Hello. Thanks for being here if you are still clicking on this story. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

Well, I knew this one would be a struggle and it was , and I'm really sorry it's taken so long. Perhaps it would be wise to skip through the previous chapter to remind yourself what's been going before reading.

I may have mentioned that I wrote this story because I was unhappy about the events around Nothing Gold Can Stay and to the reactions to those events. In order to address this I've used elements from that episode in this chapter, but I've changed events, time lines and dialogue. I hope that's ok, because I have to say I don't usually like to mess with canon, preferring to add to it.

Anyway, here goes. The penultimate chapter. I hope you'll like it. Tell me what you think.


They sat side by side on the uncomfortable stacking chairs lined up in front of a huge wall of briefing boards and screens, observing as gradually the other agents selected to crack the case straggled in and the grating sound of metal chair legs on slippery ceramic tiles became muffled by a low but rising hubbub of curious voices.

It seemed most of them were happy to come to work today.

The case was classic armed robbery by a gang that had started out small and ended up big. The disturbing escalation from hitting payday loan shops to full blown bank heists that was threatening to overwhelm Austin's financial sector with uncertainty and fear was the sort of job most of them relished. It was the sort of crime they'd cut their teeth on. So much simpler than cyber crime, even if potentially more dangerous. Good, old fashioned police work.

Patrick Jane leant over and whispered into his partner's ear. "Cheer up Lisbon. At least we're working this one together."

Lisbon turned half way round, cupped her hand around her mouth and hissed back as discreetly as she could. "I'd far rather go away for the weekend."

Jane kept his voice low, mindful of Lisbon's annoying insistence on keeping their fledgling relationship quiet and, conversation established, the dialogue continued at a whisper, both of them deliberately facing the front of the room like strangers, which Jane thought was a ridiculous charade since their whole backstory was common knowledge anyway, but he thought it was wise to humour her.

"We'll go after we've got this lot under lock and key," he said. "I promise. Won't take long."

"I hope you're right," she whispered back.

Jane raised his voice a fraction, confidence getting the better of him. "Of course I'm right."

She huffed. "Of course."

"Not exactly sophisticated, this bunch," he said, by way of justification. "Guns and dark clothing … like a fifties B movie."

Lisbon was about to dismiss Jane's assertion of a speedy resolution as nothing more than wild generalisation, when her attention was caught by a flimsy sheet of paper pinned at an angle on the briefing board.

"I see you posted your safety precautions already," she observed, allowing her voice to rise a little to match Jane, who had tired of being secretive. "When did you get time to go over the case?"

Jane's head flew round and he gave her a grateful smile. "Oh, you noticed," he said happily. "Just had a quick peruse. Didn't take long. Guns … so I ticked all the boxes. Full protection. Full backup."

He paused. She was looking at him, agast.

"No need for swat 'til we're ready to close the net," he finished confidently.

"Really Jane!" she exclaimed, exasperated by his presumption.

"What?"

"We're FBI. I think we know what we're doing."

"That's precisely the point Lisbon. And keep your voice down."

She gave him a searching look. He was different today; he was talking the same old Jane bullshit, but since his night on the purple couch he had a calmer energy.

She wondered what his point was. "What do you mean?"

But she didn't get an answer, since suddenly the rising noise of the assembled agents dropped to a murmur and Jane hissed loudly in her ear, making her flinch. She slapped his knee.

"Pay attention Lisbon," he whispered urgently, grabbing the offending hand before she could withdraw it and putting it gently back in her lap. "Dennis has some wisdom to impart. But I think you'll find my point will become clear in a few moments."

Abbott had appeared from nowhere and silenced the crowd with his presence alone. He began with the announcement that Kimball Cho would be taking charge and since it was his first case he would conduct the briefing.

"I expect all of you to give him your full support," he finished firmly. Then, accompanied by a ripple of approval and a few playful whistles he took a seat at the back of the group and the much smaller agent took the floor.

