I had really intended to end this story with the last chapter, but I decided to explore what happens next, after the house, after Red John. Sort of my version of "My Blue Heaven." So, you might notice that the tone of this fic changes radically, that it becomes much lighter. I almost feel like I'm starting a new story. Just think of these final two chapters as an extended epilogue. I mean, even Jane Eyre had a happy ending.

Chapter 10

It was fortunate the apartment Jane had rented was furnished, save for new beds, as the Ruskin home fire had either destroyed or smoke damaged everything they owned. In one of her first acts as Jane's new assistant, she held his cell phone to his ear while he spoke to a local furniture store and ordered a bed for each bedroom in the new place. She tried not to smirk when the master bed was to be a king-size. She heard the woman on the phone tell him they would be delivered that afternoon—just in time for Jane's release from the hospital.

Jane finished the call and Teresa pressed the end button for him, returning his phone to the rolling tray. He frowned as he repositioned his bandaged hands.

"This is going to get old very fast."

"Stop complaining," said Pete from the doorway. "You're lucky to have hands. And your life, for that matter."

"True," he said, and his voice was finally clear now of morphine and alcohol.

"How's Charlotte this morning?" Teresa asked the carnival man. Pete smiled, but directed his answer to Jane.

"You know how she is with those damn animals, Patrick. I can't keep her away from the petting zoo. Now you throw those kittens of hers in the mix…" He shook his head in fond exasperation.

"The point being, she is perfectly content for now," Jane said to Teresa. "We can get settled into the new place before she comes—if that's all right with Sam, Pete?"

"Sure. She loves having her." There was a wistful tone from Pete that Jane rightly interpreted as the man's having missed being a father himself.

"Well, I should really go out and get a few things, go by your apartment and write a list—"

"I'd appreciate that," said Jane. "My keys are in the zip top bag in the closet, along with my wallet. First and foremost, I'm going to need some clothes. I'm afraid my only surviving suit is a little…singed."

"Ok. What do you want me to get for you? I don't know the first thing about men's suits…"

Jane grinned, then winced. With his pain medication cut down as a sacrifice for a clearer mind, everything was hurting tenfold, including his face.

"Just get me a couple of jeans and t-shirts at the nearest department store, and I'll make do."

"And uh…socks and underwear too, I assume," she said, averting her eyes to her cell phone, even though he couldn't see her reaction to purchasing such personal items.

Jane delighted in the embarrassment he perceived, despite their businesslike exchanges, though he managed to keep his face impassive.

"Yes, Miss Lisbon, if you wouldn't mind. I know this goes way above and beyond…"

"No problem," she assured quickly. She retrieved his wallet from the closet and took out the platinum credit card he'd named. He gave her his sizes and the address of his apartment, and she diligently typed the information into her phone.

"You're going to need something to haul things around in," offered Pete, fishing his keys from his pocket. "Take my truck. It's the old brown jalopy by the main entrance."

"Jalopy is an overstatement," added Jane. "Old is an understatement. You might need to get out and crank it a time or two."

"The seventies weren't that long ago," said Pete defensively. "She still runs like new. Besides, remember the crap foreign jobs you drive." He turned to Teresa. "You can drive a stick, can't you, girl?"

Teresa grinned, holding out her hand for the keys. "Yes. I'll take good care of her, I promise." She turned to Jane. "Anything else you can think of before I go?"

"Not at the moment. I'm sure you'll think of everything we'll need."

"I'll do my best. See you later."

"Bye, Teresa. And thanks," he said softly.

"Just doing my job."

When she left, Jane was quietly thoughtful, and Pete had certainly noticed the tangible awareness between him and Teresa Lisbon.

"You'd better be careful with her," warned Pete. "What is she, a senior in high school?"

"Of course not. She's in college."

Pete let out a bark of laughter. "Not much better, my friend. Well, at least she's legal."

"Stop. You know it hasn't been that long since I lost Angela."

Pete contemplated him a moment, wishing he could see his eyes.

