A/N: Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta wimmer511 who I dearly hope isn't getting any migraines from correcting, lol. And check out her fics 'In the Details' and 'Post Red' if you haven't already! They're are both amazing!

Also a big thank you to everybody who has followed/favorited this story, and to the ones who took the time to leave a review, they're are greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Still don't own 'The Mentalist', to say it with Abbott: "It's a shame. A real shame."

*Chapter 2*: In Dreams...

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"Be careful what you water your dreams with. Water them with worry and fear and you will produce weeds that choke the life from your dream." ―Laozi

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Back at the Office Cho was deeply emerged in checking up on things about their two victims, alongside Wylie; the younger agent occasionally looking up at Cho with adoration, to which Cho seemed utterly oblivious. But who really knew what Cho was thinking. He'd been the only one back at the CBI to be, at least, somewhat opaque to Jane's penetrating gaze.

Lisbon smiled, watching the two of them out of the corner of her eyes. Being the boss back then didn't mean she had missed the brotherly relationship Cho and Rigsby had built throughout the years. She had been surprised to hear later, from Grace, that Cho wasn't in contact with them either. It had made her sad on more than one occasion. Somewhere deep inside she'd hoped all of them would stay in contact, and she never understood why Cho had just disappeared out of their lives. It still stung at times.

She'd been all the more grateful for the visits from Grace and Wayne, but every time they'd left they had also left a void. It wasn't surprising, when she thought about it, that it was especially after their visits she would take out Jane's letters, snuggle into her couch and re-read them. They'd been comforting in the wake of facing another lonely night, another lonely day ahead. While Wayne and Grace had each other, she had had no one. That had been a rather terrifying realization.

Statistically speaking she had spent half of her life working, and now had to face that, except for a nicely filled bank account, there was nothing else to show for it. To show to someone. When she told Jane she wanted to be remembered, years ago, she had meant it, but it hadn't occurred to her that there was no one in her life to do that. Yes, she might be remembered as a good cop, but there were so many of them, why would she stand out? Especially after the rather messy end of the CBI. They all had to start from scratch again. And now here she was in her early forties—alone. The dream she once had, of a family of her own, most likely gone. Of course she was fit and athletic, healthier at her age than many younger women were, so the chances for a child weren't totally out of the realm of possibilities—and there was also still the option of adoption. But hell, she'd just recently started dating again.

Thinking about a baby suddenly made her heart clench with bitterness, her hand unconsciously dropping to her stomach. I'd be a terrible mother anyway, she thought, realizing now that she had scribbled down on the desk pad. The name Sam was to spot. Biting the inside of her cheeks, hard, she furiously scratched through her doodling.

Thoughts returning to her loneliness, she mused, it was not all too wonderous it had been right after having this self-revelation that she went out on her first date since forever; with Agent Kane from organized crimes. She even told Jane about it, although more out of necessity. He was talking about painting Austin red that night, and conversationally asked her what she was planning on doing. When she told him Kane had asked her out he'd acted almost shocked. Tsk, as if she couldn't have a date. Jane's behavior then had been the same as it was now with Marcus. She had been disappointed that instead of being happy for her, he chose to insult Kane. What was it he'd said, oh yeah: "Kane? Two words: Tassled loafers." So what, Jane didn't like his choice of shoes, pretty bold coming from a man who'd been wearing the same brown shoes since...well, since they'd met.

If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was jealous, but she did know better. He was just irritated that she had a date. Fair enough, he never really knew her to date—except for Jeff and that was something she'd rather forget. But it had been just as irritating that he wouldn't let it go afterwards. He brought it up again later, stopped though when she refused to rise to the bait and just ignored whatever he was saying. That had been one odd day.

To make a long story short: the date was a disaster with a capital D. All the while she couldn't help but think about the damned loafers. Then Kane kept coming up with Shakespeare references to every single course they were served, and constantly brushed his hand through his brown curls when he got nervous, especially when he started talking about his ex-wife, who had left him with their five-year-old daughter, twelve years ago. But the final nail in the coffin to a possible second date had been, however, when Kane ordered tea of all things. Frankly, the whole evening had freaked her out. Good thing Marcus was just as much of a caffeine addict as she was.

