0)
Everyone needs something that keeps them going.
Something to live for.
When she was young, Teresa Lisbon’s something was her family, especially after her mother’s death.
Somebody had to be responsible; somebody had to make sure that they didn't fall apart. She had to, simply because nobody else was able to. Three younger brothers and an alcoholic, abusive father required somebody in charge, and she had been capable.
Later her work had become what her family had been before: the one thing that kept her going. Leaving her sticky, small hometown, working her way up by making use of her talents and equally important: bringing justice, being part of the big machine that stops the bad guys from committing more crimes is a good something.
She’s not naive though, she knows that the world is filled with shades of good and bad.
Sometimes good people do bad things in a moment of weakness or simply because they have to and sometimes bad guys are innocent, at least of the crime they investigate. There are dirty cops and criminals that seem to get away with everything, like Volker.
She’s aware of all that and because she’s doing her best every day, because she doesn't give up despite all that, it still works as a rule: ambitions for herself, justice for others and between these two poles, no time for a real private life. And she’s okay with having no home life, she really is.
But things are never simple, are they?
Because deep down inside, she’s much more than just okay with it. She’s relieved for having such a fine excuse.
After all, everybody has something they’re afraid of; something he keeps running from. Teresa Lisbon keeps running from love. Because, (and this is kinda pathetic,) hidden behind her I-am-the-boss attitude, her guns and her wit, she is afraid to lose somebody she loves. Ever again.
Love has become something to be afraid of.
The work she does, the big and the small tragedies she witnesses seem to prove her right. Out there people lose their loved ones every day. Why should she be any different?
Love has a tendency to make people unhappy, her father is only one example of many. Most of the crimes they investigate are committed out of love that has become poisonous, somewhere along the way: unrequited, betrayed, disappointed or passed.
Love has made her unhappy, and she has made people unhappy who loved her: her brothers, Greg, Bosco.
Bosco had loved her, while she’d been in denial, ignoring what shouldn’t be, while at the same time breaking rules (the written ones as well as her own) for Jane, why she needed him close, while she had been …But that’s just part of the problem.
It’s not like she has given up on dating, not really. Maybe she’s a bit “to intense and particular” (Jane’s words, not her own!), a little too anxious to discover her date’s bad qualities which is why meeting a man seldom leads to more than a few drinks and dates.
But it works, she is happy, or happy enough.
Maybe there were moments in the past where she was more than happy enough. Occasions involving a pony, a dance, a new couch or ice cream—all involving Jane, but she didn't see it. Didn't want to see it.
Because nothing seems to work with him. Jane is a mess, he really is. And she knows that, has always known. Sometimes his errors seem to outweigh his good sides. He is arrogant, irresponsible and reckless. He was a conman, making his living by stealing from desperate people.
But he is also a man who has experienced the greatest loss possible. He's no longer the conman. He is thoughtful, loyal, remorseful, and sometimes selfless.
And that’s why she finds herself caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.
I)
They are driving back from a crime scene, leaving a funeral service behind where Jane has managed to piss off every single member of the grieving, (or at least pretend to be grieving,) family. He’s been too impatient to be charming, harsh, sometimes even cruel. His observations did hit the spot, but that’s not the point.
The point is that everything in his behavior reminds her of the Castro case, the last one they solved before he faked his breakdown. Sometimes, when she can’t sleep she still tries to figure out if there was something true hidden in his fake.
It’s another thing for her to worry about. Her to-worry-about list is already too long. Lisbon could tell him that she fears for him, that it’s not his fault that Red John has started killing again or that she can’t stand the fact that he is banning her from his thoughts once more, but she won’t. Why would she, anyway? For one of his half smiles, a joke or something like “I’m sorry”, heartfelt or not? It wouldn't change a thing and she’d only feel stupid for even trying. They've been there before.
The only right she has to express her feelings is by being mad at him. She is still his boss, after all. She can expect him to do his job without creating a mess she has to clean up afterwards. He can’t deny her that right, not really.
So, she is angry.
“I can’t believe you did this”, she starts during an illogical risky overtaking, keeping her eyes focused on the road without really paying attention “I mean-don’t you have enough enemies already?” she spits “Did you need the five new so desperately that you…What is it some stupid anniversary? Five hundred people who’d like to burn you alive or even thousand? Enlighten me, please. ”
He doesn't respond immediately, and when he does he’s only adding more fuel to the fire. “Excuse me? I was just trying to be helpful. You know, offering some good advice. They seemed to need it.”
Lisbon snorts deprecatingly. ”Yeah right. If telling a grieving widow to save the crocodile’s tears because the old fool probably left half of everything to his sexy secretary, then yes, you were being extremely helpful. Thank you so much!”
