A/N: Another intense chapter before the last 3 brings more fun and fluff. We drift into the realms of the M rating. The visit to Visualize provides more questions than answers. A chapter that highlights aspects of both their vulnerabilities and follows Heller's preferred approach to looking into their relationship - how do these two individuals with all their issues, imbalances, and dark history navigate a relationship? In this version, they're far more efficient with communication and intimate than what we saw in canon.
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"Kirkland? Are you sure?"
Jane seemed somewhat frantic as he paced the length of Lisbon's motel room as she watched on, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
"Yes, I'm sure," he confirmed emphatically as he rubbed his chin. "But which Kirkland, I don't know."
Lisbon screwed up her face at him, "what do you mean, which Kirkland?"
"You remember," he said a little impatiently. "Kirkland was after Red John himself, he was torturing people on my fake list. All because he believed that Red John had taken and most likely killed his twin brother."
"Oh right, of course. So, Robert had a twin?"
"Yes, Michael."
"So, you think that was Michael up there?"
"Either that or I'm seeing ghosts."
"Trust Visualize to be responsible for some kind of Zombie apocalypse," Lisbon snorted with derision. "Bringing the dead back. Kirkland, Stiles. Who's next?"
"There's no such thing as zombies, Lisbon"
"Yeah, I know that, take a joke," she clapped back, unamused with his unamusement. "No such thing as ghosts either though, right?"
"Well, it's likely Michael, not Robert, that's an easy one," Jane continued deep in thought. "And there's no way Stiles could still be alive to communicate with…. Surely? It's just a neat trick to keep the stability of Stiles remaining the key figurehead within the organization. Cooper runs everything now."
"Hey, what did he mean by that North-West thing? What kind of riddle is that?" she asked, chin forward.
"No, it's not a riddle," he dismissed with a backhand through the air. "Just a way to attempt to prove it was really a message from him. He's the only one that knew about it."
"Explain?"
"Stiles and I met at a movie theatre once to talk. The movie was that old spy thriller by Hitchcock, 'North by North-West', you know the one, Cary Grant plays the lead. He owed me a favor for something I did for him, and I asked him for a favor in return whilst we were there in the theatre. Which he obliged, thus, the score was settled."
"Why did Stiles owe you a favor? What did you do for him? And what did you ask him to do?" she asked, inquisitively perplexed.
His mind jumped back to Lorelei and how Stiles had managed to break her out of maximum security when he had failed so dismally. He looked back at Lisbon's intrigued glare and didn't dare bring up Lorelei's name. He'd seen the effect the mere mention of that woman had on her, and it wasn't something he wanted to allow to impede the blossomings of their new relationship.
"It's a really long and convoluted story, but Stiles was the only one who knew about that meeting. What do you think this codswallop is with Stiles and the other plain? Do you really think he could still be alive?"
She could tell he was intentionally trying to keep whatever the favors were from her, she surmised laws would have been broken, multiple given it was Jane and Stiles. She decided it wasn't a hill she was going to die on today and allowed him to move the discussion along. "Well, McAllister rigged the explosions so he could fake his own death, who said the same couldn't have been done for Stiles?"
"Perhaps, but he was a sick man anyway. He was dying, he didn't have long left"
"Really?"
"Yes, I deduced as much when I spoke to him at the Ecuadorian consulate and he confirmed it. Even if he didn't die in the blast, the illness would have taken him by now. It's been 2 years, he was talking as if he only had weeks left."
"You don't know that for sure, he could've just wanted you to think that?"
"True," he concurred thoughtfully.
"How much more is there that I don't know about everything?" Lisbon asked without thinking, a little overwhelmed with the new information about the old days, a chapter of her life she thought was firmly closed.
"How long is a piece of string?"
"Well that's reassuring," she said dryly.
"I've missed plenty too," he combatted. "What happened with the whole Blake Association investigation?"
"I had to stay far clear of it, I was under investigation for a large part of it too. And I can tell you, it didn't make the transition to the Seattle PD easy by any account," she scoffed in memory. "I only really know as much as was on the news. Close to 100 in law enforcement were charged or disbarred by the end. At least that's what was fed to the media. They struggled in the beginning, but once Wylie broke that encryption, it seemed straightforward after that."
"Right," Jane responded, thinking back to the file that Wylie had given him not so long ago. A hard copy of the encrypted file he had broken which had given him his notoriety with Abbott. He had flicked through the file, there were some things that still didn't make sense to him. He wished he'd brought it with him.
Lisbon didn't know he had the file, although Wylie was less than discreet when passing it along, he wouldn't be surprised if she knew exactly what they were doing. But she never asked, nor was she asking now, so he opted not to tell her that he had the list, or anything pertinent he found on it.
"Visualize is up to something," Jane continued.
"Visualize is always up to something," she concurred in exasperation. "Not necessarily illegal, but morally questionable for sure."
"Odenthal… why would they want him as legal counsel when there are far more competent and stronger lawyers out there, once that haven't spent the last four years in prison?"
"You heard Cooper, second chances, Visualize is all for that."
"Yeah, so they have something to hold over their members' heads, something to blackmail them with if they ever try to leave or betray the cult."
Lisbon raised her eyebrows, frowned, and shrugged in agreeance at his logic.
Jane pointed his finger and snapped at Lisbon in his own realisation. "He's a sniper! And a damn good one if I remember correctly. He made that shot at Sylvan from over 2 football fields away."
"Why would Visualize need a sniper?"
"I know, it's a bit of a leap. But more believable than them wanting him for his law practice skills."
