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Chapter Text

Post Season 6 – Episode 10

Two years had been a long time.

He had spent months on end in paradise. Every day was survived by sunsets on the beach with the sand between his toes and the soft breeze to soothe him awake in the early mornings. And it had been nice. Yet each smile that had contently graced his face had faltered in those moments when he saw the spot beside him, vacant of her.

He had, perhaps a time too many, prayed she could have joined him. And he was not a man of faith. It had been a fool’s dream, frankly, but in times of weakness he would gladly admit to playing the fool. He always knew it couldn’t be, though, and he respected her all the more for her perseverance.

She was a hell of a cop.

Now he stood in the doorway of the bullpen’s breakroom, watching her gather case files on her desk with her phone clutched by the shoulder on some call he was sure she itched to hang up on. Still, her colorful expressions told him she was fiercely engaged in the matter. He smiled subtly to himself as he sipped his chamomile tea in some horrid mug he had found – he still mourned the loss of his old cup from CBI, the beaut, but now this would have to do.

No matter how much she adhered to liking Washington, it was clear as day. She was a restless soul, and Cannon River was an idle throne to sit on.

He would never tell, but an unspoken relief settled on his shoulders, where the weight of solitude had been. With his demands met by FBI, she was here with him.

His letters had been a comfort, yes, but there were letters he hadn’t sent.

Words so far untold that he had let bleed onto paper until there was too little ink to finish. His heart unfolded like an endless scroll of passion, confessions and insecurity: parts of him he perhaps would never share in the end.

However, he knew that after two years and many letters sent, he couldn’t just move on with their work in FBI without catching up. He didn’t know what she had spent those years doing apart from practically retiring to Washington.

Had she gone home to Chicago when CBI first disbanded? Maybe she had left police work entirely for a time. Or she could have met someone, enjoyed it for a time.

Jane refused the lump that threatened in his throat by that thought and finished his tea. It didn’t taste the same as of old, anyways.

Setting aside the mug, he ran a hand through his curls and locked off the room he had opened in his mind palace. As if preparing himself for battle, when in fact, he was just leaving the kitchen.

In all fairness, he counted any environment outside his own space as a battlefield, and he preferred his thoughts to be weaponized only by himself.

“No, Mr. Downes, that’s not our procedure.” Lisbon sighed in muted resignation as the man rambled in her ear, brushing her hair away from her face. “Yes…” she continued, “of course, yes… yes, good day, sir.”

Lisbon refrained from throwing the phone in the trash as the call finished and dropped it on her desk before she’d do worse. If she had a coin for every time she had to deal with uncooperative citizens, she’d be a millionaire before nightfall. Especially if they worked in law.

At times like these, she always considered whether it had been the right choice of hers to join the police and drag herself through the purgatory that was dealing with law procedure and court hearings.

Then came the reminder of catching any killer exemplary, an ambitious flame that had sparked the dream to begin with, and her ambiguity melted away like wax on a candle.

Setting the world right one case at a time was always worth it in the end.

She leaned back in her office chair and attempted to rub out the irritation with her fingertips against her temples, closing her eyes for a moment. Around her was the steady rustle of people clearing their desks so they could go home for the day.

The subtle sound of heeled Derby shoes gradually coming closer warned Lisbon of Jane’s arrival. Even with her eyes closed, she knew his cadence by heart.

She looked up to see him stop in front of her desk, a charmed smile lighting up his features as always. She suppressed the flare that colored her cheekbones, painted on her face both by frustration and perhaps something else she wouldn’t place.

“Is someone dulling your blade, Lisbon?” He poked lightheartedly, earning a solid glare from her.

“Don’t start. I don’t have the energy to sharpen it.” She sighed, shaking off the irritation to leave the subject behind; luckily Jane seemed to get the memo, his shoulder shrugging with a tilt of his head in understanding.

“I shan’t dull it further, then.” He offered kindly and her lips creased a brief smile in thanks.

She watched him fiddle with his cuffs as if he was waiting for a conversation to drop out of his sleeve then. Her brow scrunched a fraction as she tried to read his face. His smirk exposed nothing, always a charm, but his gaze spoke of... hesitance. A flutter in his lashes that whispered to brace. As if he knew what to ask already but searched for the words to build his speech.

“Did you… want something?” She inquired softly, her tone changing as her agitation ebbed away and was replaced by gentle intrigue.

“Always, Lisbon, you know me.” His eyes glinted as he bounced his fingertips lightly against the desktop. “If you happen to find proper tea in this house, do let me know,” he started, wagging his finger at her.

Lisbon’s face settled into her standard folds of composure, a raised brow inching closer to her hairline by every word. “It’s close to criminal, really, I should make new demands. I might file charges, actually-“

“Jane.” She cut him off, forcing herself not to laugh as she would – in all honesty – love to see him sue the FBI for lack of quality tea. “What is it you need to ask of me?” Lisbon questioned patiently, her hands folding on her desk as she leaned forward to look him in the eyes.

The scent of smoky wood and amber shrouded her as she came closer to him, coating her in a world she wished she could lose herself in. It teased the edges of her senses, a dance across her skin that damned her for wanting to soak it in. He was always donned in style.

She missed the vest, though.

Jane had frozen in his rant and laughed awkwardly, but he caught himself graciously before it became clear, his confidence punching through. She would have to learn that.

“I’m thinking of having Chinese for dinner. It’s been quite a while since last I had it, as you can guess. And… as I’ve spent that while always eating by myself, I’d find it boring to continue that streak, so,” he pointed out, his hands coming to rest at his sides with a simple squeeze of his thumbs. His voice was soft, gentle to the point it seemed careful of offending the words. His smile never wavered, however, beaming of poise. “Would you like to join me?”

Her lips parted softly as the question settled, blinking in surprise. Of all things, she had not expected this. Of course, this wasn’t the first nor likely the last time they had eaten together, but his invitation was nonetheless something new. A different setting in the way he asked.

His smile was the same as always, his manner too, but something in his gaze shone in volume. She felt like tumbling into that blue ocean, fishing for a hint that gave answer to her bewilderment.

She was overthinking this.

Lisbon caught herself lacking an answer for too long as silence filled the void between them, her voice somehow bound like a knot wound too tight. She cleared her throat, a flustered blush creeping over her face once again and she had to gather herself.

“Well- yes, I’d love to.” She stammered with a laugh and tucked her hair away from her face as she got up from her seat, subconsciously finding even ground to gain leverage. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d ask me something else, like convincing Abbott to pay for your suits.” She reddened further, embarrassed that he had caught her off guard.

Jane smirked slyly. “You’re offering? That’s kind of you, Lisbon.”

Lisbon smacked him on the shoulder, her shy demeanor overruled by their usual banter. Jane mocked an injury and winked in turn.

She shook his head at him, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “Where are we going?”

In truth, he had never been the biggest fan of Chinese. It was alright, matter of factly, but an unlikely meal for him to choose before others. He always preferred Italian or French to anything else. Greek, maybe.

Chinese was middle ground, though, and he knew Lisbon never turned it down whenever the team ordered it for lunch.

He was glad to have seen her so eager to join him. She had sat there when he asked, her eyes glistening in their emerald sea. They had caught his attention as the unfair bait they were, nearly drowning in the details of those waves crashing against the iris – and promptly losing his sense of time.

It had seemed a brief consideration for her, really, before she had come to a conclusion.

He could only hope that she hadn’t noticed.

Outside the local wok restaurant that she had eagerly recommended at his suggestion, they now sat opposite each other with each their chinabox of soy noodles and spiced veggies. Lisbon was nimble with chopsticks and scooped the meal without issue.

Jane was thankfully no complete failure either, but his mechanics were perhaps displayed with bigger grandeur in other handy projects. Like tweaking blazer buttons or running them through hair.

Lisbon’s dark strands gleamed in the light from the restaurant’s street sign, blessed by silken waves that smelled of citrus and tangerines. Even after a whole day of work, the fragrance still clung to her body – he wondered briefly if he would find its source if he had the chance to explore her skin or rake his fingers through those threads to rope the ends around his fingertips. Perhaps he would discover it painted unseen on her neck, right at the curve of her collarbone, where he could mold his lips against its bend.

Jane swallowed the images that played across his mind and banished them to a pit somewhere beyond his imagination. It was a distracting curse he fought to break often, a pestilence that jabbed at something that couldn’t – and wouldn’t – be.

“So, how does it feel to be free?” Lisbon dragged him back to reality with a glint in her eye, her chopsticks strangling a few noodles.

“Oh, marvelous,” he quipped as he corrected his façade, “don’t you think I could sue them for the tea and not end up in that cell again?”

Lisbon’s smile grew wider as he had hoped, her nose scrunching as she tilted her head at him. A pleasant atmosphere was settled between them, breathing like uncorked wine.

“I think you could.” She professed in mock approval, and Jane’s smirk widened, joined by an arched brow. “I’ll volunteer for jury when real jail is waiting for you." She laughed candidly. “Max, I’m sure, Abbott would personally see to it.”

She gave a knowing look that screamed she didn’t trust him to refrain from suing them anyways.

“I bet he would drive the van.” Jane jested as his grin turned into a softer smile. He toyed with the veggies in his chinabox, neither hungry nor full.

Looking at her sitting there, unbothered by the concerns of work for a time, he saw her at peace. During CBI, it was rare for him to catch those moments of her – flashes wherein she wasn’t a cop, but simply Teresa. A welcoming sight.

Perhaps she had been that more often with him gone.

It reminded him of why they were here.

“What did you spend your time with?” He asked gently, his voice cradling the space between them with the promise of a devoted ear.

Lisbon blinked at him by the change of pace as she swallowed the last of her meal. “What do you mean?”

Jane set aside his chinabox, its contents no longer important. “When I was in hiding.” He started, “I sent you letters for you to read of my time there. But I never had any letters of yours to read in turn.” A touch of anguish whispered across his lips in a silent breath.

Lisbon’s face melted in sincerity, her brow furrowing as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. An expression that spoke of regret and misplaced guilt, Jane would guess.

“I know, as I always have, that you couldn’t send any – and trust me I’m not holding you accountable.” Jane confessed swiftly with raised hands, noticing how intently Lisbon listened. Her head tilted slowly.

“I’m just saying that now…” Jane gestured towards the empty chinaboxes as if they held his answers and instead locked his hands in his lap. “I would like to hear about your life. Hear what you did after CBI went up in smoke, and how Washington happened. I spent years not knowing, and… now I can ask.”

Lisbon looked at him in a way he couldn’t place.

She smiled gently, thrumming her fingers against her void chinabox.

“Let’s take a walk and I can tell you.”

One of the reasons why she liked the wok restaurant was because it lay next to her favorite park in town. It was a pocket of nature within a bustling city, somehow untouched by the industrial life enveloping it. Big enough to forget the city, small enough to pass through relatively fast. It was beautiful in the evening, but instincts told her it could easily change. All parks were like that.

Jane and Lisbon had found the center path, several others branching off along its road to give way for adventure. They walked close to one another, their shoulders brushing by rare chance as the atmosphere buzzed of some nostalgic tranquility.

“When CBI was disbanded, I stood at an impasse.” Lisbon started, shrugging as if it had always been inevitable. “I could work for the FBI – they wanted me, for sure. But I didn’t really feel like working for Abbott then.” She breathed a chuckle, considering the irony now.

Jane glanced at her curiously, only watching the path occasionally to make sure he wouldn’t walk into her.

“Or I could stop working in law enforcement.” She sighed, her teeth sinking into her lip in memory of the plight. “I considered it. Living a life of peace without a gun at my hip.”

Lisbon shrugged again, a habit she had whenever she started talking about something personal.

Jane watched her as they took a detour down one of the paths, passing trees and ponds of no particular interest to him, his attention wholly dedicated to her storytelling. “Did you do it? For a time?”

Lisbon arched a brow at him, a hidden grin beneath her narrative ploy. “Never in a million years. I’m no good at gardening and I refuse to waste away in a job I have no passion for. Being a cop is all I know and live for.” She disclosed and looked on as the moonlight played over the nearby ponds, not catching the proud smirk on Jane’s face.

“I went to Abbott. Told him I had no interest in FBI, but he could give me a call if he had any connections that needed help.” She explained. “The first long while there was nothing and I was on suspended leave. I spent quite some time with Rigsby and Van Pelt then.”

Lisbon smiled at the reminder of the three finding ways to kill time. The two had started considering their security firm and asked her for help on the brainstorm. Plus, she got to properly meet Rigsby’s son, Ben. Sweet kid.

“After a while I was contacted about Cannon River – whether it was Abbott at the other end, I don’t know, actually. I doubt it. But I went, and thought it was a good bargain. Quiet, peaceful and still my line of work.” She inhaled the fresh air around her as they came to a stop below a great fig tree with a view of the park lake.

Jane had the widest of smiles she had seen in a long time.

“You told Abbott no.” He deciphered as if he had stopped listening after that point. “I think I’ll hold that against him forever now.”

Lisbon blushed slightly and thanked the darkness for masking it. “Is that all you got from all that?”

Jane shook his head contently. “No. I also had my assumptions confirmed.” He countered, “FBI suits you. It keeps you alive more than Washington ever would.”

Lisbon’s face scrunched and she opened her mouth to defend herself.

“But it was good for you to have the break.” He interrupted her before she could retaliate. She promptly closed her mouth, a timid glint in her eye as thanks.

“Did you just spend the years working in Washington then, or is there more to Cannon River than the highway road?” He asked smugly, earning a well-placed smack on his shoulder again.

The two stood close enough for him to still smell the tangerines in the humid air around them. Lisbon sighed quietly, her arms crossing in front of her despite the openness she displayed. This was one of the most honest conversations they had ever had, he felt.

“There was. Sometimes I’d go to Seattle to explore the city life up there, get a bit of fresh air and see more people than my clerk.” She admitted with a smile, still missing Henry at times. “But otherwise, no. Life went on.”

A flash of a night out downtown surfaced in her mind, an evening that started with comforting charms and ended in bitter ache. A night she wouldn’t be without for its lessons, but nonetheless regretted.

“Thank you for sharing.” Jane’s voice tugged her from the memory, her head snapping to face him.

She could tell his thanks was heartfelt, able to trace the genuine gratitude in the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled in understanding. “Of course. It was sweet of you to ask.” She responded honestly.

Something thick and heavy seemed to gather in her chest and she coughed quietly to clear it, suddenly noticing how close they were.

His scent was draping around her like a cloak, coloring the air with flares of warm spices and amber like the stars in the night sky. Her fingertips seemed to tingle from it, itching to touch or be washed away by the water nearby. The brush of fabric against her fingertips as she grazed his arm sent a shock through her nerves. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again.

“Lisbon?” Jane spoke, his tone rising in question, and she saw his hand twitch in the corner of her vision.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment in respite, swallowing to rid herself of the nerves. “It’s getting late, Jane.” She said finally, unfolding her arms as she moved to walk past him.

Only when she stepped around him, she barely got to register the touch of his hand before a loud crack blew through the peaceful scenery and her breath caught in her throat.

“Teresa!”

Chapter Text

Around Season 6 – Episode 11

Jane’s heart hammered like the thundering silence that spread through the park.

It happened so fast, he barely had time to register. It was a wonder that he had reached her without a misstep.

Lisbon’s eyes were shut as she lay sprawled in his embrace, his arm circling her waist in a tight squeeze to keep her from slipping away. Her head was cradled in his hand, keeping it out of reach from a torn branch on the ground that could have easily pierced her neck, had he not caught her in time.

He immediately abandoned the thought as his gaze flickered frantically over her entire body to examine for possible injury.

The great fig tree they had stood beneath was ordained with thick, twisting vines and roots that covered the ground. A tree that had probably stood for hundreds of years and grown old with the city. The roots were stretched far and broad, slithering across the earthy bend in thick rows – so far, they reached the lakeside beside them where people could jump down and sit at the water’s edge.

It was these said old roots above the loose earth that had apparently chosen to give way as Lisbon walked by, crumbling beneath her feet only to steal her height as fall damage.

Jane made a mental note of filing a complaint to the city council for endangering citizens in lack of cultivation care. The ridge was far too close to the tree, which enforced the incident.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked sincerely and watched her eyes flutter open, her hand crumbling his shirt as she held onto him for dear life. He had found a scrape along her arm but saw no twisted limbs.

Lisbon blinked herself back to reality as it became clear she hadn’t, in fact, fallen to her death, but instead lay on the ground with Jane’s hands drawing soothing patterns on her back. The muscles at the nape of her neck strained beneath his touch as she lifted her gaze to his. Jane gambled on the chance of stretching his luck too far and let his fingers graze over the spot, slipping through the roots of her hair in attempt to comfort.

His heartbeat was steadily falling back in place, and he intended for hers to do the same.

“Yes, I think so.” Lisbon swallowed a short laugh, finding the practical truth a bit dramatized – although any fall always felt worse than it really was. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

Jane stared down at her, noticing how her hands still squeezed across his bicep and had yet to let go of his shirt. He knew the wise choice was to release her already, she would want that, but he found it impossible to do so. He wanted to stay for a second, relish in the feel of her hands on him and the scent of citrus so close to him.

He had been right – it was painted there, sprinkled right below her jawline.

He blinked out of it when she cleared her throat, an awkward smile coloring her face. Jane caught the hint as his luck outrun and lifted her back on solid ground.

“Thank you for saving me.” Lisbon reddened and finally loosened her grip on him, patting his chest gently like it could save the crushed shirt in return. Jane unwrapped his arm around her waist and let his hand fall from her neck, every bone in his body mourning the loss.

“It would have been a grim fall, and I’d rather not take leave for a broken foot.” Her face cringed in what he could only read as disgust and Jane let out a laugh, accompanied by the usual grin that easily veiled his thoughts.

For a moment, the two stared at the spot where the thick roots had torn to shreds and the earth beneath dispersed out like a small dune. The drop was at least five feet.

“I could push you in properly and you can take leave for worse, if you want.” He mumbled with a shrug and glanced at her as if abandoning his previous endeavors, the joke playing out as expected – Lisbon twisted and promptly whacked his shoulder. He would never tire of that.

“And I could punch you next, if you want to feel nostalgic.” She threatened lightheartedly, reminding him of her right hook in case he had forgotten.

He hadn’t.

Jane’s smirk sung high praises on his face as he winked at her. “Feisty of you, Lisbon.”

Feisty.

She was going to give him feisty.

Lisbon’s eyes burned holes into the ceiling of the storehouse as she witnessed the god-awful call that Jane was having with this woman. She had better names to call her, but the cross adorning her chest kept her from spelling it out in clear printed letters, preferably on Jane’s forehead.

How was it that this man would seduce some girl he barely knew and then had the nerve to discuss the details while on the job? She was hardly convinced that this was his way of helping the case, although she wouldn’t put it past him.

Still, she’d rather he kept both practical and other flirtatious small talk when in the field to an absolute minimum, and – frankly – ensured it was nonexistent in her presence. Otherwise, she would love to enlighten him.

Not that he would listen, though. She was quite sure that if she said anything like it, his stupid smirk would simply widen a bit further and his calls would intensify within the visiting hours of her life that Jane, unfortunately, was entitled to in their line of work.

At this rate, she was going to start missing Cannon River more and let Jane know she would personally uproot the contract he had with the FBI.

She preferred his professional cooperation, as uncommon as it may be.

“Shall I pick you up, or meet you there?” Jane’s voice echoed in the storage unit and Lisbon had no way of hiding her eyeroll, simply thankful that she had her back to him. She wasn’t even his type. Or – Jane’s type was actually unknown to her, but Lisbon was convinced that anyone ten years his junior wasn’t the usual option.

At least she hoped it wasn’t.

 “Awesome. Look forward to it.”

The call finally ended, and Lisbon quirked an eyebrow at him as he slid his phone back in his pocket. “What?” he asked innocently, rocking onto the balls of his feet.

Lisbon attempted to quell her emotions. It was both childish and unprofessional of her to let it affect her own morale – the heat was simmering beneath her skin, lying in wait to color her face in crimson mortification.

She would rather take up gardening before she would let that happen in front of Jane.

“Nothing.” She spoke with half conviction, glancing at Fischer who gave her a knowing look. She looked just as irritated.

Wonderful! At least she had someone vouching for her if Jane had the bright idea of pushing it any further – which he didn’t, to his great fortune.

The forensics interrupted her line of thought by their much-appreciated arrival, setting up their equipment as they began examining the three bodies in front of them.

It didn’t take them long before they figured out the basics and reported their findings.

Fischer was right in suggesting the cartel was behind the murders – it was the first thing she thought of too. Although after years of working with Jane, a little voice in the back of her head had made a habit of doubting any presumptions she made from the get-go.

These killings could very likely be staged to look like cartel murders, but her doubts simply doubled down on that assumption too.

Like clockwork, the culprit guilty of her qualms quipped from behind: “Got it. Gunmen dead, justice served. Are we gonna be here much longer, cause… I got some plans.” Jane elongated the final word as if he hadn’t gotten on her nerves to begin with, her palpable glare brandishing profanities between his eyes.

I’ll have you join the floor’s club meeting with your plans, Lisbon huffed in her head as she turned back to the three victims, picturing Jane at their side.

The devil on her shoulder was having a feast with her fantasies, but her frustrations would be fruitless if shared. With great effort, Lisbon washed away the image in her head, turning on her heel to distract herself with some detective research.

She would have Jane know that at least she would be working on the case.

It was unfortunate that the restaurant he was seated in – not high profile, but still good quality – was with a woman he’d rather not spend the money on.

The romance of a live piano in the corner of the restaurant was next to perfect when charming women, and he had preferred that Lisbon sat across from him instead of this unknown woman he had managed to seduce so far. She was far better company.

The scent of Lisbon’s hair and the feel of her in his arms was still a memory that traversed his imagination, effectively distracting him from the unfortunate time he had to waste with this fake. It was all within reason, though. He knew it would pay off in the end.

As much as Krystal was a well-built woman, surely sculpted by the Roman gods judging by her supposed ethnicity – she was no Lisbon.

Her hair was draped over one shoulder, curling softly in auburn waves of deceit. With perky lips coated in lipstick, a simple black dress hugging her curves and a pendant around her neck, she had a nice mask of innocence on display.

She had been quite easy to reel in, as confident in his abilities as he would admit, so he mostly sat back to observe her response to his backstory despite having to work the narration. It was a slow waltz that waited for some music to conquer the floor.

She was hooked with interest, but he knew that half of it was pretend. He just needed her to accept his hand.

“Poor man, what you’ve been through… I can’t imagine.” Krystal spoke with a dash of sincerity in her eyes, almost enough to convince him.

She was good.

“Well, you’ve been through some tough times yourself.” He countered with a slight shrug – a soothing touch of her elbow that urged her to join the floor.

“Nothing like that.” She defused him with a sip of wine, her tone inviting him to finally pull her across the stage in stride.

“I don’t buy the tough girl act.” He started with an imaginary bow, “I think you cared about Vargas a lot, and it hurt you deeply when he was killed.” Jane slowly spun the wine glass on the table in tune with his waltz as he spoke, a kindness to his voice that coaxed Krystal with the belief of caring.

“Sure, it hurt.” Her eyes diverted to another table, avoiding his own as a way of appearing troubled; a go-to method for drawing sympathies from people. She was dancing around him, dipping herself in his arms to steal his attention.

Jane subtly mirrored her behavior, picturing their waltz following the piano’s melody.

“Well, loss has its way of paralyzing you. It stops you from moving on in your life and as hard as that is, and as guilty as you feel, that’s… that’s what you have to do. Move on. That’s what I’m trying to do anyhow.” Jane shrugged his shoulder aptly, lowering his gaze to his empty plate for just a moment.

He saw the touch of his hands enticing her face in an elegant dive. “Trying.”

A gentle smile rested on Krystal’s mask, one that spoke of giving in. “And this investigation of yours, is it important?”

“Yes.” Jane admitted honestly. She was following his lead, whisking her off the floor in spin.

“To you, I mean.”

Jane waited a beat to emphasize authenticity, a curl at the corner of his mouth. “Yes.” He hummed earnestly, his face only inches from hers in their deceptive act.

Krystal’s face warmed and the mask fell apart, leaning into the kiss of his cold lips in his grand feat. “Maybe I can help.”

And so, the dance ended, and Jane smiled charismatically. Once again in his times of tango, the string was taut around his little finger. “I thought you didn’t know anything.”

Of course it was a faux.

Of course. She had known. She had guessed it. And still she had been jealous.

And to no surprise, he had decided not to let them in on the plan, like always.

Lisbon felt idiotic for being so inadvertently affected by his seduction of Krystal, especially as obvious as it had been. It was close to embarrassing that Fischer had almost noticed.

“Is everything alright with you?” She had questioned as they had headed back to the office after the awkward meeting with Dale and Mike at the conference center.

“Sure.” She had deflected as smoothly as the great Teresa Lisbon could. “Just haven’t slept much and I didn’t get morning coffee.” The weak excuse left a sour taste in her mouth, and she had grimaced, but Fischer had bought it and let the matter be.

The frustration that had previously bubbled under the surface from Jane’s display was instead directed towards herself now, once more attempting to tamper down her feelings in the boxes she had built for them. It was incredible how often they seemed to tumble over and spill out in a heap of her own circus.

At the pier, Lisbon caught sight of Jane half drowned on a bench as she, Fischer and Cho arrived on scene. Passing by was Krystal, thankfully escorted by two FBI agents on the way to the jail she would surely spend years upon end within.

Lisbon, however, barely honored her presence as she blew past, instead focused on Jane’s well-being. The closer they had come, the more his body seemed to tremble.

Her anger was clouded with concern as her pace quickened. “Jane. Are you okay?”

Swaddled in a blanket and thoroughly drenched, he looked very cold – and a little adorable. “Oh, I’m fine really. You guys took your time getting here, didn’t you...” Jane accused bravely, and Lisbon was grateful to both Fischer and Cho for promptly putting him back in his place.

“If you’d actually have told us your plan in advance, we’d have had time to get here.” Fischer spoke with a raised brow, and Lisbon silently applauded her for optimistically believing that Jane would behave like an average teammate.

“I’ve been trying to tell him that for years.” She muttered knowingly, as Jane in fact sucked at communicating his plan at any given time. Even if she gave him pen and paper to write it down at the beginning of class, he would fold the parchment neatly like the bright origami student he was, then stab it with the pen to make an umbrella and hand it to her with pride.

Jane’s face deadpanned. The three didn’t give him time to further explain himself as they turned back the way they had come, leaving him on the bench.

“No problem, thanks for solving the crime... Just a little hypothermia, I’ll get over it.” Jane’s mumbling voice drifted behind her, a little out of reach.

Lisbon’s pace was as brisk as it had been on the way to the scene, although the image of Jane shuddering on the bench enveloped in his lousy blanket gave her pause.

He had cared for her in the park; made sure she wasn’t hurt nor upset. The least she could do was take care of him. Plus, he was – annoyingly so – correct. He had solved the case with his stupid dates.

Lisbon’s nose flared as she inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut to dwindle the irritation that was dealing with Jane’s choices.

She stopped in her tracks and turned back around, catching sight of his dripping curls as his soggy shoes came to a stop. “Do you have a ride out of here?” She asked simply, her tone as neutral as possible.

Jane’s lips flattened as he considered. “If Krystal’s car counts as mine for tonight, then yes.” He said, aware that he had yet to find a car of his own.

Lisbon visibly rolled her eyes and cocked her head in the direction her own car was parked. “Come with me. I’ll get you warmed up.” She promised.

Usually, Lisbon’s home was off limits for most people that weren’t family, and she had yet to decide whether her long-standing relation to Jane had stamped him as a qualified individual. Albeit he had been at her old apartment in Sacramento, so visiting the new house in Austin was not really anything new.

She knew that since being released from the detention suite, he had been given access to a room until he found a place for himself, but it was easier to make sure he wasn’t falling sick with her own range of medicine – which consisted of tea, a properly heated home and any facilities necessary.

And she would be lying if she said she minded the company.

Lisbon threw the keys on the kitchen counter as soon as the door closed, her living room furnished by several unopened boxes.

“Sorry about the mess, but you know… I just got the place.” She shrugged, glancing at him. His curls had barely dried, the thin quilt coating his shoulders was still clawed around his body, if not tighter than before, and his skin seemed pale.

If she wasn’t so concerned for his health, she would think him considerably more charming right now with his wet, tussled hair. It was a different taste of his usually neat character.

It had been very late when he jumped in the water, and he had sat in the cold air for at least half an hour from the time the reinforcements arrived until they left the scene.

It would not surprise her if he would freeze half the night.

Lisbon’s face suddenly flushed in tinted colors, which she immediately disguised by crossing the floor to the cabinet.

She hadn’t considered the time; it was night.

And she had brought him to her house.

Was she out of her mind?!

“It’s alright, I don’t mind at all. I love what you’ve done with the place.” Jane’s smooth antic called through a shiver behind her as she busied herself with making tea.

No one knew, but after Jane’s disappearance she had begun drinking it regularly and had done herself the favor of buying the same ones that he had preferred at the CBI.

“Thank you,” she replied lightheartedly as she swirled the teaspoons in the two cups, “jackass.” She mumbled to herself with a shake of her head.

Behind her, Jane seemed to study the few things she had given a place in the home, but his examination was short-lived, as he instead settled in her couch with a new, parched blanket of hers. He had done her the courtesy of removing his shoes and socks at the door, so he wasn’t decorating her floor in more wet footprints than necessary.

She passed through the room and handed him his tea, noticing how his face lit up from the scent. “Hibiscus.” He discerned with an approving nod. “The good kind too.”

Lisbon’s brow raised in surprise as she sipped her own. “You can tell from the scent?” She inquired curiously, convinced that he was bluffing.

“An avid drinker can always tell, Lisbon.” Jane claimed with a wink as he drank, the teacup trembling in his hand, which quickly reminded her of the task at hand. “Although, I admit, it was a wild guess considering you have spent the past decade in my company. I would hope you have learned a few things.”

Lisbon laughed mockingly as she moved to her bedroom, where she knew she had some clothes most likely his size hidden in the closet. It was the one thing she had fully unpacked. Raising three brothers had taught her to keep some of their clothes at home just in case they would visit and needed a change.

“I think you place your influence on too high of a scale.” Lisbon said, refusing to admit that he was correct.

“Was I wrong, though?” Jane’s voice ebbed through her home to reach her in the next room, a welcoming experience for her. It seemed natural for her, his presence here.

It seemed distracting too.

Lisbon shook her thoughts out of course before they could do damage as she rummaged through the closet, quickly finding some dark pants and a short-sleeved sweater. It would have to do.

A wince jolted through her body as she straightened, making her groan and she bit down on her lip to silence it before Jane would hear. The pain curled around her ribcage, settled somewhere below her shoulder blade along the right side of her spine. It throbbed sharply, forcing her to take a rest on the floor.

When she had slipped at the park, she hadn’t realized before Jane had helped her to a stand that she had in fact suffered worse injury than they initially determined. A rock rooted beneath the twisting vines had had some unknown vendetta against her and most likely bruised her rib, but she hadn’t wanted to tell Jane. There was no reason for him to know and it would just cause him to worry. It would pass in a few days.

She took a few breaths to let the ache dissipate, gathering herself so he wouldn’t notice any change in her demeanor. She returned to the living room and found Jane staring at a picture of her brother and niece, Tommy and Annabeth.

