For Rose, an inspiration, and my privilege to have known you.

Jane's been watching the calendar for days. He knows a certain day is coming up, and he's not quite sure what to do about it. Valentine's Day has always been a funny little day for him in the past few years, or at least as long as he's known Teresa Lisbon. He has always been a romantic, despite his frequent denials of the fact, and the loss of opportunity to outpour romantic gestures, both little and large, on his wife, the practise of which he had once so much enjoyed bestowing on her was one of the greatest losses he'd felt with her death.

For after her death and that of their daughter's, alongside the feelings of anger and sorrow that had overtaken him, there was suddenly an awareness of just how lonely he was without them, and a desperate need to do something for someone else, the problem therein being in the fact he had no one else. Of course, he could have given time or money to charity, helped many people in need, but Jane was honest enough with himself to know that it was not a need to help that was contained in him, but a need to see the joy in others that he had put there, and he just wasn't sure if he could do that anymore, not now when he knew that while he had put smiles on the faces of his wife and daughter in their lives, he had surely too put their deaths in motion.

And then he had met one Teresa Lisbon, had crashed into her unsuspecting life, and had taken so, so much. And before he knew it, he was replacing his wife and daughter with her, at least in the aspect of his acts of kindness. She couldn't replace what he had lost: he wouldn't ask her to do that, wouldn't want to ask her to do that, and yet here he was, doing little things, doing extravagant things for her, and here she was, a bemused, smug, proud little beam on her face when again and again the realisation of the things he was doing for her would hit her in the heart and make it hammer a little against her chest.

Jane reflected on several Valentine's Days, back in the early days, in the glory days back in CBI. It had been funny back then, he had more of a nerve then to do things for Lisbon on Valentine's Day, simply because they both knew there was no deeper meaning in it, he was still recovering from the loss of his family, and while they were close, they weren't nearly as personally close as they would become, and his little gifts to her were clearly to be taken in a cheeky, almost teenage way, given with a wink and received with a roll of the eyes.

And over the years, they had become closer, became friends, and then one day there seemed to be a realisation on both sides that they were the closest friend the other hand, and vice versa. Jane was so thankful for Lisbon, and all she had done for him, and yet he was always wary of showing just how much she meant to him. She had seen him through the toughest of times, and he liked to think that he'd helped her along in times of need, too. Jane liked to think of the times that might have helped make up for the times he'd hurt her – the comfort he'd given back when she'd been framed for the McTeer murder, and everything that had went with Bosco's death and the fallout from that.

And then he'd gone undercover, leaving her without a word for six months. He'd missed Valentine's that year, and in his Vegas motel, alone save for the half-empty bottles of scotch and vodka, had consoled himself with the thought of that day the previous year, when he'd presented his unsuspecting Lisbon with a sprig of Cherry Blossom clipped in a slightly thieving way from outside City Hall, and a bar of dark chocolate. But this year, Lisbon's desk would remain empty of pleasing gifts, her sofa would remain empty of Jane, and he knew her office would remain mostly empty of her smiles.

So Jane had continued with his six month absence from Lisbon, the whole Lorelei thing had happened, and somehow in the mess of confusion and elation at seeing her again, he'd managed to tell her that he'd loved her, and afterwards, sitting in the desert sands, knowing the hurt he'd cause her when she found out exactly what had happened in Las Vegas, he'd ran his hand down her arm and taken her hand into hers, once again taking advantage of her goodness, taking advantage of her ignorance and innocence of the situation, making the most of the time before she'd find out the truth.

After those six months away from her, he'd wondered how long it would take to get back to where they'd been, but there'd been a happiness in their reunion despite the fallout from that set of expeditions in Nevada. But they had recovered, and despite all had become closer than ever. Valentine's Day was difficult that next year, because they both seemed to have a new awareness of each other, and their relationship to each other. The trifling, silly gifts of previous years wouldn't cut it anymore, and yet something more substantial would be too much, would say too much, would perhaps hold too much meaning.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Lisbon," Jane had said that year, on entering her office.

"Same to you, Jane," she had replied, a warm smile gracing her face.

"Join me for lunch, won't you?"

Lisbon had half-squinted one eye in an attempt at deciphering a deeper meaning in his words, for it was often they ate lunch together.

"Of course," she had smiled then, and Jane had smiled back, hoping she knew certain things despite them being left unsaid.

But something had cropped up that afternoon, some development in whatever case they had been dealing with taking precedence of their best laid plans. It had been after five when they'd arrived back at CBI, case all but closed and lunchtime long gone.

"Bit late for lunch now," Jane had said lightly, and Lisbon's face had fallen slightly, but she'd recovered quickly, Jane recalled now with a smile.

"Take a raincheck?" she'd said, her honest eyes still sad.

"Mmm, yeah.." Jane replied. "Or.."

"Or?" Lisbon's eyes lit up.

