Fractures of Reality
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Lyrics still by INXS.
Rating: M (for sex and language).
Spoiler: 2.23.
A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the first part and added the story to favorite and alert lists. You guys are the reason why I write and why I feel guilty when I don't! Being sick had deterred me from posting the second part of this story but here it is and I hope you guys enjoy it.
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Part II: splinter
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"And I was lost for words in your arms
Attempting to make sense of my aching heart…"
Present Day
She should have known that Jane couldn't keep his promises, not when Red John was involved anyway. However, that still doesn't stop the knot from forming beneath her ribs or her gaze from flickering to her Blackberry as it sits mutely on the edge of the desk.
She's lost track of how many times she's called him since she realized he was no longer in the bullpen. He'd slipped out sometime the day before, so quietly that none of the team had seen him, and despite having her suspicions about where he went, she still felt anxious. Whereas before she wouldn't pay much attention to Jane's comings and goings, everything is different now and what scares her is that between the two of them, she's the one who is more likely to be concerned with his safety.
It's only been three days since she, Rigsby, Cho and a SWAT team stormed the abandoned motel to which Van Pelt traced Jane's cell phone. Three days since she'd had to swallow the bile rising in her throat as she frantically tore at the saran wrap holding Jane captive while he stared at her with a blank expression. She'd felt it then, that something horrific had happened to him and he'd only needed to nod at her silent question, while attempting to stop the involuntary tremors of his body in the aftermath, to confirm what she'd known all along.
Perhaps if she had more time to reflect on it, she'd find the whole situation to be tinged with the kind of bitter irony that only occurs in well written fiction. But now, even three days after, all she can think about is how she never thought that Red John could inflict more torture on Jane than he already has and how damn wrong she was about that.
If Minelli were around, he'd smile humorlessly and say the serial killer has certainly upped the ante by toying with Jane like he did, but it makes her sick, makes her furious with anger at the injustice of it all. She'd always thought that half of Jane's torment in the last seven years was self-inflicted. His inability to grieve properly and accept what had happened to his family only catered to Red John's agenda. However, she can't say the same about what occurred three nights ago.
It makes her furious when she thinks about everything that elusive monster has done to everyone around her, whose lives he's taken and how he's toyed with people's emotions. Not for the first time since it happened, Lisbon feels her fists curling at her sides, angry vicious thoughts that feel suspiciously like vengeance surfacing before she can stop them. The difference, of course, is that she'd never see them through, never dare to tread off the path of fairness and justice she's been walking since before she earned her badge and gun.
But she can't say the same for Jane, and that's what terrifies her the most. While she was pulling him off that chair, she'd mentally prepared a speech to convince him to get checked out by a paramedic, but when she suggested it, he'd agreed without a fight. He just nodded mutely and let the EMT take his blood pressure and check his vitals.
She'd stuck to him the entire time, barking orders from the inside of the ambulance while the rest of her team cleared the scene. Jane had barely uttered a word the entire time the EMT worked on him and willingly consented to being driven to her apartment later that night, after being sufficiently interrogated by Hightower.
After about an hour of Jane barely answering Hightower's questions, Lisbon pulled her boss out of the conference room and calmly suggested that they try again the next day. The man was so obviously still in shock, despite his lackluster mutterings of "I'm fine" and his tight smiles, that eventually Hightower consented.
Secretly, Lisbon had hoped that Jane would open up to her when they were alone, but all he'd done when they walked into her house was slip his shoes and jacket off, unbutton his vest, and slide onto the couch, falling asleep within minutes.
The steady rise and fall of his chest indicated that he wasn't just feigning sleep to avoid talking to her, so she'd let him rest, falling asleep in an armchair besides him. She had not wanted to move him upstairs but was somehow afraid that if she went into the bedroom, he would leave in the middle of the night and not come back.
It hadn't occurred to her then, but subconsciously she'd already been hedging her bets, wondering when he'd escape. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but the moment their eyes connected in that motel, she'd known that whatever step they had taken, whatever declarations of love and promises made not too long ago would crumble under the weight of reality, creating tiny fractures in their already delicate foundation.
