Second Instincts; J/L; K+
"Stay close to me while the sky is falling
Don't wanna be left alone, don't wanna be alone"
-World On Fire, Sarah McLachlan
He doesn’t tell her who it is on the other end of that call but he doesn’t have to.
The answer lies in his face, and she swallows hard, heartbeat accelerating as she tries to remain composed for his sake. It becomes more difficult by the second, and when he lowers the phone from his ear, her first instinct is to grab the mobile and try to get a trace on it.
But the urgency passes as she sees the way he curls his fist and stares blankly at the wall, entire body stiff but shoulders sagging. She’s never seen him (anyone) look so enraged and defeated at the same time, and her first order of business quickly morphs into less perfunctory issues.
The way he flinches at her touch is even more indication that she’s prioritizing correctly.
“Let’s go outside.”
Her hand is still on his shoulder as he contemplates her suggestion. She can already see the decline on the tip of his tongue, but then two MEs roll a body bag out of the bathroom and he unexpectedly turns to her, grip loosening on the cell phone.
His light blue eyes are expressionless and his skin is still impossibly pale, almost sickly, but when he agrees, she can’t help feeling a little relieved.
It might be miniscule, but this is certainly a step in the right direction.
---
They end up walking through the noisy streets of downtown Tijuana. There must be some celebration going on, because the commotion outside Renfrew’s dingy motel room is nothing compared to the crowd of people mingling on the sidewalks, drinking, dancing, and talking.
There’s loud music playing but she can’t identify the source, and several times, someone drunkenly bumps into her without so much as an apology. She’s not sure what they walked into, but she doesn’t do well with crowds, never has. The overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia starts to build unexpectedly.
She’s not even sure where Jane is by this point, having lost him in the throngs of people some time ago. That’s why when a hand reaches out of nowhere, grabbing her by the elbow, she instinctively reaches for her service weapon, but her grip stills on the gun when she recognizes the dark gray linen and the starched white shirtsleeve.
Taking in a much needed breath of air, she lets him guide her to a side street, further away from the deafening noise, closer to solitude.
She leans against the side of a brick building, trying to get her heartbeat under control, “thanks for that.” She adds breathlessly, “I didn’t realize something was going on, otherwise I would’ve never even suggested taking a walk.”
She expects him to just shrug it off and walk back to the motel, but he surprises her by stepping closer to her, an urgency in his movements that belies his restrained immobility from before. The shadows obscure his face but the unguarded emotion in his voice is obvious.
“Damn it, Lisbon. Do you realize how stupid that was?”
For a second, she thinks he’s overreacting, and is about to tell him so, but then the light from the street lamp falls on his face and she instantly feels guilty. He looks completely shaken, worse than before, and the way he continues to pace, like a caged animal sends an unpleasant coldness down her spine.
The annoyance she felt is replaced by confusion; she sees his anguish, but can’t pinpoint its origin, can’t understand why he’s so frustrated with her.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s more an inquiry than a statement; she’s not sure what she’s apologizing for, even. She’d intended for him to get a breath of fresh air, escape the horrendous scene in that motel room. It wasn’t her fault they’d ventured into the middle of some outdoor party that made her want to fire her gun a few times.
She opens her mouth to speak, but Jane cuts off all her present thoughts, completely blindsiding her.
“You should be. Don’t you see that he’s still out there? That you just put yourself into a position where he could have easily taken you?”
Whether it’s the humidity, the lack of sleep, or the constant stress she’s been under since Jared Renfrew contacted Jane, but at first, she draws a blank, wrecking her brain to identify his reference. But after only a moment, it becomes startling clear what he means and despite the heat, her skin breaks out in goose bumps.
She nearly gasps as he grabs her by the shoulders, wild blue eyes unfocused as he catches her off guard.
“If there’s anything this situation should have reinforced for you, it’s that Red John is everywhere, and he’s always, always one step ahead. You need to be careful, Lisbon. Stop thinking of yourself as on the sidelines, make no mistake you are involved in this.”
At this point, it’s almost like he’s not making sense to her, or maybe he’s making everything so very clear that she can’t deal with the repercussions of it. Nevertheless, she shrugs away his hold and shakes her head.
“Jane, what are you-…”
“Just listen to me, okay?”
His voice is softer now, less insistent, but it commands her attention and she sighs, slumping against the building again. He doesn’t touch her again, but this time, he’s so close, she can feel the heat from his body. Her mind tells her to move away, but the rest of her doesn’t cooperate.
“He’s proven to be capable of a lot more than I ever gave him credit for. Tonight proved that his purpose isn’t solely to kill, but to taunt me also, taunt everyone who is trying to apprehend him.”
“We’ll catch him.”
She can’t help interrupting, even though her words are little more than cold comfort; her own assurance lacks conviction.
“Maybe, maybe not.” He exhales heavily, but keeps looking at her, “either way, you can’t be so careless, Lisbon. As much as I hate it, you are the lead investigator on this case and that means you have just as much of a target on your back as anyone else connected to this.”
