A/N: Apologies it's been a while between updates! I had a clear vision to this point and wanted to make sure I had clear direction from here before charging forward.
Whilst the previous chapter was our 'season finale,' we were all robbed of the early days of the Jisbon relationship in canon. The next 5 chapters are extra episodes before we move onto a new season - some early Jisbon days, as well as starting to point in the direction of where the story will go from here (keeping Jisbon-centric and confronting their issues, while addressing plot holes and inconsistencies, and continuing to rewrite canon for the remainder of the series).
Thank you to everyone who has read to this point, and especially to those who have left kudos and comments. It is loved and very much appreciated. 'After the Storm' will be the first of hopefully 4 works in this series, each work representing a season, as I'll continue to write to the end of canon and then beyond.
Now for this chapter. They're finally together but both very complex and damaged individuals. There's still some history and issues to work through, which is all a lot easier to do now the denial is over and they clear the air to create the foundation of their relationship. A chapter that delves into the darknesses of the past, with plenty of Red John angst and comfort ahead.
Based heavily around events in 4x23 Red Rover Red Rover and 6x08 Red John.
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A case closed was normally a joyous event around a police precinct, but amidst the tiny Cantwell police station, the vibe was lost and broken. An ego-beaten, soul-ruined Sheriff, outed and unable to look anyone in the eye, stayed hidden in his office. Uneasiness surrounded their mere handful of other officers as his wife sat in their small and only holding cell.
Jane and Lisbon joined their team within the lull, missing all the action of the arrest.
Cho flicked her a stack of forms. It had been a while since she'd had to fill these out by hand, but it was still the way they sorted things in this county town. She quietly enjoyed paperwork, the tedium was expected, welcome, and comforting.
The afternoon had been intense, to say the least. She felt so raw but relieved.
A part of her knew she was going to return before she even stormed off, but a part of her was still surprised. She was good at running from her emotions, it was what she was used to doing and what she would normally do. But nothing was ever quite normal when Jane was involved.
It was almost like those iconic three little words spilling out of him, the desperation and sincerity in his eyes and his voice, were the wrecking ball that obliterated the last of her wall. A wall she had taken years to build and strengthen. A wall that she had learned to hide herself behind so well. A genuine confession with such implications, she just had to run to process it all.
She was fearless in so many facets of her life. A woman working in law enforcement, battling the sexist inclinations of the industry. A state agent, going into dark, horrible places, alone and afraid, with no money, broken-down vehicles, and computers with more viruses than a $10 whore. A federal agent, fighting against the injustices of the world, standing up to some of the most uncouth, treacherous, and powerful people without batting an eye. She had never backed down from a fight, never hesitated to confront a situation. But when it came to matters of the heart, when it came to love, both blood-family and intimacy, she was bizarrely inept and belligerently evasive at best.
She'd admitted it to herself. Yet she was still trying to deny it. The fear seemingly paralysing, fuelling an unnecessarily stubborn adamancy that saw her dancing this emotional tango back and forth with Jane.
She wasn't even sure if he was ever capable to love again after everything. And yet he had the courage to tell her in a trembling heartfelt confession. She'd known him for a long time, she'd learned to tell if he was lying. Well, some of the time anyway. And there were no hints of deception in his raw honesty. He'd laid it all out there, and she fled.
But what was the alternative? She found herself resorting to logic and reason. Something far more reliable than her flailing emotions. To reject him at this stage would surely be just as devastating to their current rapport as an actual relationship not potentially working out in the future. She had such strong feelings for him too. He was charismatic, kind, funny, not to mention gorgeous. He was more than a little bit damaged, but so was she… and that made her feel normal. He knew her like no one else. Yes, he infuriated her at times, but he challenged her. Taught her how to see the world through a different lens. Made her a better cop and a better person. And by far and most importantly, he loved her.
And she loved him too.
What the hell was she doing?
She'd always gone out on a limb for Jane. Professionally. Unprofessionally. The extent of mountains she'd move for him, simply remarkable. The limb she'd need to go out on, on this personal level, plainly paled in comparison. But the significance it would bring, utterly extraordinary.
After she returned to the park, they sat on the bench for a while. Laughed awkwardly at the monumental significance of it all. Jane stared at her like with a grin that put the Cheshire Cat to shame. They had quiet talks. She stressed about the investigation, her strenuous work ethic conflicted as their energies were not completely devoted to the task at hand, only to be reassured by Jane that it was all under control.
And control was good. As was the tedium of the forms she penned in front of her with punctuated breaks of reverie, to rethink fondly but apprehensively the afternoon's events and catch stolen glimpses of her blonde-locked love across the precinct.
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Jane unabashedly snacked on the remnants of Mrs Cardiff's world-famous breakfast biscuits.
"Say what you want about bigoted murderers, they know how to bake," he proclaimed, brandishing the baked good with approval.
"Jane," Vega hissed in reprimand, "lower your voice. She's just over there."
"Compliments to the chef. Or baker, if you will," he hollered across the precinct in the direction of the holding cell. "Now, if only your moral judgment was on par with your baking skills, we'd be out of a job," he turned and chuckled at his colleagues, no one sharing in his amusement. Lisbon cracked a sly smile at his reliable inappropriateness.
Lisbon flicked through the calendar on her Blackberry, perusing her standing appointments over the upcoming days. May 10th, the day after tomorrow, slapped her like a firm palm to the face. Like there was something supremely important she should remember about that day, like a birthday or an important event. She quickly tried to list of her brother Stan's children in her mind. He had five by now, she could barely keep up with names, let alone birthdays, and she was even yet to meet his youngest two. She chastised herself in her mind for growing to be a terrible sister while trying to justify the busy and chaotic nature of her life.
