A/N: I know you were expecting waterbaby for this chapter, but her life has been really busy lately and I offered to take on this one for her (since I have no real life, lol). Rest assured, she will be there to write the conclusion/epilogue. We appreciate your patience and understanding, and hope this chapter was worth the wait. PS: Be forewarned: the language is a little heavy in this chapter.

Chapter 8

Jane could feel as well as hear in her mind the waves of anger emanating from Lisbon. In her calm, cop-like manner, however, she placed the bottle of champagne, along with Jane's wallet on the kitchen counter, then walked purposefully toward the bedroom, gathering up her discarded dress from the floor before brushing past Jane and the drunken women with nary a glance.

"Teresa," said Jane.

He watched, his heart in his stomach, as she bent and picked up her scattered undergarments from the carpet at the foot of the bed.

"Can we play too?" asked Erica from the doorway.

Barely contained fury ripped through Jane, and he turned to the women of orgies past.

"Get the hell out!" he roared. Their eyes widened at his uncharacteristic shouting. They looked at each other, still frozen in place.

Geeze, Louise, thought Lorelei. What's got into him?

Frustrated to his core, he shoved them out of the doorway and slammed it in their shocked faces, locking the door between them and Lisbon.

Fool me once, shame on him, Lisbon was thinking angrily. Fool me twice—no, shame on him for that too. Son of a bitch.

"Can't we talk about this?" he asked, hating the begging tone of his voice, but helpless to stop it. "I didn't invite them here, I swear."

His heart leapt as she took off his robe, then his t-shirt, and he had another glimpse of her beautiful body. But she was far from having thoughts of sex, as she efficiently pulled on her panties, then slipped the bra straps over her shoulders. Her hair curled enticingly around her bare skin and he wanted her so much that it was physically painful to look at her. Yet neither could he look away.

"It doesn't really matter, Jane," she said, her voice muffled as the red dress covered her head a moment. "I knew who you were before I got involved. I'm not really mad at you; I'm disappointed in myself, for thinking leopards could change their spots, or snakes could stop being snakes—choose whatever the hell metaphor you want." She struggled with the zipper on the back of her dress, but when he crossed the room to help her, she turned almost violently away from him.

"Don't touch me," she hissed. If he touches me, I'll fall apart.

His hands instantly dropped. The very last thing in the world he wanted was to be the cause of Teresa Lisbon's tears. He watched her stride to the door, then stop, her hand on the doorknob.

"It's been fun," she said, looking over at him. "You should be proud of yourself. You've honed your prowess in the bedroom just as well as your skills as a fake psychic. I'd pay you for your performance, but there are laws against that sort of thing."

"Teresa," he protested feebly, but she had already opened the door. He could feel her slipping away from him, her mind bringing down the walls she'd only recently lifted. In the kitchen, there was the sound of a champagne cork popping, and the giggles of two drunk women as the bubbly beverage overflowed the bottle and spilled on his marble kitchen floor. He ignored them.

Just as she reached the foyer, the doorbell buzzed.

"Aw," she said with bitter irony, "that must be dinner." She glanced at Jane. "Unless you were expecting a blonde to round out the party?"

He could hear the thoughts of the delivery boy on the other side of the door, anticipating the big tip he usually got from delivering to this apartment.

Lisbon opened the door and gave the high school kid a big, dimpled smile. He blinked at the beautiful woman, barely noticing when she grabbed the box from his hands.

"Thanks, sweety." She nodded over her shoulder to Jane. "He'll take care of you."

And with that, she took her pizza and walked, head high and feet proudly barefoot, toward the elevator down the hall.

At the sight of her retreating figure, something finally moved in Jane, giving him the courage to move his legs. He couldn't let her go. Even though he didn't deserve her, even though she hated his guts right now. He couldn't bear going back to the life he'd had before her, and the very sound of that life laughing in the kitchen compelled him forward.

"Teresa, wait!" But she didn't turn around.

God, I can't believe I thought I loved this man. Lisbon's thoughts slammed into him, and he gasped aloud.

"Hey, dude, you owe me twenty-one fifty," said the delivery boy, moving to stand in Jane's way. And if someone stiffs me again, I'm toast.

"Shit! Just a minute. Teresa! Hold on!"

He went back into his apartment, found his wallet where Lisbon had left it, and pulled out a $100 bill. He practically threw it at the delivery boy. "Keep the change!" Fuckin-A! I knew this was my lucky day, thought the teenager gleefully.

