A long chapter to make up for the previous short one! Thank you to all my kind reviewers - especially to the 'guests' to whom I can't reply directly.
This story is going off in a direction I hadn't planned but I'm enjoying it - I hope you are too. Lots and lots of reviews are coveted and greatly appreciated.
Liline: Merci beaucoup! Votre anglais est bien meilleur que mon francais. Je suis heureux que vous profitez de mes histoires et je vais terminer tous.
He slept for twelve hours that night, not stirring even once. In fact, when he actually did wake up he was so groggy he could barely move. He blinked a couple of times, not quite sure where he was. When finally the surroundings became clear and he recognized his Airstream, he allowed himself to relax again.
The next time he woke up he was a bit more aware, although the unaccustomed long sleep had actually made him feel more tired than usual. He forced himself to sit up and stretch. "Gah", he groaned, his muscles feeling as if they'd seized up. He needed a hot shower and a cup of tea before he could face the day. In the meantime he refused to let any thought, other than that of hot water or hot tea enter his tired brain.
By the time he was sitting down at the small table in what passed for the kitchen, a teacup held lovingly between two hands, he was ready to finally face what had happened last night.
It had been something he'd never really experienced before. The only thing he could compare it to was that short AA meeting he'd attended when working undercover on the Santa murder. Still, he hadn't really said much during that meeting whereas last night he'd … God, he wanted to pound his head on the table. He'd said things he had never, ever spoken about before. He didn't know whether to feel angry, embarrassed or possibly – just possibly – a sense of relief.
He thought back to all that had happened, pretty sure he wasn't about to go back. He was not a bereaved parent. He refused to think of himself that way – although a small, honest corner of his mind acknowledged that that was exactly what he was. For some reason he wanted to avoid that label – it smacked too much of the victim, of pity and tragedy.
"Right!" he laughed ironically, taking another sip of tea. "And how don't they fit you?"
His mind returned to that small room. He'd managed to tell everyone his story –the whole thing including his guilt, his feelings when he saw the bloody bodies of the two people he loved most in this world and his ultimate and long-lasting quest for vengeance. The only thing he didn't talk about was the fact that he'd actually killed Red John. He didn't want to scare the people there, although one of the men had suddenly looked as if he remembered something so he probably knew about it already.
After he'd finished there had been silence in the room. He hadn't been able to look at anyone, uncertain of how they'd now regard him. Would they look at him with pity for having experienced such a horrific tragedy, blame – for the deaths of Angela and Charlotte – or would they look at him with fear for his unrelenting quest to find and punish their killer.
It was one of the men – Andrew was his name – who broke the silence. "I'm so sorry Patrick", he said gently. "I can't imagine what you must have been through - what you must be going through. And I want you to know, if they had been my wife and child, I wouldn't have rested either until I killed the bastard that did that to them!"
There were murmurs in the room and, to Jane's shock, they weren't sounds of disagreement or horror but rather of people who agreed with the sentiment. He finally looked up, to see faces of people who felt nothing but understanding and compassion – not pity – for him. At that moment he felt something – something in his chest. It was a strange feeling, not bad, but unrecognized. He put it aside even though he was aware that it was probably important.
The evening had ended then, with Carl telling everyone that it was important they return the next week. "This has been hard, I know. But I promise it does get better after this. If you don't come back you're only going to remember the pain. But I promise there's more than that here. There's hope, even if you don't see it now."
With that he told them good night and to drive safely. "This takes a lot out of you, physically as well as emotionally, so be safe on your way home."
No one said anything as they all stood and headed out of the room. As Andrew passed him he put out his hand and squeezed Jane's shoulder. "Take care", he said softly. With that he was gone.
Jane was almost the last one out except for Andrea, who looked as if she was waiting for him. Something about that made him feel uncomfortable although another part was curious. After a moment's hesitation she walked over to him. "Thank you", was all she said.
"For what?"
"For – sharing Charlotte and Angela with us. For making me realize that I'm not alone. For understanding what I feel. And - " She stopped speaking, her mouth closing suddenly as if to prohibit any more words from spilling out.
He knew instantly that she wanted to say something but was afraid. He almost nodded and left, but something – something he refused to acknowledge held him back. "What?" he asked, staring at her intently.
"I – are you sure – you're not really a psychic?"
Hell! He didn't want this – didn't need this. He was ready to open his mouth and give a blistering reply. He didn't need a 'believer' begging him for something he couldn't provide. One look into her eyes stopped him cold. Instead he took a deep breath. "No, there are no such things as psychics", he told her, as gently as he could. "I was a con man, and only pretended to speak to the dead but gave that up after losing my family."
