A/N: Here's my tag—a little later than usual, but I hope it comes at a time when you're needing a bit of help getting through yet another hiatus. Great episode, by the way, filled with some lovely humor and beautiful Jisbon moments.

This takes place right after the episode, and before Rigsby finds Ardilles.

Episode Tag: The Golden Hammer, 6x12

"How'd the presentation ceremony go?" Jane asked Lisbon from his couch. He had been waiting for what seemed to be hours, but was probably just a half of one.

"Dry," she said, then looked around to ensure no one heard.

Jane grinned. "Like only the FBI can do."

Lisbon sat at her desk, moving her mouse to wake up her computer, when the slight tapping sound of Jane's brown shoe on the linoleum drew her attention. He was hitting his thigh with what looked like a rolled-up magazine, fairly bursting at the seams with barely contained energy.

She sighed. "What's got you so excited?"

He turned over his watch and held up a finger. "Quittin' time in…five, four, three two—let's go, Lisbon," he said, jumping to his feet.

"Where?"

He moved to her desk, taking her jacket from off the back of her chair and resting it matron-style around her shoulders.

"Jane—"

"Come on! The place closes in like three hours. We're losing daylight."

"What place?"

He was pulling her to her feet now, opening her desk drawer to retrieve her purse, then looping the handles over her arm. As an afterthought, he grabbed the floppy brimmed hat she'd worn the day before when they'd been on their stakeout (it was still resting on the corner of her desk), and plopped it unceremoniously upon her head.

He suddenly frowned, then reached to straighten the brim. He smiled his satisfaction. "There. Now you're ready to go shopping."

"Shopping?" she repeated, baffled, but found herself being propelled toward the elevators, her questions going unanswered.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Austin Motor Homes Emporium was an RV enthusiast's dream. They had everything from Winnebagos to fifth-wheels to travel trailers, and all the associated accoutrement, new and used. Lisbon pulled her FBI-issue SUV into the lot and turned off the key, surveying the endless rows of recreational vehicles in awe.

"You're kidding me," she said, unable to take her eyes from the spectacle before them.

"Amazing, right?" Jane replied enthusiastically. "Let's go before someone else snaps up my baby." He was already half-way out of the car.

She rolled her eyes, but followed after him. With a smile, she reached in the backseat for her hat. There was something irresistible about Patrick Jane when he was excited about something.

"Why do you need me for this?" she asked as she caught up with him. "It's your home, not mine."

"Because I value your advice and good taste, of course."

"If that were true, you'd get a condo," she muttered. He ignored her sarcasm; he was in too good of a mood.

She barely kept up with his longer stride as they cruised past rows of travel vehicles in a multitude of incarnations. He stopped when they reached a row populated on each side by capsule shaped vehicles of shining silver aluminum.

"Aw, here we are."

At that moment, a salesman appeared as if by magic. Rotund, and rubicund of visage, the graying man smiled jovially beneath his white Stetson.

"Can I help you, folks?" he asked, in his friendliest Texas drawl.

"Yes," said Jane. "Patrick Jane. I called earlier about a certain Airstream…"

"Sure! Good to meet you, Patrick," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Harley T. Justus, sales manager here."

Lisbon couldn't hold back her smile at the man's name, like something out of a Tennessee Williams play.

"This is Teresa," Jane introduced politely. He caught Lisbon's eye and winked mischievously.

"Ma'am," said Harley. He actually tipped his cowboy hat. "Now, you were wantin' my LBV 70 H, right, Patrick? Just got her in last week. These things go like hotcakes, so if you want her, you'd better jump on her fast."

"Yep," said Jane, falling easily into the Texas cadence of his speech.

"Right this way." They passed several trailers, young and old, their doors open and welcoming a peak from prospective buyers.

"Airstreams are a national treasure, aren't they?" continued the sales manager. "Why, I remember going with my parents every summer, setting out on the open road, usually somewhere down Route 66. Nothing beats an Airstream for charm or comfort. Helluva way to see the country."

"My thoughts exactly," said Jane. "My dad and I actually lived in one, mainly in California though. We had a smaller model with no frills at all. I always envied friends of ours who owned the bigger LBV. Much roomier."

Lisbon strolled behind them, feeling rather like they'd landed on a strange planet with dozens of little alien space pods reflecting the blood-red sunset.

Harley T. Justus stopped before an older, though no less shiny model, it's front awning open to create a pleasant patio feeling, even there on the black pavement.

"This is it!" the sales manager announced. "Climb inside and have a look-see."

Jane shot Lisbon an expression of barely restrained glee, his eyes fairly twinkling. She smiled, shaking her head in amusement before following him up the three metal steps to the open front door. The interior was much more spacious than she'd imagined, though she'd been in one before—Jane's carney friends, Sam and Pete, owned one smaller than this one. There were two small bedrooms, a kitchenette, a living area with a fold-out couch, and a bathroom, complete with shower. The floor plan efficiently utilized the limited space, with plenty of clever storage and homey touches, like bright curtains at the windows.

