Chapter 34: Is The Past Even Past?
FBI, Sacramento, Thursday
The Austin agents and one consultant straggled in bare seconds before start of the workday. Despite deep satisfaction for pulling off an important operation, the euphoria that temporarily offset bone-deep fatigue was gone. Three months of six- or seven-day workweeks of 12-hour days had exacted a toll that a night's sleep couldn't erase.
Lisbon wouldn't openly question Abbott's wisdom in driving the team that hard. No one asked her advice so she'd keep her head down and pull her weight. But that didn't change her opinion. She'd kept the SCU going for a decade under tremendous pressure from Red John, tragedy, a heavy caseload, and vicious CBI politics. Cho was frayed around the edges, shocking that it showed at all. Jane was uncharacteristically out of sorts. Jane complained all the time but never about anything serious, anything that suggested weakness. Nonetheless, long days of intense concentration reading and breaking their toughest suspects were exhausting. Ah, to hell with it. We'll survive another week or two.
Everyone dutifully started the day's interrogations. Mid-morning, Jane exited an observation room for tea. Cho appeared simultaneously twenty feet down the hall. Lisbon was farther away still when Abbott appeared. Abbott sharply called Jane to his temporary office. Great, he's finally heard about Schultz, Lisbon thought. He'd know more if he were approachable.
Everything happened at once. Jane walked toward Abbott. A Blake suspect pulled free from an agent's grasp. Two quick steps. He smashed Jane against the wall with his shoulder and kneed him in the groin. Cho tackled the suspect, but not before the guy tripped Jane, kicking him as he fell. Jane's head cracked against the concrete floor, thin commercial carpeting barely softening the blow. Silence reigned for a breathless instant.
Then the suspect yelled as Cho pulled his handcuffed arms up behind his back. Instant pain, instant control.
"Lock him up, dammit," Abbott ordered.
Cho pulled the suspect roughly to his feet as the man shouted at Jane. "You're the murdering sonnofabitch that fucked us all, you bas–" Cho's elbow jab left him gasping. The agent hauled him away, ashamed at losing control of his prisoner.
Abbott turned to another agent, "Get a doctor up here!"
Jane groaned, curled into a ball around the pain. Lisbon knelt by his side, helpless to do much. Jane hissed as she checked the back of his head for blood. "Sorry," she murmured.
Ten minutes later Jane was on the couch in Abbott's office after being helped up by the clinic doctor and Cho. He was already insisting he'd be fine. Ignoring Jane's protestations, the doctor methodically ruled out concussion and broken ribs. Pain notwithstanding, Jane had received only a glancing blow to the groin. The doctor recommended he go to a trauma center. Barring that, he should ice his head and groin and rest. Jane clutched the icepack to his groin as he lay on the couch, head carefully positioned away from the throbbing lump in back.
Abbott started, "Jane–"
"–Not going," Jane bit out between clenched jaws. Pale and sweating from pain, he added, "Give me a half hour and I'll leave."
Lisbon confronted Abbott, "This wouldn't've happened if your agents were rested and sharp!"
"You're out of line, agent." Abbott's voice was dangerously soft.
Jane demanded harshly, "Take it somewhere else," and at last was left in peace to master his splitting headache and pain.
Cho stepped between Lisbon and Abbott to take an unfamiliar conciliatory role, "There's no permanent damage." Anticipating Abbott's impulse to insist on treatment, he added, "Lisbon will keep an eye on Jane. Get him to an ER if necessary."
After a moment Abbott let it go. "When do you think he'll–"
Lisbon scowled and said, "Monday. He won't be in any shape to work tomorrow." She stared Abbott down, silently daring him to insist on working on the weekend.
Abbott turned and announced, "Everyone gets the weekend off." Gruffly, "Make sure he's okay."
Calming herself down, "Yes, sir." Abbott walked off.
Cho and Lisbon exchanged glances and slumped, tension drained from the situation. She peeked into the office and was encouraged to find Jane had fallen asleep. His color was better and the pain killers seemed to be helping. She quietly closed the door. Now lunchtime, Cho offered to get sandwiches while Lisbon stayed near Jane.