“That’s true,” she concedes finally, surprised by but understanding his concern, “but it’s okay. Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt and I, we’re trained police officers, we’ll be fine. It’s you, I’m more worried about.”
She tries to make light of the situation, even going as far as jabbing him slightly in the chest, but the half smile falls from her lips as she sees that it has absolutely no effect on him. He looks more contemplative now, but nowhere near less stressed and something tugs on her heart, hands itching to smooth away the worry lines marring his forehead.
“It’s different with you.” He murmurs finally, then immediately looks away, as if he’s unraveled a fact too embarrassing to face.
Her reaction is not unlike the one she had trapped in a crowd of people, but this time her heartbeat escalates even quicker and heat rushes to her cheeks unwittingly, leaving her both disoriented and confused.
Again, she can’t figure out whether she’s so bewildered by his response because it doesn’t make sense, or because it makes perfect sense. He doesn’t give her a chance to find out.
“I’m sorry,” Jane suddenly blurts out, “I think you’re right, a walk can do me some good. Call me when you guys wrap things up here and I’ll meet you back at the motel.”
He says this all so quickly, she doesn’t realize he’s already walking away until he’s halfway down the block.
For a second, she fumes. How damn typical of him to drop a bomb on her and then run away. But the thought quickly gives way to concern as she realizes that he’s about to go off by himself, completely contradicting his earlier precautions.
“Hey, not so fast.”
She catches up to him. Jane stares at her for a moment, before looking ahead again, not breaking his pace.
“You think after the warning you just gave me, I’m going to let you go for a walk by yourself?”
He doesn’t react so she ends up placing a halting hand on his shoulder, fixing him with a narrowed stare that requires an explanation from him. She knows he’s about to launch into some half-hearted discussion of how he’s different from her and that he’d gladly be kidnapped by Red John if it meant it brought him closer to executing his revenge, but she won’t let him.
“I’ll make you a deal, Jane. If you’ll be less careless about your life, I’ll be more careful about mine, okay?”
He doesn’t answer her, but the imperceptible nod is all the confirmation she needs to move. Jane hesitates besides her, but eventually falls into step and they start walking slowly down the dark, deserted street.
At first, she feels like she’s infringing on a private moment, inserting herself into Jane’s solitary grieving time, but then her mind flashes back to the bathtub and after she reminds herself of the gruesomeness Red John is capable of, there’s no question that she’s doing the right thing.
After all, Jane is not the only one who can make demands about safety.
And he’s certainly not the only one who’s terrified of losing someone he cares about to the deranged serial killer.
Don't wanna be left alone, don't wanna be alone"
-World On Fire, Sarah McLachlan
He doesn’t tell her who it is on the other end of that call but he doesn’t have to.
The answer lies in his face, and she swallows hard, heartbeat accelerating as she tries to remain composed for his sake. It becomes more difficult by the second, and when he lowers the phone from his ear, her first instinct is to grab the mobile and try to get a trace on it.
But the urgency passes as she sees the way he curls his fist and stares blankly at the wall, entire body stiff but shoulders sagging. She’s never seen him (anyone) look so enraged and defeated at the same time, and her first order of business quickly morphs into less perfunctory issues.
The way he flinches at her touch is even more indication that she’s prioritizing correctly.
“Let’s go outside.”
Her hand is still on his shoulder as he contemplates her suggestion. She can already see the decline on the tip of his tongue, but then two MEs roll a body bag out of the bathroom and he unexpectedly turns to her, grip loosening on the cell phone.
His light blue eyes are expressionless and his skin is still impossibly pale, almost sickly, but when he agrees, she can’t help feeling a little relieved.
It might be miniscule, but this is certainly a step in the right direction.
---
They end up walking through the noisy streets of downtown Tijuana. There must be some celebration going on, because the commotion outside Renfrew’s dingy motel room is nothing compared to the crowd of people mingling on the sidewalks, drinking, dancing, and talking.
There’s loud music playing but she can’t identify the source, and several times, someone drunkenly bumps into her without so much as an apology. She’s not sure what they walked into, but she doesn’t do well with crowds, never has. The overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia starts to build unexpectedly.
She’s not even sure where Jane is by this point, having lost him in the throngs of people some time ago. That’s why when a hand reaches out of nowhere, grabbing her by the elbow, she instinctively reaches for her service weapon, but her grip stills on the gun when she recognizes the dark gray linen and the starched white shirtsleeve.
Taking in a much needed breath of air, she lets him guide her to a side street, further away from the deafening noise, closer to solitude.
She leans against the side of a brick building, trying to get her heartbeat under control, “thanks for that.” She adds breathlessly, “I didn’t realize something was going on, otherwise I would’ve never even suggested taking a walk.”
She expects him to just shrug it off and walk back to the motel, but he surprises her by stepping closer to her, an urgency in his movements that belies his restrained immobility from before. The shadows obscure his face but the unguarded emotion in his voice is obvious.
“Damn it, Lisbon. Do you realize how stupid that was?”