Cho's briefing was concise, but thorough; exactly what Jane and Lisbon had expected from the efficient agent they knew so well. Until, that is, the smartest man in the room (and the only man not wearing a sober dark two piece suit and dull as ditchwater tie) raised his hand aloft and waved it.

"May I make a contribution?" Jane asked eagerly.

Cho's face and posture remained impassive. "Does it have anything to do with the case?"

"I certainly hope so."

Jane flashed a smile at Lisbon, resisting the grin he wanted to give her, because that would have been inappropriate, and strode to stand in front of the board that displayed his handy safety checklist, which was half obscuring a picture of the anonymous looking teller who he'd done such a theatrical job of disclosing as the inside man.

He ripped the tatty sheet off the board and the pin that secured it pinged across the floor. A junior agent sitting at the front sniggered. Jane pretended to glower at him then straightened his face and held the paper up for all to see.

"I know what most of you think about this little exercise I've been conducting. And I'm aware that you've been humouring me by reading over these simple lists. And that you walk away thinking 'who does this guy think he is?'.

There were indignant mutterings at the back … 'too right man', 'get back to the case' 'I didn't rush my lunch just to hear you talk bull'...

Jane carried on, undeterred. "But I challenge you to think about the cases you've worked since Agent Cho gave me permission to introduce this system. And I'll ask you just one question."

The audience waited, unimpressed and impatient, while he read the mass reaction of their transparent faces.

"Has anybody been hurt? Have you lost any of your colleagues? No? Have you wondered why?"

He paused, expecting a response. And he got one. An angry voice shouted. "What would you know? Why would you even care? You're not even one of us."

"Oh, I think you'll find I am."

Jane delved into his vest pocket.

"See." He grinned and displayed his laminated badge with a theatrical flourish, then held it out as far as his arm would reach so that no one could deny they'd seen it.

"And I have full security clearance. Ask Dennis."

Pausing again, he quickly scanned the room for more dissenters, only lingering when his eyes fell on Lisbon's face. At first she was unreadable, the only one in the room, then her lips lifted into a soft supporting smile. It warmed his heart and gave him renewed courage.

"You make a good point though. My background is not with the bureau. And that's precisely why our … and I hope you'll one day come to regard me as one of you … why our losses and injuries have been negligible in the last few weeks. Every established practice needs refreshing occasionally, I think you'll agree. So think of me as a fresh pair of eyes."

He stopped again, to gauge his audience's reaction, not really caring what that reaction was.

"Anyway, back to my previous question. Have you thought about the reason my silly scraps of paper are keeping you safe?"

He looked deliberately at the loudest hecklers.

"No?"

A momentary pause for effect.

"I'll tell you then."

And another pause, because, as every true orator knows, it's the silence around them that makes the words sing. Then a reassuring smile before revealing the answer.

He smiled.

"Subliminally … lovely word … and against your better judgement and your prejudices, you took on board what you read. You took precautions. You were a bit more careful with your colleagues' lives. And nobody got hurt."

In the dull white noise of disgruntled mumbling that passed for silence, he let his gaze drift to Dennis Abbott, who was grinning broadly. Another supporter. But that was no surprise really. He made brief contact with the man's kind brown eyes. I'm no longer his responsibility must feel like all his christmases have come at once ... he'll miss me though. It's mutual.

"Get to the point," the same heckler retorted impatiently and Dennis's head whipped round, grin long gone.

"Let the man speak," he growled.

"Thank you Dennis."

Jane disguised the inhalation of a long, slow, steadying breath, before continuing smoothly to a respectfully hushed room. He focused his attention initially on the young guy with the big mouth. It was always easier, more effective, to address a single person.

"You want me to get to the point?"

The guy gawped at him, intimidated and cowed by Abbott's admonishment.

Jane drew a sharper breath, and made it audible this time. "Okay."

Then a quick scan of the audience.

"I was involved in an incident a couple of months ago which resulted in serious injury to a valued agent. I'm sure you all remember it."

Heads turned to consult their neighbours, murmuring speculations and confirmations.

Jane raised his voice to be heard more clearly above the hubub.

