.
.
Rose Between Two Thorns
.
.
She can't be his wife, and there is anger in her passion. This isn't making love. This is bad sex, angry sex, the twisted web of guilt and need and desire. He cries a little afterwards, silently, as she turns from him, feigns sleep, so that he can slip away...
Lisbon shakes her head angrily, dislodges the memory, snaps back to the now.
She can't believe that he's back, that she's going to have to work with him again. That she's going to have to go out and talk to him, in front of the team. In front of Jane.
The interview with Minelli had been bad...
..."Your judgement is compromised, Lisbon."
"Yessir." That cannot be denied.
"CBI are bringing in new blood. Serial Crimes are now taking an active interest. Senior Agent Bosco will be handling any cases pertaining to Red John from now on, as Lead Agent."
"Sam Bosco?" Oh god.
"Yes." He fixes a fishy eye. "This will not be a problem, Lisbon."
"No, sir." Her old mentor. (Her ex-lover.)
She'd always assumed that Cochrane would get the hand-off. Their not-so-friendly rivalry is well-known, both making Senior Agent in SCU around the same time. But Bosco – he'd been in line for Minelli's job, until he'd taken a high-flying troubleshooter post in Serial Crimes, working out of L.A for the last five years. (And if that move had coincided with their messy break-up, what of it?)
She clears her throat.
"What will this mean for Jane?"
Minelli doesn't pretend to misunderstand.
"Nothing good. I'd hope he'd remain in the CBI as consultant, but he'll have to learn to play nicely." The look he gives her indicates that he knows how unlikely this is.
Bosco and Jane are never going to get on.
Bosco is honest, dedicated, very good at his job. But he is a vocal opponent of, quite genuinely cannot see the use of, Jane's insights, feels that maverick methods are no substitute for proper police work.
Jane does not do well with authority figures, particularly male authority. And to be dismissed out of hand as worthless will do absolutely nothing to smooth that over.
(And there is, of course, the other matter. Not something she wants Jane to know, not something she ever wants to share. Particularly with a man who has so much reverence for his marriage vows that he still wears his ring six years on.)
Two strong-willed men, set for confrontation. And she's going to be in the middle of it.
000000000000
Jane is still smarting from his encounter with Dr Aubyn. The team are all walking on egg-shells around him anyway, and he's beginning to get that taut, angry edge to him, his response to being coddled. She doesn't know whether to break the news to him in private, or to lay it out in public, in the somewhat wincing hope that it might mitigate his reaction.
"Okay, I have an announcement..."
She doesn't look at Jane as she tells them, flat declaration of the arrangement, but she can feel him seethe.
"...I'm not happy about it, either. But I didn't make the decision."
Cho is genuinely alarmed. Things are already on a knife-edge. Jane's not the most stable of people at the best of times. Cho likes the guy, mostly, but they all know that he's not one for rules. The only person who can make him halfway behave is Lisbon, and something is about to go way sour there. Cho doesn't do gossip, but he's got a perfectly good pair of ears, and he's been at the CBI longer than the rest...
"Did you even try and fight it?" Jane's voice is far too calm.
"What with? 'Oh, I'm sorry, you can't take this case away, because my consultant wants to play vigilante'?" Blows her breath out. "You have to make a choice, Jane. You stay and work with us, part of a team, and you accept that. Or you – don't. But I can't change this. One of those things I can't fix." Aiming to hurt, out of her own weary temper, and no time to regret saying it. Looks up and over, and her face changes. "He's here."
Senior Agent Sam Bosco. Slightly taller than Jane, slightly older. He has an open smile, a firm, friendly handshake, instantly bonding with the team. He's been there, on the front line, came up through the ranks, one of them. And then he greets Lisbon as 'Teresa'.
Watching them together, Jane has a sudden lurch of shock. They have a history.
She hasn't seen him for years. The dark eyes, hollow angles and planes of his long face. That smile of his, a different charm from Jane's, but just as potent. He looks a little more worn, and the beard is new, suits him.