"It's long enough when you say it is, Patrick. No one is going to judge you for moving on with your life. Especially now that, well, you have nothing to hold you back anymore," he finished meaningfully.

"She knows, Pete," said Jane, a touch of awe in his voice. "She understands what we did, though she doesn't like it much—still, she hasn't gone to the police. She's kept our secret. And the way she cares for Charlotte-I was lucky to have found her. Beyond lucky she came back."

Pete laid a hand on Jane's shoulder. "Then don't screw it up. You know better than anyone that we don't have much time on this earth. Don't waste it."

"We're sort of ignoring the blind elephant in the room though, aren't we? There's a chance my eyes won't heal. Teresa is too young to be saddled with an invalid…"

"Blind people aren't invalids, Paddy. Don't you remember Serena the Sightless Siren? She could tell the color of a man's shirt just by the way he smelled. She could hear a pin drop across a crowded room. She could—"

"She wasn't really blind, Pete."

"What?"

Jane chuckled. "That was just an act. I can't believe you didn't know that."

"But she never went out of character, even when the carnival was over. What the hell…"

"I really may be blind though. I have to start facing facts here."

"Nothing doing. Just give it time my boy. All good things…"

"You're just full of platitudes today," said Jane, somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

"Well, you know what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Pete added with a grin.

"I remember one about the blind leading the blind," said Jane sagely.

"Really? Never heard that one…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few hours later, Teresa returned to Jane's hospital room to find him emerging from the bathroom on a nurse's arm. The bandages were off his eyes, though he still closed them tightly against the light. His hair was damp and already curling, and small plastic bags had been wrapped around his hands to protect them from his shower.

Her eyes went to the nicely shaped legs that she could see below his hospital gown, and she stood in awe as the nurse helped him into the bed, for she got a tantalizing glimpse of his naked behind peaking between the gap in his gown.

Holy crap.

Despite the fact she hadn't seen many naked men in her lifetime, she instinctively knew that Patrick Jane's ass was a singular work of art.

"You're back," said Jane suddenly, as the nurse adjusted his bedding.

How the hell had he known?

"Yes," she said lamely. Startled out of her trance, she held up shopping bags she'd forgotten at first he couldn't see. Well, at least he'd heard their rustling.

"And you brought me clean clothes! Well, my transformation to a new man is almost complete, thanks to you and Nurse Melanie here. I smell a lot less like I've spent a few days around a campfire."

"Yes," she said.

"Melanie, this is Teresa. She'll be looking after me once I get sprung from this joint."

Nurse Melanie smiled. "Nice to meet you. I'd be happy to tell you about his care…"

The nurse brought out some more gauze for his eyes, and Teresa watched with interest how she did it, while Melanie gave concise instructions about application of salves and changing his dressings, what to look for in case there was infection. She left a few minutes later, and Teresa brought out his new clothes. She was oddly silent.

"You know, you're probably going to see a lot more of me than my bare ass," he said quietly. "If that makes you squeamish, you should let me know now so I can make other arrangements."

She stared at him a moment, heart gently pounding. "Squeamish isn't exactly the word I'd use," she said finally.

"Oh? And what word would you use with regard to my ass, Miss Lisbon?"

Teresa decided to be honest. After all, he seemed to know her true thoughts anyway.

"Impressed," she replied with a small smile.

Jane laughed aloud.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane's high-rise apartment was spacious, beautiful, and had an amazing view of the Sacramento River, the iconic Tower Bridge, and the State Capitol building in the distance. A month here probably was the equivalent of a semester's tuition, mused Teresa as she paused to take in the view. The building superintendent had let in the furniture people, so Teresa was able to make up Jane's bed immediately with the new bedding she'd purchased. She guided Jane to his bedroom and he lay down with a groan.

"Can I get anything for you? Something to eat or drink? Your medication?" He shook his head.

"No more meds. I'll be fine."

Her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "It's stupid to be in pain when you don't have to be."