It's not my first such experience," he went on. "You all know something of my past. I've seen people die. And I've killed. And I know many of you have too."

He waited … for the impact of his admissions … and to collect his own emotions … to take another breath ...

"I understand Agent Spackman is making a good recovery, but I don't mind admitting, trying to stop him from bleeding out till help came left me shaken. He could have died. My colleague and I could have died. We walked into a trap, unprotected. We … you … do it all the time. We shouldn't. You shouldn't. I shouldn't. And my … my partner shouldn't."

A murmur ran around the room. Jane ran his hand roughly through his hair. It was shaking. His hair was tangled. He glanced briefly at Lisbon again, but dare not meet her beautiful eyes.

The atmosphere was so still, the embarrassment at his frank admissions almost palpable and the silence real and painful.

He stopped speaking and stood staring at the floor.

They understood now.

Jane looked up and straight at Lisbon.

Uncomfortable and hurting for her partner, she secretly blinked away tears and gave him a watery smile that made him look away quickly.

Instead his gaze quietly drifting around the mass of restless heads: some bowed, some defiant, some nodding silent support.

"I don't want to see another person die," he said.

Then, wafting his check list meekly in the air, he spoke humbly, "That's what these are all about, childish as they are, and it's why I wanted to speak to you today."

Jane at last lowered his gaze to the comfort of his old brown shoes. "Thank you for listening."

He turned to Cho and gave a nod of thanks. "I have a bad feeling about this case Cho," he murmured as he passed. Then he walked quietly back to sit beside Lisbon and the briefing continued in a somewhat subdued atmosphere.

Barely half an hour later most of the agents had dispersed to gather detailed information on each of the small jobs that had started this mini to maxi crime wave. Some of them weren't happy to be going over work that the local cops had already done, but if they'd asked asked the bureau's resident guru Patrick Jane, he would have told them that 'the devil's in the detail' and asked if they wanted to be the hero that brought down the criminal mastermind behind the headline catching six hundred grand bank heist. Some of them would have listened and some of them would forever be resentful and suspicious of the infamous mentalist.

Meanwhile the man himself was ensconced in the breakroom with Agent Lisbon, where they were busily making tea and coffee.

Body deliberately turned away so's not to face the searching concern of Lisbon's gaze, a thoughful Jane dunked his tea bag rhythmically, hoping she wouldn't challenge him. He felt drained. All talked out.

Lisbon stood close to him but restrained herself from the urge to lay her hand on his arm. "So what was that all about?" she asked.

"What?"

"That," she indicated the wider office with a vague wave, even though she knew he couldn't see. "Out there … just now."

His foot flexed, the bin lid rose and the tea bag dropped with a wet thud. Jane said nothing.

"And these last few weeks … trying to teach the FBI how to do their jobs with scraps that look like shopping lists? You ruffled a few feathers, you know."

He ran a hand through his unkempt hair (the result of the night on the purple sofa), took a prim sip of his too hot tea, and turned slowly to face her with a sheepish smile.

His voice sounded small, "I'm not really sure to be honest," a little embarrassed. "I guess I just ran out of more inventive ideas."

"Oh, that was pretty inventive," her lips twitched fractionally upward and her brow rose. "And pretty bold."

At first he refused to meet her eyes. "Yeah, well I haven't been sleeping too well. The mind gets away from you when you can't sleep." He chanced a hopeful glance to gauge her reaction. "It wasn't totally fruitless, was it? I think I got my point across."

"I don't know. It's not for me to say. But the bureau has tried and tested systems and protocols Jane. They know what they're doing. In fact if I were them I'd be pretty pissed off, but they've let you get away with… "

"I know Lisbon. Murder … they've let me get away with murder. Because I close cases."

"Well yeah."

Suddenly regretting the way the conversation was going, Jane straightened abruptly from his position leaning against the counter. "Drink up Lisbon," he instructed brightly. "Didn't Cho want us to take a look at that footage from the crime scene before he and Vega go hunting down those locations of the numbers from the inside man's phone."

