AN: Thank you all again for being patient for updates as I'm on holiday. I love this chapter for a few reasons, and I hope you will as well. Happy reading!
Jane had often wondered what it would be like to spend time with Lisbon's three brothers. He'd entertained visions of holiday get-togethers, of Christmases spent with an actual family for the first time in nearly a decade.
Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that the first time he'd be in the same room with all of Lisbon's siblings was at one of their funerals.
It has been just over a week since Jane had found Lisbon in the darkness of her apartment, shivering and in shock. Though the CBI team has been working Stan's case since that time, they have nothing to show for it save for the knowledge that Red John had taken a Lisbon family photo album from the crime scene.
And this, of course, won't lead the team to him.
Now, Jane sits in a pew near the aisle in the church in which Lisbon grew up. He watches Karen's shoulders shake in the row in front of him then looks away, toward the front of the church where Lisbon is beginning to speak. Her green gaze lands on him, and he marvels at the contrast of the color against the overwhelming black of the funeral.
"It feels dishonest, somehow," she begins, "to have to talk about Stan in a couple minutes—as though anything I could say here could accurately describe him or his life. Words aren't sufficient to convey what I want them to."
Lisbon's voice catches, and Jane watches as a tear slips down her cheek. She doesn't wipe it away but continues speaking without paying it any notice, addressing the packed church with a steady, clear tone.
"After our mother died, I knew I wanted to become a cop. Stan was the only person who encouraged me to do so from the very beginning. If it hadn't been for his encouragement, I wouldn't have had the courage to follow through. And Stan was like that with everyone—one of his greatest qualities was the support he showed for his family and his friends."
Lisbon takes a steadying breath, glancing at Jane again, and he gives her a tiny nod of encouragement. Come on, Lisbon. You got this.
"Stan was my best friend growing up," Lisbon continues. "Some of my favorite memories of my childhood involve us sneaking into the family room after our bedtime to watch the Bears or the Cubs play late night games on TV." She smiles slightly at this, gazing off in the distance before she redirects her attention back to the people lining the pews. "I missed him every day when I moved away from Chicago. And I'll…I'll miss him…"
She trails off at this, trying to form words but not quite able to. Jane watches her struggle for control, taking deep breaths and wiping at her eyes, and he wants to rush toward her, to envelop her in his arms, but he forces himself to remain in the pew.
"I'll miss him every day for the rest of my life," Lisbon whispers, blinking more tears away, and she nearly runs down the steps of the alter, clearly eager to be out of the spotlight. Jane opens his arm, scooting over slightly on the bench, and Lisbon sits next to him, immediately hiding her face in the crook of his neck.
"I had so much more to say about him," she breathes, and he barely hears her. "I just couldn't…I couldn't…"
Jane's arm tightens around her. "He knew," he whispers in her ear. "Lisbon, I guarantee that whatever you wanted to say about him…he knew. I promise you."
She reaches out for him, wrapping both arms around his torso. "Don't let go of me," he feels her murmur.
"Never," he agrees, and grips her tighter.
After the service, the caravan of cars, all with headlights on, follows the hearse from the church to the cemetery. Lisbon stays by Jane's side the entire time, brushing her shoulder against his or leaning into him slightly. It occurs to him that she needs the contact, needs something to tether her to reality, and he offers her his arm as they walk across the grounds under darkening skies. She threads her arm around his elbow, and he brings his other hand over to cover hers as they approach the lot where the casket will be placed in the ground.
Jane listens as the priest speaks at the graveside, but he only hears noise rather than actual words. He knows this is one moment he won't want to revisit in his memory palace later, and he doesn't try to focus on the priest. Instead, he grips Lisbon's hand tighter and leans his head against hers.
The sky opens up, and a light drizzle begins to fall.
Jane retreats slightly after the coffin is lowered into the ground, allowing Lisbon to gather with her brothers and niece to greet family and friends who have come to pay respects to Stan. He'd met Jimmy, Tommy, and Tommy's daughter Annie earlier that week and immediately liked them. Annie is already wrapping Jane around her finger, and he is not-so-secretly over the moon about it, wondering if Lisbon had been anything like her when she was young.
Now, Jane stands underneath a maple tree, sheltered from the mist, and watches Lisbon shake hand after hand.
He is astounded by her composure, recognizing the neutral mask she wears while conducting interviews. Though clearly torn apart inside, on the exterior Lisbon appears just as calm as always.
Eventually, the guests leave one by one, and Lisbon and her brothers are left speaking with an elderly couple. After five minutes, Jane watches as Tommy, the taller of her two brothers, excuses himself and heads toward the maple tree.
"My sister's shared a lot of stories about you," Tommy says when he is near. His eyes narrow at Jane, more curious than accusatory.
Jane doesn't know what to say to this.
Tommy continues, his voice low. "You saved her life a couple times."
Jane nods once. "Yeah, well, she saves mine about every other week, so that's not saying much."
