Archive of Our Own

i. give me your loss and your sorrow

Lisbon’s office door is closed. Jane considers this an invitation and opens it without preamble.

Lisbon doesn't look up. "His name's Forrest," she says.

Jane feels deflated. He had a probing set of questions prepared for this moment and now he'll have no chance to use them.

"Forrest?" he says. "Nice name. Arboreal." It’s a poor attempt at wit.

"Forrest Jackson." Lisbon looks up at last. "He's a good guy."

This is all alarmingly uncomplicated. Jane meets Lisbon's eyes for a moment. Underneath her usual pragmatism, she is cheerful.

"That’s good, Lisbon. I'm certain he is. When can I meet him?" Jane asks, anticipating a hasty refusal.

She shrugs. "Soon."

Jane raises his eyebrows, surprised.

Lisbon continues. "Not now. Last night was only our third date and, Jane, I know you. You’ll scare him off or convert him to Buddhism or something. I'll give it some time before I let you mess with his brain."

She seems so confident in this stranger and Jane feels a sliver of happiness for her; and, if he's honest, a sliver of fear for himself. It doesn't stop him from pestering her.

"Fourth," he says. Off her look he adds, "I can count, Lisbon. That was your fourth date. Now, you're not the kind of woman to sleep with a man on the first or second date. Maybe not even the third date. But fourth date..." He considers her for a moment. She picks up a stapler and looks at him with intent. He makes a swift retreat to the bullpen.

***

Generally speaking, Jane trusts Lisbon's judgement. Despite being exasperatingly straightforward and somewhat focussed on the tangible, she's one of the most discerning individuals he's met. Still, he considers he has a responsibility to look into this guy.

"He's a doctor," says Van Pelt approvingly while Jane hovers over her desk.

Jane supposes that a doctor is an appropriately banal choice for law enforcement. He is, however, a little put out that Van Pelt has more information on this than he does.

"He's clean," says Cho before Jane can ask him.

Jane sighs. He hates being predictable.

***

A week later, Jane is strolling past Lisbon's office with Rigsby, who is enlightening Jane on the finer points of Benjamin's sleeping habits.

"Nice flowers," says Rigsby to Lisbon.

Jane looks over. Lisbon has flowers on her desk - seven red roses, to be precise. They have clearly just arrived. Lisbon looks up from reading the card. She looks discomfited but not displeased.

Jane veers from his course toward the elevator and heads into Lisbon's office. He leans in her doorway. Rigsby sensibly moves on.

"Seven is an unusual number of roses," Jane says. "Let's see- One for every week... no you're only at five. One for every date? One for every-"

"Hush," says Lisbon lightly.

Jane steps into her personal space, angling for a look at the card. Unfortunately Lisbon shoos him away. He doesn't see her leave with the roses, but they have conveniently vanished before he has a chance to study this doctor fellow's writing style.

***

The next week Lisbon has that light in her eyes again. They've closed a case, which ordinarily makes her happy but endearingly off balance, as though she doesn't know what to do next. This time he hears her laughing into the phone.

"See you there," she says warmly to the person at the other end of the line.

She's leaving before anyone, which is unheard of. Worse she's practically glowing as she says goodnight to the team.

"Could you be any more transparent, my dear?" asks Jane. He's aiming for amused but is aware that he might have missed amused and hit mean. The truth is he's pleased to see her happy, but it sticks in his throat a little.

"Where's Forrest taking you?" asks Van Pelt.

"I'm taking him to dinner," says Lisbon. "We're trying Firehouse."

"Hey, I've been there," offers Rigsby.

"Different place, man," says Cho. He turns to Lisbon, "The scallops are very good."

Jane waves a disinterested farewell to Lisbon. This is all so infuriatingly above board. If Lisbon doesn't prevaricate, Jane can't exercise his prodigious talents in finding out all her secrets. After the elevator doors close he lies back on his couch and contemplates the ceiling. An hour or so later he takes a cup of tea and heads up to the attic.

There's a note taped to the door. Jane reaches for it.

//I've done something for you, Mister Jane. Now you are tied to her by more than the job. You can send me flowers - not roses, too trite.

There's a frozen second. Then the cup and saucer drop to the floor and Jane bolts back down the stairs.

***

ii. every time you come around

"Cho!" Jane yells into the bull pen. Everyone looks up. "We need to get to Firehouse."

Cho takes one look at Jane's face and picks up the phone. "I need agents at Firehouse on Second. Now." Cho's leaving almost before he's hung up the phone. Van Pelt and Rigsby are with him. Jane is carried along in their vest-wearing, gun-toting wake.

***

Firehouse's brick exterior and muted lighting are drowned in flashing blue lights. Lisbon is standing outside. She’s dwarfed by the building’s Greek styled columns.

"Forrest went to the restroom," she says. "Half an hour ago. He never came back. What's going on, Jane?"

Jane hands her the note without a word. She reads it quickly.

"Red John," she says.

It's not a question but Jane nods.

"I've had the building in lock down for about seven minutes now," Lisbon says to Cho. "Not soon enough, damn it. But get agents combing the place."

"He's already dead, Lisbon," says Jane.

"I can't think like that."

"You can't rescue him," says Jane, hating that he knows what he says is the truth.

"Jane, until I have his remains in front of me," she says, "I have to act like he's alive."

He winces as she turns away from him. He feels her dismissal low in his stomach.

"The security company is getting us the video footage. Van Pelt, hurry them up," says Lisbon, moving into senior agent mode at a speed that would frighten someone who hadn't worked with her for half a decade.

Jane goes to examine the men's restroom. It smells like a chemical corporation’s conception of spruce. There's an inch high smiley face in liquid paper beside a tower of toilet rolls but it’s nothing, just some thoughtless kid. They'll find the signature with the body.

***

The team has been back in the office for an hour. Outside dawn is breaking over the city. Lisbon is briefing Wainwright. Jane briefly wonders what she'll say to keep the team on the case.

He looks up at the ceiling and considers Red John and red roses. Jane is the Red John expert in any room, so he figures he must have something to bring to the table.

"Dating in Sacramento," says Jane suddenly. "I've never done it. List some activities."

He points to Cho who shrugs.

"Bowling," suggests Rigsby.

"Nahh, something more...mature - something that has some drama to it. Where would Dr. Jackson take Agent Lisbon for-." He stops as Lisbon enters. She is pale but steady.

"We went on the Matthew McKinley once," says Lisbon after thought. "The river boat. At sunset." Jane imagines Lisbon and Forrest Jackson, whom he's never met, on a river cruise.

"Was it romantic?" he asks.

"Yes."

Jane looks at her for a slow moment. In his head he pieces together romance and death in a kind of twisted serial killer math.

"I'll take Cho and check it out," he says.

"Jane," Lisbon says. He turns back to her. "That's where Forrest is?"

Jane pauses. He considers lying but the reality is he can't protect her from this and she wouldn't want him to try.

"Yes," he says.

"I'm coming with you."

***

By the river, the morning sun is seeping through the fog. The water is glassy and smooth. There's a red painted smile defacing the Matthew McKinley’s stern.

They find Forrest Jackson's body crudely tied to the paddlewheel of the boat.

Jane feels Lisbon let out a breath beside him. He reaches a hand to her shoulder but she has stepped past him. For a moment his hand hovers in the air. He lets it fall to his side. Lisbon pulls out her phone.

"I need an ME and crime scene here," she says.

Jane divides his attention between her rigid spine and yet another travesty before them.

***

iii. Darker with the day

This is Lisbon’s job and there's no question that she can do it, but she feels sick with it. Less than twelve hours ago, Forrest sat across from her and stole scallops from her plate; he told her about his successful, bossy younger sister and his nephew who bounces off the walls of his sister’s perfect house; he told her about a patient who brought him half a sheep as a thank you for a successful operation.

Now Forrest's arms hang beside him in death. She's known those dark hands on her skin. Lisbon curls her fists at her sides and presses her nails into her palms. She can feel Jane's eyes on her from across the dock.

She's a pragmatist. She knows there's no profit in guilt. But she can't stop the thought, "I should have known." The words tumble over and over, interlaced treacherously with, "He should have known."

She turns away from Jane toward her team.

Cho says, "You okay, boss?"

She nods. "Take over here for a minute, Cho."

"Sure."

There's a public restroom near the road. Lisbon closes herself in a cubicle. She stands upright between the grimy toilet and the painted door and presses her teeth hard into her knuckles.

When she leaves the restroom, Van Pelt is waiting. Her eyes are bright.

"I'm so sorry, boss. We all are."

Lisbon is silent, but she nods to acknowledge Van Pelt's undemanding compassion.

***

Wainwright suggests that Lisbon take some leave. It's hardly a surprising recommendation but it feels like criticism.

"I can handle it, sir," she says stiffly.

To her surprise, Wainwright doesn't argue. She wonders if Jane has used his conjuring skills on Wainwright and laid some groundwork for her.

Afterwards she closes her office door. There's a change of clothes on her desk. There's a jacket on the back of her chair. She finds a bowl of three bean salad in the office fridge with her initials on it. She takes a few bites for appearances and for the sake of Forrest, who needs her focus.

She doesn't analyse how she feels about Jane's invisible facility for providing precisely the practical support she can use.

***

For weeks the team follows the negligible leads uncovered at the restaurant and the docks.

There's an unidentified figure on the security footage from the restaurant. Van Pelt has the image enhanced and questions the staff and diners. No one recognises the shadowy face. Cho chases up a busboy who started working a few days before Forrest's murder and has disappeared. He's just an entitled law student who preferred his girlfriend's bed to the job.

Nothing takes them closer to Red John.

During the third week Lisbon heads up to Jane's attic. She knocks on the door.

"Come in," he says. Even in the unlit room, she can tell he's surprised to see her. He pulls two chairs out and motions for her to sit.

She remains standing. "Let's take a walk," she says.

He eyes her curiously. "Sounds pleasant," he says.

***

Lisbon isn't looking for a scenic stroll, but she notices Jane subtly directing them toward the park. She humors him.

