Authors Note: Just a reminder that this is rated for alcohol use and all that goes with it.
Disclaimer: No, not mine.
Fifty cases and six months latter and Lisbon was still seeing the same guy that she'd been seeing the night Jane had gone back to Malibu and had that horrific dream. Only now, her boyfriend was coming around the office to pick her up and she was leaving on time on slow days to spend time with him, and Jane was drinking more.
He'd developed a system that worked well for him. On nights where Lisbon left late he would go to the bar down the street. The bartender knew him now. Jane had given him his credit card the first time he'd been back after having to be poured into a cab, he'd stated a tab and the bartender – Jack was his name – had no problem running the number the nights he was there. He'd been going to the bar less and less lately.
On nights when Lisbon left early, or rather on time, to meet with the guy, Jane would drink at the office. It was easier that way. He could drink more, sleep it off and already be at the office for work in the morning without having to worry about getting there.
He'd only been back to Malibu once since that last time. It had been after a particularly hard case, similar to the one after which he had slept with Lisbon; but this time there had been no sexual relief from the pain and misery. Well, at least not for him. He had stayed late with Lisbon that last day, just as he had before, only this time she was not alone and they had two hotel rooms. Since they were technically off the case and not on the clock the boyfriend had come to the small town to spend time with her in the picturesque setting.
That had been the first night he'd drank while out of town on a case. He knew Lisbon would be too busy to notice and if he were quiet the next day on the ride back she'd probably welcome it. So far she hadn't seemed to notice his drinking habit.
He'd left for Malibu that same morning, telling the team that he needed some time off. They were all a little shocked that he was asking for a break; none of them challenged him. He was hoping that the dream of blood and Lisbon had been a onetime thing, that it wouldn't be repeated and that he would have the strangely comforting images of his wife and daughter to haunt his dreams. He hadn't been lucky. It had been worse than before. Now as he walked the stair he could hear his own voice in his head, taunting him with those words he'd told her all those months before – It was a mistake…We never should have done it – and twisting their meaning I'm just going to hurt you. And then it had been blood on his hands, him drawing that retched face on the wall, the knife in his hand, and her asking him why, why had he hut her.
That dream, that was worse than any of the others. He'd rather be haunted by dreams of her skin on his, his hands on her, than dreams of his causing her death, real or imagined. By his own hand or by the hand of Red John it was the same. HE was the one responsible, the one at fault.
The only time he didn't drink know was when they were out of town; he hadn't done it since that one time, and didn't plan to do it again. There was more risk that someone would notice and say something. He refused to think that he had a problem because he didn't. He was just using another method to get rid of his problems, those dreams. He had tried the pills that the doctor gave him, but they didn't work near as well as the alcohol did at getting rid of the dreams of Lisbon. Why it worked on dreams of Red John and finding his wife and daughter butchered in their home and not on dreams of Lisbon's mouth on his he didn't know; but one day he would figure it out. Until then, he would keep drinking. Until he could find a way out.
He wondered tonight if he would be drinking in jealousy or just out of habit. He knew he didn't have a right to be jealous, but he almost couldn't help it. Every time he saw her with him he just felt his gut wrench. Jane knew he – the boyfriend – had a name, it was a very good name he was sure, he just didn't care to know it. Jane knew that the boyfriend had a good job, and that he was a fine upstanding citizen, but he didn't care. It was Lisbon; no man was good enough. Jane knew he had told her to go find someone who wouldn't hurt her; he just hadn't expected her to actually do it.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to check the time, easier than wearing a watch and quicker than finding a clock. Almost quitting time for the normal business day. No new case today, just warp-up and follow-up on cases that they had already closed or that he hadn't worked on so he knew that it was possible that Lisbon would be leaving on time tonight. Rigsby and Van Pelt were already packed up, just waiting until it wouldn't seem like they were escaping together to leave. Cho, ever vigilant, was waiting until the stroke of the clock before he gathered his things and then Jane knew that he would be gone. Jane had been doing the drinking thing long enough now that he could still function during the day, unlike that first time. He'd heard Cho on the phone confirming reservations for dinner and knew he had a date. Assured that his powers of observations were as keen as ever Jane didn't think anything of his nighttime activities.
Lisbon though, she was still a mystery. He contemplated going to her office and asking her what she had planned for the evening, but that would entail tailing to her in a way that he hadn't really since that night. Or rather since she had started dating the boyfriend. He hadn't been able to talk to her the way he had in the past, hadn't been able to just casually strike up a conversation. He didn't know why, didn't want to think of why really. He didn't want to run the risk that she would be able to discern his secret and know that she had affected him so much.
He stood and walked casually around the bullpen, chatting with secretaries and people on other teams. He avoided talking with the three people he worked with the most, he didn't want them to suspect anything either. He'd been distant for so long now that a change from that might cause them to wonder. He made a cup of tea he didn't intend to drink – he had to keep up the appearances of normality after all – and made his way back to his couch to sit and watch.
Rigsby and Van Pelt were gone, and Cho was just leaving, but the light in Lisbon's office was still on. Maybe tonight would be a night she didn't go out.
It was getting late; they were the only ones left in the building, or at least their floor; and he hadn't had one drink yet. He knew that was a good thing. He was just getting up the nerve to actually walk to her office, to inquire about her day when the elevator dinged. He looked in the direction and the boyfriend stepped out. Jane growled, he was here. What was he doing here?
Jane watched as Lisbon came out of her office to meet him half way. And then he kissed her. Jane knew that there was no way they'd been dating for over six months and hadn't kissed, hadn't had sex. But until he saw it with his own two eyes he could pretend it wasn't happening. It was one thing for Jane to know in the back of his mind that it was going on, but another thing entirely to see it in front of his face. It was late; she probably didn't even realize that Jane was still there. He watched in horror as what had been a gentle hello kiss morphed into something hard, needy and open-mouthed. The sight of it made his stomach churn; but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't turn away.
He wanted to make himself known, let them know they had an audience, but was frozen to the spot. He watched as the other man's hands roamed over Lisbon's body, touching her, caressing her, needy and harsh. Jane needed to do something; he needed to stop the torture. The fact that she was obviously enjoying it made it just that much worse. Mentally shaking himself he gathered his courage about him and stood, making as much noise as possible in the process to let them know he was there.
"Jane, I didn't know you were still here." Lisbon broke the kiss when the noises he was making became clear, but did not back up from the embrace.
"Yeah, um, just, uh, getting ready to leave." He stood a distance away; he didn't trust himself to get closer.
"Have you met Simon?" She asked, only now backing up slightly, but keeping her left arm close around her boyfriend.
"No, I don't think I have." Jane still didn't move. He watched Simon, his brown hair neatly cut and green eyes that shone in the dim light of after hours at the CBI.
"OK." Lisbon noticed the odd way Jane was acting. She had been noticing it for the past 6 months or longer – she was losing count – but this was the first time she'd observed it up close and personal. She was about to say something else when Jane turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, away from the elevator and towards the stairs.