A/N: First, as I said on Twitter, I am completely touched and overwhelmed by the wonderful, welcoming reviews I received for chapter 1. I am so grateful, and inspired to keep writing. In this chapter, I've weaved in actual events from 4x24, but you'll notice I changed a few minor details and dialogue, messed with the timeline a bit, so it's not just a repeat of what you likely know by heart. Of course, Lisbon being there changes most everything, as you will see as the chapter unfolds. Please enjoy!

Chapter 2

The moment Jane shut his motel room door behind him, he sat heavily on the bed. He couldn't deny that it was wonderful to see Lisbon again, but as always, where his relationship with Lisbon intersected with Red John, there he found intense, undeniable fear. His nemesis knew full well what losing Lisbon would do to him, and part of Jane wondered why he'd decided not to torture Jane further by taking her away as brutally as he had Jane's wife and daughter. Jane knew most of the explanation was because Red John liked to toy with him, but Jane also understood the killer's arrogance, his desire to always be one step ahead. So, as Jane had warned Lisbon, if Red John found out about Jane's deception, there would be hell to pay.

Jane ran a shaking hand through his mad tousle of dirty blond curls. He had to stop drinking so much, he thought. Maybe just at the casino, for show, but here at his motel, he would start just pouring bottles down the sink before leaving the empties in the trash to continue the ruse. He was afraid he was truly going to end up becoming an alcoholic, given how well he'd been sleeping lately. But he didn't like Lisbon seeing him this way, and he'd hated seeing her disapproval and hurt when she saw in him what she had once seen in her father.

He sighed. Already he could see his months of work falling apart. This was a big reason why he'd had to get away from Lisbon. Lisbon made him a better man, and to get into Red John's orbit, he had to become anything but. He stripped off his clothes and got in the shower, mindful of Lisbon as he scrubbed himself from head to toe. He could still look bedraggled—he wouldn't shave yet—but he couldn't stand the idea that she would think he smelled bad.

"Dammit," he said to himself. "Not five minutes in her presence and I'm already trying to impress her." He smiled though, replaying their conversation in the car. She sure put him in his place, resorting to blackmail and emotional manipulation. Not five minutes in his presence, and he'd already corrupted her. He chuckled aloud at the thought. This, he recalled, as the soothing water began to clear his head a little, was why they made such a good team. They balanced each other out.

He slept well—one welcome side-effect of drinking too much. The next morning, he put on a clean shirt and his cleanest suit, sans vest, and drove to the casino. He made a show of gambling a bit before telling the dealer he had to see a guy about a horse. He knew there was a stairwell near the door to the restroom, and after looking around, slipped inside. He went up one flight before exiting, and used the second floor elevator to continue to the eleventh, where Lisbon's room was. He felt unaccountably nervous, not only because he was about to see Lisbon again, but because he still feared he might be followed, or watched. He didn't know how far Red John's power extended. Did he have someone watching the security cameras for him at that very moment, reporting back his movements? When Lisbon hadn't been there, he hadn't even given that a second thought, because he always remained in character. He hadn't been worried about what Lisbon thought.

With a deep breath, he tapped lightly on 1108, felt her looking at him through the peephole. The deadbolt turned, and she opened the door just wide enough for him to come inside.

"Good morning," he said softly, smiling at her in her blonde wig. She was wearing another dress, and it was all he could do not to stare in fascination at the unfamiliar sight of her toned calves, and dainty bare feet. His grin widened when he saw her toenails were bright pink.

"Hey." The moment the door was closed, she tore off her wig and tossed it on the bed where it landed like a golden Tribble. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that thing."

He had to admit she looked better as a brunette. She took a moment to size him up too, and he wrote it off as their long separation that made his face feel warm.

"You look better. Smell better too."

"Gee, thanks."

She grinned and gestured to one of the chairs near a table by the window. She sat across from him in the other.

"So," she said, getting right to it. "I've been thinking. If you really believe this waitress is working for Red John, I'll follow her, do surveillance on her home, monitor her-"

Jane shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"What? Why?"

"He'll know," said Jane solemnly.

"I'm good at my job, Jane."

He wisely didn't argue with that, but he said: "The best thing you can do is just wait in the wings as my backup. She's going to make her move soon."

"And what do you suppose that move is?"

"She'll find a time to engage me in conversation, feel me out a bit. Then, after she reports back to her boss that I really am nearing rock bottom, she'll come back with an offer of friendship. But I'll have to do something to prove myself."

