Chapter 10 – Make a sign, cross that line

A/N: Apologies for the late update. I got side tracked by my one shot Two Red Fingers and then it took longer than expected to get back into the right frame of mind for this story. Thanks once again to Hayseed Socrates for beta-ing. It's fantastic to be able to bounce ideas of someone else and get a vital second opinion.

The events of this chapter were a long time coming and hopefully you've all been as patient and fore-bearing as Lisbon in getting there. I've done my best with it so hopefully it hits the mark. We are slowly approaching the end to this story though there is a little way to go yet.

The second Lisbon fired up her Blackberry in the Adelaide Airport traveller's lounge, she was assailed by a barrage of beeps and chimes as numerous missed calls, voice mails and emails clamoured for her attention.

The rest of the team immediately turned at the sound; it could only meant they had a new case (or one of Jane's indiscretions had reached Bertram's ears).

Lisbon walked away a few paces, phone jammed to her ear as she went through the calls. Grace sighed. She had hoped to take a few days off to visit her family in Adelaide but a new case trumped her plans. She dutifully pulled out her laptop in anticipation of having to book alternate flights for the team.

Lisbon strode back a few minutes later. "We've got another one. The victim's birth name was Matthew Grogan, son of Jack Grogan." Cho straightened up in his chair. Lisbon nodded at him. "Yes, THE Jack 'the ripper' Grogan." She glanced at the others. Apparently he was a big name in Rugby League in the 70s.

"Pretty much the biggest" Cho added.

"Anyway, his son Matthew was found dead outside a pub in Tamworth this morning at 7am. Looks like he was beaten to death."

Rigsby leaned forward. It sounds pretty straight forward. Why have we got the case?"

"Two reasons," Lisbon harrumphed. "First, he's the son of a Rugby League legend who still has a lot of clout in that neck of the woods…"

"…You said his birth name was Matthew," Jane interjected. " What did he change it to?"

Lisbon sighed resignedly, knowing the trouble she was about to buy. "He changed his name to Elvis Presley."

Jane positively beamed at the revelation. "Oh this is going to be good," he said rubbing his hands together. "I love Elvis."

It was a couple of hours later and they were on board another small aircraft, this time half way to Tamworth, New South Wales. Jane and Lisbon were seated across the aisle from each other with Cho hunched over a book at the front of the plane and Rigsby and Grace sitting towards the back.

In order to stop herself from watching the disconcerting way the plane's wing was vibrating, Lisbon glanced across at Jane who was absorbed with the view from his window. "So you're an Elvis fan… I would never have guessed that."

Jane smiled and was about to say something dismissive when he paused and then continued in a more serious vein. "When I was a kid I spent a lot of time in crappy caravans and the like, but whenever dad made a big score we'd upgrade to motels. Those places didn't tend to be too flash but they did have TV and they used to screen a lot of Elvis movies during the day. I used to watch him singing and playing the guitar, surrounded by pretty girls on the California beaches... I'd think that was the life, one day I'd get out from under my dad and make it on my own. In a funny way Elvis taught me to dream."

Lisbon smiled at Jane's reminiscence. "And so a young con man was born. Just as well, I couldn't imagine you growing up to be a crooner."

Jane grinned at the thought. "Who knows, Teresa. Maybe you're selling me short. I might take it upon myself to serenade you one of these days." His expression turned mischievous. "Steal your heart."

Lisbon snorted in a decidedly un-lady like fashion. "Yeah right, I'd like see that." Jane's smile broadened and Lisbon quickly turned away to hide her embarrassment. As she stared out the window she hoped like mad that just this once Jane wouldn't take one of her verbal slips as an invitation.

Jane continued to smile as he admired Lisbon's profile. For all her tough front Lisbon was very much a woman; she just struggled to let herself admit that.

The local constabulary were there to greet the CBI agents at Tamworth's small airfield and helpfully updated them on the particulars of the case. It transpired that Matthew Grogan had been part of an Elvis tribute performing troupe and his fellow cast members were assembled in the town hall, waiting to be interviewed.

Constable Truong, their assigned liaison, accompanied them to the hall. "We've got them waiting in there," he said with a jerk of his head. Lisbon was about to open the door when Jane skipped ahead and thrust the door dramatically open. As it crashed against the back wall the occupants looked up with a start.

