A/N: Sorry for the short-ish chapter but I didn't want to leave it too late before I posted another one. Next one I will do my best to make it longer (& more exciting)!

Anyway, hope you enjoy this one and thanks again for all the lovely feedback on the last chapter (& a very special thank you to all of you who also took the time to re-read this fic from the beginning lately too).

Chapter 39 – Hungry

Sacramento

Present Day

Back in Jane's apartment neither he nor Lisbon had much of an appetite. No mail or gruesome tape delivery awaited them. Neither were sure if that gave them hope or simply caused more dread. They didn't speak much, quietly chatted about dinner options to avoid talking about Hightower and a Thai takeout delivery hastily ordered without fanfare or thought. They had to eat something (mostly to give them something to do while they awaited news from forensics or L.A.) and any peace Lisbon may usually have found in cooking something would have been more than improbable.

"Likely we won't hear anything until mid-morning at the earliest," Jane said as they waited for their meal.

Absently, "Yeah."

Lisbon stood at his patio doors window, looking into the nothingness of the dark. The Capitol shone but her eyes were unfocused, staring closely at her reflection but not seeing that either. Her hand went to where her cross around her neck used to lie, smoothed the skin there like she used to smooth the gold.

Naturally, Jane had noticed she no longer wore it. It was one of the first things he observed when he'd first seen her again. He'd yet to ask her why. Perhaps she'd turned her back on the religion she so surely believed in once. And perhaps removing it symbolised her desire to cut ties with her past. Plus, truthfully, there seemed more important matters than a theological debate or philosophical discussion since she'd returned.

Pleasantly, he said, "Of course you'll be with Volker then. So, I'll call you if I hear anything while you're there."

Building a bridge.

"Thanks."

He nodded, tapped his fingers on the armrest of the couch. He continued to watch her. She was blaming herself, imagining what hell Hightower might be experiencing in that moment.

Remembering.

There was nothing further he could say to her on the subject

Maybe she needed to brood. Had to, even.

But watching her in pain was too much to bear. And not just for her sake. He was transported back to when he'd struck the same pose as he looked across the river from his attic at the CBI. Memories and nightmares fighting for supremacy, fear and worry and anger all vying for attention.

He blinked to dislodge his memories and moved from the couch to the kitchen, turned his back to her as he filled the kettle. The rattle of the water as it filled the metal vessel allowed him to take a long breath she wouldn't hear. A moment in time to gather some strength and release some tension from the heaviness pressing on his chest. He glanced backwards briefly as he put cups on the counter, proceeded to shake his head silently with a wry smile. She was wrapped up in her own world where he could have tap danced to the national anthem and she still may not have noticed.

Or so he thought.

The loud rap at the door stirred her immediately. Swiftly, her eyes darted to his, panicked for an instant.

"It's probably the food," he assured her.

"Right, yes," she nodded furiously. "Of course."

She forgot we'd ordered it.

"That was fast!" she said, a little too loudly to cover.

"I'm a good customer and an even better tipper," he smiled as he walked towards the door.

They ate silently at the counter, Lisbon chasing rice round her plate that barely made it to her mouth. The façade of a normal evening meal was quickly concluded as she dropped her chopsticks onto her mostly full plate.

She shook her head, apologetically, "I'm sorry, Jane. I guess I'm not hungry."

Her statement allowed him to do the same. "Yeah, me neither."

They pushed plates away and she quickly stood up. "Think I'll go through the clothes you have in storage here, maybe do some laundry."

Unsurprisingly, she wanted to keep her body busy to help stop her mind going where it might.

He grabbed the plates and brought them to the sink. "Sure, go ahead, I'll take care of these."

"Thanks."

Nervous energy emanated from her, "You-you need any laundry taken care of?"

The blush that accompanied her question eased some pressure and he raised an eyebrow, "I knew one of these days you'd want to see me in my boxers again, Lisbon."

"Yes or no?" She managed a half smile. It was pretty obvious it was for his benefit.

"I'm good but thanks," he said straight faced again.

As she nodded her response, she took off to the hallway swiftly.

"Hey," he said, as she hit the threshold of the living room and regained his attention, "we will get her back, okay?"

Green eyes blurred immediately. Dubiously, "Yeah, of-of course we will."

As she disappeared from view Jane dropped his head, pretence and mask dropping with it. He wasn't used to feeling this helpless and without a plan.

Not since…

And while he was sure that a lead would soon come to light – had to come to light – he was equally certain it would be accompanied with some pretty unpleasant repercussions. All that remained to be seen was just how unpleasant they would transpire to be.

Lisbon arrived in Jane's bedroom and yanked the cardboard boxes stored in his closet towards the wooden floor.

