AN: Hello everyone! Thanks for sticking with this story (and for checking out my White Orchids one-shot). We have such a fantastic and supportive fandom, and I'm blessed to be a part of it. The situation that I explore in this chapter really intrigued me, and I hope you like what I've done with it.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.
Chapter 9: Would've Said Yes
Lisbon was beginning to feel claustrophobic.
She'd been in the same interrogation room for over an hour with nothing to do besides stare at the two-way mirror which only revealed her ghost-like image back at her. One window to her right might have afforded her a view of the Malibu PD bullpen, but the blinds had been drawn to prevent her looking out. Lisbon sighed. She'd been figuratively in the dark since the moment MPD had showed up at Jane's mansion several hours before—and the darkness seemed to be becoming almost literal as well, she thought, as her eyes glanced up at the single flickering lightbulb above her.
She wished Jane were beside her.
But that wasn't to be. As soon as McAllister had dropped to the floor, Cho had gotten on the phone with Dennis Abbott, the FBI agent now in charge of the Red John case. Abbott had immediately grabbed a red-eye flight to Malibu from his field office in Austin, but in the meantime he had asked local California FBI agents and police officers to preserve the crime scene. Apparently this Abbott was as by-the-book as they went, as his first order to the agents acting in his stead was to separate the witnesses so he could interview them individually and see if their stories matched up. Lisbon rolled her eyes at the thought. As if her team were involved in the Red John association. Give me a break.
But she understood where Abbott was coming from. In fact, if she were the agent in charge, she would probably have done the same thing to ensure the case was handled properly.
This knowledge didn't lessen her impatience with the situation.
Lisbon worried for Jane. When the FBI and Malibu PD had shown up at his mansion and demanded her team be taken back to MPD headquarters in different squad cars, Jane hadn't handled the news of his and Lisbon's impending separation with his usual good graces. Instead, he'd gone deathly pale and tried to reach out for her. When an agent had intervened in order to lead them away from each other, Jane had struck out, smacking the agent alongside the head. This, of course, had triggered multiple other agents to come running to subdue him, and he'd eventually been forced into a MPD vehicle in handcuffs. Lisbon didn't think she'd ever forget the way he had attacked the agent or the animalistic panic in his eyes, both very uncharacteristic of him.
She understood why he had acted in that manner, however. When laying out their plan to trap Red John, neither Lisbon nor Jane had thought much about what came after. It should have been obvious to them both that there would be legal consequences for their actions. This meant involvement with the California police—some of whom were very likely involved in Red John's organization but hadn't yet been exposed. This thought had obviously occurred to Jane, who'd realized the ramifications of their plan a second before he'd felt them. Letting Lisbon be placed into California police custody was evidently not high on Jane's list of priorities. Lisbon realized that Jane had acted uncharacteristically in order to protect her, and the thought was accompanied by a tightening sensation in her chest.
She felt like crying.
Lisbon's stomach rumbled, the sound echoing around the empty room. She glanced at her watch and found the time to be past one in the morning. Lisbon dropped her head into one hand, her elbow propped up on the table, and wished she hadn't elected to skip dinner that evening.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and a tall African American man wearing square glasses stepped in. Lisbon looked up at him blankly.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, Agent Lisbon," he said in a deep, calm voice as he walked towards her. He shook her hand, and despite his unreadable exterior, she felt genuine warmth exude from him, as though he were genuinely concerned for her. "I'm Dennis Abbott, with the FBI. I've been assigned to take over the Red John case. No doubt you will have worked out the reasons I had for the orders I gave."
Lisbon nodded. "No apologies are necessary," she said. "I want this put to bed cleanly just as much as you do."
"Good, good," said Abbott, smoothing a hand over his tie as he sat down opposite Lisbon. "I just finished speaking with Patrick Jane," he continued. "He's very eager to see you."
"No doubt you will have worked out the reasons for that."
Abbott nodded, and his eyes locked onto hers. "I am very concerned about how far this so-called Blake Association has spread in California law enforcement," he said. "And I told Mr. Jane as much. Between the three of us, I'm also concerned about the possible involvement of some California FBI agents. I realize this information will not make you more willing to trust me. Unfortunately, there is not much I can say to rectify that. My actions will have to suffice instead."
Lisbon nodded. It occurred to her that by admitting she had no reason to trust him, Abbott had just given her one.
"Please walk me through your events of what happened this evening. I'd like to make sure they match with what I've heard from your team and Mr. Jane."
Lisbon explained their plan briefly but completely, from their argument on the driveway to doubling back around to meet the team to framing McAllister in Jane's living room. Abbott asked questions when he sought more detail, presumably to check her story against the stories of her team. Once Lisbon reached the point where the Malibu police had arrived, Abbott cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"That's alright, Agent Lisbon. I have enough. I need to gather your team to talk some things through, but I'm very confident that this version of events will stand. Before we can chat, however, Mr. Jane is still in custody—there is the small matter of him assaulting a federal agent," said Abbott, and Lisbon could swear she saw his eyes twinkle. Abbott looked at her knowingly, and Lisbon wondered how much this man had been able to gather about her and Jane's relationship.
