A/N: Alright, this starts a new sort of a section in this series. (Yes, I have mental sections in my head. I can't help it.) I kind of like this one. But I'm beginning to think my judgement is highly suspect where this sort of thing is concerned, because I wasn't sure I liked the last one as much as some of the others (though I did still like it), but other people seemed to disagree (which clearly I am delighted by, don't get me wrong. I'm glad people are liking this).

So, feel free to disregard my opinions. I do enjoy this one though. It features drunk!Jane.

xxxxx

Post 3.10: All snug in their beds

xxxxx

Jane stared out at the lights in the distance, letting them drift ever so slightly out of focus. They were prettier that way.

He could afford to relax a little bit now. LaRoche was gone.

J.J. LaRoche. Who, from the sounds of it, was not all that willing to discuss case theory with him. Yet.

Jane would need to work on that. Or at least find some way of getting around the issue.

The consultant frowned slightly; he'd have to deal with LaRoche later.

He couldn't focus very well right now.

The alcohol was starting to hit him harder, probably because more of it had been absorbed into his bloodstream by now.

He most likely could have fought the feeling of fuzziness if he'd really wanted to (yet another biofeedback trick). But the misty feeling was a nice change. Everything felt less crucial.

And, unlike a lot of drunk people, he didn't have to worry about someone trying to take advantage of him in his inebriated state.

J.J. was already gone, which meant that soon she would be back.

"Hey."

He smirked; he'd known she'd come.

He felt a hand on his arm. "Jane, you still with me?" Lisbon asked in concern.

Jane turned, shaking away any final thoughts about LaRoche and suddenly beaming at his new (and infinitely preferable) companion. "Of course, Lisbon."

Lisbon seemed surprised at his sudden change in demeanour. She bit her lip to try to stifle her own smile. It didn't work.

"Well, then come on," she told him. "Let's get you home."

"Okay," Jane agreed easily. He didn't want to sit outside all evening after all. It was getting cold. He started to stand, but found he was more unsteady on his feet than he'd been expecting. He stumbled slightly against the table just before he felt Lisbon's arm under his, steadying before he even had a chance to brace himself against a possible fall.

He leant into the offered support. She hadn't touched him in a while (not beyond a swat in the arm, or the odd touch to get his attention at least).

"Easy," she murmured, steadying him slightly.

"Thanks," he replied.

"Course," she said. "You okay?"

Jane straightened slowly. "Think so," he said tentatively. He was pleased when Lisbon obviously didn't believe him, and stuck to his side like glue (probably afraid he'd topple right over if she didn't). Jane grinned. It was one of the few times her habitual distrust had worked so solidly in his favour.

And, if she was offering to act as physical support, then he had no scruples in taking her up on the offer.

Jane draped his arm around her shoulders again. She responded by wrapping an arm around his waist.

He actually felt much more secure.

"Come on," Lisbon told him. "SUV's over here."

Obediently, he let her lead.

"So, how was your chat with LaRoche?" she asked curiously (with just a hint of concern underneath).

He waved a hand randomly through the air. "Oh, fine," he assured her. "This time I really didn't do anything wrong, Lisbon." Other than conceal that Todd Johnson probably had a connection to Red John, but J.J. didn't need to know that (nor did Lisbon). It certainly wouldn't help the new head of the P.S.U. catch his killer. Especially since he may be the mole himself.

"That's a nice change," Lisbon said dryly. "Did LaRoche believe you?"

"Think so!" Jane replied cheerfully. "He's not so bad."

"I never said he was," she reminded him. LaRoche's manner was off-putting, but she hadn't heard anything to turn her against the man, other than the fact that he was interrogating her people.

Jane seemed to realize that. "You had that look," he said triumphantly.

She smirked, "What look?"

"The look you get whenever anyone so much as thinks about touching one of your team members. And ole' JJ's already had a few of your people in his office," Jane reminded her.

