Chapter 3: A Difference of Perceptions

The FBI

Lisbon walked out of the elevator with quick, sharp steps toward her desk and Jane's couch. She looked around.

"Not here. Abbott had Fischer pick Jane up to go directly to the case," Wylie said, noticing her survey of the floor.

"Oh. Thanks, Wylie. Any word on when they're expected back?"

"Nope. Apparently it's just Fischer and Jane on whatever it is."

"Thanks."

The day dragged. Lisbon forced herself to grind through the paperwork on their last case. She spent her lunch break walking to discharge her frustration and nervous energy. It was nearing the end of the day, but still no Jane.


"Marcus! ... Just surprised. You usually call at night. ... Something happened? What is it? ... He what? Cullen can't do that! You've already moved and everything," Lisbon looked around, grateful that the bullpen was sparsely populated at the moment. She regained control and lowered her voice. "Hang on, Marcus. Let me, uh, let me go someplace a little more private." She hurried down the hall to a storage closet which was blessed with solid walls and a solid door she could close. Lisbon flicked on the light and closed the door. She leaned against it, trembling in outrage.

Finally, Lisbon took a deep breath and continued more calmly. "Marcus, how can he justify it? Yanking the offer after you've moved violates protections for Federal employees. ... Just cause? That's a crock. It was your case and it was a big success. Of course it adds to your record. ... So what's gonna happen? ... Yeah, I heard Drexel already filled your old position. ... But at least you have a job – I mean, while they get it sorted out. ... So it's a problem, but not a crisis. ... How can it affect me? I'll be working for Brentwood. ... Huh! If they're closing that position for the time being, I don't have a job in DC. Son of a bitch! ... I won't do anything crazy but I am gonna get to the bottom of this with Jane. ... By God, I'll make him fix it. ... Okay, we can talk more later. You gonna be okay till then? ... Love you too. Talk to you tonight."

It was within two hours of quitting time and Lisbon finally caved. She called Fischer.

"Kim, hi. ... Just wondering when you and Jane might be back. ... Half hour? – Tell Jane to shut up. – So you're both coming back to the bureau? ... Great that you solved it. ... Thanks, Kim. See you soon."

Fischer and Jane got off the elevator. Fischer turned left to go to Abbott's office and report the case solved. Jane continued to the break room. Someone already had heated water in the kettle, so Jane prepared his tea and walked to the bullpen within five minutes. His couch beckoned after an intense, if successful, day. He sank down with a sigh, enjoying the quiet of the nearly empty floor. Sunlight slanted through the windows, shadows long in the early evening.

"Jane!" Lisbon called sharply as she kicked his couch.

"Well, good day to you, too, Lisbon," he answered pleasantly.

Urgently, intensely. "What's going on with that nomination for the art theft case?"

He took a breath and yawned. "How should I know? Is this a trick question?"

She kicked the couch again. Harder. "Dammit, Jane. It is inexcusable for you to screw over Marcus instead of facing him like a man. I can't –"

"Pike?" Jane sat up frowning. He took a quick gulp of tea. "I haven't done anything to him," he said coldly, gritting his teeth. "In fact, I–"

Furiously, "You nominated yourself for a commendation and deliberately made Marcus look bad."

"You're raving. Calm d–"

She kicked the couch again, hard. He stood to face her. "Lisbon, I don't know what happened. If you'd–"

Savagely. "It is below the belt to screw with Marcus, you underhanded SOB. Thanks to you his boss yanked his promotion. It's lucky he even–"

"I didn't do anything!"

"How stupid do you think I am? You lie about the case and file a counter nomination. That doesn't help you, it just destroys Marcus's career. – And mine! Jane, I am so done with you it'll be too soon if I never see you again! You duplicitous, sneaky, manipulative bas–"

Jane's cup and saucer dropped, splattering tea and clattering on the thin carpeting. He paled, shaking his head mutely. Stunned, mouth open and breathing in shallow gasps, he wheeled and headed toward the stairs.

Cho entered the hall from the men's room as Jane strode past, shoulder crashing against him in haste. Lisbon stood shaking by the couch, eyes blazing, hands balled in fists.

"What happened?"

Through gritted teeth, "None of your business."

"Lisbon! What just happened?"

"Get out of my way!" Lisbon turned and stepped around Cho toward her desk. He put his hand on her arm. She stopped and glared at him.

"Take your hand off me."

He tightened his grip instead. "Lisbon. Boss. We need to talk."

She took a breath, visibly reining herself in. "Cho, get out of my face, out of my business. I need to go."

Grim. "If this is about Pike, we need to talk."

She stopped dead. In an intense whisper, "What do you know about it?"

"Follow me." Cho dropped his hand. He went to his desk and picked up several sheets of paper, then headed to the fishbowl. He held the door, waiting for her.