"It will get better," he says after some minutes.

"I'm not here to talk about that-"

"No. I didn't think you were."

"It's increasingly clear that it's not safe to talk in the CBI offices," says Lisbon.

They walk on in silence. It's late in the afternoon and the park is largely deserted. Jane's hand is tentative on the small of Lisbon’s back. They sit next to one another on a park bench and face rows of flowers in beds. The bench reads "For Violet Anne Walker, now eternally with her flowers."

Lisbon says, "We know... we have known for some time one of Red John's weaknesses. You, Jane."

"Yes."

"He loses focus where you're concerned. That's where he comes closest to making a mistake."

"Yes," says Jane. He's not giving anything away so Lisbon knows he's probably two steps ahead and one to the side. She continues with the persistence that makes her an excellent agent.

"What would his response be if you were no longer as intent upon him as he is upon you?"

"Lisbon, I've considered this strategy. I've dismissed it."

She turns toward him. "You don't get to just dismiss things in this team, Jane. Think about it. If someone distracted you from Red John; if Red John believed you to have something normal and happy-"

"He would kill. Maybe me, more likely the distraction," said Jane flatly. "I know where you're heading, Lisbon. You become the distraction, you'll get yourself killed. We know what happens when people toy with Red John."

"This is different, Jane. We'd know he was coming. I'm a CBI agent. I'm trained and I'm armed. And he wouldn't just be coming for me. I'd have you and the team backing me up. It's different."

"It's not an option."

"That's not for you to decide," says Lisbon. "I can’t wait another two years, another five. I don't want to be constantly alert for another death; to wait for you to fall in love with some gorgeous grieving widow or me to meet some responsible member of the community and put them at risk. We can't just exist with the shadow of Red John hanging over us for all of those years. And what if he decides my niece is of interest? What if he goes after your connections to the past, Pete and Sam or Danny? We need to take the fight to Red John."

"It's dangerous," he says, but this is one of the times she can read him.

"You know I'm right," she says. She adds, "It doesn't need to be me. It could be another agent."

"He's too clever for that, Lisbon. Red John knows a lot about me. It has to be you."

***

iv. see what gets left behind

It has been generally acknowledged that when Jane elects to do something, he elects to do it well.

On the walk back to the offices, Lisbon glances across at him. "You look like you're planning a con, Jane. I don't like it."

"Con, vital undercover operation; tomato, tomahto," says Jane with a grin.

Lisbon smiles and it feels like a little victory. He goes on with his scheming.

"We need a safe house."

"My place is clear," she says. "I've had it swept for surveillance since the shrink, Carmen, was there." She's clearly embarrassed by the admission of weakness.

"Right." Jane doesn't comment further. "Then we need a catalyst - some occurrence that would make our upright Agent Lisbon finally succumb to my charm and tumble into my arms. Do we have a snowy cabin at Lake Tahoe to get trapped in for a few days?"

"No. No way," says Lisbon. "Besides I'm too busy."

"Hmm. How about some kind of fancy ball? I'll be floored by your timeless beauty in a ball gown and you'll be stunned by my debonair appeal in a tuxedo?"

"I've seen you in a tuxedo," says Lisbon.

"Ah yes, and I've seen you in a gown - timeless indeed. Perhaps we just need to get very drunk." She looks at him dourly. "No, that wouldn't be my preference either... Car accident? I could rush ventre a terre to your bedside, believing you dying, and pour out my heart."

"Jane," she begins.

"Oh please, Lisbon, are you telling me that facing your own imminent demise you wouldn't proclaim your love for me?"

She laughs out loud. "I didn't last time."

"No. That time you punched me in the nose."

"You don't need to pretend to seduce me in some kind of convoluted Jane spectacle," she says. "We're in this together. We can just go to dinner. Make some physical contact in public."

"Physical contact. I assume you mean making out, macking, getting down?" She swipes him on the arm. "This is all so prosaic," he says. "We can't be just a little bit starry eyed?"

She looks at him with a crooked smile. He reaches for her hand as though it's no big deal, hooks it under his arm. They continue. She doesn't pull away.

He isn't certain if they are role playing yet. One latent barb in this enormously risky plan is that she may no longer be transparent to him.

"I wouldn't have chosen this for all the world, Lisbon." Then he throws her a grin. "But given that we’re doing it, I figure we might as well enjoy it."

***

The next day Van Pelt cracks a case with some nifty computer kung fu. It's the perfect opportunity to get the team into Lisbon's safe house of an apartment and bring them up to speed under the guise of case closed pizza.

Lisbon outlines the plan. "It's a long term thing, guys. I know it will mean a lot of time on call. And it's off the books with the CBI until we have a result."

Van Pelt opens her mouth to speak. She pauses and closes it again, looking at them doubtfully.

Lisbon looks at her and says, "I approached Jane with this, not the other way around. It's the right strategy. Our first responsibility is to catch Red John. Any other concerns have to be secondary."

Cho looks from Lisbon to Jane. "Okay," he says briefly.

"What do you need?" asks Rigsby.

"We'll work this on two fronts," says Jane. "Lisbon and I will be playing the role of two people in love. I anticipate an Oscar-worthy show of devotion." He ignores the slight choking sound from Lisbon beside him. "You three need to bring the buzz."

"The buzz?" asks Van Pelt.

"The rumours, the gossip, the innuendo. Van Pelt, I recommend you go about it with mysterious smiles, maybe a romantic sigh or two. Rigsby, you should focus on telling people that we are not together. At all. Protest too much. Cho-" Jane pauses.

"I just won't discuss it," says Cho.

"Fine. Cho won't discuss it at all."

Lisbon speaks. "I know it doesn't need repeating, but this doesn't leave the room. We can't trust anyone, CBI or not. As this goes further we'll need all three of you on back up."

***

Sometimes Jane goes home.

He chose this apartment for its location. He can leave the balcony doors wide open and hear the noise of downtown Sacramento all night. Also the apartment has an internal spiral staircase which seemed amusing at the time.

Generally when he's there, he lies in bed and waits for the street cleaning to start at 5 am. Sometimes he does laundry.

Tonight he leaves the apartment in semi-darkness, with just the yellow glow of the city lights streaming through the bare windows. There is no furniture, save the bed.

Jane sits on the floor and runs a finger over his wedding band. He is still for some time. Then he takes a deep breath. He stands. He considers saying something to the air, but there's no one here anyway.

It is surprisingly difficult to remove a wedding band. He places it on the kitchen bench.

He doesn't cry.

There is a cold corner of Jane's brain. It's not the kind of space that will ever be warm. In it is the last fight he had with his wife, her eyes on his. In it is his obliviousness and stupidity in baiting Red John. In it his daughter dies begging for her daddy.

His daughter was all clear eyes and too many questions. She was the future. Every time he carried her sleep-heavy body to her bed and tucked her in, he was making her a promise. He spoke to her while she slept against his shoulder. Nonsense, mostly. Sometimes he'd tell her how proud he was of her.

He looks at the wedding band on the bench. Once it was a promise to love and cherish. Now it's a promise of vengeance. He's not really sure who he is without it.

***

v. throw down your guns

The team is called out to a new case. Kai Hibbert was a starting defensive linesman for the 49ers. Now his body lies half-in half-out of a beachside bathing pool on the Mendocino coast.

The morning sky over the Pacific is streaky and blue. The local medical officer is examining the body, and everyone looks busy. Lisbon turns to walk back across the rocks toward the beach. Jane falls in step beside her.

"Pretty," he says.

"Hey," she says. "Good to see you made it." She doesn't ask how he got there, despite the fact they haven't seen or heard from him for a day and a half.

He stops on a flattened boulder. Lisbon turns back to him and watches as he bends to lift something from a rock pool.

"Did you find something?" she asks, stepping in beside him.

"Indeed I did, Lisbon. A tiny porcelain crab." He offers the crab to her carefully. Its little legs wiggle in the air

"Put it back, Jane."

He complies. As he shakes the water from his hand she notices that his wedding band is missing.

She doesn't know what to say. She reaches out, touches his right arm with her fingers.

"I'm so- I hadn't considered that you would need to-" she starts. It's unreasonable to be shocked. Naturally he had to take his ring off.

He glances down at his hand.

"That must have been difficult," she says.

"Yes." He is still, looking out over the ocean. "Hey, do you have a wok?" he asks suddenly.

"A wok? Here?" she asks, thinking of the little crab.

"Not here, no. At your place of residence. I'm coming by later and thought I would cook for you."

"Oh," she says. She feels a bit off balance. "Tonight?"

"You don't have a prior engagement, do you?"

"Uh. I might be caught up solving this murder for a while."

"This murder? Oh no, it's not murder," he says. She is frustrated by his dismissiveness. "I've well and truly cracked this one. It's religious."

"Religious," she repeats. She scowls. "Look, Jane, just because you don't-"

"Oh please, Lisbon. I'm not inventing this to aggravate you for my personal entertainment. There are ashes in the pool with him; there's a shiny new cross around his neck." He pauses, waiting for her.

"A baptism?"

"Aha! The dangers of full immersion baptism," Jane pulls a crumpled leaflet from his pocket. "I sent Cho and Rigsby to look into these Firth Street Angels of Healing. I told them to ask if they use electronic microphones."

"Great," Lisbon says, imagining the potential fall-out if these Angels are in the clear.

"Don't look so worried, Lisbon. I'll have you home by dinner."

"That's not what worries me," she says. "I’m not sure I want to go into battle with a harmless neighbourhood church. I'd better go and clear up any mess."

"And I'd better plan the menu for tonight," he says with a beam.

She hops down from the rock and squints up at him. She wants to say something meaningful about vengeance and loss and moving forward.

"Seriously, people use electricity during full immersion baptism?" she asks. "What are they thinking?"

He shrugs. "Some people don’t have our capacity for complex thought."

He steps down beside her, too close. She is conscious, has always been conscious of the pull of him. But this is the game now and she has to play her role. There are a couple of police officers in their vicinity so she presses his elbow before she steps away to head across the beachfront.