He had already finished most of the tea and didn’t seem to have detected her outcry.

“Here’s some dry clothes.” She offered it to him, but he didn’t reach to take it – instead he eyed it suspiciously with a question that didn’t need asking. “It’s my brother’s. You’re welcome to change in my bedroom or the bathroom. Take a shower to heat those chicken legs if you want. I don’t mind.” She suggested in a rush, a shyness creeping beneath the certainty of her voice but she covered it well with the banter.

Jane had set aside his teacup to take the clothes from her grasp. A shudder rippled across his shoulders, but he didn’t seem to register.

“Thank you, I could use a wash.” He admitted and shed the blanket. “This would be the first short-sleeved sweater I have ever worn and will ever wear in my life, so you better enjoy it while you can.” Jane’s charming grin featured his face, practically warming his body on its own, or maybe that was just a mirage of hers.

It definitely felt warm as she smiled at his flirtations. “I’ll make sure to go blind before you finish your shower then.” She retaliated with ease and pushed him towards the bathroom.

“And I don’t have chicken legs.” He huffed defensively.

The shower was, without a shadow of a doubt, much needed.

Firstly, because he was colder than anticipated. Secondly, he preferred his body temperature to be the one thing in check when he had to battle other imbalances – like being in Lisbon’s house and having to refrain from looking into her eyes for too long.

The break gave him a chance to gather his senses and figure out how he could leave again without sounding unreasonably stupid for a man to walk home, when he was so close to catching a cold. A cab was at least five blocks away and his phone was dead. He outright refused asking her to borrow the car for the drive back to his own place, and neither would he have her drive him.

It was drawing closer to midnight and if anyone lacked sleep, it was Lisbon.

It was sweet of her to offer her own place for medical aid. He could imagine how caring she had been when taking care of her brothers in their youth.

A smile graced his lips at the thought of how she was with kids. He remembered she handled Hightower’s pretty well back when she was laid off with her ankle.

He made quick work of the shower as soon as his body had readjusted its temperature, not wanting to take up more of Lisbon’s hospitality than necessary. This was more than he would ever ask for.

He slipped himself into the clothes she had kindly borrowed him, the fabrics laced with a weak hint of her own perfumes. He figured they laid close to her own in storage and he smiled. It was the only positive thing about the outfit, deciding to erase the picture of himself in the mirror from his memory as soon as he could leave the sweater behind.

He ruffled his hair with a last swipe of the towel and hung it back on the rack to dry, turning the doorknob to exit the bathroom.

It was connected to the bedroom, which Jane hadn’t thought much of in his flustered state, so when he opened the door, he wasn’t prepared to see the bare back of Lisbon while she changed into a black tank.

“Oh- sorry.” He stuttered, diverting his gaze to the bedside table to offer her privacy, nearly backing into the bathroom again. However, his brow furrowed in afterthought as he stared at the drawer, the image still frozen in his mind.

Her back had been bruised.

“It’s okay.” Lisbon reassured tentatively and turned to him after getting decent, her hands wringing together in front of her as he cautiously turned his gaze back to her. “I should have told you I was changing.” Her head tilted awkwardly before she twisted to leave the bedroom.

Jane caught her hand before she could go any farther.

“Teresa.” A soft touch coiled around her name, promising sincere concern as he found her eyes beneath her dark waves. “You’re injured.” His own flickered between each green lake, searching for an explanation.

“It’s nothing, Jane.” She dismissed him, brushing a hand through the air to leave it be as she tried to pull away from him, ever the tough soldier.

“Wait.” He protested, his hand gently insisting on checking the damage as he tightened the grip on her fingers. “Please. May I?” He asked, hesitant to cross any lines, but he knew she would ignore a knife through the heart if it meant recognizing weakness.

Lisbon sighed with heavy shoulders, admitting defeat. “Fine.”

She allowed him to turn her around by the lead of his hand, letting go to rest his touch at her waist. He ignored the tingling sensation in his fingertips as he nimbly gripped the edge of her tank top, carefully inching it up along her spine as if she would break had he done it any faster.

He ignored the fact that she had had no issue functioning the past few days without him suspecting anything wrong.

Her arms were pressed protectively against her front as she took the fabric from his grasp above her shoulders, baring her back to him once more without risking mishaps.

“Teresa…” Her name spun over his lips in a jarred breath, surveying the damage done to her body. Dark wounds soiled the skin across her ribs, the blemishes hugging the edge of her spine and stretching across her back like charred flames. It was the aftermath of one – if not a few – bruised ribs, a hidden fracture beneath her delicate skin.

The color told him that the injury was at least a few days old, which fit perfectly with the incident at the park.

Because of her agility, he was confident it wasn’t broken, but this was an injury he had missed. Unexpected guilt washed over him as he had, after all, failed at saving her from any severe repercussions.

His fingertips ghosted across the damaged flesh, seeing her flinch from the touch despite her ambitious attempt to mask it.

“It’s fine.” Lisbon’s unnerved voice broke the spell as she readjusted her top and let the black cotton cover the sin.

Jane’s brow creased into a flat line as his fingers curled around her hip, still trying to reason with her as she turned back around. “Is that fine?” He asked sincerely, a tense coil of concern and unspoken ache stretching along the space between them. “Lisbon.” He was reaching for reason in her eyes but found her gaze avoiding his own.

“Your back is black of bruises.” He stated matter of fact, the curve of her waist heating the palm of his hand as it brushed her skin.

“Really, Jane? I hadn’t noticed.” Lisbon remarked dryly, pushing away his hand as she exited the bedroom to concern herself with something else.

Jane promptly followed. “It’s from the park, isn’t it?” He continued, attempting to disguise his guilt that more so would come off as anger. “Why didn’t you tell me, when I asked?” He referred to his initial inquiry on her well-being.

Lisbon had gone to the same cabinet in the kitchen as when she found her tea, albeit this time she pulled out a glass and bottle of whiskey – he guessed she wanted to dull the pain of the obvious.

“Because I didn’t actually know until I stood up, plus I didn’t see any need to tell you.” She defended with full conviction, her voice void of any stammer as she poured herself a glass.

“What if you had broken a rib? What if there was internal bleeding? You could easily have punctured something and not realize the severity.” Jane listed the possible consequences across the kitchen counter as she downed the whiskey in one go.

“Yes, Jane, but I didn’t and I’m still here, alive and well.” She exhaled wearily, setting down the glass as she poured another.

“Needing a second round is not ‘well’.” Jane spoke solemnly, closing in on her to pull the glass out of her reach. He knew it was likely that he was stepping far over the line, but he didn’t care.

Lisbon’s glare torched his eyes like scalding blades as her displeasure with his apparent behavior became clear. “I’m fine, Patrick.” She said finally. “Thank you for your concern, but this is not the first bruise I’ve had and won’t be the last, as you well know.”

Jane wanted to scowl to express his disagreement but knew that would lead nowhere good. “I’m not saying you can’t take a beating, Teresa. You’ve proven that a few times.” He countered and drank the whiskey before she could – with the situation at hand he found the liquor very welcome.

“I’m saying that you’re still human and any blow to the back that severe can have consequences.” He set down the glass on the ceramic tile with a solid clang, staring her dead in the eyes. The distance between them was but a few inches, the heat of the whiskey and their conversation bringing color to both their faces.

A beat pulsed through the room.

“I know you can take care of yourself just fine, but I was with you.” He started, a lighter tone to his speech painting his message with a sense of understanding. “If it had been anything worse of the like…” he didn’t want to say the words. “If you had needed the hospital, I would have taken you.”

Lisbon stared at him, her eyes softening to something he couldn’t discern before she looked away.

“I appreciate that, Jane.” She whispered, her hand subconsciously drifting to rest on her chest where she traced the edges of her cross. “I just… didn’t want to worry you.”

The coil between them, taut with their heated emotions, seemed to loosen and give space to a more forgiving nature.

Jane’s frustrations unraveled and he took the chance to slip his hand to her waist, indifferent to any discomfort she may feel with his proximity as he gently pulled her into a hug.

She fit snugly against him, her head resting against his chest as her arms slowly closed around his body.

“You’re my partner, Lisbon.” He mumbled quietly against the tuft of dark hair atop her head. “I will always worry about you, whether you like it or not.”

A stretch of silence settled in the kitchen as the two simply stood, his fingers tracing patterns across her back opposite of where the injury stained her skin.

A muffled hum sounded against his body in supposed acceptance, vibrating against his soul.

“You can sleep on the couch.”

Chapter Text

Around Season 6 – Episode 12

Sunlight broke through the thin shades draped around the bedroom window, seeping across the bed linen to kiss her face awake. It was rare for the sunrise to cause a stir rather than the alarm sabotaging the sweet lull of sleep, which told her either something was out of the ordinary or she had started sleeping like a sane person.

Her first instinct was to assess her surroundings as if an intruder had disturbed the peace – then she remembered the events of the night before.

She blinked awake with a yawn, stretching farther across her king bed to liven up the muscles, the distinct smell of eggs invading the room.

Their argument had nearly made her throw him out, but she was glad it had ended differently – Jane had happily taken the couch at her behest. He was lucky to have such persuasive methods. After all, his excuse was justified.

They were partners.

She wondered then if it had been a mistake to bring him home. He wouldn’t have seen the injury, and she wouldn’t have felt unbelievably stupid for losing herself in his arms when he had embraced her. The fragrant notes of cedar and thyme had coated her senses as her head had rested against his chest, tempting her to lean in and taste the scent along his collarbone.

Which she would have thoroughly regretted. Still, it was nice to wake up and know it wasn’t in solitude.

As she eased out of bed, a quiet moan escaped from the ache that still spread along her back, reminding her of her little secret. It wasn’t so secret anymore, but she was actually surprised that neither Jane nor the team had noticed it in the days she had suffered the aftermath.

Several times at the office she had found herself taking a rest in the breakroom, finding painkillers to numb the pain when it was at its worst, and Jane had almost caught her when getting tea. Abbott had nearly won himself a punch when he had patted her back with a solid slap while recognizing her efforts, making her consider if a rib had in fact fractured – but she had no issue breathing and that was always a dead giveaway.

Lisbon settled for wearing her sheer white top and shorts for now, quickly readying herself in the bathroom so not to look like a complete mess despite Jane having looked the same in his cold affair. With Jane in the house, it made her self-conscious for more reasons than one – and for none she would admit. So, she would tidy up.

However, Lisbon didn’t stand a chance. As she entered the living room and peered around the corner to the kitchen area, she caught sight of Jane already dressed in his now-dry suit. He might as well have never been on the brink of malady – it for sure didn’t seem like it, his face colored with warmth and his hair well kept.

He was cooking scrambled eggs on the stove, teacup in hand as he smiled at her. “Mornin’, Lisbon. Finally, you’re a bit of a heavy sleeper.”

She had to refrain from glaring daggers out of sheer jealousy. How did someone look so refreshed this early in the morning? He didn’t even have bedhead.

Heat churned low in her stomach, a flutter that kicked against her lungs in a cry for something she wouldn’t name. He looked at home in her house. It was like seeing a memory unfold that had never existed.

“Good morning, Jane.” She replied hesitantly, her brow frowning in thought. “How long have you been awake?” She asked and glanced at the clock – it was 7 am. Usually she would wake at 6 to do her morning run.

“And why has my alarm not woken me?” Lisbon interrogated him further, skeptical of his doings while she would have been fast asleep.

Jane seemed unfazed by her dubious attitude, flashing a wider smirk as he chuckled, promptly placing two plates of perfectly cooked eggs and toast on the counter for them both.

“Relax, Lisbon. I haven’t ransacked your closet for extra sweaters, you and your brothers can keep them all for my sake.” He defended and offered her to sit on one of the bar chairs that came with the kitchen. A cup of coffee soon accompanied her meal, steaming on the table.

Lisbon stared at her plate with intrigue, taking a much-needed sip of the coffee as she eased into the seat. She watched him as he folded his sleeves, revealing the taut muscles along his forearms that worked to place his dishes in the sink. Lisbon’s mouth dried, suggesting she downed the coffee as she had done the whiskey many hours before.

She glanced back at him and found herself drawn by his ocean eyes, enticing her to dive below the surface and drown herself in the dark depths. Before she could be tempted, she snapped the cord tying her to the seafloor.

“What makes you think you can have any?” She retaliated with a smile to mask her thoughts, trusting that he had respected her boundaries.

“Maybe you want to see me wear them again. I know you loved it last night.” Jane winked, his seductive step never faltering as he handed her a fork before he attacked his own meal.

Lisbon deadpanned and took the fork in silent thanks, turning her attention to her eggs without a response. She couldn’t deny that going blind had been an honest wish because the sweater had suited him too well and she had liked the sight.

“I happened to wake by your alarm, which, I have to say, fought bravely to wake you as well.” He explained to answer her forgotten inquiries, stabbing the eggs before swallowing a bunch. “I stopped it and let you sleep some more. I thought it was rude not to let you since you usually sleep so little.” He said with a shrug like it was no big deal, making Lisbon flush.

“You look cute when you sleep, like the angry little princess has finally found her tiara.” He admitted boldly and sank his teeth into his piece of toast, her blush turning deeper.

“Stop it, Jane.” She simply retaliated and chewed on her eggs, too flustered to muster a proper comeback. It was an incredibly sweet gesture, but it just left her more self-conscious.

“I mean it.” He pressed on, finishing the rest of his tea.

Lisbon inhaled deeply, scrambling through her head to find something relevant to steer the conversation towards – she preferred chatting about anything but herself, especially with Jane.

His shirt was unbuttoned by a few at the top, exposing his tanned chest that he had surely given plenty of time in the sun while he hid in South America. She had often imagined him on the beaches when reading his letters, enjoying the warmth of sand between his toes or swimming with the dolphins he would meet beneath the sunset. Perhaps happy and unburdened at last, without serial killers to haunt him. Without her.

The thought pierced her like a blade through the heart, making her smile falter. She chewed on her lip quietly, the scrape of them against her skin crying with unspoken ache – he had probably enjoyed it. Finally free of her constant reprimands and without her rules to follow.

Lisbon blinked out of her thoughts and looked back at Jane, whose face embraced concern. “Is something wrong?” He asked cautiously, his hand twitching as if he would reach for her, but it stayed put at his plate.

Lisbon forced the smile back in place and nodded, determined to finish her meal. “No, I was just thinking about last night.” She excused smoothly, swallowing the lump in her throat before she would choke on it and embarrass herself further. “You seemed so cold and sick and now you’re… well, I guess the shower worked.”

Jane grinned knowingly; his concern washed away by the shine of his charms. “Yes, thank you for that, by the way.” He said and ate the last bits of toast as she finished, taking their empty plates to make haste of the dishes. “I’m all warmed up, I promise. Janes are hearty stock.”

He dried his hands in the dishcloth, the two locking eyes again as silence settled in the kitchen for the second time since her homecoming. It was like seconds stretched farther than they would usually grasp, stealing less of time for them to wander the endless thread of the unknown looped around them.

Jane’s hands slowed, but Lisbon barely noticed, her eyes captured by his cast, hooking onto her like the easy prey she was in his waters. If he asked, she would admit anything right then and there. How was it that she couldn’t escape the dangerous domain that was Jane’s affections?

Her eyelids fluttered involuntarily, breaking the spell that bound them both to their places. She smiled sheepishly to cover it up, sliding off her seat to place her half empty mug in the sink. “Thank you for breakfast and coffee. And doing the dishes.” She spoke as she leaned against the corner in the kitchen while he finished cleaning the pan, humble gratitude shadowing her hand that placed a few stray hairs behind her ear.

Jane set aside the pan, pausing his work to smirk at her. She didn’t even have time to reject him before he leaned in close and planted a soft kiss to her temple. It was a gesture that spoke of a platonic love, but all the more caused the storm in her heart to roar with renewed energy.

“It was the least I could do, Lisbon. Take it as thanks for your hospitality.” He said, returning to his dish-cleaning endeavors.

She felt frozen in place, but he didn’t allow her to reminisce for long as he threw the dishcloth in her face. “You’re welcome to dry off, though, if you’re in a generous mood.”

Lisbon’s eyes took another round tour towards the skies as she picked the cloth off her face with a muffled laugh. Smartass.

Even after a week, the morning with Lisbon still played across his mind.

She had looked adorable in her sleep, her face void of the daily worries that came with her job. He had stolen a long glance at her when turning the alarm off, admiring the missing frown on her brow and the gentle downturn of her lips against the bed linen. She had looked just as stunning in her casual outfit, her hair lightly tussled from a good night’s sleep.

He had been grateful then that he could distract himself with the scrambled eggs on the stove, or he might have picked her up and gone back to her bedroom to promise that neither of them would be working that day.

He had liked staying over. To the point that he hoped for it to happen again, a pointless endeavor. He knew Lisbon well enough to know she would do plenty to prevent it.

Kissing her had been a huge gamble. He had wondered if she would hit him or straight up protest – Lisbon wasn’t known for breaching comfort zones nor allowing it. But she had done neither. It hadn’t even been a real kiss, but it was nonetheless more than a hug.

It was just there, on the edge of her hairline, the scent of her lotion invading his senses when his nose had nestled on the crown of her head. It was placed strategically enough to come off as a caring gesture between friends, successfully disguising his true intentions.

If he had had any say about it, he would have lifted her onto the countertop and placed himself between her legs, letting them embrace his hips while he would lose himself in the softness of her lips against his own. A passionate desire breathing fire in his lungs – a dream that would never be fulfilled.

He could almost taste it, the intense notes of coffee on her tongue as his would flick against the current, his thumb tilting her head backwards with a gentle nudge of her jaw while his palm felt the pace of her heart in the strain of her neck. He could practically feel the squeeze of her thighs around him and hear the moan whispered into his kiss, leaving her threshold unguarded.

If he focused long enough, he could sense her hands against his skin and feel the scrape of her nails against his back when she gave in to him.

“I happen to have a date.”

Jane’s daydreaming was cut short with what felt like a slap to the face.

Not long ago he had given Lisbon and Fischer the surprise of their lives by hiding in her car, answering their questions without much interest as he was quite absentminded. Clearly, Lisbon wanted to give him payback.

“Sorry, a date?” He blinked in confusion, ransacking his memory for any recent activity in Lisbon’s life that included a man other than himself, colleagues or case suspects.

“Like I couldn’t possibly have a date with somebody?” Lisbon defended and stared at him like she was a little insulted.

Jane was still in shock, impulsively grimacing at her. “You have a date in Houston?”

“Yeah, remember Osvaldo Ardiles?” Lisbon’s brow lifted at him, and he couldn’t read if she was proud of that catch or not.

He didn’t have to think for long before the man appeared in his mind, the thick snails on his forehead taking up half the image.

“Ardiles. Two words; tasseled…” Jane glanced at Fischer for support on this unbelievable matter but naturally found none, “loafers.”

Lisbon shook her head in apparent disbelief of his point. “He’s not a bad looking man.”

Fischer interrupted ambitiously. “Tasseled loafers? Wait, Jane, back up – you said you already solved the case, are you gonna tell us how?”

Jane silently condemned her for attempting to steer the conversation away from what he, personally, found most interesting of all.

“Ask him and he won’t tell you. Pretend you’re not interested, and he might.” Lisbon whispered with a knowing smirk, but Jane didn’t register as he was still looking at Fischer in attempt to communicate his disdain for her curveball. She wasn’t catching on.

“I’m gonna try.” Fischer turned to start the car.

Jane gave up on her and shifted his focus back on Lisbon. “I- I’m sorry, you… you said ‘date’ and then the subject changed.” He pointed out, his expression holding a megaphone that shouted; ELABORATION NEEDED.

A smile creased her lips beautifully and Jane felt repulsed for not being the reason behind it. “Yeah, okay, it’s not exactly a date date, it’s a business thing. He is flying in on a private jet from Chicago.” Lisbon’s grin shone of affection for Ardiles’s clear dedication to meeting up with her.

I’ll have him strapped to the wings of Virgin Air on his way back.

His voice was void of sincerity as he spoke: “Wow, that’s very impressive. Why?”

Lisbon’s smile stumbled, telling him this was something new to them both. “I don’t know, I’ll find out tonight.” She confirmed his suspicions, then left the conversation and him behind on the backseat.

A business thing. Of course, Ardiles would excuse it as such – Jane doubted it was his true intentions. More than a few times, back at the CBI, Jane had seen him steal a glimpse or two of Lisbon when he was coming by for relevant cases. Especially when he had tried charging him for killing Timothy Carter.

Ardiles wasn’t married. If he had a pRiVaTe JeT to show off to Lisbon and would travel all the way from Chicago to see her, there must be something special about it. Jane followed his usual hunch and guessed that perhaps he had finally gathered the courage to embarrass himself on purpose. But – on the off chance that he was having dinner with her on official matters, then Jane would do the same.

Not a date where he would bore her with cases, but the excuse would hold. There was nothing wrong with coworkers getting together for teambuilding. He would devise a plan.

For his own sake, Jane neglected the fact that the two of them had been teambuilding plenty the past decade and hardly needed more of it.

A bug.

That was his reasoning?

Jane had wanted to laugh. It was a fair excuse if he was right. Was that the case, then it was a very serious matter, and Ardiles had done the right thing in contacting Lisbon – more so Van Pelt and Rigsby too. They knew how to handle those things. That he would applaud him for.

If it was a faux, Jane would have considered giving him some pointers in seducing women with a proper story, but in this case the target was Lisbon, so he left him to his own demise.

The store clerk flashed a smile at him as she pushed the bag on the counter towards him. “Do you need anything else, sir?” She asked, her tone light to prove she had worked many years in customer service.

“No, thank you. I love the earrings.” He replied and gestured to her jewelry with a charming smirk that left the woman blushing, turning on his heel to exit the store. “Good day, miss.”

The Airstream was a gift sent from God above, or so Lisbon might have called it – Jane settled with calling it the perfect match.

With his lack of personal items after leaving South America, it had taken him close to no time moving into the van. Most important of all, he had his clothes, a few books and enough tea to survive a round trip of the States. He placed the bag somewhere in the closet, hidden away for its later purpose.

The drive to Lisbon’s house was short, parking on the street before he peeked at her windows to ensure she was home. It was early evening, and they had just closed the Whitaker case, so he was pretty certain she had allowed herself the day off already – just once. It was Friday.

The memory of his last time here paraded his mind as he squinted at the house. There was a soft hue cast onto the cardboard boxes in her living room, exposing the fact that someone was definitely home.

He smoothed his hair over as he left the Airstream, nearing her front door in stride. A solid few knocks landed against the wood, and all he could do was hope it wasn’t Ardiles behind it.

A few moments passed before the door opened.

Lisbon stood in a loose grey shirt and sweatpants; her hair set in a bun to keep it out of her face. His heart skipped a beat and he had to focus to prevent his knees from melting away by the sight of her.

She looked surprised to see him.

“Jane? What are you doing here?” She asked, leaning out of the doorframe to check if he was alone.

“Good to see you too, Lisbon.” He quipped gallantly and mirrored her behavior – only opposite, attempting to steal a glimpse of her living room. “Do you have any plans for the night?”

Lisbon’s brow lifted curiously. “Well… no, I was going to watch-“

“Excellent! Now you have.” He interrupted cheerfully, only delighted to know that Ardiles was out of the picture.

Lisbon’s brow fell back in place as fast as he had cut her off.

“What? What did you do, Jane…” she squinted her eyes at him skeptically, her confidence in him near zero.

“You have such little faith in me, dear.” Jane mocked his offense with a hand to the chest. “I did nothing at all but desire your company.”

Lisbon’s mouth gaped briefly, searching for a response. Jane beat her to it and explained further.

“Have you had time in your life to see any of the beauty Texas has to offer?”

Lisbon’s expression gradually shifted from being skeptical to pure confusion. “Yes… the State Capitol. And everything else you can catch on the way in a plane.” She suggested, a feeble defense.

Jane almost rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t count.”

Lisbon grew impatient with him and fidgeted with the door. “Jane, where are you getting at?”

His teeth sparkled as he stepped back, gesturing towards his Airstream. “I’m taking you sightseeing in my new home. To inaugurate it.”

Lisbon glanced at the silver bucket, barely a trace of faith found in her eyes for the thing.

“Call it a date if you will. Purely ‘business’.” Jane taunted and something in Lisbon finally clicked.

“Oh, so that is what all this is about.” She started, pointing a finger at him.

He masked a perfect face of confusion to throw her off. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He lied and smirked, grasping her finger gently to pull her out of the house.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. I got us sandwiches.” He lured expertly.

Lisbon reclaimed her hand from his and stepped back behind her doorstep. A smile creeped over her face, replacing the skepticism with grace. “Okay, but let me change first. Go start that thing.”

Jane grinned victoriously and did as told.

She didn’t take long before she stepped into his van, wearing a silk shirt with her classic blazer and some pants as she settled in the passenger seat. Casual, but still quite formal if she was to head to work.

Did she think he was taking her to church?

Her dark hair was draped around her face now, the hair tie loose around her wrist for future use. She scratched a spot behind her ear as she looked at him expectantly.

Jane, who nearly fell into her well of spells whenever he observed her, blinked back towards the street sign in front of him. The engine of the Airstream thrummed with a gentle rhythm beneath his feet, awaiting his call to speed down the road and out of the city.

“So, where are we going?” She asked him, a hint of excitement caged behind her lips as she rolled them tight between her teeth.

Jane shifted the gear to drive. “You’ll see. You have to have patience, Lisbon.” He repeated his statement from their time at the bench, causing her to roll her eyes in return.

He was sure she thought it very unfair.

He was driving out of town.

Lisbon glanced at her watch early on to check the time. She didn’t think he would drag her on a long journey so late in the day without warning her beforehand, so wherever he was taking her had to be relatively close.

Sightseeing. She had to admit it wasn’t the worst thing he could have told her – honestly, she expected much worse. Whenever Jane called or showed up unannounced, either someone was dead, or he desperately needed her help. It was more so shocking when it was positive.

It was sweet of him to include her in his little ritual. She had heard that Fischer hadn’t believed his choice of the Airstream, of all the other vehicles listed, but in a way, Lisbon wasn’t so surprised.

The practicality and charm of the van reflected Jane’s own values. He was a little old school at times, his old Citroën had proven that, and driving around with your bed instead of tying yourself to a house somewhere gave him freedom. Plus, he was a man of adventure. If this ‘inauguration’ wasn’t a sign, then she was certain that he felt inspired to travel more after his years in South America.

After he took the exit onto the highway, Lisbon glanced at her watch again. It had already been twenty minutes.

She craned her neck to look around the van, wanting to study his home without seeming invasive. Perhaps he had pictures like she did, something that held the door into his heart and mind ajar, which he so tightly kept under covers.

Lisbon glanced back at him, seated at the big wheel as he accelerated to match the speed of the cars on the highway. He looked at peace there, rested in his new crevice of home.

She cleared her throat, and he noticed her stare, quickly gesturing with a thumb towards the back. “Can I look around?” She asked cautiously.

Jane smiled thoughtfully, nodding in response. “Sure, you can. Just don’t steal my sweaters.”

Lisbon snorted as she got out of her seat. “Like you have any.” She countered lightheartedly.

The Airstream was still very bare of any soul. It was hardly a surprise since she suspected that he had picked it up recently, but she also knew he didn’t own much after his return to the States either.

The windows were draped in light blue curtains, matching the light grey cushions of couches. A few pillows colored the seats in burgundy and copper. The dark wood decor for the kitchen and dining table balanced the fine line of modern interior mixed with the late nineties. From the outside it really gave off a stuck-in-‘85-vibe, but on the inside, she found Jane’s style. Classic. It was like seeing his suits worn by a house.

Lisbon bunched her hands in her front pockets to prevent herself from poking around where she wasn’t welcome. She took a few steps down the narrow path that followed the van’s spine, tilting her head to study the top cabinets that shouldered the ceiling. She wondered if all of them were full of abandoned coats, books and secret journals that no one read or were simply empty.

The fridge stood untouched, no magnets or pictures of neither people nor stolen case files. After his extensive board on Red John at CBI, she had half expected him to have his personal fridge coated in leads or trails of thought he wanted to investigate. Still, Red John had been special, and she could imagine he wanted to leave the work outside of his personal life in the future.

When she turned her attention to the opposite side of the room, she found a board decorating the wall above the couch. It wasn’t blank like the fridge.

A few maps scattered the top, stabbed by pins with sticky notes of locations he wanted to visit or had already. ‘Lisbon’ stood scribbled on a yellow page, making her heart skip a beat with curiosity. The page was pinned to a part of the map that appeared to be near Austin, so she guessed it was the place he was taking her to this evening. Good to know he wasn’t crossing state lines tonight.

Beneath the maps, two post cards adorned the space with pictures of similar coastlines – tropical and teal blue to sell the exotic vow of vacation to the receiver. Lisbon peered back at Jane who was busy watching the road before she picked off one of the cards.

The back was without a message, revealing it had been postcards for his own pleasure. There was no name to tell her which city he had bought it in either, but small printed letters spelling ‘Venezuela’ finally told her where he had been hiding after all this time.

She smiled to herself, placing the card back on the board. Good hiding spot.

The bathroom was small but could fit two if they were ambitious. The thought crossed her mind as she measured the shower, a fantasy whispering promises in her ear.

She could feel his breath against her skin, spreading fire along her neck as they both stood beneath the warm rain. Her eyes fluttered closed as the image tantalized her, deceit coursing through her veins with the delusion of his lips grazing along her shoulder. Her whimper filled the tight space as his tongue sought refuge somewhere behind her ear.

She could practically sense his hands on her waist as they had been too many days before, the warmth of his chest against her back with his fingers digging into her hips while one hand splayed across her stomach, inching towards the inevitable.

Lisbon’s chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe, her hands perspiring as she swallowed to gather herself. Her heartbeat was pounding somewhere in her throat, deafening her with a heat that only reminded her of where she wanted his touch.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and saw her face flushed, the worst crimson red she had seen in forever. It beat the time she was busted for her crush on Woody Squire.

She looked back at the cockpit where Jane sat, ignorant to the thoughts that raged in her mind. With immense effort and an ounce of patience, she left behind her carnal struggles and returned to the passenger seat.

Jane looked at her expectantly. “Was your investigation to your satisfaction?”

Lisbon mustered a laugh and weakly smiled back. “Yes, you live a very glamorous life.” She teased sarcastically, never forgetting how his old Malibu residence had screamed big money.

Jane flashed a grin, liking her joke. “I think so too.” He agreed before gesturing to the road. “We’re almost there.”

He was right. It took just shy of an hour to arrive when Jane pulled the Airstream off the highway and made his way along small trails into the countryside. If she didn’t know him so well, Lisbon would be worried for being randomly taken to the middle of nowhere. It was quite suspicious.

But as Jane had said – sightseeing. It could be anything, as much a big rock as the State Capitol.

When they finally stopped, Lisbon had a frown on her face as she tried figuring out their whereabouts.

“After you, my Lady Lisbon.” Jane offered as he held the door open, helping her out of the van with a mocking bow to extend the banter between them.

“Thank you, Sir Jane.” She reciprocated without batting an eye, a dull curtsy of her own grace before she left the role behind, waving at the barren land in front of her. Only a few trees seemed to survived the place.

“Did you drive me all the way out here to look at dirt and dead bugs?”

