A/n Thanks to my guests and anonimous reviewers!
It was ten to nine the next morning and Lisbon wasn't at the office yet.
That was unusual in itself; under any normal circumstances, she would always be the first one to set foot in the bullpen. During a Red John related case, chances of her being late were virtually zero.
Lisbon had never been this late before. The only reason he used to arrive before her was because he practically lived at the CBI. It wasn't like her, even if…. Well, the only thing he could do was think about the past. He had no reason, no way to know the present. It had been over a year, and in a year, so many things could have changed, Lisbon included.
Under the murder board, Cho and Rigsby were still studying the evidence, plotting like two wannabe revolutionaries. They hadn't allowed him close to them, saying that Lisbon had to clear him first, before allowing him close to the evidence. They didn't want another case sent to hell in a court of justice just because he was involved. He was almost positive they were referring mostly to his antics. The reason behind the avoidance of his persona, he could bet it was rather personal and unprofessional.
He kept staring at them from his desk, and he hoped it would be enough to convince them to let it go, or at least to unnerve them to the point they'd just feel like escaping. However, neither of them lifted their eyes from their files and computer monitors. They didn't even seem worried by the lack of Lisbon. They appeared rather used to it, like it was normal, everyday occurrence.
He closed his eyes, and, steadily, he breathed in and out, clenching his fists. It took him a moment to get his emotions and mind back under control. How much had everything changed during the last year? Part of him regretted leaving and not having been around to witness these changes, but it was the only thing he could have done back then. Lisbon needed her space, and so did he. He had been at war for far too long, and he had to find a way to get back in contact with life after Red John's ultimate demise. It was quite hilarious, too, that he had been completely and utterly at peace only after he had been asked to help Lisbon's team out.
He sighed a few times, and with an expression of both bother and curiosity, he started looking around, fidgeting. He hadn't seen Agent Johnson yet so either she hadn't bothered to come down from her office, or she was aware that Lisbon wasn't going to join them until late. Of course, there was also the possibility that she hadn't arrived yet herself, or that she wasn't there simply because she just cared about her job and didn't give a damn about her 'people'.
He didn't know either way just yet. Even though he had always been proud of his ability of reading people at first glance, and being able to understand everything about them moments later, she had somehow escaped his comprehension. With dear, old Brenda it was very hard, with the mixed signals she kept sending in his direction. Or maybe, it was because she was a bit too much like him.
She closed cases like him and labeled herself as a 'closer'. She used her mind just like him. Her method of solving crimes was all about misleading and manipulation, just like him. They even had the same kind of obsession in common: like he had spent a good part of his life hunting down Red John, Johnson had been after a serial rapist, later turned serial killer, for many years. Her obsession, though, from what he had gathered, had turned into a personal battle just at a later date. Phillip Stroh had started messing around with her as well, until their final encounter, when, after he had broken into her place, she had shot at him to save her life and that of the one of a young witness she was taking care of.
Those similarities were supposed to help him out, but they didn't: Brenda was a living enigma.
He wondered if it was her CIA training, not that he could ever say for sure. People weren't supposed to give away such information, and even if there were rumors, it wasn't like he could know firsthand. People at the CBI just didn't talk with him anymore. It was kind of like having a world filled with people just like Sam Bosco, not that he could actually blame them. He was almost positive that Bosco had been the only one who completely understood him. Threating him was one of the best things he had ever done.
Sam was right about Lisbon, and there was no denying it. He still remembered when the older man had faced him, foretelling what had happened after his death. The man had told them that Jane wasn't good at anything if not hurting and breaking her, and that he would eventually destroy her, and so it happened. In the end, it didn't matter the how and when. He had still broken her, even if he had a good reason to do so. He didn't do it out of revenge but out of his love for her.
In the end, when he had killed the monster, he had done it to keep a promise: he had done it to save her. Even if they had been in some kind of twisted relationship back then (which they had been, as much as she liked to deny it), he would still have done it. It just wasn't safe for her with Red John still walking the world as a free man. Not when she had been almost killed by the serial killer's men four times: Hardy, O'Laughlin, Gupta, and Lorelei. Three times he had witnessed it, once he had listened to her on the phone. Every time, it had been torture, like walking death row, like falling yet again in the bright white nightmare filled with emptiness that was Sophie Miller's asylum.
