the veil that keeps me blind, 12/15
Title: The Veil That Keeps Me Blind
Chapter: 12/15 (Book IV)
Notes: Finally returning to where Book II left off, now from Lisbon's perspective.
Book IV
Chapter 12
xxxxx
It is probably for the best that he leaves immediately. Lisbon is still reeling and, now more than ever, cannot trust herself to act rationally where Jane is concerned, as evidenced by her reactions from the moment he first crossed her threshold.
Lisbon collapses on her sofa and replays the past six months of her life in her head, starting with the morning she shot and killed Red John, questioning her decisions and wondering how she had made so many seemingly egregious errors when she made her plans.
Should she have stayed? Would things be different now? Almost certainly they would, but how?
Lisbon considers all of these questions until she feels the beginnings of a headache coming on, forming in her temples and radiating out from there. She has almost the entire bottle of painkillers prescribed for her broken ribs by the ER doctor, and although she knows she isn’t supposed to, she cuts one pill in half and washes it down with tap water.
It’s the pain in her side that reminds her of what she was a part of in San Francisco. Immediately, she stops doubting herself. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen with her own team and with Jane, her job in San Francisco was important; if she loses sight of that, she will lose herself right along with it. She has two more days before she goes back to work; she will not waste them with second thoughts about things she cannot change.
Filled with new determination, she resolves to think over what Jane told her but not to press herself into anything she isn’t ready for quite yet. She is still recovering from four and a half months undercover. An unknown weight lifted from her shoulders, Lisbon returns to the task of clearing out the boxes in her living room.
The simple act of going through her own things after so many months of pretending to be someone else is cathartic for her. She has already put everything away in her bedroom, but she wants to feel settled into her own home again. On a whim, she decides to tackle the boxes tucked away in the far corner of her living room as well; the ones she has not touched since she first moved into the apartment.
The first box is full of mementos and keepsakes she has been hanging onto since she was a child. Everything from a few high school track medals and faded yearbooks to old family photographs, the ones she had been able to save, and the teddy bear that had been given to her by her grandmother the day she had been born, which she would never admit she still had but kept with her even in her college dorm. (For all that she will deny it, Teresa Lisbon has a sentimental side.) Lisbon pulls the box of family photographs to one side, vowing to go through them more thoroughly and put some of them into albums.
When she opens the second box, she inhales sharply. Inside, she finds several old blankets and some Christmas decorations she hasn’t used in years, but nestled in amongst the blankets, she notices a smaller box she thought she lost in her last move. The box contains pictures that had been taken while she was on Bosco’s team with the SFPD, starting from her first years on the team all the way up until she left to come to Sacramento and join the CBI.
Sam Bosco’s face stares back at her from the photographs, as does Matt Willis’ and Gabe Marquez’. Where once there had been four of them, now she is the only one left.
She had been so bitter when she left San Francisco, so angry at Sam, that she had hidden these pictures away and never looked at them again until now. The years that had passed and the fact that they had worked alongside once again had a way of making her forget the bad more easily, and she could remember how much she enjoyed her time on Bosco’s team. He had been an incredible team leader and mentor; he had given her an opportunity when she needed it most.
Quickly, before she loses her nerve, she picks up her cell phone and dials Mandy Bosco’s home number, hoping Mandy has not moved. After three rings, a young teenage boy’s voice answers.
“Bosco residence. Zach speaking.”
Lisbon last saw Zachary Bosco at Sam’s funeral, but that had been nearly two years ago and he had been twelve at the time. How much older he must feel now, with his father gone.
“Hi Zach, it’s...” she hesitates momentarily. Zach must barely even remember her; he had been about five when she left San Francisco. “It’s Teresa Lisbon. Is your mom available?”
“Yeah. Just a minute,” he replies. In the background, Lisbon hears him yell, “Mooooom! It’s for you! Someone named Teresa Lisbon.”
Lisbon chuckles to herself. That answers that question.
“Zach! Manners.”
Lisbon hears Mandy admonish her oldest son, then the click on the other end of the line as Mandy picks up.
“Teresa?” Her tone is friendly, but the question in her greeting is implied. “It’s been a while. Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine, Mandy,” she says reassuringly. “I’ve been going through some of my things, and I found some pictures of the team from San Francisco. I was going to get copies made because I thought you might like to have some of them.”
Mandy inhales audibly on the other end of the line, not unlike Lisbon’s own reaction when she discovered the photos, and then, “Oh, Teresa, that would be wonderful. I don’t have many pictures of Sam on the job. I’m sure the boys would love to see them.”
“Great. Do you have time for me to stop by this weekend?”