She still couldn't quite believe he'd kept her stuff for her. That he'd kept hoping she'd return to reclaim her belongings. Maybe reclaim him too?

She sighed loudly. She had enough going on to think about any of that right now.

She had to stay focused on the task ahead. Catch this bastard like she'd caught so many of them before. Become the cop she'd been again even if not in name. No more half measures or fear of getting swallowed up by anger. Instead, she'd let anger be her guide, her master.

She shrugged as she fiercely tore open the tape on a box. That had worked for Jane so why not for her? He'd found Red John by following that path, after all. And now he was dead and gone and out of his life forever.

She couldn't let Hightower down and either crumble or get distracted by what had just happened. Her fault or not (but, of course it was her fault Hightower had been the one chosen!) she had to be strong. There was simply no longer any choice in the matter.

As she opened the flaps on the box with a new bolt of energy, she caught sight of something entirely unexpected that made her stop immediately.

Her clothes weren't in this particular box.

She blinked and frowned as she slowly lifted the object towards her. A manila folder sat on the top of at least two dozen or so more. Glancing at the CBI logo, worn away by hands clutching it over and over again over many years, her eyes strayed to a tea rimmed circular stain on its cover. She held her breath as she opened it.

And as expected, a red smiley face stared back at her.

Sacramento

Around eight months earlier

It had taken a week to make arrangements on his end. He'd promised Stiles another favour in return for his help again and, while the cult leader was less than happy about assisting in Lorelei's escape once more, he eventually acquiesced. Stiles had asked about Lisbon, too, and made all the murmurings of someone concerned for her wellbeing. Jane had listened, rolling his eyes for almost the entire conversation. Perhaps Stiles believed he cared for Lisbon but Jane didn't buy much of what he sold. But he was a valuable asset in his arsenal, that was for sure.

Lorelei's escape on this occasion was made easier by a hospital appointment so it took Stiles' 'people' a lot less effort than it had taken to release her from a high security prison.

Once Jane was advised anonymously that Martins had been freed successfully, he swiftly put his side of the plan into action. He left his car parked and removed the battery from his cell phone on a quiet leafy street on the outskirts of Sacramento. It would be found, eventually, but by then he would be either successful in his pursuit or dead.

Or, perhaps, both.

He'd checked for security cameras in the area beforehand and was confident he couldn't be tracked on foot to the old navy sedan he'd bought for cash a few days before from a rather unscrupulous second hand car salesman.

He drove out of the city south and towards his prearranged meeting point with Lorelei. She was being driven there by one of Stiles' associates separately. Once he was on the open road, he opened the windows of his vehicle and turned on the radio. Lorelei's escape was on the news now and he briefly wondered if Cho would believe the narrative he'd concocted. Most likely he wouldn't. But, even if he didn't, he was absolutely certain the loyal CBI agent would not voice his suspicion to the FBI who would be also be in hot pursuit.

He'd filled up the tank when he bought the car so he didn't need to stop for gas before he found her. He saw her, two hours fifteen minutes later at a pre appointed truck stop.

He almost didn't, though.

After exiting the vehicle, he peered towards the café, where burly truckers ate hungrily after long shifts. He looked inside again more closely at every table in the place. Initially, he'd thought a petite attractive woman such as she would have stood out easily. Then, just as he was about to step back and head towards the back of the building towards the restroom facilities a small figure at the rear of the restaurant dressed in grey raised their head. Her eyes locked onto his and he couldn't stop his look of surprise. Her hair, once a healthy bundle of thick tresses, had disappeared and been replaced by a buzz cut. She nodded with a small smile as she stood up, indicating she'd meet him outside. Her eyes, large and owl like now, appeared haunted. The tracksuit provided for her hung on her diminutive frame and he was reminded of a World War II documentary he'd seen once on the liberation of a concentration camp.

He'd composed himself by the time they were face to face.

"We better get you out of here," he said, indicating the vehicle parked to his far left.

She shrugged, "There's no rush, Patrick. The television was on in the café and no one gave me a second glance. It's an old photo they're showing on the news."

He nodded wordlessly before he caught himself staring into her eyes again. "You suit the haircut," he said with a smile. She did.

"Not exactly my choice," she responded with another shrug.

She took in the sight of him again, a large cowboy hat covering his recognisable blond hair, vest removed and his shirt untucked over his suit pants. "See you're in disguise too, huh?"

"Well, better we're not spotted together. No doubt my good colleagues are looking for me too at this point."

She scoffed, "I imagine so."

She exhaled and spoke with more force, "All right, you're right, I guess. I have an ocean to see, after all."

