Title: Endless Night
Author: Divinia Serit
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon, Lisbon/Bosco
Spoilers: Season 2, His Red Right Hand
Disclaimer: *glances at bank account....* nope!
A/N: Written for Cat (boutondor) who won a story from me on the Help_Haiti community on LiveJournal. Thank you for donating! Title is a song from The Lion King musical. Rating may change to M in later chapters. AU after HRRH.
"You promised you'd be there, whenever I needed you.
Whenever I call your name, you're not anywhere.
I'm trying to hold on, just waiting to hear your voice.
One word, just a word will do-
To end this nightmare."
-Endless Night, The Lion King
Her hands were raw.
She couldn't tear her gaze away from the rust-tinted water that swirled around the porcelain basin. She continued to scrub. Her hands were stinging now. Choking back a sob, she reached for the antibacterial soap once more. The lemony citrus scent overwhelmed her senses; and the sterile smell lingered throughout the room. The bottle was almost empty. Her eyes slid up to the mirror in front of her, breaking the spell she seemed to be under. Jerking her hands out of the scalding water, she slammed her fist into the reflective glass. Shards of the mirror scattered over the sink as she continued her assault. It was the sight of a thin line of red trailing from her bloody knuckles that made her stop. Sinking to her feet, she buried her face in her knees and let the tears fall.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed. Eyes rimmed red, she plodded barefoot to the kitchen, and stared at the pitiful contents of her refrigerator. Her hand hovered near the bottle of whisky before moving it aside, and carefully extracting an unopened bottle of wine. Glass in one hand, bottle in the other, she numbly made her way back to the bathroom. Ignoring the mess on the counter, she started to fill the large tub. Rummaging through a few cabinets, she emerged with an old bottle of bubble bath- the scent of jasmine wafting serenely through the air. Silently, she peeled off her blood-stained clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner. She wouldn't try to clean them. They'd go straight into the garbage in the morning.
Gracefully, she slipped into the soapy water- the temperature was almost too hot to stand. She hissed as the water splashed over her scraped knuckles, but she refused to give into the pain. Stretching her toes out, she leaned her head against the top of the tub and let the hot water soothe her aching muscles. Holding her breath, she submerged herself; the bubbles tickled her nose. She remained underwater as long as her lungs would allow before gulping in a large breath. Reaching for a clip, she piled her wet hair on top of her head and closed her eyes, unable to stop the flood of memories from bursting through.
He was gone.
Bosco was a good man. Hell, he was the type of man every agent dreamed of serving with. Fiercely loyal and protective, he had never sheltered her. She had grown, both as a person and an agent, and she owed everything to him. No one wanted to take a chance on a female agent. She had endured the distasteful jokes and snide comments others made just within earshot. He had never belittled her, never harassed her, and most importantly, he always believed in her. He let her make her own mistakes, questioned her decisions from time to time, and encouraged her to think on her feet and trust her instincts. The results had shown. The truth was, she wouldn't have been here without Samuel Bosco.
A salty tear slowly fell down her cheek and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out. The tangy metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she quickly reached for her wine glass. Her brow furrowed as she drew in a long sip of the tart liquid. Swirling it around her mouth, she slowly swallowed it and reigned in her emotions. One little outburst was enough. She refused to fall apart again. Sighing deeply, her eyes flickered open and locked on the pale grey tile covering the wall. Focusing on the blank spot, she tried to fight the wave of guilt that threatened to overflow. She would never be able to face Mandy Bosco again. She replayed countless memories trying to decide if she had ever misled him. His last words should have been to his faithful wife, not confessing his forbidden love for her.
The horrible thing was that it was true. She did love him, but she had made the decision long ago to never acknowledge her feelings. He was off-limits, and she was not the type of woman to chase after a married man. She was content with their friendship, their partnership. For goodness sake, she babysat their children occasionally. Mandy had always treated her with respect, trusting her husband to stay true to his commitment, and a tentative friendship bloomed. They were of two different worlds, but she enjoyed spending time with the Bosco's and until her transfer, they had always included her in family affairs. There was no possible way she could look Mandy in the eyes without confessing her betrayal.
Blinking, she clumsily swiped at her misty eyes. The wine was long gone, and the water had gone cold while she remained lost in unpleasant thought. Stepping out of the tub, she grabbed a thick green towel and wrapped it around her chilled body. Carefully stepping around the broken glass scattered on the floor, she made her way into her bedroom. While she walked, she curled her toes into the plush carpet, finding comfort in the familiar habit. A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie, and she changed direction, not caring that she was clad only in a towel. Not bothering to glance through the peephole, she cracked the door open and wasn't really surprised at the head of familiar blond hair.
She silently gestured for him to enter as she locked the door behind him. She could almost feel the waves of pity rolling off of him, and she started to get angry. He had no right to disturb her. No right to judge her in the aftermath, especially after his behavior in the hospital. Clutching the towel tighter to her body, she narrowed her eyes and ignored his appraising stare.
"What do you want?" she questioned rudely. If he was going to intrude, he could at least get to the point. His next words almost made her drop the towel she was so carefully holding on to.