Author's Note: Thanks so much to those of you who've reviewed—reading your thoughts on what I've written really keeps me going! I know I promised action in this chapter, and someone does get punched, but this is turning out to be a more contemplative story than I originally thought. I hope I'm not disappointing anyone who was all set for a thriller. Though we may get there yet. My muse likes to think of herself as Jane's kindred spirit—she only tells me what she thinks I need to know at the moment. :)

Chapter 4

Jane found that he liked the neighborhood where Lisbon had lived. Clarendon was a vital urban area, full of shops and restaurants coming to life as evening began. There were little parks here and there and lots of pedestrians, mostly younger people. It seemed an odd choice for a forty-something couple, but then Jane realized it wasn't just young people, but young families. There were strollers everywhere. This was a neighborhood Pike and Lisbon had chosen not only for their present life, but for their future. They'd planned to start a family here.

It made him realize that maybe he really was moving too slowly. He hadn't wanted to spook his commitment-phobic Lisbon, but she'd already bought into the concept with Pike. Maybe she really was ready.

He'd propose as soon as they got home. He wouldn't do it here because she was focused on Pike, but he wouldn't put it off any longer than it took them to wrap things up in DC.

The morgue and funeral home over with, Lisbon seemed to be feeling better. But then, she was ticking things off her long to-do list, and she was always happiest when she felt productive. Plus, there wasn't anyone they'd have to deal with after the building management let them in. It would be just the two of them, which was always easier.

The manager was subdued, apologizing for the security camera lapse and offering his condolences. Lisbon was polite but distracted, and Jane examined the man closely for signs of deception. Finding none, he tried to put him more at ease.

"Thank you," he said after the manager unlocked the door. "We appreciate your help."

The manager nodded. "Let me know if there's anything else we can do. We really hope you find whoever did this. Nothing like this has ever happened here. Everyone's a little, um, on edge."

Jane nodded. "Of course. We'll let you know if we need anything."

Lisbon had already gone inside, so Jane hurried to follow her, closing the door behind him. He found himself in a modestly sized living room with a sliding glass door opening onto a small balcony with a nice view down the street. The furnishings were simple and masculine, and the walls were bare except for a framed jersey. The single bookcase held mostly art books and crime manuals, interspersed with a few art history texts. Reading for business, not pleasure. It reminded him a bit of Lisbon's Sacramento place.

Lisbon turned to the low TV cabinet along the door wall, sort of a waist-high sideboard taken up almost entirely by the big screen. But in the corner nearest the door was a small ceramic bowl that held keys. "He was in for the night," Lisbon murmured, picking up the keys with a pensive expression.

"Anything out of place?" Jane asked. It was a little cluttered, but not messy, and reasonably clean. Marcus had been a good roommate for Lisbon, it seemed.

Lisbon looked around. "No. It, uh, hasn't changed much. He wasn't home enough to decorate."

"Could robbery have been a motive? Did he keep cash here? Guns?'

"Some, yeah." Lisbon led the way to the kitchen, stretching up to reach a pitcher on top of the cupboards. Jane quickly moved to help her, tipping out a roll of cash. Lisbon counted it. "Nothing's missing. If it was robbery, they didn't look very hard."

Given that the killer hadn't checked to make sure Pike was dead, Jane had figured all along it wasn't a planned operation by a career criminal, but this line of thought was helping Lisbon focus. He was worried by the way her eyes kept going to the bloody carpet near the couch.

Next, she went into a small room with a desk and computer, opening the closet and taking a lockbox down from the shelf. She knew the combination and opened it to reveal a handgun. "His personal weapon's here. Since he was in for the night, his FBI issue one should be in the nightstand, unless the FBI took it already."

Jane said, "So he wasn't expecting trouble when he answered the door."

"No," she agreed. "It was either someone who lived here or someone he buzzed in. So he probably knew them."

"So the question is," Jane said, "whom did he know outside of work?"

Lisbon objected, "It could have been someone from work."

