AN: Wow. I can't believe we're really here. Thank you all for following along on this journey. It'll probably be a while until I decide to do another multichapter (and when I do, it'll be much shorter and less angsty), but I'll definitely be posting oneshots here and there. If you have requests, let me know!
Hope you enjoy this final chapter. The epilogue will be posted soon!
I also blatantly borrowed a line from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling.
Jane loses track of reality for what feels like several hours but is probably closer to several minutes. The whole time, Lisbon kneels beside him, her hand rubbing gently on his back. He can't make out what she's saying, but her voice is soothing, and the sound and feel of her tethers him.
Eventually, Lisbon shifts, moving her arms to cradle his head against her chest. She kisses his temple, and Jane feels his tunnel vision fade. He feels himself stop shaking, and Lisbon pulls back enough so that he can get a good look at her.
"Hi," Jane says.
Lisbon opens her mouth to respond, but tears spill over from her eyes instead. She wipes her cheeks.
"Lisbon," says Jane. He treats her name as though it is sacred, as though she is someone to be worshipped.
"You're okay," Lisbon murmurs, reaching up to touch her fingertips to his jaw, his forehead, his chin.
"Always the tone of surprise," he responds, and he manages to smile softly at her.
She laughs through her tears. "I was so worried."
He doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything.
Her thumb brushes over his eyebrow, sweeping around to wipe the moisture at the corner of his eye. Then she pulls him toward her again, tucking his head beneath her chin, and she rocks them both back and forth on the floor. He hears the almost imperceptible sound of sniffling and realizes it's coming from him.
"My knight in shining armor," says Jane, finding her hand and squeezing it.
"You do seem to require a lot of rescuing."
"And I wouldn't trust anyone but you to do so."
She just holds him tighter.
After another minute or so, Lisbon speaks again. "Let's get you out of here," she whispers, standing up and pulling him with her. He realizes with a start that she'd easily supported all his weight.
He thinks he shouldn't be so surprised. She's essentially been doing the same since the very beginning.
Lisbon reaches out to him and straightens his jacket. Her expression changes for a millisecond, and then suddenly she's unreadable.
"What is it?" he asks, concerned.
Her eyes take him in and then flash up to meet his own. "They dressed you like…"
He nods. "Like I was before," he confirms, his voice low. "When I was a psychic."
Lisbon takes a shallow breath. Jane steps back from her and shrugs out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor.
"Hold on," he says, and he moves to the walk-in closet. He has to search for a minute or two before he finds what he's looking for—the suit he'd worn the night he'd arrived at the mansion. He hasn't worn it since, but like the rest of his clothing, it had been dry-cleaned and hung back up in the closet after he'd tossed it on the floor.
Jane quickly discards his current clothing in favor of the familiar suit. He pulls the pressed pants up and is reaching for the shirt as Lisbon walks around the corner. She grabs the shirt before he can.
She stares at him, taking in his bare skin and his pallid complexion. He knows he's lost weight, just like he knows that his skin is several shades lighter than it had been when Lisbon had seen him last. She walks to him and threads his arms through the sleeves. A minute later, her steady fingers have buttoned the shirt and moved to reach for the vest.
When he slips on the jacket, Lisbon leans toward him and wraps her arms around his torso.
But she pulls away quickly, reaching for his hand to drag him after her. "Come on," she says.
He follows.
When they descend the stairs, the SAC from the FBI immediately separates them. Though Jane had expected this, he still feels like his body is being torn in half when Lisbon is led away.
"You'll see her in a bit," says a voice, and Jane turns around to find himself face to face with Rigsby. "The FBI has to keep you apart until you've both given your statements."
Jane nods—or he begins to, but suddenly he is thrown backward by a blow to his upper jaw. He doubles over, wheezing, and his hands go to his nose. He feels warm liquid flow onto his hands.
"You bastard."
Jane is suddenly grateful that his vision is swimming—the fire in front of his eyes tells him that Grace had been the dealer of the blow, and he'd rather not be on the receiving end of whatever look she's giving him. He hears Lisbon in the distance, yelling for him in concern, but her voice disappears after a few seconds, and Jane thinks she's been led out of the house.
"You asshole. Do you have any idea what you've done to her—what you've done to us?"
Rigsby steps between Jane and Grace.
"Grace—we've been over this," says Rigsby, and Jane tries to breathe through his mouth since his nose doesn't seem to be functioning. "Jane did what he did to save us—to save Lisbon."
