Disclaimer: These characters clearly don't belong to me, am simply making them do what I want for a little while.

AN: Thanks for the lovely responses to the first chapter. I should probably have left this alone, but wanted to explore what happened next. This is of no consequence, fluffy and definitely into the realm of wish fulfilment.

Together Chapter 2

He is silent in the elevator, consciously choosing to watch rather than engage. They share the enclosed space with a couple of other stragglers who have spent too long at the office, Lisbon chatting pleasantly with her fellow agents while Jane inhabits the corner with an air of weary vigilance and attentiveness. He is on the verge of saying 'don't you know she almost died today? Why would you think it appropriate to talk about yours kids' ball game?'… But he remains still and holds his tongue, determined to keep his energy and words for the woman a few feet away from him.

He follows her to her car, making a quick stop at his own to pick up his ever present overnight bag from the trunk – and he's suddenly grateful that the capricious nature of their job means he'll get the chance to change out of the suit he's been wearing today. Jane has been thinking of having it incinerated – he's convinced the stench of fear and bereavement lingers in the cloth of the lining.

He dumps the bag on the back seat of Lisbon's car and walks round to open the drivers' door for her.

"Jane, I know how to open doors – get over there and get in."

He looks at her little frown of irritation and suddenly more than anything Patrick Jane wants to see her laugh. He wants to see Lisbon happy and laughing, and free. Somehow in all of these imagined scenarios he is with her, and that fantasy is so powerfully real he aches to make it so. But that is for another day, tonight he just wants to close his eyes and listen to her breathe so he can be sure she still does.

"I was trying to be a gentleman, Lisbon; I know you abhor that, but indulge me tonight."

Lisbon smiles at him, weary yet terribly beautiful in the lowlight of the parking lot. Jane moves to open the door, and with one hand resting against Lisbon's hip he almost tucks her into the vehicle – reaching across to help her fasten her seat belt. He lingers beside her for just a beat too long, enjoying the rise and fall of her inhalations as evidence of her life. Strands of her long hair are resting on his shoulder and he considers asking if he can stay near her like this for as long as she will have him. But instead he closes the door and moves round to take his own seat, beside her.

Lisbon is inordinately pleased to be driving, needing the distraction of the road to keep her from emotional collapse. She is aware again of Jane's eyes on her, she can't remember such open affection in his gaze every before. It's amazing what the threat of torture and death from a serial killer can bring. She shudders at her own bleak humour and turns into her parking spot at home.

Jane suddenly moves his focus from Lisbon to the world outside, trying to see into the dark and who might wait for them out there.

"He's not out there tonight Jane; he's done his work for the day. Let's just get inside, okay."

Lisbon reaches across to grasp Jane's left hand in both of hers – resting their joined hands on her leg. She maintains their meaningful eye contact as she silently asks him to give in and come inside with her.

He tries his very best to smile for her, though Lisbon can plainly see the joy doesn't quite reach his eyes, but he is wordlessly forgiven when he raises their joined hands to his soft lips and kisses her hand in acceptance.

They quickly make their way to Lisbon's apartment, but once inside Jane is suddenly unsure of how to inhabit the space. He stands with his hands buried in the pockets of his suit coat; watching as Lisbon double locks the door and throws her keys in a drawer.

Conscious of Jane's eyes on her, Lisbon turns to look at her unplanned guest.

"You'll have to excuse the mess, Jane – I wasn't expecting company."

He doesn't seem to have enough energy to respond, simply curving the corner of his mouth into a weak smile as he stares intently back at Lisbon.

"Do you want to eat? I don't have much but I can heat up some left overs if you're hungry. Or tea? Do you want a cup of tea? Go sit down and I'll make us some drinks."

She's nervous suddenly, oddly uncomfortable in her own space as she attempts to put Jane at some sort of ease. Jane reaches out and rests a thumb clumsily along the curve of Lisbon's cheek bone, enjoying the involuntary sunburst of colour on her skin at his gentle touch.

"I don't want anything Lisbon, except whatever you want. I'm afraid I may unreasonably annoy you by not being able to leave your side. So what do you want?"

"I need to shower."

Her released words are a sigh whispered into the air between them.

"I need to wash away today and then try and sleep for a few hours and get up tomorrow and go on. Is that something you can agree with?"