"No FBI agent shoots that badly," Jane said.

"Not an agent, but maybe support staff, or even someone he questioned as part of a case. An informant maybe."

"Could be," Jane mused. It didn't feel right, though. Something about this smelled of a relationship gone wrong. "Can we check the bathroom? See if the stuff Don mentioned is yours?"

"Yeah." Lisbon went into the bathroom and checked the shower, then the medicine cabinet. "Oh."

Aha, Jane thought. "Not yours?"

"No." Lisbon held up a small cosmetics bag. "Not my brand."

"So he was seeing someone, seriously enough for her to sleep over more than once. What timeline does that suggest?" Jane wondered. Pike moved fast; it was possible, given that his colleagues didn't know about the mystery woman, he'd only known her a matter of weeks. Or less.

Lisbon flushed unhappily. "I, uh, we started sleeping over the second week. So it could have been pretty new."

Jane nodded, carefully not commenting on this new piece of information about a relationship that was almost entirely a mystery to him. He felt it was better not to know too much, then and now. "So we need to find out who she is. And why she hasn't come forward or tried to contact him. We should look at his personal email."

Lisbon looked even more unhappy. "The FBI has already done that."

Hm. He wasn't the only one not wanting to know too much about another relationship. "I'll do it if you help me with the password. At a minimum, we need to find out who to notify about the funeral."

She bit her lip, then sighed. "Okay."

Pike hadn't bothered to change his computer password, and Lisbon didn't have to guess it. Jane wondered if that was carelessness or a recognition of Lisbon's utter trustworthiness.

"Thanks," Jane said, sliding into the desk chair as she vacated it.

"Let's pull his address book first," Lisbon said. "I'll start making calls, since we have a date and time for the service."

Jane clicked where she indicated, and soon she had a printout of names and numbers. "Do you know these people?"

"Some, or at least know of them. Melinda is his ex. Tim was one of his college roommates."

"Do those first. I can help with the ones you don't know," Jane offered.

Lisbon ruffled his hair affectionately as she left the room. "Thanks, but I have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. I got it."

A moment later, he heard the bedroom door close. Of course she wanted privacy for those conversations, he chided himself as he felt a twinge of unhappiness. He had plenty to do anyway.

Pike's personal email was mostly junk. There were e-cards from his birthday a couple of months back that he'd kept, plus notes from friends. They were all in his contact list, including a note from tlisbon99. Jane felt only a moment's guilt as he opened it, comforted as he saw it was short and to the point:

Dear Marcus,
Happy birthday! I wish you all the happiness in the world, and I hope someday you can forgive me.

Best wishes,
Teresa

Marcus hadn't replied, Jane noticed. Did that mean he'd died angry with her? Did she know that? He hoped not. Guilt like that was a terrible thing to carry through life, as he knew very well. He was positive Angela had died hating him, blaming him for bringing such a horror into their lives. How could she not have?

He had no idea how Lisbon had managed to coax him into slowly healing despite his best intentions, but he needed to devote some thought to it so he could return the favor.

There was no sign of a mystery girlfriend; if she'd wished him happy birthday it must have been by phone or in person. But probably she had arrived in his life after his birthday, which was only a couple of weeks after Lisbon had left. And she apparently wasn't big on email, which he could understand. If she'd texted, that would be on Pike's cell, which the FBI had.

If she'd stayed over enough to keep makeup here, there must be other traces of her. He didn't want to disturb Lisbon, so he couldn't go through the bedroom closet, but maybe the kitchen?

The refrigerator was enlightening. It was possible Pike was into low-fat fruity yogurts and pomegranate juice, but Jane deemed it unlikely. Also unlikely he had bought the quart of triple chocolate fudge swirl frozen yogurt in the freezer, with a sell-by date that indicated it wasn't left there by Lisbon.

The cupboards contained a depressing array of granola snacks and cereal, ryebread crackers and organic almond butter, and a high end bottle of balsamic vinegar probably meant for the wilting salad greens in the fridge.

