A/N: Sorry for the wait, but my life, as well as my beta's, were really demanding lately.

Thanks again to my wonderful beta wimmer511 (who just posted Chapter 8 of her fic "Post Red", you should definitely check it out, if you haven't already ;)

Thanks to the one's who left a review, greatly appreciated. Also thanks to Guest, Erin (well, you might be onto something, you have to read and see ;) ), and Noyra (yep, thats where I got the idea from) who I couldn't respond to directly.

*Chapter 4*: Ghosts Of The Past

xxxxx

"If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself."― George Orwell

xxxxx

Kim Fischer knew that most people thought of her as a cold, well, Fish. And she knew she was partly to blame for this perception of her person. She was a single child, and told from a young age that if she worked hard and didn't care what other people thought of her, only then could she achieve something in life. With this attitude her parents had become lawyers. Very good lawyers. If they were also very good parents, she wasn't so sure.

She'd spent most of her childhood in company of Nannies because her parents were too busy working. And so it was that Kim, instead of hanging out with friends, hung out with books, crime novels being her favorite. Over time they turned into study books of criminology and before she knew it, she mastered her classes and was accepted at the FBI academy and―after a twenty-week long training course―right behind a desk at the Quantico Office, joining Abbott's team.

Almost one year ago then, he'd asked her to follow him to the, new erected, Austin office. Building a new team which was supposed to solve special cases with the help of the man they'd wanted to arrest the year before―at least that's what the big-wigs wanted.

As it turned out, Jane had been hard to find and once they'd found him, the jurisdiction presented a problem. Besides, Abbott had been certain that Patrick Jane wasn't just going to join them; and so her boss had made her the enticing offer to go undercover and keep tabs on Jane, to make sure they'd found the right one. If she accepted she would get her own team―under Abbott's supervision. The things she had worked hard for her whole life were right there in front of her, she just had to take the opportunity. And what did her mother always say: 'Opportunity seldom knocks twice.'

The rest is history, and here she was with her own team. The only trouble she had now was the very man she had gotten this job for in the first place. Jane was a nuisance; and it still baffled her how Lisbon had managed not to shoot him in over a decade, and how she had controlled him, for starters.

Fischer still wasn't convinced about this whole "involvement" thing, because Jane didn't listen to anyone, period. So, why had he changed his rules for Lisbon? Fischer knew about the piles of complaints Jane had amassed for his former boss, but Lisbon had never lost her job. Fischer was sure this small but important fact had Jane written all over it.

And not only their previous liaison seemed strange, but when Jane had made Lisbon his number one term, Fischer would have betted her savings on the fact that there was more than friendship between these two. Who else, in his right mind, would rather spend the rest of his life in jail than working and even getting paid for it?

When Lisbon eluded her question about the nature of their relationship―she admitted it had been highly unprofessional, but she just couldn't help it at the time―it had made her put out her feelers. Now a few months, and lots of close-up observations later, Fischer surmised that the only two people not realizing they were head-over-heels in love with each other, were the two people in question.

Fischer had to admit, throwing Marcus Pike into the equation hadn't exactly gone as planned. Who would have thought a man as perceptive as Jane was so oblivious to his own feelings. It wasn't so much of a shock when Lisbon had started dating Pike, he was a fine man after all. That Jane was just standing by, watching,was though.

Fischer sighed, shaking her head. How could Jane not realize what he felt...or did he? She didn't know him well, but one thing had become fairly obvious, as cocky and smug as Jane was, he was also incredibly vulnerable, she had seen this part of him on the Island. The part, that if she was honest, had made her second-guess herself, she couldn't believe she'd been smitten by a criminal, and at times still was. So was it in the realm of possibility that Patrick Jane was afraid? Afraid of being rejected by Lisbon?

Signing the last of her paperwork Fischer stretched, her thoughts wandering to the brunette woman. She liked Lisbon, and not only for the circumstance that her presence made it easier to handle Jane. But the few times they had talked it was obvious, despite their different upbringings, their end goal had been the same: Success on the job, even if this meant to sacrifice one's social life. Not being an expert on friendships, Fischer hoped that maybe they could shape something...similar.

Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see that a whole hour had passed. Abbott appeared to still be cooped up in his super secret meeting with these guys from DHS. Usually her boss told her about things, especially if they concerned an on-going case, but this time Abbott had been extremely evasive. The only thing he told her was that they didn't want to be disturbed.

