Fic--Everything That Drowns Me
Title: Everything That Drowns Me
Author: foreverwriting9
Characters/Pairings: Jane/Lisbon
Spoilers: For Red John’s Rules
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,100
Summary: One day, the weight of both of them will crush her, but not now. Not when he needs her so badly.
-
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too,
So I stayed in the darkness with you.
Florence + The Machine, ‘Cosmic Love’
Until you catch me or I catch you.
The threat echoes in Lisbon’s ears, crawling sinisterly across her skin. This can’t be happening, it just can’t. This is the kind of thing that leads to showdowns, to bloody ultimatums, to Jane dead or in prison. She can’t- Her gaze flicks up to Jane. He's still staring out the window, hollow disbelief catching at his mouth and twisting. The dying sunlight sets fire to his hair, and she has to catch her breath, because sometimes she forgets just how beautiful he is. She brushes her fingers across the keys of the computer. “Jane?”
He meets her eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he takes her in, all wide green eyes and concern. “Lisbon,” he says, and for now, that’s enough. That’s the answer she needs.
The silence stretches as they watch the sky darken and the city light up beneath them. When the sun finally slips below the horizon, Jane moves toward her, face unreadable in the dim attic. "C'mon,” he murmurs, voice husky, “let's go." He reaches for her good hand and pulls gently.
She stands slowly, keeping her hold on him. "Where?" she asks, but she’s already trailing after him.
He shrugs as he slides the attic door open, then turns to look at her over his shoulder. "Away from here."
Lisbon nods. “Okay.”
She'll follow him anywhere.
Away from here ends up being a diner a couple blocks from the CBI. Lisbon smiles at the flickering neon sign as she slides out of the passenger seat of Jane’s car. “Eggs?” she asks, slamming the car door shut behind her and letting her fingers skim lightly along the body of the Citroën.
“Eggs,” he agrees, falling into step beside her as they walk through the parking lot. His hand presses familiarly against the small of her back, and he has to stop himself from gripping her jacket between his fingers in desperation. I’m going to kill a happy memory that you’ve never told anyone.
Lisbon notices the tension in his body. “Jane.” It’s not quite a question, not quite a statement, and all he knows is that he finds it unbelievably soothing to hear her say his name. His eyes slip closed for a split second as he lets himself be reassured by her proximity. Then he shakes his head, opening his eyes to meet her searching gaze.
“I’m fine, dear.”
She looks unconvinced, but before she can say anything else, Jane uses the hand at her back to guide her toward the diner entrance. “Let’s go eat,” he says softly, his breath warm against her neck.
He keeps touching Lisbon for as long as possible, fingertips brushing against her spine, until a waitress leads them to a table, and they’re forced to separate. As soon as they’re both seated, Jane flashes his most charming smile up at the girl. “Two scrambled eggs,” he says, holding up two fingers. “Tea for me, and,” he pauses, looking across at Lisbon in contemplation. After a second, he nods as if he’s seen something in her that gives him the answer. “Just water for the lady.”
The waitress stares at him absently, then shrugs, and moves away.
When Jane turns his attention back to the table, Lisbon is shaking her head at him. “I should have known you’d be one of those infuriating people who orders for everyone else.”
He gestures at her, waving his arm up and down to indicate her entire body. “If I can tell what you’re going to order anyway, I might as well save us all some time-”
She scoffs. “Do not even say that you knew I was going to order scrambled eggs.”
“But I did,” he insists, picking up a nearby sugar packet and making it disappear. Lisbon frowns at him. “Don’t worry,” he adds, ignoring her expression and making the sugar reappear in his other hand. “They’re very good. Best eggs you’ll ever eat.”
She hums noncommittally in response, too focused on the object flicking through his deft fingers to say anything. When their drinks arrive, Jane lets the packet fall from his hands, concentrating instead on stirring his tea.
“So,” Lisbon says, taking a sip of water and immediately wishing it was something stronger, “Red John.” The two words are hushed, almost impossible to hear over the conversations and sounds of clinking silverware floating around them.
Jane doesn’t look up from his cup. “Yeah,” is all he has to say, and then his brow furrows, and she can see the moment his extraordinary brain starts stitching together plans and contingencies and ridiculous schemes. She sits and waits for him, watching the thin, diner light streak through his curls. I bet you think you’re pretty damn clever. The words are a flash, ice-cold and sharp, and they send a shiver down her spine.
What on earth are they up against?
She’s about to reach over and touch him, remind him that she is still here (will always be here), when their food arrives. Jane doesn’t even acknowledge the presence of the plate in front of him, just keeps staring out the nearby window, as if he’s waiting for something to jump out of the dark at them. When she’s halfway through her plate of eggs and he still hasn’t moved, Lisbon starts to worry.
"Jane." She nudges his knee with the toe of her shoe. "Eat your eggs."
He finally comes alive, eyes focusing on her, dark blue and panicked. "What if it's not real?" he breathes, fingers bumping into the fork on his plate and sending it clattering against the tabletop.
A foreboding weight settles in Lisbon’s chest. "What?"
He swallows, looking slightly less manic as his mind kicks into a higher gear, the puzzle pieces slowly coming together. "What if my list isn't real? What if I spent all that time holed up in my attic, thinking, only to come up with a list that doesn't actually include Red John? What if all of that - not sleeping, hardly eating, being away from you and the team - was for nothing?"
