An Ending or A Beginning?

Later.

She finally got him to leave.

He was hovering, and it was incredibly annoying. She threatened to shoot him but he hadn't seemed to care. Apparently she used the idea of her weapon too often for him to take her seriously. But when she had come out of her bedroom wielding the handgun, he had finally gotten the message. Vacate the premises.

It wasn't that she wanted him to leave and never come back, exactly, more that once she had gotten over the shock and the pain of Carter, and his choices… she needed time alone. She was extremely grateful that Jane had chosen to stay with her, to take care of her. She'd never really had that before. Once when she was younger, after her mother, the one and only time she'd been so sick that she couldn't keep going. Her brothers had tried to take care of her; one of the teachers got worried, dropped by their house unexpectedly. Teresa had almost had a heart attack. They'd been so good at avoiding the obvious. She knew, if Child Services got called in, they'd be separated. There were just too many of them. Since then, she'd never let anyone take care of her, some child-like reaction convinced that her family would be taken away. She knew it was irrational, but there it was. Sickness equaled the dissolution of her family, no, not sickness; someone taking care of her while sick was dangerous. But she'd been so out of it, the fear hadn't even raised its ugly head. Huh.

She'd felt cared for. Around Jane.

She sighed in relief when his car finally left her street. She knew he'd be back, but for right now, she appreciated the silence that was her home without Jane.

Time passes.

Tomorrow was Monday, which meant going back to work for the first time since Carter. She was looking forward to it, to the staidness, the safety, the complete and utter predictability of the office, and her team. Jane's teasing and tricks, Cho's calm demeanor, Van Pelt's enthusiasm, Rigsby's solid body taking up space. Sometimes, when she stood next to him she felt like she was a pixie floating on the air beneath the giant human. He was just so tall and big, she was glad Van Pelt was tall; it made her feel less small, knowing that another woman could stand next to Rigsby and hold her ground. She supposed it must be an odd sight to the people they interviewed, that the smallest and least likely looking was the one actually in charge. She grinned, she really loved her team. They had been so sweet and so supportive during this time. She only wished that Jane had seen and understood they wanted to be there for him too. All of them.

She knew from the looks Jane had been giving her that he wanted to talk about the park, and the kiss. But he had promised. To just let it be, whatever it was. No repercussions, no talks about it afterward. She certainly hadn't expected him to kiss her back, or so strongly. So emotionally. She knew she was attracted to him, kind of hard to miss, and she knew he was possessive, jealous almost, of her, but she hadn't realized that feelings were involved. She couldn't believe she'd really been that dense. Maybe she didn't want to acknowledge that to herself, knowing that he wouldn't do anything about it. So content to run after Red John and wait for the day he could kill him. She was still going to do everything in her power to stop Jane from ruining what was left of her life, but … hadn't Carter proven to her that she was never going to be successful. She knew Carter had a problem with Violet's death. She knew Carter had spent a lot of time trying to prove that his wife was killed, had even decided Antonio Bloch was to blame. She just hadn't thought he would let a personal sense of justice interfere with the larger sense of justice they both pursued.

Could she ask that of Jane, if he wanted to pursue something? Could she demand that he give up on Red John? At least, give up on being the one to kill Red John? Could she ask that? She knew she already had, on many occasions. Yelling at him in a dark room – stop being childish, selfish. We (I) care about you. She could understand the desire, for revenge, who hadn't? Whether it was the bully at school, the man who ruined your happy family or the person who cheated off you and then got the promotion, everybody had someone they had that inkling of revenge over. But most people recognized wanting that, doing that, was detrimental… to yourself. But not Jane. He thought he didn't have anything left to live for, and she couldn't accept that. Letting someone like that worm their way into her life, into her affections. That was why she struggled so much around Jane. She wanted to let him in, to open her life to him, to allow him into those spaces he kept trying to pry into, didn't he realize? How much it hurt to keep pushing him out? To keep denying the obvious truth? She was protecting herself, from him, and she wasn't doing a very good job.