They claimed a table outside the office and split the food. Agents passing by paused to ask about Jane and were relieved he'd be okay. They talked between the inquiries.
Hesitantly, "Sorry I p.o.'d Abbott."
"You're right." Swallowing a bite of food, "Saw it in Afghanistan. Exhaustion invites mistakes. Jane lucked out."
She frowned. "That was lucky?"
Cho nodded grimly. "The guy's a martial arts instructor at the LA police academy. Ideal recruiter for Blake. Without cuffs he could kill someone barehanded. If he even had room to kick box he would have done major damage."
"Geez." She took a deep breath and let go of the 'what if's.' "He hated Jane."
"Sure. Killed McAllister, exposed Blake. An easy ID with the vest and hair."
She ran a hand over her face. "It never ends. Jane's worked with us forever and he's still vulnerable."
"What if I taught him to fight?"
She shook her head. "Wouldn't work. You have to like mixing it up physically."
Cho exhaled slowly. "Yeah. That's what Rigs and I thought back at the CBI."
She sipped her coffee. "I think it goes back to his scumbag father." At Cho's inquiring look, "Jane never wanted to be anything like him," leaving Cho to draw the obvious inference.
She sighed, discouraged. "Brilliant detective with zero physical capabilities. Without the team's protection..." She fell silent remembering an endless list of dangerous situations.
Cho blinked, eyebrows drawn together. "Boss, I shouldn't leave. What if they split you up on cases?"
Lisbon shook her head. Softly, "Go be with your mom. –We'll be okay."
"But if–"
"Hey! Jane's got a plan to get out of the FBI and Texas. No choice but to trust him."
"Don't like it." He exhaled in obvious dissatisfaction. Lunch over, they cleaned up their trash. Jane was awake when Lisbon checked so they left with Jane walking gingerly and slowly.
Hotel, Sacramento
A painful ride later, Lisbon tucked Jane into bed at their hotel. She was angry anew when she caught sight of bruises blooming purple and blue covering his left shoulder and the right side of his chest. Controlling dangerous suspects was fundamental in law enforcement; the attack on Jane should never have happened. Jane changed into the loosest boxers he owned. After more painkillers and much shifting in search of a semi-comfortable position, he gratefully yielded to sleep. She closed the door, glad he had insisted on upgrading to a suite with separate sleeping and living areas.
Lisbon had time to kill. Daytime tv was a hopeless wasteland and she hadn't brought any case files. At loose ends, she tried to nap on the couch, gave up, then let her thoughts roam unrestrained. Taking stock, she was a little surprised. She was back in a challenging law enforcement position. With Jane. In Sacramento (if only for this one case). And Blake was over.
Now what?
So ingrained was the habit of walling off hopes and dreams to get through immediate work, the current crisis, someone else's needs, she hesitated to unlock that door. Hope sprouted anyway. Delicate tendrils of possibility threaded their way through cracks in those walls until she had to think about it.
Jane came back for me, says he 'needs' me. So we – we – have a future together. What's that mean? What if Jane can get out of Texas and the damn remaining 53 months of his agreement? Says he wants California too. To do what? I'm still pissed at being screwed over by the bureaucracy so the CIB is out. Would he go back into show business? I don't fit in that world ... and, frankly, he doesn't either anymore. She swallowed. And ... kids? He's 'not opposed.' Not exactly an enthusiastic embrace of parenthood. Is it even fair to ask? Losing his family, Charlotte especially, almost killed him. And, hell, I'm 40. Forget 'ticking.' That clock may have stopped dead by now.
Lisbon jumped up and peeked in to reassure herself Jane was still sleeping. She closed the door and booted up her laptop. Browsing the web confirmed her vague notions. Infertility treatment ranged from nothing more than timing intercourse to months or years of strain, injections, surgery, and constant tension. Then and there she rejected the most extreme measures. Aside from her own feelings, she wouldn't sacrifice their happiness on the altar of conception, not if it meant a long, uncertain, divisive, emotionally draining marathon. Jane willing, yes, she wanted a family and it finally seemed possible. But her priority was enjoying life with the man she had loved for over a decade.