Jane was leaning against the side of his Airstream as he rubbed an ache in his palm. “Of course not, what do you think of me?” He cocked his head to the side, a gesture telling her to follow. “Come with me.”

She took after him along the gravel path, watching her step so not to twist an ankle (again) on a loose rock or an unexpected bone from somebody. She’d rather not have the workload right now.

“Relax, Lisbon.” Jane spoke as if he had read her thoughts. “We’re not as far away from civilization as you think.”

She looked up to see him gleaming, his arm stretched out to show off the spot he had chosen. Lisbon’s eyes followed the beeline and felt her jaw slacken in pure disbelief.

From the Airstream, it was invisible. Like a hidden pocket in the earth that had suddenly appeared from thin air. Jane had brought her along the side and now she stood at the edge of something she could only compare to paradise, glistening in the sunset.

It was a huge round pool, its shade likening the ocean on his postcards, surrounded by large slabs of limestone that rested along the water’s edge. Lush greenery adorned the neighboring area and followed the top’s edge, embracing the place like a mirage in the desert.

The pool was hidden within a grotto, the ceiling reaching high above the surface to support the trail they hid driven along to get there. Decorated with moss, stalactites and a nearby creek cascading down the ridge of the ground level, it was a beautiful sight to say the least. A small beach lapping at the coastline only polished the picture further.

Lisbon gaped at the place. “Jane…”

Jane practically beamed. “This is Hamilton Pool Preserve.” He said, cramping his hands into the pockets of his blazer to alleviate his excitement.

Lisbon stared from the pool and back to him, speechless. “It’s… it’s gorgeous. Jane… how did you find this place?”

He simply smirked back. “Lisbon, I may be lost on technology for many things, but I know how to google.”

Lisbon almost pouted at him, unexpected regret settling in her stomach as she looked down at her fully dressed self and back to the paradise waiting for her. “I wish we could have taken a swim.”

Jane’s eyes glistened daringly with his unknown schemes. “Don’t worry, dear. I came prepared.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Continued.

The rays of the sunset coated the landscape in a rich, soft hue, molding the evening in serene paradise. Just shy of the exemplary utopia everyone dreamed themselves off to when work became too depressive. However, Lisbon had a hard time appreciating it at the moment, her eyes strung to Jane’s as she prayed wholeheartedly for him to say he wasn’t serious.

“You bought me a swimsuit?” She stared at him in disbelief. “Jane, you could have just asked me to bring one.”

They had taken the short trek back to the Airstream after his little confession, wherein he now stood with a fancy white bag hanging off his outstretched fingers. Just from the bag’s material she could guess it came from some elite store she would have never ventured into on her own accord.

Jane stepped out of the camper and handed her the bag, the white of his teeth the only innocent remark she could discern of his entire being. He looked like a dog wagging its tail after tearing a pillow to pieces, clearly seeing no issue with the crime.

“Then there would be no surprise. And I didn’t buy you a swimsuit.” He disputed gallantly as the bag dropped into her open hands. “I bought you two.”

“Jane?!” She whined, her wide eyes snapping to the contents in the bag. It was like the jewels all over again.

“Well, one is a swimsuit and the other is a bikini. I wasn’t sure which you preferred.” He defended, a hopeless endeavor in her opinion as she shoved the bag against his chest.

“I can’t take this, Jane. Please tell me they do refunds.” Her pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as she shook her head, baffled, the crimson of her cheekbones incriminating her for the flattery he imposed on her.

It was far too much of him to have done this. She accepted his pony for her birthday way back when – just the hour it was available – but there was no occasion here. This was all him, his little ritual and his Airstream to celebrate. She was just the guest.

“They do. But will you drive the whole hour back just to see the shop closed, or will you take advantage of my purchase and enjoy the pool? Didn’t you say you wanted to swim?” The teasing glint in his eye was telling her he had been prepared for her rejection.

He took the bag squished against his front and held it above her hands, awaiting her acceptance. “You can return them tomorrow. I promise.”

Incredible of him to put her in this situation. She wanted to scowl at him.

However, she was genuinely eager to enjoy the pool and if she had the choice of swimming fully clothed, naked entirely or take use of the swimwear, she was choosing the latter.

Lisbon flushed a deeper red as she reclaimed the bag. “Fine. You win.”

Jane seemed to grow a head taller. “I always do.”

She lifted a finger at him in warning. “Don’t tempt me. I will beat you.” She turned towards the van, effectively hiding the grin on her face.

He rolled back on his heels before leaning towards her, his hands stuck in his pockets. “In what way?” he called after her, his voice bound by mischief.

She didn’t offer him an ounce of clarity before slamming the door shut in his face, demanding privacy to change. He could read that as clarity.

She glanced around the van, contemplating whether she should use the bathroom or if the common area sufficed. It felt weird undressing in a home that wasn’t her own, so she settled for the bathroom.

She didn’t like standing naked near Jane’s bed, and if she was, she’d prefer he was in the room with her.

She placed the bag on the lid of the toilet before digging into its depths, fishing out a black swimsuit, designed with an open back and a plunging halter neck that didn’t leave much to the imagination. It dripped with the taste of glamour and gracious seduction, honoring the body of its wearer with all but modesty.

The other was, sure enough, a burgundy red bikini only held together by thin straps bound by the hips, around the neck and the back. The silk fabric would barely cover the essentials, and it was obvious her whole ass would be out with that thong. She imagined countless of sorority girls were ripping them off the racks when the sales started.

Lisbon scoffed, convinced that Jane pushed it to the limits when choosing attire for others. The idea of this being a sting and her looks were to lure out some suspect hiding in the depths of the cave started growing in her mind – she didn’t doubt for a second that Jane could scheme such a feat. She would have to demand an answer on that.

She decided to go with the swimsuit. Despite the design, it had more coverage, and she would rather not be too revealing in Jane’s company. She would go home mortified if she had a wardrobe malfunction that he – or anyone else – would see.

She made quick work of getting it on, adjusting it accordingly as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The subtle blush beneath her skin threatened to surface as she thought of what Jane would say when he saw her in it. Either he wouldn’t care at all, or, if she was lucky, she would catch him off guard.

She pulled her silk shirt over her head before she could finish the thought, threading her legs into the pants as well. The blazer was a bit overkill if she was about to lose it anyways, but at least she was covered until they reached the pool.

Jane stood with his back to the camper when she got out, watching the low sun glowing above the trees.

After seeing the place for a second time, she noticed the greenery spread quite nicely around the preserve, unlike her first impression of the area. Not as dead, after all. She had clearly been blinded by expectations and looked the other way, it seemed.

Jane’s feet twisted in the gravel with a distinct crunch, a smile blossoming on his face like always. She felt oddly self-conscious beneath his eye, as if he was peeling off the layers of her outfit with his mind so he could see which suit she had chosen already.

A rogue dream was begging for him to do it with his hands.

“Aren’t you going for a swim too?” Lisbon asked with intrigue, expecting him to switch places with her in the van.

“Of course, I am. I just knew already.” He winked and revealed a second bag he had slung over the bend of his arm, green and heavy with content. “I changed before we left.”

She eyed the bag curiously, reaching his side so they could walk back to the trail. “What do you have there?”

“It’s our sandwiches and towels. I got some beer too, if you want.” He explained and showed her the alcohol of choice. Corona.

Mexican and definitely something he had been drinking in Venezuela, she would guess.

Lisbon arched a brow at him, then promptly pointed at the nearby sign that marked the start of the trail to the beach.

Public display of consumption of alcohol prohibited.

Jane’s smirk widened as they passed the sign, gesturing around them. “Are we not alone?”

She paused for a moment, realizing they had, in fact, been completely alone since they first arrived. “Well, yeah.”

“Then there’s no public display.” He countered, a sly tone to his words.

She scrutinized him skeptically, hesitant to go any farther down the worn flight of steps they had reached. “How come there are no people, actually? Is this a secret sting?”

He grimaced suddenly, clearly surprised by her question. “Secret sting? That would be an extreme inauguration.” His brow twisted with something bordering amusement and scorn for her assumptions.

“We’re outside the usual opening hours. I bribed the park ranger to let us have the next few hours to ourselves. I promised him that it would be the only time we ever visited because it was our only chance before going back to Australia.”

Lisbon scrunched her nose with a laugh, impressed by his creative alibi. “And how well did you sell that with your very authentic Australian accent?” She inquired curiously, knowing he was as American as they come.

“I’d reckon he bought it, mate.” Jane thickened his voice with excessive skill, making Lisbon snort loudly in response. It was awfully fake.

“I’m sure he did.” She nodded sarcastically, but she knew still that he had made sure they would be left undisturbed for the night. Somehow, he was always able to bend even the most futile scenarios to his will. This would be no different.

Jane seemed to light up the path with his joy, convincing her to continue towards the paradise that waited. As long as he abandoned the accent on the trail, she had no complaints.

The green tote bag he had brought along was strewn on the sand beside them, its contents now scattered around the small beach. A patterned blanket of his was laid out on the ground for them to sit on, Jane laid back with his shoes and blazer ditched in the sand.

Two holes dug by Jane’s hands were efficiently used as beer holders while they chewed on their club sandwiches in peace, the ambience emitting a sense of warmth they could lean into.

The sun above was still able to heat the water, but it wouldn’t be more than an hour before the place would be veiled in darkness, giving way for the moon and stars to light up the cove.

The ripple of the nearby waterfall was a scenic cherry on top, a gentle source cascading several feet from the cliff’s canopy to tempt them for a shower. The hymn came as the water broke against a large, flat stone at the water’s edge on the other side of the pool, perfectly built to stand on. It reminded him of the years he had spent on the beaches, watching the dolphins ride with the waves – except this time, she was at his side.

“You know I had wanted you to see where I spent my years in hiding.” He spoke when he had swallowed a bite of his sub, referring to his letters.

Lisbon wiped the corner of her lip to remove some excess dressing he was unfortunate enough to miss.

“Yes. It would have been nice to visit.” She replied, a soft smile curling her lips as if she mourned not going.

“This is as close to the place I could get you. For now.” He admitted, nodding towards the cove, its span around them and towards the sky enhancing the magnitude of the place.

A few seconds passed before she broke the silence, a sign that told him he had surprised her.

“That’s why you chose this place?” The question was spoken with such delicacy, it seemed she tested each word’s weight before speaking it.

He met her sage eyes willingly, crumbling the paper in his hands as he finished his sandwich.

“Yes. For Texan standards, it’s very exotic, but the cave is what pulls it off. Plus, I have this blanket – it was sewn by one of the old ladies I met.” He brushed it of a few sand grains as his lips curled subtly from the memory. “She thought my Spanish was horrible.”

The frown on her face melted away, replaced by smooth lines of gratitude. “I appreciate you bringing me here.”

The sincerity in her voice didn’t escape him and he eased a nod in response. He had not expected her to be this touched by his gesture – perhaps she had really wanted to see him while he was gone. It was good to know that she liked his idea of a date, though.

Take that, Ardiles.

“I’ve never been to Venezuela.” She shrugged her point into a sip of beer, unintentionally making Jane’s line of thought come to a halt.

He watched her drink, puzzled for a moment as he raked his mind for the root of her intelligence. “How did you know I was…” he started but cut himself short when he realized. “You saw the postcards.”

She placed the beer back in the sand, the smirk she was attempting to quell revealing the truth. “They had very pretty pictures on the front.”

Jane couldn’t stop the smile from staining his face. His little detective had snooped around.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on you–“

He shook his head. “You could never intrude, Lisbon. My cupboards hold no secrets from you.”

Except the one in his heart. The hollow shelf that ached to be furnished with cups of her laughter and plates of her touch against his skin, to feel her nails grazing his chest like blunt knives. He wanted its hatches to creak with her whimpers when he brought her desires to fruition in the dead of night – and he knew it would never happen.

Her smile distracted him from his sorrows, her hands dusted from breadcrumbs as she finished her food.

“Good to know. I’ll find all your superhero socks on the way back then. I bet Daredevil’s your favorite.” She laughed.

“Oh, Batman’s a close second.” He retaliated with ease, masking his flattery well by downing his beer and busying himself with cleaning up their mess.

“I think if we want to enjoy this place while it’s warm, we have to go.” Jane pointed out, rising from the blanket. “I’d rather not do a round two of that harbor.”

Lisbon appeared to enjoy the thought of him freezing off his toes again, but said; “You’re right, let’s not do that.”

Jane didn’t hesitate to shed his clothes, his shirt and pants joining the rest of their things in the sand, closely bunched together near the bushes.

“I’ll check for sharks.” He joked and ran into the water, finding the temperature nice and cool – perfect for an evening swim. He had only just sunk beneath the surface and turned back to call for her, when he was struck with awe.

It was as if the air teared from his lungs, ripping waves in the water to match his pulse. His hands curled into fists beneath the surface to seek relief, hoping to cover his sins.

She was beautiful, and frankly, unfathomably hot. He feared then, if she joined him, the cove would risk a drought when she touched the water.

The sun was impeccably placed on the sky, letting the last rays of light frame her when she neared the water, the glint kissing across her skin the closer she came.

She had chosen the one he expected. He had found it in the store and thought it outshone the rest of their collection by a mile. He only found something much worse as second choice to make it seem more appealing to someone as shy as Lisbon. Had she seen it alone, she might have rejected the whole idea to begin with.

It was hugging her figure like legs around a waist, tight and seductive. If she had laid down with a sculptor in his van, he was certain it had been carved into her skin, shading the curves of her hips and embracing her mounds as if they were fate held in its grasp.

The aged injury below her shoulder blade was fading, barely discernible on her skin anymore. As she stretched her arms over her head, adjusting whatever needed work, he saw the blemish stretch with her muscles, but he barely followed the endeavor further.

She had pulled her hair into a messy bun again to keep it dry from the water, replicating the artwork she had displayed when he had picked her up at her house. The bend of her arms birthed plenty of fantasies for him as they slid down her own form in their search for faults, teasing him with a good time he would never enjoy.

His mouth ran dry despite his beverage intake, his parched lips heaving to be sated by other means – those only quenched by her mouth against his.

The navy-blue briefs he was wearing were doing little to hide his growing affection, the loose material hovering around his legs in the water depths and thus forging no restraint to aid his unfortunate condition.

Jane immediately began drawing Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt and the rest of the team into the utopic scenery around them to suppress his arousal. She would without a doubt notice if he wasn’t disguising it soon.

Imagining Rigsby’s inability to keep his hands off Van Pelt was an easy buzzkill. He would just have to uphold that miserable vision for the rest of the night.

She had never seen him undressed, she realized.

The time when he nearly died by drowning didn’t really count – the paramedics had covered plenty and she had been busy crying while watching his face for signs of life, so she hadn’t really noticed.

Seeing his bare back as he ran off in the sunset, subtle muscles rippling beneath his skin before they disappeared in the deep pool, that was a sight she had liked and needed to see again. She just needed to chart a course for it to happen.

She tried taking her time undressing. She felt shy of him watching, so she used his eagerness to her advantage and let the pieces fall off while he didn’t see – but when she was ready, she wanted him to see her properly. Just in case he cared.

She found excuses to adjust the suit at her hips and over her neck, securing the knot properly beneath her hair before she drew the threads into a bun above her head. A light turn gave him a view of every angle, effectively amplified in the shadows created by the sun.

When she faced the water and found him a few feet out, she had to prevent a grin from exposing her intentions to him. She had succeeded, and well.

He looked almost dumbfounded for a second – a lost puppy at sea – before she saw him divert his gaze to everywhere else, finding the nearby limestone excessively interesting.

All men were the same. As composed as Jane always appeared, he was still no different.

Lisbon’s confidence skyrocketed instantly, able to set aside her insecurities for the lack of decency she found in the suit. It helped considerably on the situation – maybe it wasn’t so bad to keep this thing in the end. Maybe.

As she reached the pool, she cautiously dipped her toes to test its climate.

“So, have you found any sharks?” She inquired mischievously, catching Jane’s attention as his gaze whipped back to hers from his rock studies.

“Nope. It’s clear.” He spoke, letting his lips carve the usual grin onto his features.

Lisbon slowly eased into the water, goosebumps running along her skin as her body accommodated to the temperature. She smiled at him as they came level with each other, the water lapping at their shoulders like gentle kisses. The pool was deep enough for them to lose footing, and as she looked down to determine the depth, she could just barely skim the floor decorated by kelp and other plants.

“I haven’t gone swimming in so long.” She murmured, glancing up to view the cave’s ceiling. Several stalactites budded the edges, decked with moss to cover the lithic roots.

The lack of gravity in water made it hard to keep a distance from Jane. It was like the weight of the pool was drawing the two closer to each other rather than apart. She was anxious to keep him at arm’s length, ensure there were no regrets to suffer through later – but the devilish crave breathing her desires down her neck to gather somewhere low in her stomach was scouring at the chance of getting closer to him.

The heat of his body was tingling at the edges of her senses, heating what the water couldn’t, and she couldn’t deny herself the truth of wanting his touch.

She felt the push against her ribcage as his hands kept himself afloat beneath the water, punching sense into her head.

Stay in your lane.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Jane’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Austin doesn’t exactly have ocean nearby, and I take Cannon River had about one water slide in its vicinity?”

Lisbon promptly sprayed water in his face, hoping it could silence his laugh that echoed around the cove. It was rich music that made her heart skip a beat and the butterflies in her stomach flourish.

“I’ll have you know that it actually had two.” She defended feasibly, helping Jane’s sport along.

“Color me impressed.” He winked smoothly, wiping his face of the water she had thrown his way.

She was about to come up with a better retort when something long and slimy brushed against her legs. Lisbon shrieked her heart into place somewhere high in her throat, subconsciously clawing her way onto Jane in search for safety as she scoured the pool to find the culprit.

“What was that?” She croaked distractedly, twisting to catch a glimpse of anything live around them.

Only when she faced him did she realize that her hands were clutched around his neck with half a leg curled around his waist to keep herself as far out of the water as possible. The lump in her throat hardened as she stared down at his face, the warmth of his chest against her stomach making her pulse jitter uncontrollably.

Jane was smirking from ear to ear as he held her in his arms – unbeknownst to him – blazing an invisible pattern across her back while his legs kicked to keep them both afloat, bopping around the pool.

“I said there were no sharks. I didn’t say there were no fish, Lisbon.” He explained calmly, attempting to get her down from the nervous high.

It was ironic that she was so scared of this. She had killed criminals with no fear in sight, been the victor in several gang fights and cared little for injuries. She had even jumped out of a moving vehicle without issue. But the sense of something unknown touching her in any body of water? No, thank you.

Lisbon glared at him, considering murder.

“And you couldn’t have told me that before we jumped in?” She seethed at him, taking the opportunity to sink her hand into his soft curls and jerk his head back mercilessly. He winced predictably to her satisfaction, a low groan unfortunately escaping his lips to give her pining butterflies more reason to take flight.

“Did you expect this pool to be empty?” He muttered in a laugh as he stretched his neck to let the ache of her revenge dissipate. “It’s a natural pool worth thousands of years, there’s gonna be fish, Lisbon.”

She rolled her eyes as she unwrapped her leg from him, easing back into the water. “You’re an ass.”

Jane couldn’t stop smiling, clearly thrilled by her contempt against underwater wildlife. “I’m glad to be of service.”

It was a relief to get off the man, but the fear of getting too close had eased. She had sort of broken the ice on that part now. Still, if she could contain herself long enough, she would refrain from throwing herself at him a second time. A stolen brush of his arm or leg wasn’t wise either. No, she had to stay clear.

She should never have said yes.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” A call shouted from somewhere amongst the trees, making both their heads whip around. The person must have heard her scream. “The pool is closed.”

Lisbon frowned at Jane, immediately suspicious. “I thought you told the park ranger we would be here.”

He pursed his lips into a flatline as he failed to hide a cautious smile. “I lied.”

If Jane had a count of how many times Lisbon had hit him throughout the years they had known each other, he would need more hands. It seemed she had found several things to complain about during the evening, but then again, it would just qualify as another day at the office.

“We’re here illegally?!” She hissed at him as he swooped his arm around her waist once more, pulling her through the water to find cover behind a large rock that rose above the surface in the corner of the pool.

Lisbon didn’t object to his manhandling, more so focused on whispering profanities at his face to voice her disdain for this turn of events. “You’re impossible, Jane! You really had us trespass this place when we could just visit inside opening hours?”

Her hands gripped his shoulders – albeit gently – as he placed her with her back against the reef, his arms caging her protectively while he busied himself with scouting for the ranger.

The man was coming down the path towards the beach and Jane could only pray that he wouldn’t notice their items beneath the bushes. They had packed up most of them and thrown the blanket on top, so if the lack of light worked in their favor, it would camouflage them well enough amongst the greenery.

He barely noticed her question before she adequately snarled his name through her teeth.

His gaze flickered back down to hers, effectively distracted by her eyes that matched the jaded deep around them. Her chest was rising rapidly in her agitated state and Jane had to fight a gallant war so not to explore his desires for her right then and there.

“Well, I liked this place for ourselves, and I genuinely didn’t expect him to turn up.” Jane defended, his alibi standing no chance against the judge that was Lisbon.

She stared at him for a second, supposedly searching for a sign that his brain wasn’t lost on the pool floor. “Jane, we’re the FBI. We could easily have found a way to shut it down for the night, if it’s that important to you.”

Jane blinked at her, realizing. His head slanted as he reluctantly admitted his mistake. “Okay, I hadn’t considered that.”

She nodded knowingly but couldn’t stop a smirk from breaking the tension she had created with her displeasure. “Color me impressed.” She mocked, successfully evening the score between them.

“I still think it would have ruined the surprise, though. This is more fun.” He flashed a proud grin at her as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Count that as my apology for dragging you with me in my crime.”

Lisbon’s face flushed by his offer of remorse, shaking her head slowly. “If that is how you seek my forgiveness, I’m gonna need more kisses for the long list of offenses you still haven’t addressed.”

Usually, Jane was the one bold enough to test the waters or make her question his intentions. Oftentimes, he would find her blushing because of it, as he had done now. But she never reciprocated his actions just as boldly.

So, naturally, he was left surprised when her hand slid from his shoulder to curl around his neck, pulling him in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Take that as a thank you for this unexpected evening. I needed that.” She whispered to him, causing his face to flush a subtle red he was adamantly working to suppress.

Her lips were soft against his skin, as were her fingertips when they drew a line along his collarbone before grazing down his chest just as he had dreamed of not long ago. He swallowed dryly, attempting to ignore the desert that had sought shelter on his tongue.

Her lips parted softly as she gazed into his eyes, time practically stopping.

His arms framed her like she had always belonged between them, his hands gripping the rough terrain that molded the large rock she rested against. The brush of her thigh against his was drawing him in, a touch that inched dangerously close to his budding erection. If he tilted his hip, she would feel it and his secret would unravel.

He could kiss her right there. Lift her legs to rest around his waist so she could feel his desire, take hold of her chin to press his lips to hers and seek release while her thighs would quiver beneath his touch.

She was so close.

Her eyes gleamed behind her fluttering lashes and her chest had stilled, as if the breath was caught in the span that stretched between them.

His neck strained with a scorched ache, burning a lustful path down his spine to pool somewhere at the small of his back. His mind was jumbled with the threads he could follow, unable to figure out which to take hold of.

“Jane?” Her whisper furled around his soul like embers of a fire, seducing his heart to brandish itself on his skin, cooled solely by the water that seemed to boil around him.

They were partners. Kissing her could ruin everything. But did she want him? A kiss of gratitude wasn’t exactly a declaration. She could give that to anyone.

He leaned closer, the feel of her breath brushing against his face as he fought to convince himself of the best choice.

Her lips were right there.

Just as he went to fill the void between them, the creak of wood broke the two apart, his body jolting backwards.

He had forgotten about the ranger – and he was making his way around the corner.

“Come.” He whispered quietly, taking her hand to pull them around the rock.

To get to the beach, there were two paths. They had taken the short trek through the trees, but the other followed the edge along the cave wall to unfold near the waterfall where the second exit gated the paradise. It was this path that the ranger now walked, surely in search of them still.

Jane leaned back against the rock as he stretched to stay out of sight, tugging at Lisbon’s hand to make her scoot closer so they wouldn’t be seen. Her arms came silently around his waist to minimize their presence as he felt her breath furl patterns across his skin. He could only pray she couldn’t hear or feel his heart pounding wildly against its ivory cage.

Jane dedicated his entire focus on the ranger to keep himself composed.

He was an older man with a grey mustache and a round stomach, the type that wouldn’t allow bending the rules whether it was a frat party or a once-in-a-life-time honeymoon.

Even his Australian accent wouldn’t convince that man of allowing their visit.

He watched him intently until he disappeared out of sight, glad to know they had survived the inspection. Only then did he concentrate on Lisbon again, noticing how she leaned into him while she stretched to spy on the ranger as well. He wondered if she was watching out for fish too.

He turned to look at her, her eyes glinting in the moonlight that had started peeking above the horizon. “Well, I thought that went pretty well.” He said, reaching blindly for his confident demeanor.

She squinted back, her distinctive irritation with him ever present.

“One day, I think I might murder you.” She huffed, but her contempt was fallible by the look on her face. She needed him too much.

They wasted little time at the park after the ranger had gone, drying off on the beach before they could get their clothes back on.

If Lisbon had the choice, she would have dipped straight to her car and driven off in the swimsuit, but she was far too conscious about Jane’s Airstream to do that tonight.

Her pulse was still running mindlessly as they walked back to the van, distracted by the moment in the pool.

She was wildly aware of his hand on the small of her back as he offered her to take the flight of steps first, her senses taut in just the same fashion as when she had kissed his cheek. He had watched her with his deep blue eyes that spoke of things she couldn’t read, but the flush shading his face was unmistakable.

She had wanted to kiss him properly then or for him to kiss her. Temptation licked her wounds, crying for her to take what she had craved for so long – to bury her hands in his hair and for him to wound her legs securely around his hips. It had been right at the edge of her fingertips, only for the ranger to snatch it from her grasp.

Perhaps it had been for the best – she stayed in her lane and avoided the regrets she would have surely suffered through.

“I would offer to drive, but I don’t think I can control this thing.” Lisbon pointed out as Jane opened the door to the Airstream, letting her enter first. The trip home would be lit solely by the stars for the first long streak.

“What makes you think I’d trust you enough to try?” Jane teased, solidifying the eyeroll on her face.

“You know I’m the better driver.” She declared, plopping into the passenger seat before he could challenge her.

Their banter was interrupted by her phone ringing, the buzz vibrating against the seat in her pocket. Lisbon squinted at the screen to discern the caller.

Rigsby.

She accepted it immediately. “Hey, Rigsby.”

“Lisbon. Sorry to be calling so late.” He apologized earnestly, she knew, but it wasn’t noticeable in his voice – she thought it was a habit of his from the days of being his boss, where he needed to act professional. “I have some news.”

She didn’t hesitate to put her phone on speaker so Jane could listen in as well. If anything, he could have advice.

“What’s up? Did you find a bug on Ardiles?” She watched as Jane started the van and drove off towards the road leading to the highway.

Rigsby sighed heavily on the other end of the call. “It’s not just him, it’s all of us.”

Jane and Lisbon exchanged a look of concern.

“Ardiles is dead.”

Chapter Text

Around Season 6 – Episode 16

“Scotch on the rocks.”

Lisbon slumped onto the bar chair, the ache of her body crying down her spine. If Goliath had beat her up, she would probably feel the same way. The bartender, a kind-looking man strong enough to pair her imagination, seemed to notice her exhaustion and didn’t hesitate to pour her a bigger glass.

“It’s on the house.” He spoke simply, offering her a smile to voice his understanding.

“That’s very sweet of you.” She returned the gesture by dropping a few bucks to tip him instead. She was never good at letting people be gracious without some sort of compensation.

The bar she had found was nicely placed between the headquarters and her house, making it easy to get to both places quickly if she had to. It was simple fortune to see it occupied by a small handful rather than half the town.

The liquor warmed her chest as she cut the glass in half, lighting a fiery path down her throat before the ice would kick in. A good type of pain she praised to silence the recent weeks of work.

Since finding out Ardiles had been murdered, it had only gone downhill from there. The first few days, she had spent angry with herself for brushing off his paranoia as if it had been uncalled for. Despite the reasonable measures he had taken after their ‘date’, her skepticism had reigned and she had expected his investigation to come up empty-handed.

Instead, she had seen the result through the photo in her hands, the glint of the camera lens outlining the shaft of the knife in his chest. The guilt would take a while to let go of, if she ever managed. She never did with failed cases, and she doubted this would be any different.

The pursuit for whoever was responsible had ensued, but not without more pain and heartache.

The loss of LaRoche had affected her more than expected. Jane – who always governed his emotions when in company – had worn a face of mourning with his fists wrung in his pockets after Rigsby told them of his death, surprising her. She didn’t know much about their relationship, but Jane was good at making friends even with his enemies, and the two had often been at odds.

Back at the CBI, she had never been the biggest fan of his, mostly due to his lack of faith in Jane and the excessive nitpicking of her team in his attempt to dig out the mole. The anger management he had enrolled her in, she wouldn’t speak of. But she had grown fond of him in later years, for his loyalty and warmth.

He had been like an uncle, bared of nephews or nieces.

The love he had felt for his dog had both warmed and broken her heart. She had been the first to offer an adoption through her brother, Stan, when Rigsby had asked around on the team.

She knew him and the kids had long wanted a pet, but to raise both a puppy and an army under the age of six was to challenge God of his rule. With LaRoche’s dog being both old and Maltese, they would manage just fine.

Van Pelt’s abduction had left Lisbon as anxious as the time Jane disappeared, if not worse. As one of her closest friends, and the closest of women, it was like losing family. She would have joined Rigsby in his frantic endeavors, had she not known that solid, level-headed police work was the best thing she could do for them.

Rigsby nearly dying was a thought she had placed in a box in a corner to burn at a convenient time. She had thought him dead when she heard, and the ache it left for those long minutes until she knew the truth, she never wanted to feel again.

There was no more than a decade between them, but he felt like half her kid at times. The whole team did. Him and Cho had been under her wing since she was first promoted – there was no way she could imagine a life where either of them was gone. She would probably mother them forever, even if it was without them knowing.

Only now, after Haibach and his sister had suffered the consequences of their crimes, could she let go and enjoy the last drops of her drink. Her morals had always told her that everyone deserved a fair trial, and suffering death should be avoided till her last breath.

Haibach, just like Red John, did not count. The list of his offenses was long, and the one of his victims made it difficult for her to remain unbiased: namely family and children.

“You look lonely, sweetheart.” A deep voice, thick of the local accent, forced its way through the fog of her thoughts.

Lisbon pushed her glass toward the bartender for a refill as she turned her attention to the man leaning against the bar beside her. His breath reeked of beer and cigarettes and his large frame tried to dominate the few inches between them, clearly lacking respect for personal space.

He could have looked young if he tidied up, but he had passed his prime by a decade or so already.

“I was liking the solitude.” She pointed out bluntly, little pleasantry traced in her tone. The whisky was a plausible advocate.

She had looked forward to the stress relief with just the bartender’s small talk as guest. Rarely did she go out to drink on her own, but she didn’t feel like being home alone in the quiet of her house. Haibach still poisoned her mind.