Tearing her thoughts back to present day Lisbon cast one last glance at Cho and Wylie; Cho was grinning about something Wylie said, if the slight tuck on the side of his mouth was anything to go by. She hoped that despite the cold atmosphere within these walls, their new team could become just as much of a family as her old one, and, if she was inordinately lucky, she might even live to see it.

Sighing, Lisbon set upon going through some of the interviews they'd gathered. She had taken two aspirins in the car and the pounding in her head had blessedly stopped a little. About to open one of her e-mails, Lisbon was interrupted by her cellphone demanding her attention. She picked up without looking.

"Lisbon."

No answer. She waited for the caller to respond; but still, nothing.

"Hello? Who's there?" She frowned and looked at the caller ID: Unknown.

Pressing it back to her ear she listened harder, trying to perceive a noise, but there was no sound except a slight rustling in the line.

And then the caller hung up, and the line went dead.

Staring at the phone she glanced up to see if someone had witnessed the call, or lack of, but luckily everyone seemed busy. She swallowed hard and got back to her documents, casting her phone a pensive look. Even with no ID she knew, felt, who it was, and it made her heart pick up speed again. Breath, Teresa, breathe. In and out, in and out. Lisbon calmed herself down and wondered briefly if Wylie could trace the call back, despite its brevity. And then what?

No, this couldn't be helped. Everyone was better off not knowing. She had no one but herself to blame for the predicament she found herself in. Why should anyone else pay for this?

Then her eyes, popping up to oversee the bullpen, spotted Marcus walking through the corridor—heading for her desk. Apparently she wouldn't get a brake from anyone today.

"Hey Teresa," he smiled brightly. "I thought you might wanna grab something to eat. I was on my way out when I heard you guys came back from the scene," he said tucking his hands in his pant's pockets.

"Um, actually I'm not very hungry...headache," she explained, patting her head.

"And I thought that excuse was exclusive to another activity entirely," Marcus replied good-naturedly.

Lisbon chuckled and leaned back in her chair. "No excuse, unfortunately."

"You want a massage? My granny always used to say I have magical hands," he wiggled his fingers in front of her for emphasis.

"Maybe later. I don't think Abbott would be happy to see physical contact of any kind at work," Lisbon told him, glancing around to see if her boss was anywhere near. "I still feel like I need to prove myself, and make it clear that I'm more than some kind of parole officer for Jane. I'd rather keep everything strictly business here. You understand, right?" She eyed him quizzically. She knew what was said around the water cooler, that some of his colleagues had even asked Marcus what it was like to compete with someone like Jane. Hah, they couldn't be further from the truth.

"Sure," he answered curtly, making it clear he didn't understand at all. "You really don't want to have lunch? Could help with the headaches."

"No, really, but thanks. I've got to see through some things until Jane comes back from seeing the victim's girlfriend. He's always full of ideas, his brain absorbs every tidbit, and I better make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble with some outlandish idea he might have." Absent-mindedly she smiled fondly at remembering some of his most outrageous schemes he had come up with over time.

"Well, he's a grown man, I'm sure he can survive a few minutes without you," Marcus replied, trying hard to keep the edge out of his voice, that always came when the topic of Jane rose up. Talking about her consultant on their first date, and on every date after that, probably hadn't helped. But ten years of her life did feature Jane in a very dominant way, so unless she skipped a good percentage of her life, what was she supposed to talk about?

"You have no idea. Let him out of your sight for a second, and he could cause a national scandal. Trust me, I know him. I've worked with him for ten years after all!"

"A long time, indeed. The two of you must be like siblings," Marcus said nonchalantly, but she saw the gleam in his eyes, the same one Jane had when he was gauging someone's reaction.