Grabbing her glass of water Fischer felt a small pinch in her stomach. Maybe she should pay the restroom a visit again, she'd gotten so distracted, it had been while.

Walking down the corridor, she looked into the bullpen and saw that Jane was still napping on his brown leather couch. That was another of his quirks. But, she conceded, also somewhat cute. At times he reminded her of a little boy, albeit a little boy that could cause the Apocalypse if you left him to his own devices for too long.

Arriving at her desired destination, the restroom in the basement―most of the women didn't come here and so it was always pleasantly empty―she was about to push the door open when she heard a voice coming from the inside. Leaning against the door, she tried to detect who it was. She had no desire to have Nicole chewing off her ear again, that woman was a master chatterbox. You have a secret you want to make the round? Tell Nicole, and the whole office will know in no time.

Biting her lower lip in concentration, Fischer was careful to open the door only a gap. To her surprise, in the mirror reflection, she spotted Lisbon, hunched over the sink with her eyes closed. Does she still have a migraine? Fischer wondered and was about to step inside when Lisbon started talking again. Trying to see more of the room, Fischer noticed that Lisbon was alone.

"Robin is dead. Robin...is dead." Who is Robin? And why didn't she say anything?

Fischer decided, eavesdropping on someone she wanted to build a friendship with wouldn't be a good start. Looked like the green-eyed woman had just lost someone close to her, maybe she could give some comfort. That couldn't be so hard, a lot of people did that every day, right?

The moment Fischer opened the door Lisbon's head shot up, her eyes wide open in shock. For a second she focused on Fischer in the mirror, but then turned around and faced the fellow agent, who looked like a child caught with her fingers in the cookie jar.

"Uh, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to be listening," Fischer explained hastily. "I just needed to use the...uh...and heard you talking. I thought it might be Nicole and...," Fischer pattered, gesturing in all directions. Wow, very smooth, Kim.

Lisbon looked at her, patently shell-shocked for a while, then relaxed and put on a smile, tucking her long dark hair behind her ear. "No worries. I was just talking to myself."

"I heard. Well, since I couldn't help but overhear it. My condolences Lisbon, I'm very sorry for your loss. May I...ask who Robin was?" Fischer asked gingerly, hoping it wasn't any of Lisbon's brothers.

Lisbon averted her eyes, looking down at the cold white tiles. "A...friend. A friend of mine," she replied, and Fischer could hear her choke.

"I'm sorry. When did it happen?"

A twisted grin came over Lisbon's face, and she bit down on her lower lip before she said, "Thank you, but it-it's been a long time ago. I just...his anniversary was two days ago, and I had completely forgotten about it til now." Lisbon wiped briefly at her misty eyes with her cotton sleeves.

"Oooh, so this why you're not feeling well. You should have said something. He seemed to have been a good friend." Fischer wasn't sure what to make of Lisbon's strangled sounding snort that followed her response.

"Yes, a very close friend," Lisbon answered, staring at herself in the mirror again. Finally Lisbon straightened and came over to Fischer. "Would you do me a favor and not mention any of this to anyone. No one...knows about him, it's...complicated."

Fischer swallowed hard and cast her eyes downwards for awhile, overwhelmed that the petite woman would trust her with such an obviously important secret. "Sure. Promise," she told Lisbon with an encouraging smile, and watched as Lisbon returned the smile and then left.

Almost forgotten was the reason she'd come down here for. The renewed pinch in her lower region though made Fischer jump-start to one of the closed doors.

xxxxx

The familiar sound of boots striding toward Lisbon's desk made Jane open his eyes. Hands folded behind his head, he squinted in her direction and saw Lisbon sitting down, closing the second drawer of her desk. She looked tense again.

Heading over to Lisbon a few minutes later, he saw Fischer crossing the bullpen for Cho's workspace. And then, in the last moment, caught Lisbon's eyes following Fischer, forehead wrinkled with worry.

Jane hoped, for Fischer's sake, she hadn't reprimanded Lisbon for just leaving the office without informing anyone. Fischer was definitely capable of that. Sometimes she was a worse rule-stickler than Lisbon had been. Well, perhaps she needed to be reminded that it was Lisbon he was behaving for, and that any untoward behavior toward Lisbon would have serious repercussions for Fischer's paperwork.

