AN: Wow. It's been a while - sorry. Someone come take care of all my responsibilities for a bit. This is the last chapter (yes, really)- no epilogue this time, I'm afraid. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this, and I'll see you guys around!

The Problem With Atonement

Chapter Eight

She wasn't a very patient person. Lisbon had known this for years, but it had never been driven home to her more then when she was forced to wait to make her next move when it came to finding Jane.

God, this really couldn't be happening, could it?

Brenda hadn't even entered her mind at all. A stupid mistake, she knew that now. And they had all underestimated the woman's thirst for power and vengeance. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Still, they had a name, had a face. And Brenda wasn't a professional - that had been driven home to her repeatedly. She would be found, and found soon. Lisbon could only pray that Jane would still be alive.

She comforted herself with the idea that if Brenda simply wanted Jane to be dead, he would be lying motionless in the FBI courtyard. No, she had some sort of ulterior motive.

Anxiously, she drummed her fingers on her desk. She was on hold with the bank two blocks over. Witnesses had remembered seeing a car going in that direction at a high speed, and she was trying to get the security footage. The warrant was already signed and sent over, so the delay was entirely on the end of the bank. She was considering threatening bodily harm when a harassed sounding manager got back on the line.

"Uh, Agent Lisbon? Yes, sorry for the delay, but our IT guy just started yesterday and he's a little unfamiliar with our systems. From what he tells me, they're somewhat outdated, but he says he's managed to send whatever we have to your tech department." The man sounded middle-aged, pompous. Still, he had given her what she wanted, so she uttered a brief thanks before stalking to Wylie's desk.

He was already queuing footage, and she thanked God that someone knew how to do their job.

Miraculously, it didn't take long. The car was clearly in the shot, and so were the inhabitants. Brenda Shettrick with her fake hair and a calm-looking Jane. Crises never seemed to bother him greatly. This was fortunate, as he seemed to find himself in the middle of a great deal of them.

"Car's headed south," she muttered to herself.

Wylie was already pressing more keys.

"I can follow traffic cameras," he said, frantically typing.

Almost absently, she watched the beige sedan cut across Austin traffic. She remembered to alert everyone of the plate numbers. Perhaps they would get lucky that way.

Wylie sped the footage up as the car continued to travel. Abruptly, it pulled off into a parking garage. Wylie verified the address.

Lisbon was already running for her car.

It couldn't possibly be that simple, could it?

Brenda couldn't be that stupid, could she?

She must've known with the FBI technology that she could be tracked, could be found. It wasn't adding up, but she didn't have the time to sit and think on it for long.

The lights and sirens on her SUV made the drive short, the disembodied computer voice from the GPS directing her to the concrete parking structure.

Wylie called just as she was approaching the now-empty sedan. "This is one of the few ramps in the city that doesn't have working cameras."

Lisbon frowned at the blinking red light on the old-style surveillance equipment in one corner of the ceiling.

It seemed like Wylie was reading her thoughts. "I already called the city. They said the cameras here are all for show while the new security system is put in. Son of a bitch," he continued, echoing her sentiments almost exactly.

Perhaps Brenda wasn't as ignorant as they'd thought.

Quickly, she thought. The sedan's hood was still faintly warm, so they had been here recently. She doubted Jane was a particularly willing hostage, though she knew him well enough to know he would follow directions when his life was at stake. Brenda also knew Jane fairly well, knew how sharp his mind was.

She wouldn't have risked having him walk far, knowing he would always be searching for a mistake.

Lisbon ran for the nearest door. It led to the elevators and the stairwell.

She pushed the button on her phone, and Wylie answered on the second ring.

"What buildings are attached to this parking ramp?" she demanded.

There were approximately three seconds of silence. "Uh, the skywalk on the third floor leads to an office building. Floors one, two, and three are occupied by some financial advisory business. Floor four is an insurance company."

No good, none of it was any good.

"There's a skywalk on level five," he went on. "But nothing is on the fifth floor, not anymore."

Bingo.

"Call in backup," she interrupted. "That's where I'm headed."

Rationally, she knew she should wait. The rest of the FBI and the local police could be no more than ten or fifteen minutes behind her.

