AN: Thank you all for the great response to the first chapter - reading your reviews helped get me through finals week! And since today is officially the last day of my first year in grad school, I want to celebrate by posting a new chapter. Here's to summer!
He drives her home from the hospital two days later.
She fumbles with her good arm for the keys to her apartment as they stand outside her door, and Jane is preoccupied by the formation of freckles on the side of her neck.
The door swings inward.
Lisbon turns to him, but Jane knows she is about to ask him inside, so he cuts her off. "See you later, Lisbon," he says, brushing his shoulder against hers lightly.
If she'd actually gotten the words out, he couldn't have refused her.
But right now he needs to focus on distancing himself from Lisbon, so he heads back to his car alone, pretending he doesn't notice the slightly pained expression on her face as he walks away.
His resolve to keep his distance lasts all of three days.
She opens the door to her apartment with a surprised look in her eyes, and Jane holds up a bag of Thai takeout. "You hungry?" he asks.
Lisbon smiles at him and steps aside to let him pass. "You know me so well," she says, closing the door behind her.
Jane heads into her kitchen and begins to set the containers out on the counter. "I figured you wouldn't be feeling up to cooking," he says, ignoring the fact that she's managed to feed herself without his help since she's been home from the hospital. He looks up to meet her eyes for the first time in days.
She leans her hip against the counter and holds his gaze. "Thank you."
Jane nods, and his hands still. "You look…better," he says. "How are you feeling?" He moves to grab plates and silverware.
Lisbon brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's a process," she admits, gesturing to her sling. "I'm told physical therapy will help a lot, but…"
"It'll take some time," says Jane quietly, and he sets the plates down on the counter with more force than he'd intended. The sound echoes between them. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he adds, dumping the contents of the containers onto the plates.
She nods. "Easier said than done."
He hands her a plate of noodles. "Dinner is served, my dear."
His insides twist in a pleasant knot at the blush that creeps up her neck in response to the endearment, and they move to the kitchen table, where they eat mostly in silence.
Finally, when both of them have nearly cleared their plates, she looks up at him. Jane catches her eye, and he wonders how he didn't spend the last few years drowning in her bright green gaze.
"Are you alright?" she asks hesitantly. "Ever since you saw me at the hospital, you've seemed…distant."
And for good reason, he thinks. But he cannot tell her this.
He sighs, pushing his plate away.
"The way things went down," he begins, glancing down at his hands on the table. "It just left me with a bitter aftertaste. Like the feeling you get when you bite your tongue and taste blood." He taps his fingers against the table, and he knows the frustration is clear on his face. "I have a bad feeling about it all."
Lisbon shifts to lean her good forearm against the table. "Me, too," she whispers, and Jane looks back up at her, surprised.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
Lisbon gives a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm not sure," she admits. "It just feels like…like the stage is being set or something. We took out one of Red John's deputies. There's no way there won't be consequences for that."
The way she says this makes Jane want to add several locks to her front door, though he knows this won't do much good.
"Jane," Lisbon says softly, and he has to stop himself from reaching over to take her hand. "I know I can't convince you to abandon that motel of yours, but…could you check in with me every so often? Just a text even."
Jane smiles wryly. "You worry too much, Lisbon."
"If you texted me, I'd worry less."
There is a severity in her eyes that Jane cannot take lightly.
He smiles again, this time softer and more genuine.
"Anything for you, Lisbon."
True to his word, he texts Lisbon the moment he shuts the door to his motel room.
The door is dead-bolted. Don't worry so much.
Her reply comes two minutes later, just as he's reaching for his toothbrush to begin getting ready for bed.
I can't help it.
Typical Lisbon. Jane rolls his eyes as his phone buzzes again.
Thank you.
It's odd, he thinks, how just a white screen and black letters can evoke such emotion in him, but he feels his spirits lift slightly at her words.
He types out his reply before grabbing the toothpaste.
Sleep well, Lisbon.
He's in bed by the time his phone vibrates again. He reaches out into the dark to grab the cell from the nightstand.