She nodded and he couldn't tell whether she was disappointed or relieved. There was something more there though – something he was unable to read. That, in and of itself frightened him.
"I didn't think there was", she finally admitted. "It's just – when I saw you I felt -"
"What? What did you feel?" he wanted to reach out and shake her, to stop her. "Not that I'm a psychic because I'm not. Don't ever think that – ever!"
She stared at him, her eyes tracking his face as if looking for something. "I'm sorry. I guess it's late. I hope – I hope you come back next week."
He shrugged and stepped back, letting her pass. Carl was standing at the door, patiently waiting for them. As Jane passed he too reached out and touched his arm. "Please come back Patrick. I think you need it and the group needs you. And thank you for telling your story. I know how much courage that took."
Jane gave a sharp nod. He wasn't willing to accept any kind of praise for what was his shame. Without answering Carl he left. He got into his car, drove home and immediately went to bed and to sleep.
So now he was reliving the evening and wondering what the hell he'd been thinking to go to something like that. He didn't need to sit around and pull out all the old memories and guilt. He needed to get on with his life, not live in the past.
As he finished his tea and washed the cup he took a deep breath. It was funny – but he felt different this morning. He didn't know quite what it was. It could be that he'd had a good sleep but he felt more rested – lighter –then he had in – a long, long time. In fact, the only thing he could compare it to was how he felt when Lisbon had admitted she loved him.
Thinking of Lisbon made him stop. He hadn't really thought about her when he was at the meeting last evening, nor had he given her a thought when he'd gone to bed or when he'd gotten up. He suddenly felt terribly guilty. What was wrong with him? He loved her for god's sake! She was the center of his life.
He stayed seated at the table and poured himself another cup of tea. Refusing to let himself off the hook, he pondered what was going on. It actually didn't take that long to realize. It wasn't that he didn't love her and need her, it's just that what he went through with his wife and child – the pain, the loss, wasn't something she could really ever understand. He knew she felt badly for him and suffered about it for his sake, but it wasn't the same. The people that were there last night though – they could understand.
He started to feel guilty again and then stopped himself. Teresa didn't need to know, to understand. In fact, if he truly wanted to go on with his life it was better that be with someone who didn't have that darkness, that wound etched on their soul.
He knew she had wounds of her own and that they enabled her to be patient of his – but he also knew that she was strong and she could bring him out of his darkness and into her light. No, he wasn't going to feel guilty that she hadn't been a part of this short journey into the past, instead he was going to relish the love she brought and that she'd be with him on the to the future.
And then the thought crashed down on him. There was a child, his child. They had together created a child – a child he couldn't, wouldn't raise. But if he didn't, then he couldn't have Lisbon. Could he bear to give her up? To protect a child he could. But then –would he want to go on?
The thoughts and questions swirled around in his brain, negating the positive effects of his restful sleep. Eventually he stood up, needing to get out, to expend some energy.
He drove to the lake and parked his car. Soon he was walking along the trail, enjoying the warm weather and trying to relax.
Teresa sighed as she tried to make her way through the paperwork on her desk. Where was Jane? Why hadn't he called? She knew from Grace that he'd flown back to Austin a couple of days ago, so why hadn't he been in touch?
He was going to have to be back at work next week, so he couldn't stay away permanently. Unless he ran away, her small voice said.
No – he wouldn't do that to her. She thought about his words to her, to Grace and Wayne. Whatever happened, he wouldn't leave her without saying something.
But why hadn't he called?
Jane got back to his trailer and realized it was almost dinnertime. He'd spent the afternoon outside and felt more relaxed. He checked his watch, thinking that Lisbon would just about be leaving work, unless they'd caught a case. He knew he needed to call her. She probably knew from Grace that he was back and she'd be angry that he hadn't called. He knew why he hadn't. He hadn't come to a decision yet and didn't know what to say to her.
"Teresa?" he whispered into his phone, closing his eyes at the sound of her voice.
"Jane. Where are you?"
"I'm at my trailer. I wanted to let you know I got in safely."
"Right – three days ago."
"I'm sorry – I wanted to call, I just didn't know what to say."
"How about the truth Jane? Or is that too much to ask of you?"
