Disclaimer: We own absolutely nothing

A/N Nerwen Aldarion: Hey peeps! Guess what? Tin and I graduated which means more time to work on fanfic over the summer (when we aren't working at our real jobs hehehe) so hopefully that means more frequent updates. But at the end of this month we'll be on a week long cruise in the Caribbean so you can expect us to be off the radar for about a week or so. We'll try to update Lavinia at least once more before then but no promises. You might notice that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, that's because we are all geared up for the big one. Chapter 11 is going to be HUGE, don't miss it. But this one is the set up, watch and see Lisbon start to spin out of control. The "angst" in the description isn't there for nothing.

A/N Tinuviel Undomiel: Yep, Lisbon is about to reach the darkest part of the tunnel. The good news is that there is light up ahead, the bad news is she has to wade through the darkness for a little while longer. I hope you like this chapter. Lisbon is going to say and do some things that are a bit out of her normal character, but remember she isn't normal right now. We'll see her journey back to the way she was, but don't expect her to completely be normal again. So, are you ready for this? I hope so because the next chap is even more of this.

Anonymous Reviews:

GermanGirl: Wow that's a big compliment there, glad you finally found this little fic. Sometimes we imagine what it would be like if Lavinia was actually incorporated into the show, it would be an honor and it's flattering that you believe it should be done. Well as stated, this idea came when I (Nerwen) was sitting in my Shakespeare class completely fascinated by Lavinia, suddenly I had this image in my mind of Lisbon stumbling into the parking lot and Jane finding her. The two stories sort of melded, the play is a central part of this story, it's title isn't "Lavinia" for nothing. We're happy that you believe it really does add some depth to the story. You'll see now how Lisbon's obsession takes a very dark turn.

Kourian: Glad you like it! Here's the chapter, we put it out as soon as possible, not sure if it was soon enough though hehehe

Cameroon: So glad you enjoyed it, this next chapter is going to be very dark too. We aren't sure how many chapters this fic will be, as many as it takes we suppose. We know it will probably be somewhere over 20, but we'll have to wait and see.

Nat: Wow! Thanks for reading it from beginning to end! It is a sad fic but don't worry, there's going to be sunlight soon enough (sooner than you might think). The first chapter really does serve not just as a way to introduce the possible suspects but as a way to remind you guys who these people were before the attack and afterwards. This story is about changing, as Jane put it, none of them will ever really be the same again. But maybe they'll be stronger for it.

123TellMeYouLoveMe: That was the plan, to show how Lisbon started off with so much hope and then watch as it slowly deflates until she bursts into rage. The darkness is descending and it's going to get worse before it gets better (but part of the fun of angst is watching them overcome it) Lisbon does want to feel pain, not just as a punishment but as a means just to feel. Her breaking things was a way to release everything she is feeling, it's effective but I wouldn't necessarily recommend it hehehe. Oooooh you might be on to something with a suspect launching at her, wait until chapter 11 to see how Lisbon reacts to something like that *wink wink*. Jane is strong, stronger than I think he realizes, he's going to be the main part of Lisbon's recovery, you're going to love watching him heal as he is healing her. The team isn't okay, they aren't going to be okay for a little while, but as I said, sunshine will come...soon, just not yet.

Chapter 10: Downward Spiral

It had been weeks since her return to work and Lisbon had given up on ever feeling like herself again. She would go to work, act out the motions of a CBI agent and then go home where she could find company with Lavinia and her comrades in rape. Those women could understand. Their thoughts were her own.

Lisbon had researched other famous tales of rape, read about rape in other countries; how the woman would be forced to marry her rapist or even be stoned to death for having sex out of marriage even if she hadn't wanted it. She had become obsessed with rape.

Jane still came over frequently. She had stopped hiding her research and he hadn't spoken a word about it, but she saw how he looked at her. He wanted her to stop. His eyes pleaded her to do something else, anything else but this. She knew it wouldn't help. She knew that more she read, the worse her nightmares became. Sometimes she would throw the book down and race to the shower to rid herself of the sensation of having some monster pawing his way past her meager defenses. Lisbon knew that this would only hurt her in the end. But she couldn't stop.

She didn't think she could feel anything else but pain anymore. At least she was the one hurting herself, it was better than someone doing it to her.

She was restless again, afraid to go to sleep. Jane would come over if she called but she didn't want him to. That wasn't true, but one day it would be. It was better to start practicing now.

Lisbon took the DVD of Titus and put it on. She had other books, other films that had similar tales of innocent women being forced upon by vicious, lustful men. Still, she always came back to Lavinia. It seemed like she had endured the most of all the women: mutilation and rape. Lavinia had known her attackers but was unable to say whom they were for so long. Lisbon actually pitied her for that, just a little. Not knowing who had ravished her was much, much worse.

She had watched the movie several times now, usually reading the text at the same time. Today, she left her copy of Titus Andronicus on the table unopened. She let tragedy unfold before her on her television screen.