He had needed her and he couldn't have allowed himself to risk her life, to risk losing her. He still needed her, and that was why he had accepted back his position. It was why he had been gone for over a year, giving her the space and time to accept and re-adjust to this new reality.
And in his contorted mind, to be able to have and keep her, Red John had to die.
But the world was still a dangerous place, even if it was one monster down. The fact that people hadn't even noticed that she wasn't there just got him increasingly worried. She could be safe, or she could not be. And he couldn't risk losing her, not when he was that close to reaching the light at the end of the tunnel once again. Teresa Lisbon, his guiding light.
He couldn't help but being worried. He couldn't stop those feelings.
Jane paced in front of the elevator, red blooded, eyes wide open and the breath died in his throat. He had forgotten all about the case and he couldn't care less. He just stayed there, he kept pacing, waiting to see a glimpse of her dark hair, to smell the well-known trail of cinnamon and vanilla that was still imprinted in his mind even after a year apart.
He waited for Lisbon, and all around him people didn't seem to care about anything, themselves included. And the funny thing was, the same went for him. Because he cared about one thing and one thing only: her.
-o-o-o-o
"Where the hell were you?"
She had only just left the elevator when Jane attacked her. What sounded like a low voice to everyone else was more akin to a scream in her ears. And had had almost beena perfect day so far… trust Patrick Jane to ruin everything.
"It's not like you showing up that late! It's almost half past nine, I was worried something had happened to you!"
Lisbon had almost been on the verge of hissing nasty words at him, or grunting, at least, her annoyance at the situation. But obviously, Jane, being Jane, had to act all lovely and worried and handsome. Trust him to change the cards once they were already on the table…
"I think I may already have told you so, but many things can change in one year, Jane. I'm not the same person you met eleven years ago. Right now, I have a life." Her tone was low, but deep down in her eyes, hidden beneath her rage and her passion; he could see sadness, and a tiny bit of guilt. He knew she had already said so many things, but her eyes told him that there was still so much more left unspoken. And yet, he thought he already knew them all. After all, how many times had he broken her heart? It was too many times to actually count, most likely.
It's because of you that I'm not that person any longer. I have a life, and maybe even someone. And guess what? It's not you. Because you had your chance, but you had to go and ruin everything. So, stop breathing on my neck, because you don't have that right any longer.
He stared, and she stared back, lost in his eyes. She wondered what he was reading in her mind, in her soul. Was he aware of something? Did he know her secret? Had he somehow uncovered the truth?
But he couldn't know, not yet. She wasn't ready. She couldn't take him back into her life right now, not when she didn't know where he stood and not when she was still unsure if his heart was in the right place. After all, he had betrayed her once; there was no reason to believe that he couldn't do it again. And now she had too much to lose, it wasn't just her heart at stake anymore.
"What are you doing here, Jane? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, be somewhere else doing whatever you've been doing in the last year?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, at which he rolled his eyes. But he could feel something else as well. She had worried, he knew that, but at the same time, Lisbon had always been too proud for her own good. He didn't need to ask her if she had looked for him. He knew she didn't. If someone was supposed to take a first step, it had to be him. She had always needed it to be him.
She walked towards her office with her eyes closed, busy massaging the bridge of her nose. Jane was strolling behind her, like a faithful puppy in serious need of attention. The day had started out promising and she had hoped it would be a good, quiet day. But Jane had decided to start messing around with her life again, so there was no chance of that.
"I'm in a somewhere named here, doing whatever I used to do, aka checking on you, dear." He grinned and she grunted in an unladylike fashion, which resulted in yet another Jane trademarked smile. "My, my, feisty this morning, I see. Tell me, Lisbon, did your life keep you awake last night? You seem sleep deprived, and yet… I think it may be the good kind of exhaustion."
He emitted a guttural sound she wasn't sure what it was, and Lisbon turned to face him. There was no trace of humor in his expression. He looked enraged, hurt, and maybe even arrogant in his knowledge of her body, but exactly what was going through his mind, she couldn't say. She just knew that this Jane scared her more than the vengeance-driven madman she had met so many years before, and that she had to escape.