When she'd woken up alone in her own bed the next morning, for a moment she really thought he had left, but the tiny bit of relief she had felt upon discovering him still downstairs disappeared very quickly as the morning wore on. There was nothing unusual about his behavior and yet something was off. He'd cornered her with a long, overdue kiss by the refrigerator but it didn't feel right, and he'd tried to engage her in conversation while purposefully avoiding discussion of anything tied to the day before.
Still, she is tenacious, always has been by nature, and when they both realized she'd have to drive him to work because he'd left his car there, she turned off the sink water, dried her hands on the dish towel and said, "You know we need to talk about it at some point."
She saw that he was about to put on a face of denial, but at the very last second, his façade slipped and he braced himself against the counter, imploring her with his eyes as he promised,
"Later."
She didn't believe him.
It was strange after that because she didn't even bother trying to bring it up again. Hightower got nothing out of him aside from the perfunctory responses, and while the rest of the team quietly completed the mountain of paperwork for the Sparrow case, Jane made occasional trips to the kitchenette for tea and alternated between taking naps and reading from a thin black book that materialized on his desk at some point that day.
Still, it was hard to remain upset with him given what happened, and somehow as the day wore on, her patience with him grew. And when he'd taken her home that night, enveloping her in a hug almost as soon as they'd walked through the door, thoughts of getting him to talk gave way to an intense feeling of protectiveness and relief.
All she wanted was to hold him, have a physical reassurance that he was okay. Finally, he was here, warm and solid, and somewhere in the not so distant past he'd told her he loved her and meant it. She didn't kiss him though. Afraid that it wouldn't feel right again, that it was too soon after what happened, that it would destroy the delicate equilibrium they established behind closed doors.
Besides it felt good to be this close to him again.
So good that she abandoned her plan of talking to him in favor of silent moments of comfort, of real tangible human contact, of an unspoken understanding between them.
It lasted until morning.
When she felt the first harsh rays of sunlight on her face the next day, everything came crashing down on her. She knew that as much as they both needed the quiet solitude of the night before, they needed to talk, not only about what happened to Jane but also about what would happen to them now.
Except unlike the morning before, she actually woke up to an empty house. A note scribbled hastily and left on the cold pillow besides her let her know that he had gone home for a change of clothes and that he'd see her at work.
Perhaps some time away from him is what she'd really needed to face reality because by the time she'd arrived at work, a strong cup of coffee in her grasp and a mountain of unfinished paperwork on her desk, she decided that she wouldn't put it off any longer.
She skimmed the transcript from Jane's interview with Hightower, even though she'd witnessed the whole thing behind the one-way mirror, and walked out into the bullpen, glad to see it almost deserted except for Jane, sitting on his couch, apparently deep in thought.
She watched him from afar for a few moments, leaning against the interior of the bullpen, studying his face as it contorted into an expression that could only be described as concealed turmoil. She felt a knot forming in her stomach, coiling tighter and tighter with every passing moment as she realized just how deeply affected he'd been by the experience of facing down Red John.
Her heart broke for him, but at the same time frustration seeped deep into her bones at the realization that as usual, the stubborn Patrick Jane was going to handle this all alone. That awareness seemed to propel her forward until she was standing right besides him. Affecting as calm a tone as she could under the circumstances, she'd asked him if he was okay.
He eventually looked up at her, some of those worry lines dissolving on his forehead, but not enough to convince her as he lied.
She figured with Jane, it would be par for the course. He'd never admit that he wasn't okay, especially not when the harsh sunlight exposed all his insecurities. She'd been okay with that. But when she'd asked him if he was sure if Red John said nothing, and he waited just a fraction of a second to answer her, that lie hurt.