"Well, I have three brothers and they're all brunette...so unless Jane's a brother from another mother..." Lisbon tried to joke, but going by Marcus' facial expression it fell flat.

"I guess." Was all he replied, to her surprise he leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"You think you're up for a date some time this week?"

Lisbon shifted her eyes back to her monitor, as if she'd find the manual 'How To Answer This Question Correctly' there.

"I-I...I'm not sure, we just got a new case...," she started and shrugged lightly. The tongue slowly wetting Marcus' lower lip told her it was the wrong answer.

"Riiight...why don't you just give me a call when you have time? The Houston game still stands though?" He asked and forced a soft smile back on his face.

"Of course."

He then began to rock back and forth on his heels in uncertainty. Every time Jane does that it means..., she started to think, but stopped mid-thought. Lisbon wanted to bang her head against her desk. She had enough problems to last her for a lifetime, which could very well be shorter than she'd ever anticipated. She didn't need this decade old fight with herself now crawling back up too.

Looking down at her timidly, Lisbon wondered if Marcus was pondering what else to say, he went with 'goodbye', turned around and left the bullpen.

She was rather cutting their time spend together lately. Before New York, they'd been called to Colorado and she had only been home for two days, which had consisted of getting the necessary paper work done. When Marcus had asked her out on her first day back, she told him she needed some alone time after hanging around with Jane and the team for a whole week. Now she was rebuffing him again; lunch wouldn't have been so bad, or time consuming. This seemed all to be shaping up to her trying to pull away before it even started. She was a disaster at relationships, she knew. Greg had been her last and first real one, and she had been twenty back then. Sometimes she felt as if there were two people inside of her, constantly battling each other. One wanted family and children, and the other was scared of any kind of commitment.

Marcus was perfect. In every way. And he could very well be her last chance to create something fundamental. Hadn't she just yesterday contemplated how great Marcus was. Many of the female employees would throw themselves at him, quite literally; she'd witnessed it two weeks ago when Kelly from accounting had "slipped" and landed right into his helpful arms. Lisbon had been amused by the scene, wondering what Jane would have said and done.

Ahrgh...there it was again. What was wrong with her. Couldn't she just once think about Marcus without Jane barging in like her mind belonged to him. This seemed to be her problem anyway, every man she met had to go through a mental comparison with Jane. Which, in and of itself, was absurd. For one, Jane had never been her boyfriend and two, he wasn't exactly the most flawless person on God's earth. Really, she thought, on a checklist list Marcus would pass with flying colors, Jane...meh. Terrific, now I'm even thinking like him, damn him, damn New York, and damn storage. She prayed she would never again be stuck with him in a storage or closet or whatever.

Back in Washington she had hoped that figuring out her feelings for Jane were merely of the friendship kind would finally allow her to move on in her personal relationships as well. But now, Lisbon had the uneasy feeling her heart was, metaphorically speaking, scoffing at her brain.

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Meanwhile Jane and Fischer had finished their interview with Jason Reilly's girlfriend, who had nothing good to say about her boyfriend's 'surrogate father,' as she'd put it. Apparently Townsend had warned her to back off of Jason or she'd regret it. Jane was convinced though that Caroline was innocent. She'd also told them that Townsend and Reilly had met when Jonathan had been looking for his apartment five years ago, when he moved from Houston to Austin. They had become friends over their mutual love of ships.

Outside of the building Fischer caught up with Jane. "That's it? What if she had something to do with the murder, she had motive to kill Townsend...a-and she was nervous."

"Nah, like I said she's a tough cookie, and she had no reason to kill Jason, she loved him. And if she were to kill someone, she'd be more the do-it-yourself type."

"How reassuring," Fischer snorted, then sighed. "Let's get back to the office, maybe the other's have found something more about Townsend and Reilly."

"Mmh...did you know that Houston is the sixth largest harbor in the World? And ranks first in the United States in international waterborne tonnage handled and second in total cargo tonnage handled?"