"Maybe it's the insider knowledge? He did work for the DA for close to a decade."
"That's a very good point too," he agreed waving a finger at her as his mind continued to bounce around the place.
"Or maybe, just maybe, he's simply just there for a second chance," she pointed out.
Jane gave her a disapproving look. "Mehhh. Doubtful. You should've quit while you were ahead. Definitely the sniper or insider knowledge thing."
"Or you're reading too much into it."
"And Mars? What do you take from that?"
"Odd coincidence"
"I didn't give him a second thought after Todd Johnson was murdered.
"You had no reason to."
"He was very strange. Self-proclaimed psychic, but far from the usual breed," Jane said thoughtfully.
"Well there's no point dwelling on it much further tonight, we're meeting there first thing tomorrow with a couple of guys from Sac Fed. I'm sure you'll get plenty more to think about once we actually step foot in the building."
"Right," he stopped and looked at her. "You're right. I need more information."
"Right," she repeated. "So, let's try and get some sleep."
"Yeah, okay. Good night," he said, high-tailing it for Lisbon's door without giving her a second glance.
"Jane?" she stopped him as he opened the door, an inflect of worry in her voice.
"Yeah?" He turned abruptly.
"Where are you going?" she asked a little feebly.
"Back to my room,"
She gave him a titillated look. "You don't have to go. Did… did you not want to sleep here?"
"Oh yeah, right"
It worried Lisbon for a moment. Almost like all of a sudden he had this interesting new puzzle and he already forgot they were figuring out a new relationship. Like he had defaulted back to the emotionally unavailable shell that he'd been for all the years she'd known him, and he was excited and happy to do so. A sniff of Visualize drama and all of a sudden she didn't exist.
"Hey," he said softly, jerking her from her thoughts. "Don't think that," he said, noting and reading her less-than-subtle expression. He curled his arms under hers and pulled her in for a tight hug, before meeting his lips with hers. His warm gentle caress melting away her fleeting fears and sent a jolt to her heart.
"Sorry, I'm a little hyped up," he gave a labored sigh. "Big day."
She knew she'd need to be empathetic. She also needed to work on her poker face and being so damn transparent if she wanted to keep any part of her remotely private now that she had let Jane in. Nonetheless, she appreciated that Jane was now not just in tune with how she felt or what she was thinking, but actually seemed to give a damn.
It frustrated her that he was so wrapped up in this Visualize nonsense. There was nothing more she'd like to do than to ruthlessly rip off his clothes and have her divine way with him, god only knows she'd spent long enough fantasising about it. A part of her knew it was never going to happen on this trip with such a sullen purpose anyway, but it didn't stop her from craving it nonetheless. She was far more used to, and far more ready to give herself physically than emotionally in a relationship. And the visceral need to take care of him, to comfort him, only magnified that.
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She awoke the next morning tangled in his arms once more, spooned into his body gently. His light musky scent fused with sandalwood spread a domestic comfort throughout her body as she slowly came to her senses.
There was something about the early mornings. Something about toying the lines of the dreamworld of contented slumber and the fresh possibilities of a crowning day that brought a degree of fantasy and allure. His thumb absent-mindedly tracing circles on her forearm gave her the indication that he wasn't asleep.
She hummed in contentment as she backed into him further, pulling his grasp around her tighter. He conformed automatically, echoing her hum and kissing her lightly on the hair.
She couldn't ignore the significant firmness pressed against her posterior in their position. It made her heart flutter and heat radiate down into her core as she bit the inside of her lip. A mystery in its own right, one that possessed her with lustful intrigue and primeval desire.
She started to trace its outline out of curiosity by moving her hips up, down and around. Wow, she thought as increased her intensity, pushing her toned behind into his crotch harder, gyrating with a greater enthusiasm. She could feel him twitch and his breath start to stammer.
He groaned softly. "What. Are. You. Doing?" he uttered hoarsely as he clung to her tighter.
And with that, she remembered his soft, sweet lips, the taste of his mouth. She cocked her head to find his mouth with hers, hungrily embracing him as she was relentless with her undulations. She took hold of his hand that rested upon her stomach, and slid it inside her top, slowly making its way to her breast. Despite being under her control, her skin came to life at his touch. She cupped her breast with his hand and squeezed aggressively, causing her to inhale raggedly. He tugged and tweaked where he was led at her excited erect nipple, unmercifully able to tease and rouse her back.
He kissed her more ferociously, his tongue plunged fervently into her mouth, his free hand on her hip, keeping her close, matching her enthusiasm with grinds of his own, already feeling like he was about to burst.
She turned and pushed him onto his back forcefully, straddling him commandingly. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she was finally going to get it. She laced her fingers into his and pinned his hands on the pillows by his head, kissing him again lasciviously. Her hips still working their way back and forth, feeling his hardness between her legs between their bothersome layers of clothing. It was the hottest thing she had experienced in a very long time.
Jane growled loudly in frustration.
"Not here. Not like this," he panted, wriggling his hands free to stop her. "I want us to be able to take our time, savor our first time. And not have Visualize in our heads in the slightest. We need to leave soon."
She bit down on the bottom of his lip and groaned, sat up and pouted at him in agreeance.
She took a deep, pointed breath to re-steady herself and calm her beating heart.
She rolled out of bed in defeat and started getting ready for the day, fishing a hairbrush from her duffel and running it through her hair repeatedly. Jane watched her fixedly, while he waited for blood to return to appropriate places.