"I like being able to think," he said. "I've been either in an alcohol or drug-induced haze for the better part of a week. I'll deal with the pain."

"At least take it at night, so you can sleep," she suggested, moving to his closet and dresser to put away his new things.

"I'll think about it."

Pete entered his room then, grinning at how quickly his friend had settled in under Teresa's care, how domestic things already appeared.

"I've unloaded everything. Anything else I can do for you two?"

"No, thanks," said Teresa. "You have been a huge help. I'm glad Mr. Jane has you as a friend."

Pete smirked a bit at the formal use of Patrick's name, but he didn't comment. He wasn't surprised when Jane picked up on his amusement.

"Shut up," admonished Jane.

Pete chuckled. "Then I'll leave you for now. Sam and I will go and get your car later, Patrick, so you'll have transportation if you need it, Teresa. I'll bring Charlotte over in a few days if you want, Paddy."

"Yes," said Jane. "I miss her, though with the carnie atmosphere, I'm sure she isn't missing me much."

"Well, when I told her you were back, Miss Lisbon, she was very excited."

"Nothing about her dear old dad," said Jane with a hint of dismay.

"You know kids, Patrick. Don't take it personally."

Pete said his goodbyes, and Jane and Teresa were suddenly and completely alone.

She'd finished stowing Jane's clothes and turned to regard him thoughtfully.

"I'll start dinner if you'd like. What are you hungry for?"

"Come here," he said softly, and she felt a small thrill at the seductive timbre of his voice.

She walked across the heavy pile carpet to stand beside him.

"If I haven't told you yet, I just wanted to say how glad I am that you chose to come back. After everything you had to contend with at the house, with Lorelei and all my secrets—"

"I knew Charlotte would need me," she interrupted. "Let's put all the rest of it in the past."

Without thinking, he held out his hand, then dropped it back gingerly when he remembered he couldn't touch her.

"Thank you, Teresa," he said, and in his voice she heard a blatant longing she responded to on a primal level.

"You're welcome." She laid a hand on his upper arm, felt the involuntary flexing of his firm muscle, heard the quickening of his breathing, and hastily moved her hand away. "Now, uh, I'll just go fix dinner. Be ready in a jiffy."

In the kitchen, Teresa leaned against the counter, her own breathing labored as if she'd run a marathon.

"Get it together, Teresa," she said aloud. "You need to make yourself seem detached…distant."

But when she thought of his warm skin beneath her hand, she flushed with the desire to be as close to him as she could possibly be.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She fed him salad and penne pasta with meat sauce, figuring spaghetti would have been much messier. Her mother had taught her to cook as a child-simple, homemade meals that would please the hearty appetites of her brothers and father. She always felt that her mother somehow knew she'd need this skill, for when she had died, Teresa had had no trouble taking over the kitchen duties. Despite all the difficulties of eventually raising her brothers alone, at least she knew they always had a good meal in their bellies.

Jane ate ravenously, claiming it was the best Italian feast he'd ever had. When he'd finished, she gently wiped his lips with the napkin she'd placed beneath his chin. She couldn't completely get past her continued awareness of him, but was proud of herself that her hands no longer shook, and her voice was strong and professional. She held the straw to his mouth so he could finish his iced tea.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you. I think I'd like to try to take a nap. I'm surprisingly tired for one who's done nothing but lay in bed for two days."

"It's your body's need to heal," she told him, standing with his plate in hand. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks again, Teresa. Dinner was divine."

She smiled, inordinately pleased at his approval. "I'm glad you liked it."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane had been holding his bladder since the nurse had helped him in the hospital, and once Teresa left the room, he rose a bit unsteadily. He remembered precisely where the bathroom was from the one time he'd seen the apartment before the fire. He entered the room and shut the door behind him. He found the toilet, and stood before it with determination.

It took him five minutes of grunting pain and awkward movements before he admitted defeat, panting inelegantly and praying he wouldn't suffer the humiliation of wetting his pants.

He swore harshly in frustration. Then, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, he called for Teresa.