“I think so. Let me just check,” Mandy replies quickly before pausing to check her calendar. “How about Sunday afternoon? Charlie and Zach both have games tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Just give me a call when you know how things are going for the boys, and I’ll stop by whenever works for you.”
“I will,” Mandy agrees easily. “Thank you for calling Teresa. Really, I appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
At that moment, Zach calls Mandy away from the phone, so the two women say their goodbyes and hang up.
Lisbon smiles to herself as she returns her cell phone to its usual resting place on the desk in her entryway. It will be good to see Mandy again, she thinks.
xxx
On Sunday, Lisbon arrives on the Bosco’s doorstep in the mid afternoon.
Lisbon has only been to Sam’s house once before, having briefly put in an appearance at the gathering held on the afternoon of his funeral. It’s a fairly ordinary two-story brick home, but Mandy has a small garden in the front yard and has redone the front walkway since Lisbon was last there.
Inside, the house is comfortable and homey. Zach is sitting at the kitchen table with textbooks spread in front of him, doing his homework, and Lisbon sees Charlie, the younger of the two, in the backyard shooting hoops.
Mandy Bosco is a tall woman, thin but not excessively so, with short black hair and brown eyes. She is always well put together; today she is still dressed in a skirt and sweater set, and probably has not changed since going to church that morning. Yet she appears worn and weary; she has aged rapidly in the past two years. Mandy hugs Lisbon and asks if she would like anything to drink.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Lisbon replies.
“Okay then,” Mandy leads Lisbon through the hallway, past the kitchen and into the living room. “Why don’t we sit here? Zach has a big lab report due tomorrow in biology, so he’s spread out at the kitchen table.”
Mandy appears a little bit uncomfortable, but Lisbon does not know if that is a product of the fact that it’s been so long since they last saw each other, or if it’s simply because Lisbon represents the career that led to Sam’s death. She smiles at Mandy, trying to put her more at ease, and follows her to the sofa. Lisbon sits at one end and places the box of photographs down on the coffee table.
Mandy does not sit down immediately. “I think I’m going to make myself some tea. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asks.
“You know, coffee would be great if you have some,” Lisbon concedes. Although she does not need coffee, she recognizes that Mandy wants to do this for her, so she goes along with it.
“Of course we do,” Mandy replies, retreating back to the kitchen. She stops at the kitchen door and turns around and asks, “How do you take your coffee?”
“Uh, milk and sugar if you have it, but really, whatever you have is fine.”
While Mandy goes to the kitchen to fix the drinks, Lisbon settles back against the armrest of the sofa and inspects the living room carefully. There are pictures of Sam with the boys, Sam with Mandy. It’s good for all of them that Mandy keeps his picture up and doesn’t avoid the subject at all costs. In contrast, one night in a drunken rage one, Lisbon’s father had gone so far as to get rid of her mother’s things and tried to destroy many of their family photos, and those are things that are impossible to replace.
All in all, Mandy and the boys appear to be coping well with their loss. Mandy has the support of her own family as well as Sam’s older brother, and that helps, but the most important thing is that Mandy herself has not gone down the same dark road that Lisbon’s father did. Mandy chose to keep her family together; Lisbon’s father chose his own grief and, in doing so, tore his family apart.
Mandy returns with two mugs, interrupting Lisbon’s train of thoughts. Mandy places both mugs on coasters, one in front of each of them. Lisbon takes a sip of her drink while Mandy picks up the box of photographs and starts rifling through them.
“I organized everything by date, and I tried to label them so you’d know what each one is,” Lisbon explains, still gripping her mug.
Mandy studies a picture of Sam and Gabe drinking beer at one of their favorite dive bars, then one of all four of them at Matt’s wedding. Mandy had been the one who took that picture. When she looks up, there are tears in her eyes.
“Wow, these are really great Teresa. Thank you.”
Lisbon locates a box of tissues on a bookshelf by the wall and retrieves them; Mandy accepts the box gratefully.
“I’m sorry,” she says, still sniffling. “It’s been a little while since I’ve been like this.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Lisbon shakes her head.
Mandy shrugs, clearly still embarrassed. “I think I’ll look through the rest of these later. It’s just that sometimes, I still forget that he’s gone.”
Lisbon nods, remaining silent but supportive. She understands what Mandy is saying all too well, although she knows there is nothing she can say that will help.
“Anyway,” Mandy wipes the tears away from her eyes and takes a sip of her tea. “Tell me what’s been going on with you. How are things at the CBI?”