"He's just doing his job," Lisbon said calmly.

Jane turned slightly towards her. "Were you worried about me Teresa?"

"You're drunk," she said, side-stepping the question.

Jane didn't see how that was relevant. "Yup."

"You shouldn't be questioned while drunk," Lisbon explained patiently. "And I don't like LaRoche taking advantage of that, or accosting my people at crime scenes, but if that's how he wants to get the job done..."

Jane squeezed her shoulder slightly. "You don't need to worry about me T'resa."

"Did I say I was?" she asked quickly.

"No."

"Exactly," she said decisively.

Jane quirked his head towards her. "But you are all the same," he said as if he was conveying a secret.

"Jane..."

"It's okay Lisbon. And you don't need to protect me from the big bad LaRoche," Jane assured her again. "I don't think he's after me."

"Jane..."

"It's very nice of you to look out for me though," he said, babbling over her attempted interruptions. "Very reassuring and all that. Good to know that... Who's going to protect you?"

"What?" Lisbon asked, his rapid subject change catching her off guard.

"From LaRoche," Jane clarified.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need protecting from LaRoche. I didn't do anything wrong either."

"Hmm."

"I didn't," she insisted.

"Hmm?" Jane murmured again. "Oh, I know. I was just..." He thought Lisbon did need someone to protect her. Just in case. From people who might hurt her. Just like she kept an eye on him. Just in case. Well, he was already very observant anyway... It was his little secret project.

"Jane?" Lisbon prompted.

"Yes?"

"You kind of drifted off there," she smirked.

"What?"

She sighed, accepting that she'd probably never know what he was thinking. Prying information out of Jane at the best of times was difficult; prying it out of him when he was drunk and his mind drifted all over the place was proving to be near impossible. On the other hand, the fact that he was pretty damn drunk meant that the information probably wasn't important. He was pretty spaced out. "We're at the car," she told him helpfully.

Jane focussed on the vehicle in front of him. "So we are!"

"Do you maybe want to maybe get in it?" she asked sarcastically.

"Certainly," Jane chirped.

She rolled her eyes as she held the door open for him. "And do up your seatbelt!" she ordered as she shut the door behind him.

Lisbon walked briskly around to the driver's side, got in and started the SUV.

Jane leaned against the window and watched her lazily. (Though he did do up his seatbelt first.)

"What?" she eventually asked uncomfortably.

"What, what?"

"You're staring," Lisbon pointed out.

"I'm observing," he corrected. "It's my job."

"Yeah, well, you're off the clock, so feel free to stop," she ordered.

"I wasn't off the duty ten minutes ago when LaRoche tried to question me," Jane countered.

Lisbon sighed. "You would have been if I'd had anything to say about it."

"Oh, now Lisbon, I told you, it was fine," Jane reminded her.

"I've found over the years that your definition of 'fine' is often very different than mine," she muttered.

He poked her in the arm. "This time our definitions are the same, I promise," he assured her.

"Okay," she breathed, deciding to let it go. To her irritation, Jane continued to watch her beneath half-closed eyelids. "What?" she asked again.

"I like your hair like that," he murmured. "It suits you."

"I... what?" she stammered.

"You don't take compliments very well, Teresa," he told her. "And you're probably blushing."

Damn it, she was. She could feel it on her face.

"I could teach you a way to control that," Jane continued. "Make it stop. Simple biofeedback trick."

"Really?"

"But I don't want to," he added, as if she hadn't spoken.

"Oh for Pete's sakes..." she muttered.

"You're also very economical in your movements," Jane continued, following a train of thought more meandering than usual. "I've noticed."

"Have you?" she asked stupidly, unsure of what else to say.

"Yes," he told her.

"Well..."

"This car is very comfortable," he told her. "Although I'm not sure the movement is really helping with the dizziness..."

She glanced over, trying not to be concerned. "You're feeling dizzy?" she asked. "How dizzy?"

