14AN: Thank you for your kind words of review! Here is Chapter 2, hope you enjoy and like Jane and Lisbon, we'll see where we go from here! Please review and let me know what you think! x
It's just a change of plans, she says to herself as she walks into the bullpen. That's all it is. Plans are made to be changed. Plans are made to be changed, and hearts are made to be broken, it would seem. She's been learning a lot about both this week. Life goes on.
She steps out of the elevator and enters the bullpen, scans the office scene in front of her and spies Cho in the kitchen.
Cho. A safe choice.
She makes her way toward him and they small talk for a few moments until the subject reaches the inevitable topic.
"You should have gone," he says and she physically flinches. His bluntness has rarely hurt so much, never cut so deep. She thinks he must see the hurt in her eyes. "Better opportunities in D.C." he explains softly. "But hey, even here, after the CBI I never thought we'd even have anything like this. Professionally I think you're crazy. Personally? I've never been more glad." She presses her lips together to hide how much his words mean. "You should have gone," he repeats, "but I'm glad you're staying." He repositions his mouth and it's nearly a smile.
"Thanks, Cho." She says, swallowing hard. "You're one of the best, you know?"
He nods curtly. "Yeah, I know."
He taps her elbow on his way out, and she takes two deep shaky breaths.
And he was supposed to be the easy one.
Oh, how she could do with Fischer now. She'd understand Lisbon's discomfort, would indulge her with a quick word of support and welcome and then delve straight into the everyday workload. But Fischer's not here anymore. In a turn of events neither would have believed a week before, Fischer had unexpectedly jumped at the chance to take the empty space in Washington. Lisbon found herself wondering why. Perhaps she too had grown tired of Jane, tired of them all. Lisbon was feeling rather tired herself, and now, without Fischer, and not for the first time since she came here to the FBI, Lisbon feels alone.
She needs to pull herself together, and quickly, for she can see him within eyeshot. Quickly. This is still Jane. Same old Jane that's breaking and delighting her heart for the last ten years. After everything they've been through together, she can get through this reunion.
"Morning, Jane," she says, her voice sounding much stronger that she feels it.
"Hey, Lisbon," he says as he approaches, cup of tea in hand as always, and her heart starts beating very quickly.
"Change of plans, eh?" he gestures, a half-shrug, with his shoulder; and this is all so normal, as if nothing has changed, as if what had happened between them in Miami had not happened at all. As if he had not tried with all his might to sabotage the beautiful thing she might have had because he was jealous, and selfish and a hundred different things she'd known he was for years.
But of everything Jane might have done, of all the ways he might have reacted to that debacle here and now, this is not one which had occurred to her. It nearly knocks her for six, but she finds herself playing along.
"Yeah," she's saying, wondering why. "Change of plans."
The instant puts her in mind of past moments, left standing, expecting more from Jane, more which would never come. Just before the Red John showdown he had driven to the most beautiful beach, expressed great feeling for her and then left her to run off to almost certain death. He had survived, somehow, never to mention his words on the beach again, but she's not sure she can endure much more of this torture. This torture he is subjecting to her for the third time, she thinks.
Years, years ago now, even before that evening on the beach, he had cornered her in her office of the CBI and told her he loved her, just to dismiss her brave questioning of his words later. She had thought long and hard on those moments, considering his motives.
Perhaps the first time he'd needed to secure her loyalty to the scam, to ensure she would keep up the premise of her untimely death by his hands. It was likely that on the beach he had uttered those words to confuse her, to distract her long enough to allow him to run off and get Red John. She understand that in a way, despite the hurt, but Jane's gotten Red John now and so she doesn't understand his motives now, what he has to gain from hurting, torturing her so.
His motives now, whatever they maybe be, mean that this, the events of Miami, are just another let down. He's acting as though nothing has happened, and she's lived through this from him before, and it hurts now more than ever. She realises in that moment this is just another instance of him backing away from his words and actions, an torturously elongated long play of what had been said before and then abandoned, and it hurts so and it hurts even more because she knows she should know better by now.
