Beware of sticky situations and angst. But I promise it will get better. Thanks for all of the reviews!

P.S. What's up with all of the reruns? :(

Chapter Eight: Shattering

So far so good. Just like he planned. Jane only hoped it stayed that way.

Willowby took the walkie talkie from Emily. "Jack? We're going to send the same man who picked up the children to the door to guide the hostages to the right place."

Merkowitz's voice crackled back to them. "Try any funny business and one of them will die."

"We understand, Jack."

Willowby looked up at Jane and nodded. Briefly catching the eyes of the team, Jane gave a small smile and turned away.

Time to get to work.

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Merkowitz turned to the man from earlier, the one he had called 'boy.' "You!"

The man jumped slightly before standing.

Merkowitz smirked. "Come here."

As the nervous man headed his way, Merkowitz then spoke to Lisbon. "Get up. You will go to the door and let the hostages out when that man returns. One by one."

She stood, wavering slightly on her feet. Merkowitz snarled at her and shoved her toward the entrance. "Go!"

Her path to the door was more stumbling than walking. Opening the glass, she flinched from the sunlight. If possible, the pain in her head worsened. God, it was like a million little men with bongos were having a playoff inside her skull. Or two Janes were trying to outsmart one another—something that would give anyone in a five mile radius a massive migraine. Ugh. Just the thought of two Janes was daunting enough. She leaned her back heavily against the glass and looked out.

Speak of the devi—er, Jane. He was only steps away from her when she saw him pause. It was only split second, but she knew him well enough to know that her appearance must be really bad to cause him to show even a slight reaction. He was usually pretty masterful at hiding his reactions.

Using her uninjured hand, she motioned the first of the hostages to come forward. It was the mother, Lisbon noted with satisfaction.

One by one, the hostages piled out, each avoiding eye contact with Lisbon. She knew they felt guilty that they were leaving her behind. No, it wasn't even that. She knew that their guilt stemmed from their relief to be out of there while she had to be left behind. She had been on the job long enough to know that victims often had this survivor's guilt—a guilt for living when others had not. She rather thought that Jane had a bit of it. Of course his guilt was not quite so straightforward, but mixed with a lot of other things. How sad that it was the innocent, good people who felt guilt for what was someone else's fault.

Soon, the only hostage left was the one by Merkowitz. "Okay, Teresa. Come back over here and we'll let this little fellow go it alone."

Still silent, she complied. Soon it would be her and Merkowitz alone. Once that happened, she was pretty sure he was going to take her out. She would fight him with everything she had, but after the last half hour, she just felt so tired. She didn't know how much fight she had left—she suspected that her 'everything' had depleted to pretty much nothing.

Jane held the door open for the last hostage. As soon as the man was out of sight, Jane slipped into the bank. Merkowitz jerked to attention, pointing the gun first at Jane before swinging it to Lisbon. "What the hell is going on here? I thought there would be no funny business."

Lisbon froze. Why hadn't he just left with the others? She didn't want to have to worry about someone else any more. Especially not Jane. She didn't know what she'd do if something happened to him. Sure, she could live without Jane, but she knew that something inside of her would die with him. If her face wasn't so stiff and sore, she would frown. Maybe Jane had been in her brain, reading it. The cocky smart-ass had probably somehow connected their brains to make her feel this way.

She stopped her thoughts. Yup, she was definitely out of it. She had just entertained thoughts not only about Jane being psychic, but about him creating some kind of spiritual link between them. That blow to the head had screwed her up more than she had thought. Jane could never find out this. He would laugh himself off his damn couch.

Merkowitz's gun pointed back to Jane as the consultant responded. "Believe me, Jack. There is nothing funny about this."

He smoothly took a single step forward, speaking very calmly. "It's over, Jack. Even if you kill Lisbon and shoot me, it will be over. You'll go back to prison."

Merkowitz practically gnashed his teeth at the blond man. "You think I won't anyway? Right. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Yes, you will be tried and convicted for this, I'm sure. But California has the death penalty. And I can assure you that if you hurt Lisbon, her team will push for the maximum punishment. DAs aren't big fans of cop killers," Jane finished up with a little shrug.

Merkowitz became eerily calm. "I wasn't planning on getting out of this alive."

