Merry Bleeping Christmas

He stared as the door, as if it might be something that was going to eat him. The bell rang again. CBI had taught him to not just stand in front of a door and ask who is there. A door is a poor shield if the person on the other side has bad intentions. Standing to one side of the door, where the wall was the thickest, he called, "Coming! Who is it?"

"Come on Jane. Open the damn door. It's cold out here!" Lisbon's irritated with Jane tone was unmistakable.

A quizzical look crossed his face and he did open the door and stepped back to allow her free entry and to be able to observe beyond her, even though the tone of her voice indicated that she was acting of her own volition, and not being forced to do anything.

She stepped in, closed the door behind her and shuddered. When does California get this damn cold?" She looked at him, glared really. "Well, I'm happy to see you too, Jane."

He shook his head and smiled. "Well, Merry Bleeping Christmas to you too, Lisbon. And pardon me. My mind really was a million miles away." He focused fully on her. "Just what are you doing here on this loverly Christmas Eve?"

"Oh, good. You have the heat on. I saw smoke or steam from the chimney and was hoping." She shrugged out of a jacket far too light for the weather. "Do I need a special reason to visit a friend on Christmas Eve," she asked, handing him her jacket.

He took it and hung it in a small closet not too far from the door. "No, I guess not, but you always have reasons for what you do. That's one of the things that make you so easy to read. You're never random."

"I'm easy to read? I am easy to read?" She grinned. "Like you aren't?"

He grinned a genuine Jane grin and shook his head indicating negative. "You don't stand a mark's chance at carney of reading me! Don't fool yourself"

"It's still chilly in here," she said changing the subject. "Don't you have anything to keep us warm?"

He stared at her and gave a sly grin. "Oddly enough I do! I have some of the best Scotch that I've ever tasted in my life. Some wonderful Santa seems to have given me a gift."

Lisbon smiled and conspicuously did not ask who the Santa was. "You are going to share," she hinted.

"I think that could be arranged. Stay here." He went into the kitchen and retrieved another glass. "This way," he said heading toward The Room. "It's this way."

They walked into The Room, lit only by the tiny night light, Jane going over to the stand, where the Scotch was sitting. "How much," he asked, holding the glass up.

"Four fingers," she quickly replied. "I want to warm up."

He nodded and smiled. "Four fingers? You're the boss." He turned and poured. As he was pouring, his vest rode up, making the .45 in his belt obvious to Lisbon. She frowned, pursed her lips and gently blew out, a nervous habit she'd indulge in sometimes, when stressed.

He turned and smiled. "Careful, now. That was four of MY fingers. I figured a good Irish Lady can hold her liquor.

She nodded. "I can, and thank you." She took a sip. She smiled and took a second sip. "OK, Jane, big question here. What's that in you pants?"

He looked shocked. "In my pants?"

"Yes, Jane," her irritated Lisbon voice appearing. "That lump in your pants."

"Ah, um," Jane coughed, and glancing down, to make sure his trousers weren't unzipped. "What kind of a question is that?"

Lisbon looked even more irritated. "In the back of your pants, Dummy. The about colt .45 sized lump! Are you planning on shooting someone?"

Patrick actually looked embarrassed. She wasn't sure if it was the misconstruction of her question into a sexual innuendo or her seeing that he had a gun, but she found that amusing. At the moment, he seemed speechless. She'd seen the "damage" he'd done to the bottle of Scotch, so she wasn't surprised that he wasn't at the top of his game. She finished her drink, allowing the silence to grow, the dim light, the grim reminder of violent death on the wall, and the faint sounds of Christmas music drifting in from some Carolers on the street, was creating a eerie atmosphere. The Scotch was doing nothing to minimize that feeling, she realized.

"So, where did you get it?"

"It was a gift."

"A gift?" Lisbon looked skeptical. "Who do you know who goes around giving out guns?"

"You remember the guy who killed his wife's murderer?"

"Oh, yes. He walked because the other guy could have done it too. Both of them walked." She stared at him and nodded. "I can see how you and he could," she hesitated, "have a lot in common." She held out her hand. "May I see it?"

Jane reached around and easily ans smoothly drew the weapon and pointed it to the ground. He removed the clip, jacked the chambered round out and then stuck his finger into the chamber to insure it was clear. He then dry fired the pistol towards the floor, the click clearly demonstrating that it was empty. He reversed grip and handed it to Lisbon, butt first.

Lisbon lifted both eyebrows, impressed with his protocol. She hefted the pistol and nodded. The receiver was nicely engraved and darkly blued. She worked the slid action and felt how smooth and easy it was. "This is a fine piece," she said, "and someone has been giving you proper training. Cho is about the only person that I know of who is consistently that thorough. Now, how about a refill on the Scotch?"

Jane retrieve his piece, tucked back into his belt and gave them both a generous splash of Scotch in their respective glasses. The both took a long pull and sat the glasses down. "I think I'm beginning to feel that stuff and is it good, there, too," Lisbon smiled. "Your Santa has good tasted. Too bad she can't afford to buy it more often."

Jane smiled and put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. "I'm not surprised you're feeling it. You had almost as much as I, and my body mass is a lot more than yours."

She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. His light touch on her hair, as he smoothed a loose strand into place felt nice.

She pushed herself fully erect. "So, show me your firing stance." Not only did she want just a little more distance between them, she was really interested.

Jane nodded, faced the wall, and as if by magic, the gun appeared in his hand, aimed dead center at the smiley face.

"Oh," Lisbon said. "I'm really impressed."

Jane glared at her.

"No," she said. "I mean it! Hold your position." She walked around him, looking up and down. "Ok, she said, kicking his right foot. "Your right foot is leading. Try to make them square to your target.

Jane grimaced. "I keep doing that," he said scooting the foot into the proper position.

She stood behind him, and wrapped her arms around him and lifted his arms a little. "Use your arms to bring the gun to eye level. You won't really be aiming, but you will sight along side of the barrel at your target. No off the hip shooting. Those bullets can go anywhere. Maintain good sight picture and control."

He nodded. "I see what you mean." He dropped his arms and didn't mind a bit when she didn't remove her arms from around him. "I can see how that could make a big difference."

They stood silent, her arms around him, he with his hands over hers.

As they stood, church bells started sounding. Lisbon, with surprising strength, turned Jane around so he faced her. "Midnight," she said, looking up at him.

"Christmas," he said.

"Merry Christmas," she told him, her lips just brushing his.

"Merry Christmas, Lisbon.

She was unable to respond. Kissing and talking are incompatible.

oOOo

A/N: Merry Christmas to all!