She’s practically yelling at him by now.
“Don’t Teresa.” His voice is soft, almost gentle. “I know what you are doing there. Believe me, it’s not necessary.”
She just goes on, like he never said a word, pretends not to understand.
Although she does. “What I am doing here is trying to bring you to your senses. I don’t know why I’m even wasting my time, but…”
“Meh, I solved the case, didn't I?” he says.
What he doesn't say is, “I solved it for you, even if I couldn't care less, now be happy.” But she hears it anyway.
“You didn't solve the case.” Technically, this is correct. He hasn't shared his thoughts with her and they didn't get a confession which means that the case is still open. “You've only created a mess. And you know what? There are…rules against this!”
“Rules won’t save you.”
Lisbon’s grip onto the wheel is painfully tight now. She’s the one with the righteous anger here, so why does he manage to hurt her so bad every time? She shouldn't even have started this. And right now, she isn't even sure what “this” means exactly. Something between starting this conversation, working with him in the first place and caring for him.
“You are wrong. They did, ” she finally manages to say, “and besides , this is not about me. I’m not the one running riot here.”
“Pff.”
Luckily for Jane they have reached the CBI parking lot. And only, because Lisbon is on the verge of hitting him (badly, probably) the conversation doesn’t end here.
“I don’t care if you believe it but rules are important. They provide stability and safety. Mind telling me what you have that gives you the same feeling?”
He doesn't hesitate, not even for a split second. As if he is just revealing some kind of obvious truth, like if it rains, you’ll get wet or if somebody shoots you into the heart, you’ll die. “I have you.”
Sometimes things are too simple.
Maybe that’s the answer she deserves for even asking such a question.
She suddenly can’t breathe anymore, like all the air has been sucked out by some kind of bizarre machine and her heart beats too fast. Lisbon evades his gaze.
“No you don’t.” But her voice give her away, it’s low, high-pitched, as if she can’t even persuade herself to believe her own lies anymore. And if she can’t believe them, she won’t have him fooled.
“Are you sure sure about that?” He pretends to be serious, but there’s a trace of amusement and something else, something she can’t quite identify in his voice. She clings to the amusement. They've had conversations like that before over the years, conversations in which he implied that there might be something more possible, that there might be inappropriate feelings, and she has always made it out safe and sound. Why should this one be any different?
It’s not like he doesn't know the truth anyway.
“Oh, hush.” She even manages a weary smile of which she is, (given the circumstances,) quite proud.
“Your wish is my command,” he answers firmly.
Without further ado he steps out of the car, slamming the door just a bit too hard- like he has suddenly grown tired of their seemingly endless dance.
Lisbon knows why: They are running out of time.
And for the longest moment she thinks about calling him back, telling him…
But she doesn't. She just can’t.
II)
Later at night, when she’s lying in bed thinking of Patrick again, she recalls his words over and over.
If Jane was right, if he has her, then what does she have? Not him, apparently, or not more than the thirty percent he concedes her. The rest belongs to Red John.
It’s not the first or second night she wastes with tossing or turning instead of sleeping. It's not the third, the tenth or the twentieth either.
She has never been the insomnia type. Her body has been so used to running on five hours of sleep, and sometimes even less, that she always fell asleep in record time. Three minutes of silence, quiet breathing and losed eyes and…nothing.
She doesn't do that anymore.
Instead, she spends hours worrying, most of the time about Jane.
It’s like every single bad thought she manages to block out during the day comes creeping out on her at night these days.
It’s not healthy, not rational, but she just can’t help herself.
When it’s all over he’ll want a new life, need a new life even. He won’t be able to stay at the CBI, where everything reminds him of the time he has spent there, waiting, brooding, and hating. Where he has very likely even met with Red John. Running away from painful reminders, people simply do that when they move on. She has done the same all these years ago.
And now? What will she do to stop Jane form moving on, leaving her behind as a painful reminder? Beg him to stay, just for one last case, for old time’s sake? A particular hard one, they won’t be able to solve without his help? Help he owes them (Note here: it’s them, not her), because of all that has been? How many last cases will they have?
How far will she go to keep him around just a little while longer?
And, just as fundamental: what can she expect by doing so?
She can hardly bear the answer.
Damn, she is Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, head of the team with the highest solve rate in California! Maybe even in the whole country! She has been the top student at the academy, the youngest senior agent ever, even Saint Teresa. Closing cases should be all that matters to her.
Closing cases…It’s not like they’d need him for that. They’d been doing their jobs long before Jane appeared on the scene. Certainly they won’t close as many, they won’t solve them with the same speed, when he is gone, but they will solve them. They’ll still catch bad guys, still do something good.
But it won’t be enough. Not for her, not anymore.