She turned, but before she could actually leave, Lisbon suddenly found herself trapped between Jane and her door. Her breasts were pressed against the cold glass and Jane was against her back. Instead of witnessing the desire – or maybe need - of the man for her, she could feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of her neck.
She gasped, hoping and praying that there were no witnesses. There had been enough voices about the two of them in the past, and she couldn't handle any more rumors right now. Now it was too complicated, and maybe, even too dangerous.
She tried to reach for the doorknob, but he was quicker than her, so, instead of meeting cold metal, her hand touched warm skin. Slender fingers interlaced with hers, and for an instant she felt protected and safe, but she knew that it was just an illusion. After all, she was talking about Patrick Jane, and Patrick Jane was the exact opposite of safe.
She fought back the tears, as she realized that this was how it could have been, how, in her fantasy, it was supposed to be. But reality was very different from her dreams and all because of him. Jane killed a man, and it was all because of her. She hadn't been there to take control of the situation, and she had never been enough to rid him of his obsession. She never thought that Jane was simply conning her, she was well aware of his love, but she also knew that she was second best. She was never going to be enough for him.
"There isn't a ring around your finger, Teresa," he whispered on her skin, so close to her neck she felt like he was nuzzling her. She half suspected he was going to kiss her too. "And I know it wasn't a man keeping you awake last night. So trust me on this, one day you'll be mine once again. I don't know when or how, but it will happen, Teresa." He said the words with possession and tenderness, and then he left an open mouth kiss where he had spoken, and set her free.
She immediately ran into her office, and threw the door in his face. Grinning, with his hands in his pockets, Jane strolled back to the place he was supposed to be - his chair, his desk. His couch was gone - probably because of her – and he kept asking himself if she got rid of her own as well. He was almost positive that she had: after all, it had been the place where they had made love for the first time. Lisbon was the first woman he had felt something for after his wife and daughter's murder. She was the only one he could love and that could love him back, because she was the only one who truly knew who he was. And yet, she still wanted him and she still needed him in her life, in spite of everything that he'd done.
But…
But, there were still so many other things he had to think about, he realized as he put his feet on the imitation wood of his desk. He had just lied to her. Maybe it was because he was getting old or maybe he wasn't as good as he used to be, or maybe it was just because Lisbon was concerned. The reason, though, didn't matter. He had lied, and not about a case, but about them. He couldn't be sure any longer. And he didn't know anything about that.
He knew she hadn't slept much the previous night, but he wasn't sure why. He knew that, despite everything, it wasn't about the case. She felt good – or as good as she could have at a crime scene - until she saw him there. He just knew she was somehow different, even if he couldn't say exactly how.
Not a man, please, not another man… He had told her he was going to seduce her, make her his once again, but he had been bluffing.
He wasn't sure she would willingly choose him over someone else. After all, he wasn't safe. He had never gone to school, he was an ex conman, he was dangerous, broken and dark. He lied like he had always done so since the day he was born. He used people like he had been done his whole life.
He was a murderer.
He panicked, and at the same time he felt the blood boiling in his veins as sinful images of a naked Lisbon filled his mind, thanks to his memory palace. But, they didn't turn him on, because there was no trace of their shared night of passion in his visions. He didn't see himself tangled with her body, but he kept seeing her with faceless strangers and… He knew what had happened that night in that hotel room, and his imagination had hunted him ever since. He knew of her and Mashburn, and Jane couldn't help but wonder if maybe the other man had returned to Teresa's life for good. Maybe she had succumbed to an empty glamour and an even emptier life. Maybe that was the reason of her happiness. Maybe that was why she had been awake last night. Maybe it was him. Or maybe, it was someone else.
Or maybe… he had to admit that he didn't have any idea about what was going with her. He wasn't even sure if it was about sex; for all he knew, maybe she had just talked with Tommy or Annie. Maybe she had just seen something cute on the way for work. Maybe she petted a puppy; she loved them, after all. Or maybe, there was another possibility, one he wasn't sure he dared to think about. He wasn't sure he was allowed to have such a hope, because maybe, she was genuinely happy that he was back.