Lisbon knit her brows, then absently shifted her legs, crossing one over the other so that he got a glimpse of her knee and part of one pretty thigh. His eyes jerked away from the lovely vision, forcing himself to focus on her face.

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "No idea. I bet it's something I really don't want to do, however."

"And all you want me to do is hang back and watch?"

"That's all you can do, Lisbon."

"You could be wasting your time here," she ventured thoughtfully. "This waitress could be no one. Hell, Red John may not even know or care that you're here."

"He knows," said Jane. "I can feel it."

She rolled her eyes. "You've been getting a little too much into the psychic bit again, haven't you?"

"You know about that?" Another thing to feel ashamed about.

"Yeah, a friend in Vegas tipped me off after he heard you were operating your old fake psychic business again. That's how I found you."

"Hmm," he said. "I needed to make some money, but I also needed Red John to see how I was so off the tracks that I was willing to return to a job I detested. I forgot how much I hated it, to be honest."

Lisbon shook her head sadly. "I hope all you're putting yourself through both physically and emotionally is worth it. You know the old saying, about how vengeance hurts the person seeking it more…"

"Don't worry, Lisbon. If all goes as planned, Red John will be the one hurting most in the end." His voice took on the ominous tone she hated when he spoke of destroying his nemesis.

She decided not to point out another old saying, about the best laid plans of mice and men.

While they were speaking, Jane noticed that the small envelope on the table containing Lisbon's room key card held two cards, likely an oversight of the hotel staff for a room with one occupant. When he stood to take his leave, he palmed one when she wasn't looking. No doubt a good detective like her would figure it out later, but maybe she would take comfort in knowing he had it in case of an emergency. Yeah, that was the hope. More likely she'd be pissed off, but he'd jump off that bridge when he came to it.

"Do me a favor," Jane said, his voice lightening as she walked him to the door. "Pick us up a couple of burner phones just in case. It would look suspicious if I were seen buying them. I'll meet you back here at about five."

"Okay. You'll be down at the blackjack tables again?"

"Yeah. Maybe I'll let myself win a few more hands to celebrate your arrival."

"Nice," she said dryly. Her hand moved to the door, but before she could open it, Jane acted on impulse and gathered her into his arms in a warm bear hug. He felt her stiffen for a brief moment, but as he inhaled the fresh scent of her hair, she softened against him and returned his embrace.

"I've missed you," he breathed for the second time since she'd found him. She didn't reply, but the way her heart pounded against his, he knew she felt the same. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her small, slim body against his, noting with an unexpected pang of desire how glorious her breasts felt pressed against his chest. The hug went on for several seconds beyond what it should have, and he was oddly reluctant to let her go. By the time he did, however, there was something new in the air between them, something that had his pulse humming and had Lisbon flushed and unable to look him in the eye.

"Be careful," she told him, standing behind the open door to block her wigless appearance.

"You too, Lisbon. Give me about fifteen minutes before you come down, then I'll meet you back here at five." When she closed the door behind him, he was still trembling.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

What the hell was that, Lisbon asked herself, putting on the dreaded wig with shaking hands. She could have sworn his hug had been more than a friendly one. His hands on her back had been too caressing, and she could have sworn he was smelling her hair. Any more hugs like that, and it would be difficult for her to hide her true feelings from him, and they both had to keep their heads in the game if this was going to work. No time for distractions.

She looked at her eyes in the bathroom mirror, luminous and a little dreamy when she relived the feel of his body so close to hers, remembered the soft rasp of his beard against her cheek, the faint scent of his soap and the overwhelming charisma that was all Jane. If she had time she would douse her face with cold water, but then she'd have to redo her makeup. Jane had said fifteen minutes. Cursing silently at her weakness where that man was concerned, she slipped on her sandals, grabbed her purse, dark glasses, and the keycard envelope, and made her way to the elevator.

The first floor casino was busy already, though it was only nine-thirty in the morning. Arming herself with more nickels from the kiosk, she wandered the rows of slot machines until she found a clear view of Jane, who was just settling in at a card table. She noted that Lorelei's shift must have started, and frowned when she saw the dark-haired woman laugh while taking Jane's drink order.

"These nickel slots used to be so much more fun," commented the senior citizen sitting on the stool next to her. She'd apparently misunderstood Lisbon's unhappy expression.

"Yeah. I love the slots, but can't make myself move up to the quarter or even the dollar ones. I guess I'm too cheap to waste my money that way."