"Hey, Patrick. I'd make you a pizza for less than that," called Lorelei from the kitchen. Erica grinned and said something crass about being a meat-lover.

Impatiently pushing all the intruding thoughts out of his head, Jane ran, shirtless and shoeless, to the elevator, but it had already gone down, and no amount of pounding on the call button would bring it back. He could run down the stairs, but she would be long gone by the time he went down fifteen flights.

He backed up and stared at the elevator, the perfect metaphor for his sinking heart.

"Your lady left ya, huh?" said the delivery boy as he joined Jane at the landing. "That sucks. But from where I'm standing, dude, you got two hot ones waiting in your apartment. Kinda a net gain, right? I'm a finance major."

Jane closed his eyes, his hands running over his face and up into his hair in frustration.

"One of her is worth a million of them," he replied.

"Aw," said the boy wisely. "Been there, man."

Without another word, Jane turned from the elevator and walked despondently back to the open door of his apartment.

"Hey, thanks for the ginormous tip," called the teenager. "Have a nice night!"

He waved without turning around. Once back inside, instead of berating Erica and Lorelei again, he went back into his bedroom and shut and locked the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Jane awoke to the smell of Lisbon on his pillows and a gut that roiled with disquiet. He listened, his eyes still closed, to the blessed silence from beyond his room. Lorelei and Erica were gone, as near as he could tell. They'd finally given up after pounding on the bedroom door and calling for him to come out, and he thought he'd heard the front door close sometime around three a.m.

His intense lovemaking with Lisbon the night before filled his mind, and he shuddered in remembered ecstasy. Something that rare couldn't be completely lost to him, he thought. She was understandably pissed off at his old lovers' reappearance, but the last thoughts she'd had, about possibly falling in love with him gave him a burgeoning feeling of hope.

He got out of bed, ready to take on the challenge. He'd go into the CBI and win her back with his charm and good looks, and, of course, play the shared intimacy card from last night. He shaved closely and combed his hair into the careless style she seemed to like best. He dressed with particular care, choosing a blue-green tie that exactly matched his eyes. The finishing touch would appeal directly to her memory: he slapped on the same cologne he'd worn yesterday. No ordinary woman could resist him, he thought as he adjusted his tie in the mirror; too bad Lisbon wasn't in the least bit ordinary. He frowned at himself at the thought, but there was nothing else he could do now but try his damnedest to win her back.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Outside Lisbon's office door, Jane took a deep breath, straining to listen to her thoughts to get a good gauge of her emotional state. She was trying in vain to focus on a report, but her mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the feel of Jane's hands and mouth on her body, but then the image of the interlopers would spoil it, and she would mentally pummel herself for ever falling for a conman.

He raised his hand to knock, when her desk phone rang, and he hesitated. Then he honed in on her thoughts once more.

Oh my God. Not again. That poor girl…

He saw the image of Charlotte in her mind's eye, and he pushed open her door.

"What the hell is wrong with Charlotte?" He demanded. She was still on the phone, and was looking up at him in surprise. Then she frowned and held up a staying finger while she finished her conversation.

"Okay, we're on it. Let me know right away if you hear something."

She hung up.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in annoyance.

"Never mind that. What's going on with Charlotte?"

Lisbon sighed, and he heard the dread in her thoughts; definitely bad news.

"Charlotte's missing."

His eyes widened, and he felt his stomach turn over. "When?"

"They noticed she was gone an hour ago when she didn't come to breakfast."

"Are the Kincaids still in jail?"

"Yes, her uncle and mother are still being held without bond, waiting for trial, as far as I know."

"Check," he ordered. She immediately bristled at that.

"Jane, this is not your call, I—"

"Check. Please."

They stared at each other, the tension after last night mixing with their shared fear for Charlotte.

She picked up the phone.

Jane prowled around her office like a caged tiger, his nervous hands destroying the effect of his artfully imperfect hair. After two calls, Lisbon reported what he'd already heard in her mind: Charlotte's mother and uncle were still safely in their cells at the Sacramento County Jail.

"Thanks," said Jane simply, and he turned to leave her office.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

She had to jog to catch up with him at the elevator landing. "To Child Services to look for clues."

But it was more than that, he was thinking. He needed to find something of Charlotte's to touch so he could connect with her mind and find her, like he had before.

