A/N: Okay, I'm either spoiling you rotten or I've gone completely mad. I don't know how or why I've been so inspired to write lately - I just wish I always felt like this!!
Anyway, this story is really becoming my baby right now. I love writing it and I'm having so much fun with the experimentation and the plot. I have to say, again, I've been completely overwhelmed by the kindness of your words and your support with it. So, thank you to: Habeous Corpus, Rissa545, WildDaisies10, Cora Clavia, Charlene, Penelope Louise, Tessa27, Divinia Serit, celticgina, yaba, lisbon69, mtm, Frogster, Fallen Angels of Love and HOUSEMDFanForever for reviewing part 2.
Just a quick note to clear up any confusion: this is NOT my Jello Forever Secret Santa gift - I'm not writing for Div in that. Who I am writing for? That's a secret until December the 18th - 20th. We just decided that we'd write for each other for fun separate to that. So no, I'm not breaking any of the rules that I wrote for that by posting way too early.
x tromana
Part Three - Loss
To lose a child once is horrifying.
To lose that same child twice is unthinkable.
Impossible.
Jane feels like somebody has decided that it would be a very good idea to drop a ten ton weight on his shoulders. He already knows the definition of 'carrying the weight of the world on his back' all too well, but this is different to that.
It's worse.
Wordlessly, Lisbon has placed her lemonade back down on the table and after rolling onto her tiptoes, she places her arms gently around his shoulders, for once not caring about her general discomfort of physical displays of affection, never mind that she was doing so in front of the general public. He wraps his arms as tightly as physically possible around her slender waist, holding her flush to his body and refusing to let go. He only realizes that he's hurting her at all when she whispers so in a small, strained squeak of a voice.
Neither of them notice poor Van Pelt, confused, staring wildly from person to person in the room. She's feeling completely out of her depth; like she's been treading water for hours and unless that rescue helicopter comes within the next five minutes, she's going to drown.
Of course, it's nothing like the drowning sensation that Jane is suffering from, for even though he has loosened his grip on Lisbon, he is still clinging to her like she's some kind of life-raft. Like she is the only solid thing left in his life and if she were to pull a disappearing act, he'd surely die. He barely notices as she pulls on his arms, gently guiding him outside and onto the porch, but not without mouthing a quick 'sorry' to Van Pelt.
She knows that she needs to get him out of there.
He doesn't sit down on the steps until he feels Lisbon pulling down on his shoulder. His strength has long since ebbed out of his body, meaning that he is pliable to her every whim. Lisbon doesn't batter an eyelid at this; she can positively hear his heart breaking again. She can be fairly certain the way that his mind is working, especially if it's anything remotely similar to the pathways her trail of thoughts are taking. In fact, even she's struggling to think about the case right now.
It's those years he missed out on.
There's absolutely no way to go back and salvage them - they've been and gone.
And he didn't even know.
Did he?
"Did you…" she trails off and broken blue eyes gaze back at her.
"No," he splutters, shaking his head.
An arm wraps tightly around his waist once more as Van Pelt creeps outside with a glass of water. Lisbon quickly thanks the younger woman but brushes her aside again, with a few rushed apologies. While the case is important, it is Red John after all, Jane is even more so. If he isn't on his feet, she isn't quite sure what she'd do. It hasn't been long and she hasn't dared even whisper it to anybody else and she knows that he's done the same, but still. They are the most important thing in her life right now and she's scared. Scared that it'll be pulled from under her feet like a rug before it's even started, really.
She was crazy for saying yes to going to that football match with him.
And dinner afterwards.
And letting him inside her apartment after that.
And, well, for letting what happened after that happen.
She knew that he was still obsessed with Red John. And that whatever Bosco had said to him in his dying breath had only made his fervor even worse.
Dispelling the thoughts, she places a kiss firmly to his cheek and carefully tilts the glass, allowing him to sip the water. His hands are still shaking too much for him to be able to hold it himself and thankfully, he doesn't seem adverse to being treated like, well, a child, really. Jane is still trembling when she takes him to the van and makes sure he is seat belted in before dashing inside and apologizing profusely to the mourning couple and a bewildered Van Pelt.
They're understanding and immediately say the CBI is welcome to come around at any time, for anything.
The stress of the situation is obviously taking its toll on them too.
"Is Jane okay?" Van Pelt whispers just before they get in the car themselves.
"I don't know," Lisbon answers honestly. "I hope he will be."
The answer is enough for her and she climbs into the back seat without another word. The drive back is understandably unpleasant; nobody wants to break the silence and even if they did, they wouldn't know quite what to say anyway. By the time they reach CBI headquarters, it's barely three p.m., but Lisbon already feels ready to go home and fall into bed. She sends Van Pelt upstairs immediately, telling the younger woman that she should help the others with their tasks.
She'll see them tomorrow, she says. She and Jane have somewhere else they need to go.
That's if he'll trust her enough to let her go there.
"Surely the hospital should have…"
Jane nods slowly. Even though he stays at that house whenever he isn't in a hotel, at Lisbon's or surreptitiously staying overnight at work, it's been years since he has actually bothered to look through the mail. Most of it lands up being chucked haphazardly into a pile on the kitchen counter, where his precious wife used to leave it whenever he went away for gigs. The letter is probably buried in there somewhere.
He knows that she's hinting that they should go look. And he's not sure about how he feels about her stepping into that little time capsule.
It's not that he's precious about the house, not anymore. It's more that - it's blurring the lines between his old life, the past and the present. He's only just started feeling something that vaguely represents happy - and that's entirely because of the woman sitting beside him - so he doesn't know if he can cope with that mix.
Then again, it doesn't appear like he has much choice. Because he knows what she's thinking. He's thinking it too, after all.
What if that letter was Red John's discovery that he hadn't finished 'the job' quite as effectively as he first thought?
He whispers it, finally giving her permission to drive to his own personal hellhole.
His two distinctly separate worlds are traveling at a thousand miles an hour. And now they're dead set to collide.
TBC…