"Uh, no, why? You think Townsend's job has something to do with his death?"

"Huh? Um, could be. But no, I was just wondering if you knew."

Fischer stopped in her tracks, glaring at him for what she felt was the hundredth time today. Honestly she had no idea how Lisbon wasn't a member of the psych ward yet. Kim was sure it would take only a few months and she'd happily commit herself. At the moment her greatest fear though was that her eyes would get stuck upwards if she rolled them one time too often.

Shaking her head in consternation Fischer hopped in on the drivers side. But before starting the engine she remembered to ask him something that was on her mind. "Is everything all right with Lisbon?"

Jane frowned at her. "Why would you be asking?"

"Well, you know, you and her are...close. And she seemed off today. I just thought, uh...forget it."

"No, no. It's all right. She's just having a bad day. She'll be fine. Don't fret, I'm sure she's busying like a bee with the interview reports."

"I wasn't asking because I think she might not be up for the job. I'm just...worried. She's one of my agents, I should know if something's wrong," Fischer answered irritated, turning the key in the ignition.

"Aww, Kim has made a friend," Jane smiled at her, before adding, "Probably better than talking to a shrink, eh?"

Jane didn't wait for a response, snuggling into his seat he closed his eyes. He had some thinking to do after all.

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As soon as Fischer and Jane arrived back at the Austin office, Abbott called the team in for a debriefing about the current situation. Fischer and Cho sat opposite of Jane and Lisbon, Abbott took his place at the bottom end of the conference table, putting his glasses on.

Fischer started with telling them what they've learned at Hawthorne's, while Cho informed the team that Mr. Townsend was super rich and owner of a freight ship company called "JT Maritime" in Houston, which also ships cargo for the US Government. Jason Reilly was a realtor and both men had the cleanest of rap sheets. Together the team went through the witness reports again, coming up empty here as well.

"We also couldn't find any suspicious activity on their bank accounts, nor the company's. They're two ordinary Americans—if you disregard Townsend being a wealthy company owner," Cho finished in his usual monotone voice.

"So, right now, except for the girlfriend Jane excluded, we have absolutely no suspect?" Fischer asked frustrated, throwing the papers in her hands down on the table.

Cho turned a page in his file. "Well, there is a man going by the name of Kieran Tierney. I talked to Townsend's chief executive, Steven Cornish, who is pretty much the boss now since Townsend decided to retire. And Cornish told us that Tierney had paid their company a few visits recently. After the first one, which Townsend had attended, he was, according to Cornish, on edge. Immediately afterwards Townsend gave Cornish full rein about the business. Mr. Cornish said he was stunned at this uncommon behavior of his boss, but didn't inquire further."

"And who is this Tierney guy?" Lisbon asked.

"This is where it becomes interesting. A man with that name doesn't exist. Well there's one registered in Maine, but he's eighty-seven, I doubt that's our guy. Cornish said Tierney's young, not older than thirty-three, has short blond hair and a scar on his right cheek. And the guy spoke with an accent, but Cornish couldn't label it."

"No security footage?" Fischer frowned.

"There is, but Tierney, or whatever his real name is, avoided looking at them. Me and Agent Wylie went through the footage and it seemed to me like he knew exactly where the camera's were hidden. All you see is the back of his head and part of the side of his face where the scar is, but it's not enough to find a possible match in the Facial Recognition System."

Jane stared at the tabletop, elbows on the armchair and hands folded, tapping his index fingers against his lower lip in thought.

"Could be a conspiracy," he mused, which earned him incredulous looks from everyone at the table. "What? Townsend and Reilly were killed by an assassin, who usually hires them? Exactly, rich people or governments. And his company conveys 'good' for the United States; let me guess Cho, when you asked Cornish, he told you he couldn't possibly tell you what they ship for the US." Cho didn't even bother to shake his head. "And then we have the mysterious non-existent Tierney, materializing out of nowhere, creeping Townsend out and vanishing just as he has appeared. Come on," Jane said and rubbed his hands gleefully. "When have I ever been wrong?"