"Eh," Jane said dismissively. "Hard to say. Maybe it's not so much dizzy as fuzzy. Or some other word ending in 'zy'. The feeling's interesting. I haven't gotten drunk in a while."

"Why am I not surprised?" Lisbon asked rhetorically, glad his conversation had taken a turn away from her, and her physical appearance. Of course Jane would be a chatty drunk. Although, given his personality that was probably way better than him being morose, angry or bitter. She didn't even want to imagine that right now.

"You're not surprised, because you, Lisbon, are smart," he informed her.

"Ah."

Jane suddenly started playing with the power windows, watching in apparent fascination as he lowered the glass an inch and then back up, only to repeat the process every fifteen seconds or so.

"Jane?"

"Yes Teresa?"

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, with a laugh in her voice.

"Well," he explained. "The fresh air feels nice, clears the brain."

"Right..."

"But it's also cold," he added. "So then I have to close the window."

"I see," she told him.

"Do you?" he wondered.

"No, but you're drunk," she told him easily.

"Maybe a little," he admitted with a goofy grin. "Am I making you cold?"

"I'm fine," she assured him dryly.

"Good. You were almost late today," he said suddenly.

She sighed. "Jane, I'm so sorry about that, honestly." She was trying not to think about that too much. She'd already been feeling guilty. They'd literally arrived in the nick of time to save him. Thank god she'd finally remembered how the stupid maze of hallways worked. Stupid building was so confusing it was a hazard.

"Next time you can be the one to almost get stuck with a needle in the belly button," he said petulantly.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter than was strictly necessary. "I think I'll pass."

"She was trying to kill me!" Jane reminded her.

"And now she's going to prison," Lisbon said calmly.

"Hmph."

"And you're okay," Lisbon added. She'd already repeated it to herself a few times, it felt natural to remind Jane himself. "We got there in time."

"Yeah, you saved me," Jane agreed, suddenly cheerful again. "You n' Cho n' Rigsby. Bursting into the room all cop-like. It was very impressive Lisbon. Scared the crazy nurse, that's for sure."

"Great," Lisbon smirked.

"I don't think I like going undercover," Jane admitted. Between nearly getting killed and the emotionally draining AA meeting, he hadn't been having the best week.

"Hey," Lisbon told him. "Both times you went undercover were your idea."

"You would bring that up..." Jane grumbled. "In my vulnerable state."

"You seem to be alright," Lisbon said lightly.

"Hmph."

She smirked. "Here we are," she said, turning into the driveway.

Jane turned his attention away from her and back to the outside. He blinked. "This isn't my home."

"No," Lisbon agreed easily. "It's mine. You said to take you home. Well, sort of. You didn't specify whose."

"T'reeesaaa…"

She ignored his drunken objection. "I didn't feel like hauling you all the way up into your own apartment on whatever damn floor it is, and then having to find your keys. This was easier all around. Now are you coming? Or are you spending the night in the car?"

"Dunno why we had to take your car." Jane muttered, feeling the need to challenge her (as he often did whenever she took control of things).

"Because while I let you drive me around in that bucket of bolts, I draw the line at driving it myself," Lisbon explained.

"My car is fine. It just requires finesse, gentleness. Worried you can't handle it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She smirked and took the bait. "Worried it can't handle me."

Jane smiled in appreciation, before frowning over another stray thought. "Why?" he asked. "You can be gentle. You're doing it now."

He would chose to take her teasing comment seriously. "Jane…"

"Y'are," Jane insisted, taking her hand. "You going to let me sleep on your couch?"

"That was the plan," she admitted.

"With my own special pillow?" he double-checked.

"Yup."

Jane considered that, stopping dead on the path to her front door. "Okay," he said after a minute.

"So glad you approve," Lisbon said as she unlocked her front door.

"I don't think you care about my opinion at all," Jane observed.

Lisbon almost laughed. "Since you can only just form coherent sentences right now, no, your judgement isn't exactly top of my list of things to take into account."

