Bloodless Bonds Chapter Six
Title:Bloodless Bonds Chapter Six
Words: Total fic, about 10,000
Spoilers: All four seasons.
Summary: After Red John is killed, Lisbon must convince Jane that quitting the CBI is not what he should do next. Includes flashbacks to the final confrontation with Red John.
Lisbon didn’t know what Patrick Jane she was going to see when she visited his house. The smiling, happy Patrick Jane, finally avenged? The preoccupied-but-hiding-it Patrick Jane? Or the man she’d seen only on occasion, the broken, desperate Patrick Jane?
The Jane that opened the door was a Jane that Lisbon hadn’t really seen before. He appeared fairly well rested, smiling, but somehow guarded at the same time. “Teresa,” he said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Why’d you quit the unit?”
“Jumping right in,” Jane said, standing back to she could enter the house. “How very Lisbon. I see that you are feeling a bit better. Can I make you some tea?”
“No, thank you,” she said, going to the couch. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to her. She stared down at her hands, aware that Jane was cocking his head and leaning down slightly, trying to see her face. “We did it, Lisbon.”
She looked up and him and smiled. “We did, didn’t we?” She thought she may have been a bit too confrontational with him when he’d opened the door. It was, after all, the first time they’d seen each other since she’d found out that he was leaving. Suddenly, he not visiting her later in the hospital made sense. He didn’t want to talk about the fact that he was leaving the CBI. Whether it was so she could worry about getting well, or because he didn’t want to be bothered arguing with her she didn’t know, but at this point she didn’t really care. She just wanted to get back in the comfort zone with him, that place where they had each other’s backs and could actually talk. And she couldn’t get there accusing him of being a quitter. She put her hand on the space between them. “We got Red John. How does that feel?” She smiled.
Jane smiled back. “We got him.” He looked away from her and out in front of him, at nothing. “And we made sure he’ll never harm someone again.” He dropped his head. “We got him.”
After Jane heard the deal, Lisbon saw him set his jaw. “I won’t…I can’t…” he muttered, barely audible. he clenched his fists at his sides.
“You have two minutes,” said Red John. “Or she dies.” He put the knife to Lisbon’s throat and she let out a cry of fear, embarrassed a moment later for exhibiting such weakness. But part of her wasn’t worrying about how strong she looked. That part of her was terrified as to what Jane would do.
She knew that Jane was much closer with her than any other living soul, but the tradeoff for her life was letting the man who murdered his family get away. And Lisbon also knew that his entire reason for living was to make sure that Red John paid for what he did.
What she didn’t know was if his loyalty to her was stronger than his need for revenge, and if that loyalty would hold over when he actually had the opportunity to end Red John’s life. Red John could have killed her and disappeared, leaving her body for Jane to find. He could have kidnapped her, leaving the team distraught not knowing where she was or if she was alive or dead. He could have simply vanished, leaving Jane frustrated that he had led them on this chase only for the trail to go cold again. But he didn’t. He had put himself, the person who was responsible for killing those in Jane’s life who he loved the most, and the woman who was the most important living person in Jane’s life on a “same fate” level. The knife was against Lisbon’s throat; she was sure another knife was turning in Jane’s chest. But her uncertainty was terrifying her even more than the prospect of her throat being slit. Wiggling her wrists slightly, slowly working the rope that bound her hands, she waited. Waited for her fate to be decided. She could see the conflict in Jane’s eyes. Part of her wanted to say that it was okay, to shoot Red John and let her be a casualty of this war that had tormented him for more than a decade. Lord knew that he deserved to have some sort of peace, even if it was at the expense of her life. But another part of her remembered all the times they’d gotten out of bad situations before, and she didn’t want to give up hope that they could do it once again.
“Yes,” Red John said, smiling as Jane’s lower lip trembled. Lisbon closed her eyes momentarily, running through the Hail Mary in her head. “Yes.” Red John’s sinister voice jolted her out of her prayer. “Patrick Jane. How I enjoy seeing you cry.”
