A/N: A couple people have asked me about Beyond Measure lately - I am still working on it, just moving slowly. I will probably not be posting for that fic for a while, but rest assured I have no intention of abandoning it.

xxx

It was deeply unfortunate that Lisbon had such a traditional mindset when it came to the topic of revenge, Jane reflected as the two of them sped down the highway towards a bank of dark clouds.

He really shouldn't have been surprised. Lisbon lived by a code, he knew that. A high moral code grounded in principles of fairness and justice. One uncompromised by personal opinions and selfish desires. He admired that about her, actually.

Still, it was bound to prove very inconvenient for him in his quest to kill Red John.

She'd meant it when she'd told him she would arrest him if he managed to kill the bastard. Jane could tell. She'd meant every word. Which meant she would not only arrest him if he killed Red John, but even if he just managed hurt him. Apparently, Lisbon would happily lock him up and throw away the key if he managed to give Red John so much as a paper cut.

Okay, so maybe not happily. She would probably not enjoy arresting a member of her own team, after all. And she was rather fond of him. At least, Jane liked to think so. He was pretty sure, anyway. He could be rather charming when he wanted to be. As much as she liked to pretend otherwise, even no-nonsense Lisbon wasn't entirely immune. He made her smile. True, he caused her a lot of headaches at work, but she tolerated him better than most people in her position would. And she was protective of him, just like the other members of her team.

He thought about her driving several miles out of their way to the only organic grocery store in town to pick up a particular brand of smoothie for Rigsby after the poor guy had jumped through that window to save Piller and caught his arm on fire for his trouble. Then briskly informing Rigsby she'd brought him 'some of that mango crap' he liked. That was so like her. Always taking care of her people and pretending she didn't care half as much as she really did. She might have fooled some people with that brusque demeanor, but not Jane. As hard as she tried to hide it, her acts of kindness betrayed her compassionate nature every time.

Jane looked over at her, calm and composed at the wheel while he pondered their situation in the passenger seat.

This was a critical conflict, he recognized. He wanted Red John dead and she didn't. Simple enough, on the surface of things.

Only it wasn't. Not really. Because he knew if he succeeded in killing Red John, at least some part of Lisbon would feel betrayed. Moreover, she would be disappointed in him. She'd also more than likely consider her inability to stop him a personal failure and spend an unreasonable period of time castigating herself for allowing herself to be fooled by him. He thought of her green eyes full of surprise and betrayal. Thought of her turning away from him in disgust. A corner of his heart ached at the thought of her thinking of his time in her life with true bitterness. He didn't want that kind of pain for her.

There was no point thinking about what would happen if she somehow succeeded in capturing Red John and arresting him before Jane could get to him. Should such an unlikely event come to pass, he would simply find a way to break into Red John's prison cell and kill him there. Lisbon likely would have to arrest him to prevent from killing that son of a bitch in the course of her capture in the first place, so Jane might be delayed in this effort by virtue of being in prison himself. If that happened, he would break out of jail, then break into wherever Red John was being held to finish the job. If they were in the same prison, it would be even easier.

Which led him back to the crux of the problem. The possibility of him losing this battle of wills was not an issue. He was going to kill Red John, or die trying. The issue was that sooner or later, in some capacity or another, Lisbon would inevitably be hurt by the way things turned out.

No, even that wasn't quite right. The real issue was that he already felt some pangs of regret at the idea of what his vengeance would ultimately do to Lisbon. Those sorts of feelings could lead to a far more dangerous conflict. If he was worrying about someone else's feelings, that could lead to hesitation. Hesitation at a crucial moment could lead to failure. He couldn't afford to consider Lisbon's feelings. He was not going to fail. Not in this.

If it were anyone else, this wouldn't be a problem. If it were some run of the mill bureaucrat who was in charge of the Serious Crimes Unit, Jane wouldn't bat an eye at the idea of lying through his teeth day in and day out to get what he wanted. But Lisbon was different. She was kind and caring. Smarter than most of her superiors gave her credit for. He liked her.

He didn't like the idea of her being hurt. He hated the idea of being the one to do it.

He thought about the previous morning, teasing Lisbon about having the key to all her innermost thoughts and eliciting that delightful blush from her. Sometimes he wished he really could read Lisbon's mind. He bet it was a fascinating place.