"Yeah, well, saving us doesn't make him less of an asshole!"
"Grace!"
"Let me go, Wayne!" Though Jane's vision is still blurry, he can vaguely make out Rigsby pulling Grace away from the staircase. "Damn it! Jane, I am so not through with you yet!"
An FBI agent hands Jane a handkerchief, but as he's reaching out to take it, the world goes dark.
Jane wakes to pain.
He groans, afraid to move.
"Take this."
Jane opens one eye to see Cho standing over him, his hand extended, two pills in his palm. Before Jane can protest, Cho slips a hand underneath Jane's upper back and lifts his torso.
"Open up."
Jane obeys. Suddenly, a glass of water touches his lips, and he swallows some to down the pills.
"The rest, too," says Cho. "You lost a lot of blood."
Jane decides not to argue. If he had, Cho probably would have just forced the water down his throat.
"I thought you were watching Carter," says Jane as Cho lowers him back down.
"Lisbon's heading over to interview him now," says Cho. "And before you ask, you have been banned by pretty much every law enforcement agency from having anything to do with his case ever again, so—no, you cannot join the interrogation."
Jane closes his eyes against a wave of nausea.
"Van Pelt did a number on you," says Cho.
Jane groans again.
"You were lucky Rigsby was there to stop her." His tone suggests he would have let Grace continue.
"Grace is a force to be reckoned with," says Jane proudly.
Cho sighs. "She'll come around."
"So you have already? Come around, that is."
Jane can practically hear Cho's shrug in his voice as he answers. "My loyalty is with Lisbon. And for whatever reason, her loyalty is with you."
"That means a lot, Cho. Thanks."
Jane cracks open an eye and swears he catches the corner of Cho's mouth twitch up in response to his sarcasm.
"Where are we?" asks Jane.
"Visitor lounge at the San Francisco field office of the FBI. They're currently processing everyone we found at the mansion."
"Does that include me?"
Cho takes so long to answer that Jane finally opens both eyes.
"What?" he asks.
"Lisbon went to bat for you," Cho says. "She risked a hell of a lot to keep the FBI—and the CBI—from pressing charges. She convinced them that you'd served your time, that the mansion was more of a sentence to you than jail would ever be."
Jane tries to take a steadying breath and fails miserably.
"Plus, you gave us over a hundred names," continues Cho.
"One right doesn't correct a thousand wrongs." Jane closes his eyes again, feeling bile rise in his throat. He wonders if the nausea or his self-loathing is to blame.
"No," agrees Cho. "It doesn't. But fortunately for you, you've done a hell of a lot more right than you have wrong. And Lisbon agrees."
"Thank you for looking after her."
He hears Cho sit down in the chair next to the couch.
"You were looking out for her, too," Cho points out. He sighs. "Look, the FBI and CBI need a statement from you."
"You offering to dictate?"
"All you'll have to do is sign once we're done."
"Deal."
The chair creaks as Cho moves, and Jane imagines him leaning over to grab a paper and pen. "Go ahead," says Cho.
Jane rattles off some words, most of which he's not completely sure form coherent sentences. But five minutes later, Cho hands him the paper and points to the line where his signature is required. Jane grabs the pen and scribbles something resembling a P and a J.
"Get some sleep, Jane. It's going to be a long night—we'll be here for a while."
Jane doesn't need to be told twice.
Lisbon opens the door. Her heels click against the floor as she walks.
If she's being honest with herself, she always thought she'd be able to treat the interrogation of Red John like any other. She'd remain impartial, detached, calm.
But all she feels now as she sits across from Timothy Carter in the cramped, too bright interrogation room is hatred.
The emotion is all-consuming. She feels it in every cell of her body. She drowns in it.
Carter gives her a smile.
"It's an honor," he says, "to finally meet you. I never thought I'd have the chance, you see." He shrugs. "But you, more than any other woman, have occupied my thoughts for the better part of the past year. Meeting you almost makes up for my current…predicament."
Lisbon shivers, though she tries to hide all outward signs of it.
"With a mistress like Erica, your attention should have been captured elsewhere."
"Ah," says Carter. "But you are forgetting one very important detail. You are, after all, the woman who had the potential to single-handedly make or break my empire."
"Meaning that I am one of Jane's weaknesses."
"You're his only weakness," corrects Carter. "And, interestingly enough, Patrick proved more easy to read and more easy to manipulate than yourself." He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I always built in contingency plans for the occasion when I would eventually underestimate him, but it turns out I would have better used my time preparing to deal with you."