“I’ve been away for the past few months.” Lisbon is grateful for the coffee now; the mug in her hands gives her something else on which to focus. “Actually since the week after the Red John case closed. I’ve been working with the FBI in San Francisco. I’ll go back to the CBI tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, wow,” Mandy appears suitably impressed; Lisbon can feel herself blush. “Anything I would have seen on the news, or can you talk about it?”
“Did you see that the FBI arrested Clifford Mehler late last week? That was our case.”
“I should have known that was you. Sam always said you were the best cop he’d ever worked with.” Mandy quirks an eyebrow and looks at Lisbon knowingly. (Lisbon blushes harder.) “Oh, don’t get like that. He said it because it was true.”
Lisbon doesn’t know how to respond, and instead takes a long drink from her mug. Mandy exhales uneasily in the silence, clearly bothered by something but not ready to admit to it yet. Lisbon feels her nerves building in anticipation, wondering if Mandy has questions about the night that Bosco died. She doesn’t want to lie to Mandy but she knows she cannot tell the truth.
After a pregnant pause, Mandy finally glances down at the floor and speaks softly. “I’m not sorry that Red John is dead. Do you think that makes me a horrible person?”
Lisbon tries not to let her relief show on her face, that this was all that had been on Mandy’s mind. “Not at all,” she asserts with confidence; Mandy does not need a reason to doubt her words. “It means that you’re human. To tell you the truth, I’m not sorry he’s dead either. I don’t think anyone is.”
Mandy looks up from the floor gratefully at Lisbon’s words.
“If we had arrested him and brought him to trial, the outcome would have been the same,” Lisbon continues. “He would have been found guilty and been given the death penalty.”
“And you’re sure it was him?”
She nods. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Mandy released a shaky breath, then repeats herself. “Okay.”
Guilt takes hold of Lisbon as she sees Mandy’s insecurities. She should have come to Mandy immediately after she shot Red John; she owed Bosco that much. But she couldn’t, not then. Her own grief had been too great, although she hardly understood it at the time.
Zach interrupts them to ask for help with his biology lab, and Lisbon takes the opportunity to excuse herself. If it is this difficult for her to be around Mandy Bosco, then she can only imagine how impossibly difficult it must feel for Mandy herself.
Still, as difficult as it was, Lisbon is glad she came. And somehow, spending time with Mandy Bosco feels less daunting than the idea of returning to work the next morning.
xxxxx
Chapter: 12/15 (Book IV)
Notes: Finally returning to where Book II left off, now from Lisbon's perspective.
Book IV
Chapter 12
xxxxx
It is probably for the best that he leaves immediately. Lisbon is still reeling and, now more than ever, cannot trust herself to act rationally where Jane is concerned, as evidenced by her reactions from the moment he first crossed her threshold.
Lisbon collapses on her sofa and replays the past six months of her life in her head, starting with the morning she shot and killed Red John, questioning her decisions and wondering how she had made so many seemingly egregious errors when she made her plans.
Should she have stayed? Would things be different now? Almost certainly they would, but how?
Lisbon considers all of these questions until she feels the beginnings of a headache coming on, forming in her temples and radiating out from there. She has almost the entire bottle of painkillers prescribed for her broken ribs by the ER doctor, and although she knows she isn’t supposed to, she cuts one pill in half and washes it down with tap water.
It’s the pain in her side that reminds her of what she was a part of in San Francisco. Immediately, she stops doubting herself. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen with her own team and with Jane, her job in San Francisco was important; if she loses sight of that, she will lose herself right along with it. She has two more days before she goes back to work; she will not waste them with second thoughts about things she cannot change.
Filled with new determination, she resolves to think over what Jane told her but not to press herself into anything she isn’t ready for quite yet. She is still recovering from four and a half months undercover. An unknown weight lifted from her shoulders, Lisbon returns to the task of clearing out the boxes in her living room.
The simple act of going through her own things after so many months of pretending to be someone else is cathartic for her. She has already put everything away in her bedroom, but she wants to feel settled into her own home again. On a whim, she decides to tackle the boxes tucked away in the far corner of her living room as well; the ones she has not touched since she first moved into the apartment.
The first box is full of mementos and keepsakes she has been hanging onto since she was a child. Everything from a few high school track medals and faded yearbooks to old family photographs, the ones she had been able to save, and the teddy bear that had been given to her by her grandmother the day she had been born, which she would never admit she still had but kept with her even in her college dorm. (For all that she will deny it, Teresa Lisbon has a sentimental side.) Lisbon pulls the box of family photographs to one side, vowing to go through them more thoroughly and put some of them into albums.