"What do you think?" asked Jane.

They sat down at the dining table in the opposing booth seats.

"It's very nice," she said sincerely. "But you never really answered my question: why am I here? I mean, you already had decided on this particular model before we got here. I thought we were going shopping."

"You will likely be my only guest—well, maybe Cho—and I wanted to be sure you liked it before I bought it."

She was touched more than she could say. She blushed a little while dimpling at him shyly. "That's very sweet," she said sincerely.

"Look, this is me, trying to be considerate of your feelings," he said, remembering that painful conversation on the plane his first day on the job with the FBI.

She remembered it too. "I appreciate that." Their eyes met, and a moment of true understanding passed between them. "Well, in that case," she said finally, her expression brightening, "I think this one is lovely. I'd be curious to see the other models though."

"Really?"

"Sure. Why not? We have a bit of time, don't we?"

"You folks doing okay in here?" asked Harley T. Justus from the doorway.

"I think we'd like to look around a bit before we decide for sure on this one," said Jane.

"Aw, the Missus wants something a little more up-to-date, eh?"

Lisbon blushed anew. "Oh, we're not—"

"Yes," Jane interrupted with a wide smile, "She's a very modern girl. High maintenance some might even say. She'd probably be more comfortable in the Eddie Bauer model."

She promptly kicked him under the table, and he laughed softly at her narrowed, angry eyes, in ironic contrast to the lighthearted hat she still wore.

"Who wouldn't be?" concurred the salesman, likely seeing dollar signs before his eyes and not the drama that was unfolding right in front of him. On the way out of the trailer, Lisbon socked Jane in the arm for good measure.

"High maintenance, my ass," she muttered. "You're like the poster child for high maintenance, Mr. My Terms."

Jane merely grinned.

They spent the next half-hour exploring the different models on display, Lisbon becoming more and more impressed the more tricked out the trailer. When she saw the top of the line Serenity model, she actually lay down on the inviting queen-size bed, closing her eyes in delight.

"Now, this is nice…"

Jane left her to peak out of the trailer where Harley was standing.

"We'll take this one."

"What? Jane!" came Lisbon's shocked voice from the bedroom.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. Draw up the paperwork."

"You've made a great choice. I'm sure you two'll make lots of memories in this little beauty."

"I'm counting on it," Lisbon heard Jane say. He watched in satisfaction as the sales manager headed back toward the office building near the entrance to the lot.

"Jane," she said coming up behind him in the living area. "This is twice the cost of your first choice."

Jane turned to look at her and shrugged. "The FBI is footing the bill for this. Why not get the best?"

"Jane, the American taxpayers are footing the bill for this. Besides, this isn't the model you specified in your term demands. I doubt Abbot will approve it."

"Oh, he'll approve."

She didn't know why she had her doubts; Patrick Jane always seemed to get his way in the end.

Jane stepped down out of his new home, reaching up to take Lisbon's hand to help her down the three steps to the pavement.

"Thanks for the good advice," said Jane. "I think I'll be very happy here."

She shook her head at the irony. "Now, you take my advice?"

"Baby steps, my dear. Baby steps."

And he didn't let go of her hand until they caught up with Harley T.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two mornings later, Lisbon arrived at work to find quite the commotion brewing in the rear parking lot of the FBI field office. Jane's new Airstream trailer was being delivered, and he stood directing as the Austin Motor Homes Emporium four-wheel-drive pickup truck positioned his purchase as closely as possible to a water hose and an outdoor electrical outlet. He held up his hand to inform the driver to stop-it was right where Jane wanted it.

Others arriving at work had begun milling around at a safe distance, watching in awe as the truck driver got out and unhitched the trailer, had Jane sign for it, and drove out the way he had come, leaving behind one extremely happy camper.

Lisbon parked her SUV, the inside of the cab filling with her helpless laughter. This man must have cajones the size of bowling balls.

She got out and walked past the crowd to the trailer, where Jane was now attaching the water hose to the appropriate nozzle on its side.

"You're out of your ever-loving mind," she said, laughter still in her voice.

"Oh, good morning, Lisbon," he said brightly. "You're just in time. Would you like to come in for tea?"

A/N: A couple of things. For one, I actually work with a man named Harley Justus. I love that name, and promised him that if I ever write the Great American Novel, I'll name a character after him. Since that hasn't happened yet, here it is in a "Mentalist" fanfic, lol. Secondly, I am blatantly stealing MleeWrite's idea from our fic "My Blue Christmas" that has Jane parking his Airstream in the FBI parking lot. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if this is what happens on the show. And thirdly, I looked high and low on the internet, and couldn't find the model of Airstream Jane listed on his terms, so I just took the liberty of inventing one for him. Don't know if there ever was such a model—if so, I don't think they make them anymore. If anyone knows for sure, please let me know.

Thanks for reading this tag! I wish it wasn't so long until the next episode.