him has become so deeply rooted that the perpetual twisting knot in her chest is almost a comfort these days.
And it shouldn't be like that, damn it, which is why she doesn't feel guilty for breaking her silence and speaking her mind, regardless of what damage that may do to her already fragile relationship with Jane.
Everything is of course complicated by the fact that Jane has not been simply a member of her team for a very long time now. She's not sure when these feelings surfaced, but they're there, subtle yet daunting, following her every move. Sometimes they make her second guess her motivation for doing certain things, such as making sure Jane at least showers and eats a normal meal on a daily basis.
It's not a new habit of hers really. In fact, her watching out for him started way before she ever knew who Derek Lewis was, back when Jane used to call the CBI attic his home and could spend three days in the same suit, never once leaving the office. Thankfully, now he only retreats upstairs sporadically, usually in moments of deepest desperation or helplessness, which is likely why his car is still in the parking lot and he's nowhere to be seen.
However despite that knowledge, something stops Lisbon from going to check on him. She'd been so full of adrenaline and frustration when they'd argued earlier that she'd only felt the sting of his words much later. Her sense of self-preservation kicked in right away, preventing her from thinking about what Jane must be feeling and lending a comforting shoulder as she's been prone to do.
Instead, she finds herself stirring her coffee absent-mindedly, thoughts far away as she stares at an undefined spot on the counter. She's usually the one to make the first move toward reconciliation, unless he's really hurt her, which she thinks Jane isn't very much concerned with right now. This is why she lets her guard down for just a moment, allowing her surroundings to bear witness to the disappointment and indignation she feels at the fact that even now Red John is still able to come between them.
Still, perhaps her expectations of the consultant's behavior after their argument are wrong, because when she finally composes herself and turns around, Lisbon comes to find a slightly guilt-ridden Patrick Jane standing in the break room entry, peering at her with eyes full of remorse.
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She's so surprised to see him, the mug nearly slips from her grasp, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jane as he steps further into the room. The only physical sign of his consternation is the way he rests his hands on the back of one of the chairs; however the regret doesn't fade from his eyes and that's what touches Lisbon the most.
"I thought you left," she says lamely, filling the silence with a lie simply because she doesn't think she has the patience to wait him out right now, coddle him until he gathers his wits.
It may not be fair, but a part of her feels really good about being able to exercise some measure of self-preservation; that is until a flash of hurt crosses his gaze as he figures out that she's probably lying.
Then all she feels is guilt, which in turn makes her frown. When Jane silently motions her to sit down, after still not saying a word, Lisbon has half the mind to turn him down and retreat to her office, but she can't do it.
His eyes keep her in a stranglehold, the rare vulnerability she sees there gives her pause and a moment later, she finds herself sliding into the proffered chair unwittingly. The only sign of her displeasure is the worry line etched into her forehead.
She half expects him to challenge her comment, but now that he's so close, their knees nearly bumping together, that familiar ache for him returns, twisting her heart unexpectedly and nearly disabling all her anger even before he says anything.
Sometimes, Lisbon thinks Jane has her completely figured out and uses the fractures in personality against her; however, another part of her, the one buried beneath the doubt and wariness, can tell that at this particular moment at least, the consultant is too deeply wrapped up in his own issues to have that agenda.
That very thought moves her into action. The hand wrapped around her mug itches to reach out and give Jane a sign of physical comfort but she isn't ready for that. Instead, she breaks the silence again to catch his attention.
Since she sat down, his eyes have been trained on a spot somewhere around her right shoulder, but once she says his name, his gaze snaps back to her, more alert and more revealing than ever before, making her think that whatever he is about to say is important.
That doesn't mean she isn't surprised when he finally speaks.
"You were right before," Jane admits, the timbre of his voice reflecting the sincerity in his words, "I spent so long focused on catching Red John that I still haven't been able to come to terms with his death."
He takes a pause there, perhaps waiting for her to say something, but Lisbon doesn't really know how to respond. Despite him making the first move towards reconciliation this time, she still wasn't expecting Jane to be so upfront right away. She expected him to be angry at her, try to get her to apologize to him, not admit any fault of his own, let alone acknowledge her correctness.
The coffee burns as it travels down her throat but at least it alleviates the dryness in her mouth.