Carter chose the death of another over living. If Jane was determined to as well, then she couldn't stop him, not really. But she could prevent herself from getting sucked in too. If Carter had this much of an impact on her sanity, she didn't think she could handle something similar with Jane. Then the obvious truth came… she was going to have to ask him to leave the team, or leave herself. She couldn't so this anymore. She couldn't be around him. He was going to get her hurt, more than just the physical. She could handle that aspect of being around him. Red John was important, she understood that, it was necessary to catch him, and Jane was their best chance. But she was getting too close, too close to Jane, in the personal sense. She wouldn't be able to pull back. To see things clearly and if they were both blinded, Red John would win. Oh, he might die, no doubt about that, Red John's life span got shortened by the minute, but he would still win, if Jane murdered Red John…

But she didn't want to leave Jane. That's what was so annoying. She knew he was bad for her, especially concerning Red John. But she didn't want to move away. He was selfish and childish and a Pain In The Ass but he was Jane. She liked him, she cared about him, and that's where the very dangerous line came into it. If he somehow managed to stop playing charades, let go of the all-encompassing obsession that was Red John (obviously she could never expect him to just walk away, even she couldn't do that) she would be very close to loving Patrick Jane. And you know what was most surprising, that didn't scare her. She wasn't even embarrassed by the realization. She wondered if, now that she'd accepted that, would she stop blushing? It was an intriguing thought.

He was waiting for her the next morning. He, almost hourly, had contemplated going back to her house. To make sure she was okay. But she needed to know she could be alone, so he'd staved off the impulse and come to the office to wait. The rest of the team arrived before her, if they were surprised to see him in the office, they didn't say anything. Jane was too busying waiting for Lisbon to pay them much attention.

Cho shot Van Pelt a look – one that said, do you know what's going on? She sent one to Rigsby, who shrugged. Then they all stared at Jane, who was watching the elevator.

After three false starts, the elevator finally opened letting Lisbon out. She looked normal, just like before, maybe a little tired, but nothing they hadn't seen before on a particularly long case.

"Morning Boss." Van Pelt said winningly, she was so glad that Lisbon was back.

"Morning." Cho and Rigsby echoed.

"Hey guys." She replied, smiling. "Jane." She nodded toward the couch.

"So, you okay?" Van Pelt ventured.

"I'm doing better. Thanks." She replied warmly.

It was off-putting, Lisbon being so open about her emotional breakdown, or whatever it was. They each retreated to their desks nervously. Once she had disappeared into her office, Rigsby prodded Jane.

"Go talk to her." He whispered.

"Why?" Jane asked, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"She's acting weird." He said bluntly.

"Give her some time. I'm sure she'll be normal in no time."

But she wasn't. Happy, more emotionally open Lisbon stayed. Jane could only cause her to blush every blue moon. To say he was frustrated was an understatement. She got angry less, had more tolerance not only for Jane's insanity but also for Cho and Rigsby going along with his plans. She believed his theories with less prompting, spent more time with Van Pelt outside the office, and even started sharing pieces of information about herself, dropped inconspicuously into the conversation.

Jane noticed everything, but he couldn't figure out why. He had dreams about her, normal dreams. Where she stood in the gaping hole left by his wife, she didn't try to fill the wife-shaped hole, she made a Lisbon shaped imprint on his heart, and it was enough. The ache was dulling, the horror and the pain was muting. He still loved his wife, that would never change, but slowly his heart and mind were willing to believe that he could share his life with another. Once Red John was dealt with, once his wife and daughter were given justice.

"I'm worried." He heard Van Pelt say (whisper, so as not to wake him), "She's not herself, well she is but she's not. She's different. She's…"

"Nicer?" Rigsby supplanted.

Van Pelt squealed in disbelief, "Rigsby!"

"No, I meant, she's nicer all the time now."

Huh? He thought, and realized Van Pelt had outwardly echoed his statement.

"I mean, she was nice before. Great even. But now it's like, she'd given herself permission to be nice all the time, instead of only sometimes."