Jane opened the door and made his way to the couch while rubbing sleep from his eyes. Lisbon snapped shut her computer and joined him.
"Hey." She looked him over, relieved that he looked better, no longer in much pain.
"Hey. Doing better," he volunteered. Frowning, "Don't know how well I'll manage work tomorrow though."
"Already told Abbott you won't be in. The whole team has the weekend off too."
Jane eyed her with a sideways glance and raised eyebrow. "I suppose you had nothing to do with that miracle."
She frowned and folded her arms. "Hmph. Abbott realized everyone's exhausted."
"Uh-huh." He yawned and blinked. "If we have three days, there are some things I need to do. I'll get dressed."
Her hand stayed him. "What about resting?"
"I rested." He tilted his head and pressed his lips together. "I – I'd like to go down to Malibu." At her raised eyebrows, "It's been almost three years." Reaching a decision, hesitantly, "Will you come?"
"I'll drive." She plowed on before he could object. "You need more rest. 'Sides, you don't want to be moving around any more than you have to, right?"
He winced at the thought. "Yeah. So long as you avoid bumpy roads."
"Why not wear sweat pants – something soft and loose?"
"Except I don't have any."
"In the gift shop. I'll buy you a pair while you get ready," she offered, getting up and grabbing her purse.
En Route to Malibu
The ride seemed endless. Lisbon was pleased Jane slept through most of the trip though she wondered about his intentions in Malibu. His house, obviously. I forget he hasn't been back since before McAllister. Abbott's kept him on a short leash. She sighed to herself. Hope this is moving on, not re-living the past.
Instinctively, Jane woke about 45 minutes from Malibu. He opened his eyes but didn't move, preferring not to reawaken the pain. He watched Lisbon from the reflection in the window, surprised to realize her eyes glittered with unshed tears. They were approaching the scenic turnoff they'd stopped at before he met with the Red John suspects. Somehow it felt like both an eternity and just a moment ago. -They'd never had a chance to deal with it.
He turned his head, letting her know he woke. Quietly, "We should stop."
She started, surprised. Eyes fixed on the road, neutrally, "Why?"
"To deal with it. To start replacing bad memories with good."
She shook her head, "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Please, Teresa."
At the last moment she slowed and pulled off. She walked toward the cliff, never once looking at Jane. He followed slowly, babying his battered body.
He came up behind as she looked out over the ocean. A cloudless, luminous blue sky arched over the water. Waves crashed on rocks below, higher than usual from a recent storm.
Jane put his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her head. He said just loud enough to hear, "I meant everything I said." She didn't make a sound as tears slid down her cheeks.
She gave a shuddering sigh. "I know that - knew it then. I was furious. And terrified."
"Shhh. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I ever had to do."
She turned to face him, anger replacing tears. "You didn't have to! I have the weapons training yet you stupidly go off alone."
He stiffened, reacting in kind. "Yes, I had to. One of those men was Red John – Red John who murdered women for pleasure, who slaughtered my family. I didn't want you within a hundred miles of him."
"Because I might get hurt–"
"Because you might get killed!"
She stepped back, shaking in anger. "And where did that leave me? What the hell was I s'posed to do if you got killed?"
He took a deep breath, straining to tamp down the emotion. Flatly, "Move on. Find someone, have a family, lead your life."
Scathingly, "You were away two years and I couldn't move on."
"But if I were dead maybe–"
Even angrier, "Do you hear yourself?! You killed Red John, thought you were exiled forever. Had two years, a whole island – the whole world to choose from. How well did you move on? You shouldn't have ditched me! We're stronger together than apart."
He stepped closer and gently pulled her to his chest. "It worked out, Teresa. McAllister and the others are gone. We have that life now." He held her close as pain and anger were released almost three years late. Sobs dwindled to an occasional sniff. She leaned back a little and rubbed the tears from her cheeks.
Fiercely, "Don't you ever take chances like that without me, understand?"
He pulled her close and kissed her temple. "I promise." He took a deep breath. "You've no idea what you mean to me," he choked and had to stop before he could continue, "but I plan on spending the rest of my life showing you."
