Chapter 7: try to hold it in your hands

The 'relationship' is playing out in public so it feels more like a movie version of dating than reality. It's all fine dining and pretty outdoor scenes. Lisbon twines her fingers in Jane's as they walk between restaurant and movie, river and market. They buy pluots and taste honey varieties. ("Ooh. Try the avocado blossom, Lisbon")

She takes Jane to visit Folsom Lake. She briefly considers making him ride a horse for the laughs but settles on walking the top of the dam wall. It's cool this early in the morning. As she gazes out across the lake he wraps his arms about her waist. His lips are on her hair. There is nothing false in the way Lisbon's body leans into him before she even thinks.

Playing happy couples is not the same as being one. Still, they've fallen into a kind of every day.

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There's ways in which the whole thing is a kind of fun.

"We're going flying in a hot air balloon tomorrow," Jane says one Saturday evening on the phone.

"We are not," she says, then adds doubtfully, "Are we?"

"You bet your bottom dollar we are. Wear something warm. Also can you pick me up? My car's mad at me."

It's fairly unlikely that anyone associated with Red John could be listening in on them in the basket of a hot air balloon. There's probably no reason to play pretend. Still, Jane stands close to her. Their shoulders bump against one another as the balloon ascends. Jane covers her hands with his on the frame of the basket.

She tries not to see too much in this. They've promised they'll be careful. Who knows how many hot air balloonists have been recruited as Red John's disciples for just this occasion?

"It's beautiful," she says as they slip through the morning sky toward the Sierra Nevada foothills. A silver river snakes away across the green valley. "Thank you."

She feels him shrug off her thanks. "Oh please, this is nothing," he says. He squeezes her hand and adds, "We'll come again."

This is how it is. There's the balloon ride; there's walking on beach after Californian beach; there's the awkward pleasure of being the object of undivided attention over a romantic meal. More than these diversions, she finds him good company. They laugh often. She tells him more than she feels she ought.

"Nathaniel is in financial something," she says of her brother. "He's a Wall Street financial analyst. Whatever that means." She hasn't seen Nathaniel's Upper East Side apartment. She hasn't met his analyst wife.

"Taking him about as far from his past as he could go," says Jane with a smile that takes the sting out of his words. "That way he doesn't need family at all. It can be attractive for someone who has lost so much."

"It was hard on him," Lisbon says.

"Lisbon, it was hard on you all. It's not your responsibility to hold them together," he says.

"I know," she says. "It was hard on them."

She doesn't miss some of the realities of dating. This is all a sham so there's no wondering whether to feel trapped when he calls too often. She is not expected to spend time wondering what a careless gesture or word means, though it's hard to avoid sometimes.

She's leaving a scene of crime, crossing a gravel parking lot. She has Jane at the other end of the phone.

"Everything points to the boyfriend," he says. "But it's a bit too tidy. I think this murder is business not pleasure."

"Okay," she says. "Take Cho and check out the corporation. I'm heading back to the victim's home."

"Got it," he says. "Love you." She doesn't break step but the words sit in space for a moment.

"Love you too," she says just before she ends the call. She climbs into the SUV. "Damn," she says aloud. "Damn." She sits for a moment then starts the car.

It's true she doesn't miss the realities of genuine dating. There's no second guessing what he's looking for. There's no wondering if she's sabotaging things, if she's too messed up for a relationship.

There's no sex either of course. Her home is the only place they consider private. And in her home they keep space between them to protect themselves. They sit on separate couches. When he stays he sleeps on her bedroom floor.

In public they kiss. Predictably Jane's a very good kisser. Despite all the walls she's placed around herself with him it feels like electricity every time.

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A mountaineer is killed on the North Fork of Mount Whitney. Her name is Sandra Pak and she has made a name for herself on peaks world over.

"Perfect," says Jane, gesturing widely to the ice-covered trees and the peaks in the background. "Our snow bound cabin mystery. If only I had waited I could have seduced you up here in the mountains."

"Seduce," scoffs Lisbon. "You're pretty sure of yourself, Jane"

"I know," he says. "And you think it's so immature to be swept off your feet. But you must admit it has its appeal." His smile is warm. She's accustomed to his charm but in this clear icy light he looks more beautiful than ever. It's annoying.

She gets Cho on the phone. He and the other two agents met with Sandra's parents while Lisbon and Jane interviewed the climbers.

"I want to get out to the crime scene," she says. "The weather service is threatening a snow storm and I don't want us all to get stuck up there. We'll meet you at the motel when we're down the mountain."

