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I do not own these characters, and no money is made from this endeavor. No copyright infringement is intended. At this point, I'm just writing because I need to get things straight in my head. Thank you, show writers, for the inspiration.

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AN: I felt the show moved over Jane's decisions pretty quickly in Byzantium, so I decided to flesh them out a bit, if nothing else, so I could try and understand what happened. I'll never know if I got it right, I suppose, but this is my stab at it.

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"I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night." - Khaled Hosseini "The Kite Runner"

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Revelations -

This picks up as Jane is leaving the Two Forks Tavern, in the episode Byzantium….

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No doubt about it, I'm drunk. Maybe I shouldn't have ordered my threes by the beer. But what the hell. I'm looking for answers – difficult answers - and a bunch of great minds thought some profound things while they were pretty pickled, right? I do believe I've exceeded my creative threshold, however, so I'm calling it a night.

As I turn to leave, it comes to me. Amber. Of course a person who sells beer would be named Amber. Finally got it right, on my way out the door. Damn, you're slipping, Boy Wonder, but you're still not as lame as that kid who said the number three would be your cure.

I step out onto the porch of Two Forks Tavern, closing the door behind me. The Texas night is dry and pleasant, and I hear cicadas happily chirping in the brush, calling to their mates. Why can't my life be that simple, I wonder? I successfully navigate the porch steps without stumbling, and glance over at the parked aluminum canister which functions as my mobile abode. When I was a kid, I always dreamed of having an Airstream, the combination Mercedes/mansion of the carney world. And look at me, now I have one – bought for me by the FBI, no less. I could crawl in and go to sleep, but in the interest of how I will feel in the morning, I should walk and clear my head.

Luckily, it is a nice night. The moon is full, and intermittent clouds drift lazily across its giant face – it's there and then it's gone. I get an alcohol inspired urge to howl, but decide against it. Even in my current haze I realize that's a stupid idea. It's not like Teresa is going to howl back, is it?

I notice a path that leads through the trees over to my left, and I decide to go that way – the road less travelled. The moon provides a considerable amount of light, so I totter down the dirt path into the countryside. I don't know where I'm going, but there's no death lurking around here, and that's one of my only requirements. The scent of jasmine lingers in the night air, sweet and delicious. I haven't walked very far when I hear the faint sound of frogs. Frogs? 'You're always near a body of water,' I chuckle to myself.

I let the growly calls – belonging to leopard frogs if I am not mistaken - guide me, as I walk over the uneven ground. They become progressively louder, but given my inebriated state, it seems like a long, long way. The alcohol in my bloodstream makes me sluggish, and I blink my eyes hard, willing them to stay open. I'm tired.

A dip in the path sneaks up on me, and I stumble to one knee, catching myself with an arm. The forgiving ground yields to my touch, so I sink down into the tall grass, soft and inviting. I'm going to rest here for a moment, I decide. Listen to the frogs. I lean back in the grass, staring up at a black sky that twinkles with an infinite number of stars. My constricting fears for Teresa's safety seem so far away, and a sense of peace settles over me. The beauty and wonder of the natural world soothes my anxiety like nothing else.

I'm so small. A mere speck in this infinite universe. I allow myself to wonder if Teresa is somewhere looking up at these same stars right now. This same moon. We're just two specks. And yet, in this world, she's the only thing that really matters to me. That is why I cannot fathom the thought of losing her. My matching speck – the one I love, and who loves me. Why can't it be that simple? Why can't she leave the death and violence behind when she knows how crippling my concerns are?

In my heart, I know the answer. Because she's a good person, and she does what she thinks is right. Rooted to the world by her family and her job, she knows and likes her place in it. Just being with me is not enough to make her leave all that. That hurts a little, I admit, whether or not it should. Her version of doing the right thing includes more than our togetherness. Teresa is strong. She doesn't run away from problems. Probably because she knows there is no escaping – that we're connected to the world, whether we like it or not.

My deeply ingrained response to trouble has always been to leave. To escape. To blow smoke and get away. Many years ago, when I was with Angela, we were both running away, even though we imagined we were running in the right direction. Our relationship was pure and real, but nothing else about our lives was connected to the real world. That big Malibu house – the only house I've ever lived in - was built on a foundation of my dishonesty and lies. I thought I could steal a living from the world and separate that from the bubble of truth that was my family. I was an arrogant fool.

