AN: Okay. This one is my favorite chapter. No more take-backs. Hope you enjoy it as well, and thanks for your comments/reviews!
Six months pass.
In that time, Jane isn't allowed to leave the mansion, and it occurs to him that he is serving his prison sentence despite having broken out of CBI holding—the only thing different is the scenery. Jane thinks he would have preferred the prison cell. At least that way, he wouldn't have to quite literally face Red John day after day.
But this is part of the deal. Jane becomes Carter's right hand man, advising him in "business" ventures by serving as his personal lie detector. The crisp, designer suits that Jane finds in the closet in the room he'd been assigned become his second skin. Though he finds a bottle of hair gel in his bathroom, he refuses to touch the stuff, needing to retain at least some of the person he knew while at the CBI.
His chest physically aches for Lisbon; his hands perpetually reach out for a ghostly form that will never fully materialize. Before he falls asleep each night, he finds himself whispering to the universe, not quite praying but almost, asking for forgiveness from Lisbon.
From Charlotte.
From Angela.
He knows he won't receive it.
It is Erica's job to keep an eye on him, like some kind of perverse babysitter. She has been glued to him from the moment he crossed the threshold of the mansion six months ago, and Jane wonders if it was for precisely this reason that Red John wanted her out of prison.
If he's trying to drive Jane insane, he's succeeded.
Erica is underhandedly seductive, letting her fingers occasionally ghost across his neck or his ribs, leaning into him so that her chest brushes against his—but these touches last only fractions of a second, never longer. He'd expected her to be more obvious in her attempts to bed him, and he is so thrown that he fails to recognize for more than a month that her choice of perfume is surely deliberate.
It was Angela's favorite.
Around the same time, he notices that her shampoo is the same brand as Lisbon's.
He feels himself going mad.
The day of the half-year anniversary of his internment, Jane wakes early in the morning, once again reaching for a form beside him that is not there.
He's barely holding on now, clinging to the last shards of his sanity.
Erica comes to find him when he fails to show up for breakfast. As usual, she is already dressed to the nines. He is wearing nothing but pajama bottoms.
She rests a hand on his shoulder, coming to stand behind him while he stares out the window.
"You don't have to be alone forever, Patrick," she says, correctly interpreting his silence. "We don't have to be alone." She gives him a sad smile when he glances over his shoulder at her. "I know I'm not either of them, but you can pretend if you'd like."
He turns toward her, already having made up his mind. She leans in slowly, advertising what she is about to do. Jane doesn't pull back.
She is tentative at first, but Jane is not, and her kisses quickly become infused with more passion. He pulls her toward him, running his hands over her back, the sides of her ribcage. She shivers.
And then suddenly, she pulls back.
She's breathing heavily as she says, "We can't do this here, not now. The lock on your door is false." She looks at him with dark eyes. "And Red John may require us at any moment. He would not be pleased to find us together."
Jane thinks this is a rather enormous understatement, but he's more concerned that for over six months he has failed to notice his doors don't lock.
Erica leans back in to give him another quick kiss before stepping away. "He leaves at nightfall on business. Meet me in my bedroom when his car starts down the driveway."
She turns and sashays out of the room, the movement of her hips slightly more obvious than usual.
Five seconds tick by.
Then Jane smiles.
He sends one text message from the phone he'd lifted from her pocket.
Stealing the phone had been one thing. Returning it to her without her noticing is another.
But he eventually seizes his opportunity.
Erica joins him in the library an hour later. Jane makes sure his body language conveys his desperation. A second later, he has her pinned against a bookshelf, their lips melding. Her eyes roll back.
He slips a hand between her legs a second before slipping the phone into her pocket.
He muffles her moan with his mouth.
It's just past nightfall, but he makes no move to head across the mansion to Erica's room.
Standing her up should not cost him anything, he reasons. She cannot tell Carter for fear that the affair will invite retribution against her. Jane's only danger may be that she will use her connections to hurt Jane's family, with Red John unaware.
But if all goes according to plan, Lisbon and her team will not be in danger for much longer anyway. And Jane cannot bear to betray Lisbon with his body as well as his mind.
So he waits.
Forty-three minutes later, Jane watches from the window as the mansion is swarmed from all directions by men and women dressed in black getup, their Kevlar vests visible even from a distance. He can't pick out Lisbon, but he can see a fiery mass of red hair. A second later, Rigsby's bulky frame comes into view.
Jane stays by the window, watching as the chaos unfolds below him on the driveway. An ear-shattering boom echoes up the stairs when the front door is blown open, and the shouts of the FBI and CBI agents make it difficult to figure out exactly what is going on.
But five minutes later, a creaking sound echoes as the door to his room opens.
Jane turns around.
Six months earlier
He doesn't need to ask her for the charges. She doesn't recite them.