Lisbon's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"
"I underestimated not Patrick, but you," Carter says simply. "I never planned on you taking him back. I did not think it possible for a woman to love a man who has betrayed her. Clearly, I was wrong."
"Jane didn't betray me." Lisbon feels a dull ache begin to spread throughout her lower back. She's spent too much time today sitting uncomfortably, or on her feet—and the stress of the last six months isn't doing her any favors.
"Just because his intentions were to protect you does not excuse his actions," says Carter sharply. "He betrayed you to save you."
Lisbon takes a moment to compose herself.
"The FBI has forbidden Jane from interrogating you," says Lisbon. "I can't say I'm surprised, given the circumstances." She leans forward to mirror Carter's posture. "He would want to ask you if you were sorry. Jane would want to know if you regretted the murder of his wife, Angela, and his daughter, Charlotte. And I want to know if you regret the murder of my brother, Stan."
Carter seems to ponder this; it takes him over a minute to begin speaking.
"It was a thrilling game," is all he says.
Lisbon stares at him, one eyebrow raised.
"I am satisfied," says Carter. "I pushed boundaries like they had never been pushed before. My influence was extensive. In fact, I'd say that my influence continues to be extensive. But do I regret the murders of Angela, of little Charlotte, and of Stan? No, I cannot say that I do. They led me to Patrick and to you—and the two of you pushed me farther than I believed possible. I am what I am because of you."
Lisbon cannot stand to hear any more.
She gets to her feet, feeling the hatred threaten to overwhelm her once more.
But then the image of Angela and Charlotte—the photograph that she'd framed for Jane—appears in her mind. She thinks of the little girl, of her innocent laughter.
She thinks of Angela's infectious smile.
She thinks of Stan's understanding gaze.
And Lisbon thinks of Jane, who bartered away his own soul to save her.
And suddenly the feeling of hatred is gone.
"I trust the system," says Lisbon. "I would bet my life on it. Day after day. And once you get into the system, you will not get out. That's not a threat; it's a promise." She takes a breath. "You will die there. You may spend a few years rotting away on death row, but the end result will be the same. And once I walk out of this room, you won't be able to steal any more of my time. I'm taking it back. And I'm taking back Patrick's life. So I want you to think about that: every day that you spend wasting away, Jane and I will spend coming alive."
And without another look at him, Lisbon exits the interrogation room, and the sound of the door slamming behind her echoes in her wake.
Lisbon steps into the darkened FBI visitor lounge with a bag of ice in hand, trying to dull the sound of her heels against the tile floor. Cho nods at her and slips out the door silently, and Lisbon's eyes are immediately drawn to the couch.
She can't help smiling at Jane's prone form. She's transported back a million memories ago, and image after image of Jane sleeping on his brown leather couch flashes through her mind. She crosses the room in three long strides and sits on the edge of the couch, her hand reaching over to brush Jane's curls away from his forehead.
His eyes flash open.
"Lisbon?"
She smiles at him. "I brought you some ice," she says.
"You're a saint," he murmurs, and she wraps the plastic bag in a washcloth before touching it gingerly to his nose. He winces slightly before relaxing. "How bad does it look?"
"I was told the EMT had to reset it," Lisbon says. "You don't remember?"
"Not a thing," says Jane. "I've been a bit stressed out recently. Took its tool on my body, apparently, because I was out once I crashed." He looks at her more closely. "You spoke with him?"
Lisbon nods. "I did."
"What did he say?"
"I recorded the entire exchange. You can listen to it later. But don't expect to be satisfied with anything you hear from him."
"He's in your custody. That's all the satisfaction I need." His hand searches for hers.
Lisbon looks at him curiously. "You mean that." She rubs the back of his hand. "You once told me that you would cut him up, that he was yours. Why'd you change your mind?" She shifts the ice pack to the other side of his nose.
"It was more of a change of heart than a change of mind," says Jane quietly. "If I had him, I couldn't have you. And you became infinitely more important."
Lisbon mulls over her response before she speaks. "You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that," she says finally.
He reaches up to grab her arms, pulling her down to him. Lisbon kisses him tentatively once, twice, and then shifts, moving over his body to settle between him and the back of the couch. The bag of ice falls to the floor.
"Thank you for trying to save me," whispers Lisbon. A thought occurs to her, and she amends her statement. "Thank you for saving me."
Instead of answering, he pulls her closer.