Lisbon blinked in surprise. A dozen Elvises in various stages of costuming were staring at her and Jane in shock.

"Oh this is good, Teresa," said Jane approvingly, as if she'd arranged this as a special surprise for him. "This is going to be very good." He positively beamed at his audience and even gave them a little wave.

Lisbon squared her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. "Patrick Jane! Don't make me regret letting you tag along on this case!"

Jane glanced back without a hint of concern. "Oh c'mon, Teresa." His delighted smile practically lit up the room. "I'm drowning in honey!" He turned back to the Elvises with a look that was practically rapacious. "You first," he said, crooking his finger at an Elvis who looked to be a woman in her 30s.

Despite Lisbon's trepidations the interviews were completed without any international incidents. Whilst Jane was decided playful, he also had his game on and asked several pointed questions that exposed some tensions within the group. His colleagues took notes and conducted follow up interviews along the lines that Jane had exposed.

Once finished with the troop, Lisbon and Jane visited the morgue while Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho set up a temporary base at the local police station.

The coroner pulled out the slab containing Matthew's body and described the blunt force trauma that caused his death. Jane and Lisbon both needed a second to deal with the illusion that Elvis Presley himself lay dead on the slab. With a wry glance at each other they forced themselves to get down to business. Jane performed his usual minute scrutiny of the body while Lisbon asked the M.E some follow up questions.

Jane straightened up with a sigh. "What do you think, Teresa? Random violence or crime of passion?"

Lisbon took in the extensive wounds to the body. "Based on the damage done to the head and genitals I think it was either personally or sexually motivated. Maybe a homophobic attack?"

Jane nodded. "I think you're right. In fact it may have been all of the above." He turned to the M.E. "I think we've seen enough. Let's get this poor soul back under cover."

Dusk was falling by the time they exited the morgue so they headed for the rooms Grace had booked them at the Golden Guitar motor inn. As they walked past the open doors of various shops they picked up snatches of country & western music. The town of Tamworth took its status as the C&W capital of Australia very seriously.

Jane hummed a few bars of one of the ditties causing the woman walking next to him to roll her eyes in irritation. Lisbon had been thinking hard, piecing together facts and planning out the team's movements for the next day. His brief distraction had derailed her train of thought and brought an adorable little furrow to her brow. Though he couldn't resist poking and prodding at her, Jane could never get enough of the sight of Lisbon moving with energy and purpose, focussed on catching yet another killer and bringing them to justice.

He looked ahead again before Lisbon realised she was being watched. He breathed in the warm air and consciously dispelled the image of poor Matthew Grogan's badly mangled body from his mind. While he could certainly live without ever having to investigate another murder, he couldn't deny the rightness of walking by Teresa's side again, bound by a sense of shared purpose. It felt like coming home.

An hour later the team was enjoying a working dinner at the unlikely named Tandoori Tucker Indian restaurant. Rigsby reached across Van Pelt to snag another piece of naan. "So Patrick," he mumbled through a mouthful of rogan josh. "Who do you like for this one?"

Jane put down his fork and looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Hard to say." He glanced across at Lisbon who was carefully manoeuvring a piece of vindaloo beef onto a square of bread. "My gut feel is that someone in the troop did it."

"Why do you say that?" asked Grace.

Warming to his subject, Jane sat back comfortably in his chair. "Well it stands to reason. Impersonators are a strange bunch; by definition they're people with something to hide. Why else take on the persona of someone else?"

Grace took a healthy gulp from her schooner of beer. "So which Elvis was it? Was it fat Elvis, middle aged woman Elvis, Koorie Elvis…"

"Koorie Elvis looks to have mild Parkinson's," Cho interjected . I doubt he would have been able to beat the victim to death."

Jane nodded an acknowledgement at Cho. "The fact is it's very hard to get a read on them. These people spend their whole lives wearing a mask. It's not so easy to get a peek behind the curtain, so to speak."

Lisbon joined the conversation. "We'll run background checks on all of them and also talk to the couple who discovered the body. They've agreed to come see us first thing in the morning."

"I'd like to talk to Matthew's father," said Jane. "Is he coming to identify the body?"

