Red John was dead.
Jane felt…nothing. He thought he'd feel something. Satisfaction, relief, maybe even happiness. But he just felt numb.
He sat there for moments or minutes, listening to the sound of his breath, and the lack of sound coming from the corpse next to him. He watched as the slight breeze ruffled the grass and an ant crawled across his hand. The world never stopped. It hadn't when Red John killed his family. And it didn't now. He'd put together an escape route, if he managed to kill Red John and stay alive. Did he want to stay alive? Should he leave, make a new life? Or just stay here as Red John's body grew cold, and let himself be arrested and put in prison?
He wasn't sure he wanted to live, but, surprisingly, he wasn't sure he wanted to die, either. He'd had enough of death. Maybe some life without death in it would be a good thing.
He didn't particularly want to go to prison, either. That was just a living death, really, and he didn't want to be surrounded with ugly gray walls and ugly clothes and ugly people. Sun and sand and water sounded much more appealing.
Besides, if he stayed, he'd have to face Lisbon. Given her reaction the last time he'd killed Red John, he didn't think she'd be very happy. She would no doubt be disappointed in him, and he just didn't think he could deal with her lecturing him right now. He knew that wasn't particularly fair to Lisbon, and that leaving without a word wasn't a kind thing to do. But then again, he'd never pretended to be a kind person. She might expect things from him, expect him to be able to move on, to be a functional human being, to have interests besides vengeance. He wasn't ready for any of that. He was going to stay alive, but that was about it. He needed time. Time alone, with no pressure or anything expected from him.
Jane pushed himself to his feet, slowly, his knees creaking. Without a backward look, he walked away from the corpse on the ground.
Weeks passed in a blur. Jane made his escape, arrived at his tropical getaway, and found a place to live. He went through the motions of eating and sleeping. It was easier that he didn't speak the language, he decided, because it meant he didn't have to deal with questions or small talk. He figured out the word for eggs, and that was really all he needed.
During the day, he wandered around the island, looking at the bright colors, feeling the heat of the sun on his head, and listening to the sound of the waves. At night, he laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling. He still didn't sleep much. He still had nightmares. Sometimes, Red John killed him. Sometimes, Jane killed him, but not before he killed everyone else. He'd thought he'd feel something, after. Relief, satisfaction, maybe even peace. But there was nothing. Maybe he'd become so consumed with revenge that that was all he'd had left inside of him, so when it was gone, he was nothing more than an empty shell, he thought. He collected some shells and examined them, turning them so the sun caught and lit them up. Maybe he was an empty shell. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing.
After a few weeks, Jane decided to send Lisbon a letter. She deserved that, at least. She deserved to know he was alive, that he was ok. He knew she had a tendency to worry about him. He smirked to himself. Okay, that was an understatement. She was probably extremely angry and worried sick. His Lisbon was always so predictable.
He wrote her a letter, light-hearted and witty, telling her about the beach and the locals, teasing her about how easy her life must be without him around to disrupt things. He sent it off and congratulated himself on lightening her load.
Idly, he wondered what Lisbon and the rest of the team were doing. Had they found the rest of the Blake Association? The top members were dead, so there probably wasn't too much left to do, just rounding up a few stray members. Maybe Lisbon had even gotten a promotion out of the whole thing. She deserved it. Though he couldn't really see Lisbon being happy in a position that didn't involve fieldwork.
He was sure they were struggling a little bit without him; after all, there was a reason they closed cases so fast with him there. He knew their speed had slowed the last time he'd been gone, in Las Vegas. But Lisbon was smart and dedicated. She wouldn't let his absence slow her down. He smiled fondly at the thought of her ordering the team around and growling when she hadn't had her coffee yet.
He wandered the beach, went swimming, and made friends with the locals. He even picked up a little bit of Spanish. But after a while, he started to feel like he was just drifting. It was a surprise when he realized it had been six months since he'd killed Red John. Shouldn't he feel something at this point? Anything? But he didn't. He didn't feel lighter or hopeful or anything. He felt a sense of relief that Red John was no longer in the world. A sense of relief that he couldn't kill anyone else. In many ways it had been hard to leave Lisbon again, but knowing that Red John couldn't hurt her, that she was finally safe, that had given him the biggest sense of relief. Over the years, the only competition his thirst for revenge had had was his worry that the team would end up in Red John's clutches. He shuddered, remembering the time that Lisbon had in fact been in Red John's clutches. He still had nightmares about finding her, blood painted on her face, but blood everywhere else, too. It was a nice feeling, knowing she was safe.