Jane knelt between Vega and Lisbon's desks as Vega continued with her thankless task of coordinating travel arrangements.
"I, uh, won't be heading straight back to Austin with you guys. There are some things I need to sort out back east. It'll just take a day, I'll sort my own travel arrangements."
"Sure okay, no problems," Vega replied.
And then it hit Lisbon. Like a tonne of bricks and she kicked herself for not realising it earlier. Her expression dropped notably.
"Don't look at me that way," Jane said dismissively. "I don't need your pity," he said with conviction, crossing the room and settling on an armchair that had acted as a surrogate for his leather couch. Lisbon sprung up and tailed him instantaneously.
"Were you going to let me know you were going back to Cali?"
"Of course. It's not like it's a secret," he replied simply.
She looked to his big blue eyes, the strength he tried to portray to mask the persevering pain. The gentle creases by his eyes speaking a thousand words and giving him away.
"Would you like me to come with you?" she asked empathetically.
"No, you don't want to do that. It wouldn't be any fun," he said with a nose scrunch and a shake of the head.
"And that's what I base my decisions around? Fun?" she replied indignantly.
"It's what we should base life's decisions around. Why do something if it's not worthwhile?"
"Now, fun and worthwhile, they're two different concepts. Whilst it might not be fun per se, being there by your side, being there to support you, that's definitely worthwhile."
"Would you like me to come with you?" she tried asking again.
"I would very much like it if you came," he said instinctively with a somber smile.
"Then I'll come. We'll go together," she said with a smile and a nod, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly.
He nodded thin-lipped, not completely convinced he even wanted her there, but knew deep down he needed her there.
"Cho?" Lisbon approached her team leader with purpose. She took a quick look around to be mindful of any audienced ears before continuing. "You know that Thursday is the anniversary of Jane's wife and daughter's deaths?"
"Yes, he already ran it by me a while back. He's taking the day off," Cho acknowledged.
"He's going back to Sacramento," she stressed.
"Is he? Okay"
"You know he can get a little, uh, unhinged when it comes to this. I was wondering if I could take the day off too and go with him? I just think it's wise he isn't alone during this time," she reasoned pragmatically.
Yeah right, unhinged. That's why you want to go with him, Cho thought, memories of what he had witnessed earlier that afternoon flashing through his mind.
He gave her an expressionless glare, remembering she was blissfully unaware of the extent of his knowledge regarding their developing scenario. Nevertheless, she also wasn't wrong about Jane.
On the last anniversary of their deaths that he had actually paid attention to, Jane had buried a man alive as a medieval form of torture to elicit a confession, and provoked their boss into a fist fight before managing to get himself fired.
"Yeah," he resigned. "That's a good idea. I'll have to clear it with Abbott first."
"Abbott's all about me keeping Jane in line and protecting his "asset", I'm sure he'll be fine with it."
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It was a supremely cold and eerie morning as they packed up to leave in the early hours. The rest of the team to Anchorage to head back to Austin, Jane and Lisbon tasked with transporting the accused a couple of hours north of Cantwell and meeting with the Fairbanks DA pending her arraignment, before they would head to Sacramento the following morning.
Cars loaded, they bid farewell to their colleagues, their prisoner secured for transport. Ready to jump in their car herself, Lisbon looked around to discover Jane was nowhere to be seen. Typical, she thought to herself, making her way back towards the precinct doors, when a hand firmly grasped her wrist out of nowhere and yanked her off balance.
"Jane!" she protested in a harsh whisper, only to be met with a debonair grin as he strongly pulled her around the corner. "What are you doing?" she hissed through gritted teeth.
She barely finished her question when a dark-eyed Jane stopped abruptly in front of her, using her inertia to slam her body against his own with force. He coiled his arms around her, a determined hand at the base of her skull bringing her closer to him as he pressed his lips against hers. The touch of his warm, soft mouth so abruptly and unexpectedly sent a pure shiver down her spine, goosebumps down her arms as her body came to life in his embrace. His tongue parted her lips hungrily as he kissed her with such passion, a small squeak of a moan elicited from her throat as she fluxed into him.
Almost as quickly as he had started, he pulled away, hand back firmly on her wrist as he dragged her back around the corner, a little more delirious than she was before.
"Okay, now we can go," he announced proudly, once pleased that his stolen shenanigans bore no witnesses.
Lisbon blushed at him with a coy dimpled smile and tried to calm her beating heart with a deep breath. It was going to take some getting used to, that this blonde adonis was hers, and hers to kiss as she pleased, and vice versa. She completely overlooked her usual stance on how unprofessional it might have appeared, especially with a prisoner in the car. Albeit unintentionally, she was simply wrapped up in the appearingly deluded fact that this was all real. Their fleeting sensuous embrace reaffirmed the profound events of the afternoon before. Holy crap, this is actually happening, her mind shook with the comprehension. Semantic specifics undefined and trivial, she was indeed in a romantic relationship with one Patrick Jane.
The drive was a relatively silent one, as dutifully necessary with their extra passenger occupying the back seat in cuffs, but didn't prevent the certain sparked tension between them. The solemn Sheriff-husband trailed them in his own car, adamantly determined to accompany them in support for his wife. Lisbon couldn't begin to fathom the sheer range of emotions he would be dealing with right now. It was sobering given the way her morning had started with momentary delirium.
Whilst Jane left Lisbon to deal with the District Attorney and the other mundane tasks that allowed the trivial cogs in the justice system to function, he found himself with a free day to galivant as he pleased. As usual, Jane was to stay far and wide from a DA office unless completely and totally necessary, for some reason, he seemed to have the uncanny ability to irk and infuriate lawyers in particular.