Lisbon shook her head. "He wasn't needed to ID him and he's largely housebound due to infirmity. Lives in Bundarra, which is only a couple of hours' drive away." She caught Jane's pleading expression and sighed dramatically. "Fine, we'll go see 'Jack the Ripper' AFTER we take a statement from the couple who found the victim.

Jane smiled at his partner. "Excellent decision. I think the more we learn about Matthew the better our chances of finding the killer."

After another 15 minutes discussing a plan of action for the next day the conversation became more general. Jane was more subdued than usual, though far from unhappy. He watched the surreptitious glances passing between Grace and Wayne and nodded to himself. The pair had been an on again, off again couple for years and it looked very much like they were on again. Probably from the final night in Woomera.

Good for them. With an effort he quashed the brief stab of envy he felt for the ease with which they had re-established their connection. What he wouldn't give for something to come easily for him. He sighed. After everything at happened he had no reason to be unhappy. Things were better than he'd ever dared hope. To wish things could be otherwise was just plain greedy, and he no longer believed he was entitled to that degree of happiness.

Beside him Lisbon picked up on his mood. She waited for a conversation to engage the attention of the other agents before turning toward him. "Everything OK? You seem a little quiet."

Jane made himself smile reassuringly. "I'm fine Teresa. Just indulging in a little weltschmerz, nothing to be concerned about."

Lisbon regarded Jane's carefully neutral expression. The no tell, tell. "One day, Patrick, you might actually give me a straight answer on how you feel. I'll probably faint from the shock."

Jane's mouth tightened a fraction. Catching Lisbon's eyes he reached out slowly and shook her hand. "Hello, I'm Mr. Kettle, it's so nice to finally meet you Mrs. Pot."

Lisbon had the good grace to blush faintly and look away. "Smartarse," she muttered. Then, seeing the humour of the situation she gave Jane a half smile. "I'm the boss, dammit. One of the perks should be that my underlings should do as I say and not as I do." Jane smiled in return and they shared a brief moment. Lisbon shook her head. They were really quite the pair. Alarmed at the turn her thoughts were taking she frowned, then began gathering her things together. It was time to call it a night.

As Lisbon walked off with a small wave to the team Jane pondered her knack of making him feel like he'd lost, even when he'd scored a telling point. He forced himself to appear cheerful and stayed on for another quarter hour before making his own exit.

Left on their own the three younger agents relaxed a little. "I'd love to know what's going on between them," said Grace.

Cho stared at the exit to the restaurant. "Nothing is going on between them. They're just friends."

Rigsby gave Cho a sly look. "Friends or friend zoning?" Now that he had escaped the clutches of the dreaded phenomena he was quite comfortable diagnosing the condition in others.

Surprisingly, Cho gave the question serious consideration. "I dunno, can two people mutually friend zone each other?"

Grace snorted in appreciation. "Good call, Kimball, good call…"

On returning to her room Lisbon took a long shower and then changed into loose cotton pants and an oversized t-shirt. She ignored her laptop and the TV and crawled straight into bed. She was short of sleep thanks to Jane's late night star gazing expedition of the night before.

She felt herself smiling at the memory. He'd thanked her for stopping him from killing Red John. That had lifted a weight she'd been carrying for a long time. She sighed. Red John was gone. Truly gone, for he had killed himself in custody the day before he was due to stand trial. Lisbon recalled the events that had precipitated that decision:

It was late at night and Lisbon was sitting at her desk, staring at Jane's phone. It was nearly three months since Red John's capture, since Jane had left, and she'd heard nothing from him in that time. Frustratingly he'd left his phone behind so there was no way to contact him. Earlier that day, however, she'd had the thought that other's didn't necessarily know he was without his phone. Maybe someone had left some kind of message that could give a clue as to his whereabouts.

With a sigh Lisbon detached Jane's phone from its charger and punched in the PIN she'd gotten from Technical Services. She pressed the button for retrieving voicemail and a mechanical voice informed her he had 55 messages. She pressed the option to play them back and made sure she had pen and paper ready to jot down anything of interest.