Her consultant considered that for a moment. "Well, that seems sensible."

"Thank you."

He reached for her hand as she ushered him into her apartment. "You didn't have to do this Teresa."

She sighed, deciding to ignore the near-constant use of her first name. "I wasn't going to leave you alone Jane. I don't care what that doctor said. Someone should watch you tonight."

"Oooh... Are you going to be my nurse?" he asked in delight.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that."

"I didn't mean it like… Lisbon! Where did your mind go?" he wondered, if possible looking even happier.

Lisbon mentally cursed herself for walking into that one. "Hush."

"You hush."

"No, you hush."

"Will not," Jane said contrarily.

But his two-year old behaviour was enough to put her back at her ease. "Of course not."

"No fun in that, Teresa," Jane explained with a grin.

"Ah."

"Ah," Jane mocked.

Lisbon tossed her keys in a bowl and hung up her coat. She turned to Jane to see if he wanted her to hang his jacket only to see him staring around her apartment intently.

"You don't have any Christmas decorations up," he said before she could even ask what was bothering him now.

She sighed. He would notice that, "No, I don't."

"Lisbon..."

"Jane," she countered. "Unlike all the stores, I refuse to put my Christmas decorations up before Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving's passed," Jane said pedantically.

She scowled. "You know what I mean."

"Still..."

"I haven't gotten around to it," Lisbon said quickly, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

"Liar," Jane said succinctly.

His directness surprised her. "What?"

But his mood had already shifted. "You should put up Christmas decorations Lisbon," he said gently.

"I will," she promised, in a second attempt to end the conversation.

"Teresa."

His judgemental tone aggravated her. "Oh, like you're the spirit of Christmas."

"What happened?" he asked gently, ignoring the verbal attack.

"Life happened," she snapped.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

She took a breath. He was drunk. She was sober. She needed to remember that and maybe cut hi a little slack. "No, I'm sorry."

"Teresa..."

"I don't hate Christmas," she assured him.

Jane moved closer to her, trying to convey some sort of reassurance through osmosis through the air. "I never said you did."

"I just..." she struggled for an explanation. "I don't love all the trappings."

"Guess I'll have to return that motion-censored singing Santa Claus then," Jane joked gently. "And based on your reaction to the one in Santa Bernard's apartment I thought you'd love it. Just when I thought my Christmas shopping was done."

"You're way ahead of me then," she told him easily, as she poured him a glass of water. "I haven't even started my shopping yet."

He shrugged. "It's not that big an accomplishment in my case; it's not that big a list."

The light in her eyes faded as she handed him the water.

Jane took it with a fake smile. It was true. There was a CBI Secret Santa. That was usually the extent of his Christmas shopping. Who else would he buy for? He eyed her over the top of his glass, trying not to look worried about her.

Her.

Of course her. He needed to get Lisbon a present. He wouldn't tell her that though. It would be a surprise. She'd like that, even if she pretended not to.

He grinned at her.

Looks like the number of people he had to buy for had just doubled. Unless he drew her in the Secret Santa, in which case he'd just have to buy her two presents.

Lisbon looked confused by his sudden change in demeanour, but that seemed to be par for the course that evening.

Before she could say anything Jane was scanning her apartment a second time. "Wait, why don't you have decorations up again?"

Lisbon sighed. "Jane..."

"It'd make your apartment cosier, even with all the boxes. And you need a tree," he told her, suddenly quite taken with the idea. "A little one. Like in Charlie Brown. Something for you to take care of."

"I've just never been much for Christmas, okay?" Lisbon told him. "Especially since I moved out west."

Jane turned towards her curiously.

She sighed and stamped her foot. Then she realized that she wouldn't mind actually telling him. "I used to make it as big a deal as I could, for my younger brothers. Which was never very big. But I did it for them. And then I moved away."

