A/N: Ah, yes. I do understand just how mean I am with the whole suspense thing. I always have been. I'm glad you guys are on the edge of your seats, that is what I live for. :) Anyway, thank you for the reviews.

Disclaimer: :(

CHAPTER 9: Spot-On

Now that Teresa was home and he had the ability to breathe again, Jane finally returned to work. It was an odd feeling, not having the women around as much. They had each become such essential pieces of his life, and not seeing them all day everyday was just strange.

Of course, he visited Lisbon every day and Grace would occasionally help out with a case but most of the time, she was tending to Lisbon all day and it just didn't feel the same. Cho was named the new temporary team leader, and an additional agent named Michael Taylor was temporarily added to their team. Everything was just so... different. So off.

One day, Agent Taylor received a phone call and announced to the team that a local teenager had been murdered. Jane sighed and Rigsby groaned. Everyone absolutely despised cases where kids were the victims. Not only was it devastatingly heartbreaking, but the suspects were almost always other kids. The team knew from experience that interrogating a couple of kids was like talking to a wall. They refused to give answers, and the only thing they really had to offer was smartass remarks.

The victim's name was Matthew Grammar. Fifteen years old, shot twice in the chest. He was discovered behind the local bowling alley by one of the workers, who heard the shots.

While Cho and Taylor went to question the boy's friends, Jane went with Rigsby to pay a visit to the grieving family.

The mother was, to say the least, an absolute wreck, barely audible as she answered Rigsby's hesitant questions. He had suggested they do this another time, but the poor woman insisted. I want to get this over with, she wailed. I want the sick bastard that killed my boy to rot in jail forever.

Uncomfortable with the situation, Jane excused himself and slipped from the living room, leaving Rigsby with the traumatized woman. Jane wandered down the hallway, looking at the pictures as he went. When he reached the kitchen, he noticed a young girl seated at the kitchen table, staring blankly out the window.

"Hello," Jane said.

She glanced up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Are you with the police?"

"I am," he answered.

"Are you going to find who did this to my brother?" she asked him.

Jane took a seat across from her at the table. She looked very much like the victim. Honey-colored hair and navy blue eyes. She looked to be ten or eleven years old. A pretty girl. "I am certainly going to try," he finally promised the little girl.

She nodded. "I don't understand why anyone would want to do this to Matt," she whispered. "He was such a good person."

"Neither do I." He paused. "I am very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." She stretched a tiny hand across the table. "I'm Peyton."

Jane shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Peyton. I'm Patrick."

"Is my mom still crying?" she asked.

"Yes." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "It is a very, very difficult thing. Losing a child, I mean."

"It's a difficult thing losing anyone." She sighed. "First Daddy. Now Matt."

A pang of remorse shot through his veins as he looked at the girl's heart-wrenching expression. "I'm sorry," he said again, because that was all he could think of to say.

She stood from the table. "I should get back to my mom."

Jane stood, too. "Right. And I should probably get back to my colleague."

As he predicted, the mother was still weeping, and Rigsby was more than ready to get out of here. "Mrs. Grammar, again, I am terribly sorry for your loss."

"Yes, my condolences," Jane chimed in.

The woman sniffed. "Thank you."

Rigsby stood from his place in a chair and just as he and Jane were about to leave, Mrs. Grammar spoke up again. "You're Teresa's colleagues?" she asked in a shaky, raspy voice.

The two men stiffened, surprised. "Yes," Rigsby replied.

"I haven't seen her since the day before she was discharged from the hospital. How is she doing?"

"She doing good," Rigsby informed her. "You know, considering."

"You know Lisbon?" Jane asked.

"She's been my good friend for a long time." Mrs. Grammar dabbed at her moist eyes. "She will be heartbroken when she finds out about..." And she burst into tears again.

Jane and Rigsby exchanged a glance before Jane hurriedly said, "Again, I'm deeply sorry for your loss." He looked at the little girl. "Bye, Peyton."

He turned swiftly and hurried out to his car.

X

He was in the habit of letting himself into her apartment, and if it was locked, he used the spare key that was hidden in one of the cracks of the brick wall. As soon as he reached her apartment building, he parked his car, sprinted up the steps leading to her front door, and let himself in.

Grace was seated on Lisbon's couch, flipping through a magazine. She looked up and smiled when Jane opened the door. "Hey."

"Hi, Grace. Is she sleeping?"

She shook her head. "Nope, I think she is just reading."

Jane hurried up the staircase, taking two steps at a time, and had to stop himself from just bursting into her bedroom unannounced. He knocked three times. "Lisbon?"

"Come in."

He entered. "Hi."

She immediately noticed the concerned expression on his face and used the hand railing he had installed for her to pull herself into a sitting position. "Jane, what's the matter?"

He furrowed his brows, slightly confused. "I... I guess I wanted to see if you were okay." Surely she must have heard about the poor boy. Matthew Grammar had to be all over the news, and she watched the news all the time.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" she asked in a slow, monotonous voice that could only mean she hadn't heard about the boy, her good friend's son.

Jane heard someone clear their throat behind him and he turned to see Grace standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she apologized. She held up her phone for them to see, which was clutched tightly in her hand. "Rigsby called. They need to take down a highly dangerous suspect and need an extra set of hands to do it, so..."

