She went on a long run the next morning, then headed over to the Capitol to face Bertram.

The meeting with Bertram went about as well as could be expected. He yelled at her for a while, demanded that Jane personally apologize to each and every one of the many, many people he had pissed off, and informed her that he expected her formal report on his desk by noon. He took the news about her reassigning complaints about Jane to Cho better than expected. "I don't care what you have to do to fix this, just fix it," he barked, waving aside the details of how she managed her team in favor of the big picture of how he was going to look the next time he had to report to the attorney general. Lisbon decided to leave the question of a raise for Cho til later in the week, once Bertram had had a chance to calm down.

She made the usual apologetic noises, then headed back to her office. She was dreading facing Jane, but was resigned to the fact that they needed to talk, and it would probably be better to get it over with.

But when she got to the office, Jane was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't formed the expectation consciously, but when confronted with his absence, she realized she'd been expecting him to be there waiting for her. She'd thought he'd be hovering by the elevators or lying in wait in her office, ready to ambush her the minute she walked in the door. Or at the very least, lying on his couch affecting disinterest in everything around him. Panic bubbled in her chest. Where could he have gone?

"He's in the attic," Cho stated, not looking up from the file on his desk.

Lisbon started. She hadn't spoken the question aloud—he must have sensed her hesitation and intuited the reason for her hovering.

"Oh," she said eloquently. "Um. Thanks."

She went back towards the elevators and climbed the stairs in search of Jane.

She found him sitting at his desk, staring out the window, a cup of tea on the desk.

"Hey," she said stiffly.

He turned to look at her. "Hey."

She stopped dead. His eyes were rimmed with shadows and the lines around his mouth looked about a thousand miles deep. "You look terrible," she blurted out.

He shrugged, indifferent. "Didn't sleep well."

She ignored the stab of guilt that pricked her at these words. God dammit, she couldn't be held responsible for the quality of Jane's sleep on a day to day basis. Even if he had told her he slept better when she was by his side.

A dark suspicion occurred to her, distracting her from the guilt. Her eyes narrowed. "Did you sleep here?"

"No, Lisbon," he said tiredly.

"Really?" she asked suspiciously.

He sighed. "Really. I deduced—correctly, by the tone of your voice—that you wouldn't like it if I slept here. I spent the night at my apartment."

"Oh. Well—good."

"Why is that so important to you, anyway?" he said, sounding annoyed. "Why does it matter where I sleep if you don't want me to be with you?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "You did just get that apartment—"

His mouth tightened. "That's a lie. You can't stand it when I spend time up here. I want to know why."

"I can't help it," she said. "This where you come when you want to get away from me and the team. I associate this place with you emotionally isolating yourself from everything around you." I associate this place with you going somewhere in your head that I can't follow, she added silently.

"I came up here because it's quiet. I didn't want to deal with the team looking at me with a mixture of anger and pity until you got here."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

He sighed. "I'm not isolating myself, Lisbon. You were the one who walked away last night."

He had a point. "Look, I'm sorry I blew you off. But you know me—I need time to cool off before I can process things properly."

"I suppose," he said grudgingly. "But usually you don't need that long."

She gave him a pointed look. "I was really angry."

"Yeah." He looked down. "Did you really mean all those things you wrote on that complaint form?"

"I—what?" Lisbon asked, thrown.

"The complaint form. The one you filled out before you decided to wash your hands of me entirely and pawn me off on Cho," he said bitterly.

Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that?"

"Cho told me."

"No, the other thing. How did you know about the complaint form?"

"I found it in your office."

She could feel her blood pressure rising. "I fed that form through the shredder."

He shrugged, unrepentant. "I dug the pieces out and taped them together so I could read it."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Jesus, Jane."

"I wanted to know what you were thinking and you refused to talk to me."

"How do you not get how messed up that is?" she burst out. "Those were my private thoughts—there was a reason I put the thing in the damn shredder! Because I didn't want anyone to read them. What you did—it's like reading someone's diary and then complaining when you don't like what you've found as a result!"