He closed his eyes, a feeling of both anger and guilt rushing over him. Unfortunately the anger won out. "Truth Teresa? Is that all you want from me? Oh, I guess so since you already got everything else you wanted." He spit the words out, knowing that she would be shocked at his rare anger.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"About you getting pregnant. Don't tell me it was an accident! You were on the pill. This was intentional. You felt like your clock was ticking and you wanted a kid. You also knew I didn't so you went ahead and decided this on your own."
There was a pause and then Teresa answered. Rather than sounding angry her voice came across as unutterably weary and sad. "It was an accident Patrick. I would never do anything like that to you. But if you believe that of me, if you don't trust me, then I guess it doesn't matter. Take care Patrick – have a nice life. And don't worry – I won't come after you for support. You can forget about the baby."
He felt such a stab of pain at that – and her assumption that it was over – that he practically doubled over in pain. He knew he had brief seconds before she hung up the phone. "Teresa!" he cried. Please, let her still be there.
There was another pause but he could hear her breathing. "What?" she finally said. "Jane, there's no point in this. Just – let me go."
He was instantly transported back to that hotel in Florida where she'd said the same thing to him. He'd been an idiot then and he'd almost lost her and here he was, doing it again.
"I'm sorry Teresa – I'm sorry. I didn't mean that – really. I know you didn't do this on purpose. I just – I don't know what to think or feel about a child and I'm scared and – I lashed out and I'm sorry."
"And getting mad at me is easier than knowing how to deal with everything."
"Yeah – I guess that's true. I am sorry. Please believe me that I really don't believe that you did it on purpose." He sighed. "I'm an idiot."
"Yes", she sighed as well. "But you are my idiot and I'd hate to lose you now after already putting up with you all these years."
He let out a snort of laughter, tinged by tears. "You'd get bored without me."
"Yes, yes I would."
"You'd miss my humor."
She sighed. "Really? Okay yeah – most of the time."
"And the back rubs."
"Definitely the back rubs."
"And the sex?"
"That's right up at the top of things I'd miss."
"And making me tea?"
The silence was thick.
"Lisbon?"
"Yes Jane?"
"Tea?"
"Okay, but only on special occasions."
"Alright, I can live with that." Patrick took another breath. "Teresa – I'm trying to work this all out but – I don't know how long it's going to take, or even if I can."
"You can Jane. You're one of the bravest men I know."
He choked at that. Brave? He was a raging coward. Still, if she believed it that meant he had to try and live up to her faith in him. "I don't know Lisbon. The thought of a child still terrifies me."
"I know, and I'm not asking that you figure it out right now, just that you – try."
"I am", he answered softly.
"I miss you Patrick."
"I miss you too." He wanted to get into his car and rush over to see her, but knew it was too soon. He needed the space to think, to make the right decision and he couldn't if he was with her. He had one more week until he went back to work. Could he figure things out by then?
"I want to see you", he told her, "and hold you but – I can't right now. It's not you, believe me. I just need some time to figure all this out."
"I understand and I won't pressure you. Just – check in with me, okay? If I don't hear from you I get kind of panicky."
"I will – I'll call every day. It's only for a week Lisbon and then I'll be back at work."
"How are we going to handle that?"
"I don't know", he answered, frustrated and tired. He ran his hands through his hair. "Let's just be the friends we were for so many years. I don't want to lose that, but I can't see you outside of work, not yet."
"Okay, I understand. Take care of yourself and don't get into any trouble."
"I won't, I promise."
She laughed at that. "Right! I love you."
"And I love you too. I'll try to figure this out as quickly as possible", he tried to encourage her.
"I know Jane, I know."
After he hung up the phone he continued to sit, not paying attention to the growing darkness or listening to his stomach as it growled from hunger. Damn it – why couldn't he just make up his mind and make a decision. This was killing him.
Right up until the moment he arrived he had been sure he wouldn't come back. But here he was, sitting in the same spot as last week. He glanced around and noticed that all the others were also seated in the same place. We are such creatures of habit, he thought. He also deduced that sitting in the same spot gave a sense of security, something they all desperately needed.
"Good evening everyone", Carl looked around the room and smiled. "I'm so glad to see that everyone came back. I always live in fear that I'll return and I'll be the only one who came back."
There were a couple of giggles from the participants, but when Jane looked all he could see was guilt on the faces of the ones who had laughed. That was just not done, he guessed. Humor had no place in a room that was all about death.
That night was much the same as the previous week although not quite so heavy. Everyone talked a bit more about what they felt and experienced. One of the things that surprised Jane was the fact that many of the parents struggled with the fact that they didn't have anyone to blame. There was no place to focus that blame so they focused it inward. They focused on whether they'd done some that had caused their child's cancer or that their own bodies, that genetics were to blame.