"...and this is our consultant, Patrick Jane."
They shake hands. It's perfectly polite, and yet somehow, Van Pelt has that sense she used to get when the big storms blew in back home.
Jane is their Alpha male. He doesn't have Rigsby's size and presence, Cho's stone-cold competence, but he's the one that owns the room when he's in it. And now there is another tiger on the hill.
Jane's eyebrows rise very slightly, and he smiles, wide and bright. To anyone who knows him well, this is an extreme danger signal.
"So...the move into politics is on hold for another year? Until the scandal of the divorce dies down. Wise move."
"Your disdain for social conventions is on record, Mr Jane. I'm not really concerned with your approval." A cool gaze. "We're grateful to you for the work that you've done for us here..."
It's a subtle dismissal.
"...but if you'll excuse us, this is a briefing for the agents."
That's not.
Lisbon's chin jerks in surprise. Oh, crap.
"I'm sorry," No apology at all in face or voice, "but I believe Mr Jane to be too intimately concerned with this case, and as such, he cannot be party to the investigation."
Swings his authority like a mace, smashes apart the frail peace they have brokered between them.
Jane looks at her, mute reproach, and she is so angry, with them both. What else can she do? Her rational workaday self obeys authority, recognises structure, sees the logic and accepts it. The small part of her that hurts for him has no place here.
"I'm afraid Sa...Senior Agent Bosco is correct. As Lead Agent on this particular case, he has the final say."
She watches the shutter come down, his eyes go cold and blank.
The man has come marching in, trying to take over (Lisbon) the case, and he (can't have her) doesn't have the (right) skill.
"Five minutes." She says abruptly to Bosco. He gapes, taken aback, but the rest of the team are already moving away, towards the table, and perforce he follows.
He watches her square up to the consultant. She looks tired, worried. The man is obviously a liability. What the hell was Virgil thinking of, allowing him anywhere near the case in the first place? And Teresa – why hadn't she handed him off, first chance she got? No-one else had been prepared to put up with him for any time at all.
This isn't their usual bickering, this is a proper fight. He looks purely angry. It's a frightening look on Jane – his usual mask is one of good humour.
"Dammit, Jane, I didn't make the rules here."
"But you follow them. Hiding behind that badge of yours."
He feels betrayed. Abandoned. Always the job. Always the rules, the protocol, the damn procedures. And then...to find out that.
"I am not hiding. This is what I do, Jane. I am an officer of the law. Which means rules, and regulations and working as a team. Personal feelings don't come into it."
He makes an extremely rude noise of disbelief. (She can't blame him.)
"Really, Teresa."
She flinches. Jane can find every raw wound. Looks at him with rage and fear and misery in her eyes.
"It's not the sort of thing you share. I'm not proud of it."
"No." Flat monosyllable stings her.
"Not everyone can live up to your standards, okay? You still wear..." Bites that off, appalled.
Jane stares at his hand for a moment. Then at her. That's the look he gets when he has found something out, eyes very dark. He takes a deep breath, frames his words carefully.
"Whether I wear this ring or not, I was married, I loved them, I lost them. I wouldn't ask you not to wear that cross." Fingers fly to her throat, and she is ashamed of herself. "My family are dead. But I won't forget them."
"Nobody would ever ask you to." She swallows a lump of sorrow, frustration. "It's none of my business..."
Because she dare not reach out to tip the world. Will not compete again with another woman, alive or dead.
"No. You need to understand." Hand curls into a fist, and he looks back up with a gaze of such open pain. "The memories are all I have. Just...memories."
Perhaps she does understand a little more, now, hating herself. Perhaps he understands a little more, too.
The anger dissipates, falls away from them. She can never stay angry with him when he looks so...wounded.
"Whatever happened in the past between me and him, it's long over."
"He doesn't want it to be. He's back in your life. And minus the wife, now. Convenient."
"Why is it any of your business?"