He was losing weight just looking at this kitchen. No wonder Lisbon had wasted away living here.

Oh, but that assumed the diet food was Pike's, not the girlfriend's. Some of it, maybe, but not all of it, surely. And not the frozen yogurt. He'd double check with Lisbon, but—

Aha! The junk food stash, hidden away on the top shelf. Doritos, potato chips, a jar of queso dip with tortilla chips, and salted cashews. Pike was evidently a savory enthusiast rather than having a sweet tooth, which supported his theory about the ice cream.

Wandering out to the living room, Jane inspected the bookcase and spied something tucked in a corner. It was a plugin air freshener, and a sniff revealed it to be hydrangea scented. Jane grimaced a bit at the sweetness. Definitely not something he could envision Pike buying.

A sound at the door caught his attention, and he straightened and turned as it opened to reveal a petite blonde in a dark skirt and white shirt with a colorful scarf. She tossed her keys into the bowl with the ease of habit and kicked off her high heeled pumps, then gasped as she saw Jane.

"It's all right—" he started to assure her as she reached into her purse and pulled out a can of pepper spray. "Really, no need for that. My name is —"

The woman was looking around nervously, and she let out a muffled cry, her free hand covering her mouth, as she saw the bloodstain on the carpet. "Oh my God!"

Jane noted the slight Southern accent automatically as she rounded on him in fury. "Where's Marcus? What did you do to him?"

"Nothing. I'm with the FBI," Jane hurried to explain.

"Oh my God. Is he—is he—" Her big blue eyes started to fill with tears.

Jane softened his voice. "I'm afraid so. I'm very sorry."

She dropped the pepper spray, to his relief, and then threw herself into his arms, to his dismay. His discomfort increased exponentially when she began to sob loudly.

"There, there," he said, patting her back awkwardly. He strained to hear if Lisbon had noticed anything amiss, but she didn't emerge. She might be in the middle of an emotional conversation.

Lisbon still had his handkerchief, but he'd packed a spare for today, so he handed the mystery girlfriend that one. She clutched it in her hand but kept soaking his shirt. He only hoped she wasn't leaving mascara stains as well.

After the Tiffani incident, the last thing he wanted was for Lisbon to find him plastered with blonde, especially since she was already having a very emotional day. He needed to get this woman talking so she'd compose herself. "Did you know him long?"

"S-six m-months," she sobbed.

Jane frowned. She and Pike would have had to meet almost the moment he'd moved to DC. Could he have cheated on Lisbon? Surely not.

"Where did you meet?" he asked, gently stepping back while holding her in place.

"Work." She wiped at her face with the handkerchief. Jane was glad to note that her mascara was waterproof.

"You work together?"

She shook her head. "I work for TransWorld Airlines. He flies a lot. To Europe mostly. I get the Paris run a lot."

"Ah." So he'd met this woman while living with Lisbon but probably hadn't dated her until after. "I'm Patrick, by the way." He gave her his best reassuring smile.

She mustered a tremulous one. "Hi. I'm Amy. Amy Richardson."

"Nice to meet you, Amy. Can I make you some tea?"

"No, I—" Amy broke off as the door to the bedroom opened and Lisbon emerged.

"It's okay," Jane said. "She's my partner."

"What were you doing in our bedroom?" Amy demanded.

Lisbon's eyebrows went up. "Your bedroom?"

"I live here. Well, as soon as I find time to move," Amy said.

Jane added, "This is Amy Richardson. Amy, this is Teresa Lisbon."

"I'm sorry for your—" Lisbon began, then ducked as Amy tried to punch her in the face.

Jane immediately grabbed Amy, pulling her out of reach as Lisbon raised a hand to her cheek, red where the other woman's fist had grazed it. She looked stunned.

"Bitch!" Amy shrieked. "You have no right to be here after what you did to him! You broke his heart! Get out!"

