Bloodless Bonds Chapter Eight
Title:Bloodless Bonds Chapter Eight
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.
When she left, Jane stared at the door she had vanished through for a long time. The family that she said they were, down at the CBI, was not the same kind of family he had lost to Red John. They were not his blood. They were not his “one”. Part of him resented Lisbon for making those claims, but part of him couldn’t be angry with her. Because he knew that she had not intended to compare the team to his wife and daughter. There were different kinds of family, just as there were different kinds of love.
Apples and oranges were very different from one another. But they were both fruit. And they were both very, very good.
Lisbon, the adrenaline leaving her body, began to become aware of all the places she was hurt. Her shoulders killed, her neck ached, and her hands were probably going to be inoperable for a while. And she was exhausted. She glanced warily back at the building and determined that she was far enough away from it to collapse. So she let her legs give out and fell to the sand.
Jane dropped down next to her. “Lisbon.”
“I’m okay.” It was her default response. She rolled onto her side, trying to relieve the pain in her shoulder, but it was no use. Both shoulders were hurt. Her hands were curled in front of her. “Are you okay?” she managed.
“Yeah,” Jane said, looking worried. “I’m fine. Come here.” She felt his hands on her upper arm and her opposite side, drawing her up so he could hold her. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“Jane, I’m fine,” she said, raising her arm to put her wrist against her knife wound. How she wished her hands were okay right now. She wanted to force herself out of his arms, but the largest part of her felt too weak and tired to want to move. Jane wasn’t holding her to appear more in control. He’d just shot his family’s killer, both of them were injured, and they had stood a very real chance of dying that day. He was probably trying to assure himself that they were both okay. She sighed resignedly. “I’m not going to lie,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “I didn’t know how you’d respond to Red John’s deal.”
“I told you before,” he said. “I’m always going to save you, Lisbon. No matter what.”
“Phone,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Call the others. See if they’re okay.”
“They’re fine,” Jane said. “They called me while I was checking out the house, it was why I didn’t find you earlier. Minor injuries. Certainly not anything like you have.” He let her go and rose to his feet, stepping around her and kneeling back down so she could see his face.
“They’re on their way,” he said. “We just have to hang on.”
“We can drive back,” she moaned.
Jane shook his head. “He drained our gasoline. And reception is spotty at best.”
“Oh, God,” Lisbon said. “The son of a bitch.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Jane said. “The bleeding has nearly stopped. We just need to hang on for fifteen minutes or so, can you do that for me?”
Lisbon pulled herself into a sitting position. “I just need rest.”
“I know,” he said, shifting his weight again so he was sitting beside her. “How’s the shoulder?”
“I won’t lie,” she said. “It hurts.” She looked down at her hands. “These are the worst, though.”
Jane reached for her wrist and studied the burns. “They’re probably only mild second degree. That’s good.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” Lisbon said, sucking in the precious air. She could taste a bit of smoke on her tongue, residual from the barn, which had nearly burnt to the ground. And she could hear her own breathing, gasps, really, as she tried to mask the pain and take in enough air. And then she heard something else, too. She cocked her head. “Do you hear something?”
Jane craned his neck around. “It’s help,” he said, waving. Two cars and an ambulance flew up the driveway and came to a screeching halt. The doors of the first car flew open and Van Pelt and Cho jumped out. Cho had a brace on his wrist and Van Pelt a bandage on her head. “Boss,” the latter said, dropping to her knees. “What happened?”
Lisbon was beginning to feel dizzy. “We got Red John,” she managed. “Why didn’t you get medical attention?”
“We’re all going now,” Cho said. “Rigsby’s hurt the worst of us, so he’s already there, but he’ll be okay.” Cho turned to see the medics moving toward them. “You’re going to be okay too, boss,” he said, deadpan as usual.
“Uh-huh,” Lisbon said weakly.
“Boss,” Van Pelt said, “just breathe, okay?”
“The adrenaline is wearing off,” Cho said. “And she’s got some blood loss. Probably not too dangerous.”
“It feels dangerous,” Lisbon said in an attempt to joke.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Van Pelt said, glancing behind her at the medics approaching them.
“Are you okay?” Cho asked, raising his eyes to Jane.
The mentalist nodded. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “More okay than I’ve been in years.”
