I would just like to thank the reviews I couldn't answer to, thank you so much!

I think you'll realize the story is now proceeding towards its end, maybe two or three more chapters after this one. I hope you enjoy the final chapters, please let me know what you think!


11. STOP RESISTING

I had thought that, when I could stop running, I would feel relieved. But I did not. All I could think about was that car, flipping over, and the moments during which I had been sure that Lisbon was dead. Finding out she had escaped had only eased my concern momentarily, because there was no way of knowing for certain that she was alive and well, wherever she was.

My first impulse was to tell everyone that she was innocent, but I could not do that without a plan. I still did not know what Bertram's intentions were, or what Tommy's intentions were, and I had to find out. Besides, the search for her was probably even more thorough while everyone thought she was a criminal – so, at the same time that I dreaded the possibility of several guns being pointed at her, a part of me also longed for them to find her, if I could not find her first, of course, because not knowing was the worst thing.

Later that day, the CBI team arrived. Still keeping our cover, or her cover, whatever, I had to make an effort to look scared and relieved, like the victimized consultant hijacked by his former boss who had just been set free, thank God. Well, except for the thank God part, that would be an exaggeration even for me. Cho and Rigsby shook my hand, saying they were glad I was okay, and Van Pelt gave me an affectionate hug. She had gone into the trouble of preparing me a bag with clothes. She had also found my cell phone and brought it to me.

"I found it near the penitentiary, the day that…" she hesitated, sadness in her features. "The day that she took you."

The day that I took her, I wanted to reiterate, because it was sad to see Grace so let down, and because it was sad that Lisbon could be hurt somewhere, needing help, while everyone who cared about her and whom she cared about thought she was a dangerous murderer. But I did not say anything; I just nodded, trying to look traumatized by the scene she was mentioning.

In fact, I had to lie a considerable deal that day, because I was questioned several times, by several people, including our own Cho; they wanted clues that told them where Lisbon might be heading, they wanted details that might clarify how she had been able to escape from prison in the first place, they wanted to know what Thomas Lisbon had to do with anything, why she had come after him and kidnapped him. Actually, he had disappeared right after he had called the police; the cops had wanted to interrogate him further, but he was nowhere to be found. Of course.

I did not mind having to stay at the station the whole day, because that way I could stay informed about the search for Lisbon. When the sun was about to go down, I received a call in my just recovered cell phone. It was from a number in the Chicago area code that I did not know.

"Hello," I answered, being careful not to be heard by anybody.

"Jane? Is that you?"

It was her voice.


"Excuse me, Director Bertram," the secretary says, entering the room.

"Yes, dear," he answers, laying back on his chair, "what have you got?"

"I was asked to inform you" she says, approaching his desk, "that the Serious Crimes Unit of the CBI has arrived in Sacramento and that they have Agent Lisbon in custody."

Bertram nods, with a very serious expression.

"Where is she right now?"

"She's in a holding cell at the CBI headquarters."

"Thank you," he says politely, straightening his jacket. "Let them know I want to question her right away.


He did not say a word. He just came back that night, after he had left not an hour earlier, and grabbed me, and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. He pushed me against a wall, took my legs and curled them up around his waist, squeezing me with his chest, breathing heavily in between kisses, his hands travelling to places I would never allow myself to imagine him touching. I tried to protest, but he was not going to stop, neither did I really, sincerely, want him to. He held me up and placed me on the bed, then crawled on top of me, desire in his eyes. He hungrily kissed me again, his hands slowly going up under my jersey. The truth is he came into my room that night and took me like I was his, and had me like I was his. Through moans and pleads for him not to stop, he did ask for my permission, his first words, actually, since I had opened the door.

"I want to make you mine. Can I make you mine?"


The heavy door opens, revealing the big man, looking directly at her with an indefinite expression on his face. Before entering, he turns around to ask Cho, who is right behind him, to turn the surveillance off. The agent seems quite surprised and dissatisfied with the request at first, but ends up obeying, albeit hesitantly. Then Bertram finally turns around to face Lisbon again, finally walking into the cell, the door being closed behind him as soon as he is inside. He straightens his suit jacket, looking almost embarrassed.

"Lisbon," he says, simply, still standing while she sits with her arms leaning on the table.

She does not answer, she just looks at him with a blank expression. He walks slowly towards the table, then sits down, facing her.

"How are you?" he asks.

Lisbon chuckles. Is he really asking how she is? He laughs as well.

"I know," he says. "Stupid question. I hoped to break the ice a little bit."

The smile vanishes from Lisbon's face, and she is suddenly glaring at him. Then, in a quick movement, a gun appears in her hand, and she points it to Bertram's face.

"Look at me, you son of a bitch. You're gonna take an oath before my gun. You're gonna tell me the truth, the whole truth, and so help you God!"

"C-calm down, Lisbon," Bertram stutters, both hands up, wishing he had not had Cho dismiss the surveillance in the cell. "How the hell did you manage to bring a gun with you? I imagine you must be really stressed out with all you've been through, but there's no reason for that."

"Well, let's just say I've learned a lot during the last few days," she comments grimly. "I had to make sure you'd tell me the truth."

"Well, I'm on your side!" he practically pleads. Lisbon enjoys watching the man become a coward before a gun. "You know that, don't you?"

"I don't know anything anymore. Help me understand."

"What exactly do you want to hear?" he asks, waving his hands in the air anxiously.

"Everything."


I woke up looking for her on the bed, because for most f the night I had felt her lying on my chest and held her close to me. But I did not find her. I rolled over for a while, then eventually sat up to find her sitting on the armchair, fully dressed and looking at me with an expression very similar to one of disgust. As soon as our eyes met, she started speaking.