As the afternoon toiled away, he found himself at a little pub down the road from their lodgings for that night, sitting at a booth, sharing a cold drink with a despondent and changed Sheriff. He avoided the insolent and emotional 'thank-you's' from families like the plague, but melancholy and despair was a suitable change of pace and something he could tolerate and even relate to. The pair of them had been round and round all the niceties men in their situation could bear, Cardiff now well-lubricated enough to voice the main concerns that plagued his psyche.
Cardiff stared at his sixth beer sullenly, while Jane nursed his second.
"He's dead because I loved him. I loved him and he never knew," Cardiff moaned.
Jane's mind jumped to Angela. How could it not, given what tomorrow was? She too was dead, all because he loved her. But at least she knew.
"I should have told him you know. I loved Lorraine too, but not quite that way. I loved her because I should have, not because I did. It's difficult to explain."
"She obviously loved you too," Jane said, unsure if it would even help.
"And look what good that did her? I made her evil. Evil enough to murder," his red face bellowed dejectedly.
It was just like he had done with Lisbon. Minelli had once congratulated him on getting her to drink the kool-aid when she demanded to be commended after they (ab)used a corpse for a confession. Abbott had pointed out he'd brought her to the dark side, and witnessed it first-hand in their first encounter, Lisbon defying federal orders to support him in his mission. Over the years, he had indeed corrupted her. The once steadfast Lisbon being more and more inclined to bend the rules, give in to loopholes and the varying shades of grey legislation inherently provided. She was once so good and pure, now questionable, all because of her involvement with him.
"Am I a bad person?" Cardiff asked bleakly.
"Yeah," Jane confirmed candidly, "you probably are."
"Oh," Cardiff replied, somewhat surprised with his candor, but frowned and nodded in approval of his response.
"But don't stress, I'm a bad person too. Terrible, in fact," he ran his hand through his hair in uncomfortable emphasis. "Everyone in the world likes to think they're a good person. That somewhere in their twisted justifications that there is logical reasoning that their actions come from a virtuous core. It can't be that simple. There is good. There is bad. Everyone wants to think they fall on that good side, but the reality of it is, sometimes we make poor decisions that land us on the side we refuse to identify ourselves as on."
Cardiff looked back at him blankly.
"Don't worry old man," Jane said slapping him comradely on the shoulder. "I'm right there with you. I'll save you a seat by the fire," he said with a devilish grin. They clinked drinks and took a sip.
"What'd you do that makes you think you're so bad anyway? I'm sure you didn't cause your true love to be murdered and your wife to rot in jail," Cardiff asked gruffly.
"Ha," Jane replied flatly. "Well actually, not the jail part. But yes, I'm the reason why my wife and child were murdered."
"Oh," Cardiff replied once more surprised by the words dropping from his drinking partner's mouth and not quite sure how to react. "Well, I guess you understand then."
"Well, sort of, yeah," Jane shrugged.
"How'd you get through it?" Cardiff asked rawly.
Jane scoffed an ironic laugh. "14 years now and I still really haven't gotten through it," he said sheepishly. "Just don't let anyone close, keep them safe. It's easier that way."
Cardiff stared back into his beer even more sullenly.
"But I'm the worst one to be talking about this, trust me, you don't want the life I've lived. Learn to move on. Learn to be a better person. I'm the type of broken you just can't fix."
It was early in the evening by the time Lisbon was free and seeking out her travel companion, who once more wasn't answering his phone. Some days, it was lucky she was a detective, as it wasn't overly difficult for her to deduce his location, finding him and his surprising companion at the little bar booth.
It took one look at the surly pair to realise their meeting was far from a celebratory one, the matching grief on their faces wouldn't be clearer if it were etched in ink. She sighed with derision. Counselor was a role she knew she'd need to play for the trip, but she didn't expect to be outnumbered.
"Hey," she greeted them.
Jane looked at her soft and caring face, laced with concern. Was he really that transparent? He loved her deeply and he loved her ever so much. Was he dooming her to the same circumstances they'd discussed? One of death, or one of evil?
"We have an early flight tomorrow Jane, we should think about turning in," she suggested, as it was more than apparent that either wasn't a good influence on the other in their current states of depression.
"Yeah," breathed Jane, "you go ahead. I'll finish this and be on my way," he said toasting his drink.
She nodded at the pair and complied, silently crestfallen that she wouldn't be spending the evening with Jane like she had hoped and had used as a daydream to fuel her through the day.
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She'd slipped into her Bears sweatshirt, the one that sat loosely off the shoulder. It was a ratty old top that she'd had for years, but it was loose and soft and brilliant to sleep in. It had once been Tommy's, a gift from their father on a rare time he'd chosen to use their strapped budget on a birthday gift over another case of beer. Tommy had no interest in taking it with him and it was something a little too sentimental for her to simply get rid of. If she closed her eyes and breathed hard enough, she could still smell Tommy's obnoxious teenage deodorant and stale cigarette smoke that brought memories about her childhood home, even though any remnants were well washed away years ago.
There was a gentle knock at her door. She opened it to find a languid Jane, his arms gently folded across his chest, a certain distance in his eyes.
"Is it okay if –," he began.
"Yes, of course," she interrupted him eagerly but gently, taking him by the hand and leading him into her motel room.
"I just want to… I don't… I don't feel like being alone," he mumbled, feeling conflicted with guilt at allowing himself close to her.
She coiled her arms around his neck and tip-toed to pull him into a tight squeeze, planting a slow and soft, loving kiss on his lips. He smiled at her forwardness, and nearly felt the need to pinch himself that a tender kiss from Lisbon was potentially becoming the norm in his life. It excited and petrified him all the same time.
She looked pretty pleased with herself too, although all she wanted was to comfort him, indulging her own wishes was a welcome side course. Noting his contented reaction, she kissed him sensually and comfortingly once more.