Lisbon stiffly followed him a moment later. He closed the door, tossed the papers on the conference table and sat down. He looked at her, expressionless and silent. After a dozen seconds, Lisbon took and exhaled a deep breath. She sat down. "Talk."

"Is this about Pike's commendation for the art theft-murder case?"

"Yes. What do you know about it?"

"I nominated Jane for a commendation for the same case."

"You what?! –Jane put you up to it!"

He looked levelly at her, expressionless. "You know better."

"Then why?"

"Facts speak for themselves. You'd better read these." Cho moved the papers closer to her.

"Don't mess with me, Cho. You're crossing the line."

"I'm not messing with you. I stated the facts as I know them. You need to judge for yourself."

"You have no business–"

"You need to do your homework, Boss. Read this. It speaks for itself." Cho got up. He nodded once and left.

Lisbon sat, stunned, for several minutes. She angrily grabbed the papers, went to her desk, grabbed her purse and left.

Home

Lisbon had no memory of her drive home. She closed and locked the door. Leaning against it, she felt nauseated and drained. Eventually, she dropped her keys and purse on the foyer table then headed into the kitchen and got a can of Coke. The sugar and caffeine would be physically soothing, the cola syrup would settle her stomach. Once her breathing had returned to normal and the tension had eased, she took the creased papers and her soda and sat on the couch. She kicked her feet free of the boots and shrugged off her blazer.

The first stapled sheaf of papers was Cho's nomination of Patrick Jane for a commendation. It had been filed yesterday. An hour later, she had read the paperwork for all four nominations – the one for Jane that, presumably, Cho had written, and, three more for Marcus Pike. Lisbon swallowed thickly. After using the bathroom, she washed her hands and splashed water on her face. Fortunately, there were leftovers that could be reheated. She ate half the food without tasting any of it, and tossed the rest. She brewed a cup of coffee and returned to the couch. And the papers. She re-read the forms carefully, this time for detail and nuance. Then she leaned back and thought about the Austin case. And the men described in those nominations.

Lisbon's cell phone buzzed. She wearily got up. Marcus. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Hi, Marcus. ... Got home a while ago. Rough day, but then I guess yours was a lot worse. ... Can you tell me exactly what happened? ... So Cullen read Jane's nomination and thought there were discrepancies. ... He said you padded it? –I, I thought nominations were fully vetted before a commendation is awarded. ... He actually read a bunch of the files for your cases and Jane's, too. Not just the nominations? ... Jesus, what a nightmare. ... I'm sorry it's blown up on you."

She swallowed and closed her eyes. "Marcus, I need to ask you something. It's important to me. ... Did you prepare the nomination for the case in Austin? ... But you drafted it before your boss submitted it? ... Do – do you feel it is an accurate description of how the case unfolded? ... Please, bear with me. I'm asking because it's important. ... So, it reflects your initiative in tackling a tough case with out-of-the-box thinking? ... And – you're satisfied that the nomination is a fair account of your contribution to solving the case? ... No, Marcus, I'm not trying to hurt you. Of course you deserve credit for helping solve a tough case. I am so, so sorry you've been jerked around."

Lisbon swallowed. "Yeah, I know there's no position for me in DC anymore. That was connected to offering you the promotion. ... You should have told me, Marcus. I thought the homicide opening was already posted when you were offered the promotion. ... I see." She sighed. "I can't come to DC without a job. Let's just set it all aside for the time being. We'll talk more. ... At least tomorrow's Friday. You can regroup, get your head around this mess. ... So you think there's no chance anything will change? ... Okay. Try to get some sleep. I'm sorry you had to go through this. Good night, Marcus." She couldn't bring herself to end the call the same way he did, the way she had just that afternoon.

Lisbon dropped the cell phone on the side table. She picked up the nominations for the Austin case again. She read each once again, comparing them point by point. Unexpectedly, she dropped them, rushed to the bathroom, and lost the little food she had eaten. She rinsed her mouth, laved her face with cool water. Returning to the living room, she donned jacket and boots, and picked up her keys and purse. It isn't too late to fix this. – Or at least start to repair it. I owe him that.

Airstream

Jane stumbled up the steps, closed the door and dropped onto the built-in couch. He sat there, not thinking, for an unknown amount of time. The shadows lengthened with the waning day. His face was buried in his hands, elbows on knees. A full bladder finally forced him to stir, to get up. After he relieved himself, he stripped and stood in the shower as hot as he could stand it. He finished when the hot water ran out, and tiredly toweled himself dry.

It was fully dark then. He dressed in clean clothes and returned to the kitchen. Working by the dim stove light, he mechanically filled the kettle and prepared a cup of tea. He sat at the built-in table and sipped it. It grew cold as he again got lost, trying to follow tangled thoughts about unintended consequences, unforeseen twists, unforeseeable reactions. It was a house of mirrors, everything distorted. He had tried his best to be the man Lisbon asked him to be. That cost him the chance to be the man by her side.

