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Teresa Lisbon takes to wearing long-sleeved shirts after Patrick Jane leaves. Kimball Cho only notices it, after a case gone terribly wrong and rumors that the boss might be doing heroin. Of course, she’s lost weight and her hair isn’t as well-kept as before but Cho doesn’t hold that against her.
Sitting in the hospital waiting room, squeezed in between Grace Van Pelt and Wayne Rigsby, Cho blames Jane. He’s done plenty of things to Lisbon over the years, but nearly ruining her career and breaking her heart at the same time is the last straw to Cho. Standing from his uncomfortable chair as the doctor steps in, Cho listens as they’re told Lisbon will survive the gunshot to her chest after a few hours in surgery.
Good-hearted Rigsby blurts out the question haunting all of them, even if none of them say it: “Is she okay?”
The doctor looks hesitant, and because Cho is Lisbon’s emergency contact, he asks for a sidebar with the doctor.
The doctor is young, and the ceiling panels are sheer white, as the doctor explains the reason for Lisbon’s sudden taking to long-sleeved shirts in 90-degree California weather. It’s not heroin, much to Cho’s relief, but the fact she’s been carving her arm like a caterer carves meat for serving instead.
Cho doesn’t say anything. He simply nods and returns to the waiting room, where Rigsby and Van Pelt sit.
Van Pelt stands from her chair. “The boss okay?”
“Yeah,” he lies.
::::
Rigsby isn’t stupid. There’s something going on about Lisbon, and Cho is keeping it from them.
After she returns from medical leave, something forced upon her both by Director Gale Bertram and Supervisor-Agent-in-Charge Luther Wainwright, Cho spends a lot of time in her office. He doesn’t know what they discuss, but sometimes, Lisbon leaves the office looking a lot sadder than before.
Cho, of course, never says a thing; he does his work, keeps his head down, and continues to drop by Lisbon’s office as though she’s fragile.
(Rigsby doesn’t think she’s fragile though. Lisbon is the boss. She’s strong, independent and if something was wrong, they’d all know it, because they’re a family.)
He’s not saying he hasn’t noticed all of the weight loss, or the times she snaps at them, or the days where she locks herself in her office, and only comes out for coffee because he totally has. He’s tracked her movement with his eyes, even when he’s supposed to be filling out paperwork; and he’s noticed how baggy her clothes look, and how sad she looks, and sometimes, it makes him want to leave a voicemail for Jane.
He’s not sure what he would say, aside from, “hey man, you leaving wasn’t okay,” because what do you say to a co-worker, who up and left without a care in the world after a fight with Wainwright? Does he apologize for not taking Jane’s side? Or does he just ignore the pink elephant in the room that Jane really fucked up by leaving?
“You think he’ll come back?” Grace asks after he’s been staring at Jane’s couch for longer than necessary. Rigsby glances at her. “You don’t think he will.” It’s not a question, and he slowly nods in response. Jane hadn’t been well when he left, and if he doesn’t somehow off himself - Rigsby knows it’ll be a miracle.
From behind him, there is the sound of footsteps, and without looking back, Rigsby knows it’s Cho.
“She okay?”
As usual, Cho says nothing as he sinks into his seat. Rigsby’s not too offended by the lack of answer though, because that’s just who Cho is. If Jane was Lisbon’s left-hand man, Rigsby thinks, then Cho is her right-hand man .
And the right-hand man doesn’t just share secrets that aren’t his to share, because he’s amongst extremely good friends.
::::
Grace isn’t as naive as she used to be, thanks to Craig O’Laughlin. So, she listens when her gut tells her that something isn’t quite right with Lisbon. It’s not the way Lisbon barks at them, but rather, the heavy feeling of sadness that the boss wears like a cardigan. Or a blazer. Lisbon told them, the day after Jane left, that Jane’s leaving was inevitable and that they all needed to move on.
Grace thinks she’s done a pretty good job at moving on, ignoring the whole O’Laughlin fiasco and a few emotions that she can’t quite place, but Lisbon’s not doing so well. Jane, aside from the job, was Lisbon’s whole world; she spent countless hours with him, and honestly, Grace wouldn’t have been surprised if they were secretly dating or something. Wayne tells her it’s not possible because it’s the boss and Jane!?
“We dated in secret,” Grace points out to him, one night, as they’re in the bullpen late. “So, why would it be completely impossible to think that Jane and Lisbon weren’t?”
Shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders, probably ready to go home to Sarah and Baby Ben, Wayne cocks his head at her and lowers his voice as if he’s telling a secret. “Lisbon’s in her office, Grace. Don’t let her hear you.”