She finds that she is frowning now, she can't help it, she is frowning at him and he can see, and suddenly she's very tired of it all. There are words on his lips but he does not utter them. His careless smile falls as he sees the change in her expression.
"Yeah, Jane, whatever. Change of plans." She turns to walk away.
"Lisbon-"
"Yes, Jane?"
He looks uncomfortable, as if the next words are difficult to say.
"I'm glad you're here. Probably for the best. I'm glad you've stayed."
She looks at him.
"I don't care."
She walks away. He sees Wylie looking after them both curiously from behind his desk.
"Lisbon-" Jane calls, going after her. "Lisbon?"
She turns around sharply to him. "I'm sorry, Jane, but I don't care what you think. I've spent far too long – on you, Jane, and I've spent too long on what you think is best for me. I'm done."
He looks confused, as though convinced she's having him on. Disbelief and fear are what she reads from his face. Disbelief that she is threatening to cut him off. Fear that she will. He can sure as hell read her, but she can read him too. He never seemed to realise that.
"You're done?"
"With you, Jane. I'm done with you. I'm sorry."
Her words sting because he knows she means them. She is not him, and she doesn't lie. He watches her walk away and wonders if there's any coming back from this.
She walks away and knows there's no coming back from this.
She sees him looking at her curiously a couple of times throughout the day, and she resists the urge to wonder what he's thinking.
She leaves quietly at five o'clock, glad for that day to be done. Her home is quiet but she can busy herself with unpacking her life out of boxes and she dreads the day she won't have them to pass the time. That day is coming soon. She has been lonely these past few days. True, she has needed space, has needed to be alone after everything, but she worries for the day she will need a friend.
She has been on edge all day, returning to work for the first time, so she puts on some music, makes some pasta, tries to maintain some normality about the place. It is almost ten minutes to eight when she hears the rap on the door.
"Jane," she says, surprised.
"May I come in?" he asks.
She nods. She's realised already today that she cannot ignore Jane forever. She must be civil at least, and she supposes he deserves the truth, her reasoning, almost as much as she deserves to get it off her chest.
"How have you been?" he asks, searchingly when they arrive into the living room.
She nods, shrugs. "Alright. You?"
"Fine," he says.
He clears his throat.
"About today, Lisbon; about last week-"
"Jane.."
"I mean, I get that you're mad at me; I shouldn't have done what I did. But I don't understand."
"You don't understand what, Jane?" Her voice is tired.
"You were angry with me before you left, Lisbon, and you left the hotel. So why didn't you go? Why did you come back? And if you were so angry with me then when you left, why did you just come back?"
"What?" she cringes as she feels the blush rise on her cheeks. She doesn't know the answer.
"Why didn't you go? To Washington, I mean. What I did was wrong, but it didn't prevent you going to Washington. So I want to know why you didn't."
"It's none of your business," she says tightly, folding her arms across herself, tearing her eyes away and looking at the carpet.
"I think it is, Lisbon. I think you stayed because- I think I made you stay."
"No, Jane, no," she says, a desperate anger surging in her belly and her eyes snap back to him.
"But-"
"No!" she snaps, unwilling to go on any longer with this train of thought. She can't have left Marcus and Texas for Jane, she can't have. She acknowledges that her feelings may have been part of the reason, but she knows it's not the truth so she won't let him continue down this path.
"Jane," she begins, willing the tears that have been threatening to overcome her to disappear. "You know I care for you. You know I don't want to hurt you, but I didn't stay here for you. I stayed here because Marcus wasn't right for me, no matter how desperately I wished and hoped he was, and not because someone else was."
She brushes away an escaped tear roughly with the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry, Jane. I am. I just-"
"-But you could have gone! I didn't stop you. If you truly wanted to, you would have, and yet there you were, just sitting all alone at the departure gate Lisbon and I-"
Oh no.
