A/N: For anyone who has wondered about Jane and the pigeon he used to confront RJ… here is one theory. I'm playing a little loose with the time frame here, but this is mostly canon compliant.
It's a blissfully quiet day off when she catches a flash of movement out of her kitchen window. Lisbon leans over the kitchen sink to get a better view, but whatever it was has passed. She goes to the next closest window, but then hears thumping by her living room. She can see out the window from across the room — Jane is looking down, and appears to be pressing at the ground with his foot.
"What the hell?" She's out the door in a moment to confront him.
"Oh, hey, Lisbon. You're home." He walks along the bare patch of lawn under her window, balancing, heel to toe, counting under his breath. He completes the path and taps his lip, pondering. "Nope." He whirls away and continues the circuit of her condo.
"Jane?"
When she catches up with him, he is staring up at the small balcony connected to her bedroom. He smiles at her and points up to it. "That should be perfect."
"For what? Jane, what are you doing here?"
"Planning, Lisbon." He taps the side of his nose secretly. "Planning." He bolts for her front door before she can respond.
She follows him up to her bedroom, not sure if she should be angry or bemused, as he crosses through to her balcony without pausing and starts the same measuring process she saw outside. Toe to heel all the way across. He grins at her.
X
A few days later she comes home to a banging sound in the neighborhood. She hopes it won't last, she's ready for a quiet night. Her front door is unlocked. She draws her gun, on high alert, but she forces herself to pause and breathe deeply when she hears Jane talking upstairs. The hammering is coming from her condo.
She puts the gun away and counts to ten.
She follows the noises up to her bedroom. Jane and another guy are on her balcony, assembling something. She has never been more glad that she keeps her bedroom clean. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Jane? How did you get in my house?"
"It was an emergency, Lisbon."
She ignores that, confident that Jane will justify it one way or another. "What are you building?"
"It's a very special installation."
"It's taking up my whole balcony.
"You don't use it."
"Sometimes I do."
"Not very often, you're usually home after dark." He grins. "It's the perfect place. You'll be able to hear them coming and going, check their food and water."
She blinks at him. "You're putting an animal up here?"
"You're going to love it!"
Dread. This is what dread feels like. "Not likely. Why are you doing this here?"
"I can't do it at the hotel, Lisbon. Or at the CBI. They need to have something more permanent."
"Jane, get your own place. You're practically living at the CBI right now anyway. It's not healthy."
He is pouting. The other guy, looking very official in coveralls and a tool belt, picks up another section of the habitat they are apparently building. "A little help," he says, pulling Jane's attention away.
There are currently no animals in sight. Maybe she can beef up her security system and avoid this altogether.
X
Next time, he rings the doorbell. She doesn't want to let him in, but he has dinner. But she soon learns it's all a ploy. He's also got an armload of pet supplies. And a covered dome cage. There are rustling and cooing noises coming from it.
He passes off a tinfoil covered pan. "Keep that warm in the oven, I'm just going to get them settled."
She knows if she lets him get upstairs, she won't be able to undo this. "Stop," she puts the food down and moves in front of him. "I don't want any pets, Jane."
His eyes are so round, she loses herself for a moment. "These are not pets, Lisbon," he says in all seriousness. "They will earn their keep."
"You have been acting more odd than usual lately. Tell me what's in the cage."
He looks past her. "You should put out that fire."
She crosses her arms. "I'm not falling for that."
He sighs. "Suit yourself."
She smells the burning then, and turns. Smoke is rising from his baking dish. "What is in there?" She throws it in the sink and starts running some water.
Jane bolts up the stairs with his haul.
"Dammit, Jane!"
X
"Pigeons." She watches them roost and flutter in their new home. "All this for pigeons?" They are a young pair, mottled gray feathers. One has iridescent green on its chest, the other on its neck. They each have an identifying band around one leg. It feels like they are watching her.
"Not just any pigeons, Lisbon."
