AN: Thanks for all the wonderful feedback on previous chapters, it means the world! I can only apologize for the delay on the update, there's been a lot to deal with in the last few weeks. This chapter is one I was really looking forward to writing, I love both characters involved very much. A line from a few seasons ago kept coming back to me during this: "Teresa, not saying something isn't happening doesn't mean that something isn't happening." Unfortunately it's something I've had to deal with myself in the last few weeks, acknowledging and coming to terms with things I'd rather not at all; something everyone must do at some stage. Bit of a ramble there, but I thought it was worth mentioning. Maybe you could keep it in mind while reading. This one ran a little longer than the rest so far (as has this AN!) Please do review, and as always if you have a suggestion or guess as to who'll be coming up in later chapters, go on ahead! Enjoy x
"This way, please."
The waitress gestures him over to a table laid out for two. The air is warm, with a hazy breeze that makes the day feel dozy. The tablecloth ruffles lazily in the breeze and the waitress lifts out his chair for him. It occurs to him to hope that she does this for everyone, and not that she thinks he needs it. He's been feeling older lately, the tides of many years catching up with him.
"Thank you," he says kindly to her.
She leaves two menus on the table and he tucks himself in closer to the table, smoothing his tie down against his shirt. This is a nice little restaurant, especially on a day like today. It's just far enough off the beaten track to suit him, and the salt air from the near by sea lingers on the breeze. He hopes he's given good enough directions.
She will be here soon.
It's been a long time since he has seen her, a lot of water has flown under the bridge since they last met. He was sorry to leave her, but he does not regret it. He'd always had good intentions, but they have slipped through his fingers. He had been pleasantly surprised, delighted, to receive her call. She'd said she'd be in town, would love to meet him, if he so wished.
He looks around him. She will be here soon.
He'd been glad to hear from her. He'd been worried about her.
There'd been a time, when he'd been the one she'd turn to, she'd show up nervous and worried, but she would never lose her cool. But that was a long time ago now. A long time ago.
"Virgil."
He looks up, smiles, stands.
"Teresa."
Maybe it's just because he didn't see her coming, maybe it's just because hasn't seen her in years; maybe it's just because of how she's standing over him, beaming, the sun shining through her hair with that smug little smile she wears when she's really and truly happy. Maybe it's just because she looks so young, and he feels so old; maybe it's because he has changed, and she has too; maybe it's just because he knows she's been through so damn much, but as he stands, encloses her in his arms for the first time in a long time, for any one, and all, of these reasons, he finds himself biting back a quivering smile as he hugs her, and swallowing back tears before they can become themselves and she will see them.
Maybe it's because it's just been too long.
She pulls out of his embrace and looks searchingly into his face. "Virgil, it is so good to see you."
"You too, Teresa."
She is still looking up into his face, waiting for an answer. He gestures to the seat facing him as the waitress had done. "Sit, Teresa, please."
She does so. She remarks on the restaurant as she places her jacket on the back of her seat. She chats about the weather as she roots through her bag for a tissue. He listens and watches, enjoying being in her company, and both anticipating and dreading what must come next.
"Lisbon-" he says, then catches himself. "Teresa," he smiles, and she smiles too.
"How are you?" He asks, looking at her.
She waves her hand. "I'm fine. Things are great- good." She pauses, and sees her looking at him, sees the disbelief on his face. "I'm fine," she insists. "I'm fine."
He says nothing.
She looks at him.
"Virgil," she says, uncertain, trying to convince him.
"Tell me, Teresa, please. For my sake if not for your own. I have to know. I have to hear it, and I'd rather hear it from you, if you don't mind."
Teresa has a hard look in her eyes and her lips tighten as she presses them together. Her face falls, and she sighs and looks back at him.
"I-" She raises her hand to her face and dabs at her cheek. "I'm trying to put it out of my head," she says.
"Probably for the best," he nods. "I can't tell you how glad I was to hear from you, Teresa. And it's great to see you. You never said – what are you doing in this part of the country anyway?"
Her gaze drops to the table and she sniffs. She looks back up at him, blinks.
"I- I wanted to say goodbye."
"Teresa, no- goodbye?"
She nods.
"Goodbye?" he repeats. "Tell me," he says.
"Washington State," she says, her voice hoarse.
His mouth drops open, and he says but a word. "Washington?"
She nods again. "It's for the best," she says. "I know it. It must be." She looks up at him. "It's too hard. It's too hard, after everything. It's too hard driving past the CBI – seeing it empty and abandoned, it's too hard being in Sacramento with- with all those memories. It's been almost six months, Virgil, and I'm done trying. I visited my brother, after, and he said something to me. He said it was up to me to look after myself. So I came home, and I tried. I tried, but it's too hard. Too much has changed. It's too hard seeing everyone move on. Cho's gone to the FBI in Virginia, you know, and Rigsby's working security for the time being. Van Pelt's doing an advanced forensic computer course, and Ja-" she smiles sadly and shrugs. "And who knows where the hell Jane is."
"You haven't heard from him?"
"No." She shakes her head. "Well, yeah, I suppose so. He's fine." She gestures meaninglessly. "He wrote me a note, Virgil, that's all."
"That's something," he muses.
"Suppose so." She pauses and he gets the feeling this is the first time she's really talked about this in depth.
"Do you resent him?" he asks.
She pauses a while.
