„Night, boss. Don't stay up too late, it's been a long day."

Grace's voice barely gets Lisbon's attention. It's only when her colleague's steps die away and she hears the faint opening and closing of the elevator that she looks up, realising that her neck hurts from hunching over her desk for the past two hours. It's dark now except for the bluish glow of the monitor and the light of a full moon bleeding through the window of her office. Sitting alone in the deserted building makes her feel oddly peaceful, and she stretches her limbs, sighing as some stiff joints crack.

A long day indeed, she thinks, and a very peculiar at that. Tricking the suspect into believing she is hallucinating has been one of Jane's weirder ideas (and that's saying something), but it worked. Their whole performance has been hilarious. It still makes her smile inwardly. After all the emotional turmoil she has gone through with him during the past months – his disappearing act, the lying, the relationship (even though it was fake) with Lorelei, the countless unanswered phone calls, her worrying sick about his wellbeing – it has taken this one case and their funny charade to make her forgive him. Again. What is it with Jane that makes her give in so easily?

If Lisbon is honest to herself, it was the whole belladonna tea ordeal and Jane's hallucination of his dead daughter that has affected her so much more than any words and apologies on his part could have. She has learned time and again not to trust his smooth words, his fake smiles or innocent body language. But being drugged and helpless rendered him unable to build up his usual walls. She saw him talking to his dead daughter, and he couldn't fake the look of longing and adoration on his face.

Lisbon sees the irony in all this: in talking to his imaginary daughter, he has expressed genuine emotions he always keeps so well hidden when dealing with real humans every day. In a way Lisbon is glad that she has seen him like this. She wants to believe that she is the only person Jane is honest to (at least now and then). The way she saw Jane today has rendered her all sorts of tender and sore inside. She cannot place the feeling, nor does she want to dwell on it right now. She feels very tired all of a sudden.

Let's call it a day, she thinks and slowly makes her way to the elevator. A sudden thought makes her turn around again. Jane hasn't left yet, as far as she knows. He usually says goodbye when he leaves, so maybe he is still somewhere. Most likely up in the attic. On a whim, Lisbon decides to check on him. She softly pads up the stairs and stops briefly in front of the door. She can't see any light shining from under the door, but she hears a faint shuffle. Her soft knocking doesn't get a response, so she opens the door and slowly enters the room. No lights are on, but the moonlight paints a silvery, slightly eerie glow on the dusty floorboard, the wooden shelves and the couch besides the window with a motionless Patrick Jane on it.

Jane looks up when he hears her entering the room, but doesn't acknowledge her presence. He keeps staring ahead, and even in the dim moonlight Lisbon can see that his eyes look somehow unfocused. She takes in his rumpled suit, slightly slumped frame oozing fatigue, hair a mess. Although she would never admit it: she likes it when he looks a bit ragged around the edges – to her it's preferable to the impeccably suited-up façade he presents everyone who doesn't bother looking behind it. Right now, his air of bewilderment makes her worry slightly. Before she can think what to make of the empty tea cup on the window sill (it is not unusual for him to drink tea up here, after all), Jane speaks up, startling her with his joyful voice.

„Charlotte. You've come back."

Oh no, she thinks. He is hallucinating again.

„Jane." She tries to keep her tone neutral, not showing the exasperation she is feeling right now.

„It's me. Lisbon. Your daughter isn't here. What do you think you're doing, drinking from that poisonous tea again?"

„I'm glad you've come to visit. I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

Lisbon grinds her teeth. So he is taking her for his dead daughter. Excellent. Sighing inwardly, she decides to play along, although she doesn't know whether this will solve anything.

„You know that you don't actually see me dad, right? I'm just in your head."

„Doesn't matter as long as you're talking to me."

„Do you know how weird that sounds?"

„Weird is my middle name. At least that's what my colleagues say when they think I don't notice."

„I'm sure they have many more names for you."

Lisbon is starting to have fun with their conversation. It adds up to the surreal quality of the whole day. But she must somehow bring him back to reality.

„Such as?" Jane cocks his head curiously.

„How would I know? I'm your hallucination, not theirs. Not as far as I know anyway."

„Oh but that would be fun. Go ahead and mess with Lisbon's head a bit."

„You do that already, don't you?" Her scolding tone seems to amuse him no end.

„And I know for a fact that she loves it."

That's when Lisbon realises he is pulling her leg. Again. Of course he wouldn't drink that awful tea twice, he just wants to play one of his silly games. She wants to scream at him, scold him for being so deceptive all the time, and what's in it for him anyway? She merely wanted to check on him and there he goes again lying to her and being so damn cocky. She wants to punch him. All tender feelings she might have had for him are currently forgotten.

Instead of screaming or punching, though, she decides to keep up her act for a little while longer and to turn the tables on him. By God, she wouldn't let that opportunity pass.

„I wouldn't be so sure. Usually people don't like it when you cheat on them all the time."

„Oh but Lisbon isn't usual. She's exceptional."

Now this is getting interesting, she thinks. Jane seems to use his fake hallucination to reveal sincere feelings. Or is that a double bluff? You never know with Jane. Still, she can't help the warm feeling spreading through her at his words.