"Of course."

His thumb maintains the merest of contact with her skin as his words are softly spoken as if they are imparting the most important information he could ever share. Lisbon breaks away from Jane to turn and remove her blazer; she gets a few steps away from him before Jane needs to touch her again – taking hold of the sleeves of her jacket to help her remove it. Then his left hand moves to the familiar spot at the small of her back as they silently turn to climb the stairs. As they reach the bottom step Lisbon reaches around and takes Jane's hand in her own as she leads him upstairs to rest.

Exhaustions seems to have overtaken both of them, the effort of speech almost beyond them at this point – though important words hover, waiting to be uttered aloud.

Lisbon is first to break the torpor, reaching forward to rest Jane's overnight bag on her bed.

"I'm going to take a quick shower. You can get ready for bed or if you'd rather you can jump in the shower after me."

Jane smiles sadly at the easy way those quietly intimate words fall from her lips – wondering suddenly if there might be a day in the future when they could become commonplace. He nods, agreeing to whatever she says, but too vulnerable for speech just now. So instead he watches wordlessly as Lisbon places her guns in the drawer of her bedside table then retreats to the bathroom.

Now alone Jane feels almost unable to remain standing, his legs weak and useless somehow. He sits at the edge of Lisbon's bed as he listens to her in the other room – the running water a comforting reminder of her presence.

He opens his bag, knowing he doesn't have the energy to do more than remove the clothes he's wearing. He'd made elaborate plans to burn his suit, but the reality is he will need the vest and jacket for tomorrow as he only has replacements for his shirt and pants in the bag. So he starts to remove his clothes – his jacket and vest are placed over the back of a chair, while the remainder of what he's been wearing is bundled up and shoved into a small wastepaper basket. A pant leg hangs uselessly over the side, and the oddity of his gesture makes him laugh a little at its futility.

He wants to go into the bathroom and make certain that Lisbon remains okay, but he resists, unable to use up all of her patience quite so soon. Instead he sits again on the end of her bed, almost unrecognisable this time in a pale blue t-shirt and soft cotton pyjama pants. But he can't relax, can't switch off from the raw horrors of the day. Jane can see her lying with unseeing eyes, her white shirt unspeakably bathed in her blood. He sees her ruined and destroyed. He sees her lifeless and defiled in all the ways he has feared for years.

"Hey you."

Her soft voice interrupts his minds walk through his own personal version of hell. He opens his eyes and blinks deliberately three times to lose the imagined sights he knows will stay with him as long as Red John lives.

"Hey yourself, Lisbon."

This time his smile is of unalloyed pleasure – the vision of her standing before him, in the t-shirt and shorts she sleeps in, her hair slightly wet and curling at the ends, is utterly beguiling to Jane. He very much enjoys the view of her bare legs, while trying to not obviously enjoy them as he reaches out to rest a hand on her left hip. At this contact Lisbon moves closer, reaching out to rest her hands on Jane's shoulders, and he closes his eyes in pleasure at the warmth of her touch.

He wants this moment to go on, but can't resist opening his eyes to enjoy observing a determinedly relaxed Lisbon some more. Instantly he wishes he had not, as he turns his face into her arm he is confronted with the bruises and blemishes on her skin.

"They don't hurt, Jane. It's just bruises, and I'm still here. We're both still here, okay?"

Her quietly defiant words are almost enough to calm him, but not quite.

"Where else did he hurt you? I want to see, Lisbon."

His hands move to the bottom of her shirt, but she takes them in her own before he can make good on his plans to remove it.

"What are you doing Jane?"

"I told you I wanted to see all of you and make sure you were whole. Please."

The mournful look Jane wears brings tears to her eyes, partly from his obvious sadness and partly from where it forces her to go – back to that room with Red John and his two obsequious hangers on.

"Jane, I thought you were kidding about that, or at least I thought you would have forgotten about it by the time we got home."

He takes her right hand in his, rubbing his thumb affectionately along her knuckles. He's smiling, happy to be so close to her and to witness the solidity of her in front of him.

"Lisbon, you know I never say things I don't mean and I never forget anything."