"Well, I'm going with you."

"Fine. But we're taking my car."

He heard her arguments in her head against this, about how reckless a driver he was, how he shouldn't drive when he was so upset, how they could use her CBI vehicle and turn on the emergency lights. But one look at his determined face, and she kept silent, and would let him do what he felt he needed to do. She comforted herself with the thought that she would at least be there with him.

"Okay," she said softly.

Jane knew in that moment that he loved her.

"Jesus," he muttered shakily to himself, just as the old elevator mercifully came quickly for once. He looked everywhere but at her.

"We'll find her," Lisbon said, misinterpreting his sudden paleness. She reached out a tentative hand to touch his.

Once the door slid closed on them, he pulled a startled Lisbon into his arms and captured her lips, desperately seeking an outlet for his love and his terror at the thought that he might have lost both her and Charlotte in one fell swoop. She debated briefly pulling away and punching him in the nose, but she was helpless under his passionate onslaught, and soon she wasn't thinking anything at all as his kiss deepened and he moaned into her mouth.

When the elevator dinged its arrival on the lobby floor, he reluctantly stepped away from her, his mind oddly calm now though his heart pounded with residual desire. Lisbon was understandably still shaken, her brain momentarily composed of incoherent mush. But she followed him out the front door and to his Porsche, which he opened with his key fob remote control. Still, he paused to open the passenger door for her before trotting around to the driver's side.

Just as she'd predicted, he drove like a madman, weaving in and out of traffic at breakneck speeds before taking to the freeway, where he completely disregarded all traffic laws.

"That—what happened in the elevator—doesn't change things," she told him, gripping the arm rests in abject fear.

"You're lying," he said easily, the ghost of a grin hovering over his lips as he maneuvered around a semi-truck. Lisbon bit her lip and hung on. "You still want me."

She didn't deny it, in her mind or verbally. "Like I said, it changes nothing. We don't belong together, Jane. We're too…different."

He hazarded a sidelong glance at her, taking his eyes off the road for a dangerous moment. "Horse shit, like my dear old grandma used to say."

A surprised laugh escaped her. "Grandma must have been great fun at Christmas."

He grinned for the first time since Erika and Lorelei showed up at his door. "She was a tough old bird. Remind me to tell you about her sometime."

I'd like that, she thought, though the moment she did she remembered she was mad at him so she said nothing, and her shared smile melted away.

Jane's own smile turned into a grim line, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Their kiss in the elevator had told him more than her mental denials, but he had to focus on Charlotte now, so his complicated relationship with Lisbon would have to wait.

They made it to Child Services in record time, and Lisbon got out of the car without his help, though the way she wobbled a little on her sea legs and cussed at his reckless driving under her breath made him wonder how she managed.

Mrs. Van Orsdol was waiting for them at the door, her face a mask of restrained worry, her thoughts filled with genuine fear for Charlotte's safety.

"I'm so glad you are here. I didn't know if I should call the local police or not, since the CBI had already been involved in her case."

"Is anyone looking for her?" asked Jane.

"Miss Summers and the other eight staff members who work here are on foot and in cars looking around the immediate neighborhood."

"How do you lose a four-year-old little girl?" he asked angrily.

Mrs. Van Orsdol looked stricken. "Children are crafty, Mr. Jane. You would know if you were a parent, that no matter how diligent you are, sometimes they—"

But Jane wasn't interested in her excuses. "I need to see her bed," he demanded, brushing past the facility's matron without her permission.

"Oh, of course."

"For uh, clues," said Lisbon to Mrs. Van Orsdol, annoyed at his rudeness, but understanding completely as she followed him through the building down the hall to the children's sleeping quarters. He stopped at Charlotte's small cot, noticing right away that it had recently been slept in. He pressed a hand to the pillow, felt the coldness in the indentation where her blond head had rested. It made him feel a sickening cold inside at how long she must have been gone. Worse, he felt no connection with her.

Then he noticed a tuft of fuzzy brown fur peeping up from beneath the disorderly covers. He reached down and picked up Sam the Teddy bear. Immediately, as with her pink sweatshirt days before, he felt Charlotte's presence as if she were right next to him. He could see what she could as if he were looking through her eyes. What he saw was a pond, white ducks swimming nearby, chunks of white bread falling into the water before being snatched up by the waiting birds.

He closed his eyes and reached out to her.

Charlotte?