It hurt even more because when he cast his eyes down afterward, she realized that he knew he had purposefully deceived her, and that angered her more than anything. However, instead of picking a fight, she pursed her lips, nodded, and retreated to her office to lick her wounds, thinking she'd have plenty of time to berate him later.
Except when she'd slipped out into the bullpen later that day, he was nowhere to be seen and even though she instinctively knew that he'd gone to his old house, it didn't stop her from trying his cell more times than she'd like because if they were going to work as a couple, they needed to talk to each other.
He'd promised her.
Except of course, this was exactly what she had been afraid of all along; the shutting out, the random disappearances, the unanswered telephone calls and voice mails, and worst of all, being that woman, the one who waited by the phone, hoping her calls were returned.
Well, she'd promised herself a long time ago that she would never be like that, never let a man get to her the way she'd seen men get to women in her line of work, and unlike Jane, she kept the promises she made.
So at some point that day, she'd reached over and switched off her Blackberry. They had no new cases and anyone who needed her could reach her through her extension. Yes, it was a petulant move, but she was so tired of being the mature, responsible one, especially where Jane was concerned.
Still, it doesn't stop her from glancing at her phone as she flips through the pages of her report and it doesn't stop her from wondering what Jane is doing at this very minute. She knows he won't do something reckless like hurting himself. Ironically, his revenge is her best ally in that case, but it doesn't stop the tight coil of worry from forming inside her, making her pour all her energy into the paperwork in front of her, if only to find something else to occupy her mind.
She's so preoccupied with the papers, she doesn't realize she's not alone until the woman standing next to her desk speaks,
"Agent Lisbon, working in the bullpen this evening?"
Madeleine Hightower isn't the first bureaucrat Lisbon has encountered on the job, but Hightower is the first boss that Lisbon can't quite figure out. She knows the woman isn't deluded enough to believe that Jane isn't a loose canon, but all her actions since her assignment have supported that very notion nonetheless. Regardless, Lisbon still refuses to believe that someone as intelligent as her new boss doesn't have an agenda. So Lisbon keeps her skepticism high but her defiance low, placing Hightower in the same ranks as high profile politicians and other important persons who must be placated on a case.
However, today her patience is low and her frustration is high, which doesn't bode well for her politeness with the dark-skinned woman, especially not when Lisbon feels she's about to be interrogated.
"Yes ma'am." She nods curtly, squaring her shoulders again, "I felt a change of scenery might be good."
Hightower folds her arms over her chest, obviously finding Lisbon's answer to be satisfactory as she looks around the room. Lisbon takes the opportunity to return to her paperwork, hoping Hightower will take the hint and just leave.
Except she doesn't and after a moment of silence, Lisbon places her pen down again and asks, "Was there something you needed?"
It's not exactly rude, but her question lacks her usual neutral tone, betraying both the exhaustion and frustration she is currently battling. Lisbon is not prepared for the flash of concern that crosses Hightower's face. Although she is surprised, Lisbon maintains eye contact, blinking several times in hopes that the flash of emotion on her boss's face was just that, a flash. Only, time passes and the concern in Hightower's eyes doesn't fade.
It sets Lisbon on edge.
She's well aware that the Sparrow case had been her boss's first real experience working with an unhinged Jane, and although it seems that this has stripped away some of Hightower's bravado, Lisbon now wonders how the dynamic will change now that Jane's baggage has been exposed.
This only serves to fuel her irritation, both with herself and the situation; she doesn't need anyone's concern, least of all Hightower's. The thought does cross her mind that, if anything, Hightower witnessing how unruly Jane can be during a case could work in Lisbon's favor, but in the end, she knows nothing is ever that simple.
So Lisbon doesn't wait for a response. Instead she quickly stands up and gathers all the files on the desk, deciding that perhaps working here, even if it gave her peace of mind for a few hours, was a mistake.
Almost unconsciously, her eyes flicker towards the brown, battered, empty couch; perhaps that is her real mistake because it exposes a chink in her armor, and she barely has time to divert her gaze before Hightower speaks.
"You're worried about him, aren't you?"
