Disclaimer: Guess what! It's not mine!
A/N: Chapter title and lyrics by Placebo.
xxx
Chapter 3: Running up that hill
Xxx
And if I only could
Make a deal with God
And get Him to swap our places…
xxx
"Do you ever wonder why we do this job?"
Lisbon looks at Grace in surprise. When she sees that her fellow agent is serious, she pauses.
"Sometimes," she muses. "But usually I know." She frowns. "Why do you ask?"
The younger agent shrugs. "It's just…it can be such a hard job sometimes. Doesn't ever just feel like the costs outweigh the gains?"
"Maybe," Lisbon says reflectively. "Sometimes. It is a hard job." There is no denying that. Take the case they've just closed. The victim was a med student who left behind a mountain of debt and a pregnant wife. The woman's lost her husband (violently…), is in financial ruin, and has to raise a baby alone.
"So you do wonder?" Grace presses.
Lisbon sets down her pen and looks at her steadily. "What brought this on?" she asks. "Is it the last case?"
"Kind of. We…we just see so much bad stuff. And it gets a little hard to deal with sometimes."
"It does," Lisbon agrees slowly. She wonders briefly if she (cold, abrasive, socially awkward) is the one Grace should be having this conversation with.
"I used to talk to Rigsby about it," Grace continues. "But now…" She lowers her eyes.
Now Lisbon really doesn't want to be having this conversation (so-called girl talk has never been her forte), but it's obvious that the younger woman needs a friend and apparently she's it.
"You broke it off," she says. "For the job."
Grace nods. "He was willing to transfer so we could stay together. But I couldn't let him. He'd resent me for it eventually, even if he said he wouldn't."
Lisbon is not necessarily surprised by Rigsby's willingness but she is impressed by the rookie agent's prudence.
"You did the right thing," she says. "And, for what it's worth, I would've kept looking the other way if Hightower hadn't found out."
"I know," Grace says with a small smile. She sighs. "I know rules are there for a reason but do you ever just hate them?"
Lisbon shrugs. "Not really. Like you said they're there for a reason." (They keep her sane, grounded…they make sense…)
"What about you and Jane?"
"What about us?" Her confusion sounds false even to her own ears. She nearly laughs at herself.
Grace gives her a long look (one that says come on, Lisbon).
"What?" Lisbon repeats, eliciting an eye roll (if it wouldn't look suspicious she'd yell at her for blatant disrespect).
"Don't play dumb with me, Lisbon. We all know you're in love with Jane. Except for Jane that is. And everyone but you knows he's in love with you."
"What?" Now she really is confused. It takes a moment for her to collect herself. "I'm not in love with Jane," she adds, belatedly. (Liar…)
Grace merely smiles. "Okay, Lisbon," she says simply. "Okay."
Xxx
It's been the day from hell. Objectively, she's had worse, but it still sucked. God, she's tired (physically, emotionally, mentally…), but the thought of going home makes her want to scream (cry, get drunk, slit her wrists…). So she settles in for a night of paperwork at the office.
She's barely started when there's a tap on the door.
"Come in," she calls. She's pretty fairly (almost entirely) sure she knows who it is. Sure enough, a moment later, Jane appears.
"Hi Lisbon," he says. "I was going to come and see if you wanted to go out to dinner with me but I had a feeling you wouldn't want to. So I brought takeout."
"You thought right. And I'm not hungry," she replies. She is not (really!) in the mood for his company right now.
"You're definitely hungry," he chides her. "You barely ate lunch. Come on! I've got it all set up in the kitchen."
"No."
Not to be deterred, he strides over and grabs her arm, forcibly tugging her to her feet.
"Food," he orders. "Now."
Rolling her eyes, she lets him drag her to the kitchen. He's brought Thai food—one of her favorites—and has everything nicely laid out. It's Friday and they have no open cases so the place is deserted.
"See?" he says, not missing the pleased look on her face. She ignores him and plops down in a chair. Grinning, he sits across from her. "So," he says. "What's got you here late on a Friday?"
"Paperwork."