The older woman laughed. "I know what you mean. It's my husband who's the real gambler. I just come with him for the buffets and the shows. He usually does so well at blackjack that he pays for our entire trip."

"Well, he must be really lucky."

Lisbon absently continued making small talk with her neighbor, but it wasn't long before she became extremely bored, and more than a little antsy. Jane, she noted, using her glasses as a shield, had accumulated quite a pile of chips in front of him. She figured he'd start losing soon to make it seem more dramatically tragic.

"Anything to drink, ladies?" asked Lorelei.

Lisbon stiffened, her heart giving a thump for fear she'd been caught watching Jane. She shifted her eyes to her machine. "Just a Diet Coke," please, she said politely.

"Sure thing."

After Lorelei had taken her order and left, the woman beside Lisbon made a clucking sound. "Those outfits of theirs are getting sluttier every day."

Lisbon chuckled and deposited another nickel.

After another hour of monotony and wasted money, Lisbon had to get up. She purposefully walked past Jane so he could see her, and moved to the bar. She ordered a coffee this time, and sipped it, pretending to watch the football game on the TV and not the dancing girls on the stage behind her. A few minutes later, Lisbon was startled to see Jane sitting at the other end of the bar. He ordered a scotch and gave her a flirtatious grin that fluttered her heart. She ignored him though and pointedly turned back to the game, reminding herself that he was just playing a part.

Jane and the bartender chatted about football, but it wasn't long before Lorelei joined him, sitting down tiredly on the stool beside him.

"Sam," she said to the bartender, "I'm takin' ten. Could I get a shot please?"

"Coming right up."

While she was waiting for her drink, she glanced sidelong at Jane.

"You looked like you were doing pretty good at the blackjack table," she said conversationally.

"Oh, well. I was at first. Easy come, etcetera, etcetera."

"Sorry to hear that. I'm sure your luck will improve. Hang in there."

"Thanks."

Lorelei received her drink with a smile at Sam, then downed her shot. "I'm Lorelei, by the way."

"Oh, yeah, I remember. I've seen you around here before. I'm Patrick."

"Hey, Patrick."

They shook hands, and Lisbon tried not to appear to take too much notice of them, feigning complete fascination with the football game.

The pair went on to talk about such varied topics as the meaning of life and Jane's theories about wrong and right (which Lisbon knew for a fact were total bullshit) and his surprising admission of being a con man and a murderer. She wondered if Jane was about to ask Lorelei out when they were interrupted by a burly man in a suit and his goon, Murray. Jane introduced Oscar to Lorelei, and things seemed cordial enough, up until it was revealed that Jane had scammed Oscar into giving him ten grand.

Dear God, thought Lisbon, what the hell had he gotten himself into? Those guys were going to kill him. Lisbon eyed her purse on the bar, put her hand on it to feel the comforting outline of her Glock within. Jane avoided looking her way, which made her hesitate to intervene. He must think he has everything under control, she realized. She watched in surprise as he lit a cigarette, and the next thing she knew, Oscar was on fire!

Everyone around them gasped and stood up at the spectacle, while Jane used that moment of pandemonium to run. Lisbon watched Lorelei carefully, saw that she didn't appear too disturbed, and merely brushed the splashes of alcohol off her uniform, yet she was still watching Jane escape Oscar and his henchman. Teresa took advantage of her distraction and slipped away, going around the bar behind the waitress and walking quickly toward the casino entrance, taking a different route. She saw Jane slip through the crowd like he was buttered, while Oscar and Murray carelessly pushed people out of the way, leaving a trail of shrieking and cussing behind them.

Lisbon paused at the main doors, watched Jane and his two tails run across the busy street and toward a side street. Lisbon held onto her purse and followed at a casual trot. When she was out of sight of the casino, she pulled out her gun and ran to catch up. In the distance, she could hear the sound of police sirens—a patrol car must have been in the vicinity.

She caught up with them at the gated dead end of an alley, and Jane was getting the hell kicked out of him by Murray.

"Stop! Police!" she yelled, in her best law enforcement voice. She ran up to the fight and repeated herself. This time they heard, and Murray stepped away from Jane. By then, the police car had found them.

"Put the gun down!" ordered the officer.

Lisbon dropped her weapon and put her hands on her head.

"On your knees, right now!"

Lisbon complied, but Jane remained on the dirty concrete, bleeding from his nose and breathing heavily.

"You shouldn't have followed me," he murmured angrily.