Jane pushed Amy back a step, a little more roughly than he meant to. Crouching to look her in the eye, he summoned his most compelling voice. "Amy. You need to calm down. Deep breaths. In, and out. In. And out."

Amy burst into tears again. "I don't need to calm down. I need her to get out of my home. I need to know what happened. And I need Marcus!"

She flung herself at Jane again, and he cast a worried glance at Lisbon over her head.

Lisbon was obviously upset, but she was hanging onto her professional demeanor with both hands. "I'll call Don," she said quietly, then stepped out into the hall.

Once she was gone, Jane applied himself to calming down the no-longer-mystery woman, as well as calming down himself. His heart was still pounding from the burst of primal rage he'd felt when Amy had hit Lisbon. He wanted to strangle her, or at least insist that Lisbon arrest her for assaulting a federal agent.

But mostly he wanted to go hold Lisbon until that stricken look in her eyes went away.

mmm

Lisbon waited in the hall until one of Don's agents showed up. He was a young man she didn't recognize, but he gave her a friendly smile. "Agent Lisbon? I'm John Dunn. You found the girlfriend?"

"She found us. She's living here, sort of. She's in there with Jane. Can you tell him I'll be on the roof?" Considering Amy's state of mind, Lisbon felt it was better they didn't meet again. She didn't want to make it harder for the FBI to get information from Amy on the off chance that Jane hadn't already gotten her life story. By now he could probably list her childhood pets and grade school teachers.

"Will do. Thanks."

Lisbon made her escape to the elevators, and a short ride later, she was pushing open the glass door to the little roof garden. She'd always liked it up here, especially when the apartment felt lonely. She could watch the activity below, all the happy families, and hope that someday she'd have that. A lot of those nights ended with her deciding to accept Marcus' proposal, but somehow when he came home again she could never quite say the words to his face. Now she knew why: her heart had still been set on Jane.

She had made some terrible mistakes, but she couldn't truly blame herself for trying to have what she wanted. She'd waited for Jane, after all, without seeing any sign that he ever intended to move on or wanted anything other than friendship from her. Was it so awful to want a better future for herself than more years of hopeless longing?

She would have made it work if Jane hadn't finally confessed that he wanted to be with her, she assured herself. She would have married Marcus and done her best to get pregnant. There would have been happiness in that life, even if the longing never completely vanished. She hadn't lied to Marcus, or tricked him, or tried to hurt him.

There was no denying she had, though. Amy had a right to judge her harshly for that. She would feel the same way in her place.

The door opened behind her, and a moment later Jane's hands were on her arms, turning her gently so he could look at her face. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. She barely made contact. I saw it coming," Lisbon assured him.

"Mm." Jane touched his fingertips to her cheek, ever so lightly. But it was enough to make her wince. "We should get some ice on that."

Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her against him and swaying a little. She slid her arms around his waist and held on tightly, grateful for his comfort.

"Thanks for distracting her," she murmured into his chest. She had yet to meet a woman who could resist that mesmerizing stare of his.

"I wanted to strangle her," he admitted. "But I realized you'd be very, very cranky if you had to arrest me instead of her."

Lisbon let out a brief chuckle. "Yeah. Cranky doesn't even begin to describe it." But she was glad he hadn't felt the need for any macho posturing. It would have made things worse for sure.

"You okay?" He asked again, running his fingers through her hair.

"Mm hm." More okay by the minute, in fact. There was something wonderfully restorative about being held by him.

"Yeah," he sighed after a moment. "Guess you can't really be upset about him moving on so quickly, can you?"

"That would be really hypocritical," she pointed out.

"It would be. It would also be totally natural."

She sighed against him. "You'd make a great therapist, you know that?"

"Meh. I wouldn't be able to resist my mischievous impulses. Besides, I'm not interested in listening to other people's problems. Only yours."

"Mm. Sweet." She kissed his jaw and stepped back. "If it's safe for me to go back in there, we should get back to work."

"Agent Dunn let Amy know she should stay at her own place from now on. She handed over her keys after I promised I'd meet her here tomorrow afternoon so she can get her stuff."