She needn't have bothered. Each voicemail was from the same person. Red John. Beginning the day after his arrest, the serial killer had made call after call to Jane. At first the messages had been arrogant, taunting. He recounted with relish how he had killed Angela and Charlotte. He boasted that he would beat the charges or escape imprisonment. After a dozen messages the tone changed somewhat. Red John was still arrogant and boastful but there was also a hit of anger, a suggestion that he was not pleased that Jane refused to contact him.

The messages became menacing. He threatened dire consequences if Jane continued to avoid him. He named Lisbon and her team by name and threatened to cut them to pieces unless Patrick came and visited. As the messages rolled forward the vitriol increased to the point of incoherence and madness.

Red John began leaving long rambling monologues about his greatness interspersed with graphic details of what he would do to Teresa and Grace if Jane didn't comply with his wishes. Lisbon forced herself to listen to every word, fighting the temptation to destroy his filth with a press of the delete button.

Two thirds through the voicemails the killer's tone shifted again. The threats were still repeated but more often his tone became pleading. He highlighted his connection with Jane and the importance of their friendship. He claimed that he had moulded Jane into a superior being and that Jane owed him a visit.

After that the tenor of Red John's calls shifted to outright begging for Jane to visit or call. In some ways this was more chilling than the threats. To hear this once fearsome killer pitifully begging Jane for a visit was enough to turn Lisbon's stomach. The final few calls were nothing more the sobs, pleas and whimpers, briefly interspersed with incandescent rage that Jane still ignored him completely.

The final call was nothing more than Red John sobbing on the end of the line, telling Jane he had won and that he would admit as much if he visited in person. Ordeal over, Lisbon heaved a shuddering breath and ended the call. Red John had killed himself the day after leaving the final message.

She pondered Red John's demise. Jane had inadvertently exacted a revenge far more cruel and all-encompassing than merely gutting his tormentor with a knife. It appeared that indifference had been the punishment that Red John had been unable to stand.

Lisbon gazed sightlessly out of the office window and wondered where Jane was, whether he was even alive or had gone the way of his nemesis…

In her hotel room Lisbon gave thanks to God that Jane had found his way back to life and the CBI team (and her). She was left with the decision on whether to tell Jane about the messages. He gave every appearance of wanting to finally put his tragedy behind him and feeding his sense of vengeance did not appear to be a good idea. She resolved to wait until a time when it might actually help him come to terms with how the Red John saga had played out. Decision made, Lisbon could finally allow herself to relax and drift off to sleep.

The next morning the team woke early and after a hasty breakfast they interviewed the couple who'd discovered the body. Jane hovered in the background while Lisbon and Cho asked the questions.

The Hamiltons came across as sincere and didn't have a great deal of useful information. With no better leads, Lisbon, Van Pelt and Jane got into a hire car and began the long drive to Bundarra. Cho and Rigsby remained behind to canvass the establishments close to the murder.

With Lisbon behind the wheel they drove through the monotonous country side, an endless succession of gum trees, grass that was never truly green and large sheep or cattle farms.

They arrived in Bundarra in exactly the time predicted by the GPS. Jane rolled his eyes in the passenger seat. If only Lisbon had let him take the wheel, they could have beaten that time by at least 17 minutes. With the car safely pulled over Lisbon tried to get the GPS to recognise Jack Grogan's address to no avail.

"Meh, technology," Jane sniffed. "Can't beat a map or local know how. Allow me." He got out of the car and approached some nearby locals.

As Jane walked up to a couple of old timers sitting on public bench, Lisbon nudged Grace. "He's going to try to go native again."

Grace looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

One side of Lisbon's mouth quirked up in smile. "Haven't you noticed? Whenever we're in a country town Patrick starts trying to talk like he's one of them." Lisbon flicked off the radio and wound down her window. "Have a listen."

The two women tuned in to Jane's conversation just in time to hear him ask whether he could 'park his arse' on their bench.

Lisbon grinned. As predicted, Jane's accent, normally cultured and articulate had noticeably broadened while his educated vocabulary became non-existent . CBI Jane would never ask if he could 'park his arse' but take him a couple of hundred kilometres out of a capital city and all sorts of colourful phraseology magically appeared.

When Jane re-joined them a few minutes later Lisbon grinned at him. "You did it again."

"Did what again?" Asked Patrick.

Lisbon caught Grace's eye as she continued to reel in her fish. "Put on your country accent."

Jane frowned. "Come again?"

