If my novel reviewers are on this site, I want to say thank you. Also, thank you for letting me know my writing made you feel something. You answered the question I always have, and the one I can't answer for myself. ~Calla
As for the strange one-shots coming out of left field, I'm poking around in Jane's head getting reacquainted with the characters before I tackle long-abandoned stories. As much as I'd love to stay in Jane land for more than a few minutes here and there, I have two novels to edit and not long to do it. However, I will return soon. ~Calla
Sorry for the updated file. I found several errors to correct after I posted. ~Calla
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Connecting two points on his murder board with string and surveying his handiwork, Jane felt a pang of guilt. While an emotion he rarely entertained in his ruthless pursuit of criminals, he was less hard-nosed in his personal life. He'd meant every word when he told Lisbon he was sorry. He was. For anything and everything he'd ever done to her. He'd lost track of those events a long time ago. Meh, no, he hadn't. As if. Every last event was neatly compartmentalized in his memory palace until he could afford the distraction of confronting them.
However, sorry didn't change a thing. He knew it. She knew it. That was just the way things were. They both knew he wouldn't hesitate to screw her over the next time he needed to and, while she might call him on it, in the end she'd pretend he hadn't done the nearly unforgivable. For the most part, they'd get on with getting on as though he wasn't an unrepentant reprobate. Or they'd try.
However, he wasn't sure either of them would get past Lorelei's deceptively innocent l-bombs. While not unexpected, he'd hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. That he'd knowingly slept with a Red John tool wasn't anything Lisbon was meant to know. Not until he was ready to tell her. Or he needed to. Otherwise, there was no reason to go there. In fact, it was safer for her if he didn't. Unfortunately, Lorelei chose to inflict unnecessary torture and take the choice away from him.
If she hadn't, Lisbon would be less shell-shocked and more inclined to believe him when he said sex didn't equate with feelings. Not in this case. Not with him. While he wouldn't say he didn't enjoy it, and he wouldn't say he didn't have feelings for Lorelei, he would say they weren't romantic. More like a hint of mourning for the woman she might have been had she never been targeted by Red John. As for the woman she was now; well, that was on Lorelei. He'd gladly let the FBI have her in all her vicious glory if she wasn't his best hope to end the insanity ruling his life more years than he cared to remember. Maybe his only hope. As it was, he can't afford to lose the one tool who supposedly knows Red John's true identity.
Taking a break to look out the window, Jane briefly wondered how Lisbon was getting on with her open cases. As much as they might wish otherwise, the team hadn't done so well without him. While still the best closed case team the CBI had, the old cc board on Lisbon's wall didn't have anywhere near as many hastily scribbled "closeds" as it did before his firing. From what he'd heard through the grapevine, Wainwright approached Lisbon about getting him back.
Considering how far the CBI's overall numbers had fallen since his exit, the SAC was willing to do almost anything to get him back including professional help. While touching, he didn't need anyone's help. His breakdown was engineered. Besides, he'd always meant to return to the fold, and he'd always known he could. Why? Because the bureau needed him as much he needed them. Added to that, Red John wanted him there. Enough said. While he could, and maybe should, feel a tug of remorse over Luther's demise, he didn't. The man would likely still live if he hadn't played footsie with Darcy and the FBI on the sly. He'd warned Wainwright to stay out of the game. That he didn't understand what he was up against. Luther hadn't listened and paid the price. As far as he was concerned, his death was on him.
Running his hand through his hair, Jane went through Lisbon's open cases in his mind. There was only a case or two where he thought they could use his help if he was willing to offer it. He wasn't. Not right now. Nothing except the one where Lisbon made it clear she didn't want his help. Not yet. Unfortunately, it was the one case he wasn't comfortable with. Something about the way people died every time they got close to a break, and the way that slippery sleaze smirked when they did, made his hair stand on end.
He wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was the fact he'd never seen Lisbon in vigilante mode. Maybe it was the fact he sensed this was their most dangerous opponent since Red John. Maybe it was the fact he was on the outside looking in. While he was getting what he thought he wanted, he didn't like it. In the beginning, he'd asked to be left alone to pursue the leads he'd gain since Vegas. As the case wore on, the bodies mounted up, and the situation became more dangerous, he'd grown more concerned especially when Lisbon effectively shut him out. While he'd respected her wishes, he liked that least of all. If anything happened to her…He wasn't going there.
The truth was, there was so much he needed to tell her; and so much he dares not share. Not because he didn't want to, or he didn't trust her. He did. With his life. The feeling was mutual. Or it had been until he'd provoked Wainwright into firing him and gone underground. As much as he'd wanted to share the ruse with his partner; he couldn't risk Lisbon inadvertently giving him away. Red John's eyes were everywhere.
While he regretted his actions; he wouldn't do anything different. He couldn't. He was a man on a mission. One much deeper than surface appearances. Yes, he wanted vengeance for his wife and daughter, and absolution for the casual arrogance that cost their lives. He wouldn't be human if he didn't. He'd foolishly underestimated a psychopath and uttered deadly words he could never take back. That shouldn't have happened. He had too much experience to make such a rookie mistake. But he had.
Six months in the psych ward had given him a new perspective on life, and a greater appreciation for the long game. One that wouldn't end until that sadistic bastard paid for every life destroyed in the pursuit of twisted mind games. Then, and only then, would he be free to live again. Not only live, but contemplate what he'd once had with the one he dared not contemplate…
Shaking his thoughts, Jane studied his board as he pondered exactly how Lisbon thought one lone itty, bitty bit of a woman was going to take down the nastiest sociopath to cross their paths since Red John. Probably not in the ways he was imagining. However, she'd prevail in the end. Largely because he was indirectly helping her. He never thought that would happen. That she would let him. Not until Volker started throwing more monkey wrenches at her investigation than she could handle. While she'd asked for his advice and, surprisingly, taken it as underhanded as it was, she'd yet to ask for anything more. Nope, she'd just mumbled something like, "Volker's mine," Lisbonese for "get lost," and gone about her business.
While the idea was nice in theory, he had a feeling she'd come knocking once again before she was done. When she did, he'd be happy to help. It was time to come up for air anyways. Besides, there was something off about the way that freak stayed two steps ahead of his little buddy. Something that made him think Red John wasn't the only player with a rat in the CBI rafters. One crawling around where it didn't belong. In fact, he's sure of it. Grabbing his empty cup and saucer, Jane decided it was time for a fresh cup of tea and a long conversation.
Hopefully, Lisbon was in her office.