"Nice?" He heard Cho repeat.

"She's happier." Rigsby stated.

Silence fell. Too late they realized; Lisbon was standing beside them.

"Hey Boss." Rigsby squeaked.

She merely smiled, Jane could feel it. She didn't reprimand them, didn't even acknowledge what they'd been talking about. "It's almost quitting time, why don't you all cut out of here? Don't you have a date Cho?" She asked, to the silent scoffs of Rigsby and Jane.

"Yeah, I do actually. Thanks Boss." He replied. Jane nearly fell off the couch. How did he miss that?

What else was he missing? Van Pelt, Rigsby and Jane gaped as Cho gathered his things and left the building early. Shaking his head, Rigsby followed suit, then Van Pelt who smiled softly at Lisbon.

Lisbon went back into her office, pleased that she had read Cho's behavior accurately.

Van Pelt peered back in, once Lisbon was gone. "Go talk to her." She hissed to Jane, "she's moving on…" It had taken a while, but Grace had eventually figured out why Lisbon had so suddenly changed. She was accepting that she couldn't save everyone that sometimes you just had to let people make those choices. The wrong ones. Sometimes, it was necessary, even though abysmally hard, to let people you cared about make horrendous mistakes. But she wasn't going to let Jane make another one. Lisbon didn't even react anymore, to his flirtatious teasing, she smiled, took it, as if she found it amusing. Didn't he see? Couldn't he see, she was slowly walking away from him. Van Pelt didn't want that to happen. Ever since she'd first seen the thing that was Lisbon and Jane, she'd harbored romantic delusions about them. They were almost perfect for each other, they were complementary. Why was Jane letting her get away? She'd always assumed it was Lisbon holding them back, making things difficult. But now she realized, it had been both of them, their insecurities and pasts creating awkwardness and mistrust. And now, when Lisbon seemed ready to be happy, Jane was being idiotic.

She felt him looking at her through the gap in her partially opened door.

"You coming in?" She asked, a slight smile gracing her face.

He covered his nervousness with one of his usual I know everything smiles. He hadn't realized she knew what it was. Ever since she'd accepted she was quite close to loving Jane in a romantic sense, she'd begun to watch him, to understand him more than she had previously. Before, she had been so intent of making sure he didn't see anything of her, see her secrets and her innermost thoughts that she had never truly watched him. She had never truly learned about him, she didn't know what his individual looks meant or the different tones in his voice, but once she knew her own heart, he started to become easier to read. Perhaps that was the only secret to understanding human behavior? Perhaps all you needed was to know yourself, to understand yourself and then everything else would fall into place.

She tilted her head, beckoning him into her office. She was just finishing up, actually that was a lie, she'd finished ages ago and was stalling. She wanted to tell Jane, it was time. She'd been patient, hoping that he'd make up his mind about her, about his feelings for her. Whether or not he wanted to continue what she had accidentally started in the pier and in the park. She knew what she wanted; she was tired of being alone and sad. Even when she was angry, annoyed, flustered, embarrassed, tired, teasing, she always felt more alive around Jane. He helped her to truly live… who else in her life could make her feel? Whether it was a paper frog, a Shetland pony, a rubber chicken (popping out from Cho's desk on the anniversary of her Mother's birth), or a silver dollar twinkling up at her from the corner of her desk, Jane always found some way to make her smile even against her own wishes. She needed someone like that. She was too much like her father.

Her father had been grasping too hard onto life, her mother had been the one to give him the means to let go, to enjoy it. She would tease and laugh, flirt with him in public even though her father was the worst person she'd ever seen in the history of the planet to attempt flirting back. As a young thirteen year old she'd floundered between finding it hilarious and downright embarrassing. Then they would kiss, and she and her brothers would gag. Bittersweetly, she missed that the most.

He stayed on the edges of her personal space, something he never did. And felt the awkwardness. But it was coming from him. He wasn't used to being the one in the awkward places of a relationship, a friendship. He was the one that made others feel out of place, when had Lisbon developed this talent? He watched her closely, heart sinking in his chest when his carefully put out gazes didn't make her stumble. She knew he was watching her, drinking in the sight of her, the smell of her. She let him. It was damn frustrating.