Abbott gave him a lopsided grin. "Before we indulge in Jane's spygame, any citizens that may hold a grudge against both or one of them?"

"There aren't any, except for the usual, but those people don't have the means to hire a hitman with the skills of our guy," Fischer said.

"Mmh, and we are certain our killer was a professional?"

"Yes, I talked to the ME and he said the killshots were so accurate, he's never seen anything like this before. Not to forget our killer stopped Reilly before he even had the chance to attack him, though between the door and where Reilly's body lay wasn't more than three foot gap. He had no qualms about killing them in Townsend's apartment, though all of the neighbours were at home. That takes nerves, this guy is experienced," Cho replied.

"Ok, so we have an assassin on the run, who by now probably is out and about, and the person behind remains a mystery as long as we don't find him. Brilliant."

Jane raised his hand in apparent need of attention. "Yes, Jane?" Abbott addressed him exaggerated.

"Can we have a break now? I'm hungry," Jane whined. He still hadn't eaten lunch, and he was sure his stomach was on a collision course with Fischer, who just wouldn't let him grab a bite on the job.

Lisbon couldn't help but palm her face, while Fischer rolled her eyes, again. Abbott and Cho smirked at him though.

"Since that was all for now, yes, you're dismissed. We meet here again tomorrow for the next briefing, if nothing should come up in the meantime, I hope we'll have better news then."

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Returning to the bullpen Lisbon sat down, seconds later joined by Fischer, as Jane strolled back to his couch.

"Okay," Fischer started. "We should just go through the witness reports again. Someone must have..." She was interrupted by Nicole, the receptionist, who carried a large bouquet in her arms.

"Oh Agent Lisbon, so glad I found you. A courier just delivered these beautiful flowers for you. I was so free to put them in a vase, hope you don't mind. Shall I put them here?" Nicole asked with a bright smile and gestured to the right side of Lisbon's desk.

Lisbon and Fischer stared at her nonplussed, while Jane was already on his way over for closer inspection.

"Uh, sure. Thanks, Nicole," Lisbon managed to say after a few seconds. Dutifully Nicole put the vase down, nodded appreciatively and left them alone again.

"Wow, these are some nice flowers," Fischer remarked, but there was a small bite of envy in her tone.

Lisbon eyed the bouquet consisting of some white thick stemmed flowers and others with a yellow-ish core, some small yellow one's, she'd never seen before, and another single white flower, which also happened to be the only one she knew to put a name to: a daisy.

Touching the yellow one's with her fingertips, she saw Jane coming to a stop next to her desk, but it was Fischer who spoke again. "Are they from Agent Pike?" She asked, chewing on her lower lip and raised an expectant eyebrow at her, ignoring Jane's displeased huff.

Lisbon shrugged, looking for a card attached to the flowers, but there was none. Then she caught Jane scowling at the bouquet. "When is Pike's birthday?" he asked unexpectedly.

"What?" Lisbon smirked. "Why do you wanna know that?"

"Because I just had an idea for the perfect gift."

"Oh, and what would that be?" Fischer crossed her arms.

"A book. To be precise: 'The Language Of Flowers', cause quite obviously he is in need of one," he answered with a smug grin on his face. Clearly he was amused at Marcus' seeming blunder.

Lisbon just rolled her eyes and leaned closer to the vase. "Oh hush, it's thoughtful. And these are some nice flowers."

"Huh, you surprise me Lisbon, didn't have you pegged for a flower girl," Jane said, tucking his hands away in his pockets. Lisbon shrugged in uncertainty, pursing her lips.

"Well, I didn't receive a lot of flowers in my life, so how would you have?" Lisbon glanced at him and Jane halted. He had the sudden urge to buy every single flower in the whole wide world and let them rain down on Lisbon. He mentally slapped himself for not detecting this in all of the years they'd spent together.