The question doesn't have a trace of malice in it, not a hint of suspicion or sarcasm, but Lisbon doesn't say anything for a moment. On the one hand, Hightower may now be her greatest ally, someone who can actually have some sway with Jane, if not on a personal level, then certainly on a professional level. And maybe, if Lisbon actually does voice her concern (as one colleague about another of course), perhaps Hightower could help her reach the unruly consultant.
Yet as much as Lisbon wants to believe it would be that easy, she feels herself unable to reply honestly, if at all. Hightower may have her own reasons for targeting Lisbon and giving Jane continuous get-out-of-jail-free cards, but Lisbon still remembers the sting of being suspended, the frustration over having her leadership skills questioned. She still remembers the hurt she felt when Hightower had basically told her she was expendable.
And just like that, her decision is made.
"You'll have the Sparrow case report on your desk by tomorrow morning," she replies smoothly before walking out of the bullpen, not even turning around to gauge her boss's reaction.
There will be time for damage control later.
She keeps it together until she reaches her office, but when she dumps her files on the desk, the triplicate forms scattering across the otherwise pristine surface, Lisbon starts to feel her hands shake. She decides right then that it's time to go home before she has a breakdown at work.
However, when she begins to gather what's left of her paperwork, amidst the crime scene photos and the witness statements, she finds the report update on Frye from her liaison in the Missing Persons Unit and she immediately sits back down in her chair. Seeing the redhead's name printed neatly on the front page with her most recent photograph underneath it makes the situation far too real and far too immediate.
Amidst all the chaos, Lisbon hasn't even thought about the missing psychic until now, and it leaves her with a bad taste in her mouth. The circumstances of Frye's involvement in the case feel like something out of a bad comedy, and she leans back against the chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she shuts her eyes.
She wonders, not for the first time since it happened, how Jane managed to convince her that taking Frye out to dinner would be a good way to figure out what she knows, which he was certain had something to do with Red John.
In hindsight, Lisbon can't help but smile humorlessly at the situation.
She realizes that in all her years of working with Jane, there have only been a handful of times when one of his hunches wasn't accurate, and more often than not, even the ones that were not entirely accurate had some grain of truth in them.
It is almost bitterly ironic that it would be this particular situation in which Jane appears to be completely and utterly wrong.
Especially given how certain he was that Kristina Frye of all people was in cahoots with Red John.
xxx
One Week Ago
It's not the candle light that tips her off, or the fancy plate settings, or even the incredibly delicious but atypical smells coming from the stovetop. Despite the rarity of it all, she is aware of Jane's slightly romantic streak, that part that likes to wine and dine and impress, so she wouldn't be suspicious of his motives if it weren't for one small detail.
Despite their shared predilection for sweets, particularly dark chocolate, there is one dessert that she absolutely loves that he can't stand. And when Lisbon sees the almond tart in a box from Marie's sitting innocently on the countertop in the corner of her kitchen, she immediately realizes Jane has either already screwed up and is trying to lessen the blow or he is about to do something to which she will definitely object.
Either way, she carefully sets her purse and jacket on the love seat and approaches the kitchen with caution, eyebrow raised even before Jane greets her from his place at the stove.
"I am very glad you came home at a reasonable hour on your own, otherwise it would have been extremely bothersome to have to go get you and come back here to finish all this up."
His voice is melodic, lightly teasing, and she can't deny that when he says home, a tiny flutter of warmth sprouts inside her. It's a double edged sword really, because on the one hand, having someone around for the first time in years fills the void she'd been trying hard to ignore, but on the other hand, when that person is Jane, her chances of getting hurt double immediately.
Still, as she walks up to the table and the delicious smell fully permeates her senses, Lisbon reasons that it's a little too late to be treading carefully, especially not in the week since the Harrington case when everything changed between them.
Instead, she reaches for the uncorked bottle of wine and pours herself a glass, before replying, "So this is where you disappeared off to in the middle of the afternoon?"