"Right boss," says Cho.

Jane looks delighted. "A snow storm?"

"Don't say anything," she warns him. "Or I'll make you climb up."

There's a Mountain Rescue helicopter waiting to take them up to the site.

"The trouble with this case," Jane says as they clamber in, "Is that they all hated her. And these aren't passive people. Any one of them could have done it."

"And yet only one held the ice pick," she says.

"Yes, that's a pity. Well never mind. I have a plan."

Lisbon raises her eyebrows as she buckles herself in. "Tell me, Jane."

"Patience, Lisbon, patience. All will be revealed. Let's enjoy the moment." The helicopter blades spin and drown any chance of a biting reply.

The rangers have waited until Lisbon arrives to move the body. Sandra was sitting apart from the group eating breakfast when she was killed. Muesli is scattered across the trail. Sandra's blood is bright on the snow and dark on the rocks. Jane looks down at her body for some time.

"Nothing to see here," he says eventually.

Lisbon has to agree. "Get her to the ME," she says.

She eyes Jane during the return trip in the helicopter. Sometimes he looks like he'd fall apart with one touch. It's too much, all this death.

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The snow storm hits early in the afternoon. Snow piles up on the roads. They head carefully to Lone Pine and a motel. The reception is dressed up like a Swiss chalet, with window boxes and painted gables. Already snowdrifts press against the doors. It's clear they are going nowhere until tomorrow.

Cho shrugs. Van Pelt makes a call in the lobby. Rigsby calls Sarah apologetically.

He grins as he hangs up. "There'll be no 3am wakeup call here," Rigsby says. "Of course I'll miss the little monster."

"Right then," says Jane. "The restaurant has food. There's drinks at the bar. There's a fireplace to warm Lisbon's frosty toes. And if I'm not mistaken Cho bought a pack of cards at the lobby gift shop."

Cho nods. He pulls out playing cards decorated with views of scenic Mount Whitney.

"Excellent," says Jane. "Poker. Penny ante everyone?"

Somehow all four of them are cajoled into playing a game that Jane cannot lose. Rigsby tries to fool Jane by using exaggerated facial expressions, smiling happily at his cards at odd times unrelated to the strength of his hand.

"Nice try, Rigsby," says Jane. "But you know I'm better than that."

Rigsby sighs.

"I suggest we blindfold him," says Cho.

"Aha! Challenge accepted," says Jane.

"Double check he's not cheating," says Rigsby to Van Pelt as she ties a scarf around Jane's eyes.

"Rigsby, I'm hurt," says Jane.

"You're a con artist, Jane," says Lisbon smiling. "We'd be crazy to trust you."

"Et tu Brute," says Jane with a hand over his heart.

Jane still wins.

"How did you-" starts Van Pelt in frustration as Jane calls her bluff.

"You were fidgeting," says Jane. "You never fidget."

"I didn't move," says Van Pelt.

"Ergo you were fidgeting on the inside," says Jane.

Van Pelt rolls her eyes.

"I saw that," says Jane.

Cho and Rigsby chuckle.

"Last hand for me," says Cho, downing his mineral water.

"Me too," says Van Pelt. Rigsby nods and finishes his beer.

When Jane takes off the blindfold his eyes flick straight to Lisbon. Everything glows red in the firelight.

"Bedtime then," Jane says as Cho pockets the cards and leaves. He turns to Lisbon. "Your room or mine?"

Lisbon feels Van Pelt shuffle uneasily. She waits until all the agents have headed for bed before answering.

"Yours, I think," Lisbon says. "For a bit of a change."

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The sheets on her side of his bed are cool against her cheeks. She lies as close to the edge of the bed as possible. They have agreed to use only one bed in motels but that doesn't mean she needs to impose on him. They lie silently for a few minutes. She listens to his breathing.

"Sometimes Charlotte would have nightmares," he says unexpectedly out of the dark. Lisbon holds her breath for a moment. "She would wake herself up and call out. We'd be, I don't know, having dinner, doing something ordinary and I'd head upstairs and find her sitting bolt upright. She was all sweaty and terrified and I held her hands and made her lie back down. I put an arm over her and lay down next to her in her bed. And I promised her over and over that I would always keep her safe."

Lisbon lies still. Then she turns toward Jane and reaches for him. She holds both his hands between hers. She bends her head to press her lips against his knuckles. She feels his breath on her hair as he puts an arm over her.

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