"I'll see you for dinner," he calls after her. She feels the curious looks of the officers and some agents as she walks.

***

Jane arrives at Lisbon’s home as promised and fills up her kitchen with his presence and cooking. He looks absurdly harmless with a red and white apron over his vest. Of course that's half of the danger of him.

"Where did you find that apron?" she asks.

"Bottom drawer," he says and does a little spin to show it off.

She laughs. They sit at either end of the couch to eat. Despite all Jane's bravado, Lisbon suspects he feels the fragility in this situation as she does.

"So," she begins, "You settled on an ordinary dinner for this, like I suggested."

"Ordinary dinner? Lisbon, have you tasted the perch? And this is not our inaugural date. This is a business meeting."

"Right," she says.

The perch is very good. He hands her a glass of white wine. As the daughter of an alcoholic, Lisbon will never have an easy relationship with alcohol, but Jane is aware of the things she loves.

"I'm still devising our first date," he says after taking a sip from his glass.

"Jane-"

"Lisbon, it's not like I'm doing anything else. You can run around catching murderers and filling out forms. I am going to conceive the perfect date."

"Fake date," she says.

He finishes his mouthful. "That is exactly what this meeting is about. I looked in your file; you have some limited propensity for undercover work. But this is my area of expertise and if we're doing this we're doing it well. From now on there is no 'fake date'. We aren't acting. We can't afford to check if there's someone else listening in. Outside this room, it is just you and me in an ardent and passionate relationship."

She laughs uncomfortably. Then their eyes meet. Even the width of the couch doesn't feel like enough space between them.

After a moment Lisbon breaks eye contact and nods. "Agreed," she says.

Jane looks surprised. "I expected more of an argument."

"No, you're right," she says. "You can take lead. But only in this," she adds.

"Oh." He blinks. "Excellent."

For a moment they both look out the window. Lisbon takes another bite of her dinner.

"You're a good cook," she says.

"I've had a lot of practice," he replies.

"So've I, but nothing I cook tastes like this."

"Boiling hot dogs for your brothers doesn't count."

She smiles. "Hot dogs with corn and carrots. The boys needed vitamins."

He stays to help her wash up. In the close quarters of her kitchen she's more aware of him than ever. They're in private, here, as they can be nowhere else any more. Every time his arm brushes hers she feels exposed.

Lisbon knows there's more than just physical danger in this plan. But she's a law enforcement officer first and catching Red John has to come before any niggling concerns about her heart.

Jane pauses in the doorway as he leaves. "Saturday night," he says. "I'll make it memorable. Trust me."

She raises her eyebrows but just says, "I do trust you." She doesn't need to say she wouldn't be doing this otherwise.

Unexpectedly he leans in and kisses her cheek.

"Go home, Jane." She smiles at him as she pushes him out the door.

***

vi. for one crowded hour

On Friday morning Jane is lying on his couch in the bullpen. He's not sleeping. He's dividing his mental energies between finalising plans for tomorrow's first date with Lisbon and solving a murder which threatens to spoil that same date. Even though it is all a ruse to trap Red John, Jane doesn't feel the night should be ruined. He has put valuable thought into this.

The late Avril Murphy's sons and partner may be less concerned with Jane and Lisbon's first date than with the CBI solving Avril’s murder. Avril was a forty year old commercial lawyer who from all reports was too pleasant to induce a person to kill her. That's probably cold comfort now.

Jane sits up suddenly. "Dining al fresco," he says to the team. "Does it call for live music?"

"Al fresco?" asks Rigsby.

"In the fresh air," says Jane. "It’s Italian."

"Outside," says Cho. He turns to Jane. "Are you planning on bringing a string quartet on a picnic?"

"Not exactly, no," Jane says. "But hypothetically speaking would a picnic be improved by, say, a Spanish guitar?"

"I don't know, man," says Rigsby. "It might be weird having some guy in a funny hat watching your whole date."

Jane doesn't ask about the funny hat.

Van Pelt says, "This is for your date with-"

"With Lisbon, yes," Jane says. "Saturday. What do you think?"

"It could be romantic," says Van Pelt. "But-"

She's right, of course. Lisbon would hate it. Jane knows that.

Fortunately Cho has an i-pod with 8,000 songs on it. Jane is no expert on Lisbon's taste in tunes, but he is confident one of the playlists will be fitting. He reads, "Songs for driving at over 70mph; songs for making martinis; songs for paying bills; songs for mornings the boss calls before 5am."

"Stop reading it, or I won't let you borrow it," says Cho.

Lisbon enters from her office. "What's going on?" she asks.

"Just sorting a few last minute details," says Jane, jumping up. "And I've solved your murder. Let's go."

***

Jane has arranged for a table for two to be set in the middle of Raley Field. The dual pylons of Tower Bridge glow yellow alongside the city skyline. The effect is pleasing to the eye. Lisbon pauses on her way onto the field. She looks back at Jane, almost comically wide-eyed.

Jane shifts sideways into a shrug. "Bit of a cliché," he says.

"Cliché?" breathes Lisbon. "Only in the sense that this is like being in a movie." She bounces on her toes. Jane feels a little smug.

Lisbon is wearing a dress. She looks beautiful, of course. Not for the first time Jane curses this whole deception.

When they've crossed the field, he pulls out her chair for her. Lisbon ducks her head as she sits, vainly attempting to avert his attention.

"How long did it take you to decide what to wear tonight?" Jane asks.

Lisbon glowers at him. "Ages," she mutters to the table.

Jane laughs.

Lisbon says, "I watched Ken Griffey Jr. play an exhibition game here. Back when I still played ball. I came with a boyfriend, Ben something. He was kind of a jerk. Still, it was a good day. I've never been here alone, though."

"Ah, we're not alone. There's field security on site and I brought some staff."

"Staff. Of course you did," Lisbon says.

The waiter is a huge guy named Michael. He lost his job when an intense inter-restaurant competition concluded with the murder of his boss. Jane found him a new position.

Michael brings the food. It is unsurprisingly exceptional.

"So this is what a date with Jane is like," says Lisbon. She tilts her head like she's trying to work him out.

"Sometimes," he says.

She is clear eyed as she looks at him. For a moment he is afraid of what she will see.

It's an oddly exposed situation, the middle of a baseball field - appropriate for the plan, but awkward for a date. Jane is pleased to note that the wait staff proves admirably discreet. Throughout dinner he and Lisbon speak of ordinary things, veering carefully away from murder and childhood.

The strangeness of the circumstances rests between them. Jane reaches across the table to take Lisbon's hands. It's an intentional move but his stomach drops a little to do it. Lisbon's pulse beats underneath his fingers. He turns her hand over and traces her veins with one finger. Her breath hitches. The real and the false are entwined in a way he would rather not contemplate.

Later they walk to Lisbon's place. They've had enough of an excellent peppery Shiraz that they arrange for one of the staff to bring her car home.

Lisbon's street is tree-lined and lamp-lit. They stop before her doorway. Lisbon steps close to Jane and looks up at him. Jane appreciates the challenge in her eyes. He smiles involuntarily.

Patrick Jane tends to be candid with himself. He is aware he is more than half in love with Lisbon. He is equally aware that she is half in love with him. His grief and her pragmatism have protected them. This is new ground and he intends to manage it well. He wants to keep everything under control. Mostly he hopes there will be something to salvage once Red John is not a shadow between them.

He takes her hands in his and holds them too long. He says, quietly, "We don't have to take this thing any further."

Instead she leans to kiss him. His Lisbon is always a woman of action.

It is immediately clear that this whole thing is rapidly getting away from him. For a moment everything he wants in the whole world is already here under the streetlight. It almost feels like no one is watching.

***

vii. try to hold it in your hands

The 'relationship' is playing out in public so it feels more like a movie version of dating than reality. It's all fine dining and pretty outdoor scenes. Lisbon twines her fingers in Jane's as they walk between restaurant and movie, river and market. They buy pluots and taste honey varieties.

Jane bounces on his toes. "Ooh. Try the avocado blossom, Lisbon.”

One morning Lisbon takes Jane to visit Folsom Lake. She briefly considers making him ride a horse for the laughs but settles on walking the top of the dam wall. It's cool at this time of day. As she gazes out across the lake, he wraps his arms about her waist. His lips are on her hair. There is nothing false in the way Lisbon's body leans into him before she even thinks.

Playing happy couples is not the same as being one. Still, they've fallen into a kind of every day.

***

There's ways in which the whole thing is a kind of fun.

"We're going flying in a hot air balloon tomorrow," Jane says one Saturday evening on the phone.

"We are not," she says, then adds doubtfully, "Are we?"

"You bet your bottom dollar we are. Wear something warm. Also can you pick me up? My car's mad at me."

It's fairly unlikely that anyone associated with Red John could be listening in on them in the basket of a hot air balloon. There's probably no reason to play pretend. Still, Jane stands close to her. Their shoulders bump against one another as the balloon ascends. Jane covers her hands with his on the frame of the basket.

She tries not to see too much in this. They've promised they'll be careful. Who knows how many hot air balloonists have been recruited as Red John's disciples for just this occasion?

"It's beautiful," she says as they slip through the morning sky toward the Sierra Nevada foothills. A silver river snakes away across the green valley. "Thank you."

She feels him shrug off her thanks. "Oh please, this is nothing," he says. He squeezes her hand and adds, "We'll come again."

This is how it is. There's the balloon ride; there's walking on beach after Californian beach; there's the awkward pleasure of being the object of undivided attention over a romantic meal. More than these diversions, she finds him good company. They laugh often. She tells him more than she feels she ought.

"Nathaniel is in financial something," she says of her brother. "He's a Wall Street financial analyst." She hasn't seen Nathaniel's Upper East Side apartment. She hasn't met his financial analyst wife.

"Taking him about as far from his past as he could go," says Jane with a smile that takes the sting out of his words. "That way he doesn't need family at all. It can be attractive for someone who has lost so much."

"It was hard on him," Lisbon says.