It was a long film that might have made her laugh for it's odd blend of modern looks and ancient Roman ruins and armor, except nothing made her crack a smile anymore. Lisbon let the actors play their parts without any comments. She shut her eyes as Lavinia was being dragged away. Her screams echoing in her ears. "No grace, no womanhood—ah, beastly creature, / The blot and enemy to our general name, / Confusion fall—"

Lisbon felt numb for most of the film. She didn't care about Titus's pain or Lucius's rage. Sure, she wanted Tamora and her disgusting sons to meet their doom, but they were so wild, almost childish that she couldn't work up much emotion towards them. Maybe this is what is left when hatred fizzles away along with hope. Emptiness.

It wasn't until the end, after Chiron and Demitrius were killed, that she felt a thrill of some kind of emotion. Titus had brought his enemies and his allies together for a meal, none of them having any idea that they were about to become cannibals. She watched Titus serve Saturninus and Tamora their pieces of human pie, gleefully smacking his lips as she swallowed her own children.

Lavinia appeared in this midst of this feast. Lisbon sat up and watched her walk in, clothed all in white except for a translucent black veil. "Was it well done of rash Virginius / To slay his daughter with his own right hand / Because she was enforced, stained, and deflowered?"

Stained. That was an apt description for how she felt. Outwardly, she looked the same but she knew a part of her had been irrevocably ruined. It was like she was a wet piece of a jigsaw puzzle. No matter how hard she tried, she could never fit back into place.

Lavinia had felt the same. She hadn't belonged back into the bosom of her dwindling family, not after what had been taken from her. But now…as she walked into the arms of her father, lovingly placed her head up against his shoulder, she was at peace. She belonged right there.

Titus put a hand under her jaw and whispered, tenderly. "Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee," and then he snapped her neck.

Lisbon paused the shot, freezing the characters in place as they recoiled in horror. She rewound the scene and watched it again. Lavinia was still serene, prepared and…happy to meet her end. She would die but so would her shame. The sharp crack of bone and the pop of tendons meant freedom for her.

She watched the scene a third time and let it play out. Titus softly placed his daughter on the ground and kissed her. Free, now Lavinia was free.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, Lisbon felt that churning of emotion she hadn't been able to feel. Her eyes were locked on Lavinia's face, frozen in the peaceful sleep of death. She wondered over that biting sensation, the slight burn in her veins that she had only felt on occasion in her life.

Envy.

It was a quiet morning; no case had been called in so the team was keeping busy with paperwork and the like, often times it meant indulging in low key forms of entertainment like Rigsby's paper waste-basketball skills or Jane's fun tricks. But recently these slow mornings were spent in whispered conversation about their quickly deteriorating boss.

It had been three weeks since Lisbon had resumed her work at the CBI and in that time her team had become all too aware that she had stopped trying to act like she was fine. This was a different side of her, she didn't seem sad or numb, no, now she was…angry. She had no qualms with letting them know it, her sentences were clipped these days and her body was rigid and stiff.

They were all worried about her, that was no secret, but their concern only seemed to irritate her more. But that still couldn't stop them from keeping an eye on her. Lisbon left her office without a word, intent on the coffee pot sitting in the break room. She didn't look at her team once, but kept her eyes firmly in front of her. But her team watched her; they weren't subtle about it either.

When she'd disappeared from sight they turned back to their work. But Grace heaved a sigh and shook her head a little. "What?" Rigsby asked her, knowing full well whom she had been thinking about.

"Nothing," she shook her head again but thought better of it. "I was just thinking…she's just so afraid now. She's even wearing baggier clothing, like she's trying to hide."

"No she isn't," Jane stated, startling all three of them. But his voice was low and somber when he explained, "Those are the same clothes she's always worn, she's just lost a lot of weight because she's barely eating."

That truth was even more terrifying than the idea of her trying to hide her body. It seemed like every day Lisbon was giving up more and more of her essence, like it was being squeezed out of her like a sponge.

"What do you mean she's not eating?" Rigsby said, "I mean, there has to be something you can do."

Jane knew he was the one who was bearing the responsibility of taking care of Lisbon; still it irritated him that the blame seemed to be shifting towards him. "What can I do? I can't force food down her throat." His voice was harsher than he'd intended but that was becoming a more and more common occurrence now.

Grace looked towards her boss's office. "She showers…all of the time. I've seen her go to the locker room and shower when all she'd been doing was paperwork, it's like she doesn't feel clean anymore."

They were quiet for a moment before Cho finally stated. "She's getting worse."

"Yes," Jane agreed, he looked down at the floor, "I know."

Again there was a long moment of silence before Grace asked. "Well you have to do something…what are you going to do?"

His head shot up and he leveled his gaze with her. "What can I do? I can't force her to eat, I can't force her to sleep and I can't force her to accept what has happened." He looked away, running one hand through his hair. "I've done everything I possibly can but she has to be the one to do this. She has to decide to move on, I can't do it for her…I can't do anything more than what I already am."

Grace was the one who chose to smooth the waters. "We know you've done a lot, Jane. I mean, all of her good days come from you. It's not your fault that they are getting further and further apart."