"It's disturbing, isn't it?" Jane continues, smirking in self-deprecation, "even after he's dead, I'm still letting him control me."
Although Lisbon knows he's just searching for validation, hoping she'll soothe his concerns and tell him that it's alright, her intuition tells her that this particular comfort isn't what Jane needs right now.
"It's not disturbing, but it's not healthy either," She declares with an assurance neither were anticipating. She realizes quickly that some time between her nearly losing it as she stirred milk into her coffee and Jane asking her to sit down, that part of her that's used to pushing people, particularly Jane, has resurfaced. And she's not going to let it disappear, because at the end of the day, regardless of how much she hates it, when people whom she cares about, especially Jane, need her, her own emotions take a back seat.
She can only hope that the gesture is appreciated and that when she needs someone's shoulder and support, it will be reciprocated. Somehow, she knows the reason why she doesn't hesitate to reach out this time and lightly squeeze Jane's shoulder is because with him, she knows it will be.
"You have to let us be there for you, even a little bit. We're all worried about you, especially with how involved you've become with the Lewis trial. It's just another way for you to prolong this battle but you have to remind yourself that for you, it's over already. He's dead."
She uses we instead of I on purpose, because she hasn't put all the pieces of herself back together yet and admitting that she's the one most worried about him and she's the one whose thinking all this would be too much of a risk right now.
Still, that doesn't make it any easier when Jane looks back up at her from where his eyes were trained on the floor and silently lets her know that he sees beneath her farce, and shockingly, that he appreciates it.
Therefore, it shouldn't really surprise her that when she moves her hand off his shoulder he catches it, squeezing it lightly before letting her go. But it does, because she doesn't remember the last time Jane touched her. She also can't deny the warmth that originates at his touch and lingers there long after she flexes her hand and drops it to her lap.
The action throws Lisbon off kilter for just a moment, but rationale quickly sets in and she realizes something quietly to herself. Regardless of what he consciously thinks, the seeds for Jane's healing have already been sown. She knows that when Red John was still alive, the consultant spent every day living in fear that those closest to him, including her, were in danger. She isn't a psychologist, but her job requires a certain amount of observational skills and Lisbon knows that before Jane would have never allowed himself to show her how he felt with words, let alone physically convey his gratitude.
"I'm sorry that I got so defensive earlier." Jane breaks her reverie unexpectedly, "I'm just, I'm worried."
The knowledge that he has already begun to change makes Lisbon feel quietly elated and this time the apology doesn't surprise her, just warms her to the very core. In turn, she nods, as if to encourage him on, hoping he won't shut himself off like he has been through this entire ordeal.
There's only a flash of uncertainty in his eye before he continues.
"What if the jury decides to make an example out of Derek? What if they deliberate tonight and decide the same thing you've been telling me all these years?"
"Which is what?" Lisbon asks, for a moment confused about his train of thought.
Their eyes lock again and Jane exhales, uncharacteristically resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. "That regardless of how horrible Red John's crimes have been, no one should take justice into their own hands?"
The implication of his words seeps all the warmth through her body, but Lisbon prays that her expression doesn't betray how she truly feels. Of course, she's considered the possibility that the jury might come back with a conviction. Nevertheless, she has never really contemplated the possibility that everything she'd been preaching about justice over the years has stayed with Jane up until now.
Still, she doesn't feel triumphant about it. It just doesn't feel right that this is the connection Jane makes between her words and the current situation. It's not the time to take offense at his words though, and Lisbon has no intention of attempting to clarify things for him right now. Instead, she pulls her chair a little closer, ignores the slight thrill at their renewed proximity and says,
"If the jury decides that, then you have to be prepared for it. But I'd much rather you have faith in the fact that yes, the justice system can be blind sometimes and usually, that's the right course of action. But sometimes, in these rare situations, it's good to remember that the jury is comprised of human beings, whom you out of all people should know, are not immune to loss and are certainly not as blind as Lady Justice."
Jane stares at her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, but Lisbon can already tell that some of the tension has left his shoulders. Eventually he straightens out a little, one hand coming to rest on his vest while the other slides onto the table.
"Faith, huh?" He echoes her earlier sentiment, lips pursed in thought as he glances at her briefly.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm too old for it." He admits a moment later, and if it weren't for the more lighthearted tone of his voice, Lisbon would resist the urge to smile, but she doesn't.