Because you're mine, he thinks, before he can catch the thought, and it leaves him speechless. She sighs, and he isn't used to her looking...defeated.
"Jane, I have to go and do my job. I have to. There's a whole world out there that we have to be part of."
"I don't care about the rest of the world..."
The wrong thing to say. Touches off the anger again.
"Oh, that's so very clear. You don't care about anybody but yourself. Your pride, your revenge, your own selfish, stupid death-wish."
"What else have I got?" Rips out of him, shocks them both. "This isn't my world. That's been made very clear, too."
Tell me again, he thinks, tell me that you care, because I need something. But he can't make his tongue form the words.
Shakes her head hard, and walks to the table, leaves him standing, alone.
0000000000
How the hell, how the hell did an argument about jurisdiction suddenly become a personal battleground? Damn the man.
She doesn't want to challenge his authority, old habit, old loyalty, but she has a flash of disquiet as Bosco sits at the head of the table. This is her team.
And then Bosco puts the file down. It's a substantial pile of paper.
"This is not a Red John file. This is merely the file of complaints received about Mr Jane since he started consulting for the Bureau. Can you tell me exactly why he's tolerated?"
Tolerated? Where the hell does this come from? Anger makes her voice sharp.
"Because of his performance record closing cases."
"That's not down to him. That's down to you, Teresa." He taps the file, palm of his hand. "He stirs up trouble, and you sift through the pieces and sort it out. You've had to tackle would-be attackers. You've shot people to protect him from situations he shouldn't have been in." He frowns. "Agent Van Pelt was targeted by an individual with a grudge against this man, who subsequently assaulted Agent Rigsby. Does this mean that anyone that works with him becomes a target for someone he's insulted?"
He got his family killed - remains unspoken, but echoes between them. Van Pelt colours, dull angry flush at the reminder of her humiliation. Rigsby shifts, uncomfortable. Cho's frown deepens. Lisbon registers this, but her focus, and her fury, are for this man in front of her.
"I think you should take your concerns to Minelli, if you feel that you cannot work with Mr Jane."
"I have no intention of working with him. I also think that you should reconsider doing so."
"He's my consultant. On my team. And we work with him, or not at all." Gathers them with a gaze. "You can return to work. Senior Agent Bosco and I will finish up here."
They scatter, grateful. Too many undercurrents here, things they do not want to know or be involved in. That scorching green gaze turns on Bosco.
"What the hell is all this about, Sam? This has nothing to do with the case."
"It has everything to do with it. He's dragged you into the sights of a serial killer, Teresa. He's dangerous."
Lisbon shivers. She knows that Red John has seen her. How much that will mean, they have yet to find out.
"Do you think I don't know that?" she snaps back. "I'm not your damn rookie any more, Sam. I've got a nice long list of people who have threatened me, and most of them are behind bars."
"He doesn't want to put this guy behind bars, he wants him in the ground. And he'll kill himself and others trying."
"I won't let him." Her voice is firm, article of faith.
Tilt of unease in him then, the feeling of miscalculation. He's used to the glory-seekers and the ghouls in his line of work. Reading through that file, though, his assessment of the man had moved from negligible pest to outright risk. That odd little outburst in the office had done nothing to mitigate that view.
"Teresa..."
Her name sounds wrong on his lips, a diminuation of who she is within these walls. And that is what this feels like, another attack on her professional capabilities. They stare at each other. She feels that old pull, guilty attraction and the urge to stop him looking so worried, for her, about her, and anger rises. Sets her jaw. She is a grown woman, and this man has no claim on her now.
"Senior Agent Lisbon. So you don't barge into my office and question my competency, Senior Agent Bosco, or the competency of my team."
Even if one of them is a self-involved time-bomb.
He doesn't understand. But she has always been better at taking care of others, than being taken care of. He had never understood why she had not stayed in his team, under his protection, prepared to move her world to be with him.
0000000000
Shaken to his very core by this new knowledge of her. Trying to match the strong, moral Lisbon that he knows with the idea of a young Teresa and that...his mind flinches away, and he curses his vivid imagination.