Goodnight, Jane.
He smiles slightly before setting the phone down.
For the first time in weeks, he falls asleep right away.
He doesn't manage to stay asleep, however. At half past three, he finds himself thrashing about in bed, the thin covers pushed to the side due to his erratic movements. Jane's eyes flash open, and he breathes deeply, trying to catch his breath.
In his dream, he hadn't been able to get Lisbon out of the jacket strapping the bomb to her chest. They'd run out of time. She'd yelled at him to run away from her.
He'd refused and pulled her against him.
The last thing he remembered before he'd woken up was the feel of her shaking fingers on his chest, her head cradled in his hands.
Then nothing.
He rubs his hands over his eyes and stands up shakily. Then he walks over to the sink and splashes some water over his face. He turns the lights on, catches a glance at the haunted look in his eyes in the mirror, then flips them off again quickly. He turns away from the mirror, resting his lower back against the edge of the sink.
His phone buzzes, lighting up to signal an incoming text.
Glad for the distraction, Jane strides over to the nightstand. Instead of crawling back into bed, he sits on the floor and flips open the phone.
It's another text from Lisbon.
Startled, Jane glances at the clock. What the hell is she doing up?
He opens the text.
You awake?
He responds right away.
You know me so well, he says, echoing her words to him earlier. He waits a few seconds before sending another message. What's wrong?
Thirty seconds later, his phone lights up again.
Bad dream.
He frowns. He exits out of the messaging screen, his finger hovering over the "call" button.
To hell with it, he decides, and he presses the button.
She picks up midway through the first ring. "Hey," she says quietly, sounding slightly hoarse and sleepy.
"You want to talk about it?" Jane asks, matching her tone.
Lisbon sighs. "Not really. Mostly I…mostly I just wanted to hear your voice."
He wonders how much that admission had cost her.
"That bad, huh?"
He hears her breathe out sharply. "Yeah." There's a few seconds of silence. "Why are you still up?"
Jane mulls this over quickly, debating how much to tell her. He decides it's easier just to be honest. "Same," he says.
"That bad, huh?" she echoes.
"I couldn't get you out of the vest," he admits, closing his eyes and leaning his back against the side of the bed. "Let's just say we didn't make it."
She doesn't respond for so long he wonders if the connection has been lost.
"Lisbon?" he asks eventually.
"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry," she says quickly. "You…you stayed with me?"
"What?"
"In your dream," she clarifies. "You stayed with me, even though you knew the bomb would go off?"
Jane's brow furrows in confusion. "Of course," he says, because to him it's the most obvious thing in the world.
When the world falls apart, the one thing he can count on is that he will be by Lisbon's side—because she will be by his.
Lisbon takes a deep breath. "You went off on your own," she whispers. "Somehow, he got to you, and we couldn't find you. And then we did." Another beat of silence. "He slit your throat. But only after I'd arrived so I could watch."
Jane's eyes flash open. He almost panics at the darkness and has to remind himself to breathe in and out. Finally, he composes himself enough to say, "Do you want me to come over to your place?"
He half hopes she will say yes.
"That's…um, that's not necessary," says Lisbon, and he has to push away his disappointment. "I just needed to talk to you." She hesitates, and Jane is silent. Then Lisbon continues, her voice low. "Listen, this is going to sound stupid, but…" She pauses again, as though steeling herself. "Would it be alright if we don't hang up? You don't have to talk at all—it would just make me feel a little better trying to get back to sleep. That way we...we wouldn't be alone."
It takes him a while to comprehend her words, and when he does, he's still not sure that Lisbon has said them. His Lisbon—the least likely person in the world to ask for help.
Her dream must really have terrified her.
"Sure," says Jane softly. "Of course."
"Thanks," says Lisbon, and the relief is obvious in her voice. A few seconds tick by, then she says, "Goodnight, Jane."
"I'm here, Lisbon."
Her response is so quiet he almost doesn't hear it.
"I know," she breathes.