AN: Alrighty everyone - last chapter should be about rock bottom as far as angst (at least in my opinion; some of you may disagree). At any rate, brighter days and fluff are on the horizon. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for your continued feedback.
She sends him a text the next morning that only slightly lessens the sting of her words the night before.
I don't want you out of my life. I just need some time. And space.
Jane sighs, flipping the phone shut and sinking onto his couch. The leather creaks slightly beneath him. He closes his eyes.
Lisbon's rejection had clearly shocked them both, him probably more so than her. If he's being honest with himself, he has to admit that it never actually occurred to him that Lisbon would turn him down once he'd finally confessed his feelings for her.
He rubs a hand over his face. Sure, he recognizes that he's not exactly ideal boyfriend material, but Lisbon is as close to a saint as is possible for a human being. He'd expected her virtue, her forgiveness would somehow allow her to overlook his flaws.
He can't remember a time when he'd been more wrong.
Though, of course, he'd at least been right when he'd predicted that his feelings for her would only cause her heartache.
Anyone who gets close to me—bad things happen to them.
The worst part of this mess, he thinks, is that Erica actually has a valid point. He knows he loves Lisbon, but he's beginning to doubt the motivation behind his feelings. Is he only attracted to her because she reminds him of Angela? The two women certainly share many admirable characteristics, he concedes eventually.
In other words, it is entirely possible that his mind has decided that Lisbon is the most suitable candidate for a replacement for Angela.
He wants nothing more than to defend himself to Lisbon, to prove that he really does love her—that he has fallen in love with her and not some phantom version of Angela—but this is exceedingly difficult when he cannot even convince himself that this is true.
The thought makes him feel sick.
The elevator doors ding to announce the arrival of Grace, and one look is all she needs to understand that his attempts to mend things with Lisbon went south last night. As she reaches her desk, she steps toward the couch, looking distraught. "Jane—" she begins.
But she's interrupted by Cho, who walks into the bullpen at that moment with a young woman by his side. "Where's Rigsby?" he asks sharply.
"Here," says Rigsby, stepping out of the breakroom with a doughnut in hand. He swallows a large bite. "What's up, Boss?" he asks.
Jane cringes internally. He's still not used to the team referring to anyone but Lisbon as "Boss."
Cho leads the young woman over to the couch, and Jane stands up to shake her hand. "The new recruit, I presume," he says, taking in her appearance.
She's a couple inches taller than Lisbon, but the physical similarities between the two are striking. Piercing, intense green eyes and a slight brush of freckles across her face are the most obvious similarities, but the young woman also has the exact same haircut that Lisbon wore when Jane first met her.
Red John has long since thrown subtlety out the window, Jane thinks.
He looks over at Grace, whose eyebrows are raised. Rigsby's mouth is hanging open slightly as he processes the similarities between this new woman and Lisbon, but Cho is as expressionless as always, ever the professional.
"The powers that be finally assigned us our new team member," says Cho. "Everyone, meet Olivia Barnett. Barnett, meet…everyone."
Grace steps in as Barnett looks around, clearly wondering if she should ask for names. "I'm Grace Van Pelt," she says. "This is Wayne Rigsby, and this is Patrick Jane. Welcome to the unit."
"It's good to be here," says Barnett. Her voice is lower than Jane expected, but not unpleasantly so. He suspects she's twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, and his stomach twists at the realization that Red John is manipulating someone so young. It's too early to tell definitively whether or not Barnett is knowledgeable of this manipulation, but Jane would hazard a guess that she is not.
That's a relief, at least. Ever since the day Lisbon had been demoted—ever since she'd told him that the team would be getting a rookie to fill out the unit—Jane had been worried that she would be replaced with a Red John associate.
However, Jane's relief at Barnett's apparent lack of connections to Red John is belied by the fact that Red John clearly had an opportunity to infiltrate the team but chose not to do so. Jane bites down on the inside of his cheek, remembering what Lisbon had told him last week about Red John's likely influence in the CBI from the very beginning.
Is this influence so extensive that he would deem unnecessary a clear opportunity to spy on Jane?
It appears so.
Rigsby inhales the last bite of his doughnut and reaches for a file on his desk. "I got here a little early this morning to run through what we know about the latest Red John cases," he says, opening the file and passing it to Cho. Rigsby points to a sentence. "We originally couldn't find any connection between the victim found in the movie theater, Deborah Cole, and the other two victims. I combed through Cole's file and found that she attended Sac State as an undergrad."
