White and Red and Dead All Over Part 2

Author: G. Waldo
Rating: Case-fic'. Some angst. humour, and of course Jane-pain.

Characters: Jane/Lisbon friendship; Jane/Cho According to protocol office romance
Summary: To save the team from a hostage situation and solve the case of the hostage taker, Jane must resort to some old talents - and die! (NON-character death).
Disclaimer: Not mine though I wish he was.

CBI

Cho drummed his fingers on his knee. He was getting cramped as were his teammates and he had to pee badly. He imagined it was worse for the women as in general female bladder size was smaller than a male's – less storage room. "I need to check on Jane." He whispered.

Not ten feet away Smith paced and fretted, muttering to himself.

Lisbon said "I'll go. You stay and work on our problem."

That wasn't what Jane wanted. "Jane asked for me to come back." Cho said, not clever with impromptu lying.

Lisbon frowned. "Why you?"

"I dunno'." He answered mysteriously, "but it seemed important to him."

Lisbon's expression abruptly switched, like a light going on. "Oh, oh, okay. You're right. It's Jane, you should go." She said. "Take care of him."

For a few seconds Cho pondered over how easy it had been to talk his boss into it, then - "Hey, Smith." He asked in his normal voice. "I need to check on our friend."

Smith himself walked over and had a casual peek behind the desk. "He looks okay to me. Sleeping."

That wasn't a good sign. "He's been shot – twice. That means he's not sleeping, he's probably unconscious which tells me he needs some attention." Cho argued.

Smith tossed the cuff key to Cho. "Fine. Check on him."

Cho unlocked his cuffs and quickly walked over to where Jane lay prone on the floor, stretching his muscles as he did so. "Hey pal." Cho said, kneeling down.

Jane stirred when Cho put two fingers on the pulse on the left side of his neck. "How ya' doing?" Evidently Jane had been resting, but he looked bad. Very pale, and his breathing had shallow-ed out.

"Stomach hurts." Jane said with no elaborations. To Cho, a Jane of few words was Jane in serious trouble. "Yeah? Is it worse? Where?"

Jane lifted his right hand and pointed to a general area in the middle of his abdomen directly beneath his navel. "Sore as hell."

It was clearly making it hard for him to breath. Fluid build-up Cho thought, but his medical know-how was limited. Could the wound be bleeding again? Was it bowel waste leaking into the surrounding tissue? Had his bladder been perforated and now uric acid was draining into his gut? Cho had no idea. Though he recalled a few things from his army days – all soldiers had been taught a few very basic medical treatments such as field dressings and the application of bandages to wounds, even setting a broken leg but that's where his knowledge ended.

"Is this where I'm supposed to tell them you're dead?" He didn't really want to go through with it. If there was only another option.

Jane asked "What time is it? Did I fall asleep?"

Cho looked at his watch. "Two-ten PM, and I'm not sure. But you're getting weak, Jane. If we're going to do this, we'd better step it up."

Jane said. "Did the food come?"

"Yes. His stomach's full." Cho explained. "He made Rigsby try some first."

"Wow, paranoid." Jane whispered, shifting his shoulders. The floor was an awful place to lay on your back for long. "Tell them I'm dead, let the kerfuffle die down, then bring me the coat."

"So from here-on in, you're dead?"

Jane nodded, immediately regretting the action when it made his head spin and the gash on his temple come to life again and sting. "If I'm dead, he won't come over here. How many times have you visited me?"

With everything going on, Cho had lost count. "I think this is the third time."

"Fourth and last time is the coat. Tell him you need to cover the body. Respect for the dead and all that. I'll be ready and I should have what you need then. O-h-h Lisbon's going to be somad at me for dying without letting her know first."

"Considering the circumstances, I'm sure she'll forgive you." Cho hated all this talk of Jane's soon-to-occur state of being dead. "What do I need by the way?"

"A way to open the cuffs – I hope."

"What makes you think I can pick a lock?"

"You picked the lock on my desk didn't you?" At Cho's sheepish expression, Jane smiled, enjoying catching his friend red-handed, even if it was a year later. "I knew it."

Cho smiled back at Jane's handsome face and then stopped, shocked at himself that he would think of his colleague in a term of such personal endearment. But it felt natural to do so. He smiled back, a thin parting of the lips, though it was unmistakable. "And what will you have?"

