On Lisbon's first day back, she came in early to work. Partly, she wanted to avoid the round of applause which usually followed when an agent returned after injuries in the line of duty. Her other motivating factor was her desire to read up on the investigation into Van Pelt's disappearance before the rest of the team got in.

The investigation had gone cold. After the Red Curtain incident, Cho, Rigsby, and the team officially investigating her disappearance had tensed, expecting a final showdown, but nothing happened. They'd gone door-to-door showing Van Pelt's picture near the Red Curtain, they'd made media appeals for information, and there had been plenty of callers, but nothing had panned out. Crank calls increased dramatically when a strikingly pretty girl like Grace was missing. To make matters worse, Bertram had insisted that Rigsby, Cho and Lisbon all see the staff psychologist regularly to discuss their feelings about Van Pelt and the shooting at Felpham Crescent.

Lisbon sighed to think the shooting was almost a month ago now. It made her feel weary and disheartened. The job had taken an enormous toll on the people she cared about; Minelli, Bosco, Hightower, Van Pelt…always the good guys. She shook her head.

The bullpen was empty. When she got to her office, she put down her bag and turned to notice that tucked in beside her computer was a small vase with sprays of mauve flowers in it.

Bluebells. Jane is here.

Lisbon wished her heart hadn't caught in her chest the way it had. She sat down deliberately, and began to unpack files onto her desk. He must be in the attic. If he thought she was going to make the first move, well, she'd already done that. He knew where she was.

"Lisbon?"
She looked up to see Jane at the door. In his familiar pinstriped suit and corn-blue shirt you would be forgiven for thinking nothing had changed about him. Lisbon knew him well though. She could see the bravado in his winning smile, and noticed that he stood in the doorway, rather than waltzing in as though he owned the place.

"Hey Jane. You're in early."
Jane put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, rocking forward a little on his feet. "Well, I wasn't sure I worked here anymore, and it's hard to be on time for a job you might not have."
Lisbon sighed and put down her pen. "Cho tells me that officially, you've been on leave since the shooting, except for that one time I asked you to drop by my office." Lisbon didn't even try to keep the wry humour out of her voice.

Jane looked down at the floor, then brought his gaze up to meet hers. "Thank you, Lisbon."
"Don't thank me" Lisbon expostulated "Thank Cho. I had nothing to do with it."
Jane's smile raised his cheekbones as he chuckled silently to himself. "I'll do that. So, what have we been up to lately?" The wording of his question was ambiguous and made Lisbon fleetingly uncomfortable. "Cho and Rigsby caught a case a few days back, but our first priority has to be finding Van Pelt – what do you make of the marionette?"

"Marionette?" Jane gave her a quizzical frown. Lisbon realised that since she had been absent, no one had been filling Jane in on developments in the case. She grabbed the file with photos of the evidence found at the Red Curtain in it and tossed it to Jane.

He scrutinised the photo. "The ritual practices of Haitian Voodoo and Pueblo cultures such as the Hopi include the making of wooden dolls as vessels for spirits to inhabit." He murmured.
Lisbon frowned. "Is that what you think this is?"
Jane gave the photo a cursory glance. "No. This is a pretty standard, mass-produced item which he probably found in the props shed at the theatre. Which suggests that taking Grace was not a plan but a crime of opportunity. It's likely that he left the doll because he couldn't pass up the symbolic value: reminding us that he is the puppet-master." Jane sneered at this last point, and dropped the file on the table.

"What about the blood on the lips?" Lisbon carefully avoided saying "her blood" although lab reports had confirmed it was Van Pelt's.
"It could be a statement about Grace as a sexually-attractive woman." Jane said, a little hesitantly. "He implied that Grace was a trade for Lorelei, who was probably having a sexual relationship with him."
Lisbon's jaw set in disgust. "You think he's raping her?"
Jane swallowed, looking pale. "I don't know, Lisbon. He might just want Rigsby to think that."
Lisbon looked surprised at the thought Red John would know about all of their interpersonal relationships. She had previously thought he was only interested in how each of them related to Jane. She looked up at him, eyes steely and angry. "We've got to find her."

He met her eyes sadly. "We will."
This made Lisbon swallow hard. Clearly, Jane's predictions about the state Van Pelt would be in when they found her, he'd rather not share. Abruptly she changed the subject.

"You know you'll have to see the staff psychologist about all this." She said.
Jane grimaced comically. "I'm not a real agent, so I don't have to do anything."
"Jane, you shot Red John. Twice. It couldn't hurt to talk to someone." Privately, Lisbon thought it might do Jane good to get a few things off his chest. If he was ever going to heal, if they were ever going to pursue a deeper relationship, he was going to need to work through some things.
Jane watched these thoughts surface on her features. "You really want me to go?"
She gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes Jane, I do."

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a wide-eyed, playful smile. "Alright Lisbon, one session, as a favour to you."
Lisbon tried to conceal her shock. Never in a million years did she think Jane would actually go willingly to counselling. "Uhuh," she said, looking back at her paperwork "Well, you play nicely with the doctor."
"They're not doctors, Lisbon" Jane said irritably "They're professional busybodies."
"As opposed to what you do for a living." Lisbon shot back.
He pulled his head back into a smug grin and gestured around him. "This hardly constitutes a living. It's more like a hobby."

Lisbon shrugged and laughed. It was good to have things feel normal again, even for a moment. Jane went to leave, then popped his head back in the door. "Oh, and Lisbon?"

She looked up.
"Thanks for the flowers." He gave her a knowing smile.
"Lisbon looked up at him blankly. "What flowers?"
Jane blinked, shocked for a second, until he saw a smile creep onto her features.
"You're getting better, Lisbon." He smiled with paternal pride. "You almost had me."

Just then, the elevator dinged, and Jane retreated to the attic before the CBI had the chance to begin the morning bustle.

"Yes Jane." Lisbon thought. "I almost did."