Jane wasn't so sure about that, he couldn't shake the feeling that Lisbon was his responsibility and that he was somehow failing her. But it did touch him that they weren't blaming him for this. But they didn't have to; he was taking care of that for them.

"What happens now?" Cho asked, "What do you think she's going to do?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"But she is getting worse."

"Yes, but sometimes people need to hit their lowest point before finally accepting what's happened," Jane explained.

It was Rigsby that asked the obvious. "What if she doesn't?"

"Then she'll spiral out of control and we'll lose her forever."

None of them were willing to accept that possibility even thought it was something that haunted all of their thoughts. "What can we do to help?" Grace asked.

"This," Jane replied, "there's nothing more that you can do beyond your job. I'm the one she trusts so I have to try and push her in the right direction. All we can do now is wait and see what she decides to do."

But that was a lot easier said then done.

Jane hardly ever slept at the appropriate hours normally allotted to sleep. The nights spent in his lonely motel room only brought him nightmares. His more restful hours could be found on the couch he'd adopted at the CBI…or that used to be the case. He was becoming aware with the startling fact that his ability to sleep in peace here had nothing to do with the comfortable couch and the soothing atmosphere. Instead, it was Lisbon who had made him feel at ease here, who had kept his nightmares at bay. But now she was gone. Her vessel remained, but he couldn't find the Lisbon he knew. Worse still, she had joined his nightmares almost every time he managed to succumb to Hypnos.

He knew Lisbon was barely sleeping at all and he knew she still read those books. He had tried talking to her abut them but she had shut down. She wanted to so this alone. She couldn't do this alone. He knew it and he had a sneaking suspicion that she did too. But she wanted someone to understand what she was going through and so she had turned to characters who did.

She probably even knew that they were hurting her. Pain, sometimes that was the only way to feel alive. She read their stories, relived her own nightmares through their words, and continued to let herself fall further into her psychological grave. He wanted to talk to her about it, wanted to toss those damn books away and make her see how destructive she was becoming. But now when he went to her apartment she hardly spoke and seemed eager to see him gone. Jane could feel that he was running out of ideas on how to make her well.

The charade of sleep ended when his cell-phone rang. Jane dug into his pocket and retrieved it. The screen was lit up with a number he had never seen before. The last time something like this had happened he had received a threat that a bomb was in the parking lot which resulted in him being blind for a few days. History was supposed to teach men not to repeat their mistakes, but Jane had always been a daredevil.

"Hello," he answered.

"Hello," came the response of a decidedly British woman. Not what he was expecting. "Is this Patrick Jane?"

"Yes, may I ask who you are?"

"I'm Dr. Nancy Cargill."

Jane bolted upright from his prone position. "Oh yes, you're Lisbon's therapist." His voice sounded nonchalant, friendly even. Inside, his guts had twisted into frayed knots.

"Indeed, I do apologize for disturbing you like this."

"Not at all, though I am curious as to how you found my number."

"I used some of my own contacts in law enforcement," she said vaguely. It didn't matter how she did it, it was why she had that concerned him. "The reason I am calling is because of Teresa."

"I thought your sessions with her fell under doctor-patient confidentiality."

"They do and I am not calling to discuss our sessions. The problem is that I haven't seen Teresa in weeks."

Jane squeezed his eyes shut.

"I've tried calling her, but she's stopped answering. I don't believe I need to tell you how important it is that she continue with her sessions."

"No," he said, "no, you don't."

"Yes, well I believe she is reaching a critical stage in her recovery."

"She is still in the outward adjustment stage, correct?" Jane asked.

"You've done your research."

"I consulted someone who gave me a brief explanation of what Lisbon is going through. I've been trying to help her in anyway I can."

"Ah," Dr. Cargill said, her voice appearing to be pleased, "I thought you would."

Interesting, now Jane was wondering just how often Lisbon had spoken of him in her sessions.

"Well, this stage is broken up into many different phases. Rape survivors may experience one or multiple of these phases. In allowing her to return to work, I was hoping she would progress into the Underground Phase, where she is adjusting to her life despite her hesitation in dealing with her emotions."

"She was detached for a while," Jane said, "but now she's stewing in her emotions. She's given up trying to be normal."

"Yes, that is what I feared. This is Reorganization, a relapse in her turmoil and undoubtedly the most critical level of Outward Adjustment. The most damage can be done here if she refuses to deal with her trauma. I must get her to see me as soon as possible."

"We are in complete agreement, Dr. Cargill."

"Protocol dictates that I am supposed to contact her supervisor if she refuses to comply with her therapy," Dr. Cargill said, "However, my primary responsibility is to my patients and in Teresa's case I believe she would more readily listen to you than Agent Wainwright. She trusts you and that is more important for her than anything else."

Jane had never cared much for psychiatrists, but Dr. Cargill had certainly just joined his short list of those he admired. "Thank you, doctor. I will talk with her about this."

He heard Dr. Cargill catch her breath so he waited patiently for her to find her words. "I know this must be difficult for you and the rest of your colleagues, and I'm sure it might seem easier for you to just be gentle with her, but now that may no longer be the best course."