"Come on," Jane had urged, and they'd left then. They'd ended up in a little bistro, caught somewhere between lunch and dinner, but it had been quiet, especially for Valentine's Day, and, sat by the window, Jane had admired the light look in his partner's eyes that always came following a breakthrough in a particularly difficult case, and the way the sunlight shone through the edges of her hair, turning it dark auburn in the early Spring sunlight. He'd made her laugh, and as always, had enjoyed his reward – the joy in her eyes, the blush of her cheek. Jane had humoured himself with how the waiter most likely assumed them a couple, handing them the Valentine's special and wishing them both a happy holiday. Jane tried in vain to suppress the joy when Lisbon's denial of their relationship to the unsuspecting waiter did not arrive.

He'd driven her back to headquarters then, and her waiting car. "Happy Valentine's, Partner," he'd said, lightly enough that she could take it as nothing more than going through the paces.

"Right back at ya," she'd laughed, and held his gaze just a smidge too long. Then she'd flushed and bit back her smile, and in an instant, he was watching her retreating form from inside his car.

Hard to believe that had been two years ago, despite all that had happened in between. Letters had been sent from him to her in the time that had been passed, but he hadn't written anything significant to her for that certain day – how could he? "I hope you're getting spoiled on Valentine's Day," he could say; but the truth was, selfish as he knew it was, he didn't. He didn't want her being spoiled if he wasn't the one doing it. He couldn't deny it, cruel as he knew it was. But he'd always been the cruel one. It just wasn't fair on either of them, so he hadn't made mention of the day at all.

So here he was, two years later, and the first Valentine's Day in three that he'd be with her. He was so aware of all he had missed in the last two years without her, and he wondered would they ever make it up. Six months had been hell without her at his side, and had taken a long while to recover from, so who knew what the impact of two years would be. Lisbon seems determined to punish him, and even though he knows he would deserve it, he knows that despite all, that is not her goal. She wouldn't want to move on without him just to spite him, she'd never be that cruel, but he knows this is even worse for him – it means she genuinely is trying to leave him behind. It's infuriating to him – the situation is infuriating. Two years ago, they'd been so close- so close back then, so close to something, and for two years later to have only moved backwards, and significantly backwards at that, is breaking his heart.

The day in question has arrived, and Jane is still unsure as to what exactly he wants to do for her – if she'd even want him to do anything. He decides to play it by ear, and play off Lisbon's mood – more than anything, he doesn't want to alienate her from him any further. They've a lot to make up for, but at the end of the day, he knows she's still his Lisbon, the same old Lisbon that has seen him through for the last decade or more.

Lisbon is nowhere to be found, so Jane passes the time with Cho, and learns that Lisbon is away somewhere with Fischer. Jane asks if Lisbon or Cho have received any Valentines for the day that's in it, and Cho looks at him pointedly.

"This is the FBI, Jane."

Jane looks at him and nods. Back in the CBI, Valentine's Day was a chance for gazes to be shared, messages to be passed, and a general feeling of optimism hung around the place. This was the FBI, however, where the people were mainly robot-like beings set only on furthering their careers and impressing the right people. Jane felt a pang for the previous life of the CBI.

Abbott is breathing down Jane's neck today in the absence of both Lisbon and Fischer, and Cho and he are sent out investigating the latest important crimes of Texas. It is getting on late in the afternoon, and Jane is still with Cho, driving back to HQ, and has still not seen Lisbon. He misses her. He takes out his phone to text her. Miss you today, he writes, and he can feel Cho's eyes on him.

"What?" He asks.

Cho looks at him, ready to say something, and then-

"Nothing," Cho states, and turns his eyes back to the road.

Lisbon doesn't text back, but she's sitting alone at her desk when they return, Fischer nowhere to be found. Jane strolls over to her desk, smiling at her. She smiles back.

"Boss, I-" Cho is saying, coming in behind Jane, but he stops. He looks at them both pointedly, and turning on his heel, leaves them alone.

Jane suppresses a smile. Cho's a good friend. He watches Lisbon stifle a laugh, and she looks up at Jane innocently.

"What was that about, I wonder?"

Jane shrugs. He opens his mouth, unsure of how exactly to go about this.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Jane," Lisbon says, and he can't stop the grin. It's just like her. All his planning on how he'll give her his greeting, and she messes the whole thing up beautifully.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Jane beams at her, and she looks down, avoiding his contact.

She stands up. "That's me done for the day anyway," she says, and reaches behind her for her coat. "Unless.."

"Yes?" Jane says, unable to resist it.

Her gaze falters. She wasn't expecting that. Baby steps, Jane reminds himself. They haven't been here all that long, and he is painfully aware of Lisbon's thoughts of herself as not entirely valued here. She thinks she's here solely as Jane's minder, thinks the other agents don't appreciate her, see her as Jane's baggage, and she doesn't wish to reinforce what she thinks they believe. She knows what a fine agent she is, but she doesn't know that the other FBI agents think this too, and more.

Jane is unwilling to push her, so he recovers from his bold move.

"Unless," he says, and he holds his hand out to her. "Shall we?" he asks, and he knows she is aware he's talking about much more than simply her hand.

She takes his offered hand and looks firmly at their joined hands.

After all this time.

She looks back up at him.

"Yes."