"Lisbon, it was hard on you all. It's not your responsibility to hold them together," he says.

She doesn't miss some of the realities of dating. This is all a sham so there's no wondering whether to feel trapped when he calls between two and thirty five times a day. She is not expected to spend time wondering what a careless gesture or word means.

She's leaving a crime scene, crossing a gravel parking lot. She has Jane at the other end of the phone.

"Everything points to the boyfriend," he says. "But it's a bit too tidy. I think this murder is business not pleasure."

"Okay," she says. "Take Cho and check out the corporate headquarters. I'm heading back to the victim's home."

"Got it," he says. "Love you." She doesn't break step but the words sit in space for a moment.

"Love you too," she says just before she ends the call. She climbs into the SUV. "Damn," she says aloud. "Damn." She sits for a moment then starts the car.

Most of the time she doesn't miss the realities of genuine dating. There's no second guessing what he's looking for. There's no wondering if she's sabotaging things, if she's too messed up for a relationship.

There's no sex either, of course. Her home is the only place they consider private. And in her home they keep space between them to protect themselves. They sit on separate couches. When he stays he sleeps on his back on her bedroom floor.

They kiss in public. Predictably Jane's a very good kisser. Despite all the walls she's placed around herself with him it feels like electricity every time.

***

A mountaineer is killed on the North Fork of Mount Whitney. Her name is Sandra Pak and she has made a name for herself on peaks the world over.

"Perfect," says Jane, gesturing widely to the ice-covered trees and the peaks in the background. "Our snow bound cabin mystery. If only I had waited I could have seduced you up here in the mountains."

"Seduce," scoffs Lisbon. "You're pretty sure of yourself, Jane."

"I know," he says. "And you think you’re too level-headed to be swept off your feet. But you have to admit it has its appeal." His smile is warm. She's accustomed to his charm, but in this clear icy light he looks more beautiful than ever. It's annoying.

She gets Cho on the phone. He and the other two agents met with Sandra's parents while Lisbon and Jane interviewed the climbers.

"I want to get out to the crime scene," she says. "The weather service is threatening a snow storm and I don't want us all to get stuck up there. Jane and I will meet you at the motel when we're down the mountain."

"Right, boss," says Cho.

Jane looks delighted. "A snow storm?"

"Don't say anything," she warns him. "Or I'll make you climb up."

There's a Mountain Rescue helicopter waiting to take them up to the site.

"The trouble with this case," Jane says as they clamber in, "Is that they all hated her. And these aren't passive people. Any one of them could have done it."

"And yet only one held the ice pick," she says.

"Yes, that's a pity. Well, never mind. I have a plan."

Lisbon raises her eyebrows as she buckles herself in. "Tell me, Jane."

"Patience, Lisbon, patience. All will be revealed in time. Let's enjoy the moment." The helicopter blades spin and drown any chance of a biting reply.

The rangers have waited until Lisbon arrives to move the body. Sandra was sitting apart from the group eating breakfast when she was killed. Granola is scattered across the trail. Sandra's blood is bright on the snow and dark on the rocks. Jane looks down at her body for some time.

"Nothing to see here," he says eventually.

Lisbon has to agree. "Get her to the ME," she says.

She eyes Jane during the return trip in the helicopter. Sometimes he looks like he'd fall apart with one touch. It's too much, all this death.

***

The snow storm hits early in the afternoon. Snow piles up on the roads. Lisbon and Jane head carefully to Lone Pine and a motel. The lobby is dressed up like a Swiss chalet, with window boxes and painted gables. Already snowdrifts press against the doors. It's clear they are going nowhere until tomorrow.

Cho shrugs. Van Pelt makes a call. Rigsby speaks apologetically to Sarah.

He grins as he hangs up. "There'll be no 3am wakeup call here," Rigsby says. "Of course I'll miss the little monster."

"Okay," says Jane. "The restaurant has food. There are drinks at the bar. There's a fireplace to warm Lisbon's frosty toes. And if I'm not mistaken, Kimball Cho bought a pack of cards at the motel gift shop."

Cho nods. He pulls out playing cards decorated with views of scenic Mount Whitney.

"Outstanding," says Jane. "Poker. Penny ante everyone?"

Somehow all four of them are cajoled into playing a game that Jane cannot lose. Rigsby tries to fool Jane by using exaggerated facial expressions, smiling happily at his cards at odd times unrelated to the strength of his hand.

"Nice try, Rigsby," says Jane. "But you know I'm better than that."

Rigsby sighs.

"I suggest we blindfold him," says Cho.

"Aha! Challenge accepted," says Jane.

"Double check he's not cheating," says Rigsby to Van Pelt as she ties a scarf around Jane's eyes.

"Rigsby, I'm hurt," says Jane.

"You're a con artist, Jane," says Lisbo,n smiling. "We'd be crazy to trust you."

"Et tu Brute," says Jane with a hand over his heart. He can’t see her but he grins straight at her.

The first hand goes to Cho.

“Got him,” says Rigsby.

Lisbon shuffles and deals the next hand efficiently while Van Pelt unties her scarf so Jane can take a look at his cards.

“Don’t sneak a look at your cards until he’s blindfolded again,” says Rigsby to the table.

In the end, of course, Jane still wins.

"How did you-" starts Van Pelt in frustration as Jane calls her bluff.

"You were fidgeting," says Jane. "You never fidget."

"I didn't move," says Van Pelt.

"Ergo, you were fidgeting on the inside," says Jane.

Van Pelt rolls her eyes.

"I saw that," says Jane.

Cho and Rigsby chuckle.

"That’s the last hand for me," says Cho, downing his mineral water.

"Me too," says Van Pelt. Rigsby nods and finishes his beer.

When Jane takes off the blindfold his eyes flick straight to Lisbon. Everything glows red in the firelight.

"Bedtime then," Jane says as Cho pockets the cards and leaves. Jane turns to Lisbon. "Your room or mine, honey?"

Lisbon feels Van Pelt shuffle uneasily. She waits until all the other agents have headed for bed before walking to Jane’s room. She knows he will follow.

***

The sheets on her side of his bed are cool against her cheeks. She lies as close to the edge of the bed as possible. They have agreed to use only one bed in motels but that doesn't mean she needs to impose on him. They lie silently for a few minutes. She listens to his breathing.

"Sometimes Charlotte would have nightmares," he says unexpectedly out of the dark. Lisbon holds her breath for a moment. "She would wake herself up and call out. We'd be, I don't know, having dinner downstairs, doing something ordinary and I'd head to her room and find her sitting bolt upright. She was all sweaty and terrified and I held her hands and made her lie back down. I put an arm over her and lay down next to her in her bed. And I promised her over and over that I would always keep her safe."

Lisbon lies still. Then she turns toward Jane and reaches for him under the sheets. She holds both his hands between hers. She bends her head to press her lips against his knuckles. His breath is soft on her hair as he puts an arm over her.

***

viii. can't feel the ground

Jane raps a rhythmic pattern on the door of Lisbon's apartment. Cho opens it. His left arm is conspicuously bandaged.

"Hrmm. Yes. Sorry about your arm, Cho," says Jane.

"No problem. New experience. I've never been attacked with an icepick before."

Jane raises his eyebrows as he follows Cho inside. "Very philosophical of you. I'm impressed."

"Yeah, try to avoid letting it happen again," says Cho darkly.

Jane is a little self-conscious about the icepick incident. It took much of the pleasure out of apprehending Sandra Pak's murderer.

The team is comfortably ensconced in Lisbon's living room with pizza. Rigsby is planted on a couch, his legs stretched halfway across her floor. Van Pelt is beside him. Lisbon's bare feet are folded under her on a chair. It's adorable.

Jane briefly ponders when everything Lisbon did began to be so captivating. He pulls up a chair.

"Do you think this Red John plan is working?" asks Van Pelt in a lull in the conversation. "Do you have a sense that he is watching you guys?"

Lisbon's eyes flick to Jane. "I suspect so," she says eventually. "But Jane's the lead on this."

Jane does not want to tell them that the fake distraction from Red John may have become something of a real distraction. He's spending so much time traipsing happily about California with Lisbon that he hasn't considered Red John in, well, at least several hours. The danger is that right now Jane's read on Red John has less acuity than he'd like.

"So are we just waiting around for a note taped to someone’s door?" asks Rigsby.

"Hey, hush Rigs," Lisbon protests, her eyes on Jane.

"We all know that once there's a note, we're probably too late," says Jane. It dampens the mood substantially.

Later the team leaves. Jane closes her apartment door behind them.

"Still here?" says Lisbon. She's smiling. It's beautiful. She picks up a couple of glasses from the coffee table and moves into the kitchen.

Jane takes a deep breath.

"Do you know, Lisbon," he says to her retreating form, "There is an unexpected flaw in this plan. I’m trying to focus on the job at hand but as it turns out, every moment I'm around you means more of my mind is occupied in trying not to touch you."

She freezes in the kitchen doorway, her back to him. He is still. It's rare that he speaks before he knows precisely what he's going to say but that was something of a surprise to him.

When Lisbon turns back toward him she narrows her eyes. "That's the flaw? That you're trying not to touch me?"

He’s said so much he might as well take this all the way. "It's an effort not to kiss you."

She steps close to him. She lifts herself on her toes.

"Stop trying so hard," she says against his lips. Just like that all his schemes are undone.

She draws away to meet his eyes.

"You are not helping," Jane says.

She laughs low. It vibrates in her throat as he kisses her jawline. He moves to meet her lips again. She runs her tongue across his lower lip. He feels it all the way to his knees. It makes him wonder if he will be able to stay standing. He shifts back with her until she is pressed against her apartment wall.

They've kissed in public and it's been charged and complex. This is different. Suddenly all the spinning world is focussed on two people in one room. There is nothing more or less.

***

He wakes to her room and her bed and her weight against him. He considers leaving before she opens her eyes. He knows how highly Lisbon values her privacy. But he figures she will have to accustom herself to waking to him sometime. The thought has him smiling to himself.