He stared at her, understanding dawning (albeit a little more slowly than it would have if he hadn't consumed a fair bit of alcohol). "Add that to your Santa-related trauma," he murmured.

"I had to grow up quickly Jane," Lisbon defended. "Losing Santa just happened a couple of years before the rest of it. I don't know," she said looking deliberately away from him. "Sometimes that Christmas when I realized the stories weren't real just seems like the start of everything. Or maybe the end, depending on how you look at it."

When Jane didn't say anything right away, Lisbon glanced in his direction only to be confronted by a face full of grey vest.

Jane had in her a bear hug. Only, unlike all of his other kamikaze hugs, he hadn't released her as quickly as he'd grabbed her.

He was holding on.

Actually, he wasn't just holding on. He was rubbing small, but (what he obviously considered to be) soothing circles on her back with one hand.

Probably because she was still standing stiff as a poker.

Letting out a breath, Lisbon slowly relaxed into his arms, tentatively placing her own around his waist.

Jane hummed his approval and Lisbon stopped trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

It... it was nice. Everything was so screwed up. It was always so screwed up, with LaRoche, and Hightower, and Jane, and Red John, and Kristina Frye, and her family, and now even Santa Claus was getting murdered. And damn it all, this was nice.

Being held actually felt good.

Even if it was only because Jane was a friendly drunk.

Lisbon let herself turn her head slightly closer, noting when she did that she could smell an odd mixture of alcohol and Jane's cologne.

It really shouldn't have been a comforting smell at all. Especially given that he was leaning a little heavily against her.

But even the alcohol didn't seem to matter. Like he'd said earlier, Jane almost never drank, so it wasn't really an issue.

She'd missed him.

He was a little drunk, yes, which was basically why he was holding her. And why she was allowing it. The fact that she found it easier to open up to Jane when he was drunk was almost funny.

And, oh god, had Jane just threaded his fingers through the ends of her hair? She was pretty sure he had. Patrick Jane was playing with her hair! What the hell was she doing?

This was not good.

It was late. She'd brought him home because he was just shy of dangerously drunk. He could have all the best mental control in the world; he'd still ingested a whack of whiskey. And it didn't matter that he'd been the one to instigate the physical contact, she'd still... he was...

She was supposed to be taking care of him. Not... something else. Goddamn it.

Lisbon started to slowly move away from her consultant, gently removing her hands from around his waist. She felt him reciprocate a few seconds after. As she pulled her head up from his shoulder, she felt his nose brush through her hair near her temple.

She forced her hands into fists to keep her fingers occupied.

Jane pulled back and leaned against the couch behind him, smiling. Hugging Lisbon had been much more pleasant than hugging the random woman at the AA meeting. He hadn't been expecting that hug, didn't really like when strangers touched him. But Lisbon was different.

He liked touching her, when she let him.

She'd let him today.

Holding Lisbon was one of the few times you got a sense of how genuinely petite she was. She was always such an odd mixture of vulnerability and strength. Plus her hair was so soft. Oh, and it smelled good. He hadn't really wanted to let her go, but when she pulled away, he'd known he basically had to.

She'd looked sad.

She didn't look so sad anymore though. She looked... unsure. Probably wondering why he'd hugged her.

Well, he wasn't going to tell her. So there.

Lisbon was unsettled. She caught his eye, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Her mind was still whirling through a series of images, and their (mostly) unwanted implications.

Patrick Jane, in her apartment, alone, judgement clouded, defences lowered, tactile, affectionate, and smiling right at her.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Why did she have scruples again? Jane didn't.

Oh right, because she was the responsible one, the sensible one, the one who hadn't drunk half a bottle of whiskey in one sitting.

(But why did she always have to be the responsible one? A small, hidden part of her brain asked.)

"I'm sorry," Jane said after a moment, sensing that she was still a bit uncomfortable.

She shrugged. "S'okay. It could have been worse."