He shuts his eyes tightly closed as he realises what he has said, what he has done, and waits for -
"What?"
Beat.
"You came?" she whispers. "You came, to the airport. You followed me."
"Yes."
He nods.
"Why?"
"To see you . To - apologise."
"So why didn't you?"
"You didn't go."
"I didn't deserve an apology because I didn't go?"
"No, I-"
"Oh, I see. You thought you were forgiven because I didn't go. You thought I stayed because I had already forgiven you so you didn't bother. God, you're infuriating, Jane, you really, really are."
"Lis-"
"This may be news to you, Jane," she says slowly, trying to grasp her wild and angry thoughts together to make a complete sentence, "but I didn't stay here for you. You are not the be all and end all of everything. My life doesn't revolve around you. Not anymore."
"It never should have been," he says quietly, drawing into himself. "I'm sorry for that."
She dismisses his statement with a wave of her hand. "Don't be. That was my fault. And it was good, some of the time."
"Only some of the time?" he asks, daring her to smile.
She tosses her head, tilting it, letting him know she knows exactly what he's doing.
"Some of the time," she confirms.
He hums his agreement, opens his mouth.
"I still want to apologise, Lisbon. You're right, you deserve that much. I truly am sorry for what I did. I need you to know."
She nods. "I appreciate it."
"It was a desperate act. Desperate times," he explains with a wave of his hand.
"But why, Jane?"
He looks at her.
"That's what I don't understand. Why, Jane? Why?"
"I didn't want you to go. I still don't."
"So you thought giving me a pretty dress would make me stay better than just telling me? That was your best shot Jane? Why didn't you tell me? 'Lisbon, I'd love if you'd stay.' It wouldn't have been hard. I might have stayed for you then Jane, I love working here, I've always loved working with you, even when I've hated it. Why wouldn't you just tell me? You think a dress and a lie would mean more to me than years of working together, having each others' back? Being friends? I thought we were close, Jane."
"Listen to yourself, Lisbon!" He's realising the danger, knows she is serious, and he is becoming desperate. "We are close. Of course we're close."
"We were. Now I'm not so sure Jane. A lot has changed in two years."
He shakes his head, in denial. "No, it hasn't."
She looks at him sadly, reaches across to touch his hand.
"It has, Jane, it's nobody's fault. But if you can't see that then more has changed than even I thought."
He takes his hand out from under his, brings it back to himself. She thinks his patience must be wearing thin. He's not used to this heat from her, she'd always let him away with his sins before. "Nothing has changed, Lisbon! I'm still me and you're still you," – he's almost yelling now – "and we're here together, and I don't want that to change!"
"Then why couldn't you just say it?!" she yells, shouting now, exploding. "Why the lies, why the mess? Why always the drama with you, Jane, since always? Why is nothing ever simple?! Why can you never just say things?"
"I love you, Lisbon."
Her face drops.
He's wearing a sad smile. "I can 'just say' things. I love you, Lisbon. I love you. I am in love with you. But I couldn't say that. I didn't want you to leave but I couldn't tell you why, not when you were so happy with Marcus. And believe me, I tried, I tried so hard to let you go. But I couldn't. So now you know. But I think you did already. I love you."
"Jane."
He looks at her, sees the sadness , the tiredness in her eyes, exhausted from the strain of the day and the anger and emotion of this night.
"I'll go," he says quietly.
She nods, leads the way to the front door.
"Please say something, Lisbon. Please don't punish me with this."
She stops, turns to him. She looks more tired than he recalls her seeing her in a long, long time.
"No, Jane. I'm not punishing you. I'm not sure I even have enough left in me to care enough to want to punish you, Jane, and I'm sorry about that too. I'm so tired, of everything. You've made me so tired. I'm sorry."
"Me too. I'm sorry, too. Goodnight, Lisbon." He reaches his hand to the one he had brushed off minutes before, squeezes it gently before walking away.
She watches him from the door as he goes, and for the second time in as many weeks, she begins to cry as he walks down the path away from her.
