Patrick Jane had been standing at the attic window too long now, unfocused, staring over the rooftop towards the horizon. His occasional groaning seemed unconscious, as did the fretful workings of his jaw and mouth. Lisbon joined him there. She stood near, but did not touch or speak. Lisbon knew he would draw away from any such outreach.
She knew the feeling. Worry and pain, sadness, would make her retreat as well, her thoughts tumbling around them in a tornado of self-protection. It was like being in shock and trying to figure out what had just happened. Any touch, any word that interrupted the vortex was painful, frightening. As if she would fly apart and all reason follow the pieces into oblivion.
At first Teresa Lisbon watched Jane for signs of grief or shock on seeing Lorelei again, even if it was in the video. He gave no sign that he cared a fig. Perhaps he had meant it when he'd said, "She had it coming," at her death scene, so cold. No, it was the message Lorelei brought that was consuming him. Red John had known before Jane did which seven suspects would make his final list. Jane was trying to process how it was possible. Obviously, no explanation was surfacing.
Lost in her own thoughts, Lisbon hadn't noticed that Jane's attention was now quietly turned on her.
"I need to sit down, Lisbon." He was asking permission to sit in the only chair.
"Sure, Jane, sure." She stepped quietly out of his path.
Exhaustion showed in the line of Jane's shoulders and the scuffle of his footsteps. He sank into the chair, his head bowed as if looking at his knees. "I have to sleep."
"Not in the chair, Jane. Let me drive you home. Or you can crash on my couch for tonight. You're exhausted. It's no trouble." Suddenly, Lisbon realized she might have missed the point. "Oh. You need me to leave. Okay." Shifting where she stood, Lisbon seemed unable to walk away. "I'm worried, Jane. Will you be okay?"
Jane raised his head, caught Lisbon's eye, smiled and then launched into an extended stretch of the long muscles in his body like a big cat. His stretching noises exhaled into a loud moan and then a yawn. "I'll be okay, Lisbon. I just can't think anymore until tomorrow." He saw the real concern in Lisbon's gaze and reached his hand to her. He knew she was as exhausted as he was. Yet her concern was for him.
When Lisbon came over to him, Jane caught her arm gently below the elbow, as he had done once before in exhaustion. Letting his hand slide along her forearm, Jane was not surprised to feel her tremble, and her pulse rate gallop, before settling with her hand in an easy squeeze. Lisbon returned the squeeze, looked down and away, blushing in the dusky light.
Jane tugged softly on her hand, his gesture meekly asking her to look at him, which Lisbon did. He caught her other hand and pulled her gently until they were knee to knee. Jane parted his knees and leaned forward, looking into Lisbon's eyes. When he released her hands it was to rest his lightly on the sides of her hips. Lisbon shivered. Her breath seemed to hover in her throat while her heart pounded through her entire body.
"Shhhhh, shhhhhh." Jane's gentling hush was barely audible. His touch was a light caress on the sides of her hips and thighs, gentle, taming something wild in her. His grasp on her hips was calming, his tug on them a whispered invitation.
Lisbon bent down to him and Jane kissed her tenderly on each cheek, then on the lips. He did not taste her and Lisbon made no move beyond what he had given.
Jane released her. "I'm going to sleep here tonight. We'll talk more tomorrow."
"All right, Patrick." Lisbon stopped when she got to the door and, turning her head, called a soft, "Good night."
"Good night, Teresa."