"A gun."

Cho blinked. "A gun?"

"Well, not a gun gun, but a kind-of gun...o-of sorts. I hope. It depends..."

"Your plan seems a bit shaky on the details, Jane"

Jane rolled his eyes. "So-rry. I'm not exactly at my best here. Besides, you got a better idea?"

Cho hated to say it. "No."

"Wait for my signal, and then get those cuffs off."

"What signal?"

"I'm going to turn into a mouse."

"What?"

"You'll know. Now go give them the bad news. Break a leg."

"I'll have to set the tone from right here. Close your eyes and play possum." Cho said, steeling himself. He took a deep breath, let it out and then another, suddenly raising his voice, pretending to shake Jane. "Jane? Jane!" Louder "Come on, Jane, don't do this! COME ON!" Then softer, his voice regretful, angry, bitter... "Oh my god...oh no..."

Lisbon called to him, her voice a soft panic. "Cho – what's going on? Talk to me!"

Cho stood, and slowly backed away from Jane. He then turned toward Smith; though making sure his colleagues could also see his expression clearly. His face was a mask of quiet fury. "You son-of-a-bitch!" He snarled.

Lisbon stared from angry Cho to the one who was still holding the gun, defiant and uncaring. "What the hell is happening Cho?" She demanded, her voice getting shriller.

Cho, breathing hard, his hands shaking fists, turned a stricken face to his boss, and forced the words out. "Jane...he couldn't...I'm sorry but...he's dead. Jane just died."

Cho turned his fury on Smith. "I had to watch my friend die, you miserable son-of-a-bitch. He could have been saved!" Cho thrust a finger to the office door."We had medics right outside the door, man. All we needed was to get one in here and he could have been SAVED!"

Looking back over his shoulder to their friend lying very still, his feet not moving, Cho then said to Lisbon and the others "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...there was nothing I could do. He must have been bleeding internally this whole time!" Cho, his cheeks tight with hatred, shouted the last word at Smith, and then to Lisbon once more he spoke, his words softer, kinder...sorry for her. "Lisbon, I'm sorry but Jane...he just lost too much blood. I'm sorry. I couldn't...there was just...there was nothing I could do."

Lisbon, frozen in disbelief and not moving for all of three seconds, then leaped to her feet, though her torso was half bent over as her wrist was still cuffed to the handle near the bottom of the filing cabinet. She stared at Smith with black eyes of hate and murder. "You goddamn BASTARD!" she shouted. "You son-of-a-BITCH!"

And then again, spitting the words at him, feeling her heart burst as she screamed the obscenities at him, none of them fit enough to convey the sudden aching loss. "You bastard-you-GODDAMN BASTARD!" She raged, yanking at the cuff until it bit into her wrist and made it bleed. Had she been able, she would have dragged the metal beast with her and fought him with one arm but these filing cabinets were top heavy, their bases bolted to the floor, and didn't budge.

Every evil act in the world had come down to him, this sorry excuse for a human being who had killed her friend, and Lisbon wanted him to end, to be sent into the dirt. To become nothing. "You goddamn sorry son-of-a-bitch! You-bastard! You-goddamn-fucking-BASTARD!"

Lisbon shouted until her throat was dry but never took her eyes off Jane's killer, hating him more than she thought it was possible to hate anyone. Yet she welcomed the sickness of it, because it filled up a hole suddenly drained of all hope. Because Jane was gone, and what else would she ever find to replace what he had meant to her? A meaning the depths of which had been anxiously lying in wait beneath her everyday waking life, rising up now, not to embrace her but to swallow her, hurt her, agonise every part of her.

Lisbon suddenly understood what Jane had felt that night. Finally, dramatically, with every torn vessel in her soul she understood the agony of losing someone whom you had no idea how deeply you...how deeply you...until they were no longer there to uphold you and receive it. Lisbon understood now but he was gone and she could not tell him. She would never be able to tell him.

Jane was gone.

Jane was dead. He was dead.

With that last thought, Lisbon slumped back down to the floor and cupped her face in her free hand. There were no tears, only a fearsome, coiled rage against the death of her friend and colleague and that other word easily applied to him, yes, yes, oh - absolutely yes!, but one that Lisbon still refused to say in her heart because what was the point of it now?