"There were pigeons in that house," she recalls. Her thoughts grow distant.
"Is that a problem?" his voice is so soft.
She comes back. "Whatever. I don't want pigeons in my house."
"Me either. That's why they are outside."
"Stop splitting hairs. They are right outside my bedroom, I'll be hearing them all night."
"I can think of fewer things more soothing than the cooing of two delightful birds. But I wouldn't worry about it. They are diurnal. They will sleep when you do."
"What about when we're out of town on a case?"
"I'll take care of it, Lisbon. I have everything they need. You don't need to worry about it. A key to your place would help though." He smiled at the birds. "They are very smart, you know. They can form a bond with their owners. What should we name them?"
"You want to name the rats with wings?"
"These are no ordinary park pigeons, Lisbon. I got them from a reputable breeder."
She huffs out a laugh, and he ignores it.
"I'm thinking… Mira and Antoni." He says it with an Italian accent, his fingers brushing under his chin.
"No mob bosses, Jane."
"Why not?"
"They're not going to be pecking out anyone's eyes. How about Zip and Zap?"
"Too abstract. Sherlock and Watson."
"Too smart. Coffee and Tea."
"Wrong colors. Blue and Echo."
"Like the velociraptors in that movie?"
"Tiny dinosaurs, Lisbon."
She shakes her head. "Trick and… Treat?"
"Sonny and Cher."
"Not exactly song birds, are they?" She watches them move, how they bob their heads. "Jazz and Pop" she catches him in her side vision and adds "—ee."
"Jazz and Poppy," he repeats.
She scrunches up her nose. "Too cutesie?"
"No." His smile grows. "I like it. Hello, Jazz and Poppy." He leans in towards the cage and whistles at the birds. "Now, Lisbon, visit them as often as you'd like, but no taking them out for at least the first month."
"I wasn't planning to take them out at all, but — a month? How long are you keeping them here?" She is distracted by the doorbell. "Wonder who that could be?"
"I ordered take-out." He waves goodbye to the birds and breezes past her to get the delivery, ignoring the daggers coming from her eyes.
X
A couple mornings later Jane saunters into her office. He sets a mug on her desk and steps back to sip at his tea. Lisbon glances at him and wordlessly pulls the coffee closer.
"You look tired," he comments.
"There are pigeons outside my bedroom," she deadpans.
"You'll get used to it."
"I'm starting to understand why Sheriff McAllister doesn't like them." She perks up. "Does this have something to do with him? Do you think —"
He rocks on his heels. "About that key I asked for?"
She slides one over on the desktop, and leaves her finger on it while she speaks. "There will be a schedule. You will not go into my house without me knowing about it."
He grins and tosses the key gently in the air, catching it triumphantly. "Of course."
It will never be this simple.
X
A month later, Jane opens some vents in the cage and the pigeons venture outside. "That's nice, isn't it?" Jane talks like they understand him. "Get some exercise, stretch those wings."
Lisbon panics. "What are you doing?"
"It's all right, Lisbon. They know this is home."
"They are homing pigeons," she realizes.
Jane nods, watching them explore. Suddenly this makes more sense. Lisbon is glad Jane has a hobby, even if he did choose a strange one. It suits him.
The birds circle, but they don't go far. They are back in their cage to roost by bedtime. Lisbon feels strangely relieved.
X
They get called out on a case and Jane is nowhere to be found. He appears an hour later with a covered domed cage.
"No," says Lisbon.
"We'll take my car," Jane says.
"No."
Jane drives separately. Lisbon finds him later, staring into the afternoon sky, the empty cage next to him, watching two specks fly away.
"That's a couple hundred miles," she points out.
"It's not their first time out."
"It isn't?"
"They'll make it home before we do."
And they do.
X
Their world is turned upside down.
Bertram has been fingered as Red John, and Jane is avoiding the FBI, and Lisbon finds him in a park feeding the pigeons. Lisbon finds herself missing their own pair. They seem so much more sophisticated than this bunch climbing over each other to snatch at crumbs.