For now he would concentrate on Lisbon though. And he wouldn't let her get away with the usual "I'm fine!" She was clearly anything but fine, and he intended to solve at least this mystery now.

"Hey Lisbon," he said cheerfully, rocking back and forth on his heels behind her. "Forgotten your extra strong cuppa' coffee this morning?"

Puzzled, Lisbon stopped fiddling with her mouse, shooting him a vexed look. "What?"

"C-o-f-f-e-e. Coffee, Lisbon. That hot brew you use to recharge your batteries with, the disgusting brown liquid..."

"Yeah, yeah I know what a coffee is, Jane. I will ask again, knowing I might regret it, what?"

"Well, your hasty departure a while ago," he said warily. He had to tread carefully here or he'd get a punch instead of answers.

Lisbon groaned inadvertently. She really didn't need this conversation now, or ever. "None of your business, Jane." Then she was struck by an idea. "But if you have to know, I was meeting Marcus for lunch and forgot about it, all right?"

"Ah," he replied, and pursed his lips.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Ah?"

"Ah. Because Marcus seemed to have forgotten your lunch-date too. After you left, I saw him walking down to his unit. Didn't seem to be in a hurry."

Lisbon winced. And this is why I'm a horrible liar. Turning back to her monitor she tried to defuse the situation. "Uh, yeah, we both forgot―happens."

Jane stopped his movements and clenched his jaw. "Bullshit," he said, so only she could hear, and was slightly satisfied when Lisbon visibly twitched. She wasn't used to him cussing, but he was starting to get angry. Now she resorted to lying. Why didn't she confide in him? Clearly his plan of taking babysteps needed to be revised. "That's enough. Come on," Jane said, not hesitating to grab Lisbon by her arm, effectively pulling her out of her chair.

"What the...Jane, stop it, let me go," she commanded with a sharp tone, but he ignored her.

While Fischer and Cho watched them leave the bullpen with a curious expression, a few of the other agents present concealed their smirks. They had wondered all along when Jane finally couldn't stand it anymore and would stake his claim. They liked Agent Pike well enough, but since these two had started working here, it baffled anyone how they could not see what everyone else,minus Pike, could see. Looked like things were starting to get interesting again. Hopefully Abbott wouldn't be a spoilsport.

Unbeknownst to the their fellow colleagues thoughts, Jane dragged Lisbon through the corridor, looking for a room that wasn't confined by four walls of glass. They needed privacy. Jane noted gleefully that though Lisbon still protested behind him―albeit she had resorted to hissing so no one else would hear―she didn't try to free herself from his hold. Speaking of hold, the feel of her small hand in his sent a shiver through him, as it always did when he was touching her. One of the reasons he tried to keep body contact,of any kind,to a minimum. He still wanted to slap himself for his lapse in New York.

After two minutes, and few left and right turns, he stopped abruptly when he found a door on his left that was indeed attached to actual walls. Yanking the door open, he didn't waste time to see what the room contained, and hauled Lisbon in behind him. Then he turned them around and closed the door. They found themselves standing in absolute darkness, and something he couldn't identify poked him in the back. But that was nothing to the "poke" that he suddenly felt in his stomach. "Oww," he whined. Yeah, that had felt distinctively like Lisbon's fist.

"I can't believe you...," she yelled, most likely in his general direction, but who knew, since he couldn't see anything in the darkness. "Dragging me all the way through the office. God, what will they be thinking?"

"Meh, the usual. That we're making out in...oomph," Jane started jokingly, but was stopped by another one of Lisbon's not so gentle "pokes".

"Perfect, just perfect. As if they don't already think I only got this job because I'm your booty call...urgh. Is there a freakin' light switch in here?" She growled and Jane considered it might be wise to leave the light out, but this storage room was of the smaller variant and so there was no place to hide from her fury anyway.

"Wait. I'll check." Feeling with his left hand along the door, he felt a small bump a few inches next to the frame and pushed the switch on top of it down. The light that now shown though wasn't much to speak of, its best days were clearly gone. But at least they could make out some contours.