She was there in a flash, standing outside the bathroom door.

"Are you all right?"

"I need your help with these goddamn jeans," he growled.

She opened the door and he felt himself flush with embarrassment at his predicament, and he was glad for once his face was burned. This was not how he wanted her to see him.

"I'm sorry," he said lamely. "If you could just unbutton me and, uh, pull them down, I think I can handle the boxers, and the uh, rest."

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "I hadn't thought this thing through. I've never been a nurse before, unless you count putting Band-aids on my brothers' skinned knees."

She moved to unbutton and unzip, telling herself this was no different than helping her brothers get undressed when they were little. She pulled his jeans gently down to his knees, both of them ignoring his indrawn breath when she brushed against his most private area. She stood back, looking skeptically at his injured hands, though it made her extremely nervous to have to ask.

"You're sure you can do the rest by yourself?"

"Yes," he bit out tightly.

She understood his embarrassment and frustration and tried not to take his harsh tone personally.

"Okay, but when you're finished, don't try to pull up your jeans yourself. Let me help you."

He gave a grunt in the reluctant affirmative, and she left the bathroom. The moment she heard the toilet flush, she knocked on the door again.

"I'm decent," he said sheepishly. She came back in and went to where he stood, his boxers pulled up though slightly askew and low on his hipbones, his jeans still around his knees. It was actually a bit endearing, seeing the great Patrick Jane so helpless like that, but she held back a smile, not wanting him to hear it in her voice. She shut the lid of the toilet.

"Sit down," she instructed, then held his arm to make sure he found his seat. She squatted down and pulled off his shoes, then his jeans.

"There," she said. "In the interest of your independence, let's leave these off, okay? If you're cold, I actually thought to buy you some sweat pants, which should be much easier for you to pull down."

"I appreciate your resourcefulness. This isn't exactly what you signed up for, is it? I'll understand if you want to quit. Get Pete back here, and we'll muddle through. The home health nurse is coming tomorrow anyway…"

"Nonsense," she said. "We're both adults, Mr. Jane. I can do this if you don't mind being patient with me."

"It's nothing you've done; I've just never been a good patient."

"I get it, believe me. Personally, I would be going crazy if I were in your shoes. We are both independent people, and don't like asking for help, even when we need it."

"True," he agreed with a smirk.

"We just need to ignore any…awkward feelings and do what has to be done, deal?"

He grinned. "Deal. I'd shake on it, but…"

"That joke never gets old with you, does it?"

"No," he whispered, and, to her utter shock, he leaned forward and unerringly found her lips with his own.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, and filled with admirable restraint. He tilted his head and briefly swiped his tongue across hers while she shivered in reaction, her hands tightening on his hairy thighs. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and he sat back against the commode, his breathing audible, a new fullness in his boxers from which she hastily looked away.

Neither of them apologized.

She moved to help him up.

"I can do it. I uh, just need a minute."

She blushed, picked up his discarded jeans and shoes, and turned to leave.

"Oh, Teresa- there's one more thing I think I'll need help with."

"What's that?"

His smile was dazzling. "Can I trouble you to help me brush my teeth?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He awoke in the night to find Teresa sitting on the bed beside him, gently rubbing his chest and shoulders while he lay sweating, his throat dry and sore.

"You were dreaming," she said gently. "You cried out for me and Charlotte."

It came back to him then. The fire. Only this time, Red John had risen from the ashes like a demonic phoenix, stalking them with flaming red eyes while Jane helplessly wrapped his arms around Teresa and his daughter, his hands useless to protect them. Then, everything went black, and he could no longer see the killer advancing toward them, though his maniacal laughter filled his ears, and he could feel his hot breath upon them like a dragon's…

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he said hoarsely.

"It's okay. Understandable you would have nightmares after all you've been through. Here, have a sip of water."

He sucked the blessed coolness into his parched throat. He felt shaky and weak all over, and his hands and eyes burned like hellfire. He felt then the smoothness of a pill against the seam of his lips.