"Sorry," she murmured with a sly grin, biting her bottom lip. "I've been thinking about doing that all day." He couldn't help but happily smirk in reply.
She sat down on the bed, pulling him to sit next to her. "Did you want to talk about it?" she asked rubbing his arm lovingly.
He looked a little forlorn, albeit a little less since he'd walked through the door, his mind clouded after a couple of beers.
"Anyone that gets close to me, bad things happen," he lamented brusquely and coldly.
Those words from him were all too familiar to her, like they had become a mantra he repeated and had convinced himself to live by. "Those days are over," she replied calmly. "You know that right? He's dead. We got him."
"Yeah," he concurred. But it doesn't change my bad karma. Probably made it worse because I was the reason another life or three were lost."
"You know, Jane, for someone that doesn't believe in things like psychic powers, or the existence of God or the afterlife, it's always surprised me that you think Karma is a real thing"
"You don't think it is?"
"Yes, but I also believe in a higher power in God, and faith as a raised Catholic," she reasoned, "don't you think you've paid your dues? Your years of crime fighting now outweigh your psychic days."
A lost glance, his only response.
"And even the psychic days, it all wasn't completely terrible. Remember Beth Flint, Connor's mom? Sure, you weren't truthful, sure, you took their money. But you sold them hope. Solid hope that made them believe. Hope that inspired, and gave them that glint of happiness at that time. And that counts for something right?"
He squeezed her hand a little tighter. Somewhere along the way, she became nearly as good at reading him as he was at her. It was like she knew exactly what he needed to hear.
"You've always been in such danger because of me"
"And I'm a cop, that's my job. And that's not your fault. There are evil people out there, people who do horrible things. That's not you." She shuffled closer and gave him a reaffirming kiss on the cheek.
"Don't be so sure," he simpered sinisterly.
"What happened to not letting fear control your life?"
"It's not controlling me. But it doesn't mean I don't stress about the consequences," he justified.
"You've lived with this for so long Jane, you've done what you've set out to do. You've got to stop beating yourself up over it."
"I could never forget—"
"Nor should you," she interrupted in agreeance. "Always remember. Just stop punishing yourself."
He placed his forehead on hers, closed his eyes painfully and sighed. "I'm trying."
"I know you are." She empathetically mirrored his sigh. "We wouldn't be here, like this, if it wasn't for you trying." She lifted their palms together and intertwined her fingers through his.
"I'm glad you're here," he said with a tiny grin.
"Well, this is my room, Jane. Where else would I be?" she sassed him gently in return.
"I made a resolve to make things up to you. I'm sorry I'm not doing a good job of it"
She sighed. "Don't even think about it that way, Jane. Apart from being really glad and relieved when you returned, I was also very mad. I had a lot of pent-up emotions, probably still have a few left lingering. You vowing to try and make things up to me, seemed like a fitting consequence to my frustrations."
She intentionally caught his gaze and continued, shifting one hand to toy with the curls at the back of his neck. "But in reality, you don't owe me anything. I did the things I did because you are family. I would've done the same for Cho or Rigsby or Van Pelt should they have needed it. You've given me back so much over the years. You've gotten me my job back after I've been suspended more than once, had my back with Volker. When Carmen drugged me, you were the only one that could get to the bottom of it and were truly there for me throughout the whole ordeal. You saved my life with Tanner, never left my side for a moment when I had a bomb strapped to my chest despite what had happened to the victim before me. You were there for me when I was going through things with Tommy, when I was shot, when I twisted my ankle… And when I just needed someone to talk to, you knew what I needed before I even asked, and you were always there for me. The list goes on."
She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her hands around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. "If anything, I even owe you," she continued. "But it's not about keeping score. You are my friend and my partner first and foremost through everything, for years and years. I would do anything for you, and I know without a doubt you'd do the same for me."
"You lost everything because of me. Your job, your career, your professional reputation," he said regretfully. "Not to mention your sanity."
"Maybe," she said with a hum of a laugh. "I landed on my feet, I'm a Fed now. And I gained so, so much more in the process." She looked at him and placed a palm on his chest earnestly. "I got you."
When words and the touch of her hands didn't appear to be able to convey the level of love, comfort, and empathy, her lips found his once more. She kissed him ardently, wanting him to feel like he didn't have to go through this alone, that he didn't have to go through anything alone ever again. That she was there for him no matter what, and that even though that had been the case for some time, their changed bond only strengthened that fact. She kissed him like she wanted to take his sadness away, a sadness he had felt for so long and didn't deserve to endure anymore.
She could feel his mood lift as he kissed her back just as ardently, drinking in the comfort that she offered. If she'd known it was this easy and incredible to cheer him up, she might have started a long time ago.
"Are you okay?" she asked tenderly.
"I don't think I'll ever be quite okay. But I'm better," he replied thankfully.
"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" she asked quietly, flicking her head in the direction of her bed.
"It wouldn't be a bad idea," he kissed her hair softly and gave her a gentle squeeze. "I always sleep much better when you're close by." Like a child with a nightlight, Jane always slept better knowing his shining star was near.
She nodded. It made sense. He rarely slept at his long-term motel in Sacramento, he'd prefer to opt for the couches of the CBI – his infamous leather couch and the couch in Lisbon's office, not to mention his trestle bed in the attic. She'd always thought that he prefer the noise around, preferred sleeping with the movement around him, in a building full of people. But perhaps this was merely denial-fuelled naivete, and it was her herself that was his sleep conduit.
He took her keycard and re-emerged moments later in his checkered flannelette, fresh as a daisy. She turned down the covers, invited him in, and curled into his side. He exhaled heavily and contently as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her intently, as if to protect her from the world around. Her face on his chest, rising and falling with his breath. With her around, he felt safe. With her around, he felt like someone cared. With her around, he felt like he mattered. She gave him purpose, even when he sometimes felt he had nothing to offer in return but misery and despair. And the selfish side of him was okay with that. Nonetheless, he was determined to do right by her, to give her everything she deserved and more, even if it killed him.