"Thank you." Lisbon headed for the door, but Jane caught her hand and tugged her to a stop. "What?"

"No more work today. You've had enough."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm a big girl, Jane. I'm fine. I still have some calls to make."

"Make them tomorrow. If you haven't had enough, I have."

"You have?" She was annoyed, but also worried. She wanted his help; he wasn't walking out, was he?

He gave her an intense, heart-melting look, his voice soft and gravelly. "Yes. I can't watch you hurt anymore today. We're going back to the hotel and put some ice on your poor cheek. Then we're going to order a lovely dinner and see if there's anything worth watching on TV. We're going to relax and try to appreciate our case-free time together, and tomorrow we will go back to dealing with Marcus' affairs."

"Jane—" She broke off in frustration. What he was suggesting was exactly what she wanted to do, but she still had three or four people to call.

"Teresa."

His use of her first name reminded her that this was not actually her job. It was personal business, and the remaining names on the list were people Marcus had never mentioned, so hopefully they weren't close friends. Maybe, just this once, she could go easy on herself.

"Okay, Patrick," she said. The smile he gave her was an immediate reward.

mmm

Lying on the luxuriously soft bed in their hotel room with her stomach full of the best Lad Na she'd had in ages, Lisbon felt almost content. Jane tried to pamper her on a regular basis, but he was usually short of time and she wasn't always in the mood. And as much as she tried to tell herself she'd given in partly for his sake, the truth was she'd needed a break. Sometimes he really did know her better than she knew herself.

She could forgive him for telling her what to do when it turned out this well.

Jane finished throwing away the cartons in the bathroom and returned, smiling at her yawn. "I was going to ask if you felt like going in search of ice cream, but I think I have my answer."

"Maybe tomorrow," she said. "Come lie down with me, please."

Smiling, he took off his jacket and shoes and crawled onto the bed, snuggling into her open arms with a happy little hum.

It took so little to make him happy, she reflected. And she didn't go out of her way to think up things that would make him smile, like he did for her. Was she the greedy one in this relationship? She'd spent far more time thinking about making Marcus happy than she did Jane. Wasn't that wrong?

Yes, she thought, suddenly gloomy. She needed to do better.

"Hey," Jane whispered into her hair, "what's wrong?"

"You're so good to me," she said, hesitating as she tried to figure out how to voice her fear.

Jane slid an arm under her so he could wrap her in a hug. "I try to be. I was so bad to you for so long. You have no idea how guilty I feel about that."

"It's not...I'm not keeping score," she assured him.

"Yes, you are," he said. "But you're doing it all wrong."

"Oh, I am, am I?"

"Mm hm. Your timeline is too short. Think back to when we met. To pick just one example, how many times did I make you fear for your job? How many suspensions?"

"A lot," she said. She'd stopped counting years ago.

"How many times did you straighten up your house, doing anything to keep busy, because you were determined not to shed a tear over goddamned Patrick Jane? At least once a week during the bad times, I bet."

She made a noncommittal noise. "Okay. Point taken. You're a horrible person who doesn't deserve to be treated well."

"Now you're getting it." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"But you're not. Leaving aside the argument about your character for a minute, how I treat you shouldn't depend on how you treat me. I should treat you well because I'm a loving and kind person. No other reason."

Jane whistled. "That's some high bar you've got there, Saint Teresa. So you're worried you're not a loving and kind person? I could fill a stadium with people who'd take issue with that."

"Maybe if you paid them," she said wryly.

"Now you're just being contrary," Jane complained. "One ex-boyfriend's grief-crazed fiancée does not speak for the rest of us."

He had a point, she had to admit. But wait. What? "Fiancée?"

Jane hesitated. "Yeah," he said, sounding a little surprised. "You didn't see the ring? I'm glad she used her right hand to hit you, or you might have a nasty cut."

"I, uh, didn't spend much time with her," Lisbon muttered. "He was engaged?"