"You're not avoiding this, are you? Something holding you back?" she asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow as she threw her hair up in a ponytail.
"Avoiding? Certainly not. But petrified? Absolutely."
"Petrified? I don't bite, Jane," she answered, "that is, unless you want me to."
"I bet you would," he said with a shy smile. "Nothing to do with you personally, it's me."
"That's always a worrying line. 'It's not you, it's me.' Not exactly what a girl wants to hear."
"You need to understand, Lisbon, it's been a very, very long time since I've been with a woman," he scoffed awkwardly. "A very long time. I'm dreadfully out of practice. I'm afraid I'll be nothing more than a disappointment. And the worst thing I can think of is disappointing you."
"You have nothing to be afraid of, you know that right?" she said lovingly and reassuringly, as she crawled across the bed towards him on all fours.
"I'm afraid I won't live up to your expectations"
"The only expectation I have is for you to be with me," she breathed in his ear as she nipped at his neck, "and only me." She tugged at his earlobe gently with her teeth and undid his top button.
She enjoyed seeing what she was doing to him. She could see his body aching for her every touch as she kissed, nipped, and sucked at his neck and along his collarbone. With a glint of mischievousness in her eye, she edged herself down his body, exploring him with her fingertips, stopping at his hips.
"Wha- what are you doing?' he questioned once more with staggered breath, as she toyed playfully with the top of his pajama pants.
"Just relax," she purred.
He inhaled sharply as she pulled the elastics back, his impressive hardness springing up in its newfound freedom. He watched her with wide eyes, as she grinned maniacally, evidently very pleased with herself and what she had uncovered. She ran her fingers delicately over his silky shaft, tracing her fingers playfully as she bit her bottom lip. His breathing was broken, he didn't know how to react. The control it gave her over him was intoxicating. Patrick Jane, the chaotic enigma. Under her thumb and at the complete mercy of her touch, bending to her every whim.
She exhaled teasingly on the glistening tip. He tightened his fingers desperately against the bedsheets. Drinking in his every reaction, she looked up at him intently with her big green eyes as she slowly took him deep into her mouth, savoring his salty sweetness and undoubtedly euphoric gasps for mercy. She worked her way back up methodically, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him in as far as she could once more. He squirmed awkwardly as he moaned at the sensation, unable to focus, unable to even make further eye contact with the goddess doing this to him. Her eyes twinkled as she worked herself into a slow rhythm, his immense enjoyment extremely gratifying as he struggled with the overwhelming intensity of pleasure.
It was over as quick as it began. He cried out loudly as she finished him, his climax strong and intense, as he blew his load down the back of her throat. She reveled in the fervent power she commanded over him and his sheer pleasure she was solely responsible for.
He desperately reached out for her, mind blown from sensations so greatly unfamiliar to him, wanting, needing, yearning desperately to settle the score. She batted him away with amusement, the enjoyment from denying him and sufficient consolation prize for having to wait to get her own.
"That hardly seems fair," he said in protest, as he gasped for breath.
"Well, you said yourself you wanted to savor it, take your time. How are we supposed to do that if you're going to blow your load before we've barely begun?" she smirked, wiping the corners of her mouth. "Thought it might help a bit."
"Are you okay?" she asked tenderly.
He laughed and shook his head, unable to wipe the huge grin of amazement from his face. "Okay? I'm far, far better than just okay."
"Good!" she said confidently, his grin infectious. "So get your ass out of bed, we've got places to be."
"Yes ma'am."
He knew from that point on he wouldn't be able to look at her mouth the same way.
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Within the hour they found themselves in Visualize's sullen halls, accompanied by two black suits from the Sacramento office. The building reverberated with a distinct ominous air, the cold marble of the foyer creating an aloof backdrop to meet with the infamous inner circle.
"Good morning," Cooper greeted them, Mars at his elbow once more.
They exchanged pleasantries and introductions with the other agents, everyone being all too disingenuous for Jane's liking.
"Did Stiles tell you why he wanted me here yesterday?" Jane asked Cooper somewhat facetiously, interrupting their niceties.
"No—"
"Then why don't you have old mate Mars here jump on his celestial telephone for us and find out?" Jane requested. "Or better yet, could I have a chat with him? Can we set up some kind of intercelestial conference call or Skype meeting?"
"You think you're pretty funny, don't you?"
"How do you know that Stiles is still around and Mars isn't just yanking your chain to earn a buck?"
"Faith, Mr Jane." Cooper said, with an ultimate cult-like bemused expression. "What is a man without faith?"
"I get by just fine," Jane brushed off with a flick of his wrist.
"If by just fine you mean, filled with sarcasm and self-loathing, then yes, indeed you're getting by just fine," Cooper replied despondently. He turned to the FBI trio, "shall we?" he offered as he gestured them inside.
Jane touched Lisbon's elbow as he whispered in her ear. "I'm going to go find myself a hot cup of tea."
She rolled her eyes, knowing that was far from the main intent of whatever it was he was doing. "Don't go starting anything and call me if you need me to get you out of trouble," she whispered back.
He darted nimbly through the clinical halls, the people in blue shirts barely registering his presence. An image of the outside of the building firmly pressed in his mind as he tried to translate it into this internal labyrinth.
He finally found the section he was looking for. A desolate hallway, doors lined to either side. It reminded him of the stint that he tried so hard to forget about, that he tried to erase from his history. The stint that he had only admitted to one other person alive, Lisbon of course. The 6-month stint at a mental facility thanks to a breakdown shortly following his family's untimely demise. Of course, this wasn't that. But it certainly gave off the same vibe.