He noticed the deepening of her breath indicating she'd fallen asleep before him. Nestled firmly against his chest, her soft hair at his chin, her warmth gave him the utmost contentment, along with such a surge of guilt that he be able to find some kind of happiness in his life. How dare he be happy, especially at this time of year, when he should be the one that was killed, not his innocent wife and child. How dare he be happy after all the bloodshed and horror he was responsible for? Though the years had passed, his self-loathing was still as fierce as it was on day one, a constant battle in his mind against his real worst enemy - himself.
He buried his face into Lisbon's cinnamon-laced hair and fought the tears that dared spring to his eyes, trying to reassure and comfort himself with her presence. Sometimes he wished he wasn't so broken, but it was all he knew how to be.
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Lisbon awoke before the alarm had even bleeped to life. There was something that just felt so natural waking up Jane's arms, her body spooned into his, his hand slipped gently under her Bears top, his hand splayed against the flesh of her belly. Barely a day into recognising mutualities and the semiotics of a relationship, and she already felt like this was the most emotionally intimate and serious relationship she had been in in her life. And they hadn't even had sex yet.
A lot of was still the same. They already had that deep and emotional connection, a certain in-depth understanding, and profound knowledge about each other. But now it could be enhanced with the more intimate of touches. Being able to reach out with a reassuring caress or squeeze, without needing to re-evaluate the suggestive undertones or boundaries being crossed. To be able to revel unabashedly in that human contact that they'd deprived themselves of for years. The ability to be more open and honest with each other, without the constant worry about guarding their own inner self.
And the freedom to kiss him as she pleased. A newfound pleasure, and god, did the man know how to kiss!
In true Jane and Lisbon style, rather than be able to bask in the honeymoon aura of a brand new relationship, they were forced to deal with demons of the past and the accompanying angst of emotional turmoil. But it was almost like it was their norm, something that they were more familiar and comfortable with dealing with, than exploring the pure bliss of coupledom. It was what they knew better.
She allowed her lips upon his cheek to be the alarm clock he needed for the morning, their 6am flight commanding an early presence at the airport. He stirred gently, a sleepy smile stretching across his face even before his eyelids dared flick open. They'd woken up similarly just a couple mornings earlier, although a lot had changed in that time. The energy here more one of caring love and contentment, rather than the repressed sexual desire and confused unrequitement that filled the sleepout. It was nice. It was comfortable, even though it was so new. They shared a deep, slow, and sensual kiss intertwined in the cocoon of bedsheets, before reluctantly making haste for their day.
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The weather in California was a warm and welcome change as they arrived at Alexandria Cemetery. She had only been here once before. Exactly 4 years ago. The feeling wasn't any better. Jane had a masking stoicism about him as they approached the spot where his family was buried.
She stood an edge behind him, just behind her arm, both her hands clasped around his hand, with a gentle cheek on the back of his shoulder. They stared bereft together at the granite stones in front of them.
'Angela Ruskin Jane'
'Charlotte Anne Jane'
Cold. Empty. Much like Jane's life had been for some time. Until now at least.
"They'd be proud of you, you know?" she said quietly, squeezing his hand.
"They're dead, Lisbon. They don't care," he replied bluntly.
She bit her lip. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to say something, offer something, but she didn't want to say the wrong thing again. She ran one hand up his forearm to his elbow and coiled her arm in his so it was intertwined.
They stood. And reflected. Together.
"You know, I've only been here three times since the funeral," Jane offered quietly.
"Why is that?" she asked.
"Well, they're not here," he pointed out obviously. "But I thought I'd come here with you. Share it with you. All of it."
"Thank you," she squeaked quietly. Over the years, there were times when she wanted nothing more than for him to open up to her, share his thoughts and what plagued his mind. He was always such a closed book, and she wasn't much better.
"Besides, this place has a lot more history to go with it now," he said matter-of-factly. "Walk with me," he insisted.
Through tombstoned paths they wandered, her hand firmly placed in his. The day was sunny, the air was clear, the birds were chirping. This may have been a pleasant stroll if it wasn't for the grimness of fallen loved ones' final resting places surrounding them, symbols of death and grief punctuating the landscape. Tainted with death and despair, unlike their own history.
They approached a rose-guarded chapel. Jane seemed to clam up a bit
"This is where I met with Bertram," he said a little awkwardly. "Where I confronted McAllister."
"This isn't where McAllister died though," she pointed out as she looked around, thinking back to the investigation. "I thought it was by a lake."
"I don't want to take you there"
"Why not?"
He looked into her soft green eyes and inquisitive stare, such a pure light of good in his life. There was something about being where he hunted down a man like an animal and watched the life escape from his eyes at the mercy of his hands... "Bad vibes. I don't want you to think less of me," he answered simply.
"Don't be silly," she dismissed without thought. "Then why bring me here instead?"
"This, this is a place of god"
"I thought you didn't believe in God?"
"Maybe not. But you do," he said, leading her by the hand towards the entrance.
"Your gun," he explained to her. "A decoy to put them at ease. They frisked me, took the gun. It gave them an inflated sense of security that they had the upper hand over me." He looked her straight in the eye. "Thank you for trusting me," he said with complete veracity.
His eyes piercing as she remembered it all. Her gun, her car, her unconditional support. In the end, it was their shared common goal, something they'd worked together for, strived together for, for years and years. He could not have done it without her, but he had to finish it alone. And here was the opportunity for her to relive the final stages with him, to catch a glimpse of what she missed to bring closure to her chapter too.