He took a step closer to Lisbon. Jane felt a tremor. Not what he was going for.

Emily's voice sliced through the air. "Jack, please. I need you here. I need you. You're my brother."

Merkowitz stilled. "She can hear me?"

Jane pulled back his suit jacket, revealing a small yet noticeable wire. "Every word."

"I'm sorry, Emmy. She ruined my life. I lost everything because of her." He pointed the gun at Lisbon, who stood frozen in her spot. She wondered how everything had spiraled out of control like this. She couldn't think of a way to get Jane out, to get herself out. She had always known that her death could possibly come from a situation like this, but she had hoped that she wouldn't go out feeling like a failure. In the end, she couldn't save Jane. She hadn't been able to uphold her oath to protect.

"You're a coward, Jack." Jane's voice was filled with an intensity and loathing that Lisbon knew was reserved only for those he viewed with contempt. "A sniveling worm of a man—if one can even call you that. You blame Lisbon for your sad little life when it was you who made the choices that led to it. You lament the lack of respect and love in your life, but what have you done to deserve it?"

Merkowitz's hand shook. "Shut up!"

Jane knew that his choices were up. The plan had ceased working. The only chance they had now was to divert his attention from Lisbon, to perhaps draw him to the windows. But Merkowitz was smart. Unless his instability was provoked, he would never make such a grievous mistake.

"That's why you simultaneously love and loath Lisbon. You see that she has worth and you envy it. Why can't anyone find that in you?"

"Shut the hell up." Merkowitz's voice trembled with emotion.

"They can't find it because there is none. There won't be until you man up and take responsibility for yourself." Jane looked at the man in disgust. "Until then, you're simply a miserable piece of trash to be discarded or forgotten—someone that leaves one wanting to wash themselves of any trace of your existence."

Merkowitz finally lost control and charged at Jane, forgetting his gun in his rage. His immediate anger brought on a more primal urge to hurt Jane with his bare hands. Lisbon, ignoring her injuries, tackled him. Jane started forward anxiously only to see Lisbon skid across the floor and Merkowitz hop up, gun moving frenetically between Jane and Lisbon. Jane stepped toward his battered friend and carefully, slowly, helped her up. She felt small beneath his hands and he worried about where to hold her so he wouldn't hurt her further. There was deep-seated rage in his gaze as he watched Merkowitz—along with an insolence that almost dared the crazed man to use his weapon.

"None of you understand. None! It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. Life wasn't supposed to turn out like this." The words spilled from Merkowitz in an emotional tumble. Lisbon watched him.

"It never is," she agreed solemnly. Both men looked at her and it was the hint of understanding on her face that pushed Merkowitz over the edge.

Growling, incensed that she would pretend to care, his finger moved to pull the trigger. A shot rang out before Jane could grab Lisbon's arm to push her to the ground underneath him. The three figures froze. Jane frantically looked Lisbon over, but she met his gaze reassuringly. He sighed. "Thank God."

"Who?" Lisbon teased tiredly, quietly. Jane made a face at her.

"Figure of speech."

A gurgling sound brought them out of their world. Merkowitz seemed suspended in air, shocked at the blood that poured from his torso. And then many things happened at once.

Merkowitz started falling to the ground and Jane turned his head to see officials heading toward the bank entrance, ready to swarm the place. Turning back to the scene in the interior, he saw the gun slip from Merkowitz's hand and cringed.

Lisbon had told him time and again that dropped guns were always a hazard. For the first time in a long time, he prayed to anyone who would listen that it wouldn't go off as it hit the ground.

Jane figured there wasn't a God because a second gunshot rang through the air and he felt Lisbon jerk back as if she were a puppet being tugged by a string.

It was all he could do to catch her body and ease her slowly to the floor. Dimly, he registered the cops swarming and the call for paramedics (they would need two gurneys now). The crunch of broken glass underneath their feet as they entered. The static of the walkie talkie as Emily called out for her brother. The fragility of Lisbon's small body against the cool floor of the bank.

No, Jane thought as he put a hand over Lisbon's wound, feeling her warm blood make his fingers sticky and wet. He was positive that there wasn't a God because there was no way someone was cruel enough to put him through this a second time.

Jane was sure that, among the myriad of sounds around him, he could hear the distinct sound of his damaged heart shattering.