Enough was enough! Strangely though, they both thought this.

"Lisbon." "Jane."

The names meshing together as they both tried to speak.

"You first." She acquiesced.

"You're different." He said, bluntly and a little redundantly. Of course, she was different.

"Am I?" She asked, her voice soothing and comfortable.

"Yes." He replied.

"I am." She conceded.

"When did … this is rather off-putting for me Lisbon." He was going to continue but she stopped him.

"I know Jane. You like to be in control. To know everything."

"No I don't." He exclaimed shuffling his feet further into her office.

"You do." She said softly. Smiling too.

"Okay, possibly I enjoy the knowledge that comes from my gifts of observation."

"You enjoy the sense of power that comes from it. Knowing intimate details of people's lives; information that they haven't given you permission to know."

"You been thinking about this hard, haven't you." He joked.

"I have." She replied steadily. She wasn't going to let him get out of this conversation with a joke, not now that he'd finally started it.

He froze. Lisbon didn't like to acknowledge she thought about him, even when it was a valid sort of thinking about him. Work related or friendship related… she always got flustered thinking he would think she was thinking about him romantically, which more often than not she was. It was why she was so easy to fluster, because she was attracted to him, and that attraction was a major cause of unease for her. That's it! He realized; she had accepted it. She had accepted the attraction. She wasn't getting flustered because she wasn't embarrassed by her feelings. Whether that meant she wanted to do anything about it was an entirely different thing.

He consciously relaxed his body. This was going to be fun. Now that he knew he could change his inept attempts to fluster her, he could begin to flirt with her, perhaps even outrageously. He grinned as he slid over to her.

She stifled a snort; he looked kind of like an albino panther. Dressed in a suit. Well, it was either find the situation funny or pounce him herself. And she wasn't ready yet; she needed to make sure he intended more than a distraction. She knew what she wanted, had for a while now, but she wanted everything, or at least the beginnings of everything. She didn't want to only have the Tuesdays of the month with him. That's what it felt like sometimes, when he was being sweet and utterly Jane-like; giving her sweet looks, caressing her with his eyes, smiles, tone of voice… she wanted him.

She had finally figured out something about Jane, the thing that had been bothering her the most. The reason why he used his talents so often, he probably didn't realize, he invaded people's lives because he didn't know how to form the proper kind of attachment. He was so alone, and it was even worse now that his wife and daughter were gone. She thought about the kind of woman Jane's wife must have been… Jane probably thought he'd won her over. But Lisbon had another theory. Jane's wife had to have been the one to make that decision. The choice to break down the façade of Jane, the showmanship; she probably had it easier than Lisbon did, given that he wasn't broken and in pain. But Jane's wife, she had to break through the stupidity that came from his arrogance, no easy thing. Jane's wife was tough, and determined. She knew what she wanted and she got it. Now all Lisbon had to do was play this right and she'd get what she wanted, or she wouldn't, and they'd remain friends. Good close friends, but that's all.

She wanted months of Tuesdays. Months made up of everyday being a Tuesday. She wanted to try, for once in her life, to get her Tuesdays. She didn't want to wait in the corners hoping that some sliver of Tuesday would shine through an open door. She didn't want to live in a famine, sneaking touches of Tuesday hours, hoping that it wouldn't take another seven days for Tuesday to come back. She wanted her Tuesdays, and she had been patient. So patient. But it was time now, time to make the choice, take the chance, hope that her Tuesdays would come… if they didn't maybe she could try to find her Wednesdays.

"What else have you been thinking about?" He asked when it appeared she wasn't going to elaborate.

"Lots of things."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Elaborate?" She repeated, teasingly.

He was by her side now, trying to intimidate her with his presence. She breathed in deeply, savoring the smell, the aura, just in case her ploy failed and they went back across the lines to being friends again.