“Oh, you won’t mind my company.” The man decided for her. The Texan cowboy hat, the unkept beard and his tousled shirt, on top of his smell, told her what she needed to know about him.

The bartender eyed the man suspiciously as he handed her the scotch – less full than her first – and silently asked with a glance if he should kick him out. Lisbon masked shaking her head no by brushing her hair over her shoulder.

A man like him often had something tainting his record. If she was lucky, he might flaunt a victory of his and she could arrest him for it. If not, well... she would have to make him back off somehow.

Conning this man would be no issue with this attitude, though. It was almost unfortunate that Jane wasn’t there to witness it.

“What makes you say that?” She led him on, practically baiting the man with the lean of her legs as she turned in her seat. She was curious to see how far he would take it before she felt the need to punch his teeth out.

“I think such a pretty lady like you would love what I have to offer.” He professed and showed off the yellow tint to his teeth. “I’m known to be savvy in many ways.”

She had to commend the load of confidence he held for himself. It bordered an arrogance that could challenge Jane’s.

“And what is it you offer, Mr. Savvy?” She continued and downed her drink to ease her nerves, noticing the glint in his eyes had ignited with what she could only guess was impure thoughts. “I’d prefer a name to start.”

His hands coated her thighs as if she had told him that was allowed. She suppressed a grimace and the desire to place her gun beneath his chin. She was surprised he hadn’t noticed it at her hip, shrouded only by her jacket and the dark shadows below the bar top.

“Of course, where are my manners?”

Good question.

“I’m Brandon.” The hand on her thigh tightened offensively as if it compensated for a handshake, inching its way towards her center. “And everything else I offer; I can show you later tonight. I know exactly what you need, baby.”

She had to swallow the discomfort lodged in her throat. This guy wasn’t going to talk when she needed him to.

Lisbon leaned closer to his great delight, holding just about an ounce of seduction in her eyes to reel him in. “I doubt we’ll get that far, Brandon.” She whispered before she placed her badge on the bar top.

Brandon’s sleazy smirk simply widened, and she realized he wasn’t discouraged. So much for him turning tail.

He leaned towards her this time, his hot breath ghosting over her ear.

“Sexy. Do you wear that in bed, too?” He murmured and pressed his fingertips along the seam on the inside of her thigh, stupid enough to risk torture with a kiss right along her jaw. She would need a shower thrice over to erase his stench. Not even the scotch would let her forget it.

“I like my women rowdy.” The smirk against her skin smeared disgust across her face.

The barrel of her gun found a nice crevice between his ribs as she tilted her head up at him. It was nice to see a man lose all sense of power, when he least expected it.

“Don’t make me shoot you. If you don’t get your hands off me right now, you walk out of here with your kneecaps as shoes.” Her voice had abandoned any fervor and there was no mistaking her icy glare that emphasized her threat with honesty.

Brandon looked like he had seen Peter at the pearly gates.

The bartender, who had followed the conversation from a distance, was suddenly more interested in cleaning the shelved bottles behind him than the glasses above the bar. Lisbon made a mental note of revisiting out of respect for the man.

“Did you hear me, Brandon?” She twisted the gun to aim at his legs when he still hadn’t moved, but he didn’t need more encouragement.

“Yes, I’m sorry, ma’am.” Brandon finally discovered the principle of etiquette. His hands released her as if she burned and he took several steps back.

“It wasn’t... I mean... sorry.” He spun on his heel and stumbled out of the bar.

She hadn’t realized her heart had started pounding, a tightening in her chest that ebbed away like Pluto circling the Sun.

Her gun returned to its holster without issue – a movement she had repeated to the point she didn’t need to think about it anymore.

She locked eyes with the bartender, the warmth of his own smiling with his wide grin like he wanted to praise her; something she rarely experienced in her line of work. It never felt necessary for her to feel like she had succeeded with each case closed… but it was still nice to feel appreciated in a world where they were often seen as no better than the criminals.

“I’ll gladly give more free drinks if you’ll come back more often.” He placed a new scotch before her, a sign of him keeping his word, but she gave him a fifty for the trouble.

“I don’t need convincing.” She winked, sipping the whisky to silence new demons.

It took no effort to find her in the office. She always started the day off with a cup of coffee in the breakroom. Maybe she would like the case he had offered to help with.

Her hair was set up in a ponytail, exposing her neck. It spurred his imagination on, a devilish cackle in the shell of his ear that dared him in vain to step up behind her and plant kisses along her skin.

The sway of the locks when she turned her head let the hint of her shampoo sift through his nose to mingle in the chaos of his heart as he walked by. Tangerines.

It was like the park all over again.

“Hi, Lisbon.” He almost coughed, fulfilling his purpose in the room by placing his empty teacup in the sink. Without a motive in hand, he could leave, so he started cleaning the cup instead to extend his time with her.

It hadn’t been a day out of the ordinary, if not for the way Lisbon almost shied away and neglected to greet him back.

He frowned in confusion, studying her face for any signs that could tell him what had caused this. The possibility of him offending her recently was plenty and to be fair, he probably had, but he usually remembered when that was the case. She looked too distantly occupied by her mug to be angry, swirling a spoon to mix in the caffeine.

Usually, she would outright avoid his company.

“Lisbon.” He tried for her attention by reaching for her, even though she might not want it. It was all but a gentle touch hugging her elbow.

She jumped immediately; the start reflected in her eyes as she wrenched her arm out of his grasp. Whether it was intentional or not, he couldn’t say.

“Oh, Jane.” She blinked, seeming disoriented enough for him to consider if she had been hypnotized and he had just found the trigger. “Uhm, hi.”

His eyes narrowed at her skeptically. She was surprised of his presence.

Lisbon was always aware of her surroundings. Always.

“Did you not hear me coming?” He inquired and waved a hand in front of her, focusing on the depth of her pupils. They weren’t blown and she followed his fingers just fine, so he could rule out drugs and hypnosis.

She pushed his hand out of her face, perhaps insulted by his assumptions. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.” She brushed him off, drawing her eyes away from him as if to hide.

Jane gambled by taking a step closer. There was plenty of space between them, but it would be hard for her to evade him if she wanted to leave without him stopping her.

“Yes, heavily.” He murmured, gently cornering her against the kitchen counter. He was careful not to let his concern for her well-being breach her comfort zone, but the truth was clear; she was hiding something.

“What is it, Lisbon?” His question was gentle, a soft voice he only used when he cared, an attempt to respect her boundaries and still demand an answer.

Lisbon shook her head like it was nothing, discrediting the severity of her lack of awareness.

Clearly, she didn’t realize how good of a cop she was. There hadn’t been a time in ten years where she hadn’t noticed him. It was him, after all. She willfully ignored him most of the time, yes, but she always knew he was there. She found him too annoying to forget.

“I was just thinking about last night.” She explained vaguely. “I was at a bar to get some fresh air after the whole Haibach thing and this guy hit on me.”

A knot settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach, concocting pictures of how her night must have unfolded. Had she liked it? Had he insulted her? Or worse, had he…

“What happened?” His voice was void of emotion, keeping them at bay until he knew more.

Lisbon hesitated, her mouth opening then closing as she thought.

His gaze scurried from one green blossom to the other, seeking release from the chains her silence was binding him in. “What happened?” He repeated insistently.

She shrugged.

“Nothing, really. I just had a few drinks, I asked for it.” She elaborated, tightening the iron around his ribs and all he could do was wait for them to snap. “He was sketchy so I wanted to see if he would admit anything. Maybe buy half the bar for me with his drug money.” Her hand came to rest on her brow, rubbing out the headache he seemed to conjure.

“He kept touching me and... just got too close. But really, it was my mistake to taunt him. He didn’t back down and I never clocked him, anyways.”

Jane inhaled sharply, the heat rushing to his head like thunder in his ears. This man had forced himself on her and she was blaming herself for it. It took every drop of self-control he had to stay put rather than hunt the man down to burn him at the stake.

“He touched you?” His voice seethed a type of hatred he only savored for a lucky few, the rage leaving his hairs on end, coiling tightly along his spine like a snake rising to kill its prey.

“Where?”

It was difficult to hide his glare from Lisbon as it flickered across her body in search of any marks he had left behind, even though they’d be nicely hidden by her clothes. He curled his hands into fists to refrain from touching her again.

Of all the reasons he could have to undress her, this wasn’t one he wanted. How far had this scum gone?

“Jane, he didn’t touch me like that.” She refuted, apparently noticing his disgust with this new piece of information. “He put his hands in my lap and kissed my cheek. It didn’t go far.”

The alibi he was building to drag this man through endless purgatory was effectively fortified with every word she spoke, a solid defense he could enlist when the man was crying at the end of a gun barrel.

“It went far enough, I would say, if you’re this affected by his actions.” Jane managed to say through gritted teeth. A silent prayer was strung to her saints above, hoping she had ripped his throat out and knitted a scarf with his esophagus.

Conflicting emotions tore through him. Rage for this stranger and his narcissism roamed to the tips of his fingers as if to strengthen them for a beating. Concern for her lapped at the blood in his veins like charred tears on his skin – and then there was a little pride. She had taken to his tactics and conned him for justice. He approved, even if it was fruitless.

“He shouldn’t touch you at all, and just because you tricked him, doesn’t mean he can.” He asserted sincerely.

Lisbon squared a proud brow at him, a hidden smirk beneath her troubled eyes. “Which he found out right after, when I pointed my gun at his liver.”

The tension in his shoulders eased just a tad, knowing now that she had been armed. He had expected her to have gone without since she had been off duty, but of course. It was rare she ever left work behind fully.

“He bolted and I doubt I’ll ever see him again.” She sighed, the weight of the event seeming to lift from her shoulders too. “It’s just… the stench of him was awful and the feel of his hands…”

Lisbon shuddered and Jane’s lungs instinctively strangled his breath.

He extended an arm to offer a hug, waiting for her accept. To his luck, she fell into his embrace with little reluctance.

“I’m sorry, you had to go through that.” He whispered, solely coloring a space of comfort for her sake. Not that she would be convinced. His hands were sweaty against her blazer and his pulse was failing to play a peaceful tune.

Lisbon was a strong woman, capable of fighting her own fights as he well knew, which she had once again proven – but the hell he was parading this man through within his mind, that was a battle he would still grant himself. A pity, still, not to satisfy his desires in real life.

“I’m okay, really, I just had to shake it off. Take a few showers.” She dismissed into the collar of his suit, and he listened as she inhaled his scent. “You smell much nicer than he did – you would have hated how he reeked.”

His lips eased into a smirk she would never see, warmed by her compliment. It wasn’t often that she praised him so openly.

“I’ll add it to the list.” He promised, giving her a final squeeze before he put space between them again.

They hadn’t really talked much together since their time at the pool. The deal with Haibach and the deaths – and abduction – of their colleagues had taken too much of their time. Jane had thought Rigsby was gone, when he saw him crash into the kitchen cupboards with a shirt soiled in his own blood.

How the man had survived several gunshots to the chest was still beyond him.

It was only in times of solitude in his Airstream, that Jane had found the time to think back on their night in the water. It was probably too unlikely to find excuses for a second round.

Lisbon clinked the spoon against the coffee mug, drawing him back to reality. “Work calls.” She muttered with a shrug, erasing the tension of the conversation they had just had.

“It always does.” He chuckled.

“He wants you to wear this.”

Lisbon should make a slideshow of ways she could kill Jane, so he would get the memo of when he really pushed his luck too far.

This wasn’t exactly work clothes.

She stared at herself in the mirror, adjusting the dress repeatedly to sit in a way that made her less self-conscious and more able to breathe. It was a beautiful piece of work, accentuating the qualities of her body she liked the most.

A small part of her was excited. It was alluring, a chance to have people’s eyes on you and feel desired in a way she never did for her blazers and jeans.

Perhaps Jane thought the same and that’s why he had chosen the dress.

She blushed involuntarily as she twisted to see the back of her dress. He had seen her in less, the swimsuit had made sure of it, but this was different. She was taking on a role for the sake of justice.

Being exposed like this was one thing in private – and for the most part her own choice. For work, it was neither practical nor the right setting. It made her feel like a piece of meat; just how Brandon had seen her.

The loose skirt was so short, there wasn’t far to the lace of her underwear. If she leaned too far over the bar, she might show off more than she wanted their guests – or Jane – to see.

As he often did, she would probably feel his hand at the small of her back when he first got the chance. But… would he do other things? She wouldn’t put it past his charms to sneak a hand along her thigh.

The memory of their time in the pool crossed her mind, taunting her with mirrored scenarios in the grandeur of the contemporary kitchen or against the white lined couch. She flattened her hands along her waist, visualizing his touch taking their place as they had done when she was pressed against the coarse rock.

Maybe he would kiss her as she had wanted him to in the deep water. And maybe she would let him – fall into that endless well she had longed for in times of weakness.

The cover story would allow it, but whether she could handle it was another thing. It wasn’t exactly a smart choice, and she would do wisely to avoid it. They were partners – and their colleagues would be present too.

Coils of unease settled in her stomach as the squeeze of the gown strained around her ribs, the source of the storm stroking her skin like moth wings wakening a flame.

He might keep his hands away entirely, after finding out about Brandon. Jane could probably convince the entire FBI that he was happily married to Abbott without easing a touch on the man. With their history, he could do just the same with her.

She should prefer that, but she didn’t.

Lisbon huffed and blew a strand of hair out of her face, annoyed.

This unknown man had achieved such a brief advantage, awakening her senses in a way she would rather be without – if she reminisced too long, she still tasted the cigarettes on his breath.

At least the memory hadn’t bothered her much more than a day past the evening. It wasn’t the first nor likely the last time it would happen. The last thing she needed was the inability to focus for work.

But Jane had been affected too.

The way the warmth in his eyes had died when she had told him still stuck with her. His anger had been evident and was worse than she had expected, really. It was a side of him she had never seen up close, not like that. Not directly.

He had kept his hands from her since, every time they passed in the office or the breakroom. No aid through doorways or a squeeze of her arm when they had finished a meeting. Like he didn’t want to push.

As much as she appreciated the space, she missed his small gestures.

She left her theories behind as she left the master bedroom, the sound of the fake party subtly easing its way up the winding staircase. They had only just started, and it could be anywhere from a few minutes to hours before Abbott would arrive with Pulaski. She wouldn’t know without an earpiece, but Jane had his phone.

He came into view as soon as she reached the floor, pouring glasses of wine at the round bar in the corner. A scarf was thrown around his neck to make him look chic and sell him as a man of the arts, but in her humble, secret opinion, he deserved a charge for wearing it. As both an obstacle to her daydreaming and the culprit of worsening his looks, she would take him without any day.

“Are you offering?” She quipped to catch his attention when she walked up behind him, welcoming alcohol like rain in a drought for this type of sting. Otherwise, she wouldn’t get through the night.

Jane craned his neck to show off his charming smile. “Anything for you, Lisbon.” He vowed, handing her the glass. The moths that had fluttered around in the pit of her stomach earlier was coming alive again, to her great dismay.

The bitter taste of grapes and apples swept over her tongue, coating her mouth in dry citrus notes. She nearly drank the whole glass in one go.

She noticed how Jane followed the movement of the glass, his eyes on her lips. A blush threatened to surface, undoubtedly caused by the desire lit by his gaze rather than the drink.

“I think with this sting, Abbott will allow a bit of intoxication.” She defended as she diverted her attention to the crowd in attempt to save her dignity, convinced he might judge her for not doing this without some sense of stupor.

His breath painted flames on her neck as he leaned in so none of their colleagues heard. “Are you saying you can’t handle being my girlfriend while sober?”

Lisbon unconsciously crossed her arms in front of her, desperately smothering the blaze he had ignited. “No, but it takes the edge off when you’re making me wear this. You’re choking my lungs, Jane.”

His chuckle left goosebumps along her skin as he kissed her cheek. Bold.

“I can choke you in other ways if you want that instead.” He teased and her face whirled to his in shock, the bastard lucky enough to step away from the bar before she could smack his arm.

“All part of the game, Teresa.”

Lisbon swore she saw him bite his lip as he disappeared with a tasteful wink. She sighed in frustration, glancing at the many glasses meant for their guests.

Blast professionalism. She was going to need more wine.

Jane wasn’t listening to the conversation the group of people blathered through as he hid within their ranks, wine glass in hand. He was occupied.

Lisbon was heavenly in her dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin until the skirt whisked around her thighs. She had great legs. The muscles rippled when she took a step and begged for his teeth to decorate her skin. It was a sight he would take to the grave, neatly savored somewhere in a crevice of his heart.

The green of her eyes glinted like droplets on the leaves of a tree, kept in the shade by dark tones of seduction beneath her brow, luring him to stray from the path of reason. It was a fight he would gladly take on if it meant he could enjoy her all night.

It was sad, really, that he had to stay focused and work this sting. What he wouldn’t give to steal her away from her conversation and find solace between her legs in the bedroom upstairs.

She was chatting convincingly with one of the art squad agents at the bar, making small talk while Pulaski accommodated to the party. It had been around an hour since they came, yet nothing had evolved.

Him and Abbott were sitting on the couch amongst a heave of women, but the idiot wasn’t interested in the blonde who persistently tried talking to him.

Instead, he was raking his eyes over Lisbon like she was his next meal – and Abbott didn’t notice.

She was charming, yes. A subtler Barbara Stanwyck had taken over, draping off her shoulders to coerce her victims with her dark, smooth hair. He wasn’t sure how many drinks she had downed, but anytime he glanced her way, she had a glass in hand, and it was always full.

Jane’s jaw tightened as he watched Pulaski basking in the sight of her, unable to hide his attraction by the way he bit his lip every other second.

If he hadn’t realized Lisbon was ‘taken’ yet, he would make sure he knew.

Jane set down his glass and ignored the jitter of his heart as he left the social group, taking the short walk across the room to close in on Lisbon.

His chest perfectly nestled against her back as his hand found purpose on her waist, dipping his head to leave a kiss on her temple.

Light and tame.

“Liking the party, babe?” His voice was husky and smooth as she twisted beneath his touch, facing him without a trace of fear in her eyes. She didn’t push him away.

The agent she had spoken with promptly disappeared.

Lisbon seductively licked her lips and seemed to take interest in his scarf, grazing her fingers across his chest before tugging it gently. It was like she tried to taunt fate. She was definitely – definitely – dancing on the fence of sobriety, and apparently she wanted to use bold techniques.

“I’m loving it.” She replied effortlessly, the gleam of her earrings barely matching the fire in her eyes as she fluttered her lashes at him.

“And you, honey?” Her voice tantalized his heart like a bed of flowers, singing to the bees.

His throat dried unexpectedly, parching his tongue as he blinked back.

“Having the time of my life.” He responded absentmindedly, too enthralled by her eyes.

Yeah, this was worse than the pool.

He really hoped Pulaski was watching. Even if he tried, he couldn’t check for the life of him.

His hands slid to her hips, pulling her close enough that she had to brace against his shoulders, her fingertips branding him through the fabric of his jacket. The citrus scent of her hair enveloped him as she tilted her head, the strands curling around her ear like he was spun around her little finger. He really loved tangerines.

He was starting to forget why he had gone to her in the first place – something with Pulaski. Right.

His arm snaked further around her, his fingers hugging the curve of her ass while he relished in the feel of her hands replacing the scarf around his neck. He watched as she sucked on her bottom lip, no doubt a response to his touch.

His head tipped forward. A bell rang in the depths of his prison, a bone against the cell bars, to remind him how this might not be a good idea.

But this wasn’t Teresa. This was a role. Barbara Stanwyck, technically.

It was a game, and she was playing along.

“Did you need something, Patrick?” Her voice was thick with innocence as if she didn’t know what she was doing to him. He could almost count the specks of pine in her eyes when she lifted her chin to challenge him, but he was already infatuated.

Their lips hovered mere inches apart, her breath ghosting over his lips.

Jane threw away the bone.

“Just you.” He heard himself mutter before he closed the gap between them.

It was supposed to be a gentle kiss – a simple, light one to mark his territory for Pulaski as though they had enjoyed each other countless of times before.

Instead, the kiss deepened, their lips crashing against each other in reach for reasons to live. His tongue sought permission to dance with hers, a swipe traced against the edge of her lip. She granted it immediately, sighing softly against him as her fingers buried in his curls, the passion consuming them.

His grip tightened around her ass, caring little for their audience as her teeth sunk into his bottom lip, ravishing a bruise to mark him in turn. A low groan escaped him to mingle with her gasp, promising endless pleasure in his arms later that night – knowing they would never get that far.

Years he had spent aching for her lips on his, a sin never repented. And yet, they would have to stop soon, or this art heist might not go as planned.

It was with the greatest effort known to mankind that Jane pulled away from Lisbon, retracting his hands to somewhere on her waist to keep up the act.

It was over as fast as it had begun. Blink, and anyone could have missed it – even him.

Her hands discovered some newfound fascination with the buttons on his jacket. Her pupils were blown to the point he could barely trace the jaded iris – his own were likely the same.

“Was that all?” She saved them nicely, pursing her bruised lips.

“Yes, dear.” He cleared his throat quietly, placing a strand of hair behind her ear as he ended the séance with a kiss above her brow. “You know I always miss you.”

“You’re always welcome, baby.” Lisbon didn’t miss a beat and grinned, brushing her fingertips along his waistline. If she hadn’t noticed the strain of his obvious arousal beneath his belt, she had either been paralyzed by their little waltz or the amount of alcohol that ran through her veins.

Her own desires were better disguised, and she had played the role excellently. He had to give her credit for becoming a better liar since CBI. She had him fooled.

He took her hands and pressed his lips against her knuckles in goodbye. “I’ll have it written in stone.”

Before he could regret his decisions, Jane turned to leave and glanced at the couch to see whether he had succeeded with his mission.

Pulaski was gone and Abbott’s eyebrows had grown him a hairline.

Chapter Text

Post Season 6 – Episode 16

A glint of gold in the light. A moral code of faith, honesty and everything else she stood for. That was what the old necklace represented and had done so since she had inherited it from her mother. It had given her purpose and strength when her father ignored the duties that came with raising kids, leaving her to grow up early and lift the weight.

It had given her the courage to leave and never look back, save a few glances. Not to forget the courage to face her failed engagement to Greg, when they were both too young. She still remembered the moment she placed the ring in his hand. And the reason why.

Her breath strained against her ribs.

The edges of the cross felt scarring to the soul as it dug into her skin, cool and bleak in the palm of her hand. A vast difference to the comfort and warmth it usually held. The metal etched the truth into her fingertips, reminding her of the betrayal she had committed the past few days.

During the sting, she had been forced to give it a somber home in the depths of the bedside table. The character she had played wasn’t exactly a dedicated Catholic, and she knew her mother was turning in her grave from the performance she had given.

MacKaye and Pulaski had been caught no more than half an hour ago, and now they were clearing out the house to seal off the case. The art squad was busy sorting out the living room while Jane and her were left to erase their fake lives from the rest of the place, which was mostly restricted to the bathroom and master bedroom.

The few essentials she and Jane had planted to sell the relationship were still scattered throughout drawers and cabinets; half a closet was plastered in the wardrobe and some laundry lay strewn near the bed as if they had lived together the past week. All for show to cheat their mark.

An excellent farce down to the smallest detail.

Her eyes stared into her own green depths in the bathroom mirror, daring her to be honest.

She locked the pendant around her neck, almost blessing her for the return.

Reclaiming herself was both a blessing and a curse. It was a relief to leave behind the pretend and be her own person without precautions. But she would miss the thrill of the game – she had started finding excuses to be close to Jane and steal a brush of his hand without fearing any questions that could follow.

It was almost as though their charade came natural to them. One time in the kitchen, after MacKaye had left, she had felt him step up behind her as if to embrace her while she readied some snacks, but he had caught himself before she could comment on it. The slight graze of his fingers on her hip had been the only evidence against him.

It had been days since, but the feel of his lips on hers never yielded. His tight grip around her still made her heart flutter, setting her skin aflame only to leave the wanton pool of nerves between her legs untouched, unsated.

A craving she had itched to satisfy since.

She tried telling herself she hadn’t thought of him snatching her off the floor during the party and escape to the bedroom so he could fulfill the false prophecy she had devised in her mind. She tried – a few times, actually.

Still, her competitive side refused to admit defeat despite the truth being as evident as Jane’s erotic abilities.

He was an extremely good kisser. Gentle and rough at the same time, taking her breath away. He listened to her soft whimpers like following notes on sheet music – something none of her past lovers had ever done. It was safe to say she had lost herself in his arms, forgetting their whereabouts when his tongue had swept against hers, whispering carnal promises to her heart.

He had played his role flawlessly as always. She was not surprised he had earned money enough for a residence in Malibu, when he performed with such conviction. She, too, had hidden her own desires with her Stanwyck mask, successfully surprising Jane. She had seen it in his eyes when she had tugged at his scarf and that blue ocean had expanded a few miles.

Little did he know, there wasn’t much acting in her endeavors.

She had been mortified when he left her behind and saw Abbott and the rest of their guests had suffered through the whole ordeal. Her overindulgence had made it worse, too.

Lisbon subconsciously cleared her throat, releasing the cross pendant to start packing her toiletries. Anything to abandon the thread her mind had started to follow.

“Lisbon.” Jane’s voice stretched from somewhere beyond the bathroom door, his tone warning her that she was about to be peeved.

“Jane.” She responded like a mother to her child, gathering her makeup brushes as she turned to see him leaning in the doorway.

“I know I care for my looks, but I don’t think this is mine.” He said, lifting a pair of tweezers for her to see, held carefully between his fingertips as if it would explode by the touch.

Lisbon recognized it without fail, knowing she had looked through every cabinet in search of it. She quickly snatched it out of his grasp before he could chuck it into some dark corner for his own pleasure, never to be seen again.

“Where did you find that? I’ve looked everywhere.” She studied it intently, convinced he had laced it with glue or other forms of sabotage for the next time she would use it. Her gaze squared on him skeptically when she found none.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He muttered; forging hurt in his eyes. “It was in the drawer I had humbly claimed as mine, but I suppose I asked for too much.” He sniffled pitifully, pulling her leg to beg for sympathy as he often succeeded with – which she never let him know.

“If I had it my way, I’d hog the whole bathroom.” She saw his brow rising, surprised. “In my house, you can have the guestroom.”

“What a partner I have.” Jane scoffed, but she saw through his offence.

He made it sound like they were married – an image she didn’t want to think of for too long.

“It’s to make sure you’ll never steal my belongings again.”

He shook his head, pointing at the tweezers as though he accused them of revealing his darkest secrets. “I would never steal that thing, Lisbon, I have no use for it.”

She had to hide a smile, unsure if he was lying. There was no way she had put them in the wrong drawer, so he must have taken it. Besides, it seemed unlikely for him not to tidy up his most prominent features once in a while – aside from his smile. That always sparkled.

“Are you saying those eyebrows never get a bit of love?” She teased, narrowing her eyes at him to inspect the subjects in question.

Jane stared at her like it was the worst of insults she had thrown his way. “What makes you think my eyebrows need loving?”

He stepped up beside her to look himself in the mirror. “I don’t think they look bad. I think they’re fabulous, like my smile.”

A smirk colored his face with ravishing flair to emphasize his point.

He was always confident in his looks, something she had admired since they had met many years ago. Even looking homeless, he had an air about him that spoke of selfcare and poise. It was what had exposed his appearance as a front back then, likely to convince the CBI to work in his favor.

She had never told him.

Her eyes glinted with mischief without him noticing, spotting a chance for payback.

“Everything needs a bit of love, Jane, especially your eyebrows.”

Jane straightened, having leaned over the sink for the inspection. He was probably about to remark on his natural beauty, but she took hold of his chin before he had the chance, making him face her.

She didn’t linger long but instead found any given stray hair above his eye to pluck before he could escape his fate.

“Ow!” Jane exclaimed, his hand flying to soothe the spot she had tortured. “What was that for?”

Lisbon pursed her lips to keep from exposing her satisfaction. “Just making sure you get off your high horse. You’re like Aphrodite’s love child.”

She had never commented on his looks, and it was dangerous for her to start now, but she wanted to see him insecure for just a moment. Just a flash of him second-guessing his appearance so she had an advantage, just once, in the mind-games he always dominated. It wasn’t like she meant it – he would easily see through her. But she needed a win after his kiss.

She realized then that she still held his face, grasped gently in her palm.

“Is that a compliment I hear?” He taunted boldly, making her let go and return her attention to her old task at hand – toiletries.

“You’re saying I’m pretty.” He pointed out the obvious and his enthusiasm seemed to worsen. “Is it the eyebrows?”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.” She argued and pointed the tweezers squarely at him like a weapon she wouldn’t mind reusing. “And Aphrodite is known for her narcissism, if I must remind you.”

Jane bent down to be level with her, but his height was going through the roof. “And her beauty. And sexiness. And–“

Lisbon reached for his face again to make him uglier. Lucky for him, he bolted out of the bathroom.

“I would rather die!” He called over his shoulder, hiding himself with the rest of his things before she could get any new ideas.

Lisbon snickered to herself as she threw the tweezers into her bag, enjoying his cowardice. She had liked the thought of plucking him bald, but alas, she had to be content with what she could get.

She collected her items to dump them with the rest of her bags, rejoining him in the bedroom where he had sought refuge around his luggage.

Had a stranger entered the room, they would think they had spent plenty of time together, the ruffled sheets painting the picture of a long night with little sleep – but they hadn’t. She had slept in the bedroom and he in the living room.

Why he didn’t take the guest room on the first night – just for the extra comfort – was no mystery as Jane had a thing for couches. But a part of her had hoped he would join her in bed after the party – still high from their little show. A small dream at the edge of her conscious wishing his act was real in the end. But she had found him asleep, and instead she had gone to bed hungry after Pike had taunted her with pancakes.

Pike she wouldn’t think of right now.

Jane was kneeling with his back to her, zipping up his own bags much earlier than she. She had settled on the bed, taking a break from the packing.

Even through his suit she could see the broad muscles that shouldered his frame, rippling subtly beneath the fabric when he pulled at the weight of his suitcase. Lisbon nibbled silently on her lip and looked away.

The distinct glint of his eyes as he stared through her soul just a few days ago haunted her memory, a flicker burned to the screen.

A sense of honesty ebbed from those depths, a blue field of hydrangea, rustling in the wind towards the horizon of his iris. The rumble of his voice had trembled through her pulse when she had felt him against her back, tenderly enveloping her body. Was that the way he looked at all his lovers? Did he seduce each of them with his breath ghosting along the nape of their neck?

If this was his love for a simple role he had slipped into, she couldn’t imagine the affection his late wife had experienced. And perhaps she shouldn’t, either. His wife and child were sacred, and someone she rarely ventured toward in her own ruminations. They couldn’t compare to anything, and it was close to idiotic that his little performance made her reflect on the difference.

But still – the ecstasy in his kiss and the earnest call of his desires was enough to make her question it. He had her thoroughly fooled.

A pressure in her throat had formed, making it hard to swallow without her feeling the whole house could hear.

“Jane.” She murmured hesitantly, finding a spot on the bed linen to study. It would have been smarter to make the bed instead and distract herself from the display she had created, but it felt like too big a task at the moment.

“Lisbon.” Jane mirrored her, naturally plopping back on the bed to mess it up further. He glanced around the room, oblivious to the subject she was about to introduce.

