A/N: First of all, thank you for the kind reviews on my last fic, I'm a complete amateur when it comes to fic-writing so it was incredibly validating! I bring you another short one (albeit not as light-hearted as the last) where I basically explore an alternative ending to Nothing Gold Can Stay because that episode continues to haunt me. (The fact that Jane never went for therapy after killing Red John is pretty insane to me LMAO like sir you're just going to gloss over all that emotional damage?) While Jane running away because he's unable to deal with his emotions is pretty plausible, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Lisbon actually talked to him. In my head, this is what could've happened. (Title from Robert Frost's poem 'Nothing Gold Can Stay')
She realizes that she isn't in unfamiliar territory as she watches him walk away from her, shoulders slumped and demeanor pained. Except she is in unfamiliar territory because every other time he's walked away from her, he was just her consultant, she had no right to stop him. Now he's her boyfriend whose warmth she's grown accustomed to every night. Now he's her boyfriend who loves her so goddamn much that the mere thought of losing her is making him lose his mind . Now she can say something and hope that he'd have the decency to listen. So she does.
"Jane," she calls, making no effort to wipe her tears away.
Briefly, he considers feigning ignorance, pretending not to have heard. The voice he's endlessly seeked comfort in is a cruel reminder of everything he stands to lose.
"Patrick," she tries again.
The evident crack in her voice and her use of his first name compel him to turn around. Instantly, he feels guilty when he sees her tear-stained cheeks, not wanting to believe that he had a hand in instigating them. The lump in his throat helps him maintain some semblance of control over an imminent gut-wrenching sob so he doesn't disturb it. Instead, he moves closer towards her and waits for her to speak.
For a split second, Lisbon almost decides to take him up on his offer to run away together but she quickly shakes that thought away because someone has to be rational in this relationship.
"Tell me Jane, how long will it be before I see you again this time? Will it be six months, two years or even longer?" The words come tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them, kindled by an amalgamation of anger, fear and desperation.
His jaw drops slightly at her unexpected remark and she feels a little bad. Deep down, she knows that every time he's walked away from her, he's always justified it with wanting to protect her using some sort of twisted Jane logic. This time, she can't understand what he's trying to protect her from. And she'd rather not relive the hollowness his absence unfailingly triggers.
"I'm not leaving you. I don't want to leave you. I- I just need to get away from my thoughts, for a little while." He refuses to meet her gaze.
"Talk to me, Jane," she pleads.
"I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I'd do without you," he confesses. "Every time I look at you today, I think about losing you. I'm going crazy because I know I'm not going to survive that again."
"Jane we've talked about this the other nigh-"
He cuts her off: "I don't want to burden you with personal issues that I need to work through."
Of course. The idiot was trying to protect her from his own irrational thoughts.
She places her hands on his shoulders and shakes him slightly. "Jane, I love you. You're not a burden, never have been and never will be. This is a partnership. Your pain is my pain. Whatever issue there may be, we work through it together. No more suffering alone," she says, hoping to get the sentiment through his thick skull once and for all, but also preparing to repeat it as many times as he needs to hear it.
The weight of her statement dislodge the lump in his throat and suddenly, he's audibly sobbing and his shoulders are shaking out of control. Lisbon's never seen him like this before. Quickly, she gathers him in her arms and he clings onto her in a way reminiscent of a goodbye.
Anxiety bubbles through his chest. He can't tame his hurricane of thoughts, conflicting feelings and instinct to run; whether that be with her or away from her, he doesn't know yet. Desperately, he tries to regain control over his emotions with breathing techniques that he's well-versed in but to no avail, his anxiety has a chokehold on him.
After years and years of observing his emotional ups and downs, Lisbon knows exactly how to comfort his anxiety-riddled brain. She pulls away slightly to cradle his right hand and gently places it over her chest.
Something about the gesture grounds him because all other thoughts begin to fade into an unimportant murmur; her cardiac rhythm is what matters most.
His trembling hand. Her trembling heart.
Systole. Diastole. Systole. Diastole. Proof of life beneath his palm.
"I'm here, I'm alive," she whispers and tucks her head beneath his chin, closing her eyes and listening to his heartbeat, while he feels her own.
They stand there for what seems to be an eternity until his ragged breathing eventually evens out. He slowly pulls away and looks at her with sad eyes and uncertainty.
She reaches up and cradles his face. "I am going to take you home, make you a cup of tea and then tuck you into bed. If by tomorrow, you still feel the need to get away, I am going to respect that and give you space to work through this," she says gently. "But just tonight, I don't want to be alone," she continues in a small voice, hoping that she's not making an unreasonable request.
He nods wordlessly so she takes his hand.
Usually, he likes the way she makes him tea. Today, it tastes like impending doom. He can't help but wonder what the last cup of tea she ever makes him will taste like. Immediately, she notices the pained expression on his face and feels angry at the circumstances that damaged him like this.
"Jane, come on, let's get some rest. It's been a long day."
True to her word, she tucks him into bed and lays her head on his shoulder, her hand moving in soothing motions across his chest. It takes him a while to switch off his insistent and agonizing thoughts, but eventually, the exhaustion overtakes them and he finally falls asleep.
She looks up at his resting face and finds solace in his fugacious peace. Gently, she runs her hands through his curls and moves to place a soft kiss on his forehead before settling her head on his shoulder again.
"Stay," she whispers inaudibly, "I can't imagine waking up knowing that I won't see you either."
The next morning, he finds Lisbon's face buried into the crook of his neck. The loss of a fine agent is still just as real and the issues he needs to work through haven't magically disappeared, but his head feels clearer, and he no longer feels the urge to run.
He suspects a heavy conversation awaits them later on, but for now, he's content, so he pulls her in closer and takes in her shampoo. The warm breath tickling his neck and the rise and fall of her chest lull him back to sleep.
She wakes up to a familiar arm slung around her waist and proof that he stayed.
A/N: I hope this wasn't too out of character? Reviews are always appreciated and thank you for reading!
You can find me on twitter: lestrangle