"It is to me," Tommy argues.
Jane really looks at the man for the first time, taking in his dark hair and eyes, his strong build. The resemblance to his sister is uncanny. Jane thinks he would have recognized this immediately even if they'd met randomly at some other place, some other time, without proper introductions.
"Look, this may not be any of my business," Tommy says, "but are you two...involved?" He hesitates before saying the last word, as though he'd been thinking of saying something else but changed his mind at the last second.
Jane cannot help the microexpression of surprise which flashes across his face, though he thinks that Tommy doesn't notice.
"No," he says curtly.
"I'm sorry," says Tommy in a pacifying tone. "I just...I saw the way she's been looking at you today. I can't remember Teresa ever looking at anyone like that. She never really was the kind for relationships," he explains. "I was just...I was just thinking it would be nice for her to have something to be happy about."
Jane ponders this. "It's...complicated," he admits. "I know that sounds cliché, but it's true."
"No need for justifications, man," Tommy says, his voice becoming warmer. "Teresa's never been straightforward with anything in her life." He looks over his shoulder to see that his sister, brother, and daughter are headed over to the maple tree, and he takes a step toward Jane. "She's worth it, though," he says under his breath. "I promise you."
Jane doesn't hesitate. "I know," he says.
Annie immediately moves to stand beside her father, and Jane moves instinctively toward Lisbon. "Ready to go?" Lisbon asks, sounding exhausted.
Jane nods, gesturing for her to lead the way. She does, and his hand comes up to rest on her lower back as they make their way out of the cemetery.
They return to their hotel room, chilled from the rain that has finally materialized from the mist. As soon as the door behind them is closed, Lisbon reaches for Jane, shivering slightly, and he wraps his arms around her, rubbing up and down her back to generate some friction. Her breath is warm against his neck.
There is nothing to say.
He rests his lips against her temple, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an attempt to get his emotions under control. Eventually, he loses track of how long they stand like that—wrapped around each other in their darkened hotel room like lovers.
"I'm ready to go home," Lisbon says, and he can feel her lips move against his skin. "There's nothing left for me in Chicago. Mom and Dad are gone—and now Stan." She takes a deep breath. "God, I used to love this city. Now all the memories I have of it are of death."
She looks up at him with wide eyes, eyes that lost their innocence far too long ago. He realizes that her eyes are also devoid of their usual fire, their usual spark—and this terrifies him. He wishes he knew how to draw her back to him before she draws herself away irrevocably.
Lisbon's brow furrows as she looks at him, and their breaths mix together between their bodies.
Her hand moves from his lower back to his chest, and he cannot think.
They move at the same time—coming together nearly in sync, her lips harsh and insistent on his. He has to stifle a groan, and his hands move of their own accord to divest her of her blazer. Her shirt follows soon after, and she is all glorious, pale, porcelain skin.
He cannot stop.
He becomes aware that his jacket, vest, and shirt have fallen to the ground to land on top of her clothes, and he pulls her closer to feel her bare skin on his. She is no longer shivering—rather, her skin is scorching, caustic, burning him wherever he touches. She slides her tongue against his, moaning softly.
God, she is so beautiful.
His hands slip lower to lift her up, and she wraps her legs around his hips. She breathes heavily as he leans her against the wall, his torso flush against hers. He moves to kiss her neck, and her eyes roll back. He groans at the sight.
He pulls back to really look at her, smiling, but his breath catches.
The fire has returned to her eyes.
Then his world crashes.
"No," he murmurs. "No. Not like this."
"What?" asks Lisbon, confused, and her legs tighten around him as she tenses.
"We can't do this," Jane croaks out, setting her back down on the floor. He immediately misses every point of contact between their bodies. "Not here, not now. Just a few days ago, you told me you needed time to figure things out." He's very aware that his breath is uneven and loud, a sharp contrast to the quiet of the room. He feels his heart break as he says, "Neither of us is ready for this."
She looks at him, stunned, and he hurries to explain.
"You have to know how much I want this, Lisbon—how much I want you," he says. "But if we do this tonight, you'll be upset in the morning. You'll be upset that you didn't take the time to wait and figure out exactly what you wanted. And I couldn't stand it if you looked at me with regret in your eyes. I just couldn't. Please, Lisbon. I don't want our first time to be because we are grieving and need an escape. I want our first time to be...so much more than that."
Her eyes well up and spill over, and he is not sure if she's crying because of his words or his rejection.
So he leans in to kiss her again, this time chaste and sweet and slow. When he pulls away, she whispers sadly, "If you're planning on waiting for me to pull myself together, you may be waiting a very long time."
He grabs her hand and brings her fingers to his lips.
"I'd wait for you forever, Lisbon," he says.
A minute passes, each of them lost in the other. Jane finally breaks the silence.
"Lisbon, I—"
He can tell she knows what he is thinking. She interrupts him.
"Me, too."
He holds her as their heart rates begin to slow.