"Take this. It will help you sleep."

He didn't protest, and she offered the water again. He wouldn't have known how to ask without sounding out of line, so he was infinitely grateful when she moved to the other side of his bed and climbed in beside him.

"Go to sleep," she said softly, moving closer. She smelled like heaven. "I'll be right here if you need me."

Her hand reached out to touch the back of his head, and he fell asleep again, lulled by the soothing sensation of her fingers in his curls.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The home health nurse arrived late the next morning, a strong, middle-aged woman who claimed to have been a Marine Corp sergeant. Teresa didn't doubt it, given her rough voice and no-nonsense approach to Jane's care.

But the nurse saved her from the awkwardness of giving Jane his bath, of having to soap his sexy body from head to toe. Just the thought of it made her stomach clench and her face heat with desire. But it just went to show that no one—not even a hard-bitten war veteran—was immune to Jane's charm, for by the time Teresa was invited back into his bedroom, the stoic Nurse Kay was laughing like a giddy schoolgirl.

Jane grinned knowingly, fully aware of the effect he had on women—all women.

"This one is trouble for sure," she told Teresa, as she efficiently tucked the blankets around Jane in his bed.

Teresa didn't comment, and Jane smiled to himself at her imagined expression.

The nurse assured them she would return the next day, proclaiming that he would soon get to trade the bulky bandages on his hands for a lighter, more maneuverable dressing, given how quickly the burns seemed to be healing.

"What about his eyes?" Teresa asked quietly as she escorted the nurse to the door.

"It's up to the doctor to make a diagnosis, of course, but they don't appear to be infected."

"And he still can't see?"

"No, I'm afraid not." She patted Teresa's forearm consolingly, Jane's charisma having done its job to soften the nurse's demeanor. "Hang in there, sweetie. Time might surprise you."

Everyone kept telling her this, Teresa thought. She had faith that God would heal him, but Teresa had never been the patient sort.

"Thank you," she said aloud, and locked the door behind the nurse.

Teresa returned to check on her patient, who was lying against the pillows, seemingly exhausted.

"How was your bath?"

"Thorough." His reply was so filled with horror that she laughed. "Seriously," he continued, "you could eat off my ass it's so clean. Touch my skin—if there's any left-I bet it'll actually squeak."

She laughed some more and settled into the chair beside his bed. She reached for the book they'd started after breakfast, a mystery she'd picked up from her own apartment the day before.

"Would you like me to read to you some more, or should I call to have a TV delivered?"

He smiled, pleased that he'd made her laugh after the tension of the last two days.

"No, by all means continue. I'm dying to know if my prediction of who the killer is, is correct."

"Well, don't ruin it for me," she warned.

And she began to read.

He'd figured out the murderer after the first chapter, and he quickly lost interest in the plot, contenting himself with listening to the resonance of her voice, rising and falling with the words like the swell of the tide upon a soft, white beach. He dozed, remembering how he had awakened that morning to the feel of her body wrapped around his from behind, her breath warm against his neck, the soft swell of her breasts pressed into his back as she slept.

If he'd had the use of his hands, he would have taken her right then.

"Thank you for staying with me last night," he said suddenly, interrupting her description of a particularly bloody crime scene.

"What?" He'd startled her, for she'd been deeply engrossed in the story.

"It was nice waking up to you in my bed."

"Mr. Jane—"

"Patrick," he corrected gently. "I like hearing you say my name. You've helped me use the bathroom, fed me like a child. I think we're beyond such formalities, don't you?"

She hesitated, and he felt her rebellious nature warring within her. It almost made him smile.

"You're right," she replied, the book forgotten in her lap. "I'll try."

"Say it for me now. Just for practice."

"I've said it before. Just the other day, in the hospital."

"But I was half out of it."

"I'll say it when I feel like it."
"It's not like I'm asking you to take the Lord's name in vain or anything," he said, feigning hurt feelings.

"Shut up, Patrick," she said, saccharine sweet, "before I sock you in the nose."

