AN: I know I said ten chapters, but it's probably going to be longer. Things just keep popping up that I have to address, and I hate loose ends!
Rest assured, I like happy endings. It's just taking a little bit longer for Jane and Lisbon to have one than I had originally planned. They'll get there, though, I promise.
And you can take off the protective gear and crash helmets now.
I continue to be overwhelmed by your responses. You guys really are the best.
Burnt Offerings
Chapter Nine
At some point in the future, he was going to need to exact revenge on Grace. She had brought him tea in the waiting room, her expression nothing but concerned. Absently, he had sipped it, mind several rooms away where Lisbon was fighting for her life.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up several hours later, blanket wrapped around him, propped up in the vinyl hospital chair.
The redhead was sitting across from him, staring blankly at a magazine page.
"Did you drug me?" he demanded.
She didn't bother to look abashed. "Yes. You'd been awake for almost four days, Jane. You were going to collapse. Besides, there's nothing you can do right now."
Sitting up straight, he looked around the room. Rigsby and Cho were there as well, both looking uncomfortably asleep where they sat.
"Has there been any news?"
Grace shook her head. "Doctor's been out twice. No change. The good news is that visiting hours start soon."
He made an attempt to smile. It came out like a grimace.
"She'll survive," Grace said. "She's tougher than the rest of us combined. She'll make it."
Since Lisbon had been abducted, Grace had sought to comfort him, to keep him focused and to give him some perspective. He suspected that her words now were to give herself hope as well.
He couldn't fault her for that.
Tossing the blanket aside, he stood and stretched, jacket falling to the floor from where it had been resting in his lap.
Grace stared at him. "Maybe you should change."
For the first time since arriving, he looked down at his shirt. He was covered in blood, not a drop of it his. His sleeves were almost hard, the white linen stained beyond any hope of redemption.
His eyes drifted off in the direction of the double doors that they had been forbidden to enter. Grace followed his gaze. "I'll call you if anything happens. But you'll give Lisbon a heart attack if she sees you looking like that when she wakes up."
"Alright," he finally said, quietly. "Can I have the keys?"
She smiled. "Cho grabbed your bag when he ran over to HQ for his stuff. It's right over there."
Now he could take the time to be legitimately thankful for the team. He probably would have gotten in an accident if he tried to drive across town in the mental state he was in.
He set out for the nearest bathroom he could find. When he emerged, less than fifteen minutes later, Lisbon's doctor was in the waiting room, directing his comments at Grace and a recently awakened Cho and Rigsby.
Everyone looked at him as he entered the room, and his heart stuttered a bit.
"Jane," Grace said. "Doctor Hooper says you can go in."
"She's in room 3906," the doctor told him. The expression on his face was compassionate, and Jane found it worrisome.
But, wordlessly, he walked back into the hall, following the room numbers until he arrived at his destination. With shaking hands, he pushed the door open and entered the room.
Lisbon was lying quietly in a pool of fluorescent light, dark hair resting against her shoulders. He watched the rise and fall of her chest for a few minutes, just to reassure himself that she was still breathing.
Slowly, he crossed the floor to stand by her bed. The noise of his shoes seemed unbearably loud.
She looked broken, he thought. Her skin was unnaturally pale, lacking its usual warmth and softness. Even in sleep, the shadows under her eyes looked etched there. Her lips were dry, cracked.
At her sides, her wrists were bandaged neatly, an IV in one of her hands.
Broken.
The word came to him again, and he sat heavily at her bedside. He rested his hand lightly against hers, not even daring to cover it fully. All he could possibly do was hurt her.
He put his head next to their hands and sobbed.
XxXxXxXxXxX
She remained in ICU for the rest of the day and night. Jane refused to leave her side, using bribery, charm, and blackmail to get what he wanted.
The doctors kept telling him that there was no predicting when she would open her eyes again. No one dared say if she opened her eyes again.
He wasn't sure if that was because they actually believed that it was only a matter of time, or if it was because they were worried about his mental health.
It was strange – he had lived with the guilt of Angela and Charlotte's death for a decade. That guilt had become as much a part of him as his propensity for tea and his inability to follow directions. Over the years, he had become accustomed to it.
But it was all new again now.
Because of him, Lisbon was lying in a narrow bed, flesh held together by stitches, someone else's blood running through her veins because she had sacrificed too much of her own.