Within such a short time Jane sets his meeting with Red John. He's preparing for a showdown, the final confrontation. She wants to go with him, but the FBI are closing in. He needs her help, and she's glad to give it.
As she watches him run off, she realizes why he chose her house for the birds. His journey is coming to a close. The future is uncertain.
She's known it for awhile, but now she feels it sharply as the flock he was feeding scatters from the short chase through the park.
Things are going to change.
X
Jane is gone.
Red John is dead and Jane is gone.
She doesn't know how it happened, or if it was really Bertram. She was in FBI custody, couldn't even check her phone for messages. They won't tell her anything.
The people on the news can only speculate. They don't understand any of the nuances of the case.
She drags herself into her condo and makes it upstairs. She needs a shower.
A cooing noise and a flutter reminds her — she hasn't been home in a couple of days.
Jane is gone.
She rushes to her balcony. There's only one bird. She searches everywhere, but can't find Jazz. She holds Poppy carefully, strokes her feathers idly. She realizes some time later that she is speckled with dried blood, though she isn't hurt.
"What story do you have, sweet girl? Where were you?"
She gets no answers.
X
Days pass. She does what she can, checks in with her team, combs through the news, tries to piece together the evidence. The FBI keeps asking their questions. They want to know where Jane is.
So does she.
They are dismantling the CBI. She doesn't know what to do. She can't imagine working anywhere else. She'll have to start over.
Still no sign of Jazz. It seems a little strange that he disappeared at the same time as Jane. She can't shake the hope that they are together, though she can't imagine why. When you're running from the law, why would you bring a pigeon with you?
She can tell that Poppy misses him too. It brings her some comfort, taking care of this little life.
Shortly after dinner, there is a commotion in the cage. Her breath catches as she sees that Jazz is back, windblown and hungry. She hovers, watching him for awhile, until she realizes there is something attached to his leg. A small translucent tube.
With shaking hands, she retrieves a slip of paper. She unrolls it and smooths it out. The letters are small, but neatly written in smudge proof ink.
The answer is blowing In The Wind. DJ McA does not like flowers. Jazz is better up North. When I go West, I listen to Pop. Do you need More Than Words? I already know. Music will lead you home. U No Hoo
It's so cryptic, so very Jane, she finds herself smiling. A single tear slides down her cheek and she works to crack the puzzle.
He's safe. And also seems to be giving her the key to the puzzle: music.
McAllister was Red John. She suspected but couldn't be sure. They knew he didn't like pigeons, did Jane take Poppy there? It would explain the dried blood, but only gives her more questions.
The next bit she's not sure. But both birds are mentioned by name, with cardinal directions. Music will lead you home. Home. She's already home, and so are they. It seems like an invitation. What can they tell her?
The couplet in between brings heat to her cheeks. Memory of a dance. An answer to a question she never dared to ask. She is desperate to see him, to know what their future could be, now that he is free.
She looks over at the pigeons, roosting together in the cage. She hates to bother them, but she needs to know…
She lifts Poppy first, looks her over from head to claw. It's like she's truly noticing the leg band for the first time. Numbers are printed on the hard plastic. She always assumed it was a tracking number of some sort, in case they were lost.
The number has a decimal to four digits. The right format for latitude or longitude. When I go West, I listen to Pop. She notes the number and lifts Jazz next, looking for the North coordinate. She puts him back and double checks their food and water. She needs to look these up in a neutral place.
X
She manages to get some computer time at the library without an identifying login. The numbers check out. An island in South America. Her heart thumps so loudly, she expects to be kicked out of the library.
This is where Jane is. She just knows.
Her mind starts spinning with plans and counter plans. She needs to do this right, it needs to be untraceable. She has so much to do.
She gives herself fifteen more minutes to research a few things, figure out some of her travel options…
Especially since she'll be bringing two pigeons with her.