Unbeknownst to them, Fischer's eyes swapped back and forth between Jane and Lisbon; there it was again this weird aura surrounding them. Clearing her throat loudly, Fischer broke the spell the two were under. "Uh, well, what is so wrong about the flowers he's chosen now, huh?" she asked, actual curiosity shining through.

Jane looked first at Fischer and then pointed at the flowers in front of him. "This one here for a start is called 'Tuberose' and means: 'Dangerous pleasure'."

Fischer barked with laughter. "And what's so bad about that? Sounds like a good message coming from a man I'm dating," she smirked.

Jane wasn't deterred and just continued. "This one over here," he pointed at the other white flower with the yellow core. "Is called: 'Mock orange' and stands for 'deceit', now, this one here," he said, pointing at the yellow small flowers in midst of the big white ones, "Is the 'Tussilage' or also known as 'Coltsfoot' and means," Jane paused for dramatic effect, while Lisbon and Fischer stared back at him with blank expressions on their faces.

"Means...," Lisbon prompted, her fingertips still caressing some of the petals.

"'Justice shall be done to you'," he told them, affecting a low and dangerous voice.

Had Jane not been so focused on the flowers in front of him, he would have seen Lisbon's hand, that had been touching the petals, fall back down on her desk—the corners of her mouth turning downwards.

"Well, the daisy should be discernible to all of you, also the only flower with a positive symbolism in this bouquet, standing for 'innocence'," Jane finished, a self-satisfied grin gracing his face.

Fischer furrowed her brows, looking back from Jane to the bouquet. "Ok, so maybe all in all not the best hidden meanings, but who picks flowers for their meanings anyway. He probably just went for some pretty one's," Fischer suggested.

"Then he should stick with the classic roses; surely he knows their meaning," he answered with a hint of sarcasm.

That had Lisbon focus her eyes momentarily back on him. "But wouldn't that be just too sophomoric," she let the word hang in the air, reminding him of a long ago conversation.

Fischer had the feeling she was missing something again and chose to retreat. "Uh, well, whatever. Nice flowers Lisbon. Agent Pike seems really serious...um, why don't you go through the reports again for now and I'll do the same -in my office." Realizing none of the two were paying attention she walked backwards, escaping the weird tension that had settled.

It took Jane exactly twenty seconds to find his tongue again. "True, my dear. But," he laughed crookedly, "doesn't change the fact that this really is a rather unfortunate choice. Of all the flowers he could've picked he selected these," he gestured at the bouquet. Shaking his head in mock consternation, Jane went back to his couch and lay down.

Watching him close his eyes, Lisbon let her head fall in her hands, rubbing her temples. She could feel the damn migraine coming back.

"Lisbon? Is everything really all right? You know, you've been acting..." Lisbon didn't let him finish and stood up. "Yes Jane, I'm fine, just like I was fine this morning. I...just remembered I wanted to ask Fischer something. Excuse me," Lisbon said, picking up some random papers from her desk and left.

Jane gaped after her with a scowl on his face. His view settled back on the flowers and he pondered if Lisbon would notice if they would just vanish—into a trash bin for example. Or, when Kim found them so lovely, why didn't she just take them?! 'Sounds to me like a good message from a man I'm dating', what did she know anyway. Oh, he hadn't forgotten it was her who all but pressured Lisbon into dating Marcus. Constantly telling Lisbon what a great catch Marcus was. When he'd asked Kim why she wasn't dating Superman then, she had looked like a deer in the headlights and murmured something akin to 'not my type'. An amusing picture of Kim bending down to kiss Marcus went through his mind. Okay, Marcus wasn't that short, but still. Naturally he was just the perfect height for Lisbon. Meh.

He knew he had to make up his mind. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he knew his feelings went way deeper than friendship—only just confirmed by the urge to tear apart each and every single flower, when Nicole had swaggered in with them. Lisbon had given him an opening in New York, but just as always he'd pussed out.

Put out with himself Jane rolled over, facing the backrest. Once Lisbon came back he would try to find out what'd been bothering her since this morning. This was one awful day and he could at least try to make the end of hers better than his.