He counted the doors and peered into the porthole window on the door of the one he thought corresponded to where he saw Kirkland. Surely enough, a man with that familiar black hair sat in the middle of the room on an armchair, his back turned.
Jane wiggled the door handle gently to discover if he could open it without startling the occupant. Much to his delight, the handle gave way with ease, and he allowed himself into the room.
The occupant didn't even flinch as the door swung open with an audible creak, much to Jane's intrigue. He quietly closed the door behind him. The room was small. Big enough as a modest bedroom, a single bed flush to the wall of one side. A small desk and a chair on the opposite side, and a currently occupied armchair in front of a coffee table in the center of the room. One window allowed the light to stream in, the same window Jane had seen this face through the afternoon before.
He crossed the room warily, garnering no attention from the man, pulling the chair from the desk and taking a seat a cautious distance away from him.
One look at his face confirmed his suspicions. This was indeed Kirkland. His hair a little shorter, his cheeks a little more sunken, a little thinner than he remembered. But he couldn't forget that face. The man sat in the armchair, his hands placidly on the arms of the chair either side, his eyes firmly closed, almost as if he was asleep sitting up.
"Kirkland," Jane said with an ounce of apprehension, eliciting no response.
"Definitely not Robert," Jane tried again, leaning in a little closer. "So… you must be Michael."
Kirkland opened his eyes like a doll being flicked upright and focused his gaze on Jane without saying a word.
"Well hello there," Jane said as he leaned into him curiously, with eyes twinkling with interest. "Michael, right? I don't think we've met. I'm Patrick Jane." He outstretched a hand in greeting.
Kirkland's gaze didn't flinch as remained locked in eye contact with Jane, not even glancing down at his outstretched hand, let alone making any movement towards taking it.
"Okay," Jane curiously smiled at his reaction. "I'm from the CBI, wait no, force of habit sorry, with the FBI, as a consultant," he continued, intentionally dropping the CBI into his introduction to see if it elicited a response. But he didn't utter a word or move or muscle.
"Not a chatty man it seems," he commented, tilting his head as he spoke. "What have they done to you here Michael?"
He got zero response, verbal or otherwise, which heightened his curiosity even more.
"Are you here because you want to be here, or because they make you stay here?" he tried again.
Kirkland broke eye contact and twisted his head to stare straight ahead. It was uncanny and unnerving. The man didn't even blink.
"Are you not talking because you can't talk, or you're not allowed to, or you don't want to," Jane continued examining him with intrigue.
But still, Kirkland stared straight ahead.
"It's okay, you can talk to me," he reassured. "I'm a long-time acquaintance of Bret Stiles, you know, head honcho around here. He won't mind if we have a little get-to-know-you conversation."
Still no response. Jane had to squint to see if the man was even breathing.
"I knew your brother, Robert. Interesting fellow. Determined, I'll give him that. He was desperate to find you, to find out what happened to you. Until the day he died," Jane said, his eyes boring into Kirkland supremely intensely, trying to pick up on anything, any reaction that might give him any kind of indication of the person within.
But he needn't look very hard any further. At the mention of his brother, his face changed. It twisted into sadness, and yearning even, as his eyes dropped to the floor. He got up out of the armchair and walked over to the window that Jane has seen him through the day before.
"They say twins can sense each other. Can feel each other, even if they're miles and cities apart. If the sadness and loss you're feeling is anything like the desperate I saw in Robert the last time I saw him, when he told me all about you, I can only imagine what you're going through," Jane elaborated, seeing that empathy seemed to be his way of getting through to him. "Or maybe I can imagine it. My wife and child were murdered. On this very day in fact, 14 years ago. By a serial killer known as Red John. Perhaps you've heard of him?"
Kirkland's head darted in Jane's direction, making fierce eye contact, a genuine look of fear and apprise in his eyes.
"Ah. So you have. I take it you're not a fan either?" Jane continued his one-sided conversation. "Well, perhaps I'm the bringer of good news then. In case you haven't heard, can't imagine you get much media time in here. Red John is dead. Had a, uh, little unfortunate accident." Jane leaned forward and grinned, "with me."
Kirkland turned his gaze back out the window, Jane watching him inquisitively as he stared into oblivion reactionlessly.
"Maybe you can sleep a bit better, maybe it really doesn't phase you so much, I don't know," Jane shrugged and turned to furthermore examine the walls of the room, anything that might give him any sort of clue, any sort of opening to be able to communicate or cold read Kirkland.
Suddenly Kirkland grabbed Jane on the shoulder aggressively, digging his fingers into him in a tight vice grip, pulling him towards him. Jane gasped in surprise, adrenalin coursing through his veins from the shock and the pain. Kirkland's eyes wide and intense, piercing into him like daggers as he leaned forward to hiss in his ear, in a brashly hoarse gurgle of a whisper.
"He… Is… Many…" he said desperately with such pain and intent, like he needed to use every iota of energy he could possibly muster to edge the words out, spraying spit as the words squeezed out of him. Jane stared into his soulless eyes, locked in, unable to look away if he tried, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him.
"Wha- What do you mean?" Jane managed to stammer. Kirkland looked like he was about to cry. Or implode. Or somewhere in between. His vice grip relentless and painful as his bony fingers dug in.
The door to the room opening jolted both men from their intense stare-off, as they switched their attention. "Boundaries have never been something you've been overly fond of, have you Patrick?" Cooper's voice echoed from the doorway. "You shouldn't be here."
