All Patrick wanted to do was get as far away from Sacramento as he could. He just wanted to hop in his car and drive until he ran out of gas in the middle of the desert. It might not have been environmentally safe, but it was the only thing he could think to do.
This intense need for escape was the first he felt since his wife's murder. But back then, he wanted to leave to escape everything that reminded him of what he did and what he lost. Back then, he wanted to fall away from the face of the earth. This time, he wanted to escape the way a new woman was looking at him. He wanted to run away from her disappointed expression.
He knew he failed her, and he would have rather died alone in the middle of the California desert than to see her face.
He was sorry. So sorry. But in the end, that's all he ever was: sorry.
"Lonestar" — Norah Jones
It had been six months since Patrick Jane had murdered Red John. Six long months since he ran away.
She did not miss him, she kept reminding herself. He was a damn nuisance and he was sloppy and cold and insensitive. And in the end, he was a disappointment.
She had been so sure that he would have grown to realize that hating Red John would ruin what was left of his broken life. She was so sure that he would regain just the tiniest bit of compassion. But he hadn't, and now she had to live with six months of bitter disappointment.
But despite the fact that she didn't miss him (She didn't!), she couldn't help but wonder what he was doing at any given moment. Every night, she would stand out on the balcony of her apartment and stare out at the few stars she could see and wonder: was he okay? Was he alive? Was he finally at ease now that he got what he wanted? But then she would sigh in resignation and go back inside
Really, she should be used to this by now; every man in her life ended up letting her down. Patrick Jane was no exception.
"Damn Girl" — All-American Rejects
This was one of the days that she understood why he ran away.
Don't get her wrong — she was still pissed off. She was still bitterly angry that he escaped without so much as a goodbye. But today she could understand why he did. After all, he said the whole time that he was only consulting for the CBI until he caught and killed Red John. And he'd accomplished his objective. So there wasn't a reason for him to stay.
She understood — but it didn't mean she liked it.
Because it wasn't seven months after his disappearance until she realized that she had been in love with him the whole time. She used to hope and pray that, given enough time, she would become all he needed. She thought so fervently that one day, there would be enough room in his broken heart for her and the memory of his deceased wife.
But now, it was too late. He was gone, and she was left to pick up the pieces, as usual.
And as always, she understood.
"A Postcard to Henry Purcell" — Jean-Yves Thibaudet
He was in England.
Almost a year after Jane's disappearance, he sent Lisbon a postcard from the English countryside. And all it said was, "I'm sorry."
Sorry? Sorry? That's all he had to say after the whole fiasco? Sorry? Lisbon was so upset by the postcard that she ripped it into fourths and threw them into her trash can.
But the next day, she peered into the wastebasket and sighed. Any news from Jane was good news, right? At least she knew he was alive. So she fished the pieces of the postcard out of the trash can and taped them back together. Then she pinned it to the wall behind her desk.
Of course Jane was sorry. What he had done was almost inexcusable. But it was time that she forgave him. And it was time for her to stop feeling sorry too.
"The Boys of Summer" — The Ataris
It had been almost two years since Patrick Jane had left the United States. Well, now he was back and he was ready to rebuild the bridges he had burned so long ago. Starting with Lisbon.
But when he got to her apartment — armed with a bouquet of red roses to symbolize his apology — he realized that she no longer lived there. In fact, she hadn't lived there for a long time.
His first immediate thought was panic. Nothing had happened to her, right? She was still alive — she had to be. She was one of the toughest people he knew.
His mind started running a million miles a minute, concocting thousands of scenarios that might explain why she wasn't at that apartment anymore. Obviously she moved, but why? Lisbon was a very steady person and she hated change unless it was absolutely necessary. She would have moved only for very big life events: if she got another job in another area, for example. So he immediately started searching for a Teresa Lisbon still residing in California.
Of course, there was always one option that he didn't want to consider: the fact that she might have moved in with a significant other. The mere thought of Lisbon with another man made him sick.
But all he could really conclude at this point was that she was gone, and he might have been too late.
"Time Goes On" — L'arc~en~ciel
She couldn't believe it. Two years after he left, he expected everything to be as it was. He just waltzed into the CBI headquarters and grinned that same cocky grin as he always did and greeted her as if nothing had changed.
Of all the damn nerve! He even hugged her!
This wasn't good — not at all. The minute he walked into the bullpen, all the memories and all the feelings she fought for two years to repress came rushing back in an overwhelming deluge. It came back effortlessly, almost like breathing.
Why? Why couldn't he stay in the past?
Roger had been watching her more closely than usual and really, she couldn't blame him. The way Jane hovered over her would have made anyone wonder. Hell, it made her wonder. But she shouldn't be wondering, especially now that she was engaged to someone who wouldn't leave her when the going got tough. Roger was dependable. Roger was stable and safe. He was everything Jane wasn't, which was why she chose him in the first place. He was predictable, but most of all, he was safe.
But the minute Jane was back in her life, she found herself questioning the security she worked so long to build.
Two years. Two damn years and it didn't feel like time had gone on. In so many ways, in fact, time stood still.