For a second, she thinks he’s overreacting, and is about to tell him so, but then the light from the street lamp falls on his face and she instantly feels guilty. He looks completely shaken, worse than before, and the way he continues to pace, like a caged animal sends an unpleasant coldness down her spine.
The annoyance she felt is replaced by confusion; she sees his anguish, but can’t pinpoint its origin, can’t understand why he’s so frustrated with her.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s more an inquiry than a statement; she’s not sure what she’s apologizing for, even. She’d intended for him to get a breath of fresh air, escape the horrendous scene in that motel room. It wasn’t her fault they’d ventured into the middle of some outdoor party that made her want to fire her gun a few times.
She opens her mouth to speak, but Jane cuts off all her present thoughts, completely blindsiding her.
“You should be. Don’t you see that he’s still out there? That you just put yourself into a position where he could have easily taken you?”
Whether it’s the humidity, the lack of sleep, or the constant stress she’s been under since Jared Renfrew contacted Jane, but at first, she draws a blank, wrecking her brain to identify his reference. But after only a moment, it becomes startling clear what he means and despite the heat, her skin breaks out in goose bumps.
She nearly gasps as he grabs her by the shoulders, wild blue eyes unfocused as he catches her off guard.
“If there’s anything this situation should have reinforced for you, it’s that Red John is everywhere, and he’s always, always one step ahead. You need to be careful, Lisbon. Stop thinking of yourself as on the sidelines, make no mistake you are involved in this.”
At this point, it’s almost like he’s not making sense to her, or maybe he’s making everything so very clear that she can’t deal with the repercussions of it. Nevertheless, she shrugs away his hold and shakes her head.
“Jane, what are you-…”
“Just listen to me, okay?”
His voice is softer now, less insistent, but it commands her attention and she sighs, slumping against the building again. He doesn’t touch her again, but this time, he’s so close, she can feel the heat from his body. Her mind tells her to move away, but the rest of her doesn’t cooperate.
“He’s proven to be capable of a lot more than I ever gave him credit for. Tonight proved that his purpose isn’t solely to kill, but to taunt me also, taunt everyone who is trying to apprehend him.”
“We’ll catch him.”
She can’t help interrupting, even though her words are little more than cold comfort; her own assurance lacks conviction.
“Maybe, maybe not.” He exhales heavily, but keeps looking at her, “either way, you can’t be so careless, Lisbon. As much as I hate it, you are the lead investigator on this case and that means you have just as much of a target on your back as anyone else connected to this.”
“That’s true,” she concedes finally, surprised by but understanding his concern, “but it’s okay. Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt and I, we’re trained police officers, we’ll be fine. It’s you, I’m more worried about.”
She tries to make light of the situation, even going as far as jabbing him slightly in the chest, but the half smile falls from her lips as she sees that it has absolutely no effect on him. He looks more contemplative now, but nowhere near less stressed and something tugs on her heart, hands itching to smooth away the worry lines marring his forehead.
“It’s different with you.” He murmurs finally, then immediately looks away, as if he’s unraveled a fact too embarrassing to face.
Her reaction is not unlike the one she had trapped in a crowd of people, but this time her heartbeat escalates even quicker and heat rushes to her cheeks unwittingly, leaving her both disoriented and confused.
Again, she can’t figure out whether she’s so bewildered by his response because it doesn’t make sense, or because it makes perfect sense. He doesn’t give her a chance to find out.
“I’m sorry,” Jane suddenly blurts out, “I think you’re right, a walk can do me some good. Call me when you guys wrap things up here and I’ll meet you back at the motel.”
He says this all so quickly, she doesn’t realize he’s already walking away until he’s halfway down the block.
For a second, she fumes. How damn typical of him to drop a bomb on her and then run away. But the thought quickly gives way to concern as she realizes that he’s about to go off by himself, completely contradicting his earlier precautions.
“Hey, not so fast.”
She catches up to him. Jane stares at her for a moment, before looking ahead again, not breaking his pace.
“You think after the warning you just gave me, I’m going to let you go for a walk by yourself?”
He doesn’t react so she ends up placing a halting hand on his shoulder, fixing him with a narrowed stare that requires an explanation from him. She knows he’s about to launch into some half-hearted discussion of how he’s different from her and that he’d gladly be kidnapped by Red John if it meant it brought him closer to executing his revenge, but she won’t let him.
“I’ll make you a deal, Jane. If you’ll be less careless about your life, I’ll be more careful about mine, okay?”
He doesn’t answer her, but the imperceptible nod is all the confirmation she needs to move. Jane hesitates besides her, but eventually falls into step and they start walking slowly down the dark, deserted street.
At first, she feels like she’s infringing on a private moment, inserting herself into Jane’s solitary grieving time, but then her mind flashes back to the bathtub and after she reminds herself of the gruesomeness Red John is capable of, there’s no question that she’s doing the right thing.
After all, Jane is not the only one who can make demands about safety.
And he’s certainly not the only one who’s terrified of losing someone he cares about to the deranged serial killer.