Marissa struggled with the fact that her mother had been driving the car when she and her child had been killed. She went from grieving over her mother's death to blaming her.
Andrea spoke near the end, talking about the fact that no one knew who had killed her daughter. He had never been caught.
Again it was Jane who went last. He thought it ironic in that in this one instance he was maybe luckier than the others. He knew who was responsible, who to blame – and he'd gone out and killed the man. He breathed deeply, unsure of what to say. Finally he spoke.
"Knowing doesn't make it any easier", he said softly, surprised at his own words. "I knew who had killed my family and I went after him, I hunted him down. All that did was take my grief and turn it into anger and hate and because of that", he paused and swallowed, "because of that I don't think I ever really let myself grieve. I thought that finding him would help."
"And did it?" Carl asked softly, without judgment.
"It gave me satisfaction. It gave me vengeance. It didn't take away the pain."
It was in the silence that followed that Jane realized he hadn't even been aware of the truth of what he'd just said. It had come from somewhere deep inside and yet it was the truth – a truth he'd never wanted to acknowledge. Focusing on Red John had meant he didn't have to focus on the fact that never again would he hear Angela's voice, never again would he tease her and love her and be himself with her. It meant that he wouldn't feel his daughter's hugs or be able to watch her grow. Knowing who was responsible and even killing him didn't change the fact that he still suffered from the loss of those he loved.
"Thank you", Jenny, Matthew's mom, looked at him and smiled. "Hearing you say that helps. But I think you're forgetting something Patrick."
He looked at her – this woman who usually said very little, who was the picture of sadness. "I did?"
"Yes. You forgot that you stopped a man who was a killer. Because of you he'll never kill again. I know that doesn't stop the grief but you did something good. You called it vengeance I call it justice."
He moved uncomfortably in his chair. It was true that part of his quest was to stop Red John from killing, although he sometimes wondered if the sadistic killer had left more victims because of him.
"Don't take on his sins Patrick", Carl told him. "You were not responsible for any of what he did and you eventually brought him to justice. Now however, you are free to grieve."
He nodded, unable to speak. The rest of the parents seemed to realize he needed space and they turned their attention to something else. By the end of the evening he was again exhausted and left without speaking to anyone.
He had another night where he slept soundly, waking this time to the sounds of his alarm. He groaned and hit it, wanting to sleep some more. On the second alarm he forced himself to wake up. It was then that he remembered that today was the day he was going back to work.
Even though he'd slept in he was actually early to work. He was so nervous he hadn't been able to eat breakfast and had hurried to the FBI headquarters. When he got there he immediately made a cup of tea, frowning when he saw his hands were shaking.
Who had been the idiot who had decided it would be a good idea not to see Teresa before today? Why had that idiot – one Patrick Jane – not realized that seeing her for the first time in two weeks at work was a stupid plan?
At least they'd spoken every night. The conversation had never veered into any discussion of the baby or what his decision was going to be, for which he was grateful. They had kept it light, although both of them knew the other was suffering. Still, even though he'd talked to her he hadn't seen her and he was scared.
He made his way back to his couch, passing Cho who had just arrived.
"Back?" Cho didn't look up from pulling out some files
"Yes."
"About time. You're an idiot you know."
He sighed. "I know."
"Good. So fix it."
He nodded, not caring whether Cho saw or not and headed to the couch. He sat down and tried taking a sip, grimacing as he almost spilled it. He finally put it down after realizing that it was too big a tell. His hands were shaking so badly the cup was rattling.
Just then he saw Abbott walk in, followed by some of the other agents. The office had awoken for the day. He kept his eyes on the entrance way and finally – she walked in.
The moment he saw her he lost the ability to breathe. She was so beautiful and he was so stupid. He noticed that she appeared to have lost weight and he wondered briefly if it was him or the baby that had caused that. He thought it was too soon for morning sickness but then realized he didn't even know how far along she was.
She hadn't seen him yet, stopping and saying hi to a few people, giving them a smile. He knew her well enough to know it was a mask. She was suffering but was too proud to let anyone see. He glanced at Cho and instantly knew that he knew. It explained his comments.
It was then that she saw him. She stopped dead, but only for a brief moment. No one else noticed and she continued her path to her desk.