I do understand what being a good man entails. I'm not a sociopath. I've known right from wrong since I was five, even if I ignored it for many years. Since my family was killed, I believe I have made progress. I killed Red John – not legal of course, but the right thing, in my mind. Over the years, I've helped catch and put away countless bad people. I've done work that even agent Pike would have to agree furthered the greater good. And though I enjoy the chase of finding the bad guys, it often feels like a derivative of 'right,' if you will. Not so much doing good as stopping the bad, and there is a difference.

In reality, I didn't come back from that island to catch bad guys or do good work. I came back to be with Teresa, and I imagined that meant working with her. Now that she and I have a relationship outside of work, staying at the FBI seems like an unnecessary risk. Obviously, she feels differently. But she doesn't - can't - understand the intensity of the pain that comes with losing someone who means everything to you. So I'm right back to my dilemma. Now that we are so close, how do I cope with the woman I love doing a dangerous job? I don't think I have the strength to sit back and watch her routinely run into harm's way when every instinct I have tells me to protect her.

My mind is going around in circles again, and a deep weariness falls over me. I stretch my legs out straight in the grass, getting more comfortable. I'm certainly connected to the earth right here and now, I smile to myself, snickering at my own feeble joke. Then I stare back up at the myriad of trembling stars above me, and fall sound asleep.

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I open my eyes, squinting into the bright light, and realize I am waking up. "Morning," I mumble, and look around for Teresa. It's amazing how quickly I have become accustomed to having her near when I awaken. But Teresa is not here. I blink my eyes and turn over to discover that I am lying on the ground in a bed of grass, and last night's events flood back to my consciousness.

A dog runs across the field in front of me. A three legged dog, no less. "Oh, come on," I groan. I pick myself up and stretch, finding I am not as hung over as I deserve to be. The air smells earthy and alive, and the sun is warm on my face. I look past the dog and see some sort of pond through the trees, so I make my way down the slope to get a better look, passing a "For Sale" sign on the way. The setting is serene. Laid out before me is a pond, complete with ducks, and across the water sits a little cabin – a shack, really. Simple. but picturesque. A gentle breeze sways the rushes and the leaves of the trees move with a pleasant rustle.

This. This is what I need, I smile to myself. A place where my mind can be at ease. Where I can live close to the little wonders of nature. If I can't stop Teresa from doing her job, I can remove myself from that environment, so that her peril isn't constantly on my mind.

I start around the pond to get a closer look at the cabin, and the spotted setter chooses to accompany me. He gallops through the grass with joy, unaffected by his handicap, and stops to check out scents from time to time.

The cabin doesn't even have a lock on the door, so I peer inside. Just as I suspected, it needs a fair amount of work, but it is charming. And suddenly I know what it is I need to do. I have my solution. I will buy this place and fix up the cabin myself – add on - make it modern and cozy. For the first time in my life, I will build something, and build it honestly. With my own hands. I have no experience in construction, but that will simply add to the fun. What a fantastic challenge it will be.

I can't wait to show it to Teresa! I'll put whatever amenities into it that she wants, even a mint dispenser beside bed if that is what she wishes. This will be something permanent. For us. Together. I will put down roots and take an important step toward being the honest man she deserves.

There's a new spring in my step as I walk back around the pond to get the phone number off the "for sale" sign, and my three-legged friend accompanies me. When I pull out my phone to enter the number into my contacts list, there is a missed call from Teresa from last night. Damn. She must have called while I was playing pinball.

I'm about to call her back when my phone buzzes – it's Abbott. He wants my help on the case. Yes, I tell him, I can come back now. Besides, I can't wait to see Teresa and tell her I've figured out a solution. I'm anxious to show her this place and share my plan with her.

"Are you nearby?" Abbott asks.

"Well, to be honest, I really have no idea where I am," I answer.

But the truth is, I think I might just be at home.

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AN: I haven't marked this complete because I'm hoping to write a companion chapter from Lisbon's POV (about her pregnancy), if I get a few rainy days.

I'd love to know whether you think I got Jane right on this one, and thanks for reading.

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luculent, my old bud from TWoP, if you're out there - you were right about the house.