No, he realized. That would make things worse. More intimate knowledge of her thoughts could only be a disadvantage for him. He already knew the essentials of her character—learning more would only deepen his understanding of her perspective. Deeper understanding would naturally increase his sympathy towards her. Sympathy, as he'd just concluded, could very well undermine his commitment to everything he'd been working towards. No, understanding was not a desirable outcome. It was a threat to his vengeance, his entire purpose in life.

Time was his enemy, too. The longer he went without killing Red John, the longer he would be working in close quarters with Lisbon. The more of her smiles he would see, the more impatient eye rolls, the more acts of kindness. Some level of that dreaded understanding would come with time, whether he liked it or not.

He would just have to kill Red John quickly, that was all there was to it. Before he and Lisbon grew any closer than they had somehow inadvertently become.

A smattering of raindrops against the windshield roused him from his thoughts. "It's raining," he observed, wanting to distract himself. Nothing like a little mundane small talk to take one's mind from thoughts of murder and betrayal.

"Yep," Lisbon said, unperturbed. She flipped on the wiper blades. "Good news for the people in Marquesa."

"How so?" Jane asked.

Lisbon shrugged. "It's good for the crops."

Right. Of course.

Jane observed Lisbon as she drove deeper into the bank of clouds. The rain hit the windshield harder. Lisbon, however, seemed just as relaxed at the wheel as before. She slowed down a little, in deference to the slippery conditions, but she didn't appear tense or worried by the prospect of driving in the rain.

Rigsby, Jane knew, would have complained loudly about the inconvenience of driving in the rain. He would have grumbled about the decreased visibility and the annoyance of having to deal with traffic slowed down by the rain. Grace wouldn't complain, but if she'd been driving, her shoulders would hunch up over the wheel and if asked, she would admit she didn't particularly enjoy driving in the rain. Cho, of course, would betray nothing verbally, but his knuckles would have whitened ever so slightly at the wheel as an indication of his heightened attention to the condition of the roads.

Not Lisbon, though. She drove quietly, steadily on.

"You like the rain," Jane commented, watching her.

Lisbon tensed. Rain didn't bother her, but Jane's incessant prodding at her personal thoughts and opinions always left her distinctly unsettled. "What makes you say that?" she deflected.

"It's obvious," Jane informed her. "Unlike our esteemed colleagues, you clearly enjoy being out in the rain."

Lisbon hesitated. "What of it?" she said at last, a tad defensively.

Oh, sure. Throw her into a raging storm and Teresa Lisbon would smoothly and efficiently move through it, doing whatever needed to be done, but toss out one tiny personal observation and the woman's fight or flight instincts instantly went into overdrive. "Nothing," Jane said lightly. "Just an observation. It's always refreshing to find a fellow rain lover."

Lisbon glanced at him. "You like the rain?"

"Sure," Jane said. "It's rather beautiful, don't you think? There's something peaceful about it. Everything's quieter, more still. I mean, even criminals are less likely to get up to mischief when it's raining. They're more likely to defer their mischief to a time when it won't get them so soggy."

Lisbon snorted at this. "You're one to talk. Somehow I can't see you deferring any mischief you planned to make for a little thing like the weather."

Jane grinned. "Well, of course not. Truly accomplished mischief-makers exploit every opportunity provided to them, including the vagaries of the elements."

The corner of Lisbon's mouth turned upwards. "True."

"Ah, I see," Jane said, light dawning. "It's all becoming clear now."

She raised her eyebrows. "What's becoming clear?"

He pointed a finger at her. "You, my dear, are just as familiar with the joys of making mischief in the rain as I am. There's no denying it now."

She tried to hide the truth behind a bland expression, but the decidedly mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jane grinned. "Come now, confess. What do you like about the rain?"

She glanced over at him, then gave in. "Well, I do think it can be beautiful, like you said. And I don't know, there's something liberating about being outside when everyone else is huddled up inside trying to stay out of the rain."

"Hm. So you've always liked being out in the rain when everyone else was curled up over their hot chocolate, huh?"

"Pretty much," she confirmed.

His grin widened. "You were a puddle-jumper, weren't you?"

"A puddle-jumper?" she repeated, amused.