Jane lifted his head and looked Red John in the eye. Then he looked at Lisbon. “This was never your battle, Lisbon,” he said. “It was mine.” He turned his head to the side and looked at the floor again.
Behind her, Lisbon felt Red John’s grip on her neck and back shift slightly as he leaned to one side, she presumed to better see Jane’s tears. She hated that the monster who held a knife near her throat wanted to see Jane’s tears.
And suddenly, she realized what Jane was doing.
“This was never your battle, Lisbon,” he had told her, his way of telling her, subtly, that he was not going to let her die. His shift of weight had made Red John shift his, too, in his attempt to see the tears of the man that he relished torturing, in turn shifting the position of the knife ever so slightly and putting him slightly off balance. It was barely noticeable, but Lisbon, who had spent years in the presence of a man who was able to notice the slightest difference in position or behavior, had learned a few things in that time.
Suddenly, Lisbon found herself able to move, and she threw her weight back, knocking Red John off of his feet while yanking her hands free at the same time. His knife slashed wildly, tearing into Lisbon’s shoulder, and she cried out again.
Jane had whirled around and grabbed the gun, pointing it toward the struggling duo as Lisbon and Red John fought for possession of the knife. “Back away from her!” Jane shouted. “Or I’ll shoot.”
“Did I ever thank you?” Lisbon asked, still staring straight ahead.
“For me cleverly figuring out a way to save your life while still getting Red John?” Jane asked. He pretended to think for a moment. “Nah.”
Lisbon nodded. “Well, thank you.” She looked over at him again, then reached over and touched his arm, much like she had back when their lead had been killed in Tijuana. “I mean it.”
“Good,” Jane said. “Nice to know people are grateful when I use my keen brain to benefit their lives. It’s quite selfless of me, actually.”
She shook her head slowly. “Shut up.”
He smiled at her. Then, as quickly as it had come his smile was gone again. “I heard you were having some…night terrors, for lack of another phrase.”
She nodded. “Can we not talk about that? It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” Jane said. “That fight was…it was terrifying.”
Chapter Seven
Words: Total fic, about 10,000
Spoilers: All four seasons.
Summary: After Red John is killed, Lisbon must convince Jane that quitting the CBI is not what he should do next. Includes flashbacks to the final confrontation with Red John.
Lisbon didn’t know what Patrick Jane she was going to see when she visited his house. The smiling, happy Patrick Jane, finally avenged? The preoccupied-but-hiding-it Patrick Jane? Or the man she’d seen only on occasion, the broken, desperate Patrick Jane?
The Jane that opened the door was a Jane that Lisbon hadn’t really seen before. He appeared fairly well rested, smiling, but somehow guarded at the same time. “Teresa,” he said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Why’d you quit the unit?”
“Jumping right in,” Jane said, standing back to she could enter the house. “How very Lisbon. I see that you are feeling a bit better. Can I make you some tea?”
“No, thank you,” she said, going to the couch. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to her. She stared down at her hands, aware that Jane was cocking his head and leaning down slightly, trying to see her face. “We did it, Lisbon.”
She looked up and him and smiled. “We did, didn’t we?” She thought she may have been a bit too confrontational with him when he’d opened the door. It was, after all, the first time they’d seen each other since she’d found out that he was leaving. Suddenly, he not visiting her later in the hospital made sense. He didn’t want to talk about the fact that he was leaving the CBI. Whether it was so she could worry about getting well, or because he didn’t want to be bothered arguing with her she didn’t know, but at this point she didn’t really care. She just wanted to get back in the comfort zone with him, that place where they had each other’s backs and could actually talk. And she couldn’t get there accusing him of being a quitter. She put her hand on the space between them. “We got Red John. How does that feel?” She smiled.
Jane smiled back. “We got him.” He looked away from her and out in front of him, at nothing. “And we made sure he’ll never harm someone again.” He dropped his head. “We got him.”
After Jane heard the deal, Lisbon saw him set his jaw. “I won’t…I can’t…” he muttered, barely audible. he clenched his fists at his sides.