"Well I had to beat the evening supermarket lines if I wanted to have this done before your arrival." He shoots a quick smile over his shoulder and Lisbon takes the cue to saunter up to him, perching herself by the counter.
"And there wouldn't be any particular reason you decided to cook a gourmet feast on a Wednesday night?"
Jane looks away from the pot he's stirring to meet her eye and the sheepish smile on his face gives him away, "Case closed risotto?"
Lisbon raises her eyebrow at him over the rim of her wine glass before smirking, "I'd believe that if it weren't for the almond tart sitting on my kitchen counter." She nods in the direction of the store bought dessert.
"But it's your favorite." Jane deadpans, setting the wooden spoon aside and switching off the burners.
"Exactly," Lisbon exclaims, "which tells me one of two things. Either you did something I'm not going to like and I'll hear about it tomorrow from Hightower or you're going to do something I'm not going to like so you're trying to lessen the blow."
For a second, Jane looks surprised, but it lasts only momentarily, replaced with a blinding smile by the time he transfers the risotto to a serving dish and moves to the table.
"Can we at least have dinner first? Experience tells me people tend to lose their appetite when they're distracted or angry about something."
"So you admit it then," Lisbon probes, leaning against the counter smugly.
"Admit what?" Jane feigns innocence, busying himself with arranging the silverware exactly to his liking, which she is certain is just another diversion tactic.
"That you did this for a reason." She gestures towards the table, a slight eye roll betraying her impatience.
Jane smiles again then and walks up to her, lacing his warm hand through hers and peering at her with imploring eyes. "All I want right now is to have dinner with you and talk about your day and just enjoy your company. Can we do that?"
They've known each other for way too long for Lisbon not to know when Jane is trying to charm her into doing something, but there's a rare hint of vulnerability in his hopeful gaze that thaws her defenses a little. She smiles in spite of herself, and nods, allowing him to lead her to the table.
Still, the question of why he's gone to all this trouble when they've just closed a very grueling and confusing case lingers on her mind all throughout dinner. As soon as the dishes are washed, leftovers are put away, and they're sitting on the couch in her living room, not even the heavenly taste of her favorite dessert can deter Lisbon from asking what's been on her mind.
"Okay, so seriously. What did you do?"
Her smile evens out a little as she locks eyes with him. For the first time all evening, a hint of real worry sets in and she sets the dessert aside, no longer as appealing to her as before.
"I uh, I asked Kristina Frye out for coffee."
It's ironic to her that despite the clear implication behind Jane's words, thoughts of infidelity don't even enter her mind. Instead, Lisbon finds herself searching for a plausible reason why Jane would ask out a woman who has done nothing but grate on his nerves and test his belief about psychics.
Of course, she'd noticed the redhead's interest in Jane, but for some reason it merely amused her instead of bothering her. Perhaps if they were open about their relationship, it would annoy her, but Lisbon has never been the jealous type and she really couldn't fault Kristina for enjoying Jane's company and trying to ruffle his feathers a little.
Lisbon had also noticed that despite his claims to the contrary, Jane was at the very least intrigued by the self-proclaimed psychic. However, if there was one fact about Jane of which Lisbon is certain it's his dislike of infidelity, so instead of letting herself venture down that path, she resorts to humor to relieve the tension between them.
"If this is about that threesome…"
Her voice trails off and she can't suppress the smile on her face when Jane's head snaps up and he narrows his eyes at her. He doesn't say anything for a while, just looks at her as if he's trying to discern exactly what she's trying to accomplish by teasing him. Eventually though, he just smiles ruefully and reaches out to grasp her hand, squeezing it lightly.
"You know most women would assume something a little more obvious."
She realizes instantly that only Jane would have the audacity to say something like that and she shakes her head at him, "Well wouldn't most men who planned to cheat admit so afterward, if at all?"
Her words stump Jane for just a moment, and he runs his thumb idly over her knuckles as he looks ahead for a moment before turning to look at her again. "Hmm, I suppose you have a point."
