Slight 2x02 spoilers. Just a quick short. Jane's thoughts when Lisbon sent him after "the Fixer."
He hadn't really realized what they went through, what she went through. When she had told him to follow—to find out where the "fixer" went—he had hesitated. He didn't do that. That was her part. Sure, he was in dangerous situations quite often, but never so up close and personal.
And he generally waited for them to come to him. He set traps and prodded at one time murderers, usually. He didn't chase down professional killers. But Lisbon had been firm. The tone she had pulled out had reminded him why she was boss. At that point, Jane hadn't just been the consultant. He had been part of her team and, like normal, she was issuing an order to the team to bring down the bad guy and have justice served.
He knew she had been shaken by his close call (her insistent order also held a slightly shaky note), but first and foremost she was an agent. She had proven that beyond a doubt.
He had been startled. So startled that he had followed her order after a negligible protest. Him. Patrick Jane. Following orders. Who knew?
And he couldn't forget that shaky, slightly ill feeling that had followed him out of the building. Internally, he chided himself for his nervousness. Lisbon does this all the time, he reminded himself. Funny how that only seemed to make his nausea worse.
Sure, she was a cop. He knew that. Obviously. And she had been in dangerous situations before. He had a fleeting memory of a phone call that had echoed gunshots in his ear. But until putting himself in her position, he hadn't really known. And now that he did, now that it had hit home, he wondered if he'd ever be able to look at her the same when she left to pursue a criminal.
As he had followed, he had felt his own mortality more acutely than ever. More than his run-in with Hardy. With anyone. He had never liked games of chance. He supposed that was partly why he had developed his observational skills, become a mentalist. It was his way of controlling the situation.
He couldn't control Red John—not years ago and not now.
And he realized that he couldn't control the suspects when Lisbon chased them down.
Both situations were out of his hands and as the first one had ended in blood, he couldn't help but think that the second would someday follow suit.
When he remembered his jaunt in Lisbon's figurative shoes, that is what he remembered. The danger her job put her in. The way he couldn't control the situations she was in. How he would feel if she met the same end as his family.
How he didn't think he'd ever feel again if that happened.