Outside the bullpen, leaning against a wall, Lisbon tried to slow down her accelerated breathing. Well, with Jane telling her the meaning of the flowers, there was no need for a card to know who had sent them. Of course that begged the question how he expected her to find out; if it weren't for Jane, she'd have assumed Marcus had purchased them.

Maybe that's it, she thought, once I'd find out he wasn't the one who ordered them, I would have looked up their meaning, knowing then that it could only be him. Or he knew about Jane's impressive mind, but the implication's of what that meant she didn't want to contemplate.

This day was decidedly not getting any better, good thing it was almost over. But she'd have to avoid Jane for the remaining hours. She knew he wanted to talk about what troubled her, had seen it in his eyes, the concern. As good as he was at masking his own feelings, his eyes at times gave him away, usually when he thought no one was watching.

As frightening as the flowers were, their timing was impeccable. Lisbon had felt more and more tempted over the course of the morning, sitting in front of her computer, to just confess everything to Jane. How could I be so foolish to even think about telling him, she reprimanded herself and tried to come up with ways to avoid the consultant for the next hours.

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Just as predicted Jane had tried to corner her when she'd returned, but luckily she'd managed to avoid him—either by talking to other agents, one of them Marcus, who seemed to have gotten past his disappointment with her, and had gained her a whole of forty minutes of Jane not even trying to make conversation.

After that she'd hidden in a meeting about the FBI issued dental insurance she really didn't necessarily need to join. When she left to go home she had seen him looking at her with a worried, but also sad expression. But it couldn't be helped, she didn't want to talk about her "problem" right now, neither would she know how to start talking about it without sounding like one of those conspiracy theorists she couldn't stand. Well, at least she knew now that her teeth would look just splendid once she was six feet under. That was something, wasn't it? On the other hand, she might end up in an urn which would make the whole dental plan void.

Falling back down on her couch, Lisbon closed her eyes. The only sound filling her ears was the ticking of the clock—the sardonic double meaning wasn't lost on her. Concentrating on the tick-tock-tick-tock reminded Lisbon of Jane's gentle voice when he hypnotized someone. Smiling meekly, she felt herself slowly dropping off, until there was no sound anymore. The silence that emerged was soothing and terrifying at once.

She was standing at the top of a hill, her raven hair floating in the soft wind that felt like a lovers caress on her skin, and made her white silk dress breeze lightly. The sun hung high above her in the clear blue sky, warming her skin.

Looking around she found herself standing on the greenest meadow she'd ever seen, seeded with the most beautiful daisies. Her view fell upon an apple tree a few feet away. A single, shiny, red apple hung on one of its branches. Slowly she walked over and reached out. Though she was standing right in front of it she couldn't grasp the fruit. Getting up on her tiptoes she tried again, biting her lower lip in exertion. Finally her fingers wrapped around the fruit and she softly stepped down on her heels, momentarily mesmerized by the sunlight reflected on the apples skin.

Gently stroking the apple with her fingertip she put the fruit in both hands and brought it up to her lips. With one bite she tore the skin and flesh apart, the juice slowly ran down the corners of her mouth, dropping in rivulets down her chin.

Opening her eyes, she caught the sight of a little boy in the distance. But she couldn't make out his face, no matter how much she squinted her eyes.

Then she felt a soft pressure on her hand that held the apple, and when she looked down at it, the soft smile gracing her face fell and contorted into a terrified expression, her eyes widened in horror.

The once shiny red apple had turned into an ugly shade of yellow-green and worms were drilling their way out of it skin. As if in a time lapse, the daisies and the once green grass around her were withering to dust, until she was left standing on grubby soil. Her white dress splattered with red stains from the bloody raindrops that came down from the now darkening sky. Looking up, the boy was gone.

Her hands descended and the fruit fell to the ground with a whoomph.