Lisbon, always wary of being left trailing in her former consultant's wake, was off the mark almost before he'd finished his thought. "Come on then," she was calling. "We can drink and walk. And talk."

"We can?" he grumbled, discarding his half finished tea and scurrying to catch up.

"You know Lisbon," he started when he caught up. "You hit the nail right on the head there. With the FBI and their protocols. Don't they say familiarity breeds contempt. Maybe they benefited from a bit of a shake up."

"Oh, you shook 'em up alright!"

Jane grinned behind her back.

"I just don't like seeing people die Lisbon."

"I'm serious Jane."

"So am I."

"But you've been acting like a crazy person."

"What do you mean? I was perfectly calm. I've been perfectly calm. At all times. For weeks."

"Exactly. You haven't been you."

Jane flinched. Then felt himself physically deflate. Her comment hit much too close to home.

He'd spent so much of his life not being himself he hardly knew the difference. Being the real Patrick Jane was hard work and knowing what that was sometimes felt even harder. Then there was the task of juggling which Patrick he showed the world. In the past it hadn't been difficult because he hadn't cared (not a problem with Angie of course since she was in on the gig), but now he did care. Very, very much.

"Can we talk about that when we've looked at that video?" he asked.

He reached out to pull up a chair in front of the screen where they were to scrutinise the footage of the bank heist, but Lisbon slipped her warm hand into his and slipped in front of him before he could sit down. "Hey," she said softly, "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I do. I promise. But I want time and space to talk … and not about that. Not about the FBI and dying and stuff. Don't be so impatient." He patted the seat "Honestly Lisbon where's your famous work ethic? Here … sit."

He took hold of her shoulders, guided her into the chair and then sat down himself.

There wasn't much to see from the cctv around the bank, but what there was was gold dust. A clear view of all three perps unloading their booty from the armoured delivery van and more importantly interacting with each other. Their faces weren't visible, but the body language and physical clues Jane gleaned after only a few seconds were more than enough to excite him.

"Look at the body language, Lisbon."

"Yeah, there's a weird dynamic," she agreed almost immediately, pointing to the screen. "That guy's in charge, and he's comfortable with this guy, but not the other. See … he doesn't turn his back on him."

"Those two are brothers." Jane said, like it was obvious.

"How can you tell?"

He went on to explain his deduction, pointing out the built up shoe on the dominant guy's right foot and the similar gait of the man he'd decided was his younger brother.

"But look at the tension between 'alpha' and the new guy, Lisbon. That's our problem."

"Yeah," she agreed. "They're not great friends. The new man's been brought in as the muscle. The brothers aren't happy with guns but figure they need them if they want to get into the big league."

"A dangerous decision … given that they don't get on with him. Tension between villains always spells danger. Also the new guy has a hair trigger. He can't wait to use that weapon."

"He hasn't yet. Thank God," Lisbon commented, turning her attention away from the men on the screen to stare into Jane's face. It was hard and cold and totally expressionless.

"He will," he said with a certainty that chilled her bone deep. "Which is why we need to speak to Cho before he and Vega start knocking on doors." He pushed back his chair. "Come on. We should go."

The frozen image of the dark figure clambering into the back of the van faded from the screen as Lisbon turned off the computer.

She teased the scattered case notes into a pile, Jane's amateurishly printed sheet with its hand written ticks on top.

"Cho knows what he's doing Jane," she told him as she rose, rolled her chair neatly back in place and jogged to catch up with him.

They caught their boss and Vega in the car park, about to get into his vehicle. They were discussing the quickest way to the first location and the most efficient route around all dozen or so. Jane found it very amusing, though he didn't so much as chuckle. Vega and Cho would make a great team, he thought, if they made it through this case.

As they approached Lisbon took a bold step to put herself between an anxious Jane and the objects of his musings, determined to speak to Cho before the consultant could rush in and overstep the mark.

"You have a moment before you go off to check out those numbers Cho?" she asked, smoothly pulling out her phone.