Jane frowned a little. "I was told to not force her to do anything."

"Yes, but at this point in her recovery she may need to be pushed. I'm sorry, Mr. Jane, but I do believe you will have to use your judgment to decide just how much."

The phone was hot against his ear and he clutched it with white knuckles. "That's a tall order, doctor."

"I know, but she cares about you and I do believe you care for her as well. I'm afraid that you are the only one she will listen to now, even if it is with half an ear."

Jane shut his eyes again, letting out a shuddering breath. "I'll do my best."

"I'm sorry I can't offer you more, but I feel you are more capable than you think."

"I appreciate your confidence." Though he didn't share it.

"Goodbye, Mr. Jane, and I feel it is appropriate to wish you good luck."

"Thank you, Dr. Cargill."

The line went dead and Jane stared at the digits on the screen. Seven minutes. So that was how long it took for the world to shift from bad to worse. There really was no time to waste.

Jane knocked on Lisbon's door before he stepped into her office. Lisbon only glanced up when he entered and then resumed her work. He didn't expect any greeting. "I just got an interesting phone call."

"From who?" she asked to her paperwork.

"From Dr. Nancy Cargill." Her pen stopped writing. "Ever heard of her?" His tone was jovial, but he knew she could hear his subtle angle to the words.

Lisbon met his eyes. "She shouldn't have called you. She had no right to do that."

"I admit, it's a little frightening that a woman I have never met managed to obtain my number, but that isn't the point. She's worried about you, as am I."

"I'm fine." Those were the two words she said most often now.

Jane shook his head at her. "No you're not."

"I'm here," she said, "I'm working. That's proof enough."

"You're not eating, you're not sleeping and apparently you're not going to therapy anymore. I believe I have ample evidence to back up my point."

Lisbon leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing into slits with rising displeasure. "I went to therapy so I could be cleared for work. I'm done with that now."

Jane put both of his hands on her desk and leaned towards her. "Lisbon," he said he name gently, "I know this is tedious for you, but you can't give up on your therapy."

"I'm tired of talking, Jane," she said, "I'm tired of thinking, of remembering. I hate going there. I'm much more comfortable here."

"But you're not," he said, "You're not comfortable in your own skin, I can see it."

Lisbon leapt to her feet. "So what am I supposed to do? Grow another skin?"

"Lisbon, I'm trying to help you."

She let out a mirthless little laugh that chilled Jane down to his bones. "That's what everyone says, but it's not working. I don't think I can be helped. Maybe you should just cut your losses and let me be."

Jane gaped at her for a moment and she took that time to attempt to leave her office. She only managed to get a few steps away from him when he reached out to grab her arm. "I will never do that to you, Lisbon," he said, "I will not give up on you."

"That's a shame," she said sadly, "because I have."

Lisbon pulled her arm free with one quick jerk and abandoned her office. Jane stared after her. The good doctor had said to push her and he'd tried to be gentle about it. Now the question remained if he had gone too far or been too soft. She kept slipping away from him. He had meant what he'd said, he wouldn't give up on her. But he feared he might have to keep that vow until her end.

He feared that was something she longed for.

A case did eventually come up, Lisbon was glad; it was a welcome distraction for her and the rest of the team. They needed to do something besides follow her with fearful eyes and she wanted to lose herself in her work. But a distraction would only go so far, she never could completely forget that she was nothing but a pathetic shadow of the person she used to be. The fact that she could see their pain every time her team so much as looked at her only made it all worse.

She thought back to her argument with Jane. He was right, she wasn't fine, she wasn't anywhere near fine but maybe that was just how it was going to be from now on. Maybe she would never be fine again. Perhaps the sooner her team accepted that she was always going to be broken, the sooner they could just leave her the hell alone.

They were always watching her nowadays, watching her and worrying and fretting. It was better than the others in the building who would stare and whisper as she walked down the halls. But not much. She wanted to work in peace but Lisbon was beginning to realize that there was no such thing as peace anymore, not in her work or in her home or in her dreams. There was no peace for someone like her.

Lisbon stood up from her desk quickly, angrily pushing her chair away. Her strides were fast and long as she made her way to the bullpen. The four members of her team looked up as soon as she walked in the room. "Tillet's boss sent the name of the client who complained about him, Rigsby you go and interview him, see where he was the night Tillet was killed. Cho, you got talk to his brother, find out what he knows about this complaint."

The two men were quick to start gathering their things so they could follow her orders. Now Lisbon met the eyes of the remaining agent. Grace ducked her head immediately, just like always, never able to look her boss in the eye anymore. Once upon a time Lisbon had felt actual pain and sadness over the change in their relationship. But bitterness had taken its place, bitterness, anger…and hatred.

"Van Pelt, you could stay and look through the victim's financials. But since you can't bear the stay in the same room with me, you can tag along with Rigsby."

All of the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room as soon as the words left her lips. Lisbon noticed the wide-eyed stares of her teammates who were shocked by her brazenness; she even saw the look of humiliation and shame that passed over Grace's face. But Lisbon didn't care. In some ways she enjoyed it, being the one doling out pain instead of receiving it.