"Proposed a month ago. They hadn't set a date yet, but they were thinking about New Year's." Jane paused, no doubt editing himself.

Lisbon was surprised, but she told herself she shouldn't be. Marcus wanted a family. He'd found a woman he wanted to be with, so why wait? He'd told her his feelings on that subject when he'd asked her to move to DC with him.

"She was a flight attendant he saw when he traveled," Jane said after a moment. "Paris and Rome mostly. After you left they started going out for drinks, then dinner, then...well. Romantic cities are hard to bear when you have a broken heart. What better cure than to jump headlong into another affaire de coeur?"

Jane was full of shit, she thought. He'd been faithful to his dead wife for close to thirteen years. And though she knew that guilt and fear had played as important a role as fidelity, she still couldn't imagine him simply moving on. Not that she'd wanted Marcus to stay hung up on her, but...he could at least have emailed her about the engagement, let her know she hadn't broken his heart too badly.

"I'm...I'm glad he found someone," she said. That was true. She had Jane, and she was happy. She wished everyone she cared about could be happy, too. Marcus finding joy and love before he died was something to celebrate.

"When she's had a chance to digest everything," Jane said, "you might consider bringing her in on what to do with his things."

"It'd be hard to get anything done if she's going to try to hit me every time we meet," Lisbon said.

"You leave that to me," Jane said firmly. "I'll have her apologizing to you by the end of the day. She should be the one dealing with everything. It's just bad luck Pike didn't get around to changing his will."

Aha. Jane was plotting to get her out of what he regarded as a stressful imposition. "Legally, I still have to make the decisions."

"Yes, but she can be part of that, can't she? Share the work a bit? It would help her heal, most likely," he pointed out.

"Maybe." Lisbon didn't think she and Amy were ever going to like each other, but it was possible they might be able to work together to ensure all Marcus' things were distributed as he'd want. Lisbon had been thinking of donating to charity any money left after things were settled, but maybe Amy should have it. Surely that's what he would have done if he'd had a chance to rewrite his will?

"You don't have to decide tonight. The funeral isn't until day after tomorrow." Jane kissed the top of her head. "Shall we see what else is on? I've had my fill of sitcoms."

"Turn it off," she suggested, nuzzling his neck.

He stiffened a little in surprise, then turned off the television, tossed the remote onto the nightstand, and began dropping light little kisses across her face. "I love you," he breathed.

"I love you," she replied. "And I'm so thankful for you. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be, and I want to make you happy too."

"Teresa," he chided, pulling back to look at her. "How could you doubt it? Every morning I wake up with you is a gift. Every smile, every 'I love you', every time you say my first name makes me so happy I can't express it all. Every time you touch me with tenderness, I feel like the luckiest man alive." His voice dropped into a low tone that went straight through her. "And when I'm inside you, I know I'm where I'm meant to be."

Lisbon leaned up to kiss him, her fingers starting on the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel him skin to skin. After a moment, he began returning the favor.

Between kisses, he murmured, "Don't be jealous when you see Amy's ring. I'm going to buy you a better one."

Like she cared about the ring. "It's not a contest."

Jane chuckled, and she knew he disagreed. "Maybe not." He kissed her thoroughly before helping her out of her blouse. "But it's one you'll win regardless."

"You're so competitive," she teased, pushing his shirt off his shoulders.

He grinned. "I don't hear you complaining when I set out to break a record in bed."

"Or the bed," she agreed, remembering the fate of the one she'd moved to Austin from Washington state. Though she bet that had been deliberate; Jane was not only competitive, but territorial. He hadn't liked sleeping in a bed that he knew another man had slept with her in, even if he'd never said so.

"No bed breaking tonight," he assured her. "Tonight I want sweet and slow."

"Gentleman's choice," she smiled.

As she fell asleep three orgasms later, she remembered to say a prayer for Amy, doubtless crying herself to sleep tonight. And she prayed that if the day had to come when she lost Jane, it would be far, far in the future.