Authors Note: So this is where I left off when I posted this over at Jello Forever. Personally I like this ending, but it was pointed out to me that most people would probably like a bit more, so, there's an option here. Let me know if you want me to go on...I've got one and a half chapters written and just sitting there waiting to see if people want them. So, let me know if you like the ending or if you want more. Or if you like the ending and want more, that works too. Special thanks to lgmtreader for being beta on this.
Disclaimer: No.
Jane didn't know where he was going, only that he couldn't stay there, standing, staring at them – the happy couple – any longer. He'd had no desire to know anything about Lisbon's boyfriend, and avoided learning his name – Simon—because knowing would just bring that much more pain, make it that much more real. He didn't want to go down, more chance to run into them, so when he came to the stairs he went the only other option available to him…up.
He'd never been to the roof before, he didn't even know if he'd be able to get the door open, or if there was an emergency alarm, but he was in luck. It wasn't chained or locked and there was no alarm. A fleeting though, that this would be the point of entry of anyone were to ever try to infiltrate the CBI, almost made him smile. He surveyed the surrounding buildings. It wasn't the tallest building in the area by any means, but it wasn't the shortest either. The landscape of Downtown Sacramento laid out before him, the lights shimmering in the cool night air.
It was peaceful and serine up here; his only regret was that he hadn't thought to grab his bottle as he fled from Lisbon. He didn't know how long they were going to be down there and he could really use a drink. Why had he over-reacted that way? He knew that it was Lisbon's right to date whomever she pleased; he just didn't want her to. He wanted her to pine after him the same way he was pining after her.
He needed a drink. That was the only way to stop feeling like this. It always worked, dulled the pain, the longing, the ache. It made him forget; caused him to black out. He needed it. He didn't know how long he'd been up here, but he didn't care, he was sure that Lisbon and Simon would be gone by now; why would they stick around the office? Slowly making his way down the stairs he wondered when he'd become so pathetic? He'd never cared before if someone had liked him. He'd swindled dying girls and old women out of their life savings; he shouldn't care about a woman whom he had told to move on, who actually had.
The bullpen was dark and silent; Lisbon had left. While he knew he should go out, he just couldn't bring himself to leave; that would take more energy than he wanted to expend. The only thing he wanted to do right now was throw back a few shots and fall into oblivion.
His head hurt, which was unusual. He usually kept the level of alcohol in his system to a point where the side effects of the drinking were at a minimum. His goal at present was to become one of those old men who drank so much they were essentially pickled. The only explanation was that he was awake earlier than he usually was. He hadn't heard his phone ringing, and judging from the level of light shining through his eyelids it was still very early, so it wasn't possible for everyone else to be here.
He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, only noticing the three people surrounding his couch when he'd rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had stretched his hand out to find the bottle he knew should still be near the edge of the sofa.
"It was her idea." Were the first words spoken by Cho who was looking at Van Pelt.
"Jane, we're worried about you." Her voice was kind and caring. She had pulled a chair up right in front of his couch; it was amazing he hadn't run into her when sitting up. How had he not noticed her?
"I'm fine."
"Liar." Rigsby snorted under his breath, but Jane still shot a pointed look at him.
"No, really, I'm fine." He was really. Or would be if they would leave him the hell alone.
"Jane, I don't know what happened with you and Lisbon, but since that case almost a year ago you've been acting…odd."
"Odd? That's what you're basing this early morning chat on, that I've been acting odd?" It really was ridiculous.
"Jane. We care about you. Don't think that we haven't noticed that you've been spending more nights here than you usually do."
"I need to get a new apartment; hotel rooms get expensive, and we've been on a lot of out of town cases lately. I just haven't had the time."
"Oh, please. Jane, we all know that's a load of crap." Rigsby pushed himself off his desk where he had been leaning. "You haven't been sober for longer than a week since that first night you called to have me some get you."
"Which you didn't," Jane cut in, not liking the way their ambush was going.
"Jane, you think you've been hiding it well, but you haven't. I don't know what happened with you and Lisbon; I don't care, but come on. Do you really think that your wife would want to see you – "
"Do NOT bring my wife into this sham of an intervention." Jane said, standing abruptly not caring that the world was swimming around him. "I do my job, I stay out of your way, I expect you to do the same for me." Pushing past Van Pelt, he ignored Rigsby's attempts to call him back, and speed up when he heard the sounds of Cho pursuing him.
How dare they bring up his wife? They didn't know what she would have wanted. Jane didn't know where to go. It was still early; the sun wasn't even fully up yet. He knew if he went out to the parking lot he ran the risk of being spotted if any of them were watching the window. He rounded the corner to the elevator and heard the gears moving signaling someone coming up. He ducked into the small room next to it to hide; didn't want someone to see him and tip off the team.
He caught the sound of a familiar laugh as the elevator door slid open. Lisbon was here, had she been invited to the teams embarrassing display? She was talking on the phone, it was soft and he couldn't hear, but he knew she was talking to Simon. Five months after that kiss and she was still dating him.
"Hey, Boss, have you seen Jane?" Van Pelts voice was close, right outside the door, and he flattened himself against the wall.
"No, I just got here." She said her voice light and happy. He heard a small gasp come from Van Pelt, a happy and surprised sound.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Yeah, he asked me last night!"
"It's so gorgeous! How did he ask?"
"We went to the movie in the park. A cheesy old romantic comedy, and just as the man on the screen got down to ask, he had the ring box right there, it was so sweet."
"Oh, how romantic!" Jane stood in shock. Marriage? That man had asked Lisbon to marry him? How the hell had that happened? He stopped listening intently to the sounds of the women coming from the other side of the door. He didn't care. He'd never thought it would come to this. He really had lost it all now. It was a few seconds of silence before Jane realized that the two women had moved on from the hallway.
Jane needed to get out, but knew that it was too early for the bar to be open. In the past few months he'd taken to going up to the roof to think at night, and that's where he headed now. He had a bottle stashed there; he knew he was going to need it today.
The sun was just rising in the east when Jane reached the top of the tallest building he had access to. He was struck by the beauty as the golden rays lit up the sky, tinting the clouds shades of red and orange. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his bottle from under an old upturned five gallon bucket. He leaned against the edge of the small wall designed to keep people from falling off the roof. The sun warmed his face and worked quickly with the alcohol to numb his frazzled nerves. He found himself thinking about what had happened after his wife had died.
He'd tried to end things, end the misery he'd been in when he'd walked into that room. And somehow, this pain, while different, was entirely the same too. He'd lost someone near and precious to him; and it had all been his fault; again. How did he manage to always hurt the ones he loved? He thought about that dream he'd had, where it had been his hand thrusting Red John's knife into Lisbon's side; and knew that while she was still alive, she might as well be dead to him.
He took another swallow of the harsh liquid, his throat used to the burn now, and he didn't wince as it crashed onto his empty stomach. He looked out over the city and saw the cars below. He wasn't very high up, but he knew how to work this. He knew if he broke his neck it was as good as jumping off a fifty-foot building. He just had to go over head-first.
He wondered briefly what it would feel like, falling down, and thought it was a pity he wasn't on a higher building. When he'd lost his wife it had been pills that he had tried to end it with. It hadn't worked; someone had found him. This time, this time there would be no turning back.
He climbed onto the short wall and took one last look around him at the rising sun before closing his eyes and letting go.