"When you were little," he clarified. "You liked to jump in puddles. I bet whenever it rained you jumped in all the deepest puddles you could find, making the biggest, baddest splashes you could manage."

She shook her head, smiling. "You got me. I used to love playing in the rain."

"And did your mother scold you, when you came back inside, soaked to the bone and covered in mud?" Jane asked, charmed at this image of a miniature Teresa dripping on the kitchen floor with bright eyes and a brilliant dimpled smile.

"No," she said, her smile wistful. "She jumped in the puddles with me."

Of course she had. Jane's own smile dimmed, thinking of the terrible loss Lisbon had suffered. "I see."

She glanced over at him again. "It was fun. I wouldn't trade those moments for anything."

How was it possible that she was trying to make him feel better, he wondered, when he was the one who'd inadvertently caused them to stumble into a potentially painful memory from her past? "Yeah?" he said hopefully.

"Not a single one," she confirmed.

He exhaled. "I'm glad."

She checked the mileage indicator on the dashboard. "We're not far now. Should be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Good," Jane said absently. "That's good."

"Yeah, I'm glad we'll be able to give Maddy and Mrs. Garcia some closure on all this," Lisbon said.

"Yes," he agreed. "Although I'm not sure how useful Maddy will find an apology from the man who burned her father to a crisp."

"Why do you think it was so important to Tommy Olds that we tell Maddy that he was sorry for hurting her?" Lisbon wondered aloud. "I mean, he didn't seem particularly remorseful about killing her dad in one of the most painful ways imaginable."

"He felt he had to kill Garcia as a point of honor. Just because he succeeded in what he set out to do doesn't mean he doesn't regret causing her pain," Jane said.

Lisbon shook her head. "I don't buy that. If her welfare mattered to him at all, he should have considered what his actions would do to her. The fact that he went ahead with his plan anyway just means that he didn't care that much about her in the first place."

Jane shifted uncomfortably. "Don't you think it's possible that someone can want two things at that conflict with each other at the same time?"

She glanced at him, startled by the hint of desperation in his tone. "I suppose," she allowed. "All the same, at some point, he made a decision that one was more important than the other."

"Yeah," Jane said miserably. This conversation was depressing him.

"I still can't believe it was him," Lisbon mused. "All that time. I mean, can you imagine hiding yourself so completely?"

Yes. Unfortunately, he could imagine it all too easily. "It wouldn't be so hard. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to fool people into seeing what you want them to see rather than what's really there."

Lisbon shook her head. "I don't believe that. If anyone had looked past the surface, they would have discovered the truth. His disguise only worked because nobody was looking."

Jane looked out the window. "That's what made it a brilliant disguise. He made sure nobody cared enough to look deeper."

"Yes, but at what cost?" Lisbon argued. "He immersed himself in that lie. Completely isolated himself from everyone around him. Don't you think he ever got lonely?"

"No," Jane said. "He's a sociopath who gets his kicks by setting people on fire. He isn't capable of feeling loneliness." The lucky bastard.

"Still," Lisbon said stubbornly. "If he'd had even one real friend, his whole lie would have fallen apart."

Now that was a distressing observation. Jane paused to consider the ramifications of this statement. He enjoyed teasing Lisbon, poking into her business when she least wanted him to. Enjoyed making her smile. He'd thought he was ensuring that the observations and information to be gleaned from these interactions had been safely channeled in one direction, but wasn't his enjoyment of these conversations evidence enough for Lisbon to draw her own conclusions about what instincts drove him? About what interested and motivated him? To tell her, little by little, the secrets of his heart? Her influence over him was already too great without adding more knowledge about the inner workings of his mind to her arsenal. He didn't want to hand her any more weapons that could potentially undermine his revenge. He frowned to himself. Had he already left himself dangerously exposed to her?

He shook off the thought. "Well, in any case, he's reaping what he sowed." His voice was harder than he'd intended. He and Tommy both knew the costs of revenge. Tommy, at least, had demonstrated that he was prepared to pay them.

"I suppose," Lisbon sighed. "I just hope some good can come of this mess and at least Maddy and Mrs. Garcia can be reconciled once they know the truth."

They would be, if he had anything to say about it. "No matter how much they've hurt each other, they still love each other. That's something."

