Chapter Text
The morning at the California Bureau of Investigation started like any other morning. Phones were ringing, agents were moving from one desk to another, paperwork was piling up, and someone had already complained about the coffee. Teresa Lisbon stood in the middle of the bullpen with a file in her hand, trying to organize the day's cases while simultaneously ignoring the fact that Patrick Jane's couch was empty. That alone should have told her something was wrong. Jane was usually there before everyone else, lying comfortably on the couch with his eyes closed, looking as though he had no intention of doing any actual work. Sometimes he was asleep. Sometimes he was pretending to be asleep. And sometimes, Lisbon suspected, he simply enjoyed watching everyone panic while he did absolutely nothing. But today, the couch was empty.
“Where's Jane?” she asked.
Cho looked up from his computer. “Not here.”.
Lisbon gave him a look. “I can see that.” Cho nodded calmly.
“Then I don't know why you asked.” Rigsby, who was carrying two folders and a half-eaten sandwich, tried not to laugh.
Van Pelt looked between them. “Maybe he's finally decided to take a day off.”
Lisbon immediately shook her head. “Jane doesn't take days off.”
Cho's expression remained completely serious. “He takes days away from work.”
“That's different,” Rigsby said. “He doesn't actually work.” Lisbon opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the familiar voice came from behind her.
“I heard that.” Everyone turned. Jane stood at the entrance of the bullpen, perfectly dressed in his usual vest and three-piece suit, holding a cup of tea as if he hadn't just been the subject of their conversation.
Lisbon stared at him. “Where were you?” Jane smiled.
“Good morning to you too, Lisbon.”
“Where were you?” she repeated.
“Getting tea.” She looked at the cup in his hand.
“For two hours?”
"It was a very difficult tea.” Rigsby snorted. Cho looked back at his computer. Van Pelt smiled. Lisbon simply shook her head.
“You're impossible.” Jane walked toward his couch.
“And yet, you keep me around.”
“Unfortunately.”
“You'd miss me if I left.” Lisbon looked at him for a moment longer than she intended. “Don't test me.” Jane's smile widened, but something about the way she said it made him pause.
He had always been fascinated by Lisbon's reactions. She was one of the few people who didn't fall easily for his tricks. She knew when he was lying, or at least she knew when he was trying to get away with something. She didn't care about his reputation, his supposed psychic abilities, or the fact that he could manipulate almost anyone in the room. She treated him like a troublesome employee who required constant supervision. Jane found it refreshing. Most people either feared him, admired him, or wanted something from him. Lisbon simply wanted him to follow the rules. Well, most of the time.
He watched her return to her desk, and for a brief moment, he noticed the tiredness around her eyes. She hadn't slept well. Her shoulders were slightly tense, and she kept rubbing the side of her neck whenever she thought no one was watching. Jane noticed. He always noticed.
“You didn't sleep,” he said. Lisbon looked up.
“Excuse me?”
“You didn't sleep last night.” She frowned.
“How do you know that?”
“Your eyes.”
“My eyes?”
“They're tired.”
“That's your great deduction?” Jane shrugged.
“Among other things.” Lisbon stared at him.
“And what other things?” Jane smiled.
“You don't want to know.”
“You're probably right.” He settled onto the couch, placing his tea beside him.
“You worry too much.” Lisbon's expression softened for half a second before she quickly looked back at her paperwork.
“Someone has to.” Jane watched her again.
There was something about that sentence that stayed with him. Someone has to. He knew Lisbon worried about the team. He knew she worried about Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho. But lately, he had begun to wonder if she worried about him more than she should. He pushed the thought away. There were more important things to think about. Red John. His name was still the first thought that entered Jane's mind every morning and the last thought that haunted him before sleep. Even after all these years, the pain hadn't disappeared. It had simply learned how to hide beneath his smile.