With a start Lisbon woke up, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down her temples. Her hands shot up, her eyes assessing in relief that there were no worms, or an apple to begin with.

Blinking she looked around the room, nothing amiss. The light of the table lamp didn't illuminate much, but Lisbon could make out the display of the digital clock next to it.

8.57pm. She had only slept for forty minutes.

Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes she got up from the couch. Her eyes too needed sleep, they were burning like hell. Maybe she could get the dog she'd always wanted, but never gotten because of the ridiculous hours she was working. But then, a dog was no unflappable alarm system either.

Thinking about dinner she discarded the idea, when the memory of the apple in her dream came back. So instead she walked straight to her bedroom. She had had some Granola bars from the vending machine and Cho had given her half of his Burrito claiming to be sated, though she knew from over a decade working with the dark haired man that that had been a lie. The confirmation had come an hour later in the form of Cho's eyes practically being glued on Agent Franco's Pizza which had anchovie's on it—Cho despised anchovie's.

Entering the bedroom her sight immediately fell on the slightly open window across from her. For a minute Lisbon couldn't move and she tried to remember if she had left it open this morning, or even the night before. But no matter how long she raked her brain it wasn't very helpful, it felt like there was an invisible barrier stopping her brain from thinking beyond what had happened five minutes ago.

That's when the wind made the curtains blow.

Within a split second she was at the window, shutting it with a crash. Another second later she closed the pale green curtains as well, before repeating the action at the window on the right.

She startled when the bedroom phone rang, but all she could do was look at it, her hands still clutching the curtains. The caller could just leave a message on the answering machine. If it was work they would try her cellphone anyway.

When the answering machine took the call and she recognized the voice, Lisbon felt relief washing over her.

"Teresa. This is Elsa, just wanted to apologize, I think I left one of the windows in the bedroom open when I was finished with cleaning. Um, hope you're fine. We still good for lunch on Saturday? Call me if your plans have changed. Have a good night, bye."

Lisbon realized she was still standing rooted to the spot. Shaking herself out of the stupor, she made to answer Elsa's call when the phone started ringing again. Having a good view of the display now she recognized the caller was unknown.

Reaching for the cordless phone her eyes were glued to the display. Still holding it in her hands she thought about picking up, her thumb already hovered over the green button, but then she heard the click of the answering machine, ready to do its job. This time however the caller didn't leave a message. Again there was just a rustling in the line, and after what felt like minutes the person hung up and Lisbon was once again surrounded by silence.

Making up her mind, she gave the phone one last glance before throwing it on the bed. A determined expression overtaking her face, she went to take figures, perfume bottles and other small things made of glass or china, from the shelf in her bedroom and placed some of them in front of the sills where the windows would open. Finished with that she left the bedroom and did the same in all other rooms of the basement.

Completing her task Lisbon pushed the dresser in the hall to block the front door, placing a vase on its edge, so it would shatter in case the door would be opened and with that the dresser pushed back.

Examining her work Lisbon nodded once in satisfaction and took a chair from the dining room, seating herself in the back of the hall, facing the front door.

Although she was certain nothing would happen—not tonight—she wouldn't be getting any sleep now anyway. And how did they say: 'An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure'. She needed to be on alert. These calls were a tool to scare her, to show her she couldn't hide, wouldn't escape, no matter where she would go.

Taking her Glock in her hands Lisbon started brushing her thumb back and forth over the safety. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back on the chair and rested her arm holding the gun on the arm rest, her eyes never leaving the door.

No matter what happened, one thing was clear as rain, she wouldn't let him win, even if it was the last thing she did. She would fight, wherever and whenever the day of reckoning would finally come.

xxxxx

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."

―Nelson Mandela

xxxxx

A/N: Phew, poor Lisbon, but at least she's getting over her first sense of shock, Lisbon is a fighter after all. Let me know what you think. Reviews, I find, really do brighten my day :)

Oh yeah, I know everyone is probably itching to find out what happened in the Big Apple...well, all I can say is, look out for the next chapter ;)