She turned towards the break room, leaving the awkward situation she had created behind her. Or so she had thought.

Lisbon knew the footsteps following her belonged to Jane. He was the only one who had any courage at all to confront her about her behavior. Well good for him, he still had to learn that things were going to be different now, that there was no life inside of her anymore. She kept her back to him as she reached for a coffee mug in the cabinet.

"That was a little harsh," Jane pointed out.

She still didn't look at him. "You want me to apologize for stating the truth?"

"I don't think you realize how this has affected Grace."

Now she whirled around to face him. "How it affected Grace? Who cares about how it affected her? She wasn't dragged into an alley and raped!" Lisbon leveled her gaze with him and spoke the harsh truth once more. "Do you have any idea how much it hurts just looking at her? She was there that night; she was there just a few feet away from me. But she didn't piss someone off, she wasn't caught off guard and beaten and violated that night…and I hate her for it."

Jane's eyes remained somber but he didn't look angry at her by any means. "You're jealous of her, it's understandable."

Lisbon slammed the empty mug onto the counter. "Stop saying things like that. Don't tell me you understand, don't give me your pity, I don't want it."

"I don't pity you. No one here pities you."

"Yes they do," she replied easily. "Do you think I'm blind or something? I see it, I see everything. I see the way they all stop and stare and whisper about the poor pathetic Agent Lisbon, how she has to walk these halls in terror because she doesn't know who raped her." Her voice softened and tears pricked her eyes as she looked up at him. "I see the way the team looks at me…I know that none of you want me here."

Jane shook his head, "That's not true."

"Yes it is. Grace can barely sit in the same room as me. Rigsby and Cho, whenever they look at me it's with shame and guilt and you…" A tear slipped down her cheek, "all I see in your eyes is fear…as if you are just waiting for me to fall apart."

For once, it was Jane who looked away. That was good, because she saw that same fear in his eyes once more. To his credit, he didn't deny it. She turned away from him only to be caught off guard by his touch. He took her hand in his and with the other, turned her face to meet his eyes once more. "You're right." He said simply. "I am afraid, I am waiting…because I know that it's going to happen if you don't fight this."

She brushed his hand aside. "What good is fighting anymore, Jane? I already lost."

"Don't say that," he told her softly.

"It's the truth," Lisbon reminded him. "He won…I lost, and now I have to live with it."

"He didn't win."

Anger flooded her veins once more and she shoved him aside. "Stop saying that! It's pathetic, he raped me, he got what he wanted, of course he won." Lisbon took a couple of angry steps away from Jane. "He raped me… She took in a few breaths, looking off into space. "I was raped…I was raped…" then she started giggling, then laughing. "How ridiculous does that sound? Me! A cop, a special agent was raped." She laughed again, crazy laughter.

Jane whispered her name softly, "Lisbon." He put a hand on her shoulder but she jerked away.

"Just leave me alone, Jane."

"No," He told her harshly, "I can't."

"Why not?" She asked, her words tinged with anger. "You think you can help me?"

He stood firmly. "Lisbon, if you are going to get through this then you need to stop dwelling on it, stop letting it take control of your life."

Lisbon looked at him incredulously. He said it so simply, so smoothly, as if his advice was just and sound. Jane was the one who was solid now…she was the one who was spinning out of control. Now she was the crazy one.

And it filled her with rage.

"You? Really, you are going to be the one to give me advice. You? You are going to tell me to 'stop dwelling on it', to not let it 'control my life'." Her smile was chillingly cold. "You? You are a man who lives in a house with nothing in it except a mattress, some blood on the walls and his own demons to keep him company." Lisbon scoffed at him with no remorse. "And you are telling me to let it go? Do me a favor, Jane. Fix your own damn life before you tell me how to fix mine!"

The words hung between them like a fallow stench, they permeated every facet of the room completely. And Lisbon had done the unthinkable; she'd thrown Jane's own ghosts back into his face. Maybe that was why he was standing there completely stunned. Then a look of anguish passed over his eyes. That wasn't uncommon…except this was the first time she'd ever been the cause of it.

Jane didn't say another word, but quietly quit the room.

She wanted to feel guilt but it didn't come. He had probably gone off to lick his wounds. Or maybe her words had done more damage than that; maybe she had finally broken him too. Maybe now she'd lost his respect, lost his touch and his warmth.

An ache formed in her chest at the thought of losing the one person she'd come to rely on through this. But pain was something she had been getting used to; this was but a drop in the ocean of turmoil that she was already drowning in.

What she felt mostly was something akin to relief. Perhaps now he would finally give up and let her waste away in peace. That was what she truly wanted now, to be left alone in her misery.

It was what she deserved.

Grace didn't say a word as she and Rigsby left the CBI and climbed into the company's SUV. If he noticed her wiping a few tears that leaked from her eyes, he didn't say anything. He was always good for that. He knew when he had to be patient with her.