"Just catching up with an old friend," Jane responded calmly, his eyes not leaving Michael.
"Well, I doubt he's made for much pleasant conversation," Cooper drawled matter-of-factly. "Our dear friend Michael is currently undertaking a pledge of silence."
"Is he now."
"It's amazing what you can learn if you stop talking for a while and just listen. Stop putting things out and just take it all in. It's very constructive and therapeutic"
"I'll be sure to put it on my to-do list"
"There's no need to be arrogant and defensive over the things your mind cannot comprehend. Perhaps if you were a little more open to possibilities rather than steadfast in your own personal omniscience, you might actually learn a thing or two."
"Oh, I never claimed to be omniscient. Just not gullible," Jane corrected with a charming grin.
"Ellis, my friend, can you please see to it that Patrick finds his way back to the foyer," Cooper turned to his partner in the hallway and motioned for Jane to leave the room.
"Until next time, Michael" Jane said to Michael, squeezing his shoulder before exiting the room.
He tracked down the barren hallways shoulder-to-shoulder with the business-like Mars, replaying the interaction with Michael in his mind. The silence. The stares. The desperate message. It was all very interesting, to say the least.
"I don't mean to alarm you Mr Jane, but I see a darkness in your future," Mars spoke, interrupting his reverie.
"Is that so?" Jane said, somewhat amused. "Did… did Stiles tell you that, or did you come up with that of your own volition?"
"Your incessant narcissistic need to think you are the smartest in the room will continue to cause you pain and suffering"
Jane looked at Mars peculiarly. Something was different, far different than the Mars he had met in the country town of Vineland. He held himself more confidently, and spoke with more intellectual acumen and clarity, his accent a little less pronounced. He realised people could change over the years, but this was more than subtle.
"Some things are bigger than you. Things you don't understand. Things you shouldn't want to understand."
"Yes, things like neurobiology and String Theory. Much bigger than me, don't understand, nor do I have the desire to."
"And again with the jokes," Mars said flatly. "Mr Stiles wanted to extend an invitation to you, but only if you are able to open your mind to possibilities. Possibilities broader than the narrow, cynical life view you seem ever so keen on retaining."
"I rather quite like my common sense," Jane jived back.
"Now that you have lost the meaning in your life, you would do well here finding a new direction. Mr Stiles always thought if you weren't so clouded with hatred, you could be a real asset to the Visualize community."
"I haven't lost meaning, I am a law-enforcement professional," he replied brandishing his badge. "And all these people thinking I'm an asset nowadays. It's nice to feel needed."
"You are a wayward soul, Jane. Without direction, you will perish"
"See that in your crystal ball too?" Jane gibed, a twinkle in his eye.
"The humor. The defense mechanism. It never stops," Mars said with a shake of his head, before stopping dead in his tracks. Jane stopped a few feet ahead, turning to see why he had stopped.
A mischievous glint flecked in Mars's eye. "Coal-tar soap and lavender, strawberries and cream. I can see it, smell it, just like I was there," he said very deliberately and ominously.
A chill froze the air. The smile on Jane's face cracked. Just like that. 14 years on, vengeance exacted. But wounds still ever so fresh and raw.
"Taking his life like that. And Carter's. How does that make you any better than them?" Mars taunted scathingly.
"Both of them were bad men," Jane justified with gnashed determination.
"And who are you to judge?" Mars shot back. "Who isn't to say that you're not a bad man either? The things you've done. That your life is worth more than theirs. Alas, there's the narcissism once more, of course."
Jane narrowed his eyes at him, thinking, processing the surprising and bitterly infuriating ideas drizzling from his mouth.
"There is no right or wrong, Patrick," Mars continued, almost a little cockily. "Just stuff that happens. Isn't that right? Isn't that the excuse you tell yourself to justify your sins?"
He wasn't naïve enough to think that the words he had once uttered to Lorelei in a bar now being spayed back at him were a mere coincidence. It was beginning to become very clear he had underestimated connections, but he wasn't sure what to make of it. His stomach churned, his head spun, his own heartbeat pulsated around his ears.
It was then he spotted Lisbon across the foyer, standing a good half a foot shorter than the brooding men around her, but still convincingly commanding the authority and respect within the conversation as she did her boss-thing best. Resolute in her eye, no-nonsense look upon her face, her hands emphasising expressively her governing demands.
"You can let Bret know, I'm not interested in the slightest. And that the answer is to his other question is yes. Yes, I've found exactly what I've been searching for," he said with a dazzling smile, a mask for his shaken confidence. His eyes planted on the gorgeous and steadfast Lisbon, giving him the strength and faith he lacked. This magnificent, selfless woman that cared for him, that loved him, that was willing to give her all for him. This beautiful soul that gave him the will to be a better man, and a reason to live.
"Red John is dead," his voice low in a growl. "He has taken enough away from me. My family, my life. And now I intend on reclaiming my life back."
"Death isn't the end, and it would be foolish of you to think that," Mars said with a sly grin, pulling a business card out of his blazer pocket and tucking it into Jane's. "Your wife, your child, motivated and gave you a sense of purpose far more in death than they ever did in life. The lengths it pushed you to. And thus, their legacy lived on."
He outstretched his hand for Jane to shake. Jane paid it no attention, his hands unflinching from his pockets.
Mars smirked. "Until next time, Patrick."
"I don't think there'll be a next time," Jane replied coolly.
"Don't be so sure," Mars called over his shoulder as he walked away.
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"That was weird," Lisbon said to Jane as soon as they sat in their rental car.