He kept trying and failing to deal with the implications of that. She had been willing to end her own life to save him from Red John's game. She had turned her back on everything she believed in, for him.
The scene in the warehouse stood out in his mind again. Her plan hadn't come together easily. She'd had to work to find something sharp enough to pierce her skin. He couldn't imagine the kind of determination that had taken.
And if he had been smarter, if he had put the pieces together sooner, she would have never needed to make that decision.
Never, if he lived to be one hundred, would he forget that. It was his fault.
Just like Charlotte and Angela were his fault. Everyone he loved, he hurt.
Several times during his vigil, he considered leaving. Just walking out of the room and out of her life. It would be the kindest thing he could do for her.
But then again, she wouldn't see it like that. She would see it as another betrayal, or assume it meant he didn't understand the significance of the sacrifice she had been willing to offer up.
And, in the end, he was far too selfish to leave her.
She was moved out of the ICU the following morning, despite having not woken up. According to her doctors, her vitals were now stable enough that she could thrive without intensive levels of assistance.
The new room was bigger, more private. It had actual furniture instead of molded plastic chairs. However, as far as Jane was concerned, nothing had changed. He pulled a recliner up to her beside and studied her face, willing her lashes to rise.
He was still scared to touch her, but that was what he wanted to do most in the world. Rest his head against her shoulder, twine their fingers together, listen to her breath float across his skin. But he kept his hands to himself, only lightly brushing her knuckles with his thumb.
That afternoon, he managed to snag a few hours of sleep, slumped forward in his chair. He had his arms folded on her bed, head pillowed there.
When his eyes opened, it took him moment to understand why.
Lisbon's fingers were running through his hair, smoothing the unruly curls.
Slowly, carefully, he turned his head to look at her. He was met with his favorite sight in the world – green eyes smiling at him.
"Hey," she whispered, lips turned upwards.
"Hey yourself," he breathed, and it sounded a little like a sob.
He held her eyes silently for a time, unwilling to let their connection go. No matter what Grace had been saying, or her doctors, he had spent the better part of three days convinced she was going to die.
Even now, memories of Sam Bosco were haunting him. Bosco, too, had woken up, had given everyone hope that he would recover. The fear started to choke him again.
Lisbon read his face. She was the only one he allowed to see him like this, no artifices, no masks. But she misunderstood his reasons for terror.
"How bad am I?" she breathed.
He gathered himself. "You're going to be fine," he said, hoping his voice was level.
"Jane," she said, brows furrowing. "Please tell me."
He smiled, hoping it looked reassuring. "Let me go get your doctor," he said, pushing up from his chair.
"Jane," she said again, reaching for his hand, but he was out of her range.
"Be right back, Lisbon," he told her, hating himself for the pain he saw in her face when he avoided her touch.
But he couldn't. Not just yet.
He stood in the corner of the room as the doctors examined her, arms crossed, eyes never leaving her face. Every time she winced at the doctors' prodding, his heart gave an echoing tug.
From his place against the wall, he watched Grace, Rigsby, and Cho hug Lisbon, Cho getting the closest to teary-eyed Jane had ever seen.
Lisbon returned their embraces enthusiastically, and though she seemed fine, he wasn't able to tear his eyes away from the pristine white bandages that hid the evidence of his most recent failure.
"So, guys," Lisbon said. "Someone tell me what happened."
Between the three team members, they managed to give an accurate accounting of everything that had occurred since she had been abducted.
At some point in the team's retelling, Jane came to sit on the edge of Lisbon's bed. He still didn't touch her, but he could feel the warmth of her body. That, at least, was soothing.
"Red John?" she asked eventually.
"Dead," Cho said, without emotion. "Still trying to work on an ID."
Suddenly, Jane realized that Red John had won one final battle. Jane had been so concerned about Lisbon that he hadn't taken the time to appreciate the fact that the son of a bitch who murdered his family was lying dead somewhere.
Right now, though, he couldn't feel anything about that. Dimly, he knew that at some point, he was going to have a breakdown of massive proportions. Too much had happened too quickly for him to process properly.
"So," Grace said, "did the doctors tell you when you can get out of this place?"
No one had asked what had propelled Lisbon into making the choice she had in the warehouse. Giving the barest amount of details, Jane had explained the situation they had found themselves in. Although he had yet to actually speak with Lisbon on the subject, he was certain that he knew what she had been trying to do. One final act to protect him.