"But did you mean what you wrote?" he persisted.

She threw up her hands. "Jane, I don't even remember half of what I wrote—I was venting, blowing off steam. God, what is the matter with you? Why do you always have to poke and prod at every little thing? Can't you let me have a single thought to myself?"

"You must have meant it on some level," he said, clearly unable to focus on any part of her rant not relevant to his immediate object.

"I don't even know how to begin responding to that, Jane. You read something I never intended to share with you or anyone else, and now, what—I'm supposed to defend myself for writing something I was never planning to let another soul set eyes on?" Great. Now she wanted to strangle him again. So much for taking a night to cool off. "God, maybe this was a mistake," she muttered. Maybe twelve more hours would do the trick. She started for the door, angry all over again.

"No, wait!" Jane's voice was panicked. He jumped out of his chair and hurried to throw himself in front of the door before she could open it. He stood in front of it, arms outstretched, a little breathless. "I'm sorry, okay? Don't leave. I'm sorry." She could see his pulse beating wildly in his throat.

She folded her arms across her chest. "For what? You never actually apologized for the whole blackmail thing, you know."

He lowered his arms and swallowed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the letter. I didn't think things would get so out of hand."

"So what else is new," she muttered. "Why the hell did you decide to come up with such a stupid plan in the first place? You know we would have gotten there eventually—it was completely unnecessary to take such a stupid risk."

He hesitated.

That meant he'd had a specific reason driving his actions. She straightened. "Out with it."

He winced. "Well—I may have had an ulterior motive for wanting to wrap the case up quickly."

"Tell me," she demanded.

He paused. "Okay, but if I tell you, you have to promise not to hit me."

"Tell me," she growled.

He looked at her warily. "Do you promise not to hit me?"

She glared at him. "No."

He cringed. "I may have wanted to close the case quickly because I had two tickets to an eight o clock showing at the Tower Theater."

She stared at him. "Are you telling me that all the damage you caused, all the panic, all the people who thought their lives were about to be ruined—are you telling me that all of that was because you didn't want to waste your tickets to the movies?"

"It was the first night of the classic film festival!" he said, pleading. "I had the whole night planned out—I was going to buy you popcorn and put my arm around you and—"

She punched him on the arm. "You idiot! What the hell is the matter with you?"

He rubbed his arm. "Just because I wanted to spend the evening with you instead of interviewing a bunch of sleazy lawyers—"

"You are never to compromise one of my investigations like that for the sake of a date ever, ever again, do you hear me?"

He sighed. "Yes, I hear you."

"I'm serious, Jane. If you ever pull anything like that again, trust me, you will not be going on any dates for a very, very long time."

He scowled. "Believe me, you made that point perfectly clear last night."

She shook her head. "I don't understand how you can be so selfish. It's always about what you want and how clever you are. We have a duty to serve. Sometimes that means that what we want has to come second."

"Easy for you to say. Because for Super Agent Lisbon, work always comes first," he said bitterly.

Lisbon flinched. Fighting with Jane was so unfair. He knew exactly how to get under her skin. He could take anything she said and turn it around on her. Dammit, she was mad at him.

"Oh—Lisbon," he said unhappily, catching sight of her stung expression. "I didn't mean it like that."

He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she shook him off and walked back over to the window, staring out over the horizon so he couldn't see her face.

He came over and stood next to her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean that. Truly, I didn't."

"Yeah, well," she said shakily. "You seem to be saying a lot of things you don't mean lately."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry. I'm used to being able to calculate exactly what actions are needed to get what I want. I'm afraid it's a hard habit to break."

"How does saying things you know will hurt me get you what you want?"

He sighed. "By putting you on the defensive so you're distracted from focusing on my less desirable qualities. But I swear to you, I'm not doing it on purpose—it's a panic reaction."

"Look, I know I work long hours—"

"You're not hearing me," he interrupted. "I didn't mean what I said. Lisbon, I don't believe you put work before everything else. You put the people you care about and the safety of people you've never met before anything else. I have ten years of evidence to prove that fact. But I know that's something you doubt about yourself, so when I was anxious to get you off the subject of my selfish and manipulative nature, my brain told me it was something I could use to distract you."