“You know, back at the party…” She started, nodding her head to the side as if she could gesture to time. “Before Pulaski ran off with Fischer.”

Jane’s gaze settled on her hands that picked timidly at a nonexistent thread, catching her drift. “You mean our kiss at the bar.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Lisbon nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way she bit her lip, but the rest of her was failing to hide her emotional state anyways.

“Was it too much? I’m sorry if I pushed it too far.” His tone was careful, drawing her attention to see the worry in his eyes.

She shook her head instantly. “No!”

He didn’t seem to believe her denial. “I was in on it, Jane, we were both at fault for the way we... I think you saw.”

She dared a careful smile, shrugging as if the event hadn’t shuffled the tectonic plates inside her like a deck of cards. The way he was looking at her was not helping.

“I saw.”

Lisbon blushed. “I just want to say, it was very convincing and… I mean, you’re always convincing whenever you do your thing, but– you did good. That’s what I’m trying to say. You played your role well.”

Jane watched her dig her own grave, and as she finished, the silence stretched awfully to the point she thought he had nothing to say in return.

Oh, no. She had said too much. She might as well have blared her thoughts with a neon sign.

She started praying for the saints to let the ground swallow her whole.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, sharpening like the beat of her heart.

“Thank you, Lisbon. Your Barbara was very good too.” He smiled reassuringly, causing her pulse to skip a few chords. She saw him twirl the house key between his fingers. “You’re an excellent kisser. I’ll miss not getting any more of it after this.”

Lisbon blinked at him, unsure whether she had heard him right. The flush of her cheeks deepened wildly, evident in the light of the bedroom. Did he mean that he…

“Do you want that?” She asked, surprised, frantically shifting her attention from one blue lake to the other. They were both well aware of the single kiss that had happened in the days this farce had reigned. If he was going to miss it, he had been hoping for more.

Her excitement practically bubbled from the tips of her toes, rushing up her legs to burst somewhere around her chest and left static energy in the clammy feel of her palms.

But panic seemed to settle between Jane’s unplucked brows, warning her about half a second in advance of the disappointment she was about to face.

“No, no.” He sat up properly and dropped the key, waving his hand between them to desperately signal his disproval and securely erase the bond Lisbon had been weaving from his words.

“I just meant… it was fun.”

The swarm of butterflies that had taken flight inside her seemed to die instantly, dropping to the depths of her soul like dead leaves of a tree. A slap to the face had been kinder.

“Oh.”

Lisbon stood to escape the situation, scrambling to save herself by picking up the last of her things. She couldn’t look at him or he would see the hurt in her eyes, and then everything would definitely be ruined. Namely their partnership.

“Well, it was… while it lasted.” She swallowed thickly.

Of course, he didn’t feel the same. Of course. It was a role. A real James Dean. How stupid was she to have hoped – believed – that it was mutual. He was a conman through and through in the end. He knew how to play the game effortlessly, and she had practically swan dived into his dreamy well without a care in the world. Believing he wanted it for real was just the same as seeing an oasis in the desert, throwing herself at the waterline only to eat sand.

She should have known from the beginning.

Embarrassment settled in her shoulders – a tension that leveled with the tears brimming along her lashes, threatening to expose one of her deepest secrets.

“Yeah.” Was all she heard from him.

Her bags felt heavy in her arms, the weight pulling her to the floor – replicating her heart. He still hadn’t left the bed, thankfully, and she did everything to prevent a struggle with the door so he wouldn’t come and help.

But she couldn’t take the last step past the doorstep. When she did, the whole thing would be over. The little dream they had lived would be gone, and so would their intimate cooperation.

The strap of her bag dug itself into her shoulder, making her shift it uncomfortably beneath her whitening knuckles. It was probably a mistake to say something.

But she did anyway.

“Patrick.”

He was studying the key again, but it caught his attention. She never said his name and now it felt like a goodbye. His solemn gaze smothered her lungs as it had done for the past decade, and the few stars glistening in his eyes lit her heart aflame as they had done every night when she would try to sleep in vain. Now, it was only ember.

She swallowed her pride for once, the first and last time she would open her heart to him.

“You kiss with real passion. I’ll miss that.”

Then she left.

After a few weeks, the FBI had finally started housing proper tea. Maybe the disdain he had voiced to Lisbon was all that was needed, or the unknown intern shadowing the bullpen had spotted his face of disgust when he found the Lipton in the cupboard.

Jane settled on the latter while he let the white temple leaves soak in the water.

Case was closed. Pizza was eaten by all but him and the bureau’s diet freaks. The office was half abandoned, the week lacking towards the end with people’s priorities shifting from catching criminals to enjoying red wine into the late night. And yet, Jane still found reason to stick to the couch.

Sipping quietly from his teacup, he sat cross-legged and bore a hole through the nearest desk – Lisbon’s – with his eyes. He had plenty of tea in the Airstream, but the van also meant solitude. It wouldn’t take much convincing from the devil on his shoulder to take a drive into the desert for a day or two and steer toward the board in his mind, plastered with motives for why Lisbon was going out with Pike.

Not that he was escaping the theorizing anyways.

He had noticed the two of them chatting plenty throughout the week-long sting. First, when they were in the depot to see the stolen goods. It was no lie, he had considered the chemistry, but he had swept the thought into the ‘stupid ideas’-box in the corner of his mind palace before he could continue the usual assay – it was simply too little to go on.

But then he had overheard the call between them on the first night after the party, when she thought he was asleep downstairs.

He had gone to the door to test the waters. Excuse the need to sleep in the bedroom together with the fact that MacKaye or a henchman could come back in the dead of night – in reality, he had longed to act on his desires and gamble on her level of intoxication being high enough to want the same. To feel his hands jailing her wrists above her head while he brought her pleasure to fruition.

The friendly banter muffled by the wooden door had told him it wasn’t an option. So, he had gone back and didn’t try again.

Maybe she did like Pike and had done so since the sting began.

Maybe she had thought of him as inspiration when they had kissed.

A kiss he would never forget, and yet it wasn’t for him to savor. He had wanted it to be her behind those eyes. Teresa looking back at him while her fingers sought shelter in the depths of his golden curls.

He regretted now to have suggested Barbara Stanwyck. If he had told her to simply be herself, maybe it had felt more real – if she wouldn’t chicken out beforehand.

She had liked it, though. He saw that in the way she fidgeted with anything close to her before she had gone. The tint of her cheeks when he had complimented her. A sign of her bashful heart.

But he had said something wrong. She had been insulted, hurt, and he guessed it was by the obvious – claiming he wanted more of her little role, as if her own self wasn’t enough.

Suddenly he regretted that he hadn’t gone and kissed her again, show her no mask of hers was superior to who he wanted all along.

But he hadn’t. Of all the things he knew about Lisbon, the first on the list was that she didn’t do feelings well, and it would no doubt have ruined both their partnership and friendship.

His tea didn’t taste good anymore, ashen on his tongue to remind him of his sins.

He had to figure out his next move, but the idea of not making one at all quickly proved itself the smartest. She needed space and being busy with Pike meant she wasn’t interested in talking either. He couldn’t really apologize right now, even if she wanted to hear it. It might be best to go on like usual.

“Still here, Jane?” A voice called, disappointing him when he clocked it as Abbott’s.

“Yes, I know it’s a rare sight.” He retorted, standing from the couch to escape the man. He was either here to ask for help or interrogate him about any schemes he had planned ahead, and Jane wasn’t in the mood to entertain him.

“Did your Airstream catch a flat tire somewhere downtown?” he asked, the joke falling short even though Jane admired his efforts in building their acquaintance.

Before their agreement, Abbott hadn’t exactly been a favorite of Jane’s. As a tenacious man with a side of cockiness since they first met while hunting Red John, he was an excellent Senior Agent for the FBI and thus horrible prey to his antics. Not even his napkin had slipped through the iron grip he held around the rules of law.

But he was starting to like him. Mostly for Abbott’s unexpected knowledge of boxing, which could come in handy whenever he pushed the limit with suspects. But he also respected him, and the supposed friendship that loomed somewhere in the air between them had the potential to grow. And honestly, he wouldn’t mind. Right now, though, wasn’t the time to build on it.

“No, it didn’t.” Jane tilted his head, suppressing a grimace. “I just like my couch so much, Dennis. It’s good for cuddles if you’re in need of hugs.”

Abbott reacted as expected and Jane watched him take a step back, hands raised as if he feared he was serious. “I think my wife would get jealous.”

“I would, too.” Jane winked at him in sorrow attempt to ease the mood.

“Speaking of,” Abbott started, gesturing for him to follow before bunching his hands in his pockets. “Good work on the case.”

Jane’s brow furrowed for a moment, analyzing how their conversation had led to praise for the art heist. “Thank you.”

“I could tell you took the hoax to heart.” An awkward smile crept over Abbott’s face as they walked, passing the breakroom where Jane left his tea. All of a sudden, the puzzle pieces of the subject change clicked into place.

He didn’t have a hard time figuring out why he was uncomfortable now – his colorful surprise could have repainted the whole party house.

“What are you implying?” Jane inquired fearlessly, unsure whether Abbott wanted to poke the bear.

Abbott shrugged, scratching his neck like a father who was about to have the talk about the birds and the bees with his son. “Nothing, you just seemed to be very… passionate.”

He coughed.

Jane frolicked at his discomfort, but it seemed dangerous to shove it in his face. He might take away the couch.

“Because I kissed Lisbon?” Jane pushed, unbothered. “Fischer was supposed to be the bait, and Pulaski was being drawn to mine. I did what I thought was necessary.”

“I’m not saying it was wrong of you.” Abbott denied as they reached the entrance hall. It seemed the only agents left in the building were the security guards.

“What I mean, Jane, is that your little act seemed a bit too convincing.”

Jane inhaled sharply in a bid to tamper down his feelings. Of all people, Abbott wouldn’t be learning of them. “When is a sting too convincing, isn’t that a good thing?”

Abbott shrugged again. “For the FBI, yes. For you and Lisbon, I don’t know.”

Jane was tired of him tiptoeing and came to a sudden stop at the end of the stairs. “Stop dancing around the deal, Abbott. Say what you want to say.”

Abbott sighed. “You’re partners. I don’t know if what I saw were you two acting in full flourish, or something more.”

Jane deadpanned halfway through, watching him expectantly to define his point.

“I’ve seen how you look at each other, Jane. I wouldn’t want you to–“

“There’s nothing between Lisbon and I.” He interrupted, finished with the conversation. “The sting was a sting. And in case you don’t know, Lisbon’s on a date with Pike. I’m sure they’re discussing the kiss we shared so he can hear all the details.”

Abbott’s jaw slackened, like he was unsure of what to say next.

“Goodnight, Abbott.” Jane deserted him at the glass doors. He needed the solitude of his Airstream.

Marcus Pike was… interesting. A little younger, a little charming. Not bold in the ways Jane neglected other’s opinions, but bold in the way he didn’t fear rejection. He was friendly and it was a relief to meet an FBI agent outside their unit who wasn’t corrupt or manipulative in other ways. For that simple reason, she would never forget Mancini.

It was hard to stay concentrated while he took a bite of the pancake, her own left half eaten on her plate. The diner was full on a Saturday evening and the bustle of people was a good enough excuse for her distraction.

No more than a few hours ago she had stood in the bedroom, wishing Jane had told her different. Hoped that he yearned for her lips as she had done his – instead, he had shown his true colors.

Once again, as so many times before, she had fallen for his antics. In her defense, it had been more than just the sting. The morning where he had made her breakfast and their time at the pool wasn’t far off the same atmosphere, and back then it had been just the two of them – she tried vehemently to forget the uninvited ranger.

But no – Jane had outright rejected her question, so there was no mistaking. Finally, a moment where he hadn’t glazed the truth in a scheme she didn’t know about, leaving her with more questions than answers.

Pike, on the other hand, was laying his cards on the table before she even had a chance to look. And a man respecting honesty was something she would honor. It wouldn’t hurt to see what it would lead to.

“You seem deep in thought.” He said, a gentle smile blessing his features. A kindness shone in the dark of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about this whole thing.” She brushed a few strands out of her face so she could dive into her pancakes again. “It’s been a long time since someone asked me out.”

Pike looked surprised of that fact. “Really? I’d take you for a woman who had rows of admirers.”

Lisbon almost snorted her bite of pancake back onto the plate.

“I don’t think so.” She laughed, wiping the corner of her mouth to avoid an embarrassing lack of table etiquette.

Pike stretched his neck in search of something around the diner’s bar he could communicate his message toward. “I think anyone in here would agree with me when I say you’re a fine-looking catch. I feel lucky to have won you over, Teresa.”

She arched a sharp brow at him. “Who says you won me over?”

He pointed to her plate like it was written in the stars. “Pancakes. I don’t think you could say no a second time, when I told you about that other spot.”

Lisbon failed miserably at hiding her smile. “Well, I didn’t know you could read minds.”

Pike scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Nah, psychics isn’t my field. I just know how to seduce a woman.”

She had to give him that. His methods were seducing her easily when his intentions were out in the open. But he didn’t have to know that.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I like to think I have a say about it.” She pointed her fork at him in warning before she swallowed the last bits of her meal. Only now did she notice that he had been done for quite some time, admiring her in silence.

Pike’s smile widened and Lisbon felt a flutter ricocheting through her chest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You’re sweet.” She laughed earnestly, feeling light for the first time in a while.

This man was good. He was kind and understanding – patient. He didn’t strike her as a man of betrayal, a charlatan that would play her like a fiddle to entertain himself. And neither was he intent on keeping all his thoughts and plans to himself.

A promising match.

Allow yourself this, Teresa.

Chapter Text

The day after.

This cab felt cramped.

The roof was too low, the air was too dusty, and she was pretty sure she could smell the weed hidden somewhere in the car’s glove compartment. But that wasn’t her department nor was she intending to file it – her focus was placed entirely elsewhere.

She barely entered the cab before asking the driver to nail the gas pedal to the floor (within legal limits) and with a cop in the back, he was honestly doing his best, while she threw on the rest of her clothes.

Every time she finished a step, she glanced at her watch, praying it might go backwards at some point, but to no avail.

9:12… 9:13… 9:14…

Abbott had called in the early hours to report a new case, and she had missed both his attempts, forcing him to leave a message instead. The voicemail still played through her head, grinding the shame against her eardrum.

“Hey, Lisbon. I need all hands on deck to check out a crime scene, it looks like a terrorist attack. Get there in thirty and we might not have the press hounding us all day.”

That was forty-five minutes ago, and she heard it far too late. In her many years of service, she had always been on scene on time, always. But today, she would miss the mark by a mile.

It was mortifying to let down Abbott when he needed her, but she was more so annoyed because Jane would hound her for it and – surely – relish her discomfort.

However, he really didn’t need to know how she had spent the night, especially after yesterday’s events, and if he thought she would tell, he could stick his expectations up a spot where the sun couldn’t shine.

Pike on the other hand, would have to face her after, for making her sleep in. Damn his charms.

Half her heart was ridden with guilt for dealing with her feelings this way. She had tried forgetting the time he had rested his hands on her waist, and all she felt was Jane’s lips ghosting over her skin. His breath rather than Pike’s, blown along the shell of her ear, intent to wake her desires.

It was frustrating to fail… repeatedly.

She spotted him before he realized she had arrived, the cab rolling around the corner to stop short of the chaos that was rows of FBI range rovers, vans and too many journalists to deal with this early in the day.

He was fidgeting in place and clearly on the lookout for her arrival.

The memory of their last awkward encounter flooded her senses, and she made a poor attempt not to let it get to her all over again. She needed to focus on work and nothing else.

Just act normal.

She was caught in the act as soon as she stepped out of the car. He didn’t even let her cross the street before throwing out his hands in judgment, his finger emphasizing her shameful tardiness against the glass of his wristwatch.

“Morning, Jane.” Lisbon grimaced, masking her emotions with the elegance of Bambi on ice.

“Cab to a crime scene, that’s very cosmopolitan of you.” He said and she wasn’t sure if he was chastising her or not.

“My car wouldn’t start.” She lied as casually as possible.

“Well, of course it wouldn’t.” Jane glanced at her; a sideways remark hidden in his own Pacific. “How was your date with Agent Pike?”

Ugh, he knew alright.

“It was okay.” She found a curbstone to admire as she walked past him. Unfortunately, he followed.

He hummed as if he didn’t believe her. “Just ‘okay’?”

Everything inside her wanted to turn and punch him. That’s the least he deserved after the circus act, she had endured. If she was smooth enough, maybe she could excuse it with killing a bee on his nose.

“It went well.” Her tone didn’t leave much to the imagination.

It seemed like Jane noticed. “Good huh, that’s great… That’s great, excellent.”

To relieve them both of more awkward conversation, Fischer filled them in on the case details. One death, a few injured, reports from eyewitnesses, the usual. Abbott came around and discussed the terrorist angle, but Jane didn’t seem keen on it.

Actually, he didn’t seem keen on anything. He looked irked, distracted, simply staring at the ground or anything – anyone – but her. He was always happy to lecture the team on what they didn’t read between the lines, yet this time, it felt like he would rather get it over and done with.

It reminded her of the early days when he was more a jerk than anything else. Still, he was right. It wasn’t a terrorist attack: The target had been one person alone.

“Dead guy. Boom.” Jane confirmed to his audience before walking away, dramatic ass included.

It was hard for her not to roll her eyes, exchanging a look with Fischer. She was about as certain as ever that he’d take the Airstream and disappear off the face of the Earth for the next week with that attitude, right until she heard him call behind her.

“Did you need a ride, Lisbon?”

The absolute last thing she wanted in the world right now was to share the space of a car with this bastard. And yet she couldn’t say no now that he had offered.

What was she supposed to do, argue that taking the cab was more reasonable? Asking Fischer for a ride would be suspicious too and she didn’t need more questions about her relationship to Jane.

She tried hiding the clenched fist behind her thigh as she turned to look at him. “Sure.”

It turned out that he hadn’t taken the Airstream to the scene. Instead, he walked over to one of the range rovers provided to their unit. Good, then she didn’t have to think about what transpired the last time she survived the silver bucket.

The car was uncomfortably quiet as the engine started and Lisbon buckled in. She tried ignoring him and found any given lamppost down the road to study for illegal sabotage – any excuse to leave the car and find her own way back.

She should seriously have called in the weed.

Jane’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel, disturbing her peace and the long silence stretching between them. Was it a good idea to jump out of a moving car? She had survived it before, she could brace herself against the asphalt just fine for a second try.

Jane cleared his throat. “So… you and–“

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Jane.” She interrupted, not even entertaining the idea.

She crossed her arms in front of her, bouncing her attention from the street to the side-view mirror so she didn’t have to look his direction. His sudden silence was probably a sign of his offense, but it didn’t last long.

“I wasn’t asking… if that’s what you think.” His voice was blunt, confirming her suspicions. “I don’t care that you were late because Pike kept you busy.”

Ha, yeah, right.

“If you will let me speak?” He was kind enough to ask, which was unlike him.

The dream of a silent drive was starting to wave goodbye as she considered, tempted to say no. However, it seemed cruel to deny him, and she was nonetheless curious if this topic wasn’t about Pike.

A blind, short dip of her head was what she gave him as a yes.

"What I’m trying to say is that you and I... we ended things on a sour note yesterday... or it feels like it." She could hear the grit of his teeth as he confessed, turning sharply in a cross section.

This was a surprise. Jane didn’t admit defeat, ever. Lisbon turned to look at him and noticed the way he was staring at the road, stoic determination painted on his face.

“I know I said the wrong thing, and it upset you. I didn’t mean it in that way.” He gripped the wheel as if it could save him from the conversation – his voice was soft despite it. Earnest.

Okay, so he was taking that route. Following him was both unlikely and unwanted.

“What did you expect, Jane? You made yourself pretty clear to me.”

A tension in her shoulders made her skin prickle and the back of her neck heat – the usual procedure when she started feeling angry. It was hovering around her like a waft of smoke, waiting to engulf her. Only the spin of the car was distracting her.

She felt the extreme urge to hold onto something as he sped down Lavaca Street, leaving downtown with a sudden agenda to beat the cab driver’s score.

“It was a good act, Lisbon. I enjoyed it, I had fun. But I shouldn’t have said... That role wasn’t you and…” His voice was edged on a cliff between frustration and the will to remain calm as he searched for the words. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lisbon’s heart was pounding. She forgot all about looking elsewhere and instead scanned every speck of Jane to understand his meaning. He had said he didn’t want her. Direct and with no chance of misunderstanding.

“What’s your point, Jane? Do you just want to pour salt in the wound?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation, and she could tell it was agitating him. For a second she thought he might snap at her, but one thing he never did was yell. Regardless, she had decided her heart wasn’t a book to be read by anyone – least of all him.

“You could’ve just…” She began, but she didn’t know what she wanted to say. There weren’t any words that fit right. She just watched him glance from the road to her, an unknown pain bedridden beneath his blue covers.

“I’m sorry, Lisbon.”

Her breath was stuck somewhere between her ribs, taut around the bone. An apology from him was rare. Still, could she believe it after all this?

It would be weak of her to break already. To forget the rude words, he had spoken when she so openly had asked. It was humiliating; taunting her as her father had done when she forgave Woody Squire for kissing someone else without a moment’s wait.

Jane was acting like he hadn’t understood the question.

“Okay. I’ll scratch it from the list.” She returned her attention to the road, set on ending the conversation then.

“Seriously, Teresa, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I… care about you.” She felt his eyes on her as she twisted the hem of her shirt around her fingers. He was hammering through the streets, passing cars and pedestrians like there was no tomorrow.

“What did you mean, then?” She shrugged, unable to hide the emotions in her voice. She didn’t want to cry again and the lump in her throat was starting to feel like her heart, straining her voice and threatening with tears.

“I asked and you said no, it was very simple, Jane.”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore, his gaze set towards the car he was soon overtaking. He was clearly tiptoeing the line of reason. In fact, he was speeding across The Drag, and he didn’t seem to break unless necessary.

“I’m telling you.” Jane said as though he had spelled it out for her already. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, and if he was, maybe it wasn’t smart to do while driving.

Lisbon glared at him like never before. She was certain that if her eyes could burn, the tears would vaporize, and his head would light up in flames. He had the nerve to leave her in the dark. Again.

She sniffled discreetly. “You’re driving too fast, Jane. Slow down or I might just write you a fucking ticket.”

Jane looked as if he had been slapped in the face. He finally slowed the vehicle to a humane speed, and she saw his brow furrow into lines of regret and what she could only guess was surrender.

Guilt rippled through her, reminding her of her bulletproof conscience. He was trying, shockingly, and she wasn’t really listening – maybe that wasn’t fair of her.

She remembered the way Stan had tried apologizing to her in their early teens, when her favorite mug shattered in one of his botched trickshot stunts – one given to her by their grandmother. She had been too upset to forgive him, even when he tried giving her his, and that guilt still haunted her.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the fabric of her blazer, blinking the incriminating tears away.

“Sorry. I just shouldn’t have asked you in the first place. Please, forget it.” She said.

Jane’s face was one of brief confusion, but he covered it up like a charm and simply nodded. The rest of the drive she suffered in silence.

The dress she wore was beautiful. It hugged her snugly, a dark linen of comfort and romance strung around her short frame to seduce her new love. It was unlike her to wear them, and suddenly he had seen her in multiple within a short span of time. He could thank himself for two of them, but really, work related stitches didn’t count.

Regret laughed in his face, waving the memory in front of him like candy he couldn’t taste. He had been given the chance to tell her how he felt at the pool, where they had been just the two of them, before he had pushed her away and she had met Pike. Instead, she was slipping through his fingers, moving on to a better option.

Even now, sitting in a grimy bar with a pint of beer and his wits nowhere near besotted, he didn’t need a psychic to tell him he was an idiot. Neither when that psychic was Abbott.

How the man had convinced him to get a beer together, he was still debating. He had hoped for free drinks and easy distractions – instead, Abbott had planned a therapy session, free of charge.

Jane wanted to find the nearest cliff and meet his demise.

“So, I take you and Lisbon aren’t on the best of terms.” G-man said.

Jane suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as – clearly – the whole team knew despite his best efforts.

“Really, how did you know? Was it the tardiness?” Jane asked, his tone smothered with sarcasm, but Abbott took it seriously.

“I’m not blind, Jane. You barely looked at each other this morning and Lisbon didn’t seem too keen on taking your offer.”

Jane’s pint landed with a thud on the wooden table after a swig. “She could’ve said no. I didn’t force her into the car.”

Abbott’s brow lifted, offering him a second chance for a hairline. “How would it have looked if she had? Either way, after that kiss you two seemed good and now you’re the opposite.”

Jane stared at the bartender, a big brawly man with a kind face, hoping he would – by some miracle – see him as a threat and throw him out immediately. Maybe starting a fight while an FBI agent was in the house could pass without calling the press.

“What happened, Jane?”

“Does it matter?” Jane drowned himself in the beer, contemplating whether he should ask for a stronger mix – it was the alarming consequences that kept him from making that mistake.

“I expect my team to be efficient and cooperative. If you two aren’t working together, I won’t hesitate to look at our contract and remind you how easily I can dissolve it. List or no list.”

Jane finally looked at him, not doubting a word he said. At least Abbott was straight forward.

“And I was just starting to like you, Dennis.”

Abbott smiled honestly, waiting.

His neck felt hot and sweaty, the hairs standing on end like he was walking up on stage to accept an award for Biggest Dumbass South of Canada. The shame was grinding into his joints with every step he took, bruising his knees till they bled. What he wouldn’t give for a mic with technical errors, pounding the windscreen in silent apology.

“We just talked. I said something wrong, and it upset her.” Jane sniffled vaguely. If he had a say about it, his doors would be sealed as shut as the conclave’s when they elected a new pope.

Abbott’s face straightened, clearly unsatisfied with his lack of detail.

“I should have expected no less from you.” He sighed, referring to his silence. His posture was one of exhaustion as he drank, summoning the energy to wave down the bartender for more beer. “Care to give me something I can work with?”

Jane shrugged with a tilt of his head, fiddling with his wedding ring as though it held his answers. It would be nice if the bar had functioning ventilation. “I don’t see how that’s relevant for you, Abbott. I just upset her.”

Abbott rubbed his temple as their beers were replaced, probably second guessing his next words. “Alright, don’t tell me how both of you are in love and won’t admit it. But is it something you can fix?”

Jane blinked just once. His stare could have torched his eyebrows and robbed him of the little hair he had, the guilt and embarrassment battling in the wake of Abbott’s audacity. He had pushed the subject before, but pointing out the obvious was new. Perhaps it was the beer.

Jane looked back at the bartender, searching for a plot he could execute with the least amount of jailtime. Abbott didn’t look like he had the patience for that.

Jane’s eyes widened in a frozen eyeroll, specifically aimed at the beer on the table which suffered the blame for this defeat.

“I tried. I apologized to her in the car, but she wasn’t really keen on hearing that either. And let me remind you again if you have forgotten since last night – she is dating Pike.”

He didn’t deny his own feelings.

Abbott hummed, a thought he wasn’t intent on sharing. “Give her time. She’ll forgive you.”

Maybe, when she’s done writing me tickets.

Whether she would forgive him or not didn’t matter. The race had been run. Pike was a good man and was treating her right, it seemed. At least so far.

And what did he have to offer her anyway? He was a broken man, chased by demons and dead memories of those long gone. She deserved more than what he was. A man who could give her respect and honesty. The whole world – and a whole heart too.

If Pike was that for her, he wouldn’t stop her.

“We’ll see.” Jane scrunched his nose. “Until then, can you tell me more about those boxing days? I need tips.”

A month later.

Usually, the fishbowl was a stellar example of how to decorate an office in the most boring of ways with neither charm nor soul. Always the same grey, long table with files scattered for all to read and nothing but themselves and the discussion of their next move to fill the space.

However, for this evening, it was nicely adorned by a poker deck, the foldable sheets making it easy to hide if the Director or the President himself decided to visit the office on a random Friday. The FBI did for some suspicious reason, though, have a full poker set waiting to be used.

Beer bottles and glasses of wine were scattered around the room, either stuck to the table for those driving or freely swaying for those who chose to imbibe without care – which were few. A record player had been dusted off and was playing in the corner, a nice jazz tune drifting to fog the glass walls.

They had recently closed a huge case that involved half the gangs in Austin, which had offered adventures like cheating mobster bosses and suffering through two shootouts. To everyone’s luck, none on their team had suffered injury – or worse – but even Cho had seemed bothered, so everyone had needed a bit of a break.

Hence, Abbott had invited the team for a hangout and suggested they could play a bit of poker on the FBI’s account. The drinks, that was – the gambling he wouldn’t sponsor.

Jane couldn’t blame him.

Despite this, the table had been fully occupied from the start, a solid hundred in the pot from each of them. The shocking generosity, he gathered, was another victim of the need to let loose, but it wasn’t like none of them had the money. The FBI’s paycheck was considerate.

Wylie was the first to lose his, closely followed by Fischer. Abbott was surprisingly bad at keeping his money. Cho was a hard read at times, but after playing with him more than a few times back at the CBI, he had figured him out well enough.

That left him and Lisbon – and Pike. Sadly, she had chosen to bring him along for the festivities, or he had simply come uninvited without her objection.

The last few weeks they had spent plenty of time together and Jane had seen less of her each day that went – or so it felt. Pike took her on dates every other day and he saw dresses he never thought she owned. But she was never late again.

His own relationship to her was… rocky, still. Most of the times they spoke, she was being professional for the sake of the case, or she offered casual small talk on the way out with Pike.

She had kept him at arm’s length, making it hard to figure out if she was still angry with him. Nonetheless, he kept his distance out of respect. There hadn’t been a time where he saw her just as mad, but their banter and the smiles she had sent his way ever since were both brief and halfhearted.

For this reason, Jane had a plan. He enjoyed a good round of poker, and he liked to win. But he more so liked making Lisbon happy.

He took a sip of his wine, deep and fruity notes coating his tongue to prepare himself for the con. It appeared like he was drinking plenty, but he never took much at a time.

“You know I’m going to smoke you just like last time.” He teased her, glancing at his aces in hand while the third lay on the table among their shared cards. He had kept quiet for most of the game, but that was no fun with such little players left in the arena.

He glanced at Pike, who threw in a blue and two red chips to match the pot. He was a lousy player and risked too often, but he had managed to survive so far… So far.

The blue chips were worth five, the red, ten. The greens were left mostly untouched, counting for twenty, and Pike had none of those left.

Lisbon raised him thirty without a response. Bold and calculated, her face revealed nothing. She was a very good player, which her little pile beside her wine also accounted for. He had underestimated her for many years until she had eaten half his carnivores in her office. He had won in the end, though.

A smirk played across his features as he matched her. Pike did the same.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.” He boasted, flipping the last card as the honorable dealer to enter the last round. Ace.

Four of a kind. He could kick Pike out of court with that, stuck in a puddle on the curb. He had a straight at most, and that was being generous.

“Shut up, Jane.” Pike grumbled through his teeth, clearly affected by his tactics.

Cho sat with his arms crossed, watching the game with an expression as impassive as ever. “Scared he’s gonna beat you like a big bass drum, Pike?”

Pike looked downright offended. “Shut up, Cho.”

