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Their job was a hard one. Investigating murders every day, dealing with death and destruction and grief and evil day-in and day-out took its toll on you. Everyone dealt with the weight of the job differently, some better than others. Some bottled up the emotions, put them aside until the bottle inevitably burst and they fell apart. Some refused to put anything aside, felt it all, and fell apart a little bit every day. But, eventually, almost everyone let the realities of the job get to them. Almost everyone had a breaking point.
Not Teresa Lisbon.
No, Lisbon didn’t break. Lisbon was a soldier. She had been hardened by life at a young age and had learned how to deal with death and despair, unfairness and cruelty. She didn’t need a metaphorical bottle for all the frustration and pain she faced every day, because she handled it better than anyone.
It wasn’t that she was unaffected by the pain around her every day. To the untrained eye, to the people who didn’t know her, it may have come off that way. But no, she felt the pain. She felt it all. But instead of letting it break her, Teresa Lisbon let it motivate her. Not in some grandiose, starry-eyed way, but in a quiet, determined way. Teresa Lisbon felt all the sadness and unfairness around her and told herself she would do something about it. She wouldn’t wallow in the sorrow of the world, she would make amends. She knew couldn’t prevent all the evil in the world, but she damned well could bring the evildoers to justice. And if that was all she could do, so be it. That’s what she would do.
Most people failed to see that part of her. Those who didn’t know her were apt to misjudge her. Many assumed that she was unaffected by the tragedies she faced every day. She put on such a brave face that they assumed she was one of those cops who faced tragedy with apathy. Someone who was able to deal with death and not feel the pain of those around her. They assumed, but they assumed wrong. Almost everyone made that mistake.
Not Patrick Jane.
No, Jane knew who Teresa Lisbon really was. The parts of herself she hid from everyone else were plain as day to him, though he tried not to let her know that. And it was those parts of her, those secret motivations and hidden moralities, the way she faced each new challenge with determination and quiet resolve, that Jane admired most about her.
He never told her that he admired her courage, admired the way she turned pain into willpower. Never said anything when he knew she was hurting without letting it show. But there were things, often little things, that he did to show her that he could see her. To show her that he saw her as no one else did. That he understood how quietly strong she was, and that he admired it.
Like tonight, after a particularly difficult and emotional case, with a young victim and a grieving family. Lisbon had hardly rested until they had brought the perpetrator to justice, turning her sympathy and pain into steadfast determination as always. And bring him to justice she had.
But now, after the rest of the team had gone home, she sat alone in her office, pictures of the young girl intruding unbidden before her mind’s eye. It was late and she needed to go home, but tonight she was reluctant to leave the office. Reluctant to go home and try to sleep.
It was one of those nights.
Jane watched from his place on his couch as Lisbon idly shuffled papers on her desk. After a few moments, he grabbed the brown paper bag he had picked up from the local store on the way back from the crime scene a few days ago, having had a feeling they’d need it by the end of this case, and made his way to Lisbon’s office.
He knocked quietly once before opening the door, not waiting for her to answer or invite him in. Wordlessly, he went behind her desk and held out his hand to her. Lisbon frowned, a questioning look in her eyes. Jane just smiled. Used to his antics by now, Lisbon couldn’t help but smile too as she took his hand, not even bothering to ask what he wanted or why he was there. She knew he wouldn’t tell her anyway.
Her hand in his, Jane led Lisbon over to the couch in her office. He let go of her hand and pointed to it. “Sit.”
If there was anything Lisbon liked less than being ordered around by Jane, she couldn’t think of it. She started to protest. “Jane, what-”
“Just sit,” he interrupted.
Lisbon rolled her eyes, but she sat down on the couch with a reluctant smile, knowing resistance was futile with him.
Jane handed Lisbon the brown paper bag, and without waiting for her to open it, he crossed the room to the shelf beneath her desk where he knew she kept a couple well-concealed whiskey glasses.
Lisbon opened the bag and grinned as she pulled out a bottle of her favorite whiskey. She hadn’t asked, hadn’t said anything to him, but Jane had known exactly what she needed tonight. He knew exactly how she was feeling and what she needed to take her mind off everything and finally rest a bit.
Jane returned and took the bottle from Lisbon’s hand, pouring them each a glass and setting the bottle on the desk. He took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, turned the other one to put his feet up on, and watched with a grin as Lisbon unconsciously sank into the couch, glass in hand.
They chatted for a while, drinking and talking about everything and nothing.
When the bottle was nearly empty, Jane noticed Lisbon’s eyelids start to close. Quietly, he took the glass from her hand and smiled as she laid back on the couch. He put the bottle and glasses on her desk, and by the time he turned back, her eyes were closed. He turned to leave, stealing one last glance at her now-sleeping form on the couch.
“Good night, Lisbon,” he whispered from the door before closing it as quietly as he could.
Jane returned to his couch and laid down too, hoping his partner could get some rest now that her latest quest for justice had come to a close.
On their latest case, Jane had been particularly annoying. He had known who the murderer was from the very beginning, but of course he hadn’t told her. He’d been constantly underfoot, causing more problems than he solved, and had kept his plan for revealing the culprit a complete secret until the very last minute.
And of course, his antics had left Lisbon with mountains of paperwork and cleanup to do.
Jane had thought his plan had been particularly brilliant, and once the idea had taken hold of him, he had run with it without stopping a moment to think of involving Lisbon or the team. He hadn’t paused to consider how much of a mess he was creating or what position he would put Lisbon in once it was all done. He’d been off like the wind, a man on a mission, and had rather enjoyed the whirlwind of the case as everything played out just as he planned.
But, once it was done, he felt bad.