"That's exactly what I mean! Normally you talk like you're about to go to the Opera but stick you somewhere in the sticks and suddenly you sound like a wood chopping fete is the height of your cultural life."

Jane looked wounded. "I'm being true to my roots! I spent most of my childhood knocking around country towns like this. And besides, one does not go to the opera, one attends the opera."

"Unless of course you're in Bundarra," Lisbon fired back sweetly, "then of course you not only go but wonder what sort of spread they'll put on at half time."

Jane looked genuinely offended for a second before seeing the funny side. "Too shay," he acknowledged with an exaggerated accent and a grin that finally made Grace lose it and burst out laughing. Lisbon just turned away in order to hide her self-satisfied smile. It wouldn't do to rub Jane's nose in it to the point he felt he had to get even.

Lisbon followed Jane's directions to Grogan's property. After a glittering career as both player and coach the Rugby League legend had decided to return to the town where he'd grown up. Jane took in the manicured lawns and ostentatious driveway entrance with the gate shaped to resemble a set of goal posts, and formed a negative first impression of the sports legend.

The rich property stood in stark contrast with the typical run down look of a family farm or the clinical efficiency of a more modern concern. Grogan was a man who clearly only enjoyed his success through flaunting it in the face of those around him. This supposition was confirmed when the personal carer who answered the door led them into his trophy room which essentially functioned as a shrine to himself.

Lisbon and Grace sat awkwardly on the overly lavish red leather couch while Jane slipped away to find Matthew's bedroom before returning some 15 minutes later. Grogan still hadn't graced them with his presence so Jane took the opportunity to prowl up and down the room, keenly examining the trophies, framed photographs and news articles celebrating the career of Jack 'the ripper' Grogan.

Lisbon considered pre-emptively trying to divert Jane from letting too much air out of their host but the overwhelming monument to male ego was getting on even her nerves. A few minutes later the great man himself was wheeled into the room by a buxom, scantily clad nurse. Lisbon had to work hard to stay straight faced at the pathetic cliché.

The wheelchair came to a halt and Jack whispered something into his carer's ear and sent her away with a slap on the rump. At the same time he eyed Grace lasciviously, his wicked gimlet eyes daring her to remark on his behaviour. Grace sat erect and still, giving him no reaction though the effort was visible to both Lisbon and Jane.

Lisbon cleared her throat pointedly. "Mr. Grogan…" Jack's glance flicked to her and then lengthened to give her a thorough and offensive once over. His eyes darted all over Lisbon's body. Breasts, legs, breasts, crotch, face, crotch again.

Lisbon's mouth tightened. She was used to being ogled but not by someone who went about it so blatantly, as if cataloguing each body part and deciding on its sexual merits. "Mr. Grogan," she repeated herself while trying to conceal her revulsion. "We're very sorry for your loss but were hoping to ask you some questions about your son Matthew."

Jack's expression turned sour at the mention of the name. "When I heard about what was done to my boy I asked for the very best, and this is what they send me. Oh lordy me," he said glancing theatrically up at the ceiling. "Two girls and a poofter. I guess that's all that can be expected in this age of political correctness and gay rights."

His gaze drifted back to Grace. "Well at least you're a nice pretty thing." When she refused to rise to the bait he turned to stare at challengingly at Lisbon. "Though knowing my luck they've probably sent me a pair of carpet munchers."

Standing to the back of the room Jane took in the tableau with an ironic half smile. He watched Lisbon's shoulders tense for an attack and quickly stepped forward before Saint Teresa lost her legendary cool. "I wouldn't have thought you'd care, Jack. I mean, it's not like you actually cared for the boy. He was something of an embarrassment, wasn't he?"

Grogan's face turned wrathful and he made as if to rise out of his chair "Who the fuck are you to come in here and badmouth my boy!"

Jane sneered openly at the odious man. "Me? I'm nobody, certainly not a macho league legend like yourself. Still, it must hurt, having a son who so disgraced the family name. I mean an Elvis impersonator? That's gotta be hard to live down when they wheel you out for a sportsman's night or premiership reunion."

Grogan lost all sense of composure. "Shut the fuck up!"

