Note 1 : Written for the january challenge on Paint it red, promt, letters.

Note 2: blame the complete lack of use of this fic of Tromana. I told her I was reading her fic, and that reading it, and a sentence my brother Drew told me made me remember something about the kind of alphabet I was thought when I was six( over... well, well over 20 years ago, at this point) and what my brother learn, less than a decade later.. You'll understand when you'll get to the point...

Jane had just returned from his forced medical leave when Lisbon dragged him into Professor Lee's office at one of the most prominent high school in Sacramento. For once, he decided to take pity on her, and didn't wait for her to beg for his help, or tell him how grateful she was that he was back. He knew she did, for more reasons, like he knew that, in any normal circumstances, she would have been able to wrap things up on her own. It was just her misfortune that the late professor Lee had been part of a prominent "league" that saw as members the likes of the Governor, who were pressuring her into solving the case and yet didn't want to say a sole word about the man.

Jane looked around like only he could do, sniffing every surface, and when arrived at the bookshelves, like he often did, he thought to screw forensic, and started to skim over the surface of the book about Italian Literature and the philology. He eyed in particular a collection of Italian dictionaries, from the same publisher, all the same thing but different editions.

Lisbon was suddenly at his side, looking at the white-colored covers at crossed arms. "Forensic already checked. we thought they were fake, or there was something else inside the books, as they are all the same only in different editions, but it's all clear."

"Oh, Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon... trust me, they are not the same thing..." he told her sweetly, but like he was her father and he was lecturing her in that particular way only fathers can.

"Why, You read all of them?" she asked snorting. and in answer, he tsk-tsked her.

"Teresa, Teresa, Teresa...all these dictionaries, are the same thing, and yet, they are different. The Italian language is very flexible and open. Every year, there are over 1500 new words on their dictionaries. And imagine that..." he continued, all happy, satisfied and smug. "less than 30 years ago, kids in primary school were thought that their alphabet was composed of 21 letters, as in the passage from Latin to Tuscany to Italian the lost almost completely words starting with J,K, W,X,Y. Look here!"

he took an old dictionary from the shelf, one from the beginning of the eighties, and showed her the pages for the aforementioned letters, that were occupying less than half a page each.

"Nowadays, children are thought that the alphabet is made from 26 letters, because certain aspects of the English language has become common in everyday life, different from the French or Spanish language, that prefers to create their own words instead of loaning them from English... you'll have AIDS , computer and notebook in Italian, but you'll never have them in in any other language. Now that I think about it, it's quite funny..."

"What, that French and Spanish have their own word for computer?" She replied, trying to see where that conversation was leading. And it could help them in solving the case.

"No, no, I was thinking about the evolution of the Italian language. you see, many words have been migrated from English through the economic and political establishment, which is kind of funny, as it is supposed that youngsters should be the most fluent in the language. BUT it's common knowledge that the average age of the last few prime ministers is around 70 years old, so you'll admit... it is funny."

She looked at him like she wanted try to kill him, and then she pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a big breath. "Jane... tell me you did this for a good reason. tell me that listening to you explaining me why the guy had over 20 Italian dictionaries is going to help solving the case." Even if she doubted it was going to of any help. Jane's mind had the incredible capacity of being filled with all kind of useless data, but once something was important, or he was supposed to actually remember it… nothing, nada, nicht, rien, niente.

"Well, Lisbon, it doesn't, actually, but you'll admit it, you liked the lesson..." he told her, getting closer and closer. She had a vague idea that he was trying to get something out of her and make her blush, trying to make her admit that she had been playing some kind of dirty "hot of teacher" scenario in that brain of hers.

But… it didn't mean that she couldn't play along.

She got closer to him, trying her best to look seductive and enchanted by his charm and look and his massive knowledge, and skimmed the back of the dictionaries with a finger, never breaking contact with Jane and biting her lips. They were millimeters apart, and she could see him gulping and falling victim to a panic attack, when suddenly, when it looked like he had surrounded and was almost begging for her to just kiss him already….

"Ouch!"

She grinned and went back to talk with the secretary, and she tried her best to not die of laughter, seeing Jane crying out and massaging his toes, "mysteriously " hit by one of the aforementioned books.

"You know, Jane, you are right. All these dictionaries were kind of useful…"