"Voilá," he grinned at her, but the grin fell when he discerned Lisbon's pissed off expression, right before she swatted his arm―hard. Well, at least she'd spared his stomach this time. And, he noted with interest, she wasn't trying to make a run for it―yet.

"Now, Lisbon. No violence, please. Let me explain," he held up his hands in defence, and Lisbon folded her arms in front of her chest, her jaw set in irritation.

"Oh, this had better be good," she huffed, and a choked laugh escaped her throat. "What is it with you and gloomy storage rooms?"

She had meant it as a joke, but the moment the last words had left her mouth, a different sort of tension filled the tiny cubicle. And both occupants stared at each other in sudden awareness, making Lisbon blush with renewed embarrassment and averting her eyes hastily.

Jane though had a different epiphany all of a sudden. He was the one that should feel ashamed for acting the way he had,for the coward he was,not her. Maybe it was time to at least acknowledge...something. The past few nights had been hell, while he had managed to forget the almost kiss in daylight, the nights had been torture. It had been all he could think about, which had catapulted him back to his insomnia, full force.

Was it so bad to tell her what he felt? She clearly wasn't averse to the idea of them―at least she hadn't been. Also the dim light gave him a sense of security. And all it would take were three little words. He had brought her here to find out what was going on with her, but maybe he should start this whole thing from an entirely different angle. "Lisbon," he started tentatively. He needed to choose his words carefully, or she would run for the hills. "What happened in New York...uh, I mean what I did...um, no, what you did," Jane spluttered, but didn't get to finish.

Lisbon cut him off, the red flush of cheeks now from simmering anger rather than mortification. "What, Jane? What did I do?...I was a little hyped up." Her stare was unwavering, for which she complimented herself. But really, she was tired of it all. She had more important things to take care of right now than, once again, doing this weird dance with Jane that always ended with her having a broken heart.

Jane on his end had the decency to look sheepishly at the altered rejoinder of what he once had told her. And by the looks of it Lisbon was far from being finished.

"I've all but had it with you now," she fumed. The last days and hours practically breaking out of her. She felt like a water boiler, the pressure of everything that was happening starting to spill over the top. "You made me look like a fool, you know that? Have you any idea of what it felt like?"

Jane's face contorted. He wished he could turn back time and tell himself to finally man up, instead of tucking in his tail in fear of losing her friendship, and of something he still couldn't define. "Lisbon...no, Teresa. I'm sorry...you don't know how sorry," he murmured the last part, and Lisbon had almost not caught it. "I shouldn't have stopped you, because the truth is...I...I-I" Just say it!, his mind screamed, but his tongue just wouldn't comply.

Lisbon watched him with wide eyes, not believing where this seemed to be going. Her heart started picking up speed, but not for the right reason. Was he really about to make some sort of confession. Now? When her world was falling apart as it was. For the second time in a week she wanted to cry. Why did they always have to have such a bad timing? Why couldn't it, just once, be easy for them?

Lisbon sighed, this time she would be the one to stop him. As much as she had dreamed of this day, there were more important things than their feelings. "Don't Jane. Don't say it. I don't wanna hear it. You constantly play with emotions of other people, to either solve a case or just because it's fun for you. And every time you'd use mine against me, I still would tell myself later that I was an exception. That it was different. What kind of idiot does that make me?" she laughed humorlessly.

"The truth is I was convenient. Who else would have put up with you but 'Saint Teresa' and her Daddy issues. Always understanding and forgiving. And I did, over and over again," Lisbon sighed. "It took me two years to make piece with the fact that you would never come back. And when I finally had, Bam, Jane the Magician appears out of nowhere and just continues where he left off, turning everything upside down, expecting me to follow without even having the decency to ask."

Lisbon shifted, as much as she could, her head lifted and eyes closed to regain some of her composure. But she was on a role now. "For someone who always knows what other people want and desire you extraordinarily oblivious to your own feelings. God, Jane, look at you. You're stuck between your past and moving on for the better part of two years...at least. And you're still not ready." She cast his wedding ring a pointed look.

"You know what I think? I think your constant desire to meddle with everybody's lives results from the fact that you don't want to face your own. You're leading everyone through the house of mirrors, but forget to just once look at your own reflection, scared it could mislead you and trap you. If there was one good thing about this whole fiasco, it was that I finally saw what a complete idiot I was for thinking there could be something..." She trailed off, choking on her words. "I guess I should thank you. Thank you for finally making me see that this," she gestured between them, "is not what I want. I've always been a sucker for the broken man...maybe it's because of my past, who knows. But I finally understood that I can escape this...Marcus showed me that I can escape this vicious circle."