"Oh, shut up and wipe your damn nose."

"Don't tell them about me," he said, just before the two police officers approached and hauled him upright. Oscar and Murray dutifully knelt near the fence. She could clear this whole thing up, call in a favor with her friend in the Las Vegas PD, but she met Jane's eyes and he shook his head slightly. He always knew what she was thinking, damn him.

They were all hauled down to the police station, and it took only a few moments to verify Lisbon's ID and badge from her purse. She said she'd witnessed the initial altercation at the bar, and followed, hoping she might be of assistance. While the others were being processed, Lisbon spoke to the police chief in his office.

"What are you doing so far from home, Agent Lisbon?"

"Vacation," she said.

"With your Glock?" he said, handing her weapon back to her.

"Habit," she said with a shrug and a sheepish smile. She rather felt like Jane when she did it. She put the gun back in her purse.

"And you don't know any of the parties involved?"

This was a tricky one. "I've spoken to the blonde guy before."

Not a lie.

The chief, a Native American man in his fifties, frowned. "At the bar?"

"No. Earlier. In my hotel room." She tried to look embarrassed at the implications of her own words—not too difficult, as she remembered what she'd felt when she was in his arms.

"Aww," said the chief, understanding now. "Sort of a 'what happens in Vegas' sorta deal, eh?"

She blushed. "Something like that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone at the CBI. Maybe I can return the favor someday." And she gave him her most charming, dimpled smile, feeling oddly like she was channeling Jane again.

"You planning on bailing him out?"

"I don't know. Hey, look, the officers took my statement, got my contact information. Mind if I leave now? I kinda wanted to stay out of a police station on my vacation, if you know what I mean."

"Sure. Thanks for your help, Agent."

"No problem." They shook hands.

"How long are you going to be in town?"

"Oh, a week. Maybe two."

What she really wanted to do was to get the hell out of there before they ran Jane's prints. It wouldn't be long before they figured out he had worked for the CBI up until six months ago.

"Can I see Mr. Jane before I leave?"

"Sure. Jones!" An officer appeared at the open door of his chief's office.

"Yes sir?"

"Take Agent Lisbon here to lockup, will ya?"

"Sure thing."

Jane was in the crowded holding cell with prostitutes, drunks, and other disorderly offenders, Oscar and Murray separated from him in the next cell. Jane strolled casually to meet her at the bars.

"Lisbon," he said. "You haven't bailed me out yet, have you?"

"No." She dropped her voice to an annoyed whisper. "I can't believe I lied for you. If the chief calls Wainwright—"

"Pshaw. Don't worry about it. Just leave me here overnight. I'm betting Lorelei or maybe even Red John will cover my bail, you watch."

She shook her head at him. "Frankly, I'm a little more worried about my job right now."

"Look, if it comes down to it, just tell the truth. You found out where I was and came to check on me. You didn't claim me because you were pissed, wanted me to learn my lesson in the pokey."

She looked around his stellar new accommodations, wrinkling her nose at the smell. "Well that's certainly true. I still misled a police officer though."

"Say you were working undercover then. I don't know—we'll come up with something if we have to. All I'm saying is, bailing me out is the perfect opportunity for Lorelei to gain my trust and gratitude. I'll feel beholding to her, and she'll try to exploit that."

"Dammit, Jane."

He grinned, and his hand came out through the bars to touch hers. "I'll be all right. Don't worry about me."

"Oh, I'm not. As a matter of fact, jail is probably the safest place for you right now. At least I'll know where you are."

He ignored the barb. "I'll call you when I get out."

She sighed. "Okay. But I'll be getting together your bail money, just in case."

"I find your lack of faith in my instincts rather insulting."

"The feeling's mutual, buddy."

They stared at each other through the bars of his cell, his eyes boring into hers with undisguised emotion. For a dizzy moment, she had the crazy feeling that he was going to kiss her. She took a nervous step back from the cell, and his lips formed a serious line.

"Be careful," he told her.

"You too," she said, glancing at his rowdy neighbors. With a fleeting smile, she turned and left him, but every instinct in her told her to get him out of there and whisk him back with her to California.

"You're an idiot," she said under her breath, uncertain whether she meant Jane or herself.

Her police escort looked back at her as he opened the outer door to let her pass. "Ma'am?"

"Nothing," she said, and dug in her purse for her phone so she could call a taxi.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Not long after Lisbon left the station, the chief of police brought Jane into his office. He stared at Jane over his reading glasses; Jane could tell the jig was up.