“You have two minutes,” said Red John. “Or she dies.” He put the knife to Lisbon’s throat and she let out a cry of fear, embarrassed a moment later for exhibiting such weakness. But part of her wasn’t worrying about how strong she looked. That part of her was terrified as to what Jane would do.
She knew that Jane was much closer with her than any other living soul, but the tradeoff for her life was letting the man who murdered his family get away. And Lisbon also knew that his entire reason for living was to make sure that Red John paid for what he did.
What she didn’t know was if his loyalty to her was stronger than his need for revenge, and if that loyalty would hold over when he actually had the opportunity to end Red John’s life. Red John could have killed her and disappeared, leaving her body for Jane to find. He could have kidnapped her, leaving the team distraught not knowing where she was or if she was alive or dead. He could have simply vanished, leaving Jane frustrated that he had led them on this chase only for the trail to go cold again. But he didn’t. He had put himself, the person who was responsible for killing those in Jane’s life who he loved the most, and the woman who was the most important living person in Jane’s life on a “same fate” level. The knife was against Lisbon’s throat; she was sure another knife was turning in Jane’s chest. But her uncertainty was terrifying her even more than the prospect of her throat being slit. Wiggling her wrists slightly, slowly working the rope that bound her hands, she waited. Waited for her fate to be decided. She could see the conflict in Jane’s eyes. Part of her wanted to say that it was okay, to shoot Red John and let her be a casualty of this war that had tormented him for more than a decade. Lord knew that he deserved to have some sort of peace, even if it was at the expense of her life. But another part of her remembered all the times they’d gotten out of bad situations before, and she didn’t want to give up hope that they could do it once again.
“Yes,” Red John said, smiling as Jane’s lower lip trembled. Lisbon closed her eyes momentarily, running through the Hail Mary in her head. “Yes.” Red John’s sinister voice jolted her out of her prayer. “Patrick Jane. How I enjoy seeing you cry.”
Jane lifted his head and looked Red John in the eye. Then he looked at Lisbon. “This was never your battle, Lisbon,” he said. “It was mine.” He turned his head to the side and looked at the floor again.
Behind her, Lisbon felt Red John’s grip on her neck and back shift slightly as he leaned to one side, she presumed to better see Jane’s tears. She hated that the monster who held a knife near her throat wanted to see Jane’s tears.
And suddenly, she realized what Jane was doing.
“This was never your battle, Lisbon,” he had told her, his way of telling her, subtly, that he was not going to let her die. His shift of weight had made Red John shift his, too, in his attempt to see the tears of the man that he relished torturing, in turn shifting the position of the knife ever so slightly and putting him slightly off balance. It was barely noticeable, but Lisbon, who had spent years in the presence of a man who was able to notice the slightest difference in position or behavior, had learned a few things in that time.
Suddenly, Lisbon found herself able to move, and she threw her weight back, knocking Red John off of his feet while yanking her hands free at the same time. His knife slashed wildly, tearing into Lisbon’s shoulder, and she cried out again.
Jane had whirled around and grabbed the gun, pointing it toward the struggling duo as Lisbon and Red John fought for possession of the knife. “Back away from her!” Jane shouted. “Or I’ll shoot.”
“Did I ever thank you?” Lisbon asked, still staring straight ahead.
“For me cleverly figuring out a way to save your life while still getting Red John?” Jane asked. He pretended to think for a moment. “Nah.”
Lisbon nodded. “Well, thank you.” She looked over at him again, then reached over and touched his arm, much like she had back when their lead had been killed in Tijuana. “I mean it.”
“Good,” Jane said. “Nice to know people are grateful when I use my keen brain to benefit their lives. It’s quite selfless of me, actually.”
She shook her head slowly. “Shut up.”
He smiled at her. Then, as quickly as it had come his smile was gone again. “I heard you were having some…night terrors, for lack of another phrase.”
She nodded. “Can we not talk about that? It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” Jane said. “That fight was…it was terrifying.”
Chapter Seven