With the mention of Marcus, Jane, for the first time since she'd started speaking, showed an another mien: he cringed, making Lisbon snort.

"It's almost pathetic Jane. All this," Lisbon threw her arms in the air, indicating the room around them. "Is because you feel I'm distancing myself from you, isn't it? Since Marcus all this...hovering has increased. And then I show just the slightest resistance and you think you have to get to the bottom of it. I tell you what, you don't. I'm an adult, a cop, and I can take care of myself. Just stop it," she told him firmly. The renewed pained expression on his face told her, so far, her improvised plan was working. Closing her eyes, Lisbon prepared herself for the last but pointed blow.

"If you have any ounce of respect for me and our friendship, then you will respect my decisions. Let's be colleagues. Maybe this is what you need too, to finally open up to someone else. We've been trying to keep up our friendship... but maybe, with Red John out of the way, t-there is nothing left? We're totally different people, maybe... we need to start from scratch again, each for himself... but for now let's leave it at that."

She looked him straight in the eyes, and she could see how he desperately tried to find a tell that screamed she was lying, that she didn't mean any of this. Lisbon recognized the moment he gave up, the spark usually present in his sea-green eyes, went out like a flame that got suffocated because there was no air left too feed it. He didn't answer nor give any other sign of acceptance; but that was fine, his motionlessness was as good of an answer as any. With one last nod she left the room, and a devastated Jane behind her.

Outside the door Lisbon leaned her back against it, trying hard to hold in the tears. She told herself that she had done what she needed to do. It would be better this way. It would save him.

Inside the room, braced with both hands against the door and staring at the floor, the only thought Jane's brain was capable of was: This did not go the way I had planned―at all.

xxxxxxxxxx

Ten minutes later, back in the bullpen, Lisbon busied herself with papers she'd already been through multiple times, ignoring the curious looks on Fischer's and Cho's faces, and hoping that Jane would stay out of the bullpen for a while longer, licking his wounds in silence.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound erupting from her desk drawer. Pulling it open, she looked inside and did a double take at her work phone and the had gotten the same brand deliberately, so none of the others would become suspicious, but Lisbon needed to be careful to not mix them up herself.

Grabbing the right one from her drawer she read the message on the display that had just arrived, when Fischer appeared in front of her. "Lisbon, meeting with the Lab guys. They managed to extract the fingerprints," she told her and Lisbon threw the phone back, grabbing the other and hurried after Fischer.

xxxxxxxxxx

Emerging from the break room a while later―no he hadn't been hiding from Lisbon, really, he hadn't―Jane saw, to his utter relief, that Lisbon wasn't there. Fischer and Cho were gone too, in fact, everyone usually busying around was nowhere to be found. Jane shrugged and lay down on his couch, his mind overtaken by thoughts of Lisbon and what had happened twenty-three minutes and thirty-four seconds ago.

It had hurt what she'd said, stung massively, and while preparing his tea Jane had made the decision to give Lisbon the space she wanted. For now. But he was also determined, he wouldn't give up, he wasn't that type of man, he was the obsessive type, that would hang on to something until he got it. A ten year devotion to a serial killer to avenge his family was proof of this, wasn't it?

Jane hadn't found a tell that Lisbon had been lying exactly, but there had been so much going on inside her eyes, it was like trying to watch several movies at the same time―plus the incredibly bad lighting. On top of this, since his return from the Island he'd had difficulty reading her anyway, even the most simple things seemed to be veiled by milk glass these days. And instead of adjusting, he had the feeling it was getting worse and worse, no matter what he'd tried to tell himself for months now. He tried to engage her, she retreated. They were doing a dance and he seemed to misstep all the way, resulting in stepping on her toes.

One thing was clear though, she was,and would be,insecure of the honesty of his feelings. Revisiting what she'd said, he knew she had all the right to be. Nothing he'd done in the past would reassure her of anything emotional he'd say. He'd always chickened out, or sent her a hell of a lot mixed signals.