Lisbon knew that better than anyone. She had seen the transformation in him over the years. When Jane first joined the CBI, there was something almost reckless about him. He was charming, arrogant, manipulative, and infuriating, but underneath all of it was a man who had already lost everything. She had seen the way his eyes changed whenever Red John was mentioned. The humor disappeared. The warmth disappeared. What remained was anger. Pure and consuming anger. She knew Jane wanted revenge. She knew he wanted justice, but she also knew there were days when she wasn't sure which one he wanted more. And that was why she watched him. That was why she argued with him. That was why she refused to let him disappear into his obsession completely. She had never told him that. She never would. At least, that was what she told herself.
Loving Patrick Jane was not something she had planned. In fact, she had fought against it for years. She had tried convincing herself that she simply cared about him because he was part of her team. Then she realized that she didn't look at everyone the way she looked at him. She didn't worry about everyone the way she worried about him. She didn't notice when everyone else was hurting before they said a word. And she certainly didn't feel her heart race whenever someone threatened to take him away. Lisbon knew she loved him. She simply didn't know what to do about it.
“Lisbon.” She looked up. Jane was standing in front of her desk.
“What?”
“We're supposed to be going to a crime scene.” She blinked.
“I know.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because someone needs to finish reading this.” Jane leaned against her desk.
“You can finish it later.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Jane.”
“Lisbon.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Don't start.” He smiled.
“I haven't started anything.”
“That's exactly what you say before you start something.” Cho walked past them.
“She's right.” Jane looked offended.
“Cho, I thought you respected me.”
“I do.”
“You don't sound like it.”
“I respect your ability to cause problems.” Rigsby laughed from across the room.
“That's actually a compliment coming from Cho.” Van Pelt shook her head.
Lisbon closed the file. “Fine. Let's go.”
Jane smiled victoriously. “See? You do listen to me.”
“Don't get used to it.” They headed toward the elevator together, with Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt following behind. Lisbon pressed the button, and Jane stood beside her. Their shoulders almost touched. Lisbon moved slightly away. Jane noticed. Of course he noticed. He glanced at her but said nothing.
The case was a murder in a small house outside Sacramento. A wealthy businessman had been found dead in his study, and the local police had already decided it was a robbery gone wrong. Jane took one look at the crime scene and immediately disagreed.
“It wasn't a robbery,” he said. The detective standing beside them frowned.
“How can you know that?” Jane pointed toward the desk.
“Because whoever killed him wasn't interested in stealing anything.” Lisbon crossed her arms.
“How do you know?”
“The expensive watch is still there. Wallet too. Computer hasn't been touched.” He walked around the room, studying everything. “The killer wanted him dead.”
The detective looked skeptical. “That's usually what murderers want.”
Jane smiled. “Not always.”
Lisbon followed him closely. She knew better than to interrupt when he was working. There was something almost hypnotic about watching Jane piece together a crime. His eyes moved constantly, taking in every detail. His fingers brushed against objects without disturbing them. His mind seemed to move faster than anyone else could follow. He stopped near the bookshelf.
“There.” Lisbon looked.
“What?”
“This book.” He pulled it out.
“Dust mark.” Cho stepped closer. “Something was removed.”
“Exactly.” Jane turned toward the detective.
“What was missing?” The detective checked his notes.
“We haven't inventoried everything yet.” Jane smiled.
“You should.” Lisbon sighed.
“Jane.”
“Yes?”
“Don't annoy the detective.”
“I'm helping.”
“You're annoying him while helping.”
“It's a talent.”
Lisbon couldn't help smiling. Just slightly. Jane caught it. For a moment, he simply looked at her. He had seen Lisbon angry, frustrated, worried, exhausted, and even amused, but there was something different about the way she smiled when she thought no one was watching. It was softer. Warmer. And for some reason, he found himself wanting to see it again. The thought surprised him. He quickly turned back to the crime scene. He didn't understand why he had noticed. He noticed everything. That wasn't unusual. Yet somehow, this felt different.
He pushed the thought aside and continued investigating. Eventually, they discovered that the victim had been blackmailing one of his business partners. The missing item from the bookshelf was a small notebook containing financial records. Jane set a trap, convincing the suspect that the notebook had been recovered and that it contained enough evidence to send him to prison. The suspect panicked and confessed. It was another case solved. Another killer caught. Another successful day for the CBI.