Everything suddenly seems to tilt, all the air sucked out of the diner, because that possibility never even occurred to her. The handle of her knife digs uncomfortably into her skin as she unknowingly tightens her grip on it. She feels nauseous. Across the table from her, Jane looks just as sick; his face too pale, the shadows under his eyes a shade too dark.
Lisbon takes a deep breath, and lets the sight of him anchor her. "It's the only thing we have," she says tiredly. (One day, the weight of both of them will crush her, but not now. Not when he needs her so badly.)
He glances up at her, sees something in her face that scares him. “Lisbon?”
“Your list,” she explains. “It’s really the only lead we have on Red John. Either we use it, or we walk around in more circles, getting nothing accomplished.”
His gaze drops to his plate, where his eggs are starting to cool off. “But what if it’s just a dead end?” he asks, grabbing for a napkin and crumpling it in his fist. His hands are shaking.
Lisbon summons an encouraging smile that isn’t nearly as blinding as normal. “It won’t hurt to try, will it?” She reaches across the table and picks up Jane’s forgotten fork, holding it out to him. “We’ve hit so many dead ends before, Jane. What’s one more?”
He stares at her. She means so very much to him, and it hits him in that moment just what will happen if he loses her. Jane leans forward slowly, plucking the fork from Lisbon’s grasp, and letting his fingers rest against hers for a beat too long. “All right,” he sighs. “All right.”
“Good,” she says softly, her grin less forced this time. (And even in this diner, surrounded by faded colors and scuffed linoleum, she is the loveliest thing he’s seen in weeks.) “Now eat your food.”
He salutes her with the fork. “Yes, ma’am.”
The rest of their meal is eaten in relative silence, right up until Jane insists on paying for both their meals.
Lisbon frowns at him, pulling the bill just out of his reach. “Jane, for the last time, no.”
“It’s my money, Teresa,” he says, ignoring her flinch when he uses her first name. “I can spend it however I want, and I want to spend it on you.” He slides forward in his seat, grabbing for the paper in her hand. At the last minute, she jerks away from him, and his fingers skim warmly along her pulse point.
Her stomach flips not unpleasantly in response, and she has to bite her lip to stop the expression tugging at her mouth. Jane’s answering smile says that he saw it anyway. Lisbon throws her hands up. “For God’s sake, this isn’t a d-”
Jane stops trying to wrestle the bill out of her hand, and just stares, daring her to finish.
She sighs, leaning back against the seat, and letting the bill flutter onto the table. “Fine.”
He scoops it up with the most annoying grin on his face, and hurries over to the register to pay. Before she can even take a moment to reassure herself that what they’re currently doing definitely does not qualify as a date, he’s back at her side.
“C’mon.” He pulls at her elbow. “Let’s get you home.”
Lisbon rolls her eyes at him, but complies, pushing herself up out of her seat. She doesn’t say anything when Jane’s hand finds its usual place at her back, the slight pressure urging her toward the exit. Once they’re outside, the tension she felt in him earlier returns. His fingers twitch against her back, and then suddenly, she’s being spun around, and he’s grasping her shoulders like if he lets go she might disappear.
“Jane-”
“You do know that I would do anything to protect you, don’t you?” His voice is rough and terrified, and her answer means everything to him.
She takes a step toward him, trying to make him understand that she’s not going anywhere. “Jane, what is this about?” But she already knows, and she understands. Somewhere along the line, they became too important to each other.
He sighs, exhausted and sad and years older than he was a few minutes ago, when they were wrapped in diner light and the smell of scrambled eggs. “Just tell me you know,” he says, desperate now. “Please.”
Lisbon looks up at him, finds that her fingers have somehow twisted themselves into his jacket sleeve. “I know,” she whispers.
Jane slowly loosens his grip on her shoulders, his face so relieved and clear that it makes her heart skip a beat. “Then everything will be okay.”
“Yeah?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he says, leading her over to where his car is parked.
He doesn’t say anything else on the drive to her apartment, and Lisbon fears he might have slipped back into the dark thoughts that preoccupied him at the diner. When he pulls to a stop on the street in front of her complex, she lets her hand brush along his arm. “Thank you for dinner.”
His smile is tired. “Of course, Lisbon.”
She slips out of the passenger seat and turns to glance at him once more before she closes the car door. “Goodnight, Jane.” She doesn’t wait for him to say anything else, simply turns, and begins making her way through the dark. Behind her, a car door slams.
“Lisbon.”
She spins around, only to be wrapped in something warm and golden. Jane. Lisbon relaxes into the hug, letting her palms slide along his shoulders. His nose bumps against her ear. “Goodnight, my dear,” he says, and she can feel the curve of his smile against her cheek. Then, just as quickly as it happened, it’s over, and Jane is strolling back to his car.
Lisbon shakes her head at his retreating back, watching until he’s safely behind the wheel and the Citroën has coughed to a start. Once the dark has swallowed him whole, she turns back around and heads for home, completely failing to ignore the affection that spills through her chest. (There are moments when the pieces of them just seem to click together, and the ache of pure want becomes unbearable, pressing down on her from all sides.)
She’s halfway in her apartment before she realizes that he slipped a napkin origami frog into her coat pocket.