Forgot to mention this, but big thanks to Kathi-ann who prompted me to get back to writing this!

Hope you guys understand this chapter. It was a bit hard to write, but I feel that this is the way it had to be. Thanks for all of the encouragement!

Chapter Ten: Out of Sight

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It was a little scary how easy it was for him to slip back into his stage persona.

But, then, he supposed he had never fully slipped out of it. After all, he had maintained that flair for drama, the excitement (if not more excitement), the thrill…it was relatively easy to do so at the CBI.

Maybe he had been lying to himself when he insisted that he had given up the show.

Because here he was, years later, and it was still as easy to wear that persona as it was for him to wear a three piece suit.

Really, he blamed his father. Warped at a young age and all.

But it didn't help that in assuming this persona, the identity of a glamorous psychic, Jane felt as if the mantle of guilt grew tenfold, weighing down on his shoulders. It was this identity of his that got his family killed.

That could get Lisbon killed.

He had liked to think that he would laugh in Red John's face when they finally met. Scorn the murderer. Show him only contempt.

But if he had learned anything from this time locked in a cell with Lisbon, it was that he was kidding himself. If it came down to it, he would beg pitifully for Lisbon's life. Just like he would have begged that night years ago, had he been home. He would have begged, pleaded, done anything to save them.

And he would for Lisbon, too.

Even if it meant pretending to be psychic.

His voice was calm when he spoke, belying none of his inner turmoil. He could feel Lisbon's gaze on him, intent and worried. He could almost taste the frenetic energy of the woman in front of him. The stalwart presence of the man by the door.

"Take a deep breath, Genny. Think of Paddy. Your favorite memory of him."

He waited a moment. It was all about timing.

"Yes, you always liked how he looked that day. Happy, carefree."

Jane reached over and grasped Genny's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he had for countless other clients. "Keep that image in your mind. Imagine him just like that, standing here in the room with us."

"I will." The woman sounded so earnest, so trusting. Like a child. It was hard for Jane to reconcile the woman before him with the woman who had broken down, shaking Lisbon violently. He knew—more than most—that a person could have two different personalities. He hated that he couldn't predict Genny's, though. And that the consequences could rain on Lisbon.

"He's—" Jane paused, sucking in a quick breath as if he had encountered something strange, foreign. Yes, it really was funny how quickly he got back into the swing of it. "He's here. Do you feel him?"

Genny's eyes were liquid as they centered on Jane, her voice choked when she answered. "Yes. I do. I feel him."

"It's been a long time, Genny. He's missed you. But he's worried."

Jane's voice was soothing, caring. Genny nodded. "I know."

"He wants you to be happy, Genny. He needs you to get over his death."

"I know. I just—I can't," she cried, tears overflowing onto her cheeks. Jane made the snap decision that now would not be the time to push her. He took a shuddering breath, wondering idly what Lisbon thought of his show. He was a bit ashamed to perform like this in front of her. To blatantly go against everything he had adamantly condemned. To show the strong, honest, hardworking woman exactly what kind of charlatan he had been.

He squeezed Genny's hand again. "He's gone, Genny."

"What? Why? No!"

Jane locked eyes with her, trying to calm her before she got too worked up. "It's been a long time, Genny. It's hard work communicating between sides. Tiring. He needs time. I need time."

Genny subsided, nodding. "Of course. How silly of me. We'll try again tomorrow. Rest."

The woman stood, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks as she composed herself. She walked to the door and Steve put an arm around her before casting a suspicious glance to Jane. As the tall man was ushering his mother out, he took a moment to look back at the woman on the bed. Jane hated what he saw in the man's eyes.

The door shut and Jane stared down at the ground, almost scared to look at the petite brunette sharing the room with him. Her voice drifted to him.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, Jane. I know how much you despise it."

He looked up, surprised. She didn't sound disgusted. She sounded sympathetic, guilty. Why should she feel guilty?

"No need to apologize, Lisbon. I chose to."

"To keep me from Steve," she responded bitterly. He stood and walked to her, hearing the springs of the bed creak as he sat beside her. He didn't voice his concerns about not being able to keep Lisbon from the man. How he was worried that soon Steve wouldn't let anything stop him…the look in the man's eyes.

No. He didn't say any of that. Tentatively, still a little shook up from having Lisbon see him like that, he lifted an arm and put it around her shoulders. He felt her warmth through the thin fabric of her clothes and imagined that some of her goodness could transfer to him through osmosis.

If only.

"If it keeps you safe, Lisbon, anything is worth it."

He glanced down to see the side of her mouth kick up in the classic Lisbon half-smile. He couldn't stop his responding smile any more than he could stop himself from asking, "What?"

"Funny. I feel the same way about you."

It was the most they'd ever said about their feelings toward one another. Jane wasn't stupid—far from it. He knew that he was in denial. He just couldn't face Lisbon the way she deserved. He couldn't cope with the idea that facing her would be turning his back on his wife and child.

Dead wife and child.

Facing Lisbon would mean turning his back on revenge. On Red John.

That would a big mistake. People like Red John shouldn't be allowed out of sight.

So Jane was running, trying to keep Red John in his line of sight. And he knew that in doing so, Lisbon was getting further and further away. That she had to get further and further away. He had to leave her behind.

He closed his eyes and almost imperceptibly leaned his cheek into her hair.

But when he thought that this might be it for them, he found his stride faltering, his pace slowing. He didn't want to leave her behind. He wanted to be there with Lisbon.

And it was precisely those two conflicting emotions that kept him from responding to her.

He just couldn't.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.