He caught her; she was breathing him in. It shocked him. He wasn't used to her allowing herself to be, well, herself. Especially around him, she usually tried to hide, as if she could. What was she doing? What exactly had changed about her? Why had she changed? He had thought it would take much longer for her to become comfortable with herself, especially for her to become comfortable enough to be herself around him!

"What are you doing?" He asked incredulously. Not able to keep the quiver in his voice out of the question.

"Remembering…"

"In case…?"

She spun quickly, leaning back against her desk. She was almost perched upon it, their sides touching; now she was facing him properly.

"Jane." She said, stated actually. Eyes clearly focused on his.

He swallowed. They didn't do this. They didn't stand face to face with less than a foot of space between them. Bad things happened when they did. Bad, bad, wonderful things happened.

She looked up at him, her lips twitching with a startling sort of softness; a tenderness he hadn't expected to see after long weeks of his attempts to completely and utterly embarrass her. Some of the stunts had had Cho blushing.

"When you kissed me in the park-" She started.

"I think you mean when you kissed me, me dear!" He cried indignantly; quirking his lips into a self-satisfied smile.

"After I kissed you, and you kept going." She clarified.

He made a sort of 'harumphing' sound, obviously put out by her clear memory of it.

"You kept kissing me." She said, placing her hand on his chest when it appeared he was going to interrupt her again, "and it was fine." He arched an eyebrow at her. "Okay," She conceded, laughingly, "it was nice, better than nice. Happy?"

He nodded, wondering at her ability to be so calm talking about this.

"I thought at the time, it was just, something I needed. To feel. To break through whatever was keeping me… like that." He nodded slowly, understandingly. He could certainly understand the need to find something, anything, to feel again. Isn't that what Sophie and Red John had done for him?

"And I admit. It was. I needed that, and I'm glad it was you and not say … Minelli?" She lifted an eyebrow, gauging his reaction. He smirked in kind.

"But… I'm attracted to you Jane."

His jaw almost dropped. Did she just actually say that out loud? Thankfully, years on the stage kept his muscles in place.

"And I've always thought it had to be more than one way, one-sided. You're attracted to me too. And, while I wouldn't have thought you were anything more than interested in playing with the effects of my attraction to you. Which you do seem to enjoy doing, you're the one who extended that kiss. You're the one who was - is jealous of other men around me. You're the one who buys me ponies, and makes me origami apologies and brings me tulips because you broke my pen in one of your stupid magic tricks." She was talking faster now, just trying to get it all out before the world came crashing down and Jane rejected her. While she might have acknowledged that this was the right (appropriate) times for this, she was still very afraid that today was the day she would go home knowing that a future with Jane was a moot point.

His hand came up and his fingers brushed her lips, pressing more firmly when she tried to keep talking. "Woman." He whispered, "stop talking."

He felt her mouth move, but no sound was coming out. Her wide eyes peered up at his, waiting for his next move.

"I see you've been getting to know yourself." He said.

Her mouth moved again, ready to continue her rant. "Wait!" He cried, enjoying her obedience.

"Is this why you've been so frustrating lately?" He asked, eyes dancing over her face.

She managed a short nod, knowing she wasn't allowed to talk, enjoying the feel of his fingers on her lips.

He chuckled. "Lisbon, my dear. That is one of the most brilliant ideas I think you've ever had."

She frowned at him; obviously not pleased. He grinned again.

She sighed, at least he lost with a little grace, it was more than she had expected.

"So what is it you want?" He asked, his 'serious' face making a comeback. It had been a while since she had seen it.

"What do you want?" She replied.

"I asked you first." He said.

She heaved a heavy sigh, "This isn't a you asked first type of thing Jane." When he didn't respond she kept going, "This is a … I know what I want. Do you? Type of thing."

He threw a quizzical eyebrow her way.

"You're not that dense Jane. And if you need time to think, I understand." She tried to rein in her nerves. Her insides were acting like she was about to go over Niagara Falls in a canoe.