"After I spoke with him, the agent agreed to drop charges against Mr. Jane, but we left him in the other interrogation room to stew a bit first. Would you like to see him and deliver the good news?"
He stood up as Lisbon nodded, and he opened the door and ushered her through. "Follow me, then," he said, and he led them down the hall. Abbott motioned to a door. "Through here," he said. "Meet me back in the bullpen in five minutes."
Lisbon took a deep breath and opened the door. She got a glimpse of Jane, head bowed and resting against handcuffed hands, before he looked up at the sound of her intake of breath. The worry in his eyes subsided immediately, and he stood to greet her.
Without a word, he raised his handcuffed hands over her head and hugged her to him. Lisbon felt the chill of the metal handcuffs through her blouse, but she dismissed the thought. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him fiercely.
"They wouldn't tell me anything about you," whispered Jane against her forehead. "I've been panicking for hours, worried that…"
"I'm fine," said Lisbon, and she sighed deeply, relaxing into his embrace. "I'm fine. Everything's fine."
Five minutes later, the entire CBI team—Lisbon, Jane, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt—were gathered around a makeshift conference table in the Malibu PD bullpen. Lisbon had removed Jane's handcuffs, and all the other cops, save for Abbott, had gone home for the night. The CBI team sat facing Abbott, all with looks of exhaustion on their faces. Abbott stood, shoulders back, and addressed them.
"As you all know, the FBI has taken over the Red John case from the now-defunct CBI," he began. "I commend you for your actions regarding McAllister. Not only did you manage to put an end to his work, you exposed a great number of his so-called acolytes."
Abbott began to pace around the table. "However much I would like to put McAllister's file away and never touch it again, we all know that his reach extends further than we are likely aware at this point. Agent Lisbon, though your team identified many members of the Blake Association, there's no doubt that more are out there. This leaves me with two very important things I need to address with you all." He stopped pacing, turned his back to the nearest wall, and leaned against it.
"Here's the first. My team in Austin is now responsible for tracking down the remainder of these individuals. Because we don't yet know the extent of the Red John operation, I'm assuming this process will take a year at least. For legal reasons, I can't have any of you involved in this search."
Lisbon glanced over at Cho, who was stoic as always, and at Rigsby and Van Pelt, who were sitting shoulder to shoulder.
Abbott continued. "I want to assure you that I will track down every remaining individual with ties to McAllister and make sure the system deals with them accordingly. However, as I said before, this will take time. This brings me to the second issue I would like to speak with you all about."
Abbott looked from Lisbon to Jane. "We are in the process of rounding up the involved CBI members, but we don't know how many members of the Blake Association are out there still. However, it is common knowledge that you five were involved in exposing the association. This places you all in a certain amount of danger. If it were my team in your place, I would advise them to get the hell out of the state of California."
Lisbon turned her attention from Abbott to Jane, whose expression had turned dark and hard. His eyes narrowed as Abbott continued to speak.
"Obviously, the FBI can offer you a certain amount of protection—but as I believe that you all know these people as well or better than we do, you're probably capable of protecting yourselves. One thing I would like to mention is that Quantico is on the other side of the country; it's a good location if you're looking at starting over. We'd be glad to work with any of you if you had an interest in joining the FBI. That offer will still be valid a year, two years from now. In the meantime, you have my number. I'll keep in touch."
Both Jane and Lisbon slept fitfully that night, though they managed to catch a couple hours of deep sleep in the early hours of the morning. Despite the late night they'd had, Lisbon woke with the sun, and she opened her eyes to find a wide-awake Jane scrutinizing her.
"I hate hotel rooms," said Lisbon, looking around the room they had crashed in late last night after neither of them had wanted to return to the mansion. It was extraordinarily ordinary. "I never understood why you lived in one."
"It was easier," said Jane, and he didn't elaborate.
Lisbon returned his scrutiny. He reminded her of the Jane that had greeted her with a hug before he had pretended to shoot her—messy hair, erratic eyes, and slight stubble. "You're worried," she said.
Jane's eyes became misty. "I can't stay here, Lisbon," he said, and his voice was frantic, like he wanted to get the words out as fast as possible. "I need to get away—get away from this madness. I'll go crazy. I can't stay."
Lisbon nodded. "I understand, Jane. I understand."
"I can't stay, but I can't leave you again."
Lisbon breathed in sharply, and she put a hand over his forehead, then smoothed his hair out of his eyes. "Are you asking me to come with?"
"Would you like to?"
"We'd come back, right? Sometime? It doesn't have to be soon, but…but we wouldn't leave forever, right?"
"Of course we would come back," said Jane. "When it's safe again—when we're ready, we'd come back."
Lisbon smiled. "Okay," she said. "Yes. Yes, of course I'll come with."
Jane's answering grin gave her hope.
Thanks for reading! As always, any mistakes are mine.
I have one more chapter planned for this story, so keep an eye out for the epilogue. After that, I think I've got a sequel in the works...
