AN: Lisbon's thoughts after Jane leaves her on the beach. A tag to 6x06

She sits alone in the dark, kicked literally to the kerb. She is dejected and entirely on her own, but isn't she always when it comes to him? How she had felt, how her heart had leapt, not wanting, not daring to believe that after all this time he was choosing to do this now. She hadn't moved, had barely dared to breathe for fear of throwing him off his words. She had half-laughed, half sighed in disbelief and love. The massive sense of relief she had felt shocked her and the impact of it makes her wonder just how long has she been waiting for something like this from him. And yet, despite her absolute shock at the meaning beneath those last few moments, the words still manage to feel like something that she's been waiting on for so long it was an inevitability.

And still, disbelief that they were finally acknowledging this – whatever this is – that lies between them. After years and years. Her heart had swelled as he had pulled her into his embrace and she had felt the emotion of everything that was still left unsaid from him. Between the adrenalin and excitement from finally getting somewhere close to the end of this fearful hell they had been living in, and her acknowledgement of what he was saying, the emotion of their embrace and the sinking feeling that this felt like a goodbye but also the realisation finally confirmed that he is looking at her in what seems like a whole new way, her eyes had filled with tears as she pulled back. He'd looked satisfied with her response to his words and his hug and his small smile of happiness had caused her to laugh. She felt light and her heart soared and she felt filled with possibility as he had dashed playfully to the car.

It was only when she heard the slam of the door and the roar of the engine as he left her in the wake of his revengeful needs she realised the truth of the situation. He had lured her in and she had fallen for it. Those words he had spoken – they had been a long time coming, perhaps that's why she had accepted them – believed them, without question. She should have known better. Disappointment had slammed her very soul. No doubt he would claim it was for her own good, her safety, or some other noble valiant idea that made her feel like he should just forget abandon notions of his nobility and admit he didn't want her getting in his way. She feels like a child that hasn't got her way, a child that had been lied to and deceived, and not trusted with the truth that is too important for her, and her tears take on a whole new meaning now. She hates him for doing this to her.

What had he meant? What had it all meant? Had he meant what he said? – Had he ever? Had he been simply telling her what he thought she needed to hear in order for her to let him proceed? She kicks at the gravel in front of her. Blinded with fury at his injustice on her she realises she should have known. He does this to her. She is reminded with a jolt of a day that feels so long ago now when she stood in her office and he declared his apparent love for her. And look how that had ended. It was the same thing today. Emotions acknowledge and then turned from. Last time he had simply denied them, this evening he has declared them and turned tail and ran. Maybe last time was just a practise run. Perhaps he has been saving his actions of tonight as one last attempt to rid himself of her. Has he been planning tonight for an age, as his last valiant attempt to keep her safe. Had he practised, she wonders; thinking through what he would need to say in order to incapacitate her to his greatest advantage. He'd thanked her, told her how much she'd meant to him, how much she means to him. He'd made her so happy for one glorious moment, and then shattered it all, leaving her here alone with raging thoughts and one furious tear after another.

Or.

Or, despite it all, had he meant it? She has known him to be terribly cruel, but never to her; never for the sake of it, and never on purpose or without what he sees as a good enough excuse. For someone so skilled in the art of deception, he could have turned her in a thousand ways: why had he chosen this one? Why had he chosen to break her heart?

Her heart sinks. Had that been his goodbye to her? Was this his last goodbye: to let the sun set on them as he rages into battle without her. Damn fool. Damn, infuriating fool. She kicks the ground again. As though he could ever survive for long without her. Almost immediately she realises what she has just thought and she prays desperately that he will. If he doesn't she's not sure what she'll do.

She sits on the kerb still. It is the dark of night now and she brushes a tear away angrily. When she sees him again, there will be hell to pay. She is never forgetting this. But she'll never forget the look he gave her. She has known him for almost ten years and she doesn't think even he could fake a look like that, not to her, not after everything they've been through, not tonight. She wonders if she should have said something back, would that have stopped him, even for a minute, from running away from her. She's driving herself crazy with this, and it can't go on. She has to do something, get to him, because despite the hurt, despite everything, he's Jane, and she's Lisbon, and she can't leave it alone. She starts from her thoughts as she hears the low grumble of an engine approach and jumps up at once. As the headlights approach she dashes to the middle of the road and waves her hands out in front of her.

She braces herself for what is ahead.