So the plan he needed to come up with needed to make her understand his intentions were absolutely honest, and that he was on his way to moving on. Although, as of now, he was at a loss of how to convince her of his sincerity. Starting to respect her decision, no matter how much it hurt, might be a start though. Jane pouted. He did find it a bit unfair, because she must've seen his attempts at becoming a better man during the last months.

Sighing, Jane rubbed his left hand over his face and felt the cold metal against his skin. He scrutinized the golden ring, tugging at it slightly with his right thumb and index finger. He knew as long he was wearing this, Lisbon had always a safe argument to keep the status quo between them. Taking it off was something he wasn't yet ready to do. Though, he had to confess, if someone asked him why, he wouldn't know the answer to that question. It felt as if he was waiting for something to happen, waiting for the sign. Anyway, suffice was: He'd have to hatch an elaborate plan, and, in the meantime, hope Marcus wouldn't make too much headway.

Jane turned on his side, tucking his hands between his bent knees. Unfortunately the pleasant silence in the bullpen was halted by a buzzing sound. Lifting his head to make out where the sound was coming from, Jane was surprised to find it coming very clearly out of Lisbon's desk. Odd, she usually didn't leave her phone behind.

When the buzzing stopped, Jane contemplated lying back down, but something―okay, his inherent nosiness―made him walk over to her desk. Taking a quick glance around, he made sure no one was watching. The CBI definitely had had quite a lot of benefits the F.B.I. didn't. Enough corners and walls to peek through stuff unseen, for example.

Registering he was still the only one around, Jane opened the drawer and discovered Lisbon's phone. Pressing the home button, a message stared back at him from the shiny display, received just a few minutes ago. Apparently she hadn't opened it yet: 'Tonight, 6.30 pm, Usual place. George, S.'

Jane thought he might have a stroke. Who the hell was "George S?". "Usual Place?", well this sounded like they were meeting,he refused to use the word dating, for quite some time.

Hearing footsteps coming closer Jane dropped the phone back and closed the drawer. He threw himself back on the couch and feigned sleep, his mind working like a speed train. Who the hell was George? He couldn't remember anyone they'd met recently with this name. The little tidbit about the meeting place was the most unsettling. George didn't need to write down an actual venue because they already had a concrete one. And why so cryptic? Apart from the fact it was Lisbon he was thinking about, he had to conclude, if he'd find such a message on a suspects phone, he would draw a pretty simple conclusion: the receiver of the message was cheating.

"Jane, there you are. Abbott wants to see us, come on," Fischer's voice resounded, slightly annoyed, from the entry. Not even bothering to pretend he hadn't heard her, he stood up and trotted after her, still deep in thought.

Of all people, Lisbon was the prime example of the good human, the Saint, she opposed to cheating just as much as to murder, maybe even more so. But then, was she really cheating? A few dates with Marcus didn't make them exclusive. And would she be the 'have-two-strings-to-one's-bow' kinda person?

Her words from New York came back to his mind: "Some men want to date me."Men-plural. She must have been talking about this George guy. Mmh, perhaps he could follow her this evening, see who this cretin was...but that was kind of troublesome if the only vehicles you possessed were an Airstream trailer and an eggshell-blue Citroën one would spot a mile away―or an F.B.I. licensed plate SUV for that matter. And if she spotted him, he wouldn't need to hatch a plan to win her heart, but one to escape her wrath.

Frowning, Jane wanted to kick something. Marcus alone was a huge problem, this "George Clooney" character was an unknown menace he really didn't need. Naturally, fate had to pee even more on his head and throw in another obstacle. Then again, he'd had her at his side for ten years and taken it for granted, he supposed this was an adequate punishment; watching her being ensnared by other men, while keeping her distance from him.

Waiting for Fischer to open the door of the secure conference room, Jane resolved, Lisbon,or anyone for that matter,mustn't know that his heart had just made acquaintance with a bulldozer in form of a text message.

For a moment, he childishly contemplated not sitting down next to Lisbon, who was watching Abbott purposefully, but then he changed his mind. He was good at pretending after all. Because in the end, no matter who Lisbon chose, he knew not having her in his life at all would be the worst outcome.

xxxxxxxxxx

The smoke pricked her eyes as Lisbon stood, on the stroke of six-thirty pm, in the entrance of an english pub in Georgetown. Good thing Sinclair had told her upfront they would meet close to Austin; she still had mulled over the meaning of "George" for a good hour before making use of a map.