A few moments pass in silence, and even though Lisbon stubbornly refuses to be the one to break it, the longer they sit together, the more that seed of anxiety grows within her. Eventually, she can't handle it anymore and leans forward a little.
"If this isn't about 'the obvious', then what is it about?"
She doesn't realize she's actually holding her breath until Jane runs his thumb across her wrist bone and says, "It's about Red John."
Lisbon isn't sure whether the surprise registers on her face, but she's positive Jane can sense the confusion in her entire demeanor. Either way, she feels a little foolish for not seeing it earlier. She should know by now that whenever Jane has ridiculous, off-the-wall ideas, they're somehow connected to the elusive killer who murdered his family. Still, she can't help wondering what asking Kristina Frye out has to do with anything on Jane's agenda.
Sensing her perplexity, Jane doesn't wait for the inevitable question before explaining.
"When we went to speak to the widow this morning, on the way there Kristina asked me if there had been any developments in the Red John case. She also mentioned how devastating it must have been when Bosco's team was murdered and Minelli retired."
For a moment, Lisbon ignores how the mention of her old mentor sends an involuntary shiver down her spine and spurs a slew of unpleasant recollections. Instead, she focuses on connecting the dots, attempting to understand how Jane jumped from point A to point B.
He seems to track her thoughts for the first time since they settled on the couch, focusing on her reaction instead of trying to conceal his own.
"I know it may sound ludicrous to you. In fact, I know you think this is just another straw I'm grasping at, but she seemed too interested in the topic, asking me questions about the fall out from the shooting and if we ever established any leads."
"And you don't think that's just her curiosity?"
Lisbon can't help but interrupt, another less sinister theory for Frye's interest in Red John sprouting to the surface.
"Maybe." Jane shrugs, eyes finally diverting to his lap, "But I have to try right?"
Thoughts of what feels like an entirely different time flood through Lisbon's mind as Jane poses that rhetorical question. She remembers the Renfrew case vividly. Sometimes when she closes her eyes the scene in that bathroom is the first thing she sees, but she also keeps memories of that case close to remind herself that despite his lack of judgment when it comes to Red John, Jane instincts are rarely wrong. Still, this particular situation is different and she bites her lip before tugging on Jane's hand to get his attention again.
"I know you do, but this is different, Patrick."
The use of his first name seems to surprise him the most and Lisbon understands why. Whereas he calls her Teresa almost on a daily basis, she rarely calls him by anything other than his surname.
"How?" He asks simply, not wasting any time.
Lisbon clears her throat, not sure if mentioning what she suspects may cause more problems than just letting Jane go through with his plan. After all, it's not like he has any ulterior motive and clearly he's not interested in Kristina Frye. Yet, the knowledge that Jane may be leading the redhead on doesn't sit well with Lisbon.
"Well, have you ever considered the fact that maybe the reason Kristina asked so many questions about Red John is because she might be interested in you?"
For a second, Jane appears clearly dumbfounded, before his expression dissolves into what Lisbon can only describe as a frustrated grimace.
"Oh no, not you too." He moans, leaning back to rest his head on the back of the couch, before rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.
This time, Lisbon really is confused and lets him know so.
"Jane, what are you talking about?"
"Oh nothing." He shakes his head, sitting up straighter to look at her. For a second Lisbon almost detects shyness in his demeanor, but she doesn't think much of it, is not even sure if Jane is capable of such an emotion.
She only realizes why he's slightly uncomfortable with the topic when he finally regales her with the awkward exchange he had with Hightower that morning when they'd spotted Kristina in Lisbon's office. By the end of it, Lisbon can't help but laugh a little at the absurdity of it all.
It seems as though they really are fooling everyone at the office. Still, her levity subsides quickly when she realizes she must now explain why she thinks Frye may be interested in Jane.
"She asked me about you, you know," Lisbon says after her laughter subsides. "I think she wanted to know if you were seeing anyone."