"That's not much of a recommendation," he said, trying not to feel hurt by the rejection. Then he realized she wasn't talking about the hug, she was talking about her childhood Christmases.

"No, it is what it is," Lisbon said with a shrug.

He brushed his fingers across her wrist, "Keep looking for magic, Teresa."

"Jane..." She didn't even know what she was warning him of anymore. Maybe it was just a general warning, stay back, keep out, no trespassing

And Jane got it; he knew when he wasn't wanted; he'd stop pushing. He was too tired anyway. "If you're going to scold me Teresa, do you mind if I sit down?"

Lisbon immediately felt guilty, "Oh, sorry. Of course."

He waved a hand at her. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?" he asked. "After all, I may not even remember this conversation in the morning."

"Nah," she told him. Oddly enough, the fact that he was drunk made confiding in Jane less appealing. If she ever did decide to talk to Jane about her family again, she'd want him to remember. It was just... telling him now would be no better than telling a random stranger on the street. And her family was too important for that. "You're off the hook," she said after a moment. "I'm fine. And you should have been asleep before now."

"I'm fine," he assured her. He'd sit up with her a bit if she wanted.

"Jane, you just asked if you could sit down," she reminded him.

"Okay, yes, the world is spinning a bit again," he admitted. "But mentally I'm fine."

Lisbon stared at him.

"I'm at about 70%," he corrected. "Okay, maybe closer to 58%, but that's an absolute minimum, Lisbon."

"You just make these numbers up out of thin air don't you?" she asked with a laugh.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But..."

"I'm fine," she said again.

"I wish there was something I could do," he whispered. He did. He wanted to make it better. He couldn't, but he wanted to.

She was looking for magic, and after she'd been disappointed so many times. Her father, Bosco, her team from time to time, him, even Minelli, though she didn't know the worst of that (and if Jane's not-so-subtle set-up worked out, maybe she never would).

He admired her for that, for her resilience. Some might call her coping mechanisms avoidance, but he knew better.

Like their victim, Lisbon was a survivor. She moved forward.

Although, she also didn't like help.

Accepting help made her uncomfortable. Which made his secret plan more difficult than it needed to be.

Lisbon shuffled slightly, "It's fine Jane," she assured him again. "I'm a big girl."

"Of course," he agreed with an awkward smile.

"Well!" she said suddenly. "I should get you a blanket. And your pillow."

"There's a blanket on the couch already," Jane reminded her gently. "And I know where my pillow is."

Lisbon glanced at the afghan folded over the back of her couch. "That's hardly a blanket," she said sceptically. "You'll be cold. I've got more…"

"It's fine, Lisbon," Jane assured her. "Stop fussing. I've slept on worse." He'd laid awake on worse too. Besides, the way his head was spinning he doubted it'd matter whether he had one blanket or twenty, he'd be out the second he could lie down.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he told her. "But thank you."

"Of course," she said as she dropped his pillow on the couch.

He shook his head.

"What?" she asked with a laugh.

"Not of course," Jane corrected. "You didn't have to let me stay. Especially since you have a doctor's assurance that I'll be perfectly fine."

He was right of course; she didn't have to let him stay. But the idea of sending him home alone, half out of his head didn't seem right. She was aware that this was different, that she'd invited him into her home, specifically so he could spend the night; he wasn't just staying because he'd dropped by late at night and they'd gotten distracted. But it had really seemed the only option at the time; Lisbon admitted that she hadn't even considered another course of action. Which was maybe the most startling thing of all. However, all she said was, "You stay here some nights when you're not drunk. And anyway, I still think you should be watched."

"Distrustful of doctors are we Teresa?" he asked her.

"No."

"I'll remember that the next time you're ordering me to listen to one of them, for some reason or other," Jane added, dropping slowly onto her couch.

"You need to listen to the doctors, Jane!" Lisbon scolded. "They're trying to take care of you."

"Well, you obviously don't trust them," Jane observed. "Why should I?"