Jane advanced on his foe, leaning dangerously close to fist on nose territory. "It's more than that though, isn't it." He watched Grogan closely for a reaction. "The Elvis stuff you could probably pass off as show biz, but there's something else. Something utterly repellent to a bigot like yourself."

The league legend raised a trembling hand and jabbed a finger at Jane. "You watch yourself," he whispered wrathfully.

Jane stared at him for a second longer and then he allowed a knowing smile to creep over his face. "Yes, something far worse than that. He was gay. A faggot. A pillow biter…" Each word from Jane was a vicious cut that repaid tenfold one of Grogan's improprieties with Grace and Lisbon. A normal person would have stopped at that point but Jane had no inhibitions when meting out his own brand of justice.

"Who would have thought. The son of the great Jack Grogan grew up to be a knob jockey…"

"Shut up!"

"A Shirt lifter."

"I said shut up!"

Jane winked at him conspiratorially. "An arse bandit."

Grogan screamed incoherently before launching himself out of his chair and collapsing into a heap on the ground. Jane leaned down and without a shred of mercy continued his assault. His eyes gleamed like that of a snake. "I wonder how far the apple fell from the tree. I mean, it's all a bit obvious, isn't it? The nurse with the big breasts, I'll bet it's all for…"

"Patrick!" Lisbon finally stepped in, having let things run entirely too far.

Jane instantly straightened up and though there wasn't a hint of contrition to him he changed tack. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Grogan. Our deepest sympathy for your loss. No don't get up, we'll show ourselves out. Grace, Teresa, let's go.

Normally Lisbon would have called Jane to account for both his behaviour and offered an apology but such was the perfection of the exit she couldn't bring herself to spoil it. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything to be salvaged at this point and a part of her couldn't help but thoroughly approve of his actions.

The drive back to Tamworth was used to make a plan of attack. Jane was in full flow, as if the vitriol he'd unleashed on Jack Grogan had somehow energised him. He called Rigsby and Cho to enlist them in his scheme, grinning all the while as he let his colleagues and friends in on exactly what he had planned and why it would work.

As Lisbon drove she watched him out of the corner of her eye and repressed a shiver. It was easy to underestimate Jane, to forget that beneath the fastidious suits, the easy good looks and childish whimsy there were dark undercurrents.

He might not raise a fist but when he unleashed his full wit, insight and cruelty into clinically dissecting someone it was a fearsome thing. The rage that was usually banked down to dim embers could be stoked to full flame in seconds and crisp anyone he set his sights on.

As she thought back to Grogan sobbing in impotent fury on the floor she felt a moment of guilt. Not at Jane's act itself (Grogan had more than deserved it) but rather at the pleasure she had taken in witnessing it. Even as her professional self was horrified at his behaviour she couldn't deny a more hidden, primal side to her had revelled in the sense of protection that someone had taken a stand on her behalf, had taken the action she couldn't allow herself to.

Not for the first time Lisbon was profoundly grateful her fallen angel had chosen to serve on the side of good.

Jane's energy swept the rest of the team along with him and by mid-afternoon his plan had unearthed the twisted love triangle that led Elvira Presley (formerly Gemma Campbell) to kill Matthew Grogan for preferring the bed of Derek the gay Elvis to her own.

The rest of the troop took the startling revelation of a killer in their midst with surprising sangfroid, and insisting 'The King' would have wanted the show to go on, invited the CBI crew to seem them perform at the 80/20 club. Flush with the glow of a quickly solved case, Lisbon readily agreed and so the team spent the evening watching a succession of impersonators performing Elvis' greatest hits.

The Elvises knew their stuff and though the team (apart from Jane) weren't exactly fans of the music they were swept along by the enthusiasm of the performers and the warmth of the crowd. Towards the end of the show Lisbon sought out Jane only to realise she hadn't seen him for at least half an hour. She was about to ask the others when a new performer stepped onto the stage.

The new Elvis appeared to be wearing Jane's suit and the sight was so incongruous it took a few seconds to realise it actually was Patrick. His blonde curls were concealed beneath a luxurious black wig but this was his only nod to costuming verisimilitude. Despite this, his command of body language and tone of voice made the overall effect surprisingly convincing. While he was no opera singer, Jane could hold a tune and his sheer bravura served to carry the performance.