Grace rolls her eyes. “She’s over six feet away, Wayne. In her office, with the blinds drawn. I doubt she can hear what I say.”
“You’re as bad as Wainwright’s secretary at the water cooler,” Wayne points out to her, and Grace frowns, because no , she’s certainly not as bad as Sydney, who started the rumor that Lisbon was on heroin. At least Grace’s theory has substance. Something, she gladly points out to Wayne. “I think we’d notice if they were a thing, Grace. Jane’s not exactly subtle. Remember Krystina Frye? Erica Flynn? That Tamera woman?”
Grace blinks. “Tamera doesn’t count, because Jane didn’t know what he was doing.”
“To be fair, Jane never knows what he’s doing; he just causes us grief and expects us all to clean it up.” Grace nods at Wayne’s logical assessment of Jane. “If he and the boss were secretly hooking up, we’d know is all I’m saying.”
“We had sex in the interrogation rooms,” Grace reminds him. “Why is it so wrong to think they could have been doing the same thing? It would certainly explain Lisbon’s deep sadness.”
“You know what else explains Lisbon’s sadness?” Wayne asks her. “Her missing her best friend.”
“You’re telling me that you don’t see it?”
“See what?”
Cho chimes in from the doorway, his voice gruff. “That they’re possibly fucking like rabbits?” Grace turns her head to him, eyes wide at his coarse language. “I’ve heard the rumors too. Wasn’t born under a rock.”
“I never said you were,” Grace responds even though she sometimes thinks it.
“Is this conversation absolutely necessary?” Wayne asks, and he sounds absolutely horrified that they’d ever broach the topic. Grace stares him down until he blurts out. “It’s just...it’s Lisbon. She doesn’t have...she’s not into him.”
If Jane were there, he would have teased Wayne mercilessly.
“It’s just sex,” Cho replies stoically. Wayne sputters. “You know, the thing you and Sarah did to conceive a baby.”
“I know what sex is!” Wayne bursts out, his cheeks ruddy. “It’s just...Jane and Lisbon? Come on, Cho. Don’t tell me you put money into that ridiculous office pool too.” Although it’s not exactly hilarious, Grace can’t help but chuckle at the idea of Cho betting any amount of money on Lisbon’s sex life.
“There’s a pool?”
Wayne nods and throws his hands into the air. “How did you not know about this? Even Ray Haffner knows, and he doesn’t even really work here!”
“Haffner’s obsessed with Lisbon,” Cho comments as if it’s just logic. “Why wouldn’t he be invested?” Grace tilts her head at the pseudo-confession. “Lisbon’s nice, but not my type.”
“What is your type?” Wayne asks and Grace moves to smack him because they’re not having that conversation here. “Hey. Can’t I be a little curious?”
“No,” both Cho and Grace chime in.
“You can’t even talk about Lisbon’s sex life without stammering like an idiot,” Cho tells him, point-blank. “So again, no.”
“It’s also none of your business.”
Wayne stares at them both, pretending to pout. “Since when did it become heckle Wayne Rigsby day?”
Grace rolls her eyes again, ignoring him. “Lisbon’s upset, Wayne. Do you think she’d be this upset if one of us left?”
Wayne seems to mull it over for a moment before he shrugs. “I don’t pretend to know her.”
“Haven’t you worked with her for nearly a decade?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Wayne continues. “It’s Lisbon . Our boss .”
“No,” Cho deadpans, “We absolutely get that.”
“That’s like talking about sex between your parents.”
“So, now you’re calling them our parents?” Cho asks as he crosses his arms against his chest. “How messed up was your childhood?”
“Guys,” Grace interrupts. Wayne glances at her, his hands extended. “Again, not the point. They obviously aren’t our parents.” She glances at Cho. “You break him, you’re responsible for explaining to Lisbon why he can’t look her in the eye.”
Cho glances upwards before he simply shrugs. “Alright.”
::::
Unlocking her blackberry for the fifth time in almost an hour, Lisbon stares at the contact picture she has for Patrick Jane and feels her heartbreaking for the umpteenth time. They weren’t lovers or anything, but they were partners - and partners don’t just up and leave one another.
(Partners also don’t go and bury psychopaths alive either, but hey, what’s done is done.)
Lisbon takes a sip from her lukewarm coffee and considers calling Jane again. She’s left him two voicemails so far, and neither of them is a cry for help (or so she tells herself). She just wants to know that he’s safe and sound and that he’s not actually lost his goddamn mind. It’s again, not because she loves him, but because he’s her friend, and friends are supposed to care about one another.
Friends aren’t supposed to leave either , Lisbon thinks, her chest tightening.