"I just think it's better to be safe than sorry," Lisbon said in frustration.

"Mmhm."

"Whatever Jane."

"Well argued."

She sighed. "You sure you don't need anything?" she asked, lingering near the foot of her stairs.

"Just sleep," he murmured half into the pillow.

She smiled, "Okay. Night."

"Night Teresa," he said softly.

Lisbon took one last look at him as she got to the top of the stairs, shaking her head when she realized that the afghan was still folded on the back of the couch. Idiot would catch his death of cold.

Still, better that he was downstairs, near enough that she could make sure wasn't going to get alcohol poisoning or something. She knew it was unlikely, but still. It made her feel better, that he wasn't all alone, in case something bad happened. Besides, everyone needed someone to look out for them from time to time.

Even Jane.

She started changing for bed. It was nice, knowing he was close.

She glanced around her bedroom almost regretfully. Not too close though.

xxxxx

Jane was already half asleep.

He could hear Lisbon puttering around upstairs, no doubt going through her nightly routine. The muffled sounds was soothing, a nice change from the silence of either his attic or his apartment, or even his couch in the bullpen when he slept there at night at least.

Besides, it was nicer to be in her apartment. It was homier than his, even with all her boxes.

Maybe he should offer to help her unpack those.

He snuggled deeper into his pillow, pleased when he realized it smelled like her laundry detergent.

It was far nicer to focus on the smell of spring freshness then on the swirling in his head. He could understand the compulsion to get good and drunk from time to time. He'd done it himself, to forget. But he wouldn't want to do it all the time. It dulled the senses, and he was nothing without all of his senses.

Maybe that was what poor, heartbroken May had meant, when she'd said that anything that prevented you from experiencing life was bad. Maybe he agreed with her there after all. Anything that made him less perceptive was bad.

But then, his addictions didn't make him less perceptive. At least not in his opinion. They just… focussed his powers of perception.

Although, Jane thought (somewhat regret fully), as he listened to the woman on the floor above him shuffling around, that it was possible his addictions prevented him from truly living his life.

xxxxx

Lisbon wandered back into her bedroom from her bathroom, trying to turn off her brain, trying to let their latest case go. She ordered herself to go to bed, and just stop thinking about it (and by extension the complication currently lying on her living room couch).

She wasn't having much luck with that though.

For one, LaRoche was a worry.

He'd already honed in on Jane. That always made her nervous.

And okay, yes, Jane was capable of murder. She'd meant that when she'd admitted as much to LaRoche. Jane had the potential to become a killer, no question.

But he hadn't killed Todd Johnson.

And what she'd told Jane was true too. That when the time came, she hoped she'd be in enough control of the situation to stop him.

She needed to stop him.

For justice, for legality. She was an officer of the law; there was a principal here.

So she needed to…

He was her friend. Her…

She…

She could lose him so easily.

But she wouldn't let him go without a fight.

She would protect him, from LaRoche, from Red John, from himself. Well, she'd try anyway.

Oh Lord. It was no use. She'd never get any sleep this way.

Lisbon tiptoed down the stairs extra-cautiously. But her attempts to make as little noise as possible were unnecessary; for once Jane was actually sleeping soundly (thanks mostly to the alcohol she guessed).

Lisbon tucked the extra quilt around him gently, brushing a hand against his forehead to make sure he wasn't running a fever or anything.

If he'd been awake he'd have laughed at her, told her she didn't need to worry so much, to watch over him, to take care.

But she did.

She cared too much not to.

Now she'd be able to get to sleep.

xxxxx

The end

P.S. For those who have forgotten, Lisbon bought Jane a special pillow sometime before the 3.02 post-ep for when he ended up sleeping on her couch.

Oh, and P.P.S. This is the first of the post-eps that will have what I've decided to call a Tag. Basically I feel like, narratively, there's something that needs to happen between this post-ep and the next post-ep. So I am writing the missing scene, so to speak. Just so you all know.