„If she is so exceptional, why don't you tell her directly? I am sure she would appreciate it."

Lisbon smirks inwardly. Try to get out of that one.

She is unprepared for his answer.

„I would have told her long ago, but it would be a sign that I had moved on, Charlotte. From you, and from your mom. I didn't want that to happen. I am still not sure I want that."

She is sobered up immediately by his words. There is no right answer to that. And suddenly, she no longer feels the need to scold him. Behind this charade of his, she can easily detect his vulnerability. He is desperate to stay true to his dead wife, while struggling with the desire to allow himself some happiness again. Having to watch him like this touches all the tender spots inside her she didn't even know she possessed. She is sure he doesn't do it on purpose, but he makes her feel vulnerable too.

Just as quickly, Lisbon decides to drop her act. She approaches the couch and sits down next to him. He turns his head to look at her, and she is astonished that he hasn't put up any of his defenses. His usually ocean-blue, impenetrable eyes are nearly black and bottomless, devoid of all the sparkling mischief she knows so well. She takes it as a good sign and is encouraged to speak, finally. But he beats her to it.

„Lisbon" he says simply.

„Yes. But you knew that all along, didn't you."

He has the grace to look a bit crestfallen as he nods affirmation. He probably also knew that she saw through his bluff and still played along. All this bluffing makes her dizzy.

„Jane, I would never tell you that you have to move on. Least of all when pretending that I am your daughter."

„Charlotte herself gave me that advice, you know." He says it matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving her face.

„Oh." is all she can think of to say. That's somehow revealing, isn't it? After all, Charlotte is a creature of Jane's imagination, only saying what was somehow buried deep inside him in the first place.

She doesn't say any of this aloud, though. He probably is aware that acknowledging his conflicting feelings – even if it's in the shape of a fake hallucination – is a million steps ahead of his emotional state when he entered Lisbon's life all those years ago.

They stay silent for a while, Jane staring straight ahead, while Lisbon watches his profile. The tiny lines etched around his eyes are highlighted by the pale moonlight, giving him a pensive air. He seems so far away from her that she is startled when he is taking her hand in his.

„She is right." he says, minutes later, and it takes a few moments until Lisbon knows what he is referring to. There are a thousand things that she wants to say right now, all bubbling to the surface, but she stays silent. His sudden admission is as unexpected as that leaping origami frog all those years ago. Only this time the frog is made out of glass instead of paper. One careless remark could shatter that fragile creature.

So she says nothing and simply squeezes his hand. Enjoys the sensation of his hand in hers, his warm and alive and solid breathing presence beside her. Her twirling thoughts slowly come to rest.

When he looks at her the next time, she notices the familiar smirk on his face and cannot suppress a frown. Back to normal, eh?

„You honestly thought I would be drinking that dreadful tea twice, Lisbon?"

„I wouldn't put it past you." she replies.

„And have my stomach pumped, again? You know how much I hate hospitals."

„So tell me, why did you pull my leg? Oh, I forgot, you already told me: because I love it."

„So you admit it?"

„I never said – oh shut up Jane." She thumps him slightly in the ribs, and he looks offended, before quickly resuming his million-dollar smile.

„At least admit that you loved seeing me so helpless in the hospital. It appealed to your motherhen gene."

„No. It appealed to my 'I-appreciate-it-when-Jane-is-honest-for-once' gene."

„Meh. You were worried about me, I could see that."

„You must have been hallucinating." she replies smoothly.

„Touché." He grins broadly.

Back to their usual bickering, she thinks wryly. It is familiar territory, but still she feels somewhat bereft after having shared such an intimate moment with him.

Slowly, she gets up and starts to make for the door.

„It's late; I'm going home. Are you coming?"

„Is that an offer?"

She rolls her eyes.

„You wish. Are you going to the motel?"

„No, I'd rather stay here. It's cosy."

Although Lisbon wouldn't call the attic 'cosy', she can appreciate that it's much more of a home than the anonymous motel is. The office is where Jane spends time with people that have somehow over the years become his family. The thought makes her a bit sad. But at the same time she is glad that he sees her as family.

„Well, goodnight then." she says a bit awkwardly, and throwing a shy smile at him before she turns around and opens the door.

Just when Lisbon is about to leave the room, she hears his footsteps approaching from behind and then she is spun around and pulled into one of Jane's crazy hugs. It's an onslaught of sensations – scratchy stubble at her cheek, silky hair under her hands (how did she end up stroking his hair anyway?), distinct scent at the crook of his neck, soft breathing fluttering over her left ear, steady heartbeat against her breast. The warmth of his body pressed to hers.

She enjoys the unexpected intimacy. He is not simply hugging her, he pours himself into her, settles down deep inside and becomes a part of her that she will never be able to remove without serious damage. It's almost more than she can bear right now. But she holds on anyway. She will always bear more than she thinks herself capable of when it comes to Patrick Jane.

„Thank you, Teresa" he whispers in her ear, before disentangling himself from her.

„Anytime, Patrick." She smiles, leans in to give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and then turns to leave, softly closing the door behind her.