It would never again be enough.
Why? Since when?
She knows the answers.
Her time with Jane has been borrowed, Lisbon has always known that. Borrowed from his wife…and borrowed from Red John. And now, their hourglass is running out of sand.
When that thought hits her with full force, she does, what she has never done before in her career: She calls in for a personal day.
III)
Lisbon sits on the bench across the meadow, visiting the pony Jane gave her as his first birthday present.
“See? You've got no reason to be grumpy anymore” he had said.
Obviously, he had been wrong. Not then, only now.
She’s behaving rrational, pathetic. It’s just some stupid pony she's been staring at for what feels like ages. Brown and white, it stuffs itself with grass all day, has four legs and definitely no answers.
And it’s not a time machine either.
She just can’t go back to the time where she hadn't been what they called “emotionally involved” and she can’t pretend she’ll make it out of this whole mess in one piece.
What has she been thinking, anyway? She should do her job, not...
A rustling behind the bushes startles her. Automatically, she reaches for her gun.
“Police! Whoever you are: come out!”
There was a time when she’d have left a deadly weapon at home while taking a trip to the petting zoo, but that time is so long gone, she can barely remember it ever existed.
More rustling, but nothing else. Maybe, she’s just plain paranoid, maybe she’s shouting at some animal or maybe, it’s…
“I said…”
“Don’t shoot me! I come in peace.” Jane. One hand lifted over his head, the other one hidden behind his back, he steps out.
She stares at him speechlessly. Her brain simply refuses to accept the fact that he appeared here; here of all places he could, (and should,) be.
“Thought you might need these while trying to revive your friendship with him.”
Jane produces a bunch of carrots and hands them her. Mechanically, she takes them.
”How did you know…? I didn’t tell anybody…”
He shakes his head. “You never get tired of asking me that do you?” Jane smiles, but his voice is a little too thoughtful, a little too loving and his gaze directed to a point far behind her, a little too sad. She wonders if it has already begun, if this is one of the moments she’s supposed to remember when he’s gone, if this is part of their farewell too.
It probably is and Lisbon wishes he had just stayed in his attic.
He shouldn't even be here. She shouldn't be here. That’s just…wrong.
“You know, if it wasn't you I could finally hold the speech on working moral I've always had in mind for an occasion like this.”
Maybe he’s trying to make it easier for her. If he is, it’s working. A small laugh escapes her and she forces herself to come up with a sneaky remark.
“Yeah, right. Like you should lecture anybody on this topic”
Jane smiles, pretends to be embarrassed. “I’m a man of many hidden talents. You should know that by now, Lisbon.”
And that’s the last thing he says. If they were at a crime scene, the silence between them wouldn't matter. There’d be other people to turn to, orders to give, observations to make.
But this isn't a crime scene. It’s no man’s land.
“You know, you can just tell me.”
“Tell you what?” She automatically responds and his smile vanishes.
“The thing you came here to think about, Teresa.”
He has just as little cause to be here, perhaps even less, but she feels inferior in spite of that. Because normally, he’s the one doing the stupid things and she’s the one reminding him of that. When have these constants changed?
“I didn't come here to think about you!” she hisses.
“And I never said you did,” he retorts smugly.
Lisbon turn’s away to hide her blushes, but it’s too late. She has just walked into his trap.
“I didn't...” This time she cuts herself off. Who is she trying to fool anyway? Of course she came here to think about him and Jane knows that. Deniability isn't her best friend anymore, she can’t pretend that’s there is no involvement, that this is only about work: closing cases, catching bad guys, catching Red John. This is about them as well. And suddenly she’s fed up trying to pretend it isn't.
“Fine, maybe I did,” she admits, reluctantly. “A little.”
At first, he seems surprised, then relieved. As if a burden had been lifted off him, a burden she had not even noticed.
“See? It didn't hurt.” He shoves his hands into his vest pockets and leans forward. ”Now tell me.“
What is she supposed to say? I don’t want to lose you? I don’t what you to go? I want to catch Red John. I don’t want anybody else to die. We’ll get him, but there’s a part of me that doesn't want the hunt to end because I know you better then you think I do? I’ll miss you, always?
I love you?
All true and maybe none of it will ever be enough for him.
That’s why she can’t tell him.
“Why?” she asks, suddenly mad at him. Mad, because she isn’t used to feeling this small, this helpless. She’s always the one in charge, the one fixing things and now she’s driven into a corner. “You are the one who knows everything anyway.”
This is true also. They can go on and pretend Sean Barlow never said a word, never said anything about her being “a little in love with him” but wherefore?
And it’s a way out of her dilemma. The words have already been spoken, and right now it doesn’t matter that the one who revealed her secret only wanted to hurt both of them.