"Aww," he said dryly. "Like music to my ears."

She sighed and he knew she was rolling her eyes. "Now, let me read. It was just getting good..."

He didn't argue with her, but before she'd finished the next chapter, he was sound asleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The next few days passed in similar fashion, and despite Jane's restlessness and frustration with his limitations, it was perhaps the most amazing time he'd spent since his wife died. He and Teresa spoke of everything and nothing, and he found himself pouring out stories from his childhood, the good, the bad, and the disturbing, while he delighted in hearing of the hijinks of Teresa's younger brothers. They reminded him of himself at times, and he told her so. She was not at all surprised. They laughed and even cried together over their equally difficult pasts, feeling their losses together, commiserating over having gone through so much grief only to have emerged stronger and wiser people on the other side. Teresa thanked God for her survival, while Jane owed everything to the presence of Charlotte.

He no longer had nightmares, but Teresa continued to slip into bed with him in the middle of the night, just to be sure, she must have told herself. Neither of them was shy now about cuddling beneath the blankets, and sometimes he would awaken her with a kiss that promised much more when he deemed himself whole again.

As Nurse Kay had promised, she was able to change the bandages on his hands so they were thinner and less restrictive of movement, giving Teresa a horrified glimpse of the red, puckered skin from his burns. When the nurse had left, Teresa took his damaged hands in hers, examining them with tears in her eyes. He would fortunately avoid having to get skin grafts, though Teresa mourned the scarring that would mar his beautifully expressive hands.

"Don't be sad," he'd told her. "It will be a reminder to me of what happens when you play with fire."

She planted a gentle kiss on one bandaged palm, and his other came up to touch her soft hair. It was still painful, but his spirit lifted to be able to feel what he had genuinely been missing. When she raised her head, his heart gave a tremendous thump as he anticipated the feel of her lips upon his.

It was in that moment that something seemed to open up inside of him, and he was filled with a wonder and happiness he had thought was forever lost to him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane was sitting in the living room, fully dressed for once, enjoying the feel of the sunlight through the large bay window, when Pete and his beautiful wife, Sam arrived with their excited charge.

"Daddy!" Charlotte exclaimed, bounding to her father the moment the apartment door opened. Despite his worries about being forgotten, she'd barely even noticed Teresa beyond a smile and a quick hug.

"Careful," said Sam, when the little girl threw herself into Jane's arms.

"It's okay," said Jane. He inhaled his daughter's hair, faintly redolent of sweet strawberries. "How are you doing, my little princess?"

"I'm fine. Miss Sam says your eyes still don't work."

"No, not yet. But they're getting better; I can feel it."

"Your face is red and sticky."

"It won't be that way for long," he reassured her.

She went on to chatter for ten straight minutes about life in the carnie campsite, about how her kittens were settling into their new home, uttering not a word about the fire or the fear and death she'd witnessed. Kids were resilient, as Pete had rightly pointed out.

"May I see my room?" she asked Teresa suddenly, and she pulled Teresa's hand to the newly furnished bedroom. Teresa had snuck out of the house a few times to make further use of Jane's credit card, going a little overboard (at Jane's encouragement) in decorating the little girl's room, of refilling her closets with adorable outfits, of stocking the shelves with new books and small toys. She was rewarded with Charlotte's excited exclamations at each new find.

"I love my room, Miss Lisbon!"

"I'm glad."

"I will just need to buy you some new workbooks, and we'll start right back where we left off with your studies."

Charlotte frowned, suddenly remembering. "Our house burned down."

Teresa sat beside the little girl on the canopy bed, hugging her small frame to her side.

"I know, honey. But everything will be okay now. Your daddy is getting better every day, and you have a new home."

"But Mrs. Martins died." So Pete had broken the sad news.

"Yes. And I'm very sorry for that. But she is in Heaven with the angels now, so don't be sad."

Charlotte's eyes grew round. "She is?"

"Yes; I'm sure of it."

"Mommy used to take me to Sunday School," she lamented sadly.