Chapter Nine
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.
When she left, Jane stared at the door she had vanished through for a long time. The family that she said they were, down at the CBI, was not the same kind of family he had lost to Red John. They were not his blood. They were not his “one”. Part of him resented Lisbon for making those claims, but part of him couldn’t be angry with her. Because he knew that she had not intended to compare the team to his wife and daughter. There were different kinds of family, just as there were different kinds of love.
Apples and oranges were very different from one another. But they were both fruit. And they were both very, very good.
Lisbon, the adrenaline leaving her body, began to become aware of all the places she was hurt. Her shoulders killed, her neck ached, and her hands were probably going to be inoperable for a while. And she was exhausted. She glanced warily back at the building and determined that she was far enough away from it to collapse. So she let her legs give out and fell to the sand.
Jane dropped down next to her. “Lisbon.”
“I’m okay.” It was her default response. She rolled onto her side, trying to relieve the pain in her shoulder, but it was no use. Both shoulders were hurt. Her hands were curled in front of her. “Are you okay?” she managed.
“Yeah,” Jane said, looking worried. “I’m fine. Come here.” She felt his hands on her upper arm and her opposite side, drawing her up so he could hold her. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“Jane, I’m fine,” she said, raising her arm to put her wrist against her knife wound. How she wished her hands were okay right now. She wanted to force herself out of his arms, but the largest part of her felt too weak and tired to want to move. Jane wasn’t holding her to appear more in control. He’d just shot his family’s killer, both of them were injured, and they had stood a very real chance of dying that day. He was probably trying to assure himself that they were both okay. She sighed resignedly. “I’m not going to lie,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “I didn’t know how you’d respond to Red John’s deal.”
“I told you before,” he said. “I’m always going to save you, Lisbon. No matter what.”
“Phone,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Call the others. See if they’re okay.”
“They’re fine,” Jane said. “They called me while I was checking out the house, it was why I didn’t find you earlier. Minor injuries. Certainly not anything like you have.” He let her go and rose to his feet, stepping around her and kneeling back down so she could see his face.
“They’re on their way,” he said. “We just have to hang on.”
“We can drive back,” she moaned.
Jane shook his head. “He drained our gasoline. And reception is spotty at best.”
“Oh, God,” Lisbon said. “The son of a bitch.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Jane said. “The bleeding has nearly stopped. We just need to hang on for fifteen minutes or so, can you do that for me?”
Lisbon pulled herself into a sitting position. “I just need rest.”
“I know,” he said, shifting his weight again so he was sitting beside her. “How’s the shoulder?”
“I won’t lie,” she said. “It hurts.” She looked down at her hands. “These are the worst, though.”
Jane reached for her wrist and studied the burns. “They’re probably only mild second degree. That’s good.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” Lisbon said, sucking in the precious air. She could taste a bit of smoke on her tongue, residual from the barn, which had nearly burnt to the ground. And she could hear her own breathing, gasps, really, as she tried to mask the pain and take in enough air. And then she heard something else, too. She cocked her head. “Do you hear something?”
Jane craned his neck around. “It’s help,” he said, waving. Two cars and an ambulance flew up the driveway and came to a screeching halt. The doors of the first car flew open and Van Pelt and Cho jumped out. Cho had a brace on his wrist and Van Pelt a bandage on her head. “Boss,” the latter said, dropping to her knees. “What happened?”
Lisbon was beginning to feel dizzy. “We got Red John,” she managed. “Why didn’t you get medical attention?”
“We’re all going now,” Cho said. “Rigsby’s hurt the worst of us, so he’s already there, but he’ll be okay.” Cho turned to see the medics moving toward them. “You’re going to be okay too, boss,” he said, deadpan as usual.
“Uh-huh,” Lisbon said weakly.
“Boss,” Van Pelt said, “just breathe, okay?”
“The adrenaline is wearing off,” Cho said. “And she’s got some blood loss. Probably not too dangerous.”
“It feels dangerous,” Lisbon said in an attempt to joke.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Van Pelt said, glancing behind her at the medics approaching them.
“Are you okay?” Cho asked, raising his eyes to Jane.
The mentalist nodded. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “More okay than I’ve been in years.”
Chapter Nine