"Well, it wasn't very nice," Lisbon said stiffly.

He smiled a little, but the expression lacked humor. "I'm not a nice person, Lisbon. It's something I've been hoping you wouldn't notice for the past decade."

Lisbon thought about this. It was true. Jane wasn't a nice person. "Maybe not," she said finally. "But you're a good man, underneath all the charm and lies and obnoxiousness. That's what matters."

He seized the small opening she'd given him and pressed on. "The thing about Angela and me not going to bed angry—that was different. I wasn't trying to hurt you. It's just—that's the only successful relationship I've ever had besides you—I was trying to draw from that experience to help me navigate through this one. I don't necessarily think it's wrong to do that. Sometimes past experiences can be helpful in helping us learn."

"I suppose that makes sense," Lisbon said grudgingly.

"You were right, though," he continued. "We're going to have to figure out our own rules. We'll keep what works for us and make up the rest as we go along."

She jerked her head up in affirmation. "Okay."

He gave her a wry smile. "I'm really botching up this apology thing, aren't I?"

"I've heard better," she said dryly.

"I'm sorry about the way the blackmail thing went down," he said again. "Next time I decide to blackmail someone, I'll give you a heads up."

She noticed he didn't promise to refrain from blackmailing people in the future altogether, or attempt to give her any kind of guarantee that he would let her in on all his plans from now on.

"And I'm sorry about the complaint form," he went on. "As much as your high moral code inspires me to try to be a better person, I can't always behave prettily, even for you. I didn't think of it as violating your privacy. Access to insight on your innermost thoughts is a precious commodity to me. When I spot a chance to look inside your head, my instinct is to seize the opportunity immediately and think about the implications later."

"I thought you always knew what I was thinking," she challenged.

"Most of the time," he conceded. "Not always. Sometimes I know what you're thinking, but not why you're thinking it. I'm afraid I have a bit of a blind spot where you're concerned, my dear."

"Really?" Lisbon said skeptically.

"Really," he confirmed. "Which is why when I miscalculate with you, my miscalculations tend to be proportionally larger than for anything else. The intensity of my interest in anything relating to you clouds my otherwise nearly impeccable judgment."

Lisbon could hardly let this statement pass unchallenged. "Your 'nearly impeccable judgment?' The number of times you've almost gotten me fired—"

He waved this off. "I said 'nearly,' didn't I?"

Lisbon gave a skeptical huff, but Jane continued, undeterred.

"The point is, sometimes the voice in my head telling me to learn everything about you at any cost drowns out any sort of better angel on my shoulder. I'm so focused on attaining my objective that it crowds out the usual observations that tell me when I'm close to crossing a line."

Lisbon frowned. The behavior he was describing towards her reminded her of his behavior relating to the Red John case. This was not a comparison with which she was comfortable.

She was silent for a long moment. "I've been thinking about what you said," she said finally. "About me getting angry at you on a personal level for something you did on the job."

Jane winced. "Lisbon, I—"

"Let me finish," she interrupted him. "You were right. I was reacting on a personal level to something you did as part of your job. But here's the thing—you are my partner, Jane. To cops, that word has a special meaning. You don't trust a guy to have your back in a shootout because he was assigned to be your partner—you trust him because you've been to barbeques at his house and watched him play with his kids. You know he'd do anything to protect his family, and you know he'll have your back because you are part of that family. Partnership is built on personal trust. Now that we're involved on a personal level—after everything we've been through together—we're coming from a different place of trust. I guess I expected other aspects of our normal interactions to be different, too. If I'm reacting differently to something you think is business as usual, it's because to me, it's a kind of betrayal of that different place of trust."

"I'm sorry."

Lisbon sighed. "Look, I know you're going to do stuff that pisses me off. I don't expect a leopard to change its spots. But you can't expect me to leave it all at the office when I'm upset. I don't function like that. I never have."