They entered the chapel and it instantaneously gave Jane chills, as if the ghosts of his past had blitzed through him, their frozen grasp making his hairs stand on end. The chapel itself was warmly welcoming. Hundreds of lit candles provided a glowing light that danced over the ornate religious statues and detailed stained-glass windows. They took a seat at a pew to the right, in the third row. The memories of the last time he was were brightly vivid, no memory palace needed.
"To the very end. It was all a game to him. He said that he'd won, and I'd lost, as he pointed a gun at me from over there." He pointed down the center aisle of the church. "Supremely narcissistic, inflated sense of self-worth, and utmost pride in his anonymity behind the Blake Association."
She'd read a copy of the report she'd managed to squander of the day's events at least 100 times, but there was only so much the report could give. Hearing his own accounts gave the depth of details she'd often wondered about. She got chills as he spoke.
"How'd you get the upper hand on him?" she asked
"A pigeon."
"A pigeon?!"
"Yeah. He hated the things and it was something he didn't see coming." He stiffened a chuckle and shook his head. "A decade of mind games, a highly intelligent serial killer, and it all came down to a common bird. Ironic given his delusions of grandeur"
"You stopped one of the most elusive serial killers in California's history with a… pigeon?"
"Well in all fairness, the gun I pulled while he was freaking out over the bird helped."
She gave a laugh in disbelief and pictured the scene as he spoke.
"I was attacked by a lady here too, dressed as a nun," he explained. "It was how he escaped from here, but wounded. I've often wondered who she was."
"Another delusional and devout Red John minion no less," she offered.
"Hmmm," he thought.
"If you were here, would you have allowed me to take his life?" he asked tentatively. "You went from a firm standpoint about putting him in front of a jury, to suddenly 'some people don't deserve it'. What changed?"
She gave his question a moment of thought. "The fact that your whole list apart from Stiles worked in law enforcement in some way. That a few of them, I'd worked closely with, I'd trusted. It truly made me question everything I thought I knew. When he killed Partridge, and took me… it all hit really hard."
She felt Jane recoil next to her and shudder involuntarily at the mere memory. That residual fear from the phone call, from knowing he had Lisbon and fearing the worst, from seeing his mark painted on her face in blood. Fear like he'd never truly felt before.
"It was the first time I really had no faith that the justice system had the capabilities of being able to process and execute justice," she continued. "His reach was too far, too powerful… that maybe the only way justice could be delivered was at our hands. After everything we'd been through, it seemed right."
"So, you condone murder?"
"Murder is a strong word. It would be more akin to self-defense. Watching him suffer the way you'd described, however, I wouldn't support or be okay with. But stopping him from continuing his reign of terror, especially what he was doing to you? I would have stood by and not stopped you from taking his life."
"I've really corrupted you, haven't I?" he said with a morose laugh.
"On the contrary. You've made me understand the world better, to be able to see it through multiple lenses, to be able to judge things on many levels, not just legislative black and white. Sometimes things aren't that simple. Like when I let Trina go back to her aunt after she killed her abusive dad, instead of submitting her to Juvie. Corrupted? No, you've opened my eyes."
He squinted his eyes and considered her response for a moment.
"Pray with me," he requested modestly.
She looked at him with a contorted and extremely confused face. "You? Prayer? Seriously?" She snorted.
"I've clearly rubbed off on you, I thought I might give it a try," he explained. "Maybe there is some merit in taking a moment to close your eyes, reflect, and vent your troubles to an imaginary friend in the sky."
"That's not how prayer works. And I don't think you should be calling the deity of millions an 'imaginary friend' and in a church no less."
"I've heard prayer is a very personal experience. What it means to me doesn't have to be what it means to you," he said looking almost amused now. "Don't think it through so much, Lisbon, just pray with me."
She gave him a dirty, skeptical look and obliged, sinking her knees down to the tuffet in front of the pew. She watched Jane clasp his hands, close his eyes and bow his head. With a brief shake of her head and a quick flick of her forearm in the sign of the cross, she followed suit.
She prayed for peace. Peace in Jane's heart, peace in the world around her and beyond. As well as love, empathy, and patience – all things both of them would need in making their relationship work. She thanked the Lord for her blessings, and opened her eyes, only to find Jane looking back at her already.
"I don't think it worked," he said lightly with a nose scrunch. "I don't feel any different, just a little silly."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't mock my religion," she warned.
"Noted," he said apologetically before helping her to her feet.
"His last words… he tried to convince me he had real psychic powers," he shared as the thought popped into his mind.
"But there's no such thing as psychics, right?"
"Exactly," he agreed. "And now there's no such thing as Red John."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"There's somewhere else I'd like to go while we're here," he said with a heavy hesitation as they left the chapel hand-in-hand.
They drove aways to a small restaurant by the coast. A family-vibed establishment, adorned in mahogany and flooded with natural light, photos of distinguished guests and pop culture references splashed over the walls, a well-stocked bar to one side of the dining area.
"What is this place?" she asked as her eyes surveyed the room.
He didn't answer.
"Mr Jane," the waitress greeted him. He was surprised and grateful that despite his two-year absence, they still kept his standing reservation. "Your table is ready, this way please."
"I have a guest with me today," Jane replied. "Could you please set up another placing?"
"Of course," the waitress politely replied as she presented them to a table with three places already set, before scurrying off to be able to fulfill Jane's request for the extra place.
"Who else is joining us?" Lisbon asked
"No one," Jane replied solemnly.
"Then why do we need another place set?" Lisbon queried, reaching to pull out a chair to sit at one of the places at the table already set up.
"Don't sit there," Jane said with an urge of desperation.
She stopped in her tracks and looked up at him confused. Such pain and sorrow in his eyes.
"Here," he motioned, pulling out the seat in front of the unmade position at the table. "Please."