He's seen his share of human frailties, pandered to many, but he can never quite treat infidelity with insouciance. Marriage is important to him, a thing apart from other considerations of faith or morality. He has always thought it important to Lisbon, too. Oh, he in no way supposes that she entered the relationship lightly, and he has an idea that it carried a great deal of pain and guilt for her.
That man had worn his ring in bed with her. Had had so little respect for either woman, for what promises it stood for. She wouldn't want, should never have, a man who could shed such things lightly, who could discount his past. He feels no urge to condemn, just a sudden desire to take her in his arms, and tell her stupid, foolish things, wipe that memory away. Looking for a father figure to replace the one she lost, and she gets a scumbag who couldn't keep it in his pants.
The coldly analytical part of his mind knows how it would have played out, why. Lisbon is beautiful and bright and strong, and no surprise that any man should want her. And him...older, unhappy, offering his pain to her compassion. She has a soft heart under the hard shell, and that unscrupulous bastard had played her like a violin. Guilty rage in him, how close he comes to doing the same thing. Conscious that his fists are clenched, releases them.
He is not a naturally violent man, but he wonders if something else has broken in him, now - he has pulled a trigger, taken a life, after all...
But. No. This is older, much older, and so very human. Cynical amusement in him. He has spent his life playing with the minds of others, always the smartest person in the room, and none of that can help him in the face of this purely emotional response. Primal jealousy. She is his woman.
He has other weapons than his fists with which to fight for her. Though it would give him a great satisfaction to punch that stupid smirk off the man's face.
What is he to her? Colleague? Friend? Something else? If he could believe it was mere lust, they could burn it out in the thrashing heat of sweat and skin. But it wasn't, and he couldn't. Because he should not touch her, when to do so may call down the lightning. Knowing him is dangerous.
Still, it doesn't stop him wanting her. Frightened, selfish, possessive and totally unable to help himself.
He feels the shift in himself, that tear from the past, bows his head against it. Without his rage, what is he? A lost, broken man with no place in the world. He has to have something. Lives with memories, because all his dreams become nightmares.
He can cling to his dream of her, or he can cling to his nightmare of vengeance...
He leans on the wheel of the DS, breathes deeply.
If he starts driving now, he can be in Malibu for the small hours. Not that he'll sleep...
000000000000
No great surprise to storm away from that aborted farce of a briefing, and to find him gone. But he doesn't appear for the rest of the day, and he's turned his phone off.
He's a grown man, and he has the right to go where he will. What can she do to stop him? Tear down the last barriers of pride, beg him? It isn't in her, she has been as far down that road as she can. She has no claim on him, nothing but tenuous bonds of friendship that they have both strained to the limits. She wonders how long he'll stay with the CBI now, what he'll do if he leaves (her) them. Probably get himself arrested. Or killed.
And if he dies somewhere out there in the world, will they ever know? Or will he just vanish? An unclaimed body in some small town. Or a phonecall, official and apologetic, to ask them if they are aware...
Call switches to voicemail again. She snaps it off, rubs tired eyes. It's just the length of the day, no other reason for them to be damp.
But she's at home, now, no-one to see her. Can even manage a twisted smile at the irony. Did last time teach you nothing about falling for unsuitable men, Teresa? Because you really picked a prize this time. This isn't a man with a few marital issues. He's reckless to the point of suicide, and he had a breakdown, could have another. Are you really going to spend your life picking up the pieces?
Yes.
Inner voice shocks her. But it won't be denied.
It isn't the case of somebody having to. You want to. A desire for martyrdom, a masochistic streak...or just the fact that you love him, and you want him to be whole and happy. And now you might have to face the fact that you aren't strong enough. That he might not come back. The despite all that you might want, he really does want to destroy himself.
It isn't until she is in bed, and on the very edge of sleep, that she realises that she hasn't put the chain on her door. Turns her face into her pillow, though whether she is crying for him or for herself, she couldn't say.