"I know," Jane said. "I do. I was being an ass."

Lisbon nodded. "Okay."

"I'll make it up to you," he promised.

"Just—try to make your mess a little smaller next time, okay? Then there's less for me to clean up afterwards."

He looked down. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to close the case."

"For a date," Lisbon stated, mouth twisting in disapproval.

"Not just for that," he protested.

"Oh, God, what else?" Lisbon immediately started to imagine scenarios in which the debacle of the day before was merely the precursor to an even more intricate plot destined to spin the situation even further out of control than it already was.

"You like it when I close cases," he said pathetically.

Lisbon closed her eyes. She knew one of the primary ways Jane expressed affection was through gifts and small acts of service. She had never considered the idea before that Jane's insistence on 'surprising' her with the outcomes of his schemes was in part because he viewed closed cases as gifts he knew would please her. Showman that he was, he liked presenting his gifts with a flourish, as a fait accompli, as though each closed case he delivered to her was like a present with a big, shiny bow on it.

He'd taken a look at her life and determined that since a good closed case rate was something that made her happy, he would take it upon himself to make sure she got it. It was kind of sweet, in a backwards kind of way.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze squarely. "I do like it when you close cases," she acknowledged. "But not at any cost. You crossed a line, Jane. What you did made a lot of people scared and angry. When that happens, I'm always the one stuck dealing with the fallout."

"I know," Jane said guiltily. "You're so good at soothing people I've pissed off I tend to forget quite how much you dislike having to do it in the first place."

"It's not a part of my job that I enjoy, Jane. I like being in the field, working together to solve the puzzle. Placating angry lawyers… not so much."

"I really didn't think the plan would generate quite so much collateral damage," he said, chagrined.

"If you'd told me what you were thinking of doing, I could have told you it was a bad idea," Lisbon said pointedly.

He grimaced. "Point taken."

"So you'll let me know what you're planning more often from now on?" Lisbon double checked.

"Yes," Jane said reluctantly.

Lisbon gave him a look. "That wasn't very convincing."

He made a face. "It's just—sometimes I know you're going to say no to something I know will work. And other times—well, I like to surprise you. It's one of my main pleasures in life."

"Couldn't you contain your surprises to the positive kind?" Lisbon said, exasperated.

"It's not just that. Sometimes I don't tell you what I'm doing because I'm trying to protect you."

"That never works, though," she pointed out. "I always get blamed for your stunts anyway. I'd rather be in on the gag so I'm not blindsided by its consequences."

Jane shook his head. "Sometimes it does work. You still have your job."

Lisbon sighed. She didn't think she and Jane would ever agree exactly on what he called 'protecting' and what she felt would be more accurately characterized as 'making decisions that affected her life without consulting her.' "I know you mean well, Jane. I'm just trying to get you to understand where I'm coming from on this."

"I do. I get it. I'll do better."

"Look, I'm not expecting you to change everything about the way you do things. God knows your hare-brained schemes have worked for us enough times that I'm not advocating for you to change your methods entirely. Just—try to keep me in the loop a bit more, okay?"

"I'll try."

"It hurts my feelings when you cut me out, Jane. You know what I was saying about trust? Excluding me from your plans undermines that trust. That's why I was so angry yesterday."

He winced. "I suppose I can understand that."

"Good."

He reached out tentatively for her hand. "Don't give up on me, okay?" He said it as though he thought this might actually be a possibility.

She threaded her fingers through his. "I haven't yet, have I?"

"No," he said softly. "You haven't."

Foolish man. What did he think, that she was suddenly going to decide to give up on him now, after all this time? "I'm not going to give up on you, Jane."

He exhaled a shaky breath. "Okay."

She squeezed his hand. "We'll figure out somewhere to meet in the middle on this. It might take us a while, but we'll get there eventually."

He nodded his assent, but his eyes were still sad.

She squeezed his hand. "I have to go meet with the staff lawyer now."

"Okay," he said unhappily.

"Think about what I said," she said softly.

"I will."

She left him staring out the window once again.