Lisbon's mind and senses reeled, making the room move around her in a carousel. She was still and mute at the centre of the universe. Everything else moved through the air and went on but not her. Because it was impossible to accept that she would never speak to him again or watch him sip his awful flowery tea or smile her way or tease her, or bring her fruit while extolling its virtues, or joke with the others, or bend his brilliant mind to a task and produce the perpetrator with the ridiculous ease of a born-genius.

It was too hard to believe, too wrong for it to be true. After all Jane had survived, after all he had been through, the thought that this pathetic, useless, two-bit thug would take his life - Jane's life, Jane's beautiful life, his good, caring and hopeful life, the life of a man who had survived all those awful things - it was too crushing to be real. It was an insult, a transgression, a sin against goodness, an injury to the world. A putrid violation against all that made sense in the private world of her heart. It was so, so cruel. So horribly, unconscionably wrong and cruel in every way.

Lisbon whispered it aloud to herself, trying to come to terms with it, so she could still be of some use to her team. So she could put aside the picture of Jane's handsome, smiling face, still very much alive in her mind, and cope with the situation at hand. "You goddamn bastard. How dare you?" She breathed, the words spilling from her tongue in a hiss like the venom of a snake "How dare you..."

When she raised her head next, she saw Rigsby, his eyes sad for Jane, holding Grace in one strong arm as she shed tears over the senseless death of their friend. But still their eyes looked her way. She was still their leader, and they were not done yet. "You'll pay for this." Lisbon said to Smith, her voice calm again, her manner still a cop, still the one with the law and what was right on her side. "You'll pay for this. I promise you that."

CBI

Despite the death of the CBI agent on his conscience, Smith still ordered Cho to cuff himself once more.

Outside the room, the FBI special Agent in charge kept calling, trying to establish a rapport with Smith, to which Smith largely ignored other thasn to every once in a while shout back, telling them to shut up.

"It won't be long now." Lisbon said to the gunman. "You've murdered a member of this team. You're "leverage" as you called him, just left you high and dry." She pointed out. Her voice was almost taunting. "There's nowhere to go, nothing left to negotiate. You're done-for, Smith. This little show-down is over." Lisbon said, almost gleeful. "You're only move, and it's the only one that's going to keep you alive, is to give yourself up right now."

Smith looked at her but said nothing.

Lisbon wasn't finished. "Look at you." she said contemptuously, "You're pacing like a caged animal." It was an apt metaphor. "It's over. Any minute now, they're going to come through that door and shoot until you are dead." She spread her one free hand in a substitution for a shrug. "Personally I don't have a problem with that. But if you give yourself up now and play nice – you might be looking at twenty years. You'll be out before social security. Wait - and it doesn't look good. Mostly for you."

Cho listened while he watched the clock. It had been ten minutes since his performance. How many minutes would be appropriate before he asked Smith for permission to cover the "corpse"? Five? Ten?

Ten minutes had gone. It was now or never. "Hey Smith." Cho spoke up, interrupting his boss. "It may go a certain way with the guys outside of you let me cover my friend's body." He suggested. "They don't look too kindly on a cop being left out in the open like garbage, you know what I mean?"

Smith, his arms held close to his body, his gun tilted up and away from them, his eyes darting everywhere, stopped his eternal pacing. "Cover him with what?"

Cho saw his opening. "Well, your coat's the only thing in here and, like I said, they see some sign you've being remorseful, it could help your side of things. We know you didn't mean to kill him."

"You're damn right." Smith answered back. "It was a mistake, that's all. The guy – the guy caught me by surprise." Smith was looking more and more worried as the minutes ticked by and Cho could see the guy was right on the cusp of either throwing up his hands and surrendering or freaking out and shooting anything that moved.

The fuse on the whole situation was getting short. "We get it. So let me cover him up, hmm?" Cho urged the fellow gently. "He's dead. Let's show the dead some respect, okay?"

Smith wiped the sweat off his face, looking over his shoulder nervously at the dead man he had killed. "Shit." He whispered to himself, but tossed the cuff key to Cho once more. Cho unlocked his wrist and tossed the key back. Smith stuffed it back in his jeans pocket. "Okay." Smith said. "Use the damn coat and hurry up."

