A/N: Penultimate chapter.

x tromana


Part Seven

20th November 2012

"Teresa," he started.

She ignored him as she focused on the road in front of her. Scowling, Jane reached out and grazed her inner thigh with his index fingers. Lisbon flinched at the touch, but didn't tell him to remove it. That relieved him; right now, he felt like he needed her. Angela had loved Gregory Mitchells during that cruise and his death saddened him. Not just because the man was nice enough, but partially because it reminded him of just how badly he'd treated Angela in his youth. There were times when she had known just how much she had played second fiddle to the woman who was now sitting beside him. He may have grown to love her, but it had been a slow matter of affairs. Not once had there been that intense rush of love that he had felt for Teresa Lisbon.

That didn't mean he didn't miss her dreadfully, or regret her passing any less. It was still his fault; he had lured Red John out and provoked him into killing his wife and child. And it was that underlying sense of guilt that had stalled him from pushing his relationship with Lisbon forward upon their initial reunion. The death of a childhood acquaintance that they had both been familiar with had been required to light the fire that was still present between them. Now, Lisbon's recent reunion with her ex and a death of another one of his acquaintances was making him think further.

Really, he knew that it was his incorrigible curiosity that was driving him mad. He wanted to know just how much Greg had meant to her, and whether she had loved him in the way that he'd eventually loved Angela. What was it that had linked the two of them in the past? If she hadn't have clammed up about him in private, then he wouldn't have been quite so intrigued.

As it was, it was practically distracting him from the case in hand.

"Teresa," he eventually repeated and she briefly glanced at him.

"What? I'm trying to concentrate."

"What happened with Greg?"

"You're still thinking about that? Really?"

The tone in her voice was more one of exasperation than surprise. She probably wanted him to get bored and focus on the next task in hand, whatever that would be. However, sitting in a car and watching Lisbon drive didn't provide him with much stimulation. Besides, he didn't want to risk anything dragging them down, especially given their complex (and potted) history. He just couldn't bear to risk losing another woman he loved.

"Yes," he replied bluntly.

"What about Gregory Mitchells' murderer? Wouldn't that be a more useful way to spend your time?"

"Hmm."

"Jane."

"It's interesting how they both are named Greg, isn't it?"

"Personally, I'd say that was more of a coincidence."

"Well, yes, but coincidences can be interesting, can't they?" he countered.

Lisbon shrugged and fell back into a restive silence. When they arrived at their destination within an hour, Jane was relieved. It felt good to finally get out of the car and stretch his legs. And besides, a break in the case could be just what he needed to get a break in Lisbon's frosty silence. Or, at the very least, it would help him to get back into her good books.

The BOLO that Lisbon had put out had proved unnecessary: James Dawson's car was still parked neatly on his drive. Obviously, the news that he had become a prime suspect in the case hadn't gotten out to him yet. For the first time in a while, Jane saw a slight smile creep onto Lisbon's face as she knocked smartly on the door. As she waited patiently, he went and peeked in the window. Some kind of scuffle was occurring; clearly, they had worked out who was waiting at the front door. Making a mental note to tell Lisbon later, he arrived back at the front door just as Dawson answered.

"What do you want?" he sneered before spotting Jane. "And Mr. Jane too? Have you come to apologize?"

"We just have a few more questions," Lisbon answered back calmly.

"Questions, questions," he sighed in response. "Don't you ever get bored of answering questions? Can't you just – I don't know – actually get on with your job instead?"

"It won't take long."

Rolling his eyes, Dawson stepped to one side and allowed them both inside. Jane took a moment to lock gazes with him, trying to work out his body language. Within a second, he glanced away and Jane smiled at him. Yes, he was definitely hiding something and he didn't feel comfortable about the fact there were cops on his property. As soon as Lisbon settled down to answer some innocuous questions, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Of course, the look in Lisbon's eye suggested she knew the real reason: that he wanted to go have a snoop around.

Initially, he headed towards the kitchen. A rack of keys had been pinned up by the back door and Jane counted them with interest. On the way to the lounge, he had spotted a locked cellar and that was the place he was most interested in getting into. After all, where else would make sense to hide some deep, dark secret? Jane still wasn't entirely sure if Stephenie Winters was just a red herring, or if both she and Dawson had plotted to kill Gregory Mitchells. His hunch suggested both of them were involved, but he still needed the confirmation.

Snatching up the keys, he headed straight to the cellar door, which was located underneath the staircase. That was a common feature in houses of this specification; he and Angela had lived in one not too dissimilar when they had first moved to California. It didn't take him long to work out which key unlocked it and soon he was downstairs.

"James?" an unfamiliar female voice called out. "Thank goodness; don't you know how hungry I am? Is it safe to-"

She immediately stopped talking when she realized that the person joining her was not James Dawson. Jane grinned; he recognized her almost immediately. This woman had been present at the Mitchells family home when they had first stopped by to question the wife.

"You must be Stephenie Winters," Jane answered and offered the redhead his hand. "Patrick Jane. I work with the CBI."

Jane was about to make himself comfortable and settle down to talk to Stephenie when he heard a creak on the steps that led down to the cellar. He sighed; she had been on the verge of saying something important until she realized he wasn't Dawson. If he had been given a couple more minutes, he was sure he would have been able to get her to confess.

"I suggest you turn around with your hands up and don't you dare call for that woman who came with you."