"What she needs right now is time, not you pushing her." Jane's gaze left Elvis (at least, one thing that hadn't changed in the last year) and he turned to face Cho, who was apparently as emotionless as ever. He grinned to the poker face of the Korean. Yet another thing that didn't change: he had seen everything, probably noticing even the smallest detail, and kept his mouth shut until he just couldn't any longer. "She'll end up forgiving you anyway, like always."
"Yep, but not if you keep pushing her. She'll feel like you're trying to manipulate her, trying to push your way back into her life, and she'll push you away, especially since…" Rather interested, Jane caught the exchange between the coworkers, the glare Cho sent Rigsby, and the way Rigsby coughed to cover something up. The tall man looked rather embarrassed and apologetic, and Cho seemed to have abandoned his poker face, for his eyes were daggers, piercing Wayne's frame.
"Especially since, what?" he asked them, grinning, with a hint of his 'I'll eventually get my answer and you know it, so let's stop this game right now and save time' face. Rigsby blushed like he was a schoolgirl, embarrassed. People had always considered him a klutz, and now he knew why, and within reason…. And Jane just grinned satisfied. Every time Rigsby blushed, it was a step closer to knowing why Lisbon wasn't sleeping but was happier than he had ever seen her before.
"Well, she was hurt, you know, after you killed Red John. She felt betrayed, we all did. I mean, so, I'm just saying, that, you know, maybe, she could have, I don't know, issues. Maybe even doubts, so knowing Teresa… I mean, knowing Lisbon, she may not want to jump head first into, you know, whatever you are asking to jump head first into."
"Uhm, Interesting, you, Rigsby, called her Teresa. Tell me, why? And don't lie. You know you can't do it with me…" He was tapping on his chin, eyeing Rigsby like he was some kind of animal. It was all strategy to get his answers.
"Well, after you went away, I had issues…. Problems with my dad. He kept asking favors. And… I asked the boss for advice. We got closer. She helped me, and when daddy…. She helped me when my old man… she… comforted me. You know. That sort of thing."
Jane smiled, satisfied. Rigsby could have been good, could have improved, but every now and then, his old side surfaced, just like now. "You're a better liar than last time we saw each other, and yet, I don't believe you. This is just a part of the truth, and now I want to know what's going on. Everything, Rigsby, or I'll hypnotize you into telling me. Because I know you want to lift this weight from your shoulders, right? I can see it. So, tell me, Rigsby, what…"
"Enough!" It felt odd, unnatural and frankly, scary, hearing Cho screaming. But hearing him screaming and seeing him jump to his feet, hitting his desk with his fist, and staring at them with a death glare was even worse. "We've been gone through a rough few years. Craig almost killed three of us. Then you killed Carter. And then you disappeared for six months just to reappear with Lorelei Martins, and then, what? Lisbon is taken hostage and you kill Red John, this time for real. Grace left. You left. You think you're so smart? You're not! You may have spent your time making fun of us, but we aren't stupid. We aren't blind; we knew that something had happened between you and Lisbon. And how do you think she felt when everything went down? Who do you think was there for her? We were, Jane. That's why we are begging you to give her room to breathe. That's why she is Teresa for us. So, Jane, you're the mentalist. Tell me how she felt after you betrayed her. Do you know if? No, you don't. Because you don't see what you can't use to mock people. But you want to know something? I know how she felt. Rigsby knows how she felt. Sarah does. You weren't here. We were. We were here and we all went through a rough few months, without you."
"You may be impressive, Cho, but you know, it doesn't work on me. I'm not scared."
"I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just stating the facts. She may not survive another passage of the Jane hurricane."
The two men looked into each other's eyes, black into green. There was no need for words, not any longer.
"Uhm, guys? Evidence just released the letter…."
Jane lifted his eyebrows, looking from Cho to Rigsby, to the transparent evidence bag with a white sheet of paper in it. "Letter? What letter?"
He was having a bad vibe about this case, he didn't know exactly what it was, and he couldn't put his finger on it. That wasn't just a mere copycat, there was more. And he knew that when he would see the letter, everything would be clear. And it was a scary thought. A part of him knew that, once closed the case, she would send him away.
But he still needed time to get her back into his life.