"Understatement of the year," Jane muttered under his breath.
"There is something seriously off about that place," Lisbon continued. "So where'd you run off to? Find Kirkland?"
"Yes"
"And?"
"He didn't have much to say."
"Okay…?"
She started rambling about the investigation - the interviews, the conversations, their colleagues at Sac Fed, and what they'd uncovered. Jane blankly staring out the window, not absorbing a single word that she said. She looked over at him in frustration as she drove.
"What's up, Jane? Something's clearly happened to get you all brooding like this"
His mind raced through everything. Michael's desperate words, his unnerving conversation with Mars, the disturbing words exchanged. He didn't reply.
"Jane?" she tried again, just as his phone rang.
"What?" asked Jane. "Sorry," he said to her as he answered his phone.
She listened in to his side of the conversation, but didn't get much.
"Great thanks, Wylie," Jane concluded and hung up the phone.
"What'd Wylie want?"
"I just asked him to look into something for me"
"What?" she asked and was met with contemplative silence. "Come on Jane. Use your words"
"It's nothing," he replied dismissively.
"You're feeling just like the old days again, Jane. You don't need to keep things from me anymore. You don't need to wait until I know something before you tell me."
He looked at her, and remembered that not only had the dynamics of their personal relationship changed, but so had their professional. She wasn't his boss anymore. And she had helped him through everything for so long, he trusted her implicitly. Furthermore, there was nothing she could really do with his newly gained information that could inconvenience him anyway.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry," he said, running his hand through his hair. "Wylie just did some digging on anything we could find about Kirkland. He did say something to me, really strangely, it was quite peculiar..."
"What'd he say?"
"He is many"
"That's it?"
"Yeah"
"What does it mean?"
"I'm not sure," he trailed off. "But it was like he was desperate to say it. Like he needed to tell me, even though breaking his alleged vow of silence was torture."
"Huh," she replied thoughtfully.
"And that wasn't even the weirdest part of the visit." He explained his conversation with Mars, his change in demeanor, and how he knew the same details that Carter had repeated to him in the shopping mall years before.
"Jane," she said softly, grabbing his hand across the center console. "I'm sorry."
"You needn't be sorry, you didn't do anything, and I don't need your pity," he replied nonchalantly.
"That's a really screwed up thing to be saying," she said furiously. "How dare he," she uttered through gritted teeth. "That makes me really mad."
"Sticks and stones," Jane dismissed, tickled that she was getting so fired up on his behalf.
"So, what did Wylie find out for you?"
"Michael's last known address was a halfway house for those recovering from addiction, controlled by none other than, you guessed it, a company where Jason Lennon was a trustee."
"Lennon? The guy Lorelei put in the hospital?" she almost choked on her name. "Died before we had the chance to question him."
"Oh he didn't just die, he was killed in hospital, I'm sure of it. By Kirkland," he said morosely
"You don't know that for sure," she replied, skeptical in her response.
"Without a doubt in my mind. Kirkland killed Lennon. I just never understood why. But it had to be related to his brother."
She pulled the car into their motel courtyard. Jane followed her up to her room deep in thought.
"We need to find out more about Michael, help him," Jane started, pacing once more.
"Well, what exactly is there to do at this point?" she replied, "Our flight leaves in a couple of hours"
"I think Michael is in a trance against his will. That's no pledge of silence, he's been forced. He's a prisoner of Visualize. And has been for quite some time, that's the only way his brother and all his connections haven't been able to find him."
"Is that even possible?"
"I've never really given it much thought until now. But a deep suggestion could be planted that creating any kind of verbal noise would cause physical pain."
"I find it hard to believe…" she said flatly.
"They would need to be a very weak and suggestible individual to begin with, which given his struggles with addiction, wouldn't be an implausible leap," Jane continued. "You've seen what this kind of thing can do Lisbon. Convincing a man that a dead body is a sack of potatoes, Rigsby trying to throw me off of a roof…"
"Kristina Frye thinking she's dead while she's alive."
Kristina. He hung his head morosely at another human indicator of his failures in life and drew a breath in compunction. "Have we heard anything about her lately?" Jane asked, realising it had been years since he'd looked into her condition.
"She's still in the facility in San Francisco. Same catatonic state," Lisbon quelled calmly, realising she'd hit a raw nerve even bringing her up. "I last checked in before I moved to Austin, they know to contact the bureau there if anything in her condition changes."
He was surprised and thankful that Lisbon had even given a second thought to Kristina given all that had happened. Sure, Jane had been checking up on her regularly in the CBI days, visiting her once every 6-months, just to see her in her psychotic slumber and remind himself what he was capable of simply by letting people close to him. He never tried to communicate with her again since that seance in the interrogation room. He never made his visits overtly known, it surprised him that Lisbon paid that much attention to his happenings, and furthermore, took the personal initiative to keep tabs on her in his absence.
He thought about making a quip at Lisbon about keeping tabs on his old girlfriends but wisely decided against it.
"You know, I also kinda thought she might snap out of it once Red John was no more," he said, thinking out loud. "She's in that state because a deep suggestion he planted. Now he's gone…. I thought there might have been a chance…" he trailed off quietly.
"Well how does the hypnotisee even know their hypnotiser doesn't exist anymore? Surely there would have to be a trigger that needed to be hit regardless."
"That's a fair point. But the suggestion wanes over time. It's not like when you hypnotise someone, it will last a lifetime, no. Part of it might always remain in memory, but it weakens over time."