She looked at him with soft eyes and obliged his request, not quite understanding what was going on, but knowing it wasn't the time to make quips or be argumentative. She took a seat, Jane gentlemanly pushing her chair in as she sat.
"Every year, I come here," he said quietly. "Obviously not the last 2, but every single year."
It surprised her a little. She had worked with Jane for at least 8 of those anniversaries, and although it was always tough on him when the date rolled around, she had never had an inkling of this ritual. It didn't take her long to pick up on his changing behavior around the particular date, he was much the same on Charlotte's birthday each year.
Sometimes it seemed like different breeds of Jane. He had the ultimately confident and cocky charlatan character, who joked and tricked and was saturated with humour. And then there was the lost Jane, which typically emerged over the years when RJ seemed to gain the upper hand, or he was dragged a bit deeper by his demons. The darker side of him. The one that believed that vengeance was worth any price and that his life was worth nothing.
The waitress returned and set the position that Lisbon was sitting at, and took away the wine glasses. "Shall I double your usual?" she asked Jane.
"Just the first round. Then I think we might take some menus," he replied thoughtfully, Lisbon still a little confused and curious.
In a matter of moments, two hi-balls containing reddy-orange iced drink, complete with a stalk of celery, were placed down in front of them.
"Bloody Mary," Jane commented, picking up a glass, swirling and poking the drink with the celery stalk. "Angela's drink of choice."
Angela's name was always like a bucket of cold water, something chilling that he rarely spoke about. He always garnered her full attention anytime her name was mentioned, it drew her in and completely captivated her with an empathetic curiosity. A full chapter of his life she knew little about apart from the horrific way it ended and his catastrophic residual guilt.
"If you're going to punish your body and hammer your liver, you should at least get some benefit out of it, was her logic. And a Bloody Mary is exactly that. She'd even eat the celery. 'Get sloshed while consuming your vegetables', she'd always say. Stomach some good with the evil."
He looked into his drink as his mind drifted to yesteryear. Lisbon observed him closely in silence, hoping he would share more.
"We were supposed to meet here for dinner," he offered after a few minutes of silence. He took a deep and pained breath. "But I canceled. Decided to stay another night in Hollywood. I got offered a last-minute spot on three talk shows the next day. Murdoch's spot on all three, he'd been struck down with illness, they offered me his spot on the shows, the hotel room at the Bellagio, the lot. Back then, it was a no-brainer. Angela was mad, but she understood. It was good money, a good opportunity…" he trailed off bleakly.
"The last conversation I had with Charlotte… she was disappointed I wasn't coming home and to dinner here that night. I made her promises. Promises I was never able to keep."
He looked broken. So many years had passed and still, the grief so raw and real. Her heart bled for him.
"So, every year I come here. I show up. I sit here and consume my vegetables. A lot of vegetables. And I remember them."
He lifted his glass towards her, prompting her to pick up the other glass. "To not doing things alone anymore," he toasted, a slight glint in his sullen eyes as he looked to emerald-eyed beauty. Being understood was an underrated pleasure and he appreciated her so. They clinked their glasses gently before sipping deeply at the tomato-based cocktail.
The waitress presented them with menus. He had never ordered food during his annual visits. He barely spoke a word to the staff, his standing order was to keep the Bloody Mary's coming and to leave him alone otherwise. He looked over his menu to Lisbon and her wavy brown hair. She was always so patient with him when he needed it. So gracious and understanding. He was lucky. And the sheer significance of having her here with him, at this place, on this day, bore such a deep significance to him.
They placed their orders and sat in comfortable silence, Jane's hand resting on hers lightly.
"I like to hear you talk about them," she said cautiously. "Especially Charlotte. Will you tell me more about her?"
He smiled weakly. Flashes of Charlotte's long curls and carefree smile crossed his mind. The moments she would climb into his lap with a book, her echoing giggles as she went back and forth on the swings, her avid curiosity of all things squishy in the backyard. Gone. A distant memory. Wasted. "Yeah, she… she was…" he trailed off again and cleared his throat aggressively, trying to dissuade the lump that was threatening to form.
"I will," he exhaled. "Someday, just not today. I promise"
"Only if you want to, I don't mean to pry"
"You're not prying, and I do want to. I just don't think I can right now, not today anyway"
"I'm sorry –"
"No, please, don't be," he grabbed her hand more fiercely, as he choked on his words. "I want to. I do. I want to share it all with you."
She nodded thankfully as the waitress returned with their meals.
"I'm really glad you came with me today, Lisbon. Thank you," he said as he poked at his plate.
"I'm really glad you wanted me here," she replied with a gentle smile.
"Jane?" she started a little hesitantly, "can I ask you something?"
"Of course, anything. Shoot," Jane approved.
"How does it feel… now that you've done what you've set out to do after all these years? You got your vengeance. Do you feel different? Was it all worth it?"
"Was it worth it? Well, yes in a way," he started thoughtfully. "The vengeance itself, now that wasn't as sweet as I thought it would be. It didn't change anything. They're still dead. Nothing will change that." He paused, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how blunt and cold he sounded. "The vengeance wasn't worth it, no, not at all. But the freedom I have now. The fact that I know that he is gone and cannot mess with my life anymore, now that's what was worth it. It is liberating. I am finally free."
She considered his words with a softened expression. Finally free. It explained why he'd been so forthcoming with her since he returned, why things could change between them like they finally had. How the once emotionally unavailable Jane could now open himself up to possibilities, to finally try and move on to some degree.
Her phone chimed from her jacket pocket. She pulled it out to see Abbott's name across the screen. She shot Jane a quizzical look and answered.
Jane listened intently to her half of the conversation.
"What's up, boss? No, it's fine. Yes, of course. Not a problem. I can be there in an hour. No, I won't, but I'll give him the option. Of course."