"Walls Fall Down" — Bedouin Soundclash
It was no secret that Lisbon was one of the most guarded people on the team. Perhaps even more guarded than the former CBI consultant. The walls she had built rivaled the friggin' Great Wall of China.
There had been many a person who attempted to tear these walls down; Roger Wells, her fiance, was the most recent to try. And for a while, she had him believing that he had successfully demolished them. but when Patrick Jane came back into the picture, he realized how little progress he had made in the year they had been together.
Because the minute Jane hugged her, Lisbon shut down. Her face became blank and she refused to even look at Roger for the rest of the day. And every time he tried to talk to her, she would slip out of the room before he got the chance.
And Roger Wells was a very observant man — not nearly on the level of Patrick Jane, but he could certainly hold his own in an investigation. And just by observing the way Lisbon acted around Jane and vice versa, he could tell that there was soemthing there, or at the very least, there had been something there.
And Roger never considered himself a jealous man until he realized that his gorgeous, but severely guarded fiancee had let her walls fall down for another man long beore Roger was ever in the picture.
"In My Life" — The Rasmus
If there was one thing that Teresa Lisbon was proud of in her life, it was her ability to make clear, controlled decisions without outside influence. It was one of her many strengths as a leader.
But ever since Jane left, the decisions she had once so confidently made were no more. For two whole years, she could feel Jane's presence hovering over her shoulder, affecting every decision she made. Sometimes she would do something she was sure Jane would approve of. Sometimes she would deliberately do things that wold piss him off. But most of the time, she would try to do whatever she could to forget about him. Which is how she found herself engaged to Roger Wells.
Not to be misunderstood, she loved him in her own way. She was sure of it. But as much as she tried to give herself to him, she couldn't give him all of her, because Jane still held a substantial part.
And as much as she hated it, she found that he was affecting her decisions more and more now that he was back. She found herself eating foods he had suggested from before, or buying things in colors he liked.
Gah, she had to stop this! She was engaged to another man whom she loved and would provide her with the stability she craved all her life. She couldn't let a man, who had a habit of disappearing, keep controlling her like this.
This was her life, and these were her decisions, not Jane's. She was the master of her own fate, decider of her own destiny.
Now if only she could make herself believe that.
"Let's Go Get Stoned" — Ray Charles
Ray Charles blared through the speakers of the old jukebox as Jane downed his third glass of scotch. Tonight in particular was a Ray Charles kind of night.
He couldn't get that image of her with him — he refused to call him by his name — out of his head. His hands were all over her all the time: on her waist, around her shoulder, cupping her face...he felt slightly vindicated when she shyly pulled away (which was most of the time) but it still made him crazy to see.
Why was she marrying this guy anyway? What was so great about him? He looked like a total square: perfectly parted brown hair, plain brown eyes and a bland suit with an even blander tie to match. Lisbon had to go for the most boring guy on the planet.
Jane no longer claimed to be a psychic, but he could tell that the marriage would be headed straight to the divorce courts. Lisbon was too steady and she found a man too much like herself. She needed someone who would keep her on her toes. She needed someone who could excite her. She needed someone like Jane.
He knew that he would have been perfect for Lisbon and he suspected that she knew it, too. He could see her eyes flicker his way whenever he thought he wasn't looking, but he was always watching her. After two years, he couldn't bear to take his eyes off her.
When did she say the wedding was? Two weeks? So soon...
"Bartender," he called. "Can I get another?"
The bartender raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
Nope. But as Ray Charles said, let's go get stoned.
"Don't Let Me Down" — The Beetles
"Teresa?"
Patrick Jane didn't get shocked very often, but this was definitely a shocking moment. Because Teresa Lisbon was standing in front of him in the most beautiful wedding dress ever created. She was wearing the lightest hint of makeup that made her green eyes pop and her dark hair was pinned in a complicated style that must have taken hours to get right. And she was wearing a veil that had slipped a little, but still remained attached to her head. And what was even more puzzling — she was panting. Like she had just run a marathon.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. Aren't you supposed to be getting married?"
"You weren't there," she accused. "Why weren't you there?"
Jane looked away guiltily. Should he lie or tell her the truth?
"Jane?" she prompted. "Why weren't you there?"
"You know, I could ask you the same question. This is supposed to be the most important day of your life. You're supposed to be getting married, not chasing after a man who isn't your fiance in bars."
"I know," she said. "But I wanted you there."
"Why?" he asked.
"So you could talk me out of it."
Jane looked up, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. "You mean...?"
For the first time since he came back to the United States, he saw her face break into a wide smile. And it was breathtaking.
"He's not you, Patrick." A thrill shot through him when he heard her use his first name. "I've wanted you since the beginning. I just didn't want to admit it until now."
And in an instant, Jane at her side with his arms wrapped her tiny frame. Then he twirled her around, heavy dress and all.
"Teresa, do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to hear those words from you?" He felt as though his face would break in half, he was smiling so hard.
"I have a feeling," she replied dryly. In an instant, she had her lips on his and he hungrily kissed her back. They were both too absorbed in the kiss to acknowledge the cheers echoing in the small bar.
"Just don't let me down," Lisbon whispered when she pulled away.
He shook his head emphatically. "Never."
Ciao.
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