But she kept picturing Jane, wounded, bleeding, hoping she could come to his rescue. Pictured Brenda hurting him, killing him, and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

The time for waiting was long gone, and she unholstered her weapon as she climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.

XxXxXxXxX

Unaware of Lisbon's proximity, Jane was watching Brenda with growing alarm. After she had returned from her small outburst earlier, she had started methodically unpacking bags that she'd had stashed in empty closets around the room.

He wasn't an expert, but he recognized explosives when he saw them.

"Going to take out this whole building?" he asked, mildly pleased that his voice wasn't shaking.

Brenda fixed him with a stare. "Oh, heavens no. Just this floor. I don't have any issues with anyone else here, just you. Well, Lisbon, too, but it isn't time for her to join our party. Soon, though, I promise."

Well, that was terrifically disturbing.

He'd had quite enough experience with explosions. He'd lost his sight in one, once upon a time, had been involved in a few since then, notably in Malibu.

He needed to get out of here, and soon. Well before Lisbon showed up, that was for certain.

As quietly as he could, he slipped the letter opener out of his sleeve. Years and years of sleight-of-hand tricks had given him very nimble and dexterous fingers, something that was immeasurably valuable here.

"Just curious, Brenda," he said cautiously. "How long have you been planning this little escapade?"

She adjusted a charge pack slightly. "Oh, years and years," she said easily. "Since you and Lisbon arrested me, as a matter of fact."

"Did you mean to kill Cho?" he asked, wondering if he would get an answer.

She looked at him again, and the calm in her eyes was unnerving. "Why, yes," she told him, a hint of surprise in her voice. "I did. Unfortunately, I'm not a very good shot. I've practiced, but the real-life experience is a bit different."

"You haven't been very good at any of this," he said, then braced himself for her reaction.

She shrugged. "Perhaps not, but I've managed to get the job done."

"Are you kidding?" he asked. "Cho is still alive, I'm still alive, and Lisbon is going to track you down before too much longer has passed. You haven't done a damn thing right." She didn't reply, but he saw her shoulders stiffen. He pressed the letter opener against the ties that bound his wrists. He needed to work fast.

She slammed a door shut, and he used the noise as cover for his abruptly frantic sawing. He wasn't sure what the next part of his plan was, but it did not involve sitting in this chair, waiting for both himself and the woman he loved to die.

Suddenly, Brenda appeared in front of him again, and he froze. Up close, he could see the toll the years in prison had taken. The lines on her face were harsh, skin a dull gray that could only be caused by lack of light. But her eyes were bright, focused.

"I think it's time we call you beloved Agent Lisbon," she said sweetly. "It's a little earlier than I'd planned, but I've found you're just as annoying as ever. Besides, the sooner I can catch a flight the better."

From behind her back, she procured a roll of duct tape. Tearing off a length, she slapped it across his mouth. He wondered if this could get any more cliche.

He sat perfectly still as she smoothed out the edges of the tape.

She leaned forward just a hair, and he sprang, his forehead cracking against hers. She stumbled back, and he yanked his wrists apart, the binding frayed and torn thanks to the letter opener.

But he had miscalculated how tough she was these days.

Soon, far sooner than he had anticipated, she was steady, flying at him like a woman possessed. Which, he supposed, she was

She hit him squarely, and he fell back, breath knocked out. Her fist connected with his face, once, twice, again.

He had weight on his side, and he used it to his benefit, shoving up and dislodging her. The problem was, he simply couldn't run for the door. She could detonate her explosives before he was clear. And even if he could make it out, he wasn't willing to take the risk that she had made a mistake and the building would be blown to kingdom come.

Brenda was on him again, and he realized her reflexes must have been honed by years of fending off criminals every minute of the day. She wasn't the woman he remembered.

Her thumbs pressed into his eyes, and he yelled, the sound muffled by the tape across his mouth. Blindly, he levered a knee up, and the pressure on his face lessened abruptly.

He was no good in a fist fight, none at all.

He scanned the room, looking for something that would help.

Behind him, Brenda was running, and as he turned, she caught him across the back with an office chair.

He went down, hard. Tasted blood.