Slowly, Jane raised his hands above his head and turned around. It wasn't a surprise to see Dawson standing there with a gun in his hands. Clearly, he had worked out that Jane had been gone for long enough to discover the missing Stephenie Winters in his cellar.

And that had been enough to push the man over the edge.

xxx

1st September 1988

Greg had agreed to come with her to the funeral.

Though he barely knew her father, Teresa was grateful that he had been more than willing to offer her that kind of support. She was simply at a loss as to how to get through it without him. Though she had known her father was a mess, she had never expected him to give up and commit suicide. As far as she was concerned, that was the weak man's way out.

At least her aunt – her mother's sister – had finally realized just how much the family was struggling. Now that her father was dead, she had stepped up to the plate and finally offered Teresa the support she required.

And it meant the boys wouldn't be separated. That was the main thing, as far as she was concerned.

However, she knew it wasn't going to be easy, even without the threat of her father breathing down their necks. Aunt Mary was a busy woman and bringing up five kids of her own. Now, she and her husband had a total of nine children to contend with and she had already made it clear that Teresa would be mostly responsible for the Lisbon boys.

Though she fought it, the building tears made the corners of her eyes itch.

Greg squeezed her hand and she smiled weakly. The future could wait, she knew that. Now was the time to say goodbye to her father; though he had been virtually impossible to live with for the past two years, he was still her daddy.

xxx

23rd December 1988

"Hey, Teresa."

"Greg."

She opened the door to her aunt's house properly, so that he could slip inside. They saw each other less now that she was living with her Aunt Mary. As they no longer lived just two streets away, it meant that it was harder to visit one another regularly. However, she had learned how to snatch time with him at school, doing the household chores, and the like. In some ways, it was hardly different to the times when she avoided seeing him because of something her father had done. Though the pressure of him no longer loomed over her, the weight had shifted slightly on her shoulders.

Teresa knew that Greg was concerned about her and her welfare, but that didn't mean she felt like she could talk to him about it. After all, she wasn't the only one to have lost a parent in that fateful accident.

He followed her into the kitchen and she busied herself making a cup of tea for them both. It wasn't often that he had the time to come this far out just to see her, but even so, this was a part of their routine. She ignored him as he settled himself at the table and it was only when she pushed a filled mug towards him, that he pushed a small package towards her in return.

"It's a little early, but…"

Staring at the small package, an all too familiar feeling of guilt washed over her. She hadn't had the time, never mind the money to buy him something. All of her savings went straight to her college fund; since her mother's death she had been toying with the idea of becoming a cop. Righting injustices seemed like an honorable thing to do after all the wrong she'd done of late. And besides, it was a career that her father (before his downfall, at least) would have approved of. It was almost a family tradition to go into the emergency services, after all.

"You shouldn't have."

"Don't be ridiculous, Teresa. Open it," he instructed.

When she did, the cross that her mother had worn religious stared straight back at her. Teresa was almost lost for words; she'd never thought she'd see this piece of jewelry again. About a year after her mother's death, she'd been forced to pawn it, simply to put food on the table. And now, because of Greg, it had somehow made it back into her hands.

"Greg, I-"

"I'll help you put it on."

She shuddered as his gentle fingers brushed her long hair away. After what felt like an infinite amount of time, he finished fiddling with the clasp and she turned to face him. Her eyes were itching, but she ignored it. Teresa had already cried far too many times in front of him.

"There, it's back where it belongs."

"I don't know how I can repay you," she said in a hushed breath.

"Don't be silly. I don't need repaying."

"Greg…"

"Fine, a kiss would be payment enough."

At that moment, she balked. That wasn't the request she had ever imagined him putting forwards. Greg grinned cheekily before he pointed to the ceiling. Then, she remembered helping her aunt and the younger kids decorate the house with Christmas finery.

"If it makes you feel any better, there's mistletoe up there."

Teresa didn't need to be asked again.

xxx

14th February 1989

Without her even really noticing, Teresa somehow fell into her relationship with Greg. He was good, easy-going and could cope with her neuroses. Somehow, with him, she felt that little bit stronger than she did without. When she suggested her trying to become a cop, he had supported her wholeheartedly; had even helped her with the applications. Now, she was due to start her training at the University of Illinois at the beginning of the next school year.

In the meantime, she was just working hard in order to make sure she could fund her dream. That was something her brothers didn't understand and though she hadn't moved to Urbana-Champaign yet, they were already resenting the concept of her leaving them. Being two and a half hours away by car seemed like an insurmountable distance to them. Privately, she couldn't blame them for that; they had already lost both parents and now, they had to prepare to lose the eldest sibling as well.

But she had to do it; she needed to live life for herself after sacrificing so much for so long.

Greg had insisted that he spend St. Valentine's Day with him, though. He had begged and cajoled her until she'd said yes and when she had relented, he had been the one to busily make plans.

If she was honest, his enthusiasm unnerved her. Sometimes, when she was left alone, she wondered what had happened to the carnival boy, Daniel Jane. She knew he was unhappy with his lifestyle and she hoped he'd been able to escape out of it. Teresa had said so many goodbyes in such a short period of time and his was a loose thread which she desperately wanted to tidy up.

But she was happy with Greg, she told herself fiercely. If she wasn't, she would have been able to say no to him, but she found herself unable to do so. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to cope without him, would she? He was her confidant, her best friend, her rock. He listened to her when she was angry with her brothers, calmed her down when her aunt angered her…

And now, he was in the middle of a restaurant, on one knee, asking her to be his wife.

She blinked.

When the hell did that happen?

TBC...