She knows she’s been an absolute nightmare to her team since Jane’s disappearance, and she knows people are whispering behind her back. She knows all about the gossip, and the pool involving her and Jane, and the supposed heroin addiction she has. It’s always something new with the crones at the CBI watercooler, all because she changes her hair or wears something a little too flattering.
Guys don’t have this problem , Lisbon thinks again. She’s never heard Rigsby or Cho being scrutinized at the watercooler, just because they’ve changed something about their appearances. Hell, she didn’t even hear Rigsby being scrutinized after his breakup with Grace and that relationship had been one giant dumpster fire. She remembers something Jane told her when Wainwright had taken the mantle - that the CBI was full of sexist hens (including Wainwright). Lisbon had argued with him because the boss deserved respect and Jane had rolled his eyes.
“He’ll get my respect when he stops looking like a thirteen-year-old at a father-daughter dance.”
At that very moment, Lisbon had wanted to strangle him as she so often dreamed. But now? She just wants to bring him home and set everything right again. Of course, she’s angry with him, but if he just comes back to her, she’ll let it all go and forgive him.
Lisbon frowns. She’s done a lot of not-so-good things since Jane’s been gone. She’s drinking herself into a stupor. She’s used a knife on her arms. She’s purposely gotten shot, just so she can feel something other than the anger and depression that she’s tried to shake. Unfortunately for her, nothing works to soothe her pain.
Instead, she goes through all the motions.
She shows up to work, tries to close case-after-case to no avail, and then she goes home. She ignores the nights out with the team, the calls from Walter Mashburn, and chooses instead to stare at a contact, that she knows will never call.
She knew hiring Patrick Jane would be a detriment to her career, after all, how could he not be? She just didn’t know he’d be a detriment to her personal life either.
Sighing, she stares down at her phone. I’m not pining, she thinks, I’m just hurting .
Hurting, because he closed her out.
Hurting, because he left without saying goodbye.
Hurting , because she couldn’t stop him from leaving.
There’s a soft knock at her door, and she quickly shoves the phone away and wipes her eyes, just in case. “Come in.”
She watches as Cho pushes open the door, and steps inside her office. She waits for him to say something - anything - but instead, he just sits down on her office couch and pulls out a book. She keeps waiting for him to drop the hammer - to tell her she’s reminding him of a lovesick puppy - but it never comes.
“You don’t have to sit in here,” Lisbon tells him. “I’m fine, so you know.”
Cho doesn’t look at her as she’s about to fall apart. He just looks at her, as he’s always done and that’s pretty comforting.
“It’s better for the back.”
She says nothing, as she glances back down at her paperwork for the day. If he wants to use his back as a reason to sit in her office, she won’t say a word. In fact, she’ll just concentrate on the witness statements and pretend he doesn’t know a thing about her personal life.
After a few moments of silence, however, Lisbon sighs and pushes the paperwork aside. Cho glances up at her from his book. “Boss?”
Lisbon glances at him. “I’m not fragile, you know?” Cho merely nods. “And the rumors about me aren’t true.”
“The one where you’re doing heroin in the employee bathroom?” Cho asks. Lisbon nods, rolling her eyes. Who comes up with these things? “Figured as much.”
She goes a few more moments without saying anything until she decides to ask the question that’s been haunting her for weeks. “Why haven’t you said anything about what you learned in the hospital?” Cho closes his book and stares at her. “I could be unfit for duty.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then, what’s the point of this conversation?” Cho sounds almost bored. “You haven’t done anything to prove that you’re unfit for duty.” She goes to lift her sleeves, to show the light crisscrossing of marks on her skin, but Cho stops her with his hand. “Jane’s an idiot, so we’re both clear.” Lisbon tilts her head in surprise. “You’ve continuously put your career on the line for him, all in the name of Red John, and he decides now is a convenient time to have a mental breakdown?” Cho briefly shakes his head. “It’s okay to be upset. Angry, even.”
“I’m not upset,” she lies.
“Okay.”
She glances down at the witness statements. “What if, hypothetically, I was upset about him leaving?”
“Then, you’re upset.”
“And that’s okay?” Lisbon asks.
“You’re, hypothetically, allowed to be upset,” Cho responds with a shrug. “Again, Jane’s an idiot.”
“An idiot, who I hypothetically, care about.”
Cho glances at her. “Were there other ways of handling this entire situation? Yes. Did Jane think about any of them? Probably not.” He pauses. “You’re allowed to feel any way you want, and nobody can tell you otherwise.”
“Hypothetically?”
“Hypothetically.”
And for the first time in weeks, Lisbon smiles slightly.