After smoothly performing Return to Sender and Viva Las Vegas he took a moment to converse with his audience. Cradling a microphone with the familiar ease of a seasoned performer he addressed the room in a friendly manner. "Thankyouverymuch. It's lovely to see all y'all. I've just flown in from Canberra to be with you this evening, and I gotta say you're a great crowd."

His tone turned more intimate and conspiratorial. "I'd like to sing one of my favourite numbers, and dedicate it to a special little lady in the audience tonight…"

Lisbon started and nearly pored half her beer down her chest. "He wouldn't," she thought with a sinking feeling. "He wouldn't dare," but she was shrinking backwards even as the thought was forming.

Jane surveyed the crowd with the warmth and confidence of The King himself. "This is a song about regret, for neglecting the special someone in your life. It goes a little something like this…"

The band struck up the familiar song and Jane began to croon the words. He expertly worked the crowd, a nod here, a flashing smile there, all the while scanning the room for his prey. Despite her fluttering nerves Lisbon couldn't help but be a little irritated by the shameless abandon with which some of the inebriated women greeted this incarnation of Elvis.

As Jane stepped off the stage and walked through the crowd Lisbon's traitor agents melted into the background, leaving her red cheeked and exposed. Elvis' smile morphed into pure Jane for a second before returning to character. As he advanced on Lisbon he cranked the croon factor up to eleven.

Maybe I didn't treat you, Quite as good as I should have…

Lisbon looked trapped, like a rabbit under the eye of a hawk.

Maybe I didn't love you, Quite as often as I could have…

Now her entire face was flaming crimson, Jane noted. Perfect.

Little things I should have said and done, I just never took the time…

And there it was, one of the qualities he most loved about Teresa. When she was truly outflanked she was always a sport enough to admit defeat and go with it. She straightened her shoulders and her piercing green eyes made contact with his. Suddenly she was the only person in the room. Jane poured all of this and more into the chorus.

You were always on my mind, You were always on my mind…

He was standing right in front of Lisbon and she was wearing a goofy grin that was just for him, one part shy, two parts happiness for the attention, just the way he loved it. He took her hand and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. Then, given courage by his Elvis persona he yanked her forwards and gave her a quick kiss on the lips as well. The crowd stomped their feet in appreciation.

"Maybe I didn't hold you, all those lonely, lonely nights…

He flicked his eyes back to Lisbon's face, which was frozen in shock, lips still adorably parted.

And I guess I never told you, I'm so happy that your mine…

Jane let the music play on and smiled at the crowd. "Ladies and Gentleman the lovely Teresa Lisbon." The cheering lifted in intensity as Jane jogged back to the stage. Teresa was still standing in shock, a hand going to her lips when she was suddenly buried in an enthusiastic hug from Grace who was shrieking in excitement. Rigsby nudged Lisbon none to gently in the ribs while grinning like a madman. Even Cho cracked a full smile at the ridiculousness of it all.

The MC thanked Patrick for his performance and the crowd applauded wildly. With a final smile and wave Jane disappeared backstage. The crowd's attention mercifully focussed on the next act, giving Lisbon a chance to regain her composure. She shook her head ruefully. She should have known Jane would find a way to make good on his threat to serenade her.

She allowed Grace to press another drink into her hand and joined the team in laughing about Jane's latest stunt. The time flowed rapidly and nearly an hour had passed before they realised Jane wasn't likely to join them. Wayne and Grace were the first to leave, citing the desire to find a place with some more modern music. A few minutes later Lisbon noticed a tall blonde making eyes at Cho so she decided to call it a night. Cho gave her a subtle nod of thanks as he made his way over to the blonde.

The warm night air embraced Lisbon as she made her way back to the hotel. As she walked she couldn't stop a smile from dimpling her cheeks as she relived the unexpected serenade. Lisbon's steps slowed as she thought back over her time since Jane's return. He'd given her the antique hairbrush, taken her to a luxury spa, shown her the stars in the middle of a desert and now sung for her in a crowded bar. If he were any other man she'd be completely clear on his intentions, but as usual, Jane had a habit of complicating things.

And speak of the devil himself. There he was, seated on a park bench that commanded every approach to the Golden Guitar. His back was to her and the street light cast a soft halo around his luxuriant curls, showing them to their best affect. Jane was in a state of calm repose, staring nobly into the night. Lisbon took in the scene. How did he get his hair so perfect after having it crushed under a wig just an hour ago?