He could tell that the rest of the team was a horrified as he was. Well, he reasoned, probably not quite as horrified. But, like him, they had all understood her choice.
"Tomorrow morning, hopefully," Lisbon said in answer to Grace's question. "No idea when I'll be back at work."
"That's the least of your concerns," Jane told her, speaking for the first time in what felt like forever.
She met his eyes, and again, he saw her hurt and confusion. He wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her why he was struggling so much right now, but for reasons he didn't understand, he couldn't.
The rest of the team, far from blind to the tension in the room didn't stay much longer. "Take it easy," Cho advised. "And let us know if you need anything."
Lisbon smiled at them as they walked out the door, her affection obvious.
"You should be proud of them," he told her. "They did exactly what you trained them to do, and they were successful."
She nodded, then shifted uncomfortably.
"How are you feeling?" he asked immediately. "Should I get a nurse?"
"I'm fine, Jane," she said dismissively. "It's just…" She trailed off, and he saw the pain in her eyes.
"Just what?" he asked, unconsciously leaning closer.
"You," she whispered.
He pulled back. "What about me?"
She took a deep breath. "Look, Jane, I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry if it…upset you. But it was the only choice I thought I had. If you want to be mad about it, or think I'm a coward and that I was taking the easy way out, that's fine. I just hope you forgive me for it someday."
He stared. "What the hell are you talking about? Why would I be mad at you?"
Her brows furrowed. "You're not?"
"No," he said slowly, emphatically. "Never once did it cross my mind to be mad at you."
Instead of clearing, her expression became even more confused. "Then why are you acting like this?"
He passed a hand over his face. He wasn't sure if he was ready to have this conversation, but it looked like he didn't get an option. "I'm mad at myself, Teresa."
She blinked. "Why?"
"That's not obvious?" he asked. "I almost got you killed."
Lisbon shook her head. "Sorry to burst your self-hating bubble," she said, anger rising, "but I think I beat you to the punch on that one."
"Oh, please," he said angrily. "You did the equivalent of jumping on a grenade to save the rest of the people in the foxhole. It's my fault there was a grenade there in the first place."
"Patrick Jane," she said after a brief pause. "Do you have any idea how tempted I am to slap you right now? A little egotistical, aren't we?" she added, voice softer. "Not everything is under your control."
"This was," he said. "I've known forever that you were my weak spot. I should have either pulled away or done a better job of protecting you."
Crossing the lines he'd drawn, she reached to touch his face, her bandage catching on the rough edge of his unshaven jaw. "It's not your job to protect me. And as bad as this is, it would have hurt me more if you would have pulled away, would have left." Her voice radiated sincerity, affection. Love.
Gently, he leaned into her touch. For the second time in two days, he felt tears pool in his eyes. Her arm fell slowly away, and he understood that she couldn't hold it up for that long.
He did what he should have done to start with – cover her hand with his own, let her know that he was there. She was the one that had just fought her way back from the brink of death, and she was comforting him.
How typically Lisbon. So willing to give every last bit of herself to those she loved.
Lightly, he traced the tip of one finger over the dark smudges below her eyes. "Get some rest. Suffering from exhaustion isn't going to help you get discharged tomorrow."
"What about you?" she whispered.
He widened his eyes innocently. "Me? Well, if you recall, I was taking a relaxing nap this afternoon when someone woke me up."
They shared a genuine smile, and he felt something loosen in his chest. He leaned down and softly kissed her forehead, eyes fluttering shut. "Go to sleep, Teresa. I'll be here when you wake up," he promised.
She made one last effort to look serious. "You'd better be." Her eyelids fluttered shut, but the sight was no longer terrifying.
"I love you," he mouthed, when he was sure she couldn't see.
This wasn't over, not even close, but they were calling a truce for the night. At some point, he was going to extract a promise from her that she would never do something like this again. Of course, she would break it if she thought it was the right thing to do.
Sometimes, she was absolutely hopeless. But she was his Teresa Lisbon, and wouldn't trade that.
And, despite what she had argued, this was still his fault. Nothing would make up for that, but he intended to try.
He only hoped it would be enough.
XxXxXxXxXxX
AN: Sigh. Jane is more emotionally tortured than I counted on in the beginning, so forgive him if he takes some time to figure the whole picture out.