Even then, he had wanted her to be happy. Pike could give her a future she deserved. He had done everything he could to get out of her way, to not screw it up for her. Something went wrong for Pike in DC. He didn't even understand what Lisbon thought he had done. Now she never wanted to see him again.

Events of the last several weeks scrolled through his mind like a movie. He couldn't see what he did wrong. It didn't compute, wasn't subject to rational thought or logic. He was wrong if he tried to control her life, make things turn out "right." It ended wrong when he had backed off, supported her decisions, didn't manipulate. The one constant, the one inevitability was that anything he touched ended badly. His hopes in coming back from Venezuela were ashes, painful remnants of the most important relationship he had ... with anyone still alive. He wondered whether he had made the right decision after McAllister. There didn't seem to be much point. It certainly didn't do any good for anyone.

It took several minutes before the sound of pounding on his door penetrated the thick mud of his thoughts. His curtains were open. Moonlight was enough for him to recognize Lisbon. He got up and opened the door.

"Jane, please let me come in. I need to talk, to apologize."

He stood aside. This made no more sense than anything else, but he would never refuse her. He sat down again.

"Okay if I turn on a light?"

He looked at her without answering. She flicked a light switch. Then, glancing around, she lowered the window blinds to shut out the darkness, wrapping them in the warmth of light.

She hesitated, then touched his shoulder. "Jane, are you okay?"

After a moment, "No. No, I don't think so."

She turned away before the tears that glittered in her eyes spilled. "I – I'll make tea." She filled the kettle with water. Regaining control, she picked up his cup, noticing that the tea remaining was stone cold. In a few minutes, she set down two steaming cups, and took a seat opposite him. He regarded her silently. She finally gathered her thoughts and began.

"Jane, I was wrong to accuse you today. I am sorry and I apologize." She paused and looked at his face. The blankness alarmed her. Jane's vast array of masks had never before included blank - an absence of presence. "Can you accept my apology?'

He finally sipped the tea. "Sure." He shrugged diffidently. "None of it makes any sense."

Lisbon licked her lips. "Cho told me. He nominated you for a commendation." No reaction. "A commendation for that art theft-homicide case." Jane nodded. It was simple acknowledgment that he heard. The blankness remained.

"Marcus got a commendation for that same case. That was a big part of getting the DC promotion." Another nod. She took a deep breath, sighed, and plunged in. "Jane, Marcus inflated his contributions to the case. I'm not sure he even realizes it. I read his nomination. And I read Cho's nomination of you. Marcus claimed credit way beyond what he actually did."

She paused. Eventually he realized she expected him to say something. "Does it matter?"

Looking down, "Of course it matters. I know what you did on that case. If the promotion was based on his commendation, he doesn't deserve it. And it matters because he won't do the job well. More crimes left unsolved. Team members needlessly endangered. –It matters, Jane."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything. Jane, Marcus isn't who I thought he was. Anyone that lacking in personal insight isn't someone I can respect ... much less love." Jane looked up at her. "I've been trying to fall in love with an illusion. I haven't seen him for who he is but who I need him to be. A life built on a lie isn't going to work."

"So?"

"So what happened to us, Jane? How did we get to this horrible place where we don't even talk?" His forehead wrinkled in a frown, but he only shook his head. "Jane, I kept every letter you sent from Venezuela. Why did you write to me? Why did you come back?"

"I missed you. I came back for you."

She breathed, "Why?"

"Because I love you. I'm in love with you."

A strangled half sob caught in her throat. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? You have to know I love you."

He shook his head. "I'm not sure what I know. I'm not sure I know how to love you, how to be good for you."

"Are you willing to try?"

He whispered, finally intensely present, connected, "What if it doesn't work?"

"How can it be any worse, Jane? We love each other. We've been through 12 years of hell together. No more obsession with revenge. No Red John out there. No murder charges. Compared to that it should be a piece of cake." She smiled, equal parts hope and challenge in her grin.

He swallowed, sipped more tea and said, "I can try. You'll have to tell me what you need."

"Yes, Jane. We'll talk. A lot. Not talking is how we got to this miserable place. Talk and avoid manipulating me. And avoid taking unnecessary risks with your life. If you can do that, I think we have a pretty good chance of this – of us working."

"Lisbon – Teresa, will you kiss me? I feel like we've been apart for so long. I've missed you."

She took his hand and pulled him to his feet and over to the couch. They sat down and nestled together. His lips brushed hers in a tentative kiss, a question. She answered in kind, tongue teasing his lips. They relaxed against each other, exhausted but hopeful for the first time ... in months. Their kisses deepened and heated. It was not the right time to go further. It was a promise they made to each other for the future.

Jane pulled her down onto the couch, cradled in his arms. It was late and easier for her to stay with him than go home. They slept entwined together.