"So, up until about six months ago, you worked for the California Bureau of Investigation as a uh—"he looked at the printout on his desk—"consultant. Now you're here in Vegas, and coincidentally, your former coworker shows up and is part of an altercation involving you and two other men. Agent Lisbon failed to mention your true relationship back in California, or what you are doing in my city. Any idea why that would be?"

"We're part of an undercover operation, way way off the books. Neither of us is at liberty to give specifics. It has nothing to do with Oscar, though. That was all me."

"You got a boss back home I can verify this with?"

"Kimball Cho," he answered, without hesitation. Cho would know something was up and had the quick thinking to cover for him and Lisbon. At least he hoped so. No sense involving Lisbon's real boss, Agent Wainwright.

After listening to a few more minutes berating him about operating under his jurisdiction without a professional courtesy call, the chief looked up the number for the Sacramento branch of the CBI and called right in front of him.

"Agent Kimball Cho, please." After a moment on hold, the operator put him through.

"Cho."

Jane could faintly hear Cho's familiar monotone on the other end.

"Agent Cho, this is Police Chief Warren Two Guns from Las Vegas PD. I have sitting here in front of me a former agent of yours, one Patrick Jane."

"Yeah." Jane could hear his friend's cautious acceptance.

"Now he's in my custody for disorderly conduct and assault, and another of your agents, Lisbon, identified herself as being with the CBI after pulling a gun at a crime scene."

"OK."

Jane hid his smile by tapping his fingers on his lips, imagining Cho trying to process all of this, thinking on his feet how Lisbon would want him to handle this. He loved Cho. Chief Two Guns, however, was being treated to the delightful experience of a Cho Stall. Like pulling teeth, Jane knew.

The chief gave a little huff of exasperation. "Mr. Jane claims that the two of them are here on an undercover mission."

"And?"

"And? Well, Agent Cho, it would have been nice if you'd given us a heads' up around here. Saved us a lot of trouble hauling these two in. As it is, Mr. Jane is facing some potentially serious charges—"

"Is Lisbon there?" Cho interrupted.

"No! She left already. Hasn't even bailed her partner out. What the hell is it with you people?"

"Sorry for any inconvenience, Chief. I can't really talk about this with you, you understand. I'll contact Agent Lisbon and see that there's no further intrusion in your jurisdiction. Thanks for calling."

Cho hung up.

Two Guns looked at the phone in disbelief, before almost slamming it down on the cradle. He tossed his reading glasses on his desk in annoyance.

"Jones! Take Mr. Jane back to the pen." He looked at Jane. "Until I get official word what to do with you, or someone bails you out, you'll remain in my custody, you hear?"

"Clear as a bell," said Jane with a cheerful smile. "See ya, Chief."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon passed a nerve-wracking afternoon and evening, keeping up her cover by wandering through the casino and the high dollar shops, stuffing herself on the giant buffet's crab legs and partaking from the endless dessert table. Her phone volume was set on high so she could hear it over the cacophony of the casino, yet still she checked it frequently. She remembered to buy a pair of burner phones and stuffed them in her purse.

Cho called her about his conversation with Two Guns, but his only question was if she needed any help. Good old Cho.

"No," she said. "Thanks for covering for us. I promise I'll fill you in on everything as soon as I can. I owe you one, Kimball."

"49ers tickets," he said instantly.

"Done." She grinned.

"Jane ok?"

"Yeah. I'm sure you figured out what this is about." Only Red John lent this much secrecy.

"Yeah. I'm here if you need me."

"I know."

"Be careful."

"I will. Thanks again."

She hung up with a relieved smile. At least she was covered back at home—for now, anyway.

When Jane hadn't called by midnight, she turned in, exhausted from worry and days of sleepless nights. The moment she opened her eyes at six a.m., she checked her phone, but there were no messages, and she hadn't missed any calls or texts. She showered and dressed in jeans and a flowery blouse, then called the police station. He'd been released a half-hour ago. Someone else had bailed him out.

Her heartbeat quickened. Did Lorelei or Red John have him now? She called his phone, but it rang once before going to voicemail. She didn't dare leave a message. The bastard was supposed to call if he was bailed out. She made a strong, disgusting pot of hotel room coffee merely for the caffeine kick, taking it with her in the Styrofoam cup as she rushed out of her room to the elevator, straightening her wig with one hand.

