This story has gotten away from me. My only hope now is that I just finish it and it doesn't completely suck. Sorry, guys! I promise I'll try to be better next fic…
Chapter Eleven: Start
"You mean, it was Red John who hurt you?" Jane was confused. "Well, excuse me for devolving to colloquialisms, but: duh."
Lisbon shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well, of course it was him. But…"
Jane, a little impatient with Lisbon's reticence, looked to Cho. Cho didn't fail him.
"He's dead."
Jane sucked in a startled breath. Of all the words he thought might come out of Cho's mouth, those were likely very close to last. He couldn't speak for a moment. He shook his head, pointing his finger at the other two. "This is a joke, right?"
They didn't respond, faces deathly serious. Jane continued, "Haha, guys. Yeah right."
He looked to Lisbon and her eyes slid away from his. His heart stilled, feeling devoid of movement. He wondered if it had stopped beating.
He took a deep breath. Surely if he was breathing his heart must be beating, right?
His hand dropped. "You are serious. Are you sure?"
Lisbon nodded.
"How can you be sure?"
Jane couldn't let himself believe them, didn't know if he wanted to.
"Jane," her voice was soft but firm, "trust me. It was him. You can look at all the files tomorrow, scrutinize everything about what happened, but it was him. I know it."
He didn't know what to say, didn't know what they wanted to hear. After a moment—for Jane, it almost felt as though everything had stopped—Lisbon turned to Cho. "I think we better postpone the team reunion. I'll take it from here."
Jane swallowed, tried to speak, had to swallow again to moisten his throat. It felt dried up and useless. "Yes, perhaps that would be best. We can assure Rigsby and Grace tomorrow that I'm alive and sane."
Cho nodded. "Right."
He turned with a simplicity of movement, tossing a stoic goodnight over his shoulder. The door shut quietly, but it may as well have slammed for the impact it had on Lisbon. She tensed, but remained as frozen as Jane. He could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure out what to do, how to handle him.
He suddenly felt very weary.
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
"Can we just not talk about it tonight? It's late," he said as he glanced toward the window, the slivers of the outside a black void of night. He had slept the afternoon away, yet still felt exhausted.
She hesitated, surprised. "If you're sure…"
Distantly, he knew why she was surprised. He supposed he was, too. Where was that burning passion to know everything Red John? That consuming obsession?
He thought about all the years hunting down the murderer. The faces of his wife and child flashed through his mind. Justice…revenge…two sides of a coin…a rose by any other name…
He tried to analyze his thoughts, his feelings. If Red John was dead, should he be disappointed? Angry? He had wanted to fulfill his vengeance. He had wanted to watch that monster bleed. To watch the blood as red as his family's seep from the body that had butchered his treasures.
Her blood was on the pavement, turning it dark.
He thought that what he felt might be relief.
As his eyes traced that fine white line on Lisbon's throat, that relief mingled with guilt, but was also peppered with a hefty dose of happiness. Lisbon was here. Alive.
And maybe he wouldn't have to worry about Red John going after her. Going after his own happiness.
"I am sure." He yawned. "I need to sleep."
His eyes felt heavy and he fought to keep them open. He just wanted to take her in.
She was real.
He blinked slowly and, through his flickering view of her, he saw a soft smile spread on her face. "Go ahead, Jane."
He lay down, mumbling, "Don't leave."
His eyes stayed closed this time and her voice sounded amused when she answered. "I'm hardly likely to leave my house in the middle of the night for no reason."
He smiled, burrowing further into her couch, the blazer pillowing his head.
"Good."
He would deal with Red John tomorrow. For now, he just wanted to fall surrounded by her scent, hugged by her belongings…this time, he was eager to wake. He couldn't wait to start his morning with the sight of her.
Somehow, it felt as if it would be the start of something else…