Lisbon tries not to react to his words, but can't help thinking of the time they never talk about; that conversation she can't even allow herself to think about. The time he pretended to forget, and she pretended not to mind.

She suspects she can't speak, and certainly can't meet his eyes when she feels this exposed. But tonight was supposed to be about cutting through the bullshit so she takes an imperceptible breath and raises her gaze to meet his.

"Can we just try and sleep, Jane? Believe me that I'm the whole woman you want me to be, and let's just try and get some rest."

He nods his agreement, knowing that if he speaks he'll never stop apologising. He knows how he hurt her just now with his words, and accepts this was nothing compared with how very much he hurt her when he denied his confessed affections the last time he felt so desperately afraid he was going to lose her.

Jane follows Lisbon to her bed, again unsure of how to proceed. Wanting this, needing this; but nonetheless terrified of resting beside Lisbon lest he become dependent on it. As if he were not already utterly dependent on her presence in his life, he smiles at this thought as he watches her climb into her favoured side of the bed. He slides in next to her and lies uncomfortably on his back while she turns off the bedside lamp.

The darkness relaxes him a little, and the resonating warmth of Lisbon's body so close to his is calming in a way he hadn't quite anticipated.

"Are you going to even try to sleep, Jane?"

"You know I don't sleep, Lisbon."

"Well I need to rest, and I'm going to just lie over here and worry about you if you don't at least pretend you're going to try."

This could go on ad nauseam, Jane realises so he reaches across the distance of the beds soft sheets and pulls Lisbon to lie against him. She is tense for a few seconds then noticeably gives in, and rests her head on his chest as he wraps his left arm around her slight frame.

They lie together in the comfort of darkness for several moments, both apparently enjoying the closeness the cover of the late night affords them.

"What did he say to you today, Lisbon?"

She ignores the question for as long as she thinks she can, probably only managing to remain silent for less than a minute. She had wanted to spare him this, but knew the question was inevitable.

"I want you to try and sleep tonight, Jane, please don't bring him in here."

She knows it will be a useless attempt at a diversion, but feels she should at least try this one last time to protect him a little more.

He thumbs traces the base of her spine, even in the darkness he can't resist touching her there.

"What did he say to you today, Lisbon?"

She gives in, as she always will with him.

"He told me he was making happy memories of his own. He told me that one day soon you would watch me die, and he anticipates that being his happiest memory of all."

She is almost brutal in her honesty, but feels unable to lie to him now. Not when she is here like this, when she's simply Teresa.

He sits up, unable to breathe and terribly afraid he's going to vomit, hating himself for being useless to her in these moments – her soft hands on his back only increasing his self-loathing.

"You need to try and sleep, Jane. Please."

Lisbon has moved to rest her lips against his back, her arms wrapped around his torso, and she is so close he can feel her tears through his shirt. He is trembling now, but breathes deeply to try and take control of his emotional outburst.

Lisbon pulls him down to lie in the bed again with her, this time she makes Jane rest his head on her chest. She rubs his back, her lips resting gently in his curls. He moves the hand not tucked against her torso to rest possessively on her hip, curling himself as close to her as he possibly can.

"I'll never sleep like this, Lisbon; this is far too comfortable."

She laughs softly instead of responding as she wants to. She wants to tell him he'll need to get used to this, that she wants to sleep with him this close all of the nights of her life. She doesn't – just softly strokes his back and kisses his hair and hopes that tells him enough for now.

They are silent again, breathing together in the darkness as they separately try and come to terms with what they have endured today. And for the last ten years.

"I meant it you know."

His words seem overly loud in the silence of her bedroom. Lisbon refusing to hope that he is trying to discuss the time they don't talk about.

"You know I don't ever forget, Lisbon – I'm sorrier than I can say that I mislead you. I'm sorry."

His precious words are a whisper into the darkness; he is so close to her she can feel their resonance as he almost breathes them into her body.

"I meant what I said Lisbon, so very, very much."

She nods, uncaring that her gesture will go unseen. She tightens her hold on him, just so grateful to have him here with her. She knows she owes him a response but is afraid any chance of eloquence vanished when he kissed her abdomen through the fabric of her shirt.

"Me too. Me too."

They revert to silence, tiredly content to lie together in peace for a while.

"We should sleep for a while, Jane."