"That can wait until Monday," he reminds her. "C'mon, Lisbon, spill." He waggles his eyebrows at her. "I can always hypnotize you…"
"You wouldn't," she says sharply. (At least she hopes he wouldn't…)
"Probably not," he agrees. "But seriously. What's up? Man troubles? Apartment invaded by aliens?"
She scowls. "I'm really not on the mood, Jane. Can we just eat, please?"
"Not until you tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help."
"I don't think so," she says flatly (because he can't…not this time). When he simply looks at her, waiting, she sighs. "My brother Tommy's in jail. Again."
"Again?" he echoes.
She winces. She didn't mean to tell him. He just has a knack for sucking information about of her.
"As in for the second time," she says. "He was in once before, for drugs. He's been in trouble since he was a teenager."
She doesn't want to talk about him, spill her secrets. But he's wearing this intense gaze, one that says let me help you and the words fall from her mouth.
"After my mom died, I mostly raised my brothers. Our dad was…well, he tried for a little while. But he started drinking within the year. Turned into someone else entirely."
"How old were you?" Jane asks. He's looking her steadily, his gaze calm and nonjudgmental.
"Twelve. My brother Bryan was ten, Tommy was eight and Jason was four. Dad didn't know what to do with us, I think. He was just shattered when Mom died." Now that she's started talking, the words are flowing fast. "He'd scream and yell at us…saying horrible things."
"Did he hit you?" Jane asks levelly.
She does not want to answer that. She doesn't…
"Yes," she blurts out. "I did my best to protect my brothers and care for them but I couldn't. And all the while Tommy was already getting into trouble. Vandalism, truancy, shoplifting." She shakes her head. "I didn't know how to handle him."
"You were a kid," Jane reminds her. His (beautiful, startlingly blue) eyes are gentle and uncharacteristically compassionate.
She shrugs. "I was. We all were. When I was sixteen…." She swallows hard. "Dad came home one night. He was sober for once but there was something wrong. He had a gun." God, her voice is shaking.
Jane grabs her hand and, against her better judgment, she doesn't pull away. Instead, she enjoys the gentle warmth of his grip.
"He said we'd all be better off dead," she continues, shoving blindly onward. Now that she's begun she intends to finish it. He wanted to know, after all. "His plan was to kill us and then himself."
Jane's grip on her hand tightens and he runs his thumb over her knuckles. She's momentarily distracted by the soothing (slightly sexy) sensation.
"Lisbon?" he prods. "What happened?"
She shakes her head, clearing it. "I begged him not to. I literally got on my knees and begged. When I saw he wouldn't budge, I told him that he shouldn't have to do it, that I would. That he should take his own life and I'd take care of the rest."
"And he believed you?"
"Yes." She closes her eyes. The image of her father standing before her, maniacal, with a gun pressed to his head is burned into her memory. She can still hear the shot go off and she flinches. "He said," she tells Jane, "that he could always count on me. It was probably the first nice thing he'd said to me in years. And then he shot himself in the head."
"Lisbon…" Jane's expression is raw somehow, almost animalistic in its emotion. She's never seen him look like this, at least not when it doesn't have to do with Red John. And he he's feeling it for her.
"I tried to file for legal emancipation," she continues, wanting to get the rest out fast. "I wanted to keep us together and raise my brothers myself. I was denied, partially because of all of Tommy's trouble. I blamed him and we fought a lot. He blamed me for things, too."
"Your dad's death?" Jane surmises.
She nods. "We were shuffled around the foster system. I was only in for two years but Jason was in for ten. Nothing's been the same between any of us since. And then Tommy got in trouble with drugs and went to jail and we've hardly talked since."
"And now he's back in jail."
She nods.
"For drugs?"
"No." She shudders. "I mean, kind of. His dealer, um, has a niece. She's about sixteen, I guess. And he's raising her. Tommy…Tommy…" She closes her eyes. "Tommy raped her. Anyway, she told a teacher at her school and the teacher called the cops and Tommy was arrested."
There, she's said it. Her baby brother is a druggie and a rapist. A rapist. Her little baby brother. Thinking about it makes her feel ill and after saying the words, she can hardly control the need to vomit.
"That doesn't have anything to do with you," Jane says in that soothing voice of his. "It's not your fault, Lisbon."