He nodded with a genuine smile of his own. "Always a good day to go to the beach. Let's go."

They drove quietly and companionably for thirty or so minutes, radio tuned to a pop music station. Every now and then he checked his mirror and he'd see her mouth words to nineties songs as she looked out of the window, tap a foot along to a tune she recalled.

She seemed perfectly peaceful and accepting of her fate. Happy, even. Strangely, he envied her that. He wondered if he would feel the same soon once his quest was over. His thoughts turned to Red John and he struggled not to confront her about his identity. He hadn't mentioned him since he'd picked her up and neither had she. He said he'd give her what she wanted. And for now - he would.

They arrived at a secluded beach near San Luis Obispo an hour later. It was turning dusk and the few sun worshippers had departed for the day. Lorelei was the first out of the vehicle and made for the waterline, smiling widely as she breathed in the sea air and the receding sun's rays warmed her face. Jane joined her a few moments later, sidling up to her and put his hands into his pockets. He closed his eyes as they both immersed themselves in the same moment in time.

Softly, "It's beautiful here, Patrick. Thank you for bringing me."

"My pleasure."

He looked behind him, "I'll go make a fire. It'll be dark soon."

He'd brought a flask of soup and some salad for their makeshift campfire dinner. They ate on blankets Jane had in the car and, as the sun set, Lorelei wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Thanks for providing us with dinner."

He smiled, "Just repaying a favour. Sorry the soup wasn't warmer."

They shared a look. So much had happened to each of them since she'd come to him in that hotel room in Vegas it seemed like another lifetime.

"I'll take lukewarm chicken soup over prison food any day." She went on, "And...and thanks for not interrogating me right out of the gate."

He stretched his legs on the soft sand in front of him and looked into the black of the ocean. "Well, we have a deal, right?"

"Yes, we do."

He turned to look at her, read her openly. He nodded, satisfied.

He said, "So, tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'll take you to him tomorrow and we'll finish this."

"You're certain of where he'll be?"

"I'm sure, yes."

Jane breathed heavily. He was so close now. And one hundred per cent certain Lorelei wouldn't betray him this time. Whether he would betray her and take Red John out on his own he was still uncertain.

She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. "You do know that you'll more than likely die tomorrow, Patrick. That we both will."

She'd said it so matter-of-factly he was mildly surprised. But not at the statement itself.

"Yes. And that doesn't matter. As long as he dies too."

She nodded. "Good." She hesitated before she added, "That doesn't have to be the case, though. For you, I mean."

"We agreed we'd do this together, Lorelei. No changing the plan on me now."

She sighed, "I'm going to die, Patrick. Whether tomorrow or the day after that or the month after that. You don't have that fate hanging over your head. You-you have a life you could still lead. A new path you could take."

He shook his head with a mild chuckle. He'd expected this conversation once she was out. "I need to do this. It's the only thing that matters. The only thing I want."

"Liar."

He frowned as he stared back at her. Then he rolled his eyes. He knew where this was going too. So, he cut her off at the pass. "Okay," he admitted. "There are other…things that matter to me. But this is the most important of all of them."

"And how will she feel when she hears about what you did?"

Lisbon's 'ghost' was still around, it seemed. She could give La Roche a run for his money, he thought wryly.

"She'll understand. Sure, she'll be sad, probably angry too but…" he shrugged, "she's strong and she'll be fine. Might even give her the opportunity of a better life with me out of hers. She'll see that for herself one day. But, either way, it's none of your concern, Lorelei. This is my decision. And I intend on following through with it. You won't change my mind so save your breath."

She shook her head. "Patrick, it's obvious even to me she loves you- "

"Lorelei, no offence, but you know absolutely nothing of mine and Lisbon's relationship," he snapped.

"Maybe not but I know what love looks like."

He laughed mockingly, "Really? You think so? All you know is hero worship and brainwashing, my dear. You know nothing of love."

With tearful eyes she went back to staring at the fire.

"Look, I'm sorry-" he began.

"I wasn't talking about him, actually," she barked.

Confused, "Then?"

She exhaled, "I wasn't even talking of romantic love, actually."

"Oh." The penny dropped. "You're talking about your sister."

She nodded, "When we saw each other again the years apart didn't seem to matter. We fitted again. You know? Almost instantly. Like a part of ourselves had been missing the whole time and we had never even realised until we saw each other again."

He couldn't help but wonder if that would be the case with Lisbon, too. Then he sighed, dismissed the imaginary tale he'd started to spin to himself. The truth was that he would never see her again and he had to face that.

"I have to do this," he murmured quietly with determination.

He had no idea if he was trying to convince Lorelei.

Or himself.