She bit her lip and managed a shaky smile. They stood awhile in a loose embrace, wrung out from emotion, finally able to enjoy the breathtaking view.
Eventually, "C'mon, Jane. We need to get there before night."
Malibu
Lisbon set the parking brake and turned off the car. Jane's house lay before them, a modernistic sculpture resting lightly on the bluff. The setting sun cast light clear across the house through floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Now what?"
Jane carefully got out of the car. "Look around a bit. –We'll come back tomorrow. I just need to see what I have to buy." He painfully mounted the steps to the front door, unlocked it, and entered. Their footsteps echoed in the empty house. Electricity and water were off of course, but the house was only a little dusty. Jane's long time financial manager continued paying a cleaning service to keep the dust and cobwebs at bay with monthly cleaning, ignoring the fact that the Feds technically seized ownership when Jane fled. Only recently was the hold on his assets released.
Jane was pleased the house was largely in order. There were no broken windows, nothing obviously amiss. He didn't go upstairs. That would be for tomorrow. He broke his reverie, wondering where Lisbon had gone. He spied the open sliding doors past the kitchen and went that way. Lisbon stood riveted, looking at the now bare site of his home office. The brick driveway glittered, glass fragments from the explosion sparkling in the sun. He went to stand by her and only then saw the horror on her face.
"What is it, Teresa?"
She shook herself back to the present. Whispering, "It was awful. I went in after the explosion. It was still burning, thick choking smoke. The smells – melted plastic, burning wood, and – and burnt ... meat." She closed her eyes and turned her head, looking away from the destruction she saw so clearly in her mind. "There were body parts, burnt lumps of, don't know what. I was so afraid. Found Smith first. He was coming to. Saw the tattoo and tried to stop him but he ran. Then Bertram. And you. You were unconscious. Thank God you weren't blown to bits." Regaining her composure, "I didn't know how bad you were hurt. Didn't know you were okay till you woke up in Sacramento General." At his confusion she added, "You were transferred by helicopter. No way to protect you here."
Jane hugged her. "I'm sorry you went through that."
She cleared her throat. "We went through a lot of stuff." She shrugged, turning away from the site and the memories. "You know the rest."
"We're done here for now. There's a wonderful B&B I know a few miles away."
After the day's emotional upheavals, they had the calm, subdued dinner they both craved. The bed and breakfast was every bit as nice as Jane promised. They fell into the bed's soft embrace shortly after they arrived.
The next morning dawned bright with a brisk breeze chasing patchy clouds across the sky. Lisbon was up first. Jane woke to find everything ached, but the sharp pain was gone. A shower and some ibuprofen relieved the stiffness. After a simple but excellent breakfast at the B&B, they first stopped at a big box construction supplies store and then a small deli. They pulled up in front of Jane's house at about ten.
They left the food on the kitchen counter, the cold goods in a cheap styrofoam cooler they'd bought that morning. Jane then gathered several bags and the can of paint and mounted the stairs. Lisbon followed with the rest.
He paused on the upstairs landing to center himself. He didn't recall after so long, but was grateful to see the master bedroom door was open. Any difference from that terrible night was a gift.
After a moment, Jane continued into the bedroom and set the supplies on the floor. Lisbon did the same and stepped back, unsure of what to do. Jane stood several feet away from the dull, brown smiley face, silent except for some deep breaths. Finally he dragged the mattress away from the wall and unbagged the supplies. Lisbon helped unfurl and tape a plastic drop cloth along the wall with the hated symbol.
He first took a utility knife and scored the drywall around the face. He pried up a corner of the surface paper. It peeled off in a single piece.
"Lisbon, if you could spray fixative over that, we can patch it when I come back." He picked up a can of lighter fluid and a disposable lighter and went downstairs.
She heard the sliding door open as she quickly sprayed the raw patch of drywall and tamped down the paper edges with her fingers. She hurried down after him.