"I don't know," she says finally. "I never knew what to expect. I knew what I wanted to happen, but I think I'd come to terms with the fact it wouldn't play out like that when the time came. I just hoped the team would all make it out the other side; I never thought beyond that really, never thought we'd be split up." She hums humourlessly. "Perhaps I should have been more specific in my prayers and wishes." Minelli shrugs, a smile on his lips. "I'm not happy, though," she says. "Far from happy. I think I was pretending like it wouldn't happen, like that day would never come; and it did, and here we are." She tosses her head back, and he thinks he sees the trace of a tear in her eyes, something she shakes off with disgust with the toss of her head.
"I'm damn angry," she says dabbing one eye with the tissue from her bag, and she smiles. "That was the damn best job I ever had. Best ten years of my life, you might say," and he smiles back at her. "I'm angry that it had to go, but I know it did have to. I'm angry for the people I've lost, I'm angry for the CBI, I'm angry that it was what it was and I never knew. Most of all I think I'm angry for myself," she says quietly. "For getting so close, for caring so much about someone who never did the same."
"Jane," he says, and she starts, realising what she has said. She colours.
"Teresa," he says and then stops. She gets the feeling he doesn't know where he's going with this. "I wouldn't be so sure. I knew Jane for a long time, Teresa, and you were one of only two things he ever gave a damn about the years he was in that job. And you know as well as I do that that job was his life. There was a reason you were the only one who could ever handle him."
He can't help but soften at the proud smile she can't hold back at his words. "You think?" she asks.
He stretches his hand out and pats hers. "I know," he says.
The waitress from earlier on comes back then, and takes their order. He can feel his anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He needs to ask her now. He clears his throat.
"About the other thing. I hate to ask, Teresa, but I have to, and I want it from you. On that day, everything that happened..." she looks confused. "How much of it was me?" he asks.
"What?"
"I owe you a huge apology, Lisbon. I made a massive mistake, many years ago, and I'm afraid it's what led to – what led to everything that happened. The reason the CBI's been scattered. The reason it all went to hell on you. To think, all that time, all those years, what they were doing, what I let them do. Please, Teresa, tell me you'll accept my deepest apologies, I can't tell y-"
"Virgil," she's saying, her hands fallen into her lap. "You've got it all wrong. This wasn't about you, you misunderstand. This was a whole lot bigger than-"
"-no, no, it was me. If I hadn't let the FBI gain access to information about Jane-"
"-then they would have got to it some other way," Lisbon finishes. "Listen to me. You are not to blame. Forget it, please. Rest easy, Virgil. Everything that happened was so much bigger than you or I. We were all just pawns on their chessboard. It's done now, all that's done and over. Time to move on."
"So it seems," he says and he feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. "I'm happy to hear that. When I heard- oh, when I heard, when I realised what'd I'd done, what had happened. I couldn't believe it, I just couldn't. That I'd been so foolish, that-"
"You're being too hard on yourself," Lisbon exclaims. "How could you possibly have known? The FBI, Virgil; tell me, how could you have seen that coming. No way."
"You're too good," he says. "When I got the call, when I heard, I mean, I turned on the news – I gotta confess, Teresa, I've never felt so old and out of the loop. And all the time, the sinking feeling, perhaps I knew somewhere deep down all along, that part of it, a lot of it, was on my shoulders."
She begins to protest, but he holds up a hand to stop her. "I'm sorry. And I was sorry. For you. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
She shrugs. "All part of the job description," she says.
"We both know that's not true. You've always gone above and beyond Teresa, I remember many a night back in CBI telling you to give up and go home. 'Just finishing up!' you'd say, and still be there two hours later. Washington will be lucky to have you."
"Thanks, Boss."
"So its settled then is it?" Minelli asks. "No chance of you heading out to Cho and the FBI? I'm sure you'd make a fine agent there, God knows you're still young enough, and I more than anyone know how lucky they'd be to have you. I'd give you one hell of a reference. You're one damn fine agent, Teresa Lisbon," he smiles, and she stifles a laugh.
"I learned from the best, Virgil, be sure of it. I don't think I was ever cut out for FBI though," she smiles. "I'm going to give Washington a real go of it though. A fresh start. It's the right thing."
"I think so too," he says. "You're going to be great, Agent Lisbon," he says pointedly.
All too soon, food has been eaten, memories shared, bills split: the time has slipped away and it is time for them to leave. He walks her to her car and they pause at the open door.
"Goodbye, Virgil," she says, her voice a little choked up. "Thanks for everything."
"And you," he says, not trusting his voice nor his nerve to say any more. He gives her a tender hug and pats her back. She sniffs and she releases him from her embrace. They both know this is goodbye. They smile long sad smiles at each other and she gets into her car, doing up her seatbelt. He closes the car door behind her and she puts her key in, turns on the engine and rolls down her window.
"This is it," she says.
"Ah no," he says, with a smile. "Best of luck, Lisbon. Have a good old life up there in Washington. Don't go forgetting us and the good times we had back in little old Sacramento."
"Virgil," she wants to tease, but as she hears her voice soft and fraught with emotion, she knows she has failed. "No fear of that. No, never any fear of that."
She knows enough has been said between them, no need remains for any more words or wishes about the past, present or future to be expressed; so with thought, and one last smile at him who had meant so much, she steers away from the last reminder of her old life and turns towards the open road which leads to her future, the new start she so desperately craves.
He and her past watch her go, one hand raised in farewell as she becomes but a cherished memory. He hopes he will see her again. He knows he will, one day.