She knew what everyone was going to say: Lisbon isn't herself, she doesn't really mean it, don't take it personally. She knew that they meant it too, but she also knew that it couldn't possibly be true. Lisbon had meant it and Grace did take it personally. It didn't hurt that Lisbon had lashed out at her. No, what killed her was knowing she was partly to blame.

Lisbon didn't hate the guys, just her now. That was her fault because she hadn't been strong. She should have visited her at the hospital, called to check up on her, maybe brought her flowers or baked goods. Sure, those things were all corny and would irritate Lisbon but it was the thought that counted, literally. Jane and the others all went, they all showed they were behind her. Grace had been too ashamed of her own failings to do that. Lisbon hated her for her weaknesses.

"Grace," Rigsby said her name softly, "are you okay?"

She could lie, but that had always been hard to do with Rigsby. She shook her head. "No, not really."

"Look, Lisbon didn't—."

"Yes she did."

"What I mean is that she wouldn't…she's not her…" Rigsby ran out of clichés. Grace watched as he glared at the road ahead of him. "Damn that bastard. Damn him to Hell."

If only they knew who he was. If they could find him for Lisbon maybe she would reclaim some part of her old self again. Grace wanted to believe that, but Jane seemed worried now. There were a thousand questions she burned to ask him. Every time she saw him alone she almost interrogated him for answers. What can I do to help her? Is she looking any better? What are your theories? Are you starting to lose hope too?

That last one terrified her the most.

"Do you think it will help?" Grace asked before she could stop herself. She longed to grab those words and pull them back into her mouth. But they were born and Rigsby was looking at her.

"What will help?"

"Finding the rapist."

Rigsby turned his attention back to the road. His shoulders were slumped and his brows were knitted together. He didn't say a word, just watched as yellow lines on the street disappeared beneath the wheels of the SUV.

"I don't know," he said. Then he shook his head and let out a sigh. "Honestly…no. At least, not right now. Not with her acting like this."

"But don't you think she'd feel safer?"

"I don't think that's the problem. She's forgetting who she was. She's angry and ashamed and she's not doing anything to change that."

Grace nodded with her eyes on her knees. It hurt, but at least it was an honest answer and probably true. Lisbon didn't shower two-three times a day because she was afraid, it was because she felt unclean. She was ashamed of what had happened to her.

Before the ball, none of them could ever had dreamed that something like this would happen to Lisbon. But Grace knew that even if she had imagined it, there was no way she could have predicted that Lisbon would wind up like this. She had always been the strongest of the team. She was their leader, calm and cool under any circumstances. For crying out loud, the woman had been strapped to a bomb and had managed to remain levelheaded. That was just Lisbon, but apparently even the strongest of walls have a weakness.

"Do you think it should have been me?" Grace asked.

Rigsby slammed the car to a sudden halt. The car behind them leaned on their horn and they could hear his muffled curses as the driver leaned out the window. Rigsby stared at Grace for a long moment, long enough so the other driver pulled around him. Rigsby didn't even see that he was flipping him off as he left them behind.

Finally, Rigsby pulled the car onto the side of the road and put it in park.

Rigsby grabbed her arm in a firm, but not painful grip. "I don't want to hear you say that ever again." His voice was harsh, but even and low.

"But—."

"No," he said, "It shouldn't have happened, that's that. I don't want you thinking that you deserved it instead of her. If you keeping thinking that then I swear to God I will make you see a therapist too."

"Rigsby—!" she cried out his name in protest.

"I'm serious, Grace. You can't think things like that."

Grace collapsed back into her seat. She looked at her hands, the nails were chewed down to the quick and her palms were clammy with sweat. "Okay," she murmured, "I know you're right."

Rigsby let go of her arm, but he didn't put the car back in motion. He just waited for her to continue. He knew her far too well.

"It's just…I can't stop thinking about how I would be like if it had happened to me," Grace said, "I mean she's so…I would be so much worse than that, at least I think I would."

"You don't know that."

"But she's always been stronger than me. I admired her for that, and now…" Grace shook her head slowly. "If it had happened to me, I know she would have been at my side the entire time. She would come to my house every day whether I wanted her there or not. She probably would have driven me to my therapy appointments to make sure I went. So why can't I do all of that for her?"

"Everyone is different," Rigsby said, "We can't know how we'll react to a situation until it happens."

Grace shrugged her shoulders a little while she toyed with a ragged part of her chewed nail. "I guess." She let out a long breath, silently berating her frailties. "I just wish I were stronger."

She remembered how when she was little she used to believe that if she shut her eyes and wished hard enough that it could come true. Even though she had long ago learned that falsehood, Grace still closed her eyes and wished. She imagined everything she could have done to prove to Lisbon that she did care, that she was still her friend and that everything would be okay. It was a pretty fantasy, empty of guilt and most definitely too good to be true.

Her eyes were still closed when Rigsby reached over and took her hand into his larger one. "Grace, you are strong," he said softly, "I know you don't think you are, but it's true. You could have ducked away, called in sick or even run from it all entirely, but you didn't. Every day you come in and you try and every day you get a little bit closer."