Jane knelt by the firepit built into the patio, patiently soaking the drywall paper with the flammable liquid. He stood and pulled a scrap of newsprint from his pocket. He lit it and tossed it onto the drywall paper. It immediately flared up with flames. Lisbon stood silently by his side. He blindly sought her hand and laced fingers as the loathed symbol blackened and curled into ash. A few scraps were left when the fire burned out. He squatted and poured on more fluid, then used another paper to light it. The final bits burned and crinkled up. The ashes stirred in the breeze. One by one they blew away
They stood awhile in the bright sun, the breeze toying with their hair and clothes. Jane showed no emotion beyond a slight tremble to his lips. He eventually gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "C'mon. Let's get this done."
They returned to the bedroom. Jane patched the drywall with spackle. It had to dry before it could be sanded and painted. Downstairs again, he took the cooler and other food and led the way out back. Lisbon thought he was headed for the beach only to be surprised when he turned aside instead of following the path down. A long planked walkway led to a platform high above the ground. They took out the sandwiches and sodas then sat shoulder to shoulder on the perimeter bench as they ate. A canvas canopy had long ago blown away after deteriorating in the sun and salty ocean air, but the bright sun was behind them as they faced the endless ocean.
"It's beautiful."
"This was one of my favorite places. Angela and I would come watch the sun rise and set. It was wild watching storms blow in. Thunder heads would roll in with the wind whipping the waves into a frenzy."
Tentatively, "Did Charlotte like it?"
With a small smile, "She was more of a beach and sunshine girl. Didn't like heights or storms." Wistfully, "Might have changed when she got older." He'd never know.
"What will you do now?" What do you want to do, where do you want to live?
He glanced at her, lips quirking in amusement as he read her perfectly. "Sell it. I'm never coming back once we finish up today."
"Oh."
He blinded her with a full blown smile. "Time to start fresh, make a home with you."
She ducked her head, embarrassed at being so transparent. He nudged her chin up with his finger. "Hey." They kissed, promises made and confirmed without a word exchanged.
The sanding and painting took barely 30 minutes. They gathered everything up and put it out front for the Monday trash pick-up. Jane dragged down his daughter's old twin mattress and propped it next to the trash.
Doubtfully, "They'll take a mattress?"
Jane shrugged. "Probably. If it's the same team, they like me. And it's not like I've generated much trash for the last 13 years."
They were on the way back to Sacramento by mid-afternoon. Jane called a realtor he knew and started the process of listing the house for sale. Lisbon unexpectedly got a text from the Rigsby's inviting them to visit on Sunday. They had just relocated to Sacramento.
They reached the Sacramento city limits by early evening. Lisbon clicked on her turn signal to exit the expressway.
"Not this exit."
Turning off the signal, "Where? Why?"
"Second exit from here. Alexandria Cemetery."
She nodded. "Um, if you don't mind, why did you choose Alexandria – in Sacramento, I mean?"
"The Ruskins. Sacramento is closer for them. I didn't care."
Lisbon nodded, regretting the awkwardness but glad to know after wondering for years. A mile before the cemetary, Jane asked her to pull into at a nearby park.
Blinking with the realization, "Jane, is this really a good idea?"
He nodded. Shoulders hunched with tension he told her, "Stay here," and got out.
She saw him slowly walk to a grassy patch near a small pond. He stood, hands clenched in fists, motionless except for too-fast breathing. After several minutes he spat on the ground and turned back.
He took a shuddering breath and said, "Cemetery, please. It's–"
"I know where."
Lisbon pulled over and parked near the two gravesites. Jane got out and got something from the trunk. She stayed seated, uncertain about what he wanted till he stood by the driver's door and waited for her to get out. He took her hand and they walked to the graves of Angela Ruskin Jane and Charlotte Anne Jane. They stood surrounded by memories. Though Lisbon knew them only second hand through Jane, she'd had a decade to appreciate the depth of love and devotion they had inspired in this extraordinary man. Jane exhaled in a long, infinitely sad sigh. He stepped forward and knelt at Angela's headstone. Fishing a small hand shovel from his pocket, he dug a small hole, dropped in his wedding band, and covered it with the clump of grass.
Softly, "Full circle. I don't need anything to remember her. Them."
Lisbon hugged his shoulders as they walked. "I know, Patrick." She silently offered prayers for his family and for him.