"I'm just… not sure how much longer I can go on, without some type of forward momentum." She leaned upward, pressing a kiss to his cheek; landing square on the corner of his mouth. The exact same place he had kissed her on the pier.

Her very own quarter kiss, he thought.

Then she left, leaving the scattered papers on the desk. Five minutes later once the shock and subsequent brain firings had worked out what she had meant, he noticed that the papers were nothing more than scrap; half-realized thoughts scratched into the margins of a first draft of a requisition form, another twenty complaints against him, and a couple of crosswords and Sudokus.

Now.

It was now. And it was what he wanted.

He wasn't sure how soon he could make it (let it) happen but he wanted to make a point.

He didn't knock. A little surprised, given her history, but rather thankful; her door was unlocked. He eased into her home. Wandering down the hall he found her just about to exit the bathroom. She'd just finished showering. Her hair was tousled and still damp, her skin, dewy – exiting the steaming room in a thin (and short) robe.

She squeaked.

"Jane!" She finally exclaimed, hand coming up to rest upon her beating heart.

"Teresa." He said, slowly, deliberately.

"Patrick?" Hesitantly.

His hand, shaking, reached toward her. Presenting her with the only gift he could give her. A ring. Worn, loved, gold.

A quaking breathe escaped her. "You didn't have to… I didn't mean for…" Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. "That's too much." She finally said.

"It was time." He replied roughly. His own emotions weighing heavily.

Her other hand came up, reaching for his. She tried to fold the ring back into his hand, but he refused. Switching tacks, she plucked it from his trembling hand, surprising him – she ran her hand up to his breast pocket, opening the gap, she slid the ring into his jacket.

"Strange, strange, sweet man." She whispered; a small smile lighting her face.

They stayed at the bathroom door for a moment; letting the steam escape and the mirror defog. His hands caressed her neck and her shoulder. Her hands stayed making sure the sacred ring was safe in his pocket.

"One thing at a time…" She finally said.

"First thing though," He cut in, pulling her to him quickly, and kissing her. Properly, the way he had wanted to ever since the first day she hadn't blushed.

She wasn't embarrassed or scared when they pulled away from each other, breathing a little strained. "It doesn't have to stay hidden." She said, patting the hidden ring. "You can put it back on." She was completely serious, he knew.

"No. I'm ready." He said. He tried to make his voice sound sure. It wasn't. Lisbon – Teresa didn't seem to mind.

"But if you're not. I want you to wear it. One thing at a time, remember?" She smiled again, softly.

"It'll be our secret?" He asked, toyingly.

"Wonder who'll be the first to notice?" She replied, teasingly.

"Van Pelt or Cho?" He responded, enjoying the exchange.

"I vote Cho."

"Why?"

"He's observant like that. He just doesn't say anything." She grinned.

"Cho can keep a secret." He said.

"Yes, he can."

"So can you." He rubbed a hand over her shoulder and started pulling her toward the couch.

"I'm great a keeping secrets!" She exclaimed, ruffling his hair with her hand.

"You are definitely the secret keeper of our little team." He replied, affectionately. "Kept your realizations in the dark for a long time too. Van Pelt thought you were leaving."

That thought made her pause, a little bit horrified. "Not leaving the team woman." He said exasperatedly, "Leaving me, moving on."

"Never leaving," She replied, "Although I was getting ready for the possibility that I might have to move past my affection for you."

"Your affection?" He prodded.

"That's what I'm calling it." She responded with a laugh.

"Well now you don't have to get ready for anything."

"Oh I don't do I?"

"Nothing bad, at least." He winked, falling. Making both of them tumble onto the couch. Where he made sure they stayed for the next hour.

They didn't do too much exploration. Although Lisbon did wake up the next morning with an interesting shaped bruise on her shoulder. Just another secret she'd be keeping.

Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my! I'm finally finished!

*Does a little victory dance*

So that was a longish post, but worth it. So very worth it.

I hope I've wrapped up most things well enough for you.

Of course, nothing will ever be wrapped up in a tidy bow...

Arc :)