She quickly put a hand to her mouth before a burst of laughter gave away her position. The old fraud was a born showman. She took a moment to appreciate the considerable effort he must have put in to appearing so casually perfect. She measured her steps to give him plenty of time to hear her coming. Was that a fresh shirt he was wearing? Damn he was good.

Jane didn't turn around but a movement of his head indicated his awareness of her approach. "Teresa! I hope you haven't come here to murder me over that impromptu number I performed…"

Lisbon slid easily beside him on the bench, almost touching but not quite. She feigned surprise. "Patrick! Fancy seeing you here. I'd have thought you'd be enjoying the rest of the show."

"Meh," said Jane with an easy shrug. "Always leave them wanting more. First rule of showbiz."

Lisbon took a steadying breath. For some odd reason, sitting this close to Jane made her hyperaware of every heartbeat hammering in her chest. She bit her lip as she shot him a sidewise glance. "I haven't been embarrassed like that in a long time but fair's fair. You did warn me on the plane."

Jane smirked. "That I did, but believe me Teresa, I only did it because I knew that secretly you'd love it."

Lisbon turned to face Jane more fully. A half smile was visible in the dim light and he looked annoyingly composed and pleased with himself; and yet, was his breathing just a fraction too fast for someone supposedly so calm?

Lisbon shifted her posture subtly to bring her shoulder in gentle contact with his. "You know your habit of pretending to know what I want is incredibly annoying."

Jane's smiled amplified and he shot out his legs with studied ease. "Nonsense, Teresa, it's one of the things that makes you crazy about me." Lisbon watched Jane brace himself for her inevitable outburst.

In a moment of clarity she realised she could waste the rest of her life waiting for this damaged, brilliant man to make the first move or she could take matters into her own hands.

Not quite believing her own daring, Lisbon reached an arm across Jane's shoulders and slid her fingers sensuously in amongst his curls. "I am crazy about you," she sighed as if it was completely beyond her control. She saw his eyes widen in surprise as her fingers tightened a fraction and drew him in close. Her eyes fluttered shut as she gently pressed her lips to his. For a second Jane's body stiffened and Lisbon wondered if she'd completely overplayed her hand but then with an incoherent moan he returned her kiss with interest.

His pulled her in close and slid a hand up her neck and in amongst her silken tresses. Neither of them dared speak as their kisses slowly increased in intensity. Jane shifted his neck in order to inhale Lisbon's scent like a man breathing for the first time while Lisbon rubbed her cheek along his jaw before landing a series of snake like kisses to his lips. Their bodies moulded together as they clung to each other as if drowning.

Sometime later Jane tried to suggest they go back to motel when Lisbon pushed him gently back and placed a finger to his lips. "Patrick. You have no idea how much I've wanted this but I don't want our first time to be in some motel room while we're working a case." She got to her feet as Jane made a belated grab for her wrist.

"Teresa!" he pleaded. His face was flushed and as he made to stand up he was stymied by a long neglected part of his anatomy. Lisbon experienced a hot rush to her lower belly as she realised the source of his distress. Jane's eyes darted from his crotch to her eyes and if anything his blush deepened. "Teresa," he repeated breathlessly. "Have pity on me. You can't just rub the bottle and then wish away the genie!"

Lisbon burst out laughing at the absurdity of his words. She leaned in and gave him a smouldering kiss. "Consider this a place holder, now that I've made my intentions towards you clear. "

Jane couldn't help but laugh return, partly in relief and partly out of pure joy that Lisbon had expressed feelings he'd never dared hope she'd act on. He looked at her as if she'd given him the greatest gift in the world. "OK I'll keep my hands off you for now but I swear on my life that nothing will keep me from your doorstep tomorrow."

Lisbon didn't even try to hide her pleasure and excitement. "I'll hold you to that. Now I'd better go before I forget myself completely and get us arrested for making a public disturbance." She swooped in and planted a final, passionate kiss to his lips and then sashayed off into the night. If she was swinging her hips a great deal more than was strictly necessary, well, to hell with it. She'd learnt from the best. Always leave them wanting more…