Lisbon looked a little amused, albeit not as much as Abbott. The boss of the house had to hide his laugh behind a hand. The case had allowed everyone to leave behind their work persona and simply enjoyed the evening as their private selves – a golden freedom within police work. He had realized that after more than a decade in the business.

Pike would fold immediately if he went all in – he had less than twenty dollars left, making him vulnerable.

Instead, Jane threw another two reds, a small part of his larger fortune but enough to force his hand.

“Will you play?” He leaned back in his seat. Red wine spun against the walls of the glass in his hand, illustrating the secret storm he couldn’t unleash.

Pike’s feathers were easy to ruffle to Jane’s wild delight, especially under influence, but he kept his cool nicely. Nevertheless, he didn’t hesitate to go all in.

“You have nothing, Jane.” He was probably sure of his bluff that had won him the worthy sum of a romantic dinner a few hands earlier.

Jane shrugged in turn, flicking his attention to Lisbon who simply matched the pot in silence.

“Come on with the big reveal.” Wylie chirped in the corner, paused in his endeavor to flip the vinyl on the record player. “This round took ages.”

“You have no say, Wylie; you’ve been out for more than an hour.” Lisbon said as they showed their cards – both of them had a straight, but hers was higher.

No good against his hand, though.

“That’s just lucky.” Fischer rolled her eyes at Jane’s cards, watching him pull the pot into his arms.

Jane watched as Pike brooded in his defeat, his jaw tight and his eyes set on the table.

“You’re cheating.” He muttered and Jane refrained from kicking him in the shin for resting his hand on Lisbon’s thigh. Not that he could see, but there was a significant distance between his own legs and where his arm twisted towards, so it was easy to put two and two together.

“Marcus.” Lisbon attempted a genuine smile when she looked at Pike, but his open show of affection when they were among her colleagues made her smile tight and strained – still, she allowed it.

“I would never cheat, Pike, not against friends.” Jane said halfheartedly and looked for a distraction from his face. It was easy to drift back to Lisbon, watching her shuffle the deck as effortlessly as he wished she would handle him.

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one.” Cho piped up to everyone’s agreement, ever the man to betray him.

If Jane put on a wig and called himself Lisbon, maybe he would play along next time.

The first few rounds went by fairly even. He folded immediately once, and Lisbon protested by slapping his hand when he gathered the cards for another round, apparently offended by his lack of challenge.

Ah. So, she wasn’t lost to him entirely.

He won a round, she another, until they both had equal the money. Perfect for a grand finale. People came and went around them between bathroom breaks and resupplying the snacks, but with only the two left, everyone was starting to egg them on to risk more money and finish the game.

If he wasn’t kidding himself, Fischer seemed to slowly turn into the Kim he met in Venezuela the more beer she had. Her enthusiastic team up with Abbott to encourage their poker faces was admirable with time.

The deck had found a nice spot in his mind palace and his calculations were never off. The flick of the cards slapped against the cover when she put down their shared hand, a sweet rhythm that danced to Ray Charles with charming steps – the only reason he noticed was for Lisbon’s lithe fingers, caressing the cards as if they held the meaning of life.

Her hair was as seductive as her touch, flowing past the shoulder to remind him of what he had let go. She was in a good place – he had to remember that. A man sat at her side, bettering her happiness in ways he would fail to.

The chatting between Fischer and Abbott seemed to die out as he watched her, Lonely Avenue and her working hands the only audible sounds in the room to him. Pike seemed to fall in with the glass wall behind him, leaving him alone with the woman of his dreams.

Get a grip.

Jane peeked at his hand, careful to lift the corner so Wylie behind him wouldn’t spoil it to the rest of the class. A king and queen of spades.

Solid hand. High for pairs, a chance for flush.

Lisbon’s eyes were shaded in just the same way as during the art heist, her lashes lazy above her iris as she stared him down. There was no warmth in her gaze, simply the will to win, as sexy as that was.

“So, Jane, what will it be?” She asked, counting her chips with a confidence he rarely saw her utilize on purpose. His throat contracted like a whirlpool in the desert, and he fought not to make it obvious to the worst possible candidate.

“You make it sound like you have a chance.” He fearlessly nudged her and placed five red, knowing well enough she didn’t bite – Pike, though, wasn’t liking his cocky attitude. That much was clear the way he was chewing on his cheek.

“Maybe she does.” He couldn’t hold back.

How sweet, a protective man.

If this was his opinion on a little tease, it was good he hadn’t been present when he was making out with his girlfriend.

“I’m always up for beating you, Jane.” She took over and matched. They hadn’t even flipped the five cards and already there was a hundred in the pot.

It didn’t take long to reveal the first three; a seven of clubs, a queen and a ten of hearts. Nothing in his eyes told her his flush was gone, nor that all he had was a pair of queens.

Jane simply smiled, amping up the bet with plenty enough money to keep her interested. “Are you sure about that?”

Lisbon sipped her wine, not even acknowledging Pike’s whispered assurances as she took a stack of greens and let it fall apart on the table. If Jane didn’t know any better, he’d think she despised him.

Abbott, who was as avid in poker as themselves despite his hold on money, whistled lowly by the turn of events. Lisbon was bold, but she wasn’t stupid, and they both knew that.

Jane swallowed theatrically.

Alright.

He ignored the jolt that went through his nerves when she looked at him and instead counted his chips to match, flipping the next card while he was at it. A king of hearts. He could work with two pairs.

He didn’t even count, he just shoved half of his chips onto the table and retired to his glass of wine.

Lisbon sat for a moment and attempted to count his bet before she did the same. A silent kill. He could almost see her laying in the grass field, aiming her rifle at him like a deer destined for death. He wasn’t sure of her hand, but it definitely wasn’t bad.

Good. He had counted right.

“Keep pushing your luck, Lisbon.” Jane’s voice slipped out between his fingers, muffled by his hand that rested beneath his chin.

His intentions were swathed in layers, coating her to give in. The red-hot iron in his eyes, aflame in the dark of his pupils, stoked her stubborn coals – and with success, too.

She flipped the last card, and he had to contain himself not to smirk too widely. A king of diamonds. Full house.

Jane didn’t hesitate to go all in, bolstering himself by lounging in his seat as though he wasn’t risking hundreds of dollars. He watched her like a hawk to catch a glimpse of her defense unraveling, but she gave nothing away. Her stance stood unshaken, the bowstring taut against her cheek and the arrowhead nocked above her fingers, aimed straight for his chest.

“All in.” She pushed the wager towards him, the clink of chips echoing in the fishbowl – a dragon’s treasure, hoarded in the depths of a cave. She might as well have shot the arrow at his scales, unaware if she had missed.

“That’s a lot of money.” Fischer sat, dumbfounded by the full scale of their bets. They could have agreed to resign with each their winnings, but everyone knew that both Jane and Lisbon were as stubborn as Paris under siege.

Pike, practically squirming in his seat, looked like he wanted to protest with a marching band through the office. Jane understood; had it been him in her place, he would have lost immediately.

It was unfortunate that he couldn’t fulfill Pike’s fears, but then the game had been all for naught.

The grin on Lisbon’s face could have outshined the moon as they showed their cards, and she saw his hand. She lined up her hand with the five to illustrate her victory.

“A straight flush takes the pot.” She confirmed, folding her hands with great satisfaction as she looked at him.

This was the happiest he had seen her in his company since their sting. The realization carved a path through his ribs, etching the ache lovingly against his bone as it reached to stab his heart.

Success.

It took a battalion of disciplined nerves to refrain from going soft for her.

“You win, Lisbon. All seven hundred.” He said, shaking her hand to honor the win. Of all the mobsters and fakes he had played against in his life, she had easily bested all of them. A worthy opponent to drain all pockets.

“Buy yourself something nice, you deserve it.” He attempted a wink.

A glint in her eye told him she was surprised of his reaction, not a trace of malice in his voice nor shame in his eyes. If he was lucky, he’d see her smile again when he went for the exit.

With the game over, the office started emptying fairly quickly. The record player returned to the basement and the bottles were thrown out. Lisbon was packing up the poker set while Pike gathered the wine glasses for a wash in the breakroom. Jane had disappeared to God knows where – no doubt to avoid the cleaning.

The dollar bills on the table counted her climb in wealth, stacking up an abundance of riches she would have humbly declined in any other setting. Today was an exception.

Ecstasy and pride bubbled in her chest, thrilled to have played Jane like a fiddle – to have won, and well too. Convincing Cho he was a fairy felt more plausible. Carmine red tinted her face as a result, and it was hard to mask. She decided the wine would be her sole excuse.

She didn’t care if Jane didn’t believe it. He had lost and it was clear her poker face had surprised him. He didn’t know that after he disappeared off the face of the earth, she had spent too many nights in Cannon River with locals with nothing better to do, improving her game. Those carnivores of his didn’t stand a chance, had they taken a second match.

For weeks, he had distanced himself from her, so this victory felt like proving herself to him – in a very subtle and mostly self-affirming way. But she had seen less and less of his smiles, and their teamwork was becoming awkward and superficial.

The anger she felt for him had dissipated not long after their talk in the car, her inability to stay angry with him forever strong as an ox. Bending over backwards to hold the grudge was useless. But when he never bothered for deeper conversation, she guessed he wasn’t interested, and she chose to follow suit.

The clasps on the poker set snapped her out of it when they fell against the case. She stood from her seat along with it. Quick farewells brushed around her and she offered a wink to Wylie, who seemed as eager as her about her win when he left. Cho squeezed her shoulder in silent affirmation and went with him, leaving her alone in the fishbowl.

The office had returned to its usual bland expression, so with nothing else to do, she went to find Pike.

His gentle encouragement for her to wear heels before they had left home came back to mind as she neared the breakroom. It was lucky she had told him no, because he wasn’t alone, and she was too nosy to let them ruin the eavesdropping.

Leaning back against the door, slightly ajar, Lisbon carefully peaked through. She was fortunate everyone else had left, or this would look very suspicious.

Pike was standing at the sink, washing the glasses, while Jane stood at his side, drying them off with a towel. So, he hadn’t left, after all. Seeing them work together was… refreshing.

The corner of her lip lifted subconsciously.

“How’d you do it?” Pike’s voice was loud enough for her to hear above the faucet running, the irritation she knew Jane had encouraged, imminent on his tongue. Pike hated frauds, a point he mentioned a few days ago after asking about their work compatibility – with Jane’s history and all. She had tried to wave it off. Jane and Pike were two separate worlds and it wasn’t the time to start combining them.

Lisbon saw Jane shrug, his full attention on the wine glass in his hands. “I do many things. What are you referring to?”

The water splattered across the counter as Pike placed more for him to dry. “You know what I mean. You cheated.” He said, simple and matter of fact.

Jane placed the clean glass and looked at him, leaning against the counter with the towel bunched in his fist. It was wound just as tightly as her lips were pursed between her teeth.

Please don’t argue.

“I didn’t cheat.” Jane’s face was free of scowl, calm and collected. “What makes you think I did, anyway? Lisbon won the game.”

Pike held back a scoff and seemed to forget about the dishes. “You played me, you must have played her. You always do.”

Lisbon’s stomach churned, able to tell where this was going. She considered stepping in, but maybe Jane would say something – keep his cool, and admit the honest game.

Jane had abandoned cleaning the glasses, too, to Lisbon’s dismay. “I’m sorry, if you’re sour about your own poker skills. You can sign up for a class if you want.”

Lisbon rolled her eyes. Jackass.

“This isn’t about me.”

Jane shrugged with apparent indifference, sparking the old fire of frustration she held against him.

“You know, Lisbon’s a big girl, Pike. She doesn’t need you to defend her. If she thinks I cheated, she can ask.”

Her ears started feeling warm, and whether it was from flatter or anger, she couldn’t tell. He was right, but it wasn’t his place to say so. Marcus was her boyfriend. There was a difference.

Jane’s face flittered across her mind, a haze of his wide grin and the warmth in his eyes when he shook her hand for the victory. He was notorious for being a sore loser in her book – always pouting and never the man to chat whenever she turned out to be right and he wrong (as rare as it was). There hadn’t been an ounce of that tonight.

Suddenly, the heat on her face wasn’t from praise at all.

“Okay, I will.” Lisbon stepped inside, making both men turn. Two Adam’s apples juddered.

She folded her arms in response. “Did you cheat?”

Jane looked caught off guard, opening and closing his mouth as if to figure out what lie to sell her. It was really not helping his case.

She despised being spared of a fair match – a win wasn’t a win if she hadn’t earned it rightfully so. The money in her pocket was beginning to feel dirty, soiling her jeans and tainting her conscience.

“I didn’t. I’m glad you won, Lisbon.” Jane’s head almost inched towards the door, probably looking for an escape.

She eyed him skeptically, mentally listing the receipts to start the interrogation. “That’s funny, because you hate to lose, Jane. But I guess you’ve found some joy in it now after all this time.”

Jane’s face was impassive, the walls to his heart impenetrable in just the same way they had been a month ago. She couldn’t tell if he cared, and it left a throbbing void in her chest – if she breathed, the strain might bruise her skin. Would this always be his way of hurting her? She would prefer a punch to the throat.

Maybe he was just disappointed for getting busted.

“It’s not cheating. I’m just counting.” His shoulders slumped, the sigh as deep as the blue in his eyes.

The shudder that passed through her was barely visible, but it ripped through her chest on a mission to stir tears to life and awaken that old, unspoken ache. All he could see was the quiver of her lip, the single thread that held back the rage.

“So, you knew?” She asked and stepped closer to him, her tone bordering the hurt she had boxed up for weeks. Up close, the pain within his iris was almost noticeable. Pike she had forgotten about.

Jane chewed on his cheek, his finger absently spinning the golden band around his finger. She knew it was his comfort, something tangible where he could place his anxiety.

So, he cared.

“Did you know, Jane?” She pressed, her nails carving crescent moons in her arms. If the win had been a faux, it was just another of his schemes on his endless route to deceive her.

She thought he wanted to glare at Pike for bringing it up, but he had the decency not to look away from her.

“Yes.”

A nod, simple and repetitive, was all she replied with as she fished out the dollar bills, she had folded into her pocket.

“Here, congratulations on your win.” She threw the money at his chest, but he didn’t move to take them – one stuck to the folds of his shirt, filthy and green, while the rest fell to the floor.

“You can count those, too, it should be all seven hundred.”

It was the first time he might have looked embarrassed, looking down upon himself as she reached for Pike’s hand. He walked past Jane with a smirk on his face, and she was surprised that it only made her angrier.

“Goodnight, Jane.”

She didn’t even look at him when they left, still stuck to the spot as he peeled the dollar off his chest.

Chapter Text

The flame flickered. It licked against the wax, a comforting touch, melting the walls while it danced on its stem. It was therapeutic this way, trapped on its post, coaxing her to run her fingertips through it. Back and forth to feel the heat stain her hands.

Her eyes were fixed on it as she listened to Grace tell about her life on the other end of the phoneline, going on and on about this taco place Wayne was loving.

If she stretched her leg a little, the candle would tip and her new coffee table would be falsely ruined, splattered by the wax until it cooled enough to peel off. It would perfectly capsulate the emotional chaos she had been experiencing for the past few weeks. One big damaging mess, but in the end, no one would ever know it was there. It was a constant cycle she couldn’t see the end of. At least not yet.

Her feet curled beneath the blanket, stuffed into the pocket under the cushions to keep her toes warm. Her hands were occupied with channeling her thoughts into something plausible, sketching her jawline and fiddling with the cross on her chest.

Pike was gone, stuck at work with some art case she didn’t remember all the details of – just something with a rich broker who was committing fraud at every auction in Texas. Whenever he was done for the night, she knew he would be going back to his own place, and they’d see each other in the morning.

She didn’t mind his absence. Before they had started dating – excepting the years with Greg – she had spent most of her life on her own. She enjoyed the solitude and independence that came with single life, the hours of selfcare when she wasn’t dragging herself through endless hours of work.

All of a sudden, those few moments of free time were always occupied by him, watching movies or going to the amateur concerts his friends hosted. It was great. It was fun to explore social life more than usual. But those moments of quiet felt far away now, like a rare wave of an old acquaintance. So, it was nice to be able to catch up with her closest friend for once – an evening just for her.

“Maddie has been sick recently.” Grace explained, only interrupted by the squeal of Ben and his feet patting by in the background. “She’s been doing better, actually, but I guess it comes with her age… and her grabbing anything in reach, just to gnaw on it.” A laugh rang out through the speaker.

Lisbon smiled, her heart swelling from the happiness in Grace’s life. Kids suited her. Wayne, too, even though his love for food rivaled his love for family – that was no secret.

Her fingers danced mindlessly from her cross to the flat curve of her abdomen, drawing patterns over her shirt. It was a subtle touch along the seams, soothing and hypnotic, had it not been for Ben taking the phone from his mother. The child started squabbling about the spaceship he had built in their garden, to her opportune delight.

Her eyes fell closed as she listened to him.

It could’ve been her if not for the dedication to her career. A child on her hip, the bubble of laughter ringing in her ears from dawn till dusk. The faux memory of helping small feet on the way to take their first steps played behind her eyelids, coloring the dark with barefooted dancing and piggyback rides on her shoulders.

It could’ve been, when she was stuck in Chicago, a ring on her finger with Greg in her bed.

It could’ve been… until it couldn’t anymore.

Her heart still ached when she thought about it for too long. A short-lived joy that had given breath to her lungs, the thrill when they took the first step together still echoing through her body like a piano playing with delay. Then it had wilted – like rampant decay in meadows of spring.

It hadn’t felt right anymore and to live in a lie was as good as loading the gun herself. The dream had gone out the door with the hopes of a different future, so she did what she knew was best – no, safest. She left Chicago.

The place was riddled with enough memories she wanted to leave behind, and staying would have her wake up every day just to relive them.

“You have to see, Auntie Teresa!” Ben’s voice rang through the cell phone, still rambling about the spaceship, she was pretty sure was a cardboard box with marker-drawn wings. “Please, you have to!”

Lisbon laughed, drawn from her thoughts to focus on her bonus nephew. “I wish I could, Ben, but you know I have to catch all the bad guys tomorrow.”

Ben whined against the microphone, the scratchy tone torturing her eardrum in the best of ways. “Then come visit soon!”

“I promise.” She grinned as if he could see, listening as Grace battled for her rights to the phone again. Begrudgingly, her son relented and whisked off to his own astronomic adventure.

“Sorry about that, boss.” Lisbon could hear Grace’s blush, tinted as heavily as the habit. She had accepted it at this point, now an endearment of the old.

“It’s okay, I was curious about space anyways.” She joked and it was obvious Grace appreciated her understanding in the few seconds of silence that followed.

“Listen, about a visit actually…” Lisbon started, evening out the hem of her shirt. Her nerves were already searching for ways to cope with the conversation, opening that door to the only person she really felt able to. After spending the healthy length of half a year with them during her suspension, their relationship had bloomed from boss and agent to best friends – at least she wasn’t far off being the sister she never had.

“Do you really want to see his spaceship that bad?” Grace was giggling in her ear.

“No, I think I’ll manage,” Lisbon grimaced to herself, “I really don’t have the time to come – but it would be nice to have you here instead, if you and Wayne are able to.” She offered.

Grace hummed, audibly weighing the balance of her calendar.

“I know Cho has talked about finally hosting us at his place, if that will convince you.” She continued, tempted to promise Wayne tacos, but she wouldn’t step on Cho’s shoes.

“Oh? About time, I thought he wanted to keep his books secret forever.”

“My theory is that he misses you and Wayne after… yeah.” She avoided the specifics. “He thought it could draw you back here for better reasons.”

Grace hummed again, knowingly. “We would love to. I’ll talk with Wayne and call Cho about the details.”

Lisbon smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Warmth spread in her chest, a gentle eagerness of seeing them again so soon. When she was in Washington, the visits had been much sparser, especially with the distance and kids to organize. Still, she knew the visit would enroll more conversation of things she wasn’t thrilled to start sorting out.

“How’s it going with you and Pi– Marcus?” The grimace in Grace’s voice was clear, impossible to mask even though she tried.

Lisbon ignored the hiccup and stood from the couch to turn on some music. “It’s going well.”

She pressed ‘Play’ on her stereo. Spice Girls would have been nice, but she settled with something less distracting – soul – or she wouldn’t focus on the phone call anymore. Mel C was reserved for solo dance shows.

 She thrummed her fingers along the spines of the hard CD covers. A shiver short-circuited her efforts to find words, shooting down her arm in a race to her toes.

“He’s been offered a job in D.C. and has asked if I want to come with him.” The words were heavy on her tongue, flopping around in her mouth as if they were too difficult to form.

“Oh.” Grace was obviously surprised. “Have you said yes?”

Lisbon shrugged to no avail, realizing she had to speak out loud. “No, not yet, he told me I could take my time. He understands that it’s a lot.”

Something about it felt off, the ridge of her teeth sanding her plumb bottom lip – her best guess was it being simple nerves around this new opportunity. They hadn’t dated for more than a few months at this point and already he wanted her to move in together.

It was terrifying to say the least, and the chance of history repeating itself was making it worse. Diving headfirst into something she wasn’t yet fully comfortable in; she might as well go to the shooting range blindfolded.

“Well, do you want to go?” Grace’s voice was soft, careful in the same way as when she asked about Jane after the CBI.

Lisbon fiddled with the CDs on her shelf and swayed to the soft rhythms.

In the first few months, she had refused to talk about him. It was only when Grace had caught her crying in their kitchen in the dead of night with a bottle of whiskey – writing a letter to him – that she had asked what was going on. Details had spilled freely, then, with only a handful still kept to herself.

Grace was a kind and respectful friend, she had learned – she didn’t ask when she didn’t offer to tell and always understood her unwillingness to figure out those emotional conflicts. All in all, Grace had adhered to the same treatment as always, never pitying her and ever waiting for her own invitation to unveil her heart.

It was only recently that Lisbon had started being truly honest with her (to a point). If Dr. Carmen, the CBI’s old shrink, hadn’t been a killer, he would have been proud of her development.

“I don’t know.” She muttered, cramming the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she sorted through the old discs. “Marcus is a sweet guy; I just don’t want to make the wrong decision. It’s…”

She searched for the words, flipping an album with Etta James to read the back as if it could offer some vocab. “It’s hard when he’s got a piece of my heart, you know. He charmed me well enough for it.” She snorted against the screen, clammy on her cheek with the remainder of her skincare. “I just don’t want to be the stupid blind girl that’s head over heels for this guy. Move to a whole other state with him and find out he’s a strange man I don’t want to live with.”

Lisbon swallowed, aware that she had actually moved states for someone else before. But that was different.

“Do you have reason to believe he’s a strange man? I think FBI should check their people if that’s the case.” Grace laughed and she rolled her eyes.

Maybe Jane and her had been talking – their humor was starting to sound alike.

“Of course not, but people live life differently and it’s still new. I’m probably fussing over nothing; I just don’t want to regret anything.” She defended wholeheartedly. She really didn’t. Not again.

She grated her lip along her teeth, filing the front two with zero efficiency against the soft flesh. Grace sniffled violently in the other end. It took a second before she realized she was confusing the woman with her daughter, who was still fighting the most recent infection.

“I’m considering it, though. I think it could be good.”

No matter how much she tried to ignore it, Jane was still on the little stool in her mind, crouched like a child suffering corner time.

What would he say when he found out she might go? The FBI contract would fall apart with her leaving and maybe he would be stuck in a cell after all – there was no doubt that he would find something else to do, if he had been so adamant on her joining the team. If she was leaving, he would probably make Abbott’s life hell or disappear again.

Like clockwork, Grace addressed the elephant in the room above the muted babbling from Maddie. “What about Jane and the contract?”

Lisbon placed the CDs back on the shelf and thought it was perfect timing for a drink. She had started declining wine on the many dates Pike was taking her on, careful not to overindulge – but this subject called for support.

“I don’t know, I haven’t told him. I’m sure he’s fine with it.” She convinced herself, the pop of the cork ringing through the kitchen. It sounded severe, painting a picture that she thought fitted well with her father right before he died, bottle never out of hand.

She had fought for years not to end up as him and knew she wouldn’t this time either. One drink was all she allowed herself. But one thing she had gotten from her father was common coping mechanisms, and that she could never deny.

“Are you sure?” Grace offered, asking nothing specific.

Again, a shrug tugged at her arms, forgetting she wasn’t in the room to see. Her glass, gilded by the deep amber liquor, was welcome to her swollen lips as she drank. Her teeth had chewed on them long enough for the skin to break.

She couldn’t admit that it was Jane who, too, was keeping her back from saying yes to Pike. Even after his stupid poker con, she had glanced at him when he didn’t see. Watched him smile when he spoke with colleagues, with victims – with kids – and the same old butterflies would try to take flight, only for her to clip their wings.

That ship had sailed, and she was in a better place now.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be sure with Jane, Grace.” She sighed, the alcohol soothing both her throat and her nerves. “We haven’t really talked since poker night and that was days ago. I do our papers, our meetings and cases, and Jane does what Jane does. He can work without me.”

The first day after poker, he had been gone, no doubt lost on the highway in his Airstream. When he had returned, he had acted as if everything was normal – the only difference was that he didn’t seek her company, to no surprise. Now she was bent over a whiskey, hoping he was embarrassed and ashamed, and most likely he was just brushing it off as he did with every other minor inconvenience.

“Either way, Jane’s got at least half a brain. He probably knows already.”

A pause filled the space as she took a sip of the drink, Grace silent on the other end.

She heard her careful inhale first, as deep as the bottle on the table. “Chances are, if you haven’t told him, he doesn’t know.”

Lisbon nearly huffed at the truth. She didn’t know if he had earned the right to know.

“I’ll think about it. If I could just disappear like he did, it would be over and done with. All threads cut.”

All except one.

She deserved a man of honesty, which Jane never was. He betrayed her, time and time again. He didn’t even have the guts to play fair. She knew counting wasn’t real cheating – not really – and it was just a game. But it wasn’t about the game. The times he had ever been truly honest with her, she could count on three fingers, and his little interference on what Marcus did or didn’t do made her blood boil. She could hold her own. Always had and always would.

And still she felt guilty for the way she had left him – exposed and alone. Expressing her disappointment in front of Pike wasn’t her proudest moment, like a bully pointing fingers at the weakest child in class, and the smugness on his face worsened the regret.

Those wild butterflies in her stomach weren’t flying as vigorously for Marcus, she knew, but he was a good choice for her, and she could accept that. He was what she needed – smart, understanding and he had a charm of his own. It was flattering how he always spoiled her, not to mention the lengths he went to give her space, even with this whole D.C. thing.

The whiskey burned lovingly as she downed the last of it, finished by a pleasant clang against the counter. She could have hoped the music – and the glass – was loud enough to build an alibi for missing a visitor.

Nonetheless, the knocking on her door in the late hours of a Tuesday was tearing that chance apart just as enthusiastically as it broke the rhythm of soul, which meant she had to answer.

“Sorry, Grace, I have to go. Talk soon?”

Grace giggled, probably sure it was Marcus. “Definitely.”

The bag was crumbled enough to look used, crammed by his fingers to the point his nails might as well have been stitched into the paper. He had tried evening it out, though, give it renewed life and look a little more inviting for a gift.

She might not see it as a gift, though. Not for the way things were looking. It was really just an apology, a sorry band-aid she might throw in the oven and burn to a crisp, but it was something, and he was grasping at straws to fix things.

Four days had passed since poker night, and half of them he had spent overthinking how much Lisbon hated him.

He had thought enough – he had fucked up, thoroughly, the record player stuck in the same old groove. Now came the effort for saving what was left of the bridge. Worst of all, he didn’t know if it still stood. He wouldn’t blame her if she had started burning it down the moment she threw those money at him. He knew it was about honesty, and that wasn’t his strongest suit.

The first thing he had done was drive, finding the nearest children’s hospital to donate those seven hundred he didn’t want or need. His conscience had made him round up the total while he was at it. The second thing he had done was make tea and stare at a wall, sitting in that silent panic of what to hell he should do now. With this outcome, his intentions didn’t matter.

He just needed to fix it, properly this time. And to do that, he had to be honest.

The engine died with the last remnants of calm and coherent thoughts as he blinked at Lisbon’s house. With some gracious help from Abbott, he had learned that Pike was out of the picture already. Something with fraud that would bore the art squad long enough.

Abbott hadn’t asked about the poker night, but his wingman move made it easier to deal with.

He could apologize without being disturbed by anyone but Lisbon, unless work couldn’t leave the woman in peace for just an evening. Had God been real, maybe he would be blessed with Lisbon’s dead cell phone, but he wasn’t counting on it.

Emotional issues were rarely in his favor.

His palms were sweaty, and his blue tie strained around his throat as he stepped out of the Airstream. He never wore ties, actually, but his will to dress up properly like a man repenting at church might convince her that he was genuinely sorry.

He considered turning back around. Find a drunk driver and dive. Anything with fall damage as long as it was headfirst.

Was it possible to die by walking? His legs felt heavier than usual, just barely lifting the toes above ground as he approached the door. He was constantly on the verge of hitting a bump and fall on his face. That would be great, announcing his visit with a chipped tooth and a scraped chin. Surely, it would charm her.

He had meant to knock once, a solid, gentle inquiry. Instead, his hand chopped against the wood, making him cringe at the urgency. It wasn’t like someone had died.

It took a short minute, spent by him adjusting the tie and shifting his jacket back and forth. Had it been light enough to see himself in the window, he would’ve checked his hair.

But in the end, the door opened, and there stood Lisbon in her sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. She looked beautiful, her hair half disheveled in a messy bun and her cheeks reddened as though she had just lapped the house. Had she been drinking?

Soft music played behind her, inviting an atmosphere like the one at a classy bar.

“Hi.” He exhaled, realizing he had held his breath.

Her brows furrowed and her nose scrunched, either in confusion or in need for him to leave. “Jane. What are you doing here?”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Uh… can I come in?”

Lisbon nodded simply, opening the door wider for him to step inside.

Jane waddled in as if he danced around a minefield, his eyes scanning the living room by the off chance that Abbott had been wrong and Pike stood in the corner, present after all. It was useless worrying – Lisbon had declined if she wasn’t alone. But he spotted her bottle of whiskey in the kitchen and the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Had she drunk a lot? She didn’t look very unbalanced.

“I wanted to give you this.” His lips flatlined in a bad smile as he presented her the bag. She took it carefully, her eyes on him with that signature face of skepticism. “You were right. Daredevil is my favorite.”

She peered into the bag to see the superhero-socks folded neatly inside. She stood for a moment, fishing out the socks before her eyes snapped back to his, requiring an explanation for this (probably) awful attempt at her forgiveness.

“You know, I’m – I’m sorry that I tricked you.” He shrugged a little. “I just uh…”

Her face was unreadable as she stared at him, frozen between emotions he couldn’t read. Irritation and impatience, maybe. If she liked the socks, she wasn’t showing it much.

“You just what?” Her tone was flat.

Jane’s head veered to the side. “I just had hoped it made you happy.”

She set aside the bag, and he was glad she hadn’t thrown them at him instead. “I don’t need you to make me happy, Jane, I need you to be honest. I’m tired of your games. Including in poker.”

He bunched his hands in his pockets with nothing to grip, his thumb twirling the wedding band with little effect. He shouldn’t have worn a tie. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be honest here.”

She barked a humorless laugh and walked back to the kitchen. “What took you so long? After ten years, you’re changing your ways?”