"Give me the option for what?" Jane asked curiously as she hung up the phone. "What did Abbott want?"
"He's offered my services to the Sacramento office here."
"Really? Just a day of leave and he can't even give you a break?"
"I have the experience, and just happen to be in town," Lisbon justified. "They're having trouble gaining cooperation with a certain organization in one of their investigations. Thought I might be able to help given the previous relationships we've had with them. Now of course, you don't have to come along at all. Take the rest of the day. Relax. Do what you need to do."
"I'd rather be around you now, to be honest."
She couldn't help but smile. "That too, and I don't think you'll be able to resist coming to have a poke around with me. Knowing you, you'll find it way too intriguing and entertaining."
"Where are we off to?" he asked a little jovially.
"The creepy eye in the sky," she replied with a snarky look, "Visualize."
Jane's face lit up like a child being handed a puzzle box. "You're absolutely right. I am indeed intrigued and I'm sure I'll be entertained.," he said with a crude grin.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Visualize building had somewhat of a haunting quality about it. Its tall beige walls, the ominous-eyed triangle perilously peering over all that dared approach. Lisbon strode confidently, Jane at her elbow a little more cautious.
A familiar balding man with wire-rimmed glasses approached them as they neared the double doors of the entrance, flanked by men to his left and right.
"My dear old friends," he greeted them with open arms.
"Jason Cooper," Lisbon responded with a forced smile and raised eyebrows.
"Agent Lisbon," Cooper drawled with pompous inflection, shaking her hand, "And Mr Jane, how lovely to see you again. It's been too long."
"Not long enough," Lisbon said morosely.
"Ah yes. It is a shame that our paths only cross under such unfortunate circumstances. The pursuit of justice and enlightenment is riddled with terrors and trepidations," Cooper replied before introducing the men beside him.
"My associates, my trusted spiritual advisor, Elias Mars, and my legal counsel, Marc Odenthal."
They both needed no introduction. A blast from the past on both accounts. Odenthal, an ex-assistant district attorney they'd outed for sniping his own hitman after Jane tweaked his nose. Mars, an oddball small-town psychic Jane had used as a pawn to get Todd Johnson to confess.
Jane's mind buzzed so hard, he didn't know where to start.
"Out so soon?" Lisbon mused at Odenthal smugly.
"I took a plea, on parole for good behaviour—"
"We all have a past Agent Lisbon," Cooper interrupted pointedly. "Here at Visualize, we're about looking forward, growing from past lapses in judgment, and reaching our potential of fulfillment"
Jane caught a subtle eye roll from Odenthal at Cooper's words. "Enjoying it here?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
"Not many places to practice law as a convicted felon," Odenthal supplemented dryly. "But yes, enjoying it immensely," he finished pointedly.
"So, you've taken the helm of the brainwashing enterprise," Jane provoked at Cooper, "Did you wait until Bret's body was cold before you took his chair or did you just slide right in there as soon as you could," he said making a passing motion with his hands.
"Mr Stiles is not dead, he has merely ascended to a higher plane, he is with us every day," Cooper advised with a flourish of his hands.
"Where exactly?" Lisbon asked almost mockingly, her face looking like she'd just smelt a flaming bag of poop.
"Mr Mars here is a wonderful and talented medium. He acts as a vessel of communication between planes and allows us to communicate with Mr Stiles," Cooper explained with a smile, Mars nodding along placidly.
Jane couldn't help but laugh. Lisbon looked at the Visualize trio like they had grown absurd cartoon heads.
"They pay you well, Elias?" Jane asked.
"I'd still be here if they didn't pay me a cent," Mars stammered in reply. "It's a noble purpose."
"Noble purpose?" Jane repeated with a laugh. "Right."
"Is it coincidental that you are here today with us Patrick?" Cooper warned cautiously. "With us today of all days? I think not."
Jane's face dropped. "How do you know what today is?"
"Mr Stiles, of course. He told me to expect you. In fact, he instructed us to handle the situation in such a way, as that would lead Agent Lisbon, and thus you, to our humble establishment," Cooper explained with a big fake all-knowing Visualize grin.
Jane and Lisbon exchanged looks.
"Mr Stiles wanted me to pass you on a message. He wanted to congratulate you and welcome you back home, and ask the question," he paused for effect, "Have you found what it is that you search for?"
"Hmph, right, of course," Jane mumbled in disbelief, finding his drivel almost comical.
"He did warn you might be skeptical, and told me to remind you that…" he paused and removed a note from his inner blazer pocket. "Heading North by North-West settles scores complete," he read, before refolding the note and slipping back into his pocket. "I presume that means something to you."
His entertained cynicism completely disintegrated as he stared back at Cooper, his eyes ablaze.
Cooper seemed satisfied with his reaction. "Agent Lisbon, we'd be more than happy to provide our full cooperation to your FBI counterparts with your involvement. These government agencies tend to be abrasively insensitive and ignorant to our spiritual aura and the way we operate, we hope that your experience with us will facilitate understanding and efficiency."
"Excellent, we'll be back in the morning with our, uh, counterparts," Lisbon said, more concerned with Jane's change in demeanor than the words spilling from Cooper about the investigation, the reason they were there in the first place.
As he stared back at Cooper, trying to figure out the play and the motivation behind it, a flash from a fourth-storey window caught his eye. He peered up to find an eerie face staring back down. A hollow, vacant stare of an empty man, one with dark black hair, a Christopher Walken vibe about him. One that surprised Jane to his core.
It was the spitting image of one Robert Kirkland. One Homeland Security Agent, Robert Kirkland. One supposedly deceased, Homeland Security Agent, Robert Kirkland. Already unnerved, Jane's heart dropped into his stomach.