The chair came down on his head, and he dimly protested the idea of being beaten to death with an upholstered rolling chair.

He turned, raising one arm to lessen the blow.

Then he swept his legs, catching Brenda by surprise. She fell heavily, and he scrambled, lunging for her hands.

She fought back, elbowing him in the jaw so hard he saw stars.

When his vision cleared, she was free.

And pointing her gun at him with alarmingly steady hands.

"Not how I'd planned this, Patrick," she said, her calm effect ruined somewhat by the blood dripping from her mouth. "But one must always be flexible."

He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. Purposely thought of Lisbon, of Charlotte and Angela.

Then started when he heard the authorative voice some fifteen feet behind him. "Freeze, you crazy bitch!"

His lids snapped open and he turned his head. Lisbon was standing to the side, breathing heavily, looking like a fierce and avenging angel.

Neither of them had heard her enter, lost in the commotion that had been surrounding them.

In front of him, Brenda smiled, then shrugged resignedly.

He saw her hand move suddenly.

There was the sharp sound of gunfire, and he whirled, praying he wouldn't see a spreading red blotch on the front of Lisbon's shirt.

Instead, she looked...confused?

His head snapped back, and saw Brenda's crumpled form on the hard floors.

Lisbon came forward, leaned over the other woman, and the expression on her face told him everything he needed to know.

He sagged abruptly, and Lisbon ran to his side, small hands carefully tugging the tape from his mouth.

"Jesus, Jane," she hissed. "Are you okay?"

Slowly, slowly, he ran a hand over his face. His skin stung from the tape. When he spoke, his voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. "I'm glad I shaved this morning," he said, then promptly lost consciousness.

When he woke, he became immediately aware that he was in a hospital. A second later, he knew Lisbon was close.

Carefully, he turned his head, noting that it hurt. A great deal.

She was perched on the edge of her chair, worried eyes locked on him.

"Hi," he whispered, or tried to. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Tenderly, she reached out and brushed his hair from his forehead. "Hi," she murmured back, kissing his temple lightly. "You're in pretty rough shape, but I'm told you'll be just fine in a week or so."

He nodded, them immediately regretted it. The adrenaline had long since worn off, and he felt absolutely every one of his injuries.

But he was alive.

And so was Lisbon.

She ran a hand gently down his face, leaning over him. "I love you," she breathed. "Go back to sleep."

He tried to respond, but the words were lost somewhere. She understood though, he was sure.

Two days later he was discharged, still moving very slowly.

Lisbon was at his side, the same place she had been from the beginning. They hadn't spoken much - just gone over some of the details of what had happened since he was abducted.

"She was a terrible villain," Jane had said once. "She made a much better information leaker."

Lisbon had let out a surprised chuckle, coffee in one hand as she sat on the edge of his bed. "I'm just thankful she was so bad at her new job."

Now, he closed his eyes as he leaned back in her passenger seat, supremely grateful that he was able to do this. He had come close, very close, to losing it all.

Again.

For the first time in an eternity, he felt a sense of homecoming as he walked in Lisbon's front door. Here was where he belonged.

She made him tea while he showered, the hot water and familiar scent of her shampoo relaxing him further. His shoulders sagged.

He had been fighting against the wall of emotion that had been creeping up on him since the first time he'd woken in the hospital. It was over now, the threat to their lives. They could, he could...be happy.

Carefully, he dressed and sat next to Lisbon on the couch, content in the quiet of the house. He sipped his tea in silence, noting she was getting rather good at making it. Years of practice, he supposed.

"Are you all right?" she asked eventually, voice very soft.

"A little sore," he responded, downplaying things a bit. Nothing time wouldn't fix.

Her eyes were concerned. "Can I get you anything?"

He held her gaze, saw the love in it, the desire to make him feel better.

He put his cup down.

"Yes," he said. "There's something I want."

Before she could ask what it was, he took both of her hands, pulling her arms around him as he put his head in her lap.

"Jane?" she questioned.

"This," he told her. "This is what I want."

Lisbon was silent for a moment, then adjusted her hold on him, fingers slipping into his hair. He felt her lips touch the crown of his head as she bent over and he smiled.

He was looking forward to his happily ever after.