Passing table for table she glanced at her watch. In that moment she saw a man with short light-brown hair, wrapped up in an expensive looking coat, sitting at the farthest table in a corner, waving at her. A glass of ginger ale placed in front of him. Some things never change.

When she came closer he stood up and nodded in greeting. "Teresa. Long time no see. Please take a seat." Lisbon slipped into the booth opposite of him and couldn't help but raise her eyebrow in amusement, when she noticed the tell-tale behavior of a man that worked in intelligence. He'd chosen the table furthest from the entrance to hide himself, and at the same time it gave him the perfect opportunity to observe the people all around.

"Sinclair," she nodded, returning the courtesies. "I wish I could say that it is good to see you, but you know that'd be a lie."

He gave her a mirthless smile. "True. So, let's not beat around the bush. What do you know?"

Lisbon relaxed a bit, for what felt like the first time since returning from New York. She bowed her head and let her shoulders slump before catching his eyes. Wiping her sweaty hands on her Jean's-clad thighs. "Brady is back. I haven't seen him, but I know it's him. He...uh...sent me a letter, sans his name of course, but what he's written...it-it's something only he can know," she told the dark-haired man, who nodded in understanding.

"Yes. Brady is on the run. He escaped prison two months ago."

"Two months? He was sitting in a prison cell in Minnesota, how is it possible that it isn't all over the news?" She had raised her voice a little halfway through, in fury, and quickly turned around to see if they had any listeners. But the folk-songs playing in the background, forced the other customers to speak rather loudly themselves.

Sinclair suddenly was unable to hold eye contact and scratched at his chin. "Yeah, about that... there's something you should know," he started and Lisbon narrowed her eyes at him. "He never was in Minnesota. He was in... Russia."

"W-What? But," Lisbon flustered. "You, you told me..." her voice pitched up again; this time in outrage.

"Only a very few people knew his true whereabouts." With his arms propped up on the table he pressed his thumbs to the sides of his nose. "Look, what's important to know is, DHS and the State Department know about Brady. They've already interviewed me. Listen, I know you're working on a case with the F.B.I. right now, Townsend and Blackstone, right?" Sinclair looked up at her again.

Lisbon's eyes widened in comprehension. "Yes. And I know, we just had a meeting. My boss, Dennis Abbott, told us that the DHS will help us with the "investigation" tomorrow. Brady left a ring behind at the first crime scene...at least I'm thinking it's his. I'd hoped it was..."

"Coincidence? Please, Teresa. Don't be so naive," he patronized her. "He wanted you to know. Townsend was a very rich man, contractor to the US Government. How big was the chance the local Police would keep that case? What do you think? No, he knew the F.B.I. would take over, you would take over. But these murders aren't just a decoy. Townsend's and Blackstone's company's...well, let's just say they performed a lot of "unregistered" business. Amongst them: shipping Brady to East-Europe fifteen years ago."

"Why Russia?" Lisbon asked in a low voice, she was still trying to process this bit of information.

"Uh, you see, the information, the knowledge he had was invaluable. But you also know what a tough S.O.B. he is. Did you think our dainty prisons could make him talk?" he asked, and grimaced.

"You... tortured him," Lisbon stated, disgusted.

Sinclair shook his head, his mouth twitching. "I'm impressed, I've gotta say. I thought at some point he'd just die. His sojourn there was by no means a vacation. That place is hell on earth, I tell you. But it seems we underestimated his pride; his will."

"You always believed you knew him, but you never did."

"And you do?" Sinclair's tone conveyed an unspoken question.

Lisbon clenched her jaw. She really wanted to punch him. "I think no one really does."

Not responding to any of that, he observed Lisbon, his gaze reminiscent of Jane's. She sighed. "Fine. How does he even know where I am. Who I am. I thought 'The List'," she mimicked air quotes, "was classified?"

"Four weeks ago I got a call from my colleagues in Paris. They told me Benjamin Gilles had died. Car accident."

Lisbon gasped. "He's dead?"