Jane stood back, intent on staying where he was welcome. He shuffled uncomfortably at her razor-sharp words, not really surprised he had walked into this tirade – he had accumulated enough evidence to deserve it.

“Isn’t it enough to try?” He asked, unsure of what to say. He dared to take a step towards the kitchen while she had her back to him, but anything more was jumping off the deep end.

After Venezuela he had tried leaving his methods in the past. Become a better man. It was perhaps the only thing his return had worsened. Some things, worn habits of old, plastered to him as soon as he came back and made it difficult to resist. Dead hands like those in the Styx, pulling him under the surface to convince him eternal suffering was paradise.

“No. I need more than that from you, Jane.” Lisbon turned back to face him, surprising him with the empty glass, deprived of whiskey without having a taste.

“Why can’t you be honest with me always? What use is this…” she gestured between them and paused as if she didn’t know what to call it, then gave up trying. “You lie to my face whenever you get the chance.”

The golden metal was carving a nice, blunt path around his finger with the pressure of his thumb. If he pushed any harder, it might cut to the bone. Lisbon’s honesty was not on the program for the evening. He had hoped to give her the socks, apologize and attempt some level of admittance – the fact that she was opening up at all was both new and unexpected.

Jane chewed on the inside of his cheek, scared of the repercussions.

“I want you to know that I– I really want you to be happy.” He gazed desperately into her jaded sea. “And that is the most important thing to me – that you do what makes you happy and you live a life that’s your worth. Okay?”

If she wanted him to be completely honest, he would kneel at her feet and confess his love. Tell her of the endless nights he had laid in his bed and thought of her beside him. How he had craved her sighs to fill the Airstream, and her leg to cradle his lap just as her touch had scorched him during their sting.

Maybe even mention how many times he had cast his eye toward her in recent weeks, hoping in vain that she would look at him and smile. How he prayed to hear her sweet laugh again, when any joy she showed now was never meant for him.

That truth was useless now that she had Pike – welcoming the worship of another man. He would keep his dignity in better pieces if he walked out the door, even when it went against her wishes.

“Yeah. I thought… I thought we were getting there after you returned, you know.” A sigh heaved her shoulders towards the floor and Jane realized she felt as heavy about this conversation as he.

They hadn’t talked for days – the last time she had spoken to him, she had been pissed to the skies, so it was absolutely another stupid move to get closer to her. Still, he was gonna take his chances. She could punch him back if he pushed it too far.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he leaned his hip against the counter, connecting dots in his head yet there were no threads to bind. There were a few feet between them, but with protests falling short on her end, he was pretty sure he was in the clear.

Lisbon’s hands were fidgeting, twisting the glass back and forth. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

His brow furrowed, scanning the past for clues. Did she mean their hangouts? He couldn’t exactly repeat the endeavor, plus she was going on plenty of dates without him. Maybe it would help the mood if he asked about him – show a little support.

“Okay.” He accepted, hoping she at least believed him. “So… you really like this guy, huh?” He muttered, pulling his hands out of his pockets to study his ring.

She nodded, putting aside the glass. “Yeah.”

Jane considered taking off the ring and offer it to her. Throw heartbreak to the wind.

“Marcus got a promotion in D.C., and he asked me to go with him so we could be together.”

It was a tight bind. A Windsor knot that wasn’t helping him any more than impeding his last breaths before the guillotine. His fingers were slippery enough to lose the grip on the band, making it drop to the floor with despairing clinks.

His mind scoured into chaos, a jumble of red threads he no longer could make head or tail of as he bent to pick it up.

She wants to leave.

“Already?” He blurted, unable to hold his tongue. “Will… you go?”

She folded her arms defensively, the same old tactic she pulled when she was shutting herself in. “Maybe. What about it?”

His wedding band returned to its home on his finger while the cabinets at his back felt more like the wall of a sauna. “Well, I don’t know about Pike. It’s just… what then?”

She cocked her head to the side, clearly offended. “What then? Jane, first you reject me, now you’re poking around my love life. You know, not everything is about you.”

Her words were blunt and hit home well enough, but something in there was out of place.

A puzzled expression printed onto his face; the confusion evident in his gaze. At what point had he… “Rejected you? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lisbon.”

In her eyes he saw the vigor that lit his soul on fire. Unfortunately, it wasn’t of passion or admiration, but of anger and hurt.

“You don’t know?” She scoffed at him again. “I put myself out there and all I got out of it was embarrassment.” She laughed, but there was no joy in it. It was one of disbelief, fueled only by feelings she had left unresolved.

Jane faced her, searching for more information. He didn’t understand what she was referring to, or which time, was more like it. “I’m sorry, I think I need some context here, Teresa. Isn’t it fair that I care about you? Are we not partners?”

“I don’t know, are we?” She shrugged.

He threw his hands out in despair, caging the truth with his breath. “I just don’t want you to leave.”

She stared at him, the reddening of her eyes a warning of the tears that were to come. Jane’s heart wrenched at the sight, a silent drum conducting the pulse in his neck.

“You don’t give a damn about what I want or need.” Her breath caught on a held back sob. “I am just a convenience for you. You use me when it suits you and disappear to avoid the consequences. Maybe I’m done sitting around and taking out your trash.”

He pursed his lips, balancing on the fine line of being honest and taking things too far. “I don’t try to use you here, Lisbon.” He said, ignoring the way his jaw throbbed from gritting his teeth so hard.

“I just want you to be careful. Stand up for yourself – you’ve always been an independent woman, and if he’s going to D.C... Look how it went the last time. You left Greg because you weren’t ready, and now you want to move away with this guy after what, two months?”

That was the wrong thing to say.

The slap was sound, clashing against his skin with as much pain as he found in her eyes. The silence that ricocheted after was louder than anything she could have screamed at him, and the sting was solely comforted by the rub of his hand.

She was seething, her hands visibly shaking as she clenched them into fists. He had never seen her like this.

“You don’t know shit about me, Jane.” Her voice trembled, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “How dare you.”

Jane dared to counter her as his fingers fell from his face, floating in his regret. “Then tell me, Teresa. You wanted honesty.”

She lifted her hand again – to push or hit him he didn’t know – but he grabbed her wrist before she found her mark.

“Please.” He begged.

The tension in her arm weakened, her strength crumbling like the walls around her heart. He watched the quiver of her lip flood the rest of her features in a ripple-effect when she yanked her arm out of his grasp.

“I didn’t leave Greg because I wasn’t ready.” She looked him in the eye, unmoving for once. “I had a miscarriage.”

He stared at her for a long time, the pain evident in the dark of her eyes, lush and worn in a field of green. It was as though the fire he always found in them had faded, never to burn again.

“What?” The word tripped over his lips, only just built on the cusp of speaking. “You—”

“Yes.” She interrupted. “He wanted kids. We did. And I couldn’t… face him after that.” She choked on the words like they were too hard to admit.

Jane thrashed through their years together in his mind, coursing through memories of her with kids. How she had always enjoyed the innocence and playful banter of toddlers. Her intrigue of babies and the sweet babbles they made when they tried to speak. How she had looked at him with anguish when he hallucinated his daughter. When she first learned what he had lost.

She had been through the same – and she had never said.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was tender, gentle as if she would break if he spoke any louder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lisbon wiped her tears away, rough and uncaring against her skin as her gaze flickered around the room for an escape. “I don’t talk about it. It’s in the past and I can’t do anything about it.”

He reached for her, intent on comforting her, but she stepped farther away. “Don’t, Jane.” She said, the threat in her voice real enough to stop him. He could already see her rebuilding her walls, brick by brick.

“After all this time, I thought…” He trailed off, unable to find words.

“You thought what?” She snapped and turned away. “That I tell you everything? You are so twisted up in your own dishonesty, you have no idea how to act like a decent human being. Like a decent friend.” Her arms huddled her body, a sniffle cutting through the air. “Why should I tell you anything when I can’t trust you?”

Jane was speechless. For the first time in ages, he felt his eyes water with the jab of her words. Not just a papercut, sliced across every fingertip. This was a sword, plunged into his chest through blood and bone to gut him on the clean kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry.” It was barely a whisper, yet it was too loud for her.

“If you’re really sorry, why don’t you just leave me alone?” She cried, her eyes finding his. “Go away!”

He hesitated. “Teresa—"

“Leave, Jane!” Her voice cracked when she pointed at the door. “Just leave me alone.”

His limbs felt numb. He watched her there, bolted to the ground with rigid legs and a trembling torso as she tried to contain her tears. He wanted to say something. Express his condolences. Ask. Hug her. Confess.

Instead, he kicked life into his feet and went for the door as told.

She didn’t speak and neither did he. He just listened to the click of the door as it closed and focused on walking to the Airstream without giving in to the urge of running back to her.

The radio was off as he drove off into the night, his tears blurring the lines of traffic.

They were cool. The tiles.

A blunt comfort in the late hours, cold to the touch against her bare legs. She was balled up on the bathroom floor, her hair unkept and her tears sullying the old t-shirt. It wasn’t a favorite, anyways.

Her eyes felt puffy and her nose raw, the skin irritated from the amount of times she had wiped the snot and salty tears off her face.

She didn’t know if it had been hours since Jane left. Maybe it was in the middle of the night already. She would have to get up for work soon, if so.

God, work. She didn’t want to face Jane, maybe not ever. If she could disappear, she would.

Lisbon blinked, staring at the floor mirror across the room. She looked horrible – it was like looking into the past, only she was twenty years older.

She would.

She climbed her way to her feet with every old drawer she could reach, washing away the sorrow with splashes of water. It only took a minute gathering herself until she fished out her cell phone and dialed him.

A few beeps rang before he picked up.

“Hey.” She said, careful to hide her sniffles.

“Hey.” His voice was gentle, almost joyful.

She heaved a breath. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Chapter Text

Solitude wasn’t always spent alone.

The hustle and bustle of the city enveloped the park in a harmonious pocket of peace and quiet, keeping society alive and well. Many had sought refuge in it like him.

It was afternoon. The bench beneath him was solid – strong – yet contradicted the warm sun above with its cold touch. Like it never quite reached.

A smell of tulips and freshly cut grass dusted his surroundings, and he smiled when three birds sung their way past him. He followed them with his eye as they settled for a new home across the pond. Beyond the paths, he could see the Chinese restaurant they had eaten at months ago.

He was toying with the wedding band in his hand, spinning it swiftly on his flattened palm – waiting for it to waver. Childish giggles and shuffling feet drew his attention to the other corner of the park, spotting small curls of dark hair drifted around atop a bobbing head. Like a little paper boat, floating in a river.

A woman without a face passed by, covering the young boy for a split second.

Jane’s heart leaped.

He was still there when she was gone, fewer than a handful of years.

His arms were stretched out, the smile on his face wide enough to power a couple of suns while he tried to evade his mother’s grasp. His squeals, warm and affectionate when she caught his wrist, bit into his skin with nostalgic fangs.

Charlotte had been ecstatic at that age too.

Charlotte.

Forever young and bubbly, swimming backstroke in the park lake.

His shoulders felt heavy, an anesthetic fog hugging his bones. He closed his fingers around the golden ring, halting its spin. It felt warm and real.

Lisbon looked beautiful in motherhood, rounding up the boy to place him on her hip.

He was lucky.

To see this side of her and know the laughter echoing from her lips was honest. True. But if the child was her own, when had she borne it?

His eyes tumbled away from her, the mother, to a man on the nearby picnic blanket. His dark hair matched the strands of her and their son. Jane looked on as the man reached for her hand, dragging her and the boy down to his level in a heap of domestic giggles.

Something violent latched around his throat at the sight, as cold and harsh as the metal of the bench. His paper boat sank, its delicate walls suddenly breached.

The birds had stopped singing. The breeze through the park was no longer gentle but lashed at his face as he reached to free his neck. His fingers lifted but an inch before the arm rests morphed into slick chains, tethering him to the seat and forcing him to watch this family of three.

Jane choked on the air and twisted uncomfortably against the binds, the creaking hardware promising endless purgatory. It was hopeless to protest when he saw her lips embracing the curve of the man’s. His freshly shaven face was unmistakable.

The smell of grass tainted, now ashen and burnt like that of a war zone. It was pushing him towards the muddy trenches, and he didn’t want to walk.

Jane wrenched to undo the binds, but the metal sank deeper into his skin, the rusty ends digging into his arms. Blood painted new veins of his for the sun to see. The more he fought, the worse it got.

Something sinister and eely twisted inside him, worming its way through his stomach. The boy had disappeared to play, innocent and untarnished in his little world, while Lisbon reveled in Pike’s arms.

He didn’t want to see this.

Iron snuck farther around his throat, tightening painfully until he gasped to speak, but there was no strength in his lungs to call for help and no passerbys apparently noticed his misery.

His ribs hurt when the eel broke through them and slithered up his side. Its warm, sharp tongue – spiked with shards of glass and hot black flames – licked against the shell of his ear, making him shudder.

She’s happy now, Patrick. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Jane jolted awake, heaving for breath around the pounding heart in his throat. Wide blown eyes scoured the room, confined in darkness both inside and out.

This one was new. Different.

It was the dead of night in his Airstream. Lisbon and her future family were nowhere to be seen. The image of them was bleeding out, not much different from him on the bench, and the boy’s laughter echoed against his skull. A taste of iron prickled on his tongue.

His arms, heavy and numb from the lucid pain, lightened in seconds, but the solid strain around his throat had a more sedated retreat. As if his demons hysterically laughed in his face in the waking world too. It felt more like tears, crying through trickles of sweat on his temple or through his pajama.

His hands trembled like those of an elder, jumping out of bed in search of the nearest sink to splash some sense onto his face.

It was stupid. Not even realistic. Lisbon and Pike were brand new, barely even swaddled by the nurse yet. A whole family was a bit overkill to envision. She wasn’t going to D.C. with him yet anyways, so it simply couldn’t be – unless she actually did like him that much.

“From what I heard, it’s a done deal. She starts work at the D.C office in two weeks. She’s leaving Austin tomorrow.”

Jane blinked; the joyous mask he had worn for the entire day now shattered on the floor.

There was no way. She hadn’t told him. Then again, they hadn’t spoken since he left her place.

He had given her the space she wanted: Field work was separate with different partners and whenever she was at her desk, he found an excuse to be elsewhere. But maybe she didn’t want to talk with him for anything.

Jane dug the heel of his palm into his eyeball, stabbing at the idiocy that threatened – a black eel of irony. All so he could focus on the task at hand. It deflated with as much proficiency as a bouncy castle – the kind Charlotte never got to try.

He blinked at the crime scene to forget.

It was a big red house, wooden and worn like most fraternity houses were after a few decades of suffering. This one didn’t look too bad compared to others he had seen, but it was fit enough to house the troubles of a murder case.

An officer who had definitely spent a lifetime at thanksgiving buffets welcomed them to the scene, his belt straining beneath a few turkeys.

“Morning. Captain Muller, Campus Police.”

Cho was the one to take the lead, allowing Jane to try and keep his house of cards level. “Cho. This is Jane.”

Jane managed a glance.

“This way, fellas.” The officer didn’t seem too impressed, poking at Jane’s indifference without success. He barely even listened to the report. He caught a few stray words, a name – Tyler Van Kamp – and just stared at the scene to process the best he could. The usual stereotypical jock, big enough to defend himself.

The sword in his back, solid and fake, brought flashes of rusty metal to mind.

A family of three.

“Are you sure about Lisbon?” Jane squinted at Cho, uncomfortable with the eel latched onto his pulse. “Did you hear it from her, or did you hear it from other people?”

“Say?” The officer was confused, of course.

“That’s ok, sir, he’s talking to me.” Cho spoke like it was just another Tuesday. “I heard it from other people. Abbott.”

The black snake strangling his throat eased a little. “Eh, it’s not a done deal, then, is it? It’s just a rumor.”

“Jane, she’s leaving.” Cho’s firm stance on this subject was not helping him.

“I’ll believe it when I hear it from her.”

“Just telling you what I heard.”

He shuffled through the possible reasons Cho could have for running a con on him, flipping every file to check the backside. Nothing came up, which meant he told the truth.

Lisbon was leaving with Pike. She really did like him that much.

“Excuse me?” Captain Muller said.

Jane snapped out of it. “What?”

“Tyler Van Kamp?” Muller gestured to the poor guy.

Jane quickly lost his patience with this man, determined to seal this deal. “Yeah, we’re on it. Where are these housemates?”

“This way.”

It took about thirty seconds to walk from the victim to the living room where six college students sat waiting. It was thirty too much, really, but he had to remain calm and not skate through the house on his way out the door.

“Hello, finally, we’ve been sitting here like two hours dude.” Some Prince Charming with plenty of attitude had the courage to front him. “Have you guys heard of human rights?”

“No such thing.” He replied, already moving on to inspect the room. The girls on the couch were fidgeting enough to rule out innocence and a broken chair was an obvious sign of struggle. The nearby dresser showed him where the knife belonged, while forgotten toy money was half tucked beneath the table. This murder hadn’t started outside, that much was certain.

“Which one of you found Tyler’s body?” He asked, internally battling the snake unfurling in his stomach.

The nervous girl in pink raised her hand. “I did.”

“What time was that?”

She hesitated like she wouldn’t remember. “6 am.”

That was early for a day off. “What were you doing up at 6 am?”

She shrugged. “Me and Colt go running.”

Colt nodded to confirm, the morning sun outside offering a small glimpse of a hidden bruise. The redhead between them was staring at the floor. There was no reason to point out her sins while the beanstalk in the corner looked equally solemn and suspicious.

“You guys have any playing cards?”

Four different responses blew his way, cementing their guilt with a certainty equal to the celibacy of a eunuch. Perfect, case fucking closed.

The redhead was the reasonable of the bunch. “Over there. First drawer.”

He sat down at the table when he’d fished out the damning cards. A straight flush flashed, the giggle of Lisbon’s victory crying against the chalkboard.

Cho was resting against a rack as if he was done doing his job and Jane attempted to cool his blood.

“She’s leaving tomorrow?” he interjected.

“Yeah.”

That was impossibly soon.

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.”

Jane stared at him – only Cho didn’t explain further, he just turned and spoke with the suspects.

The pit in his stomach filled with snakes, twisting and thrashing against the mucosa. Tomorrow morning. Was she leaving at 6 am or closer to noon? It was twenty-four hours, no matter what. And she hadn’t told him she was going?

“We need to go, Cho.” Jane got out of his seat.

“We’re working.” Cho raised a brow.

If he had a dime for every time he could close a case without explanation, he would have no dimes. But it would be nice to have one – just once.

Jane bit back a remark. “Oh, yeah– sorry, this I almost forgot to say. It was all of them. The ninja knife wasn’t in more than an inch, not deep enough to kill him so, uh, he was drowned.”

Cho didn’t believe him. “In a kiddie pool?”

Swallowing the desperate need to leave this instant, Jane turned to the group who glanced at each other in silent panic.

“Well, only if someone was helping him along, I mean, a big athletic guy like Tyler, I would guess that that would be a job for two people.” The two boys looked good enough for it.

Cho was listening, finally. “Yeah, but why drown him?”

The more details Jane recited about the room, the more color drained from the faces of each student. Especially the bruised beanstalk.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Barry.” He replied stoically, but it wasn’t very convincing.

“Barry.” Jane didn’t smile. “Tyler is an angry steroid freak, he got mad, he smashed a chair and started throttling you until uh,” Colt’s guilt was obvious in his eyes, “this brave man stepped in to help you and received a punch in the face for his trouble.”

Jane tried not to smile at Colt’s fear. “Hence the badly applied makeup covering your black eye.”

It didn’t take much more to expose the rest of Barry’s crew. Knife, make-up and pool wrestle included. The kicker was the shitty cleanup.

Jane picked up the half-empty bottle in the trash.

“Now what self-respecting student voluntarily throws away perfectly good vodka?” he asked and threw it in the arms of white Moses. He looked back at Cho.

“Can we go now? I have stuff to do.”

He didn’t wait for his response, but at least he agreed on the way out.

In the rough decade she had known Cho, never in a million years had she thought he liked Spice Girls. She had taken him for someone sunk to the knees in metal or rap. Country, possibly. At least something heavy or cold with a taste of rhythm.

Not that his excitement for them was as vigorous as her lifelong dedication to them, hollering on the sidelines. But imagining him in glitter and chunky heels with a sign in hand somewhere in the late nineties was like a crazy fever dream – simply impossible.

However, when Grace accidentally mentioned her binge of a playlist that always played in the evenings of her suspension, Cho smiled one of his rare smiles and went to show off his collection of Spice CDs.

Naturally, the old school soundtrack originally scratching on his outdated stereo was immediately replaced. Wannabe floated around them, the rhythm shouldered by Cho himself and Grace, who too had become a fan after Lisbon’s introduction.

Her jaw was trying to stick itself to the wood of his dinner table.

Cho shrugged, unbothered by her surprise. “What? Mel B’s got game.”

Lisbon made a face that said she wholeheartedly agreed. “Well, yeah, but why didn’t you share this with me when I went to their concert in ’06?”

“I was there too.” Cho said.

She gawked at him and reached for support in Grace, but she was holding back a grin like she had known all along. Rigsby, frozen amidst his dedication to his steak, was just as shocked. Almost betrayed.

“We could have gone together!” Lisbon pointed out, a little sad she couldn’t document him losing it to Who Do You Think You Are.

“You were my boss. You’d be jealous of my moves, and I wanted to keep my job.”

Lisbon grimaced. “I am never that petty!”

“You seemed a little back then.” Rigsby half-choked through bites of meat, back to eating. He only realized his words when Grace shot him a glance. “Sorry, you weren’t, but...”

Lisbon brushed him off, his apology accepted immediately. She knew her hard demeanor in the first years had been a little unforgiving sometimes.

Rigsby tried saving his insult and changed subject. “Why was Jane not coming, by the way?” He asked, his eyes set on Cho.

It was only Grace who knew it was the worst attempted save, exchanging a look with Lisbon.

It would do no good to give attitude. She wouldn’t throw Rigsby under the bus for anything that wasn’t his fault, so she bit her tongue.

Cho leaned back in his seat, falling into his usual posture of folded arms. “I don’t know.”

She focused on her plate – placed her cutlery correctly to show she was done eating as if someone would reprimand her if she failed. It was a work injury from her younger years. It wasn’t like Rigsby didn’t sit at her side, cutlery practically abandoned if it wasn’t for Grace’s standards.

“When I asked him, he just said he had something to do. Which is pretty odd because he said yes a few days ago. I guess it’s Jane being Jane. But he wanted me to say hi and offered tacos for next time.”

Lisbon lost interest in the conversation and found an excuse to leave the table. They were all finished, so doing the dishes was a go-to escape plan. A saving grace for deserting her team in more ways than one.

She gathered the plates and started bringing them to the kitchen, rejecting Cho’s half-standing attempt at honoring his job as host.

“Please, this is the least thanks I can give you. It’s my last night, Kimball.” She smiled weakly at him.

Cho nodded in accept, a subtle gratitude, and turned back to continue his conversation with Rigsby. He was still snacking on the last bits of food – at least from those Grace hadn’t yet taken while helping Lisbon. The salad muffled his voice. “Did I tell you about that taco truck we have around the corner?”

Lisbon didn’t hear the rest, swallowing thickly as she placed the dishes in the sink. The metal clattered as she reached for the brush to wash off remnants, placing her frustrations in the rugged comb.

Cho had made a feast out of this, an exquisite meal with wine and the likes. He had genuinely gone out of his way to celebrate her last night, now that she had agreed to spending it with them. Marcus had wanted to steal her away and offered another date as a final goodbye to Austin.

It was sweet of him, actually, but she had put her foot down and said she needed to spend it with those she knew she was leaving. Plus, those dates weren’t ending anytime soon. Marcus would be there in D.C., while her team, not so much.

Leaving without a proper goodbye was like self-betrayal.

Plate after plate was racked to dry, forks and salad spoons clattering together in the washer.

For the past few days, she had been split on telling Jane. On one hand, it was out of the question not to tell him directly that this was the end and their partnership was over, even though he’d learned days ago. On the other, he knew her well enough after all these years. There wasn’t a chance he hadn’t figured on his own, and he had let enough of them run out in the sand by now.

Grace came up beside her, silent and careful. She could tell from the way she eyed the washed plates, hesitant to make noise. Like it might set her off if she was too loud – her face obviously expressed the regret of Wayne’s question. Still, she asked.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded solemnly, handing her the salad bowl to clean. “It’s fine. Are we surprised?”

The question hung in the air, the both of them able to read between the lines. Grace shrugged, probably unsure of which front lines she was facing.

 Most of her was glad he wasn’t here – she didn’t have to look him in the eye, especially after he had learned about her deepest secret. It was Jane being Jane.

And yet she found her heart yearning for his company. A slight hope that he would take this final time together and enjoy it with her, putting conflicts aside. Just one time where he had the balls to say goodbye. With Cho’s help, maybe it had been tolerable.

But once again, Jane was tucking his tail between his legs for whatever reason.

“Are you going to say goodbye to him?” Grace tried, hesitance tiptoeing her lips.

Lisbon glared at the soap bubbles surfacing a pan, the white, fluffy foam no comfort to her stone-cold touch. “No.” She blinked away the sting in her eyes, dead set on keeping her composure. Her shoulders, equally rigid to the night of writing that letter in Grace’s kitchen, fortified her body like a mountain to shelter within.

Grace kept quiet as though she waited for her elaboration.

Lisbon slouched, giving in. “I don’t see the point,” she said matter of fact, “he’s had his chance.”

“Well… maybe he’s somewhere trying to—”

“He could be anywhere, Grace.” She interrupted. “Maybe he’s gone back to Venezuela to enjoy a swim at the beach for all I care.”

After calling Marcus, Grace had been the first she contacted. She hadn’t told her the details (the less to pity her, the better) but she knew they weren’t talking much, if at all.

“If he wanted to say goodbye, he would be here tonight, wouldn’t he?” She lined up the cruel facts with the pots and pans that were soon shiny and free of sods. Her hands felt shaky when she handed her the next. He was a case with no alibis.

“Cho told him I was going, too. And now he’s not here.”

Lisbon inhaled, the shudder of her breath echoing through her in unexpected waves. The mountain was crumbling, boulders of tenacity falling to the ground.

She felt Grace’s hand on her shoulder, a silent comfort that she didn’t want right now. She leaned away from her, subtly rejecting her touch so not to offend. Grace accepted it without a word and folded her arms to prevent a second mistake.

Lisbon scrubbed at the pan, helplessly scratching the same corner that had been clean for about three minutes at this point. She pursed her lips, giving up the effort and glanced at her friend. Her eyes spoke of the pain she probably saw etched on her own face.

“Why isn’t he, Grace?” She whispered. Exposed.

Then her phone buzzed.

And it kept buzzing.

The pan clattered loudly into the sink as she pulled out the cell, Jane’s stupid face shining back at her.

“Speak of the devil…”

It was way past sunset.

He had avoided the ranger by bribing him this time. It made the last three hours easier to deal with when it was in actual solitude.

The pool was abandoned, dark and haunting beneath the wide canopy of stone and rubble. He hadn’t gone for a swim, and didn’t intend to either – it was too freezing anyways, now that October approached. Instead, he was perched on a cold, solid rock off the beaten path, reminiscing in the place they had been together last.

An empty beer bottle, the second, was clinking against the hard stone.

A few feet away from him, the blanket and their clothes had been strewn along the beach when they ate sandwiches. Her smile had lit up the place, the shine of her eyes brightening what the sunset had not. He was certain anyone visiting the place after them wouldn’t find it as beautiful without her there.

The water was silent, calm – few fish broke the surface. The memory played over for him, uncalled for; how she had scrambled onto him when the unknown culprit grazed her leg. How he held her in his arms, desperately trying to keep his hands where they were welcome. He still felt the offbeat pace of her heart that neither of them had addressed.

If a fish was bribable, he would feed it in endless rows just to repeat the event. That wasn’t happening, though.

Lisbon was leaving. With Pike, of all people. And could he blame her? If anything, the list of mistakes Pike had made was probably considerably shorter than the one he had built throughout the years.

The cave broke apart with the images flittering across his retina: All the memories of their time together and his many schemes winning her happiness or disdain. How he had ensured the pink dress for Grace’ wedding, which she hated, and her very own birthday pony, which she loved.

Grime stuck to the toe of his shoe, and he dusted it off mindlessly in thought. The betrayal in her words in that church long ago still clung to his heart. Right next to the sting – his little excuse to exercise what was forbidden. A love he still couldn’t admit. Even in jealousy, Jane would thank Pulaski till the end of his days for fancying Lisbon rather than Fischer that night.

“Did you need something, Patrick?”

Lisbon’s words, featherlight and seductive, was mingling with his demons. Her hands still ghosted him, her teeth marking his soul rather than his skin when her lips had enveloped his.

“You’re always welcome, baby.”

Jane swallowed uncomfortably. He wanted to be welcome – stuff Pike into a canon and launch him off the planet, if it meant she wanted him. Instead, their dreadful conversation had been the last time he saw through those blinds in the windows to her heart. If it didn’t hurt so much, he would think back on it with bittersweet joy.

“You played your role well... You kiss with real passion.”

A compliment, given earnestly. Probably the first and only time she ever had and ever would. His reciprocation was underwhelming, really, when all he needed was for her to kiss him again. He had done a remarkable job at ruining that chance.

“Do you want that?” she had said – and he had said no. Of course he had, it wasn’t the stupid role he—

He had said no.

Jane's pulse spiked as he almost fell off the stone in his battle to stand. He stared at the deserted cave in search of reason and could almost see his heartbeat pounding against the roof. Had it been audible, the rocky stalactites would cascade into the pool and break the peace.

Their argument in the car rattled against the walls of his skull.

“What did you expect, Jane? You made yourself pretty clear to me … I asked and you said no. Please, forget it.”

Jane twisted in place, the sand of the beach invading his Derby shoes. Her tears were everywhere, painting the weeping trees with his remorse.

It was starting to make sense.

Dread settled in his chest, poisoning his veins and choking his lungs.

“I thought we were getting there after you returned, you know... I put myself out there and all I got out of it was embarrassment.”

The pool – their date in the park, the beach, the bedroom. His honesty. And in the end, after the walls had come down, he had told her no.

A rejection.

Fuck.

Jane scrambled from the beach, running back to the Airstream too many steps away, his pulse beating him by miles. It was unbelievable he hadn’t realized until now. She had practically handed it to him, and he had been looking the other way.

Now what?

She was leaving.

The evening was turning to night, and she would be gone by morning, off to live the rest of her life with Pike. Maybe she had changed her mind and taken an evening flight after Cho’s, picked up by her charmer so they could fly off together. Maybe that was for the best too. But letting her go without saying… he would rather commit to legal jurisdiction before making that mistake twice.

It was a wonder he didn’t trip on the way as he leapt over beds of stone and withered bushes, the autumn months creeping into the buds of life in the desert. It might as well have been winter how his hands trembled as he fumbled with the door, thrown open with enough force to slam against the bucket’s wall.

It was old and rusty, but his concern for all other things than the engine was dire. He wasn’t even sure it closed properly.

Jane threw himself into the driver seat, half in place as he reached for the keys. The rattle cut painfully against his ear as he jammed it into the ignition, twisting it forcefully. In any other circumstance, he would bless the thing for hindering him on the road to justice; like a meeting with lawyers present. Tonight, however, was not the time to fail.