The days drifted past and blended together in an endless stream of sand and heat and boringness. Occasionally he performed magic tricks for some of the local kids. But mostly he filled his days with nothing. He wrote the occasional letter to Lisbon, patting himself on the back for keeping her updated. He was sure she worried about him and his bits of lighthearted news were likely the highlight of her he knew it, a year had passed and not much had changed. He still felt empty, his driving purpose for over a decade gone, with nothing left to take its place.
He wondered if Rigsby and Van Pelt had decided to have a baby. They'd been married for over a year, now. Maybe Cho had found someone, too. Maybe Lisbon had found someone. Jane stiffened a little at the thought, then made himself relax. Lisbon deserved happiness, deserved to find someone. Though it was rather unlikely that Lisbon would find someone and settle down. She wasn't really the type. And if things had gone the way he thought they had, she was probably too busy settling into her new job and responsibilities to waste time on a relationship. Jane relaxed further, and ignored the thought of why that should make him feel better. He and Lisbon were friends. Good friends. But still just friends.
Occasionally, especially after writing another letter to Lisbon, he thought about going back to the states. Life on the island was idyllic, but also rather boring. But what would he do? Would he want to work again? Maybe, if he could work with Lisbon. She was a good partner, always willing to go along with his schemes, eventually, and taking care of the boring paperwork. She no doubt missed him and would be thrilled to work with him again, though she'd try to deny it. She'd always had a soft spot for him.
And, he admitted, he had a bit of a soft spot for her. He couldn't really give her much. His heart was still buried with his wife and daughter. He twisted his ring on his finger. He had yet to take it off. He thought about it, sometimes. But it didn't feel right. It's not like he was emotionally available for a relationship, so why not keep wearing it? Women on the island often flirted with him, locals and tourists, but his ring kept most of them at a distance, which was what he preferred. Sometimes he wondered if he could even feel attraction anymore, especially when an especially beautiful woman brushed against him and he felt nothing at all.
When he let himself think about it, he felt guilty that he hadn't said goodbye to the team, especially Lisbon. He even felt a little guilty that he'd done what he'd always said he was going to do by killing Red John. He didn't regret killing him, but he knew Lisbon had wanted and hoped that he'd make a different choice.
He didn't regret killing Red John. But he had finally acknowledged that Lisbon had been partly right. Killing him hadn't made him feel whole again. It hadn't fixed anything. It was a relief, but it was also a renewed loss, a loss of purpose, and a loss of hope and belief that killing the man who murdered his family would bring him some sense of peace.
He wondered if Lisbon would be disappointed that he hadn't moved on. He knew she was a little bit in love with him, and had been for years. But really, that was partly due to her commitment issues. It was safe to be in love with someone who was unavailable. But even now, he couldn't give her anything more than friendship and light flirtation. He could be her friend, her partner, but anything beyond that…he was too broken. No doubt she'd be okay with that, though. Lisbon wasn't one for romance and committed relationships, after all. She lived for her job and anything else would always be an afterthought.
Jane watched the waves and felt a moment of peace. Yes, he couldn't have what he'd lost, but that was for the best. He could have his friendship with Lisbon, enjoy teasing her and making her blush. And if he occasionally had a not so innocent daydream about her, well, she was an attractive woman, and the one he was closest to. He admitted he found her attractive, and he wouldn't mind seeing her in that jersey of hers again. But that would lead to complications and he'd had enough practice with restraining himself over the years that he didn't see a reason to stop. Friendship and mild flirtation was all he'd allow himself and that would be enough.
When the FBI agent showed up, poorly disguised as a tourist, Jane was inclined to be agreeable. Maybe it was time to go home, Jane decided, especially with the convenient benefit of a way to do so that didn't include hiding from the law or jail. He'd been away long enough and even though wandering the beach with nothing to do had been relaxing and let him come to terms with much of his past, he'd started to feel dissatisfied. He missed having a purpose. He missed solving puzzles. He missed having a reason to get up in the morning. He missed his friends. Especially Lisbon. He'd written to her over the past two years, keeping her lightly informed of his life. He figured it was the least he could do, letting her know that he was alive and recovering.
As he flirted with Kim, he imagined flirting with Lisbon. He didn't think he could move on, but maybe this would be a good practice test. He even took his ring off and went dancing. But though it was fun, in a way, he didn't feel like a single man. He felt awkward and strange, like he was doing something wrong.
But maybe when he got back to the states he'd feel better. After all, Lisbon had always been able to get him to feel again, and even to feel moments of peace. So he made the decision to go back and made Lisbon his top requirement. He'd missed her and their partnership. And he was sure she'd missed him; she was probably completely bored without him. He laughed to himself, imagining how boring her life had likely been in the past two years. Yes, that was the answer. He'd get himself a job with the FBI, and get Lisbon a job there, too.
What could go wrong?