He slips out of bed, pulling on his pants. The sight of her bed with her in it, all limbs and rumpled sheets, brings the night into sharp relief. He feels breathless. He longs to slip back in with her. He steps toward her window. The sun hasn't risen and the sky is early gray.

"Hey," she says from the bed a moment later. She's a light sleeper. How could she be otherwise given both her personal history and her career?

"Hey," he says. He can't stop his smile.

He has had time to prepare a whole spiel so he can just start talking. He doesn't. She meets his eyes. There is no awkwardness, really. He's a showman; she's just comfortable in her skin. When she sits up, she moves with her usual competent grace. It's exquisite.

Her phone rings. With that the day begins. They're up and dressed and almost out the door before there's time for conversation.

"I think I should stay with you tonight," he says before she opens the door to the hallway. "And for a while. Red John will know things have changed. I want to-"

She chuckles. "Jane, I'm a fully armed officer of the law. What are you going to do? Charm him out of killing people?"

"I’m just concerned about you, Lisbon," he says. Even as he speaks he realises he's playing this all wrong. She's confident about her ability to protect herself. She has had to be confident in that for years.

"I'll be fine," she says. He tries not to feel dismissed. She turns and kisses him as she opens the door. Kissing her makes him feel a little better.

***

The day is full of routine police work. Jane has spent years developing a hundred ploys to avoid it. He pesters Lisbon instead. She avoids him efficiently. After a full day, her steady composure is exasperating.

“I’m going home,” he says. He has some laundry to do. "Call me when you’re home and have all the doors locked.” He beams at her, working his charms. "Come on, please do it for me."

She smiles back. "Okay," she says. "But if Red John appears in my apartment, I'm shooting him and I'm calling dispatch. Then I'll call you."

He nods. At least he’s on the list.

Unexpectedly she walks him to his car. She glances around then leans to kiss him through the window. He bends a hand about the back of her neck and pulls her closer. When they break the kiss, a moan hums in his throat. He wants to say something but she’s already walking swiftly back to the office.

He goes home to his empty apartment.

Only this time it's not empty.

As soon as he opens the door, he knows. There's a faint movement in the air. He doesn't have time to lament the fact that he's unarmed. He's useless here. He feels the pins of a taser press against his upper arm and then the electric shock hits him and he falls.

***

ix. not as brave as you were from the start

Lisbon stays in the office long after Jane has left. Requisitions and overtime forms are far from sufficient distractions. Every time she blinks there's a different snapshot of Jane before her: his eyes on her in the near dark; his skin under her hands; his vivid grin as a whispered "please" is torn from her. She shakes her head to rid her brain of the images.

On her way home, she stops for take-out. She orders without thinking only to realise she'll be eating Jane's favorites. She doesn't bother to change the order.

Her apartment is silent and safe. It's also full of him. She deadbolts the front door, dumps dinner on the table and pulls out her phone to make the promised call. Jane doesn't answer. Lisbon huffs at his voicemail.

"It's me, Jane. I'm home with the doors locked. I can't believe you coerced me into calling and now you don't even bother to answer. Wait, of course I believe it. Call me when the laundry’s done."

***

Jane wakes. He is handcuffed to a bed post.

The room is well lit. It has thick carpet and frothy floral curtains. The light fittings are old fashioned but expensive. Jane is handcuffed, certainly, but the overall effect is evidently intended to be pleasant.

"You're awake," says a sharp voice he has heard most often in his dreams.

Jane whips his head toward the man who is silhouetted in the doorway. He feels his pulse leap in his throat. He brings it under control with effort.

"Hello," Jane says.

He wants to ask, first, "Is Lisbon alive?" But asking the question might be the most effective way to ensure that she isn't.

Already there are two hazards he had not anticipated when he determined upon the course of vengeance. The first hazard is to Lisbon and her team. The second comes with the realisation that Jane doesn't only care that Red John dies - Jane wants to live. Planning for his own survival makes resolving this a lot more difficult.

Jane has spent significant time convincing the world that he is infallible. Predictably now he must convince himself.

"Are you comfortable, Mister Jane?" asks Red John. His voice grates but at least he's talking. There is little Jane is better at than piloting conversation. If his nemesis wants to chat that gives Jane his best chance of victory.

"It's a lovely room," Jane says. "It would be hard to be uncomfortable."

Red John doesn’t leave time for pleasantries, though. "Do you know who I am?" he asks, stepping closer.

"Yes," says Jane.

"You don't. Not yet," Red John says and leaves the room.

Jane lets out his breath. He wants to tear at his handcuffs; he wants to beg to know that Lisbon is alright. But that would lead to disaster.

***

Lisbon takes a fork and plate of food to the couch. She has ESPN on in the background, just some update about another recruitment violation and possible fines". Jane doesn't call. Worry settles like a stone in her stomach.

Lisbon's not ordinarily inclined to imagine the worst but Jane is an exception to every rule she's ever set.

She tries phoning him again. The third time she leaves another message. "Dammit, Jane, where are you? I'm coming over."

Lisbon dials Cho's number as she walks out her door.

"Boss?"

"I can't get onto Jane. I'm on my way to his place. Get someone to give you his apartment number in the building on-"

"He's in apartment 122," says Cho.

Lisbon is thankful for Cho's unapologetic snooping.

"Meet me there with the team," she says. "Something's happened." She hangs up.

***

Red John re-enters. He stands in the doorway facing Jane.

"I never meant you any harm," Red John says. There's something more to that statement, but Jane can't put his finger on it yet.

"Who are you?" says Jane. He pitches his voice at cautious and perhaps more than a little engrossed. "Will you tell me?"

***

Lisbon kicks open Jane's apartment door. The place is empty.

"Damn," she breathes. She closes her eyes. When the team arrive a fraction later she's prepared for them.

"Jane's gone," Lisbon says.

"Red John," says Cho.

"Yep. He'll keep Jane alive. Jane's his entertainment. As long as he doesn't piss Red John off too much... he’s still alive."

"We're going on the basis that this is definitely Red John?" asks Van Pelt.

"Yes," says Lisbon. "But verify he's not at any of the hospitals just in case. Rigsby, check out his car. Then you two start canvassing the building. Cho and I will talk to the doorman and the super."

This is action, certainly. It’s what they were aiming for when they started the sham relationship. Lisbon just didn’t expect it to be Jane who was taken.

Jane's wedding band lies on the kitchen bench. Lisbon pulls on gloves before picking it up. She clenches her fist around it, then puts it back.

***

"I shouldn't need to tell you who I am, Patrick. But I can be charitable. I'll show you." Red John steps into the light. Jane looks at the faded gold hair, the eyes.

"I see," he says.

"Do you know me now?"

Jane pulls his thoughts together. "It's clear that you and I are related." He tries to sound interested rather than sick to the stomach.

"I'm your brother, Patrick," Red John announces. He looks smug. It's an expression that Jane recognises. It has crossed his own face.

"You didn't know," says Red John happily.

"No," says Jane, letting amazement creep into his voice. "I didn't know I had a brother."

"You have to believe that I didn't know either until I saw you on television that night. Otherwise I would have introduced myself earlier. It all started coming into focus then. Our mother was so secretive about my past... our past. She-" Red John pauses.

The room starts to make a kind of sense. "This is her house we're in," says Jane. "This is my mother's house?"

"Clever, Patrick." says Red John. He sounds almost proud of Jane. Jane begins to get the inkling of a strategy. "You're certainly cleverer than your police friends."

Jane feels fear clench inside his chest. His mouth is dry.

"There's no competition there," he manages. "They're not worthy of the trouble."

"But somehow that very ordinary Ms. Lisbon still has your heart."

"Oh please. I want an equal, a counterpart, someone I can spar with. That's just a ploy," Jane manages. He is attempting some semblance of gentle flattery.

Red John smiles at him and it is ghastly.

***

"Don't take this back to the CBI," says Lisbon in the hallway. "We need to keep the case locked down. I don't want all our information going straight to Red John." Not that they have any information. "We need scene of crime though."

"We can pull in that SOCO we’ve used before," says Rigsby.

"Okay. Get him here on the quiet."

***

"The name is John," Red John says as he leaves again. "I'll be nearby. I'm going to check if your lady cop has returned to her office."

Jane controls his breathing and forces himself to focus on strategy. Lisbon and the team are in almost as much danger as Jane is. At some point Red John will tire of taunting Jane and will go after them. As long as he can maintain the element of surprise, the best way to save them is to bring them here.

A few minutes later Jane calls out the door. "John!" The name tastes bitter.

It takes Red John about twenty seconds to return. He looks rushed.

"I don't think you understand the balance of power here, Patrick."

"I do and I apologise," says Jane. He takes a risk and reaches a careful hand toward Red John's face. "This whole thing still doesn't seem real. But I want to protect this; I want to give us time to get to know one another as brothers. I need you to let me telephone Lisbon."

Red John looks at him. Jane takes a breath and continues. He is choosing every word carefully.

"You know why I don't want her here. She'd get herself shot or you'd get yourself shot. Perhaps I'd get myself shot. I just learned I have a brother. I need more than a couple of minutes in a room with you."

Red John looks at Jane. "You don't expect me to believe you."

"I'm going to tell Lisbon that I need some time to myself. She'll believe me; I have a way with her. The truth is," Jane takes a breath and steels his heart, "She is nothing to me. She is a means to an end. And somehow in a beautiful piece of symmetry that end is you. I know you feel the draw between us too. I didn't understand it until now."

This is the man that killed his family. Each kind word hurts.

Red John says nothing.

Jane tries again, lulling Red John with Jane’s own pain. "My wife and child died just before my wife's birthday. I'd already bought gifts. And then she was gone and I didn't know what to do with them. They were the kind of gifts you get for family. At the time I thought I'd never have family again."

"You eloped with that wife to leave your family," says Red John. But he's arguing so Jane knows Red John is listening.

"Not you, though. I never left you," says Jane. "We were kids. Our parents tore us apart but I always knew something fundamental was missing. You must have felt it."