“Ah.” Jane nods. This time it’s his turn to be embarrassed. ”I really hate to be the one to bring this to your attention but even my powers are limited. Or, in other words, sometimes I don’t know half as much as I’d like to -or need to.”
She blinks. Once. Twice.
And then the realization sinks in: he isn’t going to let her off the hook. Lisbon is torn. A part of her is grateful, because deep down inside she knows that they need to talk about all the things hovering in the air around them. The other part of her, the one that is always running, is still in search of the emergency exit.
“Really Jane. I don’t know what kind of game you are playing here and frankly I don’t care. Or is your memory palace being renovated? ” She takes a deep breath. “Sean Barlow…”
“Forget about him,” he interrupts her. Apparently, he’s on the edge. “He’s a criminal scumbag who’s a little too fond of his own voice and I don’t care about him.”
He looks her in the eye. “But I do care about you, Teresa.”
Lisbon swallows hard. “And I care about you, Patrick. It’s just…”
But she’ll never know what she was going to say, because they are interrupted.
Neither of the moves.
“Your phone is ringing.” Lisbon finally manages to say, hinting at the obvious.
“Really?” His eyes never leave her face, it’s an inquisiting look “I couldn't care less.” “But you should,” she insists, “You know…working moral and all that.”
He shakes his head and smiles sheepishly. “I knew that one would come back and haunt me.” But he obeys- probably thinking the same: it could be about Red John.
It’s Cho. And being Cho, he doesn't waste time with greetings or polite words. “Lisbon’s not answering her phone. Any idea where she might be?”
“No,” Jane lies airily “How would I know anyway?”
“You don’t really want me to answer that, Jane,” the agent replies coolly.
“Let me think about that: No…probably not.”
Patting on his leg, he rolls back on his heels.
“Whatever. The widow confessed. It seems waterproof. She brought the murder weapon and all, but we don’t by it. When can you be at the office?”
Jane sighs. “You are right, she didn't do it. She’s protecting someone, definitely not the secretary, probably the son. Half an hour.”
“Good and if you happen to stumble over the boss, by chance, tell her we need her. Here.”
“I’ll do my best.” Jane shuts his phone and shoves it back into his pocket. “So?”
She’s not sure if he’s asking her if she wants to come with him, or if she wants to tell him what she came here to think about. And it doesn’t matter because she’s going to do neither. “Not now.” For about twenty seconds Red John has been sitting on the bench here with them, and she needs time to think.
Jane doesn't seem to be surprised. He just stands up and dusts himself off “For starters, I think we did okay. So take your time, it looks like you need it.”
He abandons her, makes his leave. But after a few steps, he stops. “But don’t keep me waiting too long. How long do you need for a one simple ‘I need you, Jane’? Nine years? I don’t think I can wait as long for…something more.”
Lisbon tries to ignore what he has left unsaid, and what they are both thinking of, that they might not live nine more years.
“Oh, hush!”
And he does.
Someday, she’ll see him leave like this for the last time.
IV)
Ten minutes later Lisbon follows him.
Her team needs her. A case has to be solved, a murderer caught.
She has had enough time to think.
Because sometimes, knowing is enough.
And she’s not going to run this time.
V)
Around midnight, she knocks on the door of his hotel room. They solved the case and she didn't have time to talk to him. Not alone.
He opens the door so quickly and she knows that he hasn't been sleeping anyway.
Maybe he’s been working on the Red John case. Maybe he has been waiting for her. The way his face lightens up as he recognizes her in the dim light makes that the latter likely.
She doesn't say a word; she just wants him to know.
It’s the first time for her to hug him.
An outsider would probably laugh at the sight.
She has to stand on tiptoes, because she’s a little out of practice—she hasn't hugged anybody over the last decade, she has only been hugged. This makes all the difference in the word…at least for her. He stumbles backwards a little, because she catches him by surprise, before he wraps his arms around her. Careful, gentle even.
Finally, she steps back. Combined with the physical distance, her uncertainty comes back.
They've never been there before.
“Can I come in?”
“Always.” He smiles at and gives way to her.
“Thanks. It won’t take long.” Lisbon takes a deep breath. “Yesterday...I lied. You do have me.”
“I'm glad to hear that.", his voice is husky "Thank you.”
“And when we catch him…we’ll have all the time we need. We will…”
He winks at her. “I told you before, I don’t plan on waiting another nine years. Somehow I doubt Cho would like that very much.”
Lisbon playfully hits him on the arm. “Oh, hush.” For now they are okay. Everything seems to be back to normal.
She makes her leave and he doesn't try and stop her. Right now, everything that can be said has been said, and everything that can be done has been done.
The rest is all promises.