"It has everything to do with me," she snaps, yanking her hand from his grasp so she can bury her face. "I'm a cop, Jane. I take down bad guys. I see people do horrible things to other people all the time. And my little brother is one of the ones doing the awful things." She shudders, taking deep breaths to try and keep from crying. "I doubt it's the first thing he's done. And that little girl…"
"I know," he says. "But that doesn't make you less of a cop and it doesn't make it your fault."
She lifts her head to look at him. "I was raped," she blurts out. "In my first foster home. They were nice people and Jason and I were placed together. I didn't want us to be separated so I didn't say anything. It only happened once."
There is a long (awkward, painful, excruciating) silence. For once, Jane is speechless. Lisbon can feel her heart pounding (so loud he can probably hear it). They stare at one another. Finally, she jumps to her feet so fast she knocks her chair over.
"I should go," she chokes out. "I shouldn't have dumped all of this on you. Sorry, Jane."
How could she have told him all of that? What must he think of her now? She's Agent Lisbon (strong, tough, invincible) not some tragic case. Not waiting for him to respond, she bolts for her office. He, of course, chases her. He wouldn't be Jane if he didn't.
"Lisbon," he says, ducking inside before she can shut the door. "Lisbon, stop."
She turns away and tries to regain some semblance of control (breathe…) but she can't stop the tears that cascade down her cheeks. He turns her around to face him.
"Don't hide from me, Lisbon," he says earnestly. "It's not necessary."
"I'm not hiding," she lies. "I just want you to go away." She needs to be alone, to gather herself (rebuild her walls…) and become the strong Lisbon she is supposed to be again.
"I'm not leaving," he says and in this moment she doesn't love him. She hates him, hates him, hates him. He's wormed his way into her life and tricked her into trusting him and now she's spilled her darkest secrets.
"Go," she rasps. "Please, Jane." She's really crying now and she doesn't want him to see that.
"No." He grabs her and pulls her firmly toward him, wrapping her in a tight hug. "You can't tell me all of that and expect me to leave you alone."
God damn him. She struggles to pull away, fighting against his hold, but he's strong when he wants to be. He holds on tighter, refusing to let go.
"I'm not leaving," he says. "We're friends aren't we? Let me be your friend, Lisbon."
After another minute or so of struggling, she sags, leaning into his (comforting) embrace. Why the hell does he have to be so stubborn (loving, chivalrous, knight-in-shining-armor)? She cries (embarrassingly, disgustingly) into his chest, getting snot and tears all over his suit. He simply rocks her gently, stroking her hair.
When her tears finally slow, he speaks, his chin pressed to the top of her head.
"I had no idea, Lisbon. I'm so sorry."
She pulls away sharply. "I didn't want anyone to know. No one was ever supposed to find out."
Including you.
"No one would think any less of you," he says.
"But they would think differently. I'm not supposed to be screwed-up, damaged Lisbon. I'm the boss, I'm in charge. I'm not this person! I don't want—"
She is cut off by his hands gripping her upper arms and his lips on hers.
Oh…my…God.
After a brief hesitation, she gives into the kiss, feeling the warmth and softness of his lips. He tastes amazing, like vanilla and peppermint and something she can't identify. He lifts one hand to rake through her hair, pressing her closer.
Holy shit….what the hell is she doing?
She wrenches away, gasping for air. Goddamn he's a good kisser…
"What the hell was that?" she demands as she tries to catch her breath.
"A kiss," he says simply. (Only the best she's ever had…) "I might be mistaken but it seemed like you were enjoying it, too."
Of course I was, you idiot.
"That's not the point."
He reaches out to touch her cheek but she steps back.
"Jane," she says pleadingly. "We can't."
"Lisbon," he begs, trying to touch her again. God she wants him to…She yanks away again.
"I have to go," she manages to say. "Please, please don't follow me."
Refusing to meet his gaze, she grabs her keys and her purse and nearly sprints from her office, leaving a very confused Patrick Jane behind.
Xxx
A/N: Hang in there! I promise it'll get better eventually, just be patient. But hey! You got a Jisbon kiss! Thanks for reading!