Patrick? came her voice clear as day in his mind.

Where the hell are you?

It's not nice to say hell.

I'm not saying it, I'm thinking it. And I'll think a whole lot worse if you don't tell me where you are right now, young lady!

I'm feeding the ducks.

I can see that. How did you get there?

I walked. Last night I saw the water from the Ferris wheel when we were way at the top. I saw the ducks and thought they might be hungry, so I took some bread from the kitchen. Daddy always takes me to feed the ducks at the park.

Jane thought back to their night at the carnival, remembering how he had been riding with Lisbon in their seat while Charlotte had sat with Miss Summers in the carriage above them. Jane hadn't noticed any nearby duck ponds, but then, he'd only had eyes for Lisbon. This pond could be in any direction, he realized. He needed more details.

Look around you so I can see where you are, he instructed, and was treated to her sight of trees hanging low into the water. She looked down, and he felt his stomach clench when he saw her bare feet through the shallow water near the shore. He had no idea how deep the center of the pond might be, and the paddling, quacking ducks were blocking his view. She looked up and around, and he saw a high fence in the near distance, an open gate, along with other landscaping and the top of a house with terra cotta shingles.

Charlotte, get out of the water, right now.

But she was laughing now at the ducks' antics, how they fought for each morsel she threw to them. Jane opened his eyes and looked at Lisbon, whose brow was furrowed in concern as she had watched the array of emotions on his face while he'd mentally communicated with Charlotte.

"She's at a duck pond nearby," he said. "Near a house with a high wooden fence and terra cotta shingles."

"What? How do you-?"

But Jane didn't have time for explanations. He fled the sleeping quarters to find Mrs. Van Orsdol to ask what she knew about a nearby duck pond.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane set out at a dead run, still clutching the bear, across the empty field redolent of the ruts of last night's carnival equipment, then he climbed a chain-link fence into someone's back yard. Unfortunately, Mrs. Van Orsdol had no idea about a pond, so he was flying blind. Charlotte wasn't even communicating with him anymore, and he feared the worst.

Lisbon easily kept up with him, at the same time talking into her phone, calling Cho and Rigsby for backup, just in case. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction that she didn't even doubt him anymore, that she'd blindly followed what to others might have sounded like the rantings of a madman who communed with Teddy bears.

Jane paused in the middle of someone's backyard, scanning the rooftops for the telltale orange of terracotta, for a tall redwood fence, keeping in mind what Charlotte might have seen from the top of a Ferris wheel at night. The pond would have had to be well-lit to be seen. To get a better idea of where to turn next, he closed his eyes and focused on the Teddy bear and on Charlotte.

There was nothing. Charlotte? He inquired in his mind.

She didn't answer.

He took a few deep breaths, thinking that perhaps his racing heart might have something to do with his inability to focus. Charlotte?

No reply. And everything from her direction was blank.

"Charlotte!" he called aloud.

Jane's eyes flew open and Lisbon was there, touching his arm and looking up at him with concerned green eyes.

"I can't see her," he said in despair. "She was standing in the water, and now…nothing. Oh, God, what if she's—"

But he couldn't finish the thought, and he suddenly bolted out of the yard, just as the homeowners came out to ask why they were trespassing. Lisbon held up her badge and continued after Jane, who had gone over the fence to the neighbors'. But suddenly, he knew Lisbon was no longer behind him, and he heard her mental conversation, which he assumed she was also saying out loud.

"Teresa Lisbon, CBI. Ma'am, you wouldn't happen to know where there's a small duck pond around here, would you? It'd be surrounded by a high red fence."

To be sure he heard the answer, he climbed back over the fence, in time for the middle-aged matron to reply: "Well, sure. Three houses over, the Perry's have one. Built it for the grandkids. Lots of ducks in it too. Dirty, nasty things…"

Jane saw the woman was pointing in the direction opposite of where he'd been headed.

"Do you know the address?" Lisbon was asking, in her calm, friendly manner.

"Well, let's see, I'm 903, so they must be…8 something…"

But Jane didn't wait to hear Lisbon's reply. He climbed over the other neighbors' fences.

The terracotta roof of the Perry's home was partially concealed from the side by a large eucalyptus tree and a few tall pines, but Jane knew this was it in his marrow, and there was the redwood fence to prove it. Jane walked quickly around the privacy fence until he found the gate, still open a bit as Charlotte had left it. He heard a cacophony of quacking long before he saw the water.