Cho's eyes narrow as he scans the victim's file. "How did we miss that?" The frustration is evident in his voice.
"She wasn't awarded her degree from that institution," Rigsby says. "She took classes there her first semester freshman year and then transferred to a school with a more specific fine arts degree. I had to do some digging to find her transcript, but it clearly lists that she took four classes at Sac State several years ago."
Jane looks over at Rigsby. "Was one of them in the psychology department?"
"Two of them were," Rigsby confirms.
Jane nods. "So we have three Red John victims with connections to Sac State. One psychology minor, one janitor who worked in the building where the department is located, and one former psychology student."
"Check it out," says Cho sharply to Rigsby, snapping the file shut and handing it back to him. "Talk with her professors, and see if you can find any students she shared classes with. Take Jane and Barnett, and brief Barnett on the three cases on the way."
"Yes, Boss," Rigsby says.
Before they move out, Jane responds to Lisbon's text.
I understand.
Jane gives Lisbon a week before he attempts to contact her again.
I just need time. And space.
Surely a week was plenty of both?
To his immense relief, she picks up the phone when he calls. "Hi, Jane," she says, and he drinks up the strength in her tone like he's dying of thirst.
"Can I stop by to fill you in on some things?" Leads have been slow to come by, as per usual with Red John cases, but he feels he has to keep her informed nonetheless.
"See you soon," she says, and hangs up.
It's dark when he arrives, and he stands outside her door after knocking, tapping his fingers together impatiently, as shadows take form around him.
And suddenly she's there, right in front of him, and he is immediately left breathless upon seeing her. Her effect on him is no less powerful than it had been in the hospital after she'd been shot, when he'd first realized he was in love with her.
He feels like he's had one too many glasses of champagne.
Strange, he thinks. He'd almost expected his feelings to go away, or at the very least certainly lessen, upon discovering that she didn't want to be with him. He guesses there'd really been no chance of that happening.
Jane doesn't stay long—in fact, he doesn't even invite himself into the living room of her home. Instead, they stand in her entrance hallway, and he tells her about the latest connection they'd found between Red John's most recent female victims in addition to describing several leads which failed to pan out.
He watches her intently as he speaks, trying to get a read on her. Eventually, he manages it, and he's not surprised at what he finds.
Lisbon has pulled herself together.
Over the past several weeks, Lisbon has been through hell and back many times over. Three people who look like her have been killed merely to taunt her. Her job—her identity—has been taken away from her. She has lost her brother.
Jane adds one other thing to the list of struggles Lisbon has endured: he has broken her heart.
And, yet, here she is, standing in front of him with a calmness that is enviable. Though she has a lot to work through, she is coping.
Jane has never been so proud to call her his friend.
Just as he's leaving a few minutes later, Lisbon shows the first, small signs of emotion. He's reaching out for the door when he feels her hand on his back.
"It killed me to hurt you," Lisbon whispers. "You know that, right?"
And suddenly, an immense clarity floods through Jane, rushing through his veins, making his path clear.
All of these struggles that Lisbon has gone through these past few weeks have been because he fell in love with her. Both Erica Flynn and Red John have made it abundantly clear that Lisbon will continue to pay the price for his feelings for her in the future.
What will the next blow be? Will it be one or both of her remaining brothers? Her niece? How many more obstacles will Lisbon be able to face before she can no longer cope so admirably?
Jane realizes that it's also killing him to see her hurt. He's not sure he will be able to stand much more of this.
For the first time in weeks, Jane thinks of the piece of paper that Erica slipped into his suit jacket pocket before she drugged him.
She'd told him that Red John had offered his friendship. If Jane takes it, Red John will no longer target Lisbon.
There is no decision to make.
Jane glances over his shoulder, not really looking at Lisbon but acknowledging that he's heard her. He nods stiffly, then he slips out the door.
He sits on the end of his bed in the motel room with his phone in one hand and the slip of paper in the other.
With shaking hands, he examines the back of the paper, where Red John's mark has been drawn in what looks like blood. He's not sure to whom the blood belongs, and he doesn't want to know.
He flips the paper over. It is blank save for a telephone number. Most likely a burner phone, he thinks vaguely.
Jane dials the number, and Erica picks up on the second ring.
"Patrick," she says a little breathlessly. "I'm glad you reached out to me. What can I do for you?"
Jane takes a few seconds to search for words, and even after he's found them, it takes a great amount of effort to get them out.
"Tell Red John," he says finally, "that I accept."