She flicked her eyes up to him. "I keep hoping that she'll be better tomorrow."

Rigsby nodded and used his free hand to tuck one lock of her red hair behind her ear. "I know, so do I. And you know what? One day she will be."

"Are you sure?" She hated herself for asking that question.

Rigsby bit his lip, breaking eye contact with her. He nodded to their joined hands. "Yeah, I mean she has to be."

It was a lie. But sometimes that was better than the truth.

Rigsby let go of Grace's hand and put the car back on the road. She stared out the window, not seeing anything in particular. She had once been told that life was like a road, but now she saw that wasn't true. Roads were marked with signs that defined different paths you could take. You can go left or right and there is always that secure feeling that if you get lost you can find your way back.

No, life was nothing like this road. It was more like swimming in the dark ocean. The surface is up there, you know it and you know you can get there. But you don't know what else is waiting for you in the dark, just waiting to hurt you.

Lisbon had been hurt and now she was drowning. What was worse was that none of them knew how to save her. Grace was beginning to wonder that if Lisbon fell down into the bottom of that sea and never came back, would they be able to continue?

She doubted it.

Over the years Jane had learned that Hell was not some mythical underworld filled with fire and brimstone, no, it could be found on Earth quite easily. Hell was something he was used to, living with irredeemable guilt and misery was as close to Hell as he could think of. Some days he truly wondered if things could get worse, but lately he knew for a fact that his original assumption was wrong.

Misery can grow like a thick pestilent weed and it certainly had become enormous in the past few weeks. Just today it seemed to have encompassed every part of him, and that was before Lisbon had thrown his sins back in his face.

He wasn't angry with her. He knew what she was doing, that she was lashing out at everyone like a trapped wounded animal. No, Jane was afraid, not angry. He couldn't very well deny that it had hurt him; she had cut him to the bone by reminding him that he was a miserable excuse for a human being. It was why he'd had to leave, he'd needed the time to get away and compose himself, the worst thing that could possibly have happened was to give her what she wanted.

Jane thought back to his conversation with Dr. Cargill. She had insisted that he was the one Lisbon trusted, that he had to push her into moving forward. But he doubted Lisbon's therapist was aware of his own problems with moving past his own tragedy, it didn't present a good example for Lisbon to follow. Then again…maybe he was.

The important thing was to not let Lisbon believe she had pushed him away. She had hurt him but it was going to take a hell of a lot more than that to get him to give up on her. He wasn't going to back down; she had to get past this…he needed her to get past this.

So he waited for the opportune time to prove to her exactly that.

It was late when Lisbon started gathering her things to go home. She was spending a lot of time at the office lately, nothing so unusual except he knew it was really an attempt to avoid going home and therefore avoid her nightmares. Still, she must have thought her words had banished him from her life for the near future because she was startled when he walked into her office.

She got over her surprise quickly and glared at him. "I thought we finished our conversation earlier."

"What gave you that idea?"

"The fact that you walked away with your tail between your legs like a sad dog," she replied smoothly, her words were as calm as they were cold. "If you want an apology then you came to the wrong place."

"I didn't come here for that."

"Then why did you come?"

He studied her for a long moment before telling her. "I know what you are doing."

Lisbon scoffed at him. "Oh you do?"

Jane stood firm and crossed his arms over his chest. "You are trying to push me away, to push us all away. It's why you are saying every terrible thing that comes to mind." He shrugged, "I've done it too, and you've called me out on it, just like I'm doing to you now."

She pushed her paperwork aside and stood up now, her whole stance was defensive. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yes you are, you are trying to push us all away because you think that it's a punishment, that you deserve everything that has happened."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Because you know me so well."

"I know what you are feeling."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "No you don't, you have no idea what it is like to be raped."

Jane held up a hand to stop her from giving him another graphic reiteration of what it is like to be raped. "I'm not saying I know what you are going through, I can't imagine what it feels like to carry something like this around." He paused for a moment before telling her softly, "but I do know what it is like to hate yourself for the terrible things that have happened. I know that all you want to do is lash out at everyone and everything not just because you don't think they understand, but because you don't believe you deserve anything that could be construed as good."

She was quiet as she thought about his words but he saw the smoldering anger there just beneath the surface. "Don't think that just because your family is dead that that gives you the right to tell me what to do." Jane did what he could to hide the wince at the mention of his family. "You don't know what I am thinking or what I am feeling, you are so messed up, Jane. Why do you think you can tell me how to get through this?"

He ignored the bite to her words and focused his eyes on hers. "You are right," he told her softly, "What I do is a worthless excuse of a life and I have never truly tried to get past what happened and yet here I am telling you to do exactly what I haven't done. That might make me a hypocrite but that doesn't matter."

Jane wanted to take her hand but he didn't push his luck. Right now she was actually listening to his words, which was a victory in and of itself. "The reason I'm telling you…I'm asking you to listen is because I don't want you to be me."