The birds were congregating at the far end of the twenty-foot wide pond, and he saw an empty bread wrapper being mauled by the hungry creatures in search of crumbs, but there was no sign of Charlotte, no sweet thoughts of a little girl echoing in his brain.

"Charlotte!" he called frantically.

And then, beneath the low hanging trees that soaked their limbs in the water, he felt a violent jerk in his heart. A little girl's long hair floated on the surface, spread out like a swimming mermaid. But she was not swimming. She's wasn't moving at all, but bobbed in the water face down.

"Charlotte!" This time, he screamed her name.

He shucked off his suit jacket and dropped it and the bear to the ground as he ran around the pond, walking straight in. His shoes slipped on the muddy bottom, filling with water that also hindered his progress. The pond must have been at least five feet deep, and he swam like a madman to reach her, his soaked clothes frustratingly heavy now.

"Lisbon!" he yelled when he made it to the girl. "Lisbon!"

He lifted Charlotte's small body up, his heart breaking at how lifeless she was. He felt for a pulse, but it and her thoughts were terrifyingly quiet. He had to get her to shore.

Then, Lisbon was there, her own frantic thoughts suffusing his mind, even over the sounds of the ducks and their splashing, over the pounding of his heart and the jagged sound of his own unsteady breaths.

She went farther around and found her way underneath the low trees, then waded in up to her knees to meet them.

"Come up this way; it's closer," she called. "But be careful, it's slippery."

That's probably how Charlotte fell in here, Lisbon was thinking.

"Okay," said Jane, moving as fast as he could. He put Charlotte's little body over his shoulder, hoping maybe this would start the process of getting the water out of her lungs. Lisbon held out her arms to take the girl, then rushed up to the land, slipping a little on the mud before laying her on the damp ground. She immediately began CPR. Jane tried to comfort himself with the thought that it had been less than five minutes since he'd set out from the Child Services building, and he heard himself begging an unnamed benefactor to save the little girl, or to take him instead.

Jane was nearly to the shore himself, when his shoes slipped on the mud and he fell backwards into the drink. In his haste to rise up and get to Charlotte, he whacked his head on a thick low limb, so hard that he saw stars. Then, all the stars faded away…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He awoke in the ambulance, groggy, his head aching, uncomfortably damp in his sodden clothes. His first thought was of Charlotte.

"Where is she?" he exclaimed, trying to sit up, ripping off the oxygen mask from his mouth and nose. The EMT pushed him gently but firmly back down on the collapsed gurney. "The little girl. Is she okay?"

"Hey, easy there, buddy. Last I heard they got her breathing. That CBI agent saved her life. They're both in another ambulance. We're all on our way to Sacramento Memorial."

"Look, I'm fine. I just—" Then it dawned on him. He couldn't hear the EMT's thoughts. He paused and directed his attention to the driver. Nothing was coming from his mind either.

"That's weird," he muttered under his breath.

"What? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. My head just hurts like a sonofabitch. Charlotte's going to be all right though?"

"We don't know, sir. She was in the water a while." Jane could tell without reading his mind that the man was being especially careful with his words. "You need to relax." The EMT pulled Jane's mask back into place, urging him to lay still.

He rode the rest of the way to the hospital in silence, though his mind raced with impatience.

Cho and Rigsby met him as he was wheeled into the Emergency Room. He couldn't hear their thoughts anymore either, but the concern on their faces said it all.

"Where's Charlotte?" he asked them.

"They took her back somewhere about five minutes ago," said Rigsby, pointing beyond the ER reception desk. "Lisbon's with them; she had us meet you here."

The gurney came to a halt in a curtain partitioned room, and Jane attempted to sit up again, tossing his oxygen mask on the floor. An ER doctor appeared, pushing him down once more.

"Mr. Jane, I presume? I'm Dr. Harris. You need to lie still."

"Yeah yeah. What's going on with the little girl they just brought in?"

"Another doctor is seeing to her. I understand you hit your head pretty hard." She was shining a light into his eyes, then began feeling around his skull.

"That's the thing," said Jane, "I hit hard, but I didn't think it was hard enough to knock me out."

"He had a concussion several days ago," said Cho helpfully.

"Aw," she said. "Were you knocked out then too?"

"Yeah. But they couldn't find anything else wrong with me. Look, I'm fine. Let me up so I can find Agent Lisbon."