Red John eyes Jane warily. Jane sees a strange desperation in him. He makes an effort to put warmth into his voice and eyes. Jane has trained his whole life for this.

"I need time with you, John. And for that I need to stop Lisbon from tracking us down."

Red John speaks roughly. "Call her then. But make it quick. I'll be cutting the line after thirty seconds. And I'll listen. If you try anything, I'll kill her, very slowly. You know that I can."

Yes. Jane knows.

***

x. if it’s the last thing that I do

Jane dials Lisbon's number. He keeps his eyes on Red John. Playing this unbearably intimate game with Red John required carefully placing Lisbon in a locked corner of his mind. In that corner is his long held knowledge of her clear eyes and forthright mind, along with new knowledge of the taste of her skin under his lips, the gratifying way her breath catches as he touches her, the myriad of ways she speaks without words.

Jane does not hold his breath as the phone rings. Lisbon answers.

"Jane?" Her voice brings back all the unwise things he'd rather be saying to her.

"Hey Lisbon," he says instead. He chooses to sound offhand.

"Jane, oh thank God. Where the hell are you?"

"Ah. God and hell in the same sentence, Teresa. You must be worried. I'm sincerely sorry about that."

"You'd... vanished," she says slowly. "I couldn't reach you." He imagines her head tilted. She sounds less furious than he would expect. She can tell something is wrong.

Jane fixes Red John with his eyes.

"Yeah, look here's the situation," he says to Lisbon. "Everything between us happened much too fast. What I need - I need some time to get reacquainted with myself. In the end you're not family to me and whatever happened I let my family go too soon. The truth is I was settling for second best. But family is too important to overlook."

"What are you saying, Jane?"

"I lost myself, Teresa. I can prove it. Tonight I had too much to drink and I drove myself home. I could have killed someone. It is clear that I need some distance. So please just leave me be for a while. Just leave me be."

"Jane-" Lisbon starts.

Red John abruptly seizes the phone. He cuts the call. Jane is momentarily concerned that Red John perceived the untruth in the exchange with Lisbon, but Red John only smiles, satisfied to have startled Jane. Apparently Red John isn't omniscient, which comes as a relief.

Red John leaves the room. Jane is alone with the curtains and carpet, all this cheerful light and color. Jane lies back and contemplates the ceiling. He determinedly does not think about Lisbon and the team.

***

After Jane hangs up, Lisbon lets out a breath. She lowers herself to sit on the edge of Jane's bed. It's dark out and the large windows over the city have no curtains.

"Too soon for a trace," says Cho sticking his head into the room. "Sorry, boss."

The SOCO is painstakingly scouring the floors for traces or fibres or cookie crumbs - something small. He has magnifying goggles on his head and a pair of tweezers at the ready.

"It's okay," says Lisbon to Cho. "It seems like this is all a waste of our time. Jane's just taken himself off on a little exploratory trip. Damn him." She shakes her head.

"Right," says Cho after a quick pause. "Well good to know. I'll call Rigsby and Van Pelt and fill them in." He makes no further comment.

Lisbon turns to the SOCO. "You can go home," she says. "Thank you for your assistance. I needn't say that this still needs to be kept quiet."

"No, ma'am."

Lisbon continues talking as the SOCO leaves. "Jane needs to get reacquainted with himself, or some drivel. Maybe that's understandable. I should have seen it coming."

"He’s always gotta be an enigma," says Cho. "It's his thing."

"You're right," Lisbon sighs. Cho takes his phone out and goes to make the call to Rigsby and Van Pelt.

Lisbon can see herself reflected in the glass of the windows. She's going to get Jane back.

***

The ceiling is embossed with wildflowers. Jane counts them with the seconds. Half an hour later Red John saunters in. There's a lightness to his step which Jane recognises immediately.

"I didn't mistake you, Patrick," says Red John warmly. "Your friends in the CBI have stopped looking for you."

Jane smiles.

"I'm pleased to hear it," he says. "It was the only way to ensure us time. I want to have the space to honor having a family again." He swings his legs around and places his feet on the floor as he sits up. The handcuffs clink against the bedhead. He slides toward the head of the bed.

Red John sits beside Jane tentatively. His movement is ludicrously young and almost shy, but his face is immobile. Jane feels brave.

"These handcuffs, John. They're cutting off my circulation. I was wondering-"

It's a mistake. Red John brings his face so close to Jane's that Jane can see the tiny veins in the whites of Red John's eyes.

"Do you think I am a dim-wit, Mister Jane?" Red John says. His breath is sweet and his tone mild, but there's no mistaking his anger. This is not the time to forget that Red John is a killer. Jane's best play is to stay alive to make another play.

Jane trusts Lisbon to save him, but he hopes she makes haste.

***

Jane's absence has never been more apparent than when the team is seated in Lisbon's living room.

"At least we know he's alive," says Van Pelt.

She echoes Lisbon, who has been thinking, "he's alive, he's alive, he's alive," for the half hour since the phone call.

"How do we know Jane's not telling the truth?" says Rigsby. "Sorry, boss."

"He said he was sincerely sorry. No way Jane would say that to me. He called me Teresa. He was annoyingly off hand but in a different way to his usual annoyingly off hand. It was just all wrong."

"Makes sense," says Rigsby, generously.

Lisbon goes on. "There was a message, caught up in all those words. He said he was reacquainting with someone. He said I wasn't family, I was second best." She pauses, thinking.

"So he's reacquainting with family," prompts Cho.

"He talked about drinking and driving. He was referencing my mother." Lisbon looks around the team. "What do we know about Jane's mother?"

Cho shrugs. "I didn't get that far."

"I can get his birth certificate from Public Health," says Van Pelt. "He was born in California?"

Cho nods.

"Right, get on it," says Lisbon. She's thinking, always, "stay alive, stay alive, stay alive."

***

Red John paces the room.

"This is our mother's house," says Jane to establish a link. "Tell me about her."

"She was imaginative. She was pretty. Like you are. She was brutal."

"Ah," says Jane.

***

"Jane's mom is a Vera Reid," says Van Pelt fifteen minutes later.

The sun is rising through Lisbon's windows. Van Pelt is on her laptop at the table. Everyone is bleary eyed.

"She changed her name back to Reid eighteen months after Jane was born," says Cho, looking over Van Pelt's shoulder.

"Cold," says Rigsby. "Leaving a kid behind like that."

"There's a brother," says Van Pelt. "Born 13 months after Jane. Named John."

Lisbon twists to look at Van Pelt. "John?"

"John Jane?" says Rigsby.

"John Reid," says Van Pelt. "He went with the mother."

"Where is the mother?" asks Lisbon swiftly.

"She sold the home she shared with John and purchased a residence in a Sonoma retirement community," says Van Pelt. "She died two months ago."

It all falls together impeccably in Lisbon’s brain. "That's where Red John has Jane," she says.

"Red John has multiple aliases," says Van Pelt. "Would he make the mistake of taking Jane to his mother's house?"

"This is about family. Jane is Red John's brother," says Lisbon. "John would take his brother there. Let's go."

Lisbon's finally doing something to save Jane and it sings in her veins.

***

xi the lions that they led you to

The sun rises over the hills behind them as the team races west to Sonoma County. There have been other times Lisbon has driven this fast and with this much focus. There have been other situations when a life has been at stake. But never before has her heart beaten an insistent tattoo of "please, please, please, please."

At this speed the drive to Sonoma County will take just over an hour. Lisbon made the call not to bring in Sonoma County Police. Of course, they would have been at the house already. She prays this is an hour they can afford; an hour Jane can afford.

She can see the taillights of Rigsby and Van Pelt's vehicle in front of them. Van Pelt's voice comes through the radio. "Boss, I've been looking into Christian Baxter."

"Who?"

"The SOCO we were testing to see if he's Red John's man."

"Chris," says Cho. "The guy at Jane's place with the magnifying goggles."

"Turns out he's the Attorney General's godson," says Van Pelt.

Lisbon doesn't have time to determine if this is meaningful, but the decision to keep all of this within the team is looking like it was the right one.

Thirty minutes later they pull to a skidding halt in a rest stop and swap drivers. It's important that they are all alert for whatever they're facing next.

***

Jane uses the time Red John is absent to mentally prepare himself. On Red John's return, Jane keeps his eyes soft while he notes every detail. Red John is wearing a burgundy smoking jacket. His hair is slicked back. Apparently theatrical dressing runs in the family alongside a penchant for manipulating people.

Red John scans the room. He picks up the urinal bottle he left for Jane with a look of distaste and walks out. Jane hears him empty the bottle in what must be an attached washroom.

"Keep your fluids up," Red John says, re-entering. He's holding a glass of water. "Dehydrated people are not as entertaining as you might think. They tend to hallucinate. Real fear is so much more interesting than imagined fear." He sits on the edge of the bed. Jane is starting to understand his energy. It's disquieting.

"Tell me about her," says Jane after a moment.

"Our mother?"

"Yes," says Jane.

It's as though Red John has been waiting a lifetime to tell Jane everything. Jane listens through an extensive litany of pettiness and abuse. He nods and murmurs sympathy. As he listens, he mirrors Red John's breathing.

"She could be kind, too," says Red John.

"That only makes it worse," says Jane as though he understands. Maybe he does understand.

Red John stands slowly. Then he kneels on the floor before Jane. Their faces are close and level. Jane doesn't blink. This face is the last image his wife and child ever saw.

"Imagine what you would have been, if our situations were reversed," says Red John.

For a flash, Jane does imagine. It sickens him. But he is focussed on the fact that the murderer is this close, breathing the same air as Jane breathes. Jane centers himself then brings his free arm down hard on the back of Red John's head. He lashes out with both legs, kicking Red John in the abdomen.

Red John lands on his back with a thud. For a moment he closes his eyes and Jane thinks maybe he has done something useful. But it is hopeless. It was always hopeless.

Red John sits up. "You forget yourself," he says, in a voice which is high and precise.

He walks to a cabinet across the room. Jane has already examined all the areas he can access while cuffed to the bed. The cabinet is too far away. Jane hasn't seen the electric prod Red John pulls out.