"You think Kristina might just suddenly snap out of it one day? It's been nearly 7 years?"
"Perhaps. Or perhaps it's had such a profound effect on her that that's just who she is now."
She gave him a look of pity and hugged him reassuringly. But Jane's thought train soldiered on unperturbed.
"So Visualize… "I'll get Wylie to have a poke…"
"—leave Wylie out of this," she admonished.
"Why? He likes being involved," he argued.
"Yeah, and you're going to get him in trouble."
"Meh, Wylie's a big boy, he can take care of himself"
"Then at least tell Cho what you're up to," she reasoned.
"No."
"No?"
"He needs plausible deniability, the gift I'd often give you back in the day"
"Gift?"
"Are you just going to keep repeating random words I say in question form? Come on Lisbon, our repartee is better than that."
"Plausible deniability indicates that you're planning something unsavory"
"No, no. Not planning anything yet. But it does seem inevitable, doesn't it?" he justified. "And we can't tell Cho, because that would mean Vega would be the only one in the unit that doesn't know and it's a little unfair singling her out, don't you think? And she's too much of a goody-two-shoes to be let into this kind of thing yet."
"What, meaning you haven't corrupted her yet?"
"Now Lisbon, weren't you just trying to convince me yesterday that I didn't corrupt you? That I allowed you to see the world through multiple lenses? Maybe I just haven't had a chance to, uh, open Vega's mind up yet?"
She smiled and gave him that one. "So Wylie's open-minded enough for you then?"
"Yes, he is quite nicely"
"How about this? I tell Cho, but I don't tell you that I tell Cho, so that you have plausible deniability in giving Cho plausible deniability and leaving Vega out of the loop. Hey?"
"I'm exhausted just trying to follow that."
She smirked.
"We'll need to stay in Sacramento for a few more days. There are a few hives I need to poke, a few trees I need to shake. See what we can find out
"I need to get back to work, Jane. We can't just hang here on a whim"
"Okay, you go back then. I mean, I'd prefer to have you and your gun here, but I can do it myself," he shrugged sadly. "I need to go back to Visualize. I have an idea. I'm going to ruffle some feathers," he announced proudly.
She stared at him. His eyes alive with that glint she'd hoped she'd never seen again. His face set with determination. This was just like things used to be, the days she thought were over. Perhaps she didn't know who Jane was without a personal vendetta, perhaps he didn't know who he was himself without that hunger for bloodlust. It seemed he thirsted for the drama, the answers to everything, the thrill of the chase, the enthrall of the investigation. Here, she saw the man that had seen no value in his own life when it came to achieving his goal, a man that would throw everything away to exact revenge. The relief from it all being over was quickly dissipating as the Visualize involvement picked at old scabs, pouring salt into old wounds, resurrecting old traumas.
It broke her a little inside. She was a strong woman, but she didn't know if she could go through it all over again. The emotional turmoil had taken its toll. From the day she met Jane, this was the only Jane she knew – a man on a mission. Maybe she was naïve to think he could be anything else, to think he could live a happy and normal life, and let sleeping dogs lie.
"Or why do we need to look into it all, Jane? None of it concerns us at all. There are no laws broken. There are no open investigations," she reasoned quietly.
"But Michael…"
"You have nothing but a gut feeling and a theory. No evidence that he isn't there simply because that's his choice."
"His eyes Lisbon…"
"And why is it up to you?" she argued more avidly.
"You're happy just to leave a man there like that? If I'm right?"
"I feel like you're looking for excuses to turn over stones from the old days"
"I'm not looking for excuses, Visualize dragged us in. On that specific anniversary," he pointed out. "And then went on to rub the past in my face."
"And for what reason? Apart from goading you into trouble? If there's some conspiracy concerning Michael then why bring you there in the first place knowing you'd try to bring it to light?" her frustration growing.
"Exactly. There's got to be more to it and I need to figure that out!"
"Don't go looking for trouble, Jane," she warned shakily.
"I don't go looking for trouble. It has a habit of finding me," he explained simply, his face a little fallen.
"But then why chase it?"
"Something's not right. Something doesn't add up."
"I just got you back, Jane," she said meekly. "Why do you want to risk all that?"
"It's hardly a risk, Lisbon. Just the pursuit of truth, tie up loose ends."
"You know that Visualize has reach and influence probably much further and beyond what we realise. Their leader, which they worshipped like an actual god, was killed. Blown up." She threw her hands in the air with dramatic bomb sounds. "At your house. I daresay there'll be a lot of harbored resentment and hate around that building concerning you."
She paused for a reaction but didn't get one.
"And all you want to do is delve deeper into all that?" she continued. "Put yourself at risk, and for what reason?"
"You don't know that," Jane argued.
"And you don't know it either!" she exclaimed. "What happened to being finally free?"
"So you think I should just let it all go? Ignore it all, not look into it any further?" he asked in disbelief. He was surprised by her reaction. He assumed as a law-enforcer and justice-seeker, especially considering how deep her involvement was in the past, she would be all for helping him get to the bottom of this.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "You'd be one of the biggest experts in vengeance vendettas. How do you know that this is not that? A convoluted scheme to exact a slow, torturous, psychological revenge on you for being in their eyes responsible for the death of their head guru-in-chief!"
"Because I just know. It's not," he reasoned simply, the same determined glint and dead look in his eye.
"Dammit Jane, I can't lose you again," she said a little more quietly, a little more rawly, her eyes glassy with tears, as she stared back at him with resolve, reaching her breaking point.
"You're not going to lose me," he replied softly.