Cho gathered up Smith's coat, a nice lengthy type meant for rainy days, and approached Jane's "body" respectfully. He glanced back at his fellows who watched him with their tired and sorrowful eyes, then carefully spread the garment over Jane, making sure all of it was tucked in neatly at his sides.

"Goodbye buddy." He whispered though audibly enough for the sake of the listening-in Smith and the team, milking the gesture for all it was worth. Cho's watchful eye caught a slight movement from beneath the coat and he crouched down to make as though he were smoothing the fabric. Just then Jane slipped something into his hand. Cho fisted his hand and stood up.

He returned to his seat, slipping the cuff back over his wrist and snapping it in place. "Thanks." He said, nodding to Smith. Then, when Smith's pacing had taken him a few feet farther away, he whispered to Lisbon and the team. "Get ready."

Cho showed them what was in his hand. It was a thick metal hairpin, and Cho swiftly and expertly stripped the plastic ends off and bent one end of it to ninety degrees.

"Where'd you get that?" Lisbon asked. Who even used hairpins now-a-days?

Cho wasn't sure he should divulge who it was who had provided their tiny metal saviour. "Just a second." He said, as he stuck the bent end in and then rotated it over and back in a small arch. The restraint on his wrist popped open easily.

Cho spoke to a surprised Lisbon while he kept his eye on Smith who had returned to his pointless pacing. "Don't get mad, don't freak-out and for god's sakes, don't shout." He whispered fiercely to her.

Lisbon stared back at him. "Okay."

"You promise?"

Lisbon narrowed her eyes at him. Cho being inscrutable was one thing, but their team stoic begging for favours? "I promise, now what's going on before I beat it out of you?"

"I got this from Jane." He said keeping his eye on his boss to make sure she kept her word. "He took it from Smith's coat pocket." Cho worked on the cuffs on the other team members and at the same time watched Lisbon's face change to one of mute anger over to realization, then simple joy, then finally settling into a stone-cold fury.

"I swear to god that man will be the death of me." She said under her breath, though her heart was singing with guarded relief.

Once she got Jane's lying ass to Emergency, they were going to have many, many words, but first things first. "What's his plan?" Lisbon asked Cho.

Van Pelt and Rigsby had both clued in to what Cho was saying, that Jane was indeed alive, and Rigsby asked, anxious to get the show on the road and their friend to the hospital. "And what do we do?"

"Jane's going to "make like a mouse"." Cho saw their faces. "I think he meant he's going to create a distraction of some sort and that we should be ready for it."

"What kind of distraction?' Lisbon whispered, still trying to convince her heart that this wasn't also some sort of cruelty and that Jane was not alive as Cho insisted but still dead and forever beyond her reach.

"I don't know, but knowing Jane it'll be innovative."

Lisbon steadied her breathing, but her stubborn heart still pounded in residual grief. It was a good stubborn she decided. "Cho how is he – really?" She asked.

"In pain and not looking too good, but I think he'll live."

Lisbon nodded, hanging onto that with every morsel of strength she possessed. "Good. Because once this is over, I plan on killing you both."

CBI

Jane cracked one eye just enough to keep tabs on where Smith was in relation to him, and very carefully, being absolutely silent as he did so, he searched the coat's left pocket with his fingers. Very, very slowly, he felt around and discovered in turn a pencil, a clothes-pin and a small screw. Equally carefully he felt around in the right pocket and withdrew two small Lego pieces and a folded paper.

In his own suit pocket he found two thick rubber bands, the plastic top from a pen and a stick of chewing gum. Jane watched to make sure Smith was on the other side of the room, then stripped the cover off the gum and stuck it in his mouth, chewing for a few minutes until it was soft and pliable. It tasted like green mint making him wonder where he had gotten the gum since he hated green mint.

Once it was thoroughly chewed, Jane assembled all the little discoveries beneath his cadaver coat and considered his options. The items were enough to do what he wanted. He only hoped his aim was good enough, as the morphine had worn off hours ago. His fingers were shaking, and the ache in his head and the pain in his stomach did not ease up for a moment. Never-the-less Jane set to making his little surprise for Smith.