"I know, but part of me thinks we're safer while our eyes are open. I know that's illogical, but the thought won't let me alone."

She pulls him even closer to her, curling her legs against Jane's – unconsciously attempting to use her entire body to make him stay with her like this.

"I want you to try and rest, please try Jane. I know you won't sleep very long so why don't you not sleep long now while I lie here with you. And then it can be your turn when I sleep for not long. Does that make any sort of sense?"

"Perfect sense my dear – thank you. I really won't sleep for long; you are far too kind to me sometimes."

She closes her eyes, aware that she won't sleep at all tonight but just wanting to indulge in the luxury of what she is feeling right now. She wonders how one of the most horrifying days of her life could possibly be filled with such calm now. She finds that she needs to confess one more secret to Jane before he sleeps.

"I don't abhor it you."

"What?"

His response is slurred; he is on the very edge of slumber.

"You said earlier I abhor that you're a gentleman, or your occasional gentlemanly tendencies. I just wanted you to know that I like that; I like that part of you very much. I like it."

"Okay."

And with that he moves his head slightly to kiss her wrist, but then returns his head to her chest and he sleeps.

Morning comes too soon for Lisbon, the creeping light across her bed announcing that she will need to leave the warmth of Jane's arms and return to the reality of her waking life. She can feel him start to move, to leave sleep behind.

"Hey Lisbon, I'm sorry – how long have I been out for. It getting light out, you didn't sleep."

His voice is rough from sleep, and sounds unbelievably sexy to Lisbon.

"It's okay, I'm fine. I got to add to my own memory palace."

Her confession slips from her tongue before she can stop it, but she doesn't regret her words just that she has had to hold them inside for so long. Jane is clearly pleased too, he moves for the first time in hours and lifts her shirt to kiss her stomach – but he is confronted by a large bruise the size of a foot. He moves to lie beside her, the kiss forgotten in his renewed wretchedness. She moves slowly, not in pain from her injuries but from lying with Jane in the same position all night.

"Don't, Jane. Just don't. It's okay, and it's early but we should think about getting ready for work. I'm fine so please stop looking at me like that. I'm fine – other than a man who is used to sleeping on an area the size of a sofa used me as his sofa last night. I'm fine."

And even though this really, really isn't what she had been planning she leans forward and kisses him. Just the simple brush of her lips against his, and before he even has the chance to respond she is out of bed and yelling at him to get in the shower. He's smiling joyfully as he enters her bathroom.

They negotiate their own version of a morning routine together. He sits while he sips his tea while she stands to inhale three cups of coffee. Jane catches himself staring at Lisbon almost all of the time. He finds that he doesn't want to share her with the rest of the world today. He ponders whether she will smack him in the nose if he were to confess this to her.

He thinks of how he has changed in the last twenty fours, or rather how those hours have changed them. This, all of this sadness and violence and pain has had the unexpected result of turning the two of them – separate and alone – into a them. And that isn't quite true, they've been something for years – and frankly life has changed them. If life can turn brown hair to grey, clear skin to lined, then why not sadness and emptiness to joy and peace? This is what he will think about today while he lies on her couch. This and how to finally catch the psychopath who threatens the most precious thing left in his life.

"You ready to go, Jane?"

He nods his agreement and follows Lisbon to the door but he finds himself unwilling to leave here with so much left insinuated and silent. He takes her hand and turns her to face him. She looks confused, a little annoyed, and utterly, utterly lovely. He rests his hands on her hips as he tries to give voice to all he wants to tell her.

"I was wrong earlier, last night I suppose. I was wrong to not tell you – to not say it. That was wrong of me, not to tell you that you are loved. Because you are darling Teresa, you are loved. I love you."

She smiles again, the full smile that accentuates the dimple on her cheek – he feels oddly male suddenly to have caused this response in her. He feels appropriately nervous to be the cause of her happiness, but hopeful that he will protect it with all he has left. She grabs his hand that rests on her right hip in her own, leans forward and whispers her reciprocation against his lips.

They stare at each other goofily for several beats; then laugh self- consciously at their behaviour. He has one more sentiment to share before he leaves here. Just one more statement of intent.

"I'm sleeping here tonight."

"I know."

And so they leave her apartment and head back to work. Defiantly together.