But before the unflappable asian could reply, Jane's voice rang loud and clear and unnervingly relaxed. He was peering from behind her left shoulder.

"Hi Cho. Hi Vega."

He smiled at Cho. "You do have a moment? Excellent." Then his expression became serious. "We have some important intel for you," he shared. "Before it's too late."

Lisbon studiously ignored him and moved nearer to Cho.

Vega smiled politely at them both, but Cho pointedly shunned the insistent Jane, merely nodding a silent greeting to Lisbon, and reaching out to take the phone from her outstretched hand.

"We've been looking over the videos again," she explained. "Thought these screenshots might be useful."

Jane leapt forward, pointing at the screen with a fidgeting finger as Cho tried to focus on what he was supposed to be looking at.

"There Cho. See!"

"No. I can't see. Move your finger," moaned Cho irritably, which wasn't like him.

Jane flinched, quickly stepped back and stood impatiently rocking on his heels.

"Sorry Cho. Bit hyped up. Not enough sleep. You point, Lisbon, you have tiny fingers. I'll explain. Here, Vega, come look."

So the four gathered round with Lisbon pointing and scrolling and Jane talking way too excitedly.

"So these are the best shots Lisbon was able to capture. We would have enlisted Wiley's help, but I wasn't prepared to wait. It'll have to do."

"Get on with it Jane," snapped Lisbon. "They're fine."

"Yes. They are. Thank you Lisbon. First picture please." He took a deep breath. "So. I know you've seen the film, but just to reiterate, these are the targets. The first guy, with the built up shoe … definitely the man in charge. Number two … this one ... next picture Lisbon … is related, probably brother. Number three is the wild card, the newcomer …. he'll shoot first, ask questions later."

They went through a few more shots from varying angles before Jane decided they'd seen enough. He took the phone from Lisbon and found the best angle of the stocky limping man he'd christened 'alpha'. He held it up in front of Cho's face and waited for the infinitesimal fraction of time it took for discomfort to build, until he could be sure the image had indelibly imprinted on the retinas of Cho's dark brown eyes. Cho was the most observant of men, but he had to be sure.

"Listen Cho," he said. "If you walk in on this guy, or any of these three, walk away. Don't engage with them. Leave the premises and call for backup."

Calm now, and silent, he handed the phone back to its owner and walked away to stand on his own with his back turned to them. He stared up into the mellowing sky of late afternoon … the famous golden hour was approaching, glowing, full of hope and comfort.

Lisbon watched him go then tore her attention back to her two colleagues, patiently waiting and exchanging thoughts. "I'm sorry," she said. "He's worried."

"What's new," commented Cho, jaded by but inured to the years of working with Patrick Jane.

Lisbon sighed and found a careworn smile from somewhere deep inside, but it went as soon as it came. "Yeah, well. I know, but he's not often wrong."

The right corner of Cho's mouth twitched and Vega moved back in the direction of their car. "We should go," Cho said.

"You should," Lisbon answered, turning away toward Jane. "I'll send these pictures to your cell," she promised, waving the phone aloft as she walked off, newly energised. "Let me know if you turn up anything useful. And take care."

When she joined him Lisbon laid a gentle hand on Jane's shoulder and made him turn to face her. The last time she'd seen him so intensely sad was during the Bittaker case.

She lowered her voice to spare his blushes, but the sound of the car doors slamming was already echoing in their ears as she spoke. "Calm down."

Jane's shoulders, if it were possible, sunk even further, to push his hands deeper into those pockets long distorted by years of stubborn denial and despondency. "I'm calm Lisbon."

"They're only going to look at the locations the calls were made from."

The volume of her patiently delivered words rose in infinitesimal increments. "It's perfectly safe, Jane."

"You don't know that Lisbon."

"Jane, the chances of any of the gang actually being there are next to zero."

"Only next to zero Lisbon," he countered. "Not zero."


Thanks for reading.

One final chapter to come ... the final big talk. Will it fix them ? Or their problem. Honestly I don't know yet ... but I will make them talk.