Red John advances. Jane's breathing surges unavoidably. Red John brings the prod to Jane's chest. Jane hates his weakness but can't help but try to twist away.

"Pretty, isn't it?" says Red John and squeezes the trigger.

Jolts ravage Jane. He is left struggling for breath.

"It was your mother's," Red John continues. "Mind your manners and remember why we are here unless you want me to find something new to play with."

Jane nods. Red John pulls out rope and lashes Jane's feet to the foot of the bed. Jane is splayed on the bed. With difficulty, he quiets his mind.

"Silly of me," Jane says. He tries to sound calm and apologetic but his voice shakes. "I am more than sorry, John. I snapped for a moment and forgot myself. It was a weakness. After all the things we have been through alone, I would hate to miss this time we have together."

Red John calmly packs away the prod. He then lies down on his back next to Jane. He takes Jane's free hand in his.

Jane holds his breath. He thinks of Lisbon for a fleeting instant and silently begs her to hurry. Tears prick his eyes and he is ashamed.

"It's all right, brother," Red John says. "I accept your apology." He lies still. He holds Jane's hand between them like a young child would. His breathing is steady.

***

The retirement community is pretty and well-manicured. The community website has a map along with illustrative house plans so the team knows exactly where Vera Reid's house lies. They park around the corner and step out of the cars.

Lisbon meets Rigsby's eyes and directs him and Van Pelt to the rear of the house. She and Cho head to the front door.

This is not the time to announce themselves. Cho picks the lock with an ease which Lisbon doesn't question.

The house is light and airy. There are closed circuit cameras in the hallway. They look like blank black eyes. Lisbon's skin crawls.

***

There is a buzz, a brief vibration which Jane feels through the mattress. Red John starts. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a pager. He looks at the screen for an instant. From the way he starts, Jane knows the cavalry has arrived.

"Lisbon!" Jane yells as he has a hundred times before. "Lisbon!"

At that, Red John pulls his hand from Jane's and turns in the bed.

"What have you done?" he says. He is quiet for a moment then his voice rises and cracks in a scream. "What have you done?" His face is twisted with rage. He leaps from the bed and toward the corner cabinet.

***

Lisbon and Cho run in the direction of the voices.

"In here," Lisbon says at a closed door. It's locked. She and Cho kick the door in as one, with a rhythm born of years working together.

Jane is there. He is tied to the bed. Her heart constricts.

***

Jane meets Lisbon's clear eyes across the room for a thousandth of a second.

Then Red John is bearing down on him. He has a spiked club and is swinging it toward Jane's head. Lisbon yells. Red John loses focus enough to miss Jane's skull. The spikes thud painfully into Jane's shoulder and neck.

Cho calls out, "Drop it!" in a cop voice.

Rigsby and Van Pelt plunge in, guns waving. The room is packed full of weaponry. Red John lifts his club. Everyone is frozen in place like a deadly diorama.

"Drop it," says Rigsby.

"Now," says Van Pelt.

Red John's drops his club to the carpeted floor. It lands with a dead thud. Jane takes a breath. He has never been more grateful to be part of a team.

Lisbon moves toward the bed. Her face hovers in the air above Jane.

"Okay?" she asks quickly.

He nods mutely, tries a weak smile.

She rests the back of her fingers against his forehead. Her eyes are bright.

Red John sags against the far wall and curls his head against his knees. He is shuddering. Between sobs he wails. Mostly it's incomprehensible but now and then he manages, "Brother. My brother."

Jane closes his eyes briefly. He can feel the wet warmth of blood on the side of his head and his shoulder.

"Call dispatch and get an ambulance," Lisbon says. Van Pelt steps out of the room.

Red John continues keening like a dying animal. After everything, the noise is almost unbearable.

Suddenly the keening stops. Red John shifts. His whole demeanor transforms. He looks directly at Lisbon. "I'll come for you, first." He speaks calmly and his face is a blank mask but his voice could cut flesh. "You will never be able to keep me in prison. My friends will have me out before you have time to even think about stopping them. And I'll come."

It would be a whole new kind of torment - Red John in court. There would be the nightmare of studying every lawyer, every guard, every court officer for signs that they had been turned. They would live with the knowledge that at any time Red John might saunter out onto the street and make his way to someone's front door.

Lisbon is still for a long moment.

"You may be right," she says, looking at Red John.

Then she hands her gun to Jane.

"Look away if you need to," she says to Rigsby and Cho. Neither does.

Jane lifts himself awkwardly on his side. He meets his brother's blue eyes. John smiles as Jane pulls the trigger.

***

Afterwards Lisbon takes her gun. She wipes it carefully. She says, for the sake of her team, "He came at Jane with the club. I shot him. You guys okay with that?"

Jane tries to say thank you, but it's not the kind of thing you thank people for. Lisbon shrugs it away, but she does it gently. She couldn't claim to understand what Jane has gone through.

She keeps her eyes on him until the paramedics arrive.

It's early afternoon. Jane is on the back steps of his mother's house. Lisbon sits beside him. Around them, there's a whirlwind of police and paramedics, lights and sounds and people. For a time they give Lisbon and Jane space.

"He asked me what I would have turned into, if I'd been the one our mother had taken with her," Jane says at length.

Lisbon nods. She thinks about the thousands of children who've been abused and manage not to kill anyone. She thinks about Jane's father, who is hardly an exemplary parent. She thinks about all the things Jane could have been and isn't, or isn't any more. She says, "You could never have been him."

It's a warm day. Jane tilts his head to the sun. He doesn't look at Lisbon as he reaches out to her. She takes his hand in hers, holds on.

There are a million things to say. For now they leave them unsaid.

xii it’s time that you won

The press has turned Lisbon into a hero again. Jane enjoys, probably more than he should, Lisbon's increasing exasperation with the situation. The spectacle of her dodging behind a dumpster to avoid a persistent reporter is something he would hate to have missed.

The news cycle is full of "Teresa Lisbon's fearless confrontation with a killer" and photographs captioned "Agent Lisbon and her team accept honors from the Governor". Jane watches Lisbon front yet another press conference. However exasperated she is, she appears relentlessly competent, unshakeable.

"It was a team undertaking," she says for the third time. "We are just glad Red John is history." She rarely mentions Jane. They're playing down his part in the story.

Jane wants to ask her if she feels she went too far. He has known for some time that, given the right circumstances, Lisbon is a moral pragmatist. She has demonstrated belief in the rule of law but her commitment to that rule has long had its limits. She covered up Bosco's primitive vigilante justice. She was willing to play with the rules to let Culpepper go and protect Jane and his quest.

From his position cuffed to a bed in his mother's house, Jane watched Lisbon's face across the room. He saw her recognise that Red John's death was the only way to escape his long and destructive shadow. He saw her acknowledge the actions she was willing to take. He doesn't know whether she knew this in herself. He doesn't know if it hurts her.

Sometimes Lisbon reads him too well. "I'm okay with it," she says in her office early one morning. "It was a clean shot." She's nodding to reassure herself.

Her phone rings, dragging her to another meeting. As she leaves she adds, "Also, Jane, there's no way in which I saved your life any more than you saved your own, any more than the team saved you and me. We're a team, we all saved each other."

He's been troubled by that too. It starts to feel like he'll always be behind in the life saving stakes. It makes him feel inadequate. He supposes what she says is true, in a way. But he was locked up by a serial killer once again, and she's the one his heart was begging for over and over.

It's embarrassing.

***

The Attorney General resigns in a cloud of misdirection that would make Jane proud. The CBI is confident that the AG's SOCO godson, at least, was a Red John mole. Of course, he is missing. The loose end irritates Lisbon more than she'd like.

Jane doesn't give the impression that he cares if the two men ever come to justice. But then, Red John is dead. And in shooting Red John, Jane killed his own brother. Lisbon figures she can give him a break. This is not Jane's war any more.

Another team has been given the responsibility for tracking down the missing mole.

Lisbon is wrapping up a one-on-one interview the media liaison insisted upon. The reporter is a nice guy, balding and radiating sincerity.

"With Red John out of the picture," the reporter asks, "Will the enigmatic Patrick Jane be leaving the CBI?"

She says, after a pause, "You'll have to ask him that."

She raises it with Jane that evening. They're heading to a reception for the CBI unit. It's a political necessity but no one is hurrying to get there.

"What do you think you'll do next?" she asks.

"Next?" he asks. They are in her office. He's sipping tea.

"Now that you're no longer tied up here, catching criminals," she says, though she knows he knew what she meant.

"I don't know, Lisbon." He grins over the rim of his cup. "I could spend a month at a spa in Desert Hot Springs having treatments."

"You'd get bored," she says. "You could do a coast to coast trike ride - camp all the way to the Atlantic."

"Too rustic. I could join Katy Perry's tour as a dancer."

"You could not." She laughs.

"I could go and see the northern lights, stay in an ice hotel in Alaska," he suggests.

She thinks of him under the stars and it almost hurts. She swallows hard but keeps her voice light. "Actually, that sounds amazing," she says.

He looks at her sharply. She's aware of the space between them - her desk, a chair, a few feet of her office.

"Not one of those is any match for you, love," he says into the sudden silence.

Rigsby knocks at the door. "Come in," she says automatically.

"Time to go," says Rigsby.

Lisbon can't breathe as she glances at Jane. She may not be able to tell when he's lying but she's always had a read on his rare truths.

"You coming?" says Rigsby to Jane.

"I think I might give this one a miss. Have fun."

***

He's tipped his hand, not only to Lisbon but also as it turns out, to himself. It's suddenly painfully clear that what he wants is just the right to be in any room with her, the right to be home with her, the right to be with her.

He can see no reason not to get what he wants.

He waits. He lets the team sort out loose ends; lets the media frenzy die down to a muted roar. Then he takes matters into his hands.

"We've got a body, boss," says Cho. "At Salt Point on the coast. The local sheriff wants us in."

"Who's the victim?" asks Lisbon.

