"I can't believe you actually set the building on fire," Lisbon grumbled three weeks later.
"It was only a small one," Jane protested. "Besides, technically I only set a bunch of papers on fire that happened to be in the building at the time."
Lisbon shook her head. "Still."
"It got the job done, didn't it?"
"Yes, congratulations. After setting the building on fire, burying a man alive, and insulting the boss to his face, you finally managed to get yourself fired. Haven't you ever heard of the concept of overkill?"
"I can't help the fact that the CBI values my skills so highly that I had to resort to drastic measures to get the brass to cut me loose. Besides, I had to play it up, or Red John wouldn't buy it."
"I can't believe you're really going through with this," Lisbon said unhappily. They were in the stairwell, in the place where CBI maintenance still hadn't managed to fix the broken security camera. In a few minutes, Jane would be gone for who knew how long. Lisbon had followed him out of the bullpen, yelling at him, and she was to shout at him some more when they reached the parking lot, in full view of anybody looking out the window, to officially kick off Jane's ill-conceived mission.
"Remember, you're incredibly angry with me," Jane reminded her.
"Trust me, that won't be difficult to remember."
"But you're also worried about my mental well-being," Jane continued.
"Again, not really a change from the usual state of affairs."
"It wouldn't be out of character for you to reach out after some time has passed, though. Flood my voicemail with worried messages."
"But you're not going to answer them," Lisbon said sourly. Jane's insistence on cutting off contact with her and the team was the part of his plan she liked the least.
"I told you, he'd never believe I'd really given up if I'm still talking to you," Jane said.
"I know, but it's more dangerous for you. If you'd just be reasonable about the burners—" Lisbon began.
Jane cut her off. "We've been over this, Teresa. We can't take the risk. What if he makes contact and found it on me? The game would be up before I even got a foot in the door."
They'd had the same argument roughly a hundred times in the past several weeks. Lisbon knew there was no changing his mind. "Fine, but I maintain that this is a stupid aspect of your stupid plan, and you are going to regret it before this is all over."
"Noted. Now—are you ready? We shouldn't linger here too long."
Lisbon looked at him, tears pricking her eyes. "No," she whispered.
"Me, neither," Jane admitted. "I guess the phrase 'ready or not' applies here." He swept her into a hug and clutched her fiercely. "Be careful," he said, his voice suspiciously hoarse.
"You be careful," she said into his shoulder. "You're the one going off on an ill-advised mission on your own. I'll be here with the team. I'll be fine."
"You're not to get yourself shot again while I'm gone," he instructed her, holding her tighter. "Or stabbed, kidnapped, or even lightly maimed. In fact, you'd better not get so much as a hangnail while I'm not here to look after you."
Lisbon bit back several retorts that immediately came to mind. Nothing she said would change his mind in any case, and suggesting he stick around if he felt so strongly about it would only make him feel worse. She'd already argued with him until she was blue in the face every day for the past three weeks, and he'd refused to budge. It was time to accept he was really going forward with this terrible plan, no matter what she had to say about it. "I'll do my best. You will be careful, right?"
"As careful as I can be." He let her go, his eyes dark and unhappy. "I really have to go now."
"All right," Lisbon said, making an effort to compose herself. "I'm ready."
Jane took a deep breath. "Let's do this, then." He cast one more searching look at her, as though he were committing her face to his memory palace, then turned on his heel and started down the stairs.
Lisbon inhaled a shaky breath and counted to ten, then went after him. She mustered every ounce of anger and frustration and worry she'd felt since Jane had come up with this horrible plan in the first place and set her shoulders. She stormed after him and caught up with him in the parking lot.
Jane was always telling her what a terrible actor she was, but in the end, very little acting was required. She raged at him in the parking lot, shouting at him that he was an idiot for doing this, that she was convinced he was going to get himself in trouble that he couldn't get himself out of. That she resented the hell out of him for his selfish behavior and reckless endangerment of others. She threw everything she had at him, and he just stood there and took it. When she finally came to a gasping halt at the end of her rant, he only looked at her with sadness and defeat in his eyes and turned away. Then he was gone.
She stood in the parking lot for several minutes, staring stupidly after the place where his car had disappeared. He'd gone. He'd really gone. Up until this moment, she hadn't fully believed he'd actually go through with it. She'd been so sure he'd see sense in the end, that she'd be able to convince him to abandon his foolhardy plan before he put the final wheels in motion. Her hand found her cross and clutched it.
Guess she'd been the fool in the end. She'd known—she'd known—Jane wasn't capable of reason when it came to Red John. That he would put Red John above absolutely everything. She'd seen how determined he was as he set the whole thing up. He'd buried a man alive, for God's sake. She'd never been so angry with him in her life as when she'd realized what he'd done. But now, after he'd done all that and more, all she could think was that she'd failed him.
She ought to have been able to persuade him. She should have marshaled her arguments better. She should have sacrificed her pride and told him she and the team couldn't get along without him. Hell, she should have ratted him out to the team. Spilled every detail of his whole stupid plan to the whole lot of them and enlisted their help in talking him out of it. But no. She'd been stupid enough to think she could persuade him on her own. She was his confidante, she was the only one he listened to—at least, according to Bosco, to Minelli, even to Cho—but they were all wrong, because when it really mattered, he hadn't listened to her at all.
She turned mechanically and slowly made her way back into the building. She trudged up the stairs feeling as though she'd swallowed a stomachful of cold lead.
When she reached the landing of her floor, she stopped and inhaled deeply several times. Then she opened the door and walked slowly into the bullpen. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt were all there. They stood and hovered anxiously when they saw her, worried but expectant, like they believed she would have the answers.
"Jane's gone," she said woodenly. "He's not coming back." With that, she turned away and shut herself in her office.
She didn't say a word to anyone the rest of the day. She had a budget meeting in the afternoon—she didn't go. She didn't respond to a single email and ignored her phone when it rang.
The team ran interference for her. Anyone who stopped by hoping to get the inside scoop was told exactly as much as they knew. That Jane had been acting erratically for a while. That Lisbon had reached the end of her rope with him when he pulled the whole 'hitting a civilian with a shovel and knocking him into an empty grave' stunt. That Jane had flipped out and gotten himself fired, and Lisbon had tried to talk some sense into him but had come back shaken, with the news that Jane had left for good.
Lisbon listened but kept her face impassive. She made her way through file after file, the rote activity freeing her mind to drift through the dreadful gray space where it seemed to have taken up residence.
She stayed late, wanting to avoid people. She finally packed up and went home around ten, letting herself into her apartment with her head bowed. She didn't turn on any of the downstairs lights. She let her bag drop to the floor by the door and made her way upstairs in the dark.
When she got to her room, she spotted an unfamiliar shadow out of the corner of her eye. She turned on the light.
A single red tulip sat in a simple glass vase on her bedside table. Lisbon sat down on the bed and stared at it. She covered her mouth with her hand and choked back tears.