Lisbon wasn't looking at him, her eyes were focused elsewhere but he knew she'd heard every word. He knew she was taking in what he had said and thinking it over. He saw that the anger had faded but it was replaced by some other emotion, sadness or maybe pain. He wasn't sure if that was any better but it might be a start.

Then suddenly she met his eyes again. "I don't want to be you either." He wanted to be happy that he'd gotten through to her but before he could savor his victory she turned the tables on him once more. "I don't really want to be me.

"I want to be her," she pointed to a framed newspaper clipping on the wall. One of her numerous accomplishments over the years, it included a small black and white photograph of her. "I want to be Special Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI again."

Jane saw her eyes gloss over with unshed tears. "But you know what? I think she's dead. I think she died in that alley along with her power and dignity. And I don't think she's coming back."

Her voice was wooden and numb when she said her final words. "So I guess you are stuck with me then…whoever the hell I am."

She didn't look at him again after that but simply walked past him and out the door…slipping through his fingers once more.

Jane knew he'd gotten her to listen to him, but it was a hollow victory. It seemed every time he spoke her his terror only increased. She said that Teresa Lisbon was dead, that she'd died in that alley.

He didn't want to believe it…that didn't make it any less true.

The woods were dark and forbidding, like the mysterious woods that children disappeared to in all those fairytales she'd read as a child. But Lisbon didn't stop to reflect on how creepy the woods were; she was too busy fleeing him.

She didn't know where she was going but she knew that if she didn't run away now, he would find her and hurt her. He'd already succeeded once. The memory of his cruel hands touching her skin, roaming over her body only filled her with more revulsion and dread. He'd won that battle, pushing her down onto the ground and forcing his way past her defenses. She'd been violated. Nothing could change that.

Somehow she stumbled along in the darkness. Everything seemed blurry and confusing, she couldn't seem to get a straight thought in her head. She could feel a lot of things: fear, shame, anguish…but everything seemed distant. She couldn't focus on anything.

"Lisbon?"

She heard the voice but her first instinct was to flee. But Lisbon didn't have any control over her body anymore, she couldn't run but continued to stagger away.

"Lisbon?"

The voice was closer, was she moving towards it? She didn't know. Still she moved forward, unable to run, unable to hide, just an endless maze of trees and darkness and fear.

Then she saw him.

He was at the edge of the trees, standing like a beacon of hope and comfort. That was who Jane was to her, someone that could break through this darkness.

But she couldn't let him see her like this, couldn't let him see her shame.

Lisbon tried to run away, she wanted to hide so that he wouldn't have to look at her…maybe ever again. But suddenly he was there, in front of her and he whispered her name one last time. "Lisbon?"

The look of absolute horror on his face devastated her. His mouth open in shock and his eyes betrayed the repulsive sight she must have been. Oh God this was awful, how could he stand to even look at her now? She tried to move away but he grabbed her shoulders to keep her close to him, she heard a small moan of anguish. It was her.

"Who did this to you?" Jane asked her, his voice still filled with shock and disgust.

She didn't know. She'd never seen him; he was still just a shadowy monster out there who could hurt her.

Lisbon opened her mouth to tell him but nothing came out. Not a sound, not a word, not even a garbled scream. Nothing.

Except a small ribbon of blood.

Her tongue, it was gone. He had cut it out.

Jane stepped back when she opened her mouth and she raised her arms to try and keep him close. But that was when she saw them.

Her hands…they were gone, nothing but bloody stumps remained.

Her hands, her tongue, her power…all gone.

Lisbon opened her mouth to try and scream her anguish but there was nothing but the horrific sound of silence…

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Lisbon woke up screaming.

Her bed sheets were knotted around her and everything was damp with her sweat and her tears. She was still shrieking as she twisted and flailed, trying to break free from her web of sheets. Then she tumbled to the floor, her feet still tangled in the covers.

She lay still for a moment; the only sound was her heavy breathing and the pounding of her heart. Finally she lifted her arms and looked down.

Her hands, they weren't bloody stumps. They were still here.

Lisbon raised them to her lips and stuck her fingers in her mouth, sobbing with relief when she felt her warm tongue, there was no blood.

She didn't sit down on the floor for long but instead ran off to the bathroom, seeking the only relief that she knew. Water was the only way to wash away the horrible feeling of revulsion that her dreams and memories reminded her of so often.

It hadn't been real, she hadn't been lost in the woods, hadn't had her hands and tongue cut off. None of it had been real.

Or had it?

As she sat there under the cold spray Lisbon remembered what she'd said to Jane just that day.

"So I guess you are stuck with me then…whoever the hell I am."

That was when she realized what might be happening.

She didn't know who she was…but she knew who she was becoming.

Lavinia.

A/N: We told you her obsession with Lavinia was going to take a dark turn. How about Lisbon blowing up at everyone like that? Believe it or not, that isn't the worst you're going to see of her.

Next chapter: When a woman is found raped and murdered, Lisbon cannot separate herself from the case and she winds up spinning completely out of control. She pushes away everyone and when her job is on the line, things only get worse. Next chapter you'll FINALLY see Lisbon hit rock bottom.

As always, please review, they keep us motivated.