Lisbon had been at the office until almost dawn trying to finish all the after-action reports, case closed paperwork, and other generally painful office work it took to clean up his latest mess, and Jane felt a little twinge of guilt for making her life so difficult.
And of course there was a new case the very next day. Lisbon had gotten the call after way too little sleep and dragged herself out of bed with reluctance.
She was already annoyed with Jane when she arrived at the office that morning to find him still asleep on his couch, seemingly unbothered by the mess he’d left her with last night. She thought about going over and kicking his couch, waking him up as rudely as her phone had woken her up that morning, but she thought better of it. Let the rest of the team wake him when they got here. Then he’d be their problem for at least a few minutes.
Still bleary-eyed and tired, Lisbon pushed open the door to her office. She blinked a couple times, clearing the sleep from her eyes, to make sure what she was seeing was real. On her desk sat a small vase of her favorite flowers and a steaming cup of coffee. Not the bland brew from the decades-old coffee machine in the CBI kitchen, but a nice cup from a local coffee shop. The kind Lisbon loved but could never justify splurging on, not when there was free coffee at the office.
Lisbon picked up the cup and let the heat seep through and warm her hands. As she admired the flowers, she noticed a small card sticking out from the leaves. She pulled it out. The note was simple:
Sorry for the mess. -J
Lisbon glanced up to where her partner’s golden head rested on the arm of the couch. Sipping her coffee, she smiled, laughing to herself. Whatever his flaws, Jane made it hard for her to stay mad at him for too long.
On his couch, his eyes still closed, Jane smiled.
The flight from Austin to Chicago wasn’t a particularly long one, but to Lisbon it felt like it was taking hours. She hid it well, but her constant foot-tapping and watch-checking gave away how anxious she was to get there and find out what was going on with her scattered family.
Having nowhere to go and nothing to do that would expend her nervous energy, Lisbon glanced over to where Jane sat next to her, asleep with his head resting against the plane window. She watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, matching her breath to his and trying to calm herself. She wouldn’t admit it, but Jane’s presence here made her feel so much more grounded amid the chaos she had been thrown into when she found out about the warrant for Jimmy’s arrest. She’d come to rely on Jane in a different way since they’d been together, and it struck her now how grateful she was to have him with her right now. Whatever happened, at least she didn’t have to go through it alone.
She hadn’t asked him to come. Hadn’t even been sure she wanted him to come. But when he’d offered, making it clear that it was her choice and that he wouldn’t intrude if she didn’t want him to, Lisbon had realized how much she wanted him there. And he’d come.
He’d never said he would be there for her. Never told her he’d stick by her through thick and thin. Never made any flowery, meaningless professions of devotion that would doubtless impress other girls but would have fallen flat with her. He hadn’t needed to. He was just there. He knew what she needed, and he was there.
And that meant more to Lisbon than any words he could have said ever would.
Lisbon had brought up Jane’s ring without thinking. It had been bugging her, wondering if he would ever take it off, wondering if he could ever really move on, ever really be devoted to her the way he had been… But she also understood what the ring meant to him and why it was difficult for him to give it up. She knew it was part of him, a symbol of the past that made him who he was today. And yet she’d brought it up.
She hadn’t really considered it before she made the request. It kind of came out unplanned, but now she was regretting it. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, she hoped he knew that, but at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling like maybe she had. Maybe he wasn’t ready, maybe he never would be. And maybe she needed to be okay with that.
So when they sat down by the pond and she noticed he wasn’t wearing the ring, Lisbon was more than a little surprised. His glib explanation of I’m not married was less than convincing, as her questioning smile certainly showed.
Her heart almost skipped a beat when Jane put down his water bottle and pulled his ring out of his pocket. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as he told her how the ring represented their lives together and their future together just as much as it represented his past. Her mouth fell open when he asked her to be his wife, and she didn’t even hesitate before agreeing, knowing in her heart it was right. Finally, it was right. He was hers, and she was his, and it all felt so right.
He kissed her slowly, tenderly, and she kissed him back, her hand caressing his face and she tried and failed to stop a tear from escaping. As she pressed her lips to his, she felt his hand take her free one. Without breaking the kiss, he pressed the ring into her hand and closed her fingers around it, holding her fist in his. Lisbon smiled against his lips.
When they finally broke apart, Jane was smiling so brightly that Lisbon blushed. Unable to hold his gaze, she unfurled her hand and stared at the ring in her hand. She couldn’t help but feel that she was holding Jane’s heart in her hand, and perhaps that’s exactly what it was. She had his heart now. It was hers, to have and to hold and to protect. The gravity of the gesture was not lost on her.
Gently, Lisbon reached up and unclasped the chain that held her mother’s cross around her neck. She removed the necklace, looped the ring onto the chain, and put it back around her neck, securing it. She felt the weight of the ring against her chest as it rested next to the cross she had worn for so many years.
She met Jane’s eyes once more and noticed tears forming to match her own. His smile was so tender that Lisbon couldn’t resist reaching up and kissing him once more. When she did, she felt his hand rest over the necklace on her chest, grasping the cross and the ring. The symbolism of it was not lost on him either. She covered her hand with his momentarily before he let go and slid it to the back of her head, holding her to him. She wiped his tears with her thumb as she kissed him.
She didn’t tell him how much his words had meant to her. She didn’t say that she understood how hard it was for him to give up the ring, and how much it meant to her that he had taken it off. She didn’t tell him that she would protect it and keep it with her, that she recognized how important the ring was to him and knew how much he was saying by trusting it to her care.
She didn’t need to say any of that. The evidence of it all was right there on her chest, his prized possession resting next to hers. Her heart and his, together forever.