"Go ahead," Jane insisted. "They don't need me." He sat at the foot of Lisbon's bed.

"Yes, they do!" Lisbon argued. "Both of you, go. I will be okay!"

He ignored her. "Go, Grace. They need you."

The redheaded agent nodded and left Lisbon's apartment.

"Jane," Teresa said once Grace was gone. "What is going on? I want the truth."

"You mean, you haven't turned on the television lately?"

She didn't respond, but the perplexed look remained fixed on her face. She cautiously reached for her TV remote, but Jane stopped her by grasping her wrist. "No," he said firmly.

Immediately, he felt guilty, for the fear and worry she was feeling became evident in her eyes. "Jane," she croaked. "You are scaring me. Please tell me what's going on. Is it something to do with the latest case?"

He nodded solemnly, deciding to cut to the chase and get this over with. He opened his mouth to speak, but something choked him. Something dark, something he had refused to think about for the longest time. It was the memory of Lisbon's shattered expression the day they found Bosco and his team gunned down. The memory of the broken hope in her beautiful eyes as the paramedics attempted to revive Sam was almost unbearable to think about. Jane couldn't stand the thought of him bringing that look back to her face. Especially when she was so vulnerable already, with bruises and broken bones covering her petite body.

"Jane!" Lisbon seemed desperate now. "I don't care how awful it may be," she whispered. "Please. Tell me."

He took a deep breath, letting the words pour. "Lisbon, do you have a friend with the last name of Grammar?"

Lo and behold, there was the expression. Her face paled and the color seemed to drain from her eyes. "Kristen," she croaked. "Is she dead?"

He shook his head, dropping his eyes.

"One of the kids," she breathed, voice cracking helplessly.

He still didn't meet her eyes. He didn't even look up. He just scooted a bit closer to her and covered her hand with his. This was the kind of thing he rarely did with anyone else. He was man enough to admit that he wasn't necessarily an affectionate person. He didn't hand out free hugs to anyone who seemed to be having a bad day and frankly, crying women made him extremely uncomfortable. But lately, with the pretty green-eyed brunette before him, he felt the urge to get her to open up to him.

"Which kid, Jane?" Lisbon asked.

"Matthew." He finally met her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"How?" Her voice was barely above a strained whisper.

"Shot twice in the chest."

Though the mortified squeak that escaped her was small, it broke Jane's heart all the same. He could tell that she was unsuccessfully attempting to hold back the tears that had already begun to pool in her eyes. "Do you want me to go?" he asked her softly.

It was as if she couldn't move, couldn't even nod her head. She clearly didn't have the ability to construct a coherent sentence, and a muffled sound came from her throat. The kind of sound that was being strangled by a sob. It sounded something like, "M-hm."

Jane obliged, releasing her hand and standing up. He was just about to make his way for the door when she actually spoke up, with words. "Changed my mind." Her voice was raspy, the way someone's voice sounds when their throat is being constricted by emotion. "Stay. Please."

He turned. "You sure?"

"'Nless you want to go," she sniffled.

The truth was, he didn't want to go. He had know this would happen if he told her about the boy, but he couldn't stand the thought of her finding out through those reporters on the local news. He couldn't stand the thought of her finding out and having no one by her side.

Jane took a seat next to her again. She didn't look at him. She just stared at her bedroom wall. Her eyes were glistening, and Jane swore he actually heard his heart physically break.

"He was my godson," she told him. He was impressed by the way she kept her voice so calm. "Such a good kid," she murmured, and Jane wondered if she was talking to herself.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, swallowing hard. "I wish there was something I could do."

She shook her head. "You're already doing so much for me."

But deep down, Jane knew he should be doing more.

X

The news of the death of her godson threw her into shock, but she refused to cry. Not in Jane's presence. It isn't like he would mind if she cried in front of him. She knew he would probably be supportive, possibly compassionate. But she hated feeling weak. She always had. She had considered sending Jane away, so she was free to cry in private, and she almost did send him away. However, as soon as he got up to leave, the first thing she thought was, No. I am so damn tired of being alone all the time.

Her bedroom was silent, yet unbearably loud. She knew that she wasn't obligated to say anything, that Jane would understand if she wanted to stay quiet. Instead, she asked him a question. A question that had never been properly answered. "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

As Lisbon said it, she caught him scanning her injuries for the briefest of moments, as if to say, Not sure. Why don't you answer that? Of course, it wasn't his intention to get caught as he made the silent accusation, but she was sure it was there.

The next thing he said surprised her. He answered the question that no one Lisbon knew had ever had the ability to answer. It wasn't the cliché, I honestly don't know.

No. Instead, he answered, "Because good and evil don't go well together, and there is plenty of evil in this unforgiving world."

She couldn't help but smile at how spot-on he was.

A/N: I will admit that this was not one of my favorite chapters. I was trying to bring the team into the story a bit more, yet still have the chapter revolve around Jane and Lisbon. I know you are all DYING to find out what happened the night of Lisbon's "incident". I know that Jane and Lisbon are also dying to find out what happened. The truth will be coming out soon. I promise. :) In the meantime, I would LOVE reviews. Of course, when do I ever NOT love them? Thanks for reading! xo, Em.