It hit him in a blinding flash. What the hell had he been thinking? He loved her and she loved him, in spite of all his faults. She'd stuck with him through everything, even through this latest act of stupidity and selfishness. She brought him joy into what had been a very bleak existence. And he was thinking of giving that up?
He stood slowly, staring at her. She stopped then, giving him a strange look back. "Jane?" she asked, sounding unsure.
He continued to stare. She was his life, his soul, his everything. What did anything else matter if he had her?
"Jane, what's wrong?"
Others were starting to notice. The early morning buzz began to quiet. Abbott stepped out of his office and frowned, trying to figure out what was going on. Even Cho had stopped what he was doing and was regarding them intently.
He took a step forward. He knew what he had to do. He nodded once to himself and then strode forward quickly. Grasping Lisbon's wrist he pulled her behind him, towards the hallway.
"Jane, what are you doing?"
He didn't answer, just continued to tug her along. Damn – why the hell did they have to be in a modern building? All the meeting rooms were made of glass and he couldn't take her where anyone could see.
They walked by Abbott, who started to say something, but Jane simply ignored him. Abbott just shook his head and turned back into his office. He'd let them figure it out.
Was there no place, he wondered, frustrated? Finally he saw a door and pulling Teresa with him, walked over and opened it. Good, a storage closet. He walked in, still grasping her wrist, and slammed the door behind him. He finally let go of her.
"Jane, what is this? Why did you drag me in here?"
He responded by taking her head in his two hands, leaning down and kissing her passionately.
At first she resisted. She couldn't figure out what was going on. Jane had looked so strange, so unlike himself. But after a moment she couldn't help but respond, couldn't help but melt into him and return his kiss. God, this felt so good. She had been so afraid, so lonely.
They stayed together, kissing and caressing one another and not speaking for a long time. It was Teresa who finally returned to the present. "Jane?" she pushed gently against his chest until she could lean back and look at him. "What is this?"
He sighed and leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. "I just realized", he answered.
"Realized what?" she asked softly, reaching up and gently pushing a lock of hair off his forehead.
"That I can't live without you, that I don't want to live without you. That I have been stupid and cruel and that nothing else matters but you."
"Jane!" she leaned forward this time, placing her head over his heart. "You don't have to live without me because you're all that matters to me."
"I was so stupid Teresa", he repeated. "I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?"
"Yes, of course."
"Can you trust me?" he asked the harder question, knowing he'd done everything in his power to destroy that trust.
She was quiet for a moment, thinking about that. "I trust you", she finally said. "I think it's you who doesn't trust."
"I trust you Teresa – you know that."
"I know. It's yourself you don't trust Jane. You're strong and you've dealt with more than most people ever have to – and you can deal with this, I know you can."
He sighed. "I – wish I could believe that but – it may take a while."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"No – and this time – neither am I."
The tears escaped her eyes then. She could hear it in his voice and whatever small bit of doubt had existed now left. Whatever happened, Jane was here to stay. He would not leave her again, that she knew, and for that she thanked God.
"What about the baby?" She wished she hadn't had to bring it up, but it was between them and was not something that would go away if ignored.
"I – I'm not going anywhere and if that means I have to be a father again then, I just have to accept that. It's still not something I want – oh, don't get me wrong – children are wonderful and I know you'll be an amazing mother. I just – it's not something I should do."
"But you will?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She had to bite her lip but after a moment composing herself she looked at him. "Thank you", she whispered. "You won't regret it, I promise."
He gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid that's not something you can promise Teresa. If there's anyone who knows that it's me. But I'll try just – give me some time, okay? I'm not going anywhere but I can't deal with the reality of it right now. I'm trying and I'll continue to try but please don't expect me to talk about it or go shopping or come up with names or anything like that. I just can't."
She nodded. He'd already taken a huge step and she couldn't ask for more. All she could do was hope that things would change when his son or daughter came into the world.
"You realize we now have to walk out after having been in a storage closet for almost an hour?" She knew he needed to change the subject, to stop talking about the serious stuff.
He grinned – a smile she hadn't seen in a long while. "You think they'll know that we're together now?"
She snorted. "If they don't they're the worst bunch of detectives on the face of the Earth."
"What do you think they think we were doing?" he grinned again, looking quite devilish.
She groaned and leaned her head forward until it rested on his chest. "I'm so embarrassed."
He leaned down and kissed her. "Almost as bad as the airplane, huh?"
"Worse, much worse."
He laughed and opened the door. Grabbing her hand he pulled her back towards the bullpen. He was finally letting the world see that he and Teresa were a couple – and he couldn't be happier.