"Not a lot of information yet," says Van Pelt, looking at the screen in front of her.

It happens as it always does. Lisbon drives Jane.

"We'll follow once we've got the kit," says Rigsby.

It's a two hour drive. They spend the first hour largely in silence. The road stretches ahead of them. Lisbon drives expertly. Jane contemplates the scenery – all golden hills and trees. He glances at Lisbon just as she looks away from him.

"So, we’re visiting a crime scene," he says. "Something new for us."

She is focussed on the road ahead. There's a furrow between her brows. "Uh-oh," thinks Jane.

"There's no body, is there, Jane?"

He feels all the air go out of him.

"Where are we going?" she asks after a pause.

"Salt Point. It's a beautiful outcrop into the Pacific," he says. He warms to his theme. "Imagine the ocean breaking against cliffs at our back door. And everything will be fine back at the office. It's all over save the paperwork. You and I can have a short holiday."

"Jane, I don't have time for a holiday, short or not," she says but still she doesn't turn the car around.

"Wait until you see the house, Lisbon. You're going to love it." He feels a bit giddy.

She looks at him then, and seems to come to a decision. "Okay," she says. "Okay. Let's do this."

***

xiii things we’re all too young to know

"So, the whole team knew you were kidnapping me?" asks Lisbon. She squints into the afternoon sun as she drives west.

"Rigsby and Cho were all for it," says Jane cheerfully.

"And Van Pelt?"

"Ah, I'll admit she was a little uncomfortable lying to you. And she didn't appreciate falsifying a murder. But with persuasion she felt the benefits outweighed her scruples."

Lisbon doesn't reply. She doesn't need to consider any 'benefits' the team might have discussed with Jane.

"Take the next exit," says Jane. After the turn, the road winds along the coast. Ten minutes later they pull into a driveway.

Jane leaps out of the car. He's up the stairs, jangling keys in hand before Lisbon opens her door. His excitement has been barely contained through the last few minutes of driving, so Lisbon figures she's lucky he waited until she stopped the car.

Outside, the air is salty and full of the roar of the ocean. Lisbon follows Jane up the stairs to the front door. The house is set into cliffs facing over the Pacific.

Jane holds the door open. As she steps past, he reaches a hand out to touch her. She doesn't meet his eyes as she skirts around it. Then she's inside.

"Oh," she says involuntarily as the room opens in front of her. It stretches past a stone fireplace to the ocean, spanning huge windows. She feels like they're suspended over the waves. It's predictably spectacular, a place only Jane would find. She can't help but smile.

She feels him close behind her. She turns toward him away from the view. She's keeping space between them. She is aware he has noticed.

"If I touch you-" she says. She hesitates, looks up to meet his eyes. They reflect the sky and the ocean behind her.

"If you touch me?" he prompts.

She speaks in a rush. "If I touch you I don't think I'll be able to stop."

He flashes the devastating smile he's used on her since he first started working with the CBI. "And that's a bad thing because?"

She closes her eyes to block him out for a moment. "Because I think there are things we need to discuss."

"Okay," he says. "Then let's discuss."

He pulls out a dining chair and sits. After a pause she sits beside him.

"What things?" he asks. "The way I see it, and I tend to be correct about most things, you're in love with me." She looks sideways at him. He continues quickly, "And heaven knows I'm in love with you. But I'm more than comfortable debating any other topic that comes to mind."

"We need to discuss our working relationship," she says. She sounds more official than she'd like, but she's trying to control her heartbeat. "I don't know exactly what you plan to do next, but if it involves staying with the CBI in any capacity then that work has to be a priority for us. So I don't want to do anything that might jeopardise that relationship."

"Ah. That's a pity, because I do." She looks at him. His eyes are dark and she feels his intent low in her spine. "There are a multitude of things I want to do that might jeopardise our professional relationship," he says.

She glares at him momentarily, and then laughs aloud. He beams. She thinks that maybe when he smiles like that she'd do anything he asked. In any case, she is fairly certain she doesn't want to discuss their working relationship or really anything further right now.

"When you smile at me like that, I worry I'll do anything you ask," she says. She shifts toward him.

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm.

This time she reaches for him. He doesn't move away.

***

The master bedroom is a combination of Californian redwood and glass. Best of all, to Jane's thinking, there is no spectre of a serial killer looming distractingly over them.

Jane has spent years in crowded rooms and hectic bullpens with Lisbon. Even alone, there's always been a nifty problem to solve or someone's life in jeopardy, frequently their own. There have been a hundred diversions. Now, for this moment, she's all he can see.

There's late afternoon sunlight in her eyes as she straddles his hips and looks down at him.

He runs his fingers down her clear skin, tracing her slim torso and wrapping his hands about her hips. She bends down to kiss him. He feels like he might come apart with the joy of her.

"I love you," he murmurs around her smile. He knows exactly what she means when she murmurs back unintelligibly.

***

Later they unpack the car. "You bought me a suitcase?" asks Lisbon as he hands her a small navy bag.

"I bought you the clothes inside it too," he says. "Grace advised that it would be creepy to rummage through your wardrobe. I was disappointed." He shrugs.

"Thank heaven for small mercies," says Lisbon.

"Always happy to oblige."

"You're a more considerate kidnapper than others I've dealt with," she says.

"Oh please, this is far from a kidnapping, Lisbon. You are taking too much pleasure in it."

She doesn't argue. She's clearly diverted by thinking about what clothing he has selected for her.

Fifteen minutes later she comes down the stairs in a skirt and a t-shirt. Jane is delighted she passed over the jeans, but refrains from mentioning it. Her hair is damp and curling from a shower. To his practised eye, she looks both ordinary and exquisite.

"It will cool down tonight," he says.

"I don't think I need to worry about that," she says with a glimmer of laughter as she eyes him.

"Touché," he says.

As the sun sets, they position themselves side by side on the deck. They are standing, ostensibly watching for the sleek charcoal backs of whales among the white caps.

"Gray whales travel north at this time of year," says Jane. "We may see a humpback too." He's half watching the ocean and half eyeing the bare expanse of Lisbon's legs stretching from her skirt to the wood at her bare feet.

"Good to know," Lisbon says. She leans against him. "More wine?" she asks after a moment. She pads into the kitchen on his nod.

He watches her walk away with all her customary economy of movement. There's nothing like the knowledge that she'll return. He has shrimp marinating on skewers in the fridge. It's all some kind of unexpected domestic bliss. He's intellectually aware this is largely holiday and ocean and sex talking, but his heart is amazed.

When she returns, she stands on her toes to kiss him, pressing his lower back against the railing.

***

The ocean's roar is more noticeable at night. It almost drowns the sound of Lisbon breathing beside him.

There are things he tries to avoid thinking about with her this close: not Angela, who loved him despite everything; not his bright-eyed Charlotte. They were here first. There's nothing left of them save dust and memories, and he suspects they would welcome Teresa Lisbon.

But in the dark there is a creeping whisper. The voice of his serial killer brother asks, "What would you be, without me?" The question was asked in a bright room in their dead mother's house, but Jane remembers it as though they were two small boys locked in the dark. And what would he be without Red John?

Because, before everything, Patrick Jane was a fake. Before everything he was someone Teresa Lisbon would be ashamed to know.

There's good reason not to think about it.

He tilts his head and presses his lips to Lisbon's hair. She stirs against him in sleep. He closes his eyes.

***

"You should know I’ve bought this house," Jane says over breakfast. They're at the kitchen bench watching the Pacific come to life.

Lisbon steadily continues chewing her granola. It's her favourite brand. There's Greek yoghurt too. Jane has obviously done some research about her breakfast habits. She hopes he didn't break into her apartment to do it.

"You bought this house," she says eventually.

"We haven't settled at this stage. But give me five weeks and I'll be the proud owner of all you survey."

She's been expecting him to leave the CBI, take a trip or leave the state or write a memoir or something. It still sits heavy in her stomach.

"Will you keep the chairs?" she asks. They are from the 70s and orange vinyl.

"Whatever your heart desires, my dear."

"I like them," she says after thought. There's a brief silence. "Does this mean you'll be living here?"

"Aha. The million dollar question."

She holds his gaze.

"I haven't spoken to my boss, yet," he says. She figures she's in trouble when he's referring to her as his boss. "I take it as read that you are not about to leave the CBI to inhabit this lonely piece of the California coastline with me?"

She smiles her no.

"Mmm. I thought as much. If it's the crime you'll miss we could be a cracking team of private investigators in our spare time. Sleuths in love, say. Someone from Agatha Christie or Dorothy Sayers. These little towns are rife with murder."

She doesn't need to answer him. He knows how enormously she values her role and her team.

"No then? No." He looks at her, then out at the ocean. "Look at this place, Lisbon."

"It's amazing," she says.

"Everything changed with Red John's death."

She takes a breath. "Yes."

"I've been imagining living here. Walking along that tiny stretch of beach, learning to rock fish. But also, you obviously can't do your job without me.

She rolls her eyes.

"So I was considering offering my services as a consultant on a casual basis – just when you need me. Which will clearly be constantly."

"We can’t solve a case without you," she says drily.

"That's what I thought. Also this place is what, two hours from Sacramento? Even less at your madcap CBI speeds. You could come here frequently. Any time. All the time."

"Okay," she says and she thinks, "This could work."

***

So it begins. She comes and goes, works long hours for weeks, then stays in his bed for days or walks with him until the stars light in the sky. He turns up on awkward cases without being asked; turns up in her apartment with salmon steaks and wine.

In public he tosses her outrageous compliments, and poetry, and promises of eternal devotion. She blushes. "Stop it," she says briefly. When they're not in the office she says, "Love you too." But in the dark against his skin she says all the things she doesn't in daylight.

"Do you believe in love?" he asks her one night on her couch.

"Of course I do," she says. She gestures at him, "How could I not believe in love?"

Her head's never been in the clouds. She doesn't dream of being the whole world to someone. But some days she arrives at the coast house, finds him walking on the sand. And when he catches sight of her, he smiles as though she is everything he ever hoped to see.

THE END