Lisbon's rough grip is suddenly turning him around again. His cuffed hands bang against the door of his apartment. She gets in his face, erasing all remnants of personal space, and Jane shatters.
"Is there anyone in your apartment?" she hisses.
Jane shakes his head. "No," he says, but he can tell that she doesn't trust him. He holds her gaze. "I would never knowingly tell you a lie that would endanger you," he says hoarsely.
Lisbon doesn't respond. Instead, she slips a hand beneath his suit jacket, searching for his vest. Her fingers dig into the pocket there, and he feels her grab the keys to his apartment.
She holds his gaze as she reaches around him, unlocks the door, and pushes it inward. Then she pushes him back. He stumbles, watching as she draws her gun again while simultaneously slamming the door behind her. Her eyes narrow at him. "Stay right here," she says, gesturing to the entryway. "If you move, I'll shoot you."
Jane doesn't doubt this.
Lisbon moves away, checking each room as she clears the apartment. A couple minutes later, she returns, holstering her gun. She grabs Jane by the arm again, her fingers digging into his flesh, and she drags him forward—down the hallway and into the main living room. When she lets go of him, he trips again, struggling to regain his balance with his hands still cuffed. He turns to look at her.
She is livid.
Jane takes a step back, wondering if sparks will fly from the electricity that seems to radiate from her.
Lisbon wastes no time in laying everything in the open. "You're Red John's man—his mole in the CBI."
Jane's response is similarly immediate. "One of them," he admits.
Each of these words seems to hit Lisbon like blows, and Jane watches as she visibly crumbles.
He can't think of anything to say.
Lisbon turns away, and Jane counts to sixty. It's the longest minute of his life.
Then Lisbon pivots back to him, taking a step nearer. She's close enough that he can see the tears building up in her eyes; as he watches, they spill over.
"How long?" she asks.
This, at least, is an easy question to answer—because he can reassure her that his betrayal is recent rather than years in the making.
"Since my kidnapping."
She nods. "I knew...I knew something else had to have happened. But I didn't want to push—I thought making you relive it would might be too traumatic." Her breaths are shaky. "Damn it. I should have asked." She sighs. Then she looks up at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why did you do it?" she asks suddenly.
Jane's eyes go wide—he hadn't expected that question.
He'd expected her to say I never should have trusted you. Or maybe Go to hell. Or even Good luck in jail. You'll need it.
But she'd asked him about his motivation for working with Red John. Almost as if…she'd figured it out.
Lisbon moves closer again. "I found out barely thirty minutes ago that you've been giving Red John information. It took me about twenty-nine minutes to see past my fury—because how could this be how it actually appears?" She breathes in, clearly trying to calm herself. "And...just a few seconds ago, I realized that you would never willingly commit such an act." She crosses what is left of the distance between them and looks up at him imploringly. "Why did you do it?" she asks again.
Jane hesitates. Will telling Lisbon about his deal with Red John nullify said deal?
But Lisbon takes the decision out of his hands.
"You made a deal with him, didn't you?" Lisbon whispers. "He has something you need." She searches his eyes and immediately finds the answer there. "Something involving me."
Jane squeezes his eyes shut.
"Jane," Lisbon says desperately.
"Your safety," he croaks.
He hears her sniffle, knows she's crying. "Damn it, Jane," she murmurs. "Damn it all."
He opens his eyes again, trying to pull himself together. She does the same.
"Is your apartment bugged?" Lisbon mouths, making no sound.
"No," says Jane. "I was insistent on some semblance of privacy." Jane couldn't stand the idea of Red John listening to him and Lisbon. What if he'd overhead a private conversation—or if he'd overheard them arguing...or even making love?
"So he won't know that I know about your deal with him?"
"He shouldn't know. Not yet." Jane's eyes narrow. "What are you thinking?"
"We can use this."
Jane gapes at her. "What?"
"Jane, we can take him out for good."
Jane rattles the cuffs on his hands. "Aren't you arresting me?"
Lisbon looks away, wiping at her eyes, before she looks up at him again. "No," she whispers. "I should. Not arresting you goes against everything I stand for. But I can't help thinking...no, I know that if I were in your place, I would have done exactly the same thing."
Jane can't wipe the tears on his cheeks, and they fall from his skin, landing on his suit jacket.
"So we're going to use this to our advantage," Lisbon continues.
Jane shakes his head, blinking to try to clear his vision. "There was a reason I didn't tell you about this in the first place, Lisbon. If he finds out I've double-crossed him, your family and your friends will be in danger. Lisbon, he'll kill them. I'm sure of it."
"He's not going to find out," insists Lisbon.
"Lisbon, no offence, but your acting skills leave something to be desired."
"But that's the beauty of it—I won't be acting. You've seen me do this before. I can pull it off. And I can pull it off well."
It takes Jane a few seconds to figure out what she's referring to, but then he remembers her brilliant ruse to catch the CBI psychiatrist. She had certainly pulled that one off.