"Oh don't be so dramatic," she teases lightly. "Everyone, regardless of how old has to have a little faith in something."
She's in mid-sip when out of the corner of her eye she notices Jane's expression grow serious as he looks at her.
"I do," he counters quietly, not tearing his gaze away from her as if he's trying to communicate more than he can say, "I have faith in some things."
Lisbon pushes away the little voice inside her head that says that much like she refused to verbally acknowledge how much she worries about him, Jane is having an equally difficult time admitting that he doesn't just have faith in things, but that he has faith in her, in whatever convoluted relationship they have.
The thought is of course reassuring, spreading a pleasant heat through her entire body, but it's also too much to acknowledge right now, too delicate a topic to breach, especially when a few blocks from here a group of twelve people are deciding whether a former soldier should go to jail for murdering one of California's most notorious serial killers.
"Well you should have faith in the justice system too," Lisbon eventually speaks, if only to cut the growing tension between them.
"After all, whether you like it or not, you inadvertently work for it." She adds good-naturedly afterward, hoping to infuse the moment with some levity. It works, because Jane graces her with a brilliant smile in return and though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, Lisbon feels like he's a far cry from the tightly wound and frustrated mess of a man he was during their argument, not to mention the last six months.
Although one night of conversation may not have any lasting effects, Lisbon decides that seeing Jane this relaxed is worth it. They sit in companionable silence for a while, but eventually Lisbon feels the beginnings of fatigue infringing on her. She hazards a glance at her watch and Jane notices.
"You should go, it's late." He suggests in a way that makes Lisbon think he's only doing so out of propriety and concern for her, not out of actual desire. And despite the calling of a warm bed and a few hours of much needed rest, she finds herself shaking her head.
"No, I'm good where I am."
Lisbon looks away but she knows Jane has already caught onto her motive. She decides right then that she's done enough pushing for the night and leaves the rest up to him.
Unsurprisingly, Jane takes the incentive.
"Okay, well then I'm going to make a cup of tea, would you like anything?"
Lisbon pretends to think for a moment, before glancing up at him with a hint of mirth in her eye, "try to find something edible in there, would ya?"
Jane stands up, stretching leisurely and chuckling at her request, "I think it would be easier for me to go get take out than scavenge for food after Rigsby worked a double."
He walks towards the counter anyway, presumably to make tea and Lisbon wonders whether he's just being rhetorical. Still, she doesn't let herself think long enough about it to halt her initial thought.
"Well then," She says, pivoting her entire body to face him, "what are you still doing here?"
The comment seems to catch Jane off guard, because he stops moving, pausing for a second before turning around with a smile on his face.
"That Mexican place down the street?" He confirms.
"Oh you're good." Lisbon teases, gaining a new confidence under his whimsical stare. She stands up and backs out of the break room, "I'll be in my office. You'd better hurry before they close."
She expects him to chuckle in response, but when he doesn't say anything, she turns around to find Jane right in front of her, an unreadable expression on his face. Lisbon barely has time to register the proximity before he leans forward and presses the tiniest of kisses to her temple.
While his earlier touch left her with goose bumps, the feel of his lips on her skin sends a current of heat straight down to her toes, engulfing her simultaneously in warmth and the unfamiliar stirring of desire.
Thankfully, Jane saves her the awkwardness of a reaction by stepping back and smiling at her. Still, her breath catches ever so slightly in her throat when she sees a hint of yearning in his eye, one that likely matches her own. It should scare her more, but it doesn't. Instead, it infuses her with a courage she hasn't felt in years.
She's both disappointed and infinitely thankful that Jane seems to make the decision for her and moves completely away, taking off down the hall before her heartbeat even settles.
In an effort to prove to both of them that she's unaffected, Lisbon calls after him. "Don't forget the extra guacamole!"
But Jane merely looks over his shoulder and laughs.
"I never do," he assures her, before disappearing around the corner.
It's only when she's alone in the hallway that Lisbon finally lets her guard down completely, resting her forehead against the wall. She is still reeling from their encounter but the expected fear and apprehension isn't there.
Instead, she finds herself smiling, because although she can probably no longer deny that she is falling for Patrick Jane, it appears that she's not alone and that he is, in fact, falling right along with her.
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