"Last night was a mistake. We can't do this, for many reasons, like the fact that we work together. We won't even talk about it anymore, okay? We'll just forget what happened."

Before I could even formulate any kind of response, she stood up, very business-like, avoiding my eyes.

"I'm gonna step outside so you can have your…" she seemed to look for an appropriate word. "… privacy."

She left the room.


"Come inside," Jane says, about a minute later. "Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't be out there."

He, however, does not wait for her, and when she finally decides to enter the room again, she hears the sound of the shower. She feels anxious, for too many reasons. She checks the time every two minutes. Staring at the messy sheets on the bed, moments from the night before start making their way back into her mind, but she fiercely fights them; details like the taste of his lips, or the tight grip of his hands on every inch of her body, or the satisfaction of making him breathless… All product of a moment of weakness and uncertainty, obviously. A mistake which could not be repaired, though must be forgotten. She hopes he will help her with that task – but then, when does Jane ever make things easier for her?

He comes out of the bathroom not long after that, already fully dressed, but with his hair still wet, a sight which she has grown used to contemplate every day during their forced closeness, but which astounds her now more than ever. And then she needs to avoid those memories of the previous night once more. Like it is possible. He stares at her, very serious, and she stares back, unwilling to show any signs of vulnerability or flexibility in her resolve. Her decision has been made, and he has to come to terms with that. Unless, of course, he also thinks they have made a mistake… In that case, things would undoubtedly be so much easier, but, for some reason, she does not like the idea very much. Even though she knows she should.

She breaks eye contact, because he will not.

"I think you're right," he says, though, bringing her attention right back. "I think we should forget about… you-know-what, and go on with our lives as usual."

As always, she cannot be sure what his motivations for saying that are, and she is somehow surprised and… disappointed? No, of course not. It is a good thing he is trying to make things easier, that is not his usual M.O.

"Good," she says, nodding. "I'm glad you agree."

A few awkward moments go by, and Lisbon hates to find out they are both extremely uncomfortable around each other being in the same room. He sits on the armchair, staring at some random spot, while she figures she should stand in the opposite corner, staring at another random spot, both in silence, listening only to their own thoughts. That is when they hear the sound of an engine approaching and then the sound is gone. They automatically exchange a look, and before they can look away, without any warning, the door just comes down.

After a few preoccupied seconds of being startled, Lisbon takes her gun out of her pocket in a reflex as Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt are quickly where the door used to be, pointing their guns at her. She is pointing hers at Jane, and she suddenly realizes how tired she is of all the acting. With three guns pointed at her, she does not resist longer than just a few seconds, tossing her own gun to her former team and putting her hands up. She throws a look at Jane, who stares at her still. She does not anticipate the moment when her hands will be locked together by handcuffs, but she just closes her eyes and waits for it.


"All right…" Bertram starts. "Well, I've been in contact with Red John operatives for quite some time and I've convinced them that I am loyal to them and that I might give them privileged information from inside the CBI."

"Did you kill Todd Johnson for them?"

"Of course not!" he says, looking outraged.

She stands up, still pointing the gun at him.

"Remember, Gale, that you're under oath."

He sighs loudly, probably calculating his options.

"All right, I did," he decides upon confessing. "But it was a necessary sacrifice; I needed to gain their trust!"

"You keep saying they," Lisbon states, "who's they? Who exactly in Red John's organization have you been in contact with? And my unit is on the Red John case, why is it you never thought of mentioning any of this to us?"

All of a sudden, Bertram bursts into laughter.

"Ah, Lisbon," he says, when he can speak again, still laughing through words. "You speak like you're still head of the Serious Crimes Unit!"

Then, only a second later, he becomes incredibly serious.

"Look around you!" he raises his voice. "You're inside a cell! I don't know how you managed to bring a gun…"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh!" she hisses, interrupting him, and points her gun to his face even more vehemently. "No screaming to alert the guards, you understand?"

Betram raises both hands again, nodding. He takes some time to sigh again and look around him. Then, waving his hands insistently, he speaks again.

"Look, I don't know what you want from me. But please, I'm ready to cooperate, you don't have to point that gun at me."

"What I want from you?" she asks rhetorically, her gun still at the ready. "The truth. Who have you been in contact?"

"I can't tell you that."

Now it is her turn to sigh, frustrated, while cocking her head to the side and squinting at him.

"I have nothing else to lose, Bertram. So I will shoot if I have to."

They just stare at each other for a moment.

"What does my brother have to do with anything?" she asks, anxious for too many answers.

"Oh, that," he nods, scratching the back of his head. "Well, don't blame him. He needed the money."

"What exactly was he paid to do?"

"What he did. Wait for you and, when you arrived, call the cops. Simple as that. He doesn't even know anything about Red John. You might want to know that he did want to make sure you wouldn't be harmed before he took the job. He's a good kid after all. You did a good job raising him, don't doubt that."

"Oh, thank you," she says, sarcastically, a tear dancing in her eye. "Why? Why did you show me his pictures and have me pretend I was the mole and go through all this? Tell me the truth. It's Red John you're with, spying on us, isn't it? Not the other way around. You can tell me, it's just you, me, and my gun."

"What do you want me to say, you want me to congratulate you for finding it all out too late? Yes it was a trap. Yes, I knew putting your brother on the game would make you lose your judgment. That you would do anything to make sure he was all right. It was a trap to frame you, and you've been framed. It's over for you. And if you shoot me, it's even worse. Isn't it?"

"Is it?"

She moves closer to him, her eyes tearing up with hatred, and, before she can know what hit her, something moves quickly under her, lifting her feet off the ground and making her lose her balance. She shoots, but apparently Bertram is not harmed, because, a second later, he is on top of her on the floor, a proud smile on his face.

"It's over, Lisbon. Stop resisting."