“Come on, come on, come on…” He kicked at the clutch impatiently, the engine gurgling with no success.

“Don’t make me start praying for you.” He threatened between gritted teeth, his glare aimed at Lisbon’s divine beliefs high above. “Just start, damn it!”

The drowned puppy beneath the hood finally treaded water. There was no time for clever remarks.

Jane punched the gas pedal through the floor, making the wheels spin against the gravel road. His focus was split between the road and digging out his phone from his pocket. It took a bit of work to thumb his way through the contacts, forgetting the favorites list was a thing.

When he clicked her name, he was already turning onto the country road, swiveling dangerously around the bend. The weight of the Airstream gave enough way for a tilt, but he managed. The faster he got there, the better.

The tone was all he heard, beeping against his ear. “Pick up, pick up, pick up...”

It continued endlessly, threatening to flatline his heart.

She probably wouldn’t take it.

She wouldn’t.

The speaker scratched, his breath catching with it.

“What do you want, Jane?” Her voice rang out, impatient and aggressive already.

“Uhh, Lisbon, i– i– it’s Jane.”

Like she didn’t know already, idiot.

“Yeah.” He could hear the way her arm crossed. “Where are you this time?”

He switched hands to hold the phone better, an excuse to catch his breath while he drove down the road at what she’d probably count as an inhumane speed.

“Listen, I– uh, I went to the pool– I’m driving back right now.”

A huff sounded against the speaker. Clatter echoed in the background and what sounded like Cho laughing. She was still at his place.

“Have you been drinking?” Skepticism coated Lisbon’s voice, chastise waiting to pounce.

Jane spun the wheel in a corner, narrowly missing a scratch from the barrier. The highway wasn’t far off from the next one.

“Lisbon, listen, I’m sorry.” He said.

Another female voice shadowed his words, muttering something he couldn’t decipher. Was that Grace?

“Jane, I don’t wanna hear it…” She sighed, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Teresa, you’re right.” He started. “I rejected you that time– I didn’t realize, and I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched on the phoneline as he hunted for words. There wasn’t a deer in sight, so his eyes flickered from the road to his watch, the hands ticking towards the end.

“I don’t want to do this on the phone, but I don’t know if I’ll see you tonight.”

A dead scoff stabbed him in the gut. “I guess you would’ve, had you come tonight.”

“Yes, that’s– sorry– but please, listen to me.”

“It’s too late. Jane, it’s too late.”

The snakes in his stomach had resurfaced, the eel from his dream back in its place around his throat. He wanted to be in front of her, be able to look her in the eyes, and he didn’t have that luxury. He was walking a thin line of tolerance from Lisbon’s side of things. At any given moment, she could hang up and he’d never get to say what he wanted her to hear.

“Maybe. And I understand. That’s okay– but you’re right. I– I have forgotten how to act like a normal human being. I play games, and I lie and I– and I trick people to avoid the truth of how I feel. And the idea of letting anyone close to me is terrifying, for obvious reasons. But the truth, Teresa, is that I can’t imagine waking up knowing that I won’t see you.”

He tried ignoring the splintered tongue raking down his neck and inhaled sharply when he spotted the exit, the highway sign flying by as he thundered down towards the empty lanes. The shudder in her voice told him that she was crying.

“The truth is…” His phone switched hands again. “I love–“

The phone slipped out of his grasp, falling onto the floor. Stupidly, she might have said, he reached for it. The consequences played out accordingly when he didn’t release the wheel, the vehicle pivoting across the road.

He barely managed a curse of surprise. One second, he was well on the way to Austin. The next, he was crashing into the barrier, the side of the Airstream inevitably moving towards the ground. The windows splintered instantly, a rain of malice sent by unknown karma. The glass embedded along the side of his face as he braced for impact – something hissed, like when a snake revealed its fangs. A jab in his shoulder tore at his nerves.

The Airstream hammered against the ground; long, heavy and immovable. He fell from his seat with only the interior to save him as he tumbled across the dash, thrashing against the passenger’s window. A ragged, pained groan rattled through his teeth and the distinct sound of ribs cracking jammed his ears.

Darkness surrounded him as his head rammed against the body frame.

He never heard the repeated “Jane!” from Lisbon through the phone speakers.

Chapter Text

Grace was staring at her. Arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched in something torn between curiosity and worry. Maybe anger too, if it wasn’t because she knew Grace always kept those opinions to herself.

Lisbon blinked at the screen; her breath stretched in the air like a tightrope hung too high up. Walking the line, it felt like it would snap any second. The phone didn’t stop ringing. Her own anger was coiling through her mind, trailing its way down the back of her skull to leave unwanted tension in her neck. Rubbing it out wouldn’t help any.

Jane calling her on the eve of her leaving was about the most Jane thing he could’ve done. Ever a flame, flickering between egotism and morale. Trying to do the right thing and still missing the mark. Instead, Cho’s dinner table had hosted four chairs rather than five.

“Do you want to?” Grace asked, posing the question, she was thinking. If she didn’t love obsessing about computer programs, she would have made a great therapist.

“Not really.” She scrunched her nose. A part of her didn’t want his goodbye anymore. But she wouldn’t forgive herself if he had found yet another victim on the verge of death, left to face her cold shoulder rather than a warm hand reaching out.

It was a fat chance, though.

She accepted the call.

“What do you want, Jane?” She pursed her lips. She would have to apologize to Grace later for the glare pointed at her, embodying the man on the other end of the line.

As she had suspected, the fat chance was fat enough. She should have just declined. It was lucky that Rigsby and Cho were loud enough to miss out on the conversation, or she would have to defend why Cho’s dishware might be at risk depending on what Jane was going to say.

Ghostly ribbons tied a bow around her throat, making it difficult to swallow down all the words she waited to throw at him. What was so important that he wasn’t there to say goodbye? Another road trip? Another lover?

The desperation in his voice fell on deaf ears, stammering his way through their names like he was punching in morse code. It was probably another of his tricks to get his way.

“Yeah.” She huffed. “Where are you this time?”

Listen, I– uh, I went to the pool–

… What the hell was he doing at the pool?

Jane stuttered through to an explanation that never came. Bailing out of their night together for some deserted cave they had spent one evening at was something that needed a good excuse in her book – it sure was a contradictive way to feel nostalgic tonight. If she didn’t know him any better, she’d think he might not be thinking straight.

“Have you been drinking?” Her brow drew together, mirroring Grace. Her auburn hair brushed over her shoulders as she tilted forward and dared to whisper so Jane wouldn’t hear.

“Is he driving?” Grace peered at the phone as if his contact photo would show him on the dash.

Lisbon, listen, I’m sorry, his voice slumped against her ear, his tone wavering in some way she had never experienced before.

She didn’t answer her, too focused on Jane’s response. After this long, he was apologizing, and then his choice was doing it on the phone. Was this how he prioritized her?

The sting behind her eyes was building and a tear brimmed her eyelashes.

“Jane, I don’t wanna hear it…” she rubbed her temple and turned away from Grace, facing the sink as if the pretty-clean-pan had conjured her ability to deal.

I rejected you that time– I didn’t realize, and I’m sorry.

Tension built around her ribs, like that night in her apartment – it cast her bones in iron, caging her lungs. He… hadn’t known?

I don’t want to do this on the phone, but I don’t know if I’ll see you tonight.

Well, wasn’t that convenient.

She would’ve laughed if she had the spoons for it. She didn’t want to admit it to anyone, not even herself. But his absence was as good as a spear to the chest – for the first time in years, she felt exposed. To Grace, to Jane on the phone, barred to the point even the dogs barking across the street knew.

Lisbon chewed on her lip, failing at holding back the poison in her words.

“I guess you would’ve, had you come tonight.” She pressed her lips together to bite off the rest of her disappointment. She tried ignoring the shuffle behind her, a sign of Grace’s uncertainty – silent support that had no way of reaching her right now.

She seemed to catch on when she stepped away, taking her spot at the dishes while Lisbon cornered herself in Cho’s kitchen.

Yes, that’s– sorry– but please, listen to me. He fell over his words, driving the blade further into her heart with every attempt he made at keeping himself upright.

“It’s too late. Jane…” She huddled in on herself. “It’s too late.”

She heard his voice break against the speaker. I understand. That’s okay– but you’re right.

Her breath grew uneven as he continued. The clatter of Grace placing dinner plates in the cupboard cut through the air, making her flinch. Her fight or flight mode was kicking in; tell Grace to leave or leave the house herself. But leaving was an attention grab she couldn’t afford right now. And least of all needed.

So, she stayed in the corner, mindlessly scratching at the pattern of Cho’s old dinnerware.

His confession was the one thing she had never seen coming. His honesty uncommon, suspicious, and questionable enough to set off every alarm in her mind. And still, the sincerity and raw truth in his voice kept her from doubting him.

I can’t imagine waking up knowing that I won’t see you, his words punched through the fog of her thoughts. Something in her wanted to point at the burnt bridge he was tearing down; tell him it was a lost cause.

But was it?

A quiver on her lip exposed her enough as the tears trailed down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak but fell short without even trying, instead letting out a choked sigh.

The truth is, she squeezed her eyes shut. I love—

A rattle of turmoil interrupted him, his voice disappearing like someone had ripped his phone out of his hand.

Her brow scrunched, barely registering his words fully before the chaos worsened, spiking her heartrate as the sound of tires screeching and glass breaking grated into her ear.

Lisbon lost all trace of anger and heartache.

“Jane?” Worry glossed over her voice with the grief that still painted her face as she spun around to catch Grace’s attention. She had stopped midway through returning a bowl to its place, caught like a deer in the headlights as she stared back at her.

All she got from Jane, unfortunately, was the loud clatter of him crashing. She hoped – for all that was holy, she hoped – she was wrong.

Her heart sank when she heard his weak groan, followed by silence. “Jane?!” she repeated. Horror shook through her, a jolt that reached all the way to her toes and fingertips.

Grace stepped closer to her, bowl forgotten. Lisbon had a hard time swallowing. “Jane, can you hear me?!”

Nothing. Not even background noise.

Her eyes drew to the doorway when Cho and Rigsby appeared, drawn to the obvious panic in her voice. In the silence, his breath rattled.

“We have to go.” She said, barely dropping the phone from her ear. “Right now!”

She never ended the call. It stayed on the dash, every second ticking by like a bomb about to blow.

Her face was hardened and a streak of tears kept incriminating her, given free reins now they were on the road. Only the violence of her fingertips could erase it before she allowed herself to give in.

Grace at her side didn’t comment, too busy with getting them to the scene.

Dread snaked its way up her arms and tainted her pulse with fanged poison, bitten anew whenever Grace turned a corner. She strained to catch any sign of activity among the scratchy cords of phone service, willing her heartbeat to reach through their connection and jump him – just hoping he would speak. Say her name, maybe. But nothing came.

Cho and Rigsby had better luck of conversation in the car behind them, dealing with backup and medical aid for what awaited them.

The gas pedal was bolted to the floor, their police siren echoing in a ghostly shadow behind the many thoughts darting back and forth against her skull. His promises. His broken confession, silenced by what could easily be the end.

After weeks upon weeks of wanting her feelings reciprocated, he was handing them to her on death’s doorstep.

Had the impact killed him? Maybe he had bled out, left alone in the ditch while unknown drivers too busy with their own lives passed by.

His broken body impaled on a wrenched pipe crashed against her senses, twisting her insides, and she wanted to throw up. She forced herself to take a breath, rolling down the window.

No, he couldn’t be dead. Jane couldn’t die. Jane never died.

Her chest heaved as she stared at the road, her sight blurred and no good for driving. For the first time she fully appreciated Grace’s resilience and ability to remain unfazed by the situation. Maybe O’Laughlin had helped her build that fortress.

She blinked away the tears to focus on the road lines, each of them disappearing beneath the car at a pace too slow for her – and for the man in limbo.

You don’t know that yet.

“Drive faster, Grace.” She grabbed the phone on the dash as the car spun down the highway, trying to improve her hopeless endeavor to no avail. It was a better shot to simply end the call and take over the wheel. But that, she knew, would mean two crashes in one night.

Grace was trying to distract her, it seemed. “Did he not say where he was?” She said, her second attempt at drawing more information out of Lisbon in her state of mind.

“Not specifically.” She confirmed in some half-eaten speech, appreciating that she tried to keep her in the line of work rather than personal life. “All I know is his route. He was at this pool we…”

Flashes of the night they had spent together came back, gravel roads and desolate rows of rocks and bushes. He could easily lay there, nowhere near society, never to be found. She swallowed uncomfortably, failing at clearing her mind with a sniffle.

“He said he was on his way back. We can only trace a route from town to the preserve and pray we find him.”

Where was her usual composure when she needed it? This wasn’t anything new. This was just another crime scene. It was just another day at the office.

But it wasn’t. It would have been if it wasn’t for the risk of losing the only joy she had found beyond that desk in recent years.

Lisbon cradled the cross on her chest, whispering a prayer for the one thing she hoped into the night. Enough time had passed for him to have done so too.

It was a miracle if they found him – they had nothing to go on but a sense of destination. And yet something – someone, she would think – watched over them, ensuring it was the right route.

The highway, scorched by car tires and Lisbon’s vigilant gaze, soon branched off to several exits ahead. Just below one, the road looked like it was taken straight out of a movie. It bordered on the state area that fell off the beaten path and thus had few cars passing by at this time of day.

She recognized it instantly as the exit where they had split off to reach the preserve.

Her breath tangled in her throat as her eyes fell on the site, manifested by a sob not even her hand could hold back. Jane’s Airstream was thrown straight into the center barrier and slung sideways on the ground like a fallen soldier. Broken glass and debris were scattered across the lanes and smoke rose from the engine, threatening to burst into flames.

He wasn’t in sight.

She had stepped onto these types of scenes without a fuss, knowing what she faced. But knowing this time that it was him beneath the rubble, stepping out to die under rain of fire felt easier to do.

The car skidded to a stop beside the wreckage, barricading the road for good. Lisbon launched out of the car with as much strength she could muster, leaving the door open and her gun on the dash.

“Jane!” She cried, desperate for him to answer. Instead, the crackle from the smoking engine was left above Cho and Rigsby arriving behind her.

“Cool the engine!” She practically screamed at them. Grace went off to seal the perimeter, as good a cop as ever.

Lisbon ran to the front of the van to look inside, the door impossible to reach beneath the bucket’s weight. The windshield was cracked and dusted but still attached to the frame as she placed her hand against the glass, peering inside.

“Jane, answer me!” She tried again, finally spotting the suited arms against the dash, barely visible through the web of cracks. His head was dead against the ground, tucked against the frame with his eyes closed.

“Jane!” she sobbed through a voice crack, giving up on any attempt to contain herself. Her heart pounded hard enough to beat against the glass, making her ribs hurt. She turned back to Rigsby, who stood with an empty extinguisher in hand.

“Wayne, help me get the windshield off, he’s unconscious.” She heaved a breath, wrenching her hands over her eyes to wipe at the mess of tears. She needed to get her shit together and focus. Every second mattered.

Rigsby didn’t hesitate another moment and stepped up beside her, ramming the extinguisher into the windshield up top. The glass broke immediately, making her shield her face. Rigsby tore off his jacket to cover his hand and pulled at the screen, the crunch of glass cutting painfully at her ear drum as he gave it a few tugs.

As soon as it was off, she ducked inside.

Jane was curled into a ball at the bottom, his blond hair in disarray against the concrete. His phone was beside him with a picture of her on the screen, split in two from a blunt punch to the corner of the screen. Only then did she realize she still hadn’t ended the call.

Lisbon’s hands were instantly on him, squatting through the open space to reach him. Her palm cradled his head as her other brushed against his cheek, trying to pick out the fragments of glass embedded in his skin. She would think he was beautiful while asleep, if only she knew for certain that it was reality.

“Jane, wake up.” She demanded it of him, the strain on her vocal cords quivering her words. “Please…”

He was not leaving her today. Her head whipped back to look at Rigsby and Cho, who both stood watching with nothing else to do. “Help me get him out of this thing.”

Cho didn’t react, knowing better, but Rigsby dared a careful shrug. “Listen, boss, you know we should wait for the EMT’s…”

Lisbon stared at him, her eyes wild; her entire being was huddled around Jane to keep him from further harm. Half his face was glass. She couldn’t find his pulse on his neck, not from this angle. The engine was just on fire.

“Get. Him. Out.” Her voice shook, a single tear punctuating her order.

A beat followed, the two men glancing at each other. Protocol stabbed at them both, knowing it could jeopardize fractures.

“Do it, Wayne.” Grace’s voice cut through, finished with the perimeter and now back at her side. She reached through the windshield, her hand slipping around Lisbon’s arm.

“They just need some space, Teresa.” She explained, tentatively coaxing her away from the vehicle and away from Jane.

Lisbon hadn’t realized she had stopped breathing until she begrudgingly accepted and stood, instantly lightheaded. It was Grace’s support on her arm that kept her standing, a few feet away.

She watched her two friends gather around the car to lift Jane out of the crammed space as gently as they could muster. His body slouched in their arms, a dead weight reminding her of the tears on her face, and she broke apart in Grace’s arms. Her eyes closed against the cotton on her shoulder.

She didn’t see the pain on Grace’s face as the two placed him on the ground, her strength placed in her hands. It was only when the sirens of the backup sung against her back that she looked down and saw the blood staining her fingers, a golden lock now dark and shed of his head.

It was quiet this time. The park was free of families, no kids and dogs to disturb the peace with a frisbee or bear hugs. As far as the eye could see, at least towards the Chinese restaurant on the other side, there weren’t any picnics to be had.

Except his own, of course.

His own little spot in the midst of the plains, surrounded by daisies and daffodils.

Juice spilled down his chin from the strawberry in his hand, chewed in half and plucked of its stem. He had a whole bowl of them – dipped in cream as they waited for their tasting. He didn’t want to eat all of them. He wanted to save some for her. But every time he went to take a new one, the bowl remained full. So, he ate as he pleased.

“Why are you being such a wuss?!” Her laughter echoed through the park, calling for him.

 Well, for one, the blanket was soft. And the sun on his skin made him feel warm. Fuzzy. Content. It was nothing short of that joy he used to feel in his youth before leaving carny life. Back when Angela and he had thrown themselves in the flower field on a day away from work and listened to the birds sing with their basket full of apples to keep their stomachs full. They had had everything they needed. Just like he did now.

Except he sat alone. And she called for him.

Getting up from the blanket was a drag. Thick like the syrup Pete used to make for the food cart. Sweet and sugary with that tint of honey. He smiled through a groan, stretching out the ache in his back. It had been just as sweet as the color on Charlotte’s cheeks when she rode her bike, giggling down the driveway.

His smile thinned. He wanted to go now. See it again and hold her face, plumb with joy, to let the color warm his hands.

Jane scooped a handful of strawberries from the bowl and left the spot, the brush of grass straws tickling the soles of his feet.

He didn’t have to walk far to find her. She was right there, swimming backstroke in the lake.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Charlotte giggled into the air; her eyes closed to keep the water away.

He popped another berry into his mouth and tore off the stem.

“Because...” he spoke like a child at the dentist, muffled with his mouth full, and he had to battle his way around the surf on his tongue. “I don’t like to get wet.”

Her hair was long. All the way to her waist. It followed her body in every stroke, delayed by the pull of water every time she turned and went the other way. She was going in circles, and her long, fair legs broke the surface to make plenty of splashes. Just like he had taught her.

She came to a stop in the middle of the lake, tilting her head at him in the way he knew she saw through him. “That’s a lie, dad.”

He brushed a hand down his vest, thumbing the pocket as if the secret was hidden in there. It was rugged and dry, but a run in the rain had never hurt. The corner of his lip curled into a smirk, failing to hide it from her. She was his, without a doubt. Brilliance and all.

“You caught me.” He said and looked away. Finding a better answer for her in the tree line was unlikely, but it would for sure be helpful. In reality, he didn’t really know. Nothing reasonable sounded right in his head.

“I think it would be cold to get into.” He disguised the shame with less elegance than usual. The performance that always carried him through the worst of shows wouldn’t hold any ground in this arena. Another stage to conquer with no audience to fool. His daughter was more of an assistant. She was always the one to hold the cards.

“I don’t feel like it’s cold.” Charlotte smiled encouragingly, her eyes losing none of their spark as he sat down on the small jetty by the waterfront.

The sun was still up, yet no rays reached neither him nor the water, a shade from the tree line cast along the dark of the pond. The wind was quiet with no push against his breeches and yet he was frozen to the bone. The thought of swimming now was nothing short of conflicting. He missed the heat of the sun on his picnic blanket.

Charlotte swam towards him, her hand gripping the boards of the jetty.

“It’s too cold for me, Daisy.” He admitted, the nickname slipping out like it had never left. He still remembered her squeal when she had first met the elephant, demanding she be called it too so she could have a twin.

Plus, she loved daisies.

Charlotte frowned, suddenly the wiser despite her age. In the dark of her blue eyes, he saw the light of her smile – as if she knew something he didn’t for once.

“Because it’s not your turn yet.” She said, placing another hand on his thigh. He couldn’t feel the weight of it, nor the wet touch of water.

His brow scrunched, confused. “To what?”

“To swim backstroke with me.” She smiled. “You taught me well, dad. Now go teach her.”

He wanted to take her hand. Feel it one last time. His fingers brushed through hers, sunken against his leg as a ghost that never was. Her soul, out of reach, disappeared in front of him the same moment he felt a breeze go through him – it was warmth, spreading from his chest, all the way through to his heart.

The light was dimmed, giving away the peace of night. Beyond the blinds, chaos was a constant, but in here, it was silent and still.

It took a while to squint awake; his lashes stuck together as though he had slept too long. His head was pounding, the dull pain similar to a fist stuck somewhere in his neck, gripping his skull like a hawk does its prey. Unlikely to yield anytime soon, he knew that much.

There was a slow, steady beep cawing near his right ear, revealed to be the heart monitor. He wanted to look at it properly, but an ache in his face stopped him from turning. He blinked at the rest of the room. Half of him hoped he would find Charlotte slung in the sofa below the tv, a pipe dream that would never go away.

It was nice, though. Comforting and a dream lost far too soon. He tried focusing harder on it, but that was a difficult task to tackle when something unknown weighed against the length of his legs.

Dark strands of ebony splayed out on the duvet, covering the small tubes and medical equipment that connected him to various oxygen bags and whatnot. If not for his sight clearing up and pumps of logic clearing through his veins, he would’ve thought the dark web was another spin of his nightmares.

Quite the contrary.

She had tucked herself in nicely so not to take up any space, and yet she had placed her head in his lap. Her arm was tucked beneath her like she kept a secret, spoiled only by the warmth of the hand he felt in his.

If she was a nurse, she was too well dressed for one – the dark blazer stretched over her back as it curved against the edge of the bed. His best guess for pants was some of similar style, maybe a flair above the ankles to make room for a good boot. A nurse would also – probably – have kept her distance. So that was promptly ruled out.

Then again, he would recognize her anywhere, even if in disguise. Especially with those soft curls.

Part of him didn’t want to wake her. But he also knew if he let her be, she would maybe worsen a few injuries for the fact he didn’t tell her immediately.

He missed her smile anyways.

Opening his mouth to speak was no help: he fell short of anything but a hum. His tongue felt dry and his throat too coarse, as though his lungs had brought in the desert that had caused his mirage.

She didn’t react, even when he tried clearing the sand out of his mouth. The idea of calling the real nurse crossed his mind, but giving up their privacy for what might follow when the professionals stepped in felt like the worst scenario possible. Other tactics would have to do.

It took a moment to wind his body into motion, signaling the nerves down his arm to move. With a few seconds of effort, it caught up with him and he managed to squeeze the heated band that snaked around his fingers – turning out to be her own.

“Teresa.” He whispered hoarsely, his vocal cords finally waking up.

She stirred, still half-asleep. “Mm...”

He watched as her face turned to him, clearly too tired to realize, and he couldn’t hide the smile on his lips. She was the biggest morning person he knew. Since when did she not wake easily?

He squeezed her hand again, this time a little harder.

“Lisbon.” His voice just loud enough to hit a note.

That roused her.

Her eyes flew open, her back straightened with her attention on him like that of a doctor’s. “Jane! You’re awake!”

Her hands flew over the bed, patting their way up his chest in surprise. She seemed to be in a pickle on whether she should touch him or not, her free hand reaching for his face only to second guess it and caress his shoulder instead. “Are you… okay?”

Jane tried to smirk, but it only turned into a painful cringe. Lisbon looked visibly split between desperate worry and pure relief. He paused, unable not to for the sake of admiring her. She had beautiful eyebrows when they scrunched together in a fit. Especially when angry.

“I’m alive.” He discerned, coughing his way to proper speech. “Thank you for asking.”

She made a face he couldn’t decipher. “It’s good to see you breathing.”

“It’s good to see you, period.” He said, his eyes narrowing in distinct analysis. She didn’t appear to mind.

“Are we sleeping together?” He asked, an old memory chiming a bell.

Lisbon sat back, stunned. “Excuse me?” Surprisingly to him, she refrained from landing a punch; but she did blush.

He laughed weakly, letting it go. “I’m kidding. Already you forget that I woke you and not opposite. A little rusty, Lisbon? I say it counts.”

Now she looked like she genuinely considered the punch. But it disappeared as fast as it had come, replaced by something… broken.

Guilt crammed its way into his chest. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

The instant takeback landed somewhere in the empty space between them. She pursed her lips in attempt to hide its quivering, the emotions just as evident in her jaded gaze. She looked tired. If not for the warmth of the room, she had looked cold too, her face lacking color and her eyes dark from no sleep.

Maybe that was why she needed a nudge.

“I thought you were dead.” She whispered, her voice tiptoeing through the topic. “You weren’t responding.”

Jane’s smile fell away in the same manner her tears began, washing off none of the pain on their faces. Flickers of what had happened before the picnic in the park was jabbing at his temple like a woodpecker. It felt so long ago, in some forgotten time he hadn’t thought about since.

The call, the crash. A few black spots in between.

“How long was I gone?” He asked, eager to reach for his face and calculate from the beard. A useless tactic, given the nurses would have him shaved if enough time had passed.

“A few days.” She said, audibly taking a deep breath. “Some broken ribs and a concussion— don’t touch the bandage, Jane, there’s a cut—and a sprained ankle, too. But your spine is okay.” She was shrugging through the list as if he had taken on worse. But he saw the heartache in her eyes from every word she had to speak.

He lowered his hand obediently, placing it back on the duvet. He had always liked her authoritarian side and maybe now wasn’t the time to challenge it.

“I’m sorry. For a lot of things.” He said, squeezing her fingers like it could solve it all. “I know I’ve been stupid. Also, for reasons I don’t remember right now…” He winced out of sheer embarrassment. It would have been nice to have all the details at hand.

She nodded in agreement but didn’t look him in the eye. She had found interest in their hands, seeking refuge in the brief comfort none of them would enjoy for much longer. Her thumb painted circles over his knuckles as though it could color the grim circumstances.

Jane swallowed, noticing the elephant in the room.

“What about Pike?” He murmured. She was probably here for another day and then would go back to DC, where she was destined for another future. Just by the thought of it, he might as well redo the crash and break his ribs all over again. That felt easier to live through.

Lisbon looked back up at him, the pinch that always drew her brows together returning. “What do you remember from the crash?”

His head tilted with a shrug. “I crashed.”

She didn’t hold back this time, a flick of the wrist raining down on his forearm. She tried not to smile. “This is no joking matter.”

His lips strained into a similar face, warped from the imbalance of pulling on the left side rather than the right, where a thousand needles had sown his skin in place, stuck for an unknown, finite amount of time.

He racked his brain in search of the memory to the point of waking a migraine, the vice grip still pinning his skull. But this was quite important – or it felt like it at least. He owed her to try.

Images resurfaced, the dark of night and the desolate dirt road. The heave of the Airstream as he had slung it around corners weighed down on his chest in what felt close to weird déjà vu. But it had been real enough.

He had dropped the phone.

Jane’s mouth felt parched again, staring into Lisbon’s soul. It looked alone and miserable, a shadow of a flame that drifted around the ashy remnants of the unspoken ache she had gone through. It was obvious to guess which.

“I tried to tell you the truth.” He admitted.

Her hand slid further into his as if she wanted to hold onto him by the nerve endings. A call for desperate measures, maybe, or simply a breath stretched in the air – like a tightrope.

“What was it?”

Her hair turned blurry. At first, he thought it was the migraine kicking in. But then he felt the tears edged along his eyelashes.

“I love you.” He said, earnestly.

The needles in his face practically dug through his skull, threatening the tears to spill. If he could tear out his heart and make it stop pounding, he had started considering it a few seconds ago.

In the depths of her eyes, he saw a little light. It wasn’t big, but it was something. “You mean that?”

He nodded once. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said, “because I feel the same way.”

Every needle seemed to disappear, and her emerald gaze was nothing short of brilliant. It didn’t even hurt to breathe.

Jane hid nothing behind his smile, mirroring her effortlessly. “Well, that’s lucky.”

A flood of butterflies took a detour from the pits of his stomach to the height of his throat, sticking onto something in his chest – probably his heart. His lungs were only second guess.

His thumb brushed against her palm and their hands instinctively laced together. “I take Pike is out of the picture then.” He asked, needing the words be spoken.

“You can say I am out of his.” She admitted, her voice beaming with something he couldn’t place, although joy felt high on the list. She seemed to open up, unfolding her wings like a bird about to take flight, and he knew, instantly, that this was a sight he wanted to behold every day come morning.

“Say it again.” She murmured, the eagerness drawn over her just below the surface, making the tension in the air vibrate. Fluttering like feathers in the wind.

“Say what again?” He teased, lack of intelligence coloring his face as though the coma still had a hold of him. Lisbon saw through him immediately and arched a brow.

“Come closer.” He whispered, the words laced with determination and a known secret probing her in the way he knew she’d follow.

Still, she hesitated. “Jane, you’re injured…”

“I have waited years, Lisbon.” His voice grated the space between them like the bandage on his skin. “This is the last thing that’ll stop me.”

His eyes weighed on hers, a stark blue sea mending together with the green. Waves of the many memories they had lived through were foaming around the irises, speaking of every time they had stayed silent. They roared for what it had been for them back then: Thrill and heartache, drowned out by one another. Now they were jumping in headfirst.

The seconds that passed by since her getting up from her seat were dangerously long, but as soon as she was within reach, he was already done for. His free hand lifted to cup her face, and rather than guide it to the side for the sake her ear, he turned her face to what he yearned for the most.

Her lips were perfect upon his. Soft, gentle and sincere, closing over his in a passionate embrace neither of them had felt before. This was not Barbara Stanwyck and a fake thief. It was them, wholeheartedly and with every fiber of their beings, channeled into the touch of a kiss long overdue – at least for him.

She opened for him, a flutter and a sigh, their tongues melding together as if the first time had only ever been now. His fingers, intuitively forgotten in the depths of her dark hair, itched for more. To lose himself in her and do what he should have done during the art heist.

Yet, he was bedridden.

If there was a God, he had a wicked sense of humor.

The two broke apart after a moment, her lips leaving him marked with a colorful tint to his face. She was no better.

Jane smirked, well for once. “How fast do you think ribs heal?”