"You're right," Lisbon agreed. "That will carry them a long way."

"But will it be enough?" Jane wondered, his mind drifting from the rift between the Garcia women. "All that hurt… It's a lot to overcome."

"I think it will be," Lisbon said. "Sometimes people can surprise you in good ways, too, you know. I think Maddy and Mrs. Garcia will be all right, in the end."

Jane looked over at her. "How can you be so sure? With all the bad things you've seen people do to each other in your life, how can you be so optimistic that things will work out in the end?"

She tilted her head to the side without taking her eyes off the road. "I don't know. I guess sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, you know? You take the moments as they come and hope that things will turn out for the best in the end. Just…close your eyes and jump."

He smiled a little. "And if you land in a puddle and your feet get a little wet in the process?"

"Totally worth it," she said firmly.

He considered this. "Take the moments as they come, eh?"

"That's all any of us can do, isn't it?" she said lightly.

She had a point. "You're a wise woman, Lisbon. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

She smacked him lightly in the arm, as though she thought he was making fun of her, but it was true. It was good advice. He would try to keep it in mind.

Xxx

"Sorry?" Maddy said incredulously when Lisbon and Jane delivered Tommy's message. "He's sorry? You tell him if he ever gets out of jail, I'm going to set him on fire and see how he likes it."

A perfectly reasonable reaction, Jane thought.

Still, Maddy was a sweet girl. He didn't want her to be set on the same lonely, twisted path that he and Tommy had chosen to follow. She would be far better off if the cycle of vengeance stopped here. He looked her in the eye. "Revenge is a poison," he told her gravely. "Revenge is for fools and for mad men." Both true statements, as far as they went. He'd already drunk from the poisoned cup, though, so it was too late for him. As for fools and mad men…he wasn't entirely sure which category he fell into. Perhaps a little of both. He saw Lisbon watching him out of the corner of his eye. He ignored her and focused on Maddy.

He succeeded in coaxing Maddy down the stairs and convincing her to give her mother a hug. Sometimes a little physical contact could have a surprisingly healing effect. This accomplished, he breathed out through his nose. "Good…Now, hold that pose until we leave. It will help Lisbon and me feel like we've actually made a difference."

With that, he placed his hand at the small of Lisbon's back and they both hurried out the door, pleased at the notion of leaving a case on a positive note for once. They both wanted to hold onto the hopeful image of the mother and daughter's embrace.

Once outside, they paused on the porch. The smattering of rain had turned into a genuine downpour. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Lisbon rocked on her heels, looking entirely too pleased. "So?"

"So," he sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Seems like this whole thing changed your mind about vengeance," she said.

He turned to look at her. Oh, Lisbon. If only it were that easy. "Has it?"

"Revenge is for fools and mad men?" she quoted back to him.

"Yes," he acknowledged. "It was rather good, I thought. Total nonsense, but quite good nonetheless."

She gave him an odd little half smile, as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of this statement. As though she weren't quite ready to give up the hope that he might still give it up some day. That he might still let go of that poisonous chain before it destroyed everything in his life still worth living for.

Fools and mad men, indeed, he thought to himself. He looked out into the rain. She'd sounded way too happy at the prospect of him letting go of his revenge. She shouldn't be getting invested in the idea that he could be redeemed. She shouldn't get invested in him at all. It wasn't safe for her. It wasn't fair.

He thought about what she'd said earlier. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, she'd told him. Take each moment as it comes and hope, however that however improbable it might seem, that things would ultimately work themselves out for the best.

He breathed in the cool damp air. Take each moment as it comes, he reminded himself. He spied a particularly promising looking puddle at the bottom of the porch steps. He looked over at her, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Shall we?"

She nodded, game, as ever, for whatever came next.

He looked out at the rain again. Sure, some might say that throwing yourself headlong into a thunderstorm might not be the smartest move, but what did they know? The people who stayed huddled indoors on a day like this might stay comfortably warm and dry, but they would also never appreciate the satisfying splash of jumping into a particularly deep puddle. They'd never know the refreshing sensation of cold drops of water hitting their upturned face or the taste of raindrops falling fresh from the sky. They'd never know the simple pleasure of holding hands with someone you cared for in the rain.

Take each moment as it comes, he repeated to himself.

He took her hand and jumped.