Cho was concerned that perhaps Jane had passed out and their little plan was all for naught and said as much to Lisbon. Lisbon agreed. "But the cuffs are off." She explained. "As soon as Smith turns his back for long enough, we're going to strike."

Cho wasn't sure that was the best idea. "What happens if we screw it up?" He asked. "Or if Smith turns quickly enough to pull the trigger before we get to him? He might just shoot Jane again just to teach us a lesson."

Lisbon knew it was a risk. "If we stay here much longer, Jane really could die." She pointed out. And that was a possibility she simply refused to come face to face with again. "We give him another five minutes, and then we act." She said.

They all agreed.

Smith waved his gun at them. "Shut up. Stop talking."

To his right, around the corner of the desk he heard something, a scratching he thought. When he went to look, it had already stopped. He quickly averted his eyes from the sight of the dead body beneath his coat. He should not have allowed them to use his coat. How could he ever wear it again once it had touched a corpse?

Just as he turned his head away, Smith heard the scratching again. "I think you got mice in your expensive government building." He said contemptuously. The place was probably running with vermin.

Smith reached down to remove his coat from the body, ready to step on the mouse or rat he expected to see there, perhaps nibbling on the dead flesh.

But there was no mouse and no rat under the coat, just the dead body of the man he had killed, and in the next second the corpse itself did what no corpse should do, it raised its arm and aimed something at his face. A soft snapping sound reached his ears just as something sharp and painful hit him squarely in his right eye. Smith dropped his gun and screamed, instinctively raising his hands to cover his painful eye. A trickle of blood seeped out between his fingers and he stumbled back, losing his balance.

In the next instant, three CBI agents were on him, shouting orders at him and yanking his hands painfully behind him, placing on his wrist the very kind of cuffs he had made each of them wear for hours.

And in the next instant after that people in uniform and Kevlar vests poured into the office, long guns raised, aimed and ready to fire.

Full of fury and triumph, Lisbon said to the Agent in charge. "This man," she pointed, "who calls himself "Smith" does not ride to the hospital in the same chopper as my agent. Clear?" She barked. No one argued. "He gunned down an unarmed CBI agent." She informed them all. "I expect you to treat him accordingly."

With other law enforcement members present, Lisbon left Smith to Cho and the others to secure the gunman and turned to see the "corpse", Jane, very much alive despite his injuries, smiling like the sunshine and babbling. "Holy crap - it worked!" It was Jane's animated voice and his living handsome face and Lisbon's heart jumped with sheer delight.

"It worked." He let his arm fall to his side, his pain and exhaustion complete. "I can't believe it. It actually worked, Lisbon. It did."

"Okay MacGyver, settle down." Lisbon said stepping over to him as the paramedics lifted him onto a gurney in preparation for a flight to the nearest hospital. Lisbon could hear the chopper on the roof with its engines running at quarter-speed, waiting for its human cargo.

Jane looked up at Lisbon, apology in his eyes. He was in pain and bleeding but he was still Jane, and because of that the business of solving a crime came first. "He's a father, Lisbon. Prob'ly just lost his only visiting right to's chilr'n 'cause of his drinking. Must've exhausted his options through the courts..."

Jane spoke in bits and starts, the little energy he had left making it hard for him to speak in full sentences. "P'lice come to the house...tend to side with the mother. Th'dad was prob'ly arrested for trying to see his kids. Found Lego's in 'is pocket, and a legal paper - his wife's suing for sole custody. He's in pain...he's in pain..."

Lisbon looked down at him. Losing a child - a thing Jane would understand better than any of them. A reason, perhaps in Jane's eyes anyway, to forgive the shooter.

Then Jane said to her. "Sorry I'ad to lie to you." He said, wincing. Even speaking made his head hurt now.

"Be quiet." Lisbon gently scolded. "You're going to the hospital. We'll talk later." She bent down and effortlessly pried the device out of Jane's fingers, startled at how weak he was. Somehow, despite that weakness, Jane had fashioned the little screw-shooter on the fly, using it to send said screw six feet through the air at a respectable speed, right into the soft mushy parts of Smith's right eye. It was a bizarre sight: Smith standing there in cuffs with a two inch screw protruding from the white part of his right eye, a small wad of green-coloured gum hanging off the metal end.