She looked upwards and away, not buying a word of his response, trying to disguise the first undisciplined tear from sliding down her cheek.
"You're not," he tried again with a soft shrug.
She flashed him a look of sheer exasperation and anguish, and charged into the bathroom, unable to battle the tears anymore.
And here he was again. He always seemed to be upsetting Lisbon, despite it being the last thing he ever wanted to do. He felt like such an epic failure at that moment. All he wanted to do now was to make her happy, but all he ever did was the opposite. He caused her so much heartbreak, and so much pain, all because of him and his selfish, single-sighted ways. Even when he was trying to be different, trying to be better, trying to make something work, he was still hurting her.
She should've taken priority in his life a long time ago. She was patient, supportive, and understanding of him and his goals for so long. There was only so much she could take. He needed to do better by her.
He stood in the doorway behind her as she leaned against the vanity, head down, face hidden.
"You're right. It doesn't matter. None of it matters," he breathed modestly. "You're the only thing that truly matters to me anymore."
And it was true. Between Lisbon and the game, Lisbon would win hands down. She was his new game, his new enigma, his new mystery. One that brought a whole new realm of possibility. The possibility of a future, of love, companionship, and happiness. One that offered a whole lot more than the satiation of vengeance could ever provide.
He watched her body shake. Her tears pouring silently from her face uncharacteristically.
"Hey," he said softly, pulling her into a tight embrace in the warmth of his arms. Her candor surprised him, he'd never seen her cry like this before. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, giving her a gentle kiss on the top of her head as he settled his face upon her hair.
She cried a little more audibly. He could feel her tears. He just held her body tightly instinctively. He could feel she had been holding this back for a long time. So many years of bottled-up feelings, fears, and frustrations. Two years of abandonment from a close friend, partner, someone who played such a significant part in her life, whatever their relationship was. All the dramas, leaving the CBI after a decade, moving to Seattle, moving to Austin, doing it all on her own. So many years of playing the tough and independent one, all catching up to her. He just held her close and rubbed her back, somewhat understanding where this was pouring out from. She clung back to him as she sobbed freely.
"You don't know what it was like, Jane," she said through her tears, "I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought your Vegas disappearance was hard, but this, this was something else. I was so sure I had lost you."
"Two days into admitting that this, this," she motioned between the two of them furiously, "this could be a thing, or is a thing, or whatever," she rambled, struggling to articulate, "and I already feel like I could very well lose you again." She looked up at him in desperation with tear-strained eyes. "I can't go through that again. Especially not now."
"I am so, so lucky to have been able to make my way back into your life," he reassured. "And I'm not going to squander it, or take you for granted, or leave again. You are so incredibly important to me. You are all I have in this world now. You are everything."
She buried her head back into him and he squeezed her tight.
"I promise. I promise you are my priority from here on out. I promise I'll never intentionally give you reason to worry. I promise I'm never going to leave you again."
He held up his pinky finger to her with a cheeky half grin. She relented with a smile, linking her pinky with his.
"Well now that's all really official. Can't break a pinky promise."
She laughed awkwardly.
"I'm sorry. How embarrassing," she said, aggressively wiping her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands.
"Don't be. I'm glad you can open up like that to me," he reassured empathetically, cupping her cheek gently, and using his thumb to help her dry her tears. Her beautiful green eyes revealing an honest vulnerability, a side of her he had rarely, if ever, seen.
"You need to promise me that you'll continue to be able to do this. Don't bottle things up. Talk to me, tell me how you're feeling, or if I'm being daftly annoying. As much as you might think I can, truth be told, I can't actually read minds. So promise me, you'll never stop telling me things."
She smiled. "I promise," she said, kissing him swiftly on the cheek. "I can do that."
"Excellent," Jane replied with satisfaction.
She sunk herself back into his chest for a warm hug.
"Let's go home?" she asked.
"I am home," he replied simply.
She looked at him with vague reticence
"Home is wherever you are."
She gave him a shy grin and pushed him gently in the shoulder with her fist for being so corny, before sinking herself back into his comforting embrace. He grinned in contentment at her reaction.
"Give me another 10 to pack up the rest of my things," she said looking at her watch. "Then we can go get something to eat before heading to the airport?"
"Yeah, I'll go grab my things too," he agreed, leaving her room for his.
She was thankful that he was negotiable, that he was able to see reason. But she wasn't naïve enough not to be wary. Jane was Jane after all, and there was no way he'd simply be able to let all the intrigue and drama slide. She knew him better than that. But his understanding, and the depth of his promises – just hearing the words from his mouth, meant the world to her. She felt confident he wouldn't lie to her. Leave out details and find loopholes, yes. But his promises were genuine. She'd need to keep an eye on him, figure out his plans to protect him and keep him out of trouble, but for now, she felt extremely contented with conclusions that were reached.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Jane walked down the corridor. As he swung the door open to his room, a pale blue envelope caught his attention on the floor by his feet, as if someone had slid it under his door. He resisted the urge to holler for Lisbon, as was his reflex of the years past. He picked it up and examined it, looking up and down the corridor futilely for any evidence of who'd left it behind. It bore a logo on the back. A logo he'd seen somewhere before, but where exactly, his memory palace was not able to provide the answer straight away.
He tucked it into his jacket pocket without opening it. It could only mean trouble, and sway him from decisions and promises he had just made for Lisbon. He'd chosen the mystery that was her, over the mystery of whatever this Visualize crap was. He had far more important things to focus his attention toward and work on. It could wait.