"Jane, how do we stop him?"
She's so close now that he can practically feel her warmth. He caves.
"It won't be enough to kill him," says Jane. "Or I would have tried when he kidnapped me. No, he has contingency plans for that. If he dies, you'll still be in danger because his people have orders to carry out his plans."
"So we need to take out all his people." Lisbon frowns. "You've obviously been getting close to him. How many of these people do you know?"
Jane shakes his head. "Not enough," he admits. "I was only at his home for a few days—I didn't have time for surveillance."
"Could you get the names if you had more time?"
He hesitates. "I think so." When he meets her eyes again, he suddenly becomes sure. "No, I know I can."
"So you need more time. In Red John's lair."
He almost protests at her wording but decides he can't. It is, after all, accurate.
"A lot more time," he corrects.
"How much?"
He knows she won't like his answer, but he's done lying to her. "Give me six months. If I haven't contacted you by then…" He trails off.
"Is one of his men coming to collect you? I'm assuming since you're working for him, he'll want to keep you out of jail."
"Yes," says Jane. "But I can hardly go with them now that you're here—you've probably been captured on security footage. Your presence here will look suspicious." An idea occurs to him. "You have to arrest me."
He had expected her to be surprised, but she just nods. "His men will break you out?"
"They'll have to—to ensure that I don't talk. But for them to believe that you actually arrested me—that I'm still holding up my end of the agreement I made with Red John—you'll have to make it clear that I've..."
"Broken my heart?" Lisbon supplies.
Jane's own heart breaks at this. "Somehow," he whispers, "I don't think that will be too much of a problem for you."
Lisbon changes the subject slightly. "I'm supposed to let you out of my sight for six months?" she asks.
Jane moves to pull her into his arms, but his hands are still cuffed behind his back. He groans.
"I'll need time to get the names," he says. "And I'll need more time to get the information to you since they'll be watching me. I have to be cautious, Lisbon. Because I won't get another chance. We won't get another chance."
Lisbon ducks her head, and Jane thinks she's trying to compose herself again.
"I hate that you didn't tell me this right away," says Lisbon, finally lifting her gaze to his. "We could have worked something out. This was…this was so unnecessarily, ridiculously reckless. I hope you know that."
"I know," says Jane. "But I also know it was the only option."
"I disagree."
"Well, we'll have to agree to disagree on that."
"My point is that I don't think I can forgive you for this."
Jane takes a shaky breath. He always knew somehow that he'd be the biggest challenge to Lisbon's seemingly unbreakable capacity for forgiveness. He just didn't think he'd be the one to break it. "I don't expect you to," he says eventually.
Lisbon leans her head against his chest. "But God help me," she whispers. "I still love you."
For the second time that night, Jane's heart stops. "You…you do?" he asks.
It's the first time she's said so in as many words.
Lisbon nods, leaning into him. "I do." She looks up at him, lifting a hand to his cheek, and she kisses him lightly. "Be careful, Jane. Just…please be careful."
"I'll come back to you, Lisbon. I promise."
"I hope you're right," she says. She brushes her bangs out of her eyes. "We should get going," she says, her voice just above a whisper.
Jane tugs at the cuffs again. He sighs, exasperated. "Lisbon," he pleads. "Take these off. I'm asking for two minutes. Please."
She considers this for a few seconds before caving, stepping behind him to bring the key to the cuffs, which fall to the floor.
Jane turns and brings his hands up to frame Lisbon's face. Then he kisses her soundly.
And suddenly, for a brief moment, an instant, they are no longer two people. They are a conundrum, two masses occupying the same space. They defy logic and the very laws of nature.
Jane pulls back slightly. "I love you," he whispers. "I'm in love with you. I always will be. Don't ever forget that."
Lisbon nods. "I won't. I can't." She is no longer crying.
Jane, however, is far past weepy.
Lisbon stretches up on her toes to kiss him one last time. "I love you, too."
Jane leans down to rest his forehead against hers.
Then Lisbon pulls away. Jane moves his hands behind his back once more, and the metal cuffs click back into place.
Present day
Jane turns.
Lisbon stands in the doorway, her gun raised. She quickly lowers it.
Jane breaths for the first time in sixth months.
"Lisbon," he whispers. "You got the text?"
She gives him a wry smile. "Obviously."
"And?"
"We're in the process of tracking down every person on the list you sent me. We have a pretty good idea where everyone is, if they're not in custody already."
"Red John?"
"We stopped the car that left here a few minutes before we stormed the place. Cho's personally watching Red John."
Jane's legs buckle underneath him, and Lisbon is at his side in an instant, taking his weight before he can tumble to the floor.
"It's over?" he asks weakly.
"It's over," she confirms.
They sink to the ground, her arms wrapped around his torso, and he begins to sob onto her shoulder.