A/N: I always knew I would write a chapter two to this story, I just didn't think it would take over a year for me to get around to it. My sincerest apologies. I cant promise another chapter, but I'm interested in exploring the letters written between Jane and Lisbon when he was away. In this chapter, Lisbon directly responds to Jane's letter in chapter one, so you may want to re-read just that part. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

Jane opened his eyes to the blinding sun shining in through the windows of his apartment and groaned. He rolled over and checked the time on his phone. It showed nine in the morning. Back in Sacramento, he was lucky if he got a total of three hours of sleep in a night. Now, he had the opposite problem. He had no purpose in life, nothing to wake him up in the mornings. He found himself staying up until the early morning hours, and then sleeping later than he ever had. He figured it was a combination of the years catching up to him and the sadness that permanently wrapped around him like a blanket.

He rolled out of bed, put a kettle of water on the stovetop, and went to brush his teeth. While he was waiting on the water to boil, he decided to check the news from back home on his phone. With some internet sleuthing, he had found out that Lisbon was the sheriff of a small town in Washington state. He had taken to skimming their local paper online everyday, hoping a reference to her would appear. So far, he had seen an article about her when she took the job, and an opinion piece about how she was doing. The author had been tough on her, and it took all he had not to make a phone call to the editor's office. He knew she was more qualified than her current position, but he was glad she had some stability in her life. She deserved that after the hell he put her through.

His kettle began to whistle, so he took it off the stove and went through the ritual of making his morning tea. He began to think about that night he left her on the beach. He had pushed her buttons and crossed the line hundreds of times over the years, but that was the one situation where he was unable to forgive himself. He knew it was necessary to ditch her — she would have tried to stop him from confronting Red John that night. But, if he was honest with himself, he had no idea why he manipulated her emotions to do it. All he had to do was ditch her. He could think of a million ways to get rid of her that didn't involve hurting her emotionally, but still, he chose to hurt her heart. After all she had done for him — all the times she'd readily extended an olive branch and practiced forgiveness — he'd hurt her in the worst way. He knew how she felt about him. He felt the same way about her. He reasoned that his feelings were probably the reason he had done it, along with his pride. He'd wanted to see the sparkle in her eye when she thought he was going to confess that he loved her — to confirm her feelings for him and stroke his own pride. Now, he had to pay the consequence of not being able to apologize. He deserved his punishment, but she deserved an apology. He'd have to tell her in a letter.

He got dressed and decided to go into the town square to read by the fountain today. It was a beautiful day, and he decided some sunlight could do him a lot of good. He grabbed his book and a water, and made his way out the door and down the stairs into the sunshine.

He made his way into town, passing familiar faces of people he wished he knew. His Spanish was marginal at best, and he had trouble communicating past the very basics of the language. It was a lonely existence to know of everyone, but not truly know anyone.

He passed the post office and smiled and waved at the ladies that worked there. He started to continue walking, but one of them was yelling his name.

"Patrick! Come here!" She said. Thoroughly perplexed, he walked in.

"Yes, ladies?" He asked.

"Mail for you!" She said, handing him a letter. He took it, disbelief swelling within him. He shouldn't be getting mail. Nobody knew his location except Pete, and he'd told him not to write. He knew who had to have written the letter, but he simply couldn't allow himself to believe it until he opened it. Ever since he'd written her a few weeks ago, he'd allowed himself to imagine what her response to his words would be. Now, he had it in his hands.

He thanked the ladies, hurried to the fountain, and looked down at the envelope in his hands. He hesitated to tear it open. He didn't want to destroy the envelope because she had touched it. The paper in his hands had been in her hands just days ago, and he felt closer to her than he had felt in months. He smiled when he saw the return address — The Spice Girls.

Jane,

I was so glad to hear from you. I've missed you terribly, but most of all, I'm glad you're okay. I want you to know that I don't blame you for the fallout after Red John. You did what you had to do, and you saved so many lives by stopping him. You've taken on enough blame and burden in your life. Spare yourself this time.

It makes me sad to hear that you are freshly grieving, but I think it's a good thing. Promise me you'll deal with your emotions in a healthy way. Don't be reckless or drink yourself to death. Allow yourself to heal. You don't have to wear a mask anymore. Find someone to confide in (preferably someone who can clean up after you, because I know you're prone to messes). It will put my mind at ease.

My new job is definitely different than the CBI. It's less intense, so I'm left with time on my hands that I don't quite know what to do with. My new house here in Washington has a big yard, so I've tried to take up gardening — without much success so far. I'm going to try painting next. Something tells me I won't have the patience.

I told the team you sent well wishes. I thought you might be excited to know that Van Pelt is pregnant. She and Rigsby told me the news last week. They have their own private security agency, and they're doing very well. Cho is about to graduate from Quantico, and he will be working as a full-fledged FBI agent soon. He deserves it and I'm immensely proud of him, but I can't help but feel a little jealous. I can't help but feel that I deserve better than what I have, but if this is the price of catching Red John, I'll accept it happily. It's easier to admit things like this with my pen than face to face.

Thank you for telling me about the voicemail. I did think you left without saying goodbye, but I understood. I couldn't fault you for trying to get away as fast as possible. But, I am touched that you took the time to reach out. I told you once that there are people who care about you and who need you. That remains true. You say I'm your North Star, but you've been a lighthouse for me too. Adjusting to a new life is hard enough, but your absence has been strongly felt.

I hope to hear from you again soon. Miss you.

Agent Spice