When she opens the second box, she inhales sharply. Inside, she finds several old blankets and some Christmas decorations she hasn’t used in years, but nestled in amongst the blankets, she notices a smaller box she thought she lost in her last move. The box contains pictures that had been taken while she was on Bosco’s team with the SFPD, starting from her first years on the team all the way up until she left to come to Sacramento and join the CBI.
Sam Bosco’s face stares back at her from the photographs, as does Matt Willis’ and Gabe Marquez’. Where once there had been four of them, now she is the only one left.
She had been so bitter when she left San Francisco, so angry at Sam, that she had hidden these pictures away and never looked at them again until now. The years that had passed and the fact that they had worked alongside once again had a way of making her forget the bad more easily, and she could remember how much she enjoyed her time on Bosco’s team. He had been an incredible team leader and mentor; he had given her an opportunity when she needed it most.
Quickly, before she loses her nerve, she picks up her cell phone and dials Mandy Bosco’s home number, hoping Mandy has not moved. After three rings, a young teenage boy’s voice answers.
“Bosco residence. Zach speaking.”
Lisbon last saw Zachary Bosco at Sam’s funeral, but that had been nearly two years ago and he had been twelve at the time. How much older he must feel now, with his father gone.
“Hi Zach, it’s...” she hesitates momentarily. Zach must barely even remember her; he had been about five when she left San Francisco. “It’s Teresa Lisbon. Is your mom available?”
“Yeah. Just a minute,” he replies. In the background, Lisbon hears him yell, “Mooooom! It’s for you! Someone named Teresa Lisbon.”
Lisbon chuckles to herself. That answers that question.
“Zach! Manners.”
Lisbon hears Mandy admonish her oldest son, then the click on the other end of the line as Mandy picks up.
“Teresa?” Her tone is friendly, but the question in her greeting is implied. “It’s been a while. Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine, Mandy,” she says reassuringly. “I’ve been going through some of my things, and I found some pictures of the team from San Francisco. I was going to get copies made because I thought you might like to have some of them.”
Mandy inhales audibly on the other end of the line, not unlike Lisbon’s own reaction when she discovered the photos, and then, “Oh, Teresa, that would be wonderful. I don’t have many pictures of Sam on the job. I’m sure the boys would love to see them.”
“Great. Do you have time for me to stop by this weekend?”
“I think so. Let me just check,” Mandy replies quickly before pausing to check her calendar. “How about Sunday afternoon? Charlie and Zach both have games tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Just give me a call when you know how things are going for the boys, and I’ll stop by whenever works for you.”
“I will,” Mandy agrees easily. “Thank you for calling Teresa. Really, I appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
At that moment, Zach calls Mandy away from the phone, so the two women say their goodbyes and hang up.
Lisbon smiles to herself as she returns her cell phone to its usual resting place on the desk in her entryway. It will be good to see Mandy again, she thinks.
xxx
On Sunday, Lisbon arrives on the Bosco’s doorstep in the mid afternoon.
Lisbon has only been to Sam’s house once before, having briefly put in an appearance at the gathering held on the afternoon of his funeral. It’s a fairly ordinary two-story brick home, but Mandy has a small garden in the front yard and has redone the front walkway since Lisbon was last there.
Inside, the house is comfortable and homey. Zach is sitting at the kitchen table with textbooks spread in front of him, doing his homework, and Lisbon sees Charlie, the younger of the two, in the backyard shooting hoops.
Mandy Bosco is a tall woman, thin but not excessively so, with short black hair and brown eyes. She is always well put together; today she is still dressed in a skirt and sweater set, and probably has not changed since going to church that morning. Yet she appears worn and weary; she has aged rapidly in the past two years. Mandy hugs Lisbon and asks if she would like anything to drink.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Lisbon replies.
“Okay then,” Mandy leads Lisbon through the hallway, past the kitchen and into the living room. “Why don’t we sit here? Zach has a big lab report due tomorrow in biology, so he’s spread out at the kitchen table.”
Mandy appears a little bit uncomfortable, but Lisbon does not know if that is a product of the fact that it’s been so long since they last saw each other, or if it’s simply because Lisbon represents the career that led to Sam’s death. She smiles at Mandy, trying to put her more at ease, and follows her to the sofa. Lisbon sits at one end and places the box of photographs down on the coffee table.
Mandy does not sit down immediately. “I think I’m going to make myself some tea. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asks.
“You know, coffee would be great if you have some,” Lisbon concedes. Although she does not need coffee, she recognizes that Mandy wants to do this for her, so she goes along with it.