As Lisbon drove casually by Jane's motel, she saw no movement near his room. The blinds were drawn and it was dark within. She parked in another motel parking lot a half-block away, then waited in the bushes within sight of his door. She scanned the lot, but didn't see anything that looked like a surveillance vehicle, and no one was up and around this early in the morning in Vegas.

Taking out a credit card, she trotted across the lot to his room and knocked, though she didn't expect him to answer. It was a very old, out-of-date motel, thankfully, and it was an easy thing to use her card to disengage the simple lock. Jane's influence again, she mused, but she was too worked up to smile. She went inside the room, finding it empty. She kept the lights off and sat on the bed, preparing to wait. In the dimness she saw the bed was freshly made, and there were clean towels in the bathroom-signs the maid had been there the day before, though everything else was cluttered, as if he'd asked her not to mess with his stuff. She noted Jane's supply of tea bags and china cups near an electric tea kettle, and frowned at the half-bottle of whiskey. She got up and stole a bottled water from the mini fridge, having to move aside a carton of Chinese takeout to find one.

It was stuffy without the window air conditioning unit on, and she unbuttoned her blouse another button, but resisted the temptation to remove the damn wig. From the open door of the closet, she saw two familiar suits and three slightly wrinkled dress shirts—he'd never been one to iron. The dresser was stacked messily with books on a multitude of subjects. Sitting here in the room where he'd spent all those quiet months, Lisbon could almost feel his loneliness, and her heart ached for him. He was stubborn and obsessed and emotionally damaged, and she felt for him, understood his intense desire for closure, though she couldn't quite bring herself to agree with his methods.

Lisbon had only had a chance to take one long drink from her bottle when she heard the key in the lock. She stood, her hand going to her purse, and had a moment to regret her impulse to come here. What if Lorelei was with him? She moved to stand behind the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane came inside, shut and locked the door behind him, then turned on the air conditioner before fairly flinging himself upon the bed. He stretched out and closed his eyes, tired beyond measure after a night spent leaning against the cold bars of a jail cell.

"Why didn't you call me?" Lisbon demanded, setting her Glock on the small table in the corner.

Jane sat up in surprise, clutching his chest, his eyes wide with fear, one of them ringed by a rainbow of bruise colors.

"Holy shit!" he swore. Then he realized it was her. He squinted in the dimness. "Lisbon? What the hell-?"

"You were supposed to call me," she said, moving to turn on the bedside lamp.

He sat at the end of the bed, ran both hands through his hair while he tried to calm his pulse.

"You trying to give me a heart attack? Sheesh. You're not even supposed to be here."

"Answer my question. Why didn't you call?"

"The line for the police phone was a mile long, and my phone was dead. A bus stopped right outside the police station, so I just hopped on. I was going to call you the minute I plugged in my phone. Here, look." He held out his phone, and she could see when he flipped it open that it wasn't on.

She accepted his explanation, but she was having difficulty calming her own anxiety, her sense of impending doom.

Then, to her surprise, he smiled, his eyes sparkling. "She bailed me out."

"Dear God," she said, her expression far from the glee on his. "But this could just be the kindness of a stranger…"

Jane shook his head. "A thousand dollars' worth of kindness? From a waitress? Doubtful. It's Red John, all right."

Her legs suddenly weak, she sat in the rickety chair at the table.

Suddenly, Jane was re-energized. He popped up from the bed and moved over to stand before her, reaching for both her hands. Hers were icy cold.

"Now, you need to go, Lisbon. I'm expecting company any minute."

"But you might need back-up—"

The knock on the door made them both jump. He gave Lisbon a guarded look, and she reached for her gun again. He looked through the peephole.

"It's her!" he whispered. "Get in the closet!" She complied as quietly as she could, and he slid the door shut on her. A second later, the door opened again, and he thrust her purse into her hands, leaving her in darkness once more.

She heard Jane open the door.

"Hi," he said, feigning surprise.

"Hey. Don't you remember me?"

"Yeah, uh, sure. Lori, right?"

"Lorelei," she corrected, not totally convinced he'd forgotten.

Lisbon heard the rustle of a paper bag. "I brought you chicken soup," said the waitress. "Thought you might need it after yesterday."

"Well, that was nice of you. What's the occasion?"

"Can we talk a minute?"

He must have stepped aside. "Sure. Please, come on in…"

A/N: How nice it would have been if Jane's first sleepover after his wife had been Lisbon instead. Not trying to give anything away here, but I am re-writing history. More very soon. Thanks so much for reading!