The one where Jane was in Venezuela
With nothing else to do, Lisbon left the police station at 3pm on Christmas Eve. It was the first time she'd not worked late in over 10 years and she didn't know what to do with herself.
She missed Jane. She'd become used to their Christmas' together, dependent on them almost. In fact, since he left she realized that she'd become dependent on him for a lot of things. At some point along their journey together, she'd fallen in love with him.
Anyone that met them would know they had a special relationship. They were a platonic couple. She was in love with him and him with her, but both knew it could never be. Their parting was one of the better scenarios Lisbon could have envisioned. Jane was alive, not in prison, and Red John was dead.
He wrote her letters, her only remaining connection to him and she adored them.
She curled up on the couch with pizza, beer, and her box of letters. She started, like she always did, with the first one.
Dear Lisbon,
The rain has finally ended here, although it's still warm and always beautiful, even with the rain.
I'm sure you've not made it back to Chicago for Christmas again this year. I do hope you've found a better way to spend it than over Chinese food, really Lisbon, there are much better options out there.
I found a decent pizza place nearby. You should know I'm keeping our tradition alive.
I watched the children in the square making their Christmas wishes aloud. Shoes, skateboards, ball and bat... I wish I could be there. You always made the holiday a bit more bearable and eventually something I looked forward to somehow.
I regret the one we spent apart. I never really apologized for that, but you can trust that it was sad for me as well. I received your text.
Merry Christmas Lisbon.
Miss you.
U no hoo