“Of course we do,” Mandy replies, retreating back to the kitchen. She stops at the kitchen door and turns around and asks, “How do you take your coffee?”
“Uh, milk and sugar if you have it, but really, whatever you have is fine.”
While Mandy goes to the kitchen to fix the drinks, Lisbon settles back against the armrest of the sofa and inspects the living room carefully. There are pictures of Sam with the boys, Sam with Mandy. It’s good for all of them that Mandy keeps his picture up and doesn’t avoid the subject at all costs. In contrast, one night in a drunken rage one, Lisbon’s father had gone so far as to get rid of her mother’s things and tried to destroy many of their family photos, and those are things that are impossible to replace.
All in all, Mandy and the boys appear to be coping well with their loss. Mandy has the support of her own family as well as Sam’s older brother, and that helps, but the most important thing is that Mandy herself has not gone down the same dark road that Lisbon’s father did. Mandy chose to keep her family together; Lisbon’s father chose his own grief and, in doing so, tore his family apart.
Mandy returns with two mugs, interrupting Lisbon’s train of thoughts. Mandy places both mugs on coasters, one in front of each of them. Lisbon takes a sip of her drink while Mandy picks up the box of photographs and starts rifling through them.
“I organized everything by date, and I tried to label them so you’d know what each one is,” Lisbon explains, still gripping her mug.
Mandy studies a picture of Sam and Gabe drinking beer at one of their favorite dive bars, then one of all four of them at Matt’s wedding. Mandy had been the one who took that picture. When she looks up, there are tears in her eyes.
“Wow, these are really great Teresa. Thank you.”
Lisbon locates a box of tissues on a bookshelf by the wall and retrieves them; Mandy accepts the box gratefully.
“I’m sorry,” she says, still sniffling. “It’s been a little while since I’ve been like this.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Lisbon shakes her head.
Mandy shrugs, clearly still embarrassed. “I think I’ll look through the rest of these later. It’s just that sometimes, I still forget that he’s gone.”
Lisbon nods, remaining silent but supportive. She understands what Mandy is saying all too well, although she knows there is nothing she can say that will help.
“Anyway,” Mandy wipes the tears away from her eyes and takes a sip of her tea. “Tell me what’s been going on with you. How are things at the CBI?”
“I’ve been away for the past few months.” Lisbon is grateful for the coffee now; the mug in her hands gives her something else on which to focus. “Actually since the week after the Red John case closed. I’ve been working with the FBI in San Francisco. I’ll go back to the CBI tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, wow,” Mandy appears suitably impressed; Lisbon can feel herself blush. “Anything I would have seen on the news, or can you talk about it?”
“Did you see that the FBI arrested Clifford Mehler late last week? That was our case.”
“I should have known that was you. Sam always said you were the best cop he’d ever worked with.” Mandy quirks an eyebrow and looks at Lisbon knowingly. (Lisbon blushes harder.) “Oh, don’t get like that. He said it because it was true.”
Lisbon doesn’t know how to respond, and instead takes a long drink from her mug. Mandy exhales uneasily in the silence, clearly bothered by something but not ready to admit to it yet. Lisbon feels her nerves building in anticipation, wondering if Mandy has questions about the night that Bosco died. She doesn’t want to lie to Mandy but she knows she cannot tell the truth.
After a pregnant pause, Mandy finally glances down at the floor and speaks softly. “I’m not sorry that Red John is dead. Do you think that makes me a horrible person?”
Lisbon tries not to let her relief show on her face, that this was all that had been on Mandy’s mind. “Not at all,” she asserts with confidence; Mandy does not need a reason to doubt her words. “It means that you’re human. To tell you the truth, I’m not sorry he’s dead either. I don’t think anyone is.”
Mandy looks up from the floor gratefully at Lisbon’s words.
“If we had arrested him and brought him to trial, the outcome would have been the same,” Lisbon continues. “He would have been found guilty and been given the death penalty.”
“And you’re sure it was him?”
She nods. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Mandy released a shaky breath, then repeats herself. “Okay.”
Guilt takes hold of Lisbon as she sees Mandy’s insecurities. She should have come to Mandy immediately after she shot Red John; she owed Bosco that much. But she couldn’t, not then. Her own grief had been too great, although she hardly understood it at the time.
Zach interrupts them to ask for help with his biology lab, and Lisbon takes the opportunity to excuse herself. If it is this difficult for her to be around Mandy Bosco, then she can only imagine how impossibly difficult it must feel for Mandy herself.
Still, as difficult as it was, Lisbon is glad she came. And somehow, spending time with Mandy Bosco feels less daunting than the idea of returning to work the next morning.
xxxxx