"Well, if it's okay with your Daddy, you can start going again with me. Would you like that?"

"Yes, please!"

Teresa hoped it would be okay, that now that Red John and Lorelei were gone, he would allow his daughter to stretch her wings a bit more. It pleased Teresa to know that Angela had been seeing to Charlotte's religious upbringing, and if Jane was not opposed, she'd be happy to continue that. God had always helped Teresa through the difficult times in her life; this little girl had had more than her share of heartache as well.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What are you two looking at each other about?" Jane asked in annoyance, when the silence between Pete and Sam stretched a bit too long to be polite.

"That girl in there," said Sam. "I see the way she looks at you. Didn't you learn your lesson with Lorelei Martins?"

Jane found he was uncharacteristically offended. "Don't even compare the two. Lorelei was certifiable—literally. Teresa is a good, honest woman, with the bad luck of having gotten mixed up in all of my turmoil. But that's over now."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately? Oh yeah, that would be no. You still have drama and baggage you're carrying around, Patrick. She's too young and pure to get involved with the likes of you."

"Gee, Sam, don't hold back your true feelings," Jane said sarcastically.

"You know I call it like I see it."

"She's just worried about you," said Pete, trying to bring back the peace, but his wife was never one to hold her tongue when it involved someone she cared about.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I had no feelings for Lorelei except pity. Teresa is different. I…I care about her."

"Good Lord, it's even worse than I thought. What would Angela think of this-?"

"Sam, honey, let's not get into this now," said Pete, afraid she'd gone too far. He lowered his voice. "Teresa is in the next room…"

"Not anymore," said Teresa, entering the living room again with Charlotte in tow. She had some idea what they must be saying about her. That she was too young, too inexperienced to be doing this job. She had her own doubts, of course, but Jane didn't seem to be complaining, and that's all that counted, wasn't it?

"Pete and Sam were just leaving," said Jane tightly. "Thank you so much for taking care of Charlotte, and for everything else you've done for us. I don't know how I could ever repay you. I love you both, but I think I need to get some rest, if you don't mind."

Sam wasn't offended, but she shot a skeptical glance toward Teresa. "Call me if there's anything you can't handle."

"Thank you," Teresa said graciously.

"She won't be calling," said Jane as the couple hugged Charlotte. "She's got everything under control here."

"Sorry," mouthed Pete to Teresa, before he said goodbye and shut the apartment door.

"Charlotte, why don't you go play in your new room for awhile? I need to have a private word with Miss Lisbon."

"Okay," said Charlotte happily, oblivious to the adult tension around her. "Then may I read you one of my new books later?"

"Sure. I'm looking forward to it."

When Charlotte was gone, Teresa turned to Jane.

"What the hell was that about?" she asked quietly, referring to the conversation she'd interrupted earlier.

"Come sit with me," he said, patting the couch beside him.

She complied, and he reached out to touch her, pulling her to him until he found her mouth. He kissed her long and deep, heedless of the slight pull of his cheeks or the pain in his hands as he grasped her upper arms. Her hands slid into his hair beneath the gauze, and she kissed him back with a heat he had not felt since the night before she'd left him.

"I don't want you to go," he told her. "Despite the new burdens I'm selfishly laying on you. Despite the possibility I may never see your beautiful face again. Charlotte and I need you, and we both want you here."

He had told her this before on a couple of occasions—after Lorelei had tried to kill her; after she'd discovered the truth about Red John. But this time, Teresa's overriding instinct was not to run; it was to stay, to care for the two people who had come in so short a time to mean as much as her own family did.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered against his lips. Then he felt her smile. "The pay is too damn good."

"Why Miss Lisbon, I thought you were much too proud to be bought." He slid a lock of mahogany hair behind her ear.

She lowered her hand to rest on his heart, and she felt the pounding increase beneath her touch.

"That was before you discovered my true worth," she told him, and she kissed his mouth one more time.

A/N: One more chapter to go—this time I mean it. Hope you are enjoying my little reboot.