He of course didn't mention that his last bout with unconsciousness had triggered psychic abilities, and now they were gone. Something told him if he said that, they'd send him for a pysch evaluation too.

"She knows you're here, I'm sure," said Dr. Harris. "From what I hear, she saved the little girl, and dragged you out of the pond and saved you too. She's quite the hero."

"Yes," he agreed. "She's the best person I know."

Rigsby and Cho looked at each other knowingly. Were his feelings so obvious?

Dammit, it was so much more helpful when I could read their minds.

"Well you need to stay put. I'm ordering a CT scan, just to be on the safe side. I'm sure your friends here can find out what you need to know and keep you updated. Meantime, get out of these wet clothes, rest, and someone will take you for that scan as soon as possible." She tossed a hospital gown in his lap.

"Thanks," said Jane, though he wasn't feeling particularly thankful. He just wanted to see Lisbon again, to know what was going on with Charlotte. Would she have brain damage from being deprived of oxygen so long? He closed his eyes, and the image of the little girl, lying face down in the water, her golden hair undulating around her, made him feel sick at the stomach. Cho must have noticed his sudden green complexion, for he handed Jane a bedpan from a nearby counter. Jane fully utilized it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The CT scan showed no damage, though it was ruled he had another concussion, and was ordered to rest for at least three days. He was in a private room in his hospital gown when Lisbon finally arrived.

His face lit up at the sight of her, but her grim expression made him fear the worst. It was more of a shock not to hear her thoughts, and he swallowed, despising the silence.

"How are you?" she asked him.

Her blouse had splatters of mud, and her knees were stained with it where she'd knelt to tend to Charlotte. Her jeans were still damp where she'd waded into the water. Her hair was coming out of the neat bun she'd been wearing earlier, and she looked as tired and bedraggled as he felt. A wave of love and longing washed over him, and it almost hurt to feel such unfamiliar emotions so strongly all at once.

"I'm fine," he said absently. "How's Charlotte?"

"In a coma," she announced.

To his horror, he felt tears sting his eyes. "Jesus."

She rushed to his side and took his hand. "She's alive because of you," she said, reaching out with her other hand to brush back his hair, to caress his smooth cheek. "I don't know how you knew where to find her, but I will never doubt your abilities again. They're a God-given gift; I see that now."

He squeezed her hand, looking into deep green eyes so filled with admiration and concern that he felt sick again.

"I can't do it anymore, Teresa. I—I…something happened to me when I hit my head again. Those abilities are just…gone, and I doubt that they'll ever come back. I probably don't even deserve for them to come back. If there really is a God, He is punishing me by giving me a glimpse of Paradise, then tearing it from my hands just when I was starting to appreciate it."

As he stared up at her, he realized he'd meant more than his psychic abilities. Paradise had been in her arms last night, and now he was banished from that too.

She looked startled at his vehemence, at the lost little boy she was glimpsing in his eyes. "Wait—you really believed you were psychic?"

"I was, Teresa," he said seriously. "I could hear everyone's thoughts around me, especially yours. Charlotte could too. We communed over great distances—that's how I found her both times. But now—I can't see anything anymore. I can't hear anything. Nothing of what people are thinking, I mean. It's very…disconcerting."

Not to mention disappointing.

What he wouldn't give to hear what she was thinking right now.

"You were knocked out after experiencing a very stressful situation. Give it time. Maybe it'll come back."

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

She was silent, and she didn't argue with him, but he felt a flutter as she continued to hold his hand. She sat on the bed with him, and to his immense surprise, leaned down and pressed her lips sweetly to his. But before he could pull her closer, she sat up again.

"Get some rest," she said. "I'm going to check on Charlotte, then go home and change. I'll bring you some clothes, okay?"

He grinned, just from the pleasure of being close to her again.

"What? You don't like my Hospital Chic?"

She smiled. "Pink does suit you. It matches your eyes."

He chuckled. "Thanks, Lisbon. Oh, and…thanks for saving my life."

A hint of rose suffused her cheeks. "I'm just glad you're okay—psychic powers or not."

The lump in his throat allowed him only an answering nod. Then she was gone, and it was like the light had left the room.

"I am so fucked," he murmured, and the sentiment covered a multitude of things.

A/N: Waterbaby's set to finish our story with the next chapter. Thanks as always for reading; we are grateful for your reviews as well as your support.