"Yes. But unlike the officials, we know that this wasn't an accident. A week after his death, two of the men who helped us "delivering" Brady died too. One by heart failure; the other supposedly shot his wife and his three young kids before hanging himself, left a farewell note―in his handwriting. The officials had no reason to investigate any further, but we knew that three dead men who only but once worked on the same case were more than contingency. We found a huge amount of money on Gilles' account, though everyone knew he had debts―thanks to his gambling addiction. We believe that Brady bribed Gilles to tell him the names."

"No," Lisbon said with conviction and shook her head. "He wouldn't do that. And why would Brady pay him if he planned on killing him anyway?"

"It wasn't that much, we think it was a deposit to make him believe they were serious. Once they had the names," Sinclair made a cutting movement along his throat.

"He sold us out?" Lisbon whispered in disbelief.

"Yes. I'm glad you called. I would have contacted you soon. The thing is, you know how Brady operates. I brought my wife and son in safety, not far from here, which is why I was able to meet you so quickly. I don't know if you and your brothers are on speaking terms... but it really doesn't matter actually. Tell me where to find them so I can get them out of the danger zone."

"Ahm...yes. I-I'll write their addresses down for you. What will you tell them? They don't know anything," Lisbon replied, her voice had grown small.

"And that won't change. You're working in law enforcement. They don't need to know who it is they need to be protected from," Sinclair looked at her with a sad expression. "I'm sorry Teresa, I really am. And I was sorry to hear about Sam. He didn't deserve to die the way he did. He was a good cop."

"Yes, he was," she answered curtly, not wanting to dwell on her former mentors death. "Do you have any idea where Brady is?"

"We've tried to track him down. We're observing every single airport for incoming flights―private jets specifically. Six days ago, a jet from London arrived on a small airport close to Tucson, Arizona. And although the resolution wasn't the best, it was definitely Brady on the footage."

"I see. Time's running out I guess," Lisbon said downcast, but her mind snatched onto a thought. "What if we tell my team? Maybe you've heard of Patrick Jane. He's a genius, he could..."

"No! No, Lisbon, no one can know, no one!" Sinclair interrupted her. "Unless you want to get them killed, don't tell them."

"But..."

"No buts. You know what Brady's capable of. We can't get more people into this than absolutely necessary. The DHS and State Department are already a problem. Maybe you should think about hiding for a while. Me and my team are working on finding Brady. I hope this nightmare will be over soon, but as long as he's out there you have to be careful," Sinclair said sincerely. He had grabbed her hands during his speech and squeezed them hard. Looking at her apologetically, he let go again.

Taking a pen from the inside of his coat he held it out for Lisbon and she picked up a napkin to write her brothers addresses down. Finished with that she rolled the pen back over the table to Sinclair and stood up, pulling at the lapels of her jacket. "Take care."

"You too, Teresa. You too." She nodded and left the pub.

xxxxxxxxxx

Darkness had set down on the city of Austin and Lisbon felt the same reaching out for her heart. Like a cloud encircling the beating organ, coming closer and closer, waiting to suffocate her.

Lisbon turned off the car and stepped out into the night. She stretched her sore muscles, inhaling the humid air. A shiver ran through her body and she crossed her arms to rub them warm. Although the shudder could be explained by the uneasy feeling of being watched.

And then there was the conversation with Sinclair still on her mind. If the DHS agents really would let them in on the case tomorrow, then he was right, they would be finding something eventually. She needed a plan, but hiding wouldn't be it. She still had a hard time believing Benjamin had sold them out, on the other hand, Brady had always been very persuasive, and seemed to instinctively know where to find your point of weakness.

Walking past the bushes that girded the stairs to her front porch, Lisbon fiddled with the keys in her cold hand and let herself in. Throwing them in the bowl on the dresser that stood back in its old space. Shrugging off her jacket she hung it on the rack. She would drink a glass of wine, or maybe two, that should help shutting her brain off and then hopefully have a soporific effect and make her fall asleep―if only for a few hours.

Standing in the archway to the living room Lisbon felt along the wall in search for the light switch. But just when she found it, the table lamp next to her sofa went on. And the smooth, deep, Irish accented voice that floated through the air made her heart stop.

"Good evening Robin...or shall I say...Teresa?"

xxxxx

"Because this is what happens when you try to run from the past. It just doesn't catch up, it overtakes … blotting out the future." ― Sarah Dessen

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A/N: Did I mention I like getting reviews :)