She recognised the device's form. "A rubber band gun?" She looked at him with renewed respect. "What made you think of it?"

"It's surprising - isn't it? - the dangerous objects one can make with normal, everyday items?" He remarked.

A helpful paramedic sent some morphine into Jane's veins and the blonde's face went from in-pain-but-still-a-looker to positively angelic, and Lisbon could not help but give her troublesome mentalist a pleased-as-punch smile.

Lisbon tucked the devise in her pocket but when Jane reached out to take it back she took his limp hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry. I'll put it in your desk." She assured him. "It'll be here when you get back."

Jane nodded and Lisbon let his hand go. The paramedics were taking him away. Jane looked up sleepily at the medic nearest him. "Di' you thee-that..." Jane spoke his own version of the name on the fellow's lapel, "George-ie?" Jane slurred, the morphine taking full effect. "e'really worked..."

Lisbon looked over at Cho. He had stood nearby the whole time, his arms crossed, oddly silent, but listening as Jane had explained his little invention to the boss lady, and she could guess what Cho was thinking.

"Cho..." She said, feeling sorry for him. The last few weeks had been hard on his love-life. A broken heart sucked. "...go with him."

CBI

When the surgeon finally let them know that Jane was in recovery, Cho waited until the others went for coffee or bathroom breaks before he slipped down the forbidden hall and into the private room CBI had secured for their hero of the day.

Jane was still sedated but Cho wanted his to be the first face Jane saw when he awoke.

Hours later he did, groggily, turning his eyes to scan the room until he saw something familiar.

"Hey." Cho said in greeting.

"Hey." Jane said, his voice scratchy from the intra-operative breathing tube and the drugs still playing around with his vocal chords and mind.

"I remember." Cho said simply.

It had come to him in full colour, all at once, bright and agonising while Lisbon had screamed her sorrowing wrath at Smith. Lisbon's vocal and public grief over Jane's "death" had poked holes in his mind, exposing the memory gaps for what they had been; not gaps but coverings. A shroud to block out the mingling sweat, the hungry lips and the physical wonders they had shared. A heavy cloak choking his deepest feelings beneath its weight.

Jane looked back at Cho, copping right away to his meaning. "How much?"

"Enough to know you didn't love me the way I did. And do."

"I'm sorry."

"You were afraid of Red john – what he might do. I get it."

"I wasn't afraid-"

"-You forget – I'm a detective, too. You didn't want to risk Red John coming after me."

Jane coughed, brining up some phlegm and Cho fetched him a tissue. Jane spit into it, wadding it up in his fist. "Are you going to kick my ass?"

"No." Cho tossed the used tissue in the trash.

"Good."

"I'm going to let Lisbon kick your ass."

"Not as good."

Cho stared at him, forcing the thoughts he wanted, the wishes and the hopes aside. Jane was still alive and that was so good. It was enough.

Almost.

It would have to be.

But Red John was also alive and that was not so satisfying a thought.

Jane sighed, and his eyes drooped. "Are we going to be okay?" He asked Cho, wishing things were different. Wishing he could be different.

"Yes."

That seemed to relax the blonde and he sank into his pillow. "I...tried, you know. I mean...us."

Cho understood. "I know." But Jane'd had too much hanging over his head for too long to allow himself the freedom - to gift his own heart the choice of loving someone again. Red John was still number one in Jane's life. Cho felt sorry for him. "She loves you, you know."

Jane stared at him, understanding the meaning though his face gave nothing away.

Cho left it alone. "You need anything?"

"Better luck." Jane joked. Only it was no joke.

Cho stood and leaned over him, tracing his hairline with his fingers, and gently playing with the curls. "Sorry, I'm fresh out."

Jane looked up at his friend, colleague, and former lover. "You're going to kiss me aren't you?"

"Maybe for the last time, yeah." Cho said softly.

"Maybe?"

"Yeah - maybe. What are you gonna' do about it?"

Jane smiled. It was good to have friends in lovers and lovers in friends. It was good to be alive.

Jane shook his head. "Nothing..."

CBI END

Stayed tuned in for the next, new Jisbon-ish fic-isode.