But on the drive back, Lisbon noticed that Jane was unusually quiet. He sat beside her in the passenger seat, looking out the window. Normally, he would have spent the entire drive talking, teasing her, or complaining about something. Today, nothing.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You're quiet.”
“I'm thinking.” Lisbon glanced at him.
“That's dangerous.” Jane smiled faintly.
“Very.” She waited. He didn't say anything else. She knew better than to push him. After a few minutes, Jane finally spoke.
“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you had chosen something different?” Lisbon looked at him.
“Different from what?”
“Everything.” He gestured vaguely.
“Your job. Your choices. Your life.” She was quiet for a moment.
“Sometimes.”
“What would you choose?”
“I don't know.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She looked at him.
“What about you?” Jane's expression changed. His smile disappeared.
“I don't think I have a choice.” Lisbon knew immediately what he meant. Red John. She looked back at the road.
“You always have a choice, Jane.”
“Not this one.”
“Maybe not today.” She paused.
“But someday.” Jane looked at her.
“You really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Lisbon's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Because I don't want you to spend the rest of your life chasing someone who already took so much from you.” Jane stared at her.
He didn't respond. Lisbon swallowed. “You deserve more than that.” He looked away again.
“Maybe.”
It was the closest thing to agreement she had ever gotten from him.
That evening, Lisbon returned to the office after everyone else had gone home. She had forgotten a file on her desk. She walked into the bullpen expecting it to be empty, but the light above Jane's couch was still on. Jane was there, lying down with his eyes closed.
“Jane?” No response. She approached him.
“Jane.” He opened one eye.
“Hello.”
“Why are you still here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I forgot something.”
“So did I.” Lisbon frowned.
“What?” Jane sat up slowly.
“My reason to go home.” She looked at him, unsure if he was joking.
“What does that mean?” Jane smiled, but there was sadness behind it.
“Nothing.”
Lisbon stood there for a moment. She wanted to ask. She wanted to understand. But she knew Jane had built walls around himself that were not easily broken. So instead, she walked to the small table and placed a cup of tea in front of him. Jane looked at it. Then at her.
“What's this?”
“Tea.”
“I know what tea is.”
“Then why did you ask?” He smiled.
“You made this for me?”
“Don't make it a big deal.” Lisbon turned away.
“Drink it before it gets cold.” Jane watched her walk toward the elevator.
“Lisbon.” She stopped.
“Yes?” He hesitated. For a man who could manipulate anyone into saying exactly what he wanted, Patrick Jane suddenly couldn't find the right words.
“Thank you.” Lisbon smiled softly.
“You're welcome.” The elevator doors closed.
Jane sat alone on the couch, staring at the cup of tea in his hands. He didn't know why the small gesture affected him. Lisbon had done things like this before. She had brought him food when he forgot to eat. She had covered for him when he needed time alone. She had stood between him and danger more times than he could count. She had always been there. Maybe that was why he had stopped noticing just how important she had become. She wasn't simply the person who kept him grounded anymore. She was the person he expected to be there. The person he searched for without thinking. The person whose absence he noticed immediately. Jane frowned at the realization. He didn't like it. Not because it was unpleasant, but because it was dangerous. Caring about someone meant giving them the power to hurt you. He already knew what it felt like to lose the people he loved. He couldn't go through that again.
Across town, Lisbon sat alone in her apartment, staring at nothing. She thought about Jane's words.
My reason to go home.
She knew he probably hadn't meant anything by it. Jane often spoke in riddles, half-truths, and jokes. But her heart had still held on to the words. She hated that it did. She knew better. She knew loving Patrick Jane was dangerous. He was still chasing a ghost, and she couldn't compete with a dead past. She couldn't compete with the memory of a woman he had loved and lost. So she would continue doing what she had always done. She would stay beside him. She would keep him grounded. She would protect him from himself when necessary. And she would love him quietly, asking for nothing in return.
What neither of them knew was that the distance between them had already begun to disappear.
Patrick Jane had spent years believing that his heart had died the same night Red John murdered his family. But hearts, he would eventually learn, had a strange way of surviving.
And Teresa Lisbon was slowly becoming the proof.