At this, Jane doesn't look so surprised but rather thoughtful actually, fixing Lisbon with a curious look as he turns his body sideways to face her. "Did you tell her the truth?" he asks, the beginnings of a slightly impish smile evident on his face.
Lisbon raises an eyebrow at him warily, wondering whether he's serious or merely teasing.
"No, should I have?"
"Oh no," Jane shakes his head, realizing she must have thought he was seriously considering she tell Kristina Frye that they were involved. "We agreed to keep it between us for now, and it would be entirely foolish to let Kristina of all people in on our little secret, but you do make an interesting argument."
Lisbon nods, willing him to go on, but Jane pauses, taking the moment to scoot even closer, pulling her against him so he can wrap his arms around her. Somehow the discussion of another woman's interest in him has made him acutely aware of the woman who bears his interest, and it reminds him of how lucky he is.
Despite popular belief, he hasn't had a lot of personal experience with women, utterly devoted to his wife since they met as teenagers. And regardless the temptations thrown his way in his previous line of work, the only other woman he'd ever slept with was currently being subjected to his crazy ideas, which involved taking other women to dinner.
Jane is enough of a student of human nature to know that most women would freak out and accuse him of cheating by now, or at the very least stew with jealousy until they really turned green. The fact that Lisbon is so logical about this makes him both appreciate her more and feel twice as guilty for bringing it up.
Still, regardless of how selfish this may make him, there's a part of him that's yearning to find any information that could aid him in his quest for vengeance, and he simply cannot ignore his hunch where Kristina Frye is involved.
"You're still going to go out with her, aren't you?"
Jane isn't remotely surprised that Lisbon figured it out. He's not sure if it's a good thing, but she seems to read him just as well if not better than he can read her. He can't resist the swell of gratitude as he detects the acceptance in her tone.
She isn't angry with him and she won't contest his decision except to tell him not to get his hopes up. And that knowledge makes him want to give her everything he possibly can at this moment, which he knows isn't a fraction of what she deserves.
He's also aware that bribing her with future plans is a selfish away to assuage his own guilt, but he can't help himself. He tightens his arms around her, taking comfort in the warmth of her body against his as he speaks, "Regardless of what happens, I think we should take a few days off sometime soon. I'd like to go with you to San Francisco, maybe you can show me some of your old stomping grounds."
Lisbon instantly realizes what he's doing, Jane can tell by the way she leans away from his embrace and looks over her shoulder at him, "Really? Are you sure it won't be suspicious if we both ask for annual leave at the same time?"
For a moment, Jane pushes aside any ill feeling he may have about his intended plans and runs his thumb across Lisbon's lower lip affectionately. "You taking time off alone will create a big enough diversion that no one will notice that I'm gone."
Lisbon's eyes widen in mock offense, before she dissolves into a smile and swats his arm in retaliation. "Oh hush you. I wouldn't be saying that if you want to sleep in my bed tonight."
Her warning is empty, but the ironic fact that his other actions should warrant such a threat doesn't elude Jane. Feeling a sense of gratitude that he wants nothing more than to express, Jane leans over and captures her lips in an impromptu kiss.
Eventually they pull apart, but Lisbon's hand immediately gravitates to his cheek, caressing the hard line of his jaw as her expression turns more somber.
"You do what you have to do but…"
"I know."
Jane cuts her off, perfectly aware that she's skeptical at the very least. He's afraid that if she voices her concerns, she may change his mind and a tiny little part of him, that's still stuck on revenge, cannot discard the possibility that Kristina Frye may be a link to Red John.
Instead, he moves the hand that's on his cheek and kisses her palm, not tearing his eyes away from her.
"Thank you" he whispers against her skin.
Even though Lisbon settles back in his arms as if nothing has happened, the smile she gives him in return doesn't quite reach her eyes. Jane feels a certain weight hanging